#i hate my body i hate my face i hate looking in the mirror i hate that i have no clothes thag fit me Ever

[pickingupmymercedes]

Utterly gone - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

Can be read as part 2 to A smile like that but it's a piece on its own.

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, oral sex mainly.

Wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +3k

a/n: Wasn't gonna post this, but I think we could all use some soft smutty comfort after the shit show this race was.

a/n.2: Special mention to Lewis adjusting in front of the cameras in the quali press conference

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

The suite was quiet when I finally slipped inside, the faint hum of the almost rising city life seeping in from the balcony. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked off my heels, feeling every ounce of fatigue settle in.

Singapore always did that—drained you without mercy, and yet, it was beautiful enough to make you forgive it.

Lewis had beaten me back to the room, not that it had surprised after hearing he wouldn’t be making the media round.

Sure enough, I found him in the bathroom, leaning his weight on the counter, fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low around his waist.

His skin gleamed under the warm lights, and his face… tired was a understatement— he could probably sleep for a week straight.

Dark circles under his eyes, the slightest furrow to his brow, as he absentmindedly worked his moisturizer into his skin.

God, how was it possible for him to look so good after almost being dehydrated?

I should probably say something snarky. After all, I had asked for a win, and what did I get?

But I knew better in that moment and honestly watching him rub lotion into his skin with those deft, practiced hands—he was so gentle with himself, it was almost unfair how much I melted at the sight of it.

My eyes trailed down his back, appreciating the little flex of muscle every time his hands moved, before finally pushing off from the door and walking toward him.

The whole thing felt so domestic, so… normal. Like this was our routine after every race weekend. Like I wasn’t still getting used to seeing him like this—bare, unguarded, with no cameras or crowds around.

“Hey,” I greeted, leaning against the counter beside him, my hand brushing his skin. He glanced at me through the mirror, a tired smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, love” he murmured, still focused on his task. I watched the way his fingers traced the lines of his jaw as he applied the cream, and a warmth spread through my chest.

“Not quite what we expected, was it?” I tried, still feeling the mood in the room, my eyes twinkling as I caught his gaze in the mirror.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Guess I owe you a win.”

I gave a mock frown, crossing my arms. “Yeah, you do. But, hey, at least you managed to sneak in that kiss before the race, so maybe I can forgive you.”

He turned to face me now, that infamous grin spreading slowly across his lips. “Couldn’t resist” he said, reaching out to pull me toward him, his arms wrapping around my waist. I let him, his body sinking into me while my body betrayed any pretense of annoyance.

I rolled my eyes. “You know I hate that. Not in front of all the cameras.”

He chuckled again, the sound low and rich, vibrating against my chest. “You liked it, though. Don’t lie.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I quipped, trying to ignore the way his fingers trailed up and down my spine. “But for the record, I also owe you.”

He breathed in almost sighting, leaning in closer, his breath brushing my ear. “I’m knackered, babe.”

I pushed him gently toward the bed, unable to hold back my grin. “Don’t worry, this reward doesn’t require you to lift a single finger.”

I brought the lotion from the counter. Lewis was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slouched, towel still hanging precariously low on his hips.

His eyes tracked my every movement as I made my way over, like he was too tired to speak but too intrigued not to watch.

I stood in front of him, letting the lotion warm in my hands before I gently placed them on his arms. His skin was still damp from the shower, and as I worked the lotion into his forearms, I could feel the exhaustion radiating off him. His muscles, taut and defined, finally relaxing under my touch.

“Thought you said this was my reward,” he muttered, a half-hearted attempt at a banter playing at his lips as he watched me. “Feels more like I’m getting spoiled.”

“Shh,” I said, quirking a brow at him. “Don’t ruin the moment, Hamilton.”

He chuckled softly, but he didn’t argue. Smart man.

I let my hands wander further, rubbing the lotion into his biceps, taking my time. He deserved it.

God knows how much strain he puts his body through during that race, and seeing him like this—vulnerable, letting me take care of him—made my heart do that stupid fluttering thing I still wasn’t used to.

As I moved to his shoulders, massaging the knots and tension out of his neck, he let out a low, contented hum, his head dropping forward just slightly.

“This alright?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. It was in the way he was practically melting under my hands.

“Mmm,” was all he managed to get out, his eyes fluttering shut as I continued my work.

My hands moved to his chest, spreading the lotion across his smooth skin. His breath hitched, just for a second, as my fingers grazed his collarbone.

God, he was beautiful. I tried to keep my thoughts from spiraling, but it was hard not to admire every inch of him—the way his chest rose and fell beneath my touch, the warmth radiating off his skin.

By the time I got to his abs, his eyes were back on me, half-lidded but focused, watching my every move. I couldn’t help the grin that tugged at my lips.

“You really know how to spoil a man” he murmured, his voice husky.

I shrugged playfully. “I did promise you something, didn’t I?”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, we just stood there, me between his legs, him looking up at me like I was the only thing keeping him grounded.

And maybe I was. At least for that night anyway.

I cupped his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over the light stubble on his jaw. His beard was a little more grown out than usual, and the roughness beneath my fingers made me smile at much we had grown used to each other.

“Whatever this is between us,” I started, my voice quieter now, my heart pounding harder than I cared to admit, “I’m ready for it, if you are.”

His breath caught in his throat, and for a second, I wondered if I’d said too much. But then he smiled—God, that smile—and it was all I needed.

He pulled me down to meet his lips, soft and slow at first, like he was savoring every second.

When we finally broke apart, there was a look in his eyes—something vulnerable, something real—and it made me laugh softly, because Lewis Hamilton, the man who could keep his cool under any amount of pressure, looked like he was trying to make sure he hadn’t just imagined this whole thing.

“You really are unbelievable” I teased, brushing my thumb over his bottom lip.

He gave me that lazy smile and pulled me closer, his voice low, almost reverent. “And you’re mine.”

And in that moment, I knew it was true.

As I knelt between his legs, my fingers trailing along his soft, warm skin, a single thought crossed my mind: How did I get here?

One minute, I was dodging his cheesy messages, and now the man was sitting there, half-asleep, eyes half-lidded, as vulnerable as I had seen him.

And me? I was utterly gone for him.

But, God, he looked so damn good. Even tired, fresh out of the shower, with his braids slightly damp and that towel sitting low on his hips. The way he sat, like he knew he had all the time in the world, like he could wait for me forever.

We were both worn out after the weekend, the clock read 5.a.m and the man had just lost around 3kgs in under two hours. Yet here I was, determined to give him the kind of reward he wouldn't forget.

Because, if I was being honest with myself, I wanted this as much as he did.

His breath hitched as I ran my hand down his abs, my fingers teasingly hovering near the edge of the towel. He shot me a look—half amused, half daring. His smirk was infuriatingly confident, even now.

I could tell he was fighting exhaustion, but there was no way he was going to let me out of this one.

“Don’t tempt me,” he murmured, low and sultry, as though I hadn’t already made up my mind.

I raised an eyebrow, my lips curling into a playful grin. "Oh, I’m not tempting." I let my fingers slip just under the edge of the towel. "I’m delivering."

Before he could get another word in, I tugged the towel loose. It fell open in his lap, and his throat pushed down a gulp as he realized exactly where this was heading.

His breath hitched when my fingers brushed lightly over his soft dick, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “What was that about ‘a heatstroke’ Hamilton?”

He chuckled softly, though it was a little strained, his eyes never leaving mine as I wrapped my hand around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Was told to not lift a muscle and be mindful of heavy activities”

“Mm-hmm, don’t worry I’ll take it from here”

As my hand wrapped around his soft dick, I could see the exact moment the cockiness melted off his face. His lips parted, and a shaky breath escaped him as I gave him a slow stroke, feeling him harden in my hand.

My inner voice was screaming with victory. That little smirk? Gone. Reduced to nothing but ragged breaths and soft moans.

I kissed along his length, starting slow, teasing. Because even though I wanted to give him exactly what he craved, I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

His hips bucked just a little, his eyes fluttered shut for a moment and his lips parting slightly. All reminders of how much he needed this, needed me.

And honestly, I loved every second of it.

My lips grazed his tip, already glistening with pre-cum, and I flicked my tongue against him, tasting him for the first time tonight. The salty-sweetness on my tongue made me hum in satisfaction.

He groaned, his head tilting back as I took him into my mouth, inch by inch, my hand still stroking what my lips couldn’t reach. He was getting harder, thickening in my mouth, and when I peeked up at him, his eyes were half-closed, his face contorted in bliss.

“Fuck, love…” His voice was low and ragged, like he could barely string the words together.

Encouraged by the sound of his pleasure, I picked up the pace, sucking him deeper and harder, my free hand gently massaging his balls.

His breath hitched again, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward, pushing himself further into my throat.

I wasn’t just giving him head; I was savoring him, relishing every reaction he gave me. He wasn’t just a F1 champion right now—he was mine, completely undone by me, and that thought made me chuckle.

His fingers went to back of my neck, his fingers tugging at the soft skin, gently guiding my head as I bobbed up and down on him. His touch wasn’t rough, though—more like he was hanging on for dear life, trying not to lose control.

But I wanted him to lose control. I wanted to be the reason.

It wasn’t long before his body started to tense, his breath coming out in sharp gasps, his grip on my head tightening as I took him deeper, my lips wrapped tightly around his now fully engorged dick.

“Love, I’m—” His voice broke, a guttural moan escaping his lips as I felt his cock pulse in my mouth. And then, with one last thrust, he came.

His warm, slightly fruity-tasting seed spilled into my mouth, and I swallowed him down, feeling the tension leave his body in waves.

I stayed there for a moment, his dick still in my mouth, gently holding him as he came down from the high. When I finally released him, I couldn’t help but leave a soft kiss on the tip, smiling up at him.

For a moment, I just watched him, wondering how I could feel this good about someone else’s pleasure. But it was him. It was Lewis. The man who could make me smile just by walking into a room, the one who posted cheesy Instagram captions just to get a reaction out of me.

His chest was heaving, his head thrown back, and when he finally looked down at me, his expression was somewhere between disbelief and utter satisfaction.

“Jesus” he muttered, still catching his breath.

I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand before standing up and leaning in to kiss him softly. He kissed me back with lazy, contented strokes of his lips, tasting himself on me.

“You good there, champ?” I teased, brushing my hand on the skin of his thigh.

He let out a weak chuckle as I stood up, leaving Lewis in a blissful haze, he watched me with those half-lidded, dazed eyes, his lips still parted and a silly smile danced on his lips.

“Just need a quick shower,” I said, my voice lighter now, as I brushed a hand over his damp chest. His skin was warm under my fingers, still slick from the lotion, and for a second, I just wanted to crawl into bed with him right then and there.

Lewis chuckled softly, his hand slipping lazily over mine before letting it go. “Take your time, love. Not going anywhere.”

The playful edge in his voice was replaced by something softer, and it made my heart flip. He didn’t need to say it, but I could hear the unspoken words between us: I’m here to stay.

As I disappeared into the bathroom, I let the water run warm, and my mind wandered back to him, sitting there on the bed, probably still recovering.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world, this routine between us—like we’d been doing it for years instead of months.

Under the warm stream, I couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot. My mind couldn’t help but flicker back to yesterday, to that moment in the presser where the world had caught him, not-so-discreetly, adjusting himself in his fireproofs.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Not in a dirty way… okay, maybe a little dirty. But mostly, I couldn’t stop picturing his hands, the way his muscles tensed.

Like he’d hoped no one would notice. Like I hadn’t already memorized every detail about him, including that not-so-little part he was trying to rearrange.

I’d tried to play it cool, ignoring the way the image stuck with me since, but now that I’d just had him falling apart under my hands, it only made the memory that much more satisfying.

The teasing was fun, but the way he trusted me with parts of himself no one else saw—that was something else.

When I stepped out, towel wrapped around me, I found him exactly where I’d left him.

Only this time, he’d shifted to the middle of the bed, his head resting on the plush pillows, the towel from earlier discarded somewhere, and the duvet pulled over his waist.

He looked so at peace, the kind of peace you only find after you've completely let go. His eyes fluttered open as I crossed the room.

“You know,” I said, sliding into bed beside him, “I wasn’t planning on making you that blissed out.”

He chuckled, his hand immediately finding my waist, pulling me closer. “Didn’t hear any complaints from me.”

I laughed softly, snuggling up to him as his arm wrapped securely around me. My hand found its place on his chest, where I began tracing lazy circles against his skin, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths beneath my fingertips.

It was quiet for a moment, the kind of comfortable silence where nothing needed to be said.

The world outside didn’t matter. The race result didn’t matter.

It was just us, tangled together in a king-sized bed, far away from the noise of the race, the cameras, the expectations. It felt like we were in our own little bubble, and I didn’t want it to pop.

As his head found its way to my lap, his hair tickling my thighs, I continued my absent-minded tracing on his skin, enjoying the closeness.

His body started to relax even more, sinking into me like he was using me as a pillow.

And then, just when I thought he’d drift off completely, he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, “That was better than a podium.”

I blinked, momentarily confused. “Wait… the head?”

He let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a sleepy smile. “Nah, love. Having you here… as mine. That’s what’s better.”

My breath hitched, and for a second, I wasn’t sure how to respond.

My heart did that stupid thing where it felt too big for my chest, and all I could do was smile like an idiot.

The man could win championships, sure. But moments like this? When it was just us, no pretense, no show—this is where he truly wins me over.

I looked down at him, his eyes closed already, lashes brushing his cheeks, and I brushed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Mhm…” he muttered, already half-asleep. “Love you too.”

And just like that, I was a goner. The words weren’t even fully processed in my mind, but my heart knew.

It always had.

I didn’t even need to say them back. Not yet. He knew. And he’d wait, just like he always did.

As he drifted off, his breathing slow and even, I felt a warmth settle in my chest. I could’ve sworn he was smiling, even in his sleep.

And yeah, maybe I had fallen hard for him, but if this was what it felt like? I wasn’t in any rush to stop.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo @hiireadstuff

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[pathologicalreid]

what goes bump in the night | s.r.

in which Spencer's struggling with violent nightmares after prison, and you find yourself on the receiving end of his tossing and turning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: reader gets whapped in the face. don't like don't read, please. blood, prison arc, black eye, a lot of guilt. therapy. word count: 1.89k a/n: (this wasn't a request but shout out to the anon who told me i had to repost this after i deleted it) this is some dark shit but i have to admit i do think about the possibility a lot. take care while reading my loves.

Several years in the BAU had inadvertently trained you to wake up at any slight movement or noise. While some might call it paranoia, you considered it to be a finely tuned skill.

Spencer didn’t sleep talk before prison, and even now, he only mumbled in his sleep when he was having a nightmare. Normally, he didn’t move, he just tossed his head around and begged for whoever he was seeing in his nightmare to just hold on. Tonight was different, he sounded like he was pleading for someone to leave him alone, and he was thrashing more than usual.

You knew there was a risk of waking him, but you reached out and gently shook his shoulder anyway. “Spence,” you whispered, not wanting to hurtle him out of his darkened dreamscape.

There was no response. No sign of him coming even close to waking up.

His thrashing became worse, and his mumbling became even less intelligible like something was covering his mouth in his dream. Reaching out from your side of the bed, you tried to grab his hand, hoping it would be something that he could use to ground himself. Gripping his hand, you said his name again, more forcefully this time.

The pain didn’t even register at first. The first thing you recognized was the sensation of having something stuck in your eye, a small twinge in the outer corner that sent your hands flying to the side of your face.

Oh.

With your uninjured eye, you looked up to see Spencer, awake. Breathing heavy, sure, but awake. Very slowly, his breathing slowed, but he had seemingly forgotten that he was sharing a bed with you until you felt liquid trickling from your nose and scrambled to the bathroom before you got blood all over the sheets.

His wide eyes followed your shadow through the bedroom, putting the convoluted puzzle pieces together as he came out from under his nightmare-induced fugue state only to find a different type of panic. You faintly heard him curse and rustle the sheets as you shut the bathroom door harder than you intended.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your right eye was tearing up as a result of the impact, and your nose was trickling blood down your face. Grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the counter, you pressed them to your nose, blinking the tears from your eyes to the sound of your heart beating through your chest.

Spencer knocked on the bathroom door, followed by a larger thud that you assumed was him leaning his head against the door. “Can I come in?”

You tried not to sniff, hating the sensation of your nose being covered, you responded, “It’s your bathroom.” Your tone was far too blasé, and Spencer was going to see through it immediately.

“That’s not what I asked,” he told you, a slight tone of desperation ringing through. You knew what he wanted to know; he was asking if you were comfortable with him being in the same room as you – if you’d feel safe with him in the same room as you.

Leaning your head back, you took as deep of a breath as your body would physically allow you before you answered, “Yeah, you can come in.”

Before you had even finished speaking, Spencer had opened the door to the bathroom, letting the light stream into the bedroom, “Fuck,” he murmured when he saw you, “Hey, don’t lean your head back. You don’t want the blood to run down your throat.”

“Okay,” your voice quavered, watching him lift his hands like he wanted to guide your head down until he realized he didn’t know what to do with his hands – he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. Leaning over the sink, you let coagulated blood fall from your mouth, watching it go down the drain before you looked up at Spencer, who watched on in horror at the mess he had created. “Can you grab more tissues?” You asked him, giving him a job to busy his idle hands.

Instantly, Spencer grabbed a handful of tissues and held them out for you, within your range of motion. Still leaning over the sink, you took the new tissues and held them to your nose, haphazardly dropping the soiled tissue in the basin beneath you. “I don’t… What-“

Cutting him off, you spoke, “Do you still have those ice packs? The first aid ones from last year,” you made a new request, giving him a job to perform so that he wouldn’t apologize to you. He’d apologize until he was blue in the face, but you still wouldn’t know how to respond.

He nodded, crouching in front of one of the cabinets and filtering through a first aid kit, hoping to produce a disposable ice pack for you to place near your eye. With the timidness of a newborn foal, Spencer set the plastic on the counter next to you.

Your boyfriend watched as you carefully peeled the tissues from your face, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped, only to quickly replace the tissue when you noticed a trickle of fresh blood making its way down your philtrum. “Aren’t you supposed to pinch it or something?”

“Yes, you can pinch the bridge of your nose to staunch the bleeding,” Spencer said, grabbing your discarded Kleenex and putting them in the garbage bin. He watched intently as you reached up your free hand to pinch your nose, “Does… does it hurt?”

Giving him a quick shake of the head, you met his eyes through the mirror, “I don’t think it’s broken,” you told him, avoiding answering most of his question.

He loosed a sigh of relief, “Thank god,” he murmured, keeping an eye on you as you wondered how terrified he must have been to invoke the name of a deity he didn’t believe in.

Once you were finally able to drop the last of the tissues in the sink, you were faced with an even worse reality. There was no way of escaping the black eye that you already had forming, the tender skin would be further marred with time. “I think it looks worse than it actually is,” you offered meekly, reaching to your side and grabbing the ice pack off of the counter. You popped the center of it before wrapping it in a towel that Spencer had set out for you.

Holding in a hiss as the towel touched your face, you allowed your eyes to wander across the rest of your body. Your shirt had drips of blood on it, but the larger issue was red encrusted all over your face. With the urgency of a sloth, Spencer took a different towel from the drawer and ran it under the tap, wringing it out before holding it up, “May I?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, thankful for your newly cleared airway as you extended your neck, giving him the access he needed to wipe the blood from your chin and neck. “Spence-“

“I’m so sorry,” he interjected, his movements faltering as he let his hand drop to your shoulder.

You shook your head, crinkling the icepack in your hand, you blinked rapidly, hoping to clear your vision. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” you told him, it was the truth. He had obviously been having a violent nightmare, and you grabbing him had likely triggered a fight or flight response.

Spencer sighed dejectedly, “I burst a blood vessel in your eye. I’m so…” his voice trailed off in the middle of his sentence, leaving you unsure whether he was going to apologize again or go off on a self-deprecating tirade. “I hit you,” he breathed, abruptly yanking his hands away from you, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.” Setting the washcloth on the counter, he put his hands up in surrender and stepped away from you.  

Leaning against the bathroom counter, you wished for an inkling – anything you could say to him that would prevent his auto-villainization. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. Saying you hit me sounds so…”

“Wrong? That’s because it is,” he said harshly, and you could almost see the storm of self-loathing that was brewing in his mind.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your grip on the icepack before looking up at him, “but it makes it sound like it was intentional. You didn’t hit me, you… thwapped me.”

Spencer loosed a shaky sigh, “I’m not so sure that’s better.”

“Would you prefer bonked?” You proposed, looking at him and hoping for a small smile, but being disappointed when you were met with the same haunted expression. “It was an accident,” you insisted, reaching out your unoccupied hand and taking his hand in yours, “I am fine.”

He scoffed dismissively, “I should have had a better handle on myself.”

You frowned, “You were asleep, Spence. You couldn’t have had a better handle on yourself. It wasn’t on purpose, and you’re taking care of me now,” you told him softly.

“But you’re scared of it happening again,” he challenged you.

When he had come home, you knew he had been changed. Not necessarily for the better or for worse, but he was most certainly changed. You had heard everything in bits and pieces, what had happened in Millburn, what had happened with Cat, but nothing had prepared you for the harshness of your new reality. He was capable of harming others, but that didn’t mean you thought he’d hurt you again. “You’re disappointed in yourself, but you don’t believe you get to feel that way. You’re projecting onto me,” you told him, taking your hand back.

Spencer flinched back, “Don’t profile me.”

“You, Spencer Reid, would never knowingly lay a hand on me,” you insisted, you believed it. You believed it even if he didn’t believe it himself.

The two of you sat in an angst-filled silence before he stood up straight, gently starting to usher you into the bedroom. Handing you a t-shirt from your drawer to change into, you could see his internal struggle as he grabbed a pillow from the bed and made his way toward the door.

Despondently, your shoulders slumped forward, “Where are you going?” You asked softly, hating to watch him leave your shared bedroom over this.

“I’m sleeping on the couch. I’m gonna… I’ll try to set up a meeting with my therapist in the morning. I just…” his voice trailed off as he looked at you with wide, sad eyes, “You’re okay?”

Your heart ached at his voice as you nodded, opening your arms for him and letting out a sigh of relief when he returned to you for a hug. Reaching your free hand behind him, you rubbed his back comfortingly, “We’re going to make it through this, mark my words.”

He nodded in affirmation as he pulled away, “For my own peace of mind, I’ll sleep on the couch for a while.”

You accepted it, knowing that he needed to deal with this in his own way, he closed the door behind him, effectively leaving you alone. Laying back on the pillows with your icepack still clutched to your face, you sighed, wondering how long it had been since your boyfriend felt any semblance of peace of mind.

[slut4menig]

Guys my age

Paring: Luke Castellan x Curvy AphroditeFem! reader

Req: hii can you please write a prompt in which Luke is 19 and reader is 16 and he thinks the age gap is too much as doesn’t see her as anything more than the kid he is counselling, but she’s an Aphrodite child so she doesn’t mind the chase, you can make it smut or not iyw!! also do you maybe mind making the reader like chubby/curvy? i love your work!! 🫶🫶 - 💜 Anon

ofc u can be!!! also omg i actually kinda hate this but whatever… hope u enjoy!

Warnings: MDNI, big age gap, cursing, drinking, use of smoking, reader implied to be curvy

Luke Castellan, a 19-year-old at the infamous Camp Half-Blood, stood tall and pretty almost like a loyal dog, and that made it near impossible for anyone to resist his charm, he’d had a go at almost all of the girls at camp half-blood, including all of my beautiful half sisters.

His unruly curly brown hair framed his handsome face, and deep brown eyes, which seemed to look straight into my soul whenever he gave me a task, even something as simple as asking to clean my dorm, held a hint of mystery. A small scar on his upper cheek added an intriguing touch to his otherwise perfect appearance. Luke is the epitome of a golden boy, capturing the hearts and attention of girls of all ages, young and old.

I’m only 16, luke had never dare even batted an eye at me last year but this year, I came back to camp, determined for a chance to stare into those beautiful eyes and have it mean something for him too. Since last year, i’d started to… well develop. My body had formed into a nicer shape, i certainly grew into myself. My chest was definitely a lot bigger, I started using normal bras, no more training ones. My thighs were thick and beautiful, something many men wished to be suffocated with.

“hey gorgeous girl, you’ve certainly grown up” My half sister Silene winked at me, I only ever see her at camp and I was packing my stuff into my bed. I rolled my eyes and huffed at her.

“Silene seriously? i haven’t seen you in a year and that’s the best you’ve got?” I immediately hug the girl as she chuckles quite a bit at my sharp tongue, we all start talking to our other half siblings and that’s when one of them goes

“hey y/n, you do realise you’re now technically old enough to be going to the bonfire party?” my half sister smirked

The bonfire party was tradition, 16 and up campers, it involved heavy amounts of marijuana, alcohol and other illegal shit. It was an excuse for people to get drunk and hook up and deeply regret it the next morning or so i’ve heard. It’s almost like a “back to school” party but instead it’s back to camp. It happens on the one night that Chiron is away and Mr D is in charge, of course, you bribe him with some alcohol and suddenly everyone’s happy.

“yeah uhh i’ll go, we should start getting ready then i guess?” i say, a bit on edge of what’s about to happen.

As i’m getting ready, i’m being handed a black lacy corset top showing off my double d tits extremely well, i look in the mirror and smirk, this is one of those times i KNOW i looks good. I wore a mini skirt along with it, sure i looked like a slut but hey? what can you do?

I enter the Bonfire, the glow of the fire casually illuminating my face in a perfect light. In hand was a red solo cup with… tequila and some other concoction i’ve been handed, i take a sip and spot him. Luke Castellan, my camp counsellor and the man I was practically already on my knees for. He made his way over to me and looked me in the eyes.

“Y/n? wow you look… grown up” His eyes clearly wandered around my tits a lot more than they should’ve, and he almost looked as if he scolded his self for looking but i wanted him to, this whole outfit was for him

“oh yeah? in what way?” i smirked and slightly tilted my head, trying to seduce the boy infront of me

He cleared his throat and came back to eye contact “You’re uh.. you’re taller” no i wasn’t, it was a blatant lie, i hadn’t grown an inch over the year, i knew what he was talking about and smiled to myself about it.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Luke and I both turn our heads to a very drunken silene who’s perched up on the table, some guy with his arms wrapped around her waist and mouth colliding with her jaw.

And who was anyone to say no to my beautiful sister? Soon everyone found themselves sitting in this circle, bottles of Tequila, Vodka, Whiskey, Jäger and other liquors in the middle of the circle, ready to be there for whoever backed down from a dare.

“Clarisse, truth or dare” An Apollo girl slurred, looking into clarisses eyes from across rhe circle. Clarisse smirked and in return took a sip of her drink.

“Dare” It wasn’t surprising, her choosing dare.

“I dare you, to kiss me” the apollo girl smirked at clarisse, they obviously had tension and clarisse made her way over and kissed her, passionately i might add. The entire circle cheered and cheered.

Clarisse suddenly averted her gaze to me, we’d been friends for a while now whenever I hung out with silene she would be there.

“y/n, truth or dare?” I felt myself nervously stare at her, a group of maybe 25 people waiting on my reply to this one simple question she’d asked. It wasn’t that hard of a question so i gave a simple answer.

“Dare” I wanted to play it safe, truth was too much for me right now, I knew it would end up in me having to tell a huge secret and I just wanted a casual night, nothing too crazy, which was why i was baffled as to what came out of Clarisses mouth next.

“I dare you to spend 7 minutes of heaven with the person you think is the hottest, and don’t try bullshit your way out of this lovebug” Clarisse was obviously feeling happy with herself, she was tipsy as one could be. Actually no, she was just shitfaced.

I felt my body begin to grow weak and i scanned my eyes across the room, except i found one thing. No matter how hard I looked around the room, my eyes were always drawn back to Luke castellan. The man himself.

“uhh luke…” I said, everyone cheered and Luke looked at me a bit confused as to why I’d chosen him. Nevertheless we walked into a secluded spot in the woods.

“Y/n I uh… why’d you pick me?” Luke looked at me as he leaned against a tree and i stood there looking up at him

“why not, they said to pick the hottest person there” I shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant.

“You do realise you’re far too young for me, sweetheart?” Luke muttered at me in a deepish voice.

“I know but what did three years ever do to anyone?” I smirked, it was time for me to use the powers my mother gave me and capture this boys beautiful heart.

“Y/n i- i was- no! still am, your camp counsellor, you don’t think this is a little weird? you coming onto me.. I mean, you’re hot but” Luke said conflicted with his own thoughts at this point.

“Oh would you shut up castellan I saw you looking at my tits earlier, don’t act like you’re surprised i’m coming onto you” I smirked at him, giving him doe eyes and fluttering my lashes

“you’re such a brat, you know that? you need to shut up, it will get you killed someday, that pretty mouth of yours” Luke furrowed his brows and almost scolded me

“how about you make me shut up?” I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered this seductively into his ear.

“oh I can think of a few ways” Suddenly I felt Luke’s warm tongue slip into my mouth, his deep kiss sending sparks to my pussy.

he pushes me against a tree, his hands roaming over my body possessively. “Fuck, you're so young and pretty, tell me, you ever fucked anyone?” Luke continued to say as he slipped his hands to the back bit of my corset top

“n-no, i’m all yours” i managed to breathe out, goosebumps trailing over my body from his cold hands unclasing my top.

His hands reach under my bra, feeling my soft skin. He leans in, kissing my neck, my collarbone, as his hands grope my breasts. His hot breath against my skin sends shivers down my spine. “that’s perfect pretty girl, let me take care of you okay?” luke then continued to kiss my forehead and unclasp my bra

He looks up at me, his eyes filled with desire. "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now," he says, his voice low and husky. He starts to slip his hand up my mini skirt, his hands shaking slightly. “I bet your pussy is so tight and wet...”

i groan at his words, whimpering at the boys touch. “I- do it…”

“I can’t, I can’t ruin something as perfectly innocent as you” Luke looked at me in the eyes, piercing me with his gaze

“i’m less innocent than you think you know” I trailed my hands to unbutton his jeans and i watch his eyes widen

“what did you lie on your book log in elementary school?” he chuckled trying to distract himself from his hard on being revealed

“yknow i hump my pillow most nights wishing it was your dick” i whispered in his ear, i could feel the head flush on his face as his erection was poking into my thigh.

“fuck… pretty girl… that’s so hot, i wanna fuck you senseless, show you what a man is” he collided his lips to my collarbone and sloppily kissed it, his hands making his way to my soaked panties, rubbing it through them

“all soaked for me, pretty?” he looked up at me as i nodded, biting my lip to hold back a moan. I felt him slide my underwear off and crouch down, i felt the warmth of his hot breath against my sticky wet pussy, his tongue beginning to lap it, finding my clit and sucking on it with a pop.

I became a moaning mess, begging for mercy and for luke to continue fucking my hole with his tongue just the way he did. “mmmph~”

His hands spread my thighs wider apart as his mouth works its magic. His tongue swirls around my wet, throbbing flesh, sucking and licking with expertise. I can't help but moan loudly, my fingers tangling in his hair to pull him even closer. “Luke... please...”

He can feel my body shaking with need as he continues to eat me out, his own arousal growing with each moan that escapes my lips. He sucks my clit hard, his fingers sliding inside me, curves up to rub against my G-spot. “Come for me, baby...”

His fingers pump in and out of me in a rhythm that matches his tongue on my swollen bud. The sensations overwhelm me, and I dig my heels into his back, shamelessly bucking against his face as I shatter, screaming out his name. “Luke...Luke...”

As I reach my peak, something inside me breaks. I convulse hard, and suddenly, a rush of liquid gushes out of me, drenching Luke's face. He moans approvingly, lapping up every drop like a thirsty man.

I become red from embarrassment and stare at the man in horror.. “oh my god luke did i- did i just pee on you?” Luke did nothing but grin at me, his wet face glistening in the moonlight

“No baby, it’s called squirting and it was the hottest thing ever” he grabbed my hands away from my face

After cleaning me up with his tongue, Luke gently lifts my legs over his shoulders, positioning himself at my entrance. He looks into my eyes, his own filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. “Okay, beautiful girl, this is going to hurt, but I'll be gentle”

I look up at him, tears welling in my eyes. He smiles softly, "Good girl. It'll start feeling good soon, I promise." He leans down to kiss me, his hips pulling back slightly before pushing in again, deeper this time.

As he continues to move in and out of me, his pace picking up slightly, Luke leans down to take one of my hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. His thumb finds my swollen bud, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. "Luke... oh god, Luke..."

I cry out as my orgasm hits, my vision blurring, my body trembling. Luke doesn't stop, fucking me through my climax, his own need evident in his face. "Fuck, pretty girl, you're so fucking tight right now. I can feel your little pussy squeezing me."

As he thrusts into me, his pace becomes erratic, his breathing heavy. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum, Y/n. I don't know where to put it all," he groans, his eyes wild with need. "Where do you want it, huh?"

I gave Luke those oh so beautifully innocent doe eyes he’s currently corrupting, i batter my eyelashes and whimper as i speak

“I want you to do it inside of me luke” Luke’s eyes widen at the prospect but doesn’t have time and gives in.

“You’re lucky i can’t say no to those beautiful eyes of yours baby” With a low growl, Luke buries his face in my neck, his body convulsing as he spills inside me. He jerks his hips against me several times, unloading more and more of his warmth into my inexperienced core. "Oh gods."

He pulls out and we both lay there breathlessly.

“that was a lot more than 7 minutes…” i whisper sheepishly as i catch my breath and put my clothes on

“i’m sorry i had to be your first time… you do know we can’t be together right? i mean you should really be with a guy your age?” Luke refused to look in my eyes as he slipped his boxers on

“but guys my age aren’t… you”

[stevesgother]

Dress - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.5k

Summary - 2 times Steve Harrington has lost his mind seeing you in a dress that fits you like skin, and the one time he does something about it.

Contains - best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is pathetically in love, loosely based off of ‘Dress’ by Taylor Swift. Or maybe heavily based lol

Warnings - steve & reader ARE 18 in this, they just haven’t graduated yet, drinking, vomit. As always, let me know if I missed anything

AN - THIS IS PART 1 OF A WIP. second fic…ever! also my first mini series! i was gonna make it all one fic but i figured it would be easier to digest this way. enjoy :)

Senior Prom - May 1985

Michael Cooper. That’s who was waiting for you downstairs in your foyer, sweet talking your parents while he waited to escort you to your final high school dance. He wasn’t your first choice for your senior prom, hardly even your second; but he was respectable enough for you to be seen on his arm for one night.

Taking one last look at yourself in your vanity mirror, you smoothed your hands down the front of your dress. It was a beautiful baby pink ball gown with lace trim and puffy sleeves. Before you can think better of it, before you can feel guilty for it, you imagine Steve’s reaction when he sees you tonight.

Steve Harrington. Your best friend since diapers. Your mothers grew up together, so naturally when they found out they were pregnant at nearly the exact same time, it only made sense that they would orchestrate your friendship immediately.

As it turns out, not much orchestrating would be required. The second your little baby brains could comprehend what it meant to love another person, the rest was history. Wherever you went, Steve went too. You’re not sure when your feelings for him started to change. The usual calm that washed over you whenever you were in his presence one day seemed to transform into something different. You felt nervous, like someone had released a net of butterflies into your stomach.

You clear your head with a harsh shake and grab your clutch off the bed, making your way downstairs. Michael is waiting for you with a green corsage in a shiny translucent box. ‘That's Sweet,’ you think, “if only it matched my dress.’ 

–

Upon arriving at the gym, the first thing you do, consciously or not, is scan the room for your best friend. You spot him quickly, his perfectly manicured hair and well-pressed suit making him hard to miss. Even harder to miss is the gorgeous, curly haired brunette resting her head on his shoulder.

Nancy Wheeler.

They’ve been together for over a year at this point, even joining your close knit circle of friends. Despite this, you can’t help the nagging sense of jealousy stabbing at your chest, making your face heat up. You tell yourself it’s the humidity inside the gymnasium, and not the fact that you’d give anything to be in her position. You quickly abandon your date and try not to feel guilty for it, making your way over to the happy couple.

“Steve!” You call as you come further into their line of sight.

“Hey you!” Steve stands and gives you a tight hug. “Hey!’ you greet, returning the embrace. He can’t help the way his eyes quickly travel down the expanse of you, noticing the shape this dress gives your body. He prays to any listening God that his girlfriend didn’t notice, that you didn’t notice. “Hey Nance.” You address her with a polite smile. She gives you a hug without warning. Another thing that irks you about Nancy Wheeler: that girl is impossible to hate. You have every reason to despise her, and yet you can’t. She’s kind, funny, strong-willed and beautiful. She’s so ‘girl next door’, she’s so…not you. Occasionally you’ve wondered if it’s a front, that she can’t possibly be that perfect.

“Where’s Michael?” She asks inquisitively; like she genuinely cares where your douchebag date has run off to. A quick scan of the room reveals he’s already talking up another girl by the photobooth. There’s not one part of you that gives a shit. “We were just thinking about grabbing some food, wanna come with?” Steve nods his head toward the various appetizers they have set up on tables decorated with gaudy tinsel and tablecloths. “Yeah, why not?”, you smile and it doesn’t reach your eyes.

–

An hour and 2 cups of spiked punch later, ‘Heaven’ by Bryan Adams starts to play and you feel like you might hurl. Nancy’s face quickly lights up and she gives her date a knowing look, “Steve! Let's dance! Please??”. She’s immediately pulling him away from the table where you’ve been watching them flirt all night. Her delicate hand resting on his bicep, his large one finding a home on her thigh. He sends you a sympathetic look as he rises; sorry that he has to leave you there, sorry that you won’t be slow dancing with anyone tonight. He has no idea.

Your date is long gone. The two of you going together was a ticket inside and nothing more.

The air in the gym is suffocating and frankly smells of sweaty basketball shorts, so you decide to make your way outside for some fresh air. The romantic serenade of Bryan Adams’ voice is nothing more than a quiet lullaby as you lean against the brick wall of your high school.

You hear him before you see him. “Hey stranger,” the open door momentarily lets the humidity escape and you feel it wash over your skin. “you alright?” he asks with a half smile.

“Yeah just,” you say looking around, “getting some air is all,” returning the expression. He imitates you and decides to lean on the wall, a little too close for comfort. You’re all but slapped across the face with his scent. Cinnamon, a no doubt expensive musky cologne, and sweat. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to meet his gaze; praying that he can’t see the crimson shade of red creeping up your neck and cheeks simply from standing next to him. You feel so pathetic at times like these. 

“Nance found a couple of her girlfriends, figured it’d be a good time for a smoke.” He pulls a cigarette out of his suit jacket pocket, and lights it. His hand cupped to cover the breeze.

“Those’ll kill ya, you know?” you smirk, knowing. You’ve always teased him for his bad habits, especially this one. “Yeah well,” he says in an inhale, “now’s as good a’ time as any, right?”

He grins at you, smug. It sends you reeling and you hope your thundering heartbeat doesn’t give you away. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

After a few minutes of silence, he stomps his cigarette out on the pavement and turns to fully face you. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and your breath hitches in your throat.  Steve’s complimented you before, thousands of times. So why does this feel like you’ve just been slammed into a wall of concrete?

“Steve…”

You feel like he’s getting closer. You’ve definitely had too much to drink.

Before you can stop yourself or even comprehend what’s happening, you vomit all the contents of your stomach directly onto Steve’s perfectly polished loafers. He yelps, most in surprise, slightly in horror. Despite that undeniable foulness of the situation, his hands immediately move to hold your hair back, just in case you aren’t, well, finished. 

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started crying. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay,” he soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” He starts to lead you to his car in the parking lot, leaving you here alone not an option for him. “What about Nancy?” you sob, “I’ll come back and get her, honey. Don’t worry.” Honey. You almost puke again.

Once he settles you into the passenger seat of his pristine BMW, you watch as he toes off his shoes and throws them in the garbage. When he slides into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition, he turns and brings a palm up to cradle your jaw. “Guess I’m gonna have to keep an eye on ya next time,” he chuckles, “can’t handle your mildly spiked punch.” You groan, but give a breathy chuckle of your own, “Just drive, Harrington.”

When you arrive home, you breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of your family car in the driveway. Your mother would certainly pitch a fit if she saw you like this - mascara streaked down your face, an obnoxious yellow stain down the front of your once flawless dress. Steve leads you upstairs with a hand on the small of your back, and a palm cradling your elbow. You know you’re not drunk, and you’re almost positive that wasn’t the reason you spilled your guts. But the alternative to just letting Steve take care of you would be admitting that you love him, that you’re in love with him.

You don’t bother taking your makeup off, Steve just helps you change into an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “Lights on or off?” He asks as he pulls the covers up and over you, “Off, please.” he gives you a little two-finger salute, “you got it.” Just as he’s reaching underneath your lamp shade you whisper, “Steve?” he looks, “yeah trouble?” “I’m sorry for ruining your night…and throwing up on your shoes.” you give a sheepish look. Even though he would have every right to be, you know he’s not mad at you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head,”the shoes we can discuss at a later date,” he shoots you a wink, making sure you know he’s only teasing.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Without another word he closes the bedroom door, bathing you in darkness. Just before you succumb to sleep, you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re gonna remember this in the morning.

Cheers to senior year.

[smutinlove]

i just found your blog so idk if you've done this already but can I request a nightwing with a reader who's insecure about their body?

<3

of course!!

tw/reminders: insecurities; weight gain; angsty

it's a bit short

The mirror was your space. It was where you'd pick out the flaws from your body and glare. And you'd keep glaring until you couldn't. It wasn't your fault that you had gained a bit of weight or your skin was breaking out. It just happened.

You hated it, too.

Once again, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, picking at the flaws and criticizing yourself.

You heard the door to your bedroom creak open; you jumped back in surprise. It was Dick, or, well, Nightwing. He seemed to have just gotten back from patrolling the streets of Bludhaven.

"Babe, hey," you stammered; he had arrived early, earlier than you'd expected too. He took off his mask. "Hey, love," he said, a sly grin forming on his face.

He noticed your grim expression and rushed towards you. "Are you alright, did something happen?" Dick's hand cupped your cheek.

"I'm fine. I am fine," you replied, trying your best not to let down the facade you built. His gaze softened. "It's okay, love. Tell me what happened."

And just then, you melted at his words and found yourself crying into his shoulder as he whispered sweet words of affirmation into your ear.

"I hate it. I hate things... things about my body and the way I look, Dick," you finally managed to confess. "Baby, no, you're perfect just the way you are, okay?" Dick replied.

"No, there are these voices in my head, telling me that I'm not enough, and I can't help but listen to them."

"Love, you're the sun that lights up the world. You're fucking beautiful. I love you, okay? I fucking love you. And I know that you're the most beautiful person," he cupped your cheek. "You're perfect." Dick stated, staring deeply into your eyes.

[asuyaka]

Hiii, it's kind of a weird request so I totally understand if you ignore

Would you mind writing fluff with some comfort for Dazai with a trans male reader (ftm), when the reader is very transphobic (only) towards himself, because he doesn't want to be this way cause it's not something 'socially accepted?' the reader is rather chameleonic n generally cares a lot about how he's seen and if he fits in, going as far to change his whole way of acting based on who he's talking with or when he can't mirror someone's personality putting on a charismatic, playful, talkative facade. (Basically a social3 in detail but not manipulative if u know that term) because of his desire to climb social ladder and massive fear of lacking social acceptance, he tries to gaslight himself into thinking he's cisgender most of the time, which only makes him feel worse?? The 'all I want you to do is give me all of your love&applause and for return I'll be whoever you want me to be' type of performer.

Sorry for being picky but please don't write the reader as a submissive scared little thing that can't be assertive at all I hate that in comforts I beg u

★ - this hits so close t'home cause 've always struggled with my gender identity n'stuff then I realized there's a buncha labels, too many f'me to care about ! *^__^*

☆ - Dazai Osamu x FtM Reader!

♡ - really hope I wrote him well f'ya anon ! O(∩_∩)O | CW: copious amounts of misgenderin' (she/her & terms like 'girlfriend are used for the first half, please be warned !!) & transphobic language !

[Name] looked at his her the outfit in the mirror, a black body con dress with a slit that ran up [Name]'s thigh.

The longer [Name] stared at the reflection the more an urge to throw up formed. Dazai would be the door for their date, and every dress [Name] tried didn't sit right.

They were either too tight, not tight enough, too short, too long, or too boxy— the point was nothing worked.

It didn't matter if [Name] put on a skirt or a crop top, they made everything feel worse to the point [Name] wanted to call the date off, but that would make her a bad girlfriend, and she wanted to be good.

The doorbell rang. "Babe? You haven't answered your phone, are you okay?"

[Name] groaned and opened the door. Dazai glanced over her outfit with wide eyes. "Wow. Uh, nice dress, but what's the occasion?"

[Name]'s eyebrow raised. "What do you mean? I always wear dresses."

Dazai walked into [Name]'s apartment and plopped onto the couch. "No, you don't. You told me you hate dresses and skin-tight clothes."

She glared at her boyfriend, a deep frown on her face before scoffing. "Okay, well, I like them now. Girls like dresses anyway."

The brunette paused his actions and stared. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

[Name] rolled her eyes. "What did I say?"

"You're joking, right? You aren't a girl— I asked you out because you're a man, and I wanted a boyfriend."

Boyfriend.

The title made [Name]'s heart well, like a warm blanket draped over her body. It didn't cause that sick, gut-wrenching feeling like 'girlfriend' but they weren't a boy.

They couldn't be a boy.

[Name] gulped thickly. "...I'm not a tranny, Dazai. What would my coworkers think? My parents? I can't— I was born a girl, Dazai, I shouldn't... feel this way."

Osamu gently holds [Name]'s hands. "Baby, what are you talking about? You've always been my boyfriend, you being born a woman doesn't change that."

"But I... it's— Osamu, it's not right. If I act too masculine, I could lose my job and have my neighbors hate me, but I fucking hate having to act like somethin' I'm not." [Name] sniveled, wiping his cheeks at tears that began to form.

Dazai guided his boyfriend to the couch and cupped his cheek. "You shouldn't have to change yourself to make other people happy. You're my boyfriend, the only boy in the world I've genuinely loved, and I don't want to see you destroy yourself for the better of someone else—people who don't even know you."

"If you lose your job for being you, then you could work with me. I'm sure Boss wouldn't mind having a new employee."

With a gentle kiss, Osamu chuckled. "And I'd finally get some work done so I can relax with my perfect boyfriend in the world."

[Name] sniffed as his boyfriend pressed another kiss on his wet cheek. "...is it 'cause you're lazy?"

"Eh... not lazy, just... working smarter and not harder!"

"Not working at all doesn't count, Osamu."

Dramatically, Dazai held a hand to his chest and rolled on the floor. "Woe is me! My boyfriend keeps bullying me even after I call him perfect! What do I do?"

He lightly laughed and placed a soft hand on Osamu's hair. "Maybe take him on a date?"

The brunette immediately sat on his knees with sparkles in his eyes. "He still wants to go with me?"

[Name] kissed Dazai's forehead and smiled. Even with the thoughts swirling in his head, Osamu always had a way to make him feel better. "He'd be delighted to go on a date with you."

[teakoodrawz]

" I'm a Psycho, loving it~ "

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

sigh hope everyone’s having a good [insert time of day]

[eric-the-disposable-demon]

ok I'm sorry but I can't keep not saying this bc I keep pretending it isn't a problem and hoping it'll go away but it won't and I'm sick of it

I have a really unhealthy relationship with food and my body and it needs to be addressed and I have no idea what to do

[deva-arts]

Merry Late Christmas!

(You see Nathaniel's handwriting. "What an energetic holiday morning!")

Winter is a very sluggish time for these three. They're fighting hard against whatever funky DNA is telling them to hibernate. Even harder against the urge to eat everything in the fridge and laze around.

Here's the older one for comparison!

...Needless to say I hated it. Vincent looked so cursed for me, and Sera- I don't know what I did there.

[temperate-rainforest]

I always forget how people back in the olde days used to just die so easily from the flu, until I get the flu myself dhhdhdhf because on one hand I know our medicine is just soo much better now a days but on the other hand I have the immune system of a dead man and once I get sick I'm like the ye olde victorian child on a death bed dhdhdhhd it's been 4 days and I just NOW can get on my phone to watch videos and text, and eat and drink water, and coherently string words together and do more than just lay in bed and moan in pain, and sweat and cough in sick delirium 😭

[yutadori]

weight mention // + body image //

-

-

-

both my parents have commented on my weight in the past two days and it usually wouldnt get to me because that's something that's just so #normal in my life but it has been really affecting me like crazy because i Have gained a lot more weight in the past year or so even in the past few months and it IS making me feel so insanely crazy awful like they really dont understand and i dont think they ever will. it's frustrating to have to hear how much it disgusts them time and time again like i GET IT !! i know !!!!! i hate it too god it's literally the body i live in do you not think i Know do you not think im aware of how it looks or how it makes me feel ?? ill never understand why people feel the need to tell people who arent skinny to lose weight / that they arent thin like omg... its literally their own body that they live in wtf . it sucks because i figured that maybe my mom would have a bit of understanding but it's possibly worse with her... she lost a lot of weight in the recent years and she's been way more cruel to me about my weight than before and i think it's because she sees it as "i was able to lose the weight why cant you it must be because you're lazy and enjoy being Disgusting 😁" and it sucks so bad esp with my recent weight gain which is a result of #coping with loneliness and all my other gross feelings lol . i have a dinner with my cousins in an hour and they're all way thinner than me and i cant help but feel like absolute ass about it ouaghhhhhh

[sea-of-machines]

being too self aware is ruining me

[finalhaunts]

Full fucking offense but iam genuinely considering offing myself lmao i want to tear the fucking skin off of my face so bad its not even funny

[dragonsyot]

ehe

i g nore please (:B

[old-memoria]

I miss those days when I had healthy self esteem