#my doctor isn't. happy about this

[quaranmine]

does anyone have any ideas for treating headaches if you're not supposed to be taking NSAIDs? please note that tylenol and acetaminophen DO NOT work for me. i know tumblr isn't a doctor but i'm crowdsourcing here

[bixels]

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.

[good--merits-accumulated]

really really want to write something w/ Todd or Neil being a doctor

[brilliantpines]

trapped in the torment nexus (making insurance decisions)

[camellcat]

I keep thinking about this one fic, where amy gets sent back in time to the beginning of s1 by a weeping angel, and like. idk. I want to see clara in s1. idk how'd she get there. probably some wackiness of converging timelines or whatever since we already know she's, like, woven throughout his entire life. but I just wanna see her reaction to nine and rose. specifically nine. and then seeing how different s2 ten is to ANY doctor she's ever known. I want her there!!! plus her and rose would be best friends SORRY I keep saying it but it's TRUE

[atlxolotl]

Transcript and links to Reddit under the Read more at the end

I miss my husband so goddamn much

February 27th, 2025

I (35M) divorced my husband (36M) three years ago. And God, I miss him. I asked for a divorce for a few reasons, most of which being that his depression got exponentially worse day after day and he refused to seek treatment. Sometimes he wouldn't even go into work and ended up getting fired from his job. I stayed with him for so fucking long, praying that one day he would start trying to get better. It was all I ever wanted, but that day didn't come. I sobbed the entire time signing those papers, and when I handed them to him and asked for a divorce, he just gave me the emptiest, deadest look and signed them without a word. My heart felt like it had been shattered with a hammer, anger and sadness and fear tied together in the world's tightest, ugliest knot and inset deep into my chest.

I put on a brave face for my friends, tried to frame it as shackles coming off and a new beginning, but it was a lie. It just hurt, and it keeps hurting, and it will never stop hurting. He was my soulmate. I'll never love anyone like I loved him. He used to be so sweet and loving, so passionate and happy and every other wonderful thing a man could want from another.

They say each day gets easier, but it isn't for me. It's been three years and I'm still reaching over to the other side of the bed in the morning to pull him close, and it always stings when my hands touch fabric and not his skin. It's been three years and I'm still expecting to see his car in the driveway when I get home from work. It's been three years and my heart isn't any less broken than the day he left.

I've been stalking his socials, I'll admit. He's been getting back to the gym, started meds, and I see him smiling so genuinely in these photos. He looks so incredible. Maybe if I had just waited, he would have changed his mind and went to a doctor like he is now? Or was it me that held him down? Was I making it worse?

I hope not. I wanna go over to his place and just fall into his arms and beg him to take me back. Maybe he's wishing the same thing about me. If there's even a chance I could have my boy back I feel like I should try. I'll never know otherwise.

EDIT: One: I am a homosexual man. My husband is a homosexual man. I am not a woman. Yes, I know I'm effeminate and kind of emotional. Get creative.

Two: my husband was a binge drinker. He refused treatment no matter how much I begged. We got antidepressants but he wouldn't take them. I know he's started meds now because he's posted about them and his 2 yrs sober chip that he got last month.

Three: I never stopped loving him. I never loved him any less. Near the end of our marriage, I started drinking to cope. The second I realized I was, I realized he was dragging me down with him, and I couldn't help him anymore. I didn't dip the second it got hard. Many of you are being kind of rude. I'll accept that I wasn't the perfect husband, nobody is. But claims that I never loved him are just wrong and make me feel sick to my stomach.

EDIT 2: No, I am not the catalyst for this. His depression started when his young brother died terribly and unexpectedly. It's not because he just hated me so much. We were childhood sweethearts and had been together for years when this happened.

[UPDATE] I met my husband that I divorced 3 years ago

March 2nd, 2025

Well, with Reddit's advice, I did it. A few days ago, I called my (35M) ex-husband (36M) whom I divorced after 6 years when he refused to seek treatment for his depression.

I called him later in the evening. It was the first time we'd spoken since a bit of trouble he'd had while he was still drinking 2 1/2 years ago. He picked up on the second ring. Our conversation was a little stilted at first, as to be expected, but he said he was really glad to hear from me. We ended up meeting up for coffee yesterday as so many of you suggested. I'll admit: it was kind of hard to see him, but in a good way? He looked so much better than the last time I had seen him, but he looked exactly like the man I married. He had put off a ton of weight (he gained like 75ish pounds during his struggle with depression, and before some dick says so, I didn't leave him because of his weight gain), he looked way healthier and very put together. I'll just say it: he looked incredibly hot. What made it hard was that I couldn't kiss him hello like I used to. But God, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me, I barely needed to.

We got our coffee and sat, and he updated me a little on his life in the last 3 years.

What really turned his life around was in part the divorce but moreso a DUI (nobody was hurt, he was caught a few blocks from his apartment). He's since gone to rehab and AA, gotten his license back, and had to use a breathalyzer whenever he started his car for a while. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol since and I told him I was so fucking proud of him. He's also started antidepressants, and made a point of telling me that they're not SSRIs, but when I asked what that meant he got embarrassed and told me nevermind (???). Bottom line is that they've been helping him, he's back to being a gym rat, and he's almost completely turned his life around. This was around the point I started tearing up. It just felt so good knowing he was okay. Better than okay, he was *good*.

I also apologized to him for not sticking by him. He cut me off and said I had nothing to apologize for. He was a wreck, and I was being dragged down with him. That also felt good to hear. I apologized for not contacting him much during the last 3 years. That apology, he accepted.

He was dating someone for a few months, too. He broke up with him once he tried to get him to drink on New Year's. He seemed dismissive of the guy. Guess it wasn't too serious.

We got up and went on a walk after a few hours, and I think we both realized it felt like a first date. I had to stop myself from trying to hold his hand at a few points, I'll admit. We ended up sitting on a bench in a nearby park, and I confessed.

I told him I missed him more than anything, how I never stopped loving him, and how if he wanted to, I'd love to try again from the beginning this time. We'd go to couples' therapy, keep our heads above the water, and take it slow. He was quiet for a minute before he told me something. He said he was doing better now, but there may be a time where he sunk low again. Depression isn't easily cured, and he was far from cured. He still had bad days, but he said there would be one difference: he promised he would never stop trying to improve. He was never going to give up like he did before, and refused to neglect me like he used to. If I was willing to accept that truth, he was willing to try again. I agreed, and he pulled me into an embrace and snuck a kiss to my temple. You know when it's the first warm day of spring after a cold, harsh winter, and the soft breeze and basking sun hit your skin at the same time? It felt something like that, to the 1000th degree. After a while he walked me back to my car and squeezed my hand goodbye, and the second I got inside I started sobbing like a baby. Happy tears, though.

I'm currently sitting in bed, kicking my feet like a teenage girl, texting him back and forth to schedule an actual date. He said he'd plan everything, and try his best to make up for the birthdays and anniversaries he missed. He said it would "knock my socks off." What a dork. I love being in love. Not gonna lie, this is gonna be a bit hard to explain to my friends and family. Not looking forward to those conversations, but right now I don't care. My man loves me.

Thank you to everyone who had kind words to say, and all the people that messaged me with sympathy and advice. I hope we all find happiness, and love if we want it. I never would have made the leap if y'all hadn't encouraged me. Best of luck to all of you, and sorry for the overly flowery language <3

EDIT: we've scheduled a date for tomorrow evening. I'll let people know how it went two days from now in my final (unless something big happens) update.

EDIT 2: at his place presently. Shame me not, reddit.

[FINAL UPDATE] I went on a date with my ex-husband last night

March 5th, 2025

My (35M) ex-husband (36M) and I recently reconnected. I won't go over the details of why we split or our reconciliation since I'm sure the average redditor can click buttons and most likely read. He was the one taking me out, and promised that it would, in his words, "knock my socks off" to make up for his neglect of me. He sure as hell delivered.

A little backstory, we've been together since we were 15 and 16 respectively, and have never moved out of our hometown. This year would have been our 20th anniversary (of getting together, not marriage). We were dating secretly for about five years before our parents caught us one day during summer break. The fallout from finding out their son was gay actually made his parents split. His dad wanted to send him away to conversion therapy. He's seen his father maybe once per year on average, and every time he's incredibly cold towards me. Would never refer to me as his son-in-law, only my husband's "pal." I wonder why. Anyway, not what you're here to read. I'll get on with the lore.

He picked me up from the house and wouldn't tell me where we were going, but told me to dress warmly. He ended up taking me to the place where we met: a run down ice skating rink in our town. He used to do hockey, and I spent some time trying to learn figure skating until people started beating me up for it. Both sports would practice at the same time and I remember barely being able to keep my eyes off him. We went skating, I tried to pull off a few of the moves I remembered (he only had to catch me from falling on my ass once or twice, and I won't complain about an attractive man that I love hooking his arm around my waist), and we spent an hour or so there until our feet hurt. At one point I said that my face was getting cold, so he skated around in front of me and placed his gloved hands on my cheeks to warm me up. I just about burned a hole in the ice from how hard I was blushing, I swear to God.

He wasn't done then. We left and went to dinner, specifically the restaurant where we had our first date. It's a cheap hole-in-the-wall place, seeing as we were poor teenagers when we first met. We chatted and ate food that probably took 5 years off our lives, he was an incorrigible flirt, and even held my hand underneath the table like he did all those years ago. I know I said I never stopped loving him, and I stand by that, but I think I somehow fell in love with him a thousand times over again during that meal.

At the end of dinner, he asked if I had energy for one more simple thing, to which I agreed. He took me a while out of town to a dark sky zone park, specifically the one where he proposed to me ten years ago. He set out a blanket to sit on and another to cuddle under, and we went stargazing all bundled up together. You never know how much you miss the sound of someone's heartbeat until you haven't heard it for so long. We shared a bottle of sparkling grape juice in plastic champagne flutes and dumb, giggly kisses. It felt so similar yet so different. He told me in a moment of quiet that he loved me, and oh, God. It took everything I had not to cry. I barely hesitated before asking if he wanted to change venues. He seemed surprised, but eagerly accepted.

I ended up at his place, as some of you may have seen from my edit on my second post yesterday. I wanted to take it slower than this, but it was so hard to. I was so starved of affection and hadn't been intimate with anyone for just about six years. I'm gonna keep what happened at his between us, but all I'll say is that his medication was no issue and all of you should be jealous. I woke up in his bed this morning, reached over for him, and pulled him close just like I used to do. I haven't been this happy in a long time. We had a sleepy discussion and decided to get back together, but we're not using the term boyfriends. It just feels weird after all this time. So he's my partner, or my lover. He's mine.

Thank you, reddit. Wouldn't have done it without a little push from the internet. Let's see where all this goes.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy

Synopsis: Damian presented as an alpha, to everyone's despair. He announced he found a mate, to everyone's skepticism. You're the perfect omega, to everyone's delight.

Pairing: Yandere!Alpha!Batboys X Gn!AFAB!Omega!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; noncon/dubcon smut; noncon drugging; creepy batfamily members feeling attracted to Reader when they were still 15, but nothing sexual or romantic between them happens until they're 18; this chapter is mostly Damian x Reader; ABO, Reader is an omega, all the batboys are alphas; Heat symptoms; Damian and Reader are 15 at first, when the smut happens they're 18, Tim is three years older than them, Jason is five years older, Dick is 10 years older and Bruce is on his 40s; Implied future gangbang? They want to share Reader (polyamory) but right now the real action is just between Damian and Reader; Loss of virginity on both parts; Implied that Damian is also inexperienced on kissing and Reader knows a little more about that; Fingering!R receiving; Slight schoolgirl/boy/person!Reader; Reader wears lipgloss, nail polish and earrings; Omegas breasts produce milk during heat; Some breastfeeding; Breeding kink; Handcuffs; The word ‘rape’ is used twice; Lots of crying; Nipple play; Dirty talk; Slight voyeurism; Unprotected sex; Negative and selfdeprecating thoughts; Claiming ownership (biting); English isn't my first language.

Word count: 4,7k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Planning on making one pwp chapter for each batboy, and then a last one with no smut. Also, I think I'm gonna start posting on AO3 since the tw are getting worse...

General masterlist | To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy - Series masterlist

Damian was territorial, dominant and temperamental since the family had known him. Maybe he was born like that, maybe he wasn't, they couldn't know, so, what they most hoped for was that those were just personality traits, maybe coping mechanisms, and the puppy would present as an omega or beta one day, and then maybe the hormones would make him calm down. It was a small possibility, but one could only dream, right?!

Well, those hopes were crushed when, at his fifteenth birthday, Damian woke up growling at the mix of strong alpha scents stinking his room, his territory, and started pacing inside there, not allowing anyone but the old beta Alfred to come in.

He calmed down after a couple of hours, came out of his room to eat breakfast, assessed and scented the rest of his territory (everyone's territory, really, the manor was the family’s home), and maybe humor his inner alpha by subjugating the rest of the pack. It didn't work, obviously, they were all mature alphas who went through puberty already and knew how to (mostly) manage conflict with a newly-turned alpha who still smelt like milk and was just overwhelmed with hormones.

After a full belly, it was decided he shouldn't have to go to school for the first few days (something the teenager was happy with), to learn to control his mood and impulses, visit a specialized doctor to be sure what kind of suppressants were better suited for his organism, and so he could go through his first rut in peace.

A few days later, Damian went back to school, nose itching from some not-so-pleasant alpha scents, some weak beta scents, some sugary omega scents, and a lot of milky scents coming from most students, especially unpresented puppies.

He wondered how adults live like this, if he would just get used to it, and it wouldn't bother him so much one day. One thing was to feel the smell of flowers or food, another thing was to feel people’s pheromones. But his train of thoughts were halted when he felt you.

Not even inside the classroom yet, but he could sniff you out and find you if he wanted to. Strong, yet suave, soft. Strawberries. And milk. It made his whole body shudder and tremble. Now he knew why his family occasionally asked where the delicious scent stuck to his clothes came from. Now he knew why alphas turned their heads and stared at you so much when you both were walking around. It was all you. His best friend.

Damian stared openly and unconsciously, while you made your way to him none the wiser and sat down at his side, and he almost got annoyed when, at first, you didn't seem to notice his new presentation, as if you didn't even acknowledge him as an alpha yet. But then you turned and stared at him strangely.

— Dude, why’re you staring so mu- Oh. — You blinked, finally having realized where the new musky scent was coming from. — You're lucky you smell good. My neighbor smells like feet.

When he came home, he announced he had an omega.

Obviously, that left everyone bewildered as to what he meant by that, it was impossible for during his first day back outside as an alpha, he already had a mate. But he didn't have to explain much for them to understand, the scent on his clothes was enough proof as to why he wanted you for himself.

After that, Damian invited you to hang out with him at the manor for the first time. It caused a reaction in everyone, and all of them were home, of course they were, Damian wanted to show off his future mate, and you had to meet the family, since he single-handedly decided you were going to join their pack already.

As you walked past each door on the way to Damian's room, everyone had a reaction.

The old beta and grandfather, Alfred, was very polite and nice, he smelt like tea. He smiled more freely with how sweet you were, amused by Damian's clear crush.

Next, you passed Dick by the gym, he smelt spicy, and his door was open, so he could peek better to satiate his curiosity when Damian's crush arrived, yet, he didn't expect to almost fall from his stretching position when he finally took a whiff from your sweet scent for the first time, instead of just the faint and weak thing that occasionally got stuck on Damian's clothes and hair. He managed to look mostly presentable even though he almost sprinted to the corridor to meet you. Dick was even more pleased to see you were beautiful, even in your modest school uniform. He forced himself to hold back and stay in the gym when Damian decided the interaction took long enough, and pulled you to keep walking.

Jason was next, he was in the library. His scent was thick. Woody. He coughed around his drink when he felt your scent, and Damian rolled his eyes at him. Jason’s whole body froze when he saw how soft you looked, clearly an omega. He noted that you looked older than fifteen, but Jason knew you were just a couple of months older than Damian, and you still smelled like milk. His attraction to you bothered him because he couldn't ignore your still-milky scent, and he was already imagining how you would smell like when you fully reached maturity. Your hair was shiny and looked soft, like clouds and cotton-candy. He wanted to stick his nose there and hug you. You looked the perfect company for a nap (and more). Damian quickly steered you away to keep walking.

Next was Tim, he was in his room, and he smelt like peppermint. He always kept the door closed, but during your visit, it was open wide, due to his curiosity to meet you, everyone knew that. Tim snapped his eyes away from his computer when he felt you, and stared at you wide-eyed when you appeared. You didn't even come inside, Damian didn't want to feel your scent coming off of Tim's room to haunt him every time he walked past that door for the next days. It would definitely make him want to kill his brother. Tim tried to burn your image to his brain to the smallest details. He noted the color of your nail polish, your earrings, the thing dangling from your backpack, the shine and rosiness of your lip gloss. Tim specially liked your soft-spoken voice, and it bothered him how polite, neutral and distant it was, because clearly you both didn't now each other, you were just there as Damian's friend, meeting his older brother for the first time, and just wanted to go hole up inside Damian's room as soon as possible to avoid the weird interaction.

Soon, your wishes came through, and you spent the next few hours there with Damian basically teaching you everything and doing your homework. It was a new behavior, he never did that out of instinct before, some people asking him for help would annoy him, others, like you, he would calmly help out of the hidden kindness in his heart, but he never took initiative before. You brushed it off as just new alpha behavior and just used his either gentlemanly or condescending behavior, if it meant you could gain things out of it and be lazy.

At dinner, you finally met his father. Bruce Wayne was the alpha of a pack full of alphas and a beta. His himbo and playboy persona gave you the impression that he wasn't the most dominant alpha around, but you were proven wrong when you felt his sandalwood aroma and saw his towering frame. His personality was the same you saw on the TV, though, pleasant like a TV host or just a popular guy. On the inside, he was fixated with you, ignoring your milky childish scent and your school uniform. He wanted you around the house more. God knows how much a bit more of softness could help the family’s dynamic. Maybe that was what was missing, an omega around the place. Like you. Actually, it could be you. He thought about convincing Damian to stick to living in the manor even after you were both married adults. Or you could be Bruce’s when you were of age. Wait, how old were you?

Alfred drove you and Damian to your place after everything was done, all the alphas with a heavy heart, bothered that you had to go, that you couldn't spend the night with them yet. Even if you were already theirs.

It took a lot to convince Damian to share you, but eventually, he begrudgingly agreed, they were a pack, after all, not just a family, they stick together, take care of each other and of each other's interests. Having something that wasn't just vigilantism in common would be good bonding for them, and the closer a pack could get, the better. That he knew. A pack sharing someone wasn't exactly unheard of either.

After that, Damian started inviting you to the manor more often. Almost every week you were there. Your parents started saying that Damian probably was interested in you, but you laughed it off, never thinking an alpha like him would be interested in an omega like you.

The family made the best of that time to get you used to them, to their dynamic, and to make you feel at home, safe, trustful. They also wanted your scent to get stuck everywhere. To get to know you. To learn everything about you. To make plans.

When Damian's 18 birthday came, you were already legally an adult too, and they invited you over, saying it was a birthday party. When you got there, the party consisted in only you and the family.

The conversation was nice.

They put drugs on your piece of cake that simulated an out of cycle heat.

It started with fatigue.

Then fever.

Your eyes got blurred.

You thought you were getting sick, and just planned on taking cold medicine when you got home.

The alphas were slowly coming closer and circling you, unnoticed.

You felt weird in your intimate parts, maybe you needed to pee.

You stood up, but your knees were weak, and you almost fell, if it wasn't for Dick, who caught you mid-air.

All scents became clearer when your eyes locked. You wondered what the look on his face meant, confused.

You felt their excitement, and arousal. And you felt something poking your thigh.

You felt your own underwear getting wet.

You asked them to take you home, but they denied. That made you feel antsy, so you tried searching for your phone to call your parents to pick you up, but you couldn't find it. It got especially hard when Damian picked you up and started walking up the stairs with you.

— It's okay, omega. You're okay with us. I’m going to take care of you… — Your hands trembled when he purred the word ‘omega’, mumbled those words, and nuzzled the side of your head with his nose, taking a deep breath from your sweet strawberry scent, and faint sex smell, due to the wetness between your thighs. No longer any hint of milk anymore, since you already reached maturity just a couple of months before him, and now he also didn't smell like puppy anymore.

— N-No… D-Dami… W-Where are you taking me? What a-are you gonna do? … I wanna go home… I’m not feeling good… — You whimpered and tried to weakly move out of his hold, it didn't work.

— You are home, beloved. And I’m going to help you feel better… With my knot. — Your eyes widened. — I will fuck you real good and fill you with my semen. I know it is your first time, it is mine too. But do not worry, your heat will make it painless and you will be satisfied with me. — You whimpered higher, your omega was preening, crying for a knot, your pussy squeezing hard, but your mind knew it was wrong. Clearly something was wrong. Why was no one helping? Couldn't they see you were caught by surprise with your heat and were saying no to him? Why were they looking at you like that? A cough coming from somewhere seemed to snap Damian out of it, like he remembered something. — Ah, right. And then, you will receive father’s, and my siblings' knots. I will go first since it’s my birthday and I claimed you first. — Damian blushed, despite his smug tone. 

You cried for help, at first, it came out weak, as your omega didn't want to make something the alphas would disapprove of, but the closer you got to the room they designated for the moment, the reality of what was coming was overtaking your instincts. Especially after your belly started to hurt at being empty of seed.

The alphas only shushed you, and you helplessly watched as Tim handcuffed one of your hands to the bedpost as soon as Damian laid you down on the nest they made for you, and Dick and Jason each started taking your sneakers off. Bruce was standing a few feet away from the bed, Alfred at his side. The oldest alpha’s eyes were glued to your laid down figure, hungry and serious. Darker than you had ever seen. You've never been more scared of him before. He occasionally commented something to Alfred, that you vaguely registered as instructions, that also started being given to his children.

You weakly tugged at the handcuff and tried to sit up at the same time, but Damian pushed himself between your legs, and held you down by the waist. Dick and Jason held your legs open to accommodate him better, and your overwhelmed brain barely noticed their hands also rubbing your ankles and thighs. You've never felt more aroused and more scared your whole life. 

Alfred exited the room to start doing Bruce's orders, and he kept watching. Tim, who had disappeared out of your line of sight for a second, came back holding a long, shiny and glinting pair of scissors. You tugged harder at the restraints and tried to push your body up to get away, thinking he was going to hurt you, but he just purred at you to calm you down, unfortunately, it worked, and your pussy tightened when Damian hissed at feeling your center pressing against his hard cock, when you pushed your hips up and against his. You could feel him poking your underthigh, only the clothes separating you.

— It's okay, omega, I’m just cutting off your clothes, it's gonna be easier to strip you that way. — Tim said soothingly, while purring and almost cooing at you. Your eyes widened when he said that, and actually started cutting your shirt open, until Dick was able to pull the ruined fabric off from under you. 

All three alphas started purring at seeing your braless torso, chest already swelling with milk and nipples darkened. Omegas body produced milk when they had a puppy to feed, or during heats, and ruts, when an alpha was in a rut, and the omega was helping them, because the body understood it was a rough period, where a lot of energy was spent and not much nutrition came, since both were too busy procreating and too weak to go searching for food, so the milk was a lot helpful in those moments. There were even historical moments where that skill was useful in other contests, when the economy got so bad that most packs were starving, and the omegas of the pack helped them survive with milk.

Damian bit his lips and brought his right hand up to your left breast, squeezing it softly. Everyone was entranced, watching a single drop of milk come out, the breast not full yet. You arched your back, it felt good, so good that for a moment you forgot why you wanted to get away. Damian also didn't help your train of thought when his thumb started rubbing your stiff nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body and forcing your eyes closed. You forced yourself not to make a sound.

You snapped out of it when you felt Tim cutting your pants and underwear off. Your eyes widened at the feeling of being exposed and the almost cold air that made your hair stand. Your legs trembled and you felt Dick and Jason's hands working, uncoordinated pads of fingers dancing across the inside of your thighs. 

Your arousal’s scent freely infastated the room now, and half of them growled, in exception of Bruce and Tim, who were keeping themselves more calm and collected. 

— It's time to go now, let Damian and (Y/N) have their moment. — Bruce announced and you watched as Damian smirked, then you hid your face, sobbing against the pillow. He cooed at you while his other hand went down between your legs and started rubbing slow circles while pressing against your clit.

Dick sighed.

— Take care of them, Dami. Have fun and enjoy. — Dick patted Damian's shoulder, but you weren't sure the alpha above even noticed you, too busy gazing at you and your body, enjoying how warm and wet you were. 

— Yeah, remember to do what we taught you, baby bird. — Damian only hummed at Jason's comment, and leaned down, pressing his chest to yours. He brought his mouth to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and started leaving a trail of kisses up your neck, and under your jaw.

It was your first time feeling someone doing this, when you read fanfics and books, you never thought this could feel good like the writing always described, but it actually did, and you hated that you liked it, crying harder against the pillow and hoping his lips weren't moving closer to your face because he wanted to kiss you. You felt his nose sniffing your scent gland.

Tim hummed.

— Be careful with them, and don't take too long, everyone wants their turn. — Tim warned softly and was the last to exit the room, closing the door, but not locking it.

Damian’s warm breath huffed against your neck.

— Finally alone… — Damian whispered with a hoarse voice that made your hair stand. You whimpered and squeezed your eyes harder.

— Please, let me go… You don't have to do this, I won't tell anyone- — Your sentence was cut short when one of Damian's long and thick fingers invaded your entrance delicately. Your mouth opened on a silent scream, and the alpha watched you with lust in his eyes.

— Beloved… Omega… You will come to like this, I promise you that… — He sucked a faint hickey on your scent gland. His right hand started exploring the rest of your body, fumbling and squeezing the softer parts he found out he liked the most. You couldn't control your panting and small moans when his finger curled upwards inside you, touching your sweet spot. 

— D-Dam-... A-Alpha… — You arched your back when he started fingering you faster, your sensitive walls milking a single finger, crying for a thick knot, thirsty for his seed, your womb empty of puppies. 

— See… — He kissed your cheek. — We barely started, and yet… — Another kiss, closer to your mouth. — You're already dripping and earning for my knot… — Your lips met, it didn't seem like he had much experience, maybe it was his first kiss? Either way, you knew a little more about what you were doing, and he quickly learned. In just a few minutes, he was dominating your mouth. The younger alpha gave a slow bite to your lips when a second finger joined the first in fucking you, wet noises eccoing around the room.

You gained some clearance after a few moments, when he took his fingers off. You whined, not knowing if it was to plead him not to rape you, or because you wanted his cock stuffing you as soon as possible. You tried to force your head away from his, and he relented, pausing the kiss, but only to start taking his own clothes off. If your face wasn't already hot from the fever and arousal, you knew it would be now, feeling shy with everything new that was happening and his naked body, and surprised that you never once noticed his muscles before. 

While afraid, you peeked down and saw his hard and bobbing dick, it was thick and above average, but not too much. Not too much for someone who wasn't a virgin like you were, that is.

You tried to sit up, to get away from him in a bolt of strength you didn't have until now, fighting your omega with as much as you could. But it proved to be no help, as it punished you by making your belly tug and hurt twice more. Your torso fell down on the bed again, powerless by pain, numbness, and the restraint around your wrist.

Damian only cooed, still kneeling above you and between your legs. You cried. You didn't feel his calloused hands holding and caressing your hips, but you felt the blunt wet tip against your entrance. You were ruined.

Your parents would hate you. They would say it was your fault for ignoring their warnings and shoving yourself inside a home full of alphas with no omega. They would kick you out of the pack. And if the Wayne's did good on their word of raping you one after the other, you would probably get pregnant, as you weren't on birth control. That is, if they didn't kill you or kept you hostage in their basement. And even if your pack wanted to, they wouldn't be able to do anything to get justice for you, as the Wayne's were much more influential and rich. You were only going to the same school as Damian because your parents worked as teachers there, for god's sake. You were doomed. And if they decided to mark you…

You cried harder, ashamed of being so aroused now and so dumb all along. For the first time, you hated being an omega.

But all those self-deprecating thoughts were muffled when he finally invaded you. It was slow, gentle, testing how things felt. Damian heaved a breath and buried his face on your neck, breathing your scent deep. It felt amazing, for the both of you. You were so deep in your heat that of course it wasn't going to hurt at all, silly you. Those alphas were right, they are always right. They can take care of you.

— … More… Please, I want more… — You moaned and tried moving your hips against his, forcing his cock to push against your walls faster. Damian's head snapped up, looking at you with interest and lust. You were already cockdrunk, as he was pussydrunk, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

He bottomed out with more hurry, after pulling in and out twice to test if you really weren't in pain. He moaned deep against your face before shoving his lips against yours again, while he thrusted his hips. The alpha found the perfect rhythm while pulling almost all the way in and out, in a steady dance. Your moans got louder by the second, your inner omega happy with all the attention you were receiving.

Your free hand shot up to rest on his back, nails digging his scarred skin, not knowing what to do. Damian's hips gradually grew in force, until the bed was shaking and softly hitting the wall. The sound of your hips colliding and your wetness clear as day didn't bother you, as you only started begging for the alpha. To be owned. To be knotted. To be breeded.

— See how I take care of you… — He kissed down your collarbone, murmuring against your skin. — Make you feel good… — One of his hands slid down to grip your thigh, pulling your leg up, purposefully looking for a deeper angle to ravish you. You gasped as he found it, and his thrusts got harder. You mumbled a bunch of agreements to whatever he was saying, you just wanted his knot! — You're my omega now, our omega now… — He softly bit your pouting nipple, being considerate as to not hurt the sensitive and swelling area. Your hand trembled on his back and shot up to pull his hair in an overwhelming wave of pleasure. He pulled weakly at your nipple with his teeth scraping the nerves on the area, until he let it go. — We will stuff you full of cum everyday and every hour… — His lips trailed down your ribs, but the position didn't allow him to go further down. He wanted to leave kisses on your whole body, and now he could do that, because now you weren't escaping them. He growled, resigning himself to traill his lips up through the space between your breasts. Your body trembled with the sound. — Fuck you real good… You will never have to beg, omega, we will spoil you with everything you need, everything you want… — His huge hands trailed up your body until they reached your chest. He squished them for a moment, enjoying how soft they were, and how pliant you were, looking straight into your dazed cockdrunk eyes. Imagining how your perfect pups will look like. Milk started coming out in small drops, so silent that he only noticed when it was dripping down his hand. His eyes shot down to assess the view and his knot started growing at the sight of your swelling breasts and darkened nipples, giving up milk for him, for him, so soft his fingers were digging and moulding the flesh, all while they were dancing up and down, bouncing, seducing him. You were seducing him. You were stunning, ravishing, perfect without even trying. He was happy his pack was the one tying you down to them, he wanted to kill someone just for thinking that someone else could have you like this. — … And you will give us everything we want…

He tentatively, almost hypnotized, leaned down and sucked your stiff nipple between his soft lips, sucking a small amount of milk inside, letting It rest on his tongue for a moment, savouring the taste, before swallowing.

You were sensitive, with a dull ache, but his suckling helped with the pain and sent waves of flickering pleasure against your body. You could feel him forcing his knot with each thrust to fit inside you as it gradually grew, and gasped, whimpering pleas for more. Begging him to keep going and stuff you full. You were both getting close to orgasm. Damian shut his eyes hard, overstimulated with the growing pleasure. He let go of your breast when he started feeling his canines getting more protruded, itching to bite your neck and claim you, his eyes also getting brighter, his inner alpha waiting to take ownership over you. Strip you off the life you had before. Forcing you to subjugate, until the smallest cells in your body knew who you belonged to.

He didn't hold himself, of course, and your first mark soon made home above your collarbone, your souls locking together and the intimacy going to an extraordinary level when you reached the peak of pleasure in tandem, while his knot swelled and made you stuck together, stopping any drop of cum from going to waste.

Every single drop was forced to stay inside of you, and Damian lifted your almost limp head, you both drunk, still coming down from the waves of pleasure, and forced your lips against his neck, his scent gland, and you, whose omega and heat had taken over since the moment his cock invaded you, didn't hesitate to mark him back, locking the bond completely.

— Good omega, good omega…

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[finallychaoticeffigy]

Can you make a fic where the reader is in a mental hospital and their psychiatrist is a yandere, who purposely keeps reader unstable so he can keep treating them?

Yandere psychiatrist x patient reader

(sorry this is late, my life's falling apart)

It's been over 6 months since you've been admitted to a mental hospital. Apparently you have some sort of mental illness you didn't understand, but you trust your parents especially the Doctors. They're professional and they know whats best . You didn't like the fact that they recommended you staying here but you agreed since you didn't wanna seem crazy, the more you tried to refuse the more they'll be convinced your ill, you pondered lost in thoughts.

You hissed when you felt the needle being pressed into contact with your skin. That sharp metalic object, Gosh how you hate that thing. For some reason during your time period of staying here, you didn't seem to be getting any better. Infact you seem to be getting worse. You started thinking if it was the medicine that's making you feel worse. You softly rub your temples. 'NO' you thought. That's exactly how a mentaly ill person thinks . They all think that the medicine given by the doctors are bad news, and your becoming one of them. 

"How are you doing Y/n? " your doctor interrupted, softly caressing your hand that was placed on your lap.

Your personal Doctor is literally the hottest guy you've ever seen. You remembered first time seeing him ,your felt your mouth unconsciously dropped to the floor. That's one of the reason you agreed staying here, a hot Doctor will seriously makes you feel better.

"Um...Good, i think? " You lied, No you don't feel good. You started seeing things that weren't there. The headaches, the hallucinations, you know it wasn't normal , especially after you saw a patient walking with four legs.

It was quite a funny sight. "HAHAHA" you unconsciously laughed. The image of the woman with four legs flashed through your mind. 

You suddenly stopped and looked at the male doctor beside you already eying you carefully. He pulled out his notes and wrote something quick.

"Did i say something funny?" He raised a brow, taking your hand squeezing it.

You softly yank your hand away. He's always so touchy that it makes you uncomfortable, but hey hes a professional and hes hot so you brushed it off....but that's the least of your concern now. "This isn't what it looks like i swear. Um ..... I just thought of something funny.... I didn't like laugh for no reason.. I'm not ill" you  defensively declared biting your lips. It's not a lie, you've always laugh with your own ever since you were a kid thinking about something. Wait.... does that mean you've had mental illness ever since you were in nappies!?

He chuckled taking your hands and placing it with his. "It's fine...When I'm thinking of something, it sometimes makes me happy too" He flashed you a cute smile.

"Hmm.. i see hehe" 

"I just need you to take this medicine and your good to sleep" he muttered softly 

He takes out what seems to be a medicine and feeds it on you. "Swallow my dear " you did as he instructed . "Goodjob.. you're always so good Y/n. " He grin wider caressing your hair.

"Doc?"

"Yeah Y/n?"

"Why are you so touchy? I don't know...It makes me uncomfortable sometimes" you mumbled feeling shy, you weren't one of those types to confront others. You were used to keeping your mouth shut and just letting others do what they want, but this time you got a bit of courage.

"What do you mean? I'm not doing anything wrong y/n. This is why your not getting any better, your always overthinking stuff. You need to start trusting people especially those who wants to help you Y/n" he said ,tone changing. Is he angry? Disappointed? You can't read his expression.

"I'm sorry... Um i will sleep now . Please leave" you lay on your bed feeling comfort.

"No, i need to observe more"

"Again?" You asked, voice masked of disappointment.

"Yes y/n ,again"

You felt yourself drifting to sleep . Sleeping now was easier than before . You used to tossed and turn but with the help of sleeping pills, you didn't have to anymore.

The man watched the girl asleep. Face flushed, heart shaped pupil and heavy panting. His hands traveled to her thighs and gently squeezed it. He got up from the chair he was sitting on and lay next to her .

He was being a creep, and he knows it.But fuck he loves and craves for her so much he didn't even think about morals. He wrapped his huge arms around her small waist hugging her and sniffing her addicting scent.

"Baby... I am so sorry, i know this is wrong but I can't help myself, i love you way to much. " He whispered licking her neck.

"Poor baby, i know am practically giving you poison, but i promise it won't hurt you too bad. Just enough so you can stay here... By my side." He embraced her tighter, giving her kisses all over her sleeping face.

"You're mine. You're only mine my Y/n. You're mine" he chanted reapetedly and bit your cheeks.

You winced in your sleep, having no idea what's been happening. He smiled, happiness evidence in his eyes. 

------+--+--+--------+++----------

"What ? Is that even allowed? " You questioned clearly shock. You're gonna stay at his house for 'recovery' apparently you need calm invironment where you can be alone. You can't go home yet so your best choice was his house, others explained.

"Dude what the fridge... I don't think that's appropriate. I thought you all graduated from Harvard or something, where's your common sense?" 

"I know what it seems like dear. But your doctor suggested it and it seems like a nice idea. It's for your own good , we care alot about our patients you see" the woman about in her 30s explained 

"Clearly" you said voice toned with sarcasm. You didn't argue further, you knew you couldn't do anything especially your basically recorded as a person with mental health problems. 

The headaches and hallucinations just seems to get worse. You almost couldn't get out of bed but today your legs unusually cooperated.

The door suddenly flung open revealing a massive man in his coat. Him. He looks strangely happy , like he just won a lotto or something. 

"Y/n come now, let's go home" he reached his out his hands with a smile which you clearly ignored and walked passed him. You were upset that the home your going to wasn't your own. You missed your room. You missed staying up late just binged reading shits on your phone.

Oh well... atleast your gonna gonna get out of that white room. It makes you sick seeing nothing but White and being outside again makes you a bit excited. 

When you left the smile that he already had grew wider. He just loves you so much. He would do anything just to be with you .

[abbotsanatomy]

⨳ taking care of each other in the ER

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: age gap (28 and 49), resident/attending relationship, just fluff. author's note: this is purely inspired by the fact that i need someone to take care of this man.

As ER doctors, no one's really looking to take care of you. Not in the moment, anyway. Sure, they'll send their thanks in letters and buy you coffees and desserts later. But when you're in the midst of a grueling 12-hour night shift and you haven't eaten in nine hours, no one notices. So, you and Abbot learn to.

It's a habit born out of necessity. An attending can't have a starving chief resident, and a sleep-deprived teacher's no good for any student. It all begins long before any ideas of a romantic relationship ever popped into either of your heads.

Jack started it by buying your coffee most nights. He'd gradually come in with two cups of coffee more often than one. He always gets your order just right.

‘The usual’ at his favorite coffee shop becomes your coffee and his. He finds himself requesting it, even if you aren't even going to be at the ER that day. He isn't a wasteful man, but the ritual of holding two cups to work is one he cherishes. It tricks his brain into thinking you'll be there. Sometimes that's exactly what he needs.

On a Thursday in January, you notice the muscles of his shoulders are a little tighter, his walk is more tense. It worries you.

You desperately want to just get in there and rub the tension away with your fingers. You know it'd be wildly inappropriate, though. You try your hardest not to think about the suppressed noises you could pull out of your attending, as you give him the kneading of a lifetime.

It's all so unrealistic, you quickly realize. Instead, you look for the best rated masseur in town. They sound really nice on the phone, and that solidifies your decision. You find him at the hospital counter, with the proposal, an hour later.

“Hey, boss,” you joke.

He barely even looks up. You can tell he's suspicious of your tone already.

“What are you up to?” he asks.

You laugh it off, looking away. You pull your phone out. It’s immediately shoved into his face, because you know the only way you can get yourself to tell him is if you’re met with the possibility of ending this a lot more awkwardly.

Your voice comes out more happy than intended, “I know this great place for a massage.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but there's a tight smile on his lips. You throw the huge pitch you had planned out of the window, and just decide to be direct.

“I just... You've been a little slow on your feet lately. You look like you're in pain half of the time. I wanted to help,” you ramble.

Jack turns away from the computer he was typing on to face you fully. His arms are crossed in front of his chest. He's still smiling at you, nodding his head at every word. You're just trying to give him your best 'please don't fire me' smile.

“You think I'm getting too old? Is that it?” he whispers.

“What?!” you scream, “No! No. Of course not.”

“You're fine. You're great,” you insist, and his shoulders shake as he starts laughing quietly at you.

Your face is stuck in a grimace from the unimaginable embarrassment you’re feeling. When he starts laughing more openly, you find yourself doing the same.

He turns his head to the side, and leans in, “You know you're not my assistant, right?”

You nod quickly, “Of course I know that.”

This is serious. You're not going to let him derail the conversation like he usually does when it gets a little personal.

“Just...let me. Please,” you plead. “I'm trying to repay you for all of those coffees. I'm scared if I don't the universe is going to drop a piano on my head or something. I owe you, like, a lot of money.”

His eyes narrow, and his lips are set in a thin line. After a good minute of just staring at each other, he's called away by a nurse. He sighs and gives you a look that tells you he's giving in. Then, he just starts walking away wordlessly.

“Is that a yes?” you yell after him.

“Sure! Fine, whatever,” he yells back.

You grin victoriously, and confirm your booking on the day you know he isn't working.

The smile you have on your face when he finally comes in a lot more relaxed is much bigger.

Eventually, the massages become a monthly thing. You book him one whenever you notice he's a little more tense, and just text him a screenshot of the booking. He hasn't missed a single one.

Jack Abbot is very good at observing patterns, especially when it comes to his team's work ethic. He sees how you thrive on validation. His, specifically. And the man's more than happy to shower you with praises, if that's what you need.

He tries to tone down how it makes him feel when you get flustered at his compliments, when you're stumbling over your words to quip back every time he jokingly says something like your incision was "more clean than usual."

It gets to a point where it's almost like he's always on the lookout for a way to celebrate you. Always hovering, always prepared to tell you you're doing a good job.

Every single time you're trying something new, he's there. Mostly because he has to guide you through it, but also because he knows that if he's telling you you're doing fine, you'll be confident on your second, third, and fourth time. He tells himself the reason it brings him so much pride when he sees you doing well is because you're his resident. Your skill is reflective of his teaching, after all.

His, his, his. The word replays in his mind every single time.

You, on the other hand, can't exactly tell your attending he's so great all the time. He doesn't need a complex. Besides, you know it isn't what he wants. You focus on expressing your admiration when he isn't doing so good.

When he looks more tired than usual, you stand a little closer. When he reaches his tipping point, you tell him to take a break with a hand to pull him away by his arm. When he loses a patient and it hits him hard, you make sure no one's looking and put a hand on his shoulder to ground him.

The amount of respect and appreciation you have for him is hidden in all of these touches. Every time your skin comes into contact with his, you're pouring all of the things you feel for him into it. Hoping, begging, praying it all reaches him.

Even if it doesn't, you're glad to see him sigh in relief. You're happy, watching his breathing even out, and his eyes flit to yours in gratitude.

There are moments that give you both equal, sweet relief. They happen during those nights when it's quieter in the ER. Everyone's just getting through quick non-emergency emergencies. It makes you feel less guilty when you take a break for some lunch outside.

There's this unspoken pact, that whenever it's one of those nights, you both meet at the same bench. You share your food, you laugh, you talk about your lives outside of work.

It's new, completely undiscovered territory.

Sometimes, you'll let yourself drift off to sleep on his shoulder. It only ever lasts a few minutes, but it's always the best sleep you ever get.

Sometimes, he'll open up about his past. You try not to cry, every time. It's hard. When he tells you about how he lost his leg, you do. He ends up being the one to comfort you with a smile on his face.

Sometimes, you hold hands. It's the most either of you can manage without having to admit how you feel about each other.

One time, he asks to walk you back to your apartment after your shift. When you're at your front door, you beg him to come inside. You make breakfast together. You fall asleep on the couch.

When you wake up, it's time for another shift. For the first time, you're actually glad to be going. Because you know someone's looking out for you, and you have someone to look out for.

[saltysbiscuits]

Silence Isn't Golden

Saja boys x reader

Warnings: Omegaverse, poly relationships, female reader, eventual smut, MDNI 18+

*Italicized is for the reader's thoughts.

A/N: Hello everyone! I did not expect people to like the first part so much??? Thank you all so, so much! I already had chapter 2 completely written lol I was just doing some editing to make it flow better. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Previous - Next

Chapter 2.

Morning light filters into your room, slowly warming the air as the day wakes. You startle out of your skin when Zoey rushes in and jumps on your bed. You try to focus on her hands as she signs, but you’re half asleep and she is moving way too fast. You grunt and shove her playfully, burying your face back in your pillow. It doesn’t last long before she’s pulling you to sit up, signing something about going to the doctor for Rumi so you need to get up. She runs out of the room, and you blink at the wall. ‘Damnit Zoey… I wanted to sleep in today.’ You grumble as you slowly get up, throwing on a HUNTR/X sweater and a pair of sweatpants. You pause as your about to open the door, a faint heat starting to curl in your stomach. 'Damnit I forgot to take my suppressants yesterday. And my heat cycle is not something I have time for now.'

With a huff, you divert to the restroom and grab bottle, pouring two pills in your palm before swallowing them. Your suppressants. You grimace at the taste, remembering what Celine told you as a teenager. ‘Two pills a day, keep the heat away. Thanks a lot Celine.’ You grumble and walk out into the kitchen, looking at the three girls as if they committed the worst crime ever. You immediately pour yourself some juice and down it before shaking your head. “Alright, where are we going?” You sign as you slip your shoes on and join them.

Mira sighs, looking tired already before starting to sign so she can explain. “Zoey found this ‘totally legit’ doctor she wants to take Rumi to and hopefully it’ll fix her voice. I’m not convinced.” Zoey gasps, looking offended. “He is too legit!” Rumi rolls her eyes and clears her throat. “Let’s just get going yeah?” You yawn and walk with them to the elevator, knowing this trip is going to be chaos. The streets are packed today, people rushing around and running errands. You wince as you get pushed by the crowd. You catch Mira’s hand, squeezing it to prevent being separated from them. Zoey was chatting animatedly with Rumi before suddenly darting down an alley.

You all stop in front of a totally legit doctor’s office. ‘Earthy and herby… so legit Zoey. I wonder where she even found this place.’ You shake your head as Zoey squeezes Rumi and pull her into the building. Mira rolls her eyes, muttering something to herself before she squeezes your hand lightly and walks into the store with you. As soon as you enter the receptionist gasps. “Oh! H-hello there!” The woman fiddles with her clipboard before checking something off. “I see you’re right on time. Head down the hall, second door on your right. The doctor will be with you in a few moments.”

Zoey immediately drags Rumi down the hall while you glance at the pictures on the wall. Mira tugs your hand softly and signs to you. “Let’s go.” You let her pull you, scrunching your nose up when you see a, clearly modified, picture of the doctor with the HUNTR/X girls. You enter the room specified by the receptionist and take a seat. This place wasn’t much better. The walls were filled with various celebrities and bands, all with the doctor in each picture. You roll your eyes and pick up a magazine, flipping through it nonchalantly.

You don’t notice when the doctor enters, not until he suddenly gets in your face. You jump so hard that the chair rattles, and you stare at him with wide eyes. He merely stares into your eyes before mumbling something you don’t catch, unable to read his lips as he moves too fast. From the looks on the girls’ faces they’re not very happy with him. He tries to stare at Mira, but she just scares him back with a smirk. You silently start rubbing the marks on your arm, starting to get slightly overwhelmed now. You don’t catch the rest of their conversation before they’re moving to leave.

You follow but pause in the lobby, tapping Rumi on the shoulder while signing. “Hey, I need to use the lady’s room. I’ll be out in a minute!” You give her a sheepish smile before darting down the hallway. ‘This doctor is a real quack.’ You roll your eyes for the third time at a picture of the fake doctor dancing with some idols. You slip in the restroom and lean against the door. Heat flared in your body and you lean over the sink, splashing yourself in the face. It has been years since your last heat cycle and this... It was strong and making you feel things you don't really want to feel right now.

With a huff you clutch your left arm, the marks beginning to itch and burn slightly. You roll your sleeve up and gasp, the whole mark was glowing and almost pulsing. You gently rub it, trying to ease some of the itchy feeling it’s causing all while fighting as your heat flared higher and higher until finally the suppressants from the morning kick in and calm it enough to be bearable, allowing you to compose yourself and head back out to meet the girls.

As soon as you exit the clinic two things hit you at once. One, Rumi and all the tonics are on the ground. Two, the smell. It’s a chaotic blend of spice and sweet, fruity but also tangy. Your whole body goes rigid and something in you just hums, wanting to follow the wafting smell like it’s leading you home. That’s how it makes you feel, like home, loved. It also causes your heat to flare against the suppressants.

Your eyes widen slightly and you move as if to follow it, however; before you can go far, Zoey grips your arm, signing to you. “Hey, you good? You just kind of spaced out.” Her touch snaps you out of whatever daze you were in, and you nod, moving to help Rumi pick up the fallen tonics. When you reach to pick up one of the pouches a warmth shoots up your arm and your fingers tingle. You stare at your hand wiggling your fingers as you straighten up, this has never happened before. You huff, turning to see the girls looking the other way. “What’s going on?” You sign to them while stepping up next to them. A an uncomfortable feeling blooms in your chest, tugging you towards the scent, like something is tugging on your soul. None of the girls answer, but Rumi grabs your hand and pulls you along after them.

Your brow furrows in confusion, the direction Rumi was pulling you in is right towards that scent. The girls pause and peek around the corner of a building, pulling Rumi’s hood up so no one would recognize her. As soon as they move forward your whole world tilts. There in the middle of the plaza are five boys. You freeze as soon as you see them, something inside you snapping. Everything fades into the background and all you see is them, everything about them is perfect. You feel a thrumming in your chest, the desire, the feeling of safety. They are your home; you can feel it.

Then the world tilts, you’re overwhelmed with their scents and suddenly everything is loud. Yes, loud. Your eyes widen and you realize you can hear everything. The screaming crowd, the boys singing, all the noise. You cover your ears. It’s too much, too loud. You fall to the ground and cry. It hurts, the rush of sound. You don’t notice all five boys staring right at you as they perform, nor do you see the girls rush to you in concern. You feel the marks on your arm flare, burning like molten lava and then everything is silent again as your body shuts down from the overwhelming amount of stimulation. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Across town in a very fancy penthouse. “Did you see her?!” A loud voice yells, sounding both upset and obsessed. Romance comes into the living room clutching at his chest as though someone just ripped his heart out.

“Of course I saw her, I also caught her scent.” Mystery leans on the bookshelf in the far corner, his gaze piercing even though his eyes are covered by his hair, the others can tell his attention is fully on the current conversation.

 “She looked at us like we were her everything. Her scent flared like it was desperate, reaching.” Abby interjects, halfway to the bathroom with his shirt off. “Because it was.” Jinu enters, an unreadable look on his face. “But then she collapsed, what happened?” Romance sat up, pouting. “Because of the bond you idiot. Aren’t you supposed to be romantic? How do you not know about omega bonds?” Baby glares at Romance, tossing a sucker in the trash before shoving him off the couch and taking his place.

“That’s enough.” Jinu sighs, rubbing his forehead as he grabs a book. “They way she covered her ears, she was in pain.” He starts flipping through it before pointing to a certain page. “Human omegas. When bound to an alpha, a demon, humans tend to exbibit certain disabilities because of the differing levels of power. Blindness, being mute, being deaf or any number of issues. When interacting with their alpha for the first time they may experience dizziness, nausea and their disability will be cured.”

Jinu pauses scanning the page. “Ah, but there is a problem. While improved a bit, the omega’s disability will only be permanently cured once the bond is solidified. Until that time, the omega will only be free of the disability when near their alpha.”

Abby looked down at the page Jinu was reading from. “So, when she collapsed…”  “She heard everything.” Mystery finishes, suddenly appearing next to Jinu.

“Our poor baby…” Romance sighs, standing from the floor and sitting on Baby’s legs. “Her first experience with sound was the screaming crowd… No wonder she collapsed.” “Get off me idiot!” Baby grunts and kicks Romance off his legs. “So, she can’t hear again? We need to find her and take her now.”

“No, the hunters took her, remember? And she was clearly with them, if their reactions were anything to go by. We don't want her caught in any conflict. So, we need to plan this out first.” Jinu closes the book, setting it down and thinking. “She’s seen us and knows our scent now… After the game show tonight, I suggest we scent her out. We know she’s with the hunters. So, if we find where they live…”

Romance jumps up, waving his hand like a school kid. “We find our dear, precious omega!” Abby chuckles, his eyes flashing gold while he dries his hair. “Tonight, we hunt.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist:

@gremlinartstudio @gamer-kat @puppykick3r @moonjellyfishie @libdarkheart @myjointpainismoderatetosevere @stzatz4ever @the-sweet-psycho @poketrainer2270 @kimyeosinah-reum @she-yaa @yumiblaze @fries11 @fantasyhopperhea @horandog1993 @bookies16

[catnippackets]

If this isn't overstepping, do you have any advice for not falling into defeatism? You seem good at having hope.

yeah of course let's go

1. Starting off with this one because it’s the most important: you HAVE to remember that genuinely, honestly, relatively, ONLY A SMALL PORTION OF HUMAN BEINGS ARE FREQUENTLY ON THE INTERNET. That means any random statistic you see about people frequenting websites and posting about certain things is ONLY taking into account everyone who's online, and not the literal millions of people who are offline or only online for maybe 1-2 hours a day.

An example: I saw a tweet the other day being upset about how doctors don't take women seriously. The OP would go onto reddit and see a subreddit with countless posts from doctors complaining about their female patients. The OP was very upset and using that source to educate people on this genuinely sadly very real problem. I don't want to invalidate OP's distress, especially because it IS a thing that does happen and should be talked about, but for THIS specific case about the subreddit where the doctors would complain about their female patients, you have to consider: do you think that just because there's a subreddit like this, that means that EVERY SINGLE PRACTISING DOCTOR IN THE ENTIRE WORLD belongs to it and is posting in it? Of course not. Normal, nice doctors probably aren’t posting anything about their jobs online at all. But because you aren’t seeing that, all you see are the bad doctors publicly complaining, and suddenly it starts to skew your thoughts towards all doctors being bad.

And the above example is true of any group of people you can think of. Rudeness and prejudice and stupidity exist everywhere and we shouldn’t ignore that. But the majority of people are good. Most people are kind, and well-meaning, and smart, even if they’re ignorant about certain things. You cannot look at people on the internet being cruel and trick yourself into thinking that because lots of people on the internet are cruel, that means the exact same ratio is real offline too and you should be wary of everybody without actually getting to know them. Most people are good. Humanity is inherently good. People who are upset or mean are just more likely to be loud about it—it doesn’t by ANY means make them the majority.

(Another useful way to think about it that’s stuck with me into my adult years: in one of the HTTYD books, the Romans are the bad guys, and Hiccup says, in response to Fishlegs bitterly saying that Romans suck, “There are probably loads of good Romans, it’s just that all the good ones are sitting at home minding their own business.” And that’s true of literally every group of people imaginable.)

2. This is a given, but seriously. Reduce the amount of time spent on websites where you hear a lot about current events and news.

Finding the balance between "staying informed on current events so I know how to combat the bad things" and "looking away for the sake of my own mental health" can be tricky but the gist of it is make sure that whatever you're reading is useful to you. If it's actually giving you inspiration and strength that drives you to action, then wonderful! But if it's just a lot of people saying the same thing over and over again in a loop and you keep worriedly looking because you're desperate to find at least ONE good thing and end your scrolling on a high note...you have to cut yourself off. If you’re caught in an unproductive anger or despair spiral that’s not actually doing anything except making you upset, then you’re wasting your time. You have to stop and go to something else that makes you happy. If anybody tries to guilt you into continuing, that’s their own problem, not yours. Don’t completely shut the bad parts of the world out, but you have limits. Learn to not cross them.

3. A little bit is better than nothing.

You are only one person, and even if you dedicate your whole life to the activism of your choosing, you will only ever make significant strides in that one thing. You cannot solve global warming, racism, and capitalism all on your own. But you can make small changes in your life that are not worthless at all. Every time you refrain from buying a product that ultimately funds something evil, every time you give five dollars to charity, every time you educate a friend on why them using chatgpt is bad, every time you spend 20 minutes on the exercise bike or encourage someone to make a better life choice or leave one kind comment on a worried person’s post, you’re making the world a better place to be in. You didn’t replant an entire forest, but you’re taking care of a single plant, which is better than tons of people who have no plants at all. You can’t afford to donate much to charity, but you still donate a little bit, which is better than people who don’t donate at all. You only work out 15 minutes every week, but that’s better than people who don’t work out at all. Just because it’s small doesn’t mean it’s unimportant.

Personal anecdote: when I was in my first year of university, I complained frequently that we didn’t have a compost bin in our building, and when I showed up for my second year, WE HAD A NEW COMPOST BIN. It didn’t take much! Just the power of being persistent and annoying!

And, the most important part, which is a mix of all three of the above points:

4. You are not the only person in the world who wants a better future.

There are people ALL OVER THE GLOBE who are doing good things that you don’t see. There are people working to fight plastic usage and pollution and deforestation, to educate others on history and other cultures and forgotten important figures, to entertain and keep people’s spirits up. A man named Tim Wong single-handedly managed to save a butterfly species, because he cared. Another man named Tom Brown has spent his retirement preserving apple varieties, and has managed to save over 1000 of them, because he cared. Fuck, I’m seeing more posts on twitter saying that watching the new Superman movie has made them want to go out of their way to be nicer to people, and that’s just from from watching a movie and being inspired by it. There are people learning to develop ways to clean water & reuse plastic & end world hunger and fight evil politicians for our human rights and create spaces for minorities to feel safe & flourish and teaching other people useful skills and entertaining others to keep their spirits up and hosting charity live streams and maintaining gardens and funding research projects and taking care of the elderly and disabled and rescuing feral cats and making movies with inspiring messages and so many other good things. Nobody is alone, and the majority of people on planet earth want world peace and a happy & healthy planet.

So, to summarize:

1. Only a small portion of human beings are frequently on the internet

2. Dedicating significant time to reading about bad things on the internet with no actual productive goal is a waste of time

3. Doing a little tiny bit of something is better than doing nothing at all

4. The vast overwhelming majority of human beings are good

And some final additions:

Think for yourself and make your own choices, not choices that you are guilted into by self-righteous people online

Keep an open mind and don't be afraid to challenge your own views and change your mind if new perspectives introduce themselves to you

THINK. JUST THINK. USE YOUR BRAIN. QUESTION. DISCERN. ANALYZE. BE KIND TO YOURSELF AND OTHERS.

And most importantly: make a lot of art about it, because it's cathartic AND will inspire people at the same time

thank you for listening

[cripplecharacters]

How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special

[large text: How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special]

Today is the 13th of May, which means that the Face Equality Week has just started. This year's theme is “My Face is a Masterpiece” which is probably my favorite sentence ever said about having a facial difference. Huge fan, should be used way more often in my opinion.

Because of this occasion, I would like to share some thoughts about Face Equality that I think are rather entry-level, i.e. you don't need to know much to execute these, but you can still support us.

Stop the stare.

I know it's fun to stare - or so I guess, at least - but maybe you shouldn't. Next time you see someone who has a scar or who's face does not move the same way as yours, just mind your business. We can tell when you're “discreetly” looking.

Don't call us deformed. 

Knowing how the people you're trying to support actually call themselves should be an absolute first step, but most people still fail here. Most of us don't appreciate being called “deformed”. I certainly don't. Say “facial difference”, or “disfigurement” if you must. It's 2024. Leave “deformed” to medical reports from the 70s.

No more “What happened?!”s.

If you aren't a doctor, there's a high-to-100% chance that it's none of your business. It's cool that you're curious - keep it to yourself.

Stop insinuating that we are ugly.

“Support people who are ugly!” isn't very supportive. I would say, not in the slightest. Say “people who don't fit the current beauty standards” if that's what you mean. 

Or, to go with this year's theme, “people whose faces are masterpieces” : )

Use critical thinking online.

Is the reaction photo actually funny, or is it just a person with a craniofacial condition? Is the meme actually a meme, or is it just making fun of a person with a facial disfigurement? Is body-shaming suddenly hilarious to you when the person shamed has strabismus? 

If the entire punchline is “lol they have a disability xd”, it's ableism. Plain and simple.

To go with the point above - your joke is probably not funny.

We get it! You can't help telling us how "you're going to hell for laughing" (which yeah, probably) and how we remind you of the ugliest character you have ever seen. I guarantee you that we heard it, and that you are behaving like an edgy middle schooler who hasn't "found out" yet. It's boring and annoying. Also ableist, but you're aware of that already if you're saying that you're going to hell.

Stop with the goddamn trigger warnings. 

We aren't “body horror”, we aren't “gore”, we aren't something that you need to advise your viewers to use their discretion over. Every “graphic footage: child with neurofibromatosis” and “#tw burn scar” is a sign of ableism and disfiguremisia. People with facial differences deserve to be seen. Ableds can survive seeing a person without a nose.

Do a basic reading on what disfiguremisia is.

New word! And an important one. It's a brand of ableism that intersects with more or less everything, and it means discrimination and hatred of people with facial differences/disfigurements. The bullying, harassment, endless name-calling, and microaggressions are all results of disfiguremisia. The ways in which everything is harder for us isn't some unchangeable rule of how the world works, it's just an extremely prevalent type of discrimination.

Understand that we are people.

I know, revolutionary - and yet impossible for so many people to get. We can be a visual representation of evil when it's necessary, we can be a feel-good inspirational story on a morning talk-show, but not much else, it seems. In reality, we are complex, we have our own lives, we can be happy and sad and have the same exact joys and worries that you have.

Hey, artists - facial differences don't make you evil.

Title stolen from a great essay by Lise Deguire (link). When's the last time you saw a positive character with a facial difference that wasn't inspiration porn? I mean a character that's not edgy, full of angst, a murderer, or a villain. Based on what you see in the media, you'd think that having a scar renders you evil on the spot, but in reality it just makes you loathe how artists apparently think you are like. It's boring, it's overdone, it's ableism. Stop doing this, and start noticing when it's being done. Point it out if your friend is writing their new villain to be an evil burn survivor. This kind of portrayal needed to stop ages ago, but tomorrow will be a great time as well.

Before you reply with “I've never seen this” - Darth Vader, Lion King’s Scar (subtle name, great thing to teach kids!), Freddy Krueger, Voldemort, we could be here forever. You're just not paying attention.

Pay attention to where we are not included.

As discussed, there are some places where you see us all the time. But where do you not see us?

Advertisements (unless it's for a scar-removal cream, of course). Fashion shows. Magazine covers. Romance movies where we are the main character.

We deserve to see ourselves in what's around us in the same way able-bodied people do. Trying to make it seem like we don't exist - that's deliberate. 

Interact with our art.

We draw, write, sing, act in movies, we do everything. Support us in the most tangible way - leave us a nice comment, read our books, listen to our songs. Watch movies where actual people with facial differences star, not pseudoinspirational stories about how “being disfigured is ok” where they shove an able-bodied actor into a full face prosthetic just to not have an actor with a disfigurement on set.

Include us.

As this year's Face Equality Week calls for, include us. In art, in movies, in books, in your life. Show us as positive people who are valuable, who are a part of your community - I guarantee that we are in every one that's out there. The world is hostile and unwelcoming to people with facial differences - be the change, wherever you are.

I know that it is different from the usual posts I make, but I hope it was somewhat educational. I just like to use every occasion that I can to force Face Equality into people's heads. To make this at least a bit about writing to keep the blog's theme, I will say that if you want to write about us, you need to care about us in real life as well. Otherwise, it's pointless and, as representation, genuinely worthless.

Below the readmore are some links/resources that you can click to educate yourself further. A lot of them lead to Face Equality International because they have just about everything you should know. If you want to be a better ally to people with facial differences, I heavily recommend them.

#MyFaceIsAMasterpiece

mod Sasza

https://faceequalityinternational.org/the-harmful-trope-of-facial-differences-in-film-villains/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/why-i-will-not-hide/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/disability-is-diversity/202111/hidden-community-the-movement-face-equality

https://faceequalityinternational.org/facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/advertising-excludes-women-with-faces-like-mine/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/burn-community-bookshelf

https://faceequalityinternational.org/about-fei/international-face-equality-week/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/hidden-from-view-women-with-facial-differences-in-the-media

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/i-dont-see-your-scars

Thanks for actually clicking the readmore

[besidesjustmyamour]

"if you want something done right, do it yourself."

in which you're pregnant and tired and ask them to do something then do it yourself.

tw: pregnancy, talk of losing the baby

inspired by this post

with g.satoru, n.kento, choso, f.toji, g.suguru, r.sukuna

satoru gojo was soooo glad that you were pregnant. it just came with so many bonuses. it was like after wife-ing you up, he had just unlocked the newest and greatest upgrade.

which was just as well. some new features included: staying in bed late and waking up whining for cuddles, wearing his shirts around the house with barely anything on underneath, and so much more.

but the best part was being able to flaunt it to others.

"did ya hear?" "yes, gojo." "my wife's pregnant." "we know. you told us three minutes ago." "okay... you could be a little happier for me." "honestly? i'm done being happy for you every time you tell me that your goddamn wife is pregnant. i'll be happy for her instead."

satoru gojo didn't expect the conversation to go like that. but either way, he was excited to be a father. more than that, though, he was excited for you to get into the tired phase.

dubbed the worst phase by all mothers. he had researched it online.

"'fellow hubbies, be warned.'" "satoru, put the computer down." "'once in the third trimester, your wife will be unable to do anything herself. you will have to help her into the shower, help her onto the toilet, and even help her get dressed.'" "so help me i will strangle you---" "i just want to be prepared. although you don't sound very tired." "that's because i'm always tired around you. you exhaust me." "i enchant you." "enchant yourself. preferably to sleep. it's three in the morning."

satoru gojo was still waiting for that, even a week before the baby was born. but you never asked for help. never asked anything more than what was needed.

he just wanted to baby you. to coddle you. to wrap you up in a blanket and never let you go. all you had to do was let him.

and the day you finally relented?

"saaaaaaaaaatoooooooooruuuuuuuuuu." "yes, my beautiful wifey?" "help me move the couch." "hey, sit down! the doctor said you shouldn't be moving around as much anymore." "the doctor said i should also remove all stress inducing stimuli from the nearby environments. but you're still here, aren't you?" "ouch. that hurts." "help me move the goddamn couch." "okay, okay, fine."

satoru gojo felt proud when you stepped back. less proud of the glare you shot him when he kicked it and it flew to the side by a few feet. he had grinned at you and you had slumped into the cushions, satisfied with the new angle facing the television.

but one night, he was out late running errands and was catching up with a friend. your texts buzzed at his phone, sudden and sharp.

"sorry, give me a sec. my pregnant wife's calling me."

when he heard that you were trying to move the couch again, by yourself? he dropped the conversation with his old friend and nearly crashed into a car on the drive home.

when he opened the door, panting and his jacket slipping down his shoulders, he caught you. your eyes locked with his.

"this... isn't what it looks like." "did you seriously move the couch across the entire living room?" "i wanted a new angle to watch she-ra and the princesses of power! i've watched that show the same way, like, at least three times." "how about you just watch a new show instead of straining yourself?" "are you... mad?" "you could've seriously hurt yourself, baby. or the baby, actually." "satoru---" "promise me you'll never do something like that again. without my help." "babe---" "promise." "... i promise." "good. now sit back down. i want my cuddles."

kento nanami truly was excited. not that he ever showed it. excited for the new beginnings. to live in your new house, with you in it. to shower you with all his love and adoration, now that you were getting closer and closer to your due date.

he had even taken time off of work. his colleagues couldn't believe it.

and frankly, neither could he.

"you're... staying home. like, seriously." "yes." "for real? you won't come back halfway through the week and ask for any jobs?" "no." "wow, nanami. you're a changed man. what happened?" "it was either take care of my wife or come here. the choice is apparent."

kento nanami didn't mean to make him cry. his intentions were pure. well, aside from wanting to flaunt that he had a loving wife waiting for him at home while the rest of the workforce went home to empty houses.

but that didn't matter. all that did was getting prepared for the baby.

"article one says it should happen around the sixth to eighth week. but article two is more specific on which day." "ken, you're overthinking this. i'll be tired when... when i get tired!" "but what if something's wrong? we should head back to the doctor and---" "ken. listen to me. it's going to be fine. now shut up and let me get some sleep."

kento nanami didn't want to do that. all he really wanted to do was take care of you and shower you in all the adoration he had missed out on during his time at work.

the day you asked for his help was honestly majestic.

"ken kenny kensington kennedy---" "what is it, dear?" "good! help me move these boxes to our room." "the... the boxes?" "these have been here since we moved in! i figured it was about time i started unpacking all my stuff." "okay, okay, whatever you'd like. just... please, put the box down. tell me which one you want upstairs first."

kento nanami carried half of the boxes upstairs that night. you were pouting that he wouldn't let you lift a single finger, but it was some kind of pride and warmth blooming in his chest that warred against the nature of your rebellion.

he hadn't thought you would try it yourself.

it was supposed to be a simple run for groceries. kento nanami checked off a mental list of all your favorite foods, trying to rearrange them in his mind when you called.

"ken," you grunted, voice crackling through the phone. "help."

his heart dropped. "what? my love? what's wrong? is something happening? is the baby coming?"

"nooo..." your voice was breathy and shallow. "i just... wanted a dress... to look nice for you..."

"darling, what exactly are you doing right now?" the cashier gave him a confused look as he dropped a fifty-dollar bill onto the counter and nearly ran all the way to his car.

no, not nearly. kento nanami damn near turned into the flash.

and when he got inside? to see you heaving a box across the living room, struggling to get a foot on the stairs? he grabbed the box from you immediately and steered you back onto the sofa.

"ken, please don't be mad---" "mad? i'm beyond mad. i'm... disappointed." "w-what?" "i thought you knew that you could rely on me for... anything at all." "i can! you know i do! but..." "but?" "i just.. don't feel pretty anymore. all my dresses are down here, and you do all the work and i just... i'm not enough for you." "who told you that?" "nobody... i was just reading through the comments of that article you sent me---" "and did you read the title? it said '10 things expectant mothers look absolutely ravnishing in'. and i asked you what you wanted." "it did not say that." "something along those lines. you'll always be more than enough for me, darling. i promise. but you need to promise me that you will never, ever do something like this again." "okay, ken. i promise. i love you." "I love you too."

choso promised he would be better. better than the father he never knew. the one that made him like this. and he promised that you would never go through the pain he felt his mother suffer through during her pregnancy.

"this is the third time you've bailed on us, man." "i know, i know. but she needs me." "i think it might be the other way around." "if you want, you can come over and we can play at my place?" "so i can watch you leave the game every three seconds to coddle your wife? i'd rather exorcise myself, thanks."

he didn't mean to be so overbearing. choso just wanted the pregnancy to be absolutely perfect with no bumps along the road. unflawed, just like you were for him.

but something was wrong. you were never quite... tired. always bursting with energy, pattering around the house, refusing to stay still. he was worried for the longest time.

"this is so stupid, cho." "something must be wrong. the doctor said you should be experiencing something called... pregnancy fatigue?" "that's normal fatigue, and she also said everybody has different symptoms." "but you should be tired. you should let me take care of you while you do nothing." "i hate doing nothing." "i love taking care of you." "one of those things is stronger than the other."

choso didn't say it, but when he pulled into the doctor's office, he knew his love for you would always be stronger than any complaining you ever did. especially when you knew he was right.

so, just to please him, you decide to play along.

"choooooosooooooooo!" "yes, my love?" "i can't reach the cereal on the top shelf." "you... you want me to get it for you?" "yes please."

instead of getting the cereal like you asked, choso grinned, swept you up into his arms and spun you around the kitchen, planting you on the kitchen island and smothering your face with kisses.

he was truly happy. in a way that he couldn't quite describe. it was something about feeling needed by you even when you insisted that you could do everything yourself.

so imagine his horror when choso comes home to you scaling the fucking cabinets like some kind of deranged spider-monkey, one arm half extended out to the new box of cereal at the top.

"my... my love? what... what are you doing?" "uhm... i ate all the cereal." "why... why are you up there?" "i thought i shouldn't bother you and decid--- choso, are you crying?"

choso wanted to say no. but instead he collapsed to his knees and started to sob like a child on the hardwood floors. he wanted to protest and turn away from you.

but your hand on his cheek stilled him and the look in your eyes softened at the tears running down his face.

"y-you could've hurt yourself!" "but i'm fine, see? i got down just fine. i'm fine, cho. look at me." "i... don't want you putting yourself in danger." "okay." "okay?" "yes. okay. just... please never cry like that again." "i just... i can't even think about what i'd do without you. or the baby." "we're not going anywhere, m'kay? we'll always be here. i love you." "i love you too. but seriously, don't do that again. i almost just died."

toji fushiguro wanted to do it right this time. after all, he didn't put a baby in you for no reason. he wanted to cherish you, to hold you tight, even when the nights were long and he knew the bed was cold.

"you sure? don't think i'll have the job waiting for you in three hours." "yeah. gotta take care of my girl." "damn. never seen you whipped like this." "what can i say? she's got me doing cartwheels around her."

and it was true. you really did have toji fushiguro doing the most absurd things for you. running out to the grocery store to buy pickles and peanut butter? done. listening to you complain about how the soap opera female lead was an absolute idiot? his ears were yours.

but it was more about how you depended on him. how you needed him. how megumi and you got along in a way that made him feel like he was actually meant to be a father, for once.

so of course, toji fushiguro indulged in everything you asked.

"toooooooooooo---" "yeah?" "where the fuck did you just spawn in from?" "i've been standing behind this door for the last five minutes." "uhm... what?" "i used the last of the toilet paper." "... and you didn't think to replace it?" "nah. i knew you'd come begging for me. just a chance for me to see my girl---" "okay, that's enough. just get the toilet paper down from the closet before i use your shirt to wipe my ass."

toji fushiguro had laughed and handed you a roll. a few weeks later, there was a mission he couldn't ignore. after making sure the house was stocked until he could come back, he pressed kisses to your face, ruffled megumi's hair, and was off.

but he didn't expect to be faced with this when he got home.

"are you out of your goddamn mind?" "did you hear megumi? he was screeching his head off." "then you ignore it! you don't climb up the wall like a fucking spider and get yourself stuck on top of the refrigerator! how the fuck does that even happen?" "your son has a pretty good throw." "you're dodging the question." "i just wanted to do something for him. with all this fuss about the baby... i think he feels left out."

leave it to you to be thinking about megumi when you're literally microwaving another baby in your stomach. toji fushiguro couldn't chastise you about that.

"as long as you promise never to do that again." "but what if he throws---" "then you slap him across his face and wait for me to get home so i can properly beat his ass." "toji! he's only five!" "that's five years too old to be making his mother do all that." "fine. i'll wait next time." "you better. i love you too much for you to fall and die like that." "i wouldn't die. i'm more flexible than you are, old man." "oh, yeah? how about we test that theory?"

suguru geto was ready. the hospital bag was prepped months before you were even aware of the hospital you were choosing to have your babies at. twins! he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"take another look." "geto-sama... i've looked at them already." "my pretty little girls..." "you... can't even see anything in this picture." "well, i can recognize my darling girls just fine." "girls? you already know the gender?" "consider it a feeling. i know my girls already."

he was obsessed with them already. and they weren't even born! his duties with the cult kept him away from home enough, so he wasn't about to let the time with you decline as you grew brighter and brighter when you were supposed to be tired.

"ugh, let me go!" "can't i spend some time with my lovely wife?" "you can, but this is too much. you've kept me locked in the bedroom for three hours already!" "and i'll keep you here until my girls are ready to come out." "i wanna go out and see the world! being a mother takes the spark out of so many people!" "it won't for you, pretty. trust me." "you aren't the one carrying our children." "i hope you know that if i could, i would do it in a heartbeat." "you would make a lovely seahorse husband."

you had been joking, but suguru geto wasn't. he truly and seriously would do anything you asked with his whole heart... even if your requests were a little... strange.

"is... this... high... enough..." "yes, sugu! it's perfect! thank you!" "anything... for you... pretty..." "you sound out of breath. let me get you a glass of water." "no... i've... i'm fine."

it was a painting of the two of you, commissioned to a curse that had a particularly keen eye and a swift hand. you were radiant and glowing and his hand was on your stomach, eyes fixed on you.

they had demanded his attention. suguru geto had none to spare.

especially not when he had returned from a meeting late at night, cold and aching for your warmth, only to find that you weren't where he left you in the bedroom.

instead, you were heaving a painting back across the room.

"what were you thinking?" "it was pissing me off. it wasn't at the right angle." "you said it was perfect!" "it was. but then it started pissing me off." "god, why do i do this to myself?" "i didn't like it there! it looks so much better where it is now." "yeah, after you nearly broke your back to move it! you endangered yourself! not to mention our little girls!" "well, i don't appreciate you breathing down my neck like some kind of mother hen! i can still take care of myself!"

your anger filled the silence, strung his lips together. suguru geto watched as your trembling subsided, your fists unclenched and your expression softened.

"i appreciate everything you do for me, i really do. it's just... suffocating." "what do you need me to do?" "just... space. please." "i can do that. i might claw my eyes out, though." "don't do that. and... thank you. for not getting mad." "oh, don't get me wrong, sweet. i'm definitely still mad at you." "but?" "but i love you more than that. so just promise me this. you'll never do something like that again without someone's help, okay? that's all i ask." "okay. i can do that." "i know you can. just like i know you'll be everything my girls could wish for."

ryomen sukuna demanded only the best for his wife. for his queen. for the love of his life. anything less meant that he wasn't worth it. that he didn't deserve you.

and perhaps he didn't.

"are the preparations done?" "they are... coming along, sire." "what are you trying to say?" "the child isn't due for another five months. isn't this all a bit... hasty?"

ryomen sukuna would've killed that guy if you hadn't stepped in. he watched as the decorator trembled as you led him into the newly built nursery and offered your thoughts on a particular color scheme.

he got lectured that night, told it wasn't okay to murder people just because they made a mistake. ryomen sukuna held back the urge to scoff and just nodded at you.

"i am beginning to think something is wrong." "with me? wow. you didn't realize that when you married me?" "with the child. you should be tired at this point." "you're worried because i'm not... tired?" "yes." "i feel fine." "precisely the problem. you will not allow me to carry you around the estate, nor feed you by hand." "because i'm perfectly capable of doing those things on my own."

but if the king of curses couldn't even serve his own wife, what was he meant for? ryomen sukuna pondered that question for a long time as the weeks passed. eventually, you offered an answer.

"sukuna. kuna. ryoooo." "what do you want, wife?" "well, husband, i happen to have misplaced my robe at the top of the cabinet. would you mind fetching it for me?" "... thousands of servants walk the palace grounds and yet you call me for this trivial task." "you said you wanted to be involved more." "i did not." "yeah, when you were whining about me not being tired---" "i do not whine." "i beg to differ. now, be a good boy and fetch that for me, will you?"

and even as he scowled and grumbled under his breath, ryomen sukuna reached up and grabbed it for you. because the truth was that he would do anything for that bright grin on your face.

especially when it was faltering under the same situations, just slightly shifted. and the look of horror and awe on your face was priceless. he would've taken a picture if a strange sensation wasn't spreading across his own chest.

"what do you think you're doing?" "uhm. threw the robe back up here. thought i'd get it down." "are you stupid? do you know the consequences of---" "hey, calm down. what's wrong?" "what's wrong? are you seriously asking me what's wrong? you could've just killed yourself! or just as worse, the child!" "but i'm okay! see?" "we have servants for this exact purpose. just one call to assist you at any means necessary. but of course. i should've expected this from you." "woah, wait. what's that supposed to mean?" "it means that i knew you would try and prove that you can do things yourself even if it means putting yourself and our unborn child at risk." "that wasn't what i---" "no, it might not have been, but it happens to be the very situation you are painting at the moment."

fear. the hand that squeezed his heart was fear. he recognized it and refused to acknowledge it because the king of curses was unafraid of everything. ryomen sukuna had to be.

"swear it." "swear... what?" "that until the child arrives---no, even after the child is here, that you will not lift a single finger until you are able-bodied and completely healed." "sukuna, i---" "no. you must swear it." "... fine. i swear i won't do anything by myself again." "good. and i will hold you to that." "... what is that supposed to mean?" "it means that i will indeed be trailing you around the estate. i will always be watching. do not attempt to defy my orders." "ooh, scary." "what's scary is the thought of losing you and our child."

a/n: idk where i decided that this was going to be angst but whatever it's been in my drafts thought i'd release it. likes and comments always appreciated! love ya!

[parfaitblogs]

astronomy ❀ s. reid x reader

in which nothing can live forever, and you would be naive to believe that something as minor as this relationship will be exempt from that fate. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst tags: s10 spencer reid. maeve as a plot point. argument yay. spencer says some mean things (#needthat). all around unhappiness. stars and light and the sun. lack of communication. reader my avoidant attachment queen. i’m holding your hand throughout 🫂 word count: 2.7k a/n: a late happy mercury retrograde. sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth for a hot minute. here's how my brains been feeling. i don't really know what this is. it was written amidst a dissociative episode. hopefully future me figures it out.

"your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing." (fyodor dostoevsky) 

A melodic hum of air whirs in this apartment. Keeping dust particles from settling on too many surfaces, swirling around your heads. Tiny, and unseen, but there. You familiarise yourself with the thought of them being there. They tickle your skin when you sit down in the armchair nobody ever really resides in now, and you find comfort in knowing there is more that exists invisibly than just your own feelings. 

He does not say anything to you as you tuck your feet beneath yourself, and it hurts, but a large part of you doesn't want him to anyways. He will only say things that will liquidise your brain into thinking he cares more than he does, and you have had too long of a day to act like he is not using bare palms to crush your heart. Too heavy of a week to let him bypass your walls once again. 

A foreign voice tells the air you need to talk, and you distantly recognise it as your own. You had rehearsed the very sentence in your car a thousand times. Once it got past your lips, this would all become easier to discuss. 

It isn't. 

You're focussed on the steam that lifts from a cup of coffee he had probably made seconds before you knocked on his door. An impromptu visit he did not ask you for, but you hope he understands your awful guest manners once this is all over. 

"Talk about what?" he answers the question you don't even remember asking, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him tense when a shuddering breath leaves your lips. 

You wonder if he's shocked when you tell him you want to end things. 

It's storming outside. The rain pelting against the window mirrors your heavy heart, but you aren't too naive to believe it is storming in your name. Though, there are few pleasures in life you still enjoy these days, and perhaps pretending the universe is centring around you for just this one night isn't selfish. 

"You want to end things," he repeats your words back to you. They don't sound right. Like a language Earth's never discovered. Two weeks ago you wouldn't have ever dreamed uttering these words. 

Two weeks ago, you were incandescent. Light bounced off your skin, the rays of sunlight creating a halo around you that would leave anyone breathless. Spencer Reid would never be an outlier in that demographic. 

You'd sat in a very similar position to how you are now, but your head was in the space between his jawline and his shoulder, and your hands were woven within his. Thumbs stroked the skin, and he'd bitten back a comment about how soft you felt. 

Unfinished — but definitely touched — Thai food sat atop the coffee table in front of your bodies, and the tenth Doctor Who episode in a row was playing on the television. He'd discovered your weakness for his widened eyes and hands-on coercion, and used and abused the power ever since. 

He stared down at you, and you could feel him without the need to look up. You should've. Perhaps, if you'd crawled out of the comfort being physically entwined with Spencer Reid on his living room couch provided, you would've noticed that beneath his intense gaze on the sunlight encircling your body, he was thinking about the dead. 

You didn't, though. You had laughed as he quoted lines as they were said of the episode he'd no doubt seen a thousand times, shoving his shoulder and calling him a nerd with the stupidest grin on your face, and the sweetest flutter of your heart. 

He said, "Nerd is a noun to describe someone who is an expert in one particular thing. I am an expert in a lot more than one."

And you replied, "Oh, of course. My mistake. What else are you an expert in, Spencer?"

Your skin would tingle, because he'd take the invitation for what it was, and his lips would brush against your ear as he whispered, "You, for starters."

And you'd get whiplash from how easy he was to go from the biggest dork on the planet to the very reason you researched early onset heart attacks. 

One week ago, you were cracking. 

Instead of the halo glow that settled around your body, it'd fractured. Sticks of light throwing out in every direction, but still reflecting back the hope you had for this crumbling relationship. 

Knives pelted into your edges with every new piece of information you learnt. 

A book you'd never paid mind to, now opened on the front page, a dedication to his name, accompanied by another name you'd only heard in passing whispers. The written down addresses of the nearest pay phones from his apartment, a phone number circled three times in the corner of the page. Written down for no reason. You knew he didn't need it, really. The slow withdrawals of telling you about his life the further into it he gets. Not mentioning more about a past relationship than that it'd ended tragically. 

The more dots you connected, the closer your personal implosion neared. 

You'd apologised to him, saying you didn't want him to relive anything that would return his mind somewhere darker than you can ever fathom. 

"I have you, now. I can't ever get there again even if I tried to," he said. You stupidly took his words with full intent, head reeling and heart racing all over again. 

You smiled, and kissed him. He tasted of coffee and content. He kissed you back with more force than you had left in you, and you'd gone down like a sinking ship. Falling back against his couch cushions, fingers entwined in his hair. 

Each new day was another loss to cut. Four days ago, it was his hands refusing to touch you intimately. Even when you'd moved them for him, pleading him with your own body. Three days ago, it was his honesty. You'd grown desperate. 

Questioning if he was okay and receiving a wordless hum in response. If he wanted to order food, and getting a disgruntled non-answer. Sitting with a foot between your two bodies this time, albeit with your feet in his lap, so maybe you were just as close as you were last week by principle. Finally, seeing if he actually wanted you there, with him, and him taking more than one second to give you his, 

"Yes. Obviously."

You lack energy when you are trying so desperately to stay alive, so you did not question why he had to think about his answer, unsure if you needed him to tell you, regardless. His mind was increasingly becoming preoccupied with the girl behind his book dedication. Behind the payphone addresses, and the thrice times circled phone number. He was disintegrating before your eyes, and your relationship was slipping through the cracks. 

"Why?" he asks you, and you're forced to stop reliving every single moment that brought you here. You will again tomorrow, anyways. The day after that, too. You will probably live through the end of this relationship a thousand times before you begin to heal. A thousand, to mirror every single shard of your heart lain out before him. 

Your voice hurts to use when you reply. "Because you don't love me, Spencer."

You're grateful he doesn't scramble to disprove your claims. You're sure it would hurt even more to hear him force a lie. 

He does, however, look confused. By you. Not your words, though. You know they register fully because the confusion doesn't come until you meet his eyes, and he really takes you in. For the first time since you met him, you see the truth behind his gaze. A disgusting reality that he is not staring at you with love, or even a hint of recognition. 

No, to him, you are a stranger. Somebody he does not know, sitting in his unused armchair across the living room, telling him words you don't really want to be saying. You don't get that luxury of choice, though. 

"Your silence is answer enough," you murmur, and you force your limbs to react to your brain's signals, feet pressed firmly on the floor as you stand. 

"Hey, wait," he stops you from moving without even a lick of firmness. You grow sick, knowing he will always have some subconscious hold on you that you'll never not respond to. "Why do you say that? Have I done something to make you feel that way?"

Yes, you want to scream. Yes, you have, and I'm begging you to tell me I'm wrong and that you do love me. Instead, you're jumping through hoops to turn this into an unnecessary conversation. 

However, "I'm just becoming... aware. Of certain things. That would mean us ending things is the best thing to do," is what you do say. 

"Like what?" he quips.

"Things."

Air blows out his nose, frustratedly. "That's not an answer."

Light bulbs burn out when the filament — the three wires in its centre — breaks down, and ceases to produce electricity. Burning out after an average of a thousand hours per lightbulb, because nothing can live forever. Nothing can live forever, for the sun will eventually burn out. Not in this lifetime, and definitely not in the next five, or ten, or twenty. The hydrogen will eventually deplete, and it will die the way fifty-two stars die each century. Nothing can live forever, and you would be naive to believe that something as minor as this relationship will be exempt from that fate. 

"What does it matter, Spencer?" you whisper. A pathetic tone for response, but you think you'll choke on anything louder. 

"You matter," he argues. Words are bullets, and he seems to have perfect aim. 

"Not to you, I don't," you stumble over your feet as you try to head towards his door. You've said what you needed to say. You've ended things. You can go, and this can all be over. 

"Yes, you do," he's standing too. He got closer to you at some point. You don't really remember. 

"You don't even know me!"

You're crying, you think. Staring at him, and he's blurry, which must mean your eyes are full of water. Ridiculous, because he is very clearly not. Too emotional for this conversation to drag out any longer, and yet he has the power to keep you constrained to it like a prison as long as he keeps talking. 

"You're shutting me out as a form of defence for something," he says. The words are calm, but he's taken on a higher pitch in his voice, which tells you this is affecting him. Or maybe he's pretending. "I don't know what. You won't tell me. That's your prerogative, I guess."

"You don't love me," you repeat the words from earlier with less conviction. You believe them less, yes, but still trust your instincts enough for them to hurt. 

"I don't understand why you think that," he replies, a hand dragging down his face. "I don't. All the knowledge in the world, and I cannot think of any logical reason behind you believing that."

"Who's Maeve?"

The silence that follows is deafening. His head snaps up and his hands fall limp by his sides, your vision clearing in an instant. You know, deep down, who Maeve is. The tragic ending to an even more tragic relationship has her name printed all over it.

"That's why you think I don't love you." It isn't a question, and he almost sounds like he's ridiculing you for coming to such a conclusion. 

Your panic rises. "I saw the book, and the addresses, and the—"

"—Maeve is dead!" Your heart sinks, as, for the first time in your life, you see Spencer Reid exhibit anger. No, not anger. He is not angry. Not with you, at least. He's hurt. "I am never going to get over her because she is dead. I watched a bullet go into her head. I mourned her, and I told myself I would never let myself get that close to somebody again. Yet, here you stand."

You stay silent. You don't know if he's finished speaking. If he is, he doesn't let you know. He doesn't prompt you for a response. He continues before you even start to think of something to say back.

"I didn't plan on letting you into my life like this. When I met you, you were not supposed to be this important to me. Is that why you think I don't love you? Because you saw me and got attached at first sight, and had to work for me to give you attention?"  Your chest aches. "Was it because I distanced myself from you for weeks in the beginning? Every coffee date, more spread out than the last. Not letting you into my space until you were my girlfriend? No sex for months?"

"You're angry," you state the obvious, and his eyebrows shoot up. A deprecating laugh leaves his lips. Not to deprecate himself, though. No, you. 

"You somehow played a role in getting me out of the self-loathing pit I fell into after Maeve died, and now you're telling me I don't love you—Yes, I'm angry! We were fine two weeks ago. I loved you the same way I did two weeks ago as I do right now. I'm frustrated, because I don't understand how you can possibly believe my feelings for you have changed so drastically!"

"The books are new. And the addresses. And the phone number," you say, almost desperately.  

"No. They're not. I have had that copy of that book for two years. Those addresses have been printed in there for longer. Everything you are finding are results of you noticing more about my apartment, which happens when you are in a space often enough. You will pick up on things you didn't notice the first time you were here. Or the second. Or maybe even the tenth. I have not hidden the fact that I had a girlfriend two years ago from you. Just how it ended." You don't have any energy to fight back, despite how badly you want to. You suppose, deep down, you know you deserve this. His bulleted words and cold voice. Even his sarcasm, as he drawls, "I hope you can forgive me for not making you privy to my ex-girlfriend's death."

"Spencer," you take a step forward, and he stiffens, so you halt. 

Now, you feel stupid. Scrutinised under his gaze, knowing how ridiculous he probably now views you as. Starting an argument over something you should've just asked him about. Driving yourself crazy, letting every single element still fuelling your mind run dry, when you could've just said something. 

"Is this going to be a one time thing?" he asks you, carefully levelling his voice. To hide how he really feels, or to make you feel worse, you don't know. "Or should I live in fear of you jumping to conclusions every time something from my past gets brought up?" 

It isn't a nice assumption to make, but it's fair. You give him that. Still, your gut twists uncomfortably, each organ stuttering in their role of keeping you alive for only a second. Just enough for you to feel sick, and stumble backwards. 

"I... I don't know," you provide him with honesty. "I'm sorry," you add, quietly. A poor attempt at making this situation any better. A bandaid over a bullet hole. 

"I know," and you're sure he does. There's bound to be regret painted on your face, mixing wonderfully with fear of where this relationship is going to go now. 

You don't even want to ask him, but you're sure if he doesn't force you to, you'll start throwing up at his feet. "Do you want me to go?" 

A shuddering breath is his response. You take it for what it is, and nod your head with the most sincere smile you can conjure up. You barely have anything to collect before you leave. Just your ruined mind, and new astronomical statistics.

Fifty-two star deaths this century just became fifty-three.

your reblogs and replies are always welcome ♡

[cvntroach5000]

LaDS men - "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

dialogue only, slight crack, 1 gendered term used ("ma'am" by Sylus)

content warning: swearing, implied vore (Rafayel), suggestive themes (Sylus)

Xavier ✨

"Xavier, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"..."

"...Why are you hesitating"

"Oh, sorry, I'm not. I was just thinking what kind of worm you'd be and what you'd need to be kept happy and safe. I'd need to build you some kind of enclosure... But if you were a worm, how would I know which things you like and which you don't? Worms can't talk. I guess I'd have to learn how to speak worm and watch you really closely."

"I'm sure if anyone could make me a happy worm, it'd be you."

"I'm glad you think so. Still, worms are so small and fragile... Please, don't turn into a worm. I don't think my heart could take worrying so much about you."

"Don't worry, I won't! It's just an internet meme."

"Good. Then it's settled. Neither of us will ever turn into worms. If we have to become animals, let's be cats or birds. Together. So we can talk and be equals."

Zayne ❄️

"Zayne, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"...Sigh."

"Well? Would you, would youuu?"

"Yes. I would become a worm doctor and make sure you are the happiest, healthiest worm. Is that a satisfying answer?"

"Very!"

"Good. Any other hypothetical questions you'd like to ask?"

"Hmm... What kind of worm do you think I'd be?"

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar enough with different worm species to answer that question in a scientifically accurate way. However, I can guarantee you, you would be a worm that is beloved by Zayne."

Rafayel 🪸

"Rafayel, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Uhm, duh?? You'd be the cutest little worm, I'd eat you and keep you safe in my stomach."

"...What"

"What"

"You could've stopped at 'yes' and calling me cute."

"Yeah? Well, what about you? What would you do if I turned into a handsome, talented worm?"

"I wouldn't eat you, that's for sure."

"I guess it'd be a shame to waste such a special worm for a meal. You could make me a little worm art studio and then sell my artworks. That way, I could take care of you, even if I was a worm."

"Do you think worms look tasty, Rafayel"

"Of course I don't! But I think you'd be a delicious-looking, tasty little worm."

"...I'm starting to regret asking."

"I literally did nothing wrong."

"You brought vore into this house!"

"Jesus spoke the truth and they hated him for it, too"

"Who the fuck is Jesus"

Sylus 🥀

"Sylus, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Heh. What a strange question. Where did that come from?"

"It's an internet meme."

"Well, of course, I would, sweetie. After all, who could resist an adorable worm like you? I'd find an architect and a gardener to design you the largest, most luxurious enclosure, so that you could have the most opportunity to thrive out of any worm in the universe. Every day, I'd tell you how much I love you. And I'd subdue the world, so they'd worship the ground you burrow in."

"...Sylus, I think we gotta have sex now."

"Oh? I didn't know a bit of worm talk could get you so riled up, sweetie."

"You know this isn't about the worm."

"Haha."

"Take off your clothes"

"Yes, ma'am~"

Caleb 🍎

"Caleb, would you—"

"Yes."

"You don't even know what I was gonna—"

"You were going to ask me if I would still love if you were a worm, right?"

"..."

"The answer is yes. Hundred times yes."

"...It'd be nice if you let me finish my question."

"Oh. Okay! Ask me again, I'll wait this time."

"Caleb, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Yes!"

"How did you know what I was going to ask anyway?"

"I heard you the other day discussing the meme with your friends. I figured you'd ask sooner or later."

"Hmph."

"Soooo... Would you love me if I was a worm?"

"You're already a worm and I love you just fine, don't I?"

[steor-ra]

Yandere Superfam x Reader

The pregnancy was quite unexpected. Clark was so busy saving the galaxy this past month that he didn't have much time for Lois.

So when Clark discovers that Lois is pregnant after attempting to tell him several times and being ditched before she really had a chance, he feels terrible. How could he not have known his gorgeous wife was pregnant all along? Clark should have known, given his superhearing abilities.

He is also disappointed with Jon for not telling him sooner.

It's a given that as soon as he discovers of the pregnancy, he will pamper Lois to make up for every time she tried to tell him and to support her throughout her pregnancy.

Jon is thrilled to be a big brother; he has always wanted a younger sibling. It gets lonely when Damian isn't there to spend out with him, so the idea of having someone to hang out with every day is exciting. Jon has so much to teach his younger sibling.

When you are born, they're immediately in love. You look so cute and little in their arms, and they never want to let go. You've got them wrapped around your chubby little fingers.

Your nursery room is abandoned as soon as they take you home; you don't need it anyway, you could just sleep in your parents room, just cuddle in their arms safe. You would sometimes sleep in Jon's room if they'd let him

Their hearts fall into pieces everytime you cry especially if you get hurt by something or someone. It barely improved Superman's morale in the world and ensured that the planet would be the safest place for his baby to walk, if yk what I mean.

And don't get me started on the day you received your first shot as a baby. Jon was crying harder than you ever have, and Clark, who is holding you, is glaring so intensely at the doctor that if it's not the laser burning holes at the doctor, I don't know what it is, Lois is there to make sure that Clark doesn't actually burn holes at the doctor.

Jon is the best brother you'll ever have, and he will make sure of it. He dislikes sharing your attention with folks his age, save for his friend Damian, who may also be your friend! Just don't go too far and treat his friend as a brother figure, otherwise Jon will go insane. As I previously stated, Jon dislikes sharing his baby sibling; he is the only one you may refer to as brother; no one else.

Your father, Clark, will do everything in the world to make sure that his baby is happy at all times; if not, at least more frequently. He can't stay strict on your adorable face, especially when you make grabby hands to get what you want. It takes all to resist cooing and kissing your chubby cheeks, which he eventually can't take it anymore and just ends up doing anyhow.

Meanwhile, Lois is a little strict with you; she doesn't want you to grow up bratty, although she believes you will never be since her little cute baby is too gentle and nice to be that kind of child, so her strictness is not as frequent. She will also spoil her baby in the same way as the boys do; her baby deserves the best. Period.

They love you so much that they're willing to give up on everything if it means saving you from any danger

They also have all of the documentaries of your first time events, from the day you were held by your mother to the first day of school.

As you grew older, they became more paranoid

There are moments when you are put in a life-or-death situation, but luckily for you, there are many superheroes who are willing to save you because they are terrified of Superman, the man of steel, turning into bunkers.

The heroes connected to the league already know a lot about you, most likely because Superman can't stop talking about his baby whenever he's with someone or in a meeting. It's terrible, especially since the league is discussing some serious dangers, and then Superman comes in and says, "This is bad for my baby; I wonder what they're doing right now."

The joker kidnaps you one day, frightening your family to the core. Clark and Jon are both unable to hear or see you. They have no idea where you are. Lois was already crying when she couldn't find you in the house; she cried till her throat hurt, and that's when you understand something is serious when Superman calls Batman for help, dilated eyes, disheveled hair, and hyperventilating. Which Batman tried to calm him down and called for the league help him find you before Superman goes insane and starts flipping the world upside down. And when they finally found you, your family locked you up in the house forever.

Lois hugged her babbling baby who is unaware that you're never ever going to have a glimpse of the world ever again. It's the only way to make you safe, if you don't want them to lock you up in a bubble.

(A/n: send requests!)