#and not even wonder if it looks disgusting

[voxslays]

WHISKEY AND WINE

TLDR >>> Alastor x Reader; When a hyena-like sinner tries to hit on you, Alastor is there to save the day. Warnings >>> Alastor is maybe a bit possessive??, unestablished relationship, jealousy (from Alastor), a random demon hits on you.

Chaos. That’s all there was. At first, when Charlie suggested that you and your fellow hotel patrons go to a popular club in the downtown district of pride called ‘consent’, you didn’t think it would be half bad. Unfortunately, you were wrong. As soon as you arrived at the brightly lit discotheque Niffty ran off to who knows where—forcing Charlie and Vaggie to run off to catch her.

Pentious was looking as desperate and pathetic as ever in his attempts to woo Cherri—failing miserably. At the bar, was husk, slouched and leaning over the counter, and leaning on him was Angel…which left you and Alastor together. You had never minded Alastor, and at times, you could even go as far to say you liked him as a companion—but the way he looked at you tonight was uncanny.

You could feel him staring holes into the back of your head as you talked to some random hyena-like sinner who couldn’t take a hint. “Oh I’m sorry..but I really must be going back to my friends now.” Suddenly, you feel a sharp, clawed hand on your shoulder. When you look up, you see the one and only radio demon, who has decided to come to your rescue.

He chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he turns to the sinner, his voice low and commanding and filled with disgust. "I believe they have had enough of your company for tonight." The overlord says sharply. “Aww c’mon man!” The hyena groans, almost as though he has forgotten the dangerous overlord infront of him. The demon grips your wrist and tries to pull you closer.

Alastor’s smile widens, showing off his sharp teeth, as his eyes dangerously narrow. "Enough.” Alastor says, his neck craning to the side as his eyes slowly become radio dials—similar to the ones on his signature radio. The static around you intensifies. “I’m sorry! Jesus!” You hear the hyena say in shock and fear. “Now shoo, you insolent wretch." He waves his clawed hand dismissively. The hyena, realizing who he's dealing with, quickly backs away, leaving you alone with Alastor.

“Thanks, Al.” You smile up at him appreciatively. The overlords usual stoic expression softens slightly at your smile. For a moment, you'd almost swear there was a hint of fondness in his gaze "Of course, my dear.” Alastor pauses for a moment. “Why don’t we head back to the hotel?” He asks, followed by a low ‘hmm?’ from the radio demon. “Sure.” You agree.

Alastor quickly walks over to a half-asleep husk. And damn, will he have a rough morning tomorrow. “Husker.” Alastor snaps his clawed red fingers, roughly commanding the cat demons attention. “My doe and I will be going back to the hotel early. Make sure everyone arrives back safely.” This gets a light grumble of acknowledgment from a very drunk Husk. “Wonderful.” Alastor walks back over to you, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You graciously lock arms with the tall, red demon. The two of you stroll out of the flashy club and down the streets of pentagram city—all the way until you reach the now deserted hotel. It’s quiet inside as you unlock the doors and turn on the front lights, but it’s oddly peaceful. The two of you enter the hotel, the heavy doors shutting behind you with a thud. Alastor turns to lock them, ensuring no unwanted guests will be disturbing your peace tonight. He then turns to you, his red eyes glowing softly in the dim light of the lobby.

For a few moments, your eyes lock in a sensual way. Alastor’s eyes almost look as if they were clouded in desire. But that’s impossible…right? Since when has Alastor ever looked at you like that? Alastor's gaze lingers on yours for a prolonged moment, an uncharacteristic tenderness flickering across his usually stoic features. He clears his throat, breaking the intense eye contact. "Quite the night, wasn't it?"

“It was.” You smile happily. Alastor looks at you again, his expression unreadable underneath his smile. "I think I'll head up to my room, doe. It’s been an eventful evening." He starts to turn away, but pauses, his arm still locked with yours. “You should probably get some rest as well, my dear.” He suggests, although it seemed more like a demand and less like a friendly suggestion. “You’re right.” You yawn. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Alastor nods, his clawed hand gently squeezing your arm before releasing it. "Goodnight, then." He says softly, a flicker of something unidentifiable passing through his crimson eyes. You watch as he walks up the stairs and leaves you alone in the lobby. The only good thing about sleeping—in your mind—is that you’ll get to see Alastor sooner. You smile softly to yourself as you make your way to your bedroom, ready to do it all again.

[mrsh4rdy]

synopsis: you have insecurities and your loving boyfriend comforts you

character [separate]: Nanami Kento x reader, Gojo Satoru x reader, Suguru Geto x reader, Toji Fushiguro x reader, Sukuna Ryomen x reader, Choso Kamo x reader, Megumi Fushiguro x reader, Yuji Itadori x reader. (fem!)

warning: complex about weight, face, stretch marks, pimples, ass, boobs, nose, thighs and too much love! (rare mention of Y/N)

words: 4550.

Kento N.

You stand in front of the mirror in your and Kento’s bedroom, staring at your reflection with a disgusted look. Your eyes linger on the curves of your body, scrutinizing every detail, hoping that something can change. You run a hand over your stomach, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “If only I were thinner…” you think, a feeling of frustration rising in you, tears threatening to fall.

The bedroom door opens slowly. Kento enters, a small smile on his lips, but he stops as soon as he sees your expression. He knows you by heart, and he immediately senses that something is wrong. Slowly, he approaches you, his gaze filled with softness, as if he wants to wrap you in a cocoon of comfort.

“You know that you are beautiful, right?” he says, his voice low, full of tenderness, but also of certainty.

You turn your head slightly, surprised to see him. His eyes stare at you with such sincerity, but your heart remains heavy. “You don’t understand, Kento. I… I feel… so bad. I can’t get rid of this. I hate my body.” Your voice trembles, marked by uncertainty and sadness.

He moves closer, and without a word, he stands behind you. His hands gently rest on your stomach, and he looks at you through the mirror, his gaze filled with love and understanding. He gently caresses your skin, as if to soothe your anxieties.

“I love you just the way you are,” he whispers, his voice soft, but firm. “No matter the curves, no matter the weight. What matters is you, the soul that hides behind this body.”

The tears threatening to fall stop for a moment, your eyes filling with tears of gratitude. His words, his gestures, everything about him surrounds you with infinite tenderness. You lower your eyes, drowning in his words.

Kento turns you around and gently takes your chin to force you to look him in the eyes. His gaze is so intense, so gentle, that you feel instantly soothed. His eyes shine with love, and you could melt in his gaze like butter.

“You are perfect for me,” he says, his voice resonating in your heart. “You don’t need to look like any standard to be beautiful. Beauty lies in what you really are.”

A small shy smile appears on your lips, a slight weight leaving your heart. Even if your complexes were not going to disappear overnight, Kento gave you the strength to face them. He gave you the strength to be yourself, fully, without needing to change anything.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, your eyes shining with gratitude. “You’re right. It’s time I started accepting myself as I am.”

He smiles, a tender smile that melts your heart, and without another word, he gently embraces you. His muscular arms close around you with infinite tenderness, holding you against him, protecting you, offering you all his love. Then he kisses you, a soft kiss, full of promises and sweetness.

“And I will always be there to remind you how incredible you are,” he murmurs against your lips, before holding you even closer to him. His arms give you a feeling of absolute safety, as if nothing could ever harm you.

In his arms, you feel both strong and vulnerable, but above all, you feel loved. And with him, you know that you will eventually learn to accept yourself as you are.

Gojo S.

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, arms crossed around your chest as if to hide from your own judgment. A sigh escapes your lips, heavy and laden with an old insecurity that refuses to leave you. You put on a tight black dress, bought on impulse, encouraged by your friends. But now, alone under your sad gaze, you wonder if you didn't make a mistake.

A light knock hits the door, making you jump.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Satoru Gojo's amused voice echoes from the other side. "You left to get ready ages ago. If you wanted to make me impatient, you succeeded. I already miss you, you know."

You bite your lip. Of course, he's joking, as always. But just the idea that he could look at you and... notice, paralyzes you. “I… I’m coming, give me a second,” you answer in a shaky voice that you hoped would be firm.

A moment of silence falls before you hear the creak of the door opening slowly. “Can I come in? I promise, I’ll close my eyes,” he says, although you know full well that he hasn’t. You know him well, too well.

“No, stay outside!” you protest, but it’s too late. He’s already slipped his head into the frame, a mischievous smile lighting up his face. Normally, he would melt you but he makes you uncomfortable at this moment.

“Well, good evening, beautiful…” he says, his blue eyes shining with tenderness behind his glasses. However, his smile fades slightly when he notices your discomfort.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks, this time without any hint of mockery. He opens the door a little wider and enters, leaning against the wall.

You look away, nervously playing with your fingers. “It’s… that dress. I shouldn’t wear it. It doesn’t fit me.”

He frowns, clearly puzzled. “Why do you say that? It fits you perfectly. You look beautiful, babe.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you whisper. “She.. she.. nothing, forget it. I’m going to change.”

He tilts his head slightly, curious. “No no no. Tell me what’s wrong. You know I don’t like it when you do.” You gesture vaguely to your chest, feeling your cheeks burn. “I.. that. They’re… too small. It looks ridiculous in a dress like that.”

A silence follows your words, but it’s not awkward. It’s more of a suspended moment, where Satoru looks at you with this disarming intensity that makes your heart beat faster. Then, he bursts out laughing.

“Are you serious? Y/N, are you telling me that you’re worried about this?” You glare at him. “Stop laughing, Satoru, I’m serious!”

He raises his hands in surrender, although an amused smile still dances on his lips. “Okay, sorry. But… you have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?”

You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “Gojo…”

“No, listen to me.” This time, his tone is more serious. “You know what I see when I look at you? I see a confident, funny, intelligent, and yes sexy woman. I think you’re perfect even if you have small breasts like you’re implying.”

Your cheeks heat up under the intensity of his gaze, and you lower your eyes, embarrassed. “You say that to reassure me.” He approaches slowly, placing his hands on your shoulders. “No, I say that because it’s true.”

His fingers slide up to your chin to gently lift your face. His blue eyes, as captivating as a cloudless sky, are fixed on yours. “You’re so beautiful. If anyone thinks otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me. But honestly, who would dare criticize a queen? My queen? Mine.” He smiles softly and laughs lightly.

A laugh escapes you in spite of yourself, and you shake your head. “You’re so.. I don’t know actually.”

“Are you losing your words, baby?” You roll your eyes, but a shy smile lights up your face. “Maybe yes but thank you, Gojo.”

“You’re welcome. Now, stop hiding. This dress is beautiful, and you, even more so. Come on, come on.”

He holds out his hand to you, his smile bright as always, but this time, there seems to be a silent promise in his gestures: that of seeing you as he sees you, today and always.

Geto S.

The soft light of the late afternoon sun gently seeps into your apartment, wrapping every corner in a comforting warmth. You’re sitting down, your phone in your hands. Your gaze lingers on the photos scrolling past, perfect faces, fine noses, so harmonious. With every comparison, your heart tightens a little more.

In the kitchen, Geto is cooking quietly, preparing dinner. But even as he focuses on his task, he can’t ignore your unusual silence or the subtle sadness that seems to hover around you.

He sets down the knife he’s holding and approaches you. In a few steps, he’s in front of you, crouching to catch your gaze.

“Hey, you okay, baby?” he murmurs softly.

You startle slightly, surprised, before placing your phone face down on the coffee table. “Yeah… I’m fine,” you reply, but your voice utterly lacks conviction.

He tilts his head to the side, a small smirk on his lips. “You know I’m not going to believe that, right?” You look away, a sigh escaping your lips. “It’s nothing, Geto. Just… a stupid thing.”

“Nothing that bothers you is stupid,” he replies, sitting down beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you close and smiling at you. “Come on, tell me.”

You hesitate, nervously fidgeting with a crease in your pants. Finally, you murmur, “My nose.”

He blinks, surprised. “Your nose?”

“Yes, my nose,” you repeat, your voice trembling. “It’s too big, too… weird. Sometimes I feel like it’s all people notice. I feel like it ruins my face…”

A silence settles, but it’s not heavy. Geto looks at you with infinite tenderness, his fingers slipping into your hair to comfort you.

“Do you want to know what I think when I look at your nose?” he murmurs at last. You nod slightly, unable to meet his eyes.

“I think he’s perfect. Because it’s yours.” Your eyes timidly rise to meet his, your cheeks burning under the intensity of his gaze.

“Listen to me,” he continues. “I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t feel that way, because it’s normal to have doubts. But I want you to understand something: your nose is part of what makes you unique. It gives character to your face, and it’s that face that I love, more and more every single day.”

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, so soft that your eyes instinctively close.

“And you know what else?” he adds with a playful smile. “This nose, I find it so adorable that I could spend my whole life kissing it.”

“Stop,” you protest with a quiet laugh, your cheeks now on fire. “No,” he retorts, placing another kiss, then another, until you burst out laughing. “I’m dead serious.”

You snuggle into him, burying your face in his neck to hide your smile. “You’re insufferable, Geto.”

“Maybe. But for you, I’ll happily stay insufferable,” he replies, gently running his fingers through your hair. “Because I love you. All of you. And your nose, my dear, is part of the package.”

A sigh escapes you, but this time it’s one of relief. His words settle in your heart, dispelling your insecurities like clouds under the sun.

“Thank you,” you murmur against his skin, your voice trembling with emotion.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing your ear. “But remember, I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it.”

And in his arms, cradled by the golden evening light and his reassuring words, you feel your insecurity fade away. In that moment, you realize that in his eyes, you are already perfect. In your own way.

Toji F.

The morning light gently bathes the room, making the atmosphere peaceful. You stand in front of the mirror, dressed in your favorite shorts and a loose tank top. You turn slightly, pulling on the fabric to examine your reflection from different angles. But with each glance, the same thought comes back to you: “My ass is not enough.”

You lightly pinch the skin of your hips, hoping to see something change. But nothing satisfies you. For a few days, this complex has been haunting you, and today, it’s even heavier.

The door opens abruptly, revealing Toji, shirtless, in jogging pants, a lazy and amused smile hanging on his lips. He holds a cup of coffee that he places on the dresser before leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe.

“So, what’s this scene? Are you casting for a fashion show or something?” he jokes, his tone mocking but tender.

You roll your eyes, sighing. “Toji, not now.” Intrigued, he enters the room, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. He walks over and stands behind you, his hands naturally coming to rest on your hips.

“Come on, tell me. You have that ‘I’m worrying too much about nothing’ face.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. Finally, reluctantly, you blurt out, “I think… my ass isn’t great.”

He stays silent, as if he needs a moment to digest your words. Then, a deep, low laugh echoes through the room. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his amused smile reflected in the mirror.

“Your ass? Seriously? Is that what you’re complaining about?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Yeah, my ass. I think it’s too flat.” Not round enough, not… attractive enough.”

Toji arches an eyebrow, letting his large hands slide from your hips to your buttocks, grabbing them without any embarrassment. He pretends to think, lightly pressing the flesh with his thumbs. “Hmm… I would say that you are completely off the mark.”

You turn your head slightly to give him a skeptical look. “Toji, be serious.”

He leans forward a little, and his voice becomes softer, although a smile persists on his lips. “I am serious. Your ass is perfect. Like, really perfect. Not too much, not too little. Just the way I like it. And believe me, I know what I am talking about.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words, even if you can’t help but sigh. He is unbearable, but you know that he is always honest.

He straightens up slightly, pats your behind with a familiar and slightly redneck gesture, but strangely reassuring. “Listen, you don’t need an Insta-model ass to please me. You’re you, and I’m totally fine with that.”

He spins you around so you’re facing him, his big hands still on your hips. “Seriously, if anyone tells you your ass isn’t good enough, tell me who it is. I could do the opposite to him or her.”

You burst out laughing despite yourself, shaking your head. “Toji, you’re really annoying.”

“Maybe. But I’m your annoying boyfriend, and your ass is part of the reason I’m here,” he replies with a proud smile. He places a quick kiss on your forehead before walking away to grab his coffee cup.

As he leaves the room, he calls over his shoulder, “And next time you’re in doubt, remember that this is the ass approved by Toji, your wonderful boyfriend. And that’s the best seal of quality.”

You stand there for a moment, an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. Turning back to the mirror, your gaze softens. Maybe he’s right. After all, if Toji, in all his brutal honesty, thinks it’s perfect… maybe you can start to believe him.

Sukuna R.

Sitting in front of your dressing table mirror, a sigh escapes your lips. The dim light in the room seems to amplify everything you hate about your reflection. Your fingers trace a faint scar on your cheek, an indelible reminder of a moment you’d rather forget. You lower your head, biting your bottom lip to hold back the wave of sadness rising within you. The mirror, once again tonight, is your judge, and you feel condemned.

A deep, mocking voice breaks the silence: “Are you going to keep sulking, or do you want me to smash that thing for you?”

Startled, you quickly lift your head. Your eyes meet Sukuna’s piercing gaze as he leans against the doorframe. His arms are crossed, and his teasing smirk makes it clear he’s enjoying your unease.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying to hide your discomfort.

“Me? I was waiting for you, but apparently, this mirror is more interesting than me,” he replies, stepping forward slowly, his imposing presence filling the room.

“It’s not that,” you murmur, averting your gaze. “I… I was just thinking.”

Sukuna stops behind you, leaning slightly to observe your reflection in the mirror. “Sure… You really think I’ll believe that? You look like you’re ready to fight yourself.”

You remain silent, your hands gripping the edge of the mirror. You know he won’t let it go. “I just feel… not good enough,” you finally admit, your voice barely audible.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, his expression hovering between annoyance and curiosity. His large hands settle on your shoulders, their warmth oddly reassuring despite his firm grip.

“Not good enough for what?” he asks, his tone calm but still sharp.

“For everything,” you finally exhale, your breath trembling. “All I see are the imperfections… the scars, the flaws… and I can’t figure out what you see in me.”

A heavy but not uncomfortable silence falls. Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, letting your words linger in the air. Then, slowly, he leans down until his face is level with yours. Your eyes meet his in the mirror.

“Do you want to know what I see?” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. “I see someone strong enough to catch the attention of a king like me. Someone who didn’t run away from my worst sides. Those scars you hate? They’re proof you survived. Those ‘flaws’? They make you real. Unique.”

His fingers gently brush your cheek, tracing the faint scar you were staring at just moments ago. “You think I care about a perfect face? I could have a thousand perfect faces if I wanted. But you, you’re so much more than what you see in this damn mirror.”

Your throat tightens, your eyes burning with emotion. You’re not used to this kind of honesty from him. You turn slightly to look at him, finally letting your guard down.

“You’re rarely this kind, Sukuna. I could get used to it,” you say with a small smile, your voice a little lighter.

“Enjoy it. It doesn’t happen every day,” he replies with a toothy grin, though a soft glimmer lingers in his crimson eyes. “But listen to me: I won’t let anyone, not even you, put down the woman who shares my life. If you start criticizing yourself again, I swear I’ll smash that mirror.”

A light, genuine laugh escapes you. “I believe you would.”

“Of course I would,” he says, standing up straight, his usual arrogance returning. “Now stop wasting your time here. You’re way too beautiful to be sitting in front of a mirror.”

You nod, a comforting warmth replacing the weight you carried just moments ago. Sukuna, in all his bluntness and intensity, had just given you one of the most precious moments you’d ever experienced.

You take his outstretched hand, rising to follow him. Behind you, the mirror reflects the faint smile on your face, and for the first time in a long time, you find it almost beautiful.

Choso K.

The TV is playing a movie in the background, but you’re not really following the story. Slumped on the couch, in shorts and Choso’s t-shirt, you can’t focus on anything other than your thoughts. Choso, calm and relaxed, sits next to you, his arm casually resting on the back of the couch. His presence is soothing, as always, but tonight, you feel too lost in your own thoughts.

You look down at your thighs, slightly exposed by the shorts you’re wearing. They feel wide, too wide, for your taste. A wave of dissatisfaction rises in you, and you adjust your shorts to cover your thighs a little more.

“You’ve been doing this since earlier.” Choso’s soft voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He has turned his head towards you, his deep eyes fixed on you with a usual tenderness.

“Do what?” you ask, even though you know very well what he’s talking about. “Pull on your shorts.” Hide your thighs.” He tilts his head slightly, as if to study you more closely. “What’s wrong?”

You look away, embarrassed. “Nothing. It’s… It’s stupid.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer to you, and places a gentle hand on your thigh, just enough for you to feel its warmth. “If it bothers you, then it’s not stupid. Tell me.”

You sigh, hesitating for a moment before blurting it out. “My thighs. I find them… too big. They make me self-conscious. I know, it’s ridiculous, but I don’t like them right now...”

Choso looks at you for a moment in silence, and you worry that he’ll find your confession absurd. But instead, he slowly slides his hand over your thigh, in a reassuring gesture, and murmurs softly, “They’re perfect.”

You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Perfect? ​​You’re exaggerating.”

He shakes his head, a genuine smile on his lips. “I’m serious. You know, what I like about you is that everything about you seems… real. They’re not ‘too’ big. They’re exactly how they’re supposed to be.”

You blush, touched by his sincerity. “You’re just saying that to please me.”

He lifts his hand to gently brush your face, his gaze fixed on yours. “No, I say that because it’s true. Every time I see you, everything about you seems beautiful. And your thighs?” He pats one of them gently, his smile widening slightly. “They’re the most comfortable place in the world. Do you realize how many times I rest my head on them when we watch a movie?”

You burst out laughing despite yourself, unable to keep a straight face in the face of his soft but teasing tone. “You’re so cute, you know that?”

He shrugs. “If it makes you smile, then that’s fine with me.” Then he gently pulls you against him, wrapping you in a warm and secure embrace. “Stop hurting yourself with thoughts like that. You’re beautiful, always. You’re my wonderful girlfriend.”

You snuggle against him, a peaceful smile on your lips. With Choso, your complex seems less heavy, as if it fades under his sincere love. You love him so much.

Megumi F.

The morning dawned with an almost surreal softness. You stretched under the covers, then went to the bathroom to start your daily routine. But that morning, a small big detail made you jump.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and your heart grew heavy when you saw several pimples on your face. You bit your lip, annoyed, knowing full well that it would tarnish your mood during the day.

You gently rubbed the skin on your face, trying not to let frustration take over. This kind of morning, you were tired of seeing them appear without warning. With a sigh, you quickly got dressed and left the bathroom. You didn't really want to face Megumi in this state.

You entered the kitchen, where he was already making coffee, as usual. Megumi looked up at you, a calm but attentive gaze that never failed to make you feel special. But that morning, you didn’t feel like you were up to that gaze.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

Megumi said, without even needing to look at you completely, as if he knew exactly what was going on in your head. He knows you so well that it’s scary. His voice, soft but marked by a sincerity that he knew how to bring out well.

You looked down, embarrassed. “But look… at my pimples. They’re everywhere. It’s really ugly, don’t you think?”

Megumi looked at you and approached you. His hands, large but infinitely soft, delicately lifted your chin to force you to look at him. His face remained implacable, but his eyes were full of kindness.

“Do you really think it bothers me?” he asked, his voice cold but looking genuinely interested. “Imperfections are human. What matters is how you feel about yourself.”

You shrugged, your gaze avoiding Megumi’s. You couldn’t understand why these little imperfections made you feel so vulnerable. “I know,” you murmured, “but sometimes, I can’t accept it. And you deserve better than a girlfriend with pimples on her face.”

Megumi stared at you for a long time, then he gave a small smile, softer than anything you had ever seen from him. He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently.

“I’m with you for you, Y/N. Not for your perfect face, but for your heart and soul. And you know that very well. So, don’t worry about it. These little pimples don’t change anything for me.”

You felt a soft warmth spread through you, and a huge weight lift from your shoulders. Megumi, even with his cold nature, always knew exactly how to comfort you.

“Thank you, Megumi,” you said, a shy smile playing on your lips. He gently pulled you towards him, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Always. I’ll remind you every morning, I’ll make it part of my routine.” You chuckled and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, realizing that no matter the imperfections, you had found someone who accepted you as you were, without judgment. You felt completely at peace with yourself.

“Come on. Let’s have breakfast.”

Megumi said, his voice still soft but firm, and he guided you to the table, ready to share a simple breakfast. And this morning, the pimples were nothing more than an insignificant detail compared to the love you had for each other.

Yuji I.

You take one last look in the mirror before leaving the bathroom, your gaze lost on the small stretch marks that mark your skin. For some time, they have been bothering you, but today, it is as if they are more visible than usual. You hate them, these marks. They remind you of times when you felt less beautiful, less up to par.

Suddenly, you hear a noise behind you. Yuji, in an awkward but kind gesture, enters the room, not really realizing your concentration on your reflection. He approaches, his arms wide open, ready to give you a hug.

“Hey babe, why don’t you come give me a hug instead of staring at this mirror?” he says, his voice warm and playful.

You hesitate for a moment, shame pricking you a little. You turn your body slightly, trying to hide your belly.

Yuji, always so attentive when it comes to you, notices your gesture. He approaches slowly, and with his bright smile, he places his hands on your hips.

“You know that you are perfect as you are, right?” He looks at you tenderly. “You are beautiful, you amaze me every moment. And these stretch marks, they represent you. They make you even more you. You are even more magnificent with them so don’t doubt yourself anymore. Okay?”

He pauses then smiles widely, adds: “Besides, I am convinced that if you leave them, they will end up becoming works of art. A bit like me with my scars after all these battles.”

You can’t help but smile when you hear his contagious laughter. Yuji has this talent of transforming awkward moments into bursts of laughter and sincere affection. He hugs you, and you feel the warmth of his support, this security that he offers you without even thinking.

“I love you as you are, with or without stretch marks. They don’t change the beauty I see in you.”

You let yourself go in his arms, your heart soothed, and for once, you no longer worry about your stretch marks. He has this power to make your doubts disappear and make everything so simple.

any opinion is appreciated! thanks for reading till the end 💗

pls like and reblog!

requests: OPEN.

© 2025 mrsh4rdy. All work belongs to @mrsh4rdy. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

[moo-blogging]

Hiiii moooo! I was wondering if you could write some headcannons of levi and a chubby reader??? xoxo

Hey anonymous, here's one for you.

CEO Levi x Chubby ready

You have always been chubby. In all of your childhood photoes, you were always 2 or 3 sizes larger than your siblings and cousins. It didn't really bother you as your family loves you as you are, but society is cruel and your learnt it the hard way since you started school. You have been called Fat Cow, Oink Oink, Sausage Roll and worse names. You had a fair share of crying and body anxiety. You went for lots of counselling and finally, you now feel better about yourself.

One beautiful morning when you reached your office building, you managed to catch the closing lift. "Wait!" You shouted as you ran toward the closing lift. You slammed the open button and the doors opened for you. You slipped into the crowded lift and the doors closed. You giggled to yourself, thinking that you made it on time.

The lift was dead quiet when someone scoffed and said, "I was hoping the lift would be overloaded. Guess someone isn't as heavy as it seems." You felt hot on your cheeks, but too embarrassed to turn around. You looked at your feet instead. Comments like this still hurts although you tried to convince yourself that you are healthy, you are working hard, you have some money and you are happy.

Just then, someone cleared his throat and said, "sir, apologise to her." You turned your head to the voice to find a small figure man with his back straight and his eyes sharp looking at the person who commented. His eyes hid under dark fringes. There was silence. The man was studying the commenter.

The commenter laughed nervously, "she didn't even say anything about it. Are you trying to be a hero here?" The small man stood straight, glaring at the commenter. "Apologise to her." He said again.

"Or else what? You're going to complain me to HR?" He scoffed, "I am HR!" He pulled his tag up and showed it to the man. The man pulled out his card from his inner coat pocket and whispered, "and I am the new CEO. Follow me to my office."

Your eyes widened in shock. But before you knew it, the lift arrived at your floor and the people behind you rushed out, pushing you forward. The next day, you met the CEO at the lift again. Plucking up your courage, you approached him.

"Mr Ackerman? Hi, I'm Y/n. And I want to thank you for yesterday." You gave him a small smile. He nodded back to you, "it's just a small matter." A moment of silence. "Call me Levi."

After that, you often greet each other in the office. Nodding heads, waving hellos or small talks while waiting for the lift together. You found that Levi always seemed so clean and fresh, although the eyebags said otherwise. You wondered a lot about him. But you were merely one of the hundreds of employees while he was the CEO. Who are you to ask?

One night after a company dinner, you found yourself alone with Levi at the corner of the table. You were relaxed and he was too. And you were talking about the little events that happened in the office before he joined.

He said you, "you know they talk about you, right?" You watched him for a while before replying, "yes, I know. They said I'm a cow who likes to dress up every morning." You swallowed, "I don't want people to see me as lazy or uncapable. Yes, I am fat. I'm large, but I want to live my lif-"

"You're beautiful." Levi cut in. You watched him watching you. His eyes the colour of a tranquil deep lake blue. You weren't sure what you heard was true. He swallowed, "I said you're beautiful. I think you're beautiful for living life so fully, so fiercely."

You felt your cheeks blushed and you looked down as you bit into your lower lip. Levi touched your chin and lifted your face to meet his. "Would you go out with me? Would you go out with me now?"

And you left with him, hand in hand. The monent your fingers interlaced, the worries you had in high school about boys being disgusted with your round fingers disappeared. His strong grip was so certain. It felt like he would never let go. The warmth of his palm against your skin, and the night was no longer cold.

[danielmolloystits]

the best policy (armand/daniel) (1/1)

“You keep missing the prostate,” Armand comments flatly. He’s practically as still as a statue, moving only from the force of Daniel’s steady, measured thrusts. “With stunning consistency.” And, Christ, Daniel’s had about as much as he can take of the color commentary. Before he can think better of it, he grunts a harsh, “Shut up.” “Would you rather I lie to you, Daniel?” Armand asks sweetly, looking back at him over his shoulder. “I can do that if you’d like.” Daniel isn’t stupid enough not to realize that’s a trap. “So there is a floor, then.” His voice is still perfectly even as he plucks the thought from Daniel’s mind. “I was beginning to grow concerned.”

Rating: E Pairing: M/M, Armand/Daniel WC: ~1.5k

This morning, Armand and Daniel had another one of their legendary fights about nothing. Daniel doesn’t even really remember how it started, or who was mad at who, but he sure remembers how it ended: with him running an exasperated hand through his hair and yelling “God, I wish you could just be fucking honest with me!” at Armand.

Armand had frozen at that and, with a deadly sort of calm, asked, “Is that so?” Daniel had immediately tried to backtrack, but the damage was already done. Though the fight petered out after that, it was obvious that Armand was still thinking about the comment.

The thing is, Daniel meant it at the time and he would mean it if he said it now—the vampire lies as easily as he breathes and equally as unnecessarily. But he’s definitely regretting saying anything about it, because Armand has apparently taken it to heart and, as a result, has been gracing Daniel with his unfiltered thoughts and opinions ever since.

For example: “You intend to go out like that? Those jeans are frumpy and that t-shirt is covered in wrinkles.”

Or, “You’re burning your toast; you really are very incompetent at cooking.”

It’s fine. Daniel can take it, especially if it helps Armand get some of his lingering anger from the argument out of his system.

And it does seem to be helping somewhat, because when Daniel kisses Armand in the kitchen, he yields to his touch as though nothing contentious had ever happened. Taking his acquiescence as a sign of encouragement, Daniel shoves him up against the counter and cups his jaw in one hand, relishing the sensation of the vampire’s cool lips against his.

It’s nice—a reminder of why it’s worth it to stick through the bullshit. That is, until Armand ruins it.

“Your breath smells like stale beer,” he says moments after they break apart. “And you use too much tongue.”

“Um.” Daniel’s not really sure how to respond to that one. Admittedly, it is a little more hurtful than the comments about his clothes.

“What?” Armand asks, fluttering his lashes innocuously. “You wanted me to be more truthful with you, did you not?”

“I—” Daniel falters. “Yeah, baby. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles beatifically. “I’ve grown bored of kissing you. I’m going to go watch the television.”

Daniel stares after him as he leaves, idly wondering whether it’s too late to beg for forgiveness.

Without turning around or breaking his stride, Armand replies with a simple “Yes.”

+

Armand’s crusade of honesty continues sporadically throughout the day, cropping up in little ways that are clearly designed to make Daniel insane.

Like, “It disgusts me that you leave the toilet seat up” lobbed casually at him after he uses the bathroom.

“You might want to cut back on the cocaine—the dehydration from the stimulants is causing premature wrinkling,” said right when Daniel is about to take a bump.

Or, his personal favorite: “Beloved, did you know that one of your testicles is oddly shaped?”

By the time they go to bed, Daniel has gotten pretty sick of it. It’s not like he can say anything, though, because then Armand will chock this whole gambit up as a win and go back to lying whenever he feels like it. So instead, he muscles through the abuse in silence, hoping to wait out the worst of Armand’s pettiness through attrition.

“Daniel,” Armand says once they’re under the covers, looking up at Daniel with his cigarette cherry eyes. “You’ve hardly touched me all day. At this rate, I’ll have to seek out a new lover to meet my needs.”

“Are you sure you want me to?” he asks, one eyebrow raised sarcastically. “I figured you’d say something if you did. You know, what with your new commitment to honesty.”

“I’m saying something now.”

“Alright,” Daniel says. “What would you like to do?”

Armand crawls into his lap, then, squirming like a restless animal—in this respect, at least, he is still the man that Daniel loves. Despite himself, he finds a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I want you to fuck me.”

And wow, that wasn’t even insulting. His grin widens. “I can do that.”

“But be thorough about it this time, will you?” Armand adds, almost like an afterthought. “Don’t rush through it like you usually do.”

Ah. There it is. Daniel’s smile tightens. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It’s only a matter of minutes before they’re both naked, until Armand is perched on his hands and knees on the mattress and Daniel is kneeling behind him, working him open with his fingers. He’s going as slowly as he can stand to, pausing to press open-mouthed kisses to the curve of Armand’s ass and occasionally nip gently at his thighs. He’s pulling out every trick in his arsenal to drive Armand wild; meanwhile, the vampire is doing a stunningly good job of not responding to any of it.

“I don’t want to exaggerate my pleasure,” he says, all faux-innocence. “That would be dishonest.”

“Wouldn’t want you to, babe,” Daniel mutters, scissoring his fingers and searching for something, anything, that will wring sound from his lover’s throat.

It’s a fruitless endeavor. After a while, Armand sighs wearily. “You might as well just put it in at this point, Daniel; I fear even I will manage to age in the time it takes you to do this correctly.”

The thing is, Daniel knows Armand is faking his indifference—his cock hangs heavy and leaking between his legs, pink smearing at the dark tip despite his commitment to performed apathy. For all he might be able to pretend not to feel anything, he can’t stop his body from giving him away.

That doesn’t make the whole enterprise any less frustrating, though.

Wordlessly, Daniel removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock, hoping that the stretch of it will be enough to force Armand to finally break.

No such luck.

“You keep missing the prostate,” Armand comments flatly. He’s practically as still as a statue, moving only from the force of Daniel’s steady, measured thrusts. “With stunning consistency.”

And, Christ, he’s had about as much as he can take of the color commentary. Before he can think better of it, he grunts a harsh, “Shut up.”

He instantly wishes he hadn’t.

“Would you rather I lie to you, Daniel?” Armand asks sweetly, looking back at him over his shoulder. “I can do that if you’d like.”

Daniel isn’t stupid enough not to realize that’s a trap.

“So there is a floor, then.” His voice is still perfectly even as he plucks the thought from Daniel’s mind. “I was beginning to grow concerned.”

“I don’t want you to lie. After all, faking it in bed would be pathetic.” The pointedness of his tone is perhaps belied somewhat by his labored breathing. “I’d like to think you’re above that sort of thing.”

He adjusts his angle of attack again and is finally rewarded with the barest hint of an inhale. Armand cuts himself off quickly, but Daniel hears it regardless; he knows that he’s found what he’s looking for. He doubles down, working his hips against Armand’s ass in a punishing rhythm. The effect it has on Armand is immediate.

“You have no idea,” he says carefully, as though attempting to speak evenly around words that would prefer to be groans, “the lengths I am willing to go to please you.”

Yeah, whatever; Daniel can see his claws beginning to fist in the sheets.

“So considerate,” he murmurs. “You’re always so good for me baby, aren’t you?” It’s a cheap tactic, sure, but an effective one—Armand loves being told he’s doing a good job. “So perfect.”

The vampire makes a strangled noise at the praise that he attempts to cover with a cough.

“Uh-uh,” Daniel chastises, pulling Armand back by the waist and grinding into him slow and filthy. “None of that, now.”

This time, Armand doesn’t manage to swallow his whimper before it escapes him.

“Do you like that, babe?” he asks, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.

“It’s,” Armand gasps, “serviceable.”

“Oh?” Daniel breathes. “Should I try another angle, then?”

“Don’t you dare.”

He laughs, hastening the speed of his thrusts. “Thought so.”

“Daniel,” Armand moans, full and throaty as he wraps a hand around himself. Apparently, he’s made his peace with his defeat, more focused now on chasing his climax. “Right there, fuck, right there.”

Daniel stays right there, hammering his hips into Armand’s with a relentless fervor until the vampire is writhing and crying out senseless little nothings.

When Armand comes—thick and pink and all over the duvet—he screams.

+

Later, as the two of them are lying in the afterglow, Armand looks up at Daniel and says, “I love you.”

It’s the most honest thing he’s said all day.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Aussie remedy - Manager! Daniel Ricciardo x reader

cw: descriptions of having a cold/being sick and going to work (don't do this, folks), tasty power imbalance, oral (m receiving), temp play (ice), slight degradation and mean!daniel, coercion if you squint, horny trumps professionalism, spoiler tag that rhymes with ****** ******

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Daniel pocketed his uniform pants for his lighter and came up empty-handed. He let out a groan when he couldn't find the precious object. That meant he had to go back to the crew changing room and find it in his jacket. This whole exercise ate a minute from his precious 5. Maybe smoking cigarettes was a disgusting habit he should quit. But managing so many hotheaded people every day was getting a little bit too much for the 35 year old. And even though lately, he's been using some unorthodox methods of stress relief, good old nicotine was still a need.

He didn't expect to be stalled again, but he heard the others through the open back door. They were talking about you. Hearing them speak your name did something to him. Because it had practically become his, with the amount of times he'd whisper it, moan it, grunt it. But to see it followed by "isn't she so incompetent today" and "she looks fucking spaced out". Apparently someone even overheard you saying that you were feeling sick after the holidays. Daniel wonders why you would even show up. He has to hide in the trash room to avoid the gossiping smokers. Having to speed through his cigarette, his fingers still reek of nicotine as he holds his clipboard. He looks at it. At you. You've been at your shift for a couple of hours already, while he's only been around you for 15 minutes. You seemed fine. But as he looks at you from across the shitty fast food restaurant, he notices that you are slower. You're forgetting sauces or mispacking orders, forcing customers to have to circle the drive-through. The response time is in the dumps and you're fucking coughing. He can see you sneeze trying to blame it on dust. He is fucking livid. It all tips over when he sees you slink off to the drink station and drop a tablet into a sprite filled crew cup.

What the fuck were you doing? Were you serious going to take meds with a fucking soda on the job? That was it. He moves past you and asks you to come and check something about your mandatory lunch break times. You agree immediately, nodding. But that's not enough for Daniel.

"Can I get a verbal confirmation?" He says, testing you, teasing you, using his bedroom voice.

"Yes." You say finally, but your voice is rough and scratchy. He can hear you're sick. He gets even more pissed. Especially when you take your FDA disapproved drink and follow him. He locks the door behind you, and you're already scrambling to undress on the couch that's cramped in the corner.

"That's not why I called you in, Jesus. Are you ill? No, let me be clearer. Are you showing up sick to work, creating a health hazard for not only your colleagues but also the customers?" Daniel says, full manager mode. He half-listens to your spiel about how you already had time off for both Christmas Eve and the day after. Not that he didn't know, you two spent the holidays in "couples" mode, going on cute little winter dates, sharing hot cocoa and the like. But for the actual end of the night, he left you to "party" with your friends like it was traditional for you. What you failed to mention is that you cramped too many girls into your single small room. And as the host, with only one bed, you took the floor. Danny had an opening shift on the 25th, so presents and the rest were left for New Years. Which you only managed to get off thanks to a shift swap. Daniel remembered signing off on that, happily allocating you to a time slot close to his. That's why it's weird for him to tell you.

"Go home."

"No." You reply.

"I'm sorry, no?" He wonders. Since when did you wear the white button-down in the relationship?

"I work closing. Judging by the fact that Carlos came in before you, I'm guessing you do too. I wanna help you out. It's just a stuffy nose." You say, reaching out for your apron pocket. You mock press the nasal spray lightly.

"Put it on, then. Let's see it fix you." He says, eyes dark.

You roll your eyes slightly. You've never seen Danny pissed off at you. Yeah, he'd been a little mean when you'd mess up a few ice creams in a row or stall a customer. But that was just a front to dispel any "special treatment" rumors. Still, you take a funky position on the couch, tipping your head off it. Gotta tilt the spray in properly. You sniff and cough a little, opting to breathe from your mouth. Daniel just watches you, and feels complicated. He's sorry for you, and that you're suffering. He's pissed that you put yourself in that situation in the first place. His doll, too fucking nice to tell other people that they can take the floor since the gathering is in your fucking house. Livid that you hid this from him and that you're still not understanding that it's a big deal. Oh, he could teach you. Watching you like this reminds him of an article he thumbed through once in men's health or something. An upside down blowjob was supposed to feel very intense. That was one way to ensure you're breathing through your nose.

"You ever seen the old Spiderman movies, darling?" He asks as he bends down to kiss you. It takes getting used to. It's a bit clumsy, but you're on him, hot and needy. He remembers the last time he had a partner before you and how they were like a cat in heat when they were sick. Danny keeps kissing you, and smirks at your needy, yet nasal whine. Your breathing sounds a bit clearer, albeit the occasional interruption by a cough.

"Wanna try an Aussie cure? A big thick lozenge to remind you to listen." He suggests, palming his election. Daniel knows that even a little kissing has gotten you horny. He knows that his white uniform shirts and presses pants do it for you. The name tag too. Once you jokingly pinned it to your underwear, claiming that you'd wear it like that. You were lucky you did this on a day off, because he let you cum only at the phrase "My pussy belongs to my manager, Daniel Ricciardo." moaned out louder each time. So he's not surprised when you beg for his cock, asking him to "warm your throat.". He slides unbuttons his pants and slides them to his knees, along with his boxers. He doesn't let you start off with kitten licks, or kisses to his tip. No, he buries himself to the hilt, til your bottom lip is in his happy trail and your nose is right against his scrotum. Fuck it, men's health was right. You attempt to take him, to move, to suck, to hollow your cheeks, something. But no avail. Danny controls the pace, his thick hips thrusting in and out. Until you gag. He slides out and it's messy. Your saliva drips out, landing straight on your forehead and rolling down.

"Look who can't breathe through their nose properly. Say sorry to the customers and we can try again." You echo the sentence and he's gentler this time. More careful, but faster, and when his fingers trace your neck, you gag again. This time it's worse, more coughing and almost sputtering. He has you apologize to the crew and for the third time slides his throat past your lips. This time it's the last bit of minty nasal spray hitting you. You gag again. After a "I'm sorry, manager Daniel, sir.", it's fine. You can breathe properly and finally get the hang of it. You hollow your cheeks and fucking moan at the relief of breathing properly again. You try to angle your tongue so it can brush against your boyfriend's tip and it works. After a few more thrusts, Danny's coming down your throat, instructing you to swallow it all. You do. You use the back of your apron to wipe any drool or snot from your face. You're ready to return to the floor when he stops you.

"Now, where are you going, darling. You look absolutely flushed. No way you're going out this red. Let's cool you down." He says. In about 20 seconds he's out the door and back again. You look at his hand and see it holding ice in a plastic blue glove. The machine for it was right across, you reason. Daniel makes you strip naked, not wanting to make your uniform "messy". He rubs the ice cube against your nipples, listening to you plead and moan that it's cold.

"I bet it is, but you have to learn, doll. This is your punishment for not staying home. Bad girls have to deal with this if they wanna stay until closing. Which you do, don't you?". He asks. With almost a sob, yes, you let the freezing object burn against your hot skin. Danny slides it from one breast to another, tongue replacing it . His beard against your sensitive nipples makes you trash around and swear. Your manager's hand slides down your soaked underwear, and he slides it to the side. The icecube leaves your chest and is pressed against your entrance.

"Will you let me do this, doll? Let me make you feel nice and cool inside? Let boss Danny become doctor Danny, yeah. Let me show my sick girl what's good for her?" He asks, letting you back out. You both know that one word (chili sauce, for those curious), and you're done. But you don't say that. You want this, albeit in your slightly delusional state. You want to cum at work, to leave your mark on the leather couch, to have Daniel take you there using the same stern voice as he does when you need to refill the shake machine. When you say the titular, "Yes, please." , he holds you open and slides the ice cube in. The best things about these frozen things from the machine? They don't melt, like the ones in ordinary households. The cold is shocking, and Danny shushes you as you squirm around. His two fingers on your clit certainly make it better. He wastes no time, seeing how wet you are.

"All soaked for me, aren't you. Waiting on me to ruin you. Bet you wanted to get on my nerves tonight to make everything harder on your old man, Daniel. I know why you wanted to be on closing shift, so I could take you home and fuck you. Give you some vitamin D for your cold." He teases, rubbing, listening to the wet, squelching noise. Almost like ocean waves on his favorite beach in Australia. He starts to daydream of taking you there and the other way of taking you there when there's a pounding at the door.

"Daniel, there's a customer asking for allergy information and we need a manager." Your colleague says through the door.

"Just ask Liam, he's next in line for the promotion anyway. I don't care that he's just a crew trainer." Danny says, looking at you. You're close, he knows your tells. Your eyes closing, your legs that he has to keep spread, your bottom lip between your teeth.

"He went on lunch and refuses to clock back in." They reply.

"Shit, okay, just give me a sec to save this document.". In record time Daniel redresses you, sans bra and panties though. He makes sure your apron is around your neck and not your waist and helps you stand up. You can feel the icecube inside of you are about to plead for him to not do this. But there's no use. You deserve this. You played stupid games and now it's time to collect your stupid prizes. You just hope you can sneak out and take a five minute break when Danny lets you. You didn't wanna end up even more sick, after all.

[so-that-was-okay]

Funny how bobs never learn. You can attack us all you want, we'll always turn it into something positive that will piss you off even more. You can send disgusting fics and stupid anons, as a community, we will always be better than that. And it's also thanks to you! Look at you, being part of what make bucktommys thrive. It's like using shit to fertilize the ground. Beautiful things grow thanks to that, isn't that wonderful?

Or you could also stop and just let us be. Since we're enjoying content from a plot device, unemployed nepo baby actor who paid us to post online (pretty sure i forgot some things there). Aren't we losers enough for you or is there still something bothering you maybe? Hm?

You won't police this fandom. You have no authority on anyone or anything here.

[nerdybee123]

Something To Fight For

This is the first time I have written in many years. Please enjoy :)

Very angsty, themes of violence & swearing bc Bakugo, Aged up pro-heroes

Part. 2?

_____________________________________________

“I won’t, I won’t go see her. I can’t.”

Bakugou growled in Midoriya's direction, looking at the pavement underneath his feet. The humidity of the spring night causes a layer of dew to cover the streets.

“She’s asking for you. She needs you. I don’t understand why you won’t just try!” Midoriya yells back, with more anger in his voice then Katsuki is used to, especially from the green eyed man he knows so well.

Katsuki appears slightly off guard. Why does this matter so much? Why can’t he just let it go? She doesn’t need me, she can’t need me.

—

The night is dark, the alleyway we chose to argue in allows few lights. Midoriya’s hair is just visibly green under the sheer glow from the moon. Even with limited visibility his face so clearly holds anger, an anger so strong it could be confused with disgust. 

I glance to both alley exits almost wondering if it would be easier to escape this conversation by actually escaping. Pitiful, this situation has made me put my head down in shame. 

“What is this doing for you Katsuki, how is avoiding her helping anything?” Midoriya yells once more, snapping me clear out of the viscous train of thought clouding my brain.

I want nothing more than to push her hair behind her ear once again, and yell shitty nicknames at her shitty self. I want to be there with her, but I can’t. The memories of her are overwhelming. The sweet vanilla scent her skin and clothes carry. Her audible laugh, her desire to save and heal everybody. Why did she have to be this way? Why did she have to be so weak? 

The hot feeling of tears bite in my eyes. This is pathetic. I am fucking pathetic.

“I can’t protect her Izuku, I couldn’t then, and I can’t now” I spit. The tears turn into anger, still biting, eager to fall from my eyes. My skin and hands begin to feel hot. I need to scream, hit something, I need this all to go away.

I slam my fist into the brick wall next to me looking for a way to feel anything else, rage swells from my stomach. “Don’t you get it Deku? She’s fucking weak. I can’t protect her and she’s an idiot who will do anything to save someone else. She’s bound to die out there and I can’t be there to see it.” 

The anger in my voice noticeably fades as I speak. The last few words become a near cry of desperation. Bringing those words into existence almost hurts more than thinking it. There is no point in holding back the tears any longer, I have shown my true feelings to Midoriya. I have already shown him how truly weak I am. 

I can’t bear to look up at his face. His feet move closer, soft gentle steps that feel so heavy and tired at the same time.

“Is that really what you think, Kacchan?” He gets closer to me, speaking softly now. “Do you think avoiding her will make this all go away?” The anger in his voice resumes again, desperately moving his face in an attempt to catch my gaze. 

I hold my breathe. The feeling of a few hot tears rolling down my jaw. My journey as a pro-hero has made me carry so much strength. But I’ve found my weakness in a shitty woman, and now that I have it, I don’t know what the fuck to do with it. 

“FINE!” Izuku begins to yell again, the disdain I have to look at his face is finally overpowered by shock. He feels so strongly about this, does it really matter that much to him, to her? His green eyes glowing like they used to, feeling like a flashlight burning in my soul. 

“Have it your way, Kacchan. But listen to me closely. It might be a year, a few years, hell, maybe even ten. But one of you will get hurt putting your hero work first. It’s inevitable, the way you are both so dedicated… Something will happen whether you are there to protect her or not. Do you want to be there until that happens, or do you want to run away and lose all the time you could have had?” Midoriya shouts his words like gospel as he pants from his shouting. The thought causing my breathe to hitch. How can he be so certain?... I can’t see her hurt, not now or ever again. 

Even if that means missing all the possibilities. Her warm smile shining like the radiant sun on mornings that my brain only felt gloom. Her quick witted responses to my name calling, her giggling when I got so angry my face turned red. The way it felt when she took my hand and pulled me through a crowd, like we were the only ones there. 

When we were in school, I disregarded her. She was too weak, I never attempted to look in her direction. How could that weakling help me become a #1 hero? Her attempts at futile conversation always fell on deaf ears. I remember her clearly raving to our classmates, how her quirk has grown so much stronger, but she couldn’t use it to fight. How could she ever become a hero? When we had our provisional liscense test, she was commemorated for an amazing score. So quick to heal and recover those injured, which only caused my anger to grow more. Then a few years ago in the great war I watched her risk her life time and time again to heal heroes, citizens, and anyone in between. I was almost impressed with her commitment. Since, our agencies has teamed us up many times. At first I was so hesitant, so cold in fear of what she’d do to me. 

~

“Do you always have a stupid blush on your stupid face?” I yelled at her, looking at her angrily, confused by the consistent redness covering her cheeks. 

“Me?” She looks at me with wide eyes, pointing towards her face. Shyly smiling, her face growing redder; if that was even possible. 

“Yes, you stupid weakling. Why do you always have that smug cheeky face?” I spit, infront of the other heroes in the agency. Honestly, hoping the embarrassment would cause her to back off.

“I’m just excited to spend more time with my old classmate, Kacchan!” She looked at me with a smile so wide, mirroring the way Izuku used to look at me with blind admiration. 

“Don’t call me that.” I scowl. Feeling as if the redness on her cheeks grew so strong it traveled to mine. Instantly feeling the need to look away quickly to cover up this stupid feeling for this stupid idiot weakling. 

~

“Kacchan” Izuku’s sudden speech pulling me back from the battle ground inside my brain. He remains at a low, quiet tone. A last effort. 

“What do you fight for if not for her? Having a weakness doesn’t make you weak, it only gives you something to fight for.” 

~

My eyes flitter open with warm sunlight scraping my skin. With a gasp my eyes shoot open, the room is familiar. Am I at home? Whats the last thing I remember? Chasing down a villain with her trailing behind me. Panic fills my entire body, as a warm sensation in my hand overcomes me.

Lifting my head slowly, achily feeling the pain shoot through me. To see a tuft of silver hair by my side, soft fingertips gripping my hand tightly. The desire to pull away fills me, but the familiar feeling of her healing pushes me to stay still. I don’t mind her grip on me, the thought of this acceptance making me sick. Why is she in my room? This is embarrassing.

The sudden twitch in my hands causes her to look up to me. Her golden eyes wide, held that way from concern. 

“Oh, Katsuki. I was starting to get worried.” She says softly, starting to soften her gaze and slowly smiling wide.  

“I don’t need your help, weakling. I can heal on my own.” I say with a clear tone of haste, scoffing at the notion. Although very clearly my body does not match my words. As I long for the warmth in her hands to remain.

She continues to hold tight. Silence filling the space for a single moment as her eyes bore into mind. “What happened back there anyway?” I ask, desperately trying to fill the spaces and remove the sudden intimacy. 

“Oh, well you caught up to the villain and had an all out brawl. It was pretty impressive” she says shyly, starting to scratch her head with her free hand. “You were able to defeat him, but not without him stabbing you first. I was able to stitch you up on sight, I went to call an ambulance but remembered how much you hated hospitals… So I brought you home instead to give you in home care! Heh heh.” She giggled softly, timidly, her blush growing stronger then usual. “I let the agency know we’d be out the rest of the day, but you should be up and running by tomorrow, if you left me finish of course.” She says the last part with more firmness in her voice. 

I scoff again. I am stuck in my bedroom all day with this shitty woman? I guess its better than the alternative… It might actually be nice? The thought makes my stomach writhe. What is she doing to me? She puts her second hand back around mine, holding them intently. 

“You don’t have much strength still Katsuki, you’ve only been out for an hour. But I figured we could watch a movie to make the time go by? I’ll have to keep holding your hands, or if you don’t mind your side where you got stabbed? It might be faster that way…” she says it so softly, nervously, almost scared. My brain wants to bark back, wants to yell at her for thinking I’m weak. But she’s right, I don’t have the energy.

“That’s fine shitty woman, just pick a good movie.” I utter quickly. Trying my best to turn on my side, the side that doesn’t burn like crazy. Without seeing her I know she is nodding, and my eyes feel heavy. I feel her shuffle herself next to me, hear the TV begin to play, and feel her warm hand placed on my side to relinquish some pain.

~

“What do you fight for if not for her? Having a weakness doesn’t make you weak, it only gives you something to fight for.” 

I leave Midoriya after that statement. I need to get home. My body feels weak, is this what mental exhaustion feels like? I haven’t been sleeping. I’m haunted by nightmares of that fateful day. Fateful. She isn’t even dead. But in that moment she might as well have been.

Every night when I close my eyes I see it. She’s on the sidewalk underneath me as I fight in the sky.  A villain, I can’t even remember his name, or what he was fighting for. Those details never remained. Only the ones of her. She’s holding a citizen closely with one arm, gold emitting from her skin clearly healing a fatal injury. Her other arm waving around in the air crazy, demanding people to move out of the way. Suddenly, a roar of red light emits from the villain. A laser beam? You’ve got to me kidding me. This guy has a collection of black market weapons.

“Call back up!” I yell down to her. “On it!” She yells back quickly. This catches the villains attention, a way to distract me. He shoots the beam towards the building, causing pieces to come crashing down.

Without thinking twice, I race down to move her and the civilian to safety. I grab her wrist tightly, eagerly, desperately “You shouldn’t be so close, you’re going to get yourself killed!” she pants heavily. Tears swelling in those beautiful golden eyes as she rips her arm from me and jumps up. Moving her gaze away from mine almost angrily.

“I need to help those people” she states, with determination that I could not falter. She rapidly runs back into action, working diligently to bring people to safety. 

The villain laughs softly, “you two must care for each other huh?”. My eyes avert to him, as he looks at her endearingly. This makes me sick, sweat collecting heavily at my palms. Preparing to strike, and dropping my hands quickly. He’s holding her. How could he be so fast?

“Well, if you care so much, you won’t mind letting me escape with this pretty thing, will you?” the villain says so clearly, so eerily. It feels like a knife in my stomach, twisting. My breathe is caught in my throat, my fingers twitching at my side. In all my experiences I have never frozen, but it feels like my entire body is concrete. My lungs are trifling for air but I can’t breathe.

Y/n looks at me, dagger held to her throat. Her eyes, so clearly pleading with me. “KATSUKI, PLEASE” she yells with such desperation, such fear that I tune out what comes next “don’t worry about me” she shouts to no avail. All I hear is a scared girl, one I was meant to protect.

It feels like I am stuck this way for an eternity, my feet molded to the ground. When truthfully it was less than 30 seconds until Todoroki froze this monster, catching him off guard. Todoroki yells something towards him and towards me, his eyes flickering between us both caught between the tension. The villain tightens his grip on y/n, growing his maniacle smile wider.

“Fine, if this is how it is going to be, kiss your girl goodbye!” He looks directly at me and twists the dagger in her side. I drown in her screams until I wake up again.

Todoroki tried to tell me my mind is playing tricks on me. That I remember incorrectly. There was nothing I could have done, that I froze due to some villains quirk and I was poorly outnumbered. But the nightmare is a foggy memory that requires only her and me. My failure, our weakness. It haunts me so clearly.

~

I visited her once when she was still asleep,  I layed at her bedside like she had done for me. She always layed with me, healing me. On countless occassions through school, through the war, through our time as pro-heros did she spend her time next to me, healing me.

But when I lay next to her I am helpless. What a fucking weakling. My hands held fistfulls of her hospital bed sheets. Squeezing as if my anger would nurse her back to health. “WHY! WHY Y/N, WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING WEAK? WHY WAS I SO FUCKING WEAK” I yelled until my voice become hoarse. My eyes burning with tears, light sobs escaping my lips. 

How could I let this happen? I can’t let this happen again. I failed once, I’ll fail again. My mind swirled with thoughts as I held back sobs. Choking on my breathe, trembling. I can’t do this again. This is the worst fucking feeling. I can’t, I won’t let her do this to me any longer.

A soft hand on my shoulder shook me out of my thoughts. I turn my head slightly to meet Midoriya’s green sympathetic eyes and Todoroki’s cold heterochromic gaze. This is pathetic, embarrassing. I look so fucking weak. I put my attention back to y/n, her weak body desperately trying to heal. Her long silverish blonde hair a matted mess, her cheeks empty of their usual flush. Midoriya goes to open his mouth but I shoot up hastily. I can’t take this anymore. “You both can care for her, I don’t want anything to do with this weakling.” I stormed out, slamming the door behind me, not threatening to look back at their stunned faces. 

That was the last time I saw her, she had been in the hospital asleep for a week, awake for another. Midoriya listened and took care of her, yet she still asked for me. The thought of that conversation makes me sick enough to head to the bathroom, worried the thoughts would cause me to vomit. Flicking the light on, catching my reflection in the mirror. It feels like I am in the room with a stranger, some guy I don’t even recognize. The sleepless nights, the constant worry. Bags are growing underneath my eyes, my hair is messy, my skin is dry and tired. My brain is screaming at me to get as far away from her as possible, her pain did this to me. Her memories did this to me. A month ago my eyes were brighter, hopeful even. I was growing soft, inside and out. Her healing never let me gain any scars, her warmth never let me dawdle in the negativity and insecurity I face. This body, it's a reflection of her absence. Why must my brain and body fight so tirelessly?

[kedreeva]

.

FB Lady: Why did my new peachicks that I got from a clean home die so fast? All her birds are fine and she treats to prevent parasites.

Also FB Lady: *posts photos of absolutely disgusting coops with filthy feeders that look to be more poop and bedding than food and waste piled up so high around it that it's spilling into the feeder, as well as chickens in with her peafowl*

Also FB Lady: I quarantined them for 7 days and then put them in with the rest of my birds and they died after one day! This person sold me bad birds!

Me: truly it must be their fault...

[hana-bobo-finch]

your honor they make me ill. they make me insane your honor. your honor,

[featherymainffins]

Peace and love on planet Earth but if I see one more post NOT about recovery and, in fact, encouraging eating disorders in the ed recovery tag, I might just turn into a chimpanzee and tear everyone's faces off.

[sysig]

He was a human pirate, which you wouldn’t think you’d have to specify and yet (Patreon)

[pickled-flowers]

Saw some of the grossest parenting today in the bus

[ririrules60]

he has greasy hair

[warningsine]

[chirpsythismorning]

Mike being closed off, annoyed, defensive, and borderline irate a majority of the time throughout the series, is a defense mechanism.

It's because, if no one knows who Mike truly is at his core, then they cant judge or hurt who he truly is. It's a mask. They can hate him, but it's not even really him so... Jokes on them, right?

But Will. Will makes Mike feel like he's better for being different...

Mike evidently see's Will as someone that knows Mike at his core and still wants to be around him in part for those very qualities. This is the only person Mike has been able to consistently show a more vulnerable side of himself to, and it's because Will himself embodies those qualities that Mike is scared to reveal, out of fear that he will be judged for who he truly is.

All Mike's most vulnerable scenes? I can guarantee you will was present for almost all of them (definitely all of the major ones).

Mike is just not as honest in showing others how he is feeling quite like he is with Will. At the most he might lash out and hope it gets the people around him to leave him alone so that he can be honest with himself in the privacy of a moment with his own thoughts...

However, get Mike around Will and he's head in hands, literally the most vulnerable we ever see him.

Like WTF even is this???? How did we move on?

[rosemaze-reveries]

it took me 4hrs just to complete weepy’s 9th deduction but i finally unlocked this mf chart 🏌️ i feel like my souls been gutted out goodbye tumblr im quitting idv