“stop bouncing your leg” “stop flapping your hands” “stop making those weird noises” “take your headphones off” “stop smelling that perfume” “stop breathing so hard” it’s this or i’ll fucking explode.
A/N: This was a huge self insert and I just wrote this for my own good but i hope you guys love it <3
My Masterlist
C/W: Body image struggles, binge eating mentions, NSFW type shit (stay safe yall)
You hadn’t meant to stand there for so long, but the mirror was too honest.
Your top was riding up again. Your jeans were tighter than they used to be, and not in a flattering way. You tugged them up for the third time, but your stomach still pushed out in a way that made you flinch. Your arms looked rounder. Your thighs touched more than they ever had. And all you could think about were your friends—slim, toned, effortlessly pretty in every group photo.
You stared at your reflection like it was someone else.
The girl you used to be had more control. She didn’t sneak food late at night, didn’t spiral into a binge and then sit with the guilt like it was her oldest friend. She could go out with her friends and not spend the whole evening pulling her shirt down or comparing herself in every reflection she passed.
But now?
You felt heavy. Out of control. Unworthy.
“God,” you muttered, voice breaking. “What is wrong with me?”
“You tell me.”
You jumped slightly. Arthur was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, concern written all over his face. He looked like he’d been standing there for a while, silently taking it all in.
You didn’t meet his gaze. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” he said softly. “You just… disappeared. And you’ve been in here staring at yourself like you hate what you see.”
Your throat clenched. You turned away. “I do.”
There was silence. Then the soft sound of his bare feet crossing the floor.
“I’ve gained so much weight,” you finally whispered. “All my friends are still skinny and perfect, and I’m just… not. I feel disgusting, Arthur. I keep telling myself I’ll stop bingeing, that I’ll eat healthier, exercise more—but I always mess it up. I feel so stupid for not being able to control myself. It’s like I’m watching myself ruin my body and I can’t even stop it.”
Arthur said nothing for a moment. Just slid his arms around your waist from behind and held you close. His cheek pressed to your shoulder, his voice low.
“Don’t say that about yourself,” he murmured. “Please don’t.”
You exhaled shakily. “You don’t get it. I used to think 'oh I'm bigger than everyone else', 'oh my thighs are too big', 'oh I'm not pretty even when I try'. But now- I wish i could go back, Now I'm actually fat, now no matter how hard I try I never look good, Now my body is covered in ugly stretch marks. And the worst part, everyone else is still the same, everyone else has self control, everyone else is so effortlessly pretty and I just- I can't. You’re not the one who’s changed. I’m not the same girl you started dating.”
He turned you around slowly, his eyes locking with yours.
“You’re exactly the girl I fell in love with,” he said. “Only now, I get to love even more of you.”
Your breath caught. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke,” he said, brushing your cheek. “You think I care about a number on a scale? About whether your jeans are a bit tighter? Y/N you’re beautiful. All of you. And I know how hard you’ve been on yourself lately, but none of it changes the fact that I want you. That I see you.”
You swallowed hard, the tension in your shoulders unraveling under his gaze.
“I just feel so unlovable sometimes.”
Arthur cupped your jaw. “Then let me remind you.”
He kissed you softly, like you might break, but he was there to hold every shattered piece
Arthur kissed you like he meant it.
Not the rushed kind of kiss, not a “let’s get this over with” kiss. No—this was slow. Like he was trying to rewrite every cruel thought you’d had about yourself with the way his lips moved against yours.
His hands rested at your hips, thumbs stroking the skin just under the hem of your shirt. Then he pulled back slightly, eyes locked with yours.
“Can I take this off?” he asked, voice low, reverent.
You nodded, breath caught in your throat.
He tugged your shirt over your head, eyes trailing down your body like it was art. He let out a soft breath, almost a moan just from looking.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so sexy.”
Your instinct was to cover your stomach, but he gently caught your wrists, kissing each one before guiding your arms back around his shoulders.
“I want to see you. All of you.”
His mouth followed his hands—over your collarbones, down your chest, lips brushing the swell of each breast before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently. You gasped, back arching.
“Arthur,” you whispered, hands in his curls.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your skin, voice hoarse with need. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”
His kisses trailed down your stomach—your stomach, the one you’d just been berating. And he lingered there, kissing every inch, every stretch mark, like he was worshipping it. He muttered soft praises between each one.
“So fucking beautiful.”
“Made to be touched like this.”
“I could spend hours right here.”
You whined, hips shifting, thighs pressing together—but he just spread your legs slowly, eyes locked on yours the whole time like he was asking, Do you trust me?
When you nodded, he kissed the inside of your thighs, fingers sliding your underwear down with aching patience. Then he looked up at you—like he was about to ruin you.
And then he did.
He licked a slow stripe through your folds, groaning like he’d been starved for you. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you open for him as his tongue circled your clit, gentle at first, then firmer. Focused. Skilled.
Your hips bucked, a gasp escaping you. “Oh my god, Arthur—”
“Let go, baby,” he breathed, licking you deeper, switching between slow drags and rapid flicks. “You taste so fucking good.”
He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right, and you were already shaking. The pressure built fast—hot, overwhelming—and when your orgasm hit, you cried out, thighs trembling around his head.
Arthur didn’t stop until your legs went limp and your hands tugged gently at his curls in surrender.
He crawled up your body, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips—letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
“Still okay?” he asked, voice thick with arousal.
You nodded, pulling him in for another kiss. “Please, I want you inside me.”
“Yeah?” He reached down, lining himself up, rubbing the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance. “Need to feel you. Need to remind you how beautiful you are.”
Then he pushed in, slow but deep, stretching you perfectly.
You moaned into his mouth, fingers clawing at his back as he bottomed out. He groaned against your neck, stilling for a moment.
“Shit—you feel incredible,” he panted.
He started moving, thrusts slow and steady, grinding deep with every roll of his hips. It wasn’t just fucking—it was claiming, comforting, worshipping.
The way he held your thighs, the kisses to your neck, the whispered filth between his sweet reassurances:
“You feel so good wrapped around me.”
“You were made for me, weren’t you?”
“No one’s ever gonna touch you like this.”
He hit a spot that made you whimper, your body tensing beneath him.
“That’s it, baby. Give me another.”
You didn’t know where he ended and you began. All you could do was feel—him, you, this. And when you came again, it was intense, messy, raw. He followed soon after, hips stuttering, cock pulsing inside you as he groaned your name like a prayer.
He collapsed next to you, panting, immediately pulling you into his arms.
You lay tangled together, hearts still racing, his fingers drawing slow shapes on your hip.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I don’t care how much weight you gain or lose. You’ll always be the sexiest, most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and I'm always prepared to make you realise. I love your body and I want to help you love it too.”
And for the first time in weeks, you believed it. Sure you still had those moments where you felt gross and unattractive but he was there for you, supporting you and helping you get better, every step of the way.
A/N: again this was a major self insert, if anyone is struggling I just want to remind you that you may think badly of yourself but its just your head making you think that way, and it really helps opeing up to someone you love and trust and I hope you feel better in the future. you are not alone in your struggle💗💗
Requests are open and lmk if you wanna be on the taglist
Hey everybody, always remember to take care of yourself
We all go through hard times, but the only person that can 100% understand us is litterally ourselves, we need to take breaks and think about our own being, taking care of our own mental health, and realizing that you can do it.
I'm in a rough situation as well, both in a family space and a mental state, and all i just want to do some days is just staying in bed sleeping, not thinking about anything, but realizing i have to take care of myself makes me feel safe, we need to love ourselves, It's not other people's job to decide how we have to be to feel happy, just be yourself, be gentle and patient with yourself, you're amazing ♡
you've been waking up in tears, cant bring yourself to eat, struggle to shower. its worrying your boyfriend, simon.
before all of this shot onto you both, he would call you his happy american girl, poking fun at you because of the past drama between the brits and americans.
simon has been working extra hours and becoming a sleep deprived beast for more money. why? to be able to pay for your therapy. you're aware that he's doing that for you and you insist and plead for him to not work so hard, that you'll be fine.
he started to believe you... that was until he found you with the blade resting on your arm but your perfect skin still uncut. he ran over and stopped you. he cried all night long- you did to.
he knew you needed help, he knew he wasn't enough.
no matter how much love, support, comfort he gave you... none of it fixed you. why cant he fix you? he's used to fixing everything so this is new.
he knows that you absolutely love art. he tried to convince you to go to the art museum with him and while that sounds like a great idea, you couldn't get yourself out of bed for anything.
he started making paintings for you, bringing the museum to you.
today, he came home after his shift and immediately fed you and helped you bath. he got you to sit on the couch, which is progress, and he turned on your favorite show and got you all warm and comfy with your pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals. he also gives you some water to sip on.
when simons sure that you will be okay for a few hours, he disappears into his art studio and gets to work.
after around 3 hours he comes out covered in paint with a smile. you pause your show and look over.
"another painting?" you coo softly. he nods and sits beside you and hands you the painting. "heres a good memory we share, I hope it'll make you feel better.." he softly says.
its a beautiful piece of art that perfectly captures your first date together. the nerves, the tension, the love, excitement, intimacy... its perfect.
your fragile mind gets overwhelmed by a mix of the happy and the bad feelings and you start crying. this startles simon.
"what's wrong? do you not like it?" he softly asks, giving you a concerned look while putting the painting to the side and holds your hands.
"no its- its perfect" you choke out in cry's. "its just- you're so good at this, you could be famous with this but instead... your wasting your life working and it's all my fault." you cry.
you know if you weren't messed up in your head, he wouldn't have to work so much and so hard, he wouldn't have to save up pennies to ration between grocery's and the therapy you need to get better.
"no love.. no you got it all wrong. not a second is wasted because every second is with you." he trys to soothe you, kissing your tears on your cheeks as they fall.
"you have so much to do.." you choke out and gesture to the painting.
"..and i have nothing ahead of me." you sob.
"oh y/n.." his voice sounds so breathless, so helpless. "oh baby.." he lets out a few tears and pulls you into a tight hug.
"you've got it all wrong, all wrong." he whispers in tears. "please... please never- never say stuff like that, okay? I need you, more than you could ever even fathom. all my life, all my love, my mind, body, and soul... it all yearns for you... it all screams for you. I need you, love. please, oh how I wish you could see yourself from my eyes. you have so much potential and you will do great things, okay?"
he pulls away and cups your jaw ever so gently and kisses your forehead and your wet eye lashes.
"you're just going through a rough patch right now, yeah?" he whispers softly.
"everything will be okay, i'm here."
at those words, for the first time, it feels like maybe everything will be okay. the feeling lasts for only a few seconds but, its hope.
