#i'm not wrong about this and you can't make me take it back

[lymtw]

hi!! i love your fics theyre highkey my fav rereads🤭idk if youre taking requests but if you were, could you possibly do a hurt/comfort fic with toji and shy reader where shes mad/upset with him? hope youre having a great day btw!

A/N: Five years later... 🫩👍 I'm sorry this took so long. I really, really appreciate your support 🫶 I hope this turned out at least okay, it's been a minute since i've finished any writing 🥲 Anyway, I hope you're having an amazing day :))

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

It's been a week since you and Toji have spoken, not for lack of effort or opportunities, but because the one sided attempts are not corresponded. It's hard to think about him, it's hard to read his words through your screen and see his name flash briefly, before your phone does its job of sending him to voicemail.

'Maybe we shouldn't be together, Toji. If me simply trying to talk to you is such a burden... I don't know if I should keep trying.'

You said this to him a week ago. You clicked the door shut and he sped off in his car, bleary-eyed, brimming with rage and regret the whole way home. He couldn't get the sound of your voice out of his head—the cracks, the occasional sharp inhales that came with your suppressed emotions. Even in the moment, he knew it was so, so wrong for you to be looking the way you did.

The instant he got home, all hell broke loose. His fists were clenched as he treaded towards his bedroom, and as if possessed by the force of a natural disaster, he tore apart his room—demolished it—throwing things blindly, uncaring if they broke beyond repair. The picture he keeps on his nightstand of the two of you was not safe. The encased memory was thrown with all the strength he has, at the wall, the frame instantly falling apart and the glass shattering to pieces.

He couldn't stop, it all hurt so much. His chest burned, his head was pounding, he felt like he couldn't breathe, and once there was nothing left to throw, nothing left to break, he finally broke down—wholly. Harsh, uncontrollable sobs racked his entire body as he sat there in the debris—the aftermath of losing his mind over you. Barely any sound came of it, his voice was shot, courtesy of the tormented screams that accompanied his meltdown.

This all happened a week ago. You won't talk to him and these days have been hell without your company. You won't respond to his good morning messages, and if he asks to meet up, you always have something to do. He calls you whenever he can, but you don't pick up. You're avoiding him like it's your job.

Everything feels pointless without you around, his little sunshine, the reason he wakes up motivated every morning, the light of his life. His routine has been altered in the worst way. It's work, home, work, home, and he absolutely detests it because if it weren't for that damned day, he would be with you, smothering you with the borderline overwhelming love he holds for you, making you laugh and watching you get flustered over the words he whispers in your ear. He wants it back—all of it. He can't let you go, it would break him entirely.

You don't want to let go of this love you have for Toji, either. You miss being in the warmth of his embrace, and you miss the sound of his voice, and the way he calls you 'sweetheart' when you're not focusing on him. You see every single one of the messages he sends you and the phone calls.

Good morning, baby.

Morning, sweetheart. Make sure to eat breakfast and lunch. One meal isn't enough.

Saw those fields of flowers you point at all the time on my way home. I miss you.

Baby, will you talk to me, please?

[Missed Call]

And you cry, because all you want to do is respond to every one of those messages and hear his voice again, but something always stops you. The memory of when he snapped at you. The sound of his voice—cutting and utterly spirit crushing. The furrow of his eyebrows that made you feel like everything you did was wrong. It hurts to think about the whole situation, and all these notifications only serve as reminders. Reminders of the way you immediately wilted when the door shut, chest heaving as you cried your way to bed and then to sleep, wondering what you did to deserve being lashed out at.

You're lying in bed, scrolling through your phone when he calls again. The instant you see his contact picture, your heart plummets to your stomach, but an irrepressible giggle escapes you. The picture on your screen... it's kind of blurry because he was chasing you and you were laughing so hard that you couldn't hold the phone steady, but you love it. You love the man in the picture, you love that he can make you smile through memories, even during tough times.

"Baby?" You hear through the speakers of your phone. A lump immediately forms in your throat and you painfully swallow. "Baby, can you hear me?" He tries again.

"Yeah, I'm here," you respond, quietly.

"Holy fuck, doll. Can I... Are you busy? Are you doing anything right now?"

"No, i'm home," you mumble.

"Can I come see you?"

"Toji..." you start, your tone conveying what you haven't even said yet. Your uncertainty.

"Baby, we have to talk. It's been a week and-- This can't be it. Please, just... just five minutes. Five minutes and i'll go."

You know it won't be five minutes. You can't force a solution out in five minutes—not a sincere one at least. Some part of you is soothed by the sound of his voice, regardless of how frantic and desperate he sounds. That's your love right there, and no matter how much hurt lingers from this whole dilemma, there's nothing you can do about your heart's response to him. So you open a door for him.

"Okay, Toji. I'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, pretty girl. I'll be there in a few. Love you."

There's a heavy, tense pause. Neither of you has hung up the phone, because something hasn't been done yet and he knows you know what he wants to hear. It would be enough for him to believe that you haven't forfeited. It would make him feel even the slightest bit of relief if you said those words he's been aching for.

"I love you, too, Toji," you utter, hanging up a couple seconds after.

Toji would be bouncing off the walls if he wasn't in such a hurry to get to you. He's been deprived of any form of love from you for a week and he was starting to go crazy, but hearing you say those words was all he needed for now.

Twenty something minutes later, you get a text from him, letting you know that he's outside. Your heart is in your throat, your stomach keeps flipping, and yet you use all the strength you have to get out of bed to meet him. Though you decide to take your time to get to your front door, you find that you're still there too soon, no time left to mentally prepare yourself for what is about to happen. With a final deep breath, you turn the lock, twist the doorknob, and open the door.

There Toji stands, hand suspended in the air with your spare key pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He steps back instinctively when you step aside from behind the door.

"I uh... I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with me using it, but you were taking a bit, so I thought maybe you'd want me to come in and we can talk inside or... I don't know."

He's rambling, there's a light stubble on his face, he's smiling at you like he always does—like you're his everything. Him being there doesn't actually process in your mind until he speaks up again.

"Hi, baby," he says, softly, observing you like you're some majestic painting hung up in a museum. Your eyes well up and it feels like there's a red-hot metal sphere lodged in your throat. "You're a saint for letting me come here and see you, you know that?"

Out of habit, you nod and mumble out a small, "yeah."

"I'm sorry, doll," he says, reaching for your hands to hold them. He barely manages to grab them, get a feel for your soft skin after so long, before you're pulling them away from him. "No, come on," he pleads, grasping your hands again. "Please? Please, look at me."

"You can't talk to me like that, Toji," you utter, voice unsteady because you're not used to having to stand up for yourself against the one who loves you like it's his life source.

"I know. I know that, baby, and I'm so fucking sorry," he says, nearly tripping over his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of the shit I said. I was having a bad day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't know what the hell got into me, but please..." he mumbles, bringing your hands up to his lips, pressing weightless kisses on your fingers and knuckles. "Please, I love you, you have to believe me."

"You said..." you inhale sharply, doing all you can to get through this without choking on your emotions. "...you said you didn't have time to listen to me talk about nonsense, and that you wanted peace and quiet for once. Isn't... Isn't that all you get from me?"

"No tears," he says, warm palms moving up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the crystals that glide down them. "No tears," he repeats, softer this time. "This is gonna get worked out, my sweet girl. I swear."

"I don't know how you want me to be," you admit, your voice wavering. "And I don't have the ability to read minds. You acted like everything was fine when you texted me, and then when you got here..." You let out a shaky breath, your hold on your emotions slipping. "I don't want to be upset with you, anymore, but i-i'm trying... It's not right."

It's as if someone is jabbing at his chest over and over again, relentlessly, even when his skin starts to bruise and little pinpricks of blood begin to appear. He hates seeing you this way, especially when he knows he's the reason for why you're hurt this bad. He wants it to stop and for this enormous raincloud above both of you to just dissipate.

"Come here," he says, low, almost inaudible. His hands lower, arms making contact with your sides. It's been too long since he's held you, yet, pulling you in feels as natural as breathing.

Your hands come up to rest on his abdomen, keeping him at a distance. It feels unnatural, because you're so used to letting him handle you like you're a stuffed animal, pulling you around when you're adventuring together and picking you up just because he feels like it. Your mind immediately clouds with guilt at your denial of his embrace, you can't even meet his eyes, opting to look down at where your hands are.

"Please don't," he says, his voice so soft that it makes your chest feel tight again. He grabs ahold of your wrists, just to have some sort of contact with you. His grip is almost entirely loose and you're in control, he won't move until you pull your hands away. "I'm not gonna hurt you like that again."

You love him and you know he needs this—holding you in his arms, your confirmation that it's all going to be okay. You've said it before and the words have become one of his greatest comforts. What could be so bad when you tell him that it'll all turn out just fine?

"We've been apart for too long. A week shouldn't have gone by like this... and, fuck, I know it's my fault. I don't blame you for not wanting to see me, but... please, baby." His thumbs brush the insides of your wrists, eyes never leaving the sadness of your face, regardless of whether you look at him or not. He'll take this over not getting to see you at all, any day.

"Sweetheart."

You sniff, unmoving for a few more seconds. Your heartbeat is thrumming wildly in your ears, almost suffocating you with its relentlessness. It's all you hear, words lost in a spiral of ongoing silence. You still don't look at him when you finally pull your hands away, but you can feel his heavy, unwavering attention on you.

You're glad he doesn't wait for you to give him the green light to pull you in, because you have nothing to say at the moment, and it would be another test of patience. Instead, the second your hands are balled up at your sides, he moves at the speed of a lightning strike, your body colliding with his in an almost aggressive manner—there's an audible thump. His body heat mingles with the cologne on his shirt, the smell coiling around you and rushing through your nose with every breath you take. The feeling is familiar—love, safety, comfort—a second home, all wrapped up in your favorite person.

His hands scrunch up the back of your shirt like he's afraid you'll push him away again. "Baby," he mumbles, his voice almost inaudible. "Don't disappear like that again." A soft breath is expelled from his chest, riddled with the genuine fear he felt that he would never get to see you again.

"I know it's unfair of me to say this. I was an asshole and you were hurt, but, doll... I thought you were leaving me." There's a pause. Toji stares at the ground behind you, his hands deepening the creases he made on your shirt due to his unfaltering grip. "I don't want that."

"I'm not," you respond, heart shaking. "That day... it felt like you didn't even want to see me and you only came over because I asked not because you wanted to." The familiar ache in your chest stirs slightly, but you give it your all to get everything out in a steady and clear manner. "You can tell me you're tired, Toji. That you want to rest in the comfort of your own home, and I'll understand. I don't want to be another cause of stress for you."

It pains him to hear that because you're the one who keeps him sane, the one he thinks about when he settles into bed but can't get to sleep, the first person to know that he's still alive in morning, the one who has made him feel so safe, that he feels no shame when he occasionally calls to confirm that he's still loved by you.

"You're not," he simply murmurs. "It's not true."

"You don't have to worry about protecting my feelings."

His arms loosen around you, the back of your shirt wrinkled but freed from his clutches. Your heart is beating too fast, attempting to leave your chest. Now you're standing up straight, doing your best to not avert your gaze from the man before you.

"You're not a burden to me. Okay?" He says, and you want to believe him because of the way he's looking at you, like he's searching your eyes for even the smallest bit of confidence from you about the fact. "Say it."

The words are stuck, it's visible. Your lips twitch, but your voice doesn't progress. You just look at him, feeling the sadness seep into every part of you.

"You're not a burden to me. I need you to get that through your pretty head, right now," he says, only to feel his own heart skip a beat at your reaction.

"Sorry," you mumble, unable to instantly straighten out the curl of your lips.

In this moment, Toji knows that everything is going to be okay. He hasn't heard you laugh in a week, and though it was only a small, congested giggle, he savors it along with your inability to regain your bearing, like it's his last sip of water while he's stranded in the desert.

"Gets you every time, huh?" He says, his own faint smile emerging.

'Right now', a habitual phrase of his that is meant to comfort you. You've told him before that not everything can be fixed or healed in an instant—things don't work that way—but he never backs down. You've translated it into something akin to a bandage—the words are meant to cover you while you take the time to fully and properly heal. The joy you find in hearing them is a small beginning.

"It's funny," you respond, taking in his amused little grin. God, you missed his handsome face and the way he looks at you like everything about you makes perfect sense to him.

"My impatience is funny to you?" He teases, loving the way you press your lips together before proceeding to nod. He can't even be playfully offended, too entranced by the way you're actually smiling at him. He sighs through his nose and just watches you—admires you for a couple seconds, and when you start nervously shifting on your feet, he pulls you closer to him, his hands on your lower back as your body presses against his once more.

"Can you just say it, please? For me?" He murmurs, recognizing every one of the stars in your eyes. Though he thinks it's a tragedy to have gone a week without this view, he'll make up for lost time by creating new constellations.

"I don't know," you say, softly—filler words, your brain short circuits whenever he looks at you like that.

"For me, baby," he pleads once more. "Just wanna hear you say it."

You hum, unsure of whether you can say something you don't entirely believe. You want to make him happy, you want things to be better, you want to believe what he said—what he wants you to repeat to him, but it's hard. Damage is easy to inflict and hard to heal. It won't go away immediately, no matter how much you love the person who is trying to fix their mistake.

"I don't know-"

"Please?" he blurts.

"Toji, I don't-"

"Pretty please?" he cuts again, seeing the way your seriousness falters like before. Your laugh finds his ears once more, a sound he just wants to keep hearing. The sound embraces him. "With a cherry on top?" he adds, a sly little grin on his lips.

It's getting harder and harder to turn him down. He's precious, he's trying, and you cherish his effort. It's not going to kill you to just say it.

You sigh, "I'm not a burden."

"To who?" He questions, seeking elaboration from you.

"To you."

"Damn right," he says, proud. "We'll get you there. I'm not gonna leave you like this, alright?"

"Okay," you confirm, nodding slightly.

"Can I get a kiss?"

Again, you nod, expecting a quick peck—maybe a few quick pecks, but no, he goes on to kiss you like its been months since he last saw you, not a week. He's desperately chasing after your lips, seeking more and more of what he's been deprived of for too long. In his mind, he says 'never again, never again, never again', because he can't imagine going so long without your sweetness again. Without the softness of your lips against his, without those pretty smiles and laughs being thrown at him. It sounds like hell 2.0. when he thinks about losing it all over again.

"Fuck, I missed this," he murmurs, still just a breath away from your lips.

"Yeah," you respond, eyeing the short little pins of hair that sprinkle over his jaw and upper lip area. It makes you smile, you don't always get to see his face when it's not clean shaven.

"I was in a rush," he explains, unnecessarily, following the way your eyes trace his face.

"Mm," you hum, smiling. "Can I shave your face?"

"You wanna clean me up?" he asks, almost as if he's surprised.

"Only if you want me to. It was just an idea," you say, smiling sheepishly.

To that, he chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach flip and your cheeks feel warmer.

"Oh, I want you to," he says, leaning forward to peck your lips, luring quiet giggles from you when he doesn't want to pull away.

-

Now, you sit on the counter of your bathroom sink, with Toji standing between your legs. There's a slight tremble in your hand, spurred on by his hands resting on your hips and the way he watches you with so much focus, trusting you enough to let you do this without a word from him. You drag the razor carefully along his cheek, making sure not to move too fast or use too much pressure.

Toji waits until you're cleaning off the blade to make his move of leaning in to press kisses to your face. Small peaks of foam are left behind on your skin, wiped away by gentle strokes of his thumb.

"I'm about to start again," you say through a laugh, leaning away to avoid ridding his face of all the protective spume on it. The razor remains beside you until he finally behaves himself. He huffs like you've been rejecting his affection the whole time, but nonetheless stands up straight and as still as a statue.

After some time, longer than it would have taken him alone—longer than it would have taken you if he didn't smother you every time you paused to clean the razor—you got it done. You brought back the smoothness of his skin.

"Am I pretty again?" he jests, drying his face with one of your towels.

"Stunning," you quip in response, shifting on the counter to signal that you're going to hop off.

"You're stunning," he says, low, unmoving from where he stands between your legs. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he adds, seeking more of that feeling the flustered smile on your face gives him. "Missed you lots, you know that?" You just laugh and shake your head, like you're silently calling him crazy. "What? I'm serious," he says in response, a soft grin on his face. "Did you miss me? Even a little bit?"

A single second passes by. You can't lie to him and say you didn't. You missed him every single day, through the hurt. Your chest ached and your heart dropped every time you remembered the incident, but your love for him never wavered. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and with how often he tried to reach you, it was nearly impossible not to have him on your mind.

"Of course I did. I took the time I needed, but that doesn't mean I wanted it."

"I know, baby. And I would never hold it against you. I'm just... glad I can see you again, is all."

You smile. The gleam and sincerity in his eyes is a wonder to witness and well worth the butterflies that overly crowd your stomach.

"I really did miss you," you mumble.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "'Lots.'"

A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, then he leans in close for nth time, peppering kisses across your cheek until he reaches your lips. He can feel you smiling into the kisses, a sensation he yearned for with every fiber of his being for the past week. One of his hands rests on your thigh, caressing the inner part of it, while the other slides up your shirt and settles on your waist. The lip-lock steals your breath away, but even then, you challenge your lungs for your lover's sake, only pulling away when you're a panting mess and Toji's breathing is more audible.

The tension is palpable, the silence loud as you look at one another like you're still taking in the fact that you can be loving towards each other again, in a manner that doesn't derive from guilt for the time that you didn't get to demonstrate how much you truly love each other. Enough to not be able to leave a fresh wound alone, enough to forgive while outwardly expressing that you have not healed but are patient enough to work towards regaining that strength.

"I don't wanna go home," he murmurs, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips before focusing on solely your eyes.

"You don't have to," you respond. "Stay as long as you'd like."

"And if I said I wanted to spend a week here with you? Would you hate it?"

You shake your head. "No, but I think you'd get tired of seeing me all the time."

"You're wrong, pretty girl. Is this your subtle way of saying you're tired of looking at my mug, already?" He asks, lips curling with amusement at your giggle.

"No, I want you to stay," you say, honest.

"Promise?"

You nod, followed by an affirmative hum.

"Say it again," he requests, heart thudding just a little faster when you smile.

"I want you to stay, Toji," you repeat, his name on your tongue causing your cheeks to warm up.

"Again." His hands mold around your hips—squeezing, loving.

"Stay," you say, softer.

He sighs, heavy, an enamored look in his eyes that you have never been able to comprehend. Those dark, viridescent eyes, have a brilliance to them as he looks at you like you're the last good thing he'll ever be able to call his. You're good for him, you're good to him, and there is nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you because you gave him your heart.

"Yeah... you're stuck with me here for a week and you're come with me to pick some stuff up from my place, tomorrow. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, with a laugh.

"Now, we get you off this counter," he says, lifting you like you're a teddy bear that he carries around for protection. He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the suddenness. "Hold me tight, baby," he says, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist before moving anywhere. A kiss is planted on your shoulder as he turns around to exit the bathroom.

"And now you let me show you some love," he says, low, carrying you to your bedroom.

[echosbento]

You want thin people to reblog instead of like? Fine. But you won't like what I have to say.

I weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, gaining weight has always been my main goal and I'll never get to know if it's something I really truly wanted because I've spent my entire life being told I need to gain weight, build muscle, look more like a human and less like a skeleton. I was born with such low muscle tone I couldn't move, and have had severe joint pain my entire life, but outside of my pediatrician and a doctor I was only able to see twice before he moved across the state, I've gotten the same response from every single doctor I've spoken to. I'm too thin to have something wrong, I must be making it up. Exaggerating. Lying to get drugs. Hysterical. Almost every cis person I know feels the need to remind me, because they know I'm trans, that I'll never really look like a man, I'm too small and cute for that, I'll always be a boy at best and a girl in pants at worst. I'll never be handsome, I'm cute, pretty, I should stop being so ungrateful about it. I can't fit mens clothes without looking like a kid wearing their dads things. I'm too big to fit into kids clothes. I don't get to exist as myself, not unless I make or alter the clothes myself. And then I'm back to being called a girl because men don't sew, according to them. I look too much like a 'girl playing pretend' to get prescribed testosterone, even before Trump took office, handed that election by the very same people telling me I was too small and thin to ever be a real man. I'll probably never be able to get top surgery, because doctors want you to have been on T for years first, and I can't even get prescribed because doctors take one look at me and decide I'm lying, that a real trans guy would at least be bigger than this.

The difference between me and you has a hell of a lot less to do with weight, and a hell of a lot more with who we target our valid anger at. I don't hate fat people, I hate fatphobia and the system it's created. I hate the world we live in where everyone is expected to be one specific 'correct' 'average' shape and size that no one will ever perfectly fall into because we're human and everyone's different.

But you hate thin people, people like me, because of something we have just as little control over as you. You don't hate the system, you hate it's other victims.

I will continue being mean to thin people because the entire world is made for you but people like me can't get a diagnosis without threatening to sue the doctor <3

[neilsbeloved]

company of four

summary: your world stops the moment clark tells you he’s finally introducing you to his friends, not because you want to stay hidden as his mysterious girlfriend, but because of your distasteful past encounters with his friends. (based on this request!)

pairing: clark kent x fem!popular!reader!

tags: fluff / mentions of past bullying / clark being whipped / hidden relationships / first meetings / uses y/n (like twice)

Clark, who was lying down on his bed with arm stretched behind his head, has been watching you try on a gazillion combinations of tops, pants, and earrings for the past hour.

When he had told you that his friends had been wanting to see this mysterious girlfriend he's been hinting on for weeks, you were quite hesitant to say the least.

Actually—you were very hesitant.

Not only were you one of the most popular students in Smallville High, but you didn't exactly have the cleanest track record when it comes to your relationship with people. Clark and his friends—Chloe and Pete—included.

Now, you're still on your fifth pair of earrings. Your ears all red and itchy already.

"You're meeting my friends, not some editor at a fashion magazine." Clark throws a football up in the air, catching it just in time with you turning around.

"Clark," you say sternly, shooting him a look. "Circle one or triangle?"

He straightens up, muttering a quiet apology before answering: "Circle. Chloe likes circles."

You nod, removing the dangling triangle earring on your left ear before replacing it with the circle one. You grab your hair brush from Clark's cabinet, running it through your hair as you walked to the other side of the room in a rush.

"For the bag—which one do you think Pete'd dig?"

"Are you their girlfriend or mine?" Clark jokes, hoping to see even a small smile on your face. He quiets down when you glare at him once more. "Sorry, the brown one."

You throw Clark the burgundy one, moving your regular items from your everyday bag to the brown one he chose.

Clark stands up from the bed, groaning softly as he stretches his back.

"Look, babe, they've been waiting to meet you for over a month now. I'm more than sure they'll be happy to meet you whether or not you're wearing Chloe's favorite color or you know Pete's favorite comic book." He rests his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the back as he rocks you side to side.

You sigh, glancing at him over your shoulder. His nose bumping with yours. "Clark, that's before they find out that your girlfriend's one of the people that were bullying them for years."

"Oh please, you never really wanted to be involved with those people. You were just…" Clark purses his lips, trying to think of the best word. "…misguided, okay? You're not anymore, so you could stop worrying about that and just relax, y'know?"

"I had Chloe be removed as the Torch editor for a whole school year," you start, "Pete got injured in his shin because my friends found it funny to trip him while playing basketball," you add again, Clark cringing at the memory.

You exhale defeatedly, pulling away from Clark to sit on the edge of the bed. Massaging your own temples to try and relieve some of the stress.

Clark keeps a determined look. Taking a seat beside you before he places an arm around your shoulder. The warmth of his body immediately making you melt into him.

"I know you've done things you aren't proud of, things you don't even want to remember… but you can't just avoid those you've wronged forever," Clark pulls you close, nuzzling his face in your hair. "Sooner or later you're gonna have to actually speak to those people and say sorry."

"And if they don't accept my apology, what then? Clark, I'm not gonna let you choose between me and your friends." You snap at him.

Clark looks at you with a surprised look, not expecting you to lose your temper. When you notice what just happened, your features soften, mumbling a continuous apology as you looked at your hands on your lap.

He shushes you, taking your hands in his as he intertwines both of your fingers together. "Who said I had to?"

"If there's one thing I know about my friends, it's that they're not the kind of people you think they are." Clark looks into your eyes with a tenderness you've grown to love about him. "They know how to forgive, and they know how to understand people."

A small smile comes onto your lips as he kisses your forehead, tightening his hold on your hands. "Now stop worrying about my friends and focus on getting ready. I don't think I can last thirty more minutes helping you choose the color lipstick you should wear."

His face shines when he hears a laugh come out of you, willingly letting you go as you stand up to resume getting ready in the corner—close by the window, so you had some natural light whenever you put on make-up—Clark had cleared out just for you.

You smirk at him, teasing and lighthearted, holding out the bullet lipstick you keep in your bag. "Don't worry, Clark, I don't have blue lipstick for you to choose anyway."

The jitters gnaw at you the faster you and Clark arrive at the Talon.

Clark kept his hand in yours, squeezing it every now and then as a sort of comfort. When you see the Talon's signage appear into view, you tense up indefinitely.

"We're here," he announces, parking on the curb faster than you expected. "Ready to meet them?"

You shake your head as an answer but Clark only laughs at you. He exits the car, running over to your side to help you get down from the truck. One of the chivalrous things Clark does that you've gotten used to.

The two of you stand outside the Talon's doors, a considerable amount of distance between the two of you.

Clark calls your name, stopping you right before you can come inside the cafe. "Are we coming in as a couple or as chemistry partners—babe, come closer," Clark pulls you to his side with a scoff.

"Clark." You glare at him, biting back the complaint that tries to surface. "Don't get pushy."

He ignores your warning, shamelessly slipping his hand into yours as he pushes open the doors, immediately getting overwhelmed by the dozens of people inside of the Talon.

Your eyes quickly latch onto two of Clark's friends sitting around a circle table, Chloe and Pete having their own respective beverage as they conversed—or argued—with each other comfortably.

Each step you took felt like a step towards suffocating yourself. Feeling the air inside the Talon barely enough for everyone inside of it.

You clench your jaw, trying your best to keep calm despite the percussions pounding inside of you. Clark kept a smile on his face, unaware of the internal dilemma you're having.

When you finally reach their table, Clark yells out their name. Both Chloe and Pete turning to your direction with a smile, only for it to drop the moment their eyes drop to your interlaced hands.

You gulp. Unable to speak.

Clark opens up with a normal hey, giving them both a side hug before gesturing towards you. The way your name slips off of his mouth making you cringe.

"This is…" Your name rolls off of his tongue in a way that makes you cringe uncharacteristically. "And she's my girlfriend."  Clark turns to you with a smile, wide enough to show everyone his sharp canines.

An uneasy silence settles over the four of you—this time, even Clark isn't safe from it.

This is the worst experience ever you think to yourself as you start brainstorming the quickest way to just fall on the floor unconscious.

By the time you've thought about five ways, you hear someone speak.

"Is this some silly prank? I'm sure I vividly remember you and your group of highschool hotshots doing everything you can to make all of our lives a living hell?" Chloe, being the ever-so upfront member of the trio, says in one breath.

Your jaw drops. Out of all of the things his friends can bring up to you, that one was something you didn't expect.

You try your best to speak up—to apologize for it, but Chloe beats you to it. Again.

"I'm just kidding," she laughs loudly, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons as all of you let out the breath you were all unknowingly holding. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N."

You quickly take her hand and shake it, a surprised huff leaving your lips as Pete shakes your hand as well.

Clark looks at the three of you with a proud smile, pulling out a chair for the both of you once the introductions ended.

Before the conversation between the four of you even started, you apologized first. Showing them the raw and genuine side that you had to yourself; apologizing for everything that you and your friends had done to them since grade school.

Clark squeezed your hand from underneath the table, gazing at you affectionately as you began engaging his friends in an all out conversation about something niche.

The moment a Talon staff placed two extra glasses of mocha cappuccinos, another member of Clark’s circle is introduced. This time, someone you’re partially close with already.

“You’re with Clark?” Lana’s voice raises, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Clark cuts in, “Lana, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

The brunette looks to Chloe and Pete, both of them looking at you consolingly. You didn’t expect another round of awkward silence to happen but it does, and maybe you should’ve expected this one the moment Clark told you he’s taking you to the Talon.

After some time of you waiting for Lana to speak, she finally does. “It’s good to see Clark finally happy.”

“Oh,” you turn to Clark, slightly growing confused at the entire situation. “I, uhm—“

“She makes me very happy, Lana,” Clark says with a tone of finality, placing an arm on your shoulder. “Hopefully, I make her happy too.”

Lana smiles, nodding as she excuses herself. A loud huff coming from Chloe when she finally notices your earrings—though you know it was only to get rid of the thorny situation.

A compliment left her lips as she stared at it with fascination, the genuineness in her voice making you smile. Pete follows up with a compliment too, this time about your bag—you're practically glowing with happiness.

Clark throws you a look, catching your eye as that smug little smile on his face tells you that he's soaking up every compliment you got thanks to his brilliant choices.

As it turns out, meeting his friends wasn't as scary as you thought it'd be. Or maybe that's only because they aren't what you're used to.

Nevertheless, it made you feel very much at home; sipping coffee at the Talon, your boyfriend's hand in yours, enjoying everyone's company.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! xoxo

[mattsslvtt]

ɪ ᴄᴀɴᴛ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ; ᴘᴜʀᴇ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴀʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴡᴇᴀᴛ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ, ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʏ ꜱᴇx, ꜱᴄʀᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx(ʙᴇ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ), ᴄᴜᴍᴍɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ(ʙᴀʙʏ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʜᴏɴᴇʏ, ʜᴏɴ, ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ ɢɪʀʟ, ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ) // ʟᴍᴋ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ<3

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ; ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ, ꜱᴏ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ʜᴇʟᴘꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʟᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ.

It's late, Much too late to do anything but sleep — to be more specific it's 3:17am, Spencer; your boyfriend got home from a rough case about 2 hours ago and all he wants to do is sleep, infact, he's almost asleep right now, but your not. You're wide awake, just staring at the ceiling. You don't know why, because you ARE tired.. but you just can't sleep, not when spencer is lying next to you looking so SO perfect... he always does, but tonight, he's delicious looking. The window is cracked, letting light from the moon seep in and catch his features in the most angelic way, his hair is laying over his forehead messily, a few beads of sweat on his forehead, a few strands of his pretty brunette locks sticking to his damp skin. His chest rises and falls slowly, his arms are draped over his stomach, and the sheets are pushed down to just above his knees. His adams apple bobs slightly as he swallows, letting out a lengthy exhale.

You push the covers off your legs and sit up "Spencer.. baby?" Your voice is hushed, but his eyes very slowly open, and he turns his head to look at you "What is it, my love?" His voice is raspy and weak, you can tell just by how he sounds that he's exhausted, guilt forms in your throat, making you struggle to find your words for a moment "I can't sleep.." he sighs at your statement, just laying there silently for a moment before gradually sitting up "Why not? What are you thinking about, hon? " his voice is still weak and raspy but you can tell he's a little worried. It's not very often that you can't sleep "I dunno.. I'm sorry. I know you're tired.."

He turns his head to look you in the eyes "Nooo.. I mean – I am tired.. but if something's the matter, you can tell me" he grasps your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours "no nothings wrong... I just can't sleep, like I'm tired but.. I don't know.." the whole time you guys have been talking, your eyes have been locked on his face, you haven't looked away once "I don't know what to say baby, is there something you think will help?" You just stare at him, in the back of your head you want to say sex, you want to ask him to touch you, but you know he's tired so your afraid to ask "i don't know..." you finally drag your gaze away from his face "tell me what you want pretty." He tilts your chin up and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. His eyes are drooping, he's so visibly tired it makes your heart ache a little "no your tired.." he can tell you feel guilty for whatever reason and he sighs "just tell me.. please." He's starting to get just a little annoyed, he knows you feel guilty but he knows you know he will always prioritize you over himself.

"Can we have sex..." you finally let the words leave your lips, but your voice is shaking "oh sweetheart.." he sighs, squeezing your hand "I know I know I'm sorry-" he cuts you off "no no don't apologize, we can, but I can't promise I'll do as good as usual honey" he brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to your knuckles "don't worry– I want sleepy sex.. slow sex I mean.. I just want you.. ok?" Your eyes are pleading "Ok baby.. ok" he presses his lips gently to yours. You both scoot down until you're lying down again. He pulls his mouth away to take your tank top off. You're not wearing a bra, so your tits are immediately visible to his gaze "oh my pretty baby.." he squeezes one of your boobs gently, but his touch is slightly hesitant.

You sigh quietly, letting your eyes fall closed "my gorgeous girl.." he rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger slowly, making you whine. With his other hand, he reaches between you two and slides your sleep shorts down "kick them off baby.." you immediately do as he says, kicking them off your ankles and letting them fall somewhere on the bed, He rubs extremely slow circles on your clit through your panties "Spencer no teasing seriously.." you whimper. He presses a kiss to your jaw and slides your panties down to your knees, he presses his thumb to your clit but doesn't move it at all "spencer.. please." Your hand snakes up his back "and take your clothes off.. I want to feel you.." he hums softly as he sits up and tugs his shirt and sweatpants off, he takes this opportunity to slide your panties the rest of the way off "look at you.. my perfect girl.."

He drags his middle finger through your damp folds before rubbing circles on your clit, your hips twitch towards his touch and he chuckles quietly, he presses his lips to your jaw again, letting them linger a little longer this time as his fingers speed up a bit "oh god..." you mewl, your hands splayed across his back, which is slightly sticky with sweat "that feel good sweetheart?" He mutters against your neck, you nod frantically "y-yes.. yes spencer.." you babble, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. He leisurely slides his fingers down your slit before slipping his fingers into your tight cunt. They slide in easily because your extremely wet. A choked moan leaves your lips and your nails scratch down his back. He sucks in a breath through his teeth "I wanna be inside you..." he whispers the words against your jaw "Please..." your Plea is enough of a yes for him, he tugs his boxers down and kicks them onto the floor "how do you wanna do this, pretty?" He's referring to what position you want, he always makes sure to ask you "whatever you want.." you whisper back, giving him a soft smile "Ok hon, roll over f'me" you nod before turning over onto your stomach.

He puts his hand under you– against your lower stomach, lifting your hips up. You feel the head of his cock press against your dripping pussy before he pushes in slowly, his sweaty chest pressing to your back. He groans against your shoulder quietly, pushing all the way in, the tip of his dick pressing against your cervix, a strangled gasp leaves your lips, you bury your face in the pillow as he starts thrusting slowly but he wraps his hand around your neck, pulling your face away from the fabric "i wanna hear you hon.." Whines leave your lips at his words, God, he's so good at sex. His hips snap forward quicker, fucking you into the mattress, your bodies are slick with sweat but neither of you care in the slightest. "My perfect girl..." he whispers against your ear. Your moans ring out along with the sound of skin Slapping against skin and Spencer's panting. Warmth pools in the bottom of your stomach as you already get close to cumming, you feel pathetic for being so easy but you really can't help it, Spencer makes you feel so good.

"Are you gonna cum baby..?" His voice is raspy in the best way, making you impossibly wetter, your walls flutter around his cock. "Y-yes.." you sob, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks as his dick kisses your g-spot with every thrust. Not even 20 seconds later your orgasm rips through you, all your muscles tightening under him, he thrusts a few more times before pulling out, he moans as he cums across your back. He rolls over and lays next to you for about a minute before he gets up. He comes back with a wet washcloth and gently cleans his cum off your sweaty skin. You roll over and lock eyes with him "there's my gorgeous girl.. are you ok?" You nod in reply to his question "yes.. I'm better than ok" he smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom again, he comes back shortly after and plops down next to you "no need for clothes hm?" You nod and roll over to face him "let's just sleep.." he kisses your lips gently and tugs you against him "Yeah.. let's sleep baby."

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱɴᴛ ᴀꜱ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰɪᴄ ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴍ ꜱᴜᴘᴀ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ꜱᴏ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀᴡꜰᴜʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ 💔

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Marry Me

➾In Which: Meeting your boyfriend for one last date to break the news — well, let's just say you should have sent a text instead and ran for the hills.

RATED X. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

"Your efforts have been cute but I'm tired of it. Time to face reality."

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, dead dove 🪦

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: DARK FICTION. DARK DARK. DEAD DOVE FFR. 403 possessive yandere, 414 punishment, home invasion, kissing and non-con kissing, toxic relationship, extreme controlling behavior, reader described as shorter than yunho, alcohol but not enough to even be tipsy, if i can't have you no one can ahhh yunho, forced legal marriage, insults towards reader: unsubstantiated slut shaming + cheating accusations, violence towards reader: manhandling + slapping + yelling + threatening with a knife + implied baby trapping and nc (i am so very sorry but yunho is the worst yandere in ateez, i fully believe it). pet names: love, doll, sweetheart. semi-abrupt ending cause i couldn't make myself go that far

"You think I'm finished? Oh, that's cute... Your punishment hasn't even started yet."

➯a/n: anon who requested this woke something dormant up in my brain about yandere yunho 😵‍💫 i think he's the yandere i MIGHT start writing noncon with IF i ever decide to because i legit can't see it going any other way until reader has INSANE stockholm worse than hwa's baby... mans is fucking CRAZY and SCARY and i luv him

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

18+. MINORS HIT THE ROAD.

─..★.─────

"Hey, doll," Yunho smiles as he walks up to the table.

Out on the restaurant patio, it's nice and breezy and it cools your nerves as you return his smile.

"Hey, Yunie," you crane your neck to look up at him as he bends down; cupping the side of your neck while giving you a gentle kiss.

"For me?" He points to the beer on the table as he pulls back.

"Mhm, it just got here, still cold," you nod, leaning back in your seat and taking a deep breath.

"You're so sweet, thank you," he takes the seat across from you, looking you up and down. "Is something wrong?"

"Hm? No," you shake your head quickly and wave him off, "I, uhm, I actually got some good news..."

"Really? What is it?" He asks before taking a sip; and you wait until he sets the glass down to speak. You think he might have choked if you didn't.

"You remember the position my boss recommended me for?"

His face drops slowly. Pressing his lips together, he nods slowly.

"They want me to take it-"

"No."

"Yunho, it's not up to you." You try to stand your ground, but your voice waivers.

"You'd have to move to the other side of the world!" His outburst gets the attention of a few fellow customers, and he slumps back in his chair; pulling his hat further down his face. "Have you even thought about this- the logistics? We'd be in two opposite time zones, when would we even be able to talk?"

You're quiet. Too quiet. Looking down at the table with something stuck on the tip of your tongue but you're afraid to say it.

"Sweetheart." He whispers as he leans forward, resting his arms on the table as he looks at you intently. "Don't fucking say what I think you're about to."

"I think we should break up."

You jump as he slams his hand on the table before quickly putting his face in his hands with a groan. "Fuck..."

"Yunho, I'm sorry..." You look down at your lap, "but it's- really, it's for the best. We can both spend more time furthering our careers and maybe in the future-"

"Are you kidding me?" He mumbles, hand over his mouth and looking at you with a barely contained storm of emotions in his eyes.

You avoid his gaze like it's the plague, bouncing your leg and holding your hands together tightly. "No. I'm serious. This is the last time we're going to see each other. I went to your apartment while you were at practice and got my things, and I left yours o-"

"Nope." He laughs, unhumorous. Like he's in shock. "No, sorry. Not happening."

"You can't just say 'no', this is the decision I'm making." You look at him for a moment with a glare before quickly look back down when you see his eyes locked on you like some sort of predator.

"Like fuck I can't, you said you were going to marry me one day. You said you wanted to have kids together." His voice is even, but it's laced with anger. He leans over the table and pinches your chin, making you look at him. "What happened to that, love?"

"I'm sorry, Y-"

He grabs your hands as you stand up, looking up at you intensely. "You can't just leave."

"Miss?" Both of your eyes snap to the elderly couple who's approached your table after hearing the ruckus. "Do you need some help?" The woman reaches towards you when Yunho stands quickly and pulls you to the other side of the table.

"She's fine. We're just having an argument, every couple does. Right, doll?"

You gulp as he rests his hands on your shoulders. Normally, in any other argument you had, you'd say yes. But this isn't something small like whose apartment to go back to or whether or not you should take birth control when he uses condoms anyway.

Thinking about that second one gives you pause.

It's like every little strange or controlling thing Yunho has ever said slams on top of you all at once; making your knees weak.

"...Yes." You squeak out, feeling his grip on your shoulders tighten.

"Let go of her, son," the older man steps forward, and Yunho only backs up.

"Sweetheart, seriously think about what you're doing. I love you like nobody else ever could, I want to share my life with you, please-"

You writhe out of his grasp, all but running to the woman; grabbing your purse from the table on the way. "Come on, dear, I'll take you to your car," she takes your hand quickly, rubbing your arm in a comforting manner as she guides you back into the restaurant to head for the front door.

Yunho can only watch, practically steaming with anger, as the man sizes him up. He's shorter, smaller. He could easily over power the old-timer. But people are starting to stare.

"Fuck," he groans, kicking a chair before taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair roughly. Already thinking of ways to make you stay when you've clearly made up your mind — for real this time.

You've never said those words. Break up. Not even when he made you just as angry as he is now when he snuck into your apartment and —

He takes a deep breath when the idea comes to him.

He knows how to make sure you realize that you don't get to leave him.

─..★.─────

Your tired and puffy eyes crack open as the bed shifts.

Then, they widen quickly as you catch the outline of Yunho's figure climbing on top of you. When you try to scream, he slams a hand over your mouth. "Shut up." He says shortly, silencing you as you feel something cold and sharp against your neck.

"This is all your fault. You're the one who broke our promises. I should kill you."

You feel the blade tilt against your delicate flesh, your eyes wide and begging; filling with tears quickly.

He's straddled over your hips, caging you against the mattress. He stripped the blanket away while you were asleep, leaving you in your large sleep shirt and panties. Suddenly feeling way too exposed even though he's not looking at you with anything besides anger.

He leans forward, nose to nose, "I'm going to move my hand. If you scream, I'm going to. Nod if you understand."

You nod. Quick and careful.

Taking a deep breath when he removes his hand, you tilt your head to the side to face away from him. "Y-"

"Me first." When you bite your trembling lip, he continues, "is there someone else?"

"What? No, no," you shake your head quickly, arms wrapping around your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself as his gaze burns through you.

"Are you lying?" He sneers as he grips the base of your scalp, making you yelp before you remember his threat and slam your lips together.

"Have you been slutting around behind my back? Is that why you were so damn insistent about your birth control? Hm? Answer me!" He drives the blade into the bed next to your head, making you jump to the side and grab at his other arm clumsily.

"No! No, Yunho! Wh- There's never been anyone else, I swear, I swear," you sniffle, looking up at him as your tears start sliding down your temples. "I swear, Yunie."

"You swear? Oh, you swear, do you? That's what you said about marrying me, too."

"I m-meant it," you sob as he yanks the blade from your bed; thinking you're its next target.

"Did you?" He yanks you up by the grip he has on the base of your skull, ignoring your cries as he drags you to your desk — where the only light in the room radiates from. "Sign it." He says simply as he shoves you into your chair.

You look away from him slowly, rubbing your sore scalp as you look at the paper.

CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE.

"Yunho..."

He raises his eyebrows, looking you up and down as he leans against the wall. "Sign it, doll."

"I br- but- I broke up wi-"

He pushes off the wall quickly and slaps you.

He slaps you so hard your ears ring. Your head snaps to the side. Your jaw drops. His hand is the size of your entire face.

"You say those words one more damn time..." He pants, throwing the knife onto the desk before slapping your other cheek; throwing your head in the opposite direction with a cry of pain. "I seriously fucking dare you. See what happens. I'm already mad, love. Your efforts have been cute, but I'm tired of it. Time to face reality. You belong to me. Sign the paper."

With a shaking hand, you pick up the pen quickly —

And you sign your name right next to his.

You drop the pen like it's burned you, staring at the paper for a moment before you look at him. He looks down at the paper and smiles, barely noticeable. "Good." He says before leaning and pressing his lips to yours roughly.

You stay there, stunned, until he pulls back — and slaps you. "Ow!" You scream. It hurts so much more the second time when your cheek is already sore and undoubtedly bruising.

"Say you're my wife."

"Wha-"

Slap! "Say it."

"I'm your wife..." You stare up at him, shivering, "Yunho, please, calm d-"

Slap! "Say you love me."

"I love you!" You yell as you push yourself back on the chair, getting caught almost effective immediately. "Please, stop-"

He wraps his hands up in your shirt and pulls you up, dragging you the few steps back to the bed and throwing you on it.

You fall onto your back and sniffle quietly, "t-thank you."

He laughs as he crawls back over you. "You think I'm finished? Oh, that's cute... Your punishment hasn't even started yet. You really think I'm going to go easy on you when you just broke my heart like that?"

Your heart falls into the depths of your uneasy stomach as he trails his hands up your waist. "You're my wife?" He arches an eyebrow, urging you.

"Yes," you nod, breath caught in your throat.

"And..." He leans over, mumbling against your lips, "you love me?"

"Yes."

"That's beautiful, sweetheart," he smiles a bit more before he bites at your lips. "I think I know what will make happy... What will make you stay."

Before you can tell him you've changed your mind, you'll stay as long as he never slaps you again because your entire face is sore now —

"A baby."

He slips his hands under your shirt, running them along your stomach. "Being a Mommy finally going to make you settle down? The Mommy to my babies?"

"Wai-"

"Yeah, it will~" He grins widely as he turns you to lay on your belly, shoving your face into the sheets as he speaks right into your ear, "and every time you look at them, you'll remember how much this fucking hurt."

─MARRY ME★.─────

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari sniffled, looking into her papa's eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she just sniffled and listened. She looked down for a moment, processing what the hero said and gave a nod while her eyes narrowed a bit in thought. "I... Think I get it." She muttered, voice still slightly trembling as she spoke. She looked back at the projection and sighed. The child slowly backed away from Hawks and went back to look at the journals again, one last time.

There she read a few more journals from her mother. A few from when she was pregnant with her siblings.

"Today is September 29th, I gave birth to my little boy Kitearo a few days ago. It's been exhausting but he's worth it. Lynx has been a huge help in taking care of our son. I looked into Kite's future and I saw he was going to have a lot of siblings. Not my first choice honestly. If you asked me five years ago I would have said two or three kids would be enough, not seven. But it feels right at the same time. While I saw his whole life unravel I couldn't help but feel helpless... But a part of me knows it can't be messed with, even though I want to save my son from an early grave. I'll have to wait until all my kids are born to get the full picture."

Kari frowned, figuring out pretty quick that her mother knew the whole time, or at least had an understanding.

"It's Febuary 23rd. Flo and Fino are a few days old now. I got a bit more of the picture since seeing Kitearo's future. They meet a similar fate. It hurts, but seeing them work hard to protect their youngest sister, a little girl with white hair, something isn't adding up. I know I can't stop it but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt a whole lot."

"It's been a rough few weeks, Shade has been a bit of a handful. Always curious but always quiet which is a bit unnerving. Sure she cries and makes noises but she's more quiet than not. The doctor says she has nothing wrong with her but I still worry. I was able to see into her future. Lynx has his work cut out for him that's for sure. So far I know all my kids and my husband die on the same day, doing the same thing. I can't say for sure where I am but I can make a few guesses. Again that little girl with white hair makes a big appearance. I'll name her Kari. Kari Kana Lee Himura, long name but it looks like it suits her. When she's born I'll hopefully get all the answers and try to write them down."

"Another pair of twins. I'm not super surprised, Lynx had twin younger brothers after all so I think that runs in the family. That and I saw them while looking into their siblings' futures. These two look mirrored, it's kinda cute. I've named them Boom and Beats cuz the symbols on their cheeks are cute music notes. They are the loudest that's for sure, it's funny. I've had so many kids and all of them are so different even though they're under the same roof and have me and Lynx as their parents. I know why they look so different and why their quirks are different, it's a side effect of my quirk after all. But their behaviors and personalities aren't tied to it, I don't think. It's so fascinating to watch them grow and develop... I know I probably only have a few more years to live. I've concluded I die in child birth when giving birth to Kari. I know I'll be leaving behind my family and my friends... But I noted that my nephew is the one responsible for the deaths of everyone, under the control of my sister given his pupils... Something isn't adding up but I'm guessing Kari develops my quirk. If that's the case then she needs to exist. It strengthens our quirk and hopefully she'll be able to help others like I did, in someway. Though that's her choice and I don't want to force it onto her. I'm glad dad talked me into writing that one entry about my quirk, I hope she can read it one day so she can meet me... Well, a snap shot of me. It won't be the same I know but it's better than nothing. I just hope she doesn't hate me or get mad. It's kind of a selfish reason but there's so much going on... I just hope she understands."

Kari sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "I... I don't hate you mom." She whispered after a few moments of silence, hugging herself. "I just wish I knew you." The child gulped and moved to look back at the journal about All of the Above and began taking notes. "But yea, I'm glad grampa talked you into writing about your quirk too... It's gonna help me a lot." She muttered then looked at Hawks. "You think we can go somewhere I can train? I... I wanna try doing this thing mom talks about. I'm not sure if I can get back into that weird mind space thing but... But if I can maybe you can meet my siblings, well a snap shot of them... This is kinda confusing." Kari puffed out her cheeks then went back to writing. "But we don't have to do it today if we can't."

Hawks didn’t speak at first. He just let Kari cry. He didn’t try to hush her or pull her away. He dropped down to one knee so she could lean into him easier, wrapping his arms around her small frame like he could shield her from every painful word she had just read. His wings even curled in slightly, a quiet gesture of shelter.

He held her gently as the sobs came out in waves—her pain wasn’t small, and it didn’t deserve to be treated like it was.

After a long moment, his voice finally came—soft, steady, low enough it didn’t try to overpower her crying but just… sat with it.

“I know, kiddo. I know it hurts. It’s not fair. None of this is. You didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

He tightened the hug slightly, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“But I need you to hear me when I say this next part, okay?” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his own golden ones steady and full of something more than just compassion—it was conviction. “She didn’t die because of you. That’s not how this works. She died for you. And that’s something only someone who loves their kid more than anything in the world would do.”

His thumbs gently wiped her tears.

“Your mom knew the risks. She was a top pro. She wasn’t someone who walked into things blind. She fought to bring you into this world anyway, Kari. That means she wanted you here. She made a choice—and that choice was you.”

[animeomegas]

Let's talk about Jamil and conditional heats.

Conditional heats are a version of the omega heat cycle that are a little more... sentient? Rather than heats happening like clockwork, conditional heats only happen when an omega's instincts believe that certain criteria have been met.

For a sexual heat, they decide there's a fine piece of alpha nearby that is perfect to mate and make babies with.

For a soft heat, they decide that there is a safe alpha who can protect the omega while they deal with some kind of stress, sickness, or burnout.

...

So, imagine Jamil, someone who has never had a real heat before, waking up a little warmer and stranger than normal. He's confused, he thinks he might be sick, which sucks because he really doesn't have time to be sick.

It's harder to pull himself out of bed than normal, but when he thinks about how he has a meeting planned with you, an alpha that he... enjoys the company of... he manages to get up.

But when he pulls back the covers, he's hit with his own scent, crazy strong and thick. He just stares for a moment, confused, and then a horrible, horrible thought runs through his head.

No.

He races to the nearest mirror. His flushed, sweaty face stares back at him in horror. The scent glands on his neck and thighs are swollen, his pupils are dilated, his skin is flushed all over... and he can't help but wish that you were here with him.

No.

"Don't you dare do this," he whispers to his reflection. "Don't you dare. I'm just... sick. I'm just sick."

He's been busy and stressed beyond normal the past few weeks, perfect conditions for getting sick... He ignores the voice inside his head which points out that those conditions are perfect for a soft heat as well.

He doesn't have time for this, and he's choosing denial, so he slaps on as many scent patches as he has available to try and reign it in, splashes cold water on his face and get ready like normal.

He manages to convince himself that he's doing well, until the second he opens the door to his room, and everything in him is screaming that it's not safe.

He's trained to pay attention to his instincts, to seek danger, but today his anxiety is through the roof. Every step feels like the last one he'll get to take and he doesn't know why.

He's on edge, snapping at everyone over everything. Even Kalim notices that something is very wrong and thinks Jamil is sick. Several people figure out he's in a soft heat, and try to gently steer him back to his room, but he bites the head off of anyone that even hints at it.

Eventually, word must have got back to you, because you find him at lunch. He was trying to hide in one of the more shadowy corners behind a building, just to take a moment to regain his composure, when he hears your voice.

"Jamil?"

No. No, anyone but them.

Underneath all the scent patches, he can feel his scent glands working overtime to try and desperately produce a scent that will bring you close to him.

No, he's sick! He's just sick!

"G-Go away," he manages to grit out, the words causing him physical pain. "Leave me alone."

Unhappy with his resistance, his legs buckle beneath him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Yes, if he falls, if he's weak, his alpha will protect him, they'll stay by him, this is good.

No! No, it is not good!

"Jamil!" You rush to his side, supporting him with one arm around his waist while your other hand gently pushes his hair away from his face. He can feel you studying him, looking for what's wrong. He just hopes you don't find anything.

"Jamil? Did someone trigger your heat?" you asked delicately, voice quiet and soothing, like he's some sort of child that needs mollycoddling.

"No!" he denies. "I'm sick. I'm just sick." He doesn't know which one of you he's trying to convince at this point.

You don't believe him, he can tell. Honestly, he doesn't blame you; it's a rather pathetic attempt at a lie. But you don't call him out on it, either.

"Jamil, if you're sick, then you should be resting in your room." You scoop him up in your arms before he can protest. He let's out a little strangled noise of surprise though. "Let me take you back to your room, you won't gain anything from forcing yourself through the day like this."

"But Kalim-"

"But Kalim nothing. You're just as important as he is, and you need rest when you're sick, Jamil. If Kalim needs anything, I'll handle it, okay?"

Part of him croons at your words and the other part resents them. It's this ridiculous attitude of yours that has him all... ruined. It pisses him off; life was much simpler before you turned up.

There's also another part of him, a much louder part than he would like, that's angry at the thought of you helping Kalim. You're supposed to be helping him, looking at him, being with him, not Kalim!

He doesn't say anything out loud though. He's honestly worried he'll make an embarrassing noise if he opens his mouth to speak.

Besides... your arms feel nice. Maybe he should take a nap? His eye lids feel heavy... he's been overworked so much recently, he needs a break, and you're here to protect him...

No... he shouldn't... it wouldn't be a good idea...

You're shushing him now... the vibrations from your chest are soothing...

A good idea...

To...

"Sleep, Jamil. I've got you."

To...

His eyes slip closed and his body goes limp. He'll regret his succumbing to his instincts later, but for now, some good sleep is well needed.

...

Jamil is perfect for this set up imo, because he needs an outside force to make him admit he likes an alpha. It's not convenient for him, so he'll ignore it until he literally can't anymore lol.

I don't remember the point I was making when I started this post but... Jamil 🥰

[I'm still learning about the TWST characters, so hopefully this is okay! Thank you for reading!]

[the-dormant-ocean]

MC wants to send nudes to Sylus while he's at work to make him come home faster. But for some reason, she doesn't like the results of the photo she took. She ends up asking Zayne for help.

"How do you want me to help?"

"Can you be my photographer? I don't like the pictures I took."

"Sure, but what's wrong with yours?"

"I don't know! That's the issue. Can you give me your opinion on them, please?"

They go through the photos and discuss how they could maybe improve them, like scientists studying an experiment. It's odd, she is completely naked during this conversation, but the situation is so comical that it's fun.

"Wait, I have an idea. Pardon me."

Before MC can say anything, he lifts her up by the back of her thighs and plops her down on the bathroom counter. Heat radiates through her at how easy it was and how gentle he was. The marble counter is cold underneath her.

"Do you want me to-"

She starts spreading her legs but Zayne stops her.

"It's a good idea but it's not what I'm going for. Put one of your feet on the edge of the counter. Here."

"But like that you can't see my-"

"I know that's not what this is about. Lean back a little on your hands and there. Perfect."

"Really? It looks good?"

She can't really see the appeal compared to the other more revealing and seductive poses she did.

"Yes. You sat like this before. It was after the first night we all shared together. You were stunning. You look stunning."

Zayne isn't the type to wax poetry, but his compliments never fail to move her as they are said with utmost sincerity and love. He calls her beautiful like it's a fact that no one can disprove. She smiles, touched by the compliment, and Zayne uses the opportunity to take the picture.

"Verdict? Is it better than mine?"

"Yours were good. I think this one is just more you."

Zayne looks down at this picture of her adoringly and wantonly. He shows it to her and it does feel more natural and like her. She's looking at Zayne, behind the camera, in the picture. She is smiling at him, and is that what she looks like in love? She looks at Zayne's reflection in the mirror behind her and he's wearing the exact same expression. He is right. This photo is perfect.

"I love it. It feels really sweet and domestic but still sexy. It does suit me better."

"I love it too."

She watches proudly as Zayne sends the picture to himself with her phone before sending it to Sylus.

"Ah, sorry. Maybe you wanted to add text to the picture."

"It's fine, I'll send another text. Here, give me."

She goes for a casual and innocent tone, as if she were sending him a normal photo.

"Got bored and decided to send you a gift with Zayne's help! Isn't he an amazing photographer? I think I'm going to officially hire him as my photographer from now on! We miss you! Can't wait to see you!"

She knows Zayne isn't the type to take nudes of himself. So his presence in one of hers is really going to get Sylus all hot and bothered. And he looks hot in that photo as well. Sylus is 100% going to leave work early. She's a genius!

[theonlyy1ivyy]

That'll Teach you.

summary: Satoru's had a crush on you for ages and finally get's the chance to talk to you because he's your new tutor. But he instantly regretted it the moment he realised how far behind everyone else you were. So he did something about it.

Tw: Gojo's lowkey mean 😓 and semi publix sex (you two are in the back of the library)

˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚

You were gorgeous in all ways possible to Satoru. To him, there was not a single flaw that he could see whenever he admired you. But, you weren't the brightest, academically speaking.

You'd much rather focus on other things, like the activities you enjoy; shopping for new clothes or lingerie sets you know you'll never wear , getting your nails done with friends or following new trends you'd see on social media just 'cause you can.

All that to say that anyone who took the time to study you like Satoru, knew that College really wasn't your thing.

But the habit of not taking any relevant notes, falling asleep during Professor Yaga's lecture's and barely getting over the minimum you needed to pass your classes had to stop.

Your professor's came to a decision and you needed a tutor.

Three weeks is all it's been, but gosh did it feel way longer for Satoru. When Yaga approached him, explaining your situation, he couldn't help the huge butterflies that were doing tricks in his stomach.

He thought tutouring you would be the best time of his life. I mean, why wouldn't he think that? He finally got the chance he'd been waiting for since high school; to talk to you.

But oh he was wrong, so wrong.

Not only did it seem like you weren't trying, but Satoru felt as though you were playing dumb, because he refused to believe that his sweet could be so utterly stupid.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆. 𐙚 ˚

"Are you even trying?" Satoru asked you, watching you struggle on the easiest question he'd given you so far. You look up at him and he could've swore he saw tears forming in your beautiful eyes.

"I am, I'm just-"

"focusing?" He scoffed and you could hear his patience running thin. "You've said that for the past 5 minues."

You went quiet and finished the equation, handing the paper to Satoru. You sighed and watched as he scowled at the paper. That usually indicated that you'd gotten everything wrong, something you picked up within the first few weeks.

He rubbed his temple, your gaze lingered on his veiny hands, watching as the muscles flexed. You were thinking...thinking about what else those big hands of his could do.

But you were caught.

As you tried to make out the expression on his beautifully sculpted face, his beaming blue eyes found yours. You looked away immediatly, the air in the library suddenly became thick. And tension arose between the two of you.

You avoided his gaze as he went back to correcting, when your phone dinged. You went in, slowling bringing it up to the table when Satoru abruptly stopped you.

"If you'd let go of your phone for once, maybe you'd actually be focusing and getting something right." He said harshly, sliding the paper your way.

"I have plans, I can't just put them off." You bit back, ignoring the paper in between you too, to text your friends.

Usually, Satoru was a calm and composed man with a great amount of patience, but with you...

he felt like every little thing set him off.

It enraged him that you, this picture perfect girl, were willing to throw your future away for nothing, when you had the most potential he'd ever seen.

"Y/N, please put your phone down." He urged. his voice calm, calmer than he'd been the whole session.

" Waitttttt- What colour suits me best 'Toru? Pink or cherry red?" You ignored him, going on to do exactly what he hated most.

Big mistake.

Because now he had his cock buried deep inside of you as you sputtered meaningless apologies with tears in your gorgeous eyes. Your slick dripped down your plush thighs and you squirmed under satoru's strong hold on your hips.

"S-satoru, p-please...It's too embarassing." You whimpered, gripping onto the wooden table in front of you for support. You were trying your best not to make a sound, but he was making that impossible.

He refused to let you move, letting you feel him...all of him inside you. He brought a pen to your fingers with a smug grin on his lips. He loved seeing you all worked up.

"Solve the question baby. Then I'll fuck you so good, so good you'll be begging for more." He whispered in your ear, watching you struggle even more. He knew you could it, he had no doubt, he just hated seeing you willingly act so dumb.

"T-that's not fair." You moaned as Satoru brought his fingers down to your puffy clit. So cute. " Ngh-you're being mean-Agh." You bit back a moan as you finished up the question.

"Focus." He reminded you.

"The value of x is -134°." You let out in a breathless tone.

He smiled, he knew you were hiding some intelligence in that head of yours.

Without a warning, he placed his free hand on your lower back. From a far it looked like you were just siting on him but little did they know, under your skirt was his cock buried in the depths of your pussy.

He thrusted into you and your eyes rolled back. You moaned and he brought his soft lips to yours. "Be quiet, Did you forget where we are?" he said lowly, against you.

You might not know a lot but one thing you knew was certain, you were about to have the best fuck of your life.

[takoseimegumi]

I don't usually reblog posts like this or add comments to posts I reblog, but I wanted to share my experiences. Just to show all the ways something like this can affect people. Content warnings for anxiety, suicide, abuse and sexual harassment.

This came at the absolute worst time in my life. Things were starting to look up for me. I'm autistic and have had trouble functioning in society, but I had hope things were getting better. I got a bank account, a long-term online friend had confessed his love to me leaving me no longer single, I was starting to go out on my own after years of needing someone else to come with me... things were really hopeful.

Then the lockdowns started. I wasn't able to go out. I couldn't use the money I now had access to. I wasn't able to arrange even one irl meeting with my boyfriend (we live in different countries). And when I tried to go to the store I was heavily restricted in what I could do. There were spaced-out lines, you had to follow a route inside the store, some wouldn't accept me without a mask, one yelled at me for being slightly out of line... I had no choice but to become a shut-in.

It got to the point when just seeing mentions of what was going on gave me extreme anxiety. And that was completely unavoidable. I was living in a constant state of that.

At one point I got a message from my boyfriend where he explained he got the virus. I had to spend a couple of weeks living in complete instinctual fear for him. I couldn't sleep. I tried to distract myself but I couldn't stop crying. I wanted to be there for him but I couldn't. It turned out fine in the end, but to this day remembering those two weeks makes me tear up.

Think that's bad enough? It gets worse.

Shortly before the pandemic started, my mum started dating someone. I was happy for her at first. Things seemed to be looking up for her as well. But then... strange things started to happen.

My mum's sanity took a nosedive after this whole thing started. She was like full-on tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist. It was jarring seeing her like this. And unfortunately, her mental health deteriorating wouldn't just affect her.

Her boyfriend turned out to be an emotionally abusive bastard towards not only her, but me and my brother. My brother ended up leaving after mum's boyfriend and me had a fight (that was the last straw for him). And he was basically taking advantage of my mum's shattered sanity to keep her with him.

The emotional abuse wasn't even the worst part. This is where it gets really ugly. Over the years even as lockdown was settling down, the damage to my development was already done (to this day I still haven't recovered) and I was still a complete shut-in. My mum's boyfriend would start making inappropriate comments towards me, and whenever I would complain, he would guilt-trip me into taking it back. Talking to mum did not help. He'd successfully brainwashed her. She refuses to believe he could do wrong even to this day.

And over the years, the comments got worse. He would divulge his fetishes, try to invade on my hobbies, invalidate my asexuality and past sexual trauma (just because I separate fiction from reality), and even send me sexually explicit gifts like laced panties and a vibrator.

I was waking up in anxiety attacks. I felt trapped. It got so bad I tried to kill myself in the bathtub just so I could escape.

At that point, the pandemic was officially over. But I was so mentally broken by everything that had gone on that I couldn't leave.

That is, until my boyfriend told me to text my brother about it. He got me out of there. I've been living with him and my grandma for a little over a year now.

This wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the pandemic. My mum would be the person she used to be. She would have left that bastard the moment I spoke up about him.

And I would still be cheerful and optimistic like I was before. But I can't be. And I don't have hope I ever will be.

The only thing that keeps me going is my boyfriend, my online friends and my interests.

So no, I don't think we should romanticise quarantine.

"remember quarantine when everyone was baking bread and dancing--" no, but I remember quarantine when a bunch of people were borderline suicidal. and I remember quarantine when people got screamed at for not wearing a mask outside. and I remember quarantine when businesses were forced to close and people lost their jobs. and I remember quarantine when there were government tip lines to report family dinners. and I remember quarantine when no one was allowed to go to church.

and I remember how it's a really good thing that my grandma wanted to be cremated, since that meant we could delay her funeral. because if we had to have it soon after she died (from cancer, not covid), three of her kids wouldn't have been allowed to be there. they wouldn't have had the chance to say goodbye.

so no, I don't remember any kind of human flourishing as a result of quarantine. and you're right that people should stop romanticizing it.

That's the quarantine I remember.

And I'm not going to forget it, either.

It's crazy how they are already trying to gaslight people into thinking we were all just living our best lives.

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Thinking about Bucky being sterile.

((CW: mentions of non-consensual Castration, discussions of infertility, Reader is implied to be AFAB))

Maybe HYDRA forcibly castrated him, maybe it was just an unfortunate side effect of the Serum variant he got, but regardless it does its job.

And to be clear, I don't think kids are something Bucky wants at this point (or even really thinks he deserves). But you have to remember that he’s from a time period where getting married and having kids was the expected thing a person did, whether he wants them or not not being able to have kids the old fashioned way has to be something that weighs on him in some capacity. Also just the idea that, be it intentional or not, HYDRA stripped him of the ability to even have the choice to have kids is something that feels like a way that they'll always have control over him and his sexuality and his ability to perform.

Maybe it's something that doesnt even really cross his mind until he meets you, and he realizes things are going well, and at some point you two are probably going to sleep together and it's going to come up. And he's terrified.

Because he trusts you.

Because he loves you.

You had had been so understanding, so patient. You'd gone at his pace in terms of physical affection, even though it meant that it was weeks into your relationship before you could even touch him. You'd held his hand and kissed his knuckles while he told you of his past as the Soldier, and had held him when it all became to much, wiping his tears with your thumb and whispering that it was okay, that no one was going to hurt him like that again. You were gentle, and patient, and kind, Bucky knew that.

But what if this was it? What if this was the straw that broke the camel's back, and you finally understood that he was no good, that you were better off without him?

He tried to push it from his mind and enjoy whatever time he got with you.

Trying to make as many good memories as possible so that he could hold onto them when you finally wised up and realized that he was ruined.

This comes to a head one night the two of you are getting hotter and heavier than you've ever been before, unable to keep your hands off each other. He gasps when your hands start to find their way to his belt, pulling away instantly with nervous eyes.

'N-no, it's not..." he struggles to find the words, 'there's something you need to know about me, my body..."

"Bucky?" You ask, wanting to both move closer and give him the space he needs all at once, "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Were we moving too fast?"

You hold his hand as he recounts what was done to him to render him sterile, and he tries to hold onto the memory of your warm hand in his, to memorize every detail for when you leave him behind. You're still holding it when he finishes.

"I understand if you want to leave," Bucky stares at the ground, "I won't stop you."

"Bucky..." you feel your throat tightening, "this doesn't change how I feel about you. Why would you think that it would?"

"Because I'm ruined." Every word in his trembling voice is a sledgehammer blow to your heart, "because I'm damaged goods. Because I can't have sex like a normal person, and if kids are something you want in the future I can't give them to you."

His eyes are filled with unshed tears as you take his face in your hands.

"Look at me, love," you can feel tears streaming down your cheeks, "you are not ruined, do you hear me? You're not. What they did to you was horrific, it was inhumane, but it didn't turn you into damaged goods. I don't care that you can't have sex like a ""normal person"". I will make as many adjustments as you need. I would do anything to make sure you feel safe and comfortable. Especially with something so vulnerable. And as far as kids go? If sometime way, way in the future we decide we want kids, there are other ways, Baby. That's not the only way. And even if it was, I wouldn't care. I just want to be with you, do you understand me? I just want you."

He hugs you tight, burying his face in your shoulder and crying softly as you stroke his hair.

"You have me, Bucky," you whisper, pressing soft kisses to his hair, "you have me, no matter what."

Maybe the two of you end up having sex that night, maybe you don't. It doesn't really matter by that point. And obviously, he's not magically healed of his trauma, he still struggles with his self worth, and his body, but you’re there to help him.

You make him feel good, feel safe. Like he's more than the things that were done to him, that he's worth more than what HYDRA took from him.

He loves you more than he can ever say.

Anyways this got long and ramble-y, but I just got thinking about how Bucky being sterilized would effect him and his self worth and his relationships and got thinking.

[is-it-malgendering]

I'm gonna take a mental health break for a short while I think. The discussion around transandrophobia is so so important but you can't let transandrophobes ruin your mental health.

Lately, because of the lingering effects of my childhood trauma, I've been having more flashbacks to upsetting and traumatic events. Whenever I was in conflict with my abuser I was gaslit and made to feel like I couldn't trust my own opinions and thoughts because I was always told my abuser was right and I was wrong. This led to situations where I had video and audio evidence of the abuse, witnesses to the abuse and diary entries in which I talk about the abuse - but still doubting whether any of it really happened because of the influence of my abuser and the trauma response which is to defer to other people's authority on things, even if I know they're wrong.

With regards to transandrophobia - it is 100% real and something I've dealt with many times. I have direct lived experience of it. But the vitriolic hate of transgender men and mascs and the disbelief in our oppression from others can be so intense as to trigger my traumatic response. I *know* what we go through is real. I *know* my mental health is lying to me. But nevertheless, it can be so easy sometimes to feel like I should just sit down, shut up and suffer in silence.

The erasure of transmasculine issues is so cruel. It makes even the most vocal and spirited of us feel insane and gaslit for experiencing direct discrimination for our transmasculinity. It is so draining and depressing having people vehemently shut us down at every opportunity.

It's why I deleted my old blog and remade a few years back. It's why I took a several-year break from posting in this tag. The way transmasculine mental health is ignored or belittled is horrifically cruel and unacceptable. Hell - even if the worst part of transandrophobia was simply being called slurs sometimes, it would still warrant opposition and require support for transmascs. Transandrophobia though is so much bigger than that - there is no "if" about it. Transandrophobia is a horrific type of transphobia that should be taken as seriously as transmisogyny and exorsexism.

So those of us who suffer from transandrophobia should be supported, not belittled. Given space to talk about our problems, not ignored or erased.

Because even if I feel gaslit by transandrophobes - I will never give up the fight to be heard and to advocate for my community's issues and needs. Even if I have to take long mental health breaks to accomplish that, I won't be cowed. I won't be scared into submission.

But I will need rest. I'll be back before you know it, but for now - if you post about transandrophobia - good work and keep going 🫡

[fafodill]

Heyyy how are you doing?? How are you feeling??? I hope good :3 yu need love too

*Kisses hugs 👽👅*

And I just gonna leave this here for you to squeeze 👽

You're so sweet, thank you for the little Sneep.💚I'm honestly not doing good but I'll put it under there so TW everyone, sickness, old age, family and death of a parent. I will share some difficult stuff so please, take care of yourselves and scroll away if you need.

My dad is not doing good. And I mean he's not going to get better. He's 82 and they found cancer in his head and his health is dwindling rapidly. I had to fly back home last week to see him and support my mom through everything. Every day has been so packed with bad news or stuff to deal with that I feel like I've been there almost a month already.

We also found out he had other health issues he kept from us for years. As of now he still recognises us but yeah, the person he was is pretty much gone. A month ago he wasn't doing good (we saw some things were wrong) but he still had autonomy. Now he can't even eat by himself, make a sentence or even understand what's happening to him. Right now the idea is to make him as comfortable as possible, which isn't easy since he's very confused. A week ago they tried a treatment that was helping him and we saw him Sunday and he was doing pretty good! Two days later it's a catastrophe. He has no balance anymore and is hurting himself when he falls so, yeah, yesterday when we went to see him it was extremely rough.

He recognises me when I smile at him and smiles back. So I keep smiling and try not to tear up. But he's mostly gone. I just want him to stop being scared. Fortunately he doesn't realise much anything anymore it seems...

But yeah, no idea how this is gonna go, we're pretty much living from day to day.

Also money is tight and working right now is quite the struggle. I have barely energy to process everything that's happening and staying afloat.

On good notes, my mom and I are strong and pushing through this together. Also I was super anxious about my cat being all alone at home (except from my neighbor feeding him and a friend coming by from time to time) and my drummer 🥁 (yes I'm dating a drummer) is going to take care of him starting next week. I have a good support system even though most of them are far away. My best friend is in Switzerland tho and I see her on Friday, it's going to be nice. But yeah, my drummer and my cat are far away and I really need a hug.

So yeah, things are rough.

But I'm thankful to this sweet community.

Thank you. 💕

[dragonmasterhiccup]

Part of him did want to show Astrid his world. The other part of him was scared to. At least, scared to show her his pod. They didn't exactly like him all that much.

But, if they could find a way to get her there without them knowing she was human...it could work, at least long enough for her to get to see it. Then, he'd bring her home, back to the surface.

There was however the issue of the water pressure...

"I'll see what I can do. You've shown me so much here, I'd like to return the favor."

He leaned in again, closing his eyes, when a sudden shout caused him to pull away. His eyes widened at the old man's accusations, the merman at a loss for words as Astrid helped him get to his crutch.

Evil. Sea-devil. Creature.

It echoed in his mind, bringing back bad memories from his pod. His heart was racing, and he felt as though he couldn't get enough air.

Outside. He needed to get outside...

Using the crutch, he hurried out as fast as he could, with only Phlegma seeing him escape.

The door was left ajar as he continued on down the massive stairwell.

A spell. He'd never put a spell on Astrid, let alone drag her to the depths. That wasn't who he is! Even then, that wasn't how his magic worked. He knew he'd have to go back eventually, but that was to be temporary. Hiccup wanted to live among the humans, but if they would only see him as some trickster creature, could they ever truly accept him?

The sun was low, lower than he thought it would be. He had to get to water before moonrise, he knew that. But where? He still had to keep the end of his tail dry.

🐟

He didn't make it.

Hiccup had gotten the human clothes off, and just as he was about to climb into the wash basin, his tail returned, leaving him stuck in the grass.

Flopping over to his back, he let out a frustrated groan. "Why can't things ever be simple," he wondered aloud, hands in his hair and his eyes closed, "she's a human, and I'm a merman. I should have expected that it wouldn't be received all that well..."

Astrid, the best warrior on Berk. And Hiccup...the cowardly merman who ran at the first sign of trouble.

His hands lowered to cover his face. "She deserves better..."

"I'm not so sure about that," said a voice from above. Startled, Hiccup opened his eyes to find Phlegma standing above him. Her arms were crossed, a basket of banging on her arm. "Aye, you shouldn't have left. You missed quite the spectacle. But, Hiccup?"

She knelt down, looking him in the eye. "What my daughter deserves is someone who loves her, cherishes her. You may be part fish, but you fit that bill."

Hiccup shook his head, "She's a warrior. She shouldn't be with a coward."

Phlegma paused before motioning for him to give her his tail. He curled the end of it towards her, and she began to change the wrappings, "Hiccup. I get the feeling that something caused that reaction of yours. It wasn't just Mildew, but something else."

Hiccup didn't respond, averting his gaze.

"Hm. I thought so. Something also tells me that you can be quite brave when the situation calls for it. I don't know how you did it, but you befriended a dragon. That takes bravery, lad."

"You're both young. You both have a lot to learn. But don't be so hard on yourself, Hiccup. Even mermen deserve love, you know," she gave him a soft smile, tying the new wrappings after applying some salve.

"Astrid is inside, worried about you. I told her to let me speak with you first," she rested a hand on his shoulder, and he finally met her gaze. "You did nothing wrong, Hiccup. Mildew, he's just looking to cause trouble. He always has been that way. If you had stayed, you would have seen just about everyone come to your defense. Axel and Astrid were the most vocal."

Gathering the supplies, she got to her feet. "I'll send Astrid out to you. I'll see you in the morning, dear."

Without another word, she left, leaving Hiccup a bit speechless as he stretched his fins out.

A moment later, he heard hurried footsteps approaching. Looking over at his girlfriend, he said, "I, I'm so sorry I ran off like that, I can explain..."

After a long training session, all Astrid wanted to do was cool off on the beach. Maybe a tiny swim, even though the ocean was so cold at this time of year. She pushed through the brush and staggered down to the shore.

Only to find a boy lounging in the shallows.

“Oh!” She dropped her axe in the sand. From his bare torso, she assumed he was naked. “Sorry! I didn’t know someone else would be…here…” as the apologies flowed, she realized from the waist down, he had green scales and a pair of fins.

No wonder she hadn’t recognized him.

“No way…” she inched closer. “A real mermaid! In the flesh! Are the stories true?” She stamped down her overwhelming curiosity for a moment to give him a stern point. “Don’t try anything fishy, mermaid. I’m very capable of protecting myself, got it?”

((I saw the prompt and went feral, hope you don’t mind))

[X]

Hiccup started, the water around him splashing as he sat up straight in surprise, before he moved a little further back, his cheeks flushed.

"No, sorry, I, I shouldn't--" Ducking his head, the merman awkwardly held up a hand, "Usually no one comes here..."

But his movements only caused his tail to briefly break the surface, emerald scales glittering in the sun for a moment before dipping below the water again.

Firmly, he responded, "Merman. I am a merman. And no, don't worry, I, I wasn't going to try anything...I know you'd probably kill me if I did..."

Clearing his throat, he ran a hand through his hair, which had partially dried in his time sitting in the shallow water. "What, what stories are you referring to?"

He knew, or at least had a gut feeling about what she was asking, but he wanted to hear it from her. She appeared wary, but not fearful. Maybe these humans didn't have the same fears of his kind like the others?

[dcdreamblog]

So your recent interview with the Sandman gave me a question for you, as a historian, in your field of study.

Primary sources are considered the absolute gold standard for history, and most superheroes guard their identities quite closely, meaning you can't take any random person's word on who any given superhero is and what their real history is.

So with some superheroes, proof would be pretty easy. For example, there are comics that swear Superman has a secret identity and that it's Clark Kent. If that was true, Kent could prove his identity as Superman by demonstrating his physical abilities (e.g. lifting cars, flying). At that point you could theoretically make the argument "oh, he's not Superman, he's an unrelated metahuman who mysteriously has chosen to never reveal this for...reasons I guess," but there would be no logic behind that, so "yes, he really is Superman" would be the more logical conclusion.

But then you get into superheroes like Batman. If Bruce Wayne waltzed into your office in the cowl with the Batmobile parked outside and said "I'm Batman," all that would prove is that his cosplay budget is entirely unfair. At a stretch, it might prove that he knows Batman, or that Batman for some reason was like "Mr. Wayne, I need you to impersonate me" and Wayne said "okay sure, I see no way this could possibly go wrong."

So how would one go about determining the identities of heroes like this? Is it even possible to have a primary source for un-unmasked heroes?

Well first we need to settle a point of ethics that has been drilled into the back of my head since my college days.

Generally we do NOT go about determining the identity of superheroes behind their masks. It's not our jobs and most of us would not consent to it if it was. So called "identity sleuthing" IS a thing and it DOES happen but its the kind of community that really festers on the uncomfortable parts of Youtube and 4Chan where people are trying to drag superheroes out into the light for clout, or for personal grudges, or for bigotry, or because of some misguided sense of transparency.

People in my position don't CARE about who a superhero is behind the mask. That's not information we need in the moment to do what we do. Would it be easier to pontificate on a hero's actions if we knew who they were and where they were coming from? Sure, but the risks, not only the physical danger it would put heroes under but also the near certain chance of ruining their lives isn't worth it.

That being said, once we DO have a superhero's identity. How do we know? Well.

(A photo shoot Oliver Queen conducted when his identity as the Green Arrow was unveiled. No seriously, that was a thing he did)

The most publically prominent "unmasking" of a superhero in the modern day is certainly the reveal that Justice League perennial and Star City protector Green Arrow was actually billionaire and social activist (and politician, advertiser, Queen has done a lot of things) Oliver Queen. So, how do we know that Queen is Green Arrow?

Well, for starts the circumstances of the unveiling make it pretty clear. Queen turned himself in for the homicide of super terrorist Prometheus (that is an ethical quagmire for another time I assure you). He was arrested in the guise of the Green Arrow, while acting as the Green Arrow, while dressed in Green Arrow's equipment and carrying his weapons.

Like you said though, a lot of that is circumstantial, it could be that he was only acting with the Green Arrow's NAME using his vast wealth (one would truly wonder when bored layabout Queen somehow became a world class archer but that's beside the point) so, how else do we know?

In the face of his surrender to authorities, Queen knew that his secret identity would be forfeit. As such he didn't resist the attempts to corroborate his identity. Nor did his teammates in the Justice League when they confirmed his intentions (which tells US that they would, can, and probably already have obscured their members' identities from the public in other circumstances which I can't begrudge them for). The Justice League's records were unredacted on all public channels removing any covering of information that might otherwise have revealed his identity.

And then there's the most important kind of corroboration: Community corroboration. Now that its out in the open, his teammates, his friends, his comrades openly confirm that Green Arrow is and always has been Oliver Queen. While they COULD theoretically be lying about that its an Occam's Razor problem. If he's already walking himself out in front of the news camera, why wouldn't the League just say what it means?

And that's the best way to know. In my current profession I deal mostly with heroes whose identities have been known for years. Most golden age heroes unveiled their identities once the Keene Act was amended and the Justice Society reappeared. We know Wesley Dodds was the Sandman despite his lack of (visible) superpowers because he revealed himself as the Sandman, was refereed to as the Sandman by his fellow heroic colleagues, died and was then buried by that same community in the guise of the Sandman.

If you're looking for more than that you're digging down into a "what is truth" kind of argument I can't really help you with.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

2025 General Election: “Special Story”

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Spoilers ahead.

When I woke up that morning, the first thing I saw was Ranmaru's beautiful sleeping face.

My heart skipped a beat as I felt his arm wrapped around my back.

(Oh, right.)

(Last night, I ended up staying in Ranmaru's room.)

Even though we live in the same castle, we usually sleep in separate rooms.

That's exactly why mornings like this feel even more special.

(Still, I'm so nervous.)

(Just watching him sleep like this is enough to make my heart flutter.)

Even though Ranmaru and I were lovers now, our relationship was still fairly new.

Ranmaru: "Mmm. Lady Mai?"

Mai: "G-Good morning!"

Ranmaru: "You're already up? You can sleep in a little longer, you know?"

Ranmaru: "You were working late last night. Come on, close your eyes."

(Waah...)

He gently patted my back with practiced affection.

(Wait—what did he just say?)

(I wasn't working late last night. Is he still half-asleep?)

Confused, I looked up at him from within his arms—and our eyes met.

Then, suddenly, his eyes widened in surprise.

Ranmaru: "Am I dreaming? You look different somehow. Like you're not the you I know."

Ranmaru (Future): "I see. So you're the you from ten years ago."

As we talked and tried to make sense of it all, the shocking truth came out.

Though his appearance was exactly the same, it turned out he was Ranmaru from ten years in the future.

(Now that I think about it, yeah, he does feel a little different than usual.)

(And I kind of need to believe that, or my heart might explode.)

Like it was the most natural thing in the world, he sat me down in front of the vanity and began brushing my hair.

(He didn't even give me a chance to protest—he moved so naturally, like he's done this a thousand times before.)

(This must be something we do all the time in the future.)

His gentle, careful touch warmed me inside, though I couldn't help but blush at how intimate it felt.

Ranmaru (Future): "What's wrong? You look nervous."

Mai: "Um, what do I usually do? Do I just sit here quietly?"

Ranmaru (Future): "Hmm. You're mostly dozing off."

Ranmaru (Future): "You tend to sway sleepily, so it actually takes a bit of skill to get your hair right."

(Wait—am I really like that in the future!?)

Mai: "I'm definitely relying on you too much."

Mai: "I should probably start working on that so I can keep it together in the future."

I said it to him through the mirror, and Ranmaru chuckled softly.

Ranmaru (Future): "Hmm? You don't need to, you know."

Ranmaru (Future): "It just means you feel safest by my side now."

Ranmaru (Future): "So I want you to stay just the way you are."

(Ah…)

He gently ran his fingers through my hair, smiling sweetly.

Mai: "I must be really happy."

Ranmaru (Future): "Hm?"

Mai: "I just thought—my future self must be incredibly happy."

Mai: "To be treated so kindly and loved so openly by someone I love is amazing."

Mai: "Thank you, Ranmaru."

I thanked him on behalf of the drowsy version of me from the future—but for some reason, he sighed.

(Huh? Why did he sigh?)

Ranmaru (Future): "Geez. You're just as cute as you were ten years ago."

Mai: "----!"

Ranmaru (Future): "But the me in this timeline has only just started dating you."

Ranmaru (Future): "Even if it's still me, I probably can't go through with the usual 'finishing touches' just yet."

(Finishing touches? It's just my hair. What would he even need to hold back for?)

Confused, I turned around to look at him, and he gave me a playful wink.

Ranmaru (Future): "Curious about what the finishing touches are?"

Ranmaru (Future): "Well, let's just call that a little something to look forward to in the future."

Ranmaru (Future): "I think the 'me' from this time is about to wake up, so I'll leave the rest to him, okay?"

Mai: "Huh?"

The moment he said that, Ranmaru quietly closed his eyes.

When he opened them again—slowly this time—he puffed out his cheeks in slight annoyance.

Mai: "R-Ranmaru?"

Ranmaru: "That's right. I'm the version of myself who's dating you in the present."

Ranmaru: "And also the me who saw everything that happened between you and future me."

Mai: "Wait, seriously!?"

Before I could process it, Ranmaru wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me into a tight embrace.

Ranmaru: "I was supposed to be the one sharing a sweet morning with you—not him."

Ranmaru: "But since he left the final touches to me, I guess I'll let it slide just this once."

Mai: "You knew what he was going to do?"

Ranmaru: "Of course. I mean, he is me."

Ranmaru: "And when it comes to doing something for you—I know exactly what I'd do."

(Ah…)

He turned me around and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

The warmth of it faded quickly, replaced by a tender gaze that made my heart race.

Ranmaru: "I love you with all my heart."

Ranmaru: "I hope today gives you plenty of reasons to smile!"

(Ranmaru…)

Mai: "You know, I was wrong about what I said to future you."

Mai: "It's not just future me who's lucky—present me is just as happy, too."

Ranmaru: "Heh, of course you are. I wouldn't accept anything less."

Still laughing, he gave me another kiss—this one playful and affectionate.

The way he touched me, so much like the future Ranmaru, made me realize just how deep and lasting his love truly was.