Trauma dumping becoming a popularized term is just so fucking sad idk that’s one of the worst ones used casually obv there will always be people who say and ask too much from people who cant and don’t know how to handle it but it becoming some sort of pop psychology criminal offense is insane. like someone constantly oversharing is a huge sign something is very wrong you just need to understand that sometimes you’re not the one to fix it and can walk away if need be. Not talk massive shit and play victim ruining someone’s life because they told you too much about their childhood or something just keep it moving
Self improvement is great but ultimately? you have to accept your self. Yes you can eat better, exercise more, read more, set boundaries, love your self, but it all comes down to this. Some days you won’t have the energy to do any of these things. And you’ll look in the mirror and think that this is not enough. That’s a lie. The biggest love for self is to live slowly. To rest. To really rest. Have a nap. Eat what makes you feel good. Read if you want to. Embrace yourself and accept that you cannot and will not be ever be perfect. Accept that you are good enough. You don’t need to keep busy all the time. you don’t need to go out all the time and post on instagram. You don’t need to journal if you don’t want to. You don’t need to make art if you don’t want to. Breathe, give yourself grace and compassion. Give yourself the love and tenderness you so badly need. Be gentle with yourself. You are trying and it is good enough. You are good enough.
friendly reminder to slow tf down. unclench your jaw. stop scarfing down your food whole… actually enjoy it. relax your shoulders and stretch a little. take mindful, deep breaths. wake up with intention. strategically plan to have more time to relax before work, class, etc. you don’t always have to be in such a hurry doing literally everything. give yourself time to be present as an act of kindness to yourself
ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to deny location sharing and turn off personalized ads and reject all non-essential cookies and not set up siri and face ID
Happy Black History Month!! While I carry a deep love for my people every single day, this month feels like a special time to pour extra into the ones who have my whole heart: Black women. I am the person I am today because of the women who raised me, inspired me, loved me, and even the ones who couldn't stand me. From the women who poured into my soul to those who taught me hard lessons, I owe my essence to you.
There is an infinite beauty in our complexity, and I love every single version of us.
I love the "ghetto" Black women—the ones who are loud, proud, and take up space with their joy and their hustle. I love the sassy, confident ones who never back down and the ones who own their sexuality and queerness without apology.
I love the "weird" Black women—the alt girls, the nerds, and the ones carving out their own subcultures. I love the ones who dress differently, think differently, and refuse to fit into a box.
I love the women navigating mental illness, those who are struggling, and those who use drugs or alcohol as they please—those living raw, unfiltered lives without asking for permission.
I love the rhythm of our AAVE and the way we speak our truth, whether we’re being nurturing and kind or sharp and blunt. I love the shy ones and the activists; the women rooted in faith and the ones still wandering, searching for who they are meant to be.
I love us because we are not a monolith; we are a universe. Whether she is polished or unrefined, healing or hurting, found or still searching—I love her. I love Black women in every form, every mood, and every reality, simply because we exist.
Here is a look at life with your himbo, Clark Kent. From the quiet morning cuddles to the messy, high-intensity nights.
✺18+ 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓓𝓸 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽✺
Domestic Fluff/SFW
Himbo!Clark Kent is the kind of man who will spend ten minutes looking for his phone while he’s using the flashlight on it to see under the bed. He’s not slow, he’s just entirely preoccupied with you. If you’re in the room, 90% of his brain power is dedicated to noticing the way your eyes catch the light or how cute you look when you’re focused. He's a sincere airhead.
Himbo!Clark Kent has a "touch quota" that is never satisfied. If you’re sitting on the couch, he’s laying between your legs with his head on your chest, his large, tan hands idly rubbing your stomach. He finds your softest parts—the curve of your belly, the thickness of your thighs—and he kneads them like dough while he rambles about his PR at the gym or a funny story about his friend.
Himbo!Clark Kent is the ultimate listener. Even if he doesn’t fully grasp the nuances of your work drama or your favorite show’s lore, he listens like it’s the most important information on earth. He’ll tilt his head, blue eyes wide and focused, nodding along. "No way, did she really say that? That’s so mean, babe. You want me to go over there? You know I’ll go over there."
Himbo!Clark Kent is a fountain of verbal affirmation.
"You’re doing a great job, and I’m so, so proud of you!"
"You’re so perfect, honey. I feel like the luckiest man in the universe."
"You're so smart. How do you remember all that? My brain would smoke if I tried to do your job."
"I was thinking about you today—well, I’m always thinking about you—but I started trying to pick my favorite thing about you, and I couldn't. I love your voice, especially when you’re tired and soft; I love the way your hands feel in mine. I love your face, your laugh, and that beautiful heart of yours most of all. I love every single inch of who you are, inside and out. You’re everything to me."
Himbo!Clark Kent is like a human weighted blanket. He has zero concept of personal space. His favorite position is laying between your legs while you sit on the headboard; he’ll rest his heavy head on your thighs and wrap his massive arms around your waist, just telling you about his day at the gym or a cool dog he saw. He loves the "squish" of your stomach and will spend an hour idly rubbing it with his thumb, completely content.
Himbo!Clark Kent is the ultimate hype-man.
"What do you mean you 'don't know'? You look incredible in this! Don't change."
"Look at those coils. They’re so bouncy! You’re so pretty, it literally makes my head hurt. Oh, I can help you wash your hair next time!"
"You’re so thick in all the right spots, honey. I just wanna carry you around in my pocket all day so I can squeeze you."
"Your face is so pretty... like, for real. I like you nails—Oh! You should try a space theme!"
The Smut/NSFW
Himbo!Clark Kent loves pulling you into his lap while he’s still in his gym clothes or a baggy t-shirt. He’ll start talking about something mundane, like a new protein shake, while his large hand is already wandering up your thigh. He’s obsessed with the "research" his friends tell him. "Marcus told me if I do this... yeah, like that... you'll feel it more. Does that feel good? Does it?" He’ll play with your pussy with a studious, heavy-handed rhythm until you’re literally shaking, his blue eyes wide and fascinated as he watches you squirt across his hand. He’ll cheer for you, genuinely proud of the mess you’re making together.
Himbo!Clark Kent is 6’3” and 220 lbs of dense muscle, and he’s obsessed with the contrast of your bodies. He loves pinning your wrists above your head with just one of his hands, his tan, veiny forearm looking massive against your brown skin. He’ll watch the way his thick dick disappears into you, the wet, squelching sounds of the friction making him moan so loud the neighbors probably know your name. "You're so soft... and I'm so hard inside you. It doesn't even make sense. You're so warm, baby. Hot... and really wet."
Himbo!Clark Kent loves the feel of bottoming out. He’ll drive into you with a slow, athletic power that feels like it’s reaching your ribs. He isn't trying to be rough; he’s just a big man who loves the feeling of being as deep inside you as humanly possible.
Himbo!Clark Kent has no "cool" in bed. He moans deep and guttural, his voice vibrating through your entire body. He talks constantly—narrating how good you feel, how wet you are, and how much he’s struggling to keep it together.
"Look at that... you're soaking me. You're such a nasty little slut, aren't you? Taking all of this."
"Ah! Fuuck, baby. You're so tight... M'gonna cum again, I can't help it."
"Just keep going. Don't stop. I love when you squeeze me like that. Do it again. Give me another one."
"You're such a mess, babe," he whispered, his voice full of awe. "Just a soaked, whiny little mess. And you're all mine. I'm gonna stay inside you all night."
Himbo!Clark Kent looves a carrying-fuck. He doesn't even ask; he just hooks his massive hands under your thighs and hauls you up like you weigh nothing. One minute you’re talking about dinner, the next your back is hitting the hallway wall and your legs are locked around his waist. His gym shorts are already down, and he’s so big and thick it feels like a literal intrusion as he lines himself up. "Hang on, I got you," he grunts, his biceps bulging as he anchors you against the drywall. He drives upward with a raw, athletic snap of his hips, burying all seven-plus inches of himself into your heat. You let out a high, thin whine, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders, and he just beams at you, sweat dripping off his nose. "Yeah, take it. Take all of it. You’re so tight, I can feel your heart beating around me. God, you’re so fuckin' good." He starts to pace, fucking you against the wall, then the doorframe, then the dresser, never once letting your feet touch the ground until he’s hammered you into a daze.
Himbo!Clark Kent loves cuming inside you, but he loves cuming on you just as much. He’ll pull out at the last second and finish across your stomach or chest, his face scrunched up in a mix of agony and ecstasy. He doesn't reach for a towel immediately; he likes the sticky, warm reality of what you just did. He’ll collapse on top of you, crushing the air out of your lungs with his deadweight, and just lay there, dripping inside you. He’ll kiss your shoulder, tasting the salt, and murmur, "That was amazing. Can we do it again in like five minutes?"
This is a bit of a departure from my usual headcanon style... I don't like it.
turnnoffyourmind
discoholicmusic
stormborns
ellievsbear
baratheonpilled
