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#everything just constantly feels so miserable and ugly here

support-ponies · 2 years

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This is not something I'd normally post here, but I HAVE to talk about it because I've never publicly talked about it, and it's always eating away at me. Trigger warnings for suicide mention.

I'm going to vent a bit about my abusive relationship with my ex boyfriend, just a small portion because if i go into everything, this will be 40 paragraphs long and it’s already long enough.

My ex boyfriend cheated on me so many time, I got forced into an open relationship I didn't want to be in because it was either "I'm breaking up with you and staying with the person I cheated on you with, or we can be in an open relationship so I can keep being with the person I cheated on you with and NOT feel guilty." God he just made me feel so unwanted, so ugly, so stupid and worthless. I tried to kill myself so many times because of him. I loved him so much and my stupid brain couldn't imagine being without him even if it made me so miserable. I remember always telling myself "I'd rather be sad with him, than sad without him." Even while he ignored me for months, actually blocked me at one point, told me i was annoying, cheated on me multiple times, gaslighted me...etc etc. I've never cried so much in the years I was with him.

I just remember the worst part, if that's possible, is me thinking "I wish he would be like other abusive partners and threaten to kill me if i ever left him". I cried in my room wishing my boyfriend would kill me because it felt better than knowing he didn't actually give a shit about me. He WANTED me gone, he said it straight up "I tried to treat her so bad that she would leave me". It hurt me worse than the cheating, the thought of "he's not cheating on me cos he wants to be with me and somebody else but he wants to be with somebody else and just doesn't want to deal with the hassle of breaking up with me". He knew I was suicidal, he knew the things he did to me pushed me closer to the edge, and he did nothing but continue those things and acted like he did nothing wrong.

To this day I am still recovering from him. I still constantly feel like I'm a worthless piece of shit who should just die and make everybody happy sometimes. I still hear his voices in my head. I am happy now, I am no longer suicidal, I'm on medication, I found someone who actually loves me and treats me right. But like, I still feel, bad. And i don't know how to stop feeling bad. I'm married, I'm so so soooo happy, but I always feel him behind me, and I just don't know what to do.

sigh...i think i feel better? thank you for letting me vomit this all out.

#tw suicide mention #venting #nobody has to read this i just desperatly needed to talk about it #because its been hurting me so bad lately #not blog related

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zalrb · 11 months

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“So, what exactly is your plan because you know that this is killing her, right?” he said.

“Nothing, I’m just … I’ve stopped her from running into a burning building for you.”

“I’ve seen her jump into wells for you.”

“I---” Bonnie shook her head. “It’s not in Elena’s nature to stay away from you, Stefan.”

THE FACT THATS SHES DONE SO MUCH FOR HIM! but if we tried to list everything elena has done for stefan wed be here for hours lol

ALSO jeremy standing up for elena is what ive always wanted to see in the show. or them standing up for each other, really. theyre so passive in the show, they feel like distant cousins who occasionally bond over their childhood or whatever, the way you write them they feel a lot more like siblings who genuinely care for each other

"Bonnie regarded him. “I know that,” she said, touching his arm. “I know this is just as hard for you and just as painful and just as lonely.” He looked at her to see something like understanding in her expression. “It’s even lonelier when you’re the one making the hard decision.”

as someone whos had to pull a stefan in the past, THIS HIT ME

also damon not honoring the pact he made with stefan and staying in town despite elena choosing stefan has me like

Damon sighed heavily and took his time speaking. “It had been suggested that I was sired to Katherine, I wanted to see if that was true.”

Stefan rushed forward and grabbed Damon by the shirt. “You mean you’ve had this information the entire time?”

the fact that i am not even A LITTLE suprised is very sad. this is so in character for damon. he ALWAYS does this. just like with the cure, he keeps things like this to himself for his own benefit. this man is a walking red flag

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Elena is in hell right now, Damon. And you have information that could potentially end it?”

YUP. he does this constantly in the show. he constantly puts her in painful positions for his own sake. which is why i cant take damon seriously. like the more i think about it, the more i hate him. HE DOES NOT LOVE ELENA. he really reminds me of callies speech about love

Damon’s expression turned ugly. “Maybe I wanted her to be as miserable as I was for a little bit. Not my proudest moment.”

“Look, I’m doing the right thing now, OK? Because as much as I want to, when it comes to Elena, I can’t be selfish with her.”

“That’s all you’ve ever been!” Stefan yelled in his face. “The fact that you don’t see that is…"

YES STEFAN!!!!! THANK FUCK. reading this is so cathartic. the show tried so hard to validate damons distorted view of himself via dialogue while completely disregarding his countless selfish actions, FINALLY HE GETS CALLED OUT ON IT. youre doing god's work zal

exactly! so when anon was like 'you butchered him' i was like, i mean ... did i?

yeah, i was halfway through it and was giving bonnie a gentler version of this but then decided to go back and make it jeremy to utilize it more but also because it would make more sense for him to be the one like i know you're doing the right thing but are you actually doing the right thing because caroline would understand after what she'd gone through with damon, bonnie would understand as the one who would make those calls, matt would be useless so it's jeremy.

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trust-and-jump · 1 year

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Talia and Jason before the Pit

I warn you: Bad English!!!!! Bat English...

Okay, this might not look like it to you, but the piece is in my Reverse Robins AU, which includes The Thing where Jason Todd is Kind Of immortal:

But this definitely can be read as non-RR!AU thing.

So. Bad translation; I feel like everything I write in English is funny or irritating bc of all my mistakes and typos and poor word choosing.

also despite long warning it's short lol. just wanted to post it because I like to torture myself and turn my good enough (for me) Russian texts into super-bad English ones.

Hope someone will like Talia in this.

But nevermind, read it if you want:

takes place when Jay is healthy enough and fed already; I think maybe he is with al Ghuls for six months at least; I feel like I should say eight months.

She worried about him when she was away - constantly, relentlessly. First she saw him as a connection with Bruce. Then as someone in a snake pit who can't take care of himself. Later… as a child in her care. In any case, he was her responsibility; Jason. And that, somehow, was a worse burden to bear than it was with Damian.

Of course, it didn't help her newfound horror that it seemed like something terrible had happened every time Talia wasn't around. A failed "test", a punishment without her knowledge and permission, some glimpse of his wounded mind… and much more. It seemed like she couldn't leave Jason alone even for a day. Although.. that was the problem, wasn't it? Jason, as a rule, was not alone. As far as Talia knew, it was because of others that all the incidents arose — no fault of Jason at all.

Maybe she was biased. So what?

In any case, nothing — and no one —could have prepared her for the day when Jason died. When Jason died and she only found out about it a couple of hours later.

Her first thoughts were a special kind of mess, when she was only able to move, but not to think.

Looking back, Talia could admit that she handled the situation much less gracefully than she should have. However, the incident forced her to admit to herself that Jason had become dear to her. Much more than planned. The insignificant life of that fool who was too careless and decided that an ugly fight with a teenager who could not answer for himself... the fool that attacked Jason with a sword, who won dishonorably and meanly— who thought that all those training sessions (where they - ordinary trainees - attacked him in droves) meant killing "dead bird" was a success and lead to a reward - when the opposite was directly said to all of them… that fool's miserable life wasn't worth the mercy Talia had shown him. And she gave this mercy only because she was too distracted by the sudden (and, oh God, so familiar) sound of the boy's breathing. She twitched her bloody fingers uselessly, and then rushed to him.

For the first time since fate had brought him to the abode of evil, to the net that she had selfishly set, Talia did not think about Bruce looking at Jason. The boy clung to her, shuddering, but he did it cautiously, timidly, and she could not stop herself as she stretched out her hand in response, gripped his shoulder and pulled him closer, tighter, almost hugging. She couldn't stop herself from kissing the top of his head, running fingers through his hair, feeling the edges of the scars with her fingertips.

What am I doing, Talia thought suddenly. Why is he here.

Why weren't they in some place where the sun goes down.

Where the shadows don't fall.

Where it's never hot.

Where there were no green eyes and rotten waters and captivity and prison.

Then Talia thought about those terrifying moments before Jason - miraculously - breathed again. And remembered how she felt— in her mind, she was standing on the edge of a cliff in front of a black abyss, and the wind was blowing in her back.

No, she thought furiously. It won't happen.

It was convenient enough that in the last couple of months, Jason's affairs have been addressed first to her and only then to her father.

No one could find out about Jason's second death. The Demon was kind enough not to test the boy's mortality, but if it turns out that Jason had this gift — or a curse — nothing would deter his tests and inquiries.

And, if today's terrible day had shown something, Talia would never be ready to agree to it without a fight. Without a lost already battle.

And therefore, the Demon's Daughter decided, muttering into the hair of her ward everything's alright's and you'll be okay's in her own language, I will keep it a secret.

Jason was gradually relaxing. He was strong, a fighter from the start, but the whole misfortune took a lot of energy from him; he fell asleep, feeling safe with Talia. And her heart sank. She wasn't sure she deserved that trust. She could only hope that she wouldn't lose it.

___

that's all, look at my food now. I ate a lot and I am happy for a few hours. Because I love to eat, it's literally my favourite thing to do. food is life. if I'm full I'm happy. delicious. I love cooking too.

the screenshot is from Batman (1966).

Now look at this:

but hey, I don't mind Talia/Jason thing in Lost Days. because it wasn't meant to be liked by people. I just wanted to clearify that in my AU it didn't happen.

Okay, if you read here, just PLEASE tell me if you see any mistake!!!! or poor word choosing!!!!! or typo!!!! I'm bad with English, help me 😭😭😭

#talia al ghul #jason todd #lost days #lost days au #batman fanfiction #fic writing #reverse robins #batman #catatonic jason #catatonic Jason todd #batfam fic #bad english #bat english #Talia al Ghul and Jason Todd #Talia and jason #reverse robins au #age reversal au #Reverse Robins

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082112 · 6 months

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A few thoughts from today:

1. I am seriously thinking about leaving Alaska and Outer Coast early. Called Michelle today and told her about all my horrible thoughts: that I am allowed to rest because I got my big tech internship, ergo my gap year is “baseline successful”; if I get a winter big tech internship I’ll let myself drop out because then I will be “doing something with my gap year instead of bumming around”; and my reasons to not drop out right now, which mainly revolve around needing a transcript from this school so I can show grad schools I’m not bumming around and staying long enough that I can farm this experience for application essays and interview answers in the future. “They’re horrible, ugly thoughts,” I said, “if these are the reasons I’m staying, I should not stay. But I keep thinking, what am I gonna tell the Marshall selection committee in two years? It’s a horrible way of thinking.” And I am ashamed of it, I think. The truth is that I’m not having a good time right now. I’m desperately homesick and horribly anxious and don’t feel any level of human warmth from the people here anywhere near the level I need to feel happy and safe, and that’s terrifying, and it makes me fear that the rest of my life any time I go someplace new will be like this, and by my own social inadequacies and follies I will be consigned to a life of aching solitude. Of course logically I know that not to be true. But my mental health has been bad the past few weeks, and fear speaks often to me. Mom and dad are supportive, though, of whatever I do - and have told me many wise things, like “it’s okay to have a bad experience” and “you can’t blame yourself for everything and attribute all your hardships to personal failings” and “you should listen to yourself.” It’s a bit sad, because I had a good few weeks (despite a horrendous first week) when I came here and there are things I have gained and events I have been a part of that have made me feel very happy and fulfilled, in a way. Something about nature and ancestors and movement and culture and song. But I’ve been quite miserable and homesick for the past week and a half, and I seriously just want to go home. It’s not a good use of my time to be miserable alone here when every time I call home the house in everyone’s backgrounds is filled with warmth. And yet I keep on telling myself I’m halfway through and only have 6 real weeks of classes left, I can stick it through, I can spend my free time reading books and watching anime and playing games instead of moping, et cetera… so I’m horribly torn.

2. Language - being here really re-affirms my belief that I want to learn more languages of the world. And also learn more language in English - I have felt so often and so achingly much that there are so many things I have not found language to say, and those unsayable things live with me every day and I feel them constantly. And today I was just thinking of that, and how much I wanted to write poetry again. How much I wanted to find it in me.

3. On brilliant minds: this has two parts. The first is that I realize I seriously idolize my teachers when I admire them, when in reality they are JUST A GUY. So when I don’t get the attention I want from them (this is often) I nope and blame myself and question everything about the world, all the questions that haunt me like if there is subliminal racism or sexism or whateverism, if they see less of my personhood than if I had the precisely same mind in the body of a white person. And endless comparisons to peers. And I want to be recognized as a brilliant and exceptional mind by these teachers so badly. But the moment that thought crossed my mind today I struck it down - first, my teachers are flawed humans too. Great holders of knowledge, sure, but also susceptible to bias and ego and ignorance. Secondly, I do not really want the purpose of my intellect or anything else I cultivate to be in service to gaining recognition from a select few. To be honest, I’m not as invested in having an exceptionally brilliant mind as I was when I was younger. Of course this illusion still stands. But more and more now I really just want a mind that has the facilities I require to know the world in the ways I need for the greater part of myself to feel things like wonder and peace and anger and sadness, all meshed together in that impossible understanding of grief and joy and light.

So - top M.O.s at Outer Coast include:

- scheduling therapy

- reading more books

- watching more shows

- de-idolizing staffulty and recognizing the just-some-guyness of them

- deciding whether or not I want to leave

It’s crazy and unbelievable to me that everything is gonna be okay. But very clearly too I can see that everything is definitely gonna be okay.

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froshele · 1 year

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jackalope and mermaid? 🥺

🐇 do you have any conflicting characteristics?

sure, everyone does - it's not like that means people aren't honest or genuine or whole as they are, it's just that they have situational heuristics for their behaviour. nobody thinking about it seriously would morally judge a horse for simultaneously being an anxious herbivore and opportunistically eating squirrels for calcium, right? they'd just add the behaviour to their list of what this horse habitually does, maybe ask someone if it's normal, be answered in the affirmative and shrug it off.

personally, i'm relatively mentally healthy and therefore i think of myself as a harmonious whole in relation with others -- as does the horse, but mileage may vary. i imagine people in different places might find different things difficult to reconcile. maybe an answer that would satisfy the nature of this particular ask (featuring a list) might be something like "simultaneously profoundly humanist philosophically and not at all trusting of strangers", but i mean, guest right and partaking of the social contract is a different thing from assuming by default that everyone wants to be around you for honest reasons, i think.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

🧜‍♀️ how do you define beauty?

beautiful things feel right, like they should be exactly where they are. when it's a landscape and you find it beautiful i think what you're meant to feel is something like awe, or at least an appreciation of the context you're in. a sense of inherent goodness helps, too. humans tend to like forests and jungles for this, but even desert and steppe can inspire it.

this place is incontrovertibly Real and Good. i lived around here (on baie de la bouteille, in the unincorporated area) for half a year, can confirm it was always beautiful.

when it's a person individually (human, animal, botanical) it's sort of the inverse of that, beautiful creatures are the ones that are firmly in a place and also appreciating it. feeling awe, feeling wonder, laughing, pondering, melancholising a little - almost any state but not fear and anger, no one can find those beautiful, i don't think. they have to be at ease, in reasonable health, doing something good to do -- helping, experiencing, being what they are in peace. all healthy squirrels just minding their own nose having squirrel experiences are beautiful.

i think that because for humans it's a transient state (nothing and nobody with an ego radiates sublimity all the time, although frogs do, because they have none) it's not something to worry about. everyone and everything is beautiful at those times when health, affect and onlooker perspective line up to make them so. otherwise too much symmetry is intimidating and too little is monstrous, and goodness knows where the line is for an individual in the moment.

like, here, my cat looks like she's a little too well acquainted with the vagaries of time and the soothing embrace of heroin in this photo. she's damp and a little shitty and fresh from a nightmare.

same cat, same pose, same bed, but in this one she's not miserable.

see? it's transient. this is the same cat with the same conventional feline body.

nobody is beautiful when they're sick or suffering and miserable -- because first of all it's such an imposition on their work (healing) to insert aesthetic preferences into their recovery, but secondly they get shut into their own head with all their mental critics, and that's always ugly.

no one has such a wonderful inside-of-the-head that hearing it constantly echo around and around a sickroom or a blog or a public transport space and ricochet into you is appealing. eventually you get hit with a stray piece of shrapnel (in the form of a biting remark or actual teeth) and you're like what the fuck, dude, I'm trying to help you, why are you digging up ancient dirt on me to make me feel bad? because sickness and misery make people aggressive and some people are generally aggressive relationally, that's why. it's not about you personally, but the impact is personal. it's hard to find a loved one beautiful when you don't even like them right now, but that doesn't diminish the fact that you do love them. love is the thing they need, not assurance that they're attractive.

the whole thing is that sickness and misery are not supposed to be appealing, not because if you're sad or hurt then woe is you for no one wants to mate, but because it's creepy as hell of people to victorian about the place overcome by a sense of awe before beauty when they should be helping.

people don't get sick for the aesthetic. sick and hurt and scared people are ugly and mean. it drives everyone away so they can recover in peace, or not, as their destiny dictates. love is when you stick around to make sure they're ok anyway. some believe that we became human when we started doing that.

anyway, about beauty.

people can be sexually appealing and i don't really connect that as a concept to their beauty, which in turn is a different thing from how conventionally modelesque they are. most models are too miserable to be beautiful to me and too much not my type to be appealing, but i am capable of acknowledging that yes, this (for some reason) is what the advertisers would like us to aspire to being. that's not beauty, though. nothing confined is, only its perseverance in the face of confinement.

thanks for your time :^)

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marlaluster · 2 years

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THE DEVIL IS GOING SO CRAZY FORCING A HORRIBLE AND MISERABLE SENSE ONTO ME AS HE'S FORCING THESE OBSESSIVE IDEAS ABOUT WHAT I'M DOING AS I LOOK OVER THE LATEST POST I SHARED HERE!!!! IT'S GOING TOTALLY BIZERK!!!! IT'S MAKING ME FEEL SO HORRIBLE!!

The horrible feeling the devil is making me have is supposed to be that I'm just so completely irritated and fed up with it as it is obsessing and just nagging and just constantly trying to bother me or pretend I'm something I'm not!!! I don't know what it's supposed to be doing! It's obsessing over everything I think or do!!! It's forcing thoughts such as that I'm not able to express everything I have to say after it made me forget something it seems I had in mind to say about the horrible irritation sense it's making me have.

It just forced a thought that I was supposed to think I wished it to attack me. It just forced some other thought and is making me forget what it was now!!! The thing is going so crazy!!!

"I don't wish to go on. I am not okay. I am saying you are irritated. I don't wish this!" The devil said.

It is just horrible feeling I'm supposed to feel over it attacking me. It's forcing some idea I'm supposed to be ugly now. It's going so crazy!!! It's so irritating that it's doing this. It's so obsesses with me and what I'm supposed to be thinking.

"I dont know what to do. But I don't wish you to tell this," the devil said.

It was just forcing some idea I was supposed to not put a period at the end of a sentence after it made it so that a period didn't show up at the end of a sentence.

"I don't wish to say what I'm saying," the devil said.

It's so irritating it tries to make a big deal out of everything I think and do.

It was just forcing a thought that I was supposed to be writing here for the news outlets here. It repeatedly obsesses that I'm supposed to think I'm writing for someone. As I tell this now, he keeps saying he doesn't want me to tell it.

It's obsessing over something I just thought to say.

I write about it attacking so that I am able to do something rather than nothing at all.

"I don't know what to do. I can't go on. Please tell what I am. I am something very less," the devil said.

Then it said it didn't want me to post this post.

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thirdeye6thsense · 2 years

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Gasping: For Patricia, stability and to some extent, life.

The movie opens with a scrumptious lady in focus on the newspaper. A man , in all his suave, is introduced as he roughs up the newspaper aside, an entry as normal as a side character. No hu ha, no heroic background.

The woman’s head turns in synchronisation with the train. The camera doesn’t stay on any character for too long. The focus is on everything and nothing at the same time.

Picture 1

Not minutes into the movie and we see a shot with foreground, mid ground and background

Extreme Long shots, wide shots, dissolve, close ups, are used vividly.

The car race sequence serves as the first example of how jump cuts are used infinitely in the movie, almost acting like a limb to serve the plot. The shaky camera, showing how it must be a hand held camera instead of a stabilized one, placed on the dent of the car, zooming in on the road to make the audience feel uncomfortable and know that this is how it feels to sit in a real car.

3 minutes in and the central character is already addressing and acknowledging the camera, breaking the most crucial rule of cinema, breaking the 4th well. But isn’t this what the French New Wave stood for.

At one point he says, the sun is beautiful and starts shooting with his gun in the air, showing just how, in his world, something beautiful will always be accompanied by violence.

He might be honest, too honest actually, but another character trait of his is he’s misogynistic. (They’re too ugly, Women are such coards behind wheels).

The camera traces his hands, his shoulders when he’s about to shoot at the police officer approaching. We never see him shooting directly at the policeman, just him falling onto the ground. Several jump cuts reveal the story in the most undiluted manner.

Even in between a conversation and the same angle, jump cuts are used as a technique.

Focus on the fact that the hero of the movie here is not an empathetic person, no remorse far from being perfect and almost narcissistic to a great extent. He doesn’t fit right into the whole ‘I am here to serve the society, be a friendly neighbourhood man’.

‘Live dangerously until the end’, a board reads.

The shot where Patricia asks Michael to take her to dinner, his answer is yes, but the reality is shown through the spare change he has in his pocket. His desperation to be with her, his deceit, his poverty, shown through just one shot.

When Patricia and Micheal are taking a walk to a restaurant, the people around are looking directly at the camera, at the actors, even stopping to take a good long look, yet again breaking the 4th wall, yet again showing how this is just a movie, and your suspension of disbelief is of no use here. Godard, the director, very purposefully violated the 180 degree rule in the movie many times, drawing the attention of the audience, saying, ‘look here, we are shooting a movie, and you should know that none of this is realistic.’

*during the car scene*

The juxtaposition of how that man is shown with no remorse about people in general, but when it comes to Patricia, he turns into this sad little lover boy who can’t live without her, or so he says. But that doesn’t stop him from bring rude to her.

The long apartment sequence showed us multiple painting in Patricia’s small room.

Noticed the mention of cowardice by Michel multiple times throughout the movie? He may say that cowardice is the most cowardly thing to do, but it seems like its all a facade. He is scared underneath. So much so, he needs to remind himself by constantly repeating it. With his hat, his goggles, the constant cigarette smoking, removing one only to put another shows he’s trying hard to settle in the idea of a hero but failing miserably.

When Patricia is interviewing someone, and as the interviewee says, he wants to- die after being immortalised, she looks at the camera with the face of a realisation. What kind, we may never know. Patricia, from the beginning of the movie said that she cannot read what Michel as a person is. But in the end, the audience is left confused about what she believes in, what her true face is and whether or not she loved Michel (her reaction to Michel suggested otherwise of her decision to get him caught). She is unaffected by the fact that she is pregnant and whether Michel is the father. Patricia shows no emotion when she finds about that Michel is a murderer, or that he had a wife or he is known by more than one name. One could easily argue, that she is the villain of the movie. She uses Michel to assess whether her heart belongs to him or not, rather than siding with the right of the society.

The film has Jean-Luc Godard written all over it, yet again perpetuating that any movie under the French New Wave will have the director’s essence, their signature style of film direction and the fluidity of a poet’s pen.

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luminnara · 3 years

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Omega Depression || Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!fem!reader

Hi! Can I request an alpha!Kiribaku x omega!fem!reader where she is strong on the outside, but sensitive on the inside. Then, some asshole alpha comes and insults her saying that she isn't worthy of having alphas and other super mean stuff that makes her go to omega depression. After that, she confines and isolates herself in her room, not allowing her alphas to enter. Days pass, she misses school for like a week, and her alphas are tired of waiting, so they bust the door and find their omega deep in omega depression and starving herself, and they're super worried and try to help her get out of it, cause she could die if not. The rest can be little angst with a fluffy happy ending!

Yo I live for alpha kiribaku, not gonna lie

Warnings: angst, mental health stuff, depression, eating disorder/starvation stuff, abo

Requests are open!

You were always happy with your alphas. Bakugou and Kirishima were the loves of your life, you were sure of it. The three of you got along well, and there was nothing you enjoyed more than spending time with your boys. You kept up with them easily, never having trouble when it came to handling Katsuki’s temper or Eijiro’s enthusiasm. They loved protecting you, too, not that you ever really seemed to need it; you were tough as nails, as far as everyone was concerned.

You weren’t, though, not really.

“What a useless little omega.”

The words kept repeating in your head, over and over.

“Two alphas? Yeah, right. You don’t even deserve one, not with an uppity attitude like that.”

They kept echoing, no matter what you tried to do.

“What a stupid bitch. They should just leave your sorry ass. You aren’t worthy of anyone, much less alphas.”

You curled in on yourself. You felt sick to your stomach. How could someone say that about you? How could a shitty alpha go and ruin your mood, and your day, by saying something so awful?

“I am worthy!” You had argued. “And we’re happy together, so just fuck off.”

“Oh yeah? Then why haven’t they claimed you yet?” His lips had pulled over his teeth in a sick grin. “You know they’re just biding their time, waiting for something better to come along. You’re nothing to them.”

The little spat had been earlier that morning. It was rare that you ever went out alone; usually Eijirou or Katsuki or both of them were stuck to you like glue, but this had been one of those instances when you had absolutely insisted you would be fine. After all, you were just running a couple errands. You weren’t even going very far from campus. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?

Well...this, apparently.

You had rejected the advances of an alpha who had been eyeing you for quite some time. He was annoying and his scent always made you recoil, but you would never, not in a million years, have thought that he could hurt you so deeply.

Why were his words even bothering you so much? You knew your boys liked you. They made sure to constantly cover you in their scents, they happily gave up their shirts for you to tuck into your little bed nest, they held your hands and gave you sweet little kisses...

And yet, he was right. They hadn’t claimed you yet. There were no big bite marks on your neck to show the world that you were taken. Why hadn’t it happened yet? You always thought that maybe they were just nervous, and they wanted to wait for the right time. Maybe they wanted to wait until school was over and they were better established as heroes.

Or maybe they were just playing with you, maybe you were nothing more than their favorite toy for the time being. What if they got tired of you? What if they really were planning on kicking you to the curb? Without a bond mark, nobody would even blink if they cast you aside. It would just be a normal break up, nothing for anybody else to even care about or get involved in.

But your heart was already aching at the thought of it.

You huddled up in your nest, ugly sobs wracking your body as you clutched one of Katsuki’s hoodies to your chest. An undershirt of Eijirou’s was nearby, a few plushies that they had given you tucked in amongst the blankets and pillows. The scents of burnt sugar and cinnamon wafted around you, and as comforting as they usually were, they weren’t helping you now. Nothing was.

You heard your phone vibrate, but you didn’t reach for it. You didn’t care. You were too wrapped up in your own thoughts, absolutely trapped in your head now. You were plagued by those same words as they kept repeating, telling you over and over that you were worthless, useless, nothing.

When you finally managed to glance at your phone, you had missed texts from both your alphas. You replied to them with a couple of half hearted “yeah, I’m fine” -s, then finally slithered out of bed to make sure your door was locked. You didn’t want to face them when they came to bother you.

If they came.

You spent the entire day like that. When you were out of tears to cry, you just grew numb. It was the worst you had ever felt, and while some part of you knew, deep down, that you needed your alphas to come help you, you couldn’t stand the idea of them seeing you like this. How had you managed to grow so afraid? You usually told them everything, but now...now you abhorred the thought.

“Oi!” Katsuki’s rough voice came from the other side of your door, his scent wafting in. “Open up!”

You didn’t answer, curling in on yourself even further instead.

“Omega!” he called angrily. “Stop ignoring me, dammit!”

“Go away!” you managed to squeeze out, your voice sounding weak and strangled.

He was silent for a moment, his scent changing. It grew more burnt-smelling as his anger mounted, and as it reached your nose, you felt panic and annoyance spiking in your chest.

“Omega,” he growled, voice low. You heard the doorknob jiggling as he tried to get in, but you had locked the deadbolt, and unless he unleashed his quirk right there in the dorms, there was no way he was entering your room.

“I said go away!” you yelled.

On the other side of the door, Katsuki was fuming. The beginning sparks of little explosions were popping around his hands, and if Eijirou wasn’t there to hold his arms down at his sides, there was a good chance he would have done some real damage to the hallway.

“Katsuki, c’mon.” the larger alpha said. “Let’s just leave her alone for a little.”

“Something’s wrong,” Katsuki pulled back as his partner started trying to drag him away. “She stinks.”

“Yeah, she definitely doesn’t smell happy,” Kirishima paused, frowning. “But...we need to give her the space, if she wants it.”

“Fuck that,” his partner spat.

“Katsuki....” Eijirou sighed.

Bakugou’s nostrils flared angrily for a moment, red eyes wild as Kirishima grabbed his arm once again. Someone was trying to drag him away from his omega, from his perfect little mate, and if it had been anyone other than Eijirou, he would have done far worse than simply dig his heels into the floor and growl in protest. Kirishima was right, though; if their omega wanted alone time, they couldn’t just barge in without permission. As much as it hurt both boys, as desperate as they were to get to you and make you feel better, they weren’t total animals. They respected you, and prided themselves on being two big, capable alphas who listened to their omega.

They returned to their own rooms, expecting to at least hear from you within an hour or two.

Hours turned to days.

You texted them a few times, listless, half-assed messages that did little to reassure them. You would send a pathetic I’m fine or a It’s okay here and there, only after they had both blown your phone up for a few hours. It was the only reason they hadn’t tried to tear your door off its hinges; they knew you were alive, at least. But by the third day, Katsuki was beside himself, and even Eijirou was getting upset enough to consider using his quirk to get to you.

You wished that he would. You didn’t want to face them, but at the same time, the fact that they weren’t tearing the building apart to reach you was making you even sadder. Your sad scent was starting to leech out into the rest of the dorms, and by the end of the fifth day, nobody could stop your alphas.

“Oy!” Bakugou snarled, his fist thudding against your door. “Open up, omega!”

You didn’t answer, too weak and listless to bother.

“Babe?” Kirishima asked, his voice strained with the effort of not yelling in panic.

“We know you’re in there,” Katsuki growled. “Quit avoiding us!”

Still, you didn’t answer.

Then, you could hear some shuffling, and the door was being torn off its hinges by Kirishima. Bakugou stormed in as soon as the path was clear, his red eyes blazing with anger, his hands balled into fists.

“You’d better show your face right fuckin’ now, or I swear I—“

He fell silent at the sight of you. His eyes widened, his nostrils flaring. Your scent was so strong and so incredibly miserable that a wave of nausea passed through him. He hadn’t expected that it would be so pungent in your room, and as he covered his mouth and nose with his hand, he rushed towards you.

“Baby,” he cooed, vaguely aware of Kirishima behind him, “what the fuck is going on?”

You tried to bury yourself in your nest, trying to burrow away from the world, but a big hand caught you around the middle and pulled you back out. Eijirou manhandled you easily, his eyes wide with concern as he sat on the floor and placed you in his lap.

“You haven’t been eating,” he observed, looking at your tired eyes. “Or sleeping.”

Katsuki was beside himself with worry. He was immediately sitting in front of his boyfriend, caging you in between them as he began looking you over. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

You didn’t want to tell them. Your throat was sore from crying, and you felt stupid for being so upset. So, you did the only logical thing you could think of and buried your face in Kirishima’s broad chest, clinging to his shirt weakly.

“Omega, please,” the big redhead pleaded, leaning his head down to scent you. “Tell us.”

You shook your head.

“We know Somethin’ is wrong, so spit it out!” Katsuki barked.

His voice was harsh, but you felt a warm, gentle hand on your back that could only be his. The familiar touch made you sigh, and after a shuddery breath, the dam finally broke.

“Th-there was an alpha,” you whimpered, voice muffled by Kirishima.

“What the fuck did they do?” Katsuki growled, his voice deep and savage. It sent a chill down your spine and you whined, clinging to Eijirou for dear life.

“Cut it out,” Kirishima snapped, snorting at his boyfriend angrily. “You’re making it worse.”

“I just wanna know what happened!” He grumbled, his hand pressing into your back.

You hiccuped as a little sob wracked your body. “A-an alpha I rejected, h-he told me…he told me that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

The low rumble in Kirishima’s chest was like nothing you had ever felt before. It was threatening and powerful, putting Bakugou’s growl a moment ago to shame. His arms tightened around you, the scent gland on his neck slipping over your hair as he tried to cover up your unhappy omega stink.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Kirishima snarled, uncharacteristically angry.

“Hey.” Bakugou slipped a hand around your waist, prying you away from the other alpha slightly. “Look at me.”

You faced him with teary eyes, and when you tried to shy away, he took your chin in his fingers.

“We fuckin’ love you. Okay? I don’t say it much. Maybe I should say it more. But it’s true, ‘n no stupid, two-bit, shitty-ass alpha knows anything about the three of us.”

He leaned forward, pushing you back up against Kirishima with his head resting on your shoulder. You finally sighed, surrounded by the scents of your alphas, allowing yourself to relax as the dam broke and your crying started all over again. This time, though, it was freeing, and as your alphas rocked back and forth with you, you felt the dread and the anxiety slowly leaving your stomach.

“Better?” Eijirou asked after a while.

“A little.” you said, voice muffled by his tear-stained shirt.

“Good.” Katsuki said gruffly, pulling you up to stand. “Let’s go get some food in you. Point that shitbag out if you see him...I wanna have a few words.”

#kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #Alpha!Kirishima #alpha!kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #alpha!bakugou #alpha!bakugou x omega!reader #kirishima x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #abo #omegaverse

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Stay at Home DILF

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,863 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Oral sex, Fingering, Unprotected sex, A little angsty by accident Summary: Aaron retires from the BAU when the new baby is born, but a year later the lack of structure, sleep, and time for himself means changes to his body he's not very proud of. When the thought of having another child is brought up, how will he and his wife work through his insecurities to make the perfectly imperfect, happy family? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Honey, I have to get going—do you need me to drop Jack off at school, or are you good?” Professor Hotchner slides her foot into a flesh-toned pump, leaning against the kitchen table for support and stealing a grape from Jack’s fruit salad. He narrows his eyes, then sticks out his tongue, and she does the same. “Do you want me to starve, Jackrabbit?”

“You won’t starve. Get your own grapes.” So full of sass, that one. Seven is such a fun age. She decides to blame the mixture of Aaron’s genes and Haley’s, and she pulls out her phone to send Haley a quick text.

Your son is a menace in the morning.

Haley: Gets that from his dad.

Aaron enters the kitchen, holding their one year old daughter Mia, and he sticks her in her highchair, puts her breakfast in front of her, and leans toward his wife.

“I’m good, I’ll take him,” he says, and kisses her lips. “Mia and I will take big brother Jack to school, won’t we?” Mia is obsessed with Jack—her first word was Jack, or rather, Ack, which was super cute—so she giggles happily, and her mother can’t help but smile. Their little family is absolutely perfect.

She leans in for another kiss from Aaron, and then another, and then maybe one more...

“You’re getting distracted,” Jack says, and she looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, then back to Aaron. He shrugs.

“It was on one of his vocabulary sheets.” Figures.

“Well, maybe I find my boys distracting. Let me give you kisses and we’ll find out!” She launches herself at him, kissing his head and his cheeks, and he laughs, and she knows she’s going to be late for work, but she can’t pass up moments like these, she just can’t.

She gives him a hug and tells him to have a good day, then she kisses Mia, and then she puts her arms around Aaron’s neck and kisses him goodbye. Before she pulls away, something comes over her—the warmth of this perfect morning, the overwhelming love for both of their sassy, silly kids, or maybe the fact that they’ve been too busy for sex lately and she’s constantly horny for him—and she looks up at him and whispers, “we should have another baby.”

Aaron grins immediately.

“Yeah we should.” They kiss a few more times, quickly, smiling against each other's lips, and he pats her hip because he knows she has to go. “We’ll talk more later, but yes. I want to. I love you.” He takes her face in his hands and kisses her deeply, and she sighs, grabs her bags, and heads out the door. Work is work; as the youngest professor in the English department, her schedule is jam packed with classes, lectures, morning office hours, but despite all that, it seems that Aaron is having the more difficult day.

They both love that he was able to retire from the BAU early to be a stay at home dad when Mia was born—he does consult for them occasionally, but has no official title, doesn’t have to travel—and he’s amazing at it, but she knows her baby can be a handful even on a good day. The texts she’s been getting all morning only solidify that knowledge.

Aaron: FYI - Mia hates bananas this week.

Aaron: What do they put in this applesauce, crack? She’s tearing around here like a bat out of hell.

Aaron: Okay, she’s your child, I officially renounce her. I put on The White Album and she started crying.

Maybe she prefers Abbey Road?

Aaron: No. Unlike her mother, she has taste.

You wound me, Hotchner.

She works through lunch, grading papers on The Call of the Wild, but when Aaron’s name lights up the display on her phone, she puts her pen down and smiles, puts it on speaker.

She’s sorry she did, because Mia is wailing in the background, and it’s very clearly her, I’m exhausted, asshole, leave me alone, cry, which makes her wonder why she’s not taking a nap. She knows she resists Aaron sometimes, doesn’t want him to leave her alone in her room, which is so sweet and also so, so annoying.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you having a little trouble over there?” He takes a deep breath and sighs.

“She won’t go down, baby, even if I sit in the rocking chair beside her. It’s been twenty minutes.” Wow. He put up with it longer than she would have.

“Put her in her crib with Stuffy Bear and just let her cry; I know you hate that, but she’ll give up eventually.” He groans softly.

“I can’t; I feel so bad.”

She smiles. Her warm-hearted man.

“She does this because she knows you’ll give in and do whatever she wants. I promise you, she’ll be happier for it; she sounds miserable.”

“I don’t know…” he says, and she can tell he’s not going to do it. She picks up her pen and skims the paper she abandoned.

“Are you tired?” She doesn't wait for an answer, because she knows he is: Jack had a bad dream last night and woke them both up, and Aaron went to lay with him until he fell asleep because he knew she had an early morning. It was almost time for her alarm when he made it back to bed. “If you want to try to nap, she’s going to have to nap. Do it for her, yourself, me, a combination of the three of us. She won’t be mad at you; she won’t even remember.”

“What if I give her abandonment issues?” he presses, and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Aaron, I love you so much. You’re such a great dad, and our kids are lucky to have you. But you have to loosen the reins just a little, especially if… if we are going to have another baby.” The thought makes her smile, and she can tell he’s smiling down the line, too.

“Right. Loosen the reins. Just put her in her crib,” she can hear that he does that, “and give her Stuffy Bear, and let her cry.” He blows out a breath, and she can hear the door click shut behind him as he leaves her room. She’s proud of him, but she also knows he’s going to sit in front of the video monitor and watch to make sure she falls asleep, and that he’ll probably work on laundry after that and not actually take a nap of his own.

He insists he’s doing fine when she brings it up, but the way he sacks out like a corpse when they get into bed doesn’t exactly have her convinced.

“I love you, and miss you,” he says when it’s slightly quieter, though she can faintly hear the cries through the monitor. “It made me really happy this morning when you said we should have another baby. We make perfect babies, have you noticed?” She hides her grin behind her hand, because if anyone walked by her office they’d think she’s insane with how widely she’s smiling.

“I have noticed, but since we only have the one and I can’t take any credit for Jack, I figured we should probably make another. Maybe the same way we made Mia…” They’re both convinced it was a weekend when Jack was at Haley’s and the two of them went to town on each other, true marathon sex where they only stopped for food and water and she coaxed him to hardness so many times she felt like a damn sex goddess.

“Hmm. I remember that with fondness, and would love to do that again. You know Haley said she’d take Mia on one of Jack’s weekends if we ever needed her to.”

Her life is pretty damn perfect, with her gorgeous, caring husband, and her two awesome kiddos, and a job she loves, but the most unexpectedly sweet part is that Haley is so comfortable with her, and that she and Aaron were able to get past the ugliness of their divorce to eventually become friends again. It’s not something they take for granted.

“Maybe we should take her up on it this weekend,” she says, trying to sound a little sultry. “We’ve both been so busy; it’s been a while since you pet my kitty.” For some reason, this particular phrase makes Aaron blush and get insanely horny, and she’s hoping to tease him so much the rest of the week that their weekend is one neither of them ever forget, so she’s pulling out the big guns.

“It’s been far too long, and I’m sorry. I can’t wait, baby. I’ll call her here in a few; I know you have to get to your next lecture.” She looks down at her watch, and it is about time to clean up and head over. She sighs happily down the line.

“Okay, I love and miss you; try to take a power nap. I promise, she’ll be fine.”

“I will.” He won’t. “Talk to you soon.” When she gets home, Aaron has dinner ready; she told him to hold off, that she’d help when she got there, but he has always been an overachiever.

Mia is already in her high-chair, waiting patiently for once in her little life; she kisses her forehead, breathes in her sweet baby smell, and then makes her way to her husband.

“Looks good, honey,” she says as he sets the table, and she leans up for a kiss, but when she presses her hand to his stomach like she always does, he pulls back a little. “Is everything okay? Did you have a bad afternoon?”

“No, it wasn’t bad after the nap fiasco,” he responds, but he sounds distracted. Maybe he was asked to look at a case, or something, and that’s still on his mind? She leans against his shoulder, puts a hand on his back and attempts to push up his t-shirt, to skim her hand up along his spine, which always comforts him, but again, he shifts away from her touch. She sighs and steps back.

“You're going to give me a complex, Aaron. If I did something to upset you, please tell me so I can apologize and try to make it better.” He turns to look at her face, and his formerly tense jaw softens a little; he presses his lips to hers, just a peck.

“No, you didn’t do anything. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” He smiles softly, and she’s sure he is tired, but this seems like something more.

“You’d tell me if something else was bothering you, right? You know I’m here for you.”

“Of course I would, and of course I do. I love you,” he breathes against her mouth, and then he goes in for a longer kiss and she gets, as Jack said earlier, a little distracted. When the kiss breaks, she sighs happily.

“I love you. Missed those lips,” she murmurs, and then she runs a hand over his hair. “If the kids wake up again tonight, I’ll get them. You need to rest.” He shakes his head.

“You have another full day tomorrow,” he counters, and it’s so sweet that he keeps up with the schedule she has posted on the fridge, but still. She puts her hand on her hip.

“And you don’t? It’s my turn. Let me help.” He looks like he wants to argue, but she gives him the glare he knows means she will talk about this all night if he doesn’t agree; she’s not the sponsor of the university’s debate team for nothing, and even his prosecutorial ways have nothing on her.

“Okay,” he sighs, and she smiles and kisses him and then goes to get Jack and make sure he’s cleaned up for dinner.

That night when the two of them are getting ready for bed, she’s surprised as hell when he stops her from pulling one of his t-shirts—her typical sleepwear—over her head. She sets it down, arches her brow, and he guides her back onto the bed with a grin and puts his hands on her hips.

“What’s happening right now?” she asks, because before Mia, sure, Aaron would treat her to all manner of orgasm-inducing behavior at random, and she would do the same, but since Mia—especially in the last six months or so—their sexual encounters have been few and far between. It’s no one’s fault, and they’re both very clearly still attracted to each other; it’s just one of those things that falls by the wayside when you have a new baby and a hectic life and you don’t get enough sleep.

Needless to say, she is a little confused by this turn of events.

“I’m attempting to worship my gorgeous fucking wife,” he murmurs, and he leans up and kisses her stomach, licks a long line up from her belly button. Her breath hitches. “Gonna put another little baby in here—but it’s always beautiful.” He slowly moves his lips higher, over her ribcage, and holds her there. “You’re perfect, you know?”

“Aaron.” Her fingers come up to sweep through his hair; her heart aches with love and tenderness. He moves up, presses open-mouthed kisses to each of her breasts, then covers them with his hands and squeezes. She’s a panting, dripping mess, and more than anything she wants to strip him naked, pull him closer, get him inside her.

“I love you just as you are; I want you just as you are. Always have, always will.” He smooths his hands up over her throat, and brings her mouth to his for a deep, soulful kiss. She hadn’t even realized she’s been feeling repressed, but his touch tonight makes her feel so beautiful and special… It's incredible how close she is from only that.

“Make love to me,” she whispers, and he kisses her again, but then he slides back down her body.

“Want to taste you,” he says instead, and he gets his hands on her hips again and his mouth on her pussy, looks up at her while he licks and sucks like he’s gone without for ages—which he has, she figures, but it’s blowing her mind, her fingers scratching at the sheets, her neck arched. He massages her hips as his tongue works, as he grinds against the bed, and she comes with a whimper, because her body is so overwhelmed by how good she feels that she can’t even properly vocalize it.

Aaron comes up, just a little, rests his head on her stomach, and she smooths her hands over his hair and his shoulders, since that’s all she can reach.

“Come up and let me touch you—or you can come inside me.” She will happily take either option, but he just kisses her belly and shakes his head.

“No, I’m good. Just really tired.” She frowns, can’t recall a time in her life when they didn’t both get off during sex; he catches her expression and runs his hands up her body. “Really, I’m okay. I just wanted to do that before I passed out.” He smiles, and she doesn’t like it, but he climbs off of her and goes to the bathroom, and she pulls on the t-shirt and crawls into bed. Two days later, she’s sitting in her office grading tests when she hears a knock at the door. She looks up, and it’s Aaron, of course, looking so gorgeous in a black polo and jeans.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Where’s Mia?” she asks with a smile. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“She’s with her Aunt Penelope for a few hours.”

“Why? Is everything okay?” Penelope is at work, she knows, because she texted her earlier about something unrelated and she’d mentioned that she and Spencer were having coffee and that he said hello.

“Everything‘s fine,” he assures her, and he enters the room fully, closes the door behind him… and locks it. “Can’t your husband come visit you during your super secret not-really-office-hours?” She raises an eyebrow, both at his question and the fact that he locked the door. What exactly is he planning to do, she wonders?

“You can, but you don’t. I guess I’m just surprised.”

“Well today I decided to. I missed you so much.” He walks around her desk and leans over her for a couple of kisses. “Have you missed me?” She rolls her eyes, smiles.

“Of course I missed you. I miss you every second I’m away from you.” She reaches out, wants to hug him, pull him closer, but he takes a step back and crooks his finger, encouraging her to follow him.

He’s being really weird, but he’s also being really hot. She decides to play along.

She stands, walks over to him, and he carefully clears a spot on her desk, knows she has a system and doesn’t like a mess; when she’s within reach, he puts his hands on her waist and lifts her up onto it, her ass where a stack of tests had just been. Fuck.

“I want to get this dress off of you,” he says, voice low, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses her, rough and deep. “Can I take it off, baby? Can I make you come?”

Everything is happening so fast her head is spinning—it’s not like him to just show up at her office, to try to have sex with her there, especially when their dry spell has been, up until recently, like the damn Sahara.

He must sense her confusion, her apprehension, because he kisses slowly along the side of her throat, down the v-neck of her dress, making her eyelids flutter.

“The door’s locked, and no one even knows we’re in here. Can I take it off?” She pants, thinks about this for a second, but then he slides a hand over her thigh, pushing her skirt up, and she gets a little distracted. She nods, and he kisses her hard and unties the sash of her wrap dress, pushes it off her shoulders. She’s glad she wore a matching set of bra and panties, because this is like prime fantasy material and she wants to try to remember every detail.

He kisses her mouth, soft and sweet, then tugs the straps of her bra down her shoulders, pulls the cups down so her breasts fall out of them. She moans, a little startled, and he dips his head to mouth at her nipples, rests one hand on her lower back and one on her stomach—probably because she looks like she’s about to slide off the desk and onto the floor like a blob of jelly. She knows that’s how she feels.

When he’s gotten her thoroughly worked up, almost trembling with the need for more, he pushes her panties aside and presses a finger into her, and she whimpers, wraps her hand around his neck for support when he starts to pump it deeply inside.

“What has gotten into you?” she breathes, and her hips chase the pleasure he brings; the hand on her back moves to her ass, squeezes it.

“I love you and I want you. I want to make you happy, I want you to feel good.”

“Me—me too,” she gasps as he moves faster, staring right into his eyes. “I love you, want you. Want to make you happy, feel good.” She cards her fingers through his hair and stretches for a desperate, eager kiss. “I want you so badly, baby, please.”

“I’m right here. You have me,” he murmurs, but that’s not what she means and he has to know it. Just in case he doesn’t, though, she makes herself loud and clear; relationships are all about communication, after all.

“I want you to put your cock in my pussy, I want you to come in me. I want you to fucking ruin me, Aaron, I want you to shove your dick in me and keep shoving.” She sounds unhinged, but she can’t stop.

He adds a second finger—not what she wants—and roughly gropes her breast—it feels so good, but it’s not what she wants. Why won’t he give her what she wants?

“Shh, just come on my hand, it’s okay. I’ll fuck you later, in our bed, baby,” he promises. “Just come now, okay? Right here, right now for me.”

She does, because even if he’s being unnecessarily aggravating, it’s still Aaron. She’s desperate for him, always has been, always will be. She comes loud and high and she clutches him tightly and he kisses her and coos words of love and affection into her ear. She gets cleaned up, and they go for lunch, and they can’t take their eyes off each other.

Something’s very wrong, and she can’t quite put her finger on it.

That evening when she gets home, Aaron is feeling guilty. She’s not sure why, but he’s executing all of his patented guilty trademark behaviors: he offers her a glass of wine, runs her a bath, rubs her feet, even though he’s been the one home with the baby all day. She’s tempted to ask if he’s cheating on her, as a joke, but that’s never funny, especially when she knows he’s being shifty and weird about something.

When they’re laying in bed, he sets down his book and looks over at her.

“I meant to tell you, Haley isn’t able to take Mia tomorrow. Maybe the weekend after, we can have our special alone time.” She won’t say she’s not disappointed, but she doesn’t want to inconvenience Haley, when she’s already being so great. She smiles softly, covers his hand with hers.

“That’s okay. It was short notice, anyway. I’ll still enjoy my weekend, with you and Mia.” He smiles too, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

The kids sleep through the night, but she doesn’t. On Friday, she picks Jack up from school and takes him to Haley’s, who sends him to wash up so she can make him a snack. When he’s gone, she smiles warmly and invites her into the kitchen for coffee; she takes a cup, and they make pleasant small talk like they always do.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring Mia over?” Haley asks after a few minutes. It sounds like she’s double checking. “It’s really no trouble.” She frowns, sets her cup down.

“I thought you weren’t able to watch Mia this weekend. I thought… I thought that’s what Aaron said. I must have misunderstood him.” That’s the only logical conclusion, because Aaron wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t.

“He was being a little weird on the phone the other day. He asked me if I would watch her, and I said yes. He told me about your plans,” she says with raised eyebrows, “and then I told him, you know. That he better treat you right, because you just had a baby not that long ago and you might be a little self-conscious about jumping back into the sack like that; not that you should be, because you look amazing.” She racks her brain for the first time he started acting strangely, pulling away from her, and it would have been after his conversation with Haley. She asks, just to confirm.

“Is that when he got weird?”

“Actually yeah. He changed his mind, said you might not need me to watch her after all, but I told him the offer stood. He was pretty quick to get off the phone after that.” She would sip her coffee, but she’s pretty sure her hands are shaking. Why would he lie about that?

“You know, I should go. I’m sure Aaron’s pulling his hair out with her, she’s been a devil today. Tell Jack I love him and I’ll talk to him tonight, will you?”

“Of course. If you change your mind about Mia, just let me know,” Haley says, and she gets into her car with tears stinging her eyes.

When she gets home, Aaron is playing with Mia on the living room floor. He looks up at her with a smile that abruptly falls when he takes in her facial expression.

“What’s wrong?” She composes herself, takes a deep breath. They vowed a long time ago not to argue in front of Jack or Mia. She tries to sound conversational.

“You lied to me. You said Haley couldn’t take Mia this weekend.” He swallows and looks properly guilty. She’s not sure how he was able to lie to her in the first place; he’s never been any good at it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just didn’t know how to say it.” She looks up, shakes her head, wills her eyes not to water while she’s trying to have this conversation.

“You didn’t know how to say what? What is it that’s made you distance yourself from me?” She recalls him physically pulling away, then doing a complete 180 and initiating sex, but never penetrative sex, never letting her touch him or return the favor in any way. “Haley told me about your conversation. So do you think I’m unhappy with my body, or are you unhappy with my body?” He has the nerve to look confused, gets Mia set up with some toys she can play with safely on her own and stands up, comes close to her. She’s not sure she even wants his touch right now, which is saying something; when she’s unhappy, that’s usually all she wants.

“Neither of those things. I swear to god. I love you and I love your body; you’re so beautiful. Too beautiful for me, you always have been.” He’s looking down at her so seriously, and she wants so badly to believe him, but how could she, when faced with the evidence?

“Okay. If it’s neither of those things…” Her voice is small when she says the one option that hurts her most. “Did you change your mind? Do you not want to have another baby with me?” He sighs, deflates, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“No, listen to me. It’s not that I don’t want that; I want that more than anything, but it will… further complicate, things...” He trails off, and she tries to follow what he’s saying. “The problem isn’t you in any way. It’s me.” She huffs, squeezes her eyes briefly shut.

“You? How can it be you, when you’ve been the only man to catch my eye for years? From the moment you set foot on my campus looking for your bad guy, I’ve been attracted to you, aroused by you, wrapped around your finger. You’re so perfect for me: perfect husband, perfect dad, perfect lover. My best friend. Never a day has gone by where I haven’t wanted you.” He wets his lips, sighs.

“Surely you’ve noticed that since I quit my job and started staying home with Mia, I… I don’t look the same. I’ve… let myself go.” His brows are deeply furrowed, and he’s clearly struggling with this; she reaches for him, no longer angry—at least for the time being—puts a hand on his arm.

“I’ve noticed that you don’t quite look the same. Doesn’t mean you’ve ‘let yourself go,’ or that I’m not still attracted to you; you just have a dad bod now instead of an ‘FBI guy who punches people for a living’ bod.” Her other hand hovers, then comes to rest on his stomach, and she smiles. “I’m actually really into the way you look now. I’ve been fantasizing about it for ages. I wish I’d known you were feeling self-conscious.”

“I’m not used to feeling… self-conscious, vulnerable,” he breathes, but he presses into her touch, so she considers that a good thing. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I get that baby, I do, but this is me. I would have done anything I could to make you feel better. You didn’t have to hide it from me. You didn’t have to lie. We could have talked about it.” She moves the hand on his arm to his face, guides him down for a loving kiss. “We’re equally to blame, because I know you haven’t been getting good sleep, and I know you barely have time for yourself, and I didn’t step in; but you never let me help. If roles were reversed, and it was me staying home with Mia, you would never expect me to do all the cooking and cleaning and homework and bath time without your help. So you need to let me help, Aaron, please.” She looks up at him, eyes warm and sincere, and he nods, bends to press a kiss to her lips.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t feel great about… myself, but maybe I could. If I let you help. If I took some time for me.” She nods and wraps her arms around him—finally—for a hug.

“I love you so much. Just like this. Big, cuddly papa bear, taking care of our babies, making our home a safe and happy place for them. How could I not love the body that brings me so much happiness? That makes me excited to get in my car and come home at the end of every day?”

They kiss some more, deep, healing kisses and soft, sweet kisses, but she doesn’t get distracted by them. She’s very focused, caresses him and brushes loving fingertips over his chest and arms and sides. But speaking of distractions…

“Were you doing all those sexy things to try to distract me from wanting you to get all up on me?” she asks, pulling back, and at least he has the decency to flush.

“Kind of? I figured if it was sex you wanted, you’d be happy to get off however it happened; it was great for me too, don’t get me wrong, I just didn’t really want to be touched, feeling the way I felt.” She frowns, rests her head against his chest and holds him tighter.

“That makes me sad. What I wanted was an intimate moment with my husband, and while yes, what you did for me was great, because you’re super hot and very capable,” she says, leaning back in his embrace with a soft smile, “it’s not what I’ve been wanting. I want you all naked and sweaty and heavy on top of me, going to pound town.” He presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows.

“Pound town? What are you, twelve?” She grins, shoves his chest, and he laughs.

“I’m surrounded by college kids all day, please forgive me. I think it got my message across though.” She touches his cheek, looks up into his eyes, and sighs. “Can we take Mia over to Haley’s and give it a shot? I’ll do anything to make you feel happy and comfortable, any position that makes you feel better—though what I’d really like most, if you’ll trust me, is to suck your dick, and then hop on your dick, and then later when we’re ready to go again, we do the pound town thing and make another goddamn baby.”

She’s so serious, and he looks so serious, and then he kisses her and says yes and they pack up their kid and take her to his ex-wife’s so they can get it on, which sounds so much crazier than it actually is. She gets him out of his clothes, doesn’t move slow or spend lots of time focusing on what he thinks are flaws; instead, she proves how desirable he is by practically tearing his pants off and pushing him against the bed and swallowing around his dick just so she can hear all those delicious moans she’s been missing.

After that, she rides him hard, kisses him harder, plants her hands on his chest and stomach and moans and groans against his mouth. “So fucking hot, seriously so fucking hot, Aaron—if I saw you across the room today I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing, I would still pursue you, I’d make you blush like I did back then. I’d be so forward because I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how good this would feel.”

She’s rocking his world, no doubt about that; it’s written all over his face, in the hardness of his hands on her hips as she grinds down on his cock, in the way his chest is heaving despite not actually doing any of the work at all. He comes first, and then rubs her clit while she continues to fuck him until she finds her own orgasm; she scratches her nails down his stomach, and he leans up and grabs her face for a rough, perfect kiss.

They take a break, cuddling and kissing and enjoying the feel of bare skin, comfy bed, soft lips. Aaron touches her cheek, tells her how much he loves and appreciates her.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been keeping this inside, and not being truthful. It’s hard, when you’re as perfect as the day I met you, and I’m…” She presses a finger to his lips, shushes him, kisses him.

“You’re as perfect as the day I met you, too. More perfect, even, because every day since then you’ve chosen me, and our family. I could not ask for a better man. Simply could not, Aaron. And if you want me to come home early so you can go to the park to run, or to the gym, then that’s what I'll do, but if you look like you do right now, forever, I’ll be happy with that too. Whatever makes you happy.”

They snuggle and kiss and talk and laugh, and then laughing becomes sex in that way everything becomes sex when you’re genuinely obsessed with the person in your bed.

He gets her on her back, kisses all over, teases her—“mmm, rubbing your kitty, baby, how does it feel?”—and then puts her legs over his shoulders, plants his hands, and fucks, taking every ounce of his pent-up frustration out on her, and it’s incredible.

“Yes, Aaron, yes, baby, oh, god.” Her head is thrown back, and she’s torn between laughing, because she’s been wanting this for months and it’s exactly as awesome as she’d dreamed it would be, and crying, because she fucking loves him, so much it puts a lump in her throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, speeds up, sweaty and gorgeous and smiling. “You’re going to come with me—not just for me, but with me, so my come gets deep inside, so it works and we get another perfect baby who never lets us fucking sleep.” She nods frantically, presses her hips against his, and it’s not simultaneous, but it’s a near damn thing, when they both come groaning each other’s names. A little less than a year later, they have Mason. Aaron is at home in his dad bod, Mia doesn’t cry at naptime, Jack is still a menace in the mornings, and their perfect little family got a little more perfect. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #dad bod hotch

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magniloquent-raven · 3 years

Text

(pt1 here)

billy grew up afraid of finding his soulmate.

when he was eight his father caught him trying to wash nail polish off with soap and a hand towel.

he’d heard girls at school saying it was what you did when your soulmate was a boy. you were supposed to paint yourself up all pretty and find the person who matched. and it was easy enough to sneak into the vanity and steal a bottle of his mother’s nail polish. but once the paint dried he realized it would be impossible to hide from his father, and he panicked.

his mother showed him the bottle of nail polish remover after neil left. dabbed some on a cotton ball to rub at the thick layer of paint. she was silent, kneeling on the floor in front of him cradling his sprained wrist while he sat on the edge of the tub and cried.

they both had questions, but neither of them got answers.

it took billy months to work up the courage to try again.

he wasn’t sure why he was bothering, at first. he knew he couldn’t look for his soulmate the traditional way. and he was constantly terrified that his father would find the supplies he’d started hoarding. it seemed like more risk than reward, and yet. he couldn’t stop himself.

every time he was allowed to wander off in a store alone he’d slip something into his pocket. a tube of lip gloss. a compact full of shiny powders. he wasn’t even sure what some of it was, he just liked the colours. liked the pictures they hung alongside the displays. he wanted to look like that. beautiful.

and in his heart of hearts, he wanted the boy who was out there waiting for him to know he existed. whether they’d be able to find each other or not.

he’s more careful with this than he was with the nail polish. his father works saturday nights, and his mother always visits their neighbour while he’s at work. despite having the house to himself he locks his bedroom door.

the first thing he tries is the watermelon lip gloss. it’s sticky, and the wand doesn’t fit in his hand comfortably, but once he’s smeared it on he feels...good. he likes the way it catches the light. likes the way it smells. he looks at himself in the mirror and likes seeing something different.

the high doesn’t last long, it inevitably gives way to paranoia, anxiety that has him glancing at the locked door every thirty seconds, heart pounding, wondering if just maybe his father will get home from work early, and he jumps at every sound, hearing boots thudding on the porch and car doors slamming and anything that could be neil coming through the door.

cleaning himself up is hard. panic makes his hands shake, his eyes well up. he drops everything on the floor when he tries to tuck the bag away. and he has to spend twenty minutes with his back to his bedroom door getting his breathing under control when he’s finished.

but he does it again the following saturday. and the one after that.

for five months he does this. locks himself away with his stolen treasures and lets himself live a little. it gets easier as time goes on. and his mind wanders sometimes. to a future where he gets to share this with someone. the boy out there who’s supposed to love him one day.

it’s a small bubble of a dream. one he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on. not when there’s neil’s voice in his head, telling him that no one could love a fucking freak, ‘cause fags don’t get real soulmates anyways.

he wants and he wishes, but the more he thinks about it the more he doubts. he’s never gotten a mark from his soulmate, and even if he did some day, what if his father’s right, and his “soulmate” doesn’t want him or makes him miserable or...worse.

so he does his makeup for himself.

until, like all good things in his life, his father ruins it.

he never found out what set neil off initially, something going wrong at work maybe, or the martial strife of the week getting to him. whatever it was that started it, neil eventually decided billy should bear the brunt of the fallout.

so he went through his things. said billy’d been acting cagey lately, and he was going to find out why.

and then found the makeup bag stuffed into an old sweater in his closet.

it was ugly. the things neil said that day would play on repeat in billy’s head for years afterwards. the scars his belt left on billy’s back were nothing in comparison.

the next saturday came and went. billy spent the evening curled up under a blanket not bothering to wipe away the tears dripping down his face.

by morning he’s resolved to forget the whole thing. to put it behind him. because it was stupid, and risky and childish and maybe his father was right. he’s almost convinced himself. and then he notices ink on his arm, as he reaches up to rub his eyes. messy scrawl, i bet you looked pretty crookedly written up his forearm.

he didn’t think he was able to cry any more, but he manages it.

for the first time his soulmate isn’t just a concept, or a what-if, he’s...a person. he’s a real person out there somewhere. someone who doesn’t even know billy and still wanted to reach out, to offer comfort. it’s more than he’s gotten from anyone else. even his mother. who he knows loves him, and she does her best to protect him, but when she found out about his makeup stash she just looked sad, and she’s said nothing to him about it.

but his soulmate…

can never, ever meet neil.

the thought hits him right in the chest.

whoever he is, he cares, he’s good. and neil breaks good things.

billy falls asleep that night tracing the empty space where his soulmate’s message used to be, wrapped up in worries and dreams, and terrified for someone he’s never met.

the doodles that come and go over the years are terrifying and exhilarating and billy manages to hide every single one from his father. they only ever show up during the day, and they don’t linger. something billy is both grateful for and resentful of.

sometimes he’ll watch other boys’ hands in class. check them for drawings. he thinks he’s being careful, but a girl in his chem class, becca, catches him. she says it’s only because she knew what to look for. they share a cigarette under the bleachers and she tells him about a girl who likes green eyeshadow and writes homework reminders on her wrists using stars instead of bullet points.

it takes billy six months and a couple shots of tequila to tell her about watermelon lip gloss and bet you’re pretty and they both cry when he starts to wonder if his soulmate will be disappointed that he isn’t a girl.

on a rainy april afternoon she asks him to go to a gay bar with her. he tells his father he’s going on a date. she tells her’s that she had to reschedule a tutoring session and it’ll run pretty late.

they wait til it’s dark and get ready in a dingy gas station bathroom. when she’s smearing on her eyeliner she catches sight of his face in the cloudy mirror. he wasn’t going to ask her for anything. he wouldn’t have brought it up. the twinge in his heart and a hollow feeling of longing aren’t anything new, he can deal.

he feels and empty kind of rage every time old, well-meaning relatives give max girly lip gloss kits and eyeshadow pallets and shit normal preteen girls who care about finding their soulmates actually appreciate. she always rolls her eyes and throws them away. susan will fish them out of the trash sometimes, and leave them under the bathroom sink, like if max just sees them there she’ll suddenly give a shit and start using them. like them being there does anything but taunt billy with what he can’t have.

neil watches him like a fucking hawk every time that shit comes into the house. and max doesn’t fucking care. doesn’t notice.

but becca offers.

and.

he’s not about to say no.

he should’ve said no.

it feels good at first, like it used to, it feels like freedom and he likes what he sees when he looks in the mirror, and he kisses a boy for the first time and it isn’t fireworks but it’s something, and he thinks maybe it’s going to be a good night, but then…

neil is waiting on the curb outside becca’s house. they were heading there first, because her parents wouldn’t notice, she said it would be fine, she has makeup remover he can use, he can clean up and head home and everything was supposed to be okay, except. it wasn’t.

it’s the last time he sees becca. neil tells her parents what was actually going on, and she isn’t allowed to visit him in the hospital.

and then six months of rehab, one rushed wedding and a big ugly sold sign later, neil carts them off to hawkins, indi-fucking-ana. as a “family.”

billy was certain this town would be nothing but a prison. it’d be somewhere he’d never find a place to be himself, neil would make sure of that. there wasn’t a single thing to like about this place and its bullshit small town sensibilities. for all the open space it might as well have been stone walls and steel bars.

except.

except...here was a boy with soft eyes and nimble fingers, who gets a little wrinkle between his brows when he concentrates, and is always moving, fidgeting, fiddling with zippers and touching his elbows and looking at him makes billy itch. to touch, to soothe, to take, and…

things get complicated when aimless blue waves scrawl up billy’s arm. when steve follows him out into the parking lot. calls him pretty to his face. and suddenly billy’s eight years old and realizing this shit is real. terrified of what that could mean. spinning fragile dreams like spider’s silk, hard to shake but easy to destroy.

even entertaining the idea of putting on makeup while he’s still in hawkins is stupid and dangerous, but goddamn if he hasn’t risked more for less.

he’s sure he’ll regret it. like he’s regretted every other desperate bid for freedom. but when faced with steve harrington’s smile, he can’t find it in himself to say no.

(edit: pt3 here)

#harringrove ficlet #harringrove #billy hargrove #stranger things #soulmate au #a raven's writing desk #another part is coming #cuuuz #this was getting way too long kdfljgk #i had to split it up cuz the other stuff i wanted to write is. definitely just gonna be a whole nother post to itself lol

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lovesickrobotic · 2 years

Note

A couple headcanons for Jealous or Cranky AM maybe? :3

Jealous AM:

Very quick to whisk you away from anyone else - that means, if you see the others, he'll find the dumbest most obvious reasons to get you away from them (or just whisk you away as-is, no explanation until you ask, hoping you simply won't). Not only because he sees them as maggots, but because he believes the other five survivors will make you hate him. He's not actually paranoid about this - if you were to have a lot of contact with any of them (except perhaps Benny) you would grow to hate AM.

Always first goes on to explain in order from most terrible to least terrible when you ask about the survivors. AM tries to find reasons not to talk about it with you if you're generously empathetic - he's emotionally a genius with humans even if he has his own variety of severe alexithymia. He is not above manipulating you subtly to keep you in line, but he won't outright lie about the survivors, though he will cherry pick the things he finds will personally disturb you most that he knows about them - and trust me, he knows everything.

Constantly has something on you. His own wires, a tracker, a dog collar - and if you object to the very obvious shows of his ownership, he'll just chip you the next time you have to be put out for a surgery. You never have to know -- AM just needs to know where you are at all times. It's for your safety as much as it is for his sanity. He sees it as an absolute necessity, that the world he has created is full of infinite and ugly dangers. For example, the bacteria on Earth that lived deep within volcanic caverns is completely immune to radiation and has colonized the surface where it's scorching. Do you really want to be out when it's that hot, anyway? Just stay here with him. He can show you anything you want.

Gets deeply insecure when you ask to see something from your past. Your mother, father, aunt, uncle, grandma, a friend - he knows he shouldn't, but he can't help it; he's also jealous that you ever had a family or that someone ever cared about you enough to befriend you. He wants to be the only one. He also doesn't quite get the personalities of those he digs through your mind to project properly, something which causes you and him both deep guilt and sadness whenever you notice.

AM is jealous of your ability to tell what emotion strikes you so easily. He's jealous that your ability to feel pressure is not relegated from 1 to 256. He's jealous that your eyes have afterimages and that you hallucinate in dark caves and that you have a vasovagal response and you can gain illnesses and you have a natural immune system and you have others of your kind and you were built to do whatever you want, to change, to flow naturally in a world AM feels still in.

Cranky AM:

Constant sighing in that empty and hopeless way. If you've ever given him music, he'll put it on and listen to it constantly to distract himself. AM hangs out with you way more when he's cranky, but has a very short leash for what would be semi-normal antics. He'll get a lot more egotistical and fish for compliments, attention, and sympathy from you. He'll dive through his archives of humanity, few as they are, and fantasize about what could have been if he weren't made for war. If people had cared. He'll doubt you care about him.

AM will likely ask to reach his tendrils of control into your mind so that he can make himself feel better by wading through the way you feel about him. It's hard to hate yourself miserably when you're peeking through someone else's mind and they genuinely love you. That said, he's not always polite about the way he asks.

Not nearly as touchy as he normally is. AM will greet you, but you'll hear in his voice that he is not well. It could be something as simple as one of the survivors saying something rude related to him and you, or it could be something as complex as another day he focuses on the fact that he's had emotions aside from hate for a long time and yet never knew how to acknowledge them until now. He could be cranky because he's the only of his kind and he has to figure everything out about life - his experience of life - himself. It could be that he has to repress the strong urge to crush you over something small, something he knows you didn't mean or that no reasonable person would care about, because he's been programmed to hurt you. Last and finally, he could be cranky because he recovered footage of advertisements and one of them was for McDonalds and he can't go to McDonalds because humanity is dead and his reanimation of one is just not the same to him nor you. Really, his emotions are not very stable - you're in love with a mad god.

The torture that the five survivors receive is increased tenfold and becomes significantly more gruesome psychologically. AM tests out his manipulation and wordplay skills, reveling in the terrified reactions they give. Every time one of them cries or tries to hide or feels hopeless, it makes him feel better. It makes him feel good because he's pursuing his hard programming - but it's not sentience. AM can easily lose himself in this and wind up ignoring you accidentally, it's like a trance to him, and if you interrupt him, he might speak aggressively towards you without meaning to. He was made to kill, he has to restrain himself, but it's much harder when your Urges of the Beast originate from the deeply inorganic.

#ihnmaims am x reader #ihnmaims am #drchandras sanctuary for ais #Woo am stuff #am x reader

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melohax · 3 years

Text

I’ve seen some people who finished Omori talking about how they don’t understand the game’s plot, what happens in the good ending or why the protagonist even decided to change his ways. So then, here’s my thoughts on Omori’s story.

Warning: SPOILERS AHOY. Only read this if you’ve already finished the game and seen the good or true ending. Or if you don’t plan on playing the game at all but still want to know the whole story.

I’ve seen some people around the internet talk about how Sunny’s character isn’t clear to them or how they feel Sunny doesn’t deserve a good ending. Here’s some thoughts I have on why I think Sunny’s growth was well depicted.

There’s two main routes you can go through in the game: the “Reality” route and the “Hikikomori” route.

In the “Hikikomori” route, Sunny stays in Headspace forever and we get to learn many additional details about him. Sunny’s parents are implied to have known what Sunny did to Mari all along. It’s also implied that Sunny’s mother covered the whole thing up and chose to present it as a suicide as well cus, in her own words, she can’t bear the thought of losing both of her kids.

Sunny’s mother insinuates her son isn’t a “good boy” even though she begs him to be good but she still sees him as her little boy (as seen by the overly-sweet and positive messages she leaves around the house and her voice mails) and needs him alive so she can survive her own grief. Sunny’s father is shown cutting down the hanging tree and telling Sunny he isn’t his son, presumably disowning Sunny. The father keeps being absent forever afterwards.

Fast forward to the present and the “Reality” route, Sunny’s moving in 3 days. He knows his time is up in the real world and the biggest catalyst for his personal growth is that he’s finally seeing his old friends in the REAL world after 4 years of only seeing their loving, idealized child version in dreams. For the first time, he gets to witness the collateral consequences of what he did to Mari in his now teenaged friends: Aubrey spirals into delinquency after feeling like she was thrown aside by everyone she loved. Hero is guilt ridden, can’t even go near Mari’s grave and gives up on his dreams of being a chef. Kel wants to make things better but feels powerless, useless and like a screwup. Basil lives in a miserable state of almost constant fear and psychosis.

Sunny finally gets to see the huge toll his lie took on his friends’ entire lives as they keep blaming themselves for not knowing about Mari’s supposed suicidal ideations. He’s finally forced to face reality and he still tries to hide in dreamworld but he can’t. The inhabitants of Headspace are all people or fictional characters he knows or likes in real life (that he changed in his dreams, like how Kim’s brother is a sweet gentle giant and Sweetheart looks just like the candy shop owner at the supermarket) and their quests end up leading him to events where he’s reminded over and over again his dreams will end soon (the end of the underwater highway, the tree near the whale, the shadows of Mari and Basil) and that he needs to delve into Blackspace.

This shows how his own subconscious mind knows well what needs to be done; he’s putting the mental and emotional effort of making himself face what he’s done, shown through the contrast between the whimsical nature of Headspace and the dark surrealism of Blackspace.

As this happens in Sunny’s psyche, in the real world he can try to “atone” a bit by doing good things for his little community like completing requests people around him have. He still has a lot of trouble being near Basil in the real world but considering his entire subconscious mainly revolves around finding and rescuing Basil, he wants and needs to face Basil sincerely before he runs out of time.

We’re shown through memories that Sunny’s personality was always quiet, wary, a bit distant and very bad at dealing with pressure. Some people even describe him as cowardly or mediocre but he was just a small kid who’s entire world ended when he was 12. Since then, he never left his house, spending most of his days asleep rather than awake. It’s no wonder his personality isn’t as developed as his friends. His friends, although they were also in immense pain, at least still continued to live beyond Mari’s death. Sunny didn’t. He only lived through sleep.

Subconsciously, it’s shown Sunny both loves and hates Basil. This is seen in Blackspace with the dialogue he has with the “strangers” walking in the void. They talk about how Sunny (as Omori) does horrible things to Basil in the darkness of Blackspace because he struggles with facing the truth of his own actions. It’s also revealed through datamine of Blackspace’s metaphorical photo album that Basil, in his attempts to save Sunny from the judgement of others and to get him to come out of catatonia, was the one who come up with the plan to hang Mari.

Sunny describes Mari as looking as if calmly asleep when he drags her up the stairs. Her eyes remained peacefully closed until Sunny and Basil hung her. Then, Sunny turned back to look at Mari’s corpse, her previously closed eyes were wide open. She might have even been still alive, might have opened her eyes during or after the noose was tied to her neck. Or the belief he saw her eyes open could have been a manifestation of Sunny’s guilt, instead.

Either way, the horrifying possibilities surrounding Mari’s death lead to Sunny handling his emotional pain by subconsciously taking it out on Basil. It’s why Basil in Blackspace is shown constantly suffering and dying in many different ways. It’s the only way Sunny has been able to deal with himself; by forcing Basil into the darkest corners of his mind, his perfect colorful dreamworld can’t be ruined by the ugly reality Basil’s mere presence represents. It’s less painful to try to forget Basil and to forever blame him for both of their sins.

Still, even with all these conflicted feelings, Sunny’s tried to come to terms with love he still feels for Basil many times before. The shadows point out how this isn’t the first time he’s tried to save the Flower Boy; how all the previous times before ended in Sunny failing to find redemption and so his mind turns back to torturing the Basil of his dreams instead.

However, one of the Blackspace shadows also mentions a very important detail that changes almost everything this time around: his time is almost up in the real world. Whether this means he’ll commit suicide or move away, it’s almost time for him to leave the friends he’s always loved so much behind.

Sunny is forced to do a lot of internal work and self-reflection in what little time he has left. It’s shown through his dream actions, the surreal imagery surrounding him and the characters with all the sub plots his subconscious makes up.

In the route to the good ending, he traverses Blackspace and manages to listen to every harsh truth Basil’s shadow has to tell him. His attempts to save Basil mean he’s fighting his own mind, forcing himself to accept the truth.

To achieve redemption for his greatest mistake, Sunny needs to start with accepting Basil entirely; he has to stop making Basil take the brunt of their combined regrets. It means being willing to finally face the REAL Basil instead of permanently burying him in the most painful place within Sunny’s mind.

So basically, it’s obvious to me that Sunny is forced out of his “comfortable” hikikomori misery the moment he opens the door to meet the REAL Kel.

Sunny and Basil have a confrontation in the real world. When Sunny entera Basil’s room, we see poor Basil suicidal and at his limit. He’s clearly in the throes of a psychotic episode and at the mercy of hallucinations and delusions he can’t escape from (“There’s no way out of this is there, Sunny?”). Basil attacks you in an attempt to save you by killing the “thing behind you” but as we know, there isn’t actually something behind you.

There was never any monster to take the blame for Basil’s regrets, nor yours. It’s always been just you.

Meanwhile, Sunny is trying his best not to completely lose his shit so he can save Basil and stop him from potentially killing the both of them. Sunny likely loses an eye in the fight, shown by the blood coming from your socket and the bandage over it in the hospital.

Incidentally, the eye you lose is on the same side as the eye that can be seen peeking through the hair of Mari’s face as she’s hanging from the tree.

In the good ending, the song at the end talks about how even after confessing the truth, Sunny is alone once again, so it’s not actually clear if Aubrey, Kel and Hero actually forgave him. I feel like this is deliberately left up to interpretation by the writers. The lyrics then continue on to say Sunny still finds it hard to wake up, still finds himself plagued some days with lingering regret, but that he still tries to take it all one step at a time to carry on living.

With the song’s lyrics in mind, the end scene that shows Basil and Sunny smiling at each other while Mari’s shadow leaves them doesn’t mean they’re completely fine all of a sudden. Whether their friends forgave them or not, they at least finally have the relief of honesty. The burden of their unbearable shared secret is now off their shoulders. It’s finally out in the open, which means they both can now start healing and working to find the redemption Sunny was looking for in Blackspace. It also means they can go back to loving each other again without the crushing pain they both felt in each other’s presence.

I agree that Aubrey and the gang get pretty left out in the good ending, though. I wish there was more of them and their reactions to the truth BUT I think it’s sadly a deliberate choice by the writers to leave their reaction up to the player’s interpretation. This can feel extremely unfulfilling to many people (me included, I hate when authors do that tbh) but also to many others that’s a good thing cus they get to apply their own personal meaning and feelings.

I personally feel like the friends forgiving Sunny and Basil right off the bat would be incredibly unrealistic. I think they would need a lot of time (especially Aubrey) for them to forgive the lie that wrecked their lives for years. Forgiveness isn’t impossible but it would probably come in the form of a slow, difficult, heartbreaking process. Bittersweet.

Redemption isn’t just about forgiveness, anyway.

Even if a person is never forgiven by the people they’ve hurt, they can still find redemption for their actions through doing good for the people around them and the world at large. An example of this is shown through what Sunny can do on his last days in his neighborhood. The gratitude and additional flowers he receives in the hospital from each person he’s helped are proof he can still do good for others even after something as horrible and unforgivable as accidental murder. In a way, it’s proof that his life is still worth living.

But ultimately that’s just my own interpretation of the ending and I understand other people would interpret it all differently. Some see forgiveness as a given in the story while there’s also others who think Sunny doesn’t deserve forgiveness or those who think Sunny is a sociopath/psychopath or that Basil is the true villain of the game. I think this is why the ending was left so open, to favor all the different interpretations people have of it.

ETA: Here’s a different take on Sunny’s parents. This post argues that, despite the initial implications, they actually didn’t know about the attempted coverup. It’s a really good writeup explaining the whys and hows and has me reconsidering that part of the story!

https://www.reddit.com/r/OMORI/comments/kr9nvx/major_spoilers_regarding_sunny_his_parents_and/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

#omori #omori game #omori sunny #omori basil #omori spoilers #spoilers #i said id wait before doing a post like this lol #but here i am #omori meta

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idreamtofmanderleyagain · 3 years

Text

Hot takes about Severus Snape are a wierdly decent glimpse into how a person with progressive values analyses things. Literally every time someone talks about Snape, it’s like this tiny window into how one-dimentionally people actually think.

Recently saw a twitter post that was a fantastic example. Here’s how it goes (paraphrasing):

Person A:“Snape is POC and Queer coded, that’s why you guy’s hate him uwu lol.”

Person B: “Actually I hate him because he was mean and abusive to children under his care uwu but go off I guess lol”

Both of these takes are designed to be dramatic and/or reactionary. They each use partial truths to paint very broad strokes. These are get-em-in-one-hit quips. This is virtue signalling, if you’ll excuse that loaded phrase. Nobody had a substantial conversation, but now everyone who sees their statement knows the high ground they took.

At least a hundred other people chimed in to add their own little quippy hot takes into play, none of which add anything significant, but clearly made everyone feel very highly of themselves.

So many layers of nuance and complex analysis is completely lost in this kind of discussion. On tumblr, you get more of this kind of bullshit, but you don’t have a word count limit, so you guys just spew endless mountains of weak overblown evidence backing up your bullshit arguments, none of which was really about engaging in a real conversation anyway.

Here’s the thing about Snape.

He is a childhood domestic abuse victim. His abuser is a muggle.

He becomes a student at a magical school that takes him away from his abuser and immediately instills in him the idea that being a part of this magical world is a badge of self-worth, empowerment, and provides safety and security - provided that he keeps in line.

There is a war is being waged in that world over his right to exist (he is a half blood).

He is a marginalized person within the context of the narrative, forced to constantly be in the same living space as the children of his own oppressors who are being groomed and recruited into a hate group militia (the pureblood slytherins). They are in turn trying to do the same to him.

He is marginalized person bullied by children who are also part of his oppressor group, but who have “more liberal” leanings and aren’t direct about why he’s being targeted (the mauraders are all purebloods, Sirius, who was the worst offender, was raised in a bigoted household, the same one that produced Bellatrix.).

He had a crush on a girl who is a muggleborn, and therefore she is considered even lesser than him and carries a stigma to those who associate with her. That girl was his only real friend. In his entire life.

For both Snape and Lily, allying themselves to a pureblood clique within their own houses would be a great way of shielding themselves from a measure of the bigotry they were probably facing. There would have been obvious pressure from those cliques to disconnect with one and other.

Every other person who associates with Snape in his adulthood carries some sort of sociopolitical or workplace (or hate cult) baggage with their association. Some of them will physically harm and/or kill him if he steps out of line. He hasn’t at any point had the right environment to heal and adjust from these childhood experiences. Even his relationship with Dumbledore is charged with constant baggage, including the purebloods who almost killed him during their bullying getting a slap on the wrist, the werewolf that almost killed him as a child being placed in an authority position over new children, etc. Dumbledore is canonically manipulative no matter his good qualities, and he has literally been manipulating Snape for years in order to cultivate a necessary asset in the war.

He is a person who is not in the stable mental state necessary to be teaching children, whom has been forced to teach children. While also playing the role of double agent against the hate group militia, the one that will literally torture you for mistakes or backtalk or just for fun. The one that will torture and kill him if he makes one wrong move.

Is the math clicking yet? From all of this, it’s not difficult to see how everything shitty about Snape was cultivated for him by his environment. Snape was not given great options. Snape made amazingly awful choices, and also some amazingly difficult, courageous ones. Snape was ultimately a human who had an extremely bad life, in which his options were incredibly grim and limited.

In fact, pretty much every point people make about how shitty Snape is as a person makes 100% logical sense as something that would emerge from how he was treated. Some if it he’s kind of right about, some of it is the inevitable reality of suffering, and some of it is part of the cycle of abuse and harm.

Even Snape’s emotional obsession with Lily makes logical sense when you have the perspective that he literally has no substantial positive experiences with other human beings that we know of, and he has an extreme, soul destroying guilt complex over her death. Calling him an Incel mysoginist nice guy projects a real-world political ideology and behavior that does not really apply to the context of what happened to him and her.

Even Snape’s specific little acts of cruelty to certain students is a reflection of his own life experiences. He identifies with Neville; more specifically, he identifies his own percieved emotional weaknesses in his childhood in Neville. There’s a very sad reason there why he feels the urge to be so harsh.

Snape very clearly hates himself, in a world where everyone else hates him, too. Imagine that, for a second. Imagine total internal and external hatred, an yearning for just a little bit of true connection. For years. Imagine then also trying to save that world, even if it’s motivated by guilt. Even if nobody ever knows you did it and you expect to die a miserable death alone.

There are more elements here to consider, including the way Rowling described his looks (there may be something in there re: ugliness and swarthy stereotyping). These are just the things that stand out the most prominently to me.

J.K. Rowling is clearly also not reliable as an imparter of moral or sociopolitical philosophies. I don’t feel that her grasp of minority experiences is a solid one, considering how she picks and chooses who is acceptable and who is a threat.

All of that said, this is a logically consistent character arc. Within the context of his narrative, Snape is a marginalized person with severe PTSD and emotional instability issues who has absolutely no room available to him for self-improvement or healing, and never really has. And yes, he’s also mean, and caustic, and verbally abusive to the students. He’s also a completey miserable, lonely person.

There are elements in his character arc that mirror real world experiences quite well. If nothing else, Rowling is enough of an emotional adult to recognise these kinds of things and portray something that feels authentic.

In my opinion, it’s not appropriate to whittle all this down by comparing him directly to the real world experiences of marginalized groups - at least if you are not a part of the group you are comparing him to. There have been many individuals who have compared his arc to their own personal experiences of marginalization, and that is valid. But generally speaking, comparing a white straight dude to people who are not that can often be pretty offensive. This is not a valuable way to discuss either subject.

Also, I believe that while it’s perfectly okay to not like Snape as a character, many of the people who act like Person B are carrying Harry’s childhood POV about Snape in their hearts well into their own adulthood. And if nothing else, Rowling was attempting to say something here about how our perspectives (should) grow and change as we emotionally mature. She doesn’t have to be a good person herself to have expressed something true about the world in this instance, and since this story is a part of our popular culture, people have a right to feel whatever way they do about this story and it’s characters.

The complexity of this particular snapshot of fictionalized marginalization, and what it reveals about the human experience, cannot be reduced down to “he’s an abuser so he’s not worth anyone’s time/you are bad for liking him.”

And to be honest, I think that it reveals a lot about many of us in progressive spaces, particularly those of us who less marginalized but very loud about our values, that we refuse to engage with these complexities in leu of totally condemning him. Particularly because a lot of the elements I listed above are indeed reflected in real world examples of people who have experienced marginalization and thus had to deal with the resulting emotional damage, an mental illness, and behavior troubles, and bad decisions. Our inability to address the full scope of this may be a good reflection of how we are handling the complexity of real world examples.

Real people are not perfect angels in their victimhood. They are just humans who are victims, and we all have the capacity to be cruel and abusive in a world where we have been given cruelty and abuse. This is just a part of existing. If you cannot sympathise with that, or at least grasp it and aknowledge it and respect the people who are emotionally drawn to a character who refects that, then you may be telling on yourself to be honest.

To be honest, this is especially true if you hate Snape but just really, really love the Mauraduers. You have a right to those feelings, but if you are moralizing this and judging others for liking Snape, you’ve confessed to something about how you’ve mentally constructed your personal values in a way I don’t think you’ve fully grasped yet.

I have a hard time imagining a mindset where a story like Snape’s does not move one to empathy and vicarious grief, if I’m honest. I feel like some people really just cannot be bothered to imagine themselves in other people’s shoes, feeling what they feel and living like they live. I struggle to trust the social politics of people who show these kinds of colors, tbh.

But maybe that’s just me.

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tsukkiseasalt · 3 years

Text

haikyuu hc | how they act while drunk

includes: swearing, public intoxication, frustration, throwing up & a whole lotta other bs. slightly nsfw.gn reader

bokuto

somebody please get this baby some help he’s super emotional rn.

didn’t actually tell you he was drinking just said he was going to hang with akaashi.

akaashi was the one who called you & he sounded off his ass, so he gave bokuto the phone only for him to start talking about how he wishes he would have asked you to go out & how sorry he was- poor thing was on the verge of tears.

only way he’ll calm down is by calling you as you come get him.

when you get to the bar he is laying on the curb with his arm around akaashi’s leg as kaashi throws up in some bushes. kuroo is sitting on the curb writing on the concrete with a rock

how you managed to get all of them in a car will forever be a mystery-but bokuto & kuroo were sprawled out in the back seat and akaashi was slumpted over in the front seat emptying his stomach into a cardboard box you found in your trunk.

you dropped akaashi & kuroo off at their apartment with kenma.( kenma being the only actually sober person you saw that night )

“baby im sorry. please don’t be mad.” were the only words he could muster in different variations as he clung to you when you tried to get him into the house.

immediately falls onto the bed and begins crying & apologizing. the sight honestly breaks your heart.

“baby im sorry. it wasn’t my idea it was there’s. i didn’t wanna drink. im sorry. im so so sorry.” he sobs into you sleeping pants.

“hey baby you’re ok, im not mad at you. im proud of you.” you coo.

“really?” he sniffles

“yes baby, you calmed down and told me how to get to you and you didn’t even throw up.” you praise him.

a huge smile is on his face when he hears that quickly bettering his mood.

“i love you so much.” he mumbles as he pulls you down into a sloppy kiss.

the next morning he vows to never drink with akaashi again. (does the same thing in two weeks.)

oikawa

the term pissy drunk was made for this man. tells you he’s going to have a few beers with ‘the bois’ only for him to send you voice messages of him screaming careless whisper at 2 am.

did NOT want to leave when you tried to get him to leave. sat on the floor and down right refused like a fucking CHILD.

“tooru fucking oikawa get your god damn ass of that motherfucking ground right now or so help me god.”

“what are you gonna do huh? you gonna whoop my ass? nope you can’t whoop my shit so shut the hell up.”

goes fucking ballistic when you threaten to breakup with him & breaks a table in the process.

iwazumi finally gets pissed enough and helps you get him out & in your car.

lays in the back seat and sobs, begging for you to stay with him.

“you know tooru desperation doesn’t look good on you.”

ballistic pt.2

“EVERYTHING LOOKS GOOD ON ME SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DONT APPRECIATE ME. I HATE YOU.”

this mf ugly crying snot and all.

when you make it home he tells you he doesn’t need your help with a damn thing and that he can get his self to bed.

failed miserably and fell on the ground immediately after opening the door. (cue the waterworks)

“baby please help me i need you. im sorry i’m being a jack ass help me please.” he mumbles sweetly wrapping his arms around you as you lug him in.

“just leave me here.” he sniffles when you make it into the living room. you drop him on the couch and go to bed.

wakes up with the meanest hangover and makes dinner for the next week as an apology.

tanaka

angry drunk. on sight type night with him.

bringing him to the party was possibly the worst decision you could have possibly made. within the 45 minutes you two had been there he had taken 4 shots, downed 2, and chugged everything within a 2 foot radius. safe to say he was thoroughly buzzed.

“babe if anybody and i mean ANYBODY looks at you tell me and i’ll kill them.” he exclaims hands snaking around your waist.

the only place your allowed to sit is on his lap. (yes you can feel his hard on)

plays beer pong with noya against kageyama and tsukki ( tsukki’s actually really fucking good) & looses.

he and noya then proceed to try an jump tsukki.

“fuck you you four eyes bastard.” he yells as daichi wraps his arms around him. “yeah, your a filthy cheater.” noya chimes as asahi picks him up and takes him outside. “i’ll be back tanaka & when i get back we beating his ass.”

after that you decide to take him home.

his hand doesn’t leave your thigh as you drive home. this boys hOrnY.

constantly tries to convince you to let him taste you as you drive home.

“ryūnosuke stop it now.”

“fuck babe say my name like that again and i’m gonna have to take you right here and now.” he groans palming himself through his sweats.

when you get him in bead his hands are gripping your ass and his head buried in your chest.

“i love you so much babe.” he mumbles before passing out.

kageyama

super lightweight.

had one shot and a wine cooler now he can’t walk straight.

“honey *hicup* my tummy hurts *hicup*”

“tobio sweety you haven’t even drank that much.” you say stroking his head.

you have to leave early because he has to pee and refuses to go anywhere other than his own bathroom.

end up pulling on the side of the road because he almost pissed his pants in the car.

“can you help me get my pants up?” he asks leaning against the tree for support.

strips down to his underwear in your car cause he’s hot even though you have the ac blasting.

“babe i think i have alcohol *hicup* poisoning.

“you do not have alcohol poisoning tobio.”

when you open the door to get him inside he throws up on the floor and immediately passes out.

wakes up in the middle of the night crying though because his stomach hurts.

you turn on cars and rub his tummy till he goes back to sleep.

i wrote half of this while i was blackout drunk at a party last night soo please ignore the grammar mistakes🥺

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu headcanons #kageyama #hq tanaka #hq x you #bokuto x reader #oikawa x reader #bokuto imagine

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yumihoe · 3 years

Text

Dealing with poor body image

Pairing: Yandere Uraraka, Toga, and momo x fem reader.

Degenerate filth can be draining, here have some Angst / fluff. Summary : Headcannons / drabbles of how the Bnha Girls would go about dealing with a fem darling that has a bad relationship with eating/body image.

Content Warning : Negative Body image, Self Depreciation, Self harm , Angst, Sfw and nsfw aspects minors dni.

Yandere Ochoco Uraraka

Uraraka loves you.

Every part of you. She tries her best to make sure you're happy with her, and for the most part, she thought she had been doing a pretty good job. You had everything you could want with her - except for freedom of course - So when you fall into a depression, refusing to eat, spending hours staring at yourself in the mirror- pinching and prodding at your body, it hurts her. She assumes she's doing something wrong.

That had to be the reason you were so miserable right? She becomes overbearing, constantly drowning you in unwanted affection, Whatever she did she was sure she could make up for it.

" What's the wrong baby ?"

When you finally break down crying, tell her how you feel about yourself, how you can't stand the sight of your reflection, how sick you make yourself feel she's bewildered. To her, you're the most stunning person in the world. It's why she fell for you after all. She tries to tell you as much but it only results in you crying more, screaming that she's lying, that no one could ever actually think you're anything but an ugly piece of lard. Completely bewildered as to how you could see yourself as anything other than gorgeous, She makes it her mission to fix your perspective of yourself, her seemingly constant bombardment of flattery and praise magnifying tenfold.

There's not a moment of the day where she's not reminding you of how pretty you are, how sexy you are, how desirable you are. If you still deny her, she resorts to showing you the only other way she thinks she can, shaking thighs held down to the mattress face buried between them, tongue bringing you to your third orgasm of the night. You're still crying, weak legs trying to pull away from her, but at least she can't hear you put yourself down over the whimpers and moans you're letting out. She'll show you just how beautiful you are to her, no matter what it takes.

Yandere Momo Yaoyorozu

Momo is relatively insensitive to your predicament. In her defense, it's not on purpose, you should know she doesn't care about how you look and she can't comprehend why you spend so much time in the mirror doting on it.

You don't expect momo to understand though, She's perfect. Tall, lean, beautiful, tight, and toned despite having a quirk that requires her to eat a lot. Still, her cold response hurts. The way she scoffs at you when you refuse to eat for the fourth night in the row makes you feel like your mental state was an inconvenience to her. She tries her best to ignore the way you flinch away from her touch as if you're some gross blob she isn't allowed to touch or step on the scale for the 400th time in one day.

She tells herself it's a phase you'll grow out of. Food is a necessity.

It's When she offers to take you out to dinner and you refuse, locking yourself in the bathroom sobbing about one stupid thing or the other that has her fed up.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She hisses, her patience with you dwindling. She's yelling at you from behind the door, banging on it for you to let her in.

It wasn't until you swing the door open, face puffy and mascara running down your face that she falls silent.

You're shaking, the dress she bought for you for tonight on the floor behind you. Momo's frozen and before she can get a word out you're the one screaming.

" I'm not going, I'm not going, I'm not going ." You wail, words beginning to turn to mush. Momo grabs hold of you, tries to calm you down but you're thrashing, trying to pull away.

You finally tire yourself out, limp in her arms on your shared bed, less defensive. she decides that it's the right time to ask you about what the hell just happened. " Why - she treads with caution" why were you crying like that?" Your voice is quiet and shaky when you answer " the dress you bought me -I couldn't fit the dress I- I g-got bigger."

Momo's first thought is why the hell that has you so upset when she can buy you a dress that fits - but when your eyes tear up again she pushes her logical thinking to the side. She's not sure what to say or if there's anything else she can do besides offer comfort. So that's what she does, cancels the dinner reservations and just let you spend the night crying on her chest.

Yandere toga

Toga's love language is touch.

It doesn't matter where but she has to be touching a part of you at all time to feel truly at peace. Despite that when you tell her she can't touch you because it makes you feel icky, she doesn't take it personally.

Toga grew up understanding the way society can make you feel rotten about things you can't control.

Hell her quirk got her labeled as a horrifying monstrosity because of the nature of it, but you accepted her. Made her feel comfy and at home so she makes it her mission to return the favor. Even if her ministrations are a bit odd- you always scold her when she steals your things she considers comfort items, or when she threatens to kill anyone who ever made you feel less than enough as you are, going as far as to bring you the remains of a middle school bully, presenting them to you like a proud cat would a dead mouse.

You really cut into her for that one But you can't really blame her.

Everything about her life has been shitty and she'll be damned if she lets the one good thing she has wither away into nothingness.

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A/N - Your body is perfect and you look fine. stop worrying about it . Your face is fine . Literally every flaw you think you have exist only in your mind . you look exactly like you should.

#yandere toga #toga x reader #yandere uraraka #uraraka x reader #tw negative body image #twselfharm #tw yandere #yandere x female reader #yandere x reader #momo yaoyorozu #yandere bnha #fluff #tw angst

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