who’s gonna bite the bullet and ask about chubby chaser gaz? me. because holy shit that’s making my brain MELT right now. every single one of the 141 is so good at making a plus size partner feel beautiful but i just feel like gaz takes it to a whole other level. i am begging for your thoughts. 🫳🏻👑 i am handing you a crown in exchange
⋆。˚ ☁︎ ˚。 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ⋆。˚☽˚。⋆
There isn't a human sweeter than chubby chaser Gaz. Over the years, you've become far too numb to the routine of listening to men laugh and shame you in front of their friends, only to appear in your Tinder messages, begging for a chance to "fuck that fat ass". So when Gaz took up the seat next to you, dressed unmistakably in military attire, you could only let out a weary sigh and prepare yourself for the worst.
Except, he made no lewd comments, no uncomfortable forward advances. He made you laugh, made you shy, made you feel so utterly human it almost knocked you sick, because how long has it been since someone did the bare minimum and made you forget about every awful thing that could come with his attention?
And despite the fact that the handsome stranger next to you had done little to even suggest that all he wanted out of this encounter was you sandwiched between him and his mattress, it's you that takes a handful of his shirt to push your lips to his, it's you who mumbles pitiful little begs for him to take you to bed.
He doesn't fuck you like other man have, hastily, as though they're scared of getting caught with you, scared of realising that they're attracted to the way your stomach jiggles with every slap of their hips against your ass. Gaz takes his time, he practically worships you, makes you sing as his wraps your thighs around his head and devours you with a desperation you cannot even begin to fathom.
He treats your body as though it was chiselled by the Gods themselves, marvels at every stretch mark, runs his tongue over the scarred skin like it's sacred, holy.
"Still don't believe you're real, love," He'll whisper as he runs his hands up your side, letting his fingers sink into the soft flesh as he goes, "Never seen anyone as beautiful as you. Gotta be an angel or something, yeah?"
And you'll sigh dreamily into the easy compliment, letting his words soak into your skin and fill you with a blooming sense of pride, of genuine self-love, because how could you not believe him when he's gazing at you like you hung the very stars in the night sky?
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So I've been doing this thing for months where I just start grabbing one of my plushies to have as tummy support to prevent me from leaning too far forward towards my screen (the plush pushes me back as it's against the desk).
Maybe not good advice but for now it's better than me leaning all the way forward like a dog
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Grief is so fucking wild. It sinks into your muscles, forces itself to be felt. It steals your appetite, floods your brain with cortisol. It makes you so, so tired.
If someone you know is grieving, telling them "just let me know what I can do" means nothing. They can't. They don't know. And the small things are too embarrassing to ask for.
Bring them a cheese platter. Pre-Cut fruit. Peanut butter pretzels. Protein shakes (like slimfast) Food that requires no prep and does not create dishes.
Do the dishes. Take out the trash. Sweep the floor. Vacuum the carpet. They won't ask you to do this, but it will help.
A bottle of acetaminophen honestly might help more than flowers. Grief really can cause muscle aches.
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You ask Bakugou for help opening the lid of a tight jar once, and the sweet smile you give him paired with a “You’re so strong, Bakugou.” is enough to have him going around the kitchen and deliberately tightening all the lids on every single jar so you have to ask for his help again.
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