#like I know you shouldn’t care about a fucking clothing size

[chxrryrose]

i hate clothes shopping

[felixknow]

Bang Chan: Worshipper

sorry, I had to repost this. the last one wasn't showing up in search results.

Smut!!! MDNI, NSFW!!!!! Established relationship w/ plus size c!sfem reader; body image issues and breakdown; d@ddy k!nk, bbygirl said a lot, praise during intimacy, Chris being a soft dom basically <3

Chris opens the door and frowns.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?” you ask quietly, dropping your bag from your shoulder.

“Don’t even get me started. You’re not looking at me for one, and you knocked on my door. Since when do you knock?”

You shrug halfheartedly, kicking your feet a little, nervously shuffling back and forth.

“Can I come in, or…?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, opening the door wider and taking your hand as you step inside. You take off your shoes and sit your purse down, then pass him, letting go of his hand. He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Y/N.”

You shuffle into the living room and drop down onto the couch, curling into yourself against the arm, resting your cheek against the backrest.

“What happened, baby?” Chris asks, sitting behind you and gently trying to pull you toward him. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble, letting him turn you at least a little so you’re sitting facing forward. “I’m just… pathetic,” you whine, turning your face away from him so he can’t see the heavy tears welling up in your eyes.

“Baby, no you’re not.” He tries to pull you in for a hug, but you panic and thrash, throwing his arms away from you. His mouth falls open in shock, his eyes looking betrayed and hurt, and finally the dam inside of you bursts.

“I’m upset because I saw this beautiful, skinny girl and I saw her beautiful, skinny friends and I just started to feel so disgusting and huge and it didn’t matter how much progress I’ve made loving myself lately because when I saw them I just wanted to cry. I feel so disgusting, Chris. I don’t understand why you’d want to be with someone so huge and blobby. You should be with someone hot and pretty and skinny and beautiful like those girls.”

You can’t meet his eyes.

“I’m disgusting,” you mumble.

You can barely move out of an irrational fear that he’ll suddenly see you as terribly as you suddenly began to see yourself.

“You shouldn’t be with me,” you whimper.

You just want so desperately to shrivel up and disappear.

“Why would you say that?” Chris asks, hurt and empathy dripping from his voice. “Babygirl, you are beautiful. Do you hear me?” He holds your arm and tries yet again to turn you toward him, but you shake your head and keep your head turned away.

“Y/N, I don’t care what other girls look like. ‘Thin’ doesn’t mean ‘beautiful,’ the same way ‘fat’ doesn’t mean ‘ugly.’ It’s okay to have bad days, but you can’t genuinely think that those girls were better or more attractive than you just because something bad happened in your head. This isn’t my baby. Where’s my baby?”

He tries again to turn you toward him, and finally you let him, but you snap.

“This is your baby. Your huge, fat girlfriend who’s twice your size and probably is so fucking ugly when you try to lay her down to make love--”

Your voice cracks.

“How could you even want me? I’m disgusting.”

Finally you break, sobbing and letting him pull you into his open and waiting arms. He holds you tightly, shushing you and rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“No, no, no, don’t ever say that. Don’t do that, Y/N. I love every single bit of you. I think you’re beautiful. I love your body. I love your mind. I love the way you look, in your clothes and out of them. I don’t want a different girl. I want you and all your lovely curves and rolls. Don’t cringe right now, don’t you do that,” he says, scolding you when you flinch at his words. “You say all the time that I looove your curves and your rolls, and you’re right. But for some reason you can’t say it today, so I’m saying it for you. It’s not a bad thing to be big, Y/N. I love you.”

Your cries subside slowly as Chris talks, and finally you settle down to lip wobbles and quiet sniffles.

“I love you,” he says again, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

“Can I see that pretty smile?” He pokes your side, making you turn away from him slightly. You know the barrage of tickles is coming before he even starts.

“Noo,” you whine, trying to scoot away from him, but he locks one arm around you and starts his tickle attack with the other, targeting your sides and your belly. Your laughs come loud and hard. Your lungs are sore almost immediately, and he doesn’t stop despite your desperate gasps of his name amongst your giggles and squeals as you squirm and push against his strong arms.

“You need Daddy to show you how perfect you are, huh?” he asks through gritted teeth despite his smile. His voice is a mix of teasing and stern, ready to slip into his dom role with you at your signal. You can’t respond properly through your laughter despite the slowing of his prodding fingers into your sensitive side.

“I think you need me to worship this beautiful body of yours, yeah?” he asks, urging you to respond. He finally stops tickling you and instead grabs onto one of your thick thighs with one hand while his other hand finds its way around the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me, Princess, or Daddy’s gonna answer for ya.”

Words still won’t come out between your panting breaths and still-negative thoughts swirling in your head. So you moan in response, staring into Chris’s eyes with your mouth held shut by his grip.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks.

“That’s how it is, eh?” He lets go of your face and leg at the same time and climbs to his feet. “I know just what you need, then. Come with me.” He takes your hands and pulls you up and along behind him, down the hall and into his bedroom. He makes a point of dramatically locking the door behind the two of you before turning toward you with a serious look on his face.

“You’re gonna take what I give you, understand?” he asks before pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor, leaving his impeccably sculpted torso on display for you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you say softly, nodding.

“Good girl. Now I want you to take everything off.” Your face falls. “Ah, ah, don’t argue with me. I said everything.”

Tears involuntarily spring to the corner of your eyes.

“But, Chris--”

“--Who?”

“Daddy…”

“Do as I say. Now.”

“But I’d be more comfortable if we went slow…” Your fingers play with the hem of your shirt nervously.

“I said you’re going to take what I give you, Princess,” he says dangerously and slowly. “Did you misunderstand? I’m not asking. Take it all off. Now. I won’t tell you again.”

You have no choice but to comply. With shaking hands you take off your shirt and bra, then your pants, underwear, and socks until you’re standing in your boyfriend’s room wearing nothing but your own embarrassment.

Chris either doesn't notice or doesn’t care. He hisses as he palms himself and groans when your last shred of clothing hits the floor.

“Fuck. You’re so beautiful, you know that?” You shake your head slightly and cross your arms, holding yourself tightly, trying to cover yourself. “Mm, obviously you don’t or we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Chris crosses the empty space between you and grabs your arms, forcing them down to your sides. He shamelessly pets and squeezes your arms, your chest, your belly, your sides, your back, your hips-- everything he can get his hands on despite your wriggling and whining as you try to turn away from him.

“I love this body,” he mumbles against your neck as he holds your body against his with his hands grabbing two handfuls of your ass. “I love your soft arms and your big stomach and your cute little rolls. You’re so warm and sweet, I could just eat you up.” His lips brush up and down your neck, presses kisses between his praise of you, sucks love bites into the column of your throat.

“I’m gonna fuck the sense back into you,” he says, voice dipping lower, growing closer to a growl. His grip tightens almost painfully on your ass before he massages the force of his grip back out. That’s the kind of night it’s going to be. He’s going to make you take it no matter how hard he gives it, but he’ll always be sure to make it better once he’s satisfied.

“There’s no reason my girl should be doubting me, or herself.” He holds your face in place again, making you look him in the eye. His other hand sweetly pulls your hair to one side and brushes it out neatly before grabbing it in a tight grip. “You think I want a skinny girlfriend? You think I want someone who doesn’t look like you?”

You nod slightly, but his stern look and annoyed tilt of his head makes you quickly correct and shake your head.

“No, no,” you say, trying to correct yourself. “You want me.”

“That’s right,” he says, holding your hair tighter. “If I wanted a skinny girl I’d be with a skinny girl, wouldn’t I? As if I even care about someone’s size. You know, it’s not nice to try to put words into my mouth. Who I ‘should’ date, who I’d ‘look better’ with. It’s insulting, Princess. Are you gonna say sorry for insulting me?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, trying your best to pout.

“How sorry?” he lets go of your face but not your hair.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy. I shouldn’t have said those stupid things. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You gonna be a good girl now and apologize properly?”

You nod frantically.

“Yes. Yes, Daddy. Whatever you want.”

“Lay down on the edge of the bed and let me fuck your throat then.” He finally lets go of your hair and almost shoves you toward the bed by the force of his hand leaving you. Reflexively his other hand catches you and makes sure you’re steady before you get into position.

Rough but sweet.

You climb onto his bed and lay on your back, scooting up until your head and hair hangs off the edge. Chris takes his time removing his pants and underwear, watching you spread yourself out for him despite your deep instinct to cover yourself and hide.

“Good girl,” he praises when you part your lips and hold your mouth open and waiting for him. He sighs and bites back a moan as he strokes himself, slowly shuffling closer and closer to you until he can prod his tip against your lip. You stick your tongue out and try to get a taste of him, but he steps back.

“Ah, ah, ah. I didn’t tell you to do that, did I?”

“No,” you say quietly.

“So behave.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Chris comes closer again and rubs his tip against your lips, tracing them and circling them until he finally decides to push into your mouth. He moans and greedily keeps pushing and pushing until his cock is buried to the hilt and your throat is full of him.

“That’s my good girl,” he says in a low groan. “Ahh, yeah. Such a good fucking girl, hmm?” He slowly pulls back and starts rocking forward again, and all you can do is hum around him to agree and try your best not to gag.

“Fuck. Yeahh,” he hisses, thrusting faster as he reaches out to grab and squeeze your tits. Tears start to roll down your cheeks just from the pressure and the half-gags you have to keep choking down. 

“Mmm, my pretty girl. So good for me. Yeahh, just for me, baby. Such a good girl. I love the way you look like this. I love seeing your whole body while I fuck that pretty face.”

He babbles on, praising you while leaning forward to touch your body. He plays with your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. He runs his hands across your stomach, grabbing the rolls at your sides and sweetly rubbing his thumbs against them. His hands wander higher, petting your arms and your chest and finally he caresses your face and notices the tears streaming out of your eyes.

“Oh, babygirl,” he coos, backing up and taking his cock out of your mouth.

“No,” you whine as soon as your mouth is free. “Daddy, noo, come back. Don’t stop, please.”

“Why are you crying, Princess?” he asks, kneeling down and kissing one of the tear trails on the side of your face.

“Just because I was gagging. I’m not crying anymore.”

“You’re not? You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good girl.” He once again grips your chin and turns your head to him. He kisses you deeply, giving a long pause for this gentle intimacy before he gets back to his ultimate goal: fucking every single shred of self-doubt out of you.

“You know I hate when you cry, babygirl,” he says, kneeling on the bed and sitting in the middle. “Come here.”

You take his hands for support and he helps you sit up. He guides you closer and closer, and finally has you sit straddling his lap. He places your arms around his neck, then his hands wander, slowly caressing your arms, your shoulders, down your back and every inch of your sides and hips. He pets your thighs and brushes the back of his fingers against your stomach and across your breasts before he finally palms them and squeezes gently.

“You’re so beautiful to me. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” he says softly. “I’ve never once looked at you and thought you were anything less than stunning. I’ve never thought you were any of the negative things you’ve thought about yourself.”

“Really?” you ask breathily, trying to focus on three things at once-- stopping yourself from crying again, hesitating to put your full weight on his lap, and the way his touching your body and now your chest is making you as flustered as the first time you had sex with him when every touch he gifted you felt feather-light and exciting.

“Really,” he insists, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck where he already left love bites. His hands move again, reaching down to your hips and your thighs once again. “I’ll sit here and tell you over and over and over again until you believe me.” One hand stills on your hip but the other caresses closer to your inner thigh. “I’ll tell you a million times how attractive you are and how addicted I am to your body.” You involuntarily jump, just slightly, when his gentle fingers brush against your cunt. “And if it doesn’t make you feel any better, I’ll tell you a million more.”

“I’d like that,” you say softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He lifts his head again and meets your eyes.

“Look at me,” he whispers as his fingers spread your lips and slip against your skin thanks to the wetness he’s already caused.

“My sweet girl.” He traces your labia lazily for a few seconds, staring deep into your eyes. You squirm in his lap and your hips involuntarily buck down against his hand when his finger swipes across your clit.

“My pretty girl,” he says, circling your clit slowly. “Don’t you agree? You’re my pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you sigh out.

His hand stops.

“Say it.”

“I’m your pretty girl.”

His fingers start moving again, a little faster than before.

“Good girl. My beautiful girl.”

You moan and roll your head back, but Chris immediately stops his hand.

“Baby,” he warns. “Eyes on me.”

Oh.

You tilt your head back up slowly and make eye contact again, no doubt with lust-clouded eyes. Chris’s eyes are dark but shiny and playful as always, and he looks at you in a way that makes your head spin. His gaze is a mix of stern command and lovelorn fawning.

“Repeat what I said,” he says after a moment of silence, flicking a finger across your clit, making you hiss and suck in a breath. 

“I-I,” you stutter, unable to remember what he even said ten seconds ago. “I'm sorry, I don't remember.”

“You don't remember? My fingers make you lose your head that much? I haven't even let you ride them yet.”

You whine and roll your hips as if you were riding them already.

“I want to,” you whine, but he tsks.

“You're so beautiful, babygirl. I want to make you feel good because you're the most beautiful when you're cumming because of me, but I need you to love yourself again before the end of this. My beautiful girl.”

He slides his middle finger into you, lazily curling the end of it so you can feel him press against your walls. Your instinct tells you to close your eyes or look away, but you know by now that if you take your eyes off him he'll stop. 

“Your beautiful girl,” you force out, trying to keep your breathing steady despite the way your heart pounds in your chest. There's something so overwhelming about this intimacy-- not just the sex, not his finger inside you, but the combination of his eyes locked on yours while doing it and making you say his possessive affirmations…

“It's too much,” you whine. “I’m overwhelmed,” you mumble, looking away from him and putting on your best pout so maybe he won’t punish you too harshly.

His finger slides out of you and he tilts his head to try to look at you.

“Too much? You don’t know what too much is. I haven’t given you enough yet.” He puts two of his wet fingers against your clit and starts frantically rubbing, letting your sensitive bud bounce between the cleft of his two slippery fingers. You immediately jump and whine, squirming and moaning, hips rolling and twitching.

“Ahhhh, mmm, Chris, ahhh!”

His fingers stop abruptly.

“Who?”

“Daddyyyy.”

“Look at me while I make you cum,” he demands, moving his two fingers in their frantic rhythm again. Your head doesn’t move, so he grabs you by the throat, squeezing at the outer edges just slightly. You gasp and grab his wrist with both hands, finally looking at him again.

You can’t make out any words, only gradually louder whines and pathetic moans as he works you closer and closer to your climax. No one has ever been able to make you cum so quickly from their fingers alone, but Chris has always had a special way of winding you up so tightly that you feel like you’ll burst before he even gets his hands on you.

Now he’s got you on the brink, one hand on your throat while the other works your clit. He lavishes you with his words.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl. I love your body. I know every inch of this beautiful, big body. Wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that? Wouldn’t change a thing about your body, Princess. I love you.”

“I love you,” you gasp out. The way you’re sitting on his lap won’t let you close your legs, but your thighs tremble and try to work shut anyway. The cocky smile on Chris’s mouth while he waits for you to reach your climax is too good. He knows you too well. He knows.

“I love youuu,” he says again, sickeningly sweet, right as it finally hits you. You throw your head back as much as you’re able with his hand holding your throat in place. You grind down on his hand, groaning and moaning, incoherently trying to call out his name in a desperate attempt to connect to him further.

“My sexy girl,” he chuckles. “God, I love the way you look when you cum.” He releases your neck and tilts your head forward to press your lips against his. While he kisses you, his fingers gradually stop and finally still, then his damp hand rests against your waist. 

He kisses you languidly, swallowing the rest of your whimpers as the overwhelming warmth and pleasure works its way through your system and you slowly calm down.

Finally when you’ve been quiet for a few moments, he pulls away.

“I should have done that in front of a mirror--” he says in a low voice. “--or recorded it. You need to see how pretty you are when you cum.”

“Maybe next time…?”

“That’s a wonderful idea, babygirl. Next time. But for now…” He reaches down and pulls on your calf, making you swing your leg to the side and then wrap it around him. He guides you to do the same on the other side until you’re no longer sitting on your knees straddling his lap. Instead you’re sitting in his lap properly with your legs locked behind him.

“Now I need to fuck that pretty pussy, and we’re gonna do it together, yeah?” Chris takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, guiding you to start stroking him. “You’re gonna-- ahh-- You’re gonna ride me and I’m gonna fuck you, and you have to keep looking at me, got it?”

You nod quickly but don’t verbally respond. You really wanna look down at his cock, especially as he helps you tilt it toward your cunt while pulling you forward until you’re close enough to feel the tip hitting heavily against your clit.

But you can’t look away from his soft eyes.

His persona is slipping. The bite has been falling out of his voice. The intimacy of having you in his lap, reacting so strongly to every little touch he gives you, has filled him with love more than pride; confidence in your relationship, more than smugness for his ego.

And you can see it all betrayed in his eyes.

“Closer,” he mumbles, wrapping one arm tightly around your waist. He holds you impossibly close to his body, your stomach squishing against his toned abs and your soft breasts flattening against his chest. The soft love-struck look in his eyes never falters, not even as you shift to the side a little so you can still help guide his dick into you despite your stomach being in the way.

He moans happily when you finally start sinking down on him, and you moan right back, whining needily as he fills you.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, briefly tilting your head down as if you’re gonna lay it on his shoulder, but you remember his one rule and sit back up.

“This pussy always takes me so well,” Chris sighs happily. “I love this fucking body. I love it,” he groans, bucking up into you while his second arm joins his first locked around your waist.

“I love you,” you gasp, grinding down against him.

“I love you. I need you to love yourself like I love you.”

“I’ll try,” you stutter, nodding. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

You move your hips together continuously, Chris bucking upward and you grinding down. You have more freedom of movement being on top, so you take it upon yourself to circle or slide your hips back and forth depending on what feels best.

Chris’s hands grip your squishy hips and love handles tightly when you move in a way that feels really good for him, and when you get him really worked up he can’t help but to reel you in by a gentle hand on the back of your head. He moans into your mouth and kisses you with more tongue than lip, trying to lick every moan and whine out of our mouth before it can fall.

Your moans grow more frantic once one of his hands reaches down to rub his thumb against your clit lazily while you continue to fuck each other. Chris swallows all your sounds down, refusing to let you break the kiss to warn him that you’re so so so close.

He can tell, though. Of course he can. He knows your body and its reactions better than you know it yourself.

He keeps working you from both angles-- his hips bucking up and his thumb brushing your already-oversensitive clit, until you break.

Your body shakes, starting in your legs and working all the way up as a delicious orgasm rolls through your entire body. You chant his name against his mouth, and he smirks and almost chuckles at first, until the fluttering of your walls as you keep riding through your orgasm sends him hurtling past the point of no return as well.

He cums hot, silky shots into your pussy with no concern for the consequences.

“Oh, fuck,” he barks when the sudden orgasm takes him, having turned his head away from you just quick enough to not shout in your face. 

“Daddy,” you sigh blissfully, running your hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Chris. That was… That was so much.”

He chuckles softly and pecks small kisses across your cheek and jaw.

“I’m at a loss for words as well,” he says quietly. Both of you are still now, no more bucking hips and rolling waves. You’re left with only the heaving of your chests as your breathing steadies in tandem.

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“I don’t expect this to have made everything better,” he admits, once again meeting your eye. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and traces his finger down the edge of your face. “Sometimes I’m just so baffled that you can’t see how beautiful you are. To me you’re like a goddess-- literally, like those Greek statues. I’m so in love with you and how you look. I wanted you to feel that.”

“I did. I really did, I promise.”

“Good. Though I’m not opposed to showing you again if you need me to,” he says cheekily, and you giggle, shaking your head.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind for the future, but I understand you perfectly tonight.”

[saetoru]

Tee forget rich boy gojo what about frat boy geto ☹️

RULES — GETO SUGURU.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ frat boy! geto suguru x reader — 2.0k words — you always break your rules for geto

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of fem masturbation, pet names (baby + princess)

— notes ⋮ i’m totally normal about him yup

rule number one of college is never to get involved with a frat boy.

rule number two is if you do get involved with one, you run—except geto suguru makes it entirely impossible to follow either of those two rules.

he’s different, or so you like to tell yourself. he doesn’t even look like the other frat boys. instead, he has long hair that gets thrown into a messy little bun, and he wears those baggy pants that usually look lame—but somehow he manages to make them look so good. but more importantly, he seems to know how to sweet talk his way into what he wants.

unlike the other boys, there’s nothing intimidating about geto, nothing that makes you want to submit and give into his whims because of that predatory grin. no, instead, geto lures you with gentle smiles and saccharine words. and that’s even more dangerous, you think—it’s like that tale of the snake, that faux affection of laying beside you as it sizes you up, until one day, you’re swallowed whole. 

you shouldn’t keep coming back—and technically, you don’t. it’s not that you come back to geto…it’s that he chases you down, one step at a time, slow and quiet so that you don’t realize the hunter is hunting. it’s not until your back is pressed against a corner do you realize you’ve been the prey all along.

“c’mon, baby,” he hums against your neck, making you gasp when his teeth graze the skin. he sucks slowly, deliberately, with a smile against you as you squirm under his touch. “i missed you,” he murmurs, “‘s like you’ve been avoiding me. you wouldn’t do that, right?”

“n-no,” you shake your head—which is a lie, and you both know it. but he only chuckles, mumbles out a quiet that’s right against your neck before he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point.

“look at you,” he grins, eyeing you up and down, taking in the cute little top you’re wearing and those high heels that drive him mad. you’re even wearing that lip gloss he likes—the one he loves smeared along his cock…but that’s for later, he thinks. “you look all dolled up, don’t you? ‘s all for me, huh?”

“yes,” you whisper—because you’re weak. you let yourself fall right into his hands, let yourself wander right into the trap he sets every time. “yes, ‘s for you,” you say with a shaky voice, gripping onto his bicep.

geto knows that one text, just one is all it takes. just one i’ll see you at the party tonight, right? and you’re already sifting through outfits and spraying your most expensive perfume. he knows just how to give just enough to make you want to give back tenfold—just enough to make you get used to the taste, yet never enough to satisfy, until you’re starving for more.

“s-suguru, please,” you whine, bucking your hips and trying to rub your clothed cunt against the bulge in his pants. you’re pretty sure there must be a line outside the bathroom by now, and you’re distantly mortified that someone might just hear you moaning his name—but then he kisses your lips once, twice, a third time, and you simply don’t care anymore.

“please what, baby? c’mon, you know i love it when you talk,” he chuckles.

“please, more,” you huff, boldly moving a hand between your bodies to cup his erection and squeeze. he lets out a strained groan, head falling to the crook of your neck as he bucks his hips against your palm, chasing that sweet friction selfishly. 

“fuck—you gotta be patient, princess,” he growls, mustering up enough self-control to grab your wrist and move your hand away. his hand moves up to squeeze your cheeks together, tilting your face to meet his eyes as he glares. “think it’s only fair i make you wait as long as you’ve made me, don’t you think?”

he texts you sometimes. sometimes in the morning to ask you if you want coffee, sometimes after class to walk you home, sometimes in the middle of the night just to ask about your day. but you know better—you know how guys like him work, how you’re not the only one, how you’re never the only one. you don’t want to be another girl who cries over geto while he buys another coffee for another unsuspecting victim, and you don’t want to watch him offer that gentle smile, those sweet words, those careful touches to someone that’s not you.

but then your words betray you before you can help it: “no, suguru,” you plead, “need you! need you to fuck me—please, i want it.” you can’t help but beg—because something about him makes you so shameless, so needy and desperate that every ounce of logic and dignity dissipates from your mind. 

“you sure? you didn’t seem to want it when you were ignoring my texts—”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, “jus’ please, wanna feel you.”

it’s a vicious cycle—every time you tell yourself this is the last time, it’s never really the last time. you manage to ignore geto suguru and his sweet words and handsome smile for just a little bit before he’s dragging you right back in. and you should know better by now—you can atone for all your sins as much as you want, but the devil is always crept up your shoulder, always whispering those tempting words into the shell of your ear. this is the last time turns into just one more time, and then pretty soon, you’re in this same position over and over again. 

against the wall, caged by his body as his hands squeeze your hips. 

“yeah? can’t get enough of me, can you? is it cause i fuck you so good? can’t find someone else to make you feel like this?”

his fingers have pulled your pants down your legs by now, your underwear halfway down your thighs as he sinks two fingers into your dripping cunt. it feels good—feels so achingly good as he teases your clit with his thumb, ghosts of circles rubbing over the sensitive nub while his fingers curl against your spot. you mewl, legs shaking as you try to stand up straight, as you try to take what he gives you while keeping yourself together. but it’s too hard, and soon, you feel his hand hook under one leg and prop it against his hip, supporting your frame as he works his digits in and out of your cruelly. 

“suguru‚ suguru—fuck,” you gasp, whimpering as the tips of his fingers brush against that sensitive spot against your walls, his thumb rubbing harshly against your clit in circles that leave you biting your lip. 

no one touches you like geto—you can’t help but come to this realization in the dead of night when your own fingers just don’t bring the same satisfaction. you can’t reach as deep as he can, find that spot as fast as he can, make yourself cum like he can. 

“look at you, princess,” he hums, “already such a mess. just think,” he bullies his fingers into your faster, making you squeal, “just think how messy you’ll look when i’m fucking you full.”

those words are all it takes for you to sob—latching onto his body as you roll your hips and cum. your walls flutter around his fingers, whimpering as he fucks his digits into you while you ride out your high. his thumb rubs against your clit until you’re practically shaking against him—’s too much, you want to say…but you know it won’t really make a difference, and your voice fails you anyway.

your slumped against the wall, watching as his hands hastily fumble with his pants, pushing them down his legs as he frees his aching cock. it’s flushed a pretty red, leaking with precum, and stiff in his hands as he closes his eyes and groans quietly when he wraps around the girth and slowly strokes along the length a few times. it’s filthy—the wet sound of his precum smearing along his cock, glistening against the skin as you stare. 

you don’t hesitate to replace his hand with yours, feeling the familiar weight in your hands as you fist his cock and drag your palm up and down against the length. 

“f-fuck—that’s it baby, like that,” he moans, head falling back against your shoulder, quiet grunts spilling past his lips as you squeeze around his tip. he fucks his hips into your fist, panting against you as you graze your thumb along his slit and pull a small whine from him. 

and then you can’t wait—can’t even wait for a second longer as you quickly guide his tip to line up against your entrance, rubbing against your folds and collecting your slick along his tip. 

“in—want you in me, suguru,” you beg. he doesn’t argue, doesn’t even think to tease you as he presses his cock to slip past your folds and sink into your heat, the thick veins dragging along your walls and making you gasp. 

“so tight, baby—always so tight. prettiest fuckin’ pussy i ever had,” he rasps. 

it makes you slightly bitter at the prospect that he’s had others to even compare to you—but then there’s that subtle satisfaction that you’re the best he’s had, the one he can’t get enough of, the one he chases and chases and keeps coming back to. 

you know deep down that you’re simply being foolish, that getting his dick wet is not a difficult process for someone like geto suguru and all you’re doing is making it easy for him…but a small part of you likes to think that this is real. that the way his arms cradle you as he fucks into you, that the way he kisses your neck and then your lips, hot and messy and so needy—it’s all because he wants you, and only you. 

“feels good—so good, suguru,” you gasp, “‘m close, ‘m gonna…gonna cum—”

“just a bit longer, baby,” he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, moaning into your skin as your walls squeeze around him with a particularly sloppy thrust, “wait for me, yeah? cum with me—j-just gotta feel you cum with me.”

his hips are sloppy, angling into you with practically no rhythm anymore as he chases his orgasm. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles that have you sobbing, feeling the coil in your belly tighten and tighten until you’re sure it’ll snap any second. 

“‘m gonna cum—fuck, ‘m gonna cum suguru, please—”

“cum for me, princess,” he gasps, and with one more slam of his hips, the brush of his tip against your sweet spot, you unravel, cumming for the second time as you shriek his name. 

geto follows right after, his cum hot as it fills you up, as he fucks his load into you, as his cock twitches with every rope he paints your walls white with. your nails dig into his shoulder as you whine his name while he grunts yours, feeling the way he all but splits you open as his cock drills into you sloppily. 

it’s not long before his hips slow, a few more shallow thrusts of his hips before he stills and pants into your shoulder, kissing against the mark he’s bitten into your skin. this is the part you hate—the part that fills you up with dread from what you’ve done, the part that makes you realize that every time you let geto suguru get away with using you as a quick fuck, you fall deeper and deeper for that sweet smile and soft laugh. 

“c’mon, baby,” he pulls away from your neck, pressing a sweet peck to your lips, “we can go to my room and—”

“that’s okay,” you cut him off, doing everything you can to avoid his eyes, “i was gonna go home now anyway—”

“that’s okay,” he cuts you off, repeating your own words back to you, “you can just spend the night with me.”

and before you can protest, his lips are back on yours, kissing you sweet and slow enough that you can’t help but melt into his arms and give up arguing against him. 

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[leslovesfatties]

Pt. 1: first flight

Idk I was feeling super mushy so I wrote this in like 3 hours lol soft BHM/FFA fiction…should I continue it?

First time flying in two years…and back then it was a squeeze. Determined not to embarrass myself, I called ahead.

“TWO tickets?”

“Yes, sir. But there’s no guarantee the second seat won’t be sold if it’s a particularly full flight.”

I gulped and hesitated. “Okay…so that means I’m paying for a seat I might not get?”

“That’s correct.” Not a hint of sympathy in her voice.

What other choice did I have? “Okay, then. I guess I’ll take the window and middle seat. Oh, and I’ll probably need a seatbelt extender.” Even saying the words made my face flush. I can’t believe I’d let myself get like this. The voice on the other end of the phone either sighed, coughed, or stifled a laugh. I couldn’t be sure which, and I didn’t exactly want to know.

My alarm fades out as I desperately want to hit snooze. I get up, wash my face, and try to keep my anxiety at bay. It’s going to be fine. I got TWO seats. I won’t bother anyone. I put on a little extra deodorant in between my folds and under my moobs. A little cologne for good measure and a crisp shirt. I don’t want people to think I’m some sort of lazy, unkempt slob. I actually really care about my appearance. My face stays neatly shaven, my hair styled, and clothes - when I can find them in my size - are reasonably tasteful. My glasses frames are updated each year in an attempt to elevate my look, or at least take people’s glances away from other parts.

At the airport, I grab a bagel and a coffee, then wait as close to the line as I can to board. Don’t panic. You’re going to fit. Everything’s going to be fine. It’s a short flight, anyways. A mantra I’ve begun to chant in my head as the boarding process begins. I offer a smile to the man who scans my barcode for two tickets and he looks up for the second passenger.

“Oh, uh, it’s just for me.” He acknowledges by nodding me over to continue boarding. I practically hold my breath as I wedge myself between the aisle. Most people brace their carry ons, but I have to brace myself.

Thankfully, no one is in my row, otherwise they’d have to get up to let me through. I plop down and immediately appreciate the forethought to buy two seats. I’m positively squished between the plane wall and armrest.

“Um, excuse me?” Fuck. I look up.

“Are those your bags? Do you want me to put them up here?

“Uh, I’m actually supposed to have this seat.” I try to speak just loud enough for her to hear and no other passengers. She glances down at her phone and back up.

“23 B?” My face flushes as I realize what’s happened. They’ve given up my seat.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I stutter, utterly embarrassed. “I was supposed to…They weren’t supposed to -“ The line behind her grew and we were drawing attention.

“That’s okay! Here,” she reached for my bag and in a daze, I handed it to her. She was so short she couldn’t get it in the overhead compartment all the way and I wanted to disappear. She scooted in and I tried leaning as far as I could into the wall, my side squishing into her armrest. At that moment, I realized I forgot to ask for the seatbelt extender. My ears started ringing and I desperately wanted to get off this flight.

“I’m so sorry…” I began, but she cut me off.

“For what? Don’t apologize.” She finished shoving her bag under her seat and smiled at me.

An older gentleman plopped down next to her and scowled at me. I looked down as he muttered something I was grateful I couldn’t understand. Fuck. How am I going to get the extender now?

“Um, excuse me?” I leaned over slightly to look at the man who’d just joined our row. I’d just about rather die than have to move. He looked up.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get up.”

The man scowled. “Ugh, shouldn’t they have weight limits on these things?” My heart dropped.

“Wow, that was rude.” The girl beside me said pointedly and the man scoffed. I tried to sink down and away into my chair, my face hot with embarrassment.

“I tried to buy two seats…” I began and the girl cut me off.

“You don’t owe him an explanation. He just wants an excuse to be miserable,” the girl turned and whispered to me. I tried to smile but felt like my lip might quiver, so I mouthed “thank you.”

“Everything okay over here?” A slim flight attendant asked, primarily to me.

“Uh, yeah. I-I think I need a…” I tried gesturing to the seatbelt so I wouldn’t have to say it out loud, but she looked puzzled. I gulped, feeling my heart rate rise and willing myself to stop sweating.

“An extender” it was barely audible, but the guy two seats away looked at me with disgust and shook his head. The flight attendant nodded and retreated to find one. I looked out the window so I could get my emotions in check.

“You okay?” The girl whispered. Thank God she was small, otherwise I’d be squishing her.

I nodded, fearing my voice might crack, and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“People can be so unkind.” The tenderness in her voice allowed me to look up and I offered her the best smile I could muster up.

The flight attendant came back with the extender and explained how to connect it. I did it as quickly as possible and willed the plane to take off.

The girl made polite conversation with me which calmed my nerves a bit.

“Are you on the connecting flight or stopping at Atlanta?”

“Connecting flight.”

“Cool. I’m sorry they gave up your seat.”

“It’s okay. It sucks that I’m out of the money, though.” I admitted.

“That’s so fucked up. Sorry, messed up. So you paid for two seats but only got one?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, if you get stuck in the same position next flight, I’d be happy to be your seat buddy again.”

I shook my head, “oh, no. That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable the whole trip.” Secretly, I was terrified of getting sat next to someone who wasn’t as kind as her.

“I’m not uncomfortable at all. Plus, you’d be doing me a favor. I get nervous on planes sometimes and it’s nice to talk to someone.” She smiled reassuringly and I almost believed her.

“Sorry, what was your name?”

“Oh, Leslie! Nice to meet you…?”

“Ian,” I smiled, a bit more sincerely this time.

We kept talking and I tried not making it obvious how squished I was between her armrest, but you could easily tell.

“Do you want to move that?” She asked after I’d wiggled around a bit.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.”

“It won’t bother me, but I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep on you.” I felt my face flush and let out a laugh.

“Are you sure?”

“Here,” she raised it for me and my fat immediately pooled out. I looked away, embarrassed. Thank God it still wasn’t touching her, by some miracle. I glanced at her and she had looked away as well. Fuck.

“Sorry” I muttered.

“It’s okay.” She placed her hand on my thigh just above my knee and I felt my breath hitch. She was just being nice.

“Thanks,” I looked out the window and she moved her hand away.

Several minutes later, she had fallen asleep on me. She wasn’t kidding. I tried not to move as I rummaged through my bag for my AirPods. She stirred and jerked up.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I was trying not to wake you.”

“I’m sure you don’t mind a random stranger sleeping on you,” she chuckled and I grinned in response. “If I fall asleep again, can you wake me when they come by with the snacks?”

“Of course.”

In about 30 minutes, the snack carts came out so I gently nudged Leslie who’d fallen asleep on me again.

“Sorry,” she yawned sleepily. “Thanks for waking me.”

“No problem.”

“Hey, want to get a wine with me?”

“Won’t that make you sleepier?”

“Maybe! Who knows?”

“Two cabernets, please.” She held out her card and I protested.

“No, I got it.” I fumbled for my wallet.

“I insist,” and she handed her card to the flight attendant.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I invited you to day drink with me. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

The plane lands and most people eagerly stand up. I wait behind, definitely not eager to bump into anyone. Leslie stands and asks if we can walk to the gate together so we can board the connecting flight together, and I’m extremely grateful.

“Sure.” When most of the people have left, Leslie scoots out and waits for me. I don’t want her to see me struggle to get out of my seat, but it’s inevitable. “I gotta lose some weight,” I try to laugh it off, but I must be a pretty pathetic sight, wobbling and shifting myself over the seats in order to get into the aisle.

She doesn’t respond and I regret pointing out my size, but she still waits as I reach for my bag. Before slinging it down, I notice her staring where my shirt should be covering my stomach, but considering the reaching, it might have ridden up. My face flushes and I throw my bag over my shoulder as quickly as I can, letting Leslie go first.

“Hungry?”

“Oh, no…I just had a bagel.” But I was hungry, and I would be before the next flight.

“We have about an hour before boarding. Maybe we should get something to go for the plane?”

I considered it. “Sure, whatever you want.”

The only respectable restaurant was a shitty Ruby Tuesdays and we decided to eat in. I was able to wedge myself into the booth but it was tight.

“Here, why don’t we move to the bar?” Leslie asked, noticing the tight space.

“Oh no, I don’t mind…”

“You don’t have to be uncomfortable.” She stated.

I thought over my words carefully and explained “I’m just not sure I’ll fit there, either.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Do you want to try? I’ll keep our seat here.”

“Um, sure.” I hefted my weight and tried to keep my cool. The bar stools didn’t have armrests which was a blessing. It was still difficult to fit, but it was better than the booth. I came back to grab our bags and she thanked me, following me to the bar.

“You know, you don’t have to do this. I really appreciate it but I’m okay.” She frowned.

“I like this. I like getting to know you. I’d rather hang out with you than wait alone.” She was so sweet. “Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

We continued talking and I forgot why I was ever anxious in the first place. We ordered another round and I could tell she was starting to feel it. I was getting a little uncomfortable when her glances started going towards my body, so I reached into my bag and pulled over a hoodie. Did she…frown?

“You’re really hard to read,” I confessed.

“How so?” She propped herself up on her elbow and looked at me quizzically.

“I don’t know,” I shook my head. “I just don’t get you.” She smiled coyly.

“I’m an enigma,” she stated with jazz hands for added flair.

“Well, I’m enjoying myself a lot more than I was earlier, so thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me and apologizing. I’m equally enjoying it.” She placed her hand on my thigh and I realized I’d been bouncing my leg anxiously for who knows how long. I didn’t know what to make of her. Friendly, sweet, kind, adorable. Now I have another reason for not wanting to get on the plane…I don’t want this to end.

Leslie orders some appetizers to share and an entree for herself. I try to choose something moderately healthy, so I stick to the grilled chicken sandwich.

“Here, try” she pushes over her appetizer plates to me and I take small bites.

“They’re good.”

“Have more,” she begins forking them onto my plate.

“Whoa, no, that’s okay,” I try to protest but she’s in the middle of loading up my plate.

“I won’t finish them,” she counters, and I oblige, trying not to make a pig of myself.

I try not to eat everything to save face, despite my obvious physique that says I likely have never turned down food before. I order another drink and Leslie is practically staring at me now. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and try sucking in my belly.

“You’re full?”

“Oh, um yeah.”

“We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

“You ordered them,” I remind her.

“Pleaseeeee,” she’s tipsy now and there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite pinpoint.

“Really?” I laugh. “Why do you want me to finish these? Why not just save them for later?”

“Because you’ll be hungry later, too.”

“Bold of you to assume.” I counter.

“Is it though?” I don’t think she intended malice, but the words sting a little.

“I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’m sorry, that was dumb.” She covered her face with her hands.

“It’s okay.“ I pause. She doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet besides her fork scraping against the plate.

“I just, I’m sorry I’m so awkward,” she sighed. “I think you’re really cute.”

I stop mid-bite. “What?” Garbled by the food in my mouth.

She covers her face with her hands again.

I finish swallowing, heart pounding in my chest. “Really?”

“Yes really. I thought I’d made it obvious. I was so nervous.” She confessed.

It took me a second to compute. It made sense. The quick glances, an excuse to put her hand on my leg, insisting on buying my wine.

“It’s so cute when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“You blush.” I could feel my cheeks burning even brighter. We were sitting so close to each other I could smell the sweet rosé on her breath.

She leaned in closer. “You’re seriously so handsome.” I think my heart leapt into my throat and I had to swallow it down. Was this happening?

The bartender interrupted and asked if we wanted to close out, which we did. It gave me a moment to gain my composure.

“You don’t think I’m too…big?” I was afraid to ask. She shook her head and barely audibly answered “I like bigger guys.” Holy shit.

We had to run to our gate and we were both giddy. I offered her my hand and she took it, two wildly different strangers running through an airport together. “I booked two seats…” I explained as they checked my boarding pass and Leslie chimed in “I don’t mind sitting next to him if it’s a full flight. I’m 18 A.”

“Thanks, looks like you might have to. Hang tight.”

“You can give my seat to someone else.” She insisted and the boarding director looked at me and I shrugged.

“Alright, miss,” and he scanned all three tickets.

“I’ll go first to make sure there’s enough room.” Wow. My anxiety was no match for her.

“Excuse me, ‘scuse us,” she’d loudly announce when people’s bags were in my way. I was beyond grateful. We took our seats and I thanked her.

“No more thanking me!” And she pulled her armrest up.

“I’m so cold.”

“Here,” I peeled off my hoodie and felt the cool air hit my stomach when my shirt rode up. “I’m sure it’s way too big, but -“

“Thank you.” She eagerly accepted it and draped it over her, cuddling into me. My heart thudded obnoxiously in my chest.

“Is this okay?” She asked timidly.

“Of course,” I placed an arm around her. Whoever gets sat next to us would probably think we’re a couple on vacation, and I loved that. It was an older, middle aged woman with a smug expression on her face. She first looked at me and practically grimaced. Leslie noticed and placed her arm around my stomach where my waistline would be if it wasn’t covered in fat. I got chills.

It was the tiny nuances that she noticed. How I could use some help maneuvering the aisle, when someone made a comment or just gave a look of disapproval. She was trying to offset it, remind me that I’m not as despicable as they act like I am. Like I’m not a huge waste of space, an eyesore, an inconvenience.

“This is nice.” She sighed into me, arm still wrapped around me.

“So nice,” I agree. She rhythmically rubs her thumb over my stomach and I get goosebumps. I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this. Sure, I’ve been in relationships and had a couple hookups, but no one ever wanted to touch my body. It was a foreign feeling to have someone actually want to. She looked so small, especially next to me.

“We barely know each other and look at us,” I whispered. She looked up at me excitedly.

“Let’s get to know each other. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue, yours?”

“Mine too! Favorite food?”

“Anything,” I snickered. “Can you tell?”

“Ha, ha. Alright, how tall are you?”

“Six foot, you?”

“Holy shit. Guess.”

“Hmm, 5’2?”

“Nope. Five foot.”

“Five feet?! That’s it?”

She nodded, stifling a laugh. We were quiet for a little, the hum of the plane and alcohol making us sleepy.

“I really like this.”

“Me too.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t want the plane to take off. I wanted to sit with her like this forever.

[vultureboi]

Bkdk short fic

———————

Katsuki just got his license! Finally! Now he can beat Deku!

“Kacchan! Now we can be hero partners!!” Speak of the devil and he shall come. A groan escapes Katsuki’s throat.

“For fucks sake! Is that all you fucking care about?!? Not worried I’m gonna beat your ass?” Katsuki scoffs.

“Of course not! I’ve planned our entire future together!”

“You- you what?!?”

“Yeah! Like here’s our engagement rings…” Izuku rummaged through his pockets. “Here’s the wedding rings.” Izuku pulls out a photo next as the rest of the class starts to gather and watch in awe. “Here’s the design your mother made for your wedding dress for our wedding day. And here’s mine.”

“WHEN THE FUCK DID YOU GET MY MOM TO DRAW THIS SHIT?!?” Katsuki gapes, looking at the designs.

“Well, you know she’s always been a supporter of us!” Katsuki looks at him in confusion. What the fuck is the nerd talking about?!?

“I like how Bakugou is upset about the fact that his mother designed it without asking him rather than the fact it’s a dress!” Mina laughs, taking the pictures from Izuku.

“Kacchan and I planned to both wear dresses at our wedding!”

“WHEN WE WERE THREE!”

“Yup! And ever since I’ve been planning and saving my money for our wedding!” Izuku smiles brightly.

“Wait… Deku… how much money do you have saved up???” Ochako asks confused.

“Uh… a lot. Enough to have the most luxurious wedding ever.” Izuku laughs nervously.

“YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE BROKE!!” Ochako yells at him. “YOU LIAR!! You’re filthy rich!!”

“Did you know about this Bakugou?!” Kirishima asks.

“FUCK NO! I practically forgot about that shit when we were 3?!?” Katsuki is holding one of the rings in shock. “THIS SHIT IS EVEN MY FUCKING SIZE?!?”

“And it matches your hero costume and pretty much every clothes in your closet! Then it’s also made so you can wear it while working, nothing sharp or jagged so you can’t hurt yourself or anyone else by accident! Then the dress comes with…” Izuku starts to rant, pulling out more sheets of folded paper. “Gauntlets made out of red roses! You’ll have a flower crown made of orange flowers and red flowers. Your dress is mostly white with red and orange accents and some black! I made sure to make your heels like boots that even in an emergency scenario you can fight in them!”

The class gathers to watch as Izuku describes the most perfect wedding plan they have ever heard. Especially for pro heroes. Every outfit, every accessory, is made to be able to handle a battle or be used in a battle if necessary. Even involving hidden weapons. Each small detail outlined on several sheets of paper.

“Midoriya… do you just… carry this everywhere?!?” Kaminari asks, concerned.

“Of course! I have a special pocket for it all in my hero costume! In case I need to update anything! Like if Kacchan gets a new scar! Or even if I get hurt! I want to make sure our wedding is absolutely perfect! Even if something goes wrong!” Izuku stands proudly.

“Deku…” Katsuki looks at him, blushing.

“Y-yes… Kacchan??” Izuku suddenly realizes he just spilled a lot of embarrassing things and is getting ready to be yelled at.

“Get the fuck here, right fucking now!” Katsuki growls, pointing to the ground in front of him. Izuku whimpers and steps closer, only to be grabbed by the collar and dragged into a kiss. Izuku’s world explodes.

He just kissed Kacchan. Kacchan kissed him. And is still kissing?!? And Izuku melts into it as he can hear giggles and cheers as well as photos being taken. “Uh, Kacchan…?” Izuku breathes heavily as they separate.

“What need?” Katsuki’s ears blush.

“Does this mean we’re engaged now? Should I get the rings?” Izuku blinks while blushing like crazy.

“Fuck yeah.”

“YOU GUYS ARE FIRST YEARS IN HIGH SCHOOL!” Iida shouts. “You shouldn’t be planning a marriage when you have to work to be a hero! Or even a student!”

“But that’s the thing Four-Eyes! Deku already did the planning. There’s nothing to plan!” Katsuki wraps his arm around Izuku’s shoulder with a smug look. “I always said I wanted my partner to be decisive and smart.”

“Kacchan?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we kiss again??”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. C’mere.” They go for another heated kiss, this time with plenty of tongue. The others have to snap them out of their make out session. Oh yeah. They’re going to be great.

“I call the cat in the divorce.” Katsuki smirks playfully at Izuku.

“DIVORCE?!?” Izuku gasps. “OH MY GOD! I didn’t plan for a divorce!! I have to go and plan everything!! Oh who will get the squirrel-proof bird feeder?!? Who will get the couch?!!? And the merch collection?!?” Izuku starts to panic.

“Nerd. Chill. I’m joking.” Katsuki rolls his eyes. “We’re not getting a divorce. You don’t have to plan for it.”

“BUT WHAT IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND?!?” Izuku starts to sob.

“Izuku.” Katsuki says sternly. Izuku looks at him in shock.

“Oh… okay. Thanks Kacchan.” Izuku smiles, wiping his tears.

“Big crybaby.”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you please do promot 10 and 12 with Sam wilson please?

.⋆｡The Cleansing Rain｡⋆.

Sam Wilson x plus size reader

The fight was bad, really bad but neither of you wanted to stop loving the other

Warnings: mentions of the snap, fighting, angst, implied ptsd

WC: 752

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

The fight had lasted for days and you both were exhausted. It had sparked over something insignificant that you couldn’t really give a shit about anymore and then blew up to the point where you and Sam were screaming in each other’s faces.

Sam felt you were pulling away from him, not as loving as you used to be. You returned back that he was dead for five years and you had to learn to live without him. 

You thought Sam was being entitled to your affections when he did nothing for you in return. He snapped that he had a job to do, he and Bucky had to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves.

But everything broke down when you wondered if the relationship was even worth saving. It was obvious that you had changed immensely since the blip while your partner was left behind to pick up the pieces of what used to be his life while still trying to be a hero.

“If you aren’t happy here then just fucking leave!” You screamed at him but really you were begging him not to go.

“You know what I think I will because I can’t stand this shit anymore.” But he was pleading to stay. 

“Go!” Tears burned behind your eyes but you refused to let them fall, refused to let him see how you were breaking all over again.

“Fine!” The front door slammed behind him, shaking the foundations of your home and your heart. You didn’t see the way his shoulders fell, he didn’t see how you crumbled.

He left without saying ‘I love you’. You let him go without saying ‘I love you’.

That was almost a week ago and you felt like you were dying. The house was too quiet, your bed too empty. Every time the old floorboards creaked, your head shot up, expecting to see Sam in the doorway, a bright smile on his face, his dark eyes sparkling. But he was never there. 

You kept the TV on constantly, too scared of the silence. So that’s how you heard about the storm. 

Sam hated storms, he always had. He’d always get scared when lightning struck and thunder rolled. The night he asked you to be his girlfriend was during a storm like the one about to hit Louisiana. He had burst into your home, eyes wide with fear and collapsed into your arms, his whole body trembling. You wrapped him up in the softest blanket you could find and distracted him with things from shitty puns to singing to him. And when the power finally gave out, he took you into his arms and asked you to be his.

As the skies darkened above the small ocean town, anxiety bubbled in your stomach. ‘Was Sam somewhere safe?’ ‘Who was looking out for him?’ ‘Did they know what to do if he had an attack?’

Before you could think, your shoes were on and you were out the door. There were only two places he would be- his sister’s or Bucky’s. The first drops of rain started to fall as you ran through the streets, gunning for Sarah’s house.

Your feet pounded against the pavement in time with the beating of your heart. The fog closed in around you as fat water droplets smacked you in the face, getting more intense by the second. 

Yet still you ran.

“Y/N!” The voice was distant, muffled but it was still the voice you needed to hear the most. 

“Sam!” His silhouette stood against the blur of the rain.

You collided together almost painfully but you didn’t care. His arms were around you again, you both were whole again. “Sam I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that you were being selfish.” He shook his head and squeezed your thick waist even tighter.

“I was being selfish. You were doing so much for me and I did nothing to help you.” You laughed sadly, your tears mixing with the rain. 

“Maybe we were both being dumb.” He laughed that laugh you loved so much and your chest warmed even though your clothes were now thoroughly soaked through with frigid water.

“Maybe we were.” Your arms wrapped around his neck and brought his lips closer to yours.

“Come home.” You whispered just above the din of the storm.

“I’m already home.” And as he kissed you in the freezing rain, all the pain was washed away, even if it was just for a little while.

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[andtheyreonfire]

sacrifice

ao3

WC: 1,065

AN: happy birthday @averagegtenjoyer !!!! you are a fucking awesome friend and i offer this to you until i can get your actual gift sorted out fhdskjl

~

“Does it get lonely?�� Akechi asks. “Being a god?”

Akira snorts. He’s hunched over his own creation, room-sized hands polishing massive bits of metal. One of these days, Akechi should ask him what he’s doing. One of these days, it might make a difference. “I'm not a god?”

“Oh?” Akechi smiles, wide enough for Akira to see. He shifts on the embroidered pillow he’s perched on. The cushion’s larger than his mother’s house. Akechi pretends the thought doesn’t make him cower. “So, the sacrifices, the temple, the cult at your door—all of those are just for show?”

Akira pulls a needle from—somewhere. Hammerspace surrounds him. Akechi'd be lying if he said he wasn’t the most dangerous entity he’s ever seen. It's good thing he’s practiced, then. “I suppose gods’ sacrifices wouldn’t ask these types of questions.”

“Do you mind?”

“No.” Akira shrugs. He threads the needle, adding leather to the handle of something that almost looks like a sickle. At least, if the blade didn’t spiral inward like a fractal. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“You can’t tell?”

“A god would mind. I don’t know. I like hearing about your life.”

All at once, Akechi has the urge to scoot closer to him. He’s sitting on a cushion to the side of Akira's—desk is a generous word, considering it’s the size of a cliff and carved from a species of wood Akechi's never seen in his life. The set-up is enchanting, inviting. It makes Akechi feel special, to be here. It’d be effortless to close the gap.

Akechi freezes, warning lights blaring in his mind. His hand twitches for the sword at his side. With a tremendous amount of effort, Akechi retracts it. He must soften his edges, appear something like innocent, for his mission.

This—flirting is dangerous. The longer his enemy does so instead of showing his true, monstrous colors, the more dangerous it becomes. Akechi shouldn’t be this close.

There’s nothing Akechi can do but persist. “Time is all we have, I suppose. I understand wanting to find ways to pass it.”

Akira snorts again, dropping the needle. “Sure.” Akechi doesn’t flinch as it clatters against the desk, doesn’t move as Akira reaches for a cloth the size of a bedsheet. He can’t stop his palms from sweltering. “I'm surprised I couldn’t convince you to pick up a hobby. It does get boring down here.”

“I can entertain myself well enough.” Studying the giant would be Akechi’s hobby, if it wasn’t already his job. That, and sharpening his skills for the day of reckoning: slashing matchsticks as long as his leg whenever Akira turns his back. He didn’t sacrifice himself to the demon’s dimension without an army as backup, ready to strike the second Akechi finds his weakness. That would be foolish.

Almost as foolish as believing Akira when he says he cares.

Akechi says, for the sake of learning weaknesses and nothing else, “If you’re not a god, then what species are you?”

Akira doesn’t look up, polishing the long, cold blade with a soft cloth. “I’m just condemned, I guess.”

Akechi laughs. He’s self-aware enough, at least, to know his side will lose the war. And then, Akechi will have the commander right where he wants. And then—well. Akechi asks, “By whom?”

“I fucked up.” From this far down, his face is impossible to read. It’s easier to pretend Akechi's at a disadvantage than acknowledging Akira has the most impressive poker face he’s ever seen. “I didn’t mean any harm, but someone thought I did. I'm trapped here for as long as they see fit. We’re all bugs to be squashed by someone, I suppose.”

Fucking rich, considering Akechi's almost been on the wrong side of Akira's boot several times. Still, Akechi smiles. “And, what are you? You didn’t answer my question.”

The blade is otherworldly in the pale light of Akira's room. Akechi watches as Akira finishes, heaving an object that weighs as much as a house into a drawer. When he turns to Akechi, his gaze is readable, sharp. “I don’t think I need to be anything. It’s restricting. What matters is that I'm here, and what I can do with the tools I have.”

Akechi steels himself, trying not to feel like a bug pinned to a corkboard. “Wouldn’t it be nice to define yourself? To describe yourself?”

“For what? For other people? Or for your own sake?”

Akechi rests a hand on his chin, forcing himself to relax, a little, into their usual back-and-forth. “For others, I suppose.”

“You tell me.” All at once, Akechi's veins turn to ice, as Akira tilts his head and says, “You never told me your given name.”

Because Akechi doesn’t have one. Because he remembers his mother—her warnings, the fear in her eyes, the scars, the blood, her cold, limp embrace—and there’s nothing else Akechi wants to honor. There’s no one else he’s doing this for. He’s an Akechi, he’s Akechi, and if Akira peeled back the walls of his heart with a sword-like claw, he’d find nothing beyond that.

The perfect soldier. The unwanted child. The burden of a son—his identity doesn’t matter. He’s here, he’s going to slay this monster, and he’s going to take revenge on the commander who ruined his life. That’s final.

“You’re right, I suppose.” Akira rumbles, snapping Akechi out of his thoughts.

It’s been a minute since Akechi was supposed to respond. Akira's looking right at him, eyes the size of Akechi's head locked onto his pathetic—no, not pathetic, Akira's just freakishly oversized—form. Akechi keeps his tone level when he asks, “What?”

“I didn’t answer your question.” Akira crosses his arms, placing his head in the crook of his elbow. Akechi freezes, instinctually, at the proximity. “It does get lonely, around here.”

Akechi's limbs threaten to tremble. It’s his weakness—all this time, and he still freezes up when Akira when levels his full attention on him. It’s the size. It’s the strength. It’s the fact that he’s taking off his mask to look someone the size of his finger in the eye. All Akechi can manage is, “O—oh.”

“But, it’s not so bad.” Akira smiles, then, unmasked gaze turning soft. “I have you, after all.”

Akechi hunches his shoulders, hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. He doesn’t look back.

[lcnelyghost]

Can you do the Evan’s dating a plus size girl? 🤭🫶🏻❤️

all that you are//the evan’s

pairings; fem reader with tate langdon, kit walker, kyle spencer, jimmy darling, and james patrick march

rating; pg13!

warnings; slight harsh language, body shaming, bullying

a/n: sorry to everyone that might not like what i’m gonna say, but i only write for the evan’s until they go up to season five with james. yes, i have watched the other seasons. i LOVE gallant and edward mott, but i won’t be pairing them with a female reader for obvious reasons. rory and jeff didn’t satisfy me all that much, and i still have mixed feelings on kai. yeah, i also like austin, but i don’t really know if i have that special little connection to his character yet. and no, am i fuck gonna write for jeffrey. that’s something that i’ll never feel comfortable doing.

Tate Langdon;

• Tate couldn’t give a shit about how you looked, he loved you for how you truly were. From the way you treated him, he already knew that you had a heart of gold.

• He loves how you guys have the exact same style. You enjoy wearing baggy sweaters and jeans, much like himself. And he adores how confident you are when it came to wearing what you wanted.

• If any school girls even dared to make fun of you, well.. i’m pretty sure we know what would happen..

Kit Walker;

• If Kit falls in love with someone, it’s not for the breathtaking looks they’ve been blessed with. No. It’s simply for the fact that they have such a kind heart and a beautiful soul. That’s what Kit is truly attracted to.

• He admires every last bit of you. Size isn’t important to him, not at all.

• Kit fell for you, because you’re just you. You’re not hiding behind some mask or going around with a full face of makeup, nor trying to fit in with everyone, you’re you. And that’s certainly enough for him to love and cherish.

Kyle Spencer/Franken Kyle;

• Truth be told, the little soul can’t even tell the difference between you and other girls. Right enough, not that he would even care in the slightest.

• He gets really upset when he overhears Madison saying her usual shitty comments about you. Though that soon turns into a fit of laughter when Queenie punishes her for it.

• Kyle doesn’t have the kind of feeling to care enough when it comes to you’re size. You treat him in a way he’s always wanted to be treated, and he doesn’t need anything more than that.

Jimmy Darling;

• Uh, I think we’re aware that Jimmy couldn’t give a shit if you were big or not. We’ve seen enough to prove that, trust me..

• Most of the freaks respect you and treat you no differently from the others, Jimmy makes sure it stays like that.

• If Elsa even has the nerve to ask if you could be part of the show seeing as she thought you’re figure could be quite the ‘entertainment’ for some people, Jimmy would hit breaking point.

James Patrick March;

• James isn’t one for body shaming. His mother raised him to always respect a woman, and that her size shouldn’t matter to him. If she treats him right, then by all means he should show her the love and respect she deserves.

• He isn’t fussed about you’re weight. Mr March still buys you the best of the best. Including the fanciest clothes, jewellery, perfume, everything he’d buy for the woman he loves most!

• When the time comes around for his monthly dinner with the Countess, he’s sure to fire back at her sneaky, vulgar comments. Even Miss Evers will defend you as much as she can.

“And should we be expecting you’re new partner, James? I suppose the word ‘little’ isn’t a way to describe her.”

“You mean my loyal, new partner? Ah, yes. And I suppose that word isn’t something that we should mention when you’re the topic of conversation, hm?”

Yeah, he ain’t up for her bullshit today folks.

[pudgecuddles]

Yoongi who’s not used to physical affection from Taehyung but still wants to show how much he loves him by feeding him. Which then turns to also surprising him with new clothes as he grows fatter. Before long, Yoongi has a massive Taehyung on his hands.

“This looks like kind of a lot, Yoongi.” Taehyung stared at the spread of take out in front of them.

“Yeah, maybe.” Yoongi rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “But hey, there’s always leftovers. Besides I know that Thai’s your favorite, you can have a little of everything and pack the rest away.”

Taehyung hummed, contemplating his options before shrugging and loading up his first plate with, like Yoongi said, a little of everything. “If I end up eating all of this, it’s your fault.”

Yoongi held up his hands in surrender. “Got it. Got it.”

Plopping themselves down on the sofa, they started up the movie they were going to watch, Ratatouille. It was Taehyung’s favorite movie and always inspired an appetite in him.

Needless to say, there were no leftovers that night.

-

“Heal me dammit!” Taehyung shouted as he tapped frantically on his keyboard. “Can we get a fucking Medic on our team already?! Red is pulverizing us! They have Uber already!”

The match ended shortly after, Blu team having failed to prevent the bomb from being pushed into their base.

Yoongi walked in with a platter of snacks just as Taehyung smacked his forehead in exasperation. “Did we really need three fucking Gibus Snipers? Really?”

“Playing casual matches again?” Yoongi was amused at how vocal Taehyung always got when he played his games. “You know that comp has better communication.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I just don’t wanna be roasted for maining Demoknight, okay? Casual doesn’t give a shit.”

“True.” Yoongi wanted to lean in and kiss his boyfriend sweetly, but hot embarrassment ran through him at the thought of potential rejection. Instead, he offered the tray to Taehyung. “I made you a consolation prize…”

Taehyung’s eyes bugged out at the sight of all his favorite snacks placed so prettily on the platter. “Yoongi, you shouldn’t have. That’s so sweet of you!” It didn’t matter to Taehyung in that moment that he had just eaten breakfast, or that he was actually trying to lose a few pounds. The kind, loving gesture from his boyfriend outranked silly little diets.

Taehyung grabbed a butter cracker dolloped with nutella and popped the whole thing in his mouth at once. “Mmmmmm…”

Yoongi took that as approval. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it-”

“Nuh-uh.” Taehyung swallowed audibly. “You’re always my good luck charm, I’m keeping you here.”

Taehyung stood up just then, pulling his tight shirt down his newly grown belly. Yoongi gulped at the sight. “I’ll stay.”

“Good, now come over here and sit.” Taehyung gestured towards his large, comfortable gaming chair.

Confused, Yoongi obediently sat on the chair, sinking into it’s softness. Hmm, this was nice.

Suddenly, all of Taehyung’s weight dropped onto Yoongi’s lap. “Oof! What-?”

“Sorry Yoongi, but you’re trapped now!” Taehyung grinned, lowering the chair so that he could reach the keyboard from his elevated position. “I knew you’d say no if I asked, so I tricked you.”

Cheeky brat. Yoongi Smiled, glad that his boyfriend was one to take initiative.

Taehyung got into queue for a new game as Yoongi tried to get comfortable. They have had Taehyung sit on Yoongi’s lap in the past, but this was different.

You see, Taehyung was 33 pounds heavier than last time, and Yoongi felt every ounce of it.

He knew only because he checked their scale’s history feature. Taehyung used to hover around 137 pounds, now the chubby boy clocked in at 170.

170 pounds sat right on Yoongi’s poor dick.

This was going to be a long match…

-

After months of weekly take out, and daily snacking sessions, it was about time that Taehyung started having trouble with his pants. He’d grown a little bottom heavy over time and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On one hand he really didn’t care what size he was, but on the other, he values Yoongi’s opinion more than anything in the world. What if he was grossed out by him?

Thoughts for later.

Grunting and groaning, Taehyung’s double belly wobbled viciously as he jumped up and down trying to squeeze his dimpled thunder thighs into his favorite pair of jeans. It’d been a while since he’s worn them, having defaulted to his comfier pair of sweats for the past month and a half while he was between jobs.

Now, he had a job interview in an hour and needed to wear something other than stained sweatpants and BO coated tank top. Besides, that one tended to leave a bit of his lower belly hanging out to jiggle for all to see. It was fine when he was at home alone or with Yoongi, but he somehow doubted that a potential employer would approve of it.

“Dammit!” Taehyung flopped onto his bed, causing the springs to creak from the sudden weight. “I guess 276 pounds is officially the limit for Levi’s…”

With a brief knock at the door, Yoongi came in to see Taehyung looking like someone gave up on pulling the pants up their too fat Barbie doll and just tossed it on their bed for later. “Taehyungie?”

“Don’t start. I know how I look.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.” Yoongi held up one hand in surrender, the other holding a medium sized box. “I actually brought you something that I think will help you out.”

Taehyung lifted his head, giving himself a double chin. “What is it? A present?”

“Kinda…” Yoongi blushed. “I saw the other day that you kept pulling down your shirt, so I decided to grab you some more clothes… Uhm, bigger ones.” He mumbled that last part, hoping that Taehyung didn’t take the gesture badly.

Taehyung again wasn’t sure how to feel. Yoongi went out of his way to cater to his larger size and buy him new clothes, that had to mean that he didn’t hate him right? Otherwise, Taehyung had no qualms about going up in size, it was just part of getting fatter.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” Taehyung smiled, deciding to be touched by the effort. “Lemme try ‘em on.”

The ones on top of the pile, XXL, fit perfectly.

Both men ignored the bottom pile of XXXXL outfits.

Besides, it was smart to have clothes with room to grow on hand.

-

“-Urp!- Can I have some more, Yoonie?” Taehyung burped politely into his fist. “I’m all out…” He set down his big gulp cup in the cup holder of their new sofa, Taehyung having broken their old one.

Yoongi called out from the kitchen, “Coming up!” The sound of a blender cut out anything else he might have said.

Taehyung’s tummy grumbled. The large double belly hung off of the couch, between his legs and rested on the floor. It’d been over a year since he’d started seriously gaining weight and he already found that most of his days began and ended with his massive ass on the sofa, stuffing his face with whatever Yoongi presented to him.

It was a special occasion this time though, he’d reached 637 pounds that morning. A full 500 pounds more than his starting weight. He and Yoongi never really discussed what they were doing with Taehyung’s body, they just both knew they didn’t mind it. Maybe it was a subconscious effort to see how far they could go, maybe it was just their love language in action. Either way, Taehyung had seriously ballooned and he didn’t care at all.

“Here you are.” Yoongi stepped into the living room, handing a second big gulp cup to Taehyung. “I added some prunes this time. You know you need more fiber.”

“But Hyung!” Taehyung whined. “You know that makes me gassy…”

“Everything makes you gassy nowadays.” Yoongi deadpanned.

“True.” Taehyung sighed. He brought the cup up to his lips ad began gulping.

And gulping.

And gulping.

He whined slighting as the mixture hit his stomach heavily. Yoongi immediately came over and began massaging his taught upper belly. Willing his stomach to digest faster. To grow fatter.

Gulp.

Gulp.

Sluuuuurp…

Gasping for air, Taehyung hiccuped loudly. “That- hic! Was so good, Yoongi.”

-UUUUURP!-

Taehyung let out a loud belch.

Yoongi continued rubbing his hard gut, encouraging the release of gas, used to it by now. “That’s it baby, keep going.”

-Buur…BrrruUUUUUUuUuuUup!”-

That last one was gurgley.

Panting and still hiccuping, Taehyung rested his chubby hands on his bulging love handles and squeezed. “Look what your excellent cooking has done to me, Yoongi. I’m huge!”

“I know, Taehyungie.” Yoongi slipped his hand into Taehyung’s cavernous belly button, hidden between his sagging upper and lower bellies and wiggled his long fingers. “I know.”

Taehyung moaned, only recently getting used to Yoongi’s courageous showings of affection. “Y-Yeah… Here’s to another 500.”

End.

[the-bluerecluse]

Midoriya's First Heat

MHA- Dekubowl (Deku x everyone (but really just Deku x Class 1a minus Mineta cause he got expelled or something idk fuck him)) | SFW Omegaverse

Summary: Midoriya begins pre-heat. It's his first heat. How does that work in the dorm system?

Part of my OmegaDekuBowl series

SFW Angst/Fluff

inspiration: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539151 // https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701352

Thank you so much to @cozysafechaotic for being my beta! Really appreciate it.

btw this is chaptered on my ao3 but here on tumblr im not bothering with chapters anymore for finished fics. one big ol fic for yall.

---

Tired. That was the way to describe Midoriya’s current mental state. 

He had no idea why he was so tired. Too much training? Too little sleep? 

Maybe it was the fact that he’d cleaned the entire common area and cooked dinner all by himself that afternoon. 

His friends had tried to pitch in but he was absolutely adamant about doing everything himself. Why couldn’t they see that he just wanted to take care of them? 

After class had let out, he pretty much beelined for the dorms with nothing on his mind except helping his friends. Cleaning, cooking, all of it. Come to think about it, he’d been pretty huggy too.

Well, he just wanted his class to feel good! What was wrong with that? 

“You good, Midoriya? You’ve been pretty busy.” Kirishima said to him as he walked past. He had a finished plate of curry in his hands, the dinner Midoriya had made for all of them.

“I’m fine, Kiri, really.” He sighed. Why was everyone asking that?

“Alright. Well, you know you can talk to us, right?” 

“I’m fine.” He said, sounding admittedly tired, even to himself. 

Even if he did clean and cook all afternoon, he shouldn’t be this tired. He trained day in and day out, why was this exhausting him? He inhaled. The smells of his class filled his mind, easing his tension bit by bit. 

He spotted a discarded jacket on the floor near the couch. Without thinking, he quickly picked it up. Why did he do that? Oh, probably laundry. Yeah, it needed cleaning.  

He held it up to his face and took a deep breath. It was Kirishima’s.

Alpha.

Warmth filled his core and he smiled. 

“Oh, you found my jacket.” Kirishima yelled from the kitchen with a slight waver in his voice. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. It was on the floor so it’s probably dirty. I’ll clean it for you. No worries!” Midoriya rushed off before he could hear again how he needed to take it easy. 

He rubbed the cotton material in his hands as he rode the elevator up. As he stepped off onto his floor, he found himself entering Tokoyami’s room. He searched the darkened area and found a cloak hanging off the side of the bed. It smelled of him, like ash and a dark roast coffee. 

He grabbed it and exited the room, now holding a hoodie and a cloak as he approached Aoyama’s room. 

…

Jirou stepped off the elevator on her floor. She was still worried about Midoriya but she couldn’t find him on his floor. Eventually, she figured she’d just retire to her room and Midoriya would reach out for help if he needed it. 

What she didn’t expect was to see Midoriya leaving her room with an armful of clothing. 

“Uh, Midoriya? Are you okay?” 

“Huh?” Midoriya blinked and looked at her as if escaping from a trance. “Yeah?”

“What’s… with the clothes?” 

The greenette looked at the clothes in his arms with a puzzled expression. “Um… laundry?” 

“You don’t seem too sure about that.”

“I guess that’s what I’m doing.” He shrugged. 

Wait a minute. 

Cleaning, cooking, extra touchy, and now he was stealing clothes. 

Jirou’s eyes widened. “Midoriya, are you… um,” She winced, not knowing how to phrase it politely. “Are you, uh, nesting… like, in a pre-heat?” 

Midoriya furrowed his brow at her, as if what she said was insane. After a moment, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “My heat? Oh crap! Am I gonna have my first heat?”

“Wait, your first? I thought Present Mic said omegas got their first heat in middle school?”

“I-I’m a… late bloomer.” Midoriya flushed and grimaced. “Crap, I’m going into heat. I didn’t even think about this when we moved into the dorms. Am I gonna have my heat here? What am I gonna do?!” Midoriya was hyper-ventalating and shaking. 

Jirou focused on pumping out as much soothing beta scent as possible, knowing that her number one goal was calming him down. 

It worked, though just a bit, as Midoriya’s breathing slowed and deepened and he stopped trembling. 

“Let’s head downstairs, we’ll calm down first, yeah? Plus, everyone will be relieved to know what’s been going on. Didn’t we talk about in class how when someone’s in heat they need to feel safe with people they’re close to? I know we’re not family, but we can try and help?” Jirou held out her hand and Midoriya hesitantly took it. She led the omega to the elevator and the two headed to the commons, Midoriya still holding an armful of clothes.

“Do you want to tell everyone when we get down there?” Jirou asked.

“I don’t know.” Midoriya whimpered and gripped the clothes he had tightly. 

“Uh, you don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to. I can probably spin some excuse for you.” 

“I…” Midoriya paused. Jirou sent out more beta scent to help calm him and he continued. “I need to go ask Mr. Aizawa what I’m gonna do for my… heat. I’d like… someone to come with me.”

“That’s no problem. Who do you want?”

…

“What do you think’s been up with Midoriya?” Kirishima asked to the group sat in the living area with him. 

“I’m not sure, but it’s definitely odd behavior.” Todoroki answered. 

“There’s no way the nerd looks that exhausted just from some cleaning and cooking, something else is up.” Bakugou said, looking as unperturbed as ever, though there was still some worry evident, just barely.

“Perhaps something is wrong with Eri. They’ve been particularly close ever since the School Festival.” Iida offered. 

“Nah, Amijiki’s been talking about Mirio and Eri and she’s been totally fine.” Kirishima responded. 

The elevator dinged and Jirou and Midoriya entered the commons. Most of the class turned to look and raised an eyebrow at Midoriya’s armful of clothes. 

“You, like, on a laundry run or something?” Kaminari asked. 

Midoriya ducked his head and flushed. 

Some of the class picked up that something was wrong. The omega was letting out distress pheromones and you could see it all over his face, too. 

“Are you alright, Midoriya?” Momo asked. 

“Do you want me to ask?” Jirou spoke softly to Midoriya so only he could hear. He nodded his head. 

“Midoriya needs to go talk to Mr. Aizawa.” She looked to two alphas near the tv. “Bakugou, Iida, you wanna go with him?” She shot them a very intense ‘go, don’t ask questions’ look. 

“Of course!” Iida shot up in an instant. 

“Tch. Fine.” Bakugou got up, looking reluctant, but Midoriya could tell that he wanted to go. 

“Hey, is he okay?” Kaminari asked. 

“He’s fine, just chill out.” Jirou shrugged, trying to keep people from prying until Midoriya was ready. 

“Thank you.” Midoriya said and handed the clothes in his arms to Jirou so he could begin walking to the door, to which the two alphas singled out followed. 

As soon as the three were outside the dorms, Bakugou broke the silence. “Okay, spill, what’s going on?” causing the omega to wince. 

“I’m… in pre-heat.”

“What?” The two alphas practically yelled. 

“Ah, I assume we are going to Mr. Aizawa to ask about your accommodations during your cycle.” Iida said. 

“So that’s why you’ve been acting weird.” Bakugou muttered. The omega nodded with a red face. 

“Rest assured that we will do anything to help you through your heat, Midoriya.” Iida announced whilst chopping the air. 

That brought at least a little comfort to the omega’s nerves as they made their way to Mr. Aizawa’s office. 

…

Aizawa was grading Kaminari’s paper, making a variety of marks as the door opened. He looked up from the homework and raised an eyebrow at Iida and the two problem children. 

“What is it?” 

“Could you… wait outside?” Midoriya asked quietly to the two other students. 

“Of course.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

The door closed and Aizawa was alone with a very nervous Izuku Midoriya. This had his attention. 

“Why are you here?”

“So, I know we’re at the dorms because of the league and all, but… what do I do for my… heat? Do I have to have it here?” He asked, voice high and face aflame. 

Aizawa blinked. That wasn’t anywhere near what he was expecting. 

“You all were actually just about to have a class about this kind of thing tomorrow.” The teacher put the papers inside his desk and gave his full attention to his student. “It isn’t safe to send any of you home, so one of the new buildings constructed is what’s known as a Cycle Home. Do you know what that is?”

Midoriya shook his head. 

“A Cycle Home is a building with heat rooms and rut rooms. As you can imagine, these are facilities for taking care of alpha and omegas in heats or ruts. They’re staffed by Cycle Specialists trained to help people through their cycles. UA has specifically hired Cycle Specialists for youths and we have A/B/O support on staff. Think counselors, but specifically for problems relating to secondary gender.”

“So… I stay in a heat room?”

“Pretty much. You’ll be escorted to the heat room and spend the duration of your cycle there under 24 hour supervision. You’ll have a laptop with internet access to attend classes and be provided food, water, medication, nesting materials, and a heat collar.”

“When do I go?”

“How long do your pre-heats usually last?” 

Midoriya winced and went silent. After a moment, Aizawa sighed. 

“If this is your first heat, then I’d say you should go right away. We’ll contact your family and let them know. If you’d like anything from home we can call and have it brought here. For now, you should go pack what you want with you in the heat room. If you want, a teacher can escort you, or you could have some of your classmates go with you.”

“I’ll have my friends come with me.” Midoriya bowed his head. “Thank you, Mr. Aizawa.” 

“If you have any concerns about your heat or secondary gender, there are people in the heat rooms who will help you. Now go pack.”

“Yes, sir.” Midoriya left the room with a very tired Aizawa and explained the basis of what they discussed to the two alphas waiting outside.

“You’re going to be in the heat rooms? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay with us in the dorms?” Iida asked as they began their walk back to Heights Alliance. 

“I think it’s for the best. I’d be safer there, anyway.”

“Safer? Like anyone could keep you safer than I could. I’d kill anyone who tried to even get close to you.” Bakugou scoffed. 

Midoriya felt his inner omega positively sing at that. 

Alpha will keep us safe in heat. Alpha will protect us. Alpha wants us safe. 

“Really?” He couldn’t keep himself from asking. 

“Hah? You doubting my ability to keep you safe?” 

“N-No, not at all, Kacchan!” 

“So, will you be staying in the dorms with us after all?” Iida’s voice had a lilt of hopefulness to it. 

The omega thought it over for a second or two. “No. This is my first. I don’t know what might go wrong. It’s best if there are professionals around in case something happens.”

“I understand. And I applaud you for taking your health so seriously.”

“Tch. Whatever, nerd.” 

…

Midoriya ran through his packing checklist one more time in his head as he rode the elevator down. 

Blankets, a pillow, my favorite All Might plush, laptop, clothes, underwear, toiletries, anything else? 

His backpack was full to the brim with things for the heat room, causing him to wonder if he overpacked. 

Once the elevator doors opened and his entire class seemed to be waiting in the commons for him. He had texted Jirou earlier that it was okay to tell the class since he had to leave for a week or two and that they should probably know why. 

Turns out they were all quite concerned for him. 

“Aw, Mido, you were being so sweet taking care of us, and now you’re leaving? Not fair!” Mina charged into him with a hug, almost toppling the two of them over. 

“We would be happy to take care of you here, if that’s what you want.” Todoroki offered. 

They really want me to stay, huh?

“Thanks, guys, but I’ve made up my mind.” 

“That’s okay, Midoriya. We hope you feel better.” Tsu said.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“We wish you the best!”

“Au Revoir~”

Midoriya smiled and nodded. 

“Forget it. Me and Glasses are taking him and that’s final.” Bakugou growled. 

Midoriya looked over to see Bakugou baring his teeth at Todoroki and Tokoyami.

“I think it’d be a good idea for me to join you in escorting Midoriya to the Cycle Home.” The bi-colored alpha said.

“As if. The nerd chose me, got it?” 

“Dark Shadow and I wish to join as well.” 

“What part of ‘he chose us’ don’t you idiots get, huh?”

Midoriya walked between them. “All four of you can take me if you stop fighting.”

That shut them up. With a few grunts or nods of approval, the five of them set out for the other side of campus. Midoriya, Bakugou, Iida, Tokoyami, and Todoroki. Four alphas and one omega. 

When they arrived, Midoriya felt like he was sweating through his jacket. All the anxieties were building up and now he was there, about to spend over a week without any of his friends or family in one of the most vulnerable points in his life. 

“Are you feeling alright, Midoriya?” Todoroki asked softly. 

“‘Course he’s not, you idiot.” Bakugou barked, ever the calm one.

They entered the building which had a similar look to Heights Alliance, not surprising, as they were built around the same time. There was a front desk with a friendly looking woman wearing pink glasses and a headband. 

“Hi there, Izuku Midoriya?”

“Um, yes ma’am.” 

“Alright, let me just sign you in. I just need to ask you a few questions about your cycle.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Midoriya nervously approached the desk.

“Have you started yet or are you in pre-heat?”

“Um, pre-heat.”

“This is your first, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any medical conditions that we should be aware of?”

“No.”

“What is your pack status?”

“No pack.”

“Alright, that should do it. Allow me to show you to your heat room.” She stood and gestured for Midoriya to follow her. He turned to his friends first and bowed his head. 

“Thank you for escorting me here. I’ll see you after this all blows over.” 

“Of course we’d help. We are your class after all!” Iida proudly announced.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t slack off. When you come back we’re going at it, 100%!” Bakugou scoffed and walked out of the building, followed by the other three alphas with various goodbyes. 

Midoriya’s expression softened and he turned back to the woman to be led to his room.

The heat room was sort of similar to a hospital room in size. It had a large mattress on the floor with a closet, desk, and window. In the open closet was a large selection of blankets of various colors and sizes, most likely nesting materials. 

“This is where you’ll be staying, feel free to make yourself at home. You’ll have three meals delivered to your room and two snacks a day. The bathroom is down the hall with showers as well. As you’re the only omega checked in at the moment, you have it all to yourself. A Cycle Specialist will be assigned to you to keep track of your progress, temperature, and water intake. We’ve received a delivery of a few blankets and pillows from your home which will be moved here momentarily.”

Modiriya nodded and began unpacking his things as the woman left him to his own devices. He plugged in his laptop and set it on the desk. He stored his clothes in the closet. He poured out all the nesting materials he had packed for himself onto the bed and put his bag of toiletries on the edge of his desk closer to the door for when he got ready for bed that night. 

He stared at the room with a feeling of emptiness. What now? He had finished his homework and he couldn’t train now that he was in the heat room. 

Usually he’d hang out with some of his friends. Talk with Iida and Uraraka, play some videogames with Kaminari and Sero, train with Bakugou, Kirishima, and Todoroki…

He could make a nest. That’s what he was doing earlier, wasn’t it? 

Midoriya grabbed some of the blankets from the closet. They were nesting blankets specifically, long, oddly-shaped, and extra soft. He smiled as he carded his fingers through the fibers. He brought them to his face and smelled… 

Detergent. A nameless detergent that meant nothing to him.

Earlier, the clothes from his class… his friends, it smelled so nice. Warm, comforting, safe. 

But these…

Well, he’d take what he could get. 

As he was setting up the base for his nest, there was a knock. He told them to come in and it was the lady from before with a big box. 

“Your mother sent you these from home. If you need anything, just let us know, your attendant will be here shortly to do a quick check-up.” She said before closing  the door and leaving. 

Finally, nesting materials that smelled safe. 

Midoriya practically tore through the box. Most of them were old blankets that were his, but a few were his moms, smelling like chai tea and fresh dough. 

And so, he got to work. 

…

It was three AM. Midoriya could barely sleep. He felt anxious. He felt tired. Most of all, he felt alone. He had worked on his nest for hours but it just felt empty. He could smell his mom and his old home, but not his current home. Not any of his friends. Not Iida. Not Uraraka. Not Todoroki. Not Kacchan. 

Now that he was aware he was going into heat, he could feel it. This unending tension and clinging exhaustion that wouldn’t let go. If everything he learned in class was right, he should be going into heat within the next day.

He couldn’t help but remember the clothes he had collected earlier. Kirishima’s jacket, Tokoyami’s cloak, Jirou’s hoodie, Aoyama’s shirt, Hagakure’s tank top… they all smelled so secure and reassuring. Throughout everything he and his class had been through together, their scents were a source of calm to him. 

He wanted so badly to go collect nesting materials but he was stuck there now until his heat ended. 

Midoriya pulled out his phone and opened the class group chat. 

‘Midoriya: Hey guys. Do you think some of you would be willing to bring some nesting materials by the heat rooms at some point? Like shirts and blankets and stuff. Don’t feel like you have to though. It’s not super important’

He added the last part, unsure about how the request would make his class feel. An omega taking items for nesting was usually only for people they were close with and/or pack mates. He didn’t want to overstep anyone’s boundaries or sound like he was demanding their things for himself. Though, it couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

He put down his phone and tried to get some sleep before class tomorrow, which he’d be attending virtually. 

…

The omega woke up to his phone alarm and an all-over body ache. He winced and groaned as he sat up and stretched. 

Oh, right. Heat pain.

His usual morning routine went off decently well, a shower, teeth-brushing, taming his messy green lockes with a hairbrush, the usual. As he was just making sure his laptop was ready for the class, a Cycle Specialist knocked and entered. 

He was a taller dark-skinned man with patches of gray scales on his face holding a clipboard and a satchel hanging off his shoulder. “Greetings, Midoriya. I’m your nurse, Mr. Higashi, I’ll be checking your vitals this morning and Nonaka will be here with your breakfast soon. If you could just sit at your desk, I’ll take your blood pressure and temperature.”

Midoriya sat and furrowed his brow as the nurse entered. He was careful not to stray too close to the nest, as entering an omega’s nest without being invited was generally a bad idea. “Is all this really necessary?”

“Technically, no. But, as you’re a hero student having his first heat under the care of UA, the staff want to make sure there’s no negative reaction by the body or that you may have some condition about your secondary gender that might affect your hero work.” Mr. Higashi said as he wrapped Midoriya’s arm in the cuff and took his blood pressure.

“Besides, between you and me, they’re mostly covering their butts. See, if a student has a bad heat experience under their care, you or your family could sue.” The doctor laughed. “And they can’t send you home because of all the villain attacks. So they gotta give you the best, or else they’re in trouble.”

That got a small chuckle out of him. 

“Alright, your heart rate and blood pressure look good. Let’s take your temp.” The nurse scanned a thermometer over his forehead and hummed at the reading. “A little warm there. I’m guessing you’ll be starting your heat within the next 20 hours or so.” He quickly put his medical instruments in a small bag and picked up his clipboard. “I’ll go fetch Nonaka for you, be back in sec.” The nurse offered a cheerful smile and left. 

Higashi walked down the hall and to the front of the building, looking for Nonaka when he saw a small crowd of students at the front holding a massive amount of clothing and blankets.

“Excuse me, may I help you?”

“We’re here to see Izuku Midoriya.” The taller one with glasses and dark blue hair spoke loudly with an air of authority. 

Higashi looked down at his clipboard with Midoriya’s paperwork and scanned the top information section. Just as he thought. “Izuku Midoriya is not in a pack. Only immediate family and pack members are allowed to visit the omegas.”

“What? That’s ridiculous!” A shorter brown-haired girl said with a pout. 

“We were asked to bring him some nesting materials. May we leave them for him?” One of the alphas of the group, the one with red and white hair, asked calmly. 

“I’ll take them for now, go ahead and leave them on the front desk. If Midoriya says yes, then I’ll allow it.”

“Why the Hell wouldn’t he say yes when he’s the one who asked us to come here?” One of them, the winner of the Sports Festival, practically snarled in his face, as two others from the group put all the nesting materials on the desk as asked.

“Believe it or not, there are some people who will try and force nesting materials on omega’s in an effort to get them used to their scent so they may take advantage of them.”

A few in the group recoiled in disgust, while a couple others seemed offended at the implication.

“I’m not saying you guys are definitely doing that, it’s just something we have to be aware of. Midoriya’s still mentally in a place where he can accept and reject things, so I’ll talk with him about it.” 

“Sorry, what did I miss?” Nonaka walked in at that moment, having probably gone to use the bathroom. 

“Just some friends offering nesting materials, Nona, go ahead and grab Midoriya’s breakfast, I’ll take care of this.”

Nonaka nodded her head and left. Higashi looked back at the group. 

“Thank you for the offerings for your friend. We’ll take it from here.” 

“Of course. We thank you for your time.” Glasses bowed and corralled everyone out the door. 

Higashi smiled at all the offerings piled on the front desk now. “Nice kids.”

…

“Midoriya?”

“Come in.” Midoriya said from his desk. 

The lady from earlier with pink glasses, Nonaka, entered with a warm tray of food. “Breakfast. Lunch Rush makes all the food for the Cycle Home, so lucky you. I love his cooking.” She set the tray down on the desk and placed some chopsticks beside them.

“Thank you.” Midoriya quickly grabbed the tray and began eating his grilled fish, suddenly feeling extremely hungry. 

“Also, did you ask for some nesting materials from your friends? A group of students came by with clothing and blankets for you.”

“Mm-hmm!” Midoriya hummed and nodded in between bites of food.

“Alright then.” Nonaka stepped out of the room and Midoriya heard a strained sound from outside. He looked to see Higashi bringing in an absolute mountain of nesting materials. 

Midoriya inhaled in surprise and a bit of rice flew into his throat, causing him to cough and hack it up. As soon as he caught his breath Higashi stepped out and brought another mass of items.

“They brought all that for me?” 

The two attendees laughed. “Yep. You’ve got a good group of friends there.” Higashi said.

“We’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you’re gonna wanna work on that nest now, huh?” Nonaka said, smiling at Midoriya’s vigorous nodding. She chuckled and the two left the room.

Midoriya was on cloud nine as the scents from all his friends filled his nose and head. Forget food, he was on the floor sorting out items in an instant, trying to figure out how each color and each scent would fit together in his perfect first nest. 

There was so much material to work with, layers upon layers of cloth and cushion, Midoriya was in heaven. 

He spent the next twenty minutes carefully placing each item in its exact spot within the nest. Just as he was making the important decision of where the alpha scents went, the alarm on his phone went off, alerting him that class was starting very soon. He reluctantly got up from his nest and went to his desk to start class.

—

The heat was really setting in.

It had been 3 days. He had made the perfect nest and for a moment he thought this might not be so bad.

Well, those anxieties he felt earlier about his first heat were not misplaced. 

He hurt, and not a little either. One thing you could not say about Izuku Midoriya is that he had no pain tolerance. That was the opposite of the truth. He’d shattered his bones over and over again and kept fighting. 

But this wasn’t like that. It was an ache. It was a throbbing burning ache in his core that spread across his body, and he had a headache to match. 

And the actual heat part… Midoriya had fought Todoroki before, he’d been burnt by fire, this was worse.

At least in a fight he had adrenaline coursing through him that kept his mind from focusing on any pain or discomfort, but just sitting there in his nest, he could feel every inch of fire on his skin. 

Heats weren’t normally like this, at least, not for adults, but as he had heard about in health class, heats and ruts when you’re young are irregular and abnormal and can easily be debilitating. 

Lucky him. 

On top of it all, all of his senses were cranked up to a hundred. Increased sensitivity, another effect of heats. Things were bright, pain was more intense, tastes were stronger, sounds were louder. 

Thankfully, since the staff are trained for this sort of thing, they easily communicate and move around without making too much sound. And the food was already pretty bland, probably for this exact reason, so he could still eat pretty easily.

He laid in the fetal position in his nest, all clothes except boxers discarded, and fan on full blast. Classes were over for the day, so he didn’t have to keep trying to focus with his muted thoughts and fuzzy vision. 

There was a knock and the door creaked open. 

“Hey, Midoriya. I need to get your vitals real quick and then we’ll get dinner right out for you.”

Midoriya whined out something hoarsely and slowly sat up, holding out his arm for the blood pressure cuff. 

Higashi gently took a seat beside him and set up the cuff. “At this rate, your peak heat should happen sometime between tonight and this time tomorrow. After that it’ll start to feel better.” He spoke softly as he took measurements. Midoriya was wincing at the cuff squeezing his arm, feeling everything so much more during this period. 

The omega reached for his All Might plushie and held it close, needing something to squeeze. Higashi smiled but didn’t comment. He just scanned his forehead with the thermometer and hummed at the results. 

“Did you finish your water from earlier?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Midoriya practically whispered as he handed him the empty bottle. 

“Alright, let me get you a refill.” He took the bottle and left, allowing Midoriya to dramatically flop back down with a deep sigh. 

The worst part of all of this was that throughout it all… he could only think about how much he wanted to be back at the dorms with his friends. He wanted them there. He wanted to nest there and bring them in, invite them in, and cuddle with them together. He cared about each of them so much. Their scents were great, and just about the only thing keeping him sane, but what he wouldn’t give for them there in person…

For now, all he could do was eat and guzzle water like his life depended on it.

…

“Alpha…” Midoriya whined and whimpered. His peak heat was here. His eyes were glazed over and he couldn’t move his body much. His thoughts were muddled… but there was still something on his mind. “Alphas… where?”

Higashi scribbled a few things down from his seat at the desk. He was required to keep ten minutes of watch over Midoriya every hour to make sure nothing alarming happened. He seemed physically fine, but Higashi was starting to think he did have a pack. Well, not yet, but he seemed very attached to a group of alphas, most likely those kids from earlier, and he wouldn’t doubt if he’d bonded to the betas too. 

“You’re alright, Midoriya. Do you want more water?”

“Alphas… Kacchan. Want Kacchan.” 

“Kacchan isn’t here. Do you want an ice pack?”

Midoriya curled up and whined pitifully. 

“I’ll get you an ice pack in a minute, okay?”

Midoriya didn’t respond. Honestly, Higashi was surprised he had already responded as much as he did during his first peak heat. 

The omega was clearly quite close to his friends. He wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he saw Midoriya he had formed a pack with them. A pack formed at a younger age came with some unique problems, but it wasn’t inherently doomed to fail. He’s seen many young packs who stayed together and made each other stronger, just what heroes in training could use. 

Higashi wrote down a note to recommend A/B/O support to Midoriya. A counselor in secondary gender and pack dynamics could help him navigate a possible pack, or at least his relationship with these alphas. This ‘Kacchan’ in particular seemed to mean a lot to him. 

He’d bring it up to him once he came out of his heat. 

...

Midoriya quickly shoved his laptop and charger into his bag. He was finally getting out of this place! 

His heat ended up lasting 8 days, 8 days too long if you ask Midoriya. He was thrilled to get back to his friends and classes and he was already mulling over which muscle groups to work out and which type of combat training would be best to jump back into after his break. 

He had to request a box to store all the nesting materials his class had brought him. Extra care was taken to neatly fold them so they wouldn’t be so crumpled or wrinkly when he returned them. 

It felt awful to have to take apart his nest that he worked so hard on, but if it meant leaving sooner, then he was all for it.

“Hi, Midoriya, may I come in?” Came Nonaka’s voice. 

“Come in.”

“We’re almost ready for your checkout,” Nonaka said as she entered the room. “However, you’ve still got some lingering heat scent so you’ll be required to wear a heat collar on school grounds. Do you have one? If not, we have one you can take with you.”

The greenette blinked in surprise. “Uh, no, I don’t have a heat collar.”

“That’s alright.” She fished around in her pocket for a moment before pulling out a plain black collar wrapped in plastic. “Here you go. Let me just finish your check-out and you’ll be all good to go.” She waved and exited his room.

Midriya took the collar in his hand and fumbled with the plastic before sliding it off. 

The collar was a thick fabric with two long strips of foam, meant to go over the scent glands, and a thin plastic buckle at the back. It was black and plain, as one should expect from something given out by medical staff. He rubbed his thumbs over the foam. It was soft yet firm, comfortable but still able to soak up the scent. It slid over his neck and snapped in the back with a small click.

Midoriya adjusted the collar a bit, trying to center it over his glands in just the right way before finally letting go with a satisfied smile.

With his bag zipped shut, and the heat room left just as it was found, the omega eagerly left the room and beelined for the lobby. 8am! There was still enough time to take his stuff back to his dorm and make his first class in person.

As he entered the lobby, he saw some familiar faces.

Was that… his entire class?

“Deku, you’re out!” Uraraka called and waved her hand in the air excitedly. 

It’s true. His entire class was there. All 18 of them!

He couldn’t help it. After over a week of being alone in heat he ran up the group, not an ounce of hesitation, and practically tackled Bakugou in a hug. 

Alpha. The words resided in his mind as he clutched onto Bakugou like his life depended on it.

“What the fuck? Deku?” Bakugou yelled, but didn’t push him away. 

“Alpha.” This time he said it aloud in a satisfied sigh.

Though Midoriya couldn’t see it, as his face was buried in Bakugou’s chest, the alpha’s cheeks flared red and his eyes went wide. 

“Midoriya, are you quite alright?” Iida asked, putting a hand on the omega’s shoulder, not paying attention to the death glare now upon him from Bakugou.

Midoriya pulled away with a smile like the sun. “Yeah. I just missed you guys.”

“We missed you too!” Mina, Uraraka, Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari all shouted at once. 

There was a laugh from the desk. “Izuku Midoriya, you’re all checked out. You’ve still got class, but afterwards I’m sure your friends will be happy to keep you company. And be sure to come back if you have any other concerns.”

“I will.” Midoriya waved. 

“Oh, and don’t forget the nesting materials your friends were so nice to have brought you.” Higashi said and he entered with the box of clothes and blankets. 

“I got it!” Kirishima ran to the nurse and grabbed the box before heading back to the group. 

“Alright, we have enough time to take Midoriya’s items to his dorm room and then go straight to class.” Iida announced and waved them all out of the building.

Midoriya practically skipped out of the building with Bakugou’s hand in his right and Iida’s in his left.

“So what was it like in there, Mido?” Mina asked.

“Boring.” He answered honestly. “I really miss classes in person, training, and just hanging out in the dorms with all of you.” 

“Aww, we were missing you too. It’s just not the same without both the problem kids.” Mina snickered, expecting some retaliation from Bakugou, but instead the alpha in question was oddly quiet, staring at Midoriya like some kind of alien. 

“I got an idea! Let’s run back to the dorms. Bet you’re ready to stretch those legs, huh, Midoriya?” Kaminari waved and began running. 

Midoriya chuckled. “You’re right, I do need a run.” He let go off the alpha’s hands and began jogging down the pavement, oblivious to the effect it had on the two alphas. Within seconds, the entire class was running across campus which turned to a race. Midoriya had One For All Full Cowling active as he dashed over the cement and grass. With the wind and sun on his face and class beside him, he finally felt truly happy for the first time in over a week. 

…

[myfriendofmiseryyy]

The intimacy of being understood by someone.

Marcus pike x plus-sized fem autistic reader

Reader has no physical description apart from being plus-sized and having short to medium length hair

This is my first fic so plz be kind I love this man so much 🥹 this will be part one,I might do more parts:)) all will be pov of reader :)

I wake up an hour before my alarm,typical. I stretch over to check the time and my phone flashes 5:30am,I guess I could just sit here and wallow in depression for an hour. NO I NEED TO STOP THAT ITS MY FIRST DAY IN A NEW JOB! I didn’t move half way across the fucking world for nothing! I sigh and motivate myself to get in the shower,what a day already. After the shower I’m greeted by my cat whiskey,”you hungry buddy?” He meows,yeah me too. Getting dressed into my “work clothes” I do a mental check list,shower? Check? Feed whiskey? Just about to do. Check your phone is FULLY CHARGED! I glance at my phone,yep 100 percent. Check to see if AirPods are also fully charged! Check. I go to the rucksack at the end of my bed,have I got everything? Ok,water? In the fridge. Binders and notebook,yep,chargers,yep. Lunch? I’ll pick some up on the way. Ok I’m good,I’m ok,everything is going to be alright. I say to myself as I exit the bedroom to feed myself and whiskey. I glance at the time,6:30. Cool. After feeding whiskey I grab myself some breakfast and sit down,feeling very anxious about the day ahead…I shouldn’t really call mum but I need too…

She picks up after the second attempt “hey mum”

“Hi baby! How’s America?”

Yeah all good,I’ve settled in now,but it’s the first day of my new job today and I’m really nervous”

“Oh sweetie,just remember the routine we put in place ok? Check your things as many times as you need,remember to breathe ok? You will smash it I promise,you’re are so amazing baby,I’m so proud of you”

“Thanks mum I’m just worried people will think I’m weird or I fuck the whole thing up,I love you so much”

“You won’t,and I love you too. You go smash them girl!”

“I’ll try! I got to go now mum I’ll text you later!”

I take a deep breath and count all my things again,right time for me to go bud,I stroke whiskey and give him a kiss on the head

Navigating DC is bad at the best of times but at rush hour,when you don’t know the place,it’s hell. I feel my breath quicken and my palms go clammy,”not now not now”I say to myself but it’s too late,I’m having a full on panic attack in the middle of dc trying to navigate the fucking subway. Suddenly I hear a voice,”hey,hey sweetheart can you hear me?” Shit i didn’t realise I fell,my vision and hearing are muffled but I hear a man talking.he bends down to my level so he’s not so intimidating…suddenly all my senses are heightened again,and I suddenly become aware of my surroundings…there’s a few people crowded around me,the man who’s voice I heard is kneeling next to me…holy shit I feel so embarrassed…he’s gorgeous..he has the most beautiful deep brown eyes his whole face looks like it’s been carved by the gods. “Hey you with me” he looks up at me with those beautiful…but weirdly very caring eyes… “I’m sorry I don’t know what happened” i babble…”you fell over,luckily I don’t think you’re injured”he smiles reassuringly. “Do you know what caused it?” He asks softly,”I don’t know,one minute I was walking around trying to find the subway,next minute I’m on the ground with multiple people standing around me” “don’t worry I made sure they all got on their way,most of them are just nosy anyway,don’t actually care what’s happening,where abouts were you going?”

“To the greens,it’s my first day at work”. Suddenly I remember that I’m probably now hours late for work and I’m just sitting in the middle of the street talking to a stranger…that potentially saved my life. “SHIT IM SO LATE FOR WORK MY BOSS IS GOING TO KILL ME”I suddenly start to panic again,tears streaming down my face. “Hey,hey look at me breathe ok,breathe with me he places my hand on his chest and I copy his breathing…”I’m sorry you probably think I’m some sort of freak” I mutter after I calm down again. “Not at all,we all have anxiety,myself included.i remember the first day I came to DC,i spent 5 minutes out here then I locked myself in the house for 2 weeks.” “I’m Marcus by the way.” You must be Daisy?” I saw on your name tag.

“Yeah…it’s nice to meet you Marcus,thank you for everything”

“It’s no problem,also it looks like we work in the same place! Marcus pulls out his fbi name badge

“Omg that’s such a coincidence,but why me? Why did you stop to help me?

“ because you looked like you needed help,you almost looked in pain,and I wanted to help you. Marcus says softly.

this time we both were walking through the crowded streets of DC. It felt better with someone next to me.

Thank you,so much. I’m not going to lie,I think it was a panic attack,I haven’t had one in years,but I think with the move and the change of routine it all just hit me at once. I’m sorry you had to see me like that,I laugh hoping to make the air less awkward . god this man is beautiful,and kind to! And he works with me? God I need to pull myself together.

“Don’t worry about it and yeah I kinda guessed that,panic attacks can be so scary and vicious sometimes can’t they?”

“You can say that again”

By time we finish our conversation we are on the subway train. I nervously bob my leg up and down

“Hey it’s going to be ok!” Marcus reassures me.

“Can I be honest with you Marcus?”

“ sure” he smiles

“I think I would still be freezing to death on that pavement if it wasn’t for you” I laugh softly

“A cop or someone like that would of found you I’m no hero I promise”he winks

Fuck that was sexy,I’m already falling for this man and it’s been what 2 hours? He is probably married I need to stop.

“But you did save my life” “well it felt like you did”

He blushes “I really didn’t”

“Let me take you out for dinner” I blurt out. Shit did I really just say that??

“Only If you let me pay” Marcus smiles big “honestly was thinking of asking you out for dinner,your beautiful”

“ Wait really”

“Yes”he chuckles,”come on this is our stop”

[starjane312]

Kit Tanthalos x OC

Big Masterlist

Masterlist

Epilouge

When I open my Eyes I look at Kit.

J: What the hell ?

My whole body hurts. 

J: Why do I feel like I’ve been kicked by a Horse ?

Kit hugs me. 

J: Hey everythings alright. I just turned to Stone.

She looks at me Confused.

J: What ?

K: You don’t Remember ?

She looks at Willow.

K: How ?

W: What is the last thing you Remember ?

J: I turned into stone. I was walking in a Dark Void until I saw this green Light.

W: Her Body must have been a shell. Only showing her deepest fears and Insecurities. 

I sit up.

J: If you’re here. Where is Miles ?!

He lifts his Coat and shows Miles bind to his Chest.

W: Protection shield like I told you.

I look down at my Clothes.

Ja: So you don’t Remember a thing that has happened ?

J: What the fuck am I wearing ?!

He hands Miles to me.

I shake my Head.

J: Not a Single bit. Care to remind me ?

K: You were on the side of the Crone.

J: You’re Joking right ?

Everybody looks at me with Dead serious faces.

J: I didn’t try to Kill anybody did I?

Ja: You did.

I look at Jade.

J: I’m so Sorry.

She waves her Hand.

Ja: You weren’t you. 

We get up. Once I see aryk. I frown.

J: What did you do to your Hair ?

A: Doesn't it look Good ?

J: Meh. Would have to get Used to it. But this is Different.

A: I’m different ? You Married my Sister and you have a Baby.

J: Ok. Everything is Different.

I look around.

J: Where is Twinkle-Toes ?

Everyone stays Quiet.

J: No.

Tears gather in my Eyes.

E: He died protecting me.

I chuckle.

J: God damn. Did he at least …

K: He told her he had the Hots for her.

J: Good. 

I shake my head and chuckle.

Ja: No ones gonna know how Brave he was.

K: They will. We’re gonna Tell them.

J: And I will show them how good of a Writer he was. 

I get the book out of my Pocket.

B: You have that ?

J: Didn’t give it back the last time. Kinda flew over my Head you know, with my Wife giving Birth and stuff. It's a Miracle it's here.

A: Wait, how old is he ?

J: Three days.

He looks at Kit.

A: How can you walk ?

E: Magic.

He nods and then looks at Miles.

A: What’s his name ?

K: Miles.

J: You wanna Hold him ?

He nods. I hand him to Aryk.

A: Why does he have red Hair ?

J: We’re suspecting either your mothers Genes or the Blood magic.

We look at the unending lands.

A: It just goes on and on till eventually you end up back where you started.

B: Nah, we’ll make it back. We always figure something out.

I look at Boorman and shake my head.

B: You know you really have to Prove it though, if you wanna adventure with us. We don’t mess about.

I slap Boorman across the Head.

J: Shut it you Oaf. 

B: Hey !

A: Who are you again ?

J: Remember my Brother that left when we were Seven.

I point at Boorman.

A: Oh.

J: Yeah. 

B: By the way.

He takes something from his Wrist and holds it in front of me. It's the bracelet. I take it.

J: Yeah, kinda not sorry for that.

B: I am.

I nod.

J: I know. And maybe I will forgive you. 

I look at Kit who's wearing full Armour. 

J: It worked on you huh ?

She nods and looks down at herself. I smirk. I have to admit she looks very Hot. Jade smiles at us.

K: What ? I’m gonna take it off. I will have to eventually.

She points at Miles.

Ja: When ?

K: As soon as I figure out how. 

Aryk leans over to me and whispers in my ear.

A: You kinda wish that was never, Huh ?

I look at him astonished.

A: What ?

I take Miles back from him.

Ja: What if the Wyrm or whatever is still down there, waiting ?

E: It is. I saw it. 

Ja: Shouldn’t we go back and try and Kill it ?

W: Soon it’ll come for us. Now we’ve really pissed it off.

We look at Willow.

Ja: You don’t really seem to Worried.

J: Isn’t that usually your thing ? Worrying ?

W: No. I’ve got you Girls and soon there’ll be more. Like a snowball gathering size and Speed as it rolls downhill. Did I ever tell you about the Time Madmartigan rolled himself into a giant snowball ?

We start Walking. But Jade puts her Hand on my Shoulder.

Ja: Can we talk ?

I look at her.

J: Only if you help me put Miles on my Chest. 

She grabs the Linen and Starts.

Ja: When we were fighting you yelled at me that I’m always in the way. And that Kit’s supposed to be on your side. Are you insecure about mine and Kit’s friendship ? Cause I can assure you it is nothing more than that.

I look at her.

J: I once was, when was 14. You always seemed so close and … I guess that fear was still buried somewhere. But I know that you want nothing from her, so we’re fine.

She nods and makes a knot in the Linen.

K: What are you doing  ?

We look at her.

J: What does it look like ?

K: Standing around. 

I walk to her.

J: Sorry that I didn’t want my Arms to hurt from Carrying our Child the Whole time. 

I take her Hand. We keep walking. But look back once we notice Elora's standing still looking back.

K: Hey. Come on.

J: We need you Up here.

She comes to us and we walk with the Sunrise. 

J: I’m gonna miss Twinkle-Toes.

K: Going from wanting to Kill him to being his best friend.

J: Ironic isn’t it.

I smile at her and then at Miles.

[eternallyanxiousandstressed]

More Tea

Whooooo boy do I have some more tea for you all! It'll be under the cut because I don't know how long this will be.

Luke's birthday is coming up. I believe I mentioned this. And I believe I mentioned how they planned a little get together on his birthday without talking to me about any of it.

Well, I told Ratboy that I was going to be seeing Luke earlier in the day for some one on one time. Especially because I haven’t gotten to see him much. But I also told him other days I was planning on picking him up. Because I’m done asking. For one, I shouldn’t have to ask to see my own son who I still have legal custody of. But two, he ignores at least 75% of my text messages, including most of the ones asking about trying to find a time for me to see Luke.

This asshat decides to send me a whole fucking message, starting with asking me why I’m being so demanding and that it would be one thing if I were to ask but it’s completely different to demand these things… As if asking had worked?

Anyways he then goes on to talk about how before Thursday I hadn’t seen Luke in 8 weeks. As if it was my fault he wasn’t trying to work with me or would just straight up ignore my text messages. I’m tempted to go through and count how many times I asked to see Luke where it was ignored. Anyways, he tried to act as if it was my fault and not mostly on the fact that he refuses to communicate or work with me on anything! 

Then he mentions that I haven’t asked about his daily schedule or what he’s eating or what size diapers he’s wearing now. He also says I haven’t asked about what size clothes he’s wearing which is blatantly false as I have a text message to prove I have asked about his clothing size. A text he ignored. He says all of this as if he’d answer if I did ask about any of it. When 75%+ of my texts are ignored, what’s the point in asking if I’m not going to get an answer? I tried talking to him about Luke at the mall but he barely wanted to talk about him. And um… I also talked about his clothing size when we were at the mall on Thursday so… yeah. He also mentioned that I have done nothing to support Luke. Okay, fucking talk to me and communicate and maybe I could figure it out??? But like… if he isn’t going to communicate there’s no way for me to do any of this shit! It took me about a month of getting maybe a text message a day to even get taxes figured out, and even then, he didn’t tell me when the refund came back until I brought it up at the mall.

Then he has the audacity to talk about my mental stability while with Luke because I haven’t been with him for more than a few hours and never alone in the past few months. Okay, for one, who��s fault is that again? And for two, I’m doing pretty good mentally right now. I think I can handle taking care of my own son (whom I basically raised alone for 6 months) for a day by myself.

But the thing that pissed me off the most about his text? “As for his birthday, you won’t be picking him up prior to his party as I already have plans with him and his schedule is especially important that day.” To which I obviously told him he can figure it the fuck out because I’m spending time with my son on his birthday. He can kiss my fucking ass. And if he tries to withhold Luke from me, it’s technically called parental kidnapping and he has poked and prodded this mamma bear too fucking long. I am not above filing charges. The fact that he didn’t bother to talk to me before making plans shows that he doesn’t give a shit about me or if I’m in Luke’s life or not. 

He is about to see that I am not playing around and bowing to his every whim anymore. I am fighting for my goddamn son and I don’t care what I have to do to do so.

[masterofrecords]

Angstober day 13: From Childhood

This will be a small one, I told myself. Barely a drabble, I told myself.

Well I'm a fucking liar, I guess.

Buttons

Luca was laughing. He laughed and laughed, and it made Leopoldo angrier and angrier.

“Ah…” Luca wiped the tears from his eyes. “Really, planting Enzo’s button under the cupboard was a stroke of genius. You almost got caught though.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it in the first place if you hadn’t messed with the cake,” Leopoldo lashed out. It was scary, in honesty – if he got caught, Aunt Eloisa might have thought that he was the cake thief, and that would have been most unfortunate.

“Oh, come on, it worked out, didn’t it? He shouldn’t wear such fancy buttons, really. Or keep a better eye on his clothes.”

“Whatever,” Leopoldo grumbled. “Did you at least save me a piece?”

“Sorry!” Luca chuckled and whispered in his ear, “The great thing about stealing someone’s birthday cake is that you don’t have to share.”

And off he went, in search of new mischief. Leopoldo should have just let him get caught – but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

This was what big brothers were for, wasn’t it?

---

“Oh, will you stop nagging,” Luca waved Leopoldo off. “Who cares?”

“I care,” Leopoldo hissed, frantically hoping no one was listening at the door. “He was hurt, badly.”

“That was the whole point,” Luca pointed out. “Because he’s an asshole and he made fun of my hair. And I don’t like how he looks at Mamma.”

“That’s no reason to push a guy off the roof,” Leopoldo’s pleading fell on deaf ears. “What if he wakes up? What if someone saw you?”

“Nah,” Luca smirked. “I wiped his memory. Want to try, too?” He twirled the chain of his pendant around his finger, and goosebumps ran across Leopoldo’s back.

“Leave me out of your weird games,” he snapped. “Just… stay in your room. I’ll go check the roof.”

“Do you have to?” Luca rolled his eyes. “Won’t that just attract more attention?”

“You’re missing a button,” Leopoldo pointed out, jabbing a finger at the empty space on Luca’s waistcoat.

Luca looked down. “Ah,” he laughed softly, “so I am. What would I do without you?”

Indeed, what?

---

“You messed up.”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me that, I just need you to help me fix it.”

“If the police comes, there’s nothing I can do, Luca.”

“He heavily implied blackmail.”

Ah, of course. So much better.

They were walking through the dim streets, Leopold wasn’t sure where. He still didn’t know this town very well, and Luca’s absolute refusal to try and keep a low profile didn’t make things easier.

“Well, what do you want me to do? Beat him up so he doesn’t tell anyone? I hardly think that will work, besides, he’s twice my size.”

“Shut up and let me think.”

Luca had always considered himself the thinker in the family, severely underestimating the amount of planning that had to go into bailing him out of trouble – to say nothing of Leopold’s mental gymnastics to justify doing so.

They arrived at a small house, secluded enough that Leopold let himself relax a little.

“So, what now? Knock and try to reason with him?”

“No, no, we need to get in quietly. Can you pick the lock?”

There was light inside, and Leopold winced as he got the set of lockpicks out of his pocket. The lock itself wasn’t difficult, but he ran into an unfortunate problem once he finished with that.

“It’s bolted from the inside.”

“Can’t you do something with it?”

Leopold listened to the quiet of the nighttime street, already disturbed enough by the clinging of the picks.

“Not unnoticed. Look, just… let me talk to him, we’ll figure something out.”

Luca shook his head. Leopold was almost surprised he didn’t stomp his foot. After looking around, Luca suggested, “Can you get in through the chimney?”

“Are you an idiot?!” Luca shushed him, and Leopold continued in a quieter voice, “Unless you know some mumbo-jumbo to make me three times smaller and fireproof, that’s out of the question.”

Luca bit his lip and then his gaze finally landed on Leopold’s coat. His eyes lit up, “These are ivory, aren’t they?”

He plucked one button off with surprising strength, and Leopold protested, “Oi, that was Dad’s!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up.” Luca bit his finger until it bled, pressed it to the shiny white surface. Leopold watched, desperately suppressing his disgust, as the droplet of blood boiled on top of the button, grew and solidified into a fleshy impression of a four-legged creature, the original ivory barely visible on its forehead.

The creature was thin and ugly, barely resembling the pictures of elephants Leopold had seen in books. At the command of Luca’s finger, it climbed the wall as if it was a spider, then disappeared in the chimney. In a few minutes, Leopold heard the latch quietly drop, and pulled the door open as quietly as he could.

With another sharp flick of Luca’s finger the creature dropped to the ground, dissolving into the carpet and leaving behind the slightly dirty button. Luca picked it up and pressed it into Leopold’s hands with a wide, unnerving smile.

When Leopold pressed the edge of his rapier to the blackmailer’s throat, he thought the hard part was over. That was what Luca wanted him for – the sneakiness, the light steps, the ability to take someone by surprise to give Luca a chance to find the papers and burn them.

But then Luca turned away from the fire, face cast in moving shadows, and smiled.

“Don’t,” Leopold tried to say, but Luca interrupted him.

“You know, there’s been this one thing that I’ve been meaning to try on a person. Get some feedback. Maybe teach someone a lesson on snooping in other people’s affairs.”

He stroked the chain around his neck and his smile grew wider.

And then the man screamed.

He jerked, cutting his throat against Leopold’s rapier – not enough to kill him, but more then enough to bleed. Leopold drew back, jumped off the chair he was standing on to avoid being accidentally pushed off.

“What are you doing, stop!” he hissed at Luca, unsure why he was still trying to be quiet – the screams must have alerted everyone in the neighbourhood to their presence.

“Teaching him a lesson,” Luca didn’t take his eyes off the man writhing in front of him in agony. “Just in case he had the idea to try this again.”

“Enough is enough,” Leopold stalked towards his brother, getting more and more enraged. “This is how you get caught, don’t you realize?”

He tried to pull at the chain of Luca’s necklace, hoping it would interrupt whatever magic was going on. Luca leaned away, turned to him, and then –

Everything was on fire. His body was burning, every nerve ending screaming for the torture to stop. He fell to his knees, unsure if he wanted to try and fight whatever was causing it or beg for mercy, and then –

It was gone.

As quickly as it came, the pain stopped, leaving him gasping at Luca’s feet.

“Well, then,” suddenly, Luca was all business. “I suppose now he’s seen too much, and his neighbours have heard too much. An accidental fire, what do you say?”

Leopold didn’t dare do anything but nod, and Luca leaned down to him with a smile.

“I knew I could count on you. Get what you need ready. I’ll take care of him.”

---

“Did you have to kill him?”

“He’s the reason Grandma’s dead, don’t you have any sense of pride?”

It felt like the same conversation all over again. His voice argued, but his mind was already running through the possibilities.

It was a big party – hiding the body wasn’t a possibility, but they could make things confusing. Those detectives, their cousin’s friends – they were a danger, but one that could possibly play in their favour.

The study – Archibald had another key, didn’t he? It would be easy enough to stumble into him, slice off a button off his frock…

“You said these detectives know magic?” Luca nodded.

Leopold looked around the study. Ah, a letter opener – wonderful.

He stabbed it into the dead body’s chest and turned to Luca. “Make sure if they look, they see what they need to see. Can you do that?” Luca nodded. “Ah, and make sure we’re heard somewhere… downstairs.”

The parts of a plan were coming together, the reluctant perfection of cover-up.

“I knew I could count on you,” Luca smiled, and Leopold shivered.

“Anytime,” he echoed.

That was what big brothers were for, wasn’t it?

[chaoskirin2]

You know what’s super tiring about fatphobia?

EVERYONE has it. If you’re fat or you’ve ever been fat, you realize this. And it’s not really intentional. That’s the worst thing.

Well, some people are intentionally fatphobic. There’s a lot of assholes who post on Twitter that there’s no way fat people can be healthy and they’ll keep telling fat people they’re not healthy, but those aren’t the ones I’m talking about.

I’m talking about chair manufactures, for example. Who advertise chairs as being able to accommodate up to 350 lbs. but the seat is too narrow to sit on. They’ve reinforced the FUCK out of it, but the seat is exactly the same size as all their other chairs. When I contacted the company about this, they told me that they had chairs for heavier people, and I should have picked one of those. (I had.) They wouldn’t give me a refund unless the chair was defective.

So now I have a chair that bruises my thighs and I can’t afford a new one. 

I’m talking about clothing makers, who don’t know how to make clothes for people over 175 lbs., and most of all, they don’t know how to make clothes for fat women. I found a jacket online that I wanted. I took my measurements. The site suggested I order a 2X. 

Having had experience with clothes being too small before, I went ahead and ordered a 5x. 

The jacket doesn’t close. The shoulders are tight. The sleeves almost reach my knees for some reason. 

When I go to a concert, the chairs are so small and close together that I am UNCOMFORTABLY close to other people. The best time I had at a concert was getting a seat right at the end of a row. 

These are just a few examples. 

Also, if you’ve read this far, I guarantee some of you are thinking, “wow, you should just lose weight.” and this is what my doctor has told me for 20+ years. Problem is, when I finally got so ashamed of my weight that I went to a weight loss doctor and told her “look, I’ve starved myself, I used to play sports like a fiend, and I ran until I got so fat that I sprained my knee” she sat me down and did a bunch of tests.

And it turns out, I have insulin resistance. 

That means, no matter what I did, no matter how much I punished myself, no matter how much I starved myself or exercised, I would not ever lose weight. Not without help. 

This went undiagnosed for 20 years! “Diet and exercise” were prescribed as a solution that would NEVER WORK. Because my family doctor didn’t believe I’d tried already.

And I’m sure some of you reading this far are thinking “oh, well you’re an ‘acceptable’ fat person then.” 

But the truth is, either we’re all acceptable, or none of us are. You can’t make chairs or clothes that fit for “acceptable” fat people and not for people who are fat because they overeat or don’t exercise or, hell, just like the way they look. 

I have a hard time living life because of this type of fatphobia, where the world doesn’t care whether or not I’m comfortable or taken care of. If I want to lose weight, I have to have a specific part of my stomach removed. I need to not absorb 70+% of what I eat. If I don’t do this, I don’t get to be comfortable. 

I shouldn’t have to get surgery to be able to live comfortably. And I think about this a lot, especially when people tell me that “thinphobia” is a thing, or that it’s equally as bad as fatphobia. I don’t think people actually understand that sometimes I’m not able to thrive because of how things exist, whether it be because of ignorance or outright malice. It sucks. 

And there’s always a risk to surgery, even if it’s small. I’m scared. But if I don’t do this, I’ll be unhappy for the rest of my life.

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 30

This is the thirtieth chapter of a modern/vampire AU riren fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3.  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Special | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

“You want us to… come to Levi’s house?” Mikasa asks, and Eren sighs, futilely searching through Levi’s bedroom closet for clothes large enough for him to wear. 

“Yes, Mikasa, that’s what I just fucking said to you.”

“Jesus,” Mikasa says, her voice dripping with sarcasm and a hint of annoyance. “Somebody’s having a rough morning.”

Eren leans his head against the wall and sucks in a deep breath, his free hand clenched into a tight fist at his side. His breath escapes him in a hiss. 

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.

“Can you come or not?” 

“I can, but why at the house of the little gnome? You’re not home?”

“I’m not, and I can’t go back to my place because of the stupid fucking sun,” Eren says, letting out a sigh when he checks the size of the last of Levi’s shirts. Nothing’s going to fit. Maybe jackets…?

“Right, okay, vampires and sun. But then how did you get to Levi’s house?”

“I slept over,” Eren says without thinking, and he doesn’t realize the implication of those words until Mikasa lets out a little gasp. It’s not even the first time that he’s spent the night at Levi’s place. Sometimes he forgets how little he’s told her.

“You slept—Wait. Did you guys…? You didn’t—did you?”

Eren rubs his face. It was only last night, but it feels like ages ago already. Kind of hard to think fondly on it when one of his friends has been fucking kidnapped in the aftermath.

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. Calm down, Eren.

Eren’s eyes lock on a hoodie in Levi’s closet a size larger than the others and yanks it out before sliding the door shut. He’s not going to bother checking for pants.

“Can we talk about this another time? We’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“More important than your first—?”

“Yes, Mikasa, so would you just fucking tell me if you can get here or not?”

Mikasa is silent, and Eren sighs, sagging into the closet door, his forehead pressed against the wood. She doesn’t know. It’s not her fault. He shouldn’t take it out on her. But it’s hard, it’s hard when Mikasa is trying to pry regular gossip out of Eren when Isabel is in danger right fucking now—

“What’s going on, Eren?” Mikasa asks, and all of her teasing amusement is gone, replaced by genuine concern. It suits Eren’s mood better, but it also makes his shoulders sag with guilt.

She wasn’t supposed to know about any of this. She wasn’t supposed to worry.  But if something were to happen to her or Armin without them even knowing why—

Eren’s stomach churns, and he squeezes his eyes shut. 

He doesn’t even want to think about it. 

“Can you just… Can you get here? I don’t… I don’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“Okay,” Mikasa says softly. “Do you want me to call Armin for you? So you don’t have to… Do this again?”

“Yeah,” Eren mumbles, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Please. I’ll text you the address.”

“Is Levi going to be there?”

“No… He’s—” Out trying to make sure the people he cares about are still safe and alive. “—Busy. He’s… busy.”

“...Okay,” Mikasa says, and the slow, cautious way she says that one word makes Eren press his hand harder against his eyes. “I’ll be there soon.”

They say their goodbyes before Eren hangs up, sagging to the floor and burying his face into Levi’s hoodie as Isabel’s face lingers in his mind. Where is she now? At Zeke’s club? How hurt is she? Eren knows Zeke drank her blood—Is he going to turn her? Is she even conscious right now? Why her?

And Eren hates himself for thinking it, for wondering why Isabel, why not someone else, because of course losing anyone from the restaurant like this would’ve crushed him, but Isabel—Isabel is the first person Eren met at the Kitchen, before even Levi. Isabel was the one who let him in, who took him to Levi when he was in agony and his fangs were desperately crying for blood. She was the one who helped him when he fucked things up with Levi’s confession, the one who told him that story about her childhood that loosened him up and allowed Eren to make things right with the man he loved again.

“It was ten years ago... Little Isabel sits in the corner of the room, her vampire captors still asleep in their beds. Then bang! It’s Furlan, throwing the door open. And Big Bro Levi with a crossbow!”

Now she’s captured again, but they can’t go to her. They can’t save her. Eren can’t do a fucking thing for her, can’t make up for all that she’s done for him because Zeke has her and Eren is fucking useless, useless—

Eren takes a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists again. He just has to wait until tonight. He just has to wait. Levi’s going to come back with a plan. They’re going to save her. They have to. And then they’ll have a new story for Isabel to tell with a smile on her face. 

Eren has to tell himself that, over and over again, so that he doesn’t drive himself insane.

~ ~ ~

Armin arrives first, blue eyes narrowed and a backpack slung over his shoulders. Eren expects to be bombarded with questions instantly, but Armin just stands in front of the closed door, scanning the vampire from top to bottom, silent. Eren frowns a little, taking a step back to let his friend in. Armin moves inside, his lips pressing into a thin frown, blond eyebrows furrowing, and Eren winces, expecting a scolding or something worse—

And then arms are around him, tight around him, a blond head against his chest. Eren’s eyes go wide, his own arms hanging helplessly at his sides, not caught up with the situation he’s in. 

“Armin…?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Armin says, and Eren hears a hint of bitterness, hears frustration in the way Armin seems to speak through clenched teeth. “But I’m always here for you, Eren. No matter what it is.”

Eren’s eyes water, guilt building like a layer of acid coating the inside of his ribcage. Painful. Spreading. 

“I’m—” Eren falters, throat tightening, wet eyes threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry for—for hiding things from you. I didn’t—I didn’t want you to worry.”

Armin laughs a little, lifting his head away from Eren’s chest to look up at his friend with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, because going radio silent on us for a month wasn’t going to worry me at all.”

Eren grimaces. 

“Sorry,” he says again. “I’ve been… busy. Things have been—”

Eren’s throat clogs, breath hitching and he doesn’t know if it’s the stress of everything or if it’s the instinctual way having one his best friends around lowers his guard, but all his emotions are building up in his chest, in his throat, in his eyes, about to overflow. Armin’s lips curve down into a concerned frown as Eren presses a hand over his eyes, tears finally escaping, sliding down his cheeks. 

“Things have been—”

“Eren?” calls out a voice from outside. “You said to just open the door once I got here, but you’re not close to it are you? I’m not going to open this and accidentally turn you to dust?”

Eren and Armin turn towards the door before looking at each other again. Their gazes meet, briefly, before they both burst into startled laughter. Armin pulls himself away from his vampire friend, and Eren wipes his eyes as he continues to laugh, feeling a bit delirious. This day is fucking ridiculous. It feels as disjointed as a dream.

If only that were actually the case.

“Give me a second,” Eren calls out to Mikasa, teardrops still sliding down his jaw, his voice garbled, throat still tight. What a mess. What a fucking mess. 

Armin watches him with a smile as Eren crosses to the opposite side of the room, where any light from the doorway has no chance of reaching him.

“Alright, you’re good.”

Mikasa cracks open the door, poking her head inside and glancing back and forth before her dark eyes land on Eren and grow wide. She rushes into Levi’s living room, slamming the door shut behind her as she crosses to him. Mikasa’s hands land on Eren’s shoulders, dark eyes scanning the vampire from head to toe as he continues to wipe salty droplets off of his cheeks.

“What—What’s wrong? What’s going on? Did you already start explaining to Armin—Why didn’t you wait for me—?”

“Mikasa,” Eren says, prying her hands from his shoulders. “I haven’t told Armin anything yet.”

“But you’re—”

“I just got here,” Armin pipes up, walking closer to Mikasa and Eren. “This is just from…”

Armin glances at Eren, smile fading, and Eren sighs, rubbing his damp cheek with the back of his hand.

“...Just from seeing each other again,” Armin says.

“Oh,” says Mikasa, though Armin’s explanation only makes her frown deepen. “Whatever it is—it’s that bad?”

Eren nods and wipes his eyes again, though they’ve finally begun to dry. The energy he had briefly gained from Mikasa’s entrance is quickly fading, replaced by a heaviness in his limbs and a nauseating swirl of dread in his stomach.

This isn’t a fun little reunion. They’re here so that Eren can warn them. So that he can try to prevent them from getting hurt.

“Eren?”

His closest friends are looking at him with eyes full of concern, matching frowns on their lips. Eren takes a deep breath.

“Let’s… sit down for this.”

Mikasa and Armin exchange a somber glance before following Eren to Levi’s black couch. They crowd in on either side of him, Armin’s shoulder pressed against Eren's own, and Mikasa’s hand resting lightly on the center of his back. Ready to comfort him, to ease him, like always. Worrying about him, like always. Even though that’s what Eren wanted to prevent. 

Where is he even supposed to start? Levi would probably know how to broach the subject, how to fill them in on what’s necessary and nothing else. But Levi isn’t here. Levi is checking on his family, scouting out Kingdom, worrying about Isabel—Fuck, Isabel, please be okay—

Eren rubs his face with his hands. Isabel. It isn’t going to make any sense to his friends, but he has to start there. Start with the problem at hand. 

Armin reaches over and squeezes Eren’s arm. Eren takes another deep breath.

“Bear with me for a second,” Eren says. “Do either of you remember the waitress who took our orders the day we met Levi? You might have met her the last time you came to the restaurant too. Red hair, usually in pigtails.”

“Waitress…?” Mikasa echoes with a frown.

Armin gasps, snapping his fingers.

“The one Mikasa yelled at when you ate garlic?” Armin asks, and Mikasa winces, seemingly remembering her too.

“That’s the one,” Eren says, curling and uncurling his hands into fists in his lap. “Her name’s Isabel. I—we’ve gotten pretty close, and she’s like family to Levi, and—”

Eren falters. And now she’s gone. Taken by the Feral King. By Eren’s brother. And he can’t help her. He can’t do anything for her. Fuck. Fuck.

“And?” Armin urges, and Eren squeezes his eyes shut. There’s so much to explain, so much to say, and Eren doesn’t want to say any of it. He wishes more than anything that he could keep them out of the loop, keep them thinking there’s nothing more serious going on than his relationship with Levi, but—

“Tell your friends. Best case scenario, we’re overly cautious.”

“What do you think the worst case would be…?”

“The worst case scenario is that we’re already too late, and your friends are being held as hostages without knowing why. Or they’re already dead.”

They’re not dead. But Eren can’t guarantee that they’re safe yet, either.

“And she’s—” Eren starts, but he falters, even though he knows he should continue. There’s no other way to say it. “She’s been kidnapped.”

Mikasa and Armin are silent. Eerily silent. Eren reluctantly peels his eyes open, looking back and forth at his friends. Mikasa is wearing a frown, but she looks confused, not concerned. Armin’s expression is blank, blue eyes aimed at the ground.

“What… what are you talking about, Eren?” Mikasa asks. “Are you serious?”

Eren meets her dark-eyed gaze, eyelids heavy. He doesn’t answer her question out loud, but he doesn’t need to. Mikasa goes pale, mouth falling open. 

“So that’s why you’re—Oh my God. Is she oka—”

Mikasa snaps her mouth shut. Is she okay? Obviously not. Eren’s hands clench into fists again, his nails pressing hard into his palms until they begin to ache. 

“I know that it’s—it’s a heavy thing to drop on you guys all of a sudden, but…”

“No,” Mikasa says quickly. “Eren, don’t worry about that. I—I’m glad we can be here for you. Have you called the police already? Are they looking for her? How did you find out?”

Eren bites his lip with his flat front teeth. How much does he have to tell them? Maybe—maybe he can still limit their concern. All he really needs to do is make sure that they’re careful, make sure that they’re aware of possible danger. Maybe he doesn’t need to fill them in on everything. Yeah, he can just keep it to the bare minimum. They don’t need to know about the ferals, about Zeke, about what Eren’s going to do. He can be vague about it. It’s scary, and Levi and I don’t know if other people close to us are in danger too. So be careful, just in case. That’s enough right? They don’t need to know the rest. Then Eren doesn’t have to tell them about the plan. Then they won’t have to argue about Eren throwing himself headfirst into danger—

“Eren,” Armin says, voice low, his gaze still on the ground. “Where’s Levi?”

“What?” Eren blinks, still trying to find a way to phrase the warning without giving too much away. “He’s out checking on his other employees.”

“So it’s not a random kidnapping.” Armin finally raises his head. “Someone specifically went after her.”

Shit.

“What? How did you—”

“Someone important to him was kidnapped,” Armin says, “and Levi’s out checking on his other employees instead of looking for her. So they must be in danger too, right? She wasn’t randomly taken.”

The swirling mass of dread in Eren’s stomach grows bigger. Colder.

“That’s—”

“And you called me and Mikasa here, so you both must think that the kidnapper is targeting people close to Levi. Right? People who know him?”

Shit. Shit.

“Armin,” Mikasa starts, “what are you talking about?”

“You didn’t just bring us here to keep us in the loop, did you, Eren?” Armin asks, pushing himself off the couch and onto his feet. His blue eyes are dark, blond eyebrows furrowed into a scowl. “You brought us here because we’re in danger too.”

Eren hears Mikasa’s breath hitch behind him, her hand falling away from his back, and fuck, fuck this conversation is getting away from him, spiraling too quickly. He jumps to his feet too, reaching for Armin, but his friend steps away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“That’s not true, alright?” Eren says, turning his head back and forth to keep his eyes on both his friends. Mikasa begins to slowly curl into herself the couch, and Armin’s expression gets darker by the second. “Yeah, Levi’s worried about the people close to him, but he’s not really connected to either of you, right? So you two should be perfectly fine! He just—we just wanted to warn you to be as careful as we could, but I promise, you both don’t really need to worry about it!”

The words spill out of Eren’s lips frantically, trying to hurry to ease them and assuage their worries, but his friend’s expressions don’t get any lighter. What can he do? What can he say? He isn’t going to let anything happen to them. And—and if somehow he can’t protect them, he and Levi would go save them, just like they’ll save Isabel. Everyone is going to be alright. Everyone Eren cares about is going to be alright.

He has to believe that. He needs to. 

“Do you really think that’s my problem with this, Eren?” Armin asks softly.

“What?” 

“Did you really think we were going to hear about people close to Levi being targeted and be worried about ourselves?” Armin asks, louder now, blue eyes ablaze with frustration.

“I…” Eren blinks. “But… aren’t you?”

“Eren,” Armin says. “People close to Levi aren’t safe. And you’re the one that’s closest to him.”

Eren’s mouth drops open.

He’s so stupid. What was he thinking? Of course that’s what would really scare them. Of course that would be their biggest concern. How had he not seen this coming?

…Had Levi seen this coming?

“Oh my God,” Mikasa says, and when Eren looks at her, she’s hunched over, her arms wrapped around her abdomen like she’s about to throw up. “Is this why he was teaching you to fight? Did he know that being around him was going to put you in danger?”

“What? No, that’s not—”

“Did you know?” Mikasa snaps, and when she whips her head up to look at him, her face is warped by anger, dark eyes brimming with tears. “Did you know that your life was at stake all the way back then? And you’re just telling us now?”

“No, I—”

Eren stops himself, body sagging. He wants to say, No, it’s not like that. He wants to say, No, I haven’t been hiding anything from you. But he’s been keeping secrets from them from the very start and doesn’t want to start adding lies to the list of ways he’s wronged his best friends. 

So Eren falls silent. 

“Oh my God.” Mikasa buries her face into her hands. “Oh my God.”

“So he knew?” Armin asks. “Levi knew that being close to him meant trouble. That you might be kidnapped—”

“No!” Eren exclaims, stepping toward Armin again. “This—Isabel was a surprise. We never—Levi had no way of knowing things would end up like this.”

Levi had no way of knowing Zeke would go out of his way just to torment him. No way of knowing he would take hostages just to force Levi to fight him, once and for all. 

“He knew enough to feel like he had to teach you to defend yourself,” says Armin, and Eren’s chest aches like one of his ribs has pierced his dead heart.

“No, that’s not—”

“I knew it!” Mikasa snaps. “I knew he couldn’t be trusted—I knew something wasn’t right about him being a vampire hunter. I told you!”

“But that’s not why—”

It’s not Levi’s fault. None of this is Levi’s fault. Eren being in trouble, Eren learning to fight. None of that was started by Levi. Levi has done nothing but try to give Eren ways out, try to keep Eren safe. 

“Did he force you into it?” Mikasa asks. “Was it too late to back out by the time you found out? Oh my God, Eren, this asshole was your first—”

No, that’s not it at all—

“What?” Armin gasps, blue eyes growing wide before they narrow into an even harsher glare. “That piece of—”

“Stop!” Eren shouts over the voices of his friends, the swirling mess of stress and dread within him quickly being replaced by the familiar heat of anger. “It was me. I was the one that asked him.”

Finally, Mikasa and Armin are quiet. They exchange glances over Eren’s shoulders as he heaves a sigh, sinking down to sit on Levi’s carpeted floors. He buries his face into his hands so that he doesn’t have to see their accusatory gazes anymore. 

“You’re wrong,” Eren says, and his voice is weak, muffled behind his hands. “You’re wrong about all of it. Please don’t blame Levi. It’s my fault.”

“I doubt Isabel being kidnapped is your fault,” Mikasa says, and Eren exhales harshly, pressing his hands harder over his face.

“Not that—Fuck, will you just shut up and listen to me for a second?” 

Eren can hear the click of Mikasa’s teeth as she snaps her mouth shut. He sighs again. This is not how he wanted any of this to go. He hadn’t wanted any of this to happen in the first place.

But it’s too late to take it all back. 

“He didn’t know it was dangerous just for me to be close to him,” Eren says. “Shit, if he did, don’t you think he and all his friends would be way more cautious? Do you think they’d be casually running a restaurant where any idiot vampire could walk in and see them?”

He raises his head from his hands. Mikasa is still on the couch, her legs folded and pulled close to her chest as she stares at the wall. Armin is standing nearby, his hands in fists as he frowns at the floor. Eren rubs his chest with his palm, the burning inside him gradually cooling.

“...He only taught me how to fight because I asked him. I wanted to know how to kill vampires.”

Two pairs of eyes snap up to look at Eren. He hunches lower towards the ground and avoids their gazes. 

“I…I never told you guys about it because I was…”

I was scared of what you would think of me.

“I never told you guys,” Eren starts again, “but ever since I turned, I’ve been…”

It’s too late to hide it anymore. All this arguing isn’t worth it. Levi getting blamed isn’t worth it. If Mikasa and Armin think of less of him… then so be it.

“I’ve… been planning on killing the guys that killed my mom.”

Mikasa lets out a quiet gasp. Armin doesn’t make a sound.

“Everytime I thought about them, I—I would get so angry, like I was going to explode if I didn’t do something. So, Levi helped me, once he was sure that was what I wanted. That’s why we were training. At first.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then Eren hears footsteps. Someone shuffling closer. Out of the corner of his eye, Eren sees Armin crouching down to sit beside him.

“At first?” Armin asks.

Eren nods. No more trying to hide things or make things vague. That was what caused this misunderstanding in the first place.

“I found out… That what happened to my mom—to me—it’s bigger than I ever thought. It’s complicated to explain, but there’s—there’s a cult of vampires out there doing what they did to me and my mom on a regular basis. Levi’s been getting ready to take them down for ages.”

Mikasa slides off the couch, shuffling on her knees until she’s sitting close to Eren and Armin. 

“The leader—he calls himself the King, and he hates Levi’s guts. We’ve all—Levi, me, and the others from the restaurant, I mean—we’ve been trying to get ready to get rid of the guy once and for all, but…”

“But Isabel’s been taken,” Armin finishes, and Eren nods.

“Why… Why did you hide all this from us?” Mikasa asks.

“Because I knew you guys wouldn’t want me to do it,” Eren says, and he frowns. “And apparently because you’d blame Levi for all of it, too.”

Mikasa and Armin wince in unison.

“We… were a bit too quick to do that,” Armin says. “Sorry. We can even apologize to Levi later, if you want.”

Eren scoffs, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Levi would probably agree with you on some of it,” Eren mumbles. “He’s been—we’ve gotten into a lot of arguments because he wants to keep me out of the worst of the danger.”

Though Levi has finally agreed to let Eren be in a more risky position. Probably best not to tell his friends that yet.

“So you’re…” Mikasa bites her lip, reaching out to grab hold of one of Eren’s pant legs. “You’re—you’re really going to do it? You’re going to fight this… this cult? Even though they’ve already kidnapped someone close to you?”

“Even more reason for me to go,” Eren says immediately.

He owes Isabel that much. He has to help her. 

“But isn’t it going to be really dangerous—”

“That’s what I’ve been training for all this time.”

“But—”

“Mikasa, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“I know,” she snaps, holding tighter to Eren’s clothes, lips trembling. “And maybe you were right to not want to tell me! Because I—I don’t want you to go. Losing Mrs. Jaeger was already so much, I can’t—”

Mikasa falters, and there’s a piercing ache in Eren’s chest again, prodding into an already open wound. 

“I… I know how you feel,” Eren says. “But I won’t change my mind.”

“It—It doesn’t even have anything to do with you,” Mikasa says, but her voice is a mumble. It doesn’t even sound like she’s trying to convince him anymore. She’s just feebly offering excuses, hoping he’ll take them.

“It does. Two of them killed my mom.”

“But doing what they did is…”

Eren shakes his head.

“I already decided it’s what I want.”

Mikasa squeezes her eyes shut.

“You could—you could just let Levi do it—”

“He offered already. I said I wanted to go.”

“But the leader’s problem is with him, not with you—”

“But the King’s connected to me too.”

Armin jumps in, his voice quiet.

“Connected how?”

Right. Somewhere in that messy explanation, Eren had missed one of the most important parts. 

“It’s Zeke.”

Armin frowns, and Mikasa’s eyebrows furrow.

“What about Zeke?” Mikasa asks. “Your asshole brother, Zeke?”

Eren nods.

“But didn’t he… years ago…” Armin gasps. “No. He’s—”

Eren nods again, and Mikasa’s eyes grow wide. 

“Oh my God,” she whispers.

Despite everything, Eren manages a half-hearted smile.

“Finally see why I have to go?”

Mikasa’s shoulders sag, and she doesn’t nod or agree, but she stops trying to ask him not to go. When he holds out his hand, she rests hers lightly over his own, letting out a small sigh. Eren looks at Armin next, waiting for his hand to join the pile, waiting to see if he will also give his acceptance. 

Armin is staring at their hands, but he doesn’t move.

“Levi’s going to be there?” Armin asks. “At the fight.”

“Yeah. Right beside me.”

Armin’s frown deepens.

“He’s going to protect you?”

“We’re going to protect each other,” Eren says firmly.

“You’re not going to do anything reckless?” Armin asks, lifting his head so that blue eyes meet green.

“I…” Eren averts his gaze, and Armin huffs, the corners of his lips twitching a little.

“At least lie to make me feel better, jerk,” he says, and Eren manages another smile, this one more genuine than the last.

“Well… I’ll try.”

“You’re the worst,” Mikasa mumbles, but Eren’s smile only grows wider. 

“Listen,” Armin says, finally laying his hand over Mikasa and Eren’s. “My brain can barely process what’s going on right now, but I… I won’t tell you not to go. But I—”

Armin stops, clearing his throat as his cheeks are slowly stained with red.

“But we love you, so you better come back, alright? Come back in one piece.”

Eren’s smile softens as he meets the gazes of both his friends, their hands still over his own. The weight is comforting. Familiar. It’s something he wants to—needs to return to.

“I will,” he says. “I promise.”

Everything’s going to be alright. They’re going to go stop the Feral King, get Isabel back, and everyone’s going to come home safe and sound.

For a moment, with his friends there beside him, Eren truly believes that.