#he thinks he’s so much better than me and that i was gaining weight because his diet is better than mine

[lymtw]

Toji loves taking you out to bars because he knows you can't hold your alcohol like he can. You're messy, and you gain an attitude that he almost never sees, but more importantly, you rely on him more than ever.

Toji laughs at the irritated expression you have on your face. "What are you looking at?" you ask, rolling your eyes as you look away from him. He doesn't take it to heart, instead smirking at the returning attitude in your tone. You've gone over your drinking limit, and he knows you wouldn't ever say that to him in your sober state. At least not like that.

"Your pretty ass, dummy," he responds. He watches you reach for your glass again, quickly intercepting your hand before you're able to grab it. He sees the confusion in your eyes as he moves the glass away from your reach. "That's enough for tonight, babe. Gotta get you home before you pass out on me."

You can barely hold yourself up. You lean most of your weight onto Toji as he walks both of you out of the bar. He knows this is no way to leave you alone tonight, so he decides to keep you at his apartment for the night. You're well acquainted with it, anyway. A surprise sleepover won't kill you.

"Where are we going, Toji?" You slur, watching him buckle you into the passenger seat.

"You'll recognize it when you see it," Toji says, flashing a smile before shutting your door.

He quickly makes his way to the other side, sitting in the driver's seat. He watches you rummage through his glove compartment, then the compartment between your seats. He has nothing to hide, so he doesn't stop you for a minute or so, but he knows you won't find anything in this state so he has to intervene. "Tell me what you're looking for."

His voice grabs your attention, making you stop. "Water. My mouth is dry, and I don't like the taste on my tongue," you mumble.

He reaches back into the pocket behind his seat and grabs a flask filled less than halfway with water. He twists the lid off and offers it to you. "Drink the rest."

"Mm-mm," you protest. "That's too much." You tip your head back and let the cool liquid soothe your throat. You thought you had drank more, but the water barely entered your mouth before you brought the flask back down in your lap.

"It's gonna make you feel better, ma. Just do it."

Your eyes roll every time your heavy eyes blink, but you genuinely mean the attitude behind your eye roll when you turn away from Toji and lean against the car door. The effects of the alcohol have you thinking he trying to boss you around, and you're not having it.

Toji scoffs, putting the lid in the cup holder. He reverses the car out of the parking spot, glancing at you once more before putting the car in drive. Your forehead is pressed against the window, and your arms hold the flask of water tight. You don't even notice when you doze off.

You woke up a couple times for a few seconds, turning towards Toji with wide, red eyes. He cracked up each time, but calmly told you to go back to sleep. One of the times, you took his hand and put it on your thigh before turning towards the car door again. His hand was warm, and rough, just... Toji. He didn't pull it away unless he had to put his blinker on, but it would go back to its place immediately after.

Twenty minutes later, you arrived near Toji's apartment. He pulled into his assigned parking spot, a bold 723 on the curb, the same as his apartment number. He turns the car off and unbuckles himself. He exits the car and makes his way to the passenger side. You weren't leaning on the door anymore, so Toji opened it.

"Baby, we're here." He nudges your shoulder, gently. Your eyes open, heavy as you look around. Your hand comes up to rub your eye and the flask of water tips over, spilling onto your shirt and the crotch area of your pants. You gasp, watching Toji grab the flask before all the water spills out. "It's all good, mama. It's just water," he says, noticing the shift to worry in your tired face.

"I'm sorry... I didn't..." you slur, feeling a lump in your throat. "Toji, I'm sorry. It's not pee, I swear."

He suppresses the smile fighting to show on his lips. He can't bring himself to laugh when you have the saddest eyes he's ever seen. They have a glint when he looks into them, so he knows you're holding back tears.

"I know, doll. I believe you. Let's get you into some dry clothes, yeah?"

"Okay," you say, to yourself. You sigh. "So hard to move," you mumble. You use all the strength you have to get your legs out of the car and onto the ground. It was an almost impossible task when you felt like the world was moving so fast. Every movement you made felt like you were dragging yourself in that direction more than necessary. You felt so heavy. "I won't make it," you say, looking up at Toji with watery eyes.

"Wanna hop on my back?"

"You're older than me. Don't wanna break your back." You wipe away a single fleeing tear.

Now that made Toji chuckle. He would have to remind you of it in the daytime.

"Don't worry about it. You're featherlight, baby." He turns around and crouches in front of you. You give in since he's already in position. Again, you put in all your effort to push yourself forward. Your chest lands on his back, your arms lazily draped over his shoulders.

"Hold on tight, or you'll slip." He helps you by pulling your thighs around his waist, a strong grip to hold you in place. Your arms apply a little more pressure around his neck. He genuinely lifted you like you were featherlight, not even groaning as he pushed himself up and out of the crouched position. He leaves the flask on the seat, not covered, trusting that it won't fall over. The door is shut and the car is locked before he carries you to his apartment.

He can hear your breaths against his ear, finding that you dozed off again. He unlocks the door, and leads you inside his home. The door is locked behind him, and he flicks on the living room light. He takes you to his bed, setting you down so he can grab some clothes for you.

He goes into his drawers and fishes out one of his shirts. His clothes don't fit you, but you're in no position to reject them.

"Sit up, ma," he says, walking towards you with one of his black shirts. The bed sinks with his added weight. "Don't have any bottoms for you, but you can still take your pants off if you want to let them dry."

You nod, not wanting to think for yourself anymore. Toji is sober, he knows best for now.

"Arms up," he instructs, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of you. "You wanna keep the bra on?"

You shake your head. Sleeping with a cold chest doesn't sound comfortable at all, so you let him unclip your bra and take it off. You quickly cover your exposed breasts. Regardless of how many times Toji has seen you naked, he doesn't protest your choice to cover yourself. Instead, he puts the shirt over your head and pulls it down your body. You release your breasts and put your arms through the armholes. You unbutton your jeans and kick them off, pulling the shirt down after to cover your upper thighs.

"Better?" He asks when your movements still. He receives a closed-eyed nod for a response. "'Kay, i'll be right back. Don't get out of bed." He squeezes your arm and rises off the bed.

He's gone for less than a minute, returning with a couple pills and a glass of water in hand. You'll wake up wanting these things, badly, so he'll save you the painful morning.

He dresses down and prepares himself for bed. He comes back to find that you're on his side of the bed. It would be a struggle to get you to move, so he'll accomodate for you, this time. He pulls you onto your side, facing him. If you blow chunks, you won't choke and die because of your position. Some might make it onto him, but that's a risk he's willing to take if it means you'll be fine.

You look cute in his enormous shirt. You don't normally wear it in circumstances like these where you're defenseless, but it suits you either way.

#toji fluff #toji x y/n #toji x you #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #dilf toji #jjk x y/n #jjk fic #jjk scenarios #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #fanfic #toji fic

[bakubunny]

personal trainer!bkg

tags: oral sex (m receiving), rough sex, plus size fem!reader

18+, mdni. minors & ageless blogs will be blocked.

thinking abt trainer!bakugou who falls for one of his clients. you’re nervous because you didn’t expect the best trainer in the city to be hot as hell and have pretty, red eyes and how is he so much bigger than you? but he tells himself he’s not nervous at all when he sees your chubby cheeks, thick thighs, and pretty smile.

trainer!bakugou who gets a little pissy inside when you say your only goal is to “lose weight.” “that ain’t gonna cut it with me, sweetheart. gimme a better reason. i know you got at least one.” he wouldn’t usually press the issue, but part of him was annoyed. and truthfully, “to get stronger and gain confidence,” was a better answer anyways.

trainer!bakugou who’s not oblivious and notices how flustered you get whenever he touches you during instruction. he stays professional; he’s not gonna bring it up or do more than absolutely necessary. but if he’s honest, sometimes he has to hold back a smirk.

trainer!bakugou who simultaneously pushes you a little harder than you think he should but also goes easy on you, too. who celebrates every success you have with a bigger grin than usual, but no one who knows him is stupid enough to point that out.

trainer!bakugou who you’ve assumed is constantly flushed because he has rosy cheeks, but it’s really because has to keep his thoughts from wandering whenever you’re around… especially when you wear those damn leggings that fit just right. he knows better than to stare unnecessarily, but he also has to do his job because you’re paying him good money for his work.

trainer!bakugou who tries to ignore the fact that he finds himself going home painfully hard after every session. who tells himself he’s just horny, but his thoughts always wander towards you when he takes his dick out. he’s definitely wondered if you go home and do the same thing he does, thinking of what you’d look and sound like fucking yourself, moaning at the thought of him.

trainer!bakugou who (probably) has no idea that you go home with ruined panties every time you see him because the sound of his voice and the look in his eye and the heat of his hands is too hard to ignore. you’d be absolute mortified if he ever knew you went home and immediately grabbed something to fill your aching cunt.

trainer!bakugou who’s more bothered than he should be when you tell him you have to stop training with him because you can’t afford the extra cost. he knows he’s about to do the stupidest thing he’s ever done if it ends badly, but he does it anyways. “well, if… if you want, we can workout together sometime. no trainin’ or nothin’.” he can see the smile on your face, yet somehow he’s surprised when you say yes. “you know what? yeah. i can do that. some company would be nice.”

trainer!bakugou who definitely isn’t your trainer anymore, but he seems to find a lot more excuses to “help” than he used to… even when he knows you don’t need it. one day, you’re feeling bold and call him out with a playful look. “y’know, you said you’re ‘just trying to help,’ but i think you’re looking for an excuse to put your hands on me.”

trainer!bakugou who sees the glint in your eye and takes his chance. “yeah, i am. i like the way your body feels. ‘s that a problem, pretty girl?” he watches your entire face turn red and he smirks. “i think you know i’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” you offer. “then we should find a better place for me to do this, huh?”

trainer!bakugou whose hands are rough and strong and grip you tightly as he holds you up against a wall near his front door. his kisses are hot and fervent as he groans, grinding into you.

trainer!bakugou who lets you push him back onto his bed, pull down his shorts, and do what you’ve been thinking about for weeks as your lips graze his hard cock. you moan from the taste of his skin and how perfectly he doesn’t even come close to fitting in your hand. soon, you’re making a spit covered mess of yourself as you suck his dick. you don’t even care because he’s moaning and panting, bucking his hips into your throat, his hand in your hair.

trainer!bakugou who pulls you off his cock with a groan in his throat. he shoves you back onto the bed and takes your leggings and panties off in one fell swoop. he’s kissing and groping his way across your skin, eager to get any part of you he can in his mouth as he takes off your clothes.

trainer!bakugou who’s stretching your pretty cunt out so perfectly with his cock as he fucks you hard. your breath catches after every moan when he hits a sweet spot, one that makes you shudder. “this is what you fuckin’ needed, isn’t it, princess? needed my cock for so long, haven’t ya?” he says with hot breath. you nod dumbly, lost for words.

trainer!bakugou who can’t get enough of you and your perfect, soft stomach and the way your tits move. his head is spinning from the way you’re squeezing and pulling him back in with every thrust. the way you’re moaning louder the harder your hips meet makes him grip you tighter.

trainer!bakugou who feels your fingernails dragging down his back and groans into your skin. who tells you everything he’s held back as he watches your eyes roll. “d’you have any fuckin’ clue how long i’ve wanted this? how many times i’ve stroked my cock thinkin’ of your ass and thighs? thinkin’ of this pretty little pussy? hmm?”

trainer!bakugou who’s determined to never let you forget that he knew he wanted you the day he met you and not a day later.

banners by @cafekitsune.

#aged up characters #ope i did the thing #idk how i feel abt it but i hope u like it 🫶 #millennialmagicalgirl #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero #bakugou katsuki #bnha smut #mha smut #x reader #fem!reader #plus size!reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #smut hcs #smut #bakugou x fem!reader

[storiesbysoup]

Hey! Can I request ghost nsfw headcanons? Where he has a size kink and where he has a crush on you. Please?

Simon "Ghost" Riley with a Size Kink.

warning! this post contains mentions of NSFW — if you are under 18 years old, do not interact with it! notes: hello! yes of course, haha! thank you for the request, it's very much appreciated. <3 I'm not very good at headcannons, so please excuse me if this is bad! MASTERLIST.

Simon wasn't sure if would ever understand what love was.

He'd grown up with a void where the feeling of love should have been.

When he enlisted, he questioned if he would ever be happy with the choices he was going to make.

That was until he saw you.

You were a new recruit -- Private Lizard was what you were known about as.

The other members of 141 often called you by your real name from time-to-time, but Ghost never did.

"Keepin' it professional" was often what he would claim for his excuse, but you suspected it was because only Soap got a special nickname from the Ghost.

Simon remembers when he met you -- bright-eyed rookie that was excited to help out with something that they believed to be true and good.

Price recruited you to 141 and Ghost had no complaints. You were a pyrotechnics and sabotage -- two things that 141 was looking for.

Ghost trusted Price, so in return he trusted your ability to hold your weight while working with the team.

He had tried to keep himself distanced from you, but eventually failed as you grew closer with everyone.

Inevitably, he gained a small crush on you.

How could he not?

You were snarky -- not too much to be a smartass, but enough to get a laugh out of the hulking man. You were smart, you did your job well.

Often times on base, Ghost would hide himself in a secluded area and remove his mask. He'd breathe, taking a quick drag from a cigarette.

He wished he would simply quit, but knew it would take more than that.

Ghost would lean his head back against the cold, stone wall and let himself relax for the first time in weeks. In doing so, he failed to catch the sound of your soft footsteps slowly coming closer.

You simply sat yourself beside him and leaned your head against his shoulder, saying nothing. He jumped at the contact, hand immediately reaching for one of the few weapons he'd kept on himself.

When he recognized you, he immediately relaxed for hte majority. His mask was off -- he hadn't shown his face to anyone but Price. You had seen him.

Your eyes were closed as you rested against him, softly whispering.

"I didn't see your face, Ghost. Don't worry."

His heart leapt into his throat.

One of Ghosts hands came to encapsulate yours, his mind slowly churning as he noticed just how much smaller you were than him.

Ghost slumped himself down to let you lean against him better, gently placing his head on yours.

"You can if you want to."

That was the first time he said your real name and you think that's the moment you fell in love with Simon Riley.

He told you that you could call him Simon when they were off-duty. In this moment, he wasn't Ghost -- he was Simon.

You smiled, eyes fluttering open to admire his hand in yours.

The size difference was insane.

Simon was a big guy, that much was obvious: he stood at 6'4" and was a hulking mass. His hands reflected that as well.

As the two of you sat there, the size difference between you seemed to creep into Simons head more and more.

His crush on you grew from a simple, passing infatuation to a full-on immersion of love in the span of just four hours.

Simon's mind started to turn to the less flattering side of himself: he started to imagine what fucking you would be like.

How small would you appear to him if the two of you did have sex? Would his cock made you seem even littler?

He wasn't small in any places, after all.

The feeling of his cock growing harder as you said there, engulfed in each others embrace caused heat to rise to his face. He shouldn't be getting hard right now.

Plus, if the two of you were to have sex, it would be breaking so many rules. Lieutenant's weren't supposed to fuck their Privates.

But god did he want to.

He imagined what the taste of you would be like. Would you be sweet? You probably would -- you were a kind person at heart.

One day, Simon knew that he'd bring this up to you. He'd confess everything: the infatuation -- the love -- he bore for you, the perverse feelings that boiled inside of him.

One day, Simon Riley would admit he's in love with you.

written by storiesbysoup© 2023. I do not condone anyone translating my works and/or stealing them.

#ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare 2 #cod #cod: mw2 #cod ghost #cod: mw2 ghost #ghost smut #cod smut

[jackdaw-kraai]

I think there’s something rather strange going on with all the folks who insist that the Jedi Order in the PT was right and didn’t forbid love and Anakin should just have followed their teachings when the whole point of the prequels is that they are prequels. They come before the OT, and the OT proves the Jedi wrong. They literally do not make sense if they don’t do that.

Luke, in the original trilogy, gains his ultimate triumph, his ultimate victory, because he loved in defiance of the teachings of the old Order. He quite literally had the ghosts of the past telling him, explicitly and without ambiguity, that he has to put his love for his father aside and kill him, as is the duty of a Jedi. Luke has the weight of millennia of teachings weighing down on his shoulders, telling him they knew and know better than a young, inexperienced man barely out of his teenager years. That he should follow their teachings or be destroyed. That is an immense weight to carry, and many people would and explicitly have given in to it in-universe. What are your feelings and ideals in the face of such immense legacy, after all?

But Luke doesn’t give in.

He doesn’t bend.

He says “I may be young, and I may be new, but I believe to my heart and soul that love matters more than this legacy. Matters more than your teachings.” And he says this to the ghosts of his mentors. That is such a powerful moment and one I can’t believe George Lucas didn’t create deliberately for even a second. This young man, being told he has to kill or die trying for a system that is dead or dying itself, that couldn’t survive itself, and refusing to do so. He is the living refusing to continue the violence of a dead generation. He is the young man refusing the draft into a war the old generation started, saying “peace and love matters more than you being right.” He is the embodiment of breaking the cycle.

And the movies vindicate him.

The main villain vindicates him with his last dying breath.

Darth Vader, dying, says “You were right.” and admits he and his were wrong. The main antagonist, Luke’s nemesis, in the face of his son’s immense, defiant love, gives way and does the impossible: he comes back to the light and dies a Jedi. The very thing the old Order says was impossible.

They were wrong. They have to be. The narrative demands it, the movies don’t make sense without it.

The solution was never to continue the cycle of the old Order, or Luke would have failed there, would have failed when he said “I am a Jedi, like my father before me.” And claimed that defiant, deviant, condemned definition of being a Jedi over the one presented to him by the Grandmaster of the old Order. If the old Order was right, Luke would have to be wrong. Be wrong about love, be wrong about laying down the sword, be wrong about refusing to fight. He would have to be wrong.

But the old Order is dead, explicitly killed by a monster, in some part, of their own making. It’s members only existing as bones in the ground or ghosts speaking from beyond the grave. They did not deserve it, it should not have been inflicted on them, but the narrative is clear on this: “The old way is dead, and was dying for a long time before that. Long live the new.”

Luke is that new. Luke is the breaking of the cycle, the reforging of swords into ploughs, the extended hand. Luke says “I don’t care how much I was hurt, I refuse to hurt you back, and you don’t need to hurt me either.”

“We can end this together and choose love instead.”

And Darth Vader, killer of the Jedi, End of the Order, lays down his arms as well, and reaches back as Anakin, saying “You were right.”

It wasn’t Obi-Wan, Yoda, Mace, Qui-Gon, or even Ahsoka who achieved the ultimate victory in the end, following the tenants of the old Order. It was Luke. Young, inexperienced Luke, who saw that the age of legacy handed to him was only history, that the sword handed to him as his life was only a tool, and that the decrees of the dead were only advice. And he took it all, said “thank you for your experience, but I’ve got it from here,” and laid it all down to instead extend an open hand towards his enemy.

And his victory, his ultimate triumph, his vindication, was that he was proven right when his enemy reached back and became just another person. Just another person, just like him.

The Jedi did not deserve what happened to them, and they did not deserve to die. But the story is clear on this: the Jedi of old were wrong, and the Jedi of new, the Last Jedi, was right. No sword or death will ever end the rule of the sword or end the bloodshed. But love?

Love can ignite the stars.

#star wars #ot trilogy #pt trilogy #darth vader #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #jedi

[darkcircles4lyfe]

it's a story about hands (reprise)

Yeah, okay, today's the day.

I gave my blog that title for a reason, you know, and it has loomed over me for years because the hand motif is absolutely everywhere and you could go on about it forever.

Maybe that's something I'll never actually attempt to do, but this chapter, we reached a breaking point.

Before I continue, I need to give a big, big disclaimer: I do not have a physical disability, so I'm not able to speak about that from the standpoint of representation as a first-hand perspective. I have at least listened to enough disabled people to know that fictional characters who become amputees only to miraculously gain their limbs back is, um, a trope. Disabled people in general being "healed" is a conception we would really prefer to avoid here. Not to call people out, but I don't think we're giving enough space to acknowledge that.

I don’t feel comfortable making the judgement call about what should happen. I’m leaving that open. I also don't want to downplay people's emotional reactions. Honestly, I don't know if I can accurately define the line between acknowledging real pain vs. ableist pity. But I’d like to talk about the possibilities of what could happen. Other characters have definitely gotten permanent disabilities as a result of their hero work, or even just the side effects of their quirk. But, for better or worse, I don't think this case is really about representation. Not that Horikoshi won't do that justice. He might. What I'm saying is that's not his purpose for having Izuku lose his arms. It's meant to be symbolic, so we can explore what it means. The other thing I’m keeping in mind here is that Horikoshi is notorious for playing with our expectations, like, alllllll the time. I mean, just take a few chapters ago for a classic example. Eri appeared at the end, and we all assumed she was about to take some sort of action to save someone with her quirk. Then, immediately following, we were given an explanation for why that wouldn’t be happening. And now it’s clear he wanted to do that “fake out” not just as a silly cliffhanger prank, but specifically so we would know not to suspect that Eri could be the miraculous solution to Izuku’s loss of his arms. Rest assured, there is no easy way out of this.

The expectation at play in this particular instance is an old one. It’s very understated, but its subtext has burned so brightly, you’d be a fool not to notice it. It sits with anticipation like one half of a call and response. Man, I was so certain. Lots of people still are. I was really looking forward to printing the panel where it happened onto a t shirt and wearing it proudly. All the hand motifs in this story radiate thematically from a single moment, the one that started it all for Izuku.

It raises all kinds of questions about the act of saving, who needs saving, why, what does it mean, what are the dynamics of power, politics, honesty, exploitation, compassion, pity, disdain, sacrifice. Katsuki has dealt with many of these since he first rejected Izuku’s hand. While Izuku was the one who was convinced Katsuki would keep on rejecting him…

…Katsuki was the one who kept that moment in his mind all these years and eventually came to regret it.

Katsuki is the one yearning for that hand-hold, the one who has imbued it with so much more weight than it ever originally had. Izuku, in contrast, does not allow himself to dwell on what he wants. To illustrate this difference, we need to look at another piece of foreshadowing:

Ugh, do y'all remember when lots of folks were complaining about how there never seemed to be actual consequences for Izuku's destructive treatment of his own body? I don't blame them, I was concerned and confused about it too. There were several "fixes" along the way. Recovery Girl healed him, but left a physical reminder. Then he started training to fight with his legs… sometimes. Then he got support items. All of these were unsatisfying non-conclusions because they didn't present Izuku with a lasting enough impression to change in a meaningful way. They didn't address his core, his origin.

Of course, that all changed this chapter. Now it looks like our frustration was inflicted intentionally. With the current context in mind, all of these moments look more sinister, like this day was always gonna come because they kept putting bandaids on a deep emotional and psychological wound. The problem is pretty much spelled out for us here:

As Katsuki put it, he just doesn’t take himself into account, ya know? He doesn’t care what happens to him. And he lies about it, to keep others from worrying, to keep them safe. To keep them from returning the favor and putting themselves in harm’s way for his sake. His motivations are noble,

…but what about the little boy inside Izuku? Who saves him?

This is all about Izuku giving himself up to the point that he literally has no more to give. The thing is, I bet he saw this coming. He knew his limits and decided to keep going anyway, because his personal safety and wellbeing are not important. Now that way of thinking has come back to bite him because the fight isn’t over yet, and he’s already made his sacrifice. So now we know who will be more distraught over this. Not Izuku—Katsuki.

It’s not about Izuku becoming disabled, it’s about how Katsuki wanted to use the intertwining of their fingers to communicate that he would never let go. Never stop valuing him most. Never let himself make the mistake of rejecting him again. Never let Izuku be so reckless with his life. To say: “we are in this together.”…if only Katsuki believed he deserved to be able to say such things. To reach out his hand would have been the ultimate way to simply imply them and let Izuku be the one to decide. Then, to feel their hands clasped together would be more than either of them dared hope for, but so beautiful, so right. A moment they’ve waited their whole lives for.

Yeah. That’s what we were expecting. We’ve been so comfortable. Horikoshi gave us all the signs. He tempted and teased us over and over. BUT. You know he does this thing were he gives us a desirable, completely plausible and simple thing to look forward to, and then he snatches it away. And THEN he replaces it with something much better, something we were not expecting at all because it seemed too good to be true. That’s exactly what happened when Himiko snatched Izuku away, and we were robbed of the chance to see him and Katsuki fight together. In hindsight, though, I’m glad things went a different way because now there’s so much more depth and angst on display. Likewise, in the present moment, we may consider how, as one door closes, another opens.

As wonderfully meaningful as the hand-hold would have been, perhaps it is still too simple a resolution for Izuku, for his and Katsuki’s relationship. Tbh, it could have been done like 100 chapter ago. At this point, there’s so much more potential. There are a couple of ways it could go. If Izuku stays armless, Katsuki will be forced to use other methods to get his point across. He’ll have to do something else, or say what he means, or both. Yes, I’m talking about what you think I’m talking about. If I say it, I just might jinx it (lol), but I mean it. I’m being serious. Either way, if Izuku did get his arms back in the end, I’m sure that it wouldn’t be an easy fix. It would be hard-won against Izuku’s self-destructive mindset, and/or by Katsuki’s conviction. Again, I say this knowing it is not meant so much as a representation of disability, but as a representation of Izuku’s greatest character flaw taken to the extreme. I know this might sound harsh, like, hasn’t he been through enough? I get that, but… I’ve said it before and I say it again: Izuku is stubborn as hell.

I wish I had a resounding final note to end this on, but I kinda don’t. I’m not sure what’s best. Now we just have to wait and see what Horikoshi has in mind.

#lin speaks #bnha meta #bnha manga #bnha 419 #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk

[gaywarcriminals]

Remember that time Xiao Jiu wanted to beat a kid with a brick?

The scene where Shen Jiu threatens Shi Wu is possibly my favorite scene in the whole novel because it tells us so much about qijiu's dynamic, both past and future, and namely, that they're both little freaks (affectionate) who show love in weird ways. I think it particularly exemplifies several of Yue Qingyuan's traits that often go overlooked!

I am just going in order. All excerpts are from the Seven Seas official translation, Volume 4, Chapter 24: Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Jiu fights for resources

“Shen Jiu, don’t think you can just throw your weight around. You don’t own this street. What gives you the right to tell us we can’t stay?!” This main street was wide and even, and many people came and went upon it. If one wanted to beg, it was the best and prime location. Some of the passersby watched this group of children fight, but even more hurried on their way. And this new brat had the gall to challenge him. Shen Jiu looked down and around, preparing to find a brick with which to teach him a lesson, when a tall youth happened to walk over. He saw Shen Jiu rolling up his sleeves, head lowered, and hastily went to stop him. “Xiao-Jiu, let’s go somewhere else.” [...] With Yue Qi standing in front of him, Shiwu grew bold. He leaned forward and yelled, “Every time we go to a new place,you always hog the best spot!

From this we know that Shen Jiu, without fail, tries to claim or fight for the best begging spots in every city. This isn't fully textually supported, but add to that the later section that mentions how Shen Jiu was far better at begging than Yue Qi and I think that, on some level, SJ feels responsible for both his and Yue Qi's wellbeing. Chasing off the other children is not just a selfish act, but also a protective one.

According to the orders given to them, Yue Qi should have wailed and wept, but no matter what, he never could manage to cry. Therefore, this task had instead fallen to Shen Jiu, even though he was faking an illness that supposedly left him too feeble to weep. But he was small and his face wasn’t too unsightly to look at, so whenever he sobbed and bawled, the passersby found him pitiful and generously opened their wallets. It would have been no exaggeration to call him a money tree.

Xiao Jiu fancies himself the breadwinner lol.

How Yue Qi reacts to accusations against Shen Jiu

That first youth took the opportunity to tattle. “Qi-ge, he’s bullying me.” “That wasn’t bullying, Shiwu,” said Yue Qi. “Xiao-Jiu was just joking around.” “Who’s joking?” said Shen Jiu. “I’m telling him to get lost. This is my territory. I’ll kill anyone who tries to steal it.”

I've anyways found this passage so telling of their eventual adult relationship! First of all, Yue Qi implicitly takes Shen Jiu's side, and immediately defends him. This seems to be taken for granted by all characters, so we can assume this is their standard dyanmic. Yue Qi, notably, does not deny that Shen Jiu was threatening Shiwu. In this situation where SJ is actively gearing up for a fight, it would be a very poor defense, and that's probably true of most messes Xiao Jiu got himself into! 

Most of Yue Qi's actions in the scene are attempts to de-escalate. This is just my theory, but I think in Yue Qi's mind, who's at fault is much less important than making sure no one gets in trouble with a higher authority. Even if he knows SJ could win the fight, it would only gain SJ more animosity, and possibly the attention of someone who would be a real danger.

I think it's evident how Yue Qi's ethos of keeping their heads down and not causing trouble or drawing too much attention would feed into how he handled Shen Qingqiu's less commendable behavior as an adult and complaints against Shen Qingqiu.

In the brothel scene later in the extras, we can see that he's conscious of their image. 

Yue Qingyuan yanked Shen Qingqiu off the bed. He was in a rare fit of anger. “Why are you like this?” “Why am I like what?” asked Shen Qingqiu. “Two of Cang Qiong Mountain’s head disciples getting into a huge brawl inside a brothel—does that sound good to you?”

Imo, now entrenched in the politics of the cultivation world, YQY sees protecting SQQ's image/reputation as an important part of protecting SQQ. Yue Qi spent his childhood managing Xiao Jiu, and as an adult, he's not able to so easily break the habit, not matter how SQQ scorns him

Shen Jiu does not get upset by attacks on his character, only from Shiwu calling Yue Qi "Qi-ge"

With Yue Qi standing in front of him, Shiwu grew bold. He leaned forward and yelled, “Every time we go to a new place,you always hog the best spot! Everyone’s been sick of you for ages! You think you’re all that? That everyone’s afraid of you?” “Shiwu,” Yue Qi scolded. Amidst the struggle, Shen Jiu kicked Yue Qi in the shin. “If you want a fight, I’ll give you one. Only losers would blame their spot for their incompetence. You bastard—who’s your Qi-ge? I dare you to say that again!”

Now granted these aren't the most cutting insults, but it's SO interesting to me that Shen Jiu doesn't react to the insults directly. To me, this is a little bit of evidence that, even at this age, Shen Jiu had already decided he was a bad guy, and stopped caring about what others thought of him. The glaring exception to that was, ofc, Yue Qi. I think part of the reason that SJ reactions to the "Qi-ge" specifically, is that Shiwu just said that no one likes Shen Jiu, and then tried to align himself with Yue Qi. I think to SJ, he sees a real threat in the idea of someone else stealing Yue Qi, the one person who likes SJ. SJ is so possessive of Yue Qi not just because he's Qi-ge, but also because, without him, Shen Jiu would have nothing and no one.

Yue Qi tries to deescalate by coaxing/appeasing Shen Jiu

“You’re the bastard! I bet you’ll get sold off soon and end up a pimp!” Yue Qi didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “Where did you learn that kind of nonsense language?!” Then he dragged Shen Jiu off to the side of the road while coaxing him. “All right, you’re the most competent one here. Even if you didn’t pick and choose your spot, you’d be the best. So let’s change streets.” Shen Jiu stepped on his foot. “Get off me! Like I’m scared! Come on, fight me! Wanna gang up on me? Go ahead!” Of course Yue Qi knew he wasn’t scared. If he really let Shen Jiu brawl with the other kids, he would fight dirty. He’d gouge at their eyes and kick them in the belly or crotch or shin. He was terribly vicious, and the other party would be the one to end up suffering and bawling in terror. Yue Qi forced down a smile. “Are you done stepping on my foot yet? If you are, stop it. Qi-ge will take you somewhere fun.” “What shitty ‘fun’?” Shen Jiu asked savagely. “The most fun I’ll have is if they’re all dead.” Yue Qi looked at him helplessly and shook his head.

Yue Qi only barely scolds Shen Jiu, even when Shen Jiu in the wrong (tried to steal Shiwu's spot and then almost beat up Shiwu). Instead, his reaction is to distract, coax, bribe, and praise him until SJ looses interest in whatever trouble he was going to cause. Yue Qi is so biased, and he spoils him 😂. Even when Yue Qi has so little he can give, he managed to spoil Shen Jiu by giving him so much favor, attention, and affection. 

I think this is something that comes naturally to Yue Qi to the point that he can't help himself from doing the same thing as an adult, even when SJ scorns him. It's just the correct response to seeing a Xiao Jiu! He's the "why do we have hands" meme fr 

Yue Qi smiles imagining Shen Jiu beating up the other kids

Of course Yue Qi knew he wasn’t scared. If he really let Shen Jiu brawl with the other kids, he would fight dirty. He’d gouge at their eyes and kick them in the belly or crotch or shin. He was terribly vicious, and the other party would be the one to end up suffering and bawling in terror. Yue Qi forced down a smile. “Are you done stepping on my foot yet? If you are, stop it. Qi-ge will take you somewhere fun.”

I don't have much to say about this, I just want to remind everyone Yue Qi finds SJ's violent, feral tendencies adorable. This man has no desire to train his cat, and he will insist it's friendly even as it gnaws on his arm.

In Conclusion?

This single scene shows us the trajectory of qijiu's relationship going forward, the strengths of their relationships that became pitfalls. It allows to imagine what they could have become if not torn apart by a world set to doom them.

#svsss #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #qijiu #svsss meta #fish meta

[qqueenofhades]

what's been particularly vile to me is this group of white online leftists who insist that anyone who cares about more than this one issue for the election is a bad person, like, as if us black and brown people are making up reasons to be afraid and not.....believing the gop when they say they are coming for us. believing trump who has said previously that he does not bluff, that he will do the things he's said he will do (i hate what social media has gone to the word gaslighting but it feels like gaslighting. we lived through four years of trump. we saw the damage. stop treating us like we're being dramatic). it must be great to not have to worry about that i guess? "life won't change under trump" is such a telling admission because maybe theirs won't but mine will. and so many others' will.

and it is often again these (white) online leftists that love to call anyone who disagrees with them a white liberal (derogatory) because they know it would be racist (bad) to be this shitty and condescending to poc but they don't want to actually listen to anything black and brown voters are saying. it's easier to just call us white liberals and throw our opinions out, to ignore the work of black people for decades to gain the right to vote, to disregard the weight of telling them to not do that. it's genuinely appalling. they care so much about racism until it's time to engage with poc who have different opinions than their online echo chambers, then we're just stupid liberals with terrible opinions like..... wanting to live. not wanting four more years of trump. so sorry for that.

sorry for this vent in your inbox, i'm just so fucking tired of white people trying to rewrite history as if trump wasn't that bad. he was for my family and countless others and i am terrified for what's to come if he wins.

The thing about (the often-white) Online Leftists is that they have become just as much as a radicalized death cult as the diehard Trumpists. If you don't want to die for The Revolution and/or sacrifice your life, friends, family, the rest of the country, etc., then you're Insufficiently Pure and must be Purged. (Which I think is just complete BS, as none of them could actually handle sacrificing anything, but it's increasingly the only kind of performative rhetoric that is acceptable in leftist-identified discourse spaces.) This is functionally identical to "if you aren't willing to lay down your life for our Lord and Savior Donald Trump and the Great White Christian Nationalist Dictatorship, you're a liberal cuck," but with the names and justification changed. It doesn't change the underlying radicalization, nihilism, and insanity of the premise.

Another thing the Trumpists and the Online Leftists have in common is that they are busily rewriting just how bad Trump was in order to serve their Ideology. Ever since January 6, 2021, the Republicans have thrown everything they have at revising and whitewashing any suggestion that it was an "insurrection," and the Online Leftists have done the same, in an attempt to "prove" their insane point that Trump "would be better" than Biden. This is embodied in the recent ultimate-brainworm-nonsense maximalist-online take that "Biden has to lose so the rest of the world will see that the US rejects genocide!!!" That's right, the message that the rest of the world would take from Biden losing to Trump is that the US rejects genocide. Never mind if Trump literally wants to commit all the genocide possible and to install himself as a fascist theocratic dictator. In the deeply twisted minds of the Online Leftists, this is the only possible interpretation of Biden's loss, so they'll push for it as hard as they can! The Trumpists and the Online Leftists, at this point, are working pretty much in concert to damage Biden for similar insane reasons and get Trump elected. Etc etc., one Nazi and ten people at the same table is eleven Nazis.

Like. Sure. Four years ago, when Trump was president and people were dying by the thousands because he didn't want to wear a mask because it smeared his bronzer, just to name literally one of the terrible things he did every single day (and not even mentioning how much worse a second term would be) we were absolutely better off. Super-duper great. (Sarcasm.) Either that or "there is suffering and evil in the world and the only solution is to drastically increase the suffering and evil for everyone and to destroy what progress we have managed to make because It Does Not Fix Everything Now" is an absolute moral imperative, and either way, yeah. I'm calling bullshit.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

[bunniekittiee]

Bi-Han x Fem. Reader (as well as general headcanons)

Alright alright the Bi-Han headcanons was a success so ykw I’ll bless you all again. Also this is my depiction of Bi-Han so if you think I can tweak it and make it better then by all means let me know!

CW: mentions of eating problems, anxiety, illness, chronic illness, a little nsfw, nothing too crazy

Hair combing is an intimate ordeal.

He does not let anyone else touch his hair besides himself and you. He trusts you completely to comb his hair and even put it up for him.

He thinks you do it better than him, but he can manage it himself if needed.

He sighs with relief when his hair is let down, feeling his s/o’s fingers gently massage his aching scalp. It feels so good to him, he loves it.

Bi-Han does like the quietness. Especially after a long day of Grandmaster duties and irritation.

So if it is quiet during this time, he can close his eyes and almost fall asleep as you caress his hair and take care of him.

Sometimes he has fallen asleep when you are doing this.

If you were to ask Bi-Han to bathe together, he would silently go insane for a second and then agree.

Despite seeing you naked more than often, it still gives him butterflies in different scenarios that isn’t inherently sexual. Such as bathing.

He thinks you are beautiful, do not ever be negative about yourself around Bi-Han because he will immediately worry.

If you are worried about gaining weight, he is already overthinking that you will stop eating.

So instead, Bi-Han gently encourages you to train with the other Lin Kuei if you feel that you want to lose weight or prevent yourself from gaining weight.

No, he does not think you are fat at all, do not twist his words.

But Bi-Han is the type of man to give you solutions to help you but not in a rude way.

He just tries to encourage and give you options.

He will also suggest yoga with Kuai Liang. Kuai Liang usually meditates, but he will divulge himself in yoga for you if you are interested.

He does not like to see you sad or upset about your self image. It makes him feel helpless.

Bi-Han can handle a physical threat because he can eliminate it, but when it is a mental threat such as self image issues, depression, etc., Bi-Han finds himself unable to see straight.

Out of his brothers, I see Bi-Han struggling with some anxiety.

Like I said in my previous headcanons, Bi-Han worries for his s/o because she is his weakness. If anyone were to take her away from him, he would practically engulf everything in a blizzard.

I see Bi-Han having anxiety about his brothers as well, whether they are safe or going to be okay.

As much as Bi-Han shuns Smoke, he still worries for him. Smoke is the ‘baby’ of them all, and if he were to see him in any form of pain, he is already wanting to murder the person who inflicted it upon him.

That being said, if you have any sort of health issues that will literally send Bi-Han over the edge.

He is constantly having the medics check you over and he will be riddled with so much anxiety he will stop eating and sleeping well.

God forbid you have a chronic illness or anything at all, at that point Bi-Han will just have an aneurysm.

As tough as his exterior is, Bi-Han can be sensitive.

Please do not call him names, he doesn’t even do that to you and it will hurt his feelings.

He will distance himself and feel melancholy until you apologize. He doesn’t like it when you are rude or mean to him.

As I mentioned in my other previous headcanons, he does get snappy himself so he knows that he is a bit of a hypocrite.

If you were to communicate your feelings to him, whether it is your frustrations, sadness, or anger, he will understand and try his best to relax you and make you feel better.

You do the same for him, so it’s time that he repays that favor.

Bi-Han can be extremely busy with his duties and he knows you hate being cooped up for so long.

So he will allow Smoke and Kuai Liang to take you out, whether that’s for a walk or to Madame Bo’s, Bi-Han just wants to make sure you are happy.

I don’t know where people got the “jealous of my brothers being around my s/o” belief from, but Bi-Han trusts his brothers completely.

He has to, they go into battle and on quests together, they have to deeply trust each other and have a strong bond with one another.

So he lets his brothers take you out, he does not get jealous of that. They would never do anything to you, and Bi-Han knows it is completely out of character for them to do anything in the first place.

So yes, he lets you go out with his brothers and enjoy your time together when he is busy.

Again, he knows you get cooped up and he wants you to have some freedom.

His brothers love that you have somewhat changed Bi-Han but in a good way.

He is somewhat nicer to Smoke and refrains from telling him he is not part of their family. Last time he did, you gave him the absolute worst glare that even Kuai Liang felt his stomach turn.

Bi-Han is gentle as possible with you. His hands have killed and hurt many, he would hate to inflict the same pain on you.

You are like a flower to him, a delicate and precious lively being.

You have softened Bi-Han in many ways, and many appreciate what you have done.

#mk bi han #bi han #bi han x reader #bi han x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mk1 #mk sub zero #mk smoke #mk scorpion #bi han headcanon #bi han sub zero #bi han mk #bi han x y/n

[faintedlcve]

YOU COULD'VE DIED!

So I had this request and I totally forgot about it and I'm so so so so so so so sorry lol

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of weight, anxiety attacks, eating disorder, reader has adhd, not proof read and my writing lol

Request: So the reader a long time ago like when she was eighth/9ish used to be on the bigger side before her adhd meds and then got really skinny and stuff and timeskip to sixth year her meds don’t really work aswelll so she starts getting an appetite that was usually suppressed and she quit quidditch last year because of stress and her biggest fear is secretly getting fat again and she starts to have so much anxiety about it

WARNING: I am in no way shaming any one in this text. You are beautiful the way you are. I'm just adhering to the request. I do not agree with anything horrible about weight or anything else you can think of that is in this text.

I'm also really really sorry if you go through eating disorders or something similar to what's mentioned in this text x stay strong xx you're not alone 💕

Most people have nightmares about psycho killers in white masks with a knife who are really crazily into fictional movies they try to make it reality. Most people have nightmares about falling from really high cliffs with jagged edges that could rip you in half quicker than the speed of the platform 9¾'s train. Most people have nightmares about burning in fires that could kill you probably faster than the Dursleys burnt Harry's hogwarts letters.

But not you. You had nightmares about gaining weight. About being the girl that you were when you were nine. You hated your ADHD but oh those adhd meds really helped you to stop being the obese person you were. You were disgusted by your younger self even though you shouldn't have been.

You sat in the Great Hall processing your nightmare. You knew you had a normal weight, probably even lower than healthy. And yet you looked around at all those pretty girls with effortless hourglass bodies and wished you could look like them. You knew you had a normal weight and yet your dreams, or perhaps nightmares, kept on taunting you about it.

Those thoughts clouded your mind. Filled your head. Over and over. And over. Until you felt like starving yourself. And you'd do that until you fainted and realised it's really unhealthy. But then it'd be too late and this vicious cycle continued until you felt like you couldn't do it anymore. Until you were sick of being yourself. Until you wished you were anyone but yourself. Until y-

"Hey y/n!" Theo greeted you as he entered the Great Hall. He was the first one there. After you of course. He grabbed a vanilla cupcake with strawberry icing and sprinkles for himself and a chocolate cupcake with chocolate icing for you.

"here I got you a chocolate cupcake with chocolate icing. Your favourite." Theo smiled as he passed it on to you.

Even though your heart wanted to accept it, your brain knew better.

"no I'm fine, really! Thanks so much though! I'm full" you replied. as if to reprimand you, your stomach rumbled.

"your stomach disagrees" he chuckled. "go on have it it's fine it's just a cupcake"

You knew he was trying to be a good friend. You knew he was looking out for you at yet it was so hard for you to suppress the urge to scream "just a cupcake? JUST A CUPCAKE?! well, I'll have you know that cupcake contains sugar and butter which stores in your body as fat so you wouldn't even suggest it unless you hated me" you obviously didn't say it out loud. You knew you were overreacting in your head.

"erm no thanks." You politely turned the offer of the cupcake down.

"Ya sure?" He asked one last time.

"yup." You replied.

"alright suit yourself" Blaise said as he leaned across the table to get the cupcake from your side.

You didn't have dinner that night and the couple of nights after either. You knew you should've. But you were so insecure about your weight you just couldn't. So you didn't. And you should've. You really should've.

Unfortunately for you, you realised that too late.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

You woke up on a white bed. Where were you? You glanced around. There was no way. You were in a hospital bed. After Theo explained it to you, you realised what had happened. On your way to the dorm you had fainted due to the lack of food. You had no energy left in your body and it finally gave out. Theo had realised you had fainted and had carried you to the Madam Pomfrey's. He looked strangely cross at you.

"T-thanks" you replied to him.

"for what?" He said. "I couldn't save you."

"you kinda did" you said smiling at him.

He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to you. It was a cookie.

Before you could say no, he cut you off.

"you are eating this cookie right now or I will never forgive myself for letting you starve yourself."

You reluctantly grabbed the cookie.

"you didn't make me starve myself. I did it to myself. It's not your fault." You replied as you broke a piece off the cookie.

"but why?" He asked.

"sorry?"

"why did you starve yourself"

"erm i well i had a nightmare I was gaining weight and I thought I was I had gained half a kilogram since last year and I just thought I'd look ugly and I just didn't want to not be liked by anyone!" there it was. The word vomit. The bundle of feelings inside of you all out to the one person you thought would be disgusted by you if you ever gained weight. The one person you loved.

"Woah! Slow down. No matter how many kilograms you put in you'll never be fat or ugly! I can't believe you let a nightmare lead you on! You can't have an unhealthy relationship with food!" He exclaimed.

"you're just saying that."

"I'm not just saying that. I mean it y/n. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I fell in love with you and a couple kilograms isn't gonna change that." He replied.

"Aw- wait you what?!" You asked realising what he just said.

"I thought it was obvious? I love you y/n. I always have" Theo said. "but I'm still cross at you for not eating food."

"ok ok I'm sorry." You replied.

"YOU COULD'VE DIED!" Pansy exclaimed bursting into the room.

"Jesus Christ Pansy! You almost gave me a heart attack!" You said shocked at her entrance.

But you knew her words were right. And so were Theo's. From that moment you tried to prevent yourself from starving yourself and with the support of Theo and all your friends it was that much more easy.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

A/n: the ending kinda sucks lol sorry for the lateness of this x hope you liked it!!

Taglist: @m3ntallyunstable34 lmk if you want to be added to my taglist (through asks or you can message me x I'll always respond ❤️)

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #theodore nott #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #lorenzo zurzolo #theo x reader #theodore nott imagine #theo fluff #theo nott x reader #theodore

[sanjismywhore]

Nothing To Be Ashamed Of

Insecure! Carlos Oliveira x Reader

Warnings: Nsfw/suggestive, gn reader, short fic

Carlos is insecure about his dad bod, but you provide reassurance.

————————————————————————

Laundry basket in hand, you quietly tip-toed around the house picking up dirty clothes along the way. As you entered your bedroom, you were about to bend down to pick up a couple of shirts. You paused your motions once you noticed Carlos standing in front of the full-length mirror, in the corner of the room.

He stood shirtless, turning to the side occasionally as if searching for markings on his skin. His hands roamed over himself absently, as he always did when he was in the process of shaving off a few pounds.

He glanced out at you through a reflection that distorted his face. “Hey,” he greeted in a low voice while continuing to inspect himself intently.

“What are you doing?” you asked after a few moments of him just staring and examining himself in silence. However, he gave you no response. He just continued to stand there.

His shoulders drooped a bit as he let out a soft sigh, almost like he was sulking. You couldn’t see his face in the reflection because of the way he was positioned, but you could tell something was off.

You stepped forward to set the laundry basket on the floor beside him. He didn't appear to hear you until you spoke again. “You alright?”

He slowly turned to face you with an expression of disappointment. “I’ve been putting on some weight.” He muttered with insecurity laced all over his voice, “Can you tell?” He asked anxiously, gesturing to his chest and stomach, indicating which part of him seemed larger, heavier.

But you didn’t see much of a difference. Sure, his muscles weren’t as defined as they used to be but they were still there. Only softer. Most of the weight he gained went to his chest and abdomen, so there were light stretch marks along his upper and lower body.

Still, it wasn't super obvious, and he looked good. He still had the physique you liked. Broad shoulders, a big chest, and an ass that was always worth checking out. A little tummy never hurt nobody.

“You look good, Carlos. Don’t fret over the small stuff.” You reassured, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“I just�� want to look more like my old self.” He sighed, “I used to look strong, and it made me feel like I could do anything.” His eyes drifted from your face as his voice grew softer. “But now… I’m not as active as I used to be. I feel like some paunchy loser.” He made his point by grabbing a fold of skin and looking more depressed than ever.

You grabbed his hand, “I don’t think that.”

You emphasized firmly by squeezing his hand gently. “Carlos, it’s been years since Raccoon City. We’re getting older, you’re body won’t stay young and fit forever. If you wanna get back in shape, by all means, go for it. You can do anything if you put your mind to it.”

You lifted one of your hands to caress his cheek in your palm,” But no matter how much time has passed, I will always love you no matter how you look.”

You interlocked your fingers with his, “And I will always find beauty within you." You made a promise, "Even when the wrinkles start creeping in, even when you get scruffy and gray. There is beauty in you, I see it every day.” You assured with conviction.

His gaze fell from your face to the floor. His eyebrows furrowed together, his forehead creased slightly. Your heart ached for him as you stared into those sad brown eyes.

He didn’t say anything, but you knew he could hear the sincerity in your words. So you kissed him on the forehead instead of speaking, hoping that would convey what you wanted to say better than words. Your lips lingered against his forehead, brushing softly against his warm skin.

Pulling him closer, your lips drifted all over his skin. From his temple to his jawline, then the bridge of his nose. Your kisses trailed down to his neck.

Carlos went rigid. He didn’t respond at all. Not until you reached the bottom of his chin and brushed his beard with your thumb. Then, finally, his lips parted.

“Still think I’m sexy?” He broke his silence with a cheeky remark.

“Always.” You smiled before trailing your fingertips across his chin and up to his lips. “Dad bods are a total turn-on.” You added.

Carlos laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a strong kiss. You smiled against his lips as your fingers danced through his hair, tugging at it lightly. “God, we haven’t had sex in a while.” You muttered between kisses.

He groaned against your lips. “I know.” He began planting kisses down your jaw, “I haven’t been asking 'cause I thought you wouldn’t want me…” His teeth grazed your earlobe, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses behind.

Your breath hitched as you grabbed his shoulders, “Are you kidding? Carlos, I will always want you.” When he pulled away, you moved closer and attached your lips to his neck, nipping and sucking at his skin. You felt his body stiffen and shiver beneath your touch. “Just thinking about you makes me want you.”

You mumbled humorously against his neck as you continued to suck on the spot, eliciting a moan from him. He tightened his grip around your waist, “Yeah? You mean it?”

“Yes.” You pressed a kiss against the side of his face, “I want this to be about you. It’s all about you.” You punctuated each sentence with a small kiss. “You’re my whole world.”

Carlos pulled away, placing both hands on your cheeks and pressing his lips against yours for a slower, more sensual kiss. You moaned softly and wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers with his soft, curly locks.

He held you close and deepened the kiss. Eventually, you started grinding into him in a manner that made him whimper a bit. “Want me to take care of you?” You asked when you finally broke apart, stroking his cheek gently. He nodded.

You took him by the hand and lead him over to your bed. You crawled onto your knees as you situate Carlos under you. He laid back, letting you straddle his hips. You leaned down and gave him open-mouthed kisses along his jaw while your hands cupped his pecs.

With every touch, he bucked his hips upwards and pushed into you harder. He arched his back in pleasure as you continued to kiss his neck. “You're so sexy," you said as you trailed wet kisses down his torso. "I wanna fuck you all night long." You whispered.

His hands moved down your back to rest below your ass. He massaged the flesh underneath his hand as he pressed his body upward. You can feel his hardening cock he is as he ruts against your clothed mound.

You leaned over him, resting your forearms atop his chest to keep yourself upright. You gazed down into his face. His dark eyes glimmered with passion. “Please… please fuck me, baby.” Carlos pleaded quietly, moving his hand from underneath your ass to grab the hem of your top.

You obliged, quickly pulling the shirt up over your head, tossing it aside, and slipping out of your pants. You crawled back over his bare torso and placed gentle kisses down his chest and his stomach.

He shuddered a bit as your lips found their wait toward his navel. Carlos’s body felt hot against your skin. Your hands gripped his thighs tightly as you made your way lower and lower. All he could do was watch as you pressed your face against his erection.

You kissed his tip through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a soft groan to escape his lips.

Carlos’s eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting back as he tried desperately to control himself. He couldn’t help but let out a few whimpers when you started rubbing circles over his dick, making him arch his hips up to meet your lips.

“God, (name)…” He groaned desperately, “Please…” A small whimper escaped his throat.

Your hands slid up to firmly hold him down, smirking against his length. “Shh, baby. I have you. Just relax for me, alright?” You cooed, curling your fingers around the waistband of his boxers. Effortlessly, you slid them down enough for his throbbing cock to spring out.

You licked your lips, staring down at his gorgeous dick that stood proud. Your tongue swiped over his tip, teasing it for a moment with multiple swipes over its slit.

A ton of pre leaked from his tip, dripping slowly down to land on your tongue. You brought your hands up to cup his balls and rolled the head of his shaft between your fingers.

As soon as you squeezed them tight enough, his body arched off the mattress. “Fuck, don’t tease me like this. Please, baby…” he begged through clenched teeth.

You looked into his eyes as you finally sucked his tip into your mouth. A loud grunt escaped him, which only served to increase your lust.

Carlos’s hand slipped into your hair, holding it tight as he tried to remain silent. He watched your face intently, trying his best to ignore the intense sensation of your throat closing around his cock. As you continued to swallow him whole, you bobbed your head up and down with every thrust.

“Baby…” The sounds coming out of his mouth were so needy. They sounded desperate. They were laced with pain. You wanted to soothe him. You wanted to give him everything.

“Don’t stop…” Carlos pleaded. “Please.” You swallowed him whole as his hips lifted gently off the mattress. You had to hold him down firmly so that he could stop squirming, but eventually, you came up for breath.

Carlos gasped a little and whined at the loss of your mouth. “No…” He gave you a look of desperation.

You leaned over him once again, smirking as his cock twitched for you. “Don’t worry, I said I’ll take care of you.” You whispered huskily against his lips.

You kissed him passionately as you mounted his hips, grinding your hips over his cock. He growled lowly as you ground harder and faster.

“(Name)...” He groaned, his head falling back as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He opened his legs wider so that you had more access to him. You could feel his cock pulsating against your entrance.

He bucked his hips upward, trying to get as much friction in between your thighs as possible. “Come on, baby. Fuck me.” He whimpered, holding onto your hips and looking up at you for permission.

“So needy.” You chuckled. Leaning forward, you kissed him deeply and took him inch by inch. When he bottomed out, he moaned loudly and his head fell back against the mattress.

“That’s right baby.” You whispered between kisses as you rocked against his length, “I know you love this.”

#x reader #fanfic #smut #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos x reader #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira x you #re3 carlos #resident evil x reader #resdient evil #resident evil 3 remake #resident evil smut #resident evil 3 #carlos oliveria x reader #carlos smut #carlos oliveria smut #carlos olivera #dad bod #chubby #insecurity

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Love Languages Pt 1

Summary: Charles learns about the five types of love language and sets himself the challenge of being able to show his love all five ways. After all he loves his girlfriend without limit. So how hard can it be to make sure she feels loved in every way.

Written in order of what I see as not his love language to what is definitely his love language.

Pt 1 - Words of affirmation

Pt 2 - Gifts

Pt 3 - Acts of Service

Pt 4 - Quality Time

Pt 5 - Physical Touch

Words of Affirmation

It’s not necessarily that Charles is bad with words, or doesn’t verbally express his love enough. But he knows that it’s probably where he falls short the most.

It’s not like he means to.

Other forms of showing his love just come more naturally.

So when he finds y/n trying on some new clothes that he is made speechless by but she frowns at herself in. He takes the opportunity to really express his love in the most verbal sense.

“You should not frown when looking at something so beautiful.” Charles comments making her glaze flick to him in the reflection of the mirror, face flushing but frown unmoved. “You so look gorgeous. Why are you frowning?”

“Because…Because…” Now Charles really didn’t expect tears to start trailing down her cheeks and her chest to start jumping with hiccups.

“Mon amour, what is this about?”

He rushes over hoping to be a dutiful boyfriend who finds the solution to her tears as quick as possible. His hands coming to cup her face and wipe the tears away but she only leans her head forward his chest, hiding her face.

“Please tell me. I want to fix this.”

“It’s too small. I got my normal size and it’s too small because I put on weight and-and now nothing fits.” Y/n rambles making Charles sigh.

He really hadn’t noticed any weight gain. He certainly doesn’t think that any weight gain to this extent is worth getting so upset over, but something tells him telling her that is not going to workout in his favour. He knows his girlfriend well enough to know that she doesn’t want to hear that.

“You look healthy, Mon amour. I didn’t even know you had gained weight, so whatever you have gained must only mean you are healthier and better this weight than the weight you were.” Charles states then biting his lip. “I prefer you wearing nothing anyway. I love seeing you exactly the way you are, nothing covering up anything. If I didn’t have to live with knowing others would look, I’d insist you just remain unclothed all the time.”

“You are ridiculous.” She sniffles with a small laugh then looking up properly. “What if I got cold?”

“Ah see, I would always be there to warm you up however necessary…” Charles grins then leaning down and kissing her. “Since it is not possible for you to always remain so exposed. Perhaps you just wear my clothes until you find some new things you like? I like seeing you wear my clothes almost as much as I like seeing you without any clothes.”

“Mmm…so long as if it doesn’t already smell like you I get to steal your aftershave.” Y/n grins making him nod.

“Anything you like. I love you.”

“I love you too…a lot.”

“Ah well but I love you more-the most. I love you more than it’s even possible to love another person.”

“That’s quite a lot.”

“But it’s true.” Charles grins making y/n hum with a smile of her own before he leans down to kiss her.

“I still love you just as much.”

“Hard to believe but I’ll let you think that.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x y/n #leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #charles

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Life's Pleasures (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer struggles with some side effects of his medication after prison. Request: Spencer being insecure about his weight gain post prison. Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Comfort Content Warning: Weight gain, body insecurity  Word Count: 800

MASTERLIST

Spencer was a creature of habit more than he was of comfort. Call it superstition or autistic tendencies, even the slightest alteration to his routine could have catastrophic results.

Unsurprisingly, three months in prison did little to help him with those feelings. In fact, they made them much worse.

Despite the best efforts of yourself and the entire BAU, there was no question that Spencer needed help. Thanks very much to each of you, however, he had finally felt okay adding a small capsule to his daily routine.

It was nothing he was ashamed of. Unfortunately, however, that magical little concoction of neurotransmitters had a few… unintended side effects. He hadn’t said anything about it yet, but you had watched his favorite clothing got tighter until he couldn’t bear to wear it anymore.

You were acutely aware of how sensitive he would be with such a dramatic change. So, that Sunday, when you see Spencer padding out in his favorite pair of Saturday-specific sweats, you try to be kind.

“Hey handsome!” you call.

He is caught off guard enough to smile.

“What did I do to deserve you in sweats on a Sunday?”

His smile falls just as quickly. His bashfulness turns into a sadness that feels all-encompassing.

“My pants don’t fit,” he mutters as he toys with the drawstring.

“Lucky me,” you joke.

Spencer doesn’t respond like you’d hoped. In fact, he doesn’t react at all. He just stays staring at the string that is shorter than normal. He doesn’t even notice that you’re approaching him until your palms are pressed against his cheeks.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you whisper.

He winces.

“I just…”

You give him a small reassuring smile and it stirs something in him. Some small shift out of his self-preservation instinct and back into the comfort of your embrace.

“I know I’m getting older, and stress does a lot of damage, and that can always manifest as weight gain,” he rambles.

He leaves out the medicated nature of it all, but you don’t bother to correct him. You just listen as he continues.

“But my body’s never been like this. It’s never changed like this, even during puberty,” he scoffs.

You chuckle at the sound and the image conjured up from faded scrapbook pictures.

Spencer smiles too—just for a second—before he remembers that he is sad.

“It’s just… it’s happening so… fast,” he says like a whimper.

After a moment, you shrug. He seems almost offended by the motion until you explain.

“That’s okay, Spencer,” you whisper, “It’s okay if you have a hard time adjusting to change.”

His shoulders fall as he releases a shaky breath. Relief starts to creep back into his body, despite his fingers still twiddling with the string.

You look down at it and laugh because it is so much like how he used to be. A little bit better, even.

“You just need to remind yourself that… They’re good changes,” you insist as your hands fall and glide around his waist. It’s soft and pliant and reminds you of the peace you find when you lay in bed together.  You remember the smile he wore the first day he woke up without fearing the sound of a buzzer. You think about how he doesn’t seem afraid of his phone anymore.

When you look back up at him, your eyes linger on the subtle curve of his lips before they settle on teary eyes.

“You’re finally taking care of yourself the way you deserve, so things are going to look different,” you whisper before pulling him closer. You sway with his body, still perfectly him despite not looking exactly the same.  “And for what it’s worth, I happen to think you look wonderful.”

Spencer drops the string to hold you, instead. He chuckles, a soft and bashful noise that reminds you of the first time you met.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighs in defeat.

To console him, you provide another simple offering.

“Sweatpants, donuts, coffee full of sugar and syrup,” you hum, “I don’t know about you, but… I can get used to a life like that.”

“They’re nice, but…” he trails off. His body pulls away so that he can see that loving look in your eyes. The last bit of tension releases from weary muscles. Spencer gently rests his palm against your cheek. It’s warm and soft and exactly like it used to be before the scars.

“Of all of life’s pleasures,” he wonders aloud, “I still think you’re my favorite.”

You quickly note the conditional word.

“You think?”

This time when he smiles, it is brilliant and not at all bashful.

“Donuts are pretty good,” he jokes.

It’s such a beautiful sound that you don’t even have to wonder.

“You’re better,” you mumble against still-sweet lips.

And it only gets better from there.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

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[songmingisthighs]

[12:14] boxer!san × nurse!reader

⇀ he's your favourite outlaw and it's not because of his rugged charm, surprisingly it's because of how tender he actually is

⇁ bouncy killed me istfg

⇁ happy sannie day ❣️❣️

genre : boxer!au, romance, outlaw!ateez

wc : 1.8 k

It didn't take much for you to recognize him.

Even with his body sitting down and leaning on the stairs as he faced the floor, you could easily recognize that it was him.

You wanted to greet him as you usually would, but as you got closer, you noticed something weird about him. His back was moving in a rhythmical manner like how he usually would when he was breathing but it was slower than usual. The closer you get, the more you realize that he had cuts on his arm and some bruises.

"Oh my God, San," you called, rushing to his side as quickly as you could, your fatigue from 12 hours shift suddenly went away at the sight of his bloodied tank top. You knelt in front of him and peeked up to see that he had his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed but he wasn't responsive. Usually, at the sound of your voice, the flirt would throw you a lazy gaze and a Cheshire-like grin that would make you blush and sputter. But seeing him in this unresponsive position actually scared you. You genuinely felt like something was wrong and knowing that he was an underground fighter makes the situation even worse for you.

"San, can you hear me?" you asked as you made an initial assessment, hands brushing his bangs out of his eyes to look at his face. From the get-go, you could see that he had a bruised cheekbone, a busted lip, and possibly a concussion. You can only imagine what his body must be like. And you meant that as in the bruises on his torso and not how it must look. Because you know damn well it's sculpted as fuck from the many times he walked past you and intentionally flashed you his abs.

You tried lifting his head up but he let out a grunt and shook his head. "Too bright," he complained.

Understanding this, you nodded and moved to sit next to him closely as you brought one of his arms and rest it on your shoulder. "I need to take you to my apartment so I can properly tend to your wounds. Do you think you can move?" true to his mannerism, he chuckled and leaned his head to the crook of your neck like a feline seeking contact, "How 'bout you give me some sugar first? That might help me gain some strength." You automatically rolled your eyes at his remark but you had to admit his words made you feel better because at least you know that he was fine. "Okay big guy, we're moving you," you stated as you started pulling him up and leading him to the elevator. "Big guy? Have you been checking me out, pretty?" he teased. You kept quiet thought because a. yes, and b. he needs to shut up.

The elevator ride up was thankfully not that hard as San was holding his own weight for the most part, you just guide him so he wouldn't sway or even fall down. He also stayed quiet which concerned you but you were just glad that he was still moving. Sure, he stumbled slightly as he got into your apartment, but other than that, he settled down on your couch easily and even respectfully towards your cat.

You rushed to get the first aid kit that you always kept stocked in your bedroom, knowing that San and his roommate, Wooyoung, would sometimes come knocking in after a night of fighting be it in the ring or in an alley with people they messed with. So it wasn't really a surprise to go back to your living room to see your tabby cat, Taco, splayed on San's lap looking like he just found the comfiest bed ever. You obviously wouldn't mind trying but for now, you just wanted to make sure that San was alright.

"Taco, move away from Sannie, mommy needs to clean him," you called out as you sat next to San. But Taco, in all his absolute pettiness, simply lift his head up and stared dead straight into your eyes as if challenging you as he fluff up San's thighs with his pudgy paws. You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at your hellraiser with equal challenge, letting him know that he was not the boss of you. When he didn't move his chubby butt, you were forced to deliver the last blow, "Or else no snacks." That seemed to speak to him on a profound level as he jumped off after giving you one last dirty look and retreated into your bedroom. "Sorry about him," you grinned sheepishly, taking San's hand into your lap as you began cleaning the first wound your eyes fell on. San couldn't even feel the pain of his wound getting cleaned anymore, so instead of worrying over the result of the last night's fight, he focused his eyes o you, "No worries, I like him. And I love the fact that you called me Sannie to Taco which leads me to believe that you might have been talking about me to him a lot," he teased.

Your eyes widened at his (very accurate) assumption and you wanted to believe that he didn't notice the blush that bloomed on your face, an absolute testament to what this man could do to you without doing much. "So," you cleared your throat, "What happened?" you asked, changing the topic before he could tease you more. "What else do you think? I won," he boasted, proud that he made bank from his hard night's work.

Though it was a good thing that he won, you couldn't help but sigh in disappointment hearing that he went rounds upon rounds to secure his achievement. "I worry about you," you blurted out, turning around to get betadine and a cotton pad to dress his wound properly. Though San had a confident look on his face, he could feel his heart skipped a beat at your confession. "Why so?" He asked, hopeful. Without lookinf up at him, you answered casually, "Because I don't like seeing you getting hurt like this," but even in that tone, San could sense that you were being genuine.

In all honesty, San teased you because he thought that was the only way he could get your attention. Sure he had hoped that the the spare glances you threw at him were actually sincerely from your heart but he can't convince himself that someone with a legitimate career like you would want to have anything to do with a bloodied bastard who beat people up for money. So San settled for the lowest expectation because that's what peope always expect of the underdog anyways. But your words were shaking his belief down like a stickhouse in an elephant stampede, which goes to show how strong San's resolve is towards you and it's bad. He was down bad. Part of him was glad that you seemed to want to keep an arm's length from him but part of him want to be in your lap at night, having your fingers card through his hair softly as you told him again and again how glad you were that he was able to come home in one piece. Because that's what he actually want, a home.

San's mind was snapped back into reality when he noticed you were snapping your fingers in front of his face and calling out his name. "San??" You called out again with furrowed eyebrows, "Shit, I think you're having a concussion," you muttered, moving your position so that his body was straight, facing forward. "Eh?" San blinked confusedly with a slightly tilted head, looking so much like Taco whenever you brought a jinggly toy near him. Thankfully you were too busy making sure San didn't have brain damage to blush and sputter, trying to do your job as best as you could for him. You situated yourself at a fair distance, not to close yet not too far and you put both of your hands between you and him and held out a finger each. "Can you see my fingers clearly?" With your best effort, you tried to suppress the fact that you were very much worried about him because it wasn't your time to show emotions and ended up having him worry over you instead. Looking at your fingers, San did a double take before his relaxed-confused look turned into disbelief-confused, "Are you flipping me off?" He scoffed. Almost immediately you let out a sigh of relief before straightening up and nodded, "I had to get a reaction out of you, you were mumbling about a parrot talking about chilli peppers when you were zoning out, I had to know if it was concussion or perhaps you took something."

Just as you were about to turn around to get a damp rag, San pulled you with his powerful strength, causing you to yelp and freeze when you realized that you had fell into a particularly compromising position. Your hands were on his strong, broad shoulders with your left leg bent and resting on the outside of San's right thigh and the other in between his spread legs while San had one hand on your wrist and the other on your waist with a confident, lazy smile on his face. God how much you want to wipe that grin off his face. With your own lips.

"Baby, why would I take drugs when a moment with you gets me high for days?" And of course he had to make your stomach flip by pecking you gently on the nose. Your breath hitched and a small squeak escaped from your clamped mouth, not knowing what to do other than stare at him with wide eyes. San seemed amused at how you reacted however, pulling away and leaning back against the couch with arms spread wide, the confident bastard.

For a moment you sputtered, eyes darting everywhere but San's face before remembering what you wanted to get merely moments ago. You somehow found the strength to stand on your two feet and turn to the kitchen but not before tripping on your feet slightly and almost falling. You didn't even have to turn to know that San was looking at you amusedly, delighting in how affected you were by him but this time it wasn't because he just wanted to see a reaction out of you. He was seeing you in the light of someone he had a chance of having normalcy with. So while you were cursing yourself for being a klutz, San was enjoying the domestic fantasy in his head.

That was until loud knocks were heard from your front door that was followed by a very familiar screeching voice that made Taco jump out and hiss at the direction.

"CHOI SAN YOU LITTLE BITCH YOU LEFT ME IN THE DUMPSTER!!"

So much for domestic peace.

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#cultofdionysusnet #kflixnet #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #ateez fanfic #ateez timestamps #ateez fluff #ateez outlaw #outlaw!au #kpop #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop timestamps #kpop fluff #kpop au #san #san scenario #choi san #ateez san #san imagine #san imagines #san fluff #smt scenarios #smt timestamps

[blingblong55]

Funny Feeling -141

Photo credit: @ave661 (left)

A/N: König will be done in the next post, I'm sorry I couldn't add him to this one..

Not a request but my own need for this:

141&Konig find out (same time as you do) that you have PCOS. You of course are sad because of the fertility issues and all the problems this condition brings, but not to worry, your partner is here to help and uplift you.  ---- F!Reader, reader with pcos, fluff, angst, comfort, established!realtionship, tw: self worth issues ----

A/N: I needed comfort and well I figured you might too so.. here's this

"All the signs point to yes, the way you have given me a description and the tests we ran," the doctor breaks the news. "This can't be right? Maybe there was a mistake?" Your hand holding onto your husband's hand. "It's PCOS, ma'am." You shook your head. You read every article, and watched every video, and even though you said your signs must be for something else, here you are. 

"What does this mean for her?" your husband asks, knowing you are just trying to find yourself in the void you've been pushed to. "Well it can mean a lot of things, for example..." the doctor's voice fades. Your eyes are on that desk, the lighting of the room only making this news worse. Tears form in your eyes. What does this mean? No family, no picket fence, and Sunday walk with your kids. 

You wanted to cry and argue against the results but it's all there in that paper. Your heart breaks and you grip his hand again. 

The ride home was silent, he knew it was best this way. You thought of it all, the giggles, the drawings on the wall, the stained clothes, and the staying up late that you'll never get to do. 

"We're home," he mentions softly, his hand on yours again as you are lost in thought. All you can do is get out of the car and walk inside. You know it's wrong to push him away but it's the only thing that feels right. Your emotions are all over the place. You feel more disgusted with yourself. The hair that's growing on the chin and chest, the stupid periods you've missed, the weight gain, the way you look around and see everyone building your families and you, sitting in a bathroom, undressed as you look at the weight and wished you were 'better'. 

John Price: 

The first thing he does is leave you alone. He doesn't know how it feels, however, he knows that if he were in your place, he'd too need some time alone. He knows one thing, if the places were changed, you'd be doing something to make him cheer up, anything. "My love, I'm going out for a few minutes, you need me, I'm a phone call away." he kisses your forehead but when you refuse to let him kiss your soft skin, he sighs and walks away. 

They say, to be loved is to be known and he knows you all too well. So, he goes to every store in town, looks for that one book you've been looking for, and then, there it is, the flowers, the takeout and the one blanket you eyed for a little too long when shopping with him. 

Meanwhile, in the small bathroom, you lie down. Eyes on the ceiling as you feel yourself cry once more. Stupid, stupid, stupid body of mine. Why must this be your place? Why can't you give him the one chance at happiness? One kid at least, two at best and a stupid family dog that could be running around during family walks. 

"I hate you-"

"Love? Hey, open up, I'm home," he says as he knocks on the door of the bathroom. "Go away-"

"Not happening, open up my sweetheart, let me show you everything will be alright," his voice was so soft and gentle. 

Once he finally has you in his arms, guiding you to the cosy living room, he covers your eyes and smiles. "We'll talk about this all later but for now, let me release some stress."

"But-"

"Love, no. I'm not letting you think that just because of this condition you are less than any other woman out there. You are so much more than just someone who can give me children. You are this incredibly funny, smart and seriously kind person. You're my girl, nothing changes that, kids or not. Now, let's eat, watch some film I found and then, we'll stay up and talk about today." 

Simon Riley: 

You've been in the bedroom, looking at the pictures your siblings have sent you of your nieces and/or nephews. Their little giggles, the silly little things they do when they get annoyed when not solving a small puzzle. Tears form in your eyes. "Lovie, I got the bath- Lovie?" His voice was softer than ever. He recognizes that frown and the only thing he can do is walk to you, wrap his arms around you and give you a tight hug. His lips meet your forehead. "I feel broken like there is something very wrong with me," you confess as small tears fall. "You're not broken, lovie," he whispers. 

"Well, it feels like I am, everything is wrong with me, I feel disgusted with myself."

He shakes his head, "If there is one thing I've learned is that even if you feel like you are completely worthless, it's a temporary thing. At the end of the day, you are much more than being the one I have a family with. So what if we can't have sleepless nights? You're not here to just be a mother. And, if we want kids, I'm sure we'll adopt or maybe we can search for other stuff- the point here is, you are much more than serving as some womb for our kids." 

He kisses picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Now, let me take care of you, okay? You do it for me when I come home and it's time you get treated the same." 

One thing with him is that he shows you his true love, admiration and excitement with acts of service. He won't directly tell you all his emotions but his actions do tell you all you need to know. As you lay back on the tub, he grabs your hand and kisses it. "Everything will be alright, I promise you that much," he smiles and slowly scrubs your body, the feeling of the bubbles and warm water soothe you. 

Kyle Garrick: 

It's bizarre. The rain pitter-pattered against the windowpane as you sat curled up on the sofa, your thoughts a whirlwind of worry and frustration. Today had been one of those days where everything seemed to spiral out of control. To be diagnosed with this condition had hit you out of a tidal wave, and left you feeling overwhelmed and uncertain about the future. Why must you be this way?

Kyle, your ever-supportive husband, noticed the heaviness in your demeanour the moment he stepped through the door. Droplets of rain clung to his jacket as he approached you, concern etched on his features. "Y/N, love, are you alright?" he asked softly, kneeling beside you. He knows you, that weak smile falters almost immediately. "It's a lot to take in," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Kyle wraps his arms around you, pulling you close in a comforting embrace. "I know, darling. But you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out together, okay?" he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

You nod, feeling the weight of his words anchor to the present moment. You lean into his warmth, finding solace in the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the rain outside. 

For the rest of the evening, Kyle made it his mission to care for you in every way he could. He brewed your favourite herbal tea and fetched the cosy blanket to wrap you in it. He listened attentively as you, for so long, poured out your fears and frustrations. In between doubt, he offered words of reassurance. 

As the evening goes on, he notices how the weight of your diagnosis left you with a burden. He can see the sadness etched into your features, the worry lines creasing your forehead as you sit and stare into the distance. "Love, what's on your mind?" he asks softly, reaching out to gently squeeze your hand. 

You let out a heavy sigh, and your shoulders slump as you face him, "I just can't shake this feeling off, babe," you admit to him once more, that soft voice of yours tinged with sadness. "It's a lie no matter what I do, this stupid condition will always be a part of me." Tears well in your eyes. 

His heart aches at the sound of defeat in your voice, but he refuses to let your despair consume not just you but him as well. With a tender smile, he cups your cheek, brushing away the stray tear with his thumb. How can you tell someone you want to listen to and understand them? How can you show love for them when they can't even accept love for something they can't control?  

"Y/N, listen to me," he says firmly, his gaze unwavering. "This condition doesn't define you. It's just one part of who you are, love. And it certainly isn't your fault." 

You blink back tears, your throat tightening with emotion. "But it feels like...like I'm broken," your voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head, his expression softening with understanding. "You aren't broken, Y/N. Not even in the slightest," he insists, his voice laced with conviction. "You are this strong, beautiful and capable of so much more than you realise. And I will be here every step of the way, holding your hand through it all."

With that, Gaz pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if to shield you from pain. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, pouring all his love and reassurance into the simple gesture. At that moment, surrounded by his unwavering love and support, you felt a flicker of hope ignite in you. 

In the days that followed, he was your constant support and encouragement. He researched PCOS tirelessly, eager to understand your condition better and help you navigate the complexities. He accompanies you to doctor's appointments, holding your hand through every moment. He also made small challenges to not just your lifestyle but his. New healthier habits, medication, self-help books and moments of joy filled your life with him. 

John "Soap" MacTavish:

The soft glow of the bedside lamp, once you reach the bedroom, casts a warm ambience in the room as you sit on the edge of the bed, your mind clouded with worry and uncertainty. You stare blankly at the floor, thoughts consumed by this condition. It felt as though the world had turned upside down in an instant, leaving you lost and vulnerable. 

Johnny, your steadfast husband, watched you with concern from his place beside you. He could see the turmoil written in your eyes. Without a word, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, offering a silent anchor in this storm. 

You squeeze his hand tightly, seeking solace in the warmth of his touch. "What am I now, Johnny?" you confess. "It's like... everything I thought I knew about myself has been thrown into question."

Johnny's heart ached, he can't let you suffer alone, not like this. "You don't have to deal with this alone, bonnie," he kisses the top of your hand. "We're in this together, remember?"

You nod, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I know, but... it's just so hard," your voice trembles with emotion. It's not love if they leave during something so hard, they say. It's unconditional love when they stay, I say. 

"I know it's hard, bonnie. But I also know how strong you are," he gives you a small smile. "You are much more than this diagnosis." It's beautiful, how in the middle of this heartache, he still gives you this funny yet warm feeling. "And I will be here every step of the way, supporting you, comforting you, and loving you with all that I am," he promises.  -----

A/N: If you have this, I'm always here, it's okay to sometimes rely on others. This isn't something to be ashamed about<3

Tags:

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[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Companion piece to Idée Fixe.

(A journal entry that will never see the light of day, for it is meant to rot in darkness. Even the amoral owner is bound to agree with this).

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, Chrollo is creepy hooooly shit (he needs a hobby), and religious imagery. Word count: 1k.

I have become hopelessly smitten with a woman who is, for lack of a better word, strange. 

She tells me she’s “probably agnostic, because that word sounds cooler than atheist”, while often exemplifying the religious doctrine she grew up in. She condemns herself for qualities she’d pardon in others. She’ll get excited over the most mundane things, such as pigeons, or when her rewards add up enough to get her favorite drink for free. I’m allowed to steal a certain amount before she stares at me, not quite comfortable enough to express her dissatisfaction verbally, yet undoubtedly pondering the perfect string of words to avoid offending me. 

The extent of her consideration for others is perplexing. There is no advantage to be gained by placating strangers, though her insistence on the matter would almost convince you otherwise. She never says “you’re welcome”, it’s always “of course”, as if the act of going so far out of her way is expected of her. If not that phrase, she’ll say “it’s no problem”, on the off chance the individual may think they burdened her. 

She’s strange, yes, but we’re alike in many ways, so I wonder what that’d make me. 

I’ve taken on innumerable roles throughout the years. I know how to judge the weight of my every word. My motivation for doing so is self-serving in nature. People, to me, are locks that require the right combination to crack. From what I can tell, she’s come to realize this too. Instead of pursuing this advantage, she shies away from it. Originally, I thought it was nothing more than people-pleasing, but it goes beyond that. She loves humanity, the same humanity I deem worthless. It’d be easier for me to understand if there was an ulterior motive. Alas, that'd be doing her a major injustice.

My initial intrigue in her was nothing more than a passing fancy. I had time to pass, and she just happened to be in the vicinity, reading a book I’m partial to. I thought I’d give her a few minutes of my time and then be on my way. Presently, however, If I believed in fate, I’d go so far as to say our paths were destined to cross. She is every part of myself that has died a slow death. Optimism, empathy, passion… they mix together to form the essence of her being. 

I didn’t intend to give her so much of my time. She became indispensable to me before I realized what was happening. In retrospect, perhaps I knew deep down that this was the type of person I’d been looking for. Someone I’d struggle between wanting to ruin or preserve. I erred toward the former at first. If I didn’t wake her from her naïve reverie, another would inevitably come down the line and do it themselves. The mere concept was unforgivable. 

As time passed, it became clear she wasn’t living in a dreamlike state, but was perfectly aware of her surroundings and the people who inhabit them. This left me at an impasse. How do you destroy someone who has already annihilated and rebuilt themselves? There are ways, yes, yet no longer did the idea appeal to me. I wanted something new from her, though the specifics alluded me. What I did know, however, was that this strange woman would touch many lives for the better. 

This was a constant torment. I’d have to go about my business, knowing full well she’s making others smile, laugh, and otherwise brightening their day elsewhere. My chest would become impossibly tight whenever I fixated on this. She holds qualities people are inevitably drawn to. She is radiance incarnate, so easy to adore. A light like that is visible far and wide.

When I pressed back against her dearly held beliefs, instead of fading, she burned ever brighter.

I know she feels it too — this invisible rope that binds us. She’ll happily talk to me for hours, even when I forgo superficial charm and express slivers of my depravity. She sees it, acknowledges it, and seeks me out all the same. I find myself talking more than I meant to when she’s around. She challenges me, interestingly enough. Her arguments often have holes and aren’t by any means polished, but she cuts to the heart of things. 

She is my personal torment. I want every inch of her for myself. Her unique mind, heart, soul… would it be enough? Could I stop there? Or would I keep going, taking more and more, until we were essentially one flesh? 

It’s by her recommendation I’m writing any of this down. She said “I am in desperate need of intensive therapy” and sent some links to her recommendations. I’m inclined to give in to her requests since she asks for so little, but that might be the one I have to refuse. I cannot recall the last time I met someone this amusing, if ever. The inner workings of her pretty little head are a mystery I long to unravel.

Displeased as I am to admit it, a day will pass when she no longer looks at me the way she does now. My true identity can’t go unknown forever, the revelation is inevitable. Still, I won’t let her go. My grip will only grow tighter. If her ire is my penance for possessing her entirely, then I’ll accept the sentence and chip away at it over time. Emotions are transient. With the right encouragement, I can guide her back to my arms, even if she considers the embrace a scourge. 

When we first met, she said something that has taken permanent residence in my mind. 

“So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.” 

This was always bound to be my benediction and her condemnation. 

From that moment onward, her life was mine to do with as I please. There are many far more worthy of her than I, which is why I’ll never give them the chance. I’ll deprive the world of her vibrancy. It could become engulfed in eternal darkness, and still, I’d happily refuse to give her back. Let them lament, weep, and gnash their teeth.

In my youth, I set out to be the greatest villain. Never have I been more willing to carry out the actions befitting such a lofty title. 

This is the curse of a wicked man’s love, [First] [Last]. Revisit your religion and pray fervently. For only a god could save you from the future I’ve planned for us. 

#yes he probably wrote this with an ink and quill by an oil lamp #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #my stuff

[woso-fan13]

Whumptober 2023: 24 (Arsenal)

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

Football has been everything for as long as you can remember. You were good when you were younger, and your parents kept pushing you to be better. It took sacrifices from all of you, but it made you a better player. It doesn’t matter if you missed out on birthday parties for training or if you never had time for a sleepover. If you wanted to be the best, this is what you had to do. 

Your parents were right, and your hard work paid off. At age 17, you signed with Arsenal’s first team. Just a month later, you made your debut. Every sacrifice was worth it at that moment. 

It didn’t stop there though, your parents continuing to push you. Extra training, early runs, it was all part of being the best. If you wanted to get better, you needed to pick apart every mistake you made. Real winners don’t make mistakes. 

—-

You adopted this mindset, continuously pushing yourself. You kept up with players older than you with ease, could control the ball without paying attention, could score a goal without looking. But it wasn’t enough. Because you still made mistakes. 

So you started working even harder. You stopped getting a coffee on your drive in in the morning, deciding that it made more sense to run to the stadium before practice. You stopped accepting invites from your teammates, using this time to train instead. You could almost always be found on the pitch or in the gym, only leaving overnight.

You had stopped eating as well as you should, scared to gain extra weight. It would slow you down, make you sloppy. You weren’t sleeping much, finding the quiet hours of the night were best filled with training. You avoided social media, you avoided your friends. Every part of you went to football. 

—-

“Hey, Y/N, can we talk?” Leah asks. 

She’s just finished her rehab for the day, making her way over to you on the pitch. You go to protest, but you see Jonas standing behind her. This doesn’t seem like a conversation you can get out of. 

“Can it wait until after practice?” you ask hopefully, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

Leah shakes her head, “nah, I don’t think you’ll miss anything. C’mon.”

You shoot Jonas a pleading look, begging him to talk Leah into pushing the conversation. He doesn’t say a word. Firing one last shot at the net, you nod. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Leah nods, waiting for you to grab a water bottle before leading you to an empty room. It’s not one you’re in frequently, it’s an old media room that was mostly used for storage now. But it had a comfortable sofa and was quiet, and Leah figured that was all you needed. 

Leah pops onto the sofa, motioning you over. Hesitantly, you take a seat on the other half. 

“Good,” Leah starts, “I want to start by saying that whatever we talk about stays in this room. Unless it’s a major concern, it’s between me and you.”

You nod, staying silent. 

“Okay. I was talking with some of the team and we’ve noticed that you’ve been acting differently. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything was alright, see if there was anything we could do to help.”

“I’m fine,” you instantly insist, “I’ve just been busy. Busy is good though, and I think I’ve been improving. If you look at a comparison from the last few games…”

“You’ve been playing very well,” Leah cuts you off, “but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not worried about you as a teammate, I’m worried about you as a friend.”

You’re quiet, unsure as to what to say. 

“You’ve been here constantly, and you haven’t been hanging out with any of us. I just want you to know that if something is happening, I can help.”

“Everything’s fine, really. I’ve just been sloppy recently, but I’m working on it.”

It’s Leah’s turn to be quiet now, clearly trying to plan her next words carefully. 

“Would you be open to some advice?”

You nod instantly. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while, and I’ve seen a lot of good players. All of the best players, though, love what they do.”

“I do love football,” you interrupt passionately, “I do, I promise. It’s the most important thing in my life.”

“I think that’s the issue. Right now, you don’t love football, but it’s the most important thing in your life. Right now, it's more important than socializing, eating, and sleeping. You’re neglecting yourself to prioritize football. Do you see what the problem is?”

You’re fumbling for an answer, “if I loved football more, I would be even better?”

“Maybe,” Leah says simply, “if you keep going on this path, you might be the best.”

“That’s what I want.”

Ignoring you, Leah continues, “you might also fail. At this point, I’m not sure if your body or your mind is going to fail first. Honestly, it might be both. Then what’s left?”

“What are you talking about, Leah? Football’s important to me and I love it. I’m fine.”

You move to stand up, Leah’s hand stopping you. She asks one question, a question which will undoubtedly change the course of your future. 

“Are you?”

You’re not. 

#womens soccer #woso imagines #woso imagine #reader insert #woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #woso fanfics #woso community #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #arsenal women #awfc #leah williamson #arsenalwfc