#and this isn't even a big deal but i found stretch marks on the backs of my hips today

[spacedinosauruses]

feeling kind of off today

it was fine but idk

took a turn

struggling to keep myself alive

[designatedbreadbox]

Do ya'll every think about

how the bros. will love MC literally regardless of what they look like or how MC chooses to present themself because they don't have the same bullshit views about beauty that we have?

Continuation here:

Like, MC with freckles/dimples/vitiligo? Fuckin' cute, adorable, ya know Asmo be countin' every single spot. Your dimples has everyone floored. By everyone, I mean EVERYONE; YES, EVEN BARBATOS. Luke's included but its puppy love

MC with scars of any kind? They would all love to hear stories about how you got those if the subject isn't uncomfortable or sensitive for you.

MC with tattoos/piercings? Like with the dimples, everyone if floored and at first Luke was scared. But then he realized he got to go to a school with a bad-to-the-fuckin' -ass human! How cool is that?!????

^^^ *insert puppy love again*

MC with dark skin and kinky/coily hair? If you let him, Mammon will be ALL OVER seeing how your hair curls.

Very skinny MC? Fuckin' epic man, Levi wants to know how good you are at videogames.

On that note, chubby MC? The twins found a new snuggle buddy and Belphie is DEFINITELY a hugger.

MC with a certain aesthetic? Lucifer is in awe and honestly respects how hard you work to maintain that. He thinks you look great sexy in your attire.

Very pale MC? MC reminds Satan of a ghost/ghoul and is in love with that because honestly? Goals man, that's actually cool as fuck.

Ginger MC? Beel fuckin' LOVES you and is not afraid to show it. Like AT ALL.

Short MC? Tall MC? Mammon is simpin' either way height makes no difference to him.

Nonbinary/Trans MC? Anyone who misgenders and/or deadnames you intentionally is DEAD. Accident is one thing, but on purpose? They're not dealing with that.

Lesbian/wlw/Pan. etc. MC? Asmo has someone he can discuss hot women with, so win-win in all honesty.

Brown-eyed MC? Gorgeous under the moonlight and Lucifer thinks they look even better under spotlights.

Green-eyed MC? Satan wants to compare it to plants; he wants to find stuff that'll remind him of your eyes.

Black-eyed? Belphie is both terrified and finds it so fuckin' cool. Thinks you look badass.

Blue-eyed MC? Levi's already on the floor with a nosebleed and he can't function around you. Your eyes remind him of his favorite thing: the ocean.

Stretch marks? Body hair? The twins don't see how that can annoy anyone; it's just hair. And stretch marks are so common that Belphie can't see why humans hate them.

Big/small boob MC? Makes absolutely no difference to anyone whatsoever. But Asmo does worry about your back and offers give back rubs.

MC with braces/mouthpiece? Lucifer wants to know if they hurt, at all. Did you choose the band color?

MC with glasses? Canon that Lucifer and someone else is attracted to people with glasses, so he's already simping. Lowkey, of course, but it's there.

Hijab/Turban MC? Satan wants to know how you put it on, it looks so complicated and fascinating. Or even better: you tell him step by step, so he can get a taste of your culture.

Latino/a MC? Please, by all means, cook for Beel. Or give him the recipes. Man is dying for new ones and he loves savory foods above all else.

Like, it really doesn't matter what MC looks like. It truly doesn't. Can you imagine how diverse the Celestial Realm is? Seeing people that look so different from you, but you still call them your brotjer/sister? Because looks don't matter when you can just have fun with them; it doesn't matter in a strength competition or trying to see who runs better. Looks mean shit when your younger sibling has a nightmare and you need to comfort them.

They carried that view over with them upon entering the Devildom. They always held onto that belief because they truly believe there is no good justification at all as to why someone should be judged solely for what they look like.

No matter what MC looks/presents like, they'll always be loved. Even if the whole world says otherwise.

[kuryoomi]

scars to your beautiful (kageyama x reader)

➸  genre: angst and fluff.

➸  pairing: kageyama tobio x reader.

➸  word count: 1.5k

a/n: wHEW. i wanted to write something meanigful, but idk how it turned out !! honestly idek if this is either angst or not lowkey,,, heart fingers.

synopsis: kageyama helps (y/n) love and embrace the scars from her past.

WARNING! mentions of relationship abuse.

ouch.

warm, red blood oozed out of the exposed wound, the sharp pain visible on your face. from your left side, a little boy was apologizing to you several times with tears in his eyes. and from your right, kageyama extended an arm to lend you a hand.

"thank you." you took his hand and pulled your body up from the ground, blood still gushing out from your scraped knee.

"i'm s-so s-sorry!" the little boy sobbed in between his words.

smiling at him, you shook your head before patting his head, "i'm fine! still moving, you see?" you shook your leg to prove yourself to the little boy.

"still, be careful. you might seriously injure yourself if you don't!" teasingly, you scolded the little boy, causing him to nod his head ferociously.

"i'll b-be careful next t-time!" swallowing his tears, the little boy picked up his skateboard before running off.

seeing as the boy disappeared from their sight, you let out a breath before stumbling to keep your balance.

"oi! don't fall!" kageyama pulled you back up, "c'mon, i'll help you get seated."

he helped (carried) your body while searching for an empty bench in the park. spotting one in the distance, he continued supporting you before setting you down on the empty, wooden bench.

adjusting your position to your comfort, a sigh left your lips.

"of course this had to happen." you thought to yourself, "i knew this day was going too smoothly for my own liking! ugh, why can't my first date with tobio be a success?? curse you, bad luck!!"

"(y/n)." kageyama interrupted your thoughts, "can you roll up your jeans for me?" he was knelt in front of you, one knee up and the other knee down.

"huh?!" you snapped out of your internal conflict, "why?"

oh no.

"so that i can see your injury." he pointed directly at your knee, "the blood is seeping through your jeans."

oh no. anything but that.

"pfft, i'm sure it's fine! no big deal." you swung your legs back and forth, "you see?" unknowingly, your face gave away your pain.

he took one look at your before shaking his head, "(y/n), don't be ridiculous."

you hung your head, avoiding his eyes, before beginning to slowly roll up your jeans. as more skin got exposed, your fingers hesitated.

kageyama noticed your hesitation and helped you roll your jeans up, thinking that the pain prevented you from continuing,

"no— wait!"

a long jagged scar snaked down the side of your leg, close to your knee. the skin around the mark was slightly discolored, suggesting that it did not heal properly. this was something you did not want kageyama to see, at all. but what could you do? lady luck was not on your side today. you grimaced, too afraid to see the male's reaction.

without any comments, kageyama stood up from the ground and turned his back towards the female.

"i'll be right back." he spoke before jogging away from the bench.

oh no.

he thinks they're ugly.

oh nonono.

what if he decides that i'm worthless—

haha, no way.

as if.

tobio isn't that kind of person...

is he?

amidst your worries and doubts, you noticed kageyama return from somewhere with a plastic bag hanging from his grasp. you jumped up from the wooden park bench, ready to explain yourself.

"t-tobio! you're back!" you shuffled your feet nervously as he stopped in front of you with his eyes on yours, "don't worry! i can explain my— my um. my scars! haha see, i was in this crazy relationship a few years back and my boyfriend wasn't exactly the best person alive. b-but it's all good now! he received his punishment and i'm—"

partially listening to your rambles, kageyama silently sat you back down on the bench. without a single word, he retrieved the item he bought from the convenience store (a first-aid kit) and opened it up before quickly soaking a piece of cotton with bottled water.

"we have to clean up your wound, first." he spoke calmly as his hands dabbed the piece of cotton on your knee.

unable to process his actions, you watched as he peeled off a bandaid before sticking it onto your wound. he pressed his fingers against it lightly, the bandaid sticking well to your skin. he was gentle, almost as if he were working with fragile glass, yet firm at the same time.

"and now we're finished." he smiled softly and awkwardly made jazz hands, signaling his finished work. still struck by silence, your eyes were glued on him as you watched kageyama throw away everything except the first-aid kit, "tobio.."

he returned back to the bench and sat down, his hand reaching out to give you whatever was left inside the first-aid kit.

"here. don't want you being unprepared again." with a kind smile on his lips, kageyama leaned back against the bench and stretched him arms out, "now you can continue your story, if you want. i'm here to listen."

oh.

initially, you weren't sure how to feel when he offered his ears to you. strange, right? just moments ago, you were desperately trying to explain yourself, your scars, to him. but now that he was actually listening, it was odd.

as shocking as it may seem, you weren't used to someone offering to listen to your voice, your past, your story. maybe it was because of this reason that you actually felt nervous to say anything.

but you were compelled to tell him. this guy, who had only known you for a couple of weeks, had knocked down any barrier you had built from a previous relationship, in a matter of minutes.

was it the way he looked? at you? or was it because of his caring gestures— you had no idea. whatever it was, it worked to his favor. you instantly desired to spill everything out to him. after all, you just couldn't hide it in any longer.

"my- uh. my ex-boyfriend was abusive, both physically and mentally. he would verbally tear me down with harsh words before resolving our fight with his fists. honestly speaking, it wasn't even a fight. whenever he spat out insults to me, it was all one-sided."

you paused, contemplating on whether or not to continue. spilling details about your painful past was overwhelming, to say the least. you swung your legs back and forth, allowing your silence calm you down. luckily, kageyama was patient.

"he told me that i was ugly with all these scars—said that i should be grateful he was at least willing to be with me, even though he was the one who gave me these."

another pause, with kageyama's eyes widened the slightest bit out of anger.

"my parents eventually found out, even though i didn't want to trouble them with anything, and they reported him. he received his punishment, and i got a restraining order! happy ending to a not-so happy story." immediately, you faked a laugh and encouraged a smile on your face, as if to show kageyama that everything was alright now.

but kageyama saw through it. vividly. even if both the corners of your lips curled upwards, your eyes betrayed you. no matter how convincing your smile looked, if the eyes weren't sincere then nothing was.

you gulped softly, expecting the silence from him. you figured he was processing the information you had given himㅡ it was a lot to take in, after all.

"your ex-boyfriend seemed like an ass." he stated bluntly after a painful silence as his body turned towards to face you.

"yeah, he was. i honestly don't know why i stayed with him." another laugh escaped your lips, nervously this time, "maybe i depended on him too much. pathetic, right?" you glanced down before lifting your wounded knee upwards, "now, i got all these ugly scars marking me for the rest of my life."

"they're not ugly."

you turned your head to the side, "excuse me?"

he shrugged, "your scars. they're not ugly." kageyama said once more, "nothing on your body should be considered as ugly. why would they be?"

"because they make my body seemㅡ destroyed."

he shook his head, "no. your scars show everyone how brave you are. how you survived through the worst of times to make it to the present."

kageyama crossed his arms before continuing, "the scars on your body from your past make up your own constellations. if anything, you should be proud and embrace them."

you bit your lip. since your previous breakup, the concept of loving your body seemed impossible. of course, you'd been trying for years now, but failed every single time. heck, was it even possible? you wanted verbal assurance.

"doㅡ do you think i'm capable of embracing them?" you asked, your voice laced with hope.

kageyama stared at the female, a brief moment of silence between the two of you. he was positive that you were more than able to embrace your scars. you were strong in his eyes. of course, he was willing to help you in any way, shape, or form.

with a hand on top of your head, he gave you a small smile before nodding his head, "absolutely."

[poli9048]

Part 3

"Who are you gonna run to now?"

Lea was carrying a container with warm food in it that her father had asked her to take to a neighbor. The delicious smell of lasagna made her dizzy, but the unpleasant feeling that was tormenting her from the inside did not allow her to concentrate on this pleasant smell at all.

The incident at the party had thrown Leia out of her comfort zone. She was bitterly aware that it would be awkward for her to look at her friend's eyes now, since they had almost kissed twice in the past week, and the thought of it made her cheeks flush with shame. Lea and Chris never allowed themselves to do this, valued their friendship and stayed at a distance. Currently, both have taken a step, not fully realizing in what kind of way.

With a heavy sigh, Brossard walked to the Morrises 'front porch and pulled the handle of the neighbors' front door as if it were the entrance to her own home. The door wasn't locked, so Lea went inside. Chris, in a rumpled t-shirt and disheveled hair, was sitting at the table in the living room, his dark green eyes fixed on a shelf, but it was clear that his thoughts were far beyond this room.

Without bothering to say Hello, Lea set the container right in the middle of the table, pushing the dirty glasses and several packets of candy bars to one side. — From my parents. This is lasagna, be careful, don't choke on it.

Chris shifted his heavy gaze to the woman next to him, mumbled something under his breath, and returned his gaze to the bookcase.

— Where's the thank you? I was actually wasting my time bringing you this masterpiece of cooking — Lea began, ignoring her friend's untidy, tired appearance, the dark circles and bags under his eyes clearly indicating that the young man had not slept for several nights in a row.

— Thank you, — Chris said. —Finished? Get out of here.

— I'm actually trying to help you, and you're acting like a complete asshole,— Lea said. A few days of continuous lectures from her parents and an early Sunday service left their mark on her emotional state.

— I don't need your help, okay?! — Chris exploded, clearly on edge. He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair, his eyes blazing with rage, and his voice breaking into a scream. — I can't help myself, and how can you help me? Who are you, anyway? A strong and independent hooker. No one sees you more than as a sexual object!

Lea recoiled as if she had been whipped. Morris's words were just as stinging, and the girl's lips were frozen with hysteria.

— And you're a damned weakling who does nothing but whine and feel sorry for yourself. Mama's boy! Where is your mother? Who are you going to run to now?! — these words came out of her mouth. Lea did not even have time to realize how much she had hurt him now. Chris felt like a slap in the face, and his eyes — those mirrors of his soul — were now filled with pain and despair.

— Go to the office and get a job there, — Lea suggested after a moment's silence, trying to hide the excitement and remorse in her voice.

— I already went, and the only thing I was told was that it was fucking mediocre,— Chris said, recovering from a moment of rage, and picking up the container that his friend had brought from the table and removing the foil in which the still — warm lasagna was wrapped, he began to eat it. Lasagna was Mrs. Brossard's signature dish, and she made it for holidays, neighborhood gatherings, and school fairs. Many who tried the dish for the first time so flatteringly praised this painfully simple recipe. And the family only painfully realized that this is the only thing that she knew how to cook. Other French dishes that often appeared on the family table, she ordered at her favorite restaurant.

***

No matter how cold-blooded a bitch Lea was trying to be, she felt that now she simply had to help a friend who seemed to be always there. In addition to the feeling of guilt for the words expressed in the heat of the quarrel, the girl decided to talk to the editor of the magazine.

— Is John in there? — Lea came to work off-shift and glanced at the big blue eyes of the pretty Secretary. Did he offer her sex too?

—Yes, what are you concerned about? — Brossard didn't even hear the rest of the question and stormed into the editor-in-chief's cold office. Only idiots could open a window in the fall, and one of them was sitting in front of her.

When Mr. Blythe saw Leia in the doorway, he gave Her a dirty grin and looked her up and down, licking his lips like a predator.

— I've already missed you.

— Hire Chris — Leia demanded in a harsh, cold tone that brooked no argument, but John's expression didn't change at all. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his sky-blue shirt, revealing pale, protruding collarbones, as if he were hot in this icy office.

— So, I didn't make a mistake, you were in the photo, - John closed his eyes and stretched his lips in a smile. — And Chris is your boyfriend, isn't he? Lea frowned.

— He's my neighbor, and it doesn't matter.

— Oh, trust me, this is a big deal in our little deal, — John said, raising his eyebrows as he beat a strange rhythm on his knee. The belt badge glittered in the sunlight that slid across his body.

— Tell me about it  — Lea took a step forward, and he abruptly grabbed her by the arm. All attempts to keep her balance were futile, and reluctantly the girl sat on his knee.

The smell of expensive perfume and cigarettes hit her nose — not the cheap ones she bought at the local corner store-but good, expensive cigarettes with a thick white filter and a pleasant aftertaste. After a moment, the guy put his hand on her back, running his hand along her spine and stopping at the edge of her t-shirt.

— If you want your neighbor Chris to work in my office, you know what you have to do, — John hissed into the back of his neck, his nose stroking the thin skin and his lips exploring each wreath.

— You have a mountain of silicone at the front Desk, cover girl, why do you need me? — Leia's voice trailed off. Close contact and a few confident and, unfortunately, pleasant touches took away all the ability to think clearly.

— Do you agree to my offer or not? — Brossard exhaled noisily. Having sex with an unpleasant guy for the sake of an ungrateful neighbor is a bad idea. But she wasn't doing it because of Chris. An image of Mrs. Morris, a beautiful woman and neighbor, came to mind, giving Leia advice and feeding her whenever She ran away from home. She loved her son very much, and the girl knew what a strong bond they had, so the answer to his question was obvious.

— Yes, — she said underneath her breath.

— What did you just say? — his breath tickled her ear. He could hear her answer perfectly, and she could feel the smile in his voice.

— I agree.

John began to trace a path of kisses from the neck to the shoulder of the girl, biting the skin somewhere in the area of the collarbone. Lea pursed her lips, trying to catch her breath.

— Close the door, — she said.

— Such a brave girl is afraid of being seen?"

John closed the door roughly. His brown eyes burned with desire. He walked over to Leia, who was sitting in his expensive leather chair. With deft fingers, he unbuttoned his shirt, pushed it aside, and, taking the girl by the hips, sat her down on the table.

«A strong and independent hooker.»

Blythe bit into the full lips of Lea, who reluctantly returned his quick kiss, bit her lip, and pushed his tongue into the girl's mouth. Lea frowned in disgust at herself and this guy, but she knew that she could not escape her chosen fate, and she ran her fingers through the thick curly hair of the young man, pulling it back and forcing the guy to recoil.

«No one sees you more than as a sexual object!»

John took off the girl's black t-shirt and, covering her body with kisses, exploring it with his hands, pulled off her skirt and threw it somewhere to the side. Lea felt the appraising gaze of a predator that had found its new victim.

— God, you're gorgeous,— he breathes, and then he grabs her by the hips and heads toward the black leather sofa.

The young man loomed over Brossard, and her gaze fell on Blythe's freckled face, which was strewn across his sharp cheekbones in constellations. Leia's hands slid over John's taut abs as the thick leather belt clattered to the floor. Freeing both himself and Leia from unnecessary items of clothing, the guy abruptly entered the girl, spreading her pliable thighs.

«...hooker!»

John moved in a way that made Leia's vision darken and her head spin. She took deep breaths, but could not get enough oxygen to cope with the lack of breathing.

"...no one sees you more..."

Blythe didn't want to hurt her, but it was getting harder to control himself with each thrust. Moans came from lips that gasped for air. John abruptly changed the angle of the entrance, pinning the girl to the sofa. His hands were everywhere: at the bottom of her stomach, on her chest...

«hooker! ...a sex object!»

Heavy breathing, hoarse moans-all the sounds in the office merged in unison. Blythe bites into the girl's thin neck with a kiss, grabs her stomach, and with one deep penetration they both achieve release. Both breathing so heavy, like they ran ten miles on Blakan.

— Don't tell Chris that I asked him to take it. Just tell me you changed your mind, okay? — Lea asked, avoiding the gaze of the one she'd just given herself to, as she gathered her clothes from the floor.

— All right,— Blythe said, and fastened his seat belt with a slight movement.