Something that is missing in a lot of the Trans Disc Horse around trans men and transmasculine people and the specific (but also not unique!) problems many face from society is this... particular terror many people have (yes, cis and trans) around people who look masculine but act feminine, particularly in that grey area of appearance where they don't look quite like a cis woman and don't look quite like a cis man and so must be up to something, because why else would you carry out that kind of deception rather than just be one or the other? The gender that we "are" and the gender that we're "pretending to be" vary wildly with the observer; the only constant is that discomfort and suspicion.
The people who've been overtly transphobic to me haven't done so on the basis that I'm a woman pretending to be a man -- their complaint was that I was too much of a man to be a woman. That I was a threat to them because of covert (not overt!) masculinity. These were not situations of "oh, assumed to be TMA until revealed to be TME and then the cis people apologized and fell all over themselves to retract their bigotry and suspicion" (which... never happens anyway? tf). I'm tall and big, but I don't bind, I'm not on HRT, I have prominent breasts, my voice is high, it is very obvious that I'm not a cisgender man, and yet their complaints were the same. "I don't want HER, SHE's a MAN!" (Actual quote.) These people don't give a shit that I have breasts and a uterus and a vagina and more estrogen than testosterone, they already know that I do; the imagined predatory penis in my pants is real and dangerous in their minds as an actual physical one.
I personally have sympathy for these people. Almost everyone I've had this reaction from have been cisgender women and girls who've had deeply traumatic experiences at the hands of men and see in me that which hurt them, only worse, because I don't fit clearly into the box of "man" or "woman". I recognize that this is not about me as a person, but rather a consequence of the pain and conditioning that came before me. It doesn't make it okay to take these things out on me, but even though it hurts, I choose not to take offense. Cisgender men, by and large, have neither cared nor paid attention to the subtle signals of my gendered appearance and presentation -- they tend to take me at face value, and I've gotten bro'd, brother'd, sir'd, and man'd far more often by men. (Which I recognize is NOT the experience of many transfeminine people, especially those who date men.)
I genuinely don't know how to characterize this kind of suspicion and aggression as anything other than a specific kind of transmisogyny -- not exactly as transfeminine people experience it, but close enough that it provides categorization for these experiences better than any other schema of societal oppression that we've come up with. It's not misogyny, it's not homophobia, it's not transmisandry, it's not exactly femmephobia, it is very specifically the prejudice against behaving like a woman but appearing like a man and the assumption that I must have some nefarious purpose for doing so. And there is not an inconsiderable extent to which my choice to currently not pursue HRT or present myself as a man rather than a "theyfab" is because I'm a pediatric nurse and I work with children in very physically and emotionally vulnerable situations and I'm afraid of getting more of these reactions than I already do. Do I get as many as one of my trans woman friends, who also works with children? No. But I've gotten more as I present more and more masculine, I'm sure that it would only increase as I progress further down the path of masculinization, and I suspect that my anxieties around further transition are not that far off from some of my transfem siblings and sisters in a similar position, even though according to prevailing trans theories our experiences should be exact opposites.
When I was a kid, I was the only child in the house from my mother’s previous marriage and my stepfather made it abundantly clear to me that I would always measure short of his standards.
No matter what task I was set to do, when I believed I had done well and sought his approval, he would either tell me I’d accomplished nothing or give a quick, dismissive look and say, “it’s good start.”
He was absent, both physically and emotionally, and I was glad for that, because when he was around he was often verbally abusive and very loud about it. I remember I once asked him why he needed to yell and call me names instead of simply talking, and his answer was, “nothing else gets through your thick skull.”
Once, I remember I was being dressed down for entering his office, and he said, “I ask so little of you. Do your chores, pull your own weight, stay out of trouble. I give you food, clothes, I let you live under my roof-“ at which point I cut him off to ask, “you ‘let’ me? I thought I was your daughter and I lived here.” His immediate answer? “Well then maybe you should act like it.”
I was a lonely child, and never had many friends, feeling like there was some kind of wall between myself and the rest of the world, and spent the bulk of my time wandering around the woods and reading every book I could get my hands on. I only ever wanted to read, or wander, and when I was being punished in a hands-off capacity his go-to move was usually to forbid me from reading. (This was how I started writing.)
He would make me eat things that made me sick, lock me out of the house while I was away, and constantly go on about how there was something just fundamentally, innately wrong with me. That I was slow, retarded, off, “touched in the head”. (That one was his favourite.)
Years passed like this. Well over a decade. When I turned seventeen I moved out and promised myself I’d never see him again, and on the one occassion I had to return to the house a year later I did so when it was empty to find myself caught off-guard by him swinging by for an unexpected drop-in, at which point I hid in a closet and waited in silence for him to leave. (About forty-five minutes.)
When I had my freedom, I found myself swinging between fear of everyone and hatred of myself and this odd itch under my skin that made me want to fight anyone bigger than me.
Then I started having emotions again. Anger, which was wonderful, because eventually it let me figure out that as odd as I still was, he had been wrong to treat me poorly. That “abuse” was a word I could say out loud.
We didn’t speak for nearly six years, and only because I visited my siblings and he was their ride home.
I had no intentions of speaking with him, but he found me in a moment alone anyways. And when he did, he said, “I’m sorry.”
There was more after that, but I’d heard him apologize for his actions before. It had been years since I’d had any faith in his ability or desire to do better.
But I wasn’t under his thumb anymore, he had no power over me, and I had siblings who loved him. Any revenge I’d once considered was tiring to think of now. So I told him, “I’m not ready to forgive you, and I don’t want to be your kid, but if you want to do right by me, then take this as a learning experience. It’s too late for me, you fucked that up, but don’t fuck it up with them. Don’t do this again.”
He promised he would. I figured it wasn’t in my hands anymore. We kept our distance. And to my surprise, he did somehow, miraculously, change.
We still aren’t close. We never will be. But I visit his house with my siblings and watch movies together, and while I always have to move my plate a seat further from his at the table I’m surprised to say it isn’t terrible.
I don’t say any of this to come off like a wise, grown, benevolent person who has it all figured out. I only changed his name on my phone from “asshole” two years ago, and that was three years after I added and then immediately blocked it. I’m no victim in need of saving, I’m no martyr on a cross, and I got my good share of shots in when I could afford it.
I don’t say this to commend or condemn HIM, either. He was a shit father to me and after thirteen or so years of it finally realized he was the problem and put the effort in to fix himself. He’s raising his existing children very well now, and that’s all that matters.
I don’t say any of this for any grand, moral reason. Not because I intend to pass off my lived experiences as a neat and tidy lesson on forgiveness or growth or healing or whatever.
No, I’m sharing all this today because last night we all sat down together in one big room and watched Frankenstein (2025) on his hugeass flatscreen in stone dead silence, except graphic TV violence always makes me giggle so every time The Creature bitch-slapped someone’s face off I had to choke back tears, and you cannot fully appreciate what that atmosphere was like without context
Jason Todd didn't believe in quick "fucks" or "hard sex". To him, being the closest you could physically get to another person, literally being inside them, was an incredibly emotionally intimate act. Sacred and to be treated as such. And you got overwhelmed by that. So when he's over you, muscled arms either side of your head, toned core and chest occasionally brushing against your stomach pudge and breasts, long weight pleasurably prodding your insides making you delirious, your tummy all tight and spreading heat throughout your entire body till you're burning up head to toe (toes on feet attached to legs that had been significantly weakened), you feel like you're in cardiac arrest. Or having a heart attack. Or both. Every organ contained in your ribs could burst out at any moment and splatter all over him. The most you can muster to verbally express how intense this was for you is blabbing how about much you love him and his cock.
"Yeah, sweetheart? It makes you feel good?" his tone unbound from a single label of teasing, breathless, insecure, affectionate, etc.
You nod, "yeah—" voice cracking as you break into a sob.
Jason slows to a near stop.
"Doesn't seem like it..." You shake your head.
"No! No, Jay, they're happy tears," you swear through pants, your first deep breaths in a minute.
"You sure?" It's clear he's concerned, but mind's still just as hazy as yours, deluded by satisfying stimuli. You nod.
"Yes...please, don't stop..."
He contemplates it.
"If you say so..." He complies, returning to his prior position that alone made your breath hitch, only to be maximised by feeling that he was up to your lungs inside you (he wasn't close. Like nothing should be). "You tell me if you need a break, got it?" You nod and shift your hips to get him moving again.
He shushes you through subsequent tears, kissing them off your temples and holding you closer, breath hot against your collarbone as he whispers, "I've got you, I've got you," again and again until he tips you over the edge and all that pressure and heat releases.
He finally pulls back, and lightly chuckles at your unhinged jaw, exposed tongue trying to move off the bottom of your mouth, but is unable to. He kisses your forehead, "it's 'lright, don't say anything. Let me get a fan on ya' then we can clean ya' up, yeah?"
You loved him so much.
a/n: is this smut? if so, baby's first time writing smut!! also, different layout than usual? idk how i feel about it but its tumblr fanfic I wrote in like 30 minutes, so does it matter? speaking of it being written in like 30 minutes, if this is ass, yeah... feel free to tell me to delete this then kill myself because I'm paranoid about my digital footprint
summary: Reader and Jason get into a fight which causes Jason to storm out, in the separation, both you and Jason begin to fear the worst
word count: 3.0k
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort
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“I don’t think I’m asking for that much!” You cried for what felt like the fiftieth time tonight.
“Yeah, you think that ‘cause you don’t understand the reality of the situation!” Jason fired back harshly.
“Don’t make me out to be an idiot, Jason, I understand the conditions of dating you, if I didn’t I would’ve left by now.”
“You say that yet you keep demanding things you should know are off limits.”
“I don’t think wanting a check-in every once in a while while you’re away is something that’s off limits.”
“You know I can’t be compromising the missions just to answer one of your texts.”
“God, you make it sound like me trying to make sure you’re okay if some fucking burden.”
“When you don’t know how to lay off, it sure can be fucking annoying,” Jason snapped, and you took a wobbly step back, completely taken aback by his jarring statement.
You and Jason had been at it for the better part of the last two hours. He’d recently come back from an international mission that had had him away from you for over two weeks, during which his communication was spotty at best. You knew it was hard for him to find time to keep up a regular text chain with you when he was on these types of missions, and you also knew he had to be extra careful about communicating with anyone other than his teammates, for safety and security reasons on both sides. You knew this, which is why you were always careful to only really text him when you wanted to check in on him and make sure he was still alive. No matter how badly you wanted to blow up his phone every second of every day he was away from you, you tried your hardest to keep it low key, to not distract him or put either of you at risk.
But this latest mission, he’d been extra unresponsive, and if he did respond, the texts were lack-luster at best. You never even got a phone call from him, not once, not once for the whole three weeks. And to your credit, you didn’t spring these problems first thing when he came back. No, you had let him resettle, rest, and recuperate for four days before mentioning anything about how you’d been hurt and worried from his lack of communication. The two of you had had arguments about this before; him always saying you’re asking too much from him in this regard and you pointing out that there are certain standards for partners, even vigilante partners. However, the two of you had never had a fight about it. This time, everything was especially volatile and neither of you were willing to step back, so things were just getting more and more tense.
The problem with Jason was, when he got angry or felt like he was being backed into a corner, his natural instincts were to lash out. Taking shots, whether physical or verbal, is his first line of defense when facing confrontation; a believer in that saying ‘offense is the best defense’. But that approach tends to cause problems when trying to work through an emotionally fraught situation with loved ones. Both of you know this, both of you are well aware of his triggers and typical reactions. But you don’t want to coddle him at your own expense and sometimes Jason is too caught up trying to “protect” himself to try working on his coping mechanisms.
That’s how you got here. Yelling at each other in the living room of your shared apartment. Your patience, which was usually very good for your boyfriend, had worn dangerously thin, and Jason was having to restrain himself from throwing a plate at the wall from all the overwhelming feelings that were hitting him.
“You were gone for three weeks, three weeks. I already know very little about what you’re doing when you’re not in Gotham, and it’s not like I can easily contact your teammates. The only way I can know if you’re safe, if you’re alive is through those texts and phone calls. Otherwise, I’m sitting here in the dark, wondering whether or not my boyfriend is okay, if I’m ever going to see you again. So forgive me if I’m a little desperate for any communication from you when you’re away, it’s quite literally the only thing keeping me sane during that time. But no, you’d rather be mad at me for wanting to hear from you; you’d rather call me annoying and thoughtless because I got upset at the fact you barely responded to me and didn’t even call me the whole time you were away.” When you’d finished your rant, you were out of breath, your chest heaving with how worked up you were. Your throat was tight and you were holding back tears, just overwhelmed with this whole fight, your emotions were all over the place. Looking at your boyfriend was torture, you wanted to violently shake him, and scream at him, and cry at him. Usually, you could read him like a book because you were just that in tune with him, but right now, your own feelings were clouding your vision and the man in front of you felt indecipherable.
Jason was silent. His brain was so fired up, it was having a hard time forming his next sentence or a coherent line of reasoning.
He inhaled sharply and when he spoke, his voice was scarily hushed with a quiet and restrained anger, “The fact that I even respond when I do is something. I don’t think you appreciate how much effort I put out just to answer one of your texts when I’m on a mission. All you ever do is bug me for more more more, can’t you ever be fucking happy with what I’m giving right now?!”
You froze. Something bitter and cold solidified in your stomach.
You knew he didn’t mean it that harshly. You knew he was being extra hurtful because he was overwhelmed, he didn’t actually think that way about you. But right now, even that knowledge didn’t do anything to ease the pain invading your heart. It was hard to breathe.
“You are being a fucking asshole, Jason Todd,” you bristled, with a voice filled with a hushed but cold furry. But, the tears welling in your eyes and the voice crack when you forced out his full name betrayed the hurt you were feeling.
“Fuck this,” Jason muttered as he spun around and grabbed his coat and boots.
Panicking, you take a few strides closer to him as he starts heading for the door. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” You exclaimed, alarmed and mind reeling.
“For a walk,” Jason replied shortly, and not waiting for a response, he walked out of the door, not quite slamming it, but closing it far more aggressively than he usually does.
The sound of the door thumping shut reverberated in the apartment, and you felt its echo rattle your bones. You bit your lip in an effort to fight back the sob threatening to break through, but it did little to stop the flood, as the dam had been broken. A choked, pained noise escaped your throat as the tears finally came pouring down your face. Your heart was breaking and clenching so painfully in your chest, it felt like your whole sternum was caving in on itself.
Your mind was racing, too many thoughts at once that you couldn’t keep up with yourself. The anxiety that was creeping in was beginning to take root and just completely torment you. Could this be what kills your relationship with Jason? Is this him walking out on you? Were you really too demanding? Were you invasive? Annoying? Was he sick of you? Was he going to come back and break up with you? Was he going to come back at all?
You felt like throwing up. How had this spiralled to this point?
The apartment was too empty. The whole place was so cold without him, especially under the conditions he’d just left. You felt like a ghost in your own home. Everything in the apartment was mocking you, every knicknack that symbolized your togetherness was laughing at you and your pitiful state. It was silent, except for the sound of your sobs, and it was suffocating.
Needing to get out of the living room, the battlefield from which you’d retired yourself, you lumbered to your shared bedroom. The coldness and emptiness of the bed, the bed that was made for two, only added to your anguish and pulled out another violent fit of tears from you. You had no clue when Jason planned on returning to your apartment, if he would at all, so you let yourself curl into a ball, gripping tightly onto his pillow and cry yourself to sleep.
Meanwhile, Jason was aggressively wandering the maze of Gotham’s streets, trying to outrun his own thoughts and feelings. Jason didn’t know why he decided to go for this ‘walk’ he just knew he needed to be away from your apartment. The rational part of him understood where you were coming from. Jason knew he’d been less active in responding to you during this mission, and he knew that your desire for texts and calls wasn’t you trying to be overbearing, it was just you worrying about him. And part of him felt guilty for making you worry so much by not responding to you, he truly didn’t want you to be so caught up in his safety. But he still couldn’t help himself from worrying about communicating with you during missions. It puts you at such a higher risk of discovery or interception. And he couldn’t afford any distractions, even though you weren’t really a distraction, he was just currently trying to find every excuse he could to justify his own actions.
Jason had hoped that the “fresh” air would help him clear his head. He’d hoped that being out in the city for a bit would help him remember the bigger picture and put this fight into perspective so he could be refreshed and cleansed. But this distance was doing anything but. The sounds of Gotham were harassing his ears and the air was sending knives through his chest. He felt claustrophobic as he stormed through the streets. There was no recentering to be found, no relief or resuscitation like he was desperate for.
Jason kept picturing your apartment, you. What are you doing right now? Were you cursing him? Were you packing your things? Had he just doomed your relationship by walking out? Did you hate him? Was he going to come back to you telling him things were over and he needed to move out? Why did he have to be such an asshole sometimes?
The longer he spent out in Gotham and away from your apartment, the more the hole in his chest grew. Finally, after who knows how long, Jason turned back around and hastened back to the apartment.
When Jason stepped inside, the first thing he noticed was how quiet, how still everything was. Like the very air was holding its breath in expectation of some gruesome discovery. The lights are off, and the shadows being cast in the cozy apartment are whispering reminders of the crimes he’d committed here tonight; it makes his stomach turn uneasily.
Scared of disturbing this glass-like stillness, Jason takes off his boots and coat with a practiced stealth. Maybe he’s also scared of you knowing he’s home yet, maybe he needs another minute to prepare himself for whatever the aftermath of a fight looks like. The two of you have never fought before, he doesn’t know what to expect, how to plan for moving past this.
Stalling a little more, Jason gets ready for bed mindlessly. His heart picks up speed more and more the closer he gets to the end of the routine, since at the end he’ll either find where you’ve taken refuge in the apartment after the fight, or he’ll find that you left.
Finally, he makes his way, silently, to your shared bedroom and Jason can’t decide whether he does or doesn’t want to see you there, not sure if he has the strength for either situation. When he enters your bedroom though, his heart stutters and he’s frozen in place.
You’re curled in on yourself, and he can tell by your breathing that you’re asleep. You’re laying on top of the duvet and Jason can see your goosebumps from here. As carefully as possible, Jason moves to your side of the bed. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to you, he can finally get a good look at you, and the sight absolutely breaks his heart.
The light from Gotham seeps in through your curtains and illuminates the tear stains on your cheeks. Your face is frozen in a frown, lips downturned and clearly having been bitten relentlessly. Your whole body is tense, like the slightest move might fracture or unravel you. You must’ve fallen asleep crying. The mere thought is enough to make Jason want to cry. And the worst part is knowing that he did this to you. He was the cause of your misery. Jason clenched and unclenched his fists in his pants as he stared at your sleeping form.
Suddenly, as if you subconsciously sensed his presence, your eyes cracked open and he watched as your foggy mind processed who was sitting above you. Then, he watched as a storm of emotions came in to cloud your eyes, flickering between surprise, sadness, anger, confusion, hopefulness, distress, and relief, and he felt himself experiencing all of it and more right along with you.
The two of you just stared at each other in silence, not moving or making any effort to speak for several minutes, before finally your voice cracked out a broken, “Jason?” that tore the large man’s heart to shreds.
“Yeah, it’s me, angel,” he croaked.
Against your will, tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, you had not the strength to stop them from falling.
“I’m sorry,” you sniveled, almost pathetically as your face broke further.
Jason’s eyes went wide with panic and confusion, “Sorry? What’re you sorry for? I should be the one who’s sorry,” he blurted out, his hands flying to find yours and encompass them in a tight grip.
You sniffled, “I’m sorry,” was all you seemed capable of saying at the moment.
“No, baby, no, please don’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you. I shouldn’t have just dismissed you like that. You were valid in your worry, and I know how much it means to you to have me text and call you when I’m away. And honestly? It does just as much for me as it does you. Seeing your messages, calling you when I get the chance, it reminds me of what I’m fighting for and the home I have to return to when I’m away. I’m sorry I was being such a bitch about not communicating during this mission. I’m sorry I made you feel like this,” Jason rambled and took you in his arms. He held you in his lap, encasing you against him and holding you close, as if you’d disappear if he wasn’t latched onto you.
“I’m sorry we fought. I didn’t want to fight. I don’t want to be overbearing or annoying. I don’t want to fight with you,” You wept into his chest, your tears wetting his cotton t-shirt. You balled your fist in the material and clung tightly to Jason, the feeling of being held by your boyfriend the most grounding and comforting feeling in that moment.
“No, no, I’m sorry we fought. I’m sorry I hurt you, I never want you to feel like this, ever,” Jason confessed, pressing his lips against your temple. Then, the two of you sat in silence, him holding you like one does their most prized possession, pressing kisses to the top of your head and letting his thumbs rub soothingly wherever they were settled. You nuzzled your head into his neck and breathed him in, his familiar scent washing over you like a comfort you’d never known. You let the last of your tears fall and Jason finally felt his throat opening up after a long night of being wrapped in barbed wire. Then, after some long minutes in that position, Jason wordlessly maneuvered the two of you so you were laying under the covers of your bed.
Now, Jason pulled you back into his chest and you wrapped your arm around his abdomen. Jason ran his hand up and down your back as you kissed his collarbone over and over again. Even though your anxieties were still there, every second spent in your boyfriend’s embrace lessened them more and more. All of the lingering questions and fears became smaller as you cuddled further into the large arms of your boyfriend, and the same could be said for Jason.
“I love you,” Jason said, his voice steady for the first time that whole night.
“I love you, too,” you whispered with another kiss to his collarbone.
“I love you far more than I know what’s good for me,” Jason admitted with a quiet chuckle.
“For the record, if you ever walk out like that again, you spend the night on the couch,” you declared, with light severity in your voice.
Jason pressed a long kiss to the top of your head, “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting anything like this ever happen again.”
“Good, because I don’t think I have the stamina to get that mad at you again.”
“I don’t have the stamina to get that mad at myself again.”
“Did I already tell you I love you?” You asked with faux curiosity, blinking up at him.
Jason’s eyes lit up and a small smile tugged at his lips, “Yes, but I’d be inclined to hear it again.”
“I love you,” you spoke resolutely into the night.
Jason bent his neck at an awkward angle so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips, “I love you more.”
what the fuck is it about your ex that you can't get over? you know he's no good for you emotionally, so avoidant and unavailable. he's no good for you mentally, always playing stupid and manipulative mind games with you. you've tried doing everything you can to rid yourself of him— going out more, meditation, fucking other people... hell, you even convinced yourself that he put a spell on you so you did a cord cutting ritual to break the soul tie.
none of that shit worked and you felt fucking insatiable. every time you attempted to get over him, you ended up in the same position- eyes blown out as you drooled over your phone screen, gawking at the homemade videos you two just made last month. your heavenly moans pouring out the phone speaker paired with his filthy grunts and dirty talking as you bucked your hips up onto the vibrator, chasing what only toji can give you. pathetic.
see, physically? that's an entirely different story. in toji's mind, that's the way he could show you how he felt. he concluded that if he buries his cock so deep in your syrupy walls, maybe you'd get what he couldn't express verbally. and that's why every time y'all fucked, he'd always make sure to make you cum 4 times because that's how many letters are in the word ‘love'. stupid ass boy math.
breaking the no contact yall mutually agreed on was never apart of the plan, but you were ovulating on top of the fact that you hadn’t had some good toji dickin' in what, a month?
whichhhh is precisely how you ended up in this predicament now— thick bicep wrapped around your neck as his other hand pushes your back in, deepening the arch. both of his bare feet planted firmly onto the mattress as he quite literally drops dick into your greedy pussy.
“t-toj-tojiii-aaahhh!!!”
“shhh, shut the fuck up,” he murmurs against your face, planting open-mouthed kisses along the side of it. “wrong name, pretty girl,” he taunts against your ear before removing his hand from your back to squeeze your jaw as he cranes his head over to look at your pitiful face.
“awwwn, cmon, dollface. say the right name, i know you can do it.” the snapping of his hips became about as mean as him as he tightens his arm around your neck. the loud shlicking of your pussy blending so harmoniously with your sobs of pleasure. and you are so fucked out— hair all over your head, clit throbbing and swollen, a thin sheen of sweat glistening along your body, black tear streaks down your cheeks. oh, you are soooo wrecked, but, your starved cunt is so eager to take everything he’s given you and more.
it almost feels like out of body— the way he’s bringing you close to the best orgasm you’ve had in months without so much as touching your clit. the way his thick cock just perfectly massages every crevice of your clingy pussy, it’s almost like it’s built just for him. a loud smack! to your face snaps you back into reality before the gripping on your jaw gets firmer. he tilts your head back a bit with his bicep, just enough to meet his green eyed gaze and locking in on your watery one, “say. it.”
“d-daddyyy! fuckkk daddy, please!!!”
a smug smirk tugs at toji’s scarred lips before he releases your face and unravels his arm from your neck, “good job, babyface.”
he slows his pace down, yet never stopping as he brings himself down to his knees while pushing your body down completely flat onto the bed. his knees on either side of your body as he grinds his dick into you, a lazy grin on his face as he watches the milky white ring form around the base of his dick. “you missed daddy, baby?”
“s’much!! shiiitttt, haaaah!”
“yeahhhh,” he drawls in a mocking tone, “look at thaaat. makin’ sucha mess, pretty.”
“y-yesss daddy, please!! right— fuckkk!— right thereeee,” you plea as your hungry pussy damn near suffocates his dick the way it’s gripping once you become so unbearably close to the orgasm you’ve been chasing for an entire month.
“you know,” he starts, “i know you’re ovulating.” a shit-eating grin plastered across his face before he lays his entire upper body on yours, angling his cock even deeper than before. your walls fluttered around him once he picks up his pace, his mouth directly behind your ear as he licks the shell of it while grunting and moaning before speaking again, “cmon… lets make a baby.”
AN: HEY HOESSS! i missed yall so much!!! i been going THROUGH it chile but i just needed to write this drabble quick to make sure i still got it… AND I DO!!! so with that being said— look forward to more and the series i been working on… and tell a friend to tell a friend… SHESSSS BAAAACKKKKKK!!!
How Nolan's backstory recontextualizes his relationship with Mark
An Analysis
This is my first time writing out a full analysis, I hope I did well :)
Invincible Season 4 Episode 2 Spoilers.
Let's get the obvious out of the way, this interaction is a clear parallel to Nolan's fight with his own son.
Guess it runs in the family.
As a rite of passage, Nolan is expected to fight both his parents on his 18th birthday. His parents will then evaluate his performance throughout, and if it's to their standard, he will be allowed to live and be initiated as a soldier, coming of age. This is a ritual that every Viltrumite must go through.
The level of brutality in their attacks are normal. They also gang up on him and create an unfair fight, which is realistic preparation for what Nolan will encounter in the future. Though his father doesn't pull his punches, his mother is noticeably more vicious. When Nolan's father expresses satisfaction, his mother rejects it and instead makes what is arguably an attempt to kill Nolan.
Viltrumites take, 'I brought you into this world, and I can take you out', very literally.
Now, it's Mark's turn to be an adult.
When Nolan starts fighting Mark, he begins in this manner. He gets cocky that Mark even thinks he can harm him, and is quite violent with his attacks. Mark's physical and mental pain doesn't outwardly bother him, and Mark's attempts to appeal to him emotionally are unsuccessful. Nolan also psychologically traumatizes Mark on purpose by causing human deaths and verbally trivializing humanity and his family. This 'kill switch' is Nolan embracing his Viltrumite side, which he gets from his mother.
Nolan's father represents what will eventually grows into Nolan's human side. This comes out in the other half of the fight, concluding with Nolan sparing Mark's life just as his father had spared his. There were cracks in his behavior that made him softer than most by Viltrumite standards. However, his kindness was by no means overt.
[Nolan instinctively reaches for his father but is not helped.]
In this flashback, we see Nolan taking after his father from the very beginning, whether he realizes it or not. When educating the Viltrumite children, he focuses on a girl who is initially struggling to answer.
Her hesitance is a reason to kill her, which he verbally reminds. He considers it briefly, but he ultimately does not go through with it, sparing her life.
Both Nolan and his father are considered weak by his mother, and there are likely many other instances where they showed behavior that indicated weakness.
"You are just as pathetic as he is. I hope to never see either of you again."
Viltrumites do not have typical family structures and are paired up only for the sake of reproduction. Family members have no emotional commitments to each other and any childcare is an investment into the future of the empire.
Nolan is abandoned by his mother when he turns out to not be the son she wants. He will never see her again. She is free to kill him and leave at a moments notice, she can simply have another child if she wishes. Considering their lifespan, this is not a significant cost of their time. Children are trained and tested from birth, and should be discarded the moment they're deemed defective. You can always start again.
Does this sound familiar?
"What's seventeen more years?"
When Nolan realizes that Mark is not going to join him in his quest to control Earth, he considers him defective. Many are attached to lost causes simply because of the time and effort they've put into it already, but Nolan remarks, boasts even, that this is not a problem for him. Mark is too injured to continue fighting at this point, and yet, he is continuously beaten.
Nolan is no longer teaching Mark, he is no longer punishing him. He is killing him, and that's his right as a parent.
After Nolan leaves Earth, he has a difficult time working through his emotions and even desires to give up his life. As part of his own version of healing, Nolan starts a new family.
Despite not intending to replace Mark, and still loving Debbie, this upbringing where commitment isn't prioritized is why Nolan finds it so easy to start afresh. He is happy with his new life and is able to settle in quickly without guilt surrounding his old family. At this point in the story, Nolan doesn't intend to see Debbie ever again. It takes him later to process that he still misses her, and to feel regret for leaving her.
Returning to Mark and Nolan's fight, the very last scene is easily the most poignant. It's one of the most iconic dialogue exchanges to come out of the whole show.
Nolan is desperate to convince Mark that his resistance to occupation is pointless. He reminds him of the length of his lifespan and that he will outlive every person he is trying to protect. He tells him that Earth will eventually fall and be forgotten. He asks him, "what will you have in 500 years?", with the implied answer being nothing and no one.
Nolan already knows what it's like to lose everything...
...and it's genuinely not what he wants for Mark.
This is not a mere hypothetical. This is a lived experience that traumatized Nolan. If that can happen to Viltrum, then Earth must be pre-destined for doom, in his eyes. He sees himself in Mark, who never even considered what could happen to his home in the next few centuries.
"You, Dad. I'd still have you."
Nolan is so devastated by this response that he can't continue, and it shifts the entire course of his life from that point onward.
Nolan did not have his dad.
Deep down, having his father may have been the one thing Nolan wanted. It may have been the single thing that would have made Viltrum's extermination bearable for him.
When Nolan discovers that he is dead, we see a moment of shock. He only gets a few moments to process this information before throwing his body away, having to move on to his next task unemotionally. Nolan is forced to let go of him, maybe reject him, see his father as someone who was weaker than him and succumbed. Whatever kindness was in him did not get him anywhere, right? Nolan can now rise above that and be greater.
Nolan's grief may have resurfaced in this moment with Mark. Nolan now has to confront the fact Mark loves him, even with all the suffering he's caused him. Mark also expects to be loved back. That's what it means to be his father.
Nolan taught him that.
As much as Nolan wants to ignore it, being on Earth caused him to grow into a person capable of compassion. This was the side of himself that he showed to Mark all those years, and he's now realizing that it was his true self, not an act.
Nolan has internalized for centuries that he can always be better. He is great and can be greater. He grew up with one image of what that should look like.
For the first time in his life, Nolan considers something else.
This.
____
To anyone who liked this analysis, I think a fic I wrote a year ago is worth a read :) it is an introspective character study on Nolan surrounding the topic of rape and Viltrum's society.
Acts are not described. This is not graphic. It is a wider exploration of the concept in relation to Nolan's psyche.
Still, please be mindful of the topic <3
The same way this is my first analysis, that fic was my first one in the fandom, thought I have written more fics after!
Moon in Scorpio in the Venus persona remains emotionally connected long after contact ends, even when communication has stopped completely, the bond doesn’t shut off with absence, it lingers in the body rather than the mind, names trigger a physical response before conscious thought, familiar places create a sudden shift in mood, certain songs or routines quietly reactivate the attachment, while outwardly the person appears composed, distant, or neutral
Moon in Leo in the Venus persona experiences emotions in a way that is expressive but sincere, feelings are real yet need to be seen, acknowledged, and mirrored, love doesn’t fully activate if it exists quietly without emotional response or visible engagement, this placement seeks a sense of being special in relationships, not out of ego but out of emotional safety, knowing they hold a unique place matters deeply, feeling replaceable or treated as one option among many quickly dampens emotional warmth
Venus in the 6th house in the Venus persona ties self-worth to being helpful, when they cannot contribute or feel useful, they may question the value of the connection even if affection remains
Venus in the 7th house in the Venus persona often makes someone over-attentive to their partner’s needs when in love, adjusting, accommodating, softening themselves before being asked, and only later realizing their own wants have been postponed or minimized
Venus in Leo in the Venus persona creates a strong need to feel distinctly chosen, not just liked in general, attention only matters if it comes with enthusiasm and clarity, being one option among many feels worse than being openly rejected, because invisibility hurts more than loss
Venus in Sagittarius in the Venus persona pulls away from emotionally heavy or overly dependent dynamics, not from lack of feeling but because emotions need movement, exploration, and breathing room to stay alive
Mars in Gemini in the Venus persona expresses desire through conversation rather than overt pursuit, texting, replying, wordplay, teasing, and verbal back-and-forth become the main channel of attraction, when the conversational flow slows down or disappears, desire often drops with it even if emotional interest is still present
Mars in Leo in the Venus persona enjoys healthy competition and being visibly desired, not through jealousy but through knowing their presence has impact and effect, recognition keeps desire alive
Mars in Scorpio in the Venus persona operates on an all-or-nothing wavelength, half-interest, casual flirting, or divided attention feel unsatisfying, desire either engages fully or shuts down completely, this placement is extremely sensitive to authenticity, performative desire, emotional games, or forced intimacy create immediate repulsion, attraction must feel real, deep, and unlayered to remain active
Sun square Pluto in the Venus persona heightens sensitivity to how one is perceived, especially in romantic settings, there is often more concern about appearing weak, exposed, or dependent than about the feeling itself, which can lead to projecting a harder or more detached image than what is actually felt, this placement carries a deep fear of emotional vulnerability being used against them, even in safe relationships there may be secrecy, guardedness, or strategic restraint, while emotional depth remains intense internally
Moon in the 3rd house in the Venus persona needs to feel heard more than simply loved, being listened to, asked follow-up questions, and engaged in conversation matters more than grand romantic gestures, lack of verbal engagement creates detachment faster than emotional distance
Moon in the 5th house in the Venus persona carries a childlike emotional vulnerability beneath a confident or cheerful surface, when their excitement is dismissed, mocked, or ignored, the emotional impact is deeper than it appears externally
Virgo rising in the Venus persona expresses affection through small, practical actions rather than grand gestures, remembering preferences, offering help, fixing problems quietly, if these efforts go unnoticed or unappreciated, motivation fades even if feelings remain
Aries rising in the Venus persona is perceived as the initiator in attraction, even when they feel uncertain internally, their external signal is bold, active, and decisive, people rarely experience them as neutral, interest feels either present or absent, with little ambiguity
Venus in the 11th house in the Venus persona loves by acting as an ally rather than a possessor, they help, connect, introduce, support, and stand beside rather than demand or claim, partners who become overly dependent or emotionally exclusive trigger withdrawal
Moon square Venus in the Venus persona wants affection and resists it at the same time, attention feels good until it feels overwhelming, distance feels relieving until it feels lonely, which makes their behavior look inconsistent even when their feelings are genuine, this placement makes the person highly reactive to mood states, the same behavior can feel loving one day and suffocating the next, these shifts usually reflect internal emotional tides rather than changes in the partner
Venus trine Jupiter in the Venus persona gives affection easily and generously, encouragement, praise, emotional support, time, and opportunity are offered freely, often more than is received, because the act of giving itself feels rewarding and natural rather than transactional
Moon conjunct Mars in the Venus persona becomes fiercely protective and proactive when emotionally secure, they defend, show up, and take action for the people they care about, love is experienced as movement rather than sentiment
Uranus square Pluto in the Venus persona reacts intensely to emotional control, even subtle signs of possessiveness, monitoring, or restriction can trigger an urge to escape or cut ties abruptly, freedom is tied directly to psychological survival here
Moon square Jupiter in the Venus persona experiences emotions on an expanded scale, feelings rise high and fall hard, happiness feels expansive and disappointment feels oversized, which can lead relationships to begin with big hope and enthusiasm before colliding with everyday reality
