#emotional eating triggers

[theclovisculture]

Break FREE from Emotional Eating Habits with These Proven Strategies

Are You Struggling with Emotional Eating? Here's How to Break Free with Expert Tips from Justin Nault

Do you find yourself turning to comfort foods when life gets tough? You're not alone. Emotional eating is a common challenge that many face, especially during stressful times. Whether it’s stress, boredom, or sadness, reaching for food often feels like a quick fix—but it doesn't have to be.

In this insightful video, Justin Nault, a Certified Nutritional Therapist and founder of Clovis, shares proven strategies to help you break free from the cycle of emotional eating. You'll discover that overcoming this habit isn’t about sheer willpower; it’s about understanding the deeper emotional triggers driving it. Justin breaks down why stress, anxiety, or even boredom can lead to overeating, and how mindful eating can be your key to regaining control.

Transform Your Relationship with Food

This video isn’t just for those struggling with emotional eating. Whether you're battling stress eating, overeating, or simply seeking a better relationship with food, you’ll find practical, easy-to-apply solutions. Justin will guide you through:

Replacing junk food with nutrient-dense alternatives

Understanding your emotional triggers

Practicing mindful eating to prevent overeating

Developing healthier responses to stress

Join the Clovis Community and Start Your Journey Today

Clovis isn't your typical health brand. Think of it as your ANTI-MAINSTREAM answer to abundant health, wellness, and optimal performance. With Justin Nault's expert guidance, you'll gain confidence, reclaim your health, and live the life you deserve!

💥 Clovis: Your Confidence Pill 💥

Whether you're ready to transform your eating habits or take your fitness to the next level, Justin and his team are here to help.

Ready for the next step? Book a FREE call with Justin's team today and begin your journey toward a healthier, happier you.

📞 Book a Free Call: https://justinnault.com/assessment

About Justin Nault Justin Nault is a Certified Nutritional Therapist, Specialist in Sports Nutrition, and Fitness Nutrition. As the founder and CEO of Clovis, and the creator of the Clovis Daily Superfood Powder, he’s transformed over 2,500 lives with personalized coaching and nutrition plans.

Join the movement, transform your life, and regain control today!

[retiredteabag]

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[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 15 - Doll▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ “And all I had to do was take you the way I originally wanted to, huh? Here I thought I’d wait for you to come around,” he exhales and begins sliding your pants down your waist.

“Fuck—Slow down!” you mewl weakly, digging your nails into the rim of your desk and feeling your legs almost buckling under him.

“Like hell I will. I’ve seen your hand now, slut.” ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Very Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ???, Toxic Romance Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Past Child Abuse, Bullying, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven • Twelve • Thirteen • Fourteen • Fifteen • Sixteen (and up, on ao3)

Chapter 15 - Doll

“Hoooooly fuck! Look at this! Hahaha!” His voice bounces against the walls of the room.

You panic, mentally going through all the options you have in the span of a second. 

Unplug the cable to your computer or go for the power button and shut it down.

One of the options being under the desk in the back—and you’re not about to get in dick-sucking position for gamers 101 with him—and the latter being hooking your hand over his leg and holding the button pressed before he catches you.

Both options are out of the fucking question, so you pick option number three, going in to alt+f4 the fuck out of your browser.

As it turns out, your little mental dilemma was completely unnecessary when you realize Shigaraki, as always, is too fucking fast for you, grabbing you by your waist harshly and sitting you down on his lap, promptly restraining your wrists.

“There’s no point closing it. I’ve already skimmed through half of them while you were ignoring me, loser.” He grins, pulling you closer to him and away from the keyboard, while he could still reach and click around. “Don’t squirm too much unless you’re trying to get me hard.”

You think you could die right fucking now and you’d be fine with it.

But then again, weren’t you always?

“Let’s see,” he starts, and you try really hard to get off of him again, unable to bear the fucking shame of what’s to come. “Told you to stop moving, moron. Now pay attention here,” he orders, keeping you close to him. “Oooh, praise kink! You want me to call you my good girl?” Shigaraki coos really close to your ear with a sickly sweet voice and it sets your face on fucking fire, rendering you absolutely speechless.

“Oh my god, you do!” he exclaims, giggling. “What else? Dirty talk, degradation—fucking creampie?! Mmmh, you filthy slut. Should I fill your tight little pussy up with my cum?” He moans obscenely next to you and suddenly you feel way too hot, too fucking embarrased, so you shoot your hand to cover his mouth and wish you could grab the keyboard and beat him to death with it, picturing little bloody keycaps flying all around the room. 

Shigaraki wakes you up from your brief coping daydream by licking your palm sloppily in retaliation, immediately grossing you out and making you pull your hand away. You wipe the saliva against his shirt, while your body is still going through the after-shocks of repulsion.

When you look at him again, he gives you another one of his half-lidded smirks.

His leg shifts, holding your waist even tighter against his lap and you feel something hard pressing against your ass.

“S-Stop that! Let me go!” you plead, but his arms won’t loosen up. 

“Look.” He drags the mouse and highlights a word on your screen. You glance at it and then promptly look the other way, the ugly white paint on the walls of your apartment suddenly being infinitely more interesting. “What does that say? Hm?” He rocks you against him. “Speak, slut.”

“No! Fuck off and let go!” You claw at his hand, scratching and pinching at him to let you go but he doesn’t even flinch.

Instead, he grinds his erection against you again, groaning and nuzzling into your neck—any previous inhibitions about letting you off the hook for now were gone right out of the window. 

“My precious little slut is always fucking lying to me,” he says in a sing-song tone, biting the back of your sensitive neck harshly and causing you to whimper. “You fucking freak.” Shigaraki breathes, “Mindbreak? Breeding? You want me to breed you, make you scream on my cock until you can’t even think anymore? Is that it?” 

He slides his hand up your back, pushing against your shoulder forward and down, hard enough for you to have to bend and grip your desk in order to catch yourself from falling altogether.

“Hahaha.” He scrolls the website, reading through more of your favorited fucking tags, “Dubcon, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, emotional manipulation—Jesus. Even rape? Holy shit.” He snickers, standing both of you up but keeping you nice and bent for him. 

You shudder, making a strangled noise when he thrusts himself against your sex roughly.

“You’re so fucked in the head,” he cackles. “Is that why you provoke me all the fucking time? You want me to get mad? To break you? Make you—ahh, fuck—my own personal cocksleeve?” 

Shigaraki breathes heavily, bending himself over your back and using one arm around your waist to lift your hips, high enough for him to be perfectly slotted against your backside. 

You moan at the repeated cruel drag of his length against you, the raspy sound of his voice shamefully sending electricity all the way to your clit.

“And all I had to do was take you the way I originally wanted to, huh? Here I thought I’d wait for you to come around,” he exhales and begins sliding your pants down your waist.

“Fuck—Slow down!” you mewl weakly, digging your nails into the rim of your desk and feeling your legs almost buckling under him.

“Like hell I will. I’ve seen your hand now, slut.”

“That doesn’t fucking count! You—You can’t compare fantasy with fucking reality, Shigaraki!” 

Shigaraki doesn’t respond to that and you feel him snake his digits below the band of your underwear, sliding two rough fingers against your slit, pads brushing firming against your clit. They glide past it, until he reaches your opening and teases it.

He feels the resistance but still pushes both of his fingers inside you at once, the sudden stretch feeling really uncomfortable at first. Your back arches in response, hips involuntarily jerking against his hand and he begins lazily fucking his long fingers into your cunt.

“You’re such a fucking liar. Look at how wet you are for me, fuck.” He takes his hand out of your panties, splaying his slick-covered fingers in front of your face and presenting them to you proudly. 

Your head turns around, face flustered and you glare at him as he licks them off, starting all the way from the tips, then slowly pushing them inside his mouth knuckle by knuckle, making a great show of sucking on them. 

Shigaraki’s eyes flutter closed and he groans like he’s never tasted anything better before in his life. 

And maybe he hasn’t, because to him there’s nothing sweeter-tasting than victory itself.

“What, you wanted some?” He leans in and whispers huskily, completely drunk on his lust—on you, “Shame, because I don't feel like fucking sharing.”

Then all of the sudden, his warmth leaves your back and you gasp, immediately feeling yourself missing the contact. You curse at yourself for folding so easily.

He doesn't leave you for long though, can’t afford to when there’s so much he wants to do to you now. 

“Take them off, sit on the chair and spread your legs wide for me,” he commands in a low serious tone, making you feel just how fast your heart was pounding. “I’m going to fucking devour you tonight.”

It briefly crosses your hazy mind to refuse him, to run out of the house and never turn back. But that’s not what you really want, is it? 

You’ve felt it all this time. The way he’s so eager to have you, the electricity between the two of you, right between the hatred and the violence. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

You, broken enough to let him have his way with you.

Him, fucked up enough to claim you.

It was a line you didn’t want to cross, not with him, not really. 

But the way your hands have a mind of their own as you reach for the waistband of your pants, sliding them down your thighs while you’re watching him palm the outline of his erection through his jeans, tells you your answer.

“Hurry the fuck up, before I lose all of my patience and fuck you into the floorboard instead,” he growls, a dark glint in his eyes while he watches you bend over, slowly taking your clothes off like a tease.

And you listen. 

You take your pants off, leaving no room for interpretation on whether or not you want this, stumbling back and sitting down on your chair. His lustful gaze locks in on your hips as you shyly lift your legs up and get into position.

His head is reeling while he takes a tentative step forward, watching your reaction before kneeling in front of the chair, grabbing your ankles and rolling you closer to him. 

You watch as he slides his pale, trembling hands across the expanse of your legs all the way to your waist and you gasp when he leans in closer to your heat, eyes fixated on the obvious wet spot in the middle of your plain panties.

“Fuck,” he whispers, intoxicated when he sees your legs trembling in anticipation. His confident streak is slightly dampening now that you’re letting him actually have you, submitting to him so naturally. “Such a fucking slut for me, aren’t you?” Shigaraki’s piercing eyes turn to look at yours through dark lashes until his gaze falls on your bitten lip.

“Please, as if you c-could ever get me off,” you challenge and he grins dangerously, feeling warmth spreading inside his chest. 

He presses his cheek to the cold skin of your thigh and nuzzles it, soft white hair tickling you as he peppers you with soft hungry kisses. 

You look down at him, unable to breathe more than shallow breath and feeling your mind become clouded. Enough for you to impulsively slide your hand in his hair and rake your fingers through it, pulling a groan from what seemed to be the depths of his soul, as his eyes screw shut and brows angle downwards. It’s an incredible sight for sore eyes—

Until he fucking bites you.

He bites down on your skin so hard you have to let out a pained cry, fingers twisting in his white locks, immediately pushing him away. Shigaraki keeps pressing in until you can’t help but spill hot painful tears, blurring the way his possessive eyes were locked in on yours as he claims you like some fucking animal.

“I-It fucking hurts, please,” you beg, and because it sounds like heaven to his ears, he listens, flattening his tongue and licking the bloody mark he’s left on you, then kissing it as if he could nurse it. 

“W-What the fuck was that for, asshole?” You release the grip on his hair, hooking your other leg atop his shoulder and sniffling. He wraps his arm around it, bringing his face closer to where you want it to be.

“A reminder,” Shigaraki states with underlying excitement in his voice. Strong, rough arms pull you closer and your ass partially slides off the seat in the process. He pushes your legs upwards, nodding once towards your hands. “Hold them up properly.”

“A reminder,” you repeat, hooking your arms under your thighs and holding yourself up like he’d asked you to, looking away and feeling shame coursing through your body while you shrink under his impossibly sinful gaze.

“Tch. Don’t you dare look away from me,” he orders you, low and careful and once again, you listen, swallowing empty and looking back at him.

A deep growl escapes his throat as he sits back on his knees, admiring your obedience. Your quivering body, teary eyes and a stubborn needy pout, all on display for him to enjoy. 

Shigaraki leans in and reaches to swipe away at your almost-dried tears with a thumb, bringing his finger to his mouth and licking the salt off, the desire in his eyes making you pant heavily in anticipation.

“A reminder that you’re mine.” He lowers himself and places a soft kiss above the waistband of your panties before continuing, “And that I’m in charge now.” He runs his thumb against the already painful wound he’d created and presses his nail into the coppery dent his teeth left behind.

“Control freak,” you hiss in pain and your hold falters.

“Keep holding them up,” Shigaraki warns and you whimper as he goes to kiss and suck purple marks all over the expanse of your thighs, blatantly ignoring the ache between your legs and your weak moans.

Fucking finally gracing you with some mercy, he hooks his fingers around your panties and slides them off, until they’re only hanging on one ankle. 

Shigaraki shudders and swallows hard, now standing and watching you from above like a predator.

You move your hand to cover yourself, but he grabs your wrist and pries it away forcefully. “No you fucking don’t.” 

He thumbs at your wet slit roughly and you shiver. 

After pondering something for a second, he sinks back on his knees and dives right into your heat, licking a long stripe from your clenching hole to your clit. 

You moan brokenly but he doesn’t relent, blunt nails scratching down your sides as he eats your cunt sloppily, listening carefully to every noise you make. Your fingers dig into the plastic handle of your seat, free hand finding purchase in his messy white hair once more. 

He’s as greedy for your sounds as he seems to enjoy giving, hands sliding to part your lower lips and honing in on the bundle of nerves that seems to make you lose your mind every time he flicks his tongue in a particular way.

The barren room echoes with filthy sounds of your cries, his groans and your increasingly wet cunt, muscles in your legs twitching involuntarily and you struggle between keeping a steady position on your chair and giving in to the pleasure. 

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, because he dips two of his fingers in and starts finger-fucking you in earnest, one strong arm moving to keep your lower body pinned for him, and judging by the warmth pooling in your lower abdomen, you know you won’t last much longer.

His normally rough lips, now softened by your arousal, close around your sensitive clit and it’s him sucking on it roughly, combined with him repeatedly curling both his fingers against your most sensitive spot that does you in. 

You clench around his fingers hard, locking your thighs around his head and he whimpers against you, fucking you through your orgasm and licking the mess of your climax hungrily.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises when he lifts his mouth with a devilish grin, still rubbing soft circles on you, pumping his fingers lazily and watching you whimper in overstimulation. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Tongue out,” Shigaraki commands and you look at him with a half-lidded look. He slips his soaked fingers out of you and smacks your pussy playfully, earning him a moan. “Don’t make me repeat myself, c’mon.”

You whine and open your mouth, tongue peeking out just slightly, when he stands and drapes himself over you, making your heart beat faster. 

He places his slick-covered fingers on top of your tongue, pressing down on it for you to open wider, giving you the idea that he wants you to suck on them, but before you can close your lips around them, he spits into your mouth.

“Swallow.” Shigaraki orders and your nose scrunches, but you close your mouth and swallow. “Now show me.”

When you do, his face breaks into a creepy leer as he slides his fingers in and forces you to taste yourself.

“Good, right?” he giggles, voice filled with unrestrained giddiness and you roll your tongue over his fingers, giving him more than he asked for. His jaw falls slack and he stares at the fingers in your mouth, taking them out and leaning in to replace them with his moistened cracked lips instead.

The kiss is hungry, wet and sloppy. Shigaraki isn’t kissing you, he’s devouring you, and every time you pull away for air, his mouth would follow yours, hands gripping the handles of your chair and pushing you until the backrest is firmly pressed against the wall where he has you caged in.

You groan into his mouth in complaint and he finally breaks the kiss, your lungs filling with delicious oxygen once again. 

When you glance down, you see a string of saliva connecting you two, lips shiny, mixed with both your wetness and his own spit. 

He looks dazed, eyes clouded as he breathes in deeply. Breathes you in deeply and he finds that it’s not enough. He wants to have you, all of you, all at once.

“I’d love to shove my cock down your throat and fuck your face right about now,” he whispers low, corners of his mouth turning up in a smirk, hand reaching down to rub more circles around your clit and you shudder. “But that’s for next time.”

Next time?

“Look at you. You’re a fucking mess,” he muses, kissing your cheek softly—too softly—and you frown, getting ready to bitch at him.

He sees it and pinches your bundle of nerves harshly making you whine again, “Ah–ah. Don’t give me an attitude now. Come on, get up.” He slides his hand to your hips and squeezes, using his other one to grab your wrist and hoist you out of the chair. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Your eyes fall on the tent in his pants and you can almost feel him stretching you out, with how painfully hard he looks, length lined down his right leg. 

Before he could push you along, you reach and run your curious fingers across his bulge, feeling your chest flutter with strange butterflies. 

It takes him by surprise and his whole body shakes, knees trembling. He slaps your hand away as he scrambles to hold himself up against the desk, eyes blown wide and breaths coming out heavy. 

No fucking way. That sensitive?

You smile deviously and he glares at you. 

“D-Don’t fucking do that, I almost—ugh, just move!” he grumbles defensively, grabbing your shoulder, turning you around and shoving you forward. 

Fuck, that was hot.

It takes you back to the time he was quivering under you. You really want to see that again. Would he let you switch if you asked?

There isn’t time to find out, because you suddenly hear the front door slam shut behind the two of you, followed by a violent thud of Taylor’s paper grocery bag spilling against your floor.

Eyes wide, you fumble to pull your shirt down, trying to cover yourself and frantically picking up your clothes. 

You sober up immediately, realizing you were about to let Shigaraki Tomura fuck you stupid tonight—part of you disappointed not at yourself but… at the prospect of it not happening.

Your cheeks fire up, feeling deeply ashamed as you look at your friend, then at Shigaraki who’s already running a hand through his hair and huffing irritatedly at the unwanted interruption.

So fucking close, he thinks. 

Tomura really wants to rip your friend’s fucking head off. 

“What the fuck do you two think you’re fucking doing?” They stomp forward, absolutely fuming.

“Get the fuck out. Can’t you see we’re busy?” he snaps back, reaching to hook his arm possessively around your waist and pushing your body flush against his own. 

You smack at his chest to let you go, cursing him repeatedly, but he wasn’t paying attention to you, opting to cautiously eye your friend’s presence instead.

“Like hell you are!” Your friend yanks him by the collar of his shirt and pries him away from you. “Think I forgot the shit you pulled at the party, creep?!”

Anger flashes across his face and he’s not beyond beating the fuck out of your friend for so much as daring to touch him—but he knows that doing so would set things back with you significantly. 

Tomura really fucking likes the new stage he’s unlocked with you, and he wasn’t going to let his temper ruin it for him this time.

You however were none the wiser.

So you cut right in the fucking middle when Taylor decides to hit him, the only person ending up getting slapped by unnecessarily expensive acrylics being you.

“Ow—fuck!” You glare at your friend, who looks absolutely mortified. 

Shigaraki scrambles to assess the damage and your friend is already tearing up and apologizing, both of them immediately crowding you.

“Get. Out. Both of you. Now,” you whisper angrily, prompting them to give each other a death stare. “I want to be alone, so—fucking please.”

To your surprise, they both (very reluctantly) back off. 

Shigaraki, who looked defeated, made an odd sound of disapproval, grabbed his shit and angrily stormed out first.

Taylor on the other hand lingered, trying to pry, to apologize, to ask why you didn’t answer their texts all week, but you were only able to snap back and make them cry harder.

When everyone finally left you the fuck alone, you begin breaking down, absolutely burnt out by this horrible series of events happening in your life.

You throw yourself on your bed, and realize you’re still able to smell his soft lingering scent against your bedding. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you also see that he forgot his fucking hoodie at your place.

Why the fuck were you about to let Shigaraki have his way with you earlier?

Why did you listen to him? Were you that fucking sexually deprived to let another psycho fuck you? 

Those were questions you could not fucking answer, not when you know you’re falling right into his trap. 

So you pull his hoodie over your head and inhale deeply into the collar.

Then you proceed to replay the earlier events in your head and do something you swear you’ll take to the grave with you.

─────────

The following days, including your whole weekend, were completely Shigaraki-free. That meant you got to study your ass off for your exam week and you didn’t have to deal with him at all after the incident. 

You didn’t speak to Taylor either, and Taylor avoided you like the fucking plague.

It was fair in a way that you didn’t like to admit. 

You deserved it. You were a shit friend.

Now you’re studying in the main cafeteria at lunchtime, when he casually slips into the seat next to yours with a tray of food in his hands. 

He pushes a box of juice to you and you stare at it.

“Hey,” he rasps, dragging his chair to be as close to yours as humanly possible, seemingly nothing changing in his Shigaraki branded demeanor during the few days that he went MIA. 

You click your tongue but don't reply otherwise, deciding to completely ignore him instead. 

So he does what you should’ve expected he’d do and grabs the spoon on his tray, angling it perfectly in your direction and flicking a disgusting wet fucking pea at your face. 

It hits you, falling on your rented notebook and fucking stains it.

“HEY! I have an exam in an hour and this is a fucking rental! Cut it out, dickhead!” you snap at him, wiping your face with a grimace but he only smiles.

“There we go! Was worried you forgot how to speak.”

“My god, you’re seriously the worst fucking asshole on this planet, I swear.” You snarl when you look at him.

“So they say.” His lips curve upwards.

Shigaraki lets you be for a minute and starts eating his lunch, but seems to notice something on your face.

“You look like a fucking zombie. Did’ya miss me so much you couldn’t even fall asleep?” He elbows your side and makes you mess up the words you were writing. Then he snorts at the way you clutch your pencil tighter.

“Drop it,” you hiss, feeling more on edge than usual. 

None of the information you’re forcing yourself to fucking remember is sticking to your brain. This never happened before and it really, really unnerves you. You’re not allowed to slack off. You can’t afford to slack off. 

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you today?” He leans into you, becoming genuinely concerned. 

You snap your head at him, looking livid. 

Feeling fed up, you grab your stuff hastily and stand up. 

He, of course, has none of your fucking bullshit and forcefully grabs your arm, pulling you back down.

“Sit. I won’t ask twice,” he warns coldly, clenching his jaw.

The look you give him is one of defeat, so you crumple your study notes and then slam your bag on the table, half of its contents landing on the floor together with the box of juice he offered you. 

Your lips start quivering and you rub at your eyes.

“The fuck you so pissy for? Are you on your period or something?”

You glare at him, the bubbling anger under the surface of your skin threatening to break out. 

“Kill yourself.”

Shigaraki’s eyes widen.

“What?” 

There’s hardly any restraint left in you and you smile. Wide and unhinged. 

“I said,” you say, voice strained as you close in on him. “Do us all a fucking favor—” His jaw clenches and his nostrils flare, “—and fucking kill yourself.”

Shigaraki’s breaths become increasingly labored and you see him struggling to hold back from lashing out, lips curling into a snarl. 

It’s not enough for you, though.

“And you know what?” You reach to place a soft, comforting hand against his cheek, red angry eyes staring you down. “I bet that if you did…” He tenses under your touch and you lean into his ear, whispering your last words, “Nobody would miss you.”

Shigaraki grabs you by the roots of your hair and you gasp. He pulls you down so hard, your back arches and you almost slip and fall if not for you still gripping the table.

“What’s your fucking problem, hm?” His tone is low and dangerous. “Did all that studying fry your fucking brain?” he asks, eyes full of contempt and feelings of betrayal now that you reverted back to treating him like shit. “Need me to put you back in your place that badly?”

You giggle.

“ANSWER ME!” Shigaraki yells, tightening his grip on your hair, almost ripping it while blinded by his anger.

There were a lot of students looking at you whenever you were together, because Shigaraki has a reputation—and by extension, you do too. 

So it’s no surprise that him screaming in your face and assaulting you in front of everyone attracts even more attention.

You’re looking at him in a daze, vision blurring in and out as you only hear echoes anymore, not understanding the words coming out of his mouth.

It’s easier this way. To lash out and be punished. To finally be pushed off the edge you’ve been teetering on. You’re really tired, aren’t you?

You didn’t need any of this. Didn’t ask for any of this.

Getting blackmailed.

Pretend-dating a damaged asshole.

Academic anxiety. 

Mind games. 

Fights with your best friend. 

Feeling lonely. 

Wanting to die.

Wanting to die so bad it suffocates you.

The thread snaps and the tower of your sorrows finally topples over, crashing over the entirety of your soul. Acid raindrops of all the emotions you’ve been suppressing this entire time raining on your consciousness until all you could feel is nothing.

You can’t focus on your studies. 

Can’t handle their attention. 

Can’t do this anymore.

So maybe you should—

Just obey. 

”You don’t have to think about anything else other than how to please me, bunny. Do you understand me?”

SPANK—

“Yes, Sir.”

He lets go of your hair almost immediately, red eyes widening and you lower your gaze like you’ve been taught to do. “...The fuck did you say to me?”

“My apologies, Sir,” you reply robotically. “Would you prefer I called you Master or Daddy instead, Sir?” 

Tomura’s brain short-circuits. Is this another one of your weird fucking games? 

He glares into your eyes and can only find a dull submissive look in return. 

“What is wrong with you?” He frowns, voice wavering.

“I’m extremely sorry. I do not understand the question, Sir. Could you please explain?”

He runs a hand over his face and scrunches his eyes shut.

“What is this—What the fuck are you doing right now?” He uses his pointing finger and circles it at you.

You just stare at the floor.

“Answer me, idiot.”

“My apologies, Sir.”

“Stop calling me that. Explain what’s going on.”

“I’m just your dumb slutty bunny, Sir. I’m yours to have, yours to breed, yours to break,” you say and he almost has a fucking brain aneurysm at how willingly you’re humiliating yourself.

Did you seriously completely fucking break—right here? Like this? In the middle of the fucking cafeteria? After you provoked him? 

Was that on fucking purpose too? Why?

His head is spinning.

Should he… test the limits of your submission? You did piss him the fuck off today, after all. Talking to him like that? Who do you think you are?

This opportunity is definitely too good to pass up. 

Tomura’s grin spreads wide, resolving to immediately test this newfound control over you, feeling excitement bubbling in his gut at the prospect of you finally becoming an ideal toy, accepting him fully. 

How far would you go with this little game you started, he wonders.

“Get on your knees and under the table. Now,” he barks at you—and to his surprise, there really is no bratty remark, no comeback, no hesitation. 

You stand up, get on your knees and slip under the cafeteria table, keeling all over the disgusting floor and still avoiding his gaze submissively. 

“Look at me.” Shigaraki snarls and you obey, eyes distant and devoid of any expression.

More students are catching on, whispering in the background. You just wait patiently for his next command, blankly looking up at him through your lashes.

“Tch. Give me your hand.” 

And you do, without any resemblance of your usual resistance.

He grabs it for you and presses it flat against his semi-hardening cock. “Now go ahead and fucking use it. Show them what a dumb bitch you are,” he orders, looking down at you coldly. 

You do as he says and start stroking it the way you were taught to—not the way you were with him that evening, eager and curious, but trained, expertly wrapping your digits around the rising tent in his pants and stroking against the fabric.

It wasn’t the same.

It did fucking nothing for him. 

There’s no trace of the sparks he felt in the pit of his stomach every other time he’s made you squirm before. Every other time you made him squirm.

Instead, he feels hollow. 

“So fucking useless,” Tomura hisses, covering your hand with his own and pressing it harder, rocking his own hips against your palm and feeling incredibly frustrated when it only seems to have the opposite effect on him.

It pissed him off how you weren’t worried about catching a sex offender case anymore. It also pissed him off that he can’t even enjoy this half-assed victory. 

You’re looking at him in a daze, but not the daze that betrays how much you wanted him to fuck you—how much you wanted him in the hallway when you had him pinned under you. 

How your eyes sparked with flickers of desire he saw in-between your apprehension or even fear, at the party. How wet you were last week at your place, bent over your desk and soaking just for him. How he almost got to feel the warm fluttery insides of your cunt and finally make you his.

God were you perfect, every single time.

Instead, you’re now staring through him, mindlessly follow dumb orders like a brain dead fucking sex doll. 

You pushed him and he pushed you in return, breaking you like he’d always fantasized to in the beginning.

But isn’t this exactly what he wanted?

Is it fucking not?

Wouldn’t it be great for you to leave every decision in your life to him?

So then—

SO THEN WHY THE FUCK IS HE FEELING THIS WAY?

Like he’s made a huge fucking mistake. Again.

It… It wasn’t even his fault this time! He should’ve… He should’ve…

Tomura swallows hard, unable to keep the inner turmoil at bay. His shoulders become tense, free hand scratching red angry lines against the scarred skin of his neck. 

“Fuck!” He slaps your hand off his limp dick and you just stare back in return. “STOP looking at me like that, you dirty fucking whore!” he yells in your face, voice cracking. “This is all your fucking fault! Why couldn’t you just—Fuck!”

You look down at his feet again. “Apologies, Master. Please feel free to punish—”

“NO! FUCK! Don’t EVER fucking call me that again!” He grabs you by your arm before you could finish your stupid fucking sentence, roughly pulling you off the filthy floor and knocking the chair out of the way for you. 

He takes your bag and chaotically shoves all of your things inside of it, together with the stuff that spilled on the floor earlier. 

Tomura throws it over his shoulder, along with his own and shoves you forward. “Walk.”

Useless NPCs gathered around for the theatrics, but he’s having none of it.

“If any of this comes out, I’ll fucking kill every—single—one of you. Am I clear?” He turns around and barks at the circle of idiots that surrounded the two of you, gawking and recording the scene like they usually did whenever Shigaraki publicly did something unhinged to someone on campus. 

The only difference is, that this is the first time he’d ever shut it down, taking everyone in question by surprise. 

“Am I FUCKING clear?!” his voice booms again, as he’s grabbing one of the chairs in a fit of rage and smashes it repeatedly against the floor, plastic parts flying in all directions from the impact and throwing whatever chunk was left of it at a random cluster of individuals.

He then fixed a piercing gaze at the room, waiting expectantly while breathing erratically.

Some of them were frozen, nodding quickly but most had already hurried off.

Fuck. 

Everything is so fucking itchy and all of it is your fucking fault.

[queenerdloser]

so thinking back i haven't reread the captive prince trilogy since kings rising came out. which is wild bc it's one of my favorite series in the universe BUT also tracks bc when it exists in a subsect of my books where i know if i read it my entire personality will be subsumed. but i'm rereading them now now and my GOD what a delight. i devoured the first two in a day and remembered exactly why they were so so so so good. and i've saving kings rising bc that one changed my brain chemistry when it came out, i've never read such a tightly done, masterfully paced final book in a series to match it.

[aroacettorney]

we talked a lot about how the incidents in delica absolutely broke ludger, but tbh, casey didnt come out of it unscathed either.

imagine how lonely you must have been to willingly travel to such a distant land just to see someone who was potentially like/similar to you. and when you thought you finally got a best friend who could understand you in a way that no one else could, they turned out to be something you would absolutely abhor with your entire existence. they gave no explanations. they bothered not with excuses. there wasnt even enough time for you to grieve what you just lost because they forced your hands to fight them in a death battle. without a word, they just simply vanished as if your friendship in the past few months meant absolutely nothing to them and you were left alone again, trying to navigate when and what went wrong all by yourself. there was a mix of burning hatred, betrayal, and sadness inside you, but there was no longer anyone for you to talk about it — no one that could understand it. you endured all those feelings for three years with no one to share while chasing after your old-best-friend-now-turned-archenemy for answers because they never gave you the closure you deserved.

even when you finally learned the truth, you realised that they had never trusted you nor your abilities enough to even consider working together. rather, they took on the most extreme measure and didnt hesitate to make you their biggest enemy all the while keeping all their troubles and pains to themselves. best friends, friends, friendly acquaintances, private detective and their client — it turned out that your relationship was neither of them. was it truly your one-sided assumption after all? or perhaps, was it because you failed them when you could have known better and done better? still wanting to keep believing that your companionship was once real, your guilt started gnawing on your conscience. not only you couldnt save them, but your inadequateness also doomed them to their worst fate possible.

then, the opportunity came. you finally mustered up all the courage to utter an apology. even though they acknowledged it, they made no intention to accept your peace offerings. they reminded, "our alliance is temporary". they stressed, "enemies are what we are destined to be". what a fool you were, trying to save a relationship that never existed. either that, or you had never truly been forgiven. they wanted nothing to do with you. they needed not saving by you. it wasnt a closure you wanted but its still a closure you got. in the end, you were left alone once more, with the knowledge of a possibility that you also might not be able to save them again this time.

[pastthebutterflies]

Also I just want point out how glad I am that Eggman’s weight gain wasn’t really the butt of any jokes? Like it’s just Something That Happened.

As someone recovering from an ed, any jokes surrounding weight can be kinda sensitive for me (or for others going thru the same!). Not bc I see weight gain as a bad thing, not at all, but as someone who, when I finally got back up to a healthy weight, kept having family point out the difference in my body, it can be really hard to hear jokes like that and not think back to those moments.

Idk, I’m tired and don’t have the words to put this the best way I could but it’s like- I appreciate that they didn’t put much emphasis on his body and just treated everything the same way they have the past two movies. i.e. making fun of him for a variety of other reasons lol

[electric-friend]

WANT CON TO STOP TALKING ABOUT NOT EATING CAKE IT’S ACTUALLY MAKING ME SO SAD

[vixyz-aac-hoard]

! CONTENT WARNING !

Eating Disorder / Self Harm Implied Symbols Below

these are not to glorify or romanticize any of these behaviors these are symbols for communication!

Laxative Purge, Exercise Purge, Vomiting Purge

Laxative Abuse, Excessive Exercise

Excessive Exercise Is Self Harm

[daddystinygirll]

[thestarsandskyaboveus]

hunter wittebane-noceda - general hcs.

this man loves physical touch (not that kind y'all nasty mfs)- hand-holding, hugs, shoulder pats, etc. he's touch-starved as hell. he'll probably cry on you if you hug him, but only if he's well-rested enough not to fall asleep instantly.

hugs from people he trusts are really the only way he feels safe... even when he's by himself, he's always on edge. it feels good to know somebody has his back.

that's probably why he's so tired all the time tbh. never been well-rested a day in his life because he just doesn't feel safe enough to let himself relax. dude probably has muscle knots for days.

became the golden guard at thirteen. his hands were very badly scarred on his first mission (like in the moringmark comic) when he had to dig his troop of scouts out from underneath a landslide. he ended up with bad nerve damage from the cold of the mountains, and his hands still shake pretty badly, even when he tries really hard to hold them still. he wears compression gloves to help combat this.

never been in a relationship and never had any friends. the closest thing he ever had to a friend was steve, and the age gap was frickin' enormous, so they never really connected in the same way as hunter would have connected with others his age. still, he sees steve like a big brother and a friend at the same time. steve is fond of hunter in the way a teacher is fond of a pupil, but definitely has no idea how much hunter worships and looks up to him as a person, and he definitely has no idea hunter has never experience any sort of love or affection before.

has legitimately no idea that what he went through with belos was abuse. thinks that he deserved every scar, every bruise, every injury, because he thinks that's just what parental figures do when you fuck up.

has panic attacks over seemingly very small things, and experiences deeply traumatic flashbacks if/when he has to walk through the palace again later in life. even though the flashbacks aren't necessarily noticeable to the people around him, he does have to find an excuse to leave so he has a chance to recompose himself in private.

probably has a mild eating disorder. comes from a similar place to his lack of sleep (aside from not being able to relax) where he has this idea in his head that he needs to be able to survive off of as little as possible and take up as little space/resources as possible.

[cherrycokeandkisses]

PERSONAL reasons why I want to lose weight:

1. To make my narcissistic, abusive mother even more jealous than she already is. She always made mean comments about my body and compared her 40-something body to my teenage body and gave me backhanded compliments. Told me that she was always 45 kgs before she got married. Fuck you mom, I’m on my way to becoming a skinny rebellious bitch now. You can shove it.

2. Getting all the male validation I need and want. Yes, I have daddy issues. I want every guy I find slightly hot to have crushes on me. It’s a sickness.

3. Actually feeling like a young woman for once. The main character. A youthful, feminine girl. I’ve never felt like a valid young woman because of my weight. When you think of a youthful, feminine girl, you dont think of someone with love handles, jiggly thighs, and 3-4 belly rolls, do you?

4. My bf can’t carry me right now because I’m a whopping 76 kgs. I want to be thin and dainty for him to be able to carry me without breaking his bones

6. Not being judged for eating. I feel super self conscious when I eat in public. When I say “I love food” now, I feel like people think to themselves: “Yeah, we can tell by the size of you, bitch.” I hate being discriminated against for my weight. I feel like the fit people look at me like I’m a whale with no self control. My manager was encouraging me to work out and eat healthy. She would not have done that had I been thin.

7. Wear whatever tf I want and looking good in it. I have a big chest so anything too tight looks vulgar atm.

8. Being adored for my body by other girls and feeling comfortable enough in my skin. Basically becoming thinspo.

9. Pretty priviledge opens doors. I need that kind of positivity in my life.

[kindaspooky-gemini]

TRIGGER WARNING

Eating disorder recovery

THE THINGS THEY DONT TELL YOU.

- EXTREMELY LOW POTASSIUM CAN BE A RESULT OF CONSTANT VOMITING/PURGING - this causes muscle contortions resulting in loss of hand function, feet function and in some cases like mine, loss of function of your mouth/jaw/face - this lasts for HOURS AT A TIME.

- if you a female suffering with ED you most likely ( NOT ALWAYS, AND SOME MEN TOO BUT MORE COMMONLY IN NEURODIVERGENT MISDIAGNOSED FEMALES) have a dual diagnosis and the ED is a symptom of one of your disorders that isn’t getting the right attention.

- When you finally digested your first small meal in 2 and a half years and instead of feeling proud you gotta spend 24 hours awake crippled in pain in the bathroom because your digestive system has no idea how to start working again.

- How it feels ten times worse purging a meal that you have actually half digested and have tried so hard to keep down that as soon as you smell any other food you are reduced to gagging and can’t be taken normal places

- Crying over bloating and covering all the mirrors in the house and hating yourself because YOU DONT WANT TO DIE FROM THIS DISEASE but watching yourself double in size Infront of your eyes is so triggering you cant be left on your own otherwise you’ll purge to the point where you can’t move

- self harming whenever you make any progress because progress means gaining weight and that means you deserve to be punished

-being reduced to tears every time you use the toilet because you have made yourself bleed because your body hasn’t functioned the way it’s supposed to for so long, it’s gotten used to not having normal bodily functions

- the feeling of self loathing that comes with watching the person you love/people who support you deal with your bodily fluids due to needed physical assistance and having to not internalise that so you don’t hate yourself even more

- hearing the heartache in your mums voice when she cries and begs you to get better

- the horrendous taste you get in your mouth when your body starts breaking down food for the first time in 2 and a half years

- MY HAIR IS FALLING OUT.

- the lack of sleep just from how fucking boney you are and even when you do get comfortable you get pressure sores from your bones sticking out in places like hips, shoulders, knees etc

- feeling like giving up because you can’t remember what being healthy even is anymore but your so scared of dying that you have to agree to anything that might possibly make you better

PLEASE SEEK HELP IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU LOVE SHOWS THE EARLY SIGNS OF DISORDERED EATING OR AN EATING DISORDER - this could include restrictions, calorie counting, replaces meals with exercise, laxatives, recreational drugs etc.

Being skinny is not worth dying over, I realise this now ❤️

Recovery is hard ❤️ But I don’t want to die from this ❤️

[ultrawhitemonsters]

HUGE TW THIS IS A VENT POST

.

.

.

.

.

my bf told me he prefers skinny girls again and he has to have them while watching p0rñ because its “his nostalgic preference”

im 230 lbs. he knows what it does to me when he says that.

hes begging me to eat but im not going to. im tired of being trapped in this body with this disorder, fighting to be seen through layers of fat.

he will see me.

he will date the girl hes always wanted me to be

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 1 - Convenience ▸Shigaraki x femReader

Summary: “Say, I’ll make you a killer deal,” he begins, the tone of his voice deceptively even, failing to mask the coldness. “If you fucking apologize to me right now, and manage to clear things up with the professor before—” He slides his sleeve just above his expensive-looking smartwatch and casually checks the time, “—the class ends, in about… mmh, give or take three minutes? I promise you won't regret this as much as you will if you do go through with this stupid shit you started with me.”

His face breaks into a slow and creepy smile as he threatens you, body emanating nothing other than incredible malice.

You wish you could turn back time and never cross his path, that stupid night at the store.

You wish you were a different, nicer person, one that knows when to bow their head or to apologize if they messed up.

But you weren’t and you won’t. Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three

Chapter 1 - Convenience Pitter-patter.

With a pop of your joints, you reach for the moon or the ceiling or maybe the gods above. You reach and you reach and finally you feel that satisfying stretch burn through your muscles.

What time is it anyway?

Uh-oh.

You cringe, because the birds are chirping, the first light of the day is starting to show, and because… you’ve been gaming your entire fucking Saturday night.

It’s 4:30 AM when you check your phone.

—And you could’ve been studying, could’ve been in touch with your project buddies, to at least send them your part of the project in time. But you didn’t and you won’t.

Not at least until tomorrow anyway.

Tomorrow, probably around ten minutes before your group’s deadline.

Yeah, you’re that special kind of asshole.

Looking around yourself, you realize that—all of the sudden, the room feels so fucking stuffy you could suffocate. It’s messy and god fucking knows when you opened your goddamn windows last.

So that’s exactly what you decide to spend your next action point on, as your mind briefly wandered back to your past few Valorant matches. 

You actually stayed up late, trying your best to climb to Diamond and dealing with the hyper-misogyny of random pathetic incel teammates who immediately shit themselves the moment a woman opens her mouth on mic.

Whatever.

At least you weren’t living in your mommy’s basement, swimming in a sea of trash, right?

You glance around your room and wince.

Okay, maybe you’re swimming in like—a puddle of trash. 

But that’s okay, because you’re definitely way above those goblins on a societal level… right?

You don’t dwell very much on that particular thought.

With a yawn, you reach for the windows and open them wide. The cool air of soft autumn rain invades your stale room the second you open them, replacing the warm stuffiness of your man-cave and filling your lungs with fresh oxygen.

You wonder how long it’s been raining for already, when you feel your stomach—the one vital organ you’ve purposefully been ignoring all night—growling. What did you eat today?

When the fuck did you eat last, actually?

“Uuugh—” you whine, finally feeling the shakiness of your hands and the overall weakness of your body. 

On your way towards your joke of a kitchen, you decide what flavor cup noodles to scarf down quickly before you hit the hay. Your internal debate is torn between two particular flavors, before you open the cupboard and realize—there aren’t any instant noodles left.

God fucking damn it.

You briefly glance down over your sorry excuse of an outfit—one that would put homeless people to shame—made up of plain black sweats and an oversized black hoodie, noting how you should also maybe perhaps take a fucking shower after literally sweat-gaming all day.

Fuck it, you think, taking a total of two seconds to decide that this was good enough for the world, before you set off to the nearest twenty-four hour convenience store.

So you grab your phone, your keys, and that’s what you do.

────────

Despite the hints of a rising sun, it’s still pretty dark outside. The air smells like fresh morning rain and wet concrete.

You don’t mind, because to your own delight, it couldn’t be quieter around here.

The neighborhood you live in is incredibly sketchy, but you couldn’t complain given it’s barely a fifteen minute walk to your university and the rent to your rundown one-bedroom apartment is dirt fucking cheap.

It suits the broke ass bitch that you are and you like it this way—one, because you have a thing for sketchy run-down places and two… because it’s yours and yours alone.

The totally-legal-and-definitely-wont-blind-you pepper spray you bought from the shadiest internet store sits snugly in the pocket of your hoodie, one hand occasionally fidgeting and feeling the rim of the object. 

Knowing you have something to use in your defense makes you feel safer when you’re outside. You never know when something unpleasant could go down.

You’re so used to being on-guard after all the years of shitty experiences. 

Of being on your own.

Of stupid shit that kept happening to you.

So you walk, if only with a smear of anxiety, because you still need to stay vigilant and not put the universe to a fucking test.

The first thing you notice when you waltz into the corner store, is how goddamn bright the fluorescent lights are. They’re far too bright for your tired eyes that are used to endless hours of staring into dimmed screens with the lights off.

The second thing you notice is how eerily quiet it is inside—save for the whirring, clicking and occasional gurgling of the refrigerators in the back. Or at least that’s where you think the sounds come from.

It’s odd that the current shift didn’t think of turning on the radio to fill the silence—to make this place feel less like a ‘bad end’ location from a horror game—but a quick glance towards the staff at the counter and their wireless earpieces tells you that they couldn’t give less of a fuck about the store’s ambiance.

Not that it matters, when you’re too busy surveying the shelves in search of some food, of something edible, the ‘food’ in question consisting mostly of snacks and other nutritionless garbage that would give nine point five out of ten doctors a cardiac arrest.

Speaking of heart failure, you find yourself in front of the refrigerated drink aisle, using all of your brain wrinkles to make your hardest decision yet.

Which one of the canned heart attack flavors are you gonna buy today?

You hum, spending a good three minutes (give or take) thinking, and when you finally go ahead, reaching with your fingertips to grab the energy drink—

“Hey,” a low and grating voice speaks right behind you.

The sound makes you fucking jump.

You turn around with a scowl and then—straight out of a comedy skit, you feel like you’re staring at your male doppelgänger.

An extremely sketch-looking guy, wearing black sweats that match your own, the hood of his equally dark colored hoodie up and covering a messy mop of white hair.

And then you notice his… his intense crimson colored eyes, drilling a hole through the middle of your fucking skull.

If only looks could kill.

“Did you need something?” You fail to mask the venom in your voice, aimed at him for no good reason.

A skin care routine, you think.

Not like you bothered with one either, but at least your face isn’t disintegrating into disgusting flakes yet, unlike his punk ass.

Motherfucker couldn’t have waited two fucking minutes for you to pick something? 

Where the fuck do you have to be at like 4:50 in the morning?!— you scoff, but the words remain yet unspoken.

The hooded figure raises his hand to scratch at his pale neck, seemingly annoyed at your shitty attitude towards him. 

He just has to meet the worst type of bitch at this ungodly hour, on a Saturday no less—and he isn’t having it. 

Red eyes stare you down for a moment, watching your face scrunch up at his sight.

“You’ve been standing in front of the drinks for like ten fucking minutes, ugly ass bitch.” He finally claps back, and with that, your eyes narrow. “Pick something or get the hell outta my way.”

“I was just about to, asshole,” you reply, voice betraying you and ultimately cracking while you seethe. “Grab your stupid ass drink so you can finally go home to the boys and cry about not getting any.” 

You finish your sentence and stand aside for him, motioning to the drinks all the while his eyes widen in what you presumed to be shock—but before he has the chance to respond, you hurry the fuck up and leave.

The poor employee at the counter who saw the scene playing out (store ain’t that big, now), seems to want nothing to do with any of this. Graveyard shifts must be really fucking fun when you’re graced with not one, but two annoying idiots.

You drop all of your items on the counter and while the cashier is scanning them, you pat all four of your pockets, looking for your wallet to pay.

Until it dawns on you.

No fucking way—

Ain’t no fucking way your stupid, braindead ass forgot to bring money.

This isn’t fucking happening to you right now.

Especially since the embodiment of patience is standing just a few inches behind you, shifting uncomfortably from one leg to the other and waiting with bated breath for you to finally pay and get lost.

“Uhh. Do—Do you guys keep tabs open?” you ask, recoiling at the sound of your own voice, scratching at the back of your head sheepishly and almost whispering the second half so the guy behind you wouldn’t be able to hear it. “I kind of… forgot my wallet at home.”

The cringe that is already coursing through your veins, deepens infinitely when you see the employee stare at your face, as if you grew a second head.

“No.”

Your humiliating predicament makes the guy behind you break into the creepiest snicker. You shoot him a glare and dare him to say something, but he’s too busy laughing at you.

God, if only the ground would swallow you whole, right fucking now.

With the worst shades of shame coloring your face, you turn around to leave, swearing to never set foot in this fucking establishment ever again. Nevermind that it’s the only store close to your house.

Before you have the chance to make good on your promise, the white haired guy reaches out—if a bit hesitant—and grabs your arm.

What’s the chance a nuke would crash into this fucking store and wipe out your entire existence, together with whoever is here to fucking witness this? Or maybe aliens could finally make contact with planet Earth and take you the fuck away. Getting your ass probed sounds infinitely more appealing than this incredible embarrassment you feel in front of the two assholes.

“Hold.”

Your pathetic gaze lifts from the ground and when you meet his eyes he looks—amused?

“What. Let go of me, man.” You panic, trying to free yourself from his grip, but his fingers are firm. Is that blood under his fingernails?

“I’ll pay,” he offers, a disturbing smirk playing on his dry lips.

This fucking guy.

“N-No, I’m good. Thanks.” Your voice is shaking more than you want it to and you feel tears finally prick at your eyes.

Why do you live your life this way? Why are you so fucking pathetic—especially in front of assholes like him?

Why are you still so weak? 

After everything you’ve been through?

You try once more to shake him off of you, but he’s deceptively strong for his build, and doesn’t relent now that he’s got you where he wants you to be.

“It’s okay, really. This just made my night so I’m gonna pay for ya,” he says, the almost-even tone in his voice not matching the way his creepy smile seems to be getting wider.

He swiftly pulls out some scrunched-up bills from the pocket of his sweats, slipping them to the employee who could not give less of a fuck about whoever pays first, grabbing your already-bagged purchase and basically shoving it to you as he gives his best ‘Come again soon!’ bullshit line that actually translates to ‘Please fucking leave the store already’.

“How about that, huh? Now you owe me one, little bitch,” he whispers into your ear, voice low and full of grit sending chills down your spine and rendering you absolutely speechless.

Without sparing you so much as a second glance, he finally pays for his own shit and leaves the store in a smug stride.

You could basically read the “EZ” he wrote in slash all chat while destroying your fucking nexus.

What a horrible fucking night, you think to yourself, hurrying to go home as well.

Your only comforting thought being that you wouldn’t have to see his stupid fucking pasty face ever again.

[missmouse43]

6 weeks of breathing clean air, I still miss the smoke…..

🏝️🤙🏄🏾‍♀️🏄🏼‍♂️💔

[xxlethal-lunaxx]

If anyone relates to this even just a little bit, then I'm so sorry.