#which is the worst thing ever. i hate it. i hate not knowing what is my place in people's life. i hate wondering if i even have a place in

[charliegyrth]

You Peaked in High School

A Bully Gets a Belly

This story is based on another anonymous story request. Enjoy!

***

I hated you so much. You ruined my entire high school experience. You gave me panic attacks. You made me dread getting up in the morning.

I knew you were mean to everybody, but I never understood why you targeted me more than anyone else. What did I ever do to you?

I was scared to walk in the hallways because you always found a way to sneak up behind me and jiggle my love handles.

You gave me the nickname “Moobs,” and then everyone else started calling me that.

Worst of all, you outed me to the entire school, based on nothing but a hunch. (You were right, of course, which made it so much worse.)

Because of you, I hated myself. I pushed away my friends. I lost all confidence. And I got very, very fat.

Freshman year, I was a little chubby. I didn’t think it was a big deal until you slapped my belly in the middle of PE. Over time, I got fatter and fatter because I was stress-eating. And I was stress-eating because of you.

My only comfort was knowing that once I graduated, I’d never have to see you again. I’d get a fresh start in college while you stayed in our tiny hometown. I told myself that I was a late bloomer destined for great things while you were a vain jock who peaked in high school and would spend the rest of your life looking back on your past glory.

That’s the way of the world, right? That’s what happens to high school bullies.

Nope.

You decided to go to my university.

When I saw you on campus, looking smug and hot as you strolled through the quad, I wanted to scream. You weren’t supposed to be here. I was so shocked to see you that I didn’t hide. I should��ve.

You saw me and strutted right over. “Hey, Moobs!”

I thought I’d finally escaped that nickname.

“Don’t call me that.”

You punched my shoulder like we were best friends. “Lighten up, man. It’s good to see a familiar face, huh?”

I had nothing more to say to you, so I turned and left.

“Come on, Moobs!” you called after me.

I went straight to the cafeteria and stuffed myself with pizza to work through my feelings. Each bite filled me with guilt.

I tried to avoid you around campus. Didn’t work. We had two classes together. Even though you always showed up late, you somehow found a seat right next to me, close enough to poke my fat and whisper insults. You demanded to see my notes, and even though I said no, you took them anyway. I started bringing decoy notebooks to class, completely empty except for two words on the first page: “Fuck you.”

Your bullying continued for a couple weeks before the most amazing thing happened. Our classmates started calling you out for your behavior. Even though you always called me “Moobs,” no one else did.

That’s the thing about college. The attitude that made you popular in high school suddenly didn’t work anymore. Everyone saw you for what you were: A handsome, insecure jerk.

I made friends. You didn’t.

I excelled in my classes. You didn’t.

When I saw you walking in the quad, you kept your head down. No more strutting. Your swagger was gone.

I was finally free of your bullying.

Then one day, you sat next to me in class and said hello. You didn’t call me “Moobs.” You called me by my name. I thought it was a trick at first, but no. You wanted to ask me for help with the homework. You didn’t have anyone else to ask.

Even though I wanted to tell you to fuck off, I invited you to study with me over lunch. I wasn’t sure why. I think it was because I liked having power over you.

We went to the cafeteria. I helped you with the assignments and we ate together. For the first time, I saw you as an actual human being. I didn’t feel sorry for you (I couldn’t), but I was kind and patient. At the end of our lunch, once you finally understood (most of) our homework, you apologized to me. It wasn’t enough to make up for the years of abuse, but it felt good to hear.

You looked at me differently after that. With gratitude, I guess. I think you saw me as a friend.

I helped you study a few more times that month, and each time, you seemed more interested in my life. My dating life in particular. That surprised me. I could only assume that you were trying to figure out how a fat ass like me could land dates while you were always alone. In high school, you cycled through all the popular girls without any problem, but I don’t think you’d had sex since you graduated.

“What’s your secret?” you asked.

“I’m not a total jerk,” I answered. Honest, but a little mean.

“But you’re so fat.”

I wasn’t offended. I knew what I looked like. And I knew that even though you thought my flabby body was gross, a lot of college guys found me pretty hot. I used to hate how I looked, but college had made me appreciate my bigness.

I wanted you to feel bad, though, so I pretended to be offended and stormed off.

***

I didn’t expect you to come to my dorm that night. I didn’t even know you knew where I lived. You stood outside my door, clearly drunk. I let you in before you made a scene.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you leaned into me. I had to catch you before you fell. You babbled something about how you were “jealous” of me, how you “peaked in high school.” It felt great to hear, even though I knew it was the alcohol talking. I led you to my couch, but you pushed me away and flopped onto my bed, still babbling.

I asked you what you wanted from me. I was a little annoyed, but honestly, it felt amazing to see you so vulnerable.

I sat next to you on the bed, not sure what to say.

You clumsily pawed my belly. I should’ve pushed you off me, but I didn’t.

“Why do guys like this?” you asked. “Aren’t I hot?”

“You’re hot,” I assured you, still letting you squeeze my belly roll.

“You’re hot,” you slurred, “and I don’t know why. Kiss me, Moobs.”

You used my nickname again, but it sounded different. Almost complimentary. I think that’s what did it for me. I knew I shouldn’t (every nerve in my body was telling me no), but I kissed you.

Your hands went straight to my moobs. The same hands that slapped and pinched my fat were now exploring it, honoring it. As you dug your fingers curiously into my softness, I pulled you all the way onto my bed.

I never thought you were gay. I still didn’t know for sure. All I knew was that I wanted you inside me.

I opened my nightstand and pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube. You were too buzzed and inexperienced to know what to do next, so I tossed you the condom and pulled off my shirt and shorts.

You stared for the longest time at my exposed belly. Your pants were still on, but I could see you were already hard. I wasn’t yet.

You grabbed the bottle of lube, filled your hands, and started oiling up my belly. “People like this?” you asked again, still confused by why my fat was turning you on. I leaned back and allowed you to slick me up, to reach between my folds. As you touched me, my reservations faded. There was still a voice telling me that this was wrong, but it got quieter and quieter. Soon, it was barely an echo.

I helped you out of your pants and you stared at me hungrily as you slipped on the condom.

It didn’t take long for you to gain control, to open me up and slide inside. You’d definitely been with men before. I could tell.

And honestly, you were incredible. Slow at first. Then forceful. Confident. You sent wonderful ripples through my body.

Now I was hard.

A few times, you got caught in the moment and slapped my gut. That reminded me of the old you, the cruel you.

As you lit me up on the inside, as you pushed whimpers and moans through my lips, you reached into my still-open nightstand and pulled out a donut.

Some of my hook-ups had been encouragers, so I was always prepared. I wasn’t really into that, but I went along with it anyway. Men my size tend to attract a certain kind of guy, and it’s best to play along. As you pounded into me, you unwrapped the donut and got ready to press it into my mouth.

I knew the drill. I was prepared for that.

But instead, I grabbed your wrist. “No. You.”

You didn’t understand at first. You lost your rhythm. Then, curiously, excitedly, you ate the donut yourself.

“Faster,” I ordered. You’d stopped thrusting.

You sped up again. You had a surprised look on your face, as if you didn’t understand why you’d just fed yourself.

“Have… another,” I grunted.

And you did.

This time, you didn’t break your rhythm.

As we continued for a gloriously long time, you fed me a couple donuts but ate most of them yourself. And when you finally came, seconds before I did, your face was coated in chocolate and my belly was covered in crumbs.

We fell asleep together, but when I woke up, you were already gone.

***

I didn’t see you for a week after that. You skipped our classes. I knew you’d regretted what we’d done. That’s just who you were. You fucked me out of curiosity but you couldn’t handle the fact that you actually liked it.

I didn’t have regrets, though. You were freaking amazing.

The next weekend, you showed up at my dorm once again. Completely sober this time. You brought a shopping bag filled with snacks and whipped cream.

“Can I come in?” you asked nervously.

Of course I said yes.

Before I could say anything, you declared that this time, all the food was for me.

I agreed, not because I wanted to be fed, but because I knew that in the heat of the moment, I could turn the tables again.

And that’s exactly what I did. We started with the whipped cream, which I sprayed into my belly button (you loved that) and onto my moobs (you really loved that). After that, we tried a couple positions, you fed me a little, and I fed you a lot. Once again, we ended the evening sore and sticky and blissful. And once again, you snuck out in the middle of the night.

Afterwards, when I saw you in class, you pretended that nothing had happened. You still treated me like a friend.

Your nighttime visits became more frequent. You came over twice the next week, then three times, and pretty soon, you were in my dorm room every night. You brought bags of food each time. For a while, you said things like “This is all for you” or “I’m not having any of this tonight,” but you never stuck to that. By our fifth night together, you gave up that pretense completely.

We both knew that you wanted to stuff yourself as you fucked me. We didn’t need to pretend otherwise.

***

It didn’t surprise me when you started to soften up. Sure, I was a little surprised that your earliest gains were almost completely on your chest, with surprisingly pointed moobs that clashed with your still-flat stomach. You’d always had large pecs, so I don’t think you noticed when they changed shape.

Once your belly started to curve forward, you didn’t notice that either. If you had, you would’ve bought new shirts. Your self-image had always been built on how people looked at you. In high school, you knew you were hot because everyone thought you were hot. In college, no one really paid attention to you, so you had no idea that your objective hotness was getting buried.

The craziest part of your fast, steady changes was that they were affecting me as well. I was losing weight just as fast as you were gaining it. Thanks to our nightly hookups, I felt more confident than ever, meaning no more stress-eating. I started going on walks around campus, then jogs, then full-on runs. I wasn’t actively trying to get in shape, but after a while, I guess I was.

You didn’t notice my changes, either. To you, I’d always be the fat kid from high school, and your brain couldn’t process that we were slowly switching roles.

Because I was your only friend, we spent a lot more time together throughout the week. We usually went to the cafeteria after our morning classes. We’d both order a bunch of food. You always finished yours, but I almost never finished mine.

It took me a while to realize that you were finishing my meals, but you totally were. I’d turned into your encourager without realizing it, but once I did, I couldn’t stop myself. I purposely ordered extra sides just to add a few more calories to your intake.

I’d never understood the thrill of gaining, but I absolutely understood the thrill of watching you gain. God, you were getting hotter by the day.

I absolutely melted when I saw you walking across campus in a shirt that barely contained your wobbling belly. You no longer looked like my high school bully. You looked like the kind of chubby nobody that the old you would’ve teased nonstop.

***

Our relationship changed when I asked you to move into my dorm room. You were already staying over most nights, but actually moving in made things official. We never said that we were dating, but we didn’t need to.

You were my boyfriend.

I still fed you every night, of course, but we started doing it in the day, too. I also made sure to keep the kitchen well-stocked with your favorite snacks (especially the ones I didn’t like).

Deep down, I knew that it was only a matter of time before you realized how big you were, but that day didn’t come. It helped that you started wearing my clothes (and I even started wearing some of the shirts that you’d outgrown). It also helped that we stayed on campus over the Christmas break, so none of your old friends could point out your perky moobs or thick love handles.

That Christmas break did wonders for your waistline. We barely left the dorms. It was just a steady parade of feeding and fucking. That was the first time you let me top. You said you didn’t like it, but I knew that was a lie.

I know all this sounds like our dynamic was built on revenge. I was fattening the hot guy who spent years mercilessly mocking my fatness. And yeah, there was a little bit of that at first. But I actually liked you. I’m not lying. Without your cocky demeanor, you were quite fun to be around. You were easy to talk to, especially at the dinner table. And the few times we did talk about high school, you told me about how miserable you were back then, how you lashed out at people like me because you weren’t happy with yourself.

You were happy now. I was, too.

***

With only weeks left of freshman year, you were huge. I was still a bit chubby, but I no longer had a belly, just a bit of softness that was only slightly visible under my (your) shirts. Our bodies had officially switched, and I was more confident than ever.

Then the unthinkable happened: You finally noticed.

We were in our literature class (we had all the same classes that semester) when one of our classmates wanted to return the notebook she’d borrowed. She forgot my name, so she told her friend, “Hand this to the guy in the corner.”

Her friend responded, “The fat guy or the hot guy?”

“The hot guy,” she said.

You and I both heard that exchange. And of course, her friend dropped the notebook right in front of me. I know it was just a little moment, but I could tell from your expression that everything was finally sinking in. You took a long look at me, then you glanced down at the belly in your lap, and you gulped.

You didn’t say anything for the rest of class.

As we walked back to the dorms, with you wearing my old clothes and me wearing yours, you turned to me and said, “I’m fat now, aren’t I?”

“Fat and handsome,” I said.

You didn’t respond.

That night, you made love to me. I had your snacks ready (cupcakes), but you pushed them away. I was fine with that. Sex didn’t have to involve food.

Unfortunately, for you it did. You went limp, and eventually, you flopped back onto the bed, looking so damn embarrassed. You literally couldn’t continue without food in your mouth.

I kissed you and said it was okay. I was in the mood to top anyway.

You agreed, and as your soft body rippled under me, as I plowed into you with the same force and confidence that you used to have, I noticed you reach into the nightstand and grab a cupcake. You didn’t even know you were doing it.

***

The next morning, we had the most honest conversation we’d ever had. I told you how beautiful you were, and as we talked, you finally admitted (to me and to yourself) that part of your high school bullying came from a place of jealousy. You’d always liked my fat body, and now you’d finally gotten one yourself.

I told you I loved you (which was true). You told me you loved me.

And I asked if you were okay being the fat guy in this relationship. You didn’t answer at first. I held you. I stroked your expanded nipples and played with your beautiful belly, and as you gave into my touch, you finally admitted, “Yeah. I like this.”

Then I asked the most important question: “Do you want to keep going?”

To answer my question, you grabbed a cupcake, placed it in my hands, and opened your mouth.

***

With only one week until graduation, I was so proud of you!

For one thing, you’ve fully and officially come out of your shell. As a cocky jock trapped in your high school glory days, you had no friends (besides me). But now you had tons of friends, even more than me, actually. You were the fat, funny guy now. You didn’t judge people. You didn’t take yourself seriously. You walked into a room, took up space, and absolutely owned the place with your positive energy.

This was how you were always meant to be: the big man on campus. The biggest man. Literally twice the person you were freshman year. Sure, you needed special chairs in some of your classes. And sure, you were always late to lessons because of how long it took you to lug your extra 200 pounds across campus. But those little inconveniences never stopped you from being your sunny, happy self. No one could’ve guessed that you used to be a bully.

I was lifting weights in the apartment when you waddled in, dripping sweat from your long walk back. By the time I finished my set, you made it across the room and wrapped me in a hug.

“Good day?” I asked.

“Wonderful,” you said. “Except I skipped lunch.”

I knew that wasn’t true. I smelled burgers on your breath. But whatever, I knew what you meant. When you said you “skipped lunch,” that just meant you were hungry for another feeding session.

I guided you into our bedroom and helped peel off your sweat-soaked shirt. Your pale belly flopped into view, showing off the latest stretchmarks that ran all the way up to your under-moob roll. I was particularly proud of those.

As you slowly crept onto the mattress, I opened the nightstand to see what we had to work with. “Brownies or donuts?”

“Both,” you answered. (I knew you would.)

I laid everything out on the mattress, laughing at the shameless way you were already licking your lips. Then I pulled off my shirt, my huge pecs and solid muscle gut giving you another reason to lick your lips. Seeing you like this, with all your fat oozing shapeless onto the mattress while I stood above you, I’d never felt more in love.

As you smiled up at me, I got a slightly devious thought. I helped you pull off your shorts. “Babe, since this is our last week as college students, I’m feeling kind of nostalgic. What do you say… we do things like old times?” I dropped the bottle of lube next to him.

You didn’t understand. Then slowly, you did. I was asking you to top me for the first time in years.

You hardened at the idea, but when you dug through your fat pad to reach the barely visible nub, you looked up at me apologetically. “I don’t think I can anymore.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say that.”

That made you smile.

***

Thanks for reading! Check out all my stories here. And please send more story requests!

[theoceanoasis]

Hod Rod meets the animated mini-Soundwave, takes him in and cares for him until he can return to his universe.

The cyberverse Soundwave is not happy about this, but pretends not to care.

(They're not dating yet, and he doesn't want to get jealous).

He glared temple throbbing and hands twitching. That little fucker was watching him with a familiar smug look and he hated it. He wanted to drop kick that rusted tin can back to the dimension it came from.

A few days ago, a pathetic Soundwave from another dimension showed up out of nowhere. Using its tiny stature, the little fucker latched onto Hot Rod.

The naive Autobot had been taking care of it the entire time and treated it like a baby. The bastard used that to his advantage, constantly snuggling up to him. Any time he showed up, he'd pretend to be scared.

Hot Rod would press him against his chest and tell him not to scare the poor thing. Then the damn thing would give him a smug grin acting as though it won every time. He hated it so much.

Since they weren't together yet, he couldn't say anything. Which is why he was stuck watching from a distance as it pretended to be pathetic. Although maybe that wasn't an act.

He was the most pathetic Soundwave he'd ever met. If the roles were reversed, he'd never use such dirty tricks. (A lie)

The worst part was that Hot Rod was letting him sleep in his apartment. From what he's heard, the stupid thing pretended to be scared during its first night, and now they were sleeping in the same bed.

He felt his energon pressure rise especially when the fucker gave him a smug look. As soon as Hot Rod was distracted, he grabbed him.

"Say anything and I'll rip you in half."

He growled and pulled him into an alleyway. Squeezing him, he stared down at him menacingly, watching the way he shivered in fear.

"Don't try and act pathetic, it's not going to work on me."

He tried to struggle, and he laughed.

"Pathetic. You better find a way home or I'm sending you to the garbage dump where I'll personally make sure your smelted down."

"Soundwave, what are you doing?"

He turned around to find Wheeljack coming over.

"Just talking to this other version of myself."

Wheeljack gave him a skeptical look, but gave him some of the best news he'd ever heard.

"I managed to get the portal open. We can send him back home."

"Perfect, let's not waste any more time."

"Does he want to say goodbye?"

"No. He's eager to get back home."

He shook the brat when he tried to protest.

"Okayyy."

He practically ran to Wheeljack's lab in his haste to get rid of him. He hoped no other versions of himself ever showed up again because he hated all of them, and none of them were allowed around Hot Rod.

When they got to Wheeljack's lab, he began starting everything up.

"Hurry, I'm sure he's eager to get back home."

"He's leaving."

He looked over to find the last person he wanted to see right now.

"Yes."

"Can I say goodbye?"

He glanced between Hot Rod and Wheeljack, knowing he didn't have a choice. He squeezed the little fucker one last time wishing he could blast him instead.

The stupid thing pretended to pathetically hug Hot Rod. The Autobot cooed and pulled him close. He glared at the fucker pressed his face into Hot Rods chest and then gave him a smug look. He was clearly enjoying the attention Hot Rod was giving him. When the other version tried to get a kiss, he immiedatly grabbed him.

"I think it's time you go home now."

He then did what he'd been waiting to do ever since he got here. He kicked him into the waiting portal watching as he disappeared.

[spacebaby1]

I was seeing your post about you want a request for him so here I am :), I need suo too hehehe, high five 🖐

Suo x fem reader

So, how about a arrange married with suo headcanon or one-shot which one you can do pick(I want a one-shot ( ⚈̥̥̥̥̥́⌢⚈̥̥̥̥̥̀))?

Romantic and fluff

Whisper: I got you bestie. This is my fav request 🤭high five✋🏼

It never occurred to you that your family would think of such a thing. It was a shock because all they ever told you that they're supportive of love marriage and never an arranged marriage.

Until one day, you got back home from day out to find an unfamiliar guest. After excusing yourself, you went to your room only to be followed by your mother telling you to change and come back in the living room, which you did.

You sat there confused at first when they mentioned the topic, and then they asked you to speak to Suo in private so the two of you went for a walk down the park. At first, you were silent, not sure what to say, and he did all the talking, so you listened.

'You don't have to agree to this, you know. I understand that you are confused, and so I'm I, to be honest. But it was really sweet to meet you.' He smiled politely before he left with his parents.

For the next few days you couldn't get him out of your mind and suddenly the idea of arranged marriage didn't terrify you. What's the worst could happen? You thought before telling your parents that you agree to that marriage and you were right, nothing worse happened. In fact, not bad happened I the first place.

The wedding wasn't rushed, but it was simple just like you asked for it, and during anything, he kept asking you if you were comfortable, liked the decor, liked your dress, or needed anything. After the engagement, you noticed how much he texted you, and you've grown to like him and would often wake up to check if he sent you a text, which he always did. Suo cared about what you wanted and needed he wasn't just doing anything because he was supposed too.

Suddenly, the random flowers arriving at your doorstep were making your day, and you've fallen for him. Every promise he did he kept.

You two moved in a small house with a garden like you wanted. He rushed nothing, gave you the space you needed, and acted with respect and charm towards you. At first, you'd fall asleep on the couch while reading, and he'd come home to find you there. Suo would take the book and place it on table before carrying you to bedroom, you open your eyes to find him tucking you in, 'you'd catch cold sleeping on the couch, lovely. Sweet dreams.' He whispers before placing a soft kiss on your head.

He even cooked for you and taught you how to cook. 'Did I burn it? Is this okay?' You held a spoon full of stew to him, and he took a few sips before he couldn't keep straight face, and you sighed, he just laughed hugging you by the side, 'No don't be sad, I'll fix it. How about we order Chinese? Pizza? Anything you like.' He kissed your forehead, and you groaned, annoyed that you made the stew too salty to eat. 'Come on, Sweetie. Next time, you'll be a chef.'

He took care of you when you were sick and running on high fever; he'd never leave your side and remind you to take your pills. You'd lay with your head on his lap. He'd cares your hair softly. 'It's okay, you're okay. It's just a fever.' He reminded you as he knew how much you hated being sick.

He's your safe place. every time you'd run to him for anything, he'd listen and take care of it. He truly loved and respected you. You've grown so found of him that you just simply follow him around when both of you are home, and he gladly lets you. You forgot what's personal space since you craved being in his arms too much. Who can blame you? He's so soft for you. Plus, he loves you just flopping on him on the couch and burying your face in his neck with a sigh of relief.

'Feeling cosy enough?' He joked, and you just hum with a nod, wrapping your arms around him more. You regret nothing having an arranged marriage.

Hope you like it! Now I wanna write more of these

[pandapool]

-- Panda's Poolverine Recs -- ❤️‍🩹Hurt/Comfort Edition❤️‍🩹

an inconclusive list of Hurt/Comfort Poolverine Fics I've read & enjoyed

💛 You've begun to feel like home by Katirina_caffrey Mature | 15,7K

3 time Wade and Logan hurt each other, +1 time they healed each other.

❤️ i wanna know what it's like to feel your heart beating from the inside by NotesAppWitch Explicit | 15,3K

“Warm like…” Wade hears himself say, and he slurs a little because he’s actually drooling. “Like good warm.” “Good warm,” Logan repeats uncertainly. He says it like Wade is dumb, like he’s a dumb idiot and he’s gonna yell at him and make him feel a little stupid and Wade loves when he does that. Wade can feel Logan’s eyes on him, mean and hot and heavy on the bit of Wade’s exposed face and then lower, down his heaving chest to where Wade is twitching his hips up against nothing, desperate. “Wade,” Logan scolds, and Wade swallows back a little noise at his name being used so harshly and in that tone. “Now is not the fuckin’ time.” “Would you believe me, babygirl, if I said that this time—“ the car hits a tiny bump and Wade makes a little mmh! “—this time it’s not me?” “What are you saying? That the powder in the bullet made you horny?” he laughs wryly. “Sure you don’t just have a thing for guns?” “I have a well established thing for guns,” Wade pants as he grinds a hand against himself through his suit just to relieve some fucking pressure. “As do you, mon petit chou.”

💛 Feel Good, Broken Man by farmhandler Explicit | 11,5K

Logan lifted his head to watch Wade walk into the room like he hadn’t just done the electric slide with a toaster and plop into the chair next to Logan. “Penny for your thoughts, peanut?” “Don’t fucking call me that,” Logan rumbled. “I mean it, Wade.” “You don’t actually hate it, do you? This is just our thing. I call you a cutesy nickname and you react like it’s the worst thing you’ve ever been called. You think about punching me. I think about that passionate kiss we shared, more often than I should or is healthy. Then we move on and do it all over again.” Logan leaned back in his chair and sighed. He really, really, really, really wanted a fucking drink.

❤️ If It Makes You Happy (Living In A House That Doesn't Slam Doors) by anderscones, RingDangDoo Mature | 8,8K

Unfortunately, Valentine’s Day doesn’t pan out for either Wade or Logan. They find that spending it together is better than spending it with the assholes they were meant to. Something hopeful flickers between them, but Wade will have to find an abundance of courage before they can even start to figure it out.

💛 Oh God, I think I'm fallin' by WonderWriter Teen and Up | 8,5K

Slowly Wade peels open his eyes, to find a large hand wrapped around the wrist of the Fucker. “Touch him again”, a voice says behind him, calm, deep, almost a growl, “And you die.” Wade falls in love, gets kidnapped and gets the guy. Exactly in this order. And then he even gets to keep him forever.

❤️ no strings to bind your hands by WhatIsAir Explicit | 5,9K

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wade snaps, rounding the table to jab a finger into Logan’s chest. “Was I meant to pretend it’s perfectly fine that you’re running around regularly getting the shit beaten out of you for a few grand?” “You followed me!” “You came home last week covered in blood!” “You come back from work covered in blood every day!” In which Logan makes rent through cage fights, and Wade thinks his talents would be much better spent joining the X-men.

💛 Seeing You by RogueFroggo Teen and Up | 3K

Logan’s gaze trailed down Wade’s body, his usual web of scars now overlaid with angry bruises and deep cuts. Blood had seeped through the suit, staining his skin in streaks that made Logan’s stomach twist. “Fucking hell, Wade,” Logan breathed out, his eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief. “It’s worse than it looks,” Wade said with a weak attempt at a grin, but even he winced, knowing how clearly untrue that was. “God Wade,” Logan exhaled sharply, “Why do you do this to yourself? I don’t fucking get it.” Wade looked away, his eyes refusing to meet Logan’s, shame etched into his face. Or; Wade is always throwing himself in danger as he doesn't care what happens to his body because he can heal anyway. But Logan doesn't like seeing Wade hurt and hates that Wade does that to himself.

❤️ life was good by rebslinger Not Rated | 2,3K

Nightmares were not exactly foreign to either of them with one of them being a 200+ year old vet and the other one being literally insane in the head with a tragic backstory. However, that didn’t mean that Wade was prepared to deal with Logan’s. aka Logan gets a nightmare and finally receives the comfort he deserves and they accidently confess their undying love for each other

💛 No Light, No Light by connorcosmics Teen and Up | 1,5K

"Sleeping wasn't hard for Wade. It rarely was a conscious decision, as the life of a merc wasn't the most forgiving. Passing out was the best way to go, especially when it involved a comfy bed and three to four warm blankets on top of him." or Wade has a nightmare and overheats, Logan gets worried and miscommunication ensues.

❤️ Night Vision by PurpleHippo666 Mature | 1K

Logan and Wade always have sex in the dark; Wade hates it because he thinks Logan doesn't want to see him. Logan loves it because he can see Wade best with the lights out.

If you have requests what trope/tag I should do next, feel free to drop them in my Inbox!

[calina-alda]

thoughts on Weskennedy time travel stuff?

Especially if it was like later games Leon, who knows who Wesker is and what he's done in Leon's original timeline, and who he could be. But this Wesker isn't him yet, not 100%, and still has a chance to not be.

Weskennedy Time-Travel-AU

First of all, thank you for the ask! So nice to see you found your way over to my Tumblr <33

Now, about the time travel: yes. I love this kind of setup, especially when they lean into the fix-it angle. Even more so when they revolve around stopping the villain from ever becoming the villain in the first place. There's just something deeply compelling about the idea of preventing all the pain, all the destruction, before it ever happens. And in this case? Wesker?

Yeah. That would be one hell of a mission.

Now, there are obviously a few different routes this kind of story could take.

One major question is: What version of Leon goes back?

• Is it older Leon in his current body, dropped into the past?

• Or is his consciousness thrown back into his younger self’s body?

If it’s the latter, then the earliest point Leon could realistically meet Wesker is around the Raccoon City timeline, maybe a year or two earlier if you stretch it, but anything before that and Leon would literally be a teenager, which wouldn't work for the kind of story (or romance) this would be.

Then comes the question: When exactly should Leon arrive?

If Leon’s goal is to truly stop Wesker from becoming what he does, he’d want to go back before Raccoon City. Before the mansion incident. Before Umbrella has completely molded Wesker into the cold, calculating version of himself that Leon grew to hate.

That opens up two really interesting timeframes:

• Wesker’s early Umbrella days, when he's still young, maybe in his early 20s, still full of ambition but not yet cynical or jaded. (Honestly? That would make for a perfect tie-in to my Age Swap AU concept. You could argue that time travel caused that AU to happen in the first place.)

• His early S.T.A.R.S. Captain years, which, canonically, is only about two years before Raccoon City. There’s still time to shift the path. It would make for a tighter, more urgent story. It could be older Leon, OR, being send back into his younger body, Rookie Leon arriving at the RPD earlier than he originally did, already aware of what’s coming, and slowly but steadily trying to get close enough to Wesker to change things.

And then there’s the “why” of it

• Was the time travel intentional? Did Leon make the decision to go back, to try and destroy Umbrella from the root and stop Wesker before it’s too late?

• Or was it an accident, some mission gone wrong, some experiment, and now he’s stuck in the past with only his memories and instincts to guide him?

Either way, I imagine that Leon’s original goal would be very straightforward: sabotage Wesker’s plans, stop the virus, burn Umbrella to the ground.

But maybe, along the way, something shifts. Maybe as he gets to know this earlier version of Wesker, one who hasn’t yet done the worst, he starts to think: what if I don’t just stop him? What if I save him?

And that right there is where the heartbreak and the beauty of the story lie. Because Leon, who knows exactly how bad things will get, might start to believe that Wesker doesn’t have to become that man. That maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late. That maybe, he can be the reason Wesker never falls.

Whether it’s older Leon in his own body or a time-shifted version in his younger self, he’s still Leon. Still this incredibly capable, stubborn, painfully good-hearted man who never stops trying, no matter how impossible things seem.

And at first? Wesker would hate it. He’d scoff at Leon’s optimism. Roll his eyes at his moral compass. See him as soft. Naive. Weak. A man blinded by ideals.

But slowly, inevitably, Leon would start to get under his skin.

Because no matter how many walls Wesker puts up, Leon keeps showing up. Keeps pushing back. Keeps believing. And Wesker would begin to realize that this man he dismissed as idealistic is actually stronger than anyone he’s ever known. That there’s steel behind the kindness. That his convictions aren’t foolish, they’re unshakable.

And it wouldn’t be some dramatic lightning-strike moment. It would be slow. Frustrating. Maybe even a little terrifying.

Wesker wouldn’t even notice it at first, how Leon’s presence starts to anchor him. How the sound of his voice cuts through the static in Wesker’s head. How it becomes harder and harder to imagine the future he once saw for himself, because suddenly, that future doesn’t have Leon in it. And that’s unacceptable.

Leon, with all his infuriating heart.

Leon, who never stops believing in the good even when it’s buried deep.

Leon, who might just see the parts of Wesker that Wesker stopped believing were worth saving.

But then there is the moment of truth, that pivotal point when the other person finds out.

When Wesker realizes that Leon is from the future. That he didn’t just appear out of nowhere, that he came with a purpose, that their meeting was not a coincidence. That the man he’s come to trust, even love, originally came back to stop him.

Maybe even to kill him...

It’s such an emotionally charged moment. There’s betrayal, confusion, heartbreak. Wesker has started to believe in the possibility of something different, in change, in real human connection, only to learn that he was nothing more then a mission to Leon.

And in that moment, Leon would be desperate. Desperate to make Wesker understand that it’s not like that anymore. That whatever his original mission was, it stopped being about duty a long time ago. That all of this, every word, every look, every step closer, was real, terrifyingly real. That he didn’t come back to fall in love, but he did.

But it’s also a moment that can heal. Because if Leon is finally honest, if he tells him everything, Wesker might, for the first time, see the full scope of his own downfall. Leon could tell him about how his future plays out. That Umbrella uses him. That he doesn’t win. That he dies, alone, consumed by the very systems he once tried to outsmart. Leon could tell him about the Wesker Children program. About how he was just another pawn to Umbrella all along. About how all his ambition still led him to becoming exactly what he hated: a weapon. A monster.

And that might be the turning point, where it stops being about proving himself to the world, and starts being about saving himself from it. Not just for Wesker, but maybe even for Leon too.

...Anyway. I clearly have a lot of thoughts about this and yes, it would pair beautifully with my Age Swap AU but could also stand completely on its own. And now I’m thinking about it way too much.

[kohakhearts]

anyone who knows me knows i HATE being this guy. but i am having such a bad time and would deeply appreciate some fun blorbo indulgence or like. anything to help cheer me up. love u all <3

[sofia-not-sophie]

Help I’m thinking too hard about the unexplored world building implications of the seven kisses lead to pregnancy in a world where there seems to be/have been a patriarchy and also somehow it works interspecially despite humans and akiridions having entirely different modes of existence/bodily function

[aeolianblues]

I'm not an extrovert. At all. In everyday life, I'm a yapper, sure, but I need someone to first assure me I am okay to yap, so I don't start conversations, even when I really want to join in sometimes! It's just the social anxiety acting up. God knows where from and why I lose a lot of my inhibitions when it comes to talking to people about music. I don't know where the confidence has suddenly sprung from. I've made a crazy amount of friends in musical circles, either just talking to people about common music or (since it is after all in music circles) talking to bands about their own music. I let out a sigh of relief any time an interaction goes well, because in truth it's going against my every instinct. I wish I could do that in everyday life

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

just finished el mundo gira and i thought it was like. comically bad. sorry to any el mundo gira stans, but tomorrow's writeup will have some hater energy.

[willowfey]

starting to think maybe waking up with an anxiety stomachache every single morning and then needing to spend the entire day trying to get rid of said anxiety just to maybe have a few minutes in the evening of feeling relaxed before going to bed is perhaps not normal

[hylianengineer]

The stupid streaming service website has decided that I am forbidden from watching Ted Lasso, specifically. I have tried six times and every time there is some sort of critical error. Usually it just freezes but on one memorable occasion everything was in French and it wouldn't let me change the language preferences.

[doctahpants]

.

[aaronymous9]

Being undiagnosed autistic with a diagnosed autistic brother can be really fucking annoying sometimes because if you don’t want to do something because it’s overstimulating for you you will have to suck it up simply because “your brother can handle it so can you” and its like AAAAAA I WANT TO RIP MY HAIR OUT

[jackass-jones]

Really into the episode of Ouran where this girl confesses her love to Mori but he doesn’t feel the same because he’s into Honey and the girl’s reaction is just like YIPPEE I LOVE YAOI THATS SO COOL FOR YOU YAY 🥰

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[cuntwrap--supreme]

Dog has a swollen lymph node. Just one for now. Which means her cancer is getting worse already. The longer this goes on, the more detached I feel from reality.