Endereies - Kay - Tumblr Blog

AYYYYY HAVE FUN BBY

BABYYYYY ITS BEEN SO LONG HOW ARE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

HIIII BAEEEEEE IM GOODDDDD IM IN MY HOMETOWN FOR A BIT AND WERE CELEBRATING MY BIRTHDAY TODAYYY

I gotta stop over thinking things at 1am. The fuck

i’m going to a haunted house tonight and i’m soooo excited

OH YEAHH I wanna go to one so bad but no one I know likes the same shit as me😔😔

I figured lol😭

hiiiiii bby 🖤 hru??

Heyyy you're awake!!! I'm good, still writing part 2, you??

Glad I could help !!

REAL FOOTAGE OF ME GRABBING MY BFS DICK FROM UNDER THE TABLE ‼️‼️

Maybe this helps

REAL FOOTAGE OF ME GRABBING MY BFS DICK FROM UNDER THE TABLE ‼️‼️

It honestly doesn't help w context😭

REAL FOOTAGE OF ME GRABBING MY BFS DICK FROM UNDER THE TABLE ‼️‼️

hiiiiii bby 🖤 hru??

Heyyy you're awake!!! I'm good, still writing part 2, you??

I'll use that milk instead

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒔

⚠︎  mdni, mentions of disordered eating, anxiety, angst, fluff, and more

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!! Re-edited version of Healthy Healing. Proofread by @bbernard-03.

matt’s favorite toy, Rose

©bernardsbendystraws

 “What’s wrong, baby? I…something isn’t right and—let me in. Talk to me. Please.” 

It wasn’t adding up. Matt was worried as things started to make less and less sense. He knew something was off, he knew something wasn’t okay. You seemed so preoccupied. Spacing out during conversations, forgetting basic things….it didn’t add up. 

Your boyfriend cared about you. He was observant once he noticed the shift in energy, he noticed things that made even less sense—well, until he started connecting the dots. 

There was no true response from you. Always giving some poor excuse how you just ‘didn’t feel good’ wasn’t enough to settle his worries anymore. Not when it all started making so much sense—too much sense. 

__________

Clothes. You had always spent so much time deciding what outfit to wear, picking out whatever made you feel comfortable. That changed. Items you once cherished and wore regularly got tossed in the donation pile without a single ounce of sadness. 

Matt was confused. He thought you would be upset that the clothes no longer fit, he was honestly prepared for some tears. But you were happy. Not a single pout was noticeable, only a proud smile that didn’t seem to last very long—not when you tried to go shopping for new clothes the next day. 

The dressing room felt like it was getting smaller. Your chest felt uncomfortably tight as you tried to wrangle the jeans over your hips. It wouldn’t budge. Matt was confused why you were so frustrated. He knew you picked up a size smaller than you usually did. 

Hearing your grunts of frustration, he’s quick to find a solution. “They have the next size up. Let me—” 

He’s cut off by you walking straight past him out of the dressing room. Matt doesn’t wanna believe it—-he doesn’t want to connect the dots—not when they display such a devastating pattern of truth. But, there’s no choice anymore. The silence on the car ride back gives him clarity, enough clarity to make him sick with sadness. 

__________

Matt loved you too much to do nothing. He couldn’t sit back and watch you fade away—he couldn’t even fathom the thought of possibly losing you. He just couldn’t. 

Clueless, he finds the two people he knows he can rely on—Nick and Chris. As soon as the explanation started to fall from his lips, he couldn’t help but rasp the words through sharp breaths and hot tears. Saying it out loud was different—-saying it outloud meant it was real. 

Both brothers were devastated watching Matt in so much pain. The cracks in his voice and the way his fingers started clenching onto the hems of Chris’s T-shirt told them it was worse than just bad. This was desperation—-this was something so heart wrenching that it was obvious Matt hadn’t even really processed it. Words coming out of his mouth felt more like a script rather than emotions. 

“I don’t know….she’s, um—she’s, I guess she’s hurting herself? She…she’s not eating. I…I think I’m gonna lose her…I…what do I do?” Matt asks. 

The look Nick and Chris exchange is filled with pain—a look they’ve only shared a few times before. Neither of them want to break Matt down further, but the harsh truth would rip him bare to the bone. 

“Matt…I’m sorry this is happening, I can’t even imagine how this has all been. I’m…I’m glad you’re talking to us about it, but…” Chris trails off silently, looking up to spare Nick a glance. 

Nick sighs. “It’s…there’s not much you—or really anyone can do. Not unless she wants help. You need to approach her about it as calmly as possible. I…I’m sorry, but this….this isn’t something that anyone can just fix.” 

Matt bites on the inside of his cheek—hard. He just wants you to get better.

He doesn’t want to lose you. 

_________

Cries echoing from the bathroom was the first thing Matt heard when he had walked into the home. Taking light steps, he creeped down to eavesdrop, pressing his ear against the wooden door. His heart felt like it was burning from being slowly ripped apart in his chest. He feels helpless. 

‘--as calmly as possible.” 

Nick's words chant in his mind as he gathers the courage to knock. Bracing himself, he takes a deep breath. At the same moment, he hears an unmistakable sound of gagging. 

Unable to stop himself, Matt turns the doorknob immediately. Your eyes bulge from your face with panic, but the distress covering Matt’s features tells you there’s no point in lying. He knows. And you know that he knows. 

Sitting on the bed with you in his lap, Matt pulls you into a close hug. Your body is tense, unsure of how to react. He’s pulling you impossibly tight. 

“I,” the broken waver in his voice is what makes you relax, putting your own arms around him and hugging him tightly. “I, fuck, I—-why? You….I know you haven’t been eating. I,” shaking his head against your chest, he lets out a loud cry. “I can’t watch you hurt yourself like this. I…I won’t sit back and watch you kill yourself. I won’t, I….I can’t, baby. Please—please don’t do this. I need you here, with me. I….I’ll help you, I swear—but—-need you to try. You….please,” he begs, clutching onto you as if you will disappear somehow. 

Your muscles ache from exhaustion and guilt. All the emotions piling on feel unbearably heavy and you can’t help but relax that weight onto Matt, letting him pull you even closer as you cry into his shoulder. 

“I—I’m so sorry,” you let out. Matt lets out a sharp cry, your voice tugging on his heart painfully. “---I’m so sorry, Matt.” 

“It’s okay, I…I got you. We…we’ll do this together, okay? I…just…stay with me, sweetheart—I need you,” he cries. 

__________

The first week started off good. You didn’t look as gray. A healthy glow was illuminating your face again. Matt was more than happy to see it, and at first, you were too—but that glow seemed to fade as you realized that wasn’t the only thing changing about your appearance. 

All the progress started to seem like something to be ashamed of. You were too scared to tell Matt—you didn’t even know how to. Secrets were never your thing, honesty was one of the most important things to you—but, this was for the better. The voice in your mind wouldn’t shut up and you didn’t wanna burden Matt with that. 

The truth was buried—quite literally. Food you had told Matt you ate, meals that he was proud of you for eating….they were all just hidden under miscellaneous trash in the kitchen garbage can. 

Matt was always insisting on taking care of you. He didn’t want you to lift a finger, especially when you were already working overtime with everything already going on. The trash was his job. He took pride in knowing he made your life easier and being attentive to your needs. 

“Why the fuck is this so heavy—” Matt’s words are cut off as he slings the bag into the dumpster. He sees all the ‘secrets.’ He sees the truth. 

There is no anger, just a devastating realization that he can’t help you. He’s not enough anymore—and that? That hurts, so bad, so deep. It’s like he can feel himself shatter. 

There’s nothing left to give, but there’s everything to lose. 

__________

“I feel so helpless, I…what do I even do?” Matt says, his hands wrangling in his hair and tugging at the roots aggressively. 

Nick and Chris feel themselves tasting an ounce of his defeat. There’s so much pain ridden on Matt’s face—-so many lines of frustration creasing between his eyebrows. 

He’s lost. 

Matt was supposed to go join you in bed after he took out the trash, but he just couldn’t. Instead, he spent an hour sobbing into Nick’s arms while Chris patted him on the back. He doesn’t have it in himself to be strong anymore—-not when he feels so devastatingly weak. 

Eventually, he slides back into bed with you. He can’t help but hold onto you a little bit tighter, looking through the peeps of his curtains at the moon and begging. There’s no intended receiver, he doesn’t care what god or entity is listening—he just needs help. 

He just needs you. 

__________

The morning didn’t feel as blissful as usual. You turned over to find Matt staring out the window, a frown tugging on his lips with dark rings circling his eyes. 

“Matt—”

“The trash bag ripped.” 

Oh.

It’s like the world goes quiet. Hesitantly, you reach out, placing your hand onto his bicep as he lays on his side facing away from you. He doesn’t move, but there’s also no reaction at all. Laying still, he lets out a sigh with exhaustion pulling his body further into the bed. 

“Why? I…why? I’m…I don’t know how to help. I’m trying my best, it’s—why am I not good enough? I—I need you. You….why are you torturing me? I love you. I love you so much it hurts, this….I can’t keep watching this. Please, I—”

Your head falls onto Matt’s arm as you hear him inhale a shaky breath. Guilt and disappointment tread through your body as you feel his warm skin comfort your freezing body. Miserable was what this was. No reward felt good enough. No amount of numbers compared to the moments you used to share with him and the people you loved, back when you had energy to live. 

“I’m sorry, Matt. I…I’m gonna try. Honest—I’ll be honest this time. I just, sometimes, I, I don’t know how to ask for help. You shouldn’t have to take care of me this much, I—”

Your rant is cut short as he turns over, pulling you onto his chest. “I want to. It’s selfish, but I need you with me. I’m here, okay? Every up and down, you tell me. Please. Just—you can’t do this alone and…I can’t either anymore,” he announces with a sad strain noticeable in his tone. 

Nodding against his chest, you feel his hand wander down your arm, his fingers lacing through yours before he holds up a pinky. 

“Matt, what are you—”

“Promise me. I need more, I…I know a pinky promise is fucking stupid, but…I need you to mean it. No more secrets. Please.” 

Interlocking your pinking with his, you confirm his statement. 

“No more secrets.” 

__________

It’s not easy—it’s far from fucking easy. But, it’s a lot more simple when you’re holding his hand. The voice pestering you seems to quiet down. Matt notices how much comfort you find in him, it makes him happy to see you doing better. It makes him happy to know he can sit back, hold your hand, all while you help yourself. 

No more secrets. The promise had been fulfilled. A few bumps had arisen, but it’s a lot less brutal when he’s overpowering any thoughts, taking care of you until you can take care of yourself. 

Clanks of spoons echo against the ceramic bowls. The marshmallow and oat cereal isn’t Matt’s favorite, but he knows it’s something you’ve always loved. You sit in his lap while you both eat out of separate bowls. 

The quiet morning aroma lingers, but it makes your instinctive thoughts a little louder. “How is it, sweetheart?” Matt asks. Shrugging, you stir the cereal in the bowl, glaring at it for making you feel so weak. 

Squeezing your hip in one hand, Matt quickly thinks of something to make things easier for you. “Am I your favorite Lucky Charm? Or does this fuck-ass cereal win over me? Be honest,” he jokes. 

Hearing you snicker makes Matt feel a sense of pride, even more so when he sees you eat another spoonful with a peppy jolt. “Mmmmm, my favorite,” you snort. 

Matt’s lips part disappointedly. You see this, laughing lightly before ruffling his hair. “Well….can I at least frost your flakes?” 

You nearly spit at his implied statement. Matt’s lips tug in a mischievous grin watching you stifle a cackle. “You’re such a cornball, oh my god,” you say. 

Licking over his teeth, Matt is sure to hug you a little closer. “You mean a Corn Flake?” he retorts. 

The stupid, simple jokes make you embrace the moment. Your mind is focused on him, on how lucky you are to be right here, right now. No number size could make you laugh like him, no amount of pounds could replace the amount of life you feel being around the people you love. 

Memories are far more important than calories. You feel too full of life to be concerned about momentary things—things you know won’t make you smile in fifty years. The stories you wanna be able to tell will only happen if you live them, and you can’t do that if you’re only just surviving. 

“Okay, okay….” you turn, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Matt’s smile grows fonder and a little flushed. “You are my Lucky Charm. And corny, but I love you.” 

“I love you too, honey.” Matt affirms. 

Squinting your eyes as you feel him hug you, your mind races towards the cereal box lingering on the counter. Honey Bunches of Oats. “Are you referencing another fucking—-”

“I love you. Now, hug me back. Please.”

A/N: thank you for reading! I’m so unbelievably sorry if this is something you’re currently going through or have had to go through in the past. Please look up some resources or reach out to a trusted friend or adult. You never have to go through anything alone!!

You don't want to fuck. Not even matt? Crazy work

Hey baby! How are weeee

Mehhhhhh good but like 🥲 WBU SUGAR

Only if I'm allowed milk this time. 🥰

Someone has gotta stop me from making angst, I am hurting my own feelings every time i re read.

Eat a cookie maybe

I'm gooddddd, just got back from a dog walk and I'm writing a lil before I have dinner so

Hey baby! How are weeee

Mehhhhhh good but like 🥲 WBU SUGAR

Whattt @patscorner how could you ruin a good thing

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒔

⚠︎  mdni, mentions of disordered eating, anxiety, angst, fluff, and more

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!! Re-edited version of Healthy Healing. Proofread by @bbernard-03.

matt’s favorite toy, Rose

©bernardsbendystraws

 “What’s wrong, baby? I…something isn’t right and—let me in. Talk to me. Please.” 

It wasn’t adding up. Matt was worried as things started to make less and less sense. He knew something was off, he knew something wasn’t okay. You seemed so preoccupied. Spacing out during conversations, forgetting basic things….it didn’t add up. 

Your boyfriend cared about you. He was observant once he noticed the shift in energy, he noticed things that made even less sense—well, until he started connecting the dots. 

There was no true response from you. Always giving some poor excuse how you just ‘didn’t feel good’ wasn’t enough to settle his worries anymore. Not when it all started making so much sense—too much sense. 

__________

Clothes. You had always spent so much time deciding what outfit to wear, picking out whatever made you feel comfortable. That changed. Items you once cherished and wore regularly got tossed in the donation pile without a single ounce of sadness. 

Matt was confused. He thought you would be upset that the clothes no longer fit, he was honestly prepared for some tears. But you were happy. Not a single pout was noticeable, only a proud smile that didn’t seem to last very long—not when you tried to go shopping for new clothes the next day. 

The dressing room felt like it was getting smaller. Your chest felt uncomfortably tight as you tried to wrangle the jeans over your hips. It wouldn’t budge. Matt was confused why you were so frustrated. He knew you picked up a size smaller than you usually did. 

Hearing your grunts of frustration, he’s quick to find a solution. “They have the next size up. Let me—” 

He’s cut off by you walking straight past him out of the dressing room. Matt doesn’t wanna believe it—-he doesn’t want to connect the dots—not when they display such a devastating pattern of truth. But, there’s no choice anymore. The silence on the car ride back gives him clarity, enough clarity to make him sick with sadness. 

__________

Matt loved you too much to do nothing. He couldn’t sit back and watch you fade away—he couldn’t even fathom the thought of possibly losing you. He just couldn’t. 

Clueless, he finds the two people he knows he can rely on—Nick and Chris. As soon as the explanation started to fall from his lips, he couldn’t help but rasp the words through sharp breaths and hot tears. Saying it out loud was different—-saying it outloud meant it was real. 

Both brothers were devastated watching Matt in so much pain. The cracks in his voice and the way his fingers started clenching onto the hems of Chris’s T-shirt told them it was worse than just bad. This was desperation—-this was something so heart wrenching that it was obvious Matt hadn’t even really processed it. Words coming out of his mouth felt more like a script rather than emotions. 

“I don’t know….she’s, um—she’s, I guess she’s hurting herself? She…she’s not eating. I…I think I’m gonna lose her…I…what do I do?” Matt asks. 

The look Nick and Chris exchange is filled with pain—a look they’ve only shared a few times before. Neither of them want to break Matt down further, but the harsh truth would rip him bare to the bone. 

“Matt…I’m sorry this is happening, I can’t even imagine how this has all been. I’m…I’m glad you’re talking to us about it, but…” Chris trails off silently, looking up to spare Nick a glance. 

Nick sighs. “It’s…there’s not much you—or really anyone can do. Not unless she wants help. You need to approach her about it as calmly as possible. I…I’m sorry, but this….this isn’t something that anyone can just fix.” 

Matt bites on the inside of his cheek—hard. He just wants you to get better.

He doesn’t want to lose you. 

_________

Cries echoing from the bathroom was the first thing Matt heard when he had walked into the home. Taking light steps, he creeped down to eavesdrop, pressing his ear against the wooden door. His heart felt like it was burning from being slowly ripped apart in his chest. He feels helpless. 

‘--as calmly as possible.” 

Nick's words chant in his mind as he gathers the courage to knock. Bracing himself, he takes a deep breath. At the same moment, he hears an unmistakable sound of gagging. 

Unable to stop himself, Matt turns the doorknob immediately. Your eyes bulge from your face with panic, but the distress covering Matt’s features tells you there’s no point in lying. He knows. And you know that he knows. 

Sitting on the bed with you in his lap, Matt pulls you into a close hug. Your body is tense, unsure of how to react. He’s pulling you impossibly tight. 

“I,” the broken waver in his voice is what makes you relax, putting your own arms around him and hugging him tightly. “I, fuck, I—-why? You….I know you haven’t been eating. I,” shaking his head against your chest, he lets out a loud cry. “I can’t watch you hurt yourself like this. I…I won’t sit back and watch you kill yourself. I won’t, I….I can’t, baby. Please—please don’t do this. I need you here, with me. I….I’ll help you, I swear—but—-need you to try. You….please,” he begs, clutching onto you as if you will disappear somehow. 

Your muscles ache from exhaustion and guilt. All the emotions piling on feel unbearably heavy and you can’t help but relax that weight onto Matt, letting him pull you even closer as you cry into his shoulder. 

“I—I’m so sorry,” you let out. Matt lets out a sharp cry, your voice tugging on his heart painfully. “---I’m so sorry, Matt.” 

“It’s okay, I…I got you. We…we’ll do this together, okay? I…just…stay with me, sweetheart—I need you,” he cries. 

__________

The first week started off good. You didn’t look as gray. A healthy glow was illuminating your face again. Matt was more than happy to see it, and at first, you were too—but that glow seemed to fade as you realized that wasn’t the only thing changing about your appearance. 

All the progress started to seem like something to be ashamed of. You were too scared to tell Matt—you didn’t even know how to. Secrets were never your thing, honesty was one of the most important things to you—but, this was for the better. The voice in your mind wouldn’t shut up and you didn’t wanna burden Matt with that. 

The truth was buried—quite literally. Food you had told Matt you ate, meals that he was proud of you for eating….they were all just hidden under miscellaneous trash in the kitchen garbage can. 

Matt was always insisting on taking care of you. He didn’t want you to lift a finger, especially when you were already working overtime with everything already going on. The trash was his job. He took pride in knowing he made your life easier and being attentive to your needs. 

“Why the fuck is this so heavy—” Matt’s words are cut off as he slings the bag into the dumpster. He sees all the ‘secrets.’ He sees the truth. 

There is no anger, just a devastating realization that he can’t help you. He’s not enough anymore—and that? That hurts, so bad, so deep. It’s like he can feel himself shatter. 

There’s nothing left to give, but there’s everything to lose. 

__________

“I feel so helpless, I…what do I even do?” Matt says, his hands wrangling in his hair and tugging at the roots aggressively. 

Nick and Chris feel themselves tasting an ounce of his defeat. There’s so much pain ridden on Matt’s face—-so many lines of frustration creasing between his eyebrows. 

He’s lost. 

Matt was supposed to go join you in bed after he took out the trash, but he just couldn’t. Instead, he spent an hour sobbing into Nick’s arms while Chris patted him on the back. He doesn’t have it in himself to be strong anymore—-not when he feels so devastatingly weak. 

Eventually, he slides back into bed with you. He can’t help but hold onto you a little bit tighter, looking through the peeps of his curtains at the moon and begging. There’s no intended receiver, he doesn’t care what god or entity is listening—he just needs help. 

He just needs you. 

__________

The morning didn’t feel as blissful as usual. You turned over to find Matt staring out the window, a frown tugging on his lips with dark rings circling his eyes. 

“Matt—”

“The trash bag ripped.” 

Oh.

It’s like the world goes quiet. Hesitantly, you reach out, placing your hand onto his bicep as he lays on his side facing away from you. He doesn’t move, but there’s also no reaction at all. Laying still, he lets out a sigh with exhaustion pulling his body further into the bed. 

“Why? I…why? I’m…I don’t know how to help. I’m trying my best, it’s—why am I not good enough? I—I need you. You….why are you torturing me? I love you. I love you so much it hurts, this….I can’t keep watching this. Please, I—”

Your head falls onto Matt’s arm as you hear him inhale a shaky breath. Guilt and disappointment tread through your body as you feel his warm skin comfort your freezing body. Miserable was what this was. No reward felt good enough. No amount of numbers compared to the moments you used to share with him and the people you loved, back when you had energy to live. 

“I’m sorry, Matt. I…I’m gonna try. Honest—I’ll be honest this time. I just, sometimes, I, I don’t know how to ask for help. You shouldn’t have to take care of me this much, I—”

Your rant is cut short as he turns over, pulling you onto his chest. “I want to. It’s selfish, but I need you with me. I’m here, okay? Every up and down, you tell me. Please. Just—you can’t do this alone and…I can’t either anymore,” he announces with a sad strain noticeable in his tone. 

Nodding against his chest, you feel his hand wander down your arm, his fingers lacing through yours before he holds up a pinky. 

“Matt, what are you—”

“Promise me. I need more, I…I know a pinky promise is fucking stupid, but…I need you to mean it. No more secrets. Please.” 

Interlocking your pinking with his, you confirm his statement. 

“No more secrets.” 

__________

It’s not easy—it’s far from fucking easy. But, it’s a lot more simple when you’re holding his hand. The voice pestering you seems to quiet down. Matt notices how much comfort you find in him, it makes him happy to see you doing better. It makes him happy to know he can sit back, hold your hand, all while you help yourself. 

No more secrets. The promise had been fulfilled. A few bumps had arisen, but it’s a lot less brutal when he’s overpowering any thoughts, taking care of you until you can take care of yourself. 

Clanks of spoons echo against the ceramic bowls. The marshmallow and oat cereal isn’t Matt’s favorite, but he knows it’s something you’ve always loved. You sit in his lap while you both eat out of separate bowls. 

The quiet morning aroma lingers, but it makes your instinctive thoughts a little louder. “How is it, sweetheart?” Matt asks. Shrugging, you stir the cereal in the bowl, glaring at it for making you feel so weak. 

Squeezing your hip in one hand, Matt quickly thinks of something to make things easier for you. “Am I your favorite Lucky Charm? Or does this fuck-ass cereal win over me? Be honest,” he jokes. 

Hearing you snicker makes Matt feel a sense of pride, even more so when he sees you eat another spoonful with a peppy jolt. “Mmmmm, my favorite,” you snort. 

Matt’s lips part disappointedly. You see this, laughing lightly before ruffling his hair. “Well….can I at least frost your flakes?” 

You nearly spit at his implied statement. Matt’s lips tug in a mischievous grin watching you stifle a cackle. “You’re such a cornball, oh my god,” you say. 

Licking over his teeth, Matt is sure to hug you a little closer. “You mean a Corn Flake?” he retorts. 

The stupid, simple jokes make you embrace the moment. Your mind is focused on him, on how lucky you are to be right here, right now. No number size could make you laugh like him, no amount of pounds could replace the amount of life you feel being around the people you love. 

Memories are far more important than calories. You feel too full of life to be concerned about momentary things—things you know won’t make you smile in fifty years. The stories you wanna be able to tell will only happen if you live them, and you can’t do that if you’re only just surviving. 

“Okay, okay….” you turn, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Matt’s smile grows fonder and a little flushed. “You are my Lucky Charm. And corny, but I love you.” 

“I love you too, honey.” Matt affirms. 

Squinting your eyes as you feel him hug you, your mind races towards the cereal box lingering on the counter. Honey Bunches of Oats. “Are you referencing another fucking—-”

“I love you. Now, hug me back. Please.”

A/N: thank you for reading! I’m so unbelievably sorry if this is something you’re currently going through or have had to go through in the past. Please look up some resources or reach out to a trusted friend or adult. You never have to go through anything alone!!

This cookie better have matts cum in it istg

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒔

⚠︎  mdni, mentions of disordered eating, anxiety, angst, fluff, and more

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!! Re-edited version of Healthy Healing. Proofread by @bbernard-03.

matt’s favorite toy, Rose

©bernardsbendystraws

 “What’s wrong, baby? I…something isn’t right and—let me in. Talk to me. Please.” 

It wasn’t adding up. Matt was worried as things started to make less and less sense. He knew something was off, he knew something wasn’t okay. You seemed so preoccupied. Spacing out during conversations, forgetting basic things….it didn’t add up. 

Your boyfriend cared about you. He was observant once he noticed the shift in energy, he noticed things that made even less sense—well, until he started connecting the dots. 

There was no true response from you. Always giving some poor excuse how you just ‘didn’t feel good’ wasn’t enough to settle his worries anymore. Not when it all started making so much sense—too much sense. 

__________

Clothes. You had always spent so much time deciding what outfit to wear, picking out whatever made you feel comfortable. That changed. Items you once cherished and wore regularly got tossed in the donation pile without a single ounce of sadness. 

Matt was confused. He thought you would be upset that the clothes no longer fit, he was honestly prepared for some tears. But you were happy. Not a single pout was noticeable, only a proud smile that didn’t seem to last very long—not when you tried to go shopping for new clothes the next day. 

The dressing room felt like it was getting smaller. Your chest felt uncomfortably tight as you tried to wrangle the jeans over your hips. It wouldn’t budge. Matt was confused why you were so frustrated. He knew you picked up a size smaller than you usually did. 

Hearing your grunts of frustration, he’s quick to find a solution. “They have the next size up. Let me—” 

He’s cut off by you walking straight past him out of the dressing room. Matt doesn’t wanna believe it—-he doesn’t want to connect the dots—not when they display such a devastating pattern of truth. But, there’s no choice anymore. The silence on the car ride back gives him clarity, enough clarity to make him sick with sadness. 

__________

Matt loved you too much to do nothing. He couldn’t sit back and watch you fade away—he couldn’t even fathom the thought of possibly losing you. He just couldn’t. 

Clueless, he finds the two people he knows he can rely on—Nick and Chris. As soon as the explanation started to fall from his lips, he couldn’t help but rasp the words through sharp breaths and hot tears. Saying it out loud was different—-saying it outloud meant it was real. 

Both brothers were devastated watching Matt in so much pain. The cracks in his voice and the way his fingers started clenching onto the hems of Chris’s T-shirt told them it was worse than just bad. This was desperation—-this was something so heart wrenching that it was obvious Matt hadn’t even really processed it. Words coming out of his mouth felt more like a script rather than emotions. 

“I don’t know….she’s, um—she’s, I guess she’s hurting herself? She…she’s not eating. I…I think I’m gonna lose her…I…what do I do?” Matt asks. 

The look Nick and Chris exchange is filled with pain—a look they’ve only shared a few times before. Neither of them want to break Matt down further, but the harsh truth would rip him bare to the bone. 

“Matt…I’m sorry this is happening, I can’t even imagine how this has all been. I’m…I’m glad you’re talking to us about it, but…” Chris trails off silently, looking up to spare Nick a glance. 

Nick sighs. “It’s…there’s not much you—or really anyone can do. Not unless she wants help. You need to approach her about it as calmly as possible. I…I’m sorry, but this….this isn’t something that anyone can just fix.” 

Matt bites on the inside of his cheek—hard. He just wants you to get better.

He doesn’t want to lose you. 

_________

Cries echoing from the bathroom was the first thing Matt heard when he had walked into the home. Taking light steps, he creeped down to eavesdrop, pressing his ear against the wooden door. His heart felt like it was burning from being slowly ripped apart in his chest. He feels helpless. 

‘--as calmly as possible.” 

Nick's words chant in his mind as he gathers the courage to knock. Bracing himself, he takes a deep breath. At the same moment, he hears an unmistakable sound of gagging. 

Unable to stop himself, Matt turns the doorknob immediately. Your eyes bulge from your face with panic, but the distress covering Matt’s features tells you there’s no point in lying. He knows. And you know that he knows. 

Sitting on the bed with you in his lap, Matt pulls you into a close hug. Your body is tense, unsure of how to react. He’s pulling you impossibly tight. 

“I,” the broken waver in his voice is what makes you relax, putting your own arms around him and hugging him tightly. “I, fuck, I—-why? You….I know you haven’t been eating. I,” shaking his head against your chest, he lets out a loud cry. “I can’t watch you hurt yourself like this. I…I won’t sit back and watch you kill yourself. I won’t, I….I can’t, baby. Please—please don’t do this. I need you here, with me. I….I’ll help you, I swear—but—-need you to try. You….please,” he begs, clutching onto you as if you will disappear somehow. 

Your muscles ache from exhaustion and guilt. All the emotions piling on feel unbearably heavy and you can’t help but relax that weight onto Matt, letting him pull you even closer as you cry into his shoulder. 

“I—I’m so sorry,” you let out. Matt lets out a sharp cry, your voice tugging on his heart painfully. “---I’m so sorry, Matt.” 

“It’s okay, I…I got you. We…we’ll do this together, okay? I…just…stay with me, sweetheart—I need you,” he cries. 

__________

The first week started off good. You didn’t look as gray. A healthy glow was illuminating your face again. Matt was more than happy to see it, and at first, you were too—but that glow seemed to fade as you realized that wasn’t the only thing changing about your appearance. 

All the progress started to seem like something to be ashamed of. You were too scared to tell Matt—you didn’t even know how to. Secrets were never your thing, honesty was one of the most important things to you—but, this was for the better. The voice in your mind wouldn’t shut up and you didn’t wanna burden Matt with that. 

The truth was buried—quite literally. Food you had told Matt you ate, meals that he was proud of you for eating….they were all just hidden under miscellaneous trash in the kitchen garbage can. 

Matt was always insisting on taking care of you. He didn’t want you to lift a finger, especially when you were already working overtime with everything already going on. The trash was his job. He took pride in knowing he made your life easier and being attentive to your needs. 

“Why the fuck is this so heavy—” Matt’s words are cut off as he slings the bag into the dumpster. He sees all the ‘secrets.’ He sees the truth. 

There is no anger, just a devastating realization that he can’t help you. He’s not enough anymore—and that? That hurts, so bad, so deep. It’s like he can feel himself shatter. 

There’s nothing left to give, but there’s everything to lose. 

__________

“I feel so helpless, I…what do I even do?” Matt says, his hands wrangling in his hair and tugging at the roots aggressively. 

Nick and Chris feel themselves tasting an ounce of his defeat. There’s so much pain ridden on Matt’s face—-so many lines of frustration creasing between his eyebrows. 

He’s lost. 

Matt was supposed to go join you in bed after he took out the trash, but he just couldn’t. Instead, he spent an hour sobbing into Nick’s arms while Chris patted him on the back. He doesn’t have it in himself to be strong anymore—-not when he feels so devastatingly weak. 

Eventually, he slides back into bed with you. He can’t help but hold onto you a little bit tighter, looking through the peeps of his curtains at the moon and begging. There’s no intended receiver, he doesn’t care what god or entity is listening—he just needs help. 

He just needs you. 

__________

The morning didn’t feel as blissful as usual. You turned over to find Matt staring out the window, a frown tugging on his lips with dark rings circling his eyes. 

“Matt—”

“The trash bag ripped.” 

Oh.

It’s like the world goes quiet. Hesitantly, you reach out, placing your hand onto his bicep as he lays on his side facing away from you. He doesn’t move, but there’s also no reaction at all. Laying still, he lets out a sigh with exhaustion pulling his body further into the bed. 

“Why? I…why? I’m…I don’t know how to help. I’m trying my best, it’s—why am I not good enough? I—I need you. You….why are you torturing me? I love you. I love you so much it hurts, this….I can’t keep watching this. Please, I—”

Your head falls onto Matt’s arm as you hear him inhale a shaky breath. Guilt and disappointment tread through your body as you feel his warm skin comfort your freezing body. Miserable was what this was. No reward felt good enough. No amount of numbers compared to the moments you used to share with him and the people you loved, back when you had energy to live. 

“I’m sorry, Matt. I…I’m gonna try. Honest—I’ll be honest this time. I just, sometimes, I, I don’t know how to ask for help. You shouldn’t have to take care of me this much, I—”

Your rant is cut short as he turns over, pulling you onto his chest. “I want to. It’s selfish, but I need you with me. I’m here, okay? Every up and down, you tell me. Please. Just—you can’t do this alone and…I can’t either anymore,” he announces with a sad strain noticeable in his tone. 

Nodding against his chest, you feel his hand wander down your arm, his fingers lacing through yours before he holds up a pinky. 

“Matt, what are you—”

“Promise me. I need more, I…I know a pinky promise is fucking stupid, but…I need you to mean it. No more secrets. Please.” 

Interlocking your pinking with his, you confirm his statement. 

“No more secrets.” 

__________

It’s not easy—it’s far from fucking easy. But, it’s a lot more simple when you’re holding his hand. The voice pestering you seems to quiet down. Matt notices how much comfort you find in him, it makes him happy to see you doing better. It makes him happy to know he can sit back, hold your hand, all while you help yourself. 

No more secrets. The promise had been fulfilled. A few bumps had arisen, but it’s a lot less brutal when he’s overpowering any thoughts, taking care of you until you can take care of yourself. 

Clanks of spoons echo against the ceramic bowls. The marshmallow and oat cereal isn’t Matt’s favorite, but he knows it’s something you’ve always loved. You sit in his lap while you both eat out of separate bowls. 

The quiet morning aroma lingers, but it makes your instinctive thoughts a little louder. “How is it, sweetheart?” Matt asks. Shrugging, you stir the cereal in the bowl, glaring at it for making you feel so weak. 

Squeezing your hip in one hand, Matt quickly thinks of something to make things easier for you. “Am I your favorite Lucky Charm? Or does this fuck-ass cereal win over me? Be honest,” he jokes. 

Hearing you snicker makes Matt feel a sense of pride, even more so when he sees you eat another spoonful with a peppy jolt. “Mmmmm, my favorite,” you snort. 

Matt’s lips part disappointedly. You see this, laughing lightly before ruffling his hair. “Well….can I at least frost your flakes?” 

You nearly spit at his implied statement. Matt’s lips tug in a mischievous grin watching you stifle a cackle. “You’re such a cornball, oh my god,” you say. 

Licking over his teeth, Matt is sure to hug you a little closer. “You mean a Corn Flake?” he retorts. 

The stupid, simple jokes make you embrace the moment. Your mind is focused on him, on how lucky you are to be right here, right now. No number size could make you laugh like him, no amount of pounds could replace the amount of life you feel being around the people you love. 

Memories are far more important than calories. You feel too full of life to be concerned about momentary things—things you know won’t make you smile in fifty years. The stories you wanna be able to tell will only happen if you live them, and you can’t do that if you’re only just surviving. 

“Okay, okay….” you turn, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Matt’s smile grows fonder and a little flushed. “You are my Lucky Charm. And corny, but I love you.” 

“I love you too, honey.” Matt affirms. 

Squinting your eyes as you feel him hug you, your mind races towards the cereal box lingering on the counter. Honey Bunches of Oats. “Are you referencing another fucking—-”

“I love you. Now, hug me back. Please.”

A/N: thank you for reading! I’m so unbelievably sorry if this is something you’re currently going through or have had to go through in the past. Please look up some resources or reach out to a trusted friend or adult. You never have to go through anything alone!!

Rose. Are you trying to make me cry.?

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒔

⚠︎  mdni, mentions of disordered eating, anxiety, angst, fluff, and more

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!! Re-edited version of Healthy Healing. Proofread by @bbernard-03.

matt’s favorite toy, Rose

©bernardsbendystraws

 “What’s wrong, baby? I…something isn’t right and—let me in. Talk to me. Please.” 

It wasn’t adding up. Matt was worried as things started to make less and less sense. He knew something was off, he knew something wasn’t okay. You seemed so preoccupied. Spacing out during conversations, forgetting basic things….it didn’t add up. 

Your boyfriend cared about you. He was observant once he noticed the shift in energy, he noticed things that made even less sense—well, until he started connecting the dots. 

There was no true response from you. Always giving some poor excuse how you just ‘didn’t feel good’ wasn’t enough to settle his worries anymore. Not when it all started making so much sense—too much sense. 

__________

Clothes. You had always spent so much time deciding what outfit to wear, picking out whatever made you feel comfortable. That changed. Items you once cherished and wore regularly got tossed in the donation pile without a single ounce of sadness. 

Matt was confused. He thought you would be upset that the clothes no longer fit, he was honestly prepared for some tears. But you were happy. Not a single pout was noticeable, only a proud smile that didn’t seem to last very long—not when you tried to go shopping for new clothes the next day. 

The dressing room felt like it was getting smaller. Your chest felt uncomfortably tight as you tried to wrangle the jeans over your hips. It wouldn’t budge. Matt was confused why you were so frustrated. He knew you picked up a size smaller than you usually did. 

Hearing your grunts of frustration, he’s quick to find a solution. “They have the next size up. Let me—” 

He’s cut off by you walking straight past him out of the dressing room. Matt doesn’t wanna believe it—-he doesn’t want to connect the dots—not when they display such a devastating pattern of truth. But, there’s no choice anymore. The silence on the car ride back gives him clarity, enough clarity to make him sick with sadness. 

__________

Matt loved you too much to do nothing. He couldn’t sit back and watch you fade away—he couldn’t even fathom the thought of possibly losing you. He just couldn’t. 

Clueless, he finds the two people he knows he can rely on—Nick and Chris. As soon as the explanation started to fall from his lips, he couldn’t help but rasp the words through sharp breaths and hot tears. Saying it out loud was different—-saying it outloud meant it was real. 

Both brothers were devastated watching Matt in so much pain. The cracks in his voice and the way his fingers started clenching onto the hems of Chris’s T-shirt told them it was worse than just bad. This was desperation—-this was something so heart wrenching that it was obvious Matt hadn’t even really processed it. Words coming out of his mouth felt more like a script rather than emotions. 

“I don’t know….she’s, um—she’s, I guess she’s hurting herself? She…she’s not eating. I…I think I’m gonna lose her…I…what do I do?” Matt asks. 

The look Nick and Chris exchange is filled with pain—a look they’ve only shared a few times before. Neither of them want to break Matt down further, but the harsh truth would rip him bare to the bone. 

“Matt…I’m sorry this is happening, I can’t even imagine how this has all been. I’m…I’m glad you’re talking to us about it, but…” Chris trails off silently, looking up to spare Nick a glance. 

Nick sighs. “It’s…there’s not much you—or really anyone can do. Not unless she wants help. You need to approach her about it as calmly as possible. I…I’m sorry, but this….this isn’t something that anyone can just fix.” 

Matt bites on the inside of his cheek—hard. He just wants you to get better.

He doesn’t want to lose you. 

_________

Cries echoing from the bathroom was the first thing Matt heard when he had walked into the home. Taking light steps, he creeped down to eavesdrop, pressing his ear against the wooden door. His heart felt like it was burning from being slowly ripped apart in his chest. He feels helpless. 

‘--as calmly as possible.” 

Nick's words chant in his mind as he gathers the courage to knock. Bracing himself, he takes a deep breath. At the same moment, he hears an unmistakable sound of gagging. 

Unable to stop himself, Matt turns the doorknob immediately. Your eyes bulge from your face with panic, but the distress covering Matt’s features tells you there’s no point in lying. He knows. And you know that he knows. 

Sitting on the bed with you in his lap, Matt pulls you into a close hug. Your body is tense, unsure of how to react. He’s pulling you impossibly tight. 

“I,” the broken waver in his voice is what makes you relax, putting your own arms around him and hugging him tightly. “I, fuck, I—-why? You….I know you haven’t been eating. I,” shaking his head against your chest, he lets out a loud cry. “I can’t watch you hurt yourself like this. I…I won’t sit back and watch you kill yourself. I won’t, I….I can’t, baby. Please—please don’t do this. I need you here, with me. I….I’ll help you, I swear—but—-need you to try. You….please,” he begs, clutching onto you as if you will disappear somehow. 

Your muscles ache from exhaustion and guilt. All the emotions piling on feel unbearably heavy and you can’t help but relax that weight onto Matt, letting him pull you even closer as you cry into his shoulder. 

“I—I’m so sorry,” you let out. Matt lets out a sharp cry, your voice tugging on his heart painfully. “---I’m so sorry, Matt.” 

“It’s okay, I…I got you. We…we’ll do this together, okay? I…just…stay with me, sweetheart—I need you,” he cries. 

__________

The first week started off good. You didn’t look as gray. A healthy glow was illuminating your face again. Matt was more than happy to see it, and at first, you were too—but that glow seemed to fade as you realized that wasn’t the only thing changing about your appearance. 

All the progress started to seem like something to be ashamed of. You were too scared to tell Matt—you didn’t even know how to. Secrets were never your thing, honesty was one of the most important things to you—but, this was for the better. The voice in your mind wouldn’t shut up and you didn’t wanna burden Matt with that. 

The truth was buried—quite literally. Food you had told Matt you ate, meals that he was proud of you for eating….they were all just hidden under miscellaneous trash in the kitchen garbage can. 

Matt was always insisting on taking care of you. He didn’t want you to lift a finger, especially when you were already working overtime with everything already going on. The trash was his job. He took pride in knowing he made your life easier and being attentive to your needs. 

“Why the fuck is this so heavy—” Matt’s words are cut off as he slings the bag into the dumpster. He sees all the ‘secrets.’ He sees the truth. 

There is no anger, just a devastating realization that he can’t help you. He’s not enough anymore—and that? That hurts, so bad, so deep. It’s like he can feel himself shatter. 

There’s nothing left to give, but there’s everything to lose. 

__________

“I feel so helpless, I…what do I even do?” Matt says, his hands wrangling in his hair and tugging at the roots aggressively. 

Nick and Chris feel themselves tasting an ounce of his defeat. There’s so much pain ridden on Matt’s face—-so many lines of frustration creasing between his eyebrows. 

He’s lost. 

Matt was supposed to go join you in bed after he took out the trash, but he just couldn’t. Instead, he spent an hour sobbing into Nick’s arms while Chris patted him on the back. He doesn’t have it in himself to be strong anymore—-not when he feels so devastatingly weak. 

Eventually, he slides back into bed with you. He can’t help but hold onto you a little bit tighter, looking through the peeps of his curtains at the moon and begging. There’s no intended receiver, he doesn’t care what god or entity is listening—he just needs help. 

He just needs you. 

__________

The morning didn’t feel as blissful as usual. You turned over to find Matt staring out the window, a frown tugging on his lips with dark rings circling his eyes. 

“Matt—”

“The trash bag ripped.” 

Oh.

It’s like the world goes quiet. Hesitantly, you reach out, placing your hand onto his bicep as he lays on his side facing away from you. He doesn’t move, but there’s also no reaction at all. Laying still, he lets out a sigh with exhaustion pulling his body further into the bed. 

“Why? I…why? I’m…I don’t know how to help. I’m trying my best, it’s—why am I not good enough? I—I need you. You….why are you torturing me? I love you. I love you so much it hurts, this….I can’t keep watching this. Please, I—”

Your head falls onto Matt’s arm as you hear him inhale a shaky breath. Guilt and disappointment tread through your body as you feel his warm skin comfort your freezing body. Miserable was what this was. No reward felt good enough. No amount of numbers compared to the moments you used to share with him and the people you loved, back when you had energy to live. 

“I’m sorry, Matt. I…I’m gonna try. Honest—I’ll be honest this time. I just, sometimes, I, I don’t know how to ask for help. You shouldn’t have to take care of me this much, I—”

Your rant is cut short as he turns over, pulling you onto his chest. “I want to. It’s selfish, but I need you with me. I’m here, okay? Every up and down, you tell me. Please. Just—you can’t do this alone and…I can’t either anymore,” he announces with a sad strain noticeable in his tone. 

Nodding against his chest, you feel his hand wander down your arm, his fingers lacing through yours before he holds up a pinky. 

“Matt, what are you—”

“Promise me. I need more, I…I know a pinky promise is fucking stupid, but…I need you to mean it. No more secrets. Please.” 

Interlocking your pinking with his, you confirm his statement. 

“No more secrets.” 

__________

It’s not easy—it’s far from fucking easy. But, it’s a lot more simple when you’re holding his hand. The voice pestering you seems to quiet down. Matt notices how much comfort you find in him, it makes him happy to see you doing better. It makes him happy to know he can sit back, hold your hand, all while you help yourself. 

No more secrets. The promise had been fulfilled. A few bumps had arisen, but it’s a lot less brutal when he’s overpowering any thoughts, taking care of you until you can take care of yourself. 

Clanks of spoons echo against the ceramic bowls. The marshmallow and oat cereal isn’t Matt’s favorite, but he knows it’s something you’ve always loved. You sit in his lap while you both eat out of separate bowls. 

The quiet morning aroma lingers, but it makes your instinctive thoughts a little louder. “How is it, sweetheart?” Matt asks. Shrugging, you stir the cereal in the bowl, glaring at it for making you feel so weak. 

Squeezing your hip in one hand, Matt quickly thinks of something to make things easier for you. “Am I your favorite Lucky Charm? Or does this fuck-ass cereal win over me? Be honest,” he jokes. 

Hearing you snicker makes Matt feel a sense of pride, even more so when he sees you eat another spoonful with a peppy jolt. “Mmmmm, my favorite,” you snort. 

Matt’s lips part disappointedly. You see this, laughing lightly before ruffling his hair. “Well….can I at least frost your flakes?” 

You nearly spit at his implied statement. Matt’s lips tug in a mischievous grin watching you stifle a cackle. “You’re such a cornball, oh my god,” you say. 

Licking over his teeth, Matt is sure to hug you a little closer. “You mean a Corn Flake?” he retorts. 

The stupid, simple jokes make you embrace the moment. Your mind is focused on him, on how lucky you are to be right here, right now. No number size could make you laugh like him, no amount of pounds could replace the amount of life you feel being around the people you love. 

Memories are far more important than calories. You feel too full of life to be concerned about momentary things—things you know won’t make you smile in fifty years. The stories you wanna be able to tell will only happen if you live them, and you can’t do that if you’re only just surviving. 

“Okay, okay….” you turn, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Matt’s smile grows fonder and a little flushed. “You are my Lucky Charm. And corny, but I love you.” 

“I love you too, honey.” Matt affirms. 

Squinting your eyes as you feel him hug you, your mind races towards the cereal box lingering on the counter. Honey Bunches of Oats. “Are you referencing another fucking—-”

“I love you. Now, hug me back. Please.”

A/N: thank you for reading! I’m so unbelievably sorry if this is something you’re currently going through or have had to go through in the past. Please look up some resources or reach out to a trusted friend or adult. You never have to go through anything alone!!

Guys, I have to stop with the au's I have too many ideas I can't keep up with

This song gives me one to many ideas.

You too my love

goodnight love i think i’m actually going to sleep now <3

Goodnight bby, sleep well🤍

goodnight love i think i’m actually going to sleep now <3

Goodnight bby, sleep well🤍

It's bc I wasn't there

didnt sleep great now I'm pissed

Definitely

do i stay up this late cuz i work night shift or because my mental health is trash ???

Definitely

do i stay up this late cuz i work night shift or because my mental health is trash ???

Both at the same time

do i stay up this late cuz i work night shift or because my mental health is trash ???

Sleep well bby <3

do i stay up and watch the sunrise or force myself to go to bed

Watch the sunrise, sleep all day and wake up to see the sunset

do i stay up and watch the sunrise or force myself to go to bed

Watch the sunrise, sleep all day and wake up to see the sunset