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bigwishes · 4 months ago

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Embarrassed?

Tom sat there staring down at his phone, typing like his life depended on it.

"if this is true I will literally trade anything to get bigger, you can make me a dumb jock, make my dick small, Ill even take being a walking joke, you can take anything you like so long as I can get huge!"

He had stumbled upon a site called "give'n'take" which was claiming that it would allow him to trade something he currently has for something he wanted. He had seen claims from guys claiming to of turned into their dream self over night by giving up something that they never really liked about themselves anyway.

But it was Hard for Tom to pick something he wanted to give up, he had almost won the genetic lottery in his eyes. A fat nine inches down stairs, 6.5ft tall, a good amount of body hair, not enough to be annoying but enough to drive guys wild. Everything had made him a walking stud that oozed confidence with every step. All but one thing that is. Tom had loved bodybuilding ever since he could remember, he loved the look of huge guys and he loved the idea of being one, but on his 23rd birthday he looked in the mirror and saw after years of work he looked nothing like a bodybuilder. sure he had some size but there was no real mass. He just looked like a guy who played sport on the weekend. He wanted to be so much bigger. He got hard imagining himself being the guy who had to turn sideways to get through a door or who rocked up to a house party in gym shorts and an XXL stringer tank top that clung to him like it was about to snap. Unfortunately his height was against him, his long muscle fibers took ages to develop and when they did it was so evenly spread out it didn't look like he had done anything at all.

He'd do anything to be bigger, he'd be happy with anything taken away so long as he was huge. So he left the choice up to the people behind the screen.

---

The next morning Tom woke up and instantly felt strange, he felt off balance some how like his body had gone up 30 pounds over night and when he got up and looked in the mirror he realised...it had.

"HOLY SHIT" Tom yelled out into his empty apartment.

His body had beefed up and become more defined without any more work. He couldn't worship himself for long though as he instantly began investigating to see what had been taken, but it didn't appear like anything was missing at all.

He was still packing, he hadn't shrunk in fact he might of even gained an inch or two and he didn't have any issues remembering anything from his engineering degree or any day to day stuff. The thought crossed his mind that maybe they had forgotten to take something, or maybe because he wanted to be big so badly they cut him a break.

Tom's worries melted away as he smiled and flexed his newly enhanced biceps.

"mmm, not as huge as I was hoping for but I'll keep working on it"

Tom picked up his gym bag and decided to head out to see what his new size could do, and to stick to the habit, he didn't want all this new size to make him forget to work out and end up losing it all in a few months.

Tom arrived at the gym and changed into his workout gear but he looked and felt different was he...bigger? nah, he thought to himself, its just him getting used to being this big although as he stared at his new size in his reflection a new thought entered his mind.

"Maybe this tank top is too tight...I probably shouldn't be such a show off and buy some looser clothes to cover up"

He shook his head and decided to think about it when he got home, right now he just wanted to see how strong he had gotten.

As Tom worked out something weird was happening, he knew how to exhaust his muscle, he new how to overload the weight and really make it feel like work but as he added weight with each set it felt just as easy as the last.

He'd occasionally see his reflection in the mirror wall and he looked like he was getting even bigger, and his tank top felt even tighter than before. Surely it was just the pump he thought to himself as he continued to lift and push his body.

He sat down at the cable row and put the pin almost at the bottom of all the plates, surely this would be a struggle for him. Tom leant back and pulled when suddenly.

Cutcshhhhhhh!

the sound of ripping fabric rung out in his ear as he felt the shoulder strap snap and felt the fabric split across his back.

"aw shit" Tom said as he stood up and took of his shirt.

Immediately he saw his reflection in the mirror, he looked huge. His muscles bulging he couldn't help but pull his gym shorts up and flex, this is what he wanted to be an absolute tank...

but, everyone probably thought he was a dickhead flexing outside of the changing room, he thought to himself. He started to wonder if he was that guy now, the guy who'd workout shirtless and annoy everyone in the gym.

He noticed a few dudes looking at him like they were waiting to get on the machine. His face turned a slight pink on his cheeks and he was flushed with embarrassment.

"oh s-sorry" Tom stuttered as he quickly tried to move out the way

Originally he thought he'd just move on to the next exercise but he realised he was shirtless and bolted for the changing room. Once inside he gazed at his reflection again.

"maybe...I shoulda asked to be just a little smaller, fuck now I gotta walk outta here shirtless"

Tom couldn't get a grip and didn't no what had come over him. He had never felt a shred of embarrassment in his life but now he was worried what people would think about him being shirtless in the gym.

The changing room was empty and Tom took the time for a few more poses before he was gonna make a run for the exit. He flexed his arms as hard as he could and felt the blood rushing into the muscle, but it was strange, the muscle wasn't just pumped up, it was like it was still pumping up. He tilted his head and watch in the mirror, slowly but surely his shoulders and arms were expanding, his chest was filling with mass and size. He saw his already huge legs slowly expanding out into colossal pillars as they stretched his shorts. He could hear the fabric starting to strain and quickly bend down to get his gym bag.

The moment he leant over he heard the changing room echo with a large tearing sound as he felt the tightness relieve across his ass. Tom's face turned bright red as he quickly reaches around to make sure it was just the shorts he had split and not his underwear.

He let out a sigh of relief as he felt his underwear was still in tact, he stood up and took a step hearing has his massive thighs tore and split his shorts with just one step. He was almost at the door when he saw his hulking figure in the mirror.

He stood frozen admiring his huge body, he flexed his entire body at once loving how huge he had become, he noticed his underwear was straining and the fabric was starting to become see through and then he remembered....he had to walk through the gym like this to get out....

A wave of embarrassment washed over him, everyone was gonna be staring at him

Tom quickly grabbed his bag and made a break for it through the busy gym. He had hoped to run but his body was so big that was almost an impossible task, so jogging was next but even just a slight jog left him out of breath and gasping for air. By the time he reached the door he had multiple people staring at him confused as he was huffing and puffing like he had just run a marathon.

He swung open the door to the gym and bumped between two guys that were on their way in. Tom tried to apologise but the only noises that came out were him gasping for air and trying to catch his breath. He flashed a quick apology wave as he climbed into his car which was luckily parked right in front of the entrance.

Tom looked down trying to slow his breathing and catch his breath when he noticed his huge hard on. His dick was like steel, the thought of everyone staring at him....judging him....

Tom started his car trying to ignore it but he heard the two guys he had just bumped into talking, muffled by his window.

"bro did you see that guy, there is just a thing as too big"

Hearing those worse Tom felt a swirl of shame and embarrassment swell in his stomach and work its way to his pelvis as he started taking deep and slow breaths.

"I know right dude, and the way he was so out of breath just walking through the gym, and working out in his underwear? what a loser"

the two men walking into the gym laughing as the door shut behind them

The words echoed in Tom's ears, he couldn't help it, he gripped his steering wheel so tight he thought he was going to break it, he bit his lip and closed his eyes as his dick began to twitch and erupt. Tom let out a pathetic moan as he looked down to see not just his underwear soaked but his car seat and thighs caked in cum.

Tom looked into his rear view mirror, his head, traps and shoulders completely blocking the view, his face was flush as he felt more embarrassed than ever before in his life, He started his car and quickly reversed out.

"god...I'm such..."

His dick instantly got hard again.

"fuck, I'm so big....I'm...too big"

Tom started panting as he drove out of the parking lot.

"I'm a fucking big, freakish, loserrrr--eerruuuuughh!!"

Tom couldn't help unload himself into his underwear and over his car seat thinking about how pathetic he was...

Well...he did say he was happy for them to take anything, His confidence seemed like a fair price.

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation

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stsgooo · 11 months ago

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The Moonlight Goddess.

✩࿐ summary: the toy that got tucked away, would eventually come back out to play.

warning(s): chapter 48.2 manga spoilers, unedited. wc; 3.2k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader

a/n: caught up on the manga, feeling incredibly deranged. i will Not be speaking about chapter 65 as that was the craziest experience i've ever had at 1 am. also, i'll be reading the light novel soon :)) anyway, i hope you enjoy this random thing i cooked up.

part ii m.list ao3

WHEN MAOMAO SUGGESTED JINSHI TAKE THE PLACE OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, YOU WEREN’T ENTIRELY CONVINCED.

Sure, your master was a beautiful man who had won the lottery of genetics. But you weren��t sure if he could convince beautiful western women that he of the same level, if not above, as them. It wasn’t a slight towards him. A lack of confidence in his abilities. But the mere fact that this issue itself was presented as nonsense. Achievable for a god, perhaps. But not for someone as simple as Jinshi.

It’d been 50 years since the last time the convery had last visited and spotted this beautiful woman. Surely, these girls were aware of the effects of time and how… unkind it could be to some?

It all smelt bad.

“Uh, Maomao, are we sure this is the absolute best approach for this matter?” You had asked as the three others had come to some general consensus amongst each other.

Maomao had stared at you flatly and, for a moment, you ponder if she even knew who you were. “Have you ever dealt with unruly women, Y/N?” She asked in her usual monotonous manner.

You blinked, expression equally as flat as you regarded the younger girl for a beat. Her time at Jinshi’s home had been spent, primarily, with you and Suiren. It was fond to look back on, but the two months had been stressful and the girl was rather difficult to work with. She drug you around on one or two of her little investigations. Much to the disdain of you both. The only compliment she paid you in that time was that you were quick on your feet and able to keep up with. Something that you guessed wasn’t common.

Yes, you are rather unruly, Maomao. Was the reoccurring and unkind thought that passed through your mind.

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of unruly people.” You opted to answer instead.

The girl raised an eyebrow, “Women?”

You deflated, “Many.”

Unfortunately, being Jinshi’s maid had meant you had your encounters with women who, blinded by their fondness for him, would attempt to make random walk-ins. Something strictly forbidden unless it was the upmost emergency. Despite them being the ones in the wrong, it was usually you who suffered the brunt of their abuse until Gaoshun finally decided to inquire what was wrong.

You were quite used to unruly women.

Unknowingly, you'd guaranteed your place in Maomao's plan.

She placed her fingers against her chin, eyes squinted on you. "Do you use makeup often?"

You blink, a weary frown on your lips. "What?"

"Are you familiar with makeup and hair, Y/N?"

"Of course I am." What did she take you for? A lazy uneducated lady?

Maomao grinned, something that was dark and twisted, and you felt like you had somehow stumbled into a terrible trap. "Wonderful, you'll help with Jinshi-sama's makeup!"

"Wha- no, I-I have my--" You attempted to decline, but were quickly cut off.

"That's a great idea," Jinshi spoke up, looking rather delightful as his eyes moved to you. "No one I would trust more with this."

Seeing the glint in his eyes and the kind smile, you knew you could no longer remove yourself from this plan. With a bowed head, you turned to Maomao, prepared to receive your duty.

You suppose this is how you ended up here. Maomao and Gaoshun out to find an outfit that would suit the Moonlight Goddess. And you awfully close to Jinshi's face as you carefully apply the eye makeup.

Silently, you were thankful that he had his eyes closed, as his violet eyes endlessly and innocently staring back into yours would surely make your heart stop. The work had been silent for the most part. The both of you uttering only what was needed: close your eyes, please look up, tilt your head to the side. It was the easy back and forth you both fell into.

It made you realize that most of your companionship with Jinshi had primarily been in silence. You simply deciphering exactly what he wanted from the twitch in his brow or the look he would shoot. It'd never really been on your mind before. Although, it had always been an easy agreement between you that shouldn't be brought to question or pondered upon too much. Ever since the both of you were children. Ever since you were just being trained for the duties that would be carried out in the rest of your adult life. You'd both just been in this tiptoe waltz that carried you through life.

He didn't pry too much into your personal dealings and you never questioned his demands as your master.

Life was, in all ways, easy.

But still, you felt as though this plan was toeing a line. Asking too much, underestimating the intelligence of another.

You supposed Maomao was like that and Jinshi would easily follow her word.

Maomao. Jinshi. Maomao and Jinshi.

They are quite the duo recently. You knew it would be nothing good the moment he'd called for her in Lady Gyokuyou's with that glint in his eyes. The eagerness and curiosity similar to that of a child. The way he sought her out at any given opportunity. If you had to guess, you would say Jinshi is rather fond of dear Maomao.

It made you sigh heavily, your eyes narrowed on the liner that looked a little wobbly.

"Any mistakes, you can just retry, don't stress yourself." Jinshi spoke, assuming that your sigh was related to the unsteady line rather than the trail of thoughts plaguing your mind.

You blink, eyes focused on the kind smile that stretched over his lips. A slight pitter-patter took your chest. "No worries, Jinshi-sama, I won't ruin your looks." You shoot back, softly.

Jinshi's eyebrows raised, a soft snort released. "Oh, really? Are you teasing me now?"

"I do have the ability to joke here and there, sir."

"You barely do anymore. Joke, that is." Jinshi observed, a subtle frown on his lips as you applied a bit of glimmer to his eye lids. "You're very serious now, very on edge."

"These are serious times, Jinshi-sama." You replied back smoothly, feeling an indescribable ache in your chest. "I'm sorry if I'm not entirely entertaining."

Jinshi's frown seemed to deepen. And, suddenly, his fingers were wrapped around your wrist and his eyes were open to reveal the clandestine violets that glimmered into your very soul. His hold felt warm and all encompassing, a disorienting welcoming feeling that made you falter in your work. Frozen, you offered him your undivided attention as he appeared to struggle with himself. gave him your undivided attention. His brows were furrowed and the frown on his lips was entirely too childish for the man he claimed to be. His lips parted and he released a sound akin to frustration. He huffed and huffed and huffed. Then he stared into your soul-- still, he couldn't seem to find the proper words for his thoughts.

One of the many things that Jinshi struggled with often is that he simply had a greater outlook on life while being so terribly confined. A childish optimism that should've left him once he was grown, clung to his soul desperately and gave him a more bountiful outlook on people and life. He knew the risks, he knew the dangers, he knew the nastiness of the world, but still stayed kind.

You know it was one of the many things his mother tried to change about him. That and his attachment to things. That was something you'd encountered first hand.

"You have your reservations about this, I can tell."

When he spoke, you weren't entirely sure what he'd say. There were times he was too insightful, too smart for his own good. It used to amuse you, now you only worried when it'd come across as unseemly.

Jinshi stared up at you, glittering eyes kind and approachable, his fingers squeezed gently around your wrist. "I don't want you to feel like you can't speak your mind." He continued as if he had no idea who you were. What you were. What you were to him.

Your gaze bounced between his own, a small frown breaking the perfect exterior you always desperately kept up. Maybe he was still stuck in the past. Maybe he was still enchanted by who you both used to be to one another.

The past was usually more lovely than a future unseen.

"I'm actually told not to voice my mind."

"By who?"

"Everyone."

There's a moment where Jinshi looks as if he's remembering something. Something distinct and obvious. Something that he had completely disregarded in the back of his mind for whatever reason, for however long. It must be pleasant, to not be constantly reminded that the people around you are paid or contracted to be by your side. Must be nice to have a choice.

Master. Servant. Master and servant.

That is all you and Jinshi shall ever be.

"I see," He uttered, eyes briefly tracing the tiles on the floor before fluttering back up to you with a new spark of determination. "But I'm ordering to speak your mind! Freely!"

You stared back flatly in return. Was he oblivious what freely meant? Ordering me and then saying it's of my own volition can't both be true.

Jinshi would put you into early death.

"Well, I, uh," you found his eyes to be too vibrant, to be staring too intensely and too welcoming. You turned your gaze away, desperate to grab some type of bearings over yourself. But, alas, his hand was still wrapped around your own. His skin scorched yours, tainted it with the warmth that was all his. "I think that this plan will not go entirely as you all hope."

"Is that so?" His voice is like a smooth honey, soft and all too endearing.

You hum, nodding, "Yes, uh, I believe they want you to fail, sir. And to have a rather unsavory thing to report back." Jinshi simply hummed in response. You could feel his eyes almost stroking against the side of your face. "I just think that they won't react the way you and Maomao hope they will. This is no slight to your or her intelligence, of course. Just a mere observation."

"I know what you mean, no worries." Jinshin's thumb was now slowly and softly stroking the butt of your palm. A soothing action that brought your eyes back to him. Captured in the way he serenely observed you. "What exactly about this makes you uneasy? Maybe I can ease you."

It didn't sound like an offer, but a promise. If his words weren't enough, his eyebrows were drawn together in careful contemplation. He wasn't going to walk away from this conversation without you both reassured in some capacity.

"What if they want to talk to you?"

Jinshi might had fair and delicate features, and a soft voice, but it wasn't nearly feminine enough to pass. If anything, they'd grow more suspicious. Then they'd report back about what a joke they all were and then Jinshi could suffer some type of punishment for his embarrassment. It wasn't that you were too pessimistic or didn't believe in the little group, but that the women's request felt bad all around.

A set-up if anything.

So, you took a deep breath and focused on that reassuring circle being drawn into your skin as Jinshi contemplated this for only a moment.

"Then I'll have the apothecary cover for me." Jinshi smiled, all too bright and all too reassuring. "We've already decided that I'll swim across the pond-- give me a vanishing effect and she'll deter them elsewhere."

You furrow your brow, all too worried, but bow your head instead of voicing such. "Of course, I have no doubt in you, Jinshi-sama." You reassure.

There was a beat of silence, then, "You're my oldest friend, you know?" You tense. Frozen into you bow, your wide eyes stare endlessly at his feet. His tone is tender, soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if he should be speaking these things aloud. Yet, he continued. "You're the only one, beside Gaoshun and Suiren, that has stuck by me without judgement or doubt. I thank you for that, but I also fear that we've grown apart."

"I suppose we have." You uttered, trying to ignore the clench in your chest.

"Even as children, we started to grow apart." He continued to observe.

Because of your mother. Because of her fear that you'd end up like him, like your father. That disgusting and vile man. How could she not know you'd never be like him?

There was a day, a very distinct day, that you and Jinshi had been separated for "his own good". Your birthday. You had waited him eagerly in the main courtyard, being able to slip away from your duties out of kindness from Suiren. You waited and waited, until Gaoshun had approached. His expression downtrodden and dark. He informed you that it was no longer proper for you to play around with the boy you so dearly adored. Said his mother commanded it.

If he plays with a toy too much, take it from him.

You used to be bitter, resentful, and angry over it. Only eight-years-old, you had clung onto any companionship you could and he had given the illusion that he'd be there forever. Until he wasn't. Until you were a toy to be tucked back into the chest, forever forgotten with time.

He would be there forever, but you only merely a pawn for him to use as he pleased. To do work and to never grace the same level as you had when you both were only children, not yet exposed to hierarchy. Pure and innocent.

Now, you were mere servant and master.

Finally, you willed yourself to pull away from his hold, turning around to pick through various hair products. "It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. We're no longer children."

"Hm."

As you reached for a brush, he pressed against your back. His hands coming to rest against your own with a delicate, featherlike touch. He was suddenly surrounding your ever sense. His warmth enveloping you into a hug that was almost earth shattering. Your lips parted and your eyes wide, you tensed as his lips brushed against the top of your head.

"I think of you often," his words are a whisper against you and your eyes, if possible, widen further as you almost lean back into him. "I sometimes wish I could just reach out and...and hold you, like we used to. Is that so bad?"

"Jinshi-sama, this is rather inappropriate!" You whisper back, not daring to look back at him in fear for how quickly you'd crumble.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating from his chest into your back and sending various chills down your spine. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, then please, tell me."

You don't open your mouth, as much as you wished you would deter him, you were rather eager to keep this up for a moment longer. To have something to think about and something to cherish later. Surely, this wouldn't happen again.

Instead, your attention goes to keeping your heart steady as Jinshi gently turns you around. His eyes heavy as he stares at you earnestly, lips quirked up barely. Your hands came up to clutch his forearm, gently squeezing as he did the same with your shoulder. You felt your heart stammer and a sweat collecting on your brow, this was definitely something frowned upon. To be so close and to breathe his same air-- as he exhaled, you inhaled the rich oxygen.

Suddenly, Jinshi's eyebrows furrowed and his fingers reached out, gently tucking some hair from your face. "What did they teach you to make you tremble like this?" He whispered it to himself but, thanks to your proximity, you heard it.

It made your ears redden, your lips pressed together. Did he really not know?

Before you could even speak, the door to his room were opened. Both your heads snapped to the door where Maomao and Gaoshun stood, both varying degrees of expressions on their faces that brought shame to you both. The four of your frozen in your respective places, staring at one another dumbly. Your hold on your master slackened and Jinshi took that as a sign to move first.

Jinshi made a rather odd noise, jumping away from you, face red and wide awkward smile to the two at the door. "Did you find the goods?" He asked as he approached, nervous fingers moving about.

Maomao, bless her soul, decided to ignore whatever it was they had walked in on, moving forward with a bundle of things in her arms. "Yes, Jinshi-sama."

You nervously pulled yourself from the table, turning your back to the three, hoping to conceal the red hue on your face. You really, really, hoped that no one would say anything.

Your hopes were tarnished as Gaoshun stepped up beside you.

The man was family. He'd been there for every milestone, or the rather unruly years when you found yourself in trouble more often than not. You'd grown accustomed to reading into his expressions more than his words. He was more open there, his only weakness.

That's why you withered when you saw that aghast expression on his face. The glimmer in his eyes that said it all-- he knew what was happening.

You ducked your head at the same time you heard Maomao ask, "Why isn't your hair done?"

You mustn't get ideas above your station. You are there to serve your master. Nothing less, nothing more.

That is the first thing that they taught you when you were "of age".

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

That's the second thing they taught you.

There were many things that contributed to your regression. That made you cower away from who you used to be. Going from a loud troublemaker to the polite, obedient lady that lived to serve her kind master.

But as you watched Jinshi, or more correctly, the Moonlight Goddess dance elegantly at the edge of the pond. As you witnessed the light hit just right an illuminate him in a way that would send even the most beautiful angel into a rage. You realized one thing.

You would never tell Jinshi of those things.

Someone as beautiful and perfect as him, untouched from the life that you lead, shouldn't be exposed to the things he confined you to.

All you could do was gaze upon the Moonlight Goddess, utter your most daunting praises and wants, and tuck it all away.

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

You were a lowly maid after all. Someone so dignified and beautiful wouldn't settle for you.

"My hair is still wet!" Jinshi's voice bounced off the walls, a scowl etched on his face.

You bowed your head as you entered, towel tucked in your arms. "I have a towel for you, Jinshi-sama."

As you ruffled his hair with the towel, watching his shoulders relaxed you thanked the Moonlight Goddess.

A coward like you would never belong with a Goddess like him.

#jinshi x reader #apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries x reader #jinshi #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto x reader #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto #jinshi x you #jinshi x y/n #✩࿐ t writes

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doberbutts · 4 months ago

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Is the high level of inbreeding in dobes more because "undesirable" traits are common so those dogs get weeded out (whether actual bad things or just not fitting the breed spec), a small number of breeders having the monopoly, or because they are all related anyway so there's no way of avoiding it without an outcross program? Is something like the Doberman Preservation Project a realistic future for the breed?

The doberman breed is in the current shape its in due to multiple genetic bottlenecks- some simple stupid breeding decisions and others due to active war zones and the consequences of wars- paired with people who are stubbornly refusing to even try to make it better because they have convinced themselves that what they're doing is right.

Fenris is my lowest COI dobe to date [23% iirc] and while not the lowest I've seen in the breed [19%], still a huge improvement over to 50-60% breed average. But people have argued again and again that lowering COI means making breeding decisions that produce inferior dogs, and so many refuse to even consider it as a possibility.

(For non-dog people, COI is coefficient of inbreeding, and it is a look at the numbers behind how inbred a population is. You want as low of a number as possible. 25% is equal to immediate siblings. Ideally we'd want single digit numbers, with anything over 10% being a major problem to fix. To compare, my chihuahuas are something like 6% (Fae) and 0.02% (Tater). Sushi is a direct line breeding aunt-to-nephew so she's up in the 40s.)

(It doesn't necessarily mean a dog is immune to genetic predisposition to bad health, as evidenced by Tater's CM diagnosis, however it does seem to correlate directly with longevity and likelihood of developing these problems, meaning Tater unfortunately just lost the genetic lottery)

In other words, it is certainly possible to reduce the COI of the breed by HALF with smart breeding decisions, and people are plugging their ears going LA LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU because it means actually going out and looking past the popular sires and taking a chance on a dog that might not be your exact type but will still improve the next generation. This is not just a show line problem because I spend the majority of my time with working line dobes and working dobe people and this is an incredibly annoying problem there too. Fenris himself has popular sires in his pedigree, both the show half and the working half, so it is demonstratably very difficult to avoid.

I do think a well executed outcross project is needed, however... the problem I have is that the current proposed projects all suck. There's not a lot of direction outside of throwing things into the pot and seeing what sticks, and a lot of the resulting dogs quite frankly aren't what doberman people would be looking for anyway. Farm collies? Bulldogs? Bullies? Carolina dogs? Border collies? Pyrs? Why??? None of these are going to make a dog that has the temperament that draws people to this breed.

There are. A bunch of breeders who are waiting for an outcross project that actually makes sense. They've even posted in various outcrops groups that they would support a project if it had certain specifications. Many have said, get yourself a nice female and title her out in a bite sport and do all the doberman health testing even if she's not a doberman and we'd be interested in contributing semen. The response almost invariably has been "but I don't want a protective dog". Then what are you doing in a DOBERMAN project??? So of course the chief complaint is that most of these projects are not looking to make dobermans, they're looking to make their own breed and just have a doberman paint job. Well, sorry, but most involved doberman people want a DOBERMAN, not just a dog that looks like one. This is the only AKC recognized breed with the sole function of personal protection. They are protective dogs. Either accept that, or get interested in a different breed.

I have heard increasingly concerning things regarding the temperament of the doberman diversity project dogs, which does not surprise me unfortunately as none of these dogs are in any way sourced from dogs with verifiable correct temperament. What do you get when you cross a Craigslist Corso with a Craigslist doberman? Well the first generation might be okay for people who want pets but apparently the ones that have worked in protection are awful at it. Same with the malinois crosses- of course, you took a lukewarm malinois and bred it to a z-list doberman and you're surprised that you got a bunch of lukewarm at best pet dogs.

I think the only project I solidly am somewhat interested in is the bandog cross, and that cross works just fine but then of course it does because in that country, bandogs are exclusively military, police, and security dogs, and she bred it to a igp3 doberman. Unfortunately the doberman died before his 10th birthday, so now we're all waiting to see what happens with his progeny.

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lieslab · 2 months ago

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Are you with me?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After struggling with being underweight, you binge out of desperation to gain weight and that's when your boyfriend finds you.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.6K

Trigger warning: Insecurities, implied underweight reader, mentions of weight, weight loss, binging, calorie counting, and a mention of nausea.

A/N: I believe that this is the final request I had. I'm so sorry for making you wait forever, life has been hard and this topic is a bit too real and relatable. Please know that your weight doesn't define you. Whether you are thirty pounds, three hundred, or three-thousand, you still deserve love and respect. You are allowed to love yourself no matter what you look like.

Society can be really fucking shitty and harsh. Don't let it tear you down. This is your life and maybe we do only get one. Eat the slice of cake on your birthday. Indulge in your favorite coffee. Weight can fluctuate and be lost or gained, but good memories last a life time. Don't let yourself miss out on experiencing them because you think your weight and the way you look is holding you back. It's easier said than done, but it's entirely possible <3

_ _ _

The brain is a chamber and each thought is a bullet. A complex system full of neural pathways that define who you are. The brain controls your entire being. Your personality, your motor skills, the cognitive ability to retain information, and pull it out later.

Beneath the skin, we’re all just bones. Chipped and withered skeletons that will one day disintegrate into nothingness. They say life is a blessing. We should cherish it to the best of our ability. We only get one life, supposedly. If that’s true, then why is it so hard?

Bodies. Bodies. Bodies. Bodies. Thick and thin. Taut skin stretched over hollowed cheekbones. Round cheeks full of facial fat. Sharpened and softened jawlines. No matter what yours looks like, you only get one.

A random genetic lottery thanks to your parents. You might hate yourself or you might love yourself. No matter which one wins, there always seems to be hiccups. Those times of turmoil where you just can’t seem to go on another day because you are trapped inside your body. The machine that causes you to breathe, it feels like a burden to some.

You cannot control how the outside world perceives you. You cannot make everyone like yourself. Chasing idolization and devotion is a great bomb of self-destruction. Feelings can be fatal and if you’re not careful, they will be. Drowning in insecurities and letting them weigh you down while the days pass you by isn’t a good way to live.

Yet…you just couldn’t help it. The way you looked was just overwhelming. You were a mess. Physically, nobody could see it. Mentally, you were overwhelmed and falling apart. Unraveling at the seams and spiraling out of control.

The whispers of your insecurities had turned into a sympathy of screams. Scorching hot tears streamed down your cheeks in the kitchen. Your weight has always been an issue. People don’t second guess the things they say at times.

“Gosh, you’re so skinny, you need to put some meat on your bones.”

“Is that really all you’re going to eat?”

“One blow from the wind and you’re going to fall over at this rate.”

Some people are blessed with rapid metabolisms and some are cursed. No matter how much you consume, your body works it off. Over and over and over and over and over. Just when you think you’ve gained a pound, the scale says you’re down another half of a pound.

What does your boyfriend think about it? He always says you look wonderful, but does he really mean it? What if he’s lying? Members of your family have stated that you look like you’re on your deathbed.

What if you’re not good enough? What if this body isn’t great? What if nothing changes? What if you’re cursed to be this weight forever? What if? What if? What if?

It was a spur of the moment decision. Ever since you lost another two pounds within the last week, something inside of you seemed to snap. That’s when you found yourself tearing through kitchen cabinets.

Thoughts were swirling as you ripped open the package of oreo cookies you bought. It was one and then it was two and you blinked and half the row was gone. Crumbs caked your lips and all you could do was wipe them along your sweater sleeve.

As much as you were spiraling, you were desperate to gain control. Surely, if you ate enough, you could put on a pound or two, right? Right? You had to.

Crinkling filled the air as you opened a bag of brand new chips. The kind that were too salty and you knew they weren’t healthy, but you did it anyway. Life felt better with the occasional unhealthy snack. People weren’t perfect and neither were you.

Staring at the back of the calorie contents, you lost track of how many chips you placed in your mouth. People didn’t seem to binge on the fruits and vegetables.

It was the sugary sweetened foods that stuck to your sides. The salty chips and pretzels. The kind of food that was full of empty calories, but you didn’t care. You were desperate to gain a pound.

People don’t understand what it’s like until they’re there. You will never understand what it’s like to be skin and bones until it’s all that you are. You will never understand what it’s like to carry around a pudgy stomach that bounces with every step until you are there.

Weight fluctuates and bodies are different. We only get one, but it’s so easy to abuse it. To never eat enough. To over consume and eat too much. You didn’t think you were doing anything wrong with your body.

You ate your food and that was that. It wasn’t a ton of food, but it wasn’t like you were starving yourself either. Yet, at the exact same time, your body seemed to stay thin.

The more you spiraled, the more you lost track. You didn’t remember what you put in your mouth. Everything tasted like defeat, even the oreos.

It kept going and going. Your stomach began to ache with the amount of food you consumed, but you couldn’t stop. It was overwhelming and all too much. Everything hurt and you just wanted to break down and sob.

When you caught the reflection of yourself in the microwave, that’s exactly what you did. The lump in your throat pulsed and the tears welled up again. The box of crackers in your hand dropped to the floor and you grabbed the counter top for support.

Your body caved and slumped over the cold marble top. With a forehead pressed into the marble, you cried. You cried because it wasn’t fair. You cried because you hated what you were doing to your body. You cried because you were worried about how you were perceived. You cried because everything was overwhelming and too much. You hated yourself and it hurt like hell.

Piercing sobs racked the empty kitchen and bounced off the walls. They reverberated back to you and you were left alone with the heart-shattering reality of what you were doing. You ate so much, you were nauseous.

Your stomach twisted and churned. A fresh layer of saliva coated your tongue. The queasy feeling caused you to squeeze your eyes shut. All you could do was just cry harder.

Your sobs were the first thing that Chan heard when he unlocked and pushed the door open. Fear struck his heart and he ripped off his bag. Not caring that his laptop was in it, it dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

He rushed into the kitchen and found you slung over the counter. “Baby? Baby?” His hand went to your back and he tugged you into his arms.

The warmth of his chest made you cry harder. You hated that this was who you were. Why couldn’t you have another body? Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t it just be different?

“What’s wrong?” His eyes scanned your face. “Why are you crying? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” His hands gently cupped your cheeks. He positioned your face up towards him. “Please talk to me.”

“I-I hate myself,” you uttered hoarsely with a hiccup. “I’m not good enough. I can’t gain weight and I’m a walking skeleton and I-”

His eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” A reassuring thumb ran over your cheek.

“My body isn’t good enough. Not for you. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

Knowing that you thought so negatively of yourself, it stung. It shoved an arrow through his heart and he shook his head. “Listen to me, you’re perfect the way you are. Just because y-”

“You don’t get it!” You snapped angrily. Your hands shoved at his shoulders and he stumbled back in shock. “You don’t get it because you’re perfect! You can gain weight and you can lose weight. You can do whatever you want and I-” Your voice cracked and cut off.

He didn’t utter a word. He knew you were struggling, so he just opened his arms. With a quivering bottom lip, you let yourself fall forward. Sturdy arms grabbed you and he pressed your head against his chest.

The steady lull of his heart made you burst into tears. A weak and hoarse apology fell from your lips. All he could do was quietly shush you as he rubbed your back.

“I know that it’s hard. I know what it’s like to struggle with your self image. Maybe I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’m right here and I love you. Please don’t push me away just because you’re struggling. I might not understand, but we can figure it out together. I’m not going anywhere and you know that.”

That last reassurance was the final straw. Your knees buckled and your fingers dug into his cotton shirt. Down the both of you went and you landed on his lap.

He pressed you against him as tight as he dared. With your eyes shut and your forehead pressed into the nape of his neck. He soothed you softly while rubbing your back.

Even if he didn’t understand exactly, he’d wait here for as long as he had to. He’d be here until the kitchen was pulled into darkness and the sun went down outside. He didn’t care if he had to be here all night.

He’d do whatever it took to remind you that no matter how you saw yourself, you weren’t entirely alone.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

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#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stay #skz fanfic #bang chan #bang chan fic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan comfort

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shibaraki · 1 year ago

Text

STEADY BEGINNINGS ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship (eventual friends to lovers), touch starved shouto, physical affection (hand holding + long hugs), good god the yearning, obliviousness, jealousy, fluff + angst, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 3.8K

series masterlist: 2/5

Shouto was born to be a hero.

It is a sentiment shared by reporters and fans alike. Todoroki Shouto, the pride of Endeavor, the saving grace of his family name. True, his development had been entirely up to chance—no matter the intent or cruel desperation behind his father’s actions, he had to rely on the probability that the next offspring would win the genetic lottery—but low and behold, he did, and to many people that alone was a sign of destiny at work.

Ultimately, he chose to continue the path of being a hero himself, but no higher being put him there. His father did. At the time of his birth Shouto had not been a son, not even a baby. He was a project. A small, shapeless, squirmy thing. Malleable, like any young mind. It’s a miracle he retained any will and individuality.

Sometimes when alone with his thoughts, Shouto would hypothesise on the whys and the hows. The conclusion he always comes to is this: any sort of reality in which Shouto succumbs to his father’s ideals and manipulation would have to be a world in which his mother does not exist.

While his existence was planned, and wanted, he was to be a hero and as such, wasn’t cut from love—that came after. He loved his mother. So much so that when she hurt, he hurt. When she cried, he cried. She taught him what it meant to be gentle, to have hope, to aspire to be his own person. Years spent amongst the country's finest heroes and Shouto still regarded his mother as the bravest woman he knew, strong because she refused to be hardened by her circumstances; soft so that she can’t be broken again.

You are like his mother in that regard. Those same echoes of reassurance that softness isn’t weakness, and it isn’t earned. You’ve been touching him more as of late, as if determined to prove it. Static between brushed fingertips, words expressed by simply pressing your knees together, the weight of your hand on his bicep to garner his attention. The build up is subtle and cumulative and yet each instance strikes him with the magnitude of a thermodynamic explosion.

Nobody bats an eyelid to this shift in physicality, which makes it all the more difficult to determine whether he is reading into things or not. It could be that he’s noticing those small instances only because it’s you, and you are all he can think about lately.

You’ve given him permission to reciprocate. He merely has to ask for more if he wants it. What Shouto hadn’t accounted for is the unbearability of being vulnerable enough to ask. An innocent “can you hug me?” becomes so much more daunting to voice with all that longing crowded up behind it. He can’t help worrying you’ll see right through to the bottom of his desires.

A hand comes into view. Bakugo’s ash-smudged finger and thumb pinch and snap together in front of his face. “Come back to Earth, dumbass. Your thousand yard stare is scarin’ my new assistant”.

Shouto blinks out of his stupor and the blurred vignette surrounding his vision recedes. He glances at the skittish man sitting outside Bakugo’s office currently sending worried glances over his shoulder. “I think he’s more scared that you’re back,” Shouto intones dryly. “Isn’t he the fourth one this year?”

“Not my fault they’re all wimps,” Bakugo huffs. A slap reverberates around the office as he throws down a manila folder onto his desk and drops heavily into his chair. He regards Shouto with suspicion overtop his computer monitor. “Whatever you were just thinkin’ about—stop”.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about”.

“I know you always manage to make Olympic level leaps in logic,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and tears open the folder. He slides out what Shouto assumes is a debrief and flips it between his fingers. Shouto keeps quiet. He reclines into the couch cushions and returns to reading the incident report on his lap, counting down from ten in the privacy of his mind. Anytime now.

Three, two, one.

“So what is it?” Bakugo asks, trying too hard to sound flippant but landing squarely on irritation. “Spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm”.

Shouto opens his mouth and closes it again. A wave of hot embarrassment washes over him. He knows Bakugo will do him the kindness of being blunt and honest but it doesn’t make it any less humiliating to admit.

In their younger years Shouto saw something of a kindred spirit in Bakugo. He too did not like touch and aggressively voiced his distaste for it whenever he got the chance—which was often, because divine intervention sought fit to give him the most tactile, handsy friend group possible.

As they got older though, Shouto began to realise that the protests and threats were hollow. Despite being vehemently against affection, Bakugo would allow it anyway, and sometimes even seek it out. The aggression was bravado. Bakugo liked having his friends draped around his shoulders. He liked when Mina kissed his cheek, or Kaminari played with his hair, or Kirishima gathered him into a too-tight hug, or Sero tangled their ankles together on the couch.

Only, for him to comfortably accept it, Bakugo needed to act as though he were doing them a favour by allowing them into his space. And Bakugo’s friends played along without complaint.

From what he’s observed you are also an affectionate person. You are liberal with your warmth and adapt seamlessly to the boundaries of those around you. But you were also visibly uncomfortable whenever people took that affinity for intimacy as an open invitation, and recoiled if they encroached on your own.

Shouto has imagined reaching out only for your body to flinch away from him more times than he can count. It’s a battle staged in his head, ingrown fears. The possibility alone was enough to keep him from reciprocating, set in a state of fawn-like inertia.

“There’s somebody I want to get closer to. A friend,” he begins. Bakugo makes an inquisitive noise, props his cheek against his fist and narrows his eyes as he listens. Shouto retells the story in part, deciding to omit your name, and by the tail-end of it Bakugo’s forehead is deeply creased in dissatisfaction.

“You make all your own problems, Halfie. Y’know that?” he mutters, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and sinking back into his chair. “Fine, you don’t want to make this person uncomfortable, or whatever. If you need a hug so damn badly, why not ask Deku? Not like he’d say no”.

Knowing Bakugo would make his dilemma sound ridiculous is one thing, actually hearing it is another. “How do you know it isn’t about Midoriya,” Shouto returns petulantly.

“It ain’t Izuku or anyone else from your nerd squad,” Bakugo says, dropping his hand to drum on the desk. “I would’ve heard about it”.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t touch people. And that’s fuckin’ fine, yeah? But if you had, I know for a fact any one of them would’ve burst into tears and told everyone in a five mile radius”.

“Oh,” it leaves him a little off-kilter to hear. Shouto leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, setting the report on the dark wood coffee table. The corner of the page is curled, and the spine is creased, and the ink annotation has smudged under his thumb. He details these things as he deliberates, the excuses cloying in his throat and thick like he might cry too.

Bakugo was right—if he craved close contact so badly, why couldn’t he go to Midoriya? He knows he would likely be met with enthusiasm.

“You don't have to tell me who. I don’t care. But you’re overthinking it,” Bakugo grunts at his lack of response, in a way that very much suggests that he cares. “Go ask. If they say ‘no’ it’s tough shit, but the world isn’t gonna end. From what you’ve told me they wouldn’t say ‘no’ anyway. Dumbass”.

Shouto nods and gives up the pretense of reading the paperwork. He feels coltish as he stands and brushes down his front, straightening the creases.

“You’re right”.

“I know”.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” he says. A small smile unfurls across his anxiety-bitten mouth. “You’re a good friend”.

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles. It’s a testament to his concern that he hadn’t cursed Shouto there and then. “Now get out of my office. What are you doing here in the first place? You got your own!”

“Yours gets all the sunlight. And it’s always quiet because nobody comes in here,” Shouto ignores the baleful slit of an eye Bakugo turns on him. “I’m going to take my lunch now”.

“Do what you want,” Bakugo dismisses haughtily, and Shouto smiles while thinking, not for the first time, that he’s very lucky to have friends like these.

The fidgety assistant bows as he exits and turns into the sun-drenched hallway. Warmth drapes around Shouto’s shoulders, lingering at his nape while he descends the dark stairwell where the light doesn’t reach. His boots thud against the linoleum, and he counts each footfall to keep his face neutral as his legs carry him toward your department.

Somewhere between one and one hundred and thirteen, a fraction of Shouto’s courage starts to dwindle. He grits his teeth. A hundred steps can’t be enough to dissuade him after decades of denying himself any kind of indulgence.

The further he goes into the support wing the more elaborate the layout becomes. You’re in research and development, assigned a workshop close to the quirk analysts. Heads turn as Shouto rolls through. Heroes didn’t often make personal visits to this area. If he thinks hard enough he could count a grand number of two past visits and neither of them were for you.

His stride falters when he catches sight of your nameplate. It is fixed to the wall outside your door, polished and gleaming proudly. Shouto traces the characters of your name engraved into steel before raising his hand to knock.

Your voice rings out from inside, “Come in!”

A pitched beeping sound comes from overhead. The workshop doors begin to open in a theatrical fashion, receding like curtains to reveal your space. The floor is mapped out with tape. Clear boundaries drawn between the work benches, the fume cupboards, the vault and your personal office, in an attempt at organised chaos. He might have been more interested in poking around for the first time if he had not felt on the edge of intrusion.

You’re tucked behind your curved desk surrounded by numerous monitors that dwarf your frame. Shouto furtively takes in your cute, rumpled appearance. The upper half of your coveralls have been undone to reveal an undervest, sleeves tied tight around and accentuating your waist.

“Take a seat, I’ll be with you in…” the dull tapping of practiced keystrokes comes to a stop as you notice him in the doorway. The professional veneer disappears. “Shouto?” you say, mostly to yourself. Your gaze slides beyond his shoulder, looking for whoever might be accompanying him. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a worried twist in your mouth that he wants to smudge away. A look in your eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugged at his being. Shouto rolls his shoulders, shaking off the tension, and moving deeper into your office. The doors close automatically behind him. “I’m okay,” he assures, taking the seat across from you.

Your expression gentles, and he likes how your gaze follows him. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he continues. “But if you’re working I can head back”.

“Lunch?” you repeated. Your eyes darted to the corner of the monitor closest to you and promptly widened. “Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

An upswing of fondness catches him like a blow to the chest. His mouth quirks into a smirk. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long. I got lumped with a new project a few days ago and it’s almost done,” the monitors shut off one by one as you sheepishly press each button. Then you gave him a soft, apologetic look, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Must’ve missed me if you came all the way down here”.

Dread shriked through him. The low whirring from the equipment scattered around your workspace is suddenly inordinately loud. Was he that obvious?

You, however, fail to notice Shouto’s anxiety and grab him around the wrist as you pivot the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go before the good stuff is gone,” you tell him.

Shouto had absolutely no clue what the ‘good stuff’ entailed—maybe he should’ve bothered to ask. Atleast it would take his mind off your hand. It’s wrapped around his sleeve, right where the fabric ends, loose enough for him to unshackle from if he wants. When he doesn’t protest the contact you stroke your thumb in an arc over the heel of his hand and squeeze.

Shouto falls into step, too caught up to realise you’ve taken him to the cafeteria. He expects you’ll drop his wrist in the presence of your colleagues, yet you adjust your grip and glance back at him with an encouraging tilt of your head.

“I’m starving. I think I’ll get a rice bowl. Smells pretty good today, don’t you think?”

Shouto hummed his agreement. He felt out of his depth, and he didn’t trust his voice. The spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to his throat. The line is mercifully short and before long he has a warm bowl of food held against his front.

“Did you want to sit in here? I can take us to one of the senior staff lounges instead if you want,” you cast a nervous look across the sparse crowd. “I mean, support engineers aren’t really gossiping types but…”

A petty part of him hoped the whispers would escalate. To have your name linked with his, to be known as a person that you cared about—he found that deeply satisfying, for reasons he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Then again, being alone with you far eclipsed the appeal of flaunting your friendship. “The senior staff lounge sounds best,” he answers after a minute of feigned consideration. You nod, regretfully having dropped his hand, and motion for him to follow once more.

The lounge is a modest room with a kitchenette, a breakfast nook and a few bean bag chairs. It smells faintly like peeled oranges. There are post it notes and blueprints haphazardly stuck to the pinboard, covering an out of date calendar filled out in illegible scrawl. This is no shop awning. There is no rainfall to lend to the ambiance. But you are together in an enclosed space, and that is enough to make his heart beat in anticipation.

You scoot into the breakfast nook. He sits on the same side of the table and tries to subtly spread his knees enough to nudge your thigh. You side-glance in surprise but choose not to mention it. Instead you smile through your first mouthful and ask, “How've things been since I last saw you?”

Achy, like he’s used an atrophied muscle. Lonely, and frustrating beyond words. But he doesn’t say any of that. He digs crescents into his thigh through his pant leg and says, “Boring”.

“Figured that might be the case. I saw the livestream of you fighting Haywire,” you bump your shoulder against his. “The Commission probably dumped a whole load of paperwork on you, huh?”

Shouto wrinkles his nose. He hoped you hadn’t caught that fight. The pursuit of Haywire—an eco terrorist with an electrical quirk—managed to cause an unprecedented amount of damage to the city infrastructure.

“You handled it as best you could. The power grid can be fixed. What’s important is people are alive because of you,” a warm weight covers the fingers restlessly whittling at his pant leg. You pet his hand, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt”.

Guided solely by his impulses, the instant you start to draw back he envelops the top of your hand and sandwiches it between his own. He goes hot and cold all over in quick succession. Boundaries, he reminds himself. But you’re not pulling away. You’re studying him with a knowing gleam in your eye.

Shouto clears his throat. Heat pricks across his skin, concentrated in his cheekbones. “Sorry,” he says. You can ask, a memory echoes. “Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you it’s fine,” you reply firmly. “I’m happy to remind you if you need to hear it”.

“No, I…” his brow furrows. “I’ve been thinking”.

“That’s not good”.

Shouto snorts and shakes his head, his amusement petering out into a shallow breath. “I want to ask. I’ve wanted to ask like you said I could,” he explains vaguely. “I’m not very good at it, I think”.

You make a soft, understanding sound that immediately sets him at ease. “I guess, after denying yourself something for so long it can be scary to let yourself have it again,” you murmur, a faraway look in your eyes. After a pensive moment the sheen fades and your laughter lines deepen, “I’ll do what I did before, then. If you look like you need a hug I’ll ask you instead”.

“In what way do I ‘look like’ I need a hug?”

“You get this—I don’t know how to explain it,” you gesture vaguely at him. “This blankness about you, but not your normal resting face, I mean you don’t seem all there. I don’t like it. I like it best when you’re happy”.

“Ah,” comes his eloquent response. Shouto drops his gaze to where your hands knot together. Every quark in his body is urging him to get closer, and remain close. “Bakugo thinks I should try to hug Midoriya, too,” he adds, oddly flustered.

“Huh. You talked to Bakugo about—? That’s a surprise. A nice surprise, I mean! Well, Midoriya does give great hugs. It would be good for you to…”

Shouto’s thoughts grow louder and he frowns down at his rice. You’re saying something about physical touch and wellness and friends. Dopamine and serotonin. It barely registers. Two truths are pinging around his skull.

You have hugged Midoriya. Of course you have. You’re friends.

You think he’s great at it.

Why is that so unsettling? Teenagers think like this. Single minded and overly emotional.

He feels the shifting of your knuckles under his palm. “Hey. You’ll need one of these back if you’re going to eat,” you say.

“Right,” he lifts his left hand and picks up his chopsticks to take a pinch of rice from his bowl. He chews until the clamouring in his mind has settled, and you patiently accept his stoic silence without explanation. Shouto hasn’t been this awkward since highschool, and even then he was too wrapped up in his familial problems to be aware of it.

“What’s the project you’ve been working on?” he eventually asks.

You take the change of topic in your stride, leaning closer and lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “I’m not supposed to tell you but—it’s for Deku’s new costume”.

“Midoriya is getting a new costume?” Shouto replies. You playfully shush him and he pouts a little.

“Don’t sulk. He doesn’t know yet either,” you poke a chopstick at the corner of his jutted mouth. “It’s my job to prepare a design portfolio and talk through everything next week. You’ll get a new one too, when you break the top five”.

“If,” he amends.

“You don’t think you’ll move up?”

“Reaching the top was never really a priority for me,” Shouto’s attention splinters, half of his focus on the conversation and the other on the sensation of your skin. He considers overturning his hand to entwine your fingers. “I just want to be the best hero I can be”.

You hum, and as if plucking the desire right from his mind, absentmindedly slip into the gaps between his fingers. Shouto steadies his breathing and takes another mouthful.

The rest of the hour passes, syrupy and slow like molasses. By the final minute Shouto’s palm is sticky and reluctant to part from yours. You usher him out from the breakfast nook first, stacking the empty bowls before directing him back toward the emptied cafeteria.

You slide the bowls along the counter for the kitchen staff to take. Then you wipe your hands down your front as you pivot to face him, thrusting out both arms as he stands frozen.

“Can I hug you?”

Shouto touches his face and you laugh.

“This is because I want one,” you clarify with a warm grin, beckoning him closer.

Shouto inhales steps into the embrace, his arms instinctively wrapping around your back. There are less layers this time—the heat of your body is overwhelming, alongside the gentle rise of goosebumps across your bare shoulders. Your breath fell gently on his collarbone, his head lowering to curl into you. He thinks, were he not born to be a hero, he must surely be born for this.

“Thank you,” you mumble, squeezing his waist a final time as you retreat. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Shouto nods. Your presence moves away like the sun being blocked out and he watches you go, departing words caught in his teeth, an incessant buzz in his fingertips. The walk back to his office is a gauzy yellow haze. Every physiological response in his body told him that he was in a free fall, despite his feet being firmly on the ground.

“Shouto!”

Shouto halts mid-step at the familiar voice. He turns to look at Izuku, at the tentative beginnings of his smile. “Izuku,” he says.

“We missed you at lunch—are you feeling alright?” Izuku asks, slightly bemused. “You look kinda… floaty,” his eyes are dark, softened in the afternoon light as they sweep over Shouto’s figure and his face.

"Izuku," Shouto said before he could convince himself otherwise, “Do you want a hug?”

The innocent question appeared to crash into Izuku with the levity of a bullet train in motion. Tears sprang to his eyes, brighter now. Shouto tenses as he is swept into a solid hug. Izuku smells like fresh air, sweat and sweet-salty broth. He holds Shouto as though trying to keep his seams from bursting; thick arms are secure around his shoulders, and a rough palm rubs broad strokes down his back, smoothing the tension until Shouto is relaxed.

You were right. Izuku does give great hugs. Shouto came away doughy, and fuller, and with the stark realisation that while touching Izuku soothed the ache, it still felt completely different to touching you.

Later, as he leaned his head against the desk surface, he sluggishly contemplated the implications of that.

#bnha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #mha x reader

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 1 year ago

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Steddie Upside-down AU Part 17

Part 1 Part 16

Let it be known that Eddie Munson is not a morning person, presuming it’s morning at all. And with the bags under Will and Steve’s eyes, Eddie’s doubtful. He doesn’t look in the mirror to check his own. If King Steve Harrington looks this ragged even with his genetic lottery, Eddie doesn’t want to know what he looks like.

He wants to brush his teeth, but when he opened the toothpaste, it was a rusty-looking brown color. He wants a shower, but none of the pipes work, and their quarry water is a precious commodity. Hell, he wants a hot cup of coffee, and he doesn’t even like coffee.

It'd probably turn to acid once it hit his gut, though. Hunger’s gnawing at him in a way it hasn’t for years. When the fridge would be empty for days. When he wished for school days, so he could take his little blue slip up to the lunch line and get a meal for free, never mind that all the other kids gave him a wide berth for it.

It's messing with his head to have that same, gnawing feeling in this place where Wayne makes breakfast in the mornings after he gets off a shift. Where there’s always food in the fridge, no matter how lean money is. Where someone cares enough to stock it.

So, no. Eddie Munson is not a morning person, and he’s going to strangle Steve Harrington if he keeps corralling Eddie like a wayward child as they pack up their supplies for the trek to Mama Byers’s house.

“Just help me sort the first aid supplies, and then we’ll be done,” Steve says, riffling through their stolen loot where he’s strewn it out across the kitchen counter.

Eddie groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, letting the weight of his elbow settle into Steve’s shoulder. Regrettably, it’s the bad one.

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, shrugging out from beneath Eddie’s arm.

“Shit, sorry big boy,” Eddie says, fluttering his fingers toward Steve’s injured shoulder like he can magic it all better.

“Are you hurt?” Will asks quietly from where he’s once again hovering at the threshold.

They both jump, trading guilty looks at the omission caught so quickly. “Just a scratch on my shoulder,” Steve replies, like a liar.

Will nods but doesn’t seem to believe them. The kid’s clearly too smart for his own good.

“Should we go?” Eddie asks brightly, clapping his hands like he’s a camp counselor leading a nature expedition and not corralling a middle schooler and a peer he still totally hates, he swears, out into a hellscape.

Steve rolls his eyes, but dutifully swipes it all back into his pack after a cursory look.

Steve and Will follow him out of the trailer like ducklings, Eddie in the lead, and Steve maintaining the rear, keeping Will sandwiched in the middle in silent agreement.

They keep quiet. Eddie’s eyes skitter wildly about, and when he glances back, Steve is clutching the shotgun tightly. Clearly, he’s not the only one more on edge with a kid to keep alive now. In contrast, Will looks excited.

Eddie doesn’t know which is worse, that the kid trusts them that much to keep him safe, or that he’s so excited to talk to Mama Byers that he’s not fussed about the rest of it.

Eddie remembers the general direction of the Byers’ house. It’s a small town – there’s only so many places for people to live, but he still has to ask Will for directions a few times. Will tells him where to turn, both speaking quietly enough that Harrington only twitches a little in alarm from behind them.

Only once does Steve stop, the sound of him raising the shotgun the only indication Eddie receives that he’s stopped at all. His heart kicks up as he whirls around to see Steve standing, gun trained into the woods, like fucking always. It takes endless moments before Steve lowers his gun again, waving them along.

No one talks after that. Eddie looks at Will, and Will points. It works well enough.

The Byers house is a single level, short and small, but it’s got a front porch with chairs on it, and laundry on a clothesline. It would look homey without vines. And the sky. And the ash. And the everything about this place.

Still, they file through the unlocked front door. Eddie can almost feel the smack Uncle Wayne would land on his head for going into someone else’s house first, uninvited, but there’s no way he’s letting Will go first into a place the Demogorgon had been less than twenty-four hours before.

It's silent inside. Will pushes past him, rushing into the house and taking a left. Eddie and Steve follow, Steve still clutching the gun. They find him in a small, outdated kitchen. He’s picked up the phone.

“Mom?” he says. His voice breaks, and Eddie wants to grab him and hide him in Steve’s closet for the rest of the day. “Mom?”

They stand in silence for a minute, ears straining for the smallest sound. “Anything?” Steve asks, brow furrowed.

Will doesn’t answer, just presses the phone to his ear harder. “Mom?” His voice sounds wet. Eddie’s going to fucking murder Joyce Byers. “Mom, please.”

“Maybe we can try in a few minutes?” Eddie asks, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

Will puts the phone back into the receiver like it weighs a thousand pounds. “What if the Demogorgon got her?”

Scratch the murder threats, Munson. “She’s probably just out,” he says.

Will finally turns around, slowly. Reluctantly. His face is streaked with tears already. Eddie doesn’t fight the urge to wipe them off. His hands leave grimy streaks though, so he switches to the sleeve of his shirt.

Behind him, Steve is pacing down the hall, muttering quietly under his breath. He’s not concerned until the movement abruptly stops.

“Steve?” Eddie calls, still cradling Will’s face.

His steps start again, slow, and purposeful. “Come see this,” he says. He doesn’t sound scared. Shocked, maybe even awed, but not scared.

Eddie pats Will’s cheek before turning and making his way out of the kitchen. Steve Harrington is haloed in light. It’s white, and fluttering, and following every step he takes. He looks like a fallen angel – bloody and grimy, but heavenly still.

Eddie almost asks, “are you an angel?” because if there are monsters, then why not something good? But he doesn’t. Because as soon as he steps past the threshold, there’s a light above him. Holy. Beautiful.

“What is this?” Eddie asks.

“I don’t know,” Steve says, smiling up at the light hanging over him. Steve Harrington is entranced by the lights and Eddie Munson can’t take his eyes off him.

Will steps beside him, and lets out a little, “oh.” When Eddie glances his way, he’s not looking at the lights either. Eddie can’t blame him.

“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Steve asks, still too focused on the beauty of it to sound worried.

“It’s just—” Will starts. But he’s interrupted.

The voice sounds distorted, but not like the Demogorgon’s. It’s more like the sound is coming from far away. Like Nancy Wheeler’s voice. Like her friend’s.

“Will?” it calls. “Will, are you here?”

Well, looks like it’s time to meet Mama Byers. Eddie can’t wait.

Part 18

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #my fic

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superectojazzmage · 9 months ago

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X-Men works best, I feel, when writers understand on at least some level that it's really basically a cyberpunk/biopunk horror story that just happens to also be a superhero comic.

X-Men is the story of the world entering a new epoch where any random person on the street might randomly get superpowers - ranging everywhere from green hair to mind control - simply because they happened to win(?) a genetic lottery as part of a cosmic process programmed into humanity in ancient times by ineffable star gods. All around you are people who are ostensibly still people, but are also inhuman entities with alien powers who are gradually developing their own subculture that tells them they are the future dominant species destined to replace mankind. Many of them are just normal folks... but just as many see you the same way ancient homo sapiens saw neanderthals.

X-Men is the story of fear and hatred rising in the hearts of men in the face of that new epoch. Corrupt humans and mutants alike use bigotry and xenophobia to divide the two peoples, pushing them into a war not just for politics, but for evolution and the planet themselves. Mankind begins altering themselves and building machines of death to keep up with the mutants, in the process creating a third race of humanity; transhumans and robots, that in time come to be no different from the mutants, superpowered monsters of society's own making that see the humans as flatscan wastes of genes at best, oppressors to be destroyed at worst.

X-Men is the story of humanity fighting amidst themselves in their senseless darwinistic war while their world tumbles through a swirling universe of terrifying eldritch threats. Out in the stars and spiritual dimensions are alien empires once like us now advanced beyond comprehension, legions of magical wonders and nightmares in equal measure, lovecraftian machine hive minds that eat planets, demons that feast on our sin, cosmic entities that have as much in common with us as we do ants.

And above it all, X-Men is the story of how recognizing each other's humanity, of embracing love instead of hate, may be the only thing that ensures even a hope of survival in the face of the unimaginable, mind-breaking horror of a world entering a new era whether it's inhabitants like it or not... or perhaps, the only thing that decides whether or not we deserve to survive.

The best X-Men writers are the ones who recognize this. Chris Claremont, Johnathan Hickman, Grant Morrison, Kieron Gillen, etc.. The writers who recognize that there's something profoundly and utterly, existentially TERRIFYING about what the series really boils down to (a self-defeating war between mechanical and genetic evolution with normals caught in the middle that may be the extinction of all three races) and reflect that in the aesthetics and tone by emphasizing a cyberpunkish vibe.

Emphasizing that this is a world where people - willingly or not - alter their bodies like mechanics alter cars and any random person you see on the street might be a mutant or Sentinel or something that can kill you with a look, and that random person is probably hiding from something even worse that wants to kill them just for being born.

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a-d-nox · 1 year ago

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what's a dna (asteroid 55555) persona? what can a dna persona chart show you?

hypothetically, your dna chart can tell you more about the genetic predisposition of your health, what genetic diseases and mutations you are at risk for, your ancestry, and your genetic traits.

mini disclaimer: genetic/ethnicity/ancestry can be a delicate subject for a lot of people - this is is topical post about what the planets and houses could mean. i am not a doctor or geneticist - this chart can not be used to diagnose health issues/problems or anything else with 100% accuracy.

sun

your genetic identity, your projected vitality, genetic predispositions you should pay attention to, genetic prominence, genetic connects to royal/famous/infamous individuals, and/or how your genetics are different from your ancestors / what makes you an individual (not a clone - or perhaps different from a twin)

moon

what you inherited from your mother, your family's heritage, how your ancestors have adapt/evolved to make you who you are today, neanderthal ancestry ratios, hereditary menstrual issues, genetic fertility factors, and/or the brca / pcos / uterine fibroids gene

mercury

genetic mental health conditions, neurological conditions/diseases, taste/smell/hearing, how you can change your genetic "fate," what genetics can be forgot, aptitude to speak the languages of your ancestors, and/or how your daily routine affects your genetics (nature versus nurture)

venus

genetic attraction / who you attract to create viable offspring that is meant to survive, your genetic beauty, your ability to preform self love (aka your ability to cope with hereditary depression and anxiety), genetic hair type, genetic femininity (xx, x0, xxx, etc), genetics you share with a majority of your family, values and festivities with have due to heritage, genetics diabetes, genetic cheerfulness versus depression, and/or pcos gene

mar

genetic confidence in public speaking, competitiveness that makes your genes superior to past generations, genetic athleticism / muscle composition, genetic masculinity (xy, xxy, etc), genetic dominance, and/or prone to violence (neanderthal influence)

jupiter

where you are lucky in the genetic lottery, where you have an abundance of genetic information, where are successful in breaking genetic trends, your opportunity to beat the genetic odds, your knowledge of your genetic makeup, genetic blessings, where you can afford to be optimistic about your health, and/or genetic predisposition to macular degeneration

saturn

what you should work hard to be your genetic makeup, genetic health challenges, what you inherited from your father, genetics fears/anxieties, how long you can live if you are healthy, your genetic limitations, ancestry, genetic deficiencies, and/or the effort you make to beat your genetics

uranus

genetics of social anxiety, sudden changes historical genetics - where you are the first in your family diagnosed with a genetic mutation/disorder, what makes you genetically unique, and/or shocking/unexpected ancestry/origin

neptune

genetic alcoholism/escapism, hidden genetic knowledge or ancestry, delusions surrounding your heritage, disappearance of heritage, and/or the fascination you have with your ancestry and genetic

pluto

genetic transformation, the power in your genes, genetic sex, destructive genes, you genetic projected death, regenerative genes, your obsession with your genetics and heritage, and/or your genetic evolution

genetic identity/self, outward physical traits / appearance, physical body, physical genetic build, genetic individuality, and/or passion for genetics

genetic wealth, effort you put in to beat your genetics, genetic material, values surrounding your heritage, genetic stability, giving/receiving your heritage, and resources surrounding your genetics

how your genetics are communicated, genetic mental health issues and disabilities, your opinions about your heritage, how you can consciously fight your genetics, genetic relationship with your siblings, interest in your heritage and genetics, and/or information you have on your ancestry and genetics

genetic/familial origins and roots, your parents genetics, how you were treated in childhood based on your genetics, heredity traits, traditions you upload because of your heritage, and/or genetic femininity

your children's genetics, creative methods of celebrating your heritage, who you are attracted to based on genetics/ethnicity, vacations you take to reconnect with your heritage/ethnicity, hobbies/festivities/traditions that are related to your ethnicity, and/or genetic fertility (pcos, fibroids, etc)

how your daily routine is affecting your genetics or rather triggering your genetics, your genetic health, how fitness/hygiene/medication/diet can benefit for life expectancy because of genetic factors, the self improvement you do to fight genetic pre-destiny, how consistency aids/harms your health, how you help others to better understand their origin, and/or genetic analytics

your significant others' ethnicity/heritage, genetic attraction, genetic attractiveness, contracts with genetic storage banks (for instance mine is in a 23&me storage data bank), how others treat you based on your genetics, and/or genetics share with those in your family

dna mutations, projected longevity based on your genetic makeup, changes you should make to live longer, how much time invest into getting to know more about your genetics and heritage, what you inherited from your ancestors genetically, genetic reproductive rates, assets of your ethnicity, secrets about your ethnicity, the spiritual transformation that occurs when you learn more about your heritage/roots, and/or trauma related to race/ethnicity/heritage

beliefs/religion/ideologies associated with your roots, what can learn about your heritage/ethnicity, languages associated with your roots, where your ancestors immigrated or where they emigrated from, genetic ethics, and/or what you can learn about your ancestors

10h

your genetic legacy/offspring, what the world believes your origins are, how you can beat genetics, long-term health goals you may have, what you inherit from your father, and/or genetic experts in your life

11h

what you gain from having knowledge of your ancestors, genetics you share with a half sibling, what makes you genetically unique, how technology can help you learn more about your genetic background, social awareness you have others ethnicities/culture/heritages, and/or how your genes manifest

12h

how you can heal using your genetic information, the hidden features of your genetic code, your projected age, how well you sleep based on your genetics, mental health issues you have a predisposition to, genetic fears you have in place so that you can survive, what you don't know about your genetics, and/or how you should restrict yourself to promote longevity/vitality

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#astrology #astro community #astro placements #astro chart #asteroid astrology #asteroid #natal chart #persona chart #astrology tumblr #astronotes #astrology readings #astro notes #natal astrology #astro observations #astroblr #asteroid55555 #dna #asteroid dna

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bokutosmochi · 2 years ago

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MAKE HIM JEALOUS! ♡ GETO SUGURU featuring wingman!gojo satoru

geto suguru x fem!reader

ingredients? gojo's sick and tired of hearing you fawn about geto and geto fawn about you so he decides to take matters into his own hands, and that's bad news for both you and geto.

what's it? crack, kind of

allergen warning/s? jujutsu high teacher!geto au, wingman!gojo is a warning in and of itself tbh, gojo calls himself "daddy" twice, reader wears short dresses, mentions of going to bars, nonconsensual filming (just making out), gets a little heated at the end

if you don't like gojo, this may not be for you because his wingmaning ways is questionable lol.

sugar level? 5.4k

regulars? @tokyometronetwork @tahonet

parlor's note? this is tied with clingy mammon in the poll that i made, but in celebration of the new trailer and visuals, i decided to post this one first <33 enjoy!!

bon appetit!

from beside you, gojo poked at the puff of your cheek with the end of the plastic fork in his hand as he shamelessly devoured the strawberry cake that was supposed to be for two -- you opted out of it last minute when lost your appetite upon seeing something that made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

"c'mon, sweetcheeks. it's not like suguru's a manwhore." his mouth is full of the spongy delicacy and you had no idea how you understood him, but you did.

he was right though. girls and boys may be fawning over geto left and right, but he never reciprocated their affections nor take advantage of their attraction to him. most of the time, he'd just smile at them politely then bow as he thanked them. and most of the time, gojo would clasp a hand on his back as if proud of how people fawned over his best friend.

unfortunately, one of the people who fawned over his best friend was you. now, having geto suguru as the person you had a crush on wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. it's certainly a better option than catching a crush on the annoyingly immature white-haired sorcerer, but the amount of attention he got didn't help with your confidence, especially since a lot of pretty girls who looked like they won the genetics lottery frequented his instagram dms as well. it made you second guess yourself at times you swore to finally tell him your feelings which was an embarrassingly large number of times because you've been friends with geto since you were children, and now, with the addition of a certain gojo satoru, you were teachers at jujutsu tech.

the moment right now was just one of those times. if you've kept track - which gojo did, because he's gojo - this would have been number three hundred and sixteen. the three hundred and sixteenth failed confession attempt.

you went to the bakery nanami recommended, he said that it's where he got his daily sandwich back when he worked as a salaryman, and bought their strawberry cake. the kind girl who worked behind the register told you that it was limited edition, only available during the season where the strawberries in the area were especially juicy and sweet. it was paid for with the intention of successful love confessions and being eaten together by you and geto, but when you saw him getting friendly with a girl outside campus, you quickly threw it to gojo who was waiting patiently for the opportunity, though he did defend themself saying but sweetcheeks, i swear to the gods i did not want it to happen this way with an icing-laced grin that did not help his case at all.

"yeah but still," you retorted to his previous statement about geto not being a manwhore. "asking a guy who gets asked out on a daily basis to go on a date with you is nerve wracking." you picked on the skin around your fingernails.

gojo hummed thoughtfully from his place on your left as he bit into one of the fruits. "yeah, i guess you should be scared to ask out suguru. after all, it's not like he knows you inside and out and realizes how much of a catch you are." he grins at you, a dollop of whipped cream on the corner of his mouth; his tongue peeped out to slide through it.

"tell ya what," he roughly wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you to him. "let's go shopping tomorrow, okay? my treat. let's buy you a pretty little dress to get your pretty little head off of the boy problems, 'kay?" he stands up and wanders away just as geto sits down on your other side. "what was that about?"

you couldn't help but shrug at him. after all, with gojo, who knew? "god knows."

gojo texted you all the information you needed that night when you were done with your missions and out of school premises.

{from [blue gatorade-eyed menace]: tomorrow. we'll pick you up at your apartment at about ten in the morning. we're going shopping for dresses, so wear something easy to put on and off. peace ✌🏼}

you tried to text him back, asking him about the we in we're picking you up in his text, but didn't get a response back though you're sure he's still awake.

so now it's tomorrow and you're dressed in a casual little black dress with mary jane shoes and white knee high socks. you've already showered, eaten breakfast, brushed your teeth, and packed everything you needed in a neat bag, yet gojo still had no response to the question you asked him yesterday night. you had a festering feeling you wouldn't get one and you'd just have to find out who else he meant by we, although if you were being honest with yourself, you already had a pretty good idea of who it's going to be. one, it was just another person who completed your circle - ieiri shoko did like joining in every now and then when she needs some more chaos in her life - and two, geto, the whole reason that gojo's setting this situation up in the first place.

it's ten fifteen - of course the strongest sorcerer is fashionably late, the way he always is - and you're sat down on your loveseat, bouncing your leg, anxious for what it is gojo has planned out for not just you, but your shared best friend too. you didn't exactly trust the man to not embarass you in front of the black-haired sorcerer for more reasons than what you could count.

you retrieve your phone out of your bag, pressing the power button in order to see if the man send a message, saying anything about cancelled plans - that would only happen if luck happened to be on your side - since they were taking so long. there was none, and when you put the device back where it belongs, you hear a car honk in front of your house, a door slam shut, then a shout. "hey sweetcheeks! get your fine ass out of the house!" you rolled your eyes and left then.

gojo was leaned against the black, sleek, phantom rolls royce he brought for the occasion, a mischievous smirk on his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. when he spotted you, his grin grew even larger as he approached you and threw an arm over your shoulder as you locked your house. "don't take everything i say to heart and flatter yourself, kay? everything's part of the plan."

you didn't need to whisper the way you did since the other man was inside the car which had all windows rolled all the way up, but you did it regardless. gojo already had his back to you, strolling down the pebbled path in front of your house, whistling to himself "the what? what do you mean the plan?" you wanted to catch up to him, to grab him by the shoulder - even though you know it's technically not possible unless he lets you - and ask him what he means by that, why the plan includes him being flirty(?) with you, but the bastard warped quickly got inside the car when he sensed your presence getting close to him.

he looked so smooth doing it too. leaving geto is none the wiser. well, if only you didn't glare at the white-haired menace from where you stood in front of the driver's car door where he sat, before deciding that it was pointless - gojo's as stubborn as a mule - and hopping into the backseat. "what was that about?" one of geto's eyebrows were raised in amusement, looking at you through the mirror. "nothing" was all you grumbled out before looking out through the window and effectively ending the small conversation.

"alright, let's go gang!" gojo cheered, pumping his fists into the air from the front seat as he pressed down on the gas pedal and with that, the three of you were off.

he was a fast driver, so the car ride flew by. you did not even get the opportunity to do some sight seeing as everything was a blur. you stopped looking at the outside world after a while as it would most likely just give you a headache. gojo was behaving strangely throughout the whole time though, pretty over there in the backseat said she needed a new party dress and don't go dozing off on me, sweetheart he smirked at you.

when you got to where he was driving you, you realized that you were no longer in a part of tokyo you were familiar with. the mall standing in front of you as well as the surrounding were unfamiliar.

"never been here before, baby?" gojo's head was tilted to the side, catching your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look up at him and stare right into his eyes. "just hold onto my arm the whole time, yeah? and cross your fingers you won't get lost."

"you lovebirds done?" a deep voice came from behind you. you momentarily forgot about geto because of how much gojo was distracting you with his "plan" you still didn't know the details about so you whipped around backwards in surprise. "yep!" the white haired sorcerer said, popping the p in the word as he threw an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

little did you know, he looked over your head and winked at geto who was narrowing his eyes at his friend. "sorry, suguru. it's either you make a move on her or i will" he mouthed out mockingly before walking towards the entrance.

"okay! how about we get some lunch first. i'm starving." gojo turned towards geto who was avoiding looking at your figure. instead, he kept on focusing on satoru's face or elsewhere in the building. "yeah, sounds good." was his short answer.

much to gojo's relief, it seemed like you were playing along to the song he has been strumming. getting geto to finally muster up the courage to ask you out might be easier than he initially thought.

"where'd ya wanna go for lunch, pretty?" he turned to you, lowering his head so he'd be at eye level with you. on top of that, he also smoothly slid his glasses down the bridge of his nose to expose his eyes, what many people considered to be his greatest asset, physical attraction wise. if gojo wasn't your friend and if you didn't have such a strong feeling of affection and longing towards his best friend, you might have fainted right then and there. many people would kill to be in your position right now, that's something you're sure of -- along with that, you're also sure that those aforementioned people do not know how utterly annoying gojo satoru is.

"i'm craving ramen." you blinked at him, not pulling away from him or getting flustered by the intense eye contact. "d'you know if there's a good ramen place here?"

"i know just the place." he grinned, booping your nose and throwing an innocent look towards geto. "you up for some ramen, suguru?"

the long-haired man hoped that you weren't looking at him right now, him who is gritting his teeth at his second best friend -- he's seriously thinking about giving the title to ieiri instead. "sure. ramen sounds good." his broad shoulders were stiff and there was a forced smile on his face.

he continued to walk behind you and gojo on the way to the ramen place, letting the two of you to lead the way. his arms were crossed and the look on his face was positively dangerous. the playful glint in his eyes that was usually there when the three of you spent time together wasn't there and he was glaring at everything he saw. he looked more intimidating than he does most of the time, and more intimidating than he does whenever he gets send out on missions.

because with those missions, he's confident in his abilities to get them done and exorcise - or sometimes ingest - the curse he needed to get rid off, but in this situation, he didn't know if you returned his feelings for you or if you had a thing for gojo. after all, the bastard told him that he has a thing for you -- the first step of his magnificent plan.

on the car ride to your house, gojo adopted a serious demeanor and asked geto about his feelings for you, telling them that he likes you as well. look man, i know you like her, but if you're not gonna ask her out, i will. i'm not gonna waste any of our times. the seriousness in gojo's voice when he said those words frightened him a bit because he can count the times his friend has been serious on one hand and this just happened to be one of those times.

gojo satoru, you are a royal pain in the ass.

between that and the teasing looks the man has been sending him the moment you got here, he didn't know whether gojo meant it or not.

goddamnit satoru, why must you be like this?

he knew the reason - because he wouldn't stop telling gojo about how much he wanted to ask you out instead of actually asking you to go on a date with him - but it's not like he's going to admit to that anyway.

there wasn't much improvement in either man's behavior when they got to the restaurant. gojo continued to flirt with you, you subtly flirted back -- you didn't reject his advances and shyly looked down, silently thanking him whenever he gave you a compliment. your arms brushed against each other's often, and geto did not find you moving away from gojo, you let gojo feed you one of the deep fried gyozas he ordered, and let gojo tend to the stray strands of hair that was falling onto your face as you blew on the noodles, brushing it to tuck it behind your ear. and finally, geto still sported that annoyed, tight smile on his face. by the way he gripped his chopsticks tightly, skin stretching over the carpals under it and veins going up all the way up to his forearm bulged, the white-haired man sat beside you could tell that your mutual friend was getting pissed off. it would only take just a few more shoves before he broke.

personally, you do not know if this was the best route to take; making your best friend and crush jealous, but then again, you assumed that suguru talked to satoru about his girl problems more than he did with you -- and you weren't wrong thinking that considering the fact that suguru's girl problems orbited around being unable to muster up the courage to ask you out. satoru probably knew what he was doing, right?

"we should go and buy my baby's dress now before he forget about it or spend all our money, hm?" gojo suggested making you nod. he had a hand on your lower back as you led them to your favorite store to finally begin shopping. "and dontcha worry about the price tag baby, daddy's got ya covered." he winked at you, whispering the words into your ear. thankfully, he didn't say it loud enough for the whole store to hear the way he usually does things, he just said it loud enough for suguru, who's walking on the other side of you to pick up. "have some fucking decorum, satoru." he grimaced, wrinkling his nose.

"don't got any!" the man chided playfully, folding both hands behind his head as he strolled around.

you definitely chose a good store to browse through. if gojo wasn't on an in-a-way mission right now, he most likely would have wandered off by himself to look through the different dress shirts and suit jackets they have. the colors they came in were appealing, pleasing to the eye, yet not well-known, and the textures were just as rare. he can go and buy things for himself the next day he doesn't have much on his plate. right now, the most important thing was how the dresses on the racks were exactly geto's type. even if you chose the most hideous one available, he's sure his friend will not be able to take his eyes off of you regardless, but then again, perhaps that has nothing to do with the look of the dress; it's simply because it's you and you're absolutely irresistible to one geto suguru.

geto who tries his best to avoid looking at you or at the assortment of dresses on gojo's arm because he knows the effect that you have on him. geto who separates from the two of you so he could browse through some clothing articles for himself. geto whose only reason for doing that is a pitiful attempt at trying to distract himself from looking in your direction, when in reality, your very presence, the scent of your cursed energy in the air suffocates him and distracts him from thoroughly looking through each article of clothing his hand grazes.

but then, when he hears a whistle in the air that's directed to him, he realizes that there really is no escaping this. "hey suguru, sweetcheeks over here wants to try on some dresses in the dressing room. you should come with." he could have said no. he should have said no, but it was like his feet had a mind of its own. he was already walking towards your direction before he processed gojo's words.

the dressing rooms were big. comparable to the areas in that say yes to the dress show that gojo promises he doesn't like even though he binge watches it every single time he finds himself stressed out.

he cleared his throat as you had your back turned to him, hanging the dresses you had picked out up on the hooks. "i've gotten a few things. you mind if i try em on now too?" his deep voice rumbled making you smile and wave your hand in front of your face.

"of course not, suguru. why're you acting so weird today." and at your words, the other man in the room bursted out in uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"yeah suguru! why the hell are you acting so weird today, huh?" he egged his friend on. gojo had no idea if you meant it that way, but he's entertained and glad you said it regardless.

geto only glared at him, taking all three of the long-sleeved button down shirts he got and getting into the main fitting room; the area you and gojo were in now was still private, just for the three of you, but there was one long couch, a circular platform in the middle of the room, and a large mirror in front of it so you'd be able to observe the clothing you debated on buying from several different angles. the area radiated sophistication and luxury, a spotless bright white color from the floor all the way up.

the first one he tried on was his least favorite. actually, he was still just debating on whether he should get it or not when gojo called his attention to go into the fitting rooms. he grabbed it on a whim, not wanting to be awkward and keep you waiting as he stared at the item of clothing. it was an off white color with gold buttons; the same thread color was used, a shimmering gold lining it. it was made out of a shiny silk, one that had geto's nose scrunching up.

it definitely looked better on the rack and would have preferred it if you didn't see him in the thing, but as soon as he unbuttoned the first button, he heard your voice ring out. "suguruuu what's taking so long?" and of course, gojo being, well, gojo, couldn't help but to follow it up with a "yeah! we wanna see what ya got already!" truthfully, the man scoffed at one of the things on geto's arms when they entered the dressing room and it just so happened to be what the black-haired sorcerer was wearing right now.

with a huff and a short prayer addressed to the gods, hoping that you didn't think he looked ridiculous as he actually did, he puffed his chest out, squared his shoulders, and feigned as much confidence as he can when he walked out of the smaller space within the fitting room.

your eyes widened and gojo didn't even bother covering up his amusement.

thankfully for geto, the next two items of clothing were much better. the three of you thought so and he even ended up with the decision to buy them.

with that ironed out, it was your turn to try things on.

the first one was a lilac-toned dress. it didn't reach mid-thigh, but didn't ride up too much if you were to sit down or bend over. the fabric was glittery, but not to the point of being obnoxious. it had a x-shaped neckline, and showed off the space between your tits. it wasn't the tightest, but still managed to flatter your figure.

"okay, what do we think?"

if you were paying enough attention, you'd see how geto's mouth hung open upon seeing you, and if gojo saw you in the same light as his friend did, he probably would have done the same. "looks good!" he said with a wink and two thumbs up.

"c-could be a little tighter, especially around the waist, but it looks good." geto didn't want you to catch on to him being more-than-flustered, and fortunately for him, he was quick to recover and give you his detailed opinion the way he always does.

"everything looks good on her though." gojo questioned him with a quirk of an eyebrow and it made the man sputter, waving his hands in front of him at both you and gojo.

"i never said it didn't look good! you look good-you always look good-i mean! it just-" you cut him off with a laugh which in his humble opinion resembles that of an angel's. "it's okay, suguru. i know what you meant."

"i might buy this one." you said, smoothing the skirt of the dress out. "it depends on the next ones. if i like this more than one of those, i'll probably buy it." and with that, you were back to the dressing room.

back where your two best friends were sat, there was a whispered one-sided arguement. "don't think i don't know what you're up to, satoru." geto glared making the other man laugh and tilt his head at him.

"oh really now? what am i trying to do then?" he snickered.

geto's fist clenched the same way his jaw did. "you're trying to make me mess up and look like a fool in front of her." was said through gritted teeth, and if anyone else was talking to him, they would probably be on their knees, begging for forgiveness because of how mad and intimidating geto looked, but gojo satoru is not just anyone else. he never was, and he never will be.

he cracks his knuckles and sinks further down into the black leather seat. "it's not my fault you get all fuzzy inside whenever you see her, isn't it suguru?" he grins at him and decides to fess up. "actually, i was trying to get you to confess to her, and guess what? she's on it too. so, are ya actually gonna do it?"

geto's eyes nearly bulged out of his eyes at what left his friend's mouth. does that mean you're aware of his infatuation with you?

who told you about it?

was it satoru? were you able to piece it together yourself? was it painfully obvious that he's painfully in love with you for the past ten years?

how long have you known?

why didn't you do anything about it?

do you find satoru provoking him by flirting with you somewhat entertaining?

do you even want him the same way he wanted you?

so many thoughts were running through his head at an overwhelming speed, but before be could reply to gojo, you were strutting out of the fitting room in a revealing light green number. it was similar to a slip dress, just a few inches shorter than the last one you modeled. it was a spaghetti strap dress and had a rectangular neckline and dipped at the front exposing your neck and collarbones; the color definitely complimented your complexion, geto thought, licking his bottom lip when he thought you weren't looking, when he thought you were too busy gawking at your own reflection because why wouldn't you? his reaction gave you confidence to be bolder, to actually flirt with him. to make it even worse for him now that he's trying to hide his feelings for you - though he recently found out that it's all for naught - was that it was backless. covering nothing of your body posteriorly other than your lower back until the dress reached the hem.

"this one's cute." you commented. the dress much more flowy than the last one, but remained to be sexy and appropriate for bar hopping whenever you - or any of your closest friends - felt the itch to do so. you held the skirt as you spun around in it, stood in the circular platform before staring at your two friends. "what do you guys think? satoru?"

"can't really put what i think into words." he clicked his tongue. "i bet suguru has something to say about that pretty little dress though."

if he was standing up, he's sure his knees would have buckled from the way you quickly turned to him expectantly with the cutest doe eyes and a shadow of a pout on your lips. if you knew about his feelings for you like satoru said, he's sure you're really out to get him, he thought. "i like the other one better." he coughed out. the pout on your lips grew as you looked at yourself in the mirror again. "this one's on sale.. but you're right!"

once again, you heard gojo tsk. "i already told ya princess. 'm your sugar daddy for the day." he smirked, eyes shifting to geto to see his reaction, see the way his eyes dim and the way he irritatingly chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to not let his annoyance show.

you seem to perk up, though, so geto couldn't let himself get angry at gojo for too long. "okay! time for the last one!" you walked into the dressing room, but before you closed the door behind you, you peeked through the gap and winked - was geto going crazy or did you specifically wink at him? - "this last one's my favorite."

surprisingly enough, for the last article of clothing you were going to model for them, neither gojo nor geto knew why you were taking so long. they didn't know if you were trying to get geto on the end of his seat, building up anticipation, or if it was just hard to put on.

from under his breath, gojo uttered out a "you better ask her out after this one." at his friend. "i'm sick and tired of the both of you talking to me about each other. it's getting annoying."

geto gaped internally at that, if the gojo satoru, the person who not only held the title of the strongest sorcerer, but also the title of the most annoying sorcerer found them annoying, then it must be worse than what he initially thought. yet even with this kind of thought, geto simply maintained his calm composure, pairing his inquisitive look directed at gojo with a raise of one of his eyebrows. "i don't think you're in any position to judge someone on them being annoying, satoru."

before the man could reply, you re-entered the room, now clad in the dress that you claimed as your favorite and shit, it's so pretty and it makes you look even prettier, and shit,

it might be geto's favorite too.

you strutted inside the room with an oh-so casual ta-da~ if what you were wearing wasn't enough to put the special grade sorcerer geto suguru to his knees.

the dress was black with cream white colored accents. it was one of those dresses that were very strappy in the back, geto can almost feel the way the skin of your back would warm his hand up whenever he's walking with you at night, guiding you through bars with a palm on the small of your back. the top part of it that's shaped like a butterfly had sequins sewn into it, while the bottom part was made out of a soft velvet-like material. the dress was just long enough to be able to cover your bottom whenever you sat down or bent over to grab something.

it was truly one of a kind, and you in that number was truly a sight to behold.

you didn't need anyone to tell you that though. one, you could see how well the dress complimented your figure, how good you look in it. and two, from the mirror you were facing, you could see the way geto's mouth was slightly hanging open and the way his eyes regarded your form the same way you regard his whenever he rolls up the sleeves of the black button down shirt he wears.

what surprises you though, was the words he spoke while he still found himself unable to strip his eyes away from you. "shit, anybody ever told you how gorgeous you are?" he feels like his mouth is dry, but for some reason, drool can peak out of the corner at any time.

you laughed lightly at him, looking at him from behind a shoulder. "every now and then, why?"

"because," he stands up, still look at you through the reflectively glass in front of you. "you're fucking gorgeous." he's in front of you now with two large warm hands placed firmly on the curve of your waist. after he put his hands on your body, he asked a small you okay with this? which you nodded to. it was all you could do, completely mesmerized and put under the spell of the mint that attacked your senses. the smell of his breath and his perfume as well as his natural scent hit you so hard it almost gave you whiplash.

he wrapped both hands around you now, his hands met at your front. "can i take you out on a date?"

you turn your head to the side and reach up to tangle your fingers into his hair; it messes up the bun he was wearing, and while usually, that would get on the man's nerves, he didn't find it in himself to be the least bit upset when it's you that's doing it. and especially since it's you that's pulling him closer, parting your lips before kissing him.

your lips move in tandem, tongues slipping into each other's mouths as you shift so your body would be facing his. one of your hand remains to be buried in his hair, while the other is wrapped around his shoulders, strong and sturdy after years of workouts and exercise. all the while his hands wander through your frame as if gojo satoru isn't in the same room as you; eventually, his left is on your back, firmly pulling you into him, while the other finds purchase on your ass, groping and grabbing shamelessly.

from in front of you, gojo scoffs. "and he tells me to have decorum." it was only when you pull away that you realize gojo has been broadcasting your whole interaction with suguru on your group chat with your shared friends via video call. your eyes widen in realization while his grin widens at a message he received. "oh, and shoko says finally."

i get: reblog

you get: gojo as your wingman

#order of the day!#order up for geto!#one matcha mochi #with a side of coconut italian ice #geto fluff #geto x reader #geto one shot #geto x you #geto fic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk one shot #jjk x you #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen one shot #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fic

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mktrashheap · 11 months ago

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Lin Kuei brothers and a taller s/o. M! reader.

Bi-Han:

Height was the first thing he noticed, even before your fighting abilities and he'll not hide that fact.

He's not blind to beauty and strenght, but what will be the deciding factor is how he's treated.

Be kind to him. Patience and understanding is key.

Tall, strong, handsome and is kind to him? Marriage material.

He has neither the time nor the inclination to be in a relationship that will go nowhere. Wants you to be part of the Lin Kuei and marry him.

Likes to spar with you. Wants you to be the best and is also a way to spend time together.

He's a Grandmaster, he can't indulge in displays of affection, not that he has the time nor the inclination to.

However, he'll take whatever opportunity to spend quality time. It wounds him that he can't enjoy his beloved as he would like.

Hold him and kiss the top of his head. He won't say a thing, but he looks forward to it.

Likes to boast about you. A lot.

Bi-Han would never settle for someone any less than what he deems perfect and once he finds his one and only, he's full of it and is absolutely boastful.

His husband is glorious and most importantly, his. The rest can cope and seethe.

Has a preference for sleeping resting his head on your chest. Why? Because after a day of demands and stress, it's where he relax. It's the best place to get his hair played with, it's soothing to hear his beloved heartbeat, it's warm.

Kuai Liang:

Unlike Bi-Han, he doesn't care that much for height. Sure he appreciates it, but height in of itself isn't what's going to win him over.

Will find enjoyment on it though. A lot of it.

Likes to be embraced in private. Hug him from behind and leave no space between the two of you. He'll gladly welcome it like you're his own personal sweater. Makes him an itsy bitsy warmer.

Accidently rubs his butt against you. Plays dumb about it.

Will use training as an excuse to climb you like a tree.

Don't get him wrong, he'll train pretty seriously because gods forbid something takes his boyfriend from him. But he likes to have some silly fun from time to time.

He's sleeping over you. During the day he seldom has time for himself, much less to spend with his man, so at least when it's time to sleep he wants to.

Since his boyfriend is bigger than him, he can sleep upon him without worrying he's going to crush him and that's exactly what he'll do.

Sorry, this is the rule.

What can he do? To him, you're the most comfortable place to sleep. Even more so when you're so kind to pass your hands on his back. Liang will find a comfortable position and he's out.

It's like sleeping with a weighted blanket. A warm, heavy blanket that won't let you get up before it does.

Tomáš:

You won the genetic lottery and the love one, this guy is a keeper. Congratulations.

Earthrealm giant power couple.

He's glad there's someone taller than him tbh. Given his Czech origin, he's not that phased by height per say, but since moving, he's often the odd one out because of it. It serves him fine for his work line and he's proud of his physique, but it's uncomfortable to be on the spotlight wherever he goes.

He now gets to have someone to be uncomfortable with!

He's a little shit though. His boyfriend will hear EVERY tall pun and joke in existance, Tomáš is living for it.

Be patient. Life dealt shitty cards to him, he deserves the joy.

Won't mind if you get back at him in private. Will do it even more.

However, doesn't appreciate other people making puns.

Oh, you're sparring with him. Life is out to get him and he wants your skills the sharpest. Also, there's few people more qualified than him for it.

Likes to be close and in private, likes to cuddle.

Likes even more to kiss while sitting on your lap. Tomáš is a big guy himself, he doesn't get to have a chance like that easily so he'll take full advantage of it.

Will adapt to whatever are his boyfriend's preferences, but if he has his way, he'll be the little spoon. It feels comforting, loving and safe to him.

#bi han x reader #kuai liang x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk1 x reader #fanfic

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perrysoup · 10 months ago

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Idk why Tumblr thinks I want to see posts from December by Zionists talking about how innocent Israel is and how it's all Hamas' fault

And I can't help but wonder, what the fuck have I posted or shared that makes it think I believe them? Edit:

Blocked someone on here who replied that Hamas kills its own citizens when:

1) Not a state, what citizens 2) Israel is bombing the areas they told civilians to go 3) Israel has killed it's own people who were fleeing civilians holding white flags because…they thought they were Palestinian citizens 4) Legit just say you don't keep up with anything other that Israeli claims

Listen, I get it, accepting you have been fed lies by your nation is hard. You think I was born disgusted with America? Fuck you think I made it to 10 grade not loving the shit out of my perfect country? You think I didn't get sick satisfaction from my government killing civilians because I was so deep in the "us v them" propaganda that I didn't care? I knew it was bad and treated it like I would a joke.

THAT'S WHERE I AM COMING FROM

You are not a bad person because your country is Your country doesn't have to be you As long as you act in defiance, even in the smallest way, they don't represent you. But if you are okay with what they are doing, or are horrified but won't speak up, it DOES represent you. You can see my blog, repeatedly I talk about how I could do nothing and be golden. White Male Southern Adult I won the genetic lottery. But it's not just about me. It's not just about you. It's about them. All of them. Helping all of them. Loving all of them. And that includes you.

But you can't put others pain to the side because the alternative makes you feel better. You help them when they hurt. You mend them and nurture them. What the US has done, and is doing, is awful. And I genuinely believe that the US should not exist as an entity. I say this, again, as someone who has the world as my oyster as far as current laws and actions go. It's time you recognize Israel did too.

Criticizing your country when it does bad things is not bad. Not criticizing them when they do bad things is.

We can all be free and happy, but not without admitting our failings and working to get better, together.

#Random thoughts #blog recommendations #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #israel is a terrorist state #genocide #israel #fuck the israeli government #idf is a terrorist group #gaza strip

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bigwishes · 2 months ago

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Freaky!

Mark was an average gym bro, obsessed with bodybuilding, obsessed with muscle, and it helped that he loved men. His hobby was essentially porn, watching workout videos got him hard, working out got him hard, seeing all the big sweaty guys at the gym got him hard.

The only issue was him loving his natural status, having such a desire to grow and put on as much muscle as possible whilst not tainting his body left him fantasying about being so much bigger all the time, constantly imaging a safe and healthy way to grow himself into a hulking beast.

It was a normal post workout Wednesday for Mark, the gym was almost empty, he had gotten a good 2 hours in and spent a solid 30 minutes flexing. He was in love with his reflection, his perfect muscles, almost 100% lucked out on the genetic lottery for every muscle development, but he still couldn't help but imagine himself bigger, he had a quick day dream about his shoulders growing wider, getting taller, his lats blocking the entire mirror, what itd be like not to see past his pecs, his dick sprung to life in his pants throbbing as he posed. It was instantly viable in the mirror, Mark got a little shy and flusters and tried to hide it, but he didnt want to stop posing so soon.

He quickly flashes his legs on more time and stomped down for a powerful pose.

"Damn, I'm looking freaky!" Mark smiled

little did he know someone knew his true desires.

Mark felt a sudden pulse radiate out from his pelvis. His biceps twitched slightly and began to feel just a bit more pumped.

His brow furrowed as he flexed his bicep, it looking ever so slightly bigger. He began to get distracted as he inspected his body all over, feeling juicy and pumped. As he inspected himself in the mirror his eyes widened as he watched his shoulders slowly growing wider, inch by inch they crept outwards, soon his under developed lats sprung to life pumping up and inflating with blood and size stretching outwards giving him a perfect V shape. Mark smiled as he flexed his arm watching his bicep and tricep almost double in size. The growth continued as his legs thickened and his ass plumped up into two perfect globes that pulled the fabric of his shorts down to show the top of them.

He didn't know how but he all of a sudden looked like a pro bodybuilder, he got that roided cut look he always dreamed about without every piercing his skin. Mark flexed and worshipped himself, forgetting he was even in a public gym. Not that there were many people around to even notice.

Suddenly Mark felt the pulse come out from his pelvis again, and again and again and again, constantly like radiation flooding his body. With each pulse he felt more and more pumped, to the point his muscles started to feel strained and painful. He watched in the mirror as his shoulders once again began to get wider. A strange gentle pain formed in his lower back as he watched himself slowly get taller in the mirror.

At first he smiled, laughing at the extra size, but when he reached 7ft and started to notice he could see his own back muscles from the front dread began to set in. The slow burn growth suddenly exploded as muscles stopped slowly inflating with size and suddenly violently would ripped and double or triple in mass. His upper body took up more space than the mirror in front of him and he felt the strain in his knees as his much smaller legs struggled to hold him. A he looked down and watched as his normal looking legs suddenly exploded with muscle. An incredible sudden pain shot up in Mark as he wasn't prepared for the sudden size competition down stares and his giant thighs crushes his dick and balls like a vice. He winced and waddles steps apart as his body continued to grow and grow.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME" Mark screamed his voice lowering with each syllable.

His bouncing pulsing muscles started to calm down, the pulsing energy from his pelvis halted and he took a large breath out. Trying to move he noticed his skin covered in deep stretch Marks, symbols of pride for the best roided bodybuilders but something he never thought he'd see. He tried to move his arm to flex and felt all the muscles in his arms grinding against his lats and chest, he did his best to create space but no matter how he moved his mass kept clashing with each other, muscles he didn't even know could touch rubbed against each other and the sound it made rang out like the terrible noise of two balloons rubbing against each other.

Mark looked in the mirror at the freaky beast now in front of him...

"oh..god..I'm....I'm too big" Mark winced at his colossal size.

His dick growing hard as thoughts about his freakish size flooded his mind. He wondered how he was ever going to fit in his car again, how he was going to get in his house, how he was ever going to find a boyfriend like this...each though got him hornier and hornier.

He saw his giant traps and shoulders and how they made his neck look almost non existent, he couldn't see past his pecs. He started to panic when a flash entered his mind, a whisper. He imagined being on a date and a guy calling him a freak.

Marks dick throbbed in his pants, he imagined guys messaging him on dating apps calling him too big, saying they don't wanna be with a freak. His dick started to leak pre into his underwear, not that he noticed, he barely even noticed his panicked thoughts were now becoming his fantasy.

A final pulse rippled out from Mark's Pelvis as he felt his ass grow bigger and his underwear slipping into the worst muscle wedgie he had ever had, pulling the fabric back and putting pressure on his dick, his manhood already hard twitched as it got bigger, its already prominent outline now looking like it was going to rip out of his shorts.

Mark winced and moaned from the pain and pleasure. Feeling it get worse as he tried to walk. He closed his eyes hoping it was all going to be a dream but he couldn't stop himself from bouncing his colossal pecs.

Another fantasy flashed into his mind, on the beach, in a speedo waddling down with everyone staring a commenting at how much of a freak he was, he imaged hitting on a guy, some cute much smaller meat head and hearing him laugh at how much of a freak Mark was.

Mark opened his eys slightly to see his body ripple with pleasure as his manhood realeased the biggest load of his life, felt the sticky glaze escape his underwear and run down the side of his leg.

"Damn...I'm looking freaky..." Mark muttered, but he couldn't help but want more.

Mark's transformation was sealed. A young man desperate for size now a colossal giant freak desperate to be degraded...

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #gay transformation #reality change

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