#i really like snails and must know

[local-loser-clown]

I've been thinking about this for a while but haven't found an answer.

Do transponder snails live longer than regular snails? Because if they live the expected years of a snail, you only have one for 3-5 years. But if they live longer than snails. How long do they live? Is it closer to other animals with a longer life span. Or are they just ageless beings like that one jellyfish species?

On one hand, transponder snails are snails, so it makes sense that they act and live like our snails. On the other hand, they are telepathic snails that can shape-shift to look like the person using them. Does that give them a longer life expectancy?

Is it that the domesticated transponder snails have a higher life expectancy than the ones in the wild?

If transponder snails have the life expectancy of regular snails that has a lot of angsty implications for snail loving Dragon headcanons

[snailsandstrawberries]

do you think dan was a bit scared to step onto the stage as sister daniel in antwerp? because we had all hyped him up in the videos but this was live this was different of course he wouldnt know how we would react!! and do you think something in him healed when we all screamed our heads off, show after show?

[strawbuddy-luv]

Trans Tim off handedly mentioning random things that just confuse people more and more because he never told them he was trans (only Bruce and Alfred know)

Tim: "For the mission I'm thinking I'll go undercover, but it'll take some work to hide the bruises I got earlier. They're everywhere"

Dick: "Oh I think Steph is free right now!"

Tim: "...Ok?"

Dick: "Don't worry I'm sure she'll help you out with this! "

Tim: "That's awesome but I don't think I'll need help. I know how to use makeup."

Dick: "Really-? Ohhh, yeah your public image is like, way more public than ours. That must be tiring, having to hide the bruises all the time."

Tim: "Well yeah but I knew how to use makeup before that. For like, galas as a kid and stuff"

Dick: "...yeah..."

-----

Steph: -Complaining about a man- "And then he said "Oh you should smile more" like "you look like you don't want to be here" like what- what the fuck-??? Maybe I fucking don't dude."

Tim: "Oh yeah I hate when they do that. Like you've spent the entire time bitching about the consistency of snails, I can close my mouth for a few seconds."

Steph: "..."

Tim: "...What-?"

Steph: "Well- I mean yeah but- you know I have to deal with it like...way more, and it's just a bit weird that like, you as a guy are, I dunno, trying to relate? I mean you don't have to deal with it litreally everyday"

Tim: "Well yeah not anymore, but, you know...I still did."

Steph: :...What-"

-----

Tim: -Resting against one of the rooftop ledges-

Jason: "Woah, I can't believe it, Red Robin, slacking. What would Bruce do if he saw this!"

Tim: "Fuck off, it's just period cramps." -Jumps off the edge of the building-

Jason: "Yeah whatever Timblina...

Your fucking what-"

-----

Bruce: "And for this mission, we'll be needing someone for the Caroline disguise, but we already know who that is so-"

Dick: "Wait does Steph actually know how to fight in heels-??"

Bruce: "...N-"

Steph: "Yeah Bruce, I mean, you could at least actually ask me before volunteering me to go fight crime in that dress."

Bruce: "You-"

Jason: "I mean no offense, but literally who else would do it? Cass isn't here right now and I don't think any of us are willing to get a boob job for the mission"

Bruce: "No one's getting a boob job-"

Steph: "Yeah! This is bat tech, Bruce probably has ultra realistic titties in everyone's color and size! Jason you wouldn't even need an attachment."

Jason: "I don't think Caroline Hills has fifty gun shot wounds and muscles the size of most those guys heads."

Steph: "Yeah bu-"

Bruce: "None of that will be necessary because none of you" -Pointing at the right side of the table- "Will be going. No one at this table will be needing any prosthetics...Or boob jobs."

Steph: "...Ok but who the fuck is going then-"

Bruce: "Tim."

The entire table: "..."

Steph: "Tim are you really willing to put on boobs for this-"

Dick: "I don't think that's the best idea-"

Jason: "You just said no prosthetics- Oh this'll be fucking rich"

Tim: "...

I...wouldn't need a boob job?? Or prosthetics?"

Jason: "Timbo, that dress is a pretty low cut, and, no offense, your training hasn't given you that many enhancements."

Tim: "...Thank you for the binding compliment?"

Dick: "The what-"

Tim: "Guys I- I already have boobs-"

The Table: "..."

Steph: "WHAT-"

Dick: "You do-?!"

Jason: "Bruce if you made Tim get boobs for some weird mission-"

Tim: "What- No! No one made me get boobs??? Besides, I don't know, biology I guess??? Genetics maybe???"

Dick: "...I'm extremely confused"

Steph: "WHO GAVE YOU BOOBS-???"

Tim: "I'm not really sure seeing as I was born with them"

Dick: "...

OHHHHHH-"

Steph: "What- is this like a birth defect or something???"

Dick: "Tim- Tim I think you're just gonna have to-"

Tim: "I'm trans."

Jason: "...That's-

Yeah

Ok yeah no that- that explains...a lot."

Steph: "..." -Head in hands- "I am such a fucking idiot"

[beloveds-embrace]

Wingless!Reader and Harpy!Gaz MY BELOVEDS!!!! She thinks she’s lost this thing that’s so crucial to her identity, so she must be unlovable now, and all he can think of is how amazing she is. Does she take a while to realize he’s hitting on her, or does he make it obvious immediately?

Short answer: it’d take her a while to accept that he is actually hitting on her! Thank you to @lostintransist, @sexc-snail, @ms-sasa, and @cod-z’s conversation for giving me inspiration for the long answer:

You hadn’t noticed him at first- not really.

It wasn’t like you expected to see another harpy in your small, isolated town. Not here, where the skies seemed too vast and empty, and you could pretend your feet had always been meant to kiss the earth instead of the wind. You liked it that way- liked the absence of feathers and sharp eyes that might rake over empty span of your back. You liked the illusion of anonymity.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the illusion shattered the moment Kyle “Gaz” Garrick walked into your life.

You’d seen him before, of course- him and the rest of his team. They were hard to miss, their sheer presence enough to bend the air around them, predatory in a way that set all your instincts on edge. That aside, it was hard not to notice newcomers immediately, and it was your neighbors that told you about them first. Anout him.

Gaz, though… He wasn’t sharp edges and thunder like the others. He was soft winds and dusky skies, his gaze steady but warm. Even so, you hadn’t lingered long enough to catch the subtle flutter of wings beneath his jacket, hadn’t realized what he was until it was too late to pretend not to see him.

Now, standing in the market square with the autumn breeze tugging at his dark curls, Kyle was unmistakable.

A harpy.

His eyes found yours almost immediately. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

You did. You dropped your gaze and turned away, pulse pounding and pretending like what harpy left in you didn’t want to chirp and seek him out to meet him proper.

The social instincts were easier to curb with no other harpies around.

It took days for you to stop feeling the weight of that look- curious, searching, too focused for comfort. It was worse when you saw him again, and again after that, his paths seeming to cross yours no matter how you tried to avoid him. Always the same glance, steady and unreadable. Always the same tug low in your stomach that you hated yourself for feeling.

You didn’t want his attention.

You didn’t want to see the moment his eyes shifted, when recognition would bloom into pity or horror or, worse, disgust.

And yet he never looked away, even when you knew he must have understood by now that you are wingless.

You were restocking shelves in the little general store you worked at when he finally cornered you- not literally, but it certainly felt like it. The bell above the door had chimed, and you’d looked up instinctively, only to freeze when you saw him there.

“Hey.” His voice was warm and crooning. Friendly. But there was a weight behind it too, something that made your feathers- what was left of them- prickle beneath your skin.

You murmured a polite greeting and turned back to your task. Maybe he’d take the hint. Hopefully.

He didn’t.

“Not many of us around here,” he said, like it was casual conversation. Like it didn’t make your stomach twist into tight knots, ash coating the back of your throat where there should’ve been excited tweets and chirps.

You swallowed hard, and yet the taste lingered. “No.”

The silence stretched; not offensive, not choking. Simply there.

“I’m Kyle.” He tried again, gentler this time though you still didn’t look at him.

“I know who you are.” Your voice came out rougher than you meant, but you didn’t soften it. You couldn’t afford to.

Please go away.

He didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he simply chuckled, and the sound was so nice. “Small town things, huh? And you are?”

“Busy.”

That, finally, gave him pause. You felt his gaze sweep over you, not sharp this time, but careful. Calculating. Like a hawk.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” he said after a moment, and there was no offense in it, just understanding. “But I’d like it if you did.”

You didn’t know why that made something in your chest ache.

You wanted to snap at him, tell him to leave you alone, but the words died before you could force them out. Instead, you turned and met his gaze properly for the first time.

You braced for it- for his eyes to drop, for his expression to change.

It didn’t.

He just looked at you, steady as ever, and then he smiled.

He kept showing up after that encounter.

He was persistent in a way that wasn’t quite pushy, but left you no room for retreat. He showed up everywhere, always lingering at the edges of your space like he was waiting for an invitation you never gave. Sometimes he bought things from the store where you worked, even when it was obvious he didn’t need them. Other times he just passed by, pausing long enough to offer a nod or a smile, feathers fluffing out ever so slightly, before continuing on his way.

He never asked about your lack of wings.

He didn’t need to.

You caught him watching you sometimes, his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he looked away. But there was no pity in it, no revulsion. Just… interest. Curiosity. Like he was trying to figure you out.

You hated how much it made your heart race.

The first gift appeared on your doorstep after a bad storm.

It was a feather- deep brown with pale golden tips, sleek and perfect. A molted primary. Harpy wings didn’t shed often, and when they did, the feathers were treasured. Given, and never discarded.

You stared at it for a long time before picking it up, your fingers trembling. No. Was this a cruel joke? A mockery?

But harpies didn’t gift feathers lightly. It wasn’t just a token, it would never be used for a joke. It was a claim. A courtship.

You told yourself it couldn’t be from him, even if he was the only other harpy in town.

But when you saw Gaz later that day, his eyes flicked briefly to your hand where you still clutched the feather like it might disappear if you let it go. His mouth curved in the faintest of smug smiles before he turned and walked away, wings lax and fluffy; happy.

(Un)surprisingly, it didn’t stop there.

A polished stone one day, smooth and dark and heavy in your palm, made its home on your windowsill proudly. A sprig of rosemary the next, tucked into a small bundle of herbs tied with twine left with a basket of hunted game. Little things, carefully chosen, left where you’d be sure to find them.

You should have given them back. Should have told him to stop.

But you didn’t. Couldn’t, didn’t want him to.

You kept them, every single one. And still denied anything related to the idea of courting.

The first time he touched you, it was an accident. Or so you led yourself to believe.

You’d been hauling a heavy crate in the back room of the store when you slipped, hissing as pain flared along your shoulder. Before you could steady yourself, his hands were on you- gentle but firm, catching you before you could fall.

“Careful, love.” He murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You froze.

It wasn’t just his touch; it was the way he leaned in, close enough that his wings brushed your arm, soft feathers ghosting over your skin. Harpies didn’t touch wings lightly. It was intimate, deliberate.

You stepped back quickly, your pulse hammering like a hummingbird. “I’m fine, Kyle.”

He didn’t move, dark eyes searching yours and wings still brushing over your skin like the calls of a siren. “Are you?”

You hated how much you wanted to lean back into him, when you finally pull yourself away with the excuse of having work to do. His eyes followed you regardless, and you pretended not to hear his pleased croon.

The first time you let him close, it wasn’t an accident.

You were walking home after sunset, shadows long and creeping. The streets felt too empty, too quiet. You told yourself you were imagining things- the prickle at the back of your neck, the feeling of being watched. But harpy senses were never wrong, even ones wingless-

Then you saw them.

Three men leaning against the alley wall, eyes sharp and predatory. Not hybrids- just humans- but that didn’t make them any less dangerous.

You didn’t stop. Didn’t look at them. But they stepped into your path anyway, smiles sharp as knives.

“Not in the mood,” you kept your voice steady, sighing in the quiet confines of your mind.

They didn’t move.

Before you could react, a shadow loomed behind you, cutting through the dim light; Kyle, wings spread wide and threating behind him.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to.

The men took one look at him- the sharp line of his jaw, the broad set of his shoulders, the feathers flaring at his back- and decided they wanted no part of him. They melted away into the night, quick and silent, and in no time they were simple specks of forgotten dust.

You let out a shaky breath, wrapping your arms around yourself as you turned to look at him. Despite the unpleasant encounter, he looed handsome like this, lip curled in disgust, jaw tight, brows furrowed.

Stupid thoughts.

“You okay?” Kyle asked, voice low. He kept looking around, on the look out in case anyone else tried their luck with you, and he hummed when he saw you nod.

You hadn’t realized it until now, but his hands were on your waist, tight but not enough to cause you any pain. You.. couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to let go, and so his hands lingered there.

Not too long- just enough for the heat of his touch to settle beneath your skin, warm and steady. Just enough for his thumbs to brush once, barely there, before he let go at last.

He didn’t step back, though.

“Come on,” he said, voice softer now, one wing open around you back like a shield. “I’ll walk you home, love.”

You didn’t argue. Couldn’t, not when the memory of sharp eyes and sharper smiles still clung to the edges of your thoughts. You nodded again, and when his wing brushed your arm- closer than any harpy should have dared- you didn’t flinch away.

Not this time.

You tell yourself you should have stopped it there.

Should have put some distance between you and Kyle before you let yourself sink any deeper than you’ve already allowed, but you didn’t.

You let him linger, let him watch you, let him keep leaving those little gifts like offerings. You let him walk you home when the streets grew dark and the wind grew cold, his wings always flaring slightly- protective, claiming. You invite him in, sometimes, longing for company yet unable to admit it to yourself.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because some part of you- some buried, broken part that still ached for the wind and the skies- wanted to be claimed. Wanted the safety and warmth he offered so freely, even when you didn’t think you deserved it.

Especially then.

The next gift was the one that broke you.

You’d thought you’d grown used to them by now- the feathers, the stones, the herbs tied with twine. Small things. Careful things.

But this time, it wasn’t small.

It was a cloak.

Dark and soft, lined with feathers- harpy feathers. His feathers. Feathers that gleamed gold and brown, sleek and perfect. Feathers meant for flight; the same feathers that protected you, that stayed with you.

He’d given them to you.

His feathers.

The thought kept looping in your mind, loud and clear.

Your hands trembled as you touched the edge of the cloak, and you barely noticed when the door creaked open.

Kyle stepped inside, and his eyes softened the moment they landed on you. “Fits you, darling.” He said, low and warm as a setting sun.

“I can’t take this, Kyle.” You whispered, a deep ache attempting to burrow its way into the soft, vulnerable space between your ribs.

“Yes, you can.”

You looked up, and his gaze caught you, steady and unyielding. The ache melted away.

“Kyle-”

“It’s yours, honey.” He stepped closer, his wings shifting. “You’re mine.”

The words hit like a blow, but before you could retreat, he kept going.

“You think I don’t see it?” Kyle’s voice dropped, something raw and aching curling beneath it. “You think I don’t know? I don’t care about your wings, love. Never did. They do not make me think any less of you.”

You flinched, but he didn’t stop there.

He reached out, pulling you into the cocoon of his arms and wing. “You’re still a harpy. Still strong. Still you. Still the loveliest birdie I’ve ever seen.” His grip tightened, just slightly, and he hooked his chin over your head. “You’re not broken.”

Your throat closed.

He must have noticed, because his voice softened further, almost pleading.

“Let me keep you safe. Let me stay.”

You couldn’t breathe.

And yet, when his hand slipped down to tangle with yours, you didn’t pull away.

[emuwarum]

sometimes someone asks for a snail id and you have to make a meme about it

[agarafile]

When the session ends, Gem watches as her snail retreats back to her shell, no longer determined to kill her.

It makes sense, she thinks.

Gem still remembers wanting to kill and hurt, wanting to sink her teeth into the other players' skin and watch them bleed. And even more clearly, she remember the frustation she felt when she failed to do so.

Her snail must feel the same way, and now defaulted to sulking.

God, she is so cute! Gem is going to miss her deadly little face next session.

She kneels down next to her and lets a soft sigh escape.

"Yeah, yeah. I know the feeling, buddy..." she pats her shell "Take your time, let it all out."

Her snail doesn't try to give any response, still bundled up in her shell. Gem rolls her eyes, smiling. So stubborn, who did she even get it from?

Gem leaves her be, knows that sooner or later the snail will give in. The snail may be mad now, but if Gem knows herself, she probably won't stay mad forever.

Probably.

She tends to the wheat while she waits, one knee planted to the ground, until she feels a slimy touch on her ankle.

"Finally getting out of your shell, huh?" Gem looks down and frowns.

Looking at her was not her cute snail, with her orange shell and bright green eyes. Instead, the snail that touched her had light blue beady eyes, a brown shell and seemed to have hair.

" Did Pearl put you up to this?" Gem makes a face, clearly displeased with her visitor "Is she really making her own snail bother me now?"

Pearl's snail only tilted her body in response, eyes lightly hitting eachother from the movement.

Gem hated that she found that endearing.

"Go back to your player. I have enough problems to deal with and I'm not looking foward to add babysitting to the list."

She tried to go back to the wheat, she really did. But Pearl's snail nuzzled onto her leg and bumped her shell against her ankle. Gem looked back to her and the snail's eyes seemed to shine for her.

Sighing, she turned to the snail and sat cross-legged in front of her. Pearl's snail let out a excited sound and hopped into Gem's lap, nuzzling once she settled herself.

" This is a bad idea." Gem says, but lets the snail stay and after a moment, brings her hand to stroke her shell "You're not supposed to be here. Or like me. She betrayed me, you know? You should treat me like that, too."

The snail only anwer is to munch lightly on the side of Gem's thumb where it is resting on her own thigh, not at all aiming to hurt. It is such a dumb, senseless gesture. Gem feels like a dagger was just carved into her back and feels t twist, makes her get misty-eyed.

She stops looking down at Pearl's snail, it's become too much. Instead, she tries to look at her own snail but finds she is nowhere to be found.

Gem can only hope she isn't crawling into Pearl's lap.

[moomine]

Dad swansea and reader x daisuke established relationship

black friday | daisuke

author's note: this is based on the q&a where the devs said swansea was a sneakerhead lol. i love love love the concept of dad-swansea sm!! it actually maybe sorta kinda has me brainstorming another series.. thank you for the request! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) (modern au?) The semester is over and winter break has just begun. You and Daisuke met on campus and have been dating for a while now. When it's time for him to finally meet your dad, Swansea, he insists on getting him something for the season.

word count: 2,661

warnings: no trigger warnings (all fluff here)! all characters are 18+

now playing: Drugdealer, Kate Bollinger - "Pictures of You"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The mall was a bustling hellscape. Packed like sardines, people pushed and shoved as they tried to meander from place to place. The line for the shoe store wrapped around the corner, down a long, wide hall, and into the food court. You stood side by side with Daisuke, your coat rustling as you hugged yourself. A cold draft blew past as other customers came and went through the grand entrance, each time causing a shiver to rake through you harshly. Daisuke, who was previously twisting his silver rings out of an anxious habit, stopped and began running his hands up and down the length of your arms. The friction of his hands sent waves of much-appreciated warmth throughout your body. You looked up at him, a grateful smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Of course. It won’t be so bad once we get ‘round the corner.” Daisuke peeked over your head and past the line, peering ahead to see how much longer it would take. It was moving at a snail’s pace, and all he could think about was empty shelves. In the nightmare of worst-case scenarios running rampant in his mind, the sneakers he had been keeping a watchful eye on for months were already sold out. Daisuke’s brows furrowed as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing at the soft skin absentmindedly.

“Maybe we should have gotten here earlier,” you observed, glancing around at the line of people as it only grew larger. You turned back to your boyfriend with a sympathetic expression, features softening as you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this. Y’know that, right? My dad will be happy just to meet you at all.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I absolutely do.” He laughed nervously, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and using his now free hand to run his fingers through his hair. “You’re, like, the most important person in my life. Your dad has to like me, he just has to. If he doesn’t I might straight up disappear. POOF! Daisuke’s gone, vanished into thin air.”

“You gotta relax. He’s gonna love you, I know he will,” you replied, leaning into him for a little extra warmth.

Daisuke held you tighter and shook his head apprehensively. “I just gotta make sure. I really, really want to make a good impression.”

“And you will! You wanna know how I know?” you asked, shifting under his arm so you were facing him. The line moved up and so did the two of you.

He nodded, eyes filling with admiration as his gaze fell from the line before you two to your face. God, he loved your face. No matter how hard he tried, he could never understand how a guy like him got so lucky. Daisuke knew he was a pretty good-looking guy, but you were gorgeous. Must have been his charming personality and impeccable sense of style.

“I know because you’re kind. ‘Cause you have a good heart and you care so much. My dad’s a good judge of character, he’ll see that.” Daisuke opened his mouth to protest, but you raised a finger and pressed it to his lips before he could. “Hey, I’m not finished. So what you don’t know what you want to be yet? You’re ambitious and talented, and you’ve got time. Don’t stress about that, ‘kay? He won’t care, I promise.”

“Can I talk now?” Daisuke asked, your finger still pressed against his lips. 

“You may,” you replied with a playful grin, your hand dropping to your side once again.

“I know I technically don’t have to, but I’m gonna get these shoes and impress the pants off your dad,” he stated, all proud until he had the chance to process what it was he had said. “That didn’t come out right…”

You laughed, taking another step forward as the line continued to move up.

-

A couple of weeks had passed since Daisuke bought those sneakers. Finals season came and went, ushered out by the frantic wrap-up of the fall semester and the introduction to winter break. It was early December when the two of you finally drove back home, meaning it had finally come time for your boyfriend to meet your parents. 

The entire way there Daisuke was a nervous mess. That anxiety only intensified the moment you were leading him to the front door of your family’s home. On top of the gifts he was already carrying, Daisuke had insisted on still carrying the bulk of your luggage inside as well. With one hand he held his presents to your folks, and in the other, he used to pull your suitcase behind him; your backpack was slung over his shoulders. He said it was about chivalry or something like that. As you stepped onto the front porch an onslaught of barking erupted from just beyond the door. 

“Lucy! C’mon, old girl, that's enough!” your dad, Swansea, shouted from inside the house.

You turned to smile at Daisuke only to notice his attention was busy elsewhere. He looked down at the gifts in his arms, biting at his lips. After a moment he noticed you had stopped and his gaze drifted back to you, offering you a timid smile of his own. You reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping it there as you began to rub small, comforting circles against the wooly fabric of his coat.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you whispered in a soft tone.

Daisuke looked down at the gifts in his hands, then back to you with a quick nod.

Now with his approval, you unlatched your keys from your belt loop and unlocked the door. As it swung open with a familiar groan, Lucy, your elderly border collie, came stumbling up to the doorway as she barked an excited ‘hello’. The dark patches of her fur were speckled with long, white hairs and her eyes held a little gray in them. She breathed heavily from her mouth, panting with her tongue hanging out. She looked from you to Daisuke, just as excited to see his new face as your well-known one.

“Hi, mama.” You knelt to her level, petting her head with one hand and scratching her chin with the other. “I’m home!” you shouted into the house.

The smells of garlic and onion wafted from the direction of the kitchen. Daisuke closed the door behind him, looking around the entryway with a curious eye. It dawned on him at that moment that he was standing in your childhood home. Over the course of your life, you had walked in and out of that very entryway countless times —going to school, coming home from your first job at that local coffee shop, leaving for prom or practice. 

“Took you long enough,” Swansea called back as he made his way from the kitchen to the two of you. “I was startin’ to worry you wouldn’t make it in time for dinner.”

Swansea stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a red apron that read ‘Kiss the cook’ tied loosely around his torso —one of the many stupid Father’s Day presents your mom had gotten him over the years. You stood up quickly, racing to him with open arms. He eagerly took you into a tight hug, his clothes and skin smelling faintly of 3-in-1 soap and motor oil.

“Haha. How about a ‘welcome home’ or ‘I missed you so much’?” you said sarcastically as you pulled away from him.

“Welcome home, kid. I missed you.” Swansea’s normal gruff tone of voice was much softer as he spoke to you.

Daisuke stood awkwardly by the front door, still carrying your belongings as well as his own. You glanced over your shoulder with a wide smile and motioned toward him. “Oh! Dad, this is Daisuke. Daisuke, this is my dad.” You took a step back, allowing the two of them to get a better view of one another.

His eyes shot from Lucy, who was now lying at his feet, and toward your dad. Almost too quickly, Daisuke let go of the suitcase and took a long step toward Swansea. He extended his hand, ready to shake, and adorned a toothy smile. The gifts along his other arm wobbled as he reached your father, which he clumsily saved from falling at the last minute.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Daisuke said.

“That so? Looks like you got a lot on your plate, son.” Swansea took his hand, holding it firmly as he shook it. Daisuke did his best to match his grip, almost squeezing too hard. Swansea motioned with a nod to your luggage still on Daisuke’s person, along with the gifts in his arms.

“What this? Nothing I can’t handle,” your boyfriend replied, almost smugly. “These are actually for you. Well, and your wife.”

“I think we’re gonna go take my stuff upstairs,” you butt in, looking between the two with a slightly worried expression.

“All right then. Your mom’ll be home soon, dinner’s on in fifteen. I’m makin’ paella.” Swansea turned around with a skeptical look. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you, dad!”

-

Once the two of you were upstairs, it became incredibly clear that Daisuke’s anxiety had intensified greatly. As the two of you walked through the threshold into your room, he let out a quiet sigh —both out of relief and distress. Over the semester, your room had become closer to a memory and now, as you returned to it exactly as you had left it, it had become an almost nostalgic sight. It was exactly as Daisuke had imagined. The pale blue walls were littered with band posters and pictures of you with friends from high school. You had everything you’d expect in a student’s room. In one corner, snugged away and smothered in soft blankets and pillows, was a full-sized bed. In another were a mismatched desk and dresser. Daisuke could easily see you sitting at that desk, engaging with one of your many hobbies or finishing up some assignments. The visual managed to make a small smile creep onto his lips, but it faltered quickly when he heard Swansea on the phone with your mother just downstairs.

“He hates me, I can already tell,” Daisuke said. He carefully set down your luggage as well as the gifts, tucking them away nicely on your desk.

“You don’t know that. My dad’s just like that with everyone at first, but he always warms up eventually. I promise.” You sat on your bed, pulling your shoes from your feet and tossing them in different directions.

To keep himself from pacing, Daisuke took a seat beside you before flopping back into the comforter. The plush blanket quickly engulfed him as he rested an arm over his eyes. With a little laugh, you laid down on your side next to him, caressing his face with your hand. It felt soft against his skin as you cupped his cheek. His arm fell back to his side as he leaned into your touch, letting out a content sigh at the comfort that alone brought him. His eyes trailed over your face with that same lovesick adoration he normally harbored while looking at you —a stare that said more than he ever could with words. He knew he would never get tired of looking at you. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you finally said, pressing your forehead against his. “I love you.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he tried to melt into you. Like it was second nature, Daisuke tilted his head ever so slightly to the side and closed the gap between the two of you. Sparks of electricity tingled against your lips as he kissed you softly. Abandoning their posts, his hands found their proper positions —one on your hip and the other along the back of your neck— and pulled you closer. You couldn’t help but smile against his lips as he kissed you, your chest becoming light at his touch.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, keeping his forehead against yours. “I love you too,” he breathed, sounding far more relaxed than before. “So much.”

His gaze met yours once more, and it looked like he was going in for another kiss. Just as you felt his breath against your cupid’s bow, there was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of Swansea clearing his throat.

“C’mon, get your asses up. I’m makin’ you set the table before your mother gets home. I want it to look nice for her, understood?” Your dad looked between the two of you with that questionable face Daisuke was starting to become accustomed to. He then turned around, shaking his head from side to side.

-

Dinner was a surprisingly quick affair. To nobody’s surprise, Swansea’s paella was a hit —other than a couple of gripes from your mother who had grown sick of the dish. She fell in love with Daisuke from the first second she saw him, and she only loved him more when he got comfortable enough to talk. After everyone was finished eating, Daisuke insisted on helping clean up and he did so happily. While your mom stepped outside to smoke a cigarette, Swansea, Daisuke, and you sat in the living room as your dad began to open his gift.

Swansea tore into the wrapping paper, eyes going wide when he saw the brightly colored shoebox beneath. He looked up from the present in his hands, and his gaze fell to Daisuke with an expression of pure disbelief.

“Son, I-” he started before promptly getting cut off by you.

“Just open it, dad.”

Daisuke shifted beside you as Swansea discarded the rest of the wrapping paper. He leaned forward, elbows resting on either of his knees as he bit at his lower lip. Swansea ran his hand along the top of the box and slowly opened it. After lifting the tissue paper and getting a proper look at the sneakers underneath, Swansea turned to your boyfriend again.

“These aren’t easy to come by. How on earth did you get them?”

“I, uh- well, we camped out for them. [Name] told me you had been checking out a pair online for a while, and I thought I’d save you the effort,” Daisuke responded, running a hand along the back of his neck. “It was totally worth it. I got a super good deal on ‘em and everything.”

“Thank you.” Your dad just nodded with the faintest smile on his face. Although his words were simple, cut, and dry, it was obvious to you and Daisuke alike that he was truly grateful.

“Of course. I’m really happy you like them,” Daisuke said. He was practically glowing, beaming with pride as he looked from Swansea to you. He mouthed an oblivious ‘hell yeah’ in celebration.

Later that night while you were getting ready for bed, Daisuke ventured down the upstairs hallway toward the bathroom. Along the way, he passed your parents' room. Through the crack in the door, a narrow stream of light illuminated the otherwise darkened hall. Daisuke froze in place as he overheard your mom and Swansea talking from inside.

“So, what did you think of him? He’s just a delight. Isn’t he, hun?” Your mom questioned.

“Who? Daisuke?” Swansea replied. The springs within the mattress groaned as he eased himself into bed. “The boy seems like a good man. I like him for her. She needs someone who’ll help her loosen up. Poor girl is too damn high-strung.”

Realizing he probably shouldn’t eavesdrop, Daisuke rushed to the bathroom with a look of pride on his face. Your dad liked him. Better yet, Swansea thought he was good for you. That was a better gift than anything he could have hoped for.

[tiki-was-here]

Ex boyfriend Black Leg Sanji x GN Baker Reader

Word Count: 1.2k Words

Reader and Snoj used to date for a while when he was at the Baratie,i know they move around alot but lets pretend that they stayed at reader’s town for a while cus business was really good.They broke up because although Sanji is a gentleman he was definitely not mature enough for an actual relationship. Also I didn't know how to end this don't shoot me

Valentines Event

Masterlist

The smell of vanilla and sugar filled the small bakery, the air warm and quiet .You were carefully piping an intricate lace pattern onto an elaborate cake .A towering thing, layered with deep red velvet and delicate, sugar-spun roses. Romantic, ridiculously so. It had taken hours, order placed at the last possible second, and the only reason you even agreed was because the person had offered more than enough money to make up for the trouble.

It was the kind of job that would normally require at least two days of work, but here you were, staying up way past closing hours because some snotty royal had placed a last-minute order under the name "Mr. Prince."

You hadn’t recognized the voice over the transponder snail so he must have been from out of town—it had been smooth, charming, and far too smug for your liking. The kind of voice that practically oozed privilege.

You hadn’t cared. Money was money, and business had been slower than usual.

-Still, the request had been absurd.

You yawned, rubbing the back of your flour-dusted hand against your forehead. It was almost midnight, and whoever this "Mr. Prince" was, they were taking their sweet time picking up the damn thing.but hey, if some rich bastard wanted to spend a fortune on a Valentine’s cake, who were you to complain?

Money is money, you reminded yourself.

The soft chime of the bakery’s front bell made you jolt. You hadn’t even heard footsteps outside. Straightening up, you wiped your hands on your apron and stepped out from behind the counter.

"Finally," you called out, irritation seeping into your voice. "I was starting to think you’d—"

You stopped mid-sentence, the words stuck in your throat.

There, standing in the doorway, was Sanji.

Your Sanji.

His blond hair was longer,shoulders broader, but it was his eyes that made something inside you clench tight.

The same piercing blue. The same warmth.

The same regret.

“…Hey, love.” His voice was soft, like he was afraid he’d scare you off. “Did you miss me?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

"You? Are you serious? You are Mr. Prince?"

Sanji had the audacity to grin. "Guilty."

A flood of emotions surged through you.”You absolute bastard!" you snapped, stomping over to him and shoving a finger against his chest. "You really made me stay up all night for you?! Do you have any idea—"

His hand was suddenly on yours, wrapping around your wrist in a gentle, steady hold. "I know," he murmured, voice softer now. "And I’m sorry, truly. But if I gave you time to think about it, you might’ve said no to seeing me."

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. After all these years, you’d convinced yourself that if Sanji ever returned, you’d stay strong, keep your distance. You’d made peace with the past.

"You haven’t changed," you muttered, pulling your hand away.

Sanji chuckled, but there was something heavy in his eyes. "In some ways, maybe. But I have in the ways that matter. " There was something steadier in the way he held himself, something deeper in the way he watched you.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. "Well anyways… what are you doing here?"

His expression softened. "I told you I’d come back for you. Didn’t I?"

Your heart lurched.

"That was years ago. You left, and I—" You took a step back, shaking your head. "I moved on. I had to."

"Did you?" he asked, voice low. "Because I never did."

Sanji took a step closer, slow, careful, as if you might bolt. "Every single day since I left, you were on my mind. When I fought, when I cooked, when I thought I was going to die—" He laughed, breathless, like he couldn’t believe it himself. "You have no idea how many times I almost turned back. How many times I imagined us standing here, just like this."

Your throat tightened. "Sanji…"

"—I know I don’t deserve to waltz back into your life expecting anything. But I had to try."

You stared at him, heart caught between anger and something dangerously close to longing.

"Sanji," you said carefully, "I told you before—"

"I remember." His gaze darkened slightly. "You told me you’d give me another chance when I was ready. When I could prove to you that I wasn’t just some flirt who couldn’t take us seriously."

You swallowed hard. You had said that. But after so many years, after seeing him on wanted posters, hearing whispers of his deeds across the Grand Line, you’d thought he’d long forgotten about you.

"And you think you’re ready now?" you asked quietly.

"I know I am," he said firmly. "I won’t lie to you, love. I still want all your attention on me. That much hasn’t changed. But everything else? I’ve grown. I’ve seen the world. And I’ve planned for this—for us."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick, every unspoken word, every lingering feeling pressing in from all sides.

Finally, you whispered, "I was always scared."

"Scared that I’d love you too much. That you’d leave, and I’d be stuck waiting." Your voice cracked. "And you did."

His fingers brushed against your cheek, featherlight. "I know. And I’m so fucking sorry love."

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch before you could stop yourself. You hated how easily you melted under his warmth, how his presence felt like home after all these years.

"I want to believe you," you admitted. "But I don’t know if I can."

Sanji exhaled slowly, thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "Then let me prove it to you. One step at a time.I’ll keep you safe. I swear it on my life," he said, voice fierce with conviction. "I won’t lose you again."

The words sent something warm and aching through you. Because the truth was, you had followed his journey. You’d worry every time you’d heard news of a battle, your heart sinking at every bounty increase, wondering if this would be the time he wouldn’t make it.

You had never stopped caring.

And fuck, looking at him now—stronger, older, still painfully beautiful—you knew you had never stopped loving him.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his coat. "You really had this all planned out, huh?"

He grinned, but there was a flicker of nervousness behind it. "Only for the past few years."

You let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking your head. "Damn."

Then, before you could second-guess it, you tugged him down and kissed him.

Sanji froze for half a second before melting into you with a low, satisfied groan. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, it was like no time had passed at all.

The warmth, the taste of him, the way he kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world—it was all still the same.

You laughed softly, still breathless from the kiss. Maybe, just maybe, everything had worked out exactly as it was meant to.

And then—

"OI, SANJI! WHERE’S MY CAKE?!"

[luveline]

kbd steve and r dealing with two of the girls holding a grudge/fighting and helping them make up 🥹🥹🥹

kbd —mom!reader and dad!steve attempt to get their girls to forgive each other

“I thought they’d just forget,” you whisper. 

Steve looks over your shoulder, hand on your waist, the smell of hot butter bubbling on the stove like an itch in his nose. “Right? Like, they’d sleep and forget. Especially ‘cos they like sharing the bed.” 

Avery and Beth sit as far away from one another as is humanly possible. Beth sits with Dove toward the head of the table, frowning as her little sister climbs onto her legs and tries to comb her hair, while Avery sits by the open kitchen door. She’s pretending to poke at the snail that lives under the stoop, but she’s really on the edge of tears. 

They’re fighting because Avery took one of Beth’s fruit slices yesterday at lunch (warm pastries that all the kids can’t get enough of). When Steve asked her about it, she lied and said Beth actually ate one of her fruit slices, and Beth had been so betrayed she actually got mad. Beth never gets mad. 

Avery couldn’t take the guilt, confessing in tears the night before that she’d lied, and so you and Avery knocked Beth’s door together to apologise. Only Beth didn’t forgive her. 

It’s weird to see them not getting along. Avery and Beth are so sweet to each other usually. It’s odd that they aren’t sharing their breakfast, that they aren’t trying to feed the baby her mushy eggs. You and Steve are used to a more lovey-dovey feeling in the mornings. 

You dip down to sit with Avery when she does eventually start crying. “What’s the matter?” you whisper. 

Steve knows you’ve got the reins on that one, taking a seat by the other disgruntled party. 

“Is she crying?” Beth asks him softly. 

“Yeah, baby.” 

“‘Cos of me?” 

“It’s not like that.” He pulls Dove off of Beth’s lap before the toddler can trample her. Dove frowns at him but decides to allow it, resting in a lump against his chest. He pats her back. “She feels bad that she upset you, and she lied, and she wishes you were feeling better.” 

It must be strange to be young and be terrified that nobody will believe you, even over something as small as a fruit slice. Steve can’t imagine what he’d feel like now having to justify things to his parents. Or maybe it was that Avery’s never done something like that, at least not that Beth could remember. 

“She lied,” Beth stresses. 

“I know. But she did say sorry, honey, and she promised you two of her fruit slices today to make up for it. Maybe we can be friends again?” Steve says. 

If Beth wants to be mad a little while longer, that’s okay, but from the looks of her where she’s looking back and forth between Steve and the open kitchen door, she’s ready to forgive, or make her sister feel better at the very least. 

“It’s nice to forgive someone,” Steve says. “It’s kind. Avery didn’t wanna get in trouble, but she got you in trouble instead, so it’s cool if you’re still grumpy.” 

“I’m not grumpy.” 

Steve gives her an encouraging smile. “I know. It’s up to you, baby. Between you and me though, I think Avery’s super duper sorry.” 

In your lap, Avery sniffles. Dove climbs down off of Steve as Beth slips from her chair, then looks back for Steve. “Will you tell her I’m not mad?” Beth asks him. 

He wriggles his fingers. She takes his hand. 

It’s an unusually cold morning for the season, Steve can see your arms have wrinkled with goosebumps where they’re wrapped tight behind Avery’s back. You’d already given her a scolding for lying last night, and you and Steve are one and done with parenting; you don’t comfort her reluctantly, you just comfort. “It’s okay,” you say under your bread, swaying her from one side to the other. 

“Hey,” Steve says, crouching down to catch your attention. 

“Hello.” You see Beth, and you smile with relief. “Hi.” 

“Beth has something she wants me to tell you, Ave,” he says, nudging her arm gently with his knuckles to catch her attention. She peers up tearily from your arm. “She said she’s not mad anymore, okay? She wants to be friends again.” 

Avery looks at Beth cautiously. “Really?” she asks. It’s hard not to hear how hopeful she sounds. Steve feels extremely sympathetic, and he can’t help thinking she’s cute. She’s such a sweetheart, just like Beth, and Dove, and baby Wren he’s sure will end up the same. Like you. He can’t count how many times you and him have argued over the years, but every time it ends with you being more sorry than you need to be, and usually some of Steve’s guilty tears. 

“Yes,” Beth says, “so please don’t cry anymore.” 

Avery pouts. “You wanna give your sister a hug?” you prompt. 

Avery jumps up and throws herself at Bethie, almost knocking her younger sister down. Steve puts his hand behind them to stop a calamity. “I’m sorry, Bethie,” Avery squeaks, her voice high with upset and scratchy as she squeezes Beth tightly. 

“It’s okay! I’m not mad!” 

“I know!” Avery sniffles. “I’m still sorry. I told dad you ate my slice but you didn’t, I’m sorry.” 

“She’s forgiven you, baby,” you say, patting Avery’s shoulder. “It’s all water under the bridge. Yeah?” 

Beth holds Avery by the arm as they pull away. “Yeah. Water un’ the bridge.” 

“Thank you,” Avery says. “I don’t like when you’re mad.”

You and Steve make similar expressions of love and empathy over their small heads.  

[willowed-wisp]

NSFW alphabet [ giyu tomioka ]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s very touchy feely after sex, it’s rare for you to get peace alone. Giyu just holds you in his arms, remembering how you felt- warmth, plushness for an eternity. He swears that it would be the final thought before succumbing to death. Whenever that would be.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ON HIMSELF: He isn’t an egotistical guy, barely looks in the mirror- doesn’t know what one really is if he’s being honest. His body is essentially ‘just a weapon’ to destroy the demon scourge.

ON YOU: Your lips, whether it’s watching you talk or hungrily devouring them… your lips are his getaway from reality and the void in his head. He’s also partial to your hands, they’re so soft compared to his.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He doesn’t have a preference, doesn’t feel the absolute need to fill you up and doesn’t mind getting a cloth and wiping his cum off your body.

He’s game for anything, other than on your pretty face.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Would just love to have sex in a public place, not that his anxiety would ever be able to take that but he fantasises about eating you out against an alleyway wall. Giyu knows he could never do it, but that’s his dirty little secret.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Giyu Tomioka is a virgin because he doesn’t lose. But he’s a fast learner, very fast learner. He goes from completely inexperienced to making you cum in seconds from one sexual entanglement to the next.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

MISSIONARY : Not surprising, he’s eyes azure steeled watching your face contort as only his hips snapped. Stone holding you close to his beating chest. Losing his composure, cracks in that seamless image. Kissing you every thrust, delicate with your frame. Giyu likes missionary, because he can see how you come undone for him… breathless moans shattered.

SITTING UP COWGIRL: He’s a missionary guy but if you wanna spice it up, he very open to cowgirl where he’s sat up instead of laid down. Coiling you in his capable arms, he’s not threatened by you having control. It lets him get out of his own head. Likes leaving hickeys along your collarbone working up to your jaw. Your arms around his neck as he loses all sense of composure, thrusts busting upward. All the while those marine eyes are focused on your face.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very composed, I wouldn’t say serious. Giyu is in general very unemotional and it shows during intimacy until he starts to crack by your movements on him. There’s a laugh when he cums with a grunt… almost in disbelief but that composed front would never shake with Giyu.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Before you started to be intimate, he left it up to nature. But respects that it must not be pleasant with all the hair. He doesn’t get rid of it all but keeps in managed. Keeps his snail trail, you instructed him to.

Overall, Giyu isn’t very hairy. It’s more noticeable because it matches his hair colour so very dark hair.

On his partner, I don’t think he minds the length of hair down there. As long as it’s not a jungle he’s quite a chill guy about it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Loves looking into your eyes and hearing how your breath hitches off beat when he lays kisses from your lips down to your pussy. The world moves in slow motion for Giyu when he’s with you, and he savours that pit in stomach when you look so angelic shadowed by his body.

He likes to take you to picnic dates and make love to you on the blanket in a field of flowers. He’s quite thoughtful in that aspect and goes to quite a lot of effort to make moments special for you. So I guess you could say he’s romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s never had a need to.

Giyu doesn’t need sex- he finds it messes up his focus- so unless you are with him, he’s not giving it the time of day. It’s his attraction to you that makes him want it, which is why you never work on missions together, he can’t bite it down sometimes.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

LIGHT BONDAGE: You saw how he tied up Inosuke, Tomioka has serious bondage skills. He’s not into shibari (Japanese bondage techniques), it’s more your hands above your head bound type of deal. As long as you’re comfortable with it, it just turns him on to have full control over what he can do to your body. He doesn’t get too wild.

LINGERIE: The first time he saw you in lace, he was kissing you. That was just your normal underwear so when he sees stockings- he’s leaving a trail of kisses front ankle to the apex of your thighs. He just adores seeing your body, never has the lights off- he loves to see all of you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He loves the comfort of the bed, it’s squishy and nobody will bother you there. Adores alone time with you, as long as you’re uninterrupted he’s not too bothered where you do it.

But…

Giyu LOVES making an occasion of sex, he’s a teeny tiny bit of a romantic.

I think he likes to get away to the swordsmith village when your nichirin swords need some TLC. A date by the hot springs and it ends up with you in his arms and Giyu inside of you in a carry fuck position.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There’s a reason he doesn’t train with you and that’s because he is utterly distracted by your movements and grace… in a battle, that’s a different story. He’s laser focused on the task at hand, but training- he’s rock hard. Tengen will probably tease him about it… so he just shuffles away without a word to his elder.

Also, when you’re kind- when you’re witty and sarcastic. It doesn’t get him rock hard but he feels a twitch because he’s just so attracted to you in those moments. He’s a gentle soul.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Water sports and stuff like that, despite being the Water Hashira but NO.

Degrading you and being unkind to you in any way, you respect him he will respect you. And unless you call him a whore during sex- he ain’t gonna say it to you.

Anything involving other people, yeah, I know that’s boring but he isn’t the sharing type. Loves having you and your undivided attention- it’s adorable.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Isn’t going to say no to you giving him one after a long Hashira meeting or unwinding after a mission.

But he prefers going down on you, he’s not a like a starved man- he’s more reserved and knows what buttons to press so your toes are curled. He knows his way around your pussy.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

May lose himself in the heat and is deep and quick but in general he’s like a steady tide. Building up the pleasure inside of you. He’s not quick to finish so can take his time with you.

If you beg him, he’s like a jackrabbit but if you don’t ask you won’t get.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves to take his time with you. As mentioned before- there’s romance involved in every effort he makes. He can’t help it and you wouldn’t change it.

You have had a quickie here and there but it’s not regular.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

On the outside if you got caught, he wouldn’t appear to care but on the inside he’s red and can’t fight that embarrassment of being discovered. So he prefers to keep it private, but he has been known to fuck you in hot springs that anybody could find you in.

He’s flexible to experimentation but resorts back to what he’s always done.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Enjoys long drawn out sex sessions, he needs a 15 minute break between cumming but he’s good to go again.

It could sometimes be all night long love making, but the intimacy doesn’t die down when he’s resting- he’s cradling you in his arms. Kissing you after lasting for 40 minutes- making sure you’re on cloud nine every second of it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Strikes me as old fashioned and has a proud aspect that deters him from accepting help from sex toys.

Does have bondage specific rope stashed beneath tatami boards.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Has the capability to tease, it just depends on what lengths you drive him to. If you’ve been a pain or teased him yourself. What goes around cums around and justice is served.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud, he’s telling you how good you are and praising you nonstop. It’s only when he’s cumming that he’s got a finite grip on your hips and moaning- grunt-like and wholly attractive. Otherwise, he gives the odd noise but you could mistake his heartbeat for that.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As predictable as Giyu Tomioka is, you never expected him to drag you into the store closets in the Butterfly Mansion. Nor did you anticipate his hands ripping down your trousers. Or his cock slipping in and out of your pussy like a prayer, heavy breaths behind you.

An explanation told after he’d released inside you. “When your fist went into Shinazugawa’s face… I knew I had to have you here and now…” Note to self: punch Sanemi more often.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s longer than average- about a 6.5 inches with decent thickness but this man knows what to do with it.

Giyu is a Hashira- he’s been training rigorously for years under Urokodaki and then alongside others of his rank. He’s a ripped guy but he’s very modest, not because he’s trying to be but because he’s never viewed himself as attractive. Just not a vain person in general.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Doesn’t REQUIRE sex in his daily life- only if you do certain things. He’ll have it if you ask and tease him.

Scale of 0-10, he’s a solid 6.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Maybe struggles with insomnia on rare occasions and he doesn’t get tired easily. He’s more than likely wide away after the sex, if you’re ready to go another round he doesn’t mind.

Makes sure you’re taken care of before considering falling asleep after a long night of worshipping you. Really doesn’t think his wellbeing means shit.

————

anime m.list | kny m.list

[sophie-frm-mars]

The Cass Review, and what we can do about it

The UK government is making decisive moves toward banning trans healthcare outright. The NHS says it is adjusting its policies to be in line with the "cass report", a pseudoscientific report written by a transphobe that goes as far as to claim that little boys playing with trucks and little girls playing with dolls is biological, and which disregards dozens of scientifically sound previous studies into HRT and trans healthcare in order to reach its conclusions that trans healthcare for under 25s should be radically changed to discourage transition at every turn and make it as hard as possible for young people to transition.

These moves will kill countless young trans people. I would not have made it to 25 if healthcare wasn't available and I know so many other trans people wouldn't have either.

The mainstream reporting in the UK is keeping itself ideologically cohesive by claiming that trans people exist, nobody hates them, and they're very rare, and the big problem is the explosion of new cases of not-really-trans people who are clogging up the system (this is a lie, the system has been intentionally slowed by malicious neglect, it isn't even a resource issue, the clinics have far more capacity than the number of patients who are let through)

Once again, this is genocidal and is actually a commonplace methodology of genocide. The nazis asked GRT people to help them understand which Traveller families were "real" travellers and which were the fake ones, since they insisted it was only the fake ones who were the problem and who had to be exterminated (because a lot of nazi GRT policy was based on American indigenous reservation policy).

Labour, the main opposiiton party in the UK, has announced it will "follow the Cass Report", and implement these restrictions on trans healthcare once in government.

For the survival of young trans people, robust community structures must be developed immediately.

Efforts to change the electoral situation will proceed at a snail's pace and will be entirely at the whims of what is politically expedient. It will turn around, but it will take a long time. At the voting level, everyone in the UK who cares about trans people needs to make it clear that they won't vote for Labour unless they reverse position on this, and to be clear about this: Labour will not listen. They are PR Brained Psychopaths and they don't want to get into this "controversial" issue in a way that might cost them further popularity and the easy election win.

Wes Streeting, inhuman lab experiment and Labour Shadow Health Secretary has said that activists need to "stop protesting to ask us to be better opposition and start protesting to ask us to be better government", in other words their electoral promises are cynical reactionary bargains and deals to get them into power and the only point at which they will change anything is once they are in government, if at all. I know this sounds very "push Biden left" but I'm not saying give up now - to repeat, everyone who cares about trans people in the UK should tell Labour to get fucked right away, and then keep doing it as loudly as possible, but it's just not going to change until after the general election at least.

Another way to help could be through legal routes, like the work that The Good Law Project has been doing for trans people for several years now, but I don't know enough about the law to know if it can be used to challenge this at all.

We have to accept there is no electoral solution right now to this genocidal campaign against trans people in the UK, and while those efforts are ongoing trans people and cis allies need to fucking organise. Trans exclusive / separatist organising is riddled with issues, I don't want to cast hopelessness around but there are really very few of us and while it's absolutely necessary to privilege trans voices in trans organising and give us the deciding power and the autonomy, we need to utilise the support and time and labour of every cis person who is willing to help in whatever way they can.

Robust community structures means community structures that are helping young trans people get healthcare as an absolute basic starting point, but it means a lot more than that besides. We need community structures that are consciously organised by people who are taking responsibility for the community roles they are in and being completely explicit with each other about the nature and function of their organising. We need HRT community resources so young trans people can survive this medical segregation, we need drug user harm reduction spaces so that what people turn to in despair doesn't kill them, we need sober spaces so that people can get away from unhealthy coping responses, we need conflict resolution structures so that our problems are dealt with privately and nobody is left completely isolated, but more than any of those things, and in order to have all of those things, we desperately need trans assemblies

Assemblies are how we will get a community of robust radical organisers, because only by repeatedly practicing the ongoing process of democracy can people learn how to do it in a way that will facilitate their own organising. We have to empower the whole community to answer our own questions, come up with solutions, organise people into structures to enact those solutions and then do them. All this means is that an open door event convenes frequently (at least fortnightly) to discuss what is happening in the community. Trans people get the mic for allotted time, and discuss the issues, and then whatever voting structure the assembly uses facilitates further discussion, for example through working groups - the assembly breaks into smaller groups to discuss the topic and then representatives report the outcomes of those discussions back and consensus is reached from what the representatives report.

We have to get people engaging in this process because in order to effectively combat this situation trans people must agree on the solutions and then tell cis allies how to help and so far we haven't been doing that. We really really haven't been. But we could be with a little work. And as I'm saying, doing this will also empower everyone in the community to organise toward specific solutions for specific issues like HRT provision, sober spaces, housing, food, etc.

fuck

I'll have more to add to this post later I have to get to therapy I just got really mad when I saw the news this morning

[hannahbarberra162]

Imagine Showing Izou Your Appreciation (Izou x Reader, fluff and smut)

I originally wrote this just for a silly but I really liked how it turned out.

Imagine you want to show your appreciation for Izou. Just as he wants to spend solo time together, so you do. You see all he does for everyone, how high the standards are he holds for himself and others, how hard he works….show your man some love! Does devolve into smut....

WC: ~1.2k

You invite Izou to join you in a private room you've prepared in the infirmary. Normally they're well, clinical. Cold. Sterile. But you've put the massage table in the room, covered it in a clean sheet, moved things around, set up candles and an ambient noise snail to give off soft sounds. You've spiced the room with lavender incense. Not too much, just enough to give a subtle scent, just the way your lover likes it. Izou knocks and enters and you can tell he's a touch surprised. He doesn't show it in his eyes or his expression but the abrupt turn of his head is a small sign. You're wearing a loose fitting garment and give him a kiss when he enters the room, putting your arms around his neck.

"What have you been scheming, my little Blossom?" he asks, looking you in the eyes.

"No schemes this time. I simply want to show you my affection. Let me massage you," you say simply, already rubbing the back of his neck with your strong fingers. Working on a ship had its benefits, namely your fingers of steel. Izou gives no resistance as you guide him to the prepared massage bed, taking off his kimono and folding it up the way he prefers. He allows you to undress him slowly, your touch lingering but still with purpose. Once he's down to his fundoshi, you lay him on the massage bed.

"I must say, this is quite a pleasant surprise," he murmurs, laying his chin on his crossed arms. You kiss the middle of his back and sweep his long, silken hair off to the side, revealing his impressively carved back. "You deserve it. Just relax," you reply, rubbing massage oil into your hands and starting to work on his scarred form. Izou is a man who generally keeps his feelings to himself but as you work into his tight back, shoulders, and neck and feel him loosen, he lets out a small moan. You don't say anything about it and the sound doesn't repeat but you know you've got him in the palm of your hand. You take your time, enjoying the glide of his skin under yours, the feeling of someone so strong and powerful submitting themselves to you, even if just for a moment in time.

"All done on the back," you say, running just a fingertip down his spine.

"Flip over," you purr, putting more massage oil on your palms. You're naked underneath your garment and already oiled yourself up before he entered the room. The wetness between your legs is just adding to the slickness of your skin. He grumbles a little, having been so relaxed under your touch. But needless to say, he adjusts and turns so he can see you getting on the table, throwing one leg over him.

"Mmm. Full service massage?" Izou asks, not even bothering to arch an eyebrow at you. He doesn't seem surprised you're naked underneath, but then again, he does know you well, you've been together for some time.

"Only for you," you say, rubbing massage oil down his front. You do spend some time rubbing his tired shoulders, arms and pecs but you also adjust so your slick folds are rubbing over his hard cock . Leaning over to knead his sore muscles automatically has you sliding over his twitching cock and you do everything in your power to accentuate the action. Normally Izou does not tolerate being teased for longer than a moment but right now he's allowing you to rub back and forth on him, never allowing penetration just stimulation for the both of you. It's like a jaguar allowing you the pleasure of petting its dense fur. He groans a few times as you lean over to massage his scalp, his tip nearly entering your sopping hole when you lean back. You're massaging his trapizeus muscles when he finally snaps and holds you by your hips.

"Sit down," he orders softly, pushing himself into you. You moan as he begins stretching you, the slickness of both your bodies allowing for faster movement. You put your hands on his pecs to start to slide down his cock before Izou clucks his tongue at you.

"I didn't say to stop massaging. You do you work and I'll do mine," he offers, rolling his hips.

You should have known it would end like this, you thought as you tried to continue massaging his muscles. Even seemingly docile under you, Izou is always in control. He rocks his hips into you in such a way that you're not too jostled as you continue to massage with shaking fingers.

"Come now little Blossom, let's see who finishes first, hm?" he says languidly, his supple body now at ease. You nod but in your mind you're not sure you're in control anymore. Maybe you never were, you think as Izou fucks up into you. One of his hands moves to rub at your clit, making your legs twitch.

"Can I r-ride?" you ask, tossing your head back. You really want to but Izou saves it for special occasions, like when you're not being bratty. So basically never. "Hmm. You've been quite selfless, giving me such a treat. I don't see why not," he muses, still rubbing your clit.

"Th-thank you Izou," you say, leaning down to give him a kiss. Izou allows you to bounce yourself on his cock, your squelching filling the small room over the sound of the ambient sound snail. His cock fills you to the brim as it hits you in all the right places. You switch from bouncing to grinding as he continues to gently rub your clit. Now you're the one moaning as he looks up at you with half lidded eyes. You love being on top of Izou, the view of his hair spread in front of you never failing to make you thank the stars you were blessed to be with this beautiful man.

"Izou, p-please? Can I come?" you whine, hoping he allows you. "Hmm," he says, drawing out the time before he answers.

"I h-have hot stones I prepared for you -" you grit out, willing the orgasm to halt until you get permission. You wager that Izou might be more inclined to let you if there's an additional surprise for him. Massages, hot stones, nothing will save you if you break his rules.

"What a thoughtful little Blossom. Go on then, seek your pleasure," he says benevolently, stroking your ass cheek with his hand. You rock yourself on Izou's cock rapidly, your high fast approaching. Between running your hands all over his muscled body, feeling him relaxing under your touch, knowing that you're providing him something he needs, it doesn't take much for you to get close to orgasm.

Just as you're about to come, Izou reaches down and opens the bucket of hot rocks on the floor and grabs two. He pushes them into the small of your back, making you arch even further and the coil in you finally snaps. You wail your pleasure, the heat from the stones nearly too much. But they rapidly cool off as you come down off your high, leaving you a slick, oily, sweaty mess. Izou kisses your forehead as you lay down on his chest, his softening cock still inside you. "Thank you for the surprise, Blossom. I could not ask for a better or more attentive partner. Seems we've found another use for your rocks, hm?"

Ace, elsewhere: tilts his head and frowns Thatch: what's up, buddy? you alright? Ace: it's….I just had a feeling that someone was doing……it's probably nothing.

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #31

Belphegor: Snail but with no shell

Beelzebub: Oh those is then uuuuuuuuuuu slurms

Satan: A what

•

Diavolo: Maybe dogs lick us so much because they know there’s bones beneath our skin

Lucifer: This is worst thing you’ve said by far, thanks

•

Beelzebub: Aye can I get Uh…..ingredients on my burger

Satan: Beetroot?

Satan: You want beetroot?

Satan: You want fucking beetroot?

Beelzebub: Ingredience

Mammon: This post feels exactly like a conversation you would witness in a dream and think was completely normal and then wake up and think “what the fuck” for a single millisecond and then immediately forget about completely

•

Diavolo: I’ve lost 20% of my couch

Diavolo: Ouch

Solomon: That’s the funniest couch joke I’ve seen sofa

•

Mammon: *begins breakdancing gently* what’s wrong son?

Asmodeus: What the fuck. What does this even mean. Who thinks of this shit, why is it so funny. I hate this site

•

Mammon: You know what really gets my goat?

Barbatos: El chupacabra

•

Leviathan: The future: holograms can physically touch you and there are 12 cases of homicide committed by Hatsune Miku

Solomon: Just 12?

Diavolo: It’ll be 13 if you don’t stop asking questions

•

Satan: Do you ever get so excited you just want to crush a human skull in your hands

Mephistopheles: You just described breathing

Satan: I am fairly certain I Did Not

•

Mammon: I love it when the city gets rainy at night, and the floor gets all reflective and pretty, and everything becomes more vibrant and gorgeous and you can put any fluid on the ground and people will think it’s water, fools

Lucifer: This post was great until the last part, what are you implying

Mammon: Fool

•

Diavolo: Science puns, go!

Belphegor: You must have a pH of 13 cause you basic as fuck

•

Satan: Shut up @ people who still say “science side of tumblr”

Belphegor: Science side of tumblr why is this man so salty

Solomon: Osmosis

•

Satan: 100 years ago everyone owned a horse and only the rich had cars. Today everyone has cars and only the rich own horses

MC: The stables have turned

Mephistopheles: I laughed too hard at this and I hate you for it

•

Leviathan: Guys, I’m sorry but I think December 31st is going to be my last day on Tumblr for this year

Leviathan: …If one more person asks me why I’m leaving

Diavolo: Kids, this is why school is important

•

Simeon: In primary writing school we had a creative writing assignment where we had to ‘write about a character in a new strange environment’ and I wrote about a squid that was somehow transported from the ocean to the forest floor and slowly choked to death for two pages and I’ll never quite forget the look on my teacher’s face because it turns out she wanted ‘this new school is scary, I hope I make friends’ and not a graphic description of a squid dying

Lucifer: Well that’s just the risk you take if you decide to teach creative writing

•

Raphael: Why do stores always say “gifts for her”??? Who is she? Why are millions of Americans being encouraged to buy gifts for this entity? Someone explain

Mammon: We must appease Her

MC: She is all that keeps the darkness at bay. Without Her the Old Ones will rise again, we must not disappoint Her

Solomon: She is watching. She knows.

Last • Next

[perryrata]

Don't know if anyone else has asked this yet, but what are all your design hcs for the Hermits + Lifers? I'm curious from seeing your designs

Okay. Now we are going to be talking about some very strong opinions:

BILBY PEARL. I go absolutely mad for bilbies.. SO NOW YOU PUT IT ON THE AUSTRALLIAN!?!

Bdubs- must. creature. And the absolute shortest! AND MUST HAVE PONY TAIL.. you get it? Cause- cause of the hor-*dies*

Impulse- Imp! But with gold schtuff

Skizz- this man is hairy. And a dove! I understand the Angel and Demon complimentary designs with those two but I just prefer bird. Also he skipped leg day.

Hermitcraft X Grian - SNAIL ‼️‼️😼

Games other than Minecraft - Grian and Gem get glasses <3

Hermitcraft X Gem - Atlantic Sturgeon! <3

Life series Gem - MOOSE. MOOSE!

Tango - Fire Jerboa thingy!

Mumbo - one of the taller ones and thin! This man is such a wet cat I can picture him drawn as a disgruntled stick cat. He is more pathetic than soggy paper. /silly

Scar - He has leg hair and armpit hair a hundred percent. ALSO leg braces whenever possible!❤️

Ren- any dog that is medium or large, but not extra large like some mastiffs or Great Dane.

Jimmy and Martyn - I’m seriously leaning to just doing golden retrievers for them now.

Etho - arctic fox with his big puffy jacket! Maybe he has iron on patches of the mother land and Heinz beans?

Joel - Definitely a tanuki in hermitcraft X but everywhere else I’d say raccoon. (It makes no difference in my design)

Cleo - clearly a zombie, But you need some freaking cool eyes for her, she deserves it.

Doc - we need that goat body on that man. AND HIS MECH EYE IS A GOAT EYE!!!

Zed - sheep. Don’t even.

Big B- I’m really thinking Newfoundland dog for him ngl. He’s just chill like that and then HE CAN DIG MORE HOLES. but definitely creaking for wild life

Joe - he needs his mullet and glasses. DO NOT PLAY WITH ME. And juppet dearly beloved ❤️ he’s so silly.

Lizzie - house cat! (But man I didn’t do that 😔)

Keralis- if you don’t draw him with big cartoony eyes, don’t ever speak to me. /j

I really don’t have anything for X, False, Jev, Hypno, XB, Wels, Beef, Cub, or Scott 💔(AND ANYONE ELSE IVE PROBABLY FORGOTTEN 🙏)

[doe-in-the-cornfield]

Alright I NEED to know the biology lore of how can ghasts live in what is basically a fire dimension with no water, that probably smells like toxic as heck (because of all the combustion), and that is basically a big cave that probably makes it a giant furnace. Heck, even the implications of how the player can stand it either.

Because if that thing thrives on water it must be a water/air amphibian (y'know, instead of land), or be able to survive with mostly carbon (because the nether is in constant combustion, there must be oxygen as well as a shit ton of CO2).

Along with the amphibian speculation some ppl think it may have slimy/soft skin, but we have seen ghasts swimming in lava or under lava waterfalls, so there must be some draconic features like hard scales that cover it up, like the lava snail could he need lots of iron or use it somewhere on its body? But also we know the nether probably has little to no iron, it's mostly gold, and quartz, but maybe, similar to mars, all the iron is found in netherrack (because of its reddish color).

So maybe it was a creature that lived close to volcanic places on the over world? Both in high places and underwater, to explain his ability to fly.

Do you think it started out as a small cephalopod that had a really light body? Or even a jellyfish?

Like, imagine if that skin was more like a jellyfish's bell, and somehow it has a high body temperature by itself, so when getting out of the water they naturally float like hot-air balloons.

So, maybe they don't live that deep underwater, or slowly evolved to live in less pressurized environments until they escaped water.

Considering they have both eyes on front and also a mouth there too, they may be closer to octopus than squids, and look more like the martians in the war of the worlds book. But not that ugly.

Maybe the ghast is a giant octopus that is horizontal like a cuttlefish. And what if it also lost the ability to camouflage? And that's why they're pale white, my headcanon is that they're actually transparentish in the way polar bear fur is transparent. And high temperature environments made them lose their color changing skills because their skin had a higher priority of becoming harder?

Along with the volcanic thing maybe they can stand the nether because they need lots of minerals to thrive? And the nether is basically an infinite cave. Now I need to know how pressurized is the deep ocean and also if the nether has a high or low pressure too, and if that's the case how could a ghast withstand the shift from there to floating in the over world?

Of the ghast was or used to be an over world creature how did the interdimentional migration work? Were they brought there because of commerce? As transportation? (In the Minecraft movie we see the piglins using it to fly), if they are highly adapted to the nether that means they must have been there for a long time, but also we know nether portals are made by intelligent creatures like us or the piglins, so it could have happened more than 50,000 years ago or even a million if that's the case, since homo erectus or before?, or are there rare instances of natural portals occurring?

What of the ghast is like those creatures that live exclusively on a specific part or island on earth and can't be found anywhere else? And a natural portal occurred and then a constant swapping led them to getting trapped there or something forced them to, like a predator? Although I don't think the over world has anything that Could be threatening to them, not even the warden since they can fly.

Or maybe they ARE nether creatures, and the ancient nether was way different, maybe even colder, and more humid. We know we can't place water there, but we can have cauldrons, also, the presence of life and fungi there must be a sign that there must be a kind of humidity somehow, maybe not water by now, maybe a different liquid.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA there's so many interesting stuff to speculate about this creature and maybe I'm going a bit too nerdly but that new addition alone was THAT good to the game, can't wait to befriend a ghast myself.

[leafsbabe]

Travis Kelce - private show (SMUT)

2k, there is a butt plug in this in case you don't like that

He loved his team, he truly did, but Travis was also very glad when their post-training meeting was over and he could dip. None of his teammates tried to stop him as he all but ran out of the room, something he was grateful for. In the past it had been a given that he would walk out with some of the other men, talking, joking, but nowadays that had become a rare sight. He was always in a rush to get back to his room, back to the closest thing he had ever come to an addiction.

Away games hadn't been the same ever since he had stumbled across that fateful link.

By some lucky coincidence the facilities for the visiting team in the field they’d be playing tomorrow were absolute ass so the chiefs had rented out one of the hotel meeting rooms for their review. Meaning all Travis had to do to get back to his room was hop onto an elevator. After that he was free to lock himself in his room until it was time for dinner.

The elevator crawled up to his floor at a snail's pace but he stopped himself from impatiently rocking back and forth on the soles of his feet. When it finally came to a stop he started to squeeze out of the elevator before the doors had fully opened but he didn’t even care how it looked, he was already late and he didn’t want to miss any more.

The door to his room slammed shut behind him as he stormed in, jumping onto the bed with enough energy that realistically it should have broken but by some miracle stayed intact as he opened his carefully changed laptop while attempting to toe off his shoes.

The website didn’t automatically open once he clicked on his browser but he had been visiting it religiously to the point that it autofilled after a single letter. His pants started to feel too tight before the site had even finished loading and Travis couldn’t help but groan at the realisation that he fucking pavloved himself into getting a semi at the mere thought of you.

The stream had already started but hopefully he didn’t miss much. A familiar background greeted him before his eyes focused in on you. Splayed across the bed you’re a sight for sore eyes, hair messed up just enough to let him know you’d played with it before he logged on, body clad in next to nothing. A new, expensive next to nothing. Good to know all of the money he sent you got put to good use. 

He waited for you to greet him like you usually did, surely you must have noticed him joining your stream, he was your biggest fan after all, but when you didn’t he sent you a message over private chat. Expensive, yes, but he didn’t need people knowing his dirty little secrets.

Finally you acknowledged him. 

“Hi bigyeti, nice of you to join again.” It seemed like a standard greeting but he knew by your tone that you were annoyed at him for being late again. Brat. Travis watched you slide a hand over your bare skin until it reached the lace covering your chest. But instead of teasing one of your hard nipples through the material or even taking it off to show the irresistible swell of your chest you just ran your fingers over the seam at the edge of your bra. “As much as I think this set is cute, this will probably be the last time you’ll see me in it. It’s not really comfortable and I can barely get it closed by myself.”

You were probably hoping for messages offering to help you with that but Travis had been watching long enough to read between the lines. You were going to offer up the set but beat you to it. His simple message didn't get a written reply but he noticed you look off screen before smiling. “You know the price bigyeti.”

You didn’t take it off though, just changed positions until you were kneeling on the bed. It was only then that Travis noticed the selection of toys laid out in front of you.

“What do you think,” you picked up one of them, dark purple and intriguing, but not his favorite of the spread. “Should we run a poll or let the highest bidder decide?”

He sent you a rack before you even had time to decide, after which he finally rid himself of his sweats and underwear.

“You know which one.” Your sweet voice read his message in the chat, laughing as you held up the one you knew he wanted. Pale pink with ridges that could get you off every time, filling you up perfectly before the vibrations took you out. The first time he had watched you use it you had squirted and he had been hooked ever since.

“Should I be concerned big? You seem to like this little guy more than me.” You pouted at the camera, bringing the vibe up and tapping it against your bottom lip. 

Travis groaned before typing again. Hopefully this would be a one handed operation soon.

“You know you’re my favorite. Aww that’s so sweet of you yeti. Want to know a secret?” He watched you lean forward, holding your chest into the camera with practiced ease. “You’re my favorite too.”

Travis slowly stroked himself as you bit your lip, reaching behind you and finally freeing yourself from the lace. You had been truthful about how ill fitting it was, his eyes automatically drawn to the red indents on the side of your boobs. He fantasized about getting his mouth on them, of soothing your flesh with his tongue.

You didn’t try to act sexy as you balled up the bra and threw it off-cam, something he came to enjoy. You were this temptress, bane of his bank account and object of his desire, but you were also human.

As he saw you kneeling there Travis finally gave in and reached for his lube, because he was in his thirties now and using lotion to jack off felt awfully juvenile. He watched you run your hands over your body, just palming himself to the view of you playing with your nipples.

“We’re going to try something new today.”

The tone of your voice had him shifting, sitting up straighter and paying more attention. He didn’t have to wait long to find out what something new meant. You got rid of the last remaining hint of nothing hiding your skin before turning around into the most perfect reverse cowgirl POV he knew and there it was. Nestled between your cheeks laid a small plug with a deep red gem at the end that sparkled in the lights you used during your shows. A hot shudder ran through him as the grip he had on himself tightened.

“You know what to do if you like it.” You smiled at the cam over your shoulder before turning back around.

Travis debated between finally touching himself properly and sending you another donation when you positioned the toy he picked and he relented. He’d just send you another tip later. He was slow with his movements, teasing himself as you sank down on the toy. You stopped halfway, adjusting to the stretch, but Travis just continued to stroke his dick.

You were noisy, he liked that about the streams. You weren’t holding back but it also didn’t feel like you were putting on a show. You were simply vocal in bed and he loved it.

Treavis continued to work himself as he watched you ride the toy, torn between closing his eyes and imagining it was you that had a hand wrapped around his dick or even riding it and wanting to watch you take your pleasure with the toy on stream. He watched you move, the way you stretched around the toy with every rise and fall. It was mesmerizing, the shimmer of that salacious gem catching his eye only for his focus to be drawn away by the flex of your thick thighs, or the dimples on your lower back, or those sweet filthy moans that kept on leaving your mouth. He felt drunk on you, drunk on the fire running through him.

There was no rhythm to the way Travis was stroking his cock as he watched you, all pretense of following your movements abandoned long ago. He felt his orgasm approaching, considering for a moment whether he should try and draw it out, to wait for you and come together, before giving that idea up and quickening his pace. He came to the sound of your moans, all over his fist and with his head thrown back in ecstasy.

Travis let himself float only until the next moan tore his attention back to the screen in front of him. You were barely riding the toy at this point, grinding more than anything. Even with his muddled mind it was clear that you were on the brink yourself.

When you finally tipped over it was with a shout. Your legs shook, more violently than he had ever seen from you before, while your body contracted around the sex toys filling you up. He palmed his softening cock as he watched you fall apart, too spent to try getting another orgasm out of it but still wired enough to draw out that afterglow for just a little while longer. 

He watched as your orgasm came to an end, the shaking in your thighs never quite stopping even though the vibrations of your toy did. You removed the pink vibrator but that bejeweled plug stayed in place as you slowly turned around and sat in full view of the cam, leaning back on your hands and smiling. You were still breathing heavily but it only drew attention to your tits and Travis found himself reaching for his phone before he realized that his hand was covered in his cum and used his other one instead. He wasn’t good at typing with his nondominant hand but another tip found itself being sent your way soon enough anyway.

“That was fun.” You said, breathless but still smiling. No reaction to his message if you had even seen it. “We should do this again sometime.”

Travis got another long look at your body as you leaned forward to shut off the cam and then he was alone in his hotel room again.

Shutting his laptop before he got up, Travis went to wash his hands and clean up a bit of the mess around his dick. He would shower soon but there was something he had to take care of before that. His phone was still laid on the bed, even though he had to search through the sheets to find it.

Travis pulled up that all too familiar contact and pressed video call. You answered almost immediately, makeup still on your face but with your hair pulled back and a shirt thrown over your body.

“Was that good?” You asked as soon as the call connected. He could see you bite your lip, nervously, and he hated being so far away from you even more.

“You were perfect.” He answered, truthfully. “So hot, baby. Almost makes me want to set you up a real camming account just to show you off.”

The program you two had now was little more than a private video chat but Travis had tried to set it up nicely for you. It had involved a lot of awkward questions to one of the New Height techies but the chat worked amazing for your little cam show and your audience of one.

You just laughed at his antics. “No you wouldn’t.”

“No I wouldn’t.” He relented. “I don’t like to share, even if you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. And all mine.”

You laughed again. “All yours.” You confirmed before continuing, teasing him with an account of the new things you had brought for the two of you to try. Fuck. He couldn’t wait to come home.