#Something something you're not happy with how your body looks/is perceived so you want to change it

[fushitoru]

thinking about writing a reincarnated/isekai!gojo and reader series...

you and gojo were married in canon/jjk verse.

you’ve seen his mental health deteriorate because of the higher ups and how he’s perceived as a weapon and is a weapon. satoru’s mental health has been descending for a very long time, and by the end, when you’re soullessly watching his dead body projected by mei mei’s crows, you blankly volunteer to be next (ignoring all of kashmo's protests).

can anyone blame you? your life has no purpose anymore. you and satoru were never able to get the life you deserve. late nights spent waiting in bed for your lover, seeing the love of your life get burdened more and more from the weight of his responsibilities, and, in the end, even witnessing him volunteer his own body as if he were a doll, a weapon. you know damn well you're not going to spend the rest of your life replacing the flowers on his grave and try to reform the society that never even cared about satoru anyways.

you don’t last very long fighting sukuna, and you die, praying to whatever merciless god out there that, in another life, you and satoru get the happy ending you both deserved, that he wouldn't be the one that got away—

you wake up from your dream, gasping. you don’t know why it was so vivid; all you remember is that you were some kind of magician? like winx club? harry potter? hunter x hunter? and you had a husband and he WAS SMOKING HOT. also both of you died and you were kind of sad, because he was hot :(

so—as a college student—you head to your first lecture of the year. you’ve decided to switch majors and have to take this dumb math class that’s a gen ed and is filled with people. so you take one of two empty spots remaining.

the lecture goes on, until professor yaga rolls his eyes and suddenly everyone’s heads is turned towards the door, so you just follow the crowd.

and there he is.

a boy with the most stunning white hair and sheepish blue eyes upholding a charming grin, yelling out something undoubtedly snarky while taking his seat, some people dapping him up as he makes his way to the only seat—-the one next to you.

as he’s setting his stuff down, and he turns to look at you. blinks.

A breathless, “Hi.”

And then, your story begins again.

AHH COMMENT IF you want to be on the taglist <3

this is basically me giving you and gojo the rom com you deserve. does he remember you? did he get the same dream as you? and will he call the police if you chase after him, insisting he's your husband and the love of your life? stay tuned! prepare for angst (hurt/comfort), pining, and ridiculously horny reunion sex (at the end after i make you suffer and yearn, of course)

and to my bridgerton!gojo readers, i promise i will publish the first chapter only after chapter ten/eleven of bridgerton!gojo is out <3

[fujosh1dreamer]

Guess we're talking about millie being preggo I originally didn't want to discuss this, I wanna talk about stolitz lol. Unfortunately I forgot this fanbase is filled with misogynistic scum, so let's talk about millie.

First off, she didn't cheat, she's not having an affair, she didn't get assaulted, and she's not selling her body for money.

It's stupid that I have to say any of that, but if any of those statements are things you genuinely believe you need to take you're misogynistic beliefs and shove them and afterwards get away from my page.

You know what is going on with her... she's found out she's pregnant which is not always a happy thing, nor should it be. Having children uproots your entire life, and changes everything. The way people think about you and the way people see themselves.

We have already established multiple times that millie is a character that only sees value in her strength and abilities.

Now, let's get into the moments in the episode and the things that are foreshadowing the pregnancy reveal. If people perceive the only sign as the one where she is throwing up and when she lashes out at moxxie there's more. When the client comes in a blitz initially declines the offer both moxxie and millie too absorbed into sinsmas wrath to notice the reason why. Moxxie even laughs and goes "really?" They're not paying attention, which is actually out of character for millie (ie hormones) millie is usually really on point and supportive when it comes to Blitz and his emotional needs.

After she throws up, we get this small moment at the window where she's not even looking at the scene. She's no feeling well she wants to get out of the cold, and we can also see the concern in moxxie as he looks at her.

Then there's this moment and it works well to reestablish that millie loves her job, and it also works to show she's no all there emotionally. Everyone including moxxie her husband is walking away, but millie wasn't in that moment that everyone one else had. So she's confused and upset, which is understandable.

This results in her lashing out again.

She insults moxxie, and of course immediately apologizes, and she doesn't even know why she responded that way. Millie is usually pretty well in control with the exception of seeing Chaz and later in happy campers (which was justified) and ghostf*ckers (also justified) are the only times she gets upset and lashes out.

Moxxie once again is not upset he's just concerned, he knows something is wrong, he just doesn't know what it is.

Want to take this moment before the in episode reveal to talk about how hard it is to rewatch these two scenes knowing that millie is preggos. The stress is real omg.

Next this scene of millie deciding to use guns is also interesting because it might be setting up for season 3. If millie keeps this a secret for a long time in season 3 I can see her doing more long range killings in the future. At least until she decides what's she's going to do.

I love that she decided to talk to her sister, and I also love the small detail of their mom being the first to notice something is off.

This is a hard transition for millie because she loves the life she lives, and she loves her husband. We hear her say in ghostfers that's she's happy, we've also seen their lives be uprooted already. Now millie feels like after finally finding stability things are ruined again.

[genderqueerdykes]

hi um. i’d like to ask you for some advice, since it seems like a lot of people come to you when they need it. i’m a trans girl who’s been taking estrogen for 2.5 years but. i’m just so disappointed and unhappy with what hrt has done for me. i feel like i’ve been completely taken over by doomerism from me constantly comparing myself to other transfems both online and irl, and from spending too much time on trans reddit (i’m sending you this ask instead of writing another vent post on r/mtf). through this i’ve convinced myself that i will never be happy with my body, or that i’ll never have real boobs or a feminine body at all. i really really don’t want to give up hope, but it just seems so far out of reach, and i’m stuck down here in this inky abyss. what do you do in dark times when you need to regain hope, but you can’t do it yourself?

first of all, i wanted to say i'm sorry that you're feeling this way. medical transition is a very finicky thing. there is no way to predict what will happen and when, so it's okay to feel just. completely bummed the hell out when you're not seeing the changes you hoped for yet. i definitely see how it can be crushing, especially when you know your body needs to look a different way for you to be happy. it's important to consider people look a lot different irl than they do in photos and videos. camera lenses can only capture so much. pictures and videos can be edited. it's hard to compare yourself to something like that

& i did want to say that you're definitely not alone! there are a lot of girls in your exact situation. with everyone responding to HRT differently, you'll see girls who get changes right away, and girls where it takes a long time. changes with HRT generally happen very slowly, way slower than the eye can perceive, so it's okay if you feel like nothing is happening. your body just may need more time to adjust

have you ever increased your dose? if not, that is totally an option! you may also want to look into progesterone if you find that you're not happy with your breast growth after some time. it's best to look into progesterone first to make sure it's right for you, as it will affect more than just breast growth, but i wanted to throw it out there as an option! if you're not on an androgen blocker, this could also potentially help you

for both estrogen and testosterone HRT, it can take a minimum of 5 years for people to begin seeing the effects they were desiring. 5 years, minimum! that's a very long time, comparatively, you are very early on in your journey. the effects you want to see may just come along further on down the road. i know it's easy to fall into the trap of comparing yourself to others. it's good to remind yourself that they are not you, they do not share your genetics. they look like them. you look like you. it's okay that you don't look like those people- they're not you.

it doesn't make you any less of a woman just because you haven't seen these changes yet. there are plenty of women who look just like you, cis, intersex, trans, genderqueer, and otherwise. there are many cis and intersex women who don't "pass", and it doesn't make them any less of a woman: the same applies to you, and every trans girl. dysphoria can be a real pain in the ass and make things harder than it needs to be. it's okay to not be content with where you're at now. it's okay to be frustrated that you're not seeing the changes you want to right now. many, many trans people feel just the same way you do.

you may feel awkward and uncomfortable right now because you're literally in a transitional phase. think about when teenagers go through puberty, about how awkward they look and feel. cracking voices, bodies that are "in the middle" and not fully developed. that's what you're going through at the moment, and its okay. it just takes time for things to fully settle in.

what i would suggest is trying to find ways to do some self care that affirm your gender that don't involve your appearance. validating yourself in other ways is extremely important. building yourself up takes time. if you feel insecure about how you look, it's okay. you can start building your confidence in your identity and gender in other areas of yourself, first, then move on to your appearance. try to spend time with people who respect you for who you are, no matter how you look. try to surround yourself with people and things that affirm you

i hope you start seeing those changes you want to see soon. if you need more advice, feel free to ask! if any other trans girls on E have any advice for the asker, or relate to the experience, please feel free to chip in with some feedback on this ask, or by sending an ask! due to being intersex, i was taking estrogen and progesterone despite not wanting to, so i was not cataloguing what was changing or anything like that, so i can't speak from personal experience there despite having been on E HRT in the past.

take care of yourself for now. try to go easy on yourself, you're still in your coocoon. the day where you emerge as a butterfly is on its way, it just takes a little time. please feel free to come back any time. i hope we can get some good insight for you

[inert-displacement]

Hey! Just wanted to. I guess speak on behalf of everyone. Something I am definitely in a position to do.

First, absolutely without a doubt, your word should be final when it comes to your body. Only you know what you want, and no-one else has the authority or the right to tell you what to do with it.

I think people might just be a little. Confused? I guess? Coz like you said, you don't take sexual satisfaction from gaining weight or maintaining a heavier weight. In itself, completely fine - gaining definitely isn't for everyone - but you do run a gaining blog. Using gaining tags. And post in a very pro-gaining way a lot of the time. And it kinda feels like you snap between being very pro- and very anti-gaining...suddenly. And often. Which can be a bit disorienting from an outside perspective.

If you dislike being skinny, also perfectly fine - but if you don't like gaining, it strikes people who do as quite an unusual avenue by which to address disliking being skinny.

To speak personally, it sounds like you might be experiencing some kind of body dysmorphia - not gender dysphoria, which sounds similar but is very different - where you dislike how you perceive yourself physically. It sounds like you're addressing that in a very intuitive and sensible way: changing how your body looks. But if you don't like how your body looks now either, it might be worth just chatting with someone with some professional experience about addressing it, coz it might run deeper than what your body looks like.

If you do like how your body looks now though, you just don't want to be involved in gaining: brilliant! Being heavier doesn't have to be a kinky thing: it's a kinky thing for us, but it's also just a completely neutral fact about a person.

What can happen, and I've seen happen before, is people can enter the gaining scene because they enjoy being a little heavier in a completely non-sexual way, but the people around them in their everyday lives are like. Vehemently against it. So they find communities online that support them. But the thing is, there's a middle ground between people who are totally anti-fat and. Y'know. Fetishists. It's what we talk about when we talk about the body positivity movement! If you're healthy and happy, it isn't for anyone else to make you feel bad about how you look. And there's a thriving online space for that as well! Hell, a lot of us are kind of part-and-parcel members in a non-sexual context.

I would say, in either case, the online gaining community might not be for you. We totally support whatever decision you choose to make, but if gaining fundamentally isn't your thing, we're ill-suited to help you get what you want from your body or environment.

Let me rephrase something. I completely love the idea of getting bigger and fatter. Makes me aroused every single time. But the actual eating part I can’t get aroused by like others can.

I enjoy getting bigger than what I was and at time it is very intoxicating and erotic. But being a cheerleader I’ve learned to become very vain with how I look because the culture I’ve been apart of is just very self deprecating.

I do enjoy this community it’s very lovely i just tend to get very down on myself sometimes and often very ashamed of myself.

Because I live in the south anything that’s sexually deviant is shameful. And I feel that this fetish is very deviant from traditional sexual behavior. So I often get conflicted about myself.

I have had this kink since forever, I used to shove pillows

In my shirt as a kid, blow balloons up in my shirt. And that was at a time when I had anorexia (ironic asf) but my relationship with food is better but I don’t want to be gluttonous or greed because as a kid I’d get yelled at for that!

Sorry for the long long long post but I hope this has cleared up a lot and makes my mindset more clear to all of you🫶🏻

[selvepnea]

Been thinking about my body a lot

[agatalunar]

· . ˚ *  * How do others perceive you? · . ˚ *  *

it would be a pleasure for me if you let me know if the reading resonated with you so do not hesitate to send me a message, comment or reblog, it will make me immensely happy

choose the gif with which you feel most connected/attracted

Pile 1… 2… 3…

⠀〜 Pile 1

Cards: king of wands, the moon, the justice, eight of cups

You are afraid that others will see who you really are and others notice this, they see potential in you but for some reason you don't dare to express it. You have a lot of light inside you but something stops you, you have an infectious laugh. It's as if you wanted to be a rockstar but in your environment you avoid being perceived, there is no balance between what you want and what you do. Others perceive that you hide, but... why do you do it?

You may think that you don't stand out in the crowd, but it's quite the opposite. No matter how basic you dress or how little you speak, you always have eyes looking at you and admiring you.

It's like you're a greek goddess/god trapped in the body of a mere mortal, there's a potential in you that others perceive; little by little take control of that potential, play with makeup and clothes, play with the way you walk and act, you have a mesmerizing aura that others can't resist. Don't be afraid of being perceived. Don't let fear take away your path to success, the world is waiting for you. I don't even know you but I love your energy, you are a star baby!! The world needs an icon of freedom and authenticity like you.

The vibe you bring to the function:

Things that may resonate with you or are significant:

Luces de Nueva York by Sonora Santanera, Hold me tight by BTS, “can you trust me?”, wear a lot of black, having hair up/short, redhead, 11, 18, Endlessly by Kali Uchis, “watch me with your eyes”, Chappell Roan, Vanity by Christina Aguilera, 1920, ����️‍🌈, queer, 888, Bjork, feminine power, “who’s the real me?”, Villain by PIXY, have an audience, fill stages

⠀〜 Pile 2

Cards: ace of wands, king of cups, queen of swords and nine of cups

You don't let others take power over you, others notice the limits you set and that can sometimes intimidate them. You're like that person at the party that everyone wants to talk to but they don't because you have such a strong energy, they love to admire you. No matter how you identify, you have a super well-balanced masculine and feminine energy.

Others love your hair, the way you move when you dance, you may really like silver jewelry or accessories, animal print? Others notice that you have a very mature energy, they perceive you as someone responsible and who knows what they want in life, you are an extremely attractive person, you are such a beautiful human being that your beauty imposes

You love spending time alone or at least you know that your happiness doesn't depend on others, it only depends on you. Although maybe the only thing you haven't completely healed is the fact of feeling vulnerable with someone else, and yes, I'm talking about loving connections. Let your soul feel what it's like to be in love, let someone like you. Don't let the fear of being sensitive take away the possibility of creating deep and beautiful connections.

The vibe you bring to the function:

Things that may resonate with you or are significant:

Heavens on fire by KISS, 9, Lo que Paso Paso by Daddy Yankee, Can’t get you out of my head by Kylie Minogue, scary beauty, Never say never by The fray, When loves is around by Zayn (feat.Syd), dance to transmute energy, 🐆, 🤎, black hair, Bad girl by WOOAH, Lest fall in love for the morning by Finneas, Hey Ma by Pitbull, You should be dancing by Bee Gees, fast and furious, She’s not afraid by One Direction

⠀〜 Pile 3

Cards: knight of coins, seven of wands, eight of cups and the death

You have a very calm energy, others perceive you as a peaceful person, you have very diverse tastes.

You are a very beautiful person but you don't notice it? Or you just don't give it any importance. Others love spending time with you because your presence attracts calm, you love to see the sky, you probably meditate or you like philosophy and reading a lot, you like to write. They love you because you are not one to criticize, you just want to take it easy, you understand that each individual goes their own way.

Somehow I feel that you have the gift of transmuting the energy of others, the negative energy of the world, you do it automatically so take good care of yourself, rest and eat well. You are like a teacher of life, possibly your soul is an old soul. You let others know a lot about your tastes, your personality and your law of life but you don't let them get too close to your personal life, I don't see it as something bad but understand that there are people in the world that you can trust, not all of them are selfish or bad.

The vibe you bring to the function:

Things that may resonate with you or are significant:

Sagittarius, air sign, indie kid, Sex, drugs, etc by Beach Weather, alternative music, lying on the grass/admiring the scenery, the pandemic is significant in your life, viral music from tiktok or music from 2019-2021, I love it by Charlie XCX, kpop, Work - Rihanna, Break free by Ariana Grande, diary, Emma Chamberlain, 5, goblin/fairy vibe, Doja Cat, “talking bad is not my style”

Thanks for your time and energy, I hope you liked it <3

[aestherians]

sorry to be a hater of sorts. but you are not an animal, or whatever else other than a human that you happen to identify as.

it is not about wanting. it is about BEING, and if you look in the mirror you’ll realise you’re just a human. it doesn’t make a difference if you struggle with it. get over it. a lot of people have to get over it. you cannot be indulged in a fantasyland 24/7. quite simply, grow up

Huh, I don't think I've gotten one of these asks since 2017...

First things first, starting off a rather hateful and concern-trolling message with "sorry" doesn't alleviate you of any potential harm done. You're trying to upset me. You're rude, you're mean, and you clearly realize it, since you're only willing to say these things anonymously. Don't try to soften your blows by apologizing preemptively. It's bitchy at best and belittling at worst.

I'm gonna take a guess and say this is a copy-pasted message, since you couldn't even be bothered to name my therio-/kintypes. How many other people have you tried to upset with these messages? And for what reason? What's your goal? Is the world not cruel enough already?

But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, since these kinds of messages have become such a rarity, and since I haven't written anything for this blog in months. Consider it an invitation to reach out again some day, once you've mulled things over. I'll get vulnerable with you and lay myself bare, and in return I hope you'll consider seeing me as a person, instead of just a target for your anger.

You say reality, identity, and self-perception ('cause that's what this is; that's what otherkinity is) is about being, not wanting. I say that's an oversimplified worldview.

Who can we be if there's nothing we want? A person without desires is hardly a fully realized person. The identity of the person who wants something is as genuine as the identity of the person who has achieved something - even if they're perceived differently, and their material realities are different. The musician who dreams of going platinum, but who never gets out of dingy bars and self-published mixtapes, will still see a musician when she looks in the mirror - even if others just see a mediocre hobbyist. Even if others compare her to professionals, natural talents, and nepo-babies, whose achievements she can never hope to reach. Should the wanting musician let others define for her what it means to be a musician? Even if her music is bad and she'll never hit it big? She wants to be a musician. She plays because of her desires. She lives her life according to her wants. Does that not make her wants a part of who she is?

To some extent you are what you want. The line between wanting and being is blurry.

I do want to be nonhuman, on some level. I'd gladly give up this life to live as a gnoll. I suppose my desires are fantastical, but no less so than those of the poor musician who dreams of going platinum. Should she stop playing because she'll never achieve her dreams? Should I stop calling myself a gnoll just because I'll never have the body of one? I act out being a gnoll, through my digital persona, my fantasy scenarios, and my art. I do what I can to be a gnoll. I am as much an embodiment of my desires as the mediocre hobbyist musician is.

Have you ever gotten what you wished for?

I collect trading cards as a hobby. After years of searching, I got some of my dreamies and completed parts of my collection. I felt satisfied for a day, but the satisfaction quickly turned into boredom and listlessness. My instincts (be they human or gnoll) crave the hunt more than the kill. I get a greater thrill out of wanting than achieving. I wouldn't be happy without my unachievable desires.

I think, on some level, to want is to be.

And while my wants may be strange, at least they don't involve deliberately trying to hurt other people.

[tarotbyjam24]

How do people perceive you:

Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated :) thankyou for stopping by <3 🌷

Pile 1. Pile 2 .

Pile 1.

Hii my pile 1 let's dive in your reading People see you as someone who's quick Witted , blunt and talks straight to the point . You may also have resting bitch or sleepy face and they're intimidated by it . Although they may respect you or get inspired by you because of your achievements. Also some of you're a parent or about to become one they see you as someone who's very attentive towards their kid\s . Your kid maybe your first priority. They see you as someone who's organized and doesn't get swayed by the waves of lives means you're very resilient. I also feel they see you as someone who's constantly moving forward towards their goals and achievements. They see you as someone who's very satisfied with whatever they have in their life . They see you as someone who's very happy with their own world and live in their own world . They may also feel that how clearly you set boundaries for yourself and not let anyone stepover it to ruin your peace . I also feel you're very guarded person who always had their guards up it's a protective mechanism to keep yourself happy and to keep yourself away from others bs . They may also perceive you as someone who has many ways \paths \options for everything? Whether it's career ,love or anything. Or they may perceive you as someone who gets confuse to choose one things for themselves as there're many options available. They perceive you as someone who's calm , composed , almost acting like non chalant but I you know you're not right you've like 50 tabs on in your mind and your brain is working at the speed of 100km \hr . You are also the person who quickly doesn't jump upon the conclusion. You like to look at situation from the other lens and then give your opinion on it . People may also think that your life changes so fast that if they don't have a connection with you they wouldn't know what happened in your life last week . That's all my lovely pile 1 . I hope you liked and resonate with the reading . See you soon . Bless you 💞!

Masterlist pick a cards

Pile 2 .

Hii my pile 2 let's get in your reading , people tend to perceive you as someone who's quick with the decisions or like the kid who's always ready to answer the question right after teacher wrote it on the board . You don't like to wait . You're somewhat impatient. And maybe that's why you sometimes get in unpredictable problems. Some of you even know that this is what you gonna get but still you tend to go to that path which may not be right for you . People view you as someone who like to take the authority, maybe you like to correct people or just can't tolerate something that's isn't right . People view you as someone who likes to be alone in their company. Maybe you've a lone wolf personality or just in general you've hard time getting along with people. I feel people get a inferiority complex from you they feel inferior infront of you . My pile 2 people like to put you on pedestal. People also view you as someone who doesn't like help from others. Even tho you require help for something but you just can't bring yourself forward to ask for help . People view you as someone who strives for more in life . People also perceive you as someone who has kinda unique fashion from others which is unusual to be seen in general. People perceive you as someone who doesn't go with their heart or you don't trust your gut feeling. You tend to be more logical think with your brain type of person . Fashionwise people perceive you as someone who doesn't like to show their skin much . You like to cover your body as much as you can to hide your figure maybe because you're insecure about it or you just don't want people to take people a look of your divine body ofc you shouldn't let them if you're not ready ✨ . People perceive you as someone who's alone or in their world most of the times and you wanna get out of this thing . Like you like to be alone but you don't wanna be alone . They perceive you as someone who's not ready to be in comitted relationship because you just don't wanna feel bounded but I see you've lot of love interests going on pile 2 . People like you pile 2 . That's all my loner and insomniac pile 2 . I hope you liked and resonate with the reading . See you soon . Bless you 💞 !

Masterlist pick a cards

Thankyou so much for letting me read for you .I'm very grateful that I'm able to share my abilities with you all . It's been a great experience. Reading may or may not resonate with you since it's a general reading . Please take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so . If the reading doesn't resonate there were no messages for you through this reading ! 🤍🧚🏻I'm grateful if you read the reading . Wishing you all the great week ahead 🎀

[killergee]

A Small Fascination

Note: Canon divergence. Haven't read the manga, so I'm making up facts. Only spoiler is that kaiju no. 10 gets turned into a suit.

Hoshina x weapons designer reader where she is obsessed with kaiju. Kind of like a hange from aot figure. Or crazy reader x hesitant but supportive Hoshina.

Synopsis: Perceived as untouchable and unapproachable, you didn't care for anything but kaijus. However, Hoshina finally gets you to notice him with the arrival of the body of kaiju no. 10.

Tagslist: @alwaysalilconfused

-----------------------------------------------

You're a weapons designer who's infamous for your cold nature. Your responses were always curt, you never went to social gatherings, and you never stayed long enough in a room for someone to strike up a conversation with you. Because of this, you were known as the defense's icy beauty. Someone everyone could admire from afar but can never touch lest they wanted to feel the chill of your aloof demeanour.

No one knew this better than Hoshina.

He has approached you before, but he felt like you never really saw him. When he talked to you, it felt like you were looking past him. Like you were counting down the seconds until it was socially acceptable to end the conversation and leave. To you, he was probably just another random lackey trying to talk to you.

What made it sting even worse was that he could tell you didn't remember his name at all. No matter how many times he reintroduced himself to you, the next time he saw you, you either avoided referring to him at all or only by his title when you seemed to remember.

So he kept his small fascination with you as it was. A small fascination. Nothing more, nothing less.

The reality of the situation, however, was that you were simply too absorbed in your work. You weren't an ice princess or a tsundere, but simply someone crazy about kaijus.

You would rather spend your time locked up in your lab than anywhere else. Moreover, due to your line of work, you constantly spoke to various people—whether it be other scientists, engineers, or officers—so you gave up on remembering names. The only thing worth remembering were the different kaiju species and information relevant to your experiments and inventions.

Outside of your research, no one had ever caught your eye enough to leave an impression on you.

The day the body of kaiju no. 10 arrived on base, everything changed. Never had Hoshina seen you as happy as you were now. Hell, he's never even seen any emotion on your face other than boredom. You were practically buzzing in your place as they were wheeling the kaiju body into your lab.

Before turning to enter your lab, your eyes met Hoshina's. "You did an excellent job bringing this one in, Hoshina!" You exclaimed, quickly grasping both of his hands and giving them a shake. With a beaming smile, you left Hoshina standing there stunned.

Huh?

Hoshina thought he must've died and gone to heaven because you did not just smile at him and you definetly did not just say his name. It wasn't until he realized he was the only one left standing outside your lab did he snap out of his daze. That blinding smile played in the back of his mind for weeks after.

From then on he started visiting your lab under the guise of checking on your progress.

The first few times, you were so wrapped up in your experimentations that he was only able to stand to the side and watch. But the fourth time he stepped into your lab, your head immediately snapped to his. "Oh, the kaiju talked about you! Said something about how he wanted you to be the one who wears him."

Unprepared for your attention, "ah, really?" Was the only response he could muster.

"I wonder why? What about you makes you so special that the kaiju likes you," you said pensively, stepping into his space. Your hand was under your chin contemplatively while your face peered up at his.

You were finally looking at him like he wanted. Even if that look resembled someone looking at a funky-looking bacteria under a microscope—you were still truly looking at him.

It was better than nothing.

"Hmmm, slightly above average build, average height, above average looks..." You continued your analysis while he choked on his own spit at your last comment. "And yet you were able to defeat the kaiju with just swords... intriguing."

"Well the Captain was the one-"

"Yes, yes, I've seen the report, but you're the one the kaiju credits for this." You finally pulled away, and although Hoshina could finally breathe, the space in front of him felt a little emptier.

"Impressive." He heard you say as you turned around to go back to your desk. He even saw a small smile grace your features for a second.

Huh, maybe this won't stay as a small fascination.

Chasing after that high, he visited your lab again and again and again. You, however, misinterpreted his actions and thought you found someone just as fascinated by kaijus as you were.

"Isn't he beautiful?"

Hoshina threw a confused glance at you as he faced the tank. "...the kaiju?"

"Yes, who else? His exoskeleton that serves as his armour is such a beautiful shade of red. Combined with its insane durability, thi-"

Despite his best attempts to keep up with what you were saying, he couldn't see things the way you did. It was difficult to even try to see things the way you did when you were speaking so quickly and used so much unfamiliar terminology. Still, he thought you looked extra adorable talking so passionately.

He watched you approached the tank, your hand lightly touching the glass. "Oh, when I'm done with you," you said, your voice lowering an octave, "you're going to be the best."

Hoshina shamefully felt a wave of heat flash through his body at your statement. His mind couldn't help but go to a different place with the way you spoke—menacingy and commanding, but with an undertone of something he couldn't exactly place.

He heard the kaiju respond, but he could only focus on you.

"Yeah, yeah, quit yapping. Be nice and quiet for me, will you? Good... Now how do I remove the vocal chords..."

That day, Hoshina thinks he might have discovered something about himself.

-------------

With every visit, Hoshina brought stories of the kaijus he's slain or seen. He enjoyed speaking with you and especially enjoyed how the stories got you to focus on him so earnestly.

You were at your desk, head resting on your hand as you looked at him. "I'm so jealous of you, I wish I could've seen that kaiju in real life."

Hoshina spun the pen in his hand as he listened to you. The report infront of him was only half finished, but he didn't mind the distraction. In fact, he welcomed it.

Spending only his free time with you wasn't enough for him, but he couldn't just drop his duties and laze around in your lab every day. So he moved most of his paperwork to your lab. He actually moved so much of his things that his desk in his office was practically empty. Sometimes, he even finds that he has to go to your lab to grab his things.

For him, it didn't matter if you two chatted or if you simply worked on your separate things in silence. He just liked being close to your presence.

At first, he was scared he was overstepping your boundaries. He knew your lab was your everything, and he didn't want to intrude. It was the place where you would lock yourself for days on end. The space in which you would make a beeline to from the parking lot. The space that was wholly yours, and only yours—a physical extension of you.

But then he noticed how, despite the mess of blueprints and papers scattered on the desk and floor, there was always a clear space on the corner of the desk where he usually sat at. A space that seemed to expand more and more every day to accommodate the things he would bring.

It made his heart warm at the thought that you not only accepted him into your space but also welcomed him in it.

"Can't really say that was a great experience." He responded, flipping to the next page of his report.

"Take a picture for me next time, will you? The drones are not the best when it comes to pictures."

Hoshina smiled, chancing a glance at you. "Heh, all ya have to do is ask, and I'll even bring ya back a piece of it."

"Really?!" You exclaimed excitedly, pushing yourself to his side and clutching his arm.

Hoshina was only joking when he said that. He didn't think you'd actually take him seriously. He didn't even know if he was allowed to do that. He probably wasn't.

"Uh, I don't think-"

"If you could please bring back its eyes! No, actually, it's reproductive organs. That way, I could test it in the lab and record the different stages of their growth. NO WAIT, I want its heart! The heart of a kaiju is so unique from other mamals-" you rambled on, getting lost in your own excitement. The glimmer in your eyes, along with the elation in your voice, made him want to clench his heart at your cuteness.

I guess I'll find a way, hoshina decided with a soft sigh as he dropped his report to focus on your lecture.

-----------

Although he typically reached out to you first, sometimes you surprised him.

"Vice Captain, let me measure you," you announced one day, already taking out the measuring tape as if to say he had no choice but to comply.

He was sitting on your desk chair, foot propped on your desk. Despite feeling a bit nervous, he stood up anyway. "Why do ya need to measure me?"

"Well, since the kaiju wants you to wear it, I thought I'd make sure it fits you perfectly." You said as you approached him.

Motioning for him to raise his arms, you stood only a couple inches away from him. You snaked your hands behind his back, wrapping the measuring tape around to the front of his chest. Your actions were slow and almost intimate as you handled him delicately. It left his skin tingling in excitement and anticipation. Not knowing where to look, he tried to look down at your hands holding the measuring tape together. He quickly snapped his head back up with a blush when he saw a glimpse down your shirt. At the quick movement, the tape shifted in your hands. He thought you'd scold him to stay still or keep his eyes forward. Instead, you surprised him by letting out a low chuckle.

His ears flushed hot at the sound. His blush grew brighter when you dropped to his waist and your hand grazed his lower abdomen. When you walked around him to measure his back, he felt both the slither of the measuring tape and the ghost of your fingertips on his waist.

"Your proportions are phenomenal. A good physique with an ideal body ratio," he listened as your fingers traced along his shoulders. "If the kaiju didn't choose you to wear the suit, then I would've." You said one last time as you put your hands down.

You reached for the notebook on your desk as he hovered beside you, facing the other way. While he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment and also in an attempt to calm himself down, a thought occurred to him.

"Wait, doesn't the suit readjust itself to the person wearing it?"

You keep your head down, but your gaze shifts to his. "Oh yeah, it does."

The tone of your voice suggested you forgot, but he knew better as he saw the mischief dancing in your eyes.

That was when he knew he was in too deep. You were so much more than a small fascination, and he was so much more than a little intrigued.

[another-lost-mc]

heyyyy there, i just found ur profile wondering around and i was wondering would u do the brothers with shy reader NSFW

thanks if u accept it and if not it's fine

thanks again and i hope u have a grateful day :)))))))

Reacting to a Shy MC THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.3k words | NSFW | gn!Reader Content warnings: Demon fluff sprinkled with suggestive content (implied oral/penetrative sex). Some of the brothers' sections are more explicit than others but not overly so. A/N: I was in the mood for something soft when I wrote this because being shy/socially anxious in the Devildom sounds like a nightmare. lol

Lucifer is surprisingly tactile, but not in an obvious way. His small gestures can be perceived as platonic or innocent—leaning over your shoulder when he reads over your work, a hand on your back when he walks next to you on a busy street, his nimble fingers plucking a loose thread from your shirt. He doesn’t like it when you look away from him either. There’s a soft scratch of leather under your chin, and his fingers turn your head so you face him once more. His thumb presses down near your bottom lip and you can’t break his grip even if you wanted to. His stare pins you in place and it’s like his eyes pierce your soul. You tremble from nervousness at first, but later with anticipation.

When he takes you to bed, he cages you beneath him. His wings block other distractions from your view so all you can focus on is the blazing heat roaring in his crimson gaze as he stares down at you. Sometimes you turn your head when something embarrasses you—the way he murmurs appreciatively about the way your body feels, or how he licks his lips after feasting between your thighs, or the obscene squelch as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. But when you look away, he touches your cheek or under your chin, and the gloves he's still wearing smell faintly of your musky arousal now, and he directs your attention back where it belongs—on him.

(After he's taken you to bed for the first time, he doesn't mind if you get a little shy when you glance at his gloved hands and look away—he knows exactly what you're thinking of when you do.)

Mammon loves the way your heart races when he compliments you. You bite your lip while you try to think of something to say in response, and your eyes that dart quickly to his and then away again, but he catches the glimmer of happiness and affection that softens your gaze. He boasts proudly, to everyone that's listening or anyone that needs reminding, that he's your first. You don't need anyone else for anything.

He's greedy for everything you are and everything you can give him, and he wants you to be greedy too. He’ll lavish you with attention and gifts and praise and when you're ready, all the things he's desperate to do to your body. He's the only one that can give you what you want. The simplest fantasies are enough to drive him mad—whether he imagines your body moving eagerly with his, or your lust-thickened voice whining in his ear, it doesn't matter—he wants it all.

He'll gladly take the lead in bed if that will get things going. He wants you to use his body to satisfy all the urges you’re too shy to admit out loud. He encourages you to grind back against his tongue when he eats you out from behind, and he drags you onto his lap and helps you bounce on his cock. He gives you that semblance of control so it’s easier for you to relax. Once you're overcome with pleasure, he hoards all your blissed-out expressions and sounds for himself.

Leviathan is awkward, but he’s not shy in the same ways you are. Your kindness flusters him because he doesn't think he deserves it. You compliment him for the most mundane things, and you include him even when he lingers on the sidelines. He learns that it feels good to have a friend like you. You become the rare person that he can share his hobbies with, and he offers you imported snacks from the secret stash in his room no one else knows about. When friendship turns into more complicated feelings, he realizes it’s because of all the little things you do that prove you love him. It boosts his confidence so he can make the first move if you’re too shy.

He might be a little out of practice, but he starts slow: he holds your hand while you watch a movie together, and he kisses you quickly after you finally beat him at Devil Kart. He grows bolder and eager for more. He trails his fingers along your spine, tail curling around your leg possessively, when you cuddle together in his tub. He doesn't try to hide the blush that spreads across his cheeks when he rubs himself against you; he's so hard just from being close to you. He savors your quiet laughter when his fingers tickle your tummy as he tugs your shirt over your head.

There’s nothing cuter than the way you bite your lip when you wrap your legs around his waist and roll your hips against his when he starts to grind against you. Nervous smiles and teasing laughter fades, replaced by the soft, quiet groans and whimpers you both pant against each other's mouths.

Levi figures that it's fine if things are a little awkward or silly at first—you’re figuring things out together, and he wouldn't change a thing.

Satan has fucked before, plenty of times—meaningless encounters to blow off steam or scratch an itch. It’s so incredibly different from the romantic desire he feels when you looks at you. He craves more. He taps into all those cliched love stories he's read and the love songs he's listened to because he wants to show you how much you mean to him. He adores all of your cute, shy expressions when he catches you off-guard with a murmured compliment in your ear, or when he sneaks a quick kiss to your lips when no one's watching, or when he mouths I love you from across the room.

He's so sweet and gentle when he takes you to bed at first—there will be time to explore his rougher tendencies later. Your bodies grow hot and slick with sweat because he envelops you in his arms, blurring the lines of where he ends and you begin. He kisses you when he rocks his hips, teasing you with the slow glide of his cock moving gently inside you. He cups your cheek or the back of your neck when he rests his forehead against yours and you can't see anything but him. He would drown in the blurry sea of your eyes if he could because no one's ever looked at him the way you do. He murmurs his affection against the delicate column of your throat as he guides you both towards the precipice.

The soft, whimpered utterance of his name from your lips is enough to pull him apart at the seams. Before you bury your head against his shoulder to stifle your groans when you come, he catches a fleeting glimpse of your expression and he swears you've never looked more beautiful.

Asmodeus loves to be close to you and compliment you. He assumes it’s a human flaw when you deflect even the most simple praise like you don’t believe him. It confuses him—why would he ever lie to you? He loves you and thinks you’re gorgeous and so sweet. If he tells you that nothing brightens his mood more than seeing you smile, or that there’s nothing he wants more than to take you to pieces between his sheets, he wants you to know because it’s the truth. It’s his truth.

You don’t need to agree with him right away, even though he secretly hopes that one day you will. He can’t deny what he feels for you. It’s impossible. He’s too far gone to pretend what he feels for you is anything less than overwhelming love and admiration and desire. You make his head spin and his heart race and his cock ache, and everyone else can see that he looks at you like he’s never looked at anyone before.

When he takes you to his room and peels the clothes from your body, he stands behind you so you can watch yourself in his full-length mirror. He tsks when you squirm and try to look away, and he coos into your ear between soft barely-there kisses against your neck.

Don’t you see how lovely you are? Can’t you feel the way my fingers tremble because I’ve waited all day to touch you?

He knows you can feel his cock trapped in the confine of his pants—it twitches against your back and he rolls his hips slowly so it grinds against the curve of your ass as he undresses you. Once you’re naked and a little breathless, he finally leads you to his bed and crawls on top of you, or he leans back against the headboard and settles you on his lap so you can straddle him. He whispers his feelings for you against your lips and trails his fingers along your warm, soft skin. He’s patient and he waits while he holds you in his arms, prolonging the inevitable. When you finally beg for him to move, to give you what you both desperately want, he rewards you with all the pleasure his body can give you.

Beelzebub mistakes your shyness for fear—not just fear of living in the Devildom, but fear of him. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were afraid of him in the beginning. Humans are so frail—you could be as tall as him, as broad as him, or as muscular as him, and you still would seem so small in comparison. His strength made him a formidable angel and it makes him even more threatening as a demon. Eventually he gets to know you better, and friendship turns into something more, and he realizes that he never wants you to be afraid of him again.

He tries to understand your shy nature and how to make you comfortable. Sometimes you can't enjoy dinner parties or Diavolo’s dances without being bothered by the other curious guests—you like to pick and choose when you want to be sociable. He tries to draw unwanted attention away from you so you can escape for some fresh air. He’ll even bring a plate of desserts to split while the others wonder where you’ve both snuck off to. 

Things change when he admits how much he wants you, and it's not long before chaste kissing simply isn't enough to satisfy either of you. Dark, hungry thoughts are difficult to control when passions run high, and Beel knows he could hurt you by accident if he's not careful—the thought terrifies him. He's not timid when he undresses you or lays you in his bed, but he's hesitant when he touches you with his hands and his mouth and eventually his cock. He glances at your face to watch your reactions and he asks you what feels good. Above his own needs, he desperately wants to please you.

You whimper or groan his name, or you whine when he touches the most sensitive parts of your body. He stops to remind you—with his rough voice thickened with lust—to use your words when he asks if you’re okay. All you have to do is tell him what you want, what you like, what you need, and he'll give you everything you ask in return.

Belphegor is surprisingly protective of you. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that you squirm or avoid eye contact in public settings. Your voice wavers when you have to present something in one of your classes, and you don’t like being the centre of attention at Diavolo's parties. He tries to help and take some of those burdens off your shoulders. He sticks close to your side so he can deflect away unwanted attention, and he glares at the other demons that might try and approach you.

Somewhere along the way, friendship stops being enough for him. He disguises his genuine desires as teasing remarks or jokes to test the waters and gauge your response. He invites you to nap in the attic, and he strips down to his boxers and suggests you do the same. It’s cute when you stammer and insist that you’re going to keep your clothes on.

(For now, anyway—eventually you agree to take off some of your burdensome layers as long as he turns the lights off first. He obliges because he can still see you perfectly, but he figures you’ll be more comfortable believing he can’t.)

Sometimes when you sleep cuddled together, your dreams bleed over into his. It happens by accident, but he doesn’t do anything to prevent it either. It gives him a glimpse of the world through your eyes, and he realizes that his face flickers across your dreamscape more and more often as time passes.

Those dreams of yours encourage him, and he starts teasing you just a little more. He wakes up half-hard and pressed against your side, but he pretends not to notice when he asks how you slept. He wears nothing but a loose towel wrapped around his hips when he walks past your room after showering. He leans close and wipes at the corner of your mouth with his thumb, claiming you have something left there from dinner. Your breath hitches when he lets his eyes trail down to your lips, and he pulls back with a smile when you try and fail to hide your disappointment.

One day he might grow impatient and finally close the distance, but for now he tries to be patient—he’s curious if you'll overcome your nerves and kiss him first.

Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @haezen @xpixie @lemonivall @meggsngrits @flemmingbamse @tortibomb @amberrskiies @angelsdilf @rensphilia @4allthefours4 @a-hidden-gem @lust--on--my--lips @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149 @callmesaya @cosmicstarlatte @alexxncl @sirimirihiro @i-am-empress-irish @ezraiix @bizarrebankai @devildomd0ll @alexxavicry @moon-i-v @ablondehoe @vinsmouke

Join the taglist here. | Obey Me! Masterlist

[princesssmars]

something something riding karlach until she sees stars. 18+.

karlach is about ninety percent sure her engine is about to fucking explode. and one hundred of that ninety percent is all your fault. its no secret that you're beautiful, annoyingly perceived as so by pretty much everyone who meets you. she could tell when you first walked up to her from across that branch without fear, later telling her you already knew she wasn't the murderous psychotic devil everyone made her out to be. you listened to her story, defended her against wyll, and she could tell the irregular tick in her chest wasn't just her being nervous about facing probable death at the hands of the blade of frontiers himself.

(although if she had to die at your hands she wouldn't much mind. which is normal. in hindsight, she could also remember her subtly flirting with you. also normal.)

and she's so happy that despite your shared bundle of traumas and saving-the-world problems you could find some respite in each other. she's also really happy that as sweetly as she treats you you also understand how fucking horny she is after ten years of absolutely no contact and then meeting someone who is just as crazy for her as she is for them.

which is how she got to the current moment, her nails digging into your hips as you straddle her hips and rock yourself into her, each subtle glaze of your clit against hers bringing a strangled moan out of her throat.

she's not above begging, especially to you, but everytime she finds the ability to speak without releasing sounds of ecstasy she loses it in seconds. everything she's feeling is too overwhelming in the bestways possible, your hand running through her hair, the other palming at her breasts and bringing out very new and very embarrassing squeaks out of her, your legs squeezed around her waist which just brings her attention and eyesight back to the brief view she can get of your pussy when you pull your hips back before bringing them forward again.

she must have been hyper focused on the space between your legs because your hand is bringing her head back up with a giggle, asking her where she went with a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, smiling when her eyes close and her lips fold like shes holding herself back, the exact opposite of what you want her to do.

"'m sorry. i just...fuck, soldier, you're killing me here." she gasps, bringing your hand to her chest to feel her newy tuned engine, the heat growing by the second as the blue flames flicker across her skin.

"gods, you really are burning up. we cant stop if you want-" you start to pull your hips off of hers when her claws dig in harder and simultaneously force you down while she thrusts up, loud moans leaving both of you that make you very glad you put a spell over the area inside her tent.

she keeps going, thrusting her cunt into yours while you struggle to keep up, wrappong your arms around her neck when she lies flat on her back and spreads both of your legs further apart, your shared wetness making the glide of your cunts so much easier and all the hotter.

"dont stop, please dont stop. i'll die if you do."

you take a few seconds to catch yourself when her noises take on a more whiny approach, little 'fuck fuck fuck-'s whispered into your ear as she bucks her hips like a madwoman. with a sadistic smile you adjust your body so your nipples can rub over hers the same time you bite into her neck and with a strangled cry she comes, continuing to buck her hips until you fall apart on top of her.

you can feel her breathing slowing down beneath you, the heat of her engine cooling down to a comfortable heat. you start to move your head up to give her a smile and check up before you feel her hips move again, the feeling of your clit being overstimulated nearly making you cry. when you do get to look ather she already has her eyes focused on you, heavy lidded as harsh breaths escape her mouth.

"its starting to look like you'll die if i dont."

"well, i always knew id go out with a bang..."

teehee

[venerawrites]

Hello dear, I'm glad you're back! I want to ask for Itachi if you don't mind, oh god he's so cute I can't stand it! I was thinking how my boy will behave when he is in love, You know, he has a lot of love for his brother and even died for him (although that was my impression🤷). What will happen if he falls in love with a girl? His public behavior, inner feelings and thoughts...

love you so much honey😘 I don't want to force you to write anything, if you don't like this, just ignore it💖

author's note: hi, lovely! I totally agree Itachi is full of love and it makes me sad to think he never had the chance to give this love to a partner! :( Thank you so much for your request - I loved writing it! Since you specified falling in love with a girl, I used she/her pronouns in the headcanons. I hope you enjoy! <3

➤ Inner thoughts/feelings

A HURRICANE of feelings!

Because of his past, Itachi has always considered himself unworthy of love - both to give and receive. The idea of having romantic affection toward someone feels almost selfish and he feels he does not deserve such happiness.

But the heart wants what it wants and despite his attempts to tame his feelings, he would find himself falling deeper and harder. Every moment shared together would give a glimpse of the life he always secretly dreamed to have - one where he can be free of the guilt about his past and where he can be worthy of calling himself a husband and, one day, even a father.

I think it would definitely take a lot of patience and hard work from his partner's side to convince him to give himself the chance to be happy. Given what he went through, he would never be free of the dark thoughts and the self-doubt, but the control they have over him would lessen with time.

➤ Public behaviour

I don't think there will be a lot of changes in terms of how he acts in public, to be honest.

He will maintain his usual composed and calm demeanour, not showing any signs of attraction or affection toward the woman that managed to capture his heart. I think only people very close to him, like Kisame for example, would be able to notice subtle changes as the way his eyes soften when he looks at her or the way he instinctively tries to shield her with his body in dangerous situations.

Itachi is highly aware of how other perceive him and he knows he cannot publicly show any fondness or care toward the woman he likes, without putting her in danger. How well he keeps his distance, however, would greatly depends on the fact if she is a civilian or another ninja.

If she is a ninja and part of Akatsuki, for example, he would keep respectful distance. Like I said, other than his partner, no one else would be able to notice the small changes in his body language around her. He would treat her the way he has always been treating her and would avoid lingering too much in her presence, unless absolutely necessary (like a mission or something). Sometimes he would let his eyes linger on her a few second longer, but other than that there wouldn't be any other signs.

If she is not a ninja, but a civilian, it would be a different story. I think despite his calm and stoic nature, Itachi does have the tendency to worry too much and sometimes be even paranoid. I think his fear of his enemies somehow finding out about his feelings would end up in them using her as leverage. He would go and check on her once a month at first, but the more he got to know her, the more anxious he would get about the potential dangers. In the end he would visit her almost every week and while most of the Akatsuki would notice at this point, I think very few would actually care.

The closer he gets with his beloved, the more thoughtful gestures he would make toward her. He would to her likes and dislikes, noting every minor detail of their discussions in order to surprise them later in time. I totally see him as the type of man who would cook his partner's favourite dish from childhood that she randomly mentioned in a late night talk a few months ago.

Even when he starts a relationship with the woman that managed to charm him, it would take a loooong time for Itachi to relax and show any form of physical affection toward her. At least a few months would need to pass for him to be comfortable next to her and twice as long for him to feel comfortable to actually grab her hand in his or peck her lips. His partner would need to be very patient when it comes to physical affection, but this man is totally worth it!

[arvandus]

If you don't mine writing Dabi with a S/O that's a trans man and on their period.

Oh anon, I'm so sorry it took me so long to finally write this. It took some time for me to build the confidence, as I am not trans. However, I hope that I was able to empathize and understand in a way that resonates for you. Hopefully you're still around to be able to read this and I hope it is to your liking!

Between a Rock and a Hard Place (Dabi x trans male Reader)

CW: A bit of angst; hurt/comfort; established relationship; Dabi learning to be soft.

WC: 1,704

Nothing forced you into the bone-aching, skin-itching discomfort of gender dysphoria like getting your period.

It didn’t matter how you dressed, or the chest binders that you wore, or the name that you picked for yourself that resonated within your soul in a way your dead name never did.  Each month, the flawed imperfection of nature reminded you exactly how ill-suited your body was to your spirit.

You did your best to ignore it, to handle what needed to be handled with barely a glance.  But no amount of pain relievers could rid you of it entirely, the pain sometimes so severe that it felt like divine punishment.

This was how Dabi found you. 

He’d snuck through your window – the one you kept unlocked just for him – to find you curled up and miserable beneath your blankets as you lay on your couch, the pale blue light of the TV illuminating your face. You barely looked at him when he entered, and that alone was enough to set off the warning bells in his mind.  Usually, you were happy to see him. Usually, you were scolding him about his unusual entry, even as a grin tugged at your lips and your hands pulled him close by his coat collar.

But not this time.

This time, you were anything but welcoming.

“Go away,” was all you muttered, you voice muffled beneath your blankets.

You didn’t really want him to go, but you also didn’t feel like yourself in this very moment.  You didn’t want to be perceived, and you most definitely didn’t want to be touched.

And Dabi always loved touching.

Lots and lots of touching.

Dabi didn’t go. Instead, he stared down at you with sharp, blue eyes, his hands buried in his pockets.  He stayed silent, brooding almost, as he walked past you and into your kitchen.  You sighed heavily as you heard the fridge open, heard the pop of a beer can being opened.

When he returned, he didn’t try to worm his way close to you, didn’t invade your personal space like he usually enjoyed doing.  Instead, he sat on the arm of the couch and stared at the show you were watching.

Silence hovered between you, and the longer he lingered, the guiltier you felt.  He came here for you, to find comfort in you.  You were his safe place, his home.  Even though he never said it, you knew it, could feel it each time in the way that he kissed you, held you...

But it felt like that person wasn’t here right now.  That version of you that he found solace in wasn’t home, instead replaced by someone broken and confused.

Tears started to sting the corners of your eyes, and close behind came the tingling sensation of nasal congestion, the harbingers of open crying.  You sniffed, wiped at your eyes before the tears could fall, hoping to keep the actions subtle.

But Dabi was far too perceptive for that.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked.

“Nothing,” you lied.  “I just don’t feel good.”

“You sick?”

“...yeah.”

“Move over.”

You curled your legs tighter against yourself, allowing him room at your feet.  He sat next to you and placed his hand over your covered calf.  You recoiled from his touch, afraid of what it meant, of what it could possibly lead to. Dabi stared at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled into a frown.

“You mad at me or something?”

“No.”

That much was the truth, at least, and it felt good to be able to say something that felt honest for once.

“Then why won’t you let me touch you?”

His question made you feel cornered, trapped.  He didn’t believe you.  Why should he, you realized.  It wasn’t as if you’d made him feel welcome since the moment he stepped foot into your apartment.

“Because I don’t want to be touched,” you replied.

Dabi didn’t understand, and you could see the confusion and frustration written in the angles of his mouth, in the tight pull of his staples.

“Why--”

You snapped.  “Because I can’t fuck you tonight, okay??”

Dabi froze, his blue eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.  You froze too, your breath caught in your throat, tears burning at your eyes and you hoped they would blind you, keep you from seeing how much you hurt him.

You expected him to snap at you, to get pissed.  You weren’t sure why you expected that... it wasn’t as though the two of you ever fought.  Oddly enough, your relationship with Dabi was rather...mellow.  Maybe it was because both of you had seen enough of what unhealthy relationships were to know what to avoid.

But he didn’t get mad.  Instead, his expression gentled.  Not into something entirely soft, of course... Dabi wasn’t a soft person. But it calmed into neutrality, and he stared at you for the first time that night as if he saw you... truly saw you.

“It’s that time, isn’t it?” he finally asked.

You were surprised he figured it out so quickly.  After all, he’d never been around you before when it was your time of the month.  It was a combination of circumstance and carefully delivered text messages that managed to keep him away from you when you were struggling the most.  The fear of his reputation as a wanted criminal leading a trail of breadcrumbs to your doorstep made his visits woefully infrequent.  And the other times, times when you’d planned to meet up, were occasionally canceled with excuses on your part.  The need to work late, stuck in a social engagement, having the flu, etc.

Your tears spilled over finally, and you nodded, half-covering yourself against his piercing gaze. You stared at the TV in an attempt to put distance between yourself and your emotions.

Dabi let out a sigh and took a sip of his beer as he stared at the TV.  “Well that explains a lot...” he muttered.

And you knew in that moment that your excuses would never work again.  It left a strange vulnerability within you that you weren’t prepared for, but were forced to accept just the same.

You waited to see if he would do anything.  Get up to leave or get mad at you.  But he didn’t.  Instead he sat there, waiting.

Waiting for you.

“Sorry,” you finally whispered.  “I should have told you.”

“’S fine,” he replied. He finished his beer and set it on the coffee table in front of him. “it’s not a big deal, y’know.”

“Yeah, it is,” you muttered.

Dabi gave you a look of reproach, as if you offended him.

“Trust me,” he said, “it’s not.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you replied. “What I mean is that it’s a big deal to me.”

You forced yourself to sit up with a wince, the blankets still wrapped around you and covering your head as you sat cross-legged next to him. You were close enough now for your shoulder to touch his and your knee to rest over his thigh, and you took comfort in his warmth, in the firmness of his body. It was grounding in a way.

“I hate feeling like this,” you muttered.  “Like I’m stuck in a body that isn’t mine. I wish I could rip it out of me, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.”

You felt Dabi’s arm drape over your shoulder, and this time you didn’t recoil. Instead, you leaned into it, allowing your weight to rest against his side.  You inhaled the scent of him, rich and comforting.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice reverberating where his chin rested against your head.

“Yeah.”

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t work. I still feel like my insides are being scraped out with a knife.”

Dabi let a long breath out of his nose.

“Open up your blanket,” he said.

Your body stiffened again, and he noticed.

“Relax, I’m not gonna try anything.”

You unfurled from your cocoon and Dabi took the blanket.

“Lay down,” he ordered.

You did, resting your head in his lap. He put the blanket back over you, and tucked his arm beneath it until it was wrapped around your torso, his palm and fingers resting against the cotton of your shirt over your belly.  A moment later, a soothing warmth began to emanate from his touch.  Your heart fluttered in your chest and tears welled in your eyes.

“Dabi....” you started.

“Shut up and lemme take care of you,” he muttered.

So you did, falling into silence as you both continued to watch TV.  It wasn’t long before you felt his other hand on your head, his rough, calloused fingers gently petting you along your hairline and along the curve of your ears. 

Your breath caught in your throat at his gentle care.  He’d never done this before.  To be quite honest, you weren’t entirely sure he was capable of such affection.  It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you, but his way of expressing his feelings was either more heated and needy, or more... clumsy, all awkward pats and even more awkward words.

But now, right now, he was learning, adapting.  And you couldn’t deny that you needed it.  You needed this.  You needed to be touched, not out of desire, but out of love.  To be a person first and foremost, all other aspects of yourself set aside because they were secondary to what truly made you ‘you.’  One minute became two, two became three.  As the minutes stretched, your body began to relax.

Finally, Dabi spoke, his voice deep and laced with a tangled web of hurt and something akin to love.  “I don’t come here just for the sex, you know...” he muttered.  “I come here because it’s the one place where I feel happy.”

Guilt dug a hole deep into your heart.  You were supposed to be his rock, his safe space, and yet... here you were, neither of those things.

Tears stung your eyes again as your vision blurred.

“Even now?” you asked.

Dabi gave a dry huff. “Yeah, dumbass. Even now.”

And for the first time, you realized Dabi could be your rock too.

[dxmedstudent]

Forgive me if this is rough and messy, im down with a viral illness and this is something I've been thinking about after reading some stories on reddit but...

Can we just... not frame illness or disability (or infertility, which for many is a kind of disability) as some kind of karmic punishment?

Like, if you don't like someone because they were nasty or even evil to you, that's fine. We can agree they were a Grade A Butthole with added haemorrhoids.

If something bad happened to that person, you're not evil for not being sad about it, or even feeling schadenfreude. Feelings are complicated, and wanting someone who hurt you to feel hurt is something many of us can understand. That's not what I mean here and I'm not going to dissect that further. This is also not to defend the person for being a butthole - they deserve to be criticised for poor behaviour.

But I always feel deeply uncomfortable when people in comments roll out the "Yeah! your nasty cheating ex is now infertile / in a wheelchair/ a depressed alcoholic, that's karma! The universe has a way!"

...Because you're inadvertently framing physical or mental disability or infertility as a whole...as a punishment. And by extension implying that people who experience these things did something to deserve it.

I know it can feel good in that moment to imagine that this is some evil person's reckoning and that everyone gets their comeuppance. But it's such a dangerous way to look at things.

We need to get away from this frankly outdated and damaging belief that a healthy body is a reward for spiritual purity and that illness is a punishment for sin. That a body which doesn't work quite the same as most people's... must be due to moral failings. These beliefs have very real and damaging effects in terms if how we as a society treat the vulnerable - the mentally ill, the homeless, those with addiction issues, those with sexually acquired illness, for example.

It's disturbing how often even people who declare themselves to be ostensibly atheist will turn around and basically say something surprisingly religious, in the worst way. And not realise that they've not yet examined where these beliefs are coming from.

Hate the evil cheating ex, by all means. Be glad that they are unhappy, if you want. I won't tell you how to feel. You don't need to wish someone who was a horrible person well. You don't have to like them, forgive them or dismiss what they did (we should hold them accountable). We can absolutely unite and agree that someone is/was a nasty person.

But don't ridicule them FOR being unwell. Don't link illness with a perceived moral failing. No matter how evil you think they are.

Because most people who are suffering the exact same thing are not evil and didn't do anything to deserve it. And by framing it as such, how do you think it affects the many other disabled people reading your comment? Do you think they deserve everything that happened to them? What exactly do you think someone has to do to deserve good health? How perfect do they have to be?

Most of us are going to experience disability some degree, in our lives. We need to stop treating it as a rare or freakish event and see it as part of the spectrum of human experience. Struggles with adddiction are very common and are a cry for help and not a moral failing. 1 in 10 couples experience infertility. It's so fucking disrespectful to the many people with disabilities. To my patients. To my friends.

And to me.

As someone with infertility issues, it's pretty bloody triggering to read a whole bunch of strangers gleefully declare that "infertility is just nature's happy way of making sure awful people don't reproduce". That maybe people who have recurrent miscarriages "should just give up" because "nature's trying to tell them something".

Like...how very *eugenics* of you.

As if...plenty of awful people don't have children and aren't awful parents? All the bloody time. Are you advocating for all children to be appropriately supported and looked after, do you support children in care? Trans and intersex children? Children with complicated physical or mental needs? Or is this just a way for you to pat yourself on the back that your presumed or proven fertility is a sign of your own moral superiority?

Do those commenters eschew all medical care when they are ill? Obviously not. Nor should they - because misguided and petty though they are, they are also entitled to seek care if they need medical help. But they seem to think that when anyone they disapprove of experiences health problems they should, what? Just give up and suffer in silence?

Modern medicine exist to treat a myriad of illness and help people manage a plethora of disabilities. It exists FOR people. You don't have to earn adequate healthcare, it should belong to everyone. People are imperfect. Messy. They make mistakes. They don't always the the best care of themselves. That doesn't mean that they don't deserve healthcare or dignity. Or that they deserve judgement and scorn.

Illness. Doesn't. Discriminate.

By which I mean, it doesn't CARE if you're a nice person or a horrible one. I know that society likes to tell us that if we work out, eat healthily and are positive, that nothing bad will ever happen and we can "organic food" our way out of being ill. But that's just patently not true. And I say that as a doctor.

In medicine we have a saying, that the worst things happen to some of the best people. Because we see people who are lovely go through things nobody should experience.

All the time. It's heartbreaking, because we don't like seeing bad things happen to perfectly decent people. It makes all of us feel uncomfortable and vulnerable and sad. But it happens all the time.

We need to be very careful about how we think of, and frame, illness in all it's forms.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Uncanny Valley: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: Therapy isn't something you're taking too well, but if you want to keep your job, you'll continue to go. you're forced to confront thoughts and memories of your own family when you come across the father of the unsub.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"Anything you cannot relinquish when it has outlived its usefulness, possesses you. And in this materialistic age, a great many of us are possessed by our possessions." - Mildred Lisette Norman

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock is the only thing in the therapist's office that can be heard. You arrived half an hour ago but you haven't said a damn word. You look worse than last week. You have more bags under your eyes, your hair is greasy from not washing it in a week, and you look like you've been through Hell. Melissa has been taking this at your pace but if you don't start talking soon, she'll have to go to the FBI and report this.

"Would you like to take a nap?"

"If I close my eyes, I'll start to see things I wish I didn't."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

Maybe something good will come out of you telling her your problems. If you're going to be here, may as well give it a shot.

"My nightmares get pretty bad. I'm even waking my boyfriend and he barely gets enough sleep as it is."

"Nightmares about what? Prison?"

"No. I think--"

You stop yourself from finishing that sentence.

"Go on, what do you think?" she encourages.

"Being in prison wasn't as bad as it could have been. Sure, there were one or two prisoners that weren't the best, but it could have been worse. I made a friend who's still in there for a crime she didn't commit," you sigh.

"Are you using her trauma and taking it as your own?"

"No. I knew I wasn't going to be in prison for long because I didn't murder those men. I knew my team would get me out of there. I also know either my team or myself will help my friend get out. She doesn't deserve to be in there any more than I did. I'm not worried about that and I don't think was ever worried about that."

"Tell me, then, what's bothering you."

"The problem with being in a place with hundreds of mentally ill and psychotic people is that I felt everything. Some of those women were murderers, robbers, and arsonists, and I felt everything," you whisper painfully. 

"All of their fear, their concerns, their worries, and their sadness. Every emotion perceived to be negative, I felt. There was no happiness. There was no light in all of that darkness. I got bombarded with energy and I think it's still stuck to me because I can still feel it. Their fear is fueling my own. Every time I close my eyes, I think I'm going to wake up back in that cell and relive that nightmare. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back in that car with those four men only this time, it's one. It might have only been one back then. I don't know anymore," you cry.

Melissa grabs her tissue box and hands it to you. You hate feeling this way. You hate that you're even here, but you know you have to be. If you want to get better, and you know you do, then you have to be honest with her and accept that she's only trying to help.

"You were raped at such a young age. The mind has a weird way of protecting the person. You might have projected four men from that one because of how scared you were."

"It happened such a long time ago. I've made my peace with it. I've met my daughter because of it. I'm having visions in the day about it. I came to terms with it so I don't know why I keep having nightmares about it."

"Your body might have been exhaled from it but your mind hasn't."

"You know, I used to let people's fear control me, but I've grown and gotten over that. Now, I feel people's pain but it doesn't control me. Until I went to prison and all that growth, all that learning just went away."

"If the energies and emotions were as high as you say they were, that might have triggered something in your brain and caused you to go backward a few steps."

"What do I do?" you cry.

"I don't suggest this to all of my clients but Image Rehearsal Therapy might help you. What it is, essentially, is rewriting your nightmares and confronting them head-on instead of avoiding them. It'll help reduce your nightmares, insomnia, and with your trauma symptoms.

"The four steps with IRT are writing down your nightmares and getting them on paper, rewriting them so they either have happier endings or have a better outcome, inducing the intention to redream these now rewritten nightmares before falling asleep, and repeat until you no longer fear them.

"You don't have to do this with all of your nightmares so choose a few core ones that really bother you and we take these steps one nightmare at a time. If done correctly, you'll start to notice fewer nightmares until there are no more," she explains.

"I've done this before. Can you believe I used to have nightmares as a child? I even have two journals filled with rewritten dreams."

"How did that work for you then?"

"It worked at that time. I got so used to seeing those bad things that I wasn't afraid anymore."

"I think this might work now but in order for it to work properly, you need to be doing this every day. Even if you manage to write two sentences. Every day, you need to be writing in those journals and reprogramming your brain into chasing those fears off."

"Okay, I'll try," you nod.

You leave your morning appointment with a slight headache. You get to work to see everyone else already there. Spencer greets you with a kiss and takes your bag from you. He would have waited for you after your appointment but he was playing a game of chess in the park. You told him it was alright to go on without you which is why you two are just now meeting here for the first time today.

"How was chess?" you smile tiredly.

"Riveting. How was therapy?"

Your bottom lip trembles at the thought of having to relive that session. You see Hotch and Rossi in the briefing room and clear your throat.

"The team's waiting up there."

He understands your desire to not want to talk about it, and he's not going to force you. If you ever feel safe enough to tell him, he'll listen but those sessions are for you to heal on your own. He'll help in any way he can which you appreciate. He's been so patient since you got out of prison. You'll honestly never find anyone better than him.

Hotch is abc as the permanent unit chief for the team. Strauss must have granted him his privileges back, and Derek had no problem stepping down to let Hotch back in the place he belonged.

"Rita Stuart, twenty-five, is the second victim in Atlantic City."

JJ puts a picture up on the screen of Rita. She was found dead in a cart on a merry-go-round wearing a blue dress.

"That's a pretty public spot for a dump site."

"Technically, I think it would qualify more as a disposal site. You don't leave a body on a merry-go-round out of convenience."

"He took some time with her appearance, didn't he?" Emily asks.

"Yeah. Her nails were polished, her hair was cut, and her clothes were brand-new. He wanted her to look her best when found. That's a lot of remorse."

"Who is victim number one?" Hotch asks.

"Stacia Jackson, twenty-nine." Stacia's picture is of her found at a playground sitting on the swings. "She was found at a local playground."

"That's a change in victimology."

Rita was a white red-headed girl and Stacia was a young black woman. That's a huge jump in picking out victims.

"What's the connection between these women?"

"There is none. Rita was married and Stacia was single. Rita worked at a diner and Stacia was a corporate lawyer. According to their credit cards, they never came within ten miles of each other."

"Both women were taken two months ago?"

"Yeah, they lived such completely different lives. The police didn't tie their abduction together until now."

"Was there any evidence of sexual assault?"

"No, there wasn't even any evidence of violence."

"How did they die?"

"Rita had a stroke and Stacia had a brain hemorrhage."

"Look at this," Spencer says as he is looking through the files, "the unsub gave them a battery of drugs like Atracurium and Doxacurium. These are neural inhibitors. They block signals from the brain to the muscles."

"He put them in medical comas for two months?" JJ gasps.

"Actually, they weren't in a coma. You'd need phenobarbital to keep them unconscious and they didn't have that."

"Wait, these victims were paralyzed but were still conscious?"

"Yeah. They could open their eyes, hear, and probably even feel stimulation. Physical immobility but mental awareness. This unsub wants total domination over them, and he turns their bodies into prisons to do it."

"Wheels up in twenty," Hotch declares.

The team shuffles out of the room but you stay behind so it's just you two.

"Hey, first, welcome back," you smile. "I'm sure you heard that Derek made me go to therapy but he's not unit chief anymore--"

"You're still going," Hotch says and leaves the room.

You sigh in frustration and watch your team from the window. This is gonna suck. You arrive at the plane at the same time as everyone else and pick up the conversation you left behind in the briefing room.

"Keeping women in a conscious paralysis reads as sadism. It's definitely dehumanizing by reducing them to objects, but there's nothing else about this profile that takes us down that path."

"These women were found in excellent condition. There was no evidence of bed sores and they were well fed through an IV," JJ says.

"His access to IVs and drugs makes it almost certain he has medical training."

"Are we sure this is a he?" you ask. "The care this unsub shows these victims, although they are dehumanized, says female."

"What about the postmortem posing? That's a lot of dead weight for a woman to carry."

So? Is he implying women can't be strong enough to carry someone? Don't get ahead of yourself, Y/N. He's not directing it to you. No one is out to get you. Calm down.

"These women are petite. They're under a hundred pounds."

"Okay, if we reconsider the gender of the profile, what changes?"

"Nothing. If anything, it fits better. Men kill to fulfill a sexual compulsion. Women don't. You see this in Angel of Mercy killers like Genene Jones and Amy Archer. They didn't care about race or hair color. It's men that do."

Penelope logged onto video chat right before Spencer had time to finish talking. She heard the last sentence he said and agreed completely.

"Damn straight men do."

Derek looks at her and he is shocked to see she is sporting red hair.

"Hello, Red. Look at you. Guys, look at her."

He turns the computer so everyone can see her, and she gives a big smile. She's beautiful but you keep quiet while everyone praises her for her looks. It's hard to find the energy to care about a lot of things these days. Is that depression or just plain anxiety? You're not sure anymore.

"Garcia, what did you find out about the clothing the unsub's dressing the victims in?" Hotch asks, getting everyone back on track.

"Only that both garments were made from chiffon, but with the wonder twin powers of the Atlantic City Police and my impeccable eye for fashion, we have also determined that these garments fit ridiculously well. They're super flattering to each victim's exact measurements, kind of exactly like the unsub whipped them up herself."

"Maybe that's what connects the victims. Maybe she isn't just killing petite women because they're easier to abduct and pose, but because of a physical type. She wants a body type. She could be sewing these clothes for specific women."

"Please tell me she is not killing these women because she needs human models," JJ sighs. "I mean, there's gotta be more to it than that."

"There probably is, but we at least have a start on the victimology."

"Prentiss and Morgan, I want you to interview the victims' families. Talk to them about lifestyle choices and any body image issues these women may have had." Hotch looks at Spencer only to notice he is holding your hand. He knows you're having trouble and decides it's best if he keeps you with Spencer for the time being. "Reid, take Y/N and go to Rita's autopsy. See if the drugs point to any specific medical training the unsub might have had. Dave and I will go to the disposal site. Garcia, I want you to check missing persons reports for the last two months. See if any abductions match what we know. We need to find out if the unsub's already taken another victim."

You have a bit of time to relax before the plane lands, and Spencer kisses your head to silently let you know he is here with you. You lean your head on his shoulder and take comfort where you can when you can.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[cowboy-kidd]

gentle persuasion - it’s difficult regressing in a world that’s often so harsh…having dad helps :D

x - x - x

tw for vivid descriptions of dissociation

—DNI NSFW—

you fidget silently on the couch as your dad snacks on some popcorn on the far right of you. Your nails are short and stubby so you don’t scratch anyone by accident and a weird feeling which you can’t quite describe wells up in your heart.

You frown. The tips of your lips slowly go downward while your eyebrows scrunch up. Are you confused? Are you angry? Why would any of these feelings resurface now? Everything had been going really well. Dad hugged you, he didn’t act like he was annoyed with you, and the whole way from the door to the kitchen to the bathroom to now was smooth sailing. You guys laughed and joked and smiled warmly at each other. Everything was good. You fist at your shirt where your heart is, rubbing the surface harshly as you try to parse out what you're feeling. So why now? All the emotions of the day just seem to come crashing down on you- your mind and heart flicking through them rapidly until they become a bright mess of mush that makes it hard to decipher.

You chance a glance at your dada, and seeing him thoroughly engrossed in the movies you're both supposed to be watching, pull your knees up to your chest. Is your sleep shirt uncomfortable? Would you be more comfortable in a sweater? Are you forgetting something? What could it be?

These questions run through your head a mile a minute as you mess with your pajama pants. The characters smile back at you, wide mouthed and happy. A silly thought runs through you- a question as all your thoughts are. Why are they happy and you aren’t?

Then dada is getting your attention, calling your name with a concerned look on his face that you don’t meet until he repeats whatever he said for a third time.

“Are you okay?” He asks, eyebrow lifted. You chew on your words for a second, unsure of what to say- you meet his eyes for a second before looking behind him, it’s not that you try to avoid eye contact- it’s just that looking people in the eye is unnerving and kind of uncomfortable for them…you tend to stare.

But this is your dada, and he’s looking at you with increasing concern- arms folded. The feeling in your heart curdles more- you can feel your frown grow deeper as the thought that you are in trouble springs through you- louder than all the thoughts in your head- like a big bright flashing red light behind your eyes.

You're unsure of how long you sit there, frozen in a time-filled space that is unaccommodating in your selfish want for everything to stay the same. And when you blink dada is gone and with that sadness joins the same curdled feeling of dread. You’d done something wrong in not responding to him and then he’d left. The movie is still playing and your eyes lock onto it even though you’re not really watching it. Everything feels like it’s in your personal bubble, like even the couch you were once comfortably huddled into was a violation of your body. You feel dirty and inconsolable. The tears well up automatically. The only discernible reason would be the perceived rejection and frustration.

But before you can feel anymore overwhelmed, dads bringing you into his arms, brushing your hair back, and placing your head in his lap. His hands are warm, like a blanket you’ve laid under for a while and he’s got a basket of stuff beside him which you neglect to look at. Instead, your eyes are on the tv, you’re still just looking at it- the fast moving blurry colors entrance you. But you can’t make out actual characters or grab onto the words they’re saying, it slips off of you like melted butter and you shiver.

“hey, baby…dad needs you to pay attention to him..can you do that for me?” he puts a hand to your cheek and you manage to tear your eyes away from the tv—it feels like tearing a suction cup off of its perch—and stare at his blurry face.

“hi..” you whisper on instinct. it makes him laugh softly, shoulders bouncing up and down- the air coming out of his nose brushes over your face and forces you to blink. Then, like you're crawling out of a deep hole you hadn’t even known you’d fallen out of, the stupor of blurriness rises like a curtain and your cognizant. The TV is a low murmur in the background and the lighting is less garish than it originally was.

“hi…welcome back.” he says, your eyes bounce around his face, taking him all in- you never settle on his own probing brown irises- but his settle on yours. He hums before bringing something up to your lips. The teat of your favorite pacifier

You tighten your lips against it and look away to which you are met with a half concerned half questioning look.

“What’s wrong, puppy? You don’t want dada to take care of you right now?” Your insides melt momentarily at being called ’puppy,’ the term of endearment makes your head spin with happiness. But you couldn’t- you couldn’t regress right now. If you did you’d be stuck for the rest of the week. You had to be big- you couldn’t be vulnerable and soft when the world was so volatile and sharp- eager to punch you in the heart whenever it got the chance.

At the thought your hand unconsciously comes up to rub at your chest- that aching feel coming back ten times worse than usual. You look away, towards the tv again, and everything goes blurry for a second time.

This time dad doesn’t let you sink all the way into it though, doesn’t let you fall back into the hole you struggled to climb out of just a minute ago. He tilts your face towards him, a gentle look in his eye. Your own glossy one's gaze into and past his face- the illusion of static framing his head and everything behind it disappearing.

“Come back to me, pup…let me take care of you, okay?” he places the pacifier between your lips again, you're hesitant to take it but have no control over your mouth as it settles gently between your teeth. It’s all of a sudden a comforting weight against your heart, combating the aches that previously bruised it. All of a sudden you're much more willing to cry, to fuss, to express your emotions without having to tamp them down for the sake of others.

This feeling hurts. The tears welling in your eyes are enough for dad to respond quickly, cooing softly. Your hands rise up to his cooing and he’s pulling you into a warm embrace that makes you cry harder.

“Baby, baby…sh, I’ve got you. Nothing can hurt you when I’m here okay? Okay, lovely?” He’s rubbing and patting your back and rocking back and forth in an effort to soothe you. Squeezing you tightly so that you remember to breathe through your blubbering.

He pulls you back when you’re not hiccuping as much, your face between his hands as he wipes your face clear of wet streaks that more tears are just going to take the place of. He puts his forehead against yours, a gentle smile on his face that makes you sniffle.

“You look so cute with that paci…i think it’s my favorite one.” He murmurs, grabbing a couple of wipes so that he can wipe the snot from your face.

You nuzzle against his neck, wordlessly trying to escape his view and embarrassing compliments. He just lets out a laugh that shakes both of you before kissing your cheek.

“c’mon, let’s get you changed into a onesie hm?”