#I’m so stupid for thinking I ever mattered

[arabella0001]

✧ cn: fluff, marriage, husband toji, suggestive

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Toji isn’t the kind of man who says “I love you” often. Not because he doesn’t feel it—but because words have never been his thing.

But when he sees you now, sitting on the floor with Megumi, trying to explain how to fit little wooden shapes into the right holes so he can learn geometry—something Toji knows damn well he’d never have the patience for, something hits him.

Fuck. This is what loving someone looks like.

It’s not just that you look cute when you smile, or how gently you stroke Megumi’s hair when he gets frustrated. It’s not even just how sweet your voice gets when you say, “That’s the triangle, baby. Good job.”

It’s that you’re beautiful. So beautiful it actually pisses him off a little.

Those damn shorts he always says make your ass look bigger—rolled up slightly, your hair tied back in that way that’s both innocent and deadly. From one angle, you look like the softest woman he’s ever seen. From another… like the kind he wants to bend over the couch and fuck until you're gasping his name, gripping the cushion while he pulls your hair and keeps your back pressed to his chest like you’re not going anywhere—

But that’s not what matters right now.

His heart beats a little harder just sitting there, slouched on the couch, legs spread, exhausted after a mission. And still… it’s you he’s watching.

“Hey,” he calls out.

You don’t look up, too focused on Megumi, but your voice comes out sweet, without thinking.

“Hmm? Yes, love?”

He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out quite right. The pause is too long, so you finally turn to look at him.

His eyes meet yours—intense, unreadable.

“Something wrong, baby?”

He hesitates. It comes out awkward, maybe even stupid. But it’s real.

“If you ever need anything from me… tell me.”

You blink, confused for a second, brows knitting.

“Toji, I’m completely happy with what i have. With you and Me—”

“Promise me.”

A beat.

“Yes, Toji. I promise.”

He nods, looking away, voice low—half to himself.

“I’d give you anything you want from me.”

[wordsofwhimsy]

Power Play ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Pairing: Omni-Mark x f!CEO!Reader

Warnings: None

Genres: Fem!Dom budding romantic adventure (what a description lmao)

Word Count: 1330

Synopsis: Omni-Mark thought he was the superior being in any room he entered, that is until he met you.

Inspiration: “I’m Sprung” – T-Pain

a/n: when i tell y’all i am strugglinggg with the next part for Shattered Affections i feel like my brain is going to melt out of my ears. so i had to take a break from it and write something quick & fun instead

Omni-Mark always prided himself on being the epitome of control. Super strength, near invulnerability, the kind of cool and collected confidence that made people look twice. Yet, despite all of that, there was one thing that had him completely off-balance: you.

He’d seen you before, of course. Your sleek, perfectly tailored suits, the way you commanded attention with nothing more than a look, a sharp word, or the sheer force of your presence. As CEO of the most powerful tech conglomerate in the world, you were a woman who didn’t need to ask for respect – it was given, the moment you entered a room.

But Omni-Mark wasn’t just mesmerized by the way you carried yourself. No. What had him sprung was how effortlessly you seemed to break through all the walls he'd so carefully built around himself. It wasn’t just your power or authority. It was the way you saw him – like he was more than just a suit of armor and raw power. You didn’t need saving, but you saw him, and that made him feel something he couldn’t even begin to describe.

He still remembered the first time you’d asked him to meet. The corporate event at the annual tech summit. He’d been there, of course, his presence always required when heroes and villains needed to play nice for the sake of business. But that night, when you’d extended your hand to him with a smile that was both knowing and curious, something inside him had snapped.

“Invincible, right?” Your voice had been smooth, rich with a slight but powerful edge. It made his name sound like a compliment, like you knew the weight of it.

"Yes," he’d said, his throat suddenly dry. "Nice to meet you, uh... Miss Y/L/N." He stumbled over the words, heart hammering in his chest.

But you hadn’t let that fluster you. Instead, you leaned in a little closer, as if you were truly interested, and he swore he could feel the heat of your gaze sink into him. “I like what I see,” you had said, barely above a whisper. “I think we could make a lot of things happen together.”

Make a lot of things happen. A simple phrase, but one that had played over and over in his mind ever since. He’d seen countless powerful people come and go, but none had ever made him feel like you did.

It was stupid, really. He was a viltrumite. Strong. Unstoppable. And yet, every time he saw you, he felt a little weaker in the knees, his control slipping away like sand through his fingers.

—

Tonight was no different. He’d just left a fight—one that had left his body aching, his mind scattered. But when you texted him to meet at your office for a "quick chat," it was as though all that mattered was getting to you. You had a way of making everything else irrelevant.

His flight through the sky was sharp, clean, his usual speed, but his mind raced at a different pace. What was he even doing? He was superhuman. Yet, all he could think of was the way you looked in that black pencil skirt earlier today. The way your heels clicked with authority as you walked through your skyscraper. And the way you spoke to him when no one else was around—soft, but no less commanding.

When he arrived, he touched down in front of the glass building. His stomach flipped at the sight of the towering structure, where everything seemed to be in its place, and yet somehow, the only thing that truly made him feel grounded was you.

The elevator ride up was quick, his mind swirling. He wasn’t sure what to expect from tonight. Maybe another conversation that would leave him tangled in his own thoughts, or maybe, just maybe, something more.

The doors slid open, and there you were, waiting for him in your office. The blinds were pulled back, and the night’s skyline sprawled out beneath you. You looked every bit the CEO—cool, collected, in control. But there was something in your eyes as they met his that made his breath catch.

“Mark,” you said, standing from your desk with a slow, deliberate movement. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

He couldn’t help but smirk, the tension between them thickening. “You call, I come. That’s the deal, remember?”

A small, amused smile danced across your lips, but it was the glint in your eyes that got him. You were testing him. Pushing his boundaries, like you always did. And for all his strength and invulnerability, he found himself falling deeper into the trap.

You stepped closer, a move so confident it left him breathless. “You’re always so serious, Mark. Don’t you ever just let go?”

Your words hung in the air, daring him to admit what he already knew: that the stoic mask he wore was slipping, and it was because of you. He was trying to keep his composure, but you were already too close, your perfume an intoxicating blend of power and elegance. It clouded his senses, and he swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.

“I… I don’t know if I can let go,” he finally admitted, voice low, strained. “But you make it hard not to try.”

Your smile widened, satisfaction lighting your face. “That’s the idea, Mark.”

For a moment, the world seemed to pause, the air between you thick. Your gaze softened, and he found himself mesmerized by the way you looked at him, like you truly saw him—beyond the hero, beyond the mask. It made his heart beat a little faster.

He knew the risks. He knew how easily things could go wrong. But right now, with you standing in front of him, there was only one thing on his mind.

You stepped closer to him, eyeing him evenly for a moment before gesturing to the chair across from you.

“Sit,” you commanded, your voice cool and unwavering.

Mark’s eyes flickered to the chair, his stoic expression momentarily shifting as if weighing the command. But he didn’t resist. He simply lowered himself into the seat, every muscle in his body tense yet still, as if awaiting the next move.

You paced around him, slow and deliberate, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each step. The sound echoed around the room, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way he was already reacting to your presence. His gaze tracked you as you moved, his breathing shallow, betraying just how much control you had over him without even touching him.

You circled him a few times, each lap making him more and more aware of the power you wielded. The tension in his shoulders, the slight clenching of his jaw—it was all confirmation that you had him right where you wanted him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you stopped in front of him. You stood there for a moment, your eyes locking with his. And without breaking your gaze, you lifted your foot and placed it in his lap, delicately at first to gauge his reaction before pressing harder into his crotch.

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles white, but there was no fight in him. No resistance. Only the mild hint of a groan being suppressed in his throat.

“Good boy,” you whispered, your lips curling into a satisfied smile. The words were simple, but they were enough to make his heart race. You could see it in his eyes now—the realization that he was completely under your control.

“You’re mine now,” you added softly, the power of those words settling between you both, unspoken yet undeniable. And with that, you knew for sure that Invincible, the powerful and stoic hero, had become your willing captive, and he wouldn’t fight it. Not now, not ever. And your fun with your new toy was only just getting started.

[everwhovian]

5th grade Jun-ho getting bullied for still having some baby fat and feeling insecure for the first time and in-ho finding out and reassuring him

Poor Jun-ho! I really hope no one has to go through that! It's just cruel!

(warnings: mentions of bullying, Jun-ho doesn't want to eat)

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Dinner smelled good. It always did when hyung cooked. The steam from the kimchi stew curled up into the air, warm and familiar, and there was a bowl of rice waiting for him – fluffy, just the way he liked it.

But he didn’t want it.

Not that night.

Jun-ho poked at his rice with his chopsticks, dragging a few grains from one side of the bowl to the other. His stomach twisted. He took one bite, maybe two, but the food tasted strange in his mouth – thick and dry and wrong.

He pushed the bowl away.

Across the table, he felt In-ho’s eyes on him. He didn’t look up.

“You okay, bud?” In-ho asked.

Jun-ho nodded quickly. Too quickly. “Just not hungry.”

That was a lie. He was always hungry after school. Especially for stew. But right then, the idea of eating made his throat close up.

In-ho watched him for a second, then set his chopsticks down. “You feeling sick?”

“No.”

“Something happen at school?”

Jun-ho shrugged.

“Jun-ho.”

He tried to get up, take his bowl to the sink and disappear upstairs – but In-ho stopped him with a hand on his arm. It was gentle, but firm.

“Hey. Talk to me.”

Jun-ho sat back down again. He kept his eyes on the floor. The words felt stuck in his chest, thick like they’d been sitting there all day.

But they came out anyway.

“Some kids said I was fat.”

The silence that followed was worse than the words were. He hated how small his voice sounded. How it still kind of trembled.

“They said I have baby fat,” Jun-ho muttered, barely audible. “That I look like I eat too much. That I’m soft. One of them said I look like a ‘squishy dumpling.’ They laughed.”

His ears burned.

He could still hear them, even now.

How old is he? Doesn’t he look like a kindergartener?

Bet his eomma still packs him extra rice.

That kid’s gotta be eating his whole family’s dinners.

You ever seen cheeks that round? He’s like a plush toy.

They hadn’t pushed him. They hadn’t even raised their voices. But somehow, it made everything worse. They just laughed and walked away.

And Jun-ho hadn’t said anything. He just stood there, frozen, wishing he could shrink.

He finally glanced up, expecting In-ho to say something. To maybe laugh it off or tell him to ignore it.

Instead, his hyung was crouching beside him, eyes soft but serious.

“You don’t look weird,” he said gently.

Jun-ho wanted to believe him. But the voices in his head were louder.

“You’re just saying that because you have to,” he mumbled.

“I’m saying that because it’s true.”

Jun-ho blinked hard. His eyes stung, but he didn’t want to cry. Not in front of In-ho. Not over something so stupid.

But it was the first time he’d ever felt… wrong in his body. Like it didn’t belong to him. Like something about it was bad.

“I didn’t think anything was weird about me until today,” he said quietly. “But now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

In-ho let out a breath and rested a hand on his knee.

“Jun-ho,” he said, “you’ve got cheeks that every auntie in this building wants to pinch. That’s not a flaw. That’s power.”

Jun-ho huffed a small laugh, watery and real.

“People are always going to say things,” In-ho continued. “But you don’t have to carry it. You hear me? There is nothing wrong with you. You’re strong. You’re growing. And if you ever feel small, come find me.”

Jun-ho nodded. His chest felt tight, but in a different way now.

“Can I still have ice cream?” he asked after a beat.

In-ho grinned. “I was gonna offer even if you didn’t ask.”

Jun-ho smiled, just a little, and leaned against him without thinking – head against In-ho’s shoulder, eyes closing for a moment.

Because no matter how the world made him feel, this – this right here – felt safe. Felt true.

And that was enough for now.

[skullkxd]

“I think this is the only thing Lance and I will probably ever agree on.”

They snort a little, finding the joke funny, but … the little grin on their face fades along with Gloria’s. They know it’s no laughing matter. That something like this is serious and scary and overwhelming, and they shouldn’t laugh, but…

If they don’t laugh, there’s a good chance they’ll cry.

They can see the way Gloria’s eyes flicker to trace their scars. Ree turns their hand over and opens to show her the nihilego burns— their fingers still can’t open fully, so the tips are curled inward.

“I might be brave, but I’m also stupid,” they point out gently. “I got hurt, but a lot of other people feel guilty about it. You. My sis. My dad.” Not Lance, but they won’t say it. “That wasn’t what I wanted. I was trying so hard to protect everybody. But that was stupid. I shoulda been careful.”

Not that they didn’t try. But that’s not the point they’re trying to make.

“Glo… you’re helping me just by bein’ here. Being around. Hangin out. Makin sure to keep me on the ground and out of the sky.” Their index finger twitches, brushing against Gloria’s palm. “That’s all I want. I don’ want you throwin yourself into danger for me. We gotta work together when we can.

So don’t … leave me behind. Okay?”

Rather than argue about how awful their face looks — because they know it looks awful, and Gloria is just being incredibly nice — they drop the comment they could say. There’s no use in that, anyway —

They shiver a little when her soft hand wraps around theirs. Their hands are rough and scarred — and it hasn’t been that long since their palms started to properly heal up from the nihilego poison burns.

Still, it’s not — a bad sensation, when she hold them. It’s just.

different.

　“a lot of people were nearby. The only one who could help me was Lance,” they point out, gentle. “If anybody else tried, there woulda been more injuries. We’re lucky that the only ones who got beat up were me an’ that Cyrus jackass, and that’s only cause we beat up each other.

My injuries right now are just exhaustion from usin’ z-moves,” they add, “My body has a hard time handling them because it’s so injured. And Lady is super powerful— I used to need a power dampener to even try z-moves when I first started, because my body was super weak from almost being sliced into sashimi.”

They don’t remember if they told her about that. Oh well.

“If I stressed out about how many times I coulda died, I’d have died from stress by now. It’s okay, Glostick. I promise. Don’t worry about what-ifs. Keep focusing on the Now.”

[hopebeloved]

.

[elizakai]

gahdamn being in a fandom for close to ten years makes a bitch forget vital canon information

[butchrindou]

i’m so pressured with improving myself as an artist and it’s making me lose it because i’m not even doing art for my career but i love it so much. Like i kinda feel useless doing it sometimes, especially since i see other artists and i know damn well i will never achieve that level and im not saying this for people to feel pity but idk i feel like my art style doesn’t fit tr.???3! or like idk. Sometimes i’ll literally cry because i feel like my art style doesn’t fit rindou and she’s literally my muse, she’s the reason why i get so excited to sit down and draw everyday yet i feel like im just stuck sitting somewhere where i can’t do anything special to show my love for her and it sounds silly.. bc that’s a fictional character but still, ive liked this character for so long and i see improvement just from drawing rindou non stop but i still feel like im just barely touching the surface of improvement. Also i feel like i care too much about what others may like vs what i want to try and draw.. i want to draw her raw and literally how i perceive her, her character, her body, every single aspect of her and why she’s so important to me. Yet i can’t do that because i get so scared of the outcome/how my artwork looks/ how others will perceive it. And im not saying im not happy with my art, i am but there’s just ways i want to do it i feel like wont stick out to others which scares me or it will seem ooc of rindou. literally because of this i always have the urge to delete my account and restart and continue doing that till i feel like i perfected her yet i dont think that’ll ever happen even with how much love i have for that character

[lesbiansanemi]

Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

[reflection-s-of-stars]

I would like it if I was good at things

[abnormalpsychology]

thrilling sequel to my poll from back in January

[thriftdyke]

.

[korovamlecznybar]

wishing i never tried to get an autism diagnosis

[kralmajales]

I’ll be like “fuck capitalism you owe nothing to you job workers of the world unite” but then HR at my job will tell me I’m “an exemplary employee” and I’ll be giggling and kicking my feet.

[kisakunt]

BABY TRAP? LIKE THE MOVIE WITH THE TWINS?

description… you two are meant to be. sealed by fate, star crossed lovers. you’ll keep each other around however you need to.

warnings… dark content! baby trapping! noncon! obviously they’re being baby trapped they say something trying to stop it. consensual sex. full penetrative sex.

a word from the writer… i’ve had this in the drafts for aWHILE. it’s about time. do yall still read dc? i’ll never stop supplying… are we too woke now?!

TRAPS YOU

you’re hot under him, and he’s making that face he always makes right before he cums. it’s like repetition; eyes blanked out, mouth ajar but not fully open, brows furrowed like he’s desperate— and it’s scary.

“baby,” the word is cut in two with how fast he’s going, tease of pain as he hilts into your cervix with every thrust. “baby, you’re not wearing a condom.” your voice is uneasy, shaky from the movement and pleasure and build up. you think, in a way, the way you have sex is unfair. he gives you so much, orgasm after orgasm, rubbing your clit as he drills you to the point you go fucking stupid.

you feel safe with him. sex is sacred with him, no matter how sick it gets. but right now, with your calves pressed into his shoulders, his hands pushing your thighs impossibly back, you feel uneasy.

“baby, baby, pull out.” he gasps, sweat dripping down right near your eyes as a shaky groan escapes him.

“fuck,” a chaste kiss to your forehead, a shakiness in his movements, an unmatched rhythm as he gets closer and closer. “fuck. oh my, god. you feel so fucking good— so fuckin’ good.”

and so does he. but you’re scared.

“you’re gonna make such a good mommy, gonna be such a good mama. gonna— gonna give you my babies. gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine.”

“hey, wait,” your hands raise to his chest but he hits that angle that makes your eyes roll and they fall back. it feels so good you almost don’t care. “baby, baby, baby stop. baby, you gotta pull out.”

“you’re gonna be such a good mommy. gonna give you my kids. gonna give you my kids.” and it’s instant. it’s before you can even think— if you could anyway— it’s pressed so deep in you you betray yourself and cum, too.

he places his head to yours, kisses you greedy and whole, and whines into your mouth. it’s him, it’s real, it’s love. but— and you know this— it’s something so wrong.

“did you just…?” and before you can finish your question, he’s regaining his rhythm, fucking his cum into you with a half hard dick. it’s precise, it’s calculated, it’s intention.

he looks at you, eyes wide, breath heavy, and gives you a little grin. “gonna keep fucking you even when you’re pregnant, baby. gonna make sure i can keep you all to myself.”

GOJO, GETO, SUKUNA, YUJI

GETS TRAPPED

your legs hurt. you’ve been on top for all of thirty minutes, which you have no one to blame other than yourself. you love to edge him, love to get him so close and then take it all away from him. you think it gets him a little addicted.

but right now, as he squirms under you, losing every ounce of masculinity he’s ever had, something takes over you.

“gonna cum,” it’s breathless, short and sweet. “oh shit, i’m gonna cum.” you think he must think you’re edging him again. you think he’s expecting you to slow down, stop all together, pick up off him fully for ten or so seconds and then slam back down.

but you pick up the pace, grinding your hips into his, hitting his pelvic bone with your own as your hands grip at his pecs.

“wait, are you—” he falls apart under you, voice failing him, body failing him, hands only finding the strength to grip at your hips. “baby girl, i’m gonna cum.”

it’s melodic, tactile and articulate, a steady flow of bounces while your squelch fills the room.

“sweetheart, you gotta stop.” your right hand lifts from his chest to his mouth, shoving your fingers between his lips while he groans. he’s so easy to you, for you, because of you.

and then you feel it, milk it, relish in it— the way he comes undone at your touch, loses himself deep inside you. you don’t say a word about it, don’t think about it too much as you press your wet fingers to your stomach.

it’s a quiet giggle as reality washes over him. he looks cute, you can’t help but realize, panic and flushed under you. you’re sure of it then; he’s gonna be a sexy dad.

MEGUMI, NANAMI, CHOSO, TOJI