#thanks snail good to hear from you

[silkendandelion]

🗣️🎤What's your favourite animal⁉️

I just woke up, get these lights on, LET'S GO

I love this question, I have a degree in environmental science and ecology which means I spent most of my time in chemistry classes and the rest of the time avoiding responsibility in zoology and evolution (which means I can't have a favorite but here's one of)

Ailurus fulgens, commonly the Red panda, or lesser panda, though they are NOT lesser, they are so unique and adorable

Beautiful, perfect, wouldn't change a thing

Phylogenically, they've been moved around a lot but now live in their own family with a whole bunch of extinct species that also didn't fit, though it's pretty widely accepted they're tangentially similar to raccoons, ferrets, and skunks

Abnormally low rate of mutation and yet extreme genetic diversity between individuals, mild temperament and variable intelligence, they would be PERFECT for domestication but I'm holding up this flagpole with like three other people so maybe one day </33

Behold their loveliness <333

*drops mic*

[fanaticsnail]

Spamming you with asks rn

🧃🪐🦷🦴🍅☁️🌸 - for the asks game if you don't mind (you can pick and chose if it's too much)

Hello you darling snail! Keep spamming me, I love it! Made me really think about a few of these, and I love you for it.

🧃Personal lore: I have 6 tattoos. Of all of these etched markes on my body, my favourite is one of the one I was born with. I have a birthmark in the shape of Australia (my country) on my left hip. It even includes a dot for Tasmania.

🪐Three good things: My baby brother married his beautiful wife last month, I got to meet @sordidmusings in person and produce music while showing my country to her, I have made friends that are entirely my own over this platform (no prior relational context: work, husband, children, family. And you are all spectacular and mean so much to me). This platform is seriously a highlight right now, and I am enjoying each moment I spend here learning and growing.

🦷Personal wisdom/hack: Don't tell lies. It's easier to keep up with the truth than channeling all your energy in organizing what lie you told to whom.

🦴Media inspiration: I have spoken about it before, but a lot of my writing style has been inspired by the books I used to read in childhood. The Belgariad series by David Eddings is a great influence, alongside the Hogfather by Sir Terry Pratchett. The character of ‘the Governess' in Sapsorrow took notes and played hints at ‘Polgara the Sorceress’ and ‘Susan Sto Helit’ from those series. Both strong, capable women who manage youths under their charge.

🍅Constructive criticism: I need to understand that crafting these words take time, and I don't need to do it all at once. I often find myself pulling a shift as a parent all day, then opening my laptop, writing until 1am, then sleeping until my day starts at around 5-6am. I need to understand words and craft do not need to occur all at the one time, I can edit the following day or source images for my words the day thereafter. But I get too excited and physically vibrate with enthusiasm when I do - which then keeps the adrenaline pumping for me to remain awake.

☁️Why “FanaticSnail”: Long story short, it was a name assigned to me way back in the day when online gaming. It stuck, and I liked it. Boring, really. I do like snails, and I do get fanatical about a few subjects.

🌸Pets: I have an army of pets! I have 5 chickens in my backyard farm: Consuela, Ophelia, Thomasin, Dahlia and Jacqueline. I also have the most hideous ginger cat known to mankind, but what he lacks in beauty he makes up with enthusiastic affection. His name is Griswold, and it suits him.

[moonstruckme]

hi i have an unhealthy attachment to your doctor!remus content…could i request a fic where reader is hiding some type of health problem from him or maybe ignoring it, and when something bad happens he finds out and is all stern with her and his usual worried self? i <3 this man, thank you truly for sharing your writing and doing it so well!!

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: description of vertigo, mention of nausea

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re sick of being miserable. You had a cold, which had turned out to be the flu, which had turned into a sinus infection, and your poor, sweet boyfriend had weathered it all with you. Remus had made you soup. He’d warmed damp towels for your sinuses. He’d stayed home from work a couple of days, and rubbed your back, and your chest, and your temples when they ached, and supplied you with name-brand medicines. He’d been so, so patient when you were whiny and awful to be around. So now, when your sinus infection has turned into this heinous ear pain, you’ve decided you’re done with it. 

You won’t entertain your body with its miseries any more. You certainly won’t be making it Remus’ problem. 

It’s easy not to feel miserable when you wake up before him on a slow Saturday morning. There’s a line of sunlight reaching across the room from the crack in your curtains, Remus’ face lovely even in shadow. He could use a haircut, you think fondly. It’s starting to cover the tops of his ears, which you think is a rather endearing look on him even if you have to agree when he says it’s not very professional. 

Eventually his eyes blink open. He smiles when he finds you watching him, the stretch of his lips sleepy and content. You draw a finger lightly down the bridge of his nose. 

“I think,” you say, “that we should stay here all day long.” 

Remus’ smile widens, and it takes half a second after his mouth begins moving for you to realize you can’t hear him properly. You pick your good ear up off the pillow as subtly as you can, propping your chin on your hand. You ignore the wave of dizziness that follows. 

“...what you really want? You’ve been home nearly all week,” says Remus. “What if we went on a walk today? We could go to that park you like, the one with the lake.” 

You shove down the dread that rises in your chest. This is what you want. You want to get over being poorly and get back to your life. 

“You’re right,” you say brightly. “That sounds great.” 

Remus peers over you to check the time. “Oh. God, we slept in, didn’t we? We may have to go soon if we want it to still be nice out.” 

“That’s alright,” you say easily. “I’ll be right after you, I just have to pick out what I’m going to wear.” 

Remus leans forward to peck you on the forehead, getting out of bed with a sleepy groan. He stretches his neck this way and that, movements sluggish as he goes toward the bathroom. 

Your movements are sluggish for different reasons. You sit up slowly, fighting through the vertigo that sloshes the room about you in protest. It wasn’t this bad yesterday. 

You discover a series of new miseries as you get dressed with cautious, snail-like movements. Your ear hurts something awful. More than that, the pain has spread to most of your head. The constant dizziness quickly results in a low nausea. You’re genuinely uncertain whether the ringing in your ears is a symptom of your ear infection or a warning bell of your impending insanity. 

Putting on your trousers is an ordeal. By the time you sit down on the bed to pull on socks, your resolve has spiderweb cracks spreading and threatening to unleash a meltdown. 

But you’re stubborn. You can do this, you think. If you’re only walking on even ground in the park, and Remus’ hand is in yours, you’re sure you can manage. The internet said your symptoms wouldn’t last long anyway—maybe they’ll clear up as the day goes on. 

“...ove? Dove?” 

You look up as Remus comes to stand in front of you, swallowing when the world spins. In the center of the swirl, you think he’s smiling. His hand cups your face. 

“You seemed off in your own world there,” he says fondly. 

You smile and hum, keeping your head perfectly still so that the spinning slows. Remus’ eyebrows twitch towards each other. 

“You alright?” 

“Mhm, yeah.” You cup your hand over his, holding onto it as you stand. “Let’s go.” 

“You’re ready?” he asks while you pull him towards the door. You sway a bit in your effort to walk at a normal pace, reaching for the doorframe. 

The hallway in front of you looks like a funhouse horror. You put one foot in front of the other as surely as you can. “Yeah,” you say. “Aren’t you?”

Remus’ hand tightens on yours. You don’t understand why for a moment, but then you’re falling sideways, his hands catching you around the waist. 

“Dove.” His stern voice is slightly alarmed and largely disembodied, your eyes unable to find his face in the whirling mass in front of you. “What’s going on?” 

Like an overinflated balloon popping, you burst into tears. 

Remus collects you to his chest, holding your head securely against him as he half carries you back to the bed. It doesn’t prevent your dizziness entirely, but it helps. 

“What’s happening?” he asks more gently as you sniff and whimper. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know.” 

“I think it’s an ear infection,” you say in a small voice. “It hurts, and my head hurts, and I’m so—” You take in a short breath. “—so dizzy I feel sick.” 

“Okay. Okay, it’s alright.” Remus pets the back of your head, shushing you until you calm some. 

“Sorry,” you whimper. 

“What are you sorry for, love? For crying?” 

Your sniffly silence is answer enough. 

Remus sighs. “Why did you try to act like nothing was wrong?” 

“Because,” you say thinly, “I’m tired of things being wrong. I just want—” You pause, pressing your lips together to avoid crying again. “I want to feel normal.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your boyfriend’s mix of disappointment and sympathy only brings you closer to tears. “You can’t will it, my love. And you can’t pretend this away. These are the sorts of things I need to know about.” 

You blink away the blur of tears, grateful that your world has finally straightened out. You press your head closer to Remus’ chest. “I wanted to give you a break, too,” you admit. “The internet said it would go away in a couple of days, so I figured I’d just ride it out.” 

“Mm, a middle ear infection would.” 

You stiffen. “What does that mean?” 

The kiss Remus drops to your head is heavy with compassion. “Vertigo like this comes with an inner ear infection, dove. They take longer to go away, sometimes weeks, but the process can be sped up with antibiotics.” 

He pauses while you process this. 

“You know, the sort prescribed by a doctor.” 

“Oh.” 

He chuckles fondly, kissing your head again. “This is why you tell me things. Understand?” 

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around his middle, clinging pathetically. “I’m sorry. Help me.” 

“I will, sweetheart. Think you can lay down and be still while I nip to work and the pharmacy?” 

You don’t think you’ll have any problems there.

[bellyyearner]

Office life at 550+ lbs

Word count: 1061

Extreme obesity, mobility issues, work environment, feedee perspective

No gender mentioned POV

Being a working feedee is hard sometimes, especially when your gain slows down to a snails pace despite how much you've been eating. In the last 3 years you've only put on another 40lbs, but you have an easy job that pays the bills and allows you to live comfortably so you can't complain too much. The only part of this job you hate though, is the journey inside.

As you exit your car you can already feel the sweat forming between your rolls, it's been taking a few tries lately to stand up after swinging your hefty left leg out onto the concrete. You've even questioned if you should bring your car to the shop to check the suspension just in case your fat ass crashing back down onto the driver seat a half dozen times a day might be causing issues. At the very least you were thankful for your personal parking spot only being about 250ft from the elevator up to the office floor. Only 100ft from the buildings entrance and the cold AC running throughout the building.

And so you begin your slow pendulous waddle, thighs scraping against each other with every step, causing so much friction your jeans always have a distinct wear pattern only a couple weeks after buying them. One foot infront the other you waddle, repeating the laboured motion as your breath grows heavy and your belly slaps against the tops of your thighs. Halfway to the door now you hear the clicking of heels against the concrete, 2 interns whizzing by you without a word. You can't even imagine moving as fast as they do, or why they'd even want to move that fast in the first place. Your sense of urgency left you a couple hundred pounds ago.

Another 20 heavy steps later you reach the door, a mailman on the other side who was about to leave opens it for you, clearly staring at your mammoth size and brow covered in sweat. You make it inside and can barely catch your breath to say thank you before he's gone. The AC graces your hot sweaty skin and you feel relief, you spot your double wide chair HR had fought to get installed for you last year, and plop down on it with a huff. All there's left to do is catch your breath for a couple minutes, walk 60 steps through the lobby, turn right, walk 10 steps to the elevator, a minute of standing, and another 30 steps to your cubicle. Where you will then chow down on a couple snacks you brought and rehydrate before looking at spreadsheets and grazing on more food for 8 hours. A routine you had grown so accustomed to that it became second nature.

You look at the handle bar bolted into the wall and remember when you found it insulting, but now it was a necessity. Gripping the bar you start to stand hoping a second try isn't needed because of how many people were in the lobby. You can feel your heart quake and your knees whine but thankfully you hauled your lard laden ass off the seat in one attempt.

The second journey begins and the heavy waddle ensues, gut bouncing, thighs scraping, mouth open and breathing loudly enough that you're attracting attention. You try to ignore their stares but it's only fueling your appetite, already making a mental list of what you're going to grab from the vending machine once you get off the elevator. A few minutes later you round the corner and take the final few steps only to notice a sign on the elevator. You can't read it yet but you can feel your heart sinking already. It can't be right? They would've told you. They would've sent an email or a text. "Out of order".

Panic sets in, you can't climb 4 flights of stairs, you bought a one story house for good reason, you haven't had to climb more than a curb in years at this point. Your mind is growing frantic as you feel the burden your legs are under grow stronger, anticipating if you're really gonna be expected to climb the stairs.

Your phone buzzes, a text from Susy in HR

"Hey! I'm so sorry 'your name', this just happened like an hour ago and I totally forgot to tell you. The elevator is having some major issues and we don't know when it'll be fixed. I dug up that old paper work you filed 6 months ago about work from home and I'm gonna push it through asap! I've sent Lucy downstairs with a work laptop for you to bring home, just take a couple days off while we get all the paperwork in order."

Relief washes over you as you hear the distinct clicking of heels coming down the stairs. You steady your breath and try to seem unfazed, almost certain you look ridiculous.

Lucy: "Hey 'your name', here's your laptop and a cherry cola, figured you would need it before heading back to your car ;). You know I'm gonna miss seeing you around here, less stuff to talk about and no one to gawk at. You have my number so just let me know if you need me to come over to help you adjust"

A quick farewell and her heels were clicking back up the stairs, but all you could think about was how you're never gonna see the inside of that office again. With no where to go and no decency to be upheld there was no reason you wouldn't finally break 600lbs. You chug the Cola, wanting to make one final show for the coworkers and acquaintances you've made over the years, and start the final journey, one to immobility.

With a gassy belly swaying from side to side, your humongous thighs atop fattened lard laden calves carry you through the lobby one last time. Not even trying to hide your burps and groans you walk out of the building, skipping the chair by the door you once saw as a refuge. Thoughts of what takeout you're gonna get delivered and a quickly growing Walmart order forming in your mind as you slowly waddle through the parking lot one last time. All fueled by the dream of being an immobile work from home piggy

Part 2

[sweetimpurity]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ day 20!! time is flying by wow enjoy!! love ya! wc: 534 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Thinking about Miguel pulling your panties to the side but also fucking into the fabric and painting them with his cum. Maybe you’re just begging for a break. Your little pussy aching for a breather. “Please baby! I can’t- I can’t… need a break!” You whine. Shushed by his deep husky voice telling you to breathe. 

Maybe it’s been hours and he’s split you, spread you, stretched you on his cock. Pulling out with a slick pop and hearing the sigh of relief that leaves you.

Pushing his dick through your plush ass and wrenching your panties out of the way. Watching the way your flesh spills over the sides, lifting it up with a finger and letting it snap against your skin already slapped raw. 

You’re a panting mess on the pillows, face down and clutching the blankets in your hands. He’s just relentless, heaving and huge behind you. And the knowledge that he’s not done yet fills you with an orgasmic mix of dread and excitement. The hormonal surge from numerous orgasms does make you feel incredibly heavy though.

He’s needy to come. He’s already brought you to orgasm five or six times already. Never letting himself succumb once yet. Staring down at your perfect ass and hearing your breath against the pillows. He kneels forward, pressing through your plush asscheeks and jutting his tip into the pink flowery material of your underwear.

“Hahh…” He sighs, almost a growl, just watching his cock rub over your skin, engulfed in the soft lacy material, practically jerking himself off into it. And feeling the soft warm roundness of your bum on the underside of his shaft still wet with your slick. Such a pleasant sensation, making his fingers dig into your thigh, holding you still and steady. 

“Fuck-” He huffs, nearing his end. Rutting into your panties, over your skin, his dick eventually slipping between your thighs and fucking between the fabric of your panties and the slick warmth of your folds. Not daring to penetrate your already aching core. Not when you’ve already been such a good girl for him. But close enough to feel the heat that radiates.

Finding his high in the heat between your soft thighs. Humping into you and moving a hand up to your shoulder blade to push you down into the mattress. Groaning and gripping himself as he comes, shooting his load all over your ass, on your panties. Staining the material. Huffing and catching his breath, his abdomen clenching and tensing in aftershocks. 

“Baby… corazón…” He whispers, brushing some hair off your neck so he can see the side of your face. Wondering if that was enough time to recover. His mind hazy with thoughts of sex and your body, of always wanting more. “You ready?” 

He leans over you, pressing to your back, catching a glimpse of your face. Your features relaxed in sleep. His little baby sleeping. His own features relaxing into a soft smile, nuzzling into your cheek with feather light kisses. Whispering sweet little praises into your ear. Of how good you've been. How happy he is with you. He sits up, kissing down your back as he does. Getting off of you, off the bed to get a warm wash cloth so he can clean you up. 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[floralcyanide]

˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

― day one ⛧ cockwarming

Cillian Murphy x Reader

A routine Zoom call between you, Cillian, and his parents gets a little interesting.

warnings: smut, cockwarming, penetrative sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, milking, unprotected sex

word count: 930

author's note: welcome to day one of kinktober! I'm so excited for this year and can't wait to write as much for this challenge as possible. I was going to have weeks planned out, but fell ill with pneumonia, so I'm two whole weeks behind. hopefully I'll complete the challenge! fingers crossed. if I don't, there's always next year! I hope everyone enjoys!! feedback is always appreciated (: (keep in mind most of the kinktober works will be short.)

kinktober masterpost | kinktober taglist form | main masterlist | main taglist form

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

When Cillian tells you to pull up your dress upon entering his office, you expect him to drop to his knees before you. Instead, he waves you over to where he’s sitting on his desk chair, motioning for you to sit on his lap. You look at him, confused for a moment, before doing as he wordlessly asked. You can feel Cillian fumble his hands behind you, his cold watch brushing against the warm skin of your tailbone that’s exposed from your lifted dress. You hear his zipper come undone, and that’s when you realize what he’s wanting. Cillian adjusts you on his lap so you’re hovering, and he aligns his length with your clothed entrance, teasing your clit through your underwear. He pushes the fabric to the side with his fingers, allowing his tip to brush against your wetness. You slowly push yourself onto him, and Cillian guides himself into you at a snail’s pace. You aren’t quite wet enough yet, so he takes his time. Once he’s wholly sheathed inside your warmth, Cillian grabs your hips so you can’t move.

“What are you doing?” you half laugh, half ask curiously.

“I want you to just sit here and be a good girl, alright?”

“That’s kind of hard with you inside me, Cill.”

“You can do it, baby. You’re so good for me.”

You shiver at his words as you watch him fiddle with his computer, opening Zoom. You gulp nervously and hope he isn’t about to have a sort of meeting while you’re warming his cock. You aren’t sure what you’d do if you had to act normal while Cillian’s thick, now-throbbing length is being squeezed by your walls. 

But something even worse happens- Cillian opens Zoom with his parents. You forgot it’s Sunday, which is the day he usually calls them. You gulp down your nervousness, trying to appear presentable.

“Oh, hi!” you grin at the sight of his mother popping up on the screen, trying not to react to how Cillian’s fingernails are digging into the delicate skin of where your hips meet your thighs.

“How are you, darling?” his mother asks sweetly.

Cillian thrusts into you, disguising it as a minor shifting in his chair, and you have to clear your throat to stifle a moan, “I’m well, thanks! And you?”

“Oh, we’re just fine,” CIllian’s father chimes in, “Taking good care of my son, I see?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, rubbing your palm along Cillian’s thigh out of sight, “He’s being a good boy as always.” you joke.

Cillian rolls his hips slowly, causing your hand to pause its movements and your nails to dig into his slacks. He then engages in conversation with his father as you maintain a healthy combo of eye contact with his parents and looking at Cillian behind you.

“Are you sitting on his lap, dear? Are there no chairs in his office?” Cillian’s mom asks out of the blue, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Still no extra chairs or furniture in here,” you poke Cillian’s cheek, “I’ve been telling him ever since we moved in, Mrs. Murphy.”

“Stubborn old thing,” his mother scolds playfully, “A new home needs its furniture!”

You begin to feel restless on Cillian’s cock, wishing for nothing more than to fuck him senseless. You want to end the call, spin around, and bounce on him for hours. But of course, until he gives the word, you can’t move.

“Well, we were just checking in to see how you were doing. We best be headed off now; love you,” Cillian waves to his parents.

They wave back, bidding farewells before Cillian ends the call. Silence fills the room, and all that can be properly heard is the sound of your ragged breathing.

“Please,” you whimper, “Let me move.”

“Then move.”

You shakily raise your hips until Cillian is almost outside you before slamming back down, your thighs hitting his. He lets out a strangled moan, hands gripping your sides tightly. 

“I’ve been wanting to teach you a lesson,” Cillian says through gritted teeth, letting you slowly lift and lower yourself along his cock, “About patience.”

“Lesson learned, then,” you sigh, spinning around to face Cillian, “I hear you loud and clear.”

You grab his cheeks as you pick up your pace of bouncing on his length, gaining a nice and steady rhythm. Cillian looks at you with glazed-over eyes, his tongue darting from his mouth to run over his lips. 

“Was the lesson worth it? Or was the patience killing you more than me?” you smirk.

“I'm not sure. There were times I wanted to take you over the desk on the call.”

“Really?” you wonder, “Maybe next time.”

“Not when on the phone, though,” Cillian warns.

“Alright,” you sigh, swiveling your hips around as your orgasm creeps into your stomach.

“Gonna cum,” Cillian mumbles lazily, thrusting himself into you in time with your movements.

“Please do, I’ve been waiting,” you pout.

Cillian twitches inside you, spilling his seed deep inside your cunt as you ride through your own impending release. Cillian lets you fuck yourself as much as you please despite his overstimulation, letting you milk him as your walls clench from your orgasm. You stop moving, catching your breath as Cillian watches you compose yourself.

“Definitely worth the wait,” you gasp, pushing hair from your face.

“Agreed,” Cillian exhales, leaning back in his chair.

“Can I stay here, though?” 

“On me?”

“Yes.”

Cillian pauses, weighing the pros and cons of you warming him as he does some emailing, “Fine.”

taglist:

@cillianswifefr @ins0mniac-whack @multifans-things @no-fooking-fighting @mypoisonedvine @madnessandobsession @Daviddeu @tiredkitten @lolabunny222 @gimmefood @preparedfruit @thecherrycocktail @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @lilyembry @scarlettlight06 @Gramelda @burnyouwithacigarettelighter @dunklerkeks1611 @reggxe-a @aviamulier @berlyrecords @dorknerdbeautiful @scribbuluswrites @ecstaticforus @vampireluck @doitmour1r @sharrren @desert-springtime @tuffy-floral @hllywdwhre @Death-by-bowie47 @moompie-blog @langdons-slut @cillymyfavdilf @generalvoidthing @luna047 @mg-i-have-issues @darlingsfandom @devotedly-sassy @banshailey @notevenellastein @cillsmurphys @ch3rry-co1a @elegantfacetree @ilikefictionalmen @juleshadalittlelamb @madnessandobsession @ceirinen @treac @Vrfilms @cillian-murph @sstar_ggirl @ecstaticforus @flwrs4aust

(if you signed up to be on the taglist and do not see your name, your tag failed or you may have typed the wrong url.)

[str4wkinzi]

Saw ur asking for recs and I got a nasty lil idea.

Sitting on Satan's lap in a common area, looks really innocent from the outside. You've got a blanket over your lap so it's comfy and cozy.

And his brothers have no idea you're sitting with his cock inside you, struggling to keep a straight face as you grind against each other.

But Lucifer knows. When he's in the room, Satan smirks at him. Lucifer takes one look at your flushed face and knows exactly what's going on.

And Satan embodies his eldest brother's sin in the best way possible.

-🐷

Satan x Reader.

@str4wkinzi 2024 ☆

nsfw content/ involves sexual content under the cut.

Reading with Satan was something you both enjoyed and did regularly. Either in the library, the living room, in his room or yours. Though, sometimes Satan would mess with you. He’d lure you into one of those locations, promising you just a normal time doing a normal thing thats going to be nothing but normal. He’s a really good liar.

He’d grab a book (most likely a sexual one), sit you on his lap, and put a blanket over the both of you, saying its a little chilly. He’d read the book, when sexual parts appeared he’d whisper them in your ear and maybe start rubbing your thigh. After it ends, when he’s just starting to ghost around your inner thigh, he stops and starts reading like normal.

When you finally start squirming and whining on his lap he knows you’re wrapped around his finger. He starts to tease you about being a needy slut, about not being able to read a little dirty book. He starts to slide his hands between your thighs, rubbing against the fabric just hard enough to make you squirm against his hand.

He’d pull your pants and underwear down/slide your panties to the side and start to circle your clit. When he starts to hear little moans escape your lips, he starts to mock you by asking if you’re listening to the book. He’d chuckle when he could see the scowl on your face.

Lets just say the book had a fingering part. He’d dip his fingers inside of you and finger you exactly like the book describes it. You’re not even paying attention to Satan anymore before he stops. He takes his fingers out and taps a sentence in the book, describing how they stopped to tease them.

He soon decides to slide his pants and boxers down and rubbing his throbbing cock against you. He’d continue that until the book got to another sexual part. Of course, he’d do it exactly like the book.

When he does slide inside you, he starts at a pace that rivals a snail. You could only sit back and listen as he reads the book with one of his hands on your hip.

Everything is going smooth for a while, until Mammon comes through the door. He greets the two of you, maybe even teasing about being ‘mushy’ again. Though, its obvious he doesn’t see whats really happening.

Almost like some game, all his brothers walk through the same door one after another. Though, after each brother comes and greets he two of you, he picks up his pace. You try to keep your moans in, you try not to let your face contort into one of pleasure, and you try not to let your voice falter while greeting the brothers.

It works. It looks like none of them knew what you and Satan were really doing. All except one. Lucifer comes through the door, you could already feel your heart trying to beat out of your chest.

Lucifer greets the two of you, Satan doesn’t say a word as you turn your face away and mutter a broken greeting. If he didn’t already know what was going on, he definitely caught on when he saw Satan grab your face and point it towards Lucifer. Showing him your embarrassed face.

You hear Satan chuckle as Lucifer asks you to his room later. You look back at Satan as he just smirks at you.

He takes complete pride in the very long reprimanding he just earned you.

THANK U WHOEVER U AREE. UR AMAZING!!!22 maybe i might not quit my job after all.. getting requests makes me happy :3

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Hi maggots, it's Asmi!

It seems we have arrived at That Point again, when I need a new intro post. So here we are! The Official (kidnapped) Good Omens Mascot and uh Maggot Prince has returned with a fresh post.

First, before I talk about myself, here are some important links that people ask me for and I want to make sure they're accessible:

The Official Maggots Server of Doom on Discord: The server of kindness and chaos and brainrot where we just vibe (I promise you'll be welcome there, whoever you are, maggot, so many people who were shy are now screeching at me and I love that). Link here.

Weirdly-Specific-But-Ok The Youtube Channel: Yes, thanks to the 10khaos post, I made a Youtube channel. I intend to cause a lot of chaos on it, I have already begun. Hehe. Link here.

My Ko-fi: Ummmm this exists? Wahoo a Ko-fi. No pressure and I appreciate you all whether you're a silent lurker, causing chaos, supporting me with words or supporting me on Ko-fi. I love you. Link here.

My PO address and email: I'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU, SNAIL MAIL OR MAIL OR OTHERWISE! Link here.

The Good Omens Ad: A lot of you ask me what Good Omens is about. Never fear! I wrote an advertisement for it ages ago, and @1800ineedshelp edited it fabulously. Link here.

Okay I think that's the important parts, I'll edit it later, and now... uh HELLO!

I'm Asmi, I'm 20 years old, he/him, very queer and probably napping at any given moment of the day. Because of a chaotic post, I now have a fandom. My fans, such as they are, are known as maggots. There is a lot of significance behind that (accidentally, I just picked it because it looked like mascot kind of).

I am the Official Good Omens Mascot, because I was kidnapped by the fandom in January after I made a summary post of Good Omens without watching it, just by what I saw on my tumblr dash. I have grown very fond of this title and the fandom, and have since watched the show (some episodes twice).

Also, this blog is a safe space for all queer people, and yes that includes aroace-spec people, trans people, all queer people. If you don't agree with that, there's the door *points to a pit of boiling sulphur*.

ANYWAY YES ENOUGH TALKING WELCOME TO THE CHAOS JUST BE KIND AND RESPECTFUL OF EACH OTHER, BE AS IRREVERENT TO ME AS POSSIBLE, AND WE'LL GET ALONG GREAT. YOU DON'T NEED TO INTERACT TO BE PART OF THIS FAMILY, EVERYONE IS WELCOME! WAHOO!

[if you see talk of spare organs, the Wibbles Incident, Fae kidnapping, Red Bull-induced madness, me thirsting over Crowley etc, don't worry about it, it's normal here. just be careful when gardening and/or fishing is mentioned, it's a trap.]

I LOVE YOU!

[luveline]

Hi don’t know if you’re taking requests (if not please ignore!) just wondering how Halloween would look like in the KBD universe or even a masquerade ball for prince Steve and reader?

thank you for requesting angel ♡ kbd mom!reader, 2k

"I think we should paint her orange," Avery says. 

Steve pushes the wand of his bubbles back into the container, coating it in solution. "What for, honey?" 

"For Halloween! We'll paint her orange and she can be a pumpkin." 

"Oh." 

Steve purses his lips, blowing bubbles over the green grass of the garden. It's alive despite it being late October, mildly crisp underfoot. He can hear leaves crunching under Bethie's boots where she runs around toward the back gate. 

Wren sees the bubbles and giggles wildly. Steve grins. "You like those, sweetheart?" 

"What if we make her green like a witch?" 

"Who, Ave?" 

"Wren." 

"Oh. Well, Wren can't use face paint yet, babe, she's too little," Steve explains, dipping the wand in solution again. "But they're very good ideas. Do you know what you want to be?" 

Avery throws her hands out. She's getting older than he ever imagined her, but she's still so small at the end of the day with delicate little hands and facial expressions cute enough to make a grown man cry. Steve would know, he's cried a ton of times just looking at her. 

"I already told you." 

Steve pretends to remember to spare her feelings as he blows more bubbles. He knows you'll know, and so it's a white lie. Better for everyone. "I remember! You're gonna be awesome." 

She smiles for the first time in ten whole minutes and sits down next to Steve. He offers her the bubbles and the wand, freeing his hands to give her a loving squeeze from either side. "Very good ideas," he repeats, patting her arm.

Bethie comes running with two cupped hands. Steve can picture her find before she shows him, and still he's horrified to see a slug in her palm. It's not big but neither is she, lavishing across the breadth of her hand. 

Ew, Steve thinks. "Wow, Beth! What did you find?" 

"There's snails, too!" she says excitedly, her eyes bright as her attention flickers between the slug and her dad. "They're sleeping, I think. They're stuck to the slide." 

"Beth, listen to me really quickly?" 

"Yeah, dad," she says, nodding. 

"I like that you're being gentle with the slugs, you're being nice, but as soon as you put him down, don't touch your face, okay? In fact, when you put him down, we're gonna go inside and wash our hands." 

Beth looks down at her slug in alarm. "What?" 

"He's not dangerous!" Steve reassures her. "But he might have germs. Germs don't hurt our skin, but they can't go in your mouth, okay? Good girl." 

"He can't hurt my skin?" 

"No, bub. Some bugs can, but not the plain black slugs. How about next time you want to pick one up, you come and get me and we'll pick it up together?" 

Steve doesn't want to kill her fearlessness in this sole area, not when she's usually timid around everything else, but he also doesn't want to kill her full stop. All these random bugs, Steve doesn't know what's what. 

"Okay. I picked this one up because he's got a yellow stripe," she says. Beth speaks in full words and makes sense the majority of the time, but her delivery is clumsy, heavy in places. Steve can still remember her first word. He's a firm believer in taking your time (please. please, let her take her time). 

"You're super brave," he praises.

"Mom says bugs are more 'fraid of us than we are of them." 

"She's right. Think if something this much bigger than you picked you up one day, you'd want them to put you down gently, right?" 

Determination fills her eyes. "Yes." 

She starts to run off but then slows, holding her hand aloft in front of her. 

Closer by, Avery blows bubbles near Wren's soft chair, the youngest baby giggling like a tinkling bell. You and Steve have emphasised to Avery that Wren isn't her responsibility. Look after her as you would your other sisters, but don't feel like being the biggest sister makes you in charge. Avery sort of listened, but now she's planning Halloween costumes in her head, Steve's worried she's putting too much on her little shoulders, as she tends to do. 

"Come here, my big girl," he demands, opening his arms. 

Avery grins and jumps into his lap. Steve groans playfully, happy to be trampled, and just glad she had the foresight to screw the cap on her bubbles before she pounced. 

"Hello. So, do I need to go to the store for this costume?" he asks. 

"Probably."

"Okay. Are you coming with me to choose?" 

"Mom said we're all going after lunch." 

Steve waves her arms back and forth. "I guess we better get ready, then." 

Easier said than done. Steve marches the girls back inside to find you've already dressed Dove and sat her in her chair with her lunch in front of her. Feeding young kids is tough because you're always trying to rotate things to keep their tastes big, but you've given in today to an easy solution; everybody's having pizza subs and halved grapes. So long as they're fed, who minds? 

"Give me the babies!" you say, jumping up from your seat to grab Wren, chair and all, "Hi. Something tells me it's time for a bottle." 

"I'll get them dressed–" 

"Go get yourself dressed. They can eat first." You kiss his cheek. "I put some stuff out for you already." 

"I can do it," he insists. 

"Take a break," you insist back, your tone gentle as velveteen.

His turn to kiss your cheek. "Do you know what Avery wants to be for her costume?" he asks in your ear. 

"She wants to be Belle, she told us weeks ago." He remembers as soon as you say it. "But I don't think finding a costume for her is going to be very easy this close to Halloween." 

Steve doesn't blame either of you for your busy October, but he hates himself watching Avery grow more and more disappointed with every store you drive to. There are no yellow princess dresses to be found, only store brand pinks. Bethie is ecstatic to choose one of those ones and Dove insists on a white fairy costume with sugar paper wings, but Avery's frown grows heartbreaking when it's clear there aren't any Belle dresses to buy. 

"I'm sorry," you're saying, Wren strapped to your chest, Beth and Dove knee to knee in the shopping cart in front of you. "It's my fault, baby, I left it last minute." 

"No, it's my fault," Steve says. 

Avery glares for a while, standing in front of all the dresses. Steve bends down to speak with her. "I'm sorry, Ave. Don't be mad at mom, okay? It's not her fault even when she says it is, she was busy working and I forgot about costumes because I had all that stuff with Wren and the doctors and my glasses and–" He winces. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. So be mad at me if you want, I was supposed to remember, but I'll make it up to you, promise."

"I told you ages ago," she says morosely. 

"I know. You did. I didn't think about them running out of costumes, Avery. Sometimes when you're a grown up you have so much stuff to think of you don't have room for all of it, but that's not fair, huh? Now you don't get the costume you wanted." 

She sighs, but the thing about Avery is that if you understand her point, she runs out of anger, just like her mom. She wants to make up, burying her face in Steve's thigh for a hug. 

"What am I going to be now?" she asks. 

"How about Belle's blue dress, babe?" you suggest. 

"They don't have any Belle costumes!" 

"I know, but we can make one. That's what me and dad did growing up, right?" you ask. 

"All my costumes were homemade," he seconds, "that was the fun part." 

So Avery marches you guys to the normal dresses and together you look for something nice and long enough for her tall stature. It's in the middle of this searching when she gasps, jumping up to grab Steve by the elbows. 

Delighted at being forgiven, he bends down at her whim. "What?" he asks excitedly. 

"Wren can be a bumblebee, like me!" 

"You remember that?" he asks. 

"No, but you have the photo in the car. Do you still have the costume?" 

It's Steve. Of course he kept the costume, he keeps everything, an attic stuffed to bursting with the offcuts of your lives. You giggle from the landing underneath him, the baby in one arm and a spooky drink made special by Dove in the other hand. "I wish you could drink more than milk." 

"Don't poison her!" Steve says, covered in cobwebs and knees white with dust as he climbs down the rickety ladder back onto solid ground. You wolf whistle as he reaches up to close everything safely, and cheer when you see the bee costume in his hand.

"You're the best. Think we should let Avery put it on her?" you ask. 

"Maybe. Think she can be gentle enough?"

Your little girl, so preoccupied with her sister's costume that she forgot about her own? Yes, Avery can be gentle enough. She sews Wren's small arms into the costume's sleeves like she's handling a girl made of glass, and she doesn't attempt to lift her, quick to say, "Dad, can you pick her up for me?" 

Steve lifts her and Wren does her scrunch, legs pulled up high and face a little startled. She's just old enough to giggle, prompting Bethie to join in as she races across the living room rug, the skirts of her dress fluttering against the floor. 

"She looks like a bee!" Dove says, following after, her fairy wings jittering with her movements. 

"She is!" Avery says, buttoning Wren's last button. 

Finally, after an exhausting afternoon (both of energy and your wallets), the four girls are dressed in their Halloween costumes. Avery as Belle in her original blue dress and white apron, not the costume she wanted but clearly her favourite character nonetheless. Bethie wears her pink princess dress and one of Avery's big plastic tiaras, her hair done as you would style your own for date night. Dove twirls in her white fairy dress, silver corset ribbons shiny in the light. Wren gurgles in his arms, her soft wings folded between her and Steve's chest. And you, uncostumed, stand beautiful and tired in the doorway, sparkly eyeshadow in a stripe up your cheek. 

The girls smile at him and their eyes glimmer. 

"Wow," he says, leaning back against the couch. "You guys look amazing." 

"It's about an hour until we're gonna leave," you say, "so please do mommy a favour and watch some TV, okay?" 

You set them up in a line with a bowl of chips each —you can vacuum them clean. Steve cleans as quickly as he can while you wipe your face and put aside some stuff for tonight in case the girls come home hungry, and eventually, eventually, you and Steve make your way to the kitchen table for a quiet minute together. 

"Wren's–" 

"In her bassinet," Steve says. "You're–" 

"Fine." You reach for his hand. "And you're–" 

"Perfect." He rubs the back of your fingers with his thumb. "I've missed you today. I know we were together, but…" 

You slouch into the table, resting your cheek on a placemat and closing your eyes. "Me too, sweetheart." 

He shuffles closer and leans in. "Tired, huh?" he asks gently, pressing similarly soft kisses to your cheek. "Love you," he says. "Don't fall asleep." 

"I'm not. Just resting my eyes." 

He doesn't rub your back, worried it'll send you to sleep. Instead, he kisses all over your face, sloe at first and faster when he realises it'll take a while to cover every inch. You smile and let him do as he pleases, laughing under your breath as he kisses your eyelid, squirming when he pecks under your nose. "Freak," you mumble. 

"That's what I'm being for Halloween."

"What am I gonna be?" you ask.

"Same as every year, I thought. Most beautiful girl this side of the Mississippi river." 

You like the sound of it, pulling your joined hands to your face to nuzzle his knuckles. 

"Or you can be Frankentstein," he suggests. "I'll be the monster." 

"We can just be the two tiredest parents ever." 

"That's not super creative, babe, we kinda do that every day." 

"So I'm not beautiful every day," you say quickly, having set him up. "Knew it." 

"You tricked me." 

"Did not. Make it up to me?" 

"What do you want?" he asks. 

"Just a hug, Stevie." You raise your head to smile at him sleepily. "A really nice hug, please." 

He saves the line about every hug being nice when it's with you and cuddles you, stroking your back for countless minutes, murmuring nothings to you until baby Wren shriek-cries from the living room. Steve soothes her upset, and you start the impossible task of getting everyone in their shoes for a night of trick-or-treating.

[dira333]

Sound of Silence - Aone x Reader

Someone, please hand me my Aone - tagging @lemurzsquad and @fuzztacular

There’s a wide berth of empty seats around the man. 

He’s tall, with white hair and the scariest scowl you’ve ever seen on someone’s face.

You walk a little closer, grab a handle not too far from him.

You don’t want him to think that you want to talk - hell no, not at seven in the morning - but you don’t want him to think you’re scared of him either.

He doesn’t seem to notice, so there goes your overthinking.

-

He walks down the same street as you and neither his white hair nor his height help him blend in with the masses.

Suddenly, he stops.

You don’t mean to catch up to him, but you do, stopping just a few steps behind him without meaning to.

You can hear a little kid crying and it’s hard to make out in the hustle of morning commute but you think it might have dropped its plushy into the thick shrubbery this coffee shop calls decoration. 

“Here,” you hear a deep voice say, can’t help but watch as the man pulls the plush out with ease - not at all caring about the branches scratching up his arm - and dusts it off gently, “Everything’s fine.”

He turns to hand the plush - an awkward mix of glitter and snail - back to the child. One look at his face and the crying gets even louder. Oh. Oh no.

“Now, now,” you step in, your voice sweet despite your annoyance. You hate crying kids. “No need to cry. This nice man just saved your little snail. What’s their name, huh?”

The kid, who from this angle looks clearly like a little girl, wipes their nose on their sleeve and blinks up at you. “Gary.”

“Gary, huh?” You cringe inwardly at the name. “How sweet. See, Gary is fine. Our dear friend here saved him.” You turn to take the snail plush from the man, his face close to yours from how he’s bent forward. 

His face might be intense, but his eyes are different from this close. His hands are warm, the skin rough against yours as he hands you the plush. Warmth pools in your stomach and you have to swallow thickly as you turn back around, hand over the plush, and sigh out in relief when the child’s caretaker finally realizes what’s going on. 

“Thank you,” the man says behind you, his voice so deep you feel it vibrating in your bones.

“Anytime.”

“My name…” You turn back, too aware of yourself and him, the space between you and the space around you and- “is Aone.”

“Hi,” you swallow again. He bows. His hair looks soft, like fluffy clouds on a summer day. 

When he comes back up you can see a clear question in his eyes and you find yourself telling him your name without meaning to.

“I need to get to work,” he points out and you straighten. 

“Right, yes, me too.”

To make it even more awkward you keep walking in the same direction for five more minutes only to realize that your office is right across from the construction company he walks into.

-

Every single morning when you step onto the train he’s standing in the middle of the train compartment, leaving the seats for others to take.

Every single morning you take the handle closest to his - without being too close - and try to stare out the window.

It’s nice, not talking. 

You’re not shy, per se, you’ve just always preferred silence.

If only you could keep your eyes on something else things would be perfectly fine.

But you can’t.

It starts with his hair, perfectly dishevelled and different every time you see him.

Today he’s got the faintest hint of a cowlick on his left side. Your hand has reached out before you’ve realized, tucking the rebelling strand behind his ear.

He smiles, just a minute twitch of his lips, but it leaves your knees a little wobbly.

His arms are nice too, thick with muscle, tensing ever so slightly when the train’s coming to a stop and you’re both rattled where you’re standing.

But you like his eyes the best, how expressive they can be even when scowling.

“You good?” You ask quietly when he twitches, looking off to the side for a second. 

He nods, but it doesn’t look convincing. 

“You sure?” 

“Headache,” he explains, stepping to the side when someone walks past. 

The guy, barely older than you, ill-fitting business suit and messy workfolder telling you more than enough, still manages to tumble into Aone.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going,” he asks, tone sharp. Aone’s face twitches again, and a part of your brain tells you that the lound voice probably isn’t helping his headache, but you’ve already started talking.

“Tell that yourself, you mole.”

“Hah?!” He turns to you, clearly surprised someone’s talking back at you.

“Yeah, I was talking to you, you asshat. We’ve been standing here, minding our business for half an hour. It’s not our problem you went out drinking last night and only realized this morning that your presentation isn’t ready yet.”

He pales, stutters something unintelligible and presses his work folder against his chest, almost tripping over his feet when the doors open and he’s pushed toward the exit.

“Sorry,” you turn back to Aone who’s looking at you with a question in his eyes. “I hate guys like this.”

“You can be very mean,” he points out, but he doesn’t sound scandalized. It’s more like a fact.

“Yeah,” you agree, not willing to apologize for it, “I know my face doesn’t fit my tone but that’s not my fault, is it?”

“No.” He smiles again but it’s gone in a heartbeat when a rather sharp stop rattles the two of you again. He’s clearly in pain.

“Do you want to sit?” You ask, pointing your chin at a single free seat at the window. “I know a trick. I’d have to touch the back of your neck though.”

Aone hesitates for a second before he nods. “Alright.”

You follow him to the seat, let him sit down before you step directly in front of him. It’s a little less crowded over here, the older gentleman on his left and the teenage girl on his right absorbed in their phones. 

“Can you hold me?” You ask, voice low. “I’ll use both hands to press into your pressure points so I can’t hold onto the handrails.”

His hands, warm and large and strong, take a hold of your hips and you swallow thickly.

“Lean your head forward. You can rest it against my belly, I don’t mind.”

It’s like that, his temple pressed into your belly, your fingertips digging into the warm, soft skin on his neck, wisps of his hair caressing your skin, that you realize a thing you should have noticed weeks ago: You want him.

You could have stayed like this forever, held up in place by his strong arms while giving back the only thing you can give at the moment. 

But your stop arrives sooner than you want it to and even though you take your time smoothing your hand over his head, a gesture too loving for the short time you know each other, you have to take a step back.

-

There’s something in his eyes that you cannot translate and not enough time to keep looking.

You have to get to work and he has to get to his.

Your stomach is filled with a fizzy warmth and you wonder if it’d be too forward to take his hand.

Aone stops you right where your ways part, one hand on your shoulder.

You can tell that he’s working on the words, mouth not yet moving the way he wants it.

“Aone,” you say, swallowing the nerves, leaving the words on your tongue. “Go out with me? Please?”

His lips twitch into a smile, the biggest you’ve seen on him so far. He nods and moves as if to bow only to press his temple against yours. 

It’s oddly endearing.

Oh…

-

“Visitor!” Someone yells when you open the door to the Gym. 

You’re wearing a pair of kitten heels that you love, the clasp the most annoying thing and you’re not willing to bend down and open them just to walk barefoot on the dirty gym floor, so you stay where you are, in the open door.

Takanobu’s at the other end of the wide space, listening to a guy. From here it’s hard to tell but the way he’s leaning in you’d say he’s agreeing with him.

“Are you looking for someone?” A guy you don’t know comes over. “We usually don’t have visitors as pretty as you.”

“I’d call that a skill issue,” you tell him plainly, “I’m just waiting for Takanobu. But I’m a little early, so all’s good.”

“Aone?” He blinks in rapid succession. “Why?”

You give him your best unimpressed stare. It doesn’t succeed. Damn your sweet features.

“Aone?” Someone asks from the other side of the Gym. You look over to see him jogging toward you.

You can’t help but start smiling, lips pulling upward despite the long day pulling on your limbs.

“Hey,” he doesn’t pull you in, knowing well how much you hate being hugged when he’s all sweaty. But he presses his temple against yours in the sweetest - and sweatiest - greeting. His nose taps against yours too and you can almost read the “Boop” in his eyes.

“I’m going to be ready in a minute,” he promises, “Do you wanna sit down?”

“I don’t want to take off my shoes,” you explain, “It’s no big deal.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but another voice cuts him off.

“Aone? Who’s that?”

Takanobu turns, mouth working with no words coming out yet again. You haven’t been dating for long and you wonder if this is the first time he gets to introduce you as his girlfriend. 

You give him a second to gather himself but when still no words come out, you realize he’s fighting a losing battle, overthinking instead of speaking.

“You must be new,” you address the guy instead, “I’m his girlfriend.”

“Girl-” his jaw is open, “Friend?”

“Yes, yes, I know you’re unfamiliar with that term, but they exist, don’t worry. Now, if you’d be so nice and get going? We were having a moment here.”

Takanobu touches your shoulder slightly, just a soft touch of his fingertips but you can already feel yourself relax under it, tension slipping off like a too big coat.

“Sorry,” you clear your throat, “I didn’t mean it like that. Long day.”

“Ah,” he chuckles nervously, “I get that. Umm, I’ll get going then. See you around, I guess?”

-

“Cat’s don’t like me,” you explain when Takanobu holds up the tabby he just lured down from the tree. “I’d rather not come closer. I don’t like getting scratched.”

The kitten doesn’t even look that mean, at least from this far away. 

She enjoys the strength of his arms just as much as you do, rubbing her small head against his chin in a way that’s making you jealous… of the cat.

Takanobu holds out his hand, luring you in just like he’d done with the cat minutes before.

You sigh, stepping a little closer. You don’t want to spook the kitten.

His hand takes yours as soon as you’re close enough, bringing it up - to press a kiss against your knuckles.

Heat floods your face, warmth spreading through your body. He smiles that tiny smile you’d almost miss if you didn’t look right and leads your fingertips to gently pat the kittens head. She purrs into the touch.

You’re still warm and tingly all over by the time the kitten finally decides it’s time to head home - you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t have dropped her on his own any time soon - and your hand is warm and safe in his hold as you walk on, enjoying the silence together.

“Do you have cats?” You ask when the restaurant - you picked tonight’s spot - is coming into view.

He shakes his head.

“Do you want cats?”

He nods.

“Dogs too?” His hand twitches around yours and you smile.

“I draw the line at three pets, okay? And we need at least one that likes me too - and I mean, without you meddling.”

Takanobu stops on the middle of the sidewalk, eyes full of a question you don’t need translating. 

He closes his eyes when you bring your other hand to his cheek, curls into the touch just like the kitten had. You love him. You love him. You love him.

The truth hammers around your head with the beat of your heart. 

All you need to do is tell him.

And you’re not even scared. 

But words have never been your language, you think, and get on your tiptoes to reach his lips.

And it’s no surprise, no great revelation. Kissing Takanobu is like loving Takanobu, like knowing him and touching him and longing for him. 

It’s warm and strong and safe… and quiet.

But you’ve always liked Silence more.

-

“You’re late,” a voice calls out when you step into the Izakaya, Takanobu’s hand on your shoulder as he walks in right behind you.

“No, you’re just early,” you point out, “Didn’t know you were so eager to meet me.”

“Not you, just Aone,” the guy sticks his tongue out at you and you turn slightly.

“Futakuchi?” You ask and Takanobu nods.

“No fighting,” someone with fluffy black hair calls out from the other side. “Moniwa,” Takanobu explains before you can ask. 

Moniwa seems to realize just a second later, almost throwing his glass off the counter.

“Hey! You made it.”

You immediately tense when he widens his arms as if to hug you. Takanobu steps in front of you, arms outstretched like a traffic policeman. You can’t help but laugh.

“It’s okay,” you tell your boyfriend, taking his hand, “Introduce us, huh?”

So he does, using as little words as possible.

“How did that happen?” Futakuchi leans into your space, just far enough away not to touch you. You appreciate it. “Did he scare you into dating him?”

Takanobu bristles slightly and you squeeze his hand.

“Actually it was the other way around.”

“She bites,” Takanobu jokes. You snort but it takes his old team about half a minute to realize that their friend just used humor for the first time.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Futakuchi drawls and you nod, sending him a sweet smile.

“Don’t worry, even the Titanic had some people on board. There’s still hope for you.”

His face falls when he realizes what you meant. 

-

It’s pretty late when you step back into the cool air again, the alcohol coursing through your system keeping you warm. 

Takanobu’s steps have gotten slower, the alcohol clearly even affecting him. The week must have started catching up with him too and you squeeze his hand a little tighter in yours, telling him without words that you know and you understand.

“Want to take an Uber?” You ask, “I think we could splurge a little today.”

He hesitates for a second before he nods. You pull your phone out, quick to navigate through the app.

“Five minutes,” you tell him, directing him to a small bench, “Let’s sit down until then.”

“What did you think?” Takanobu asks, leaning into you. “Of your friends? They’re nice. They don’t ask too many questions, I like that.”

“Futakuchi does.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay when he does it,” you think out loud, “He’s one of this annoying-charming people. He’d loose all his charm if he stopped being annoying.”

“I’ll tell him you said that,” He takes your hand, presses his lips against one knuckle after the other, “Or you can tell him yourself.”

“You know,” you say after a moment of Silence, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, fingertips following the curve of it down to his neck, caressing the slight stubble that’s forming on his chin. “When we get home I’ll tuck you in.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. I could spoon you too, you know. Be the big spoon this time.”

“The big spoon?” His eyes are closed now, a private little smile on his lips. 

“Well, how else am I going to be able to press hundred kisses onto these strong shoulders?” You ask, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a little shy. 

His eyes don’t open, his smile doesn’t move but his hand squeezes yours, one, two, three times.

He’s never needed much words to tell you what he wants to say.

I. Love. You.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[licorice-tea]

And There You Are, An Ocean Away

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader (and a little Nami x Vivi if you squint)

Content: friends to lovers, fluff, anxious/hopeful crush feelings, confessions, long distance relationships, reader is a Straw Hat Pirate, and Law is a little awkward <3

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: this is one of the first fics i’ve finished and i’m not the best at grammar rules so there are probably a few mistakes! also i might have made Law a little ooc lol, but besides that im just trying to write more to improve! thanks for reading :)

Edited 1/17/23

be-beep. be-bee-

“Hello?” Law cuts off the ringing of his transponder snail. He can’t help but smile to himself upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line.

“Law? Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He leans back in his desk chair, twisting the cord of the transponder snail around finger “E” while holding the phone in the other hand.

“Sooo,” you drawl, “have you guys started opening presents yet?”

Law can practically hear you smiling, which makes him exhale in amusement before responding. “Yeah, the crew exchanged gifts and opened them earlier this morning. How about you?”

“Mhm, we were up as soon as the sun rose- Chopper and Luffy woke up the whole crew.” You pause, and he can imagine you biting back a laugh while shaking your head as you often do. “Anyway… Did you get everything you wanted?” You sound expectant, almost knowing.

In his usual deadpan tone, he answers simply. “Bepo got me a new coffee blend.”

“That’s nice of him… he’s always so considerate.”Based on your tone it’s not quite the answer you were looking for, but you provide commentary anyway.

“Ohh yeah,” He continues on the other end of the line, feigning the recollection of something important, “and there was this massive box on deck…”

“Oh good!” You exclaim as Law chuckles. “You scared me, I thought you hadn’t gotten it. Did everyone like their gifts?”

You’re referring, of course, to the comically large box that the Straw Hats had shipped to the Heart Pirates. It was packed to the brim with gifts for every crew member. After all, what was the point of having tons of berries from “stolen” treasure if not to use it on your friends? Or at least, that’s the reasoning you used to convince Nami to rearrange some funds for gifts to the Heart Pirates and other allies of the Straw Hats. Though, maybe it was just because you had mentioned sending a gift to Vivi back in Alabasta as well…

“They all really liked it, a lot. Was it your idea?”

“No,” you explain with a playful cadence, “it was a group effort.”

“Sure thing, but the bows and wrapping paper has you written all over it. And the handwritten card…”

“I have the best handwriting on our ship! Besides, we all signed it so, its from all of us.”

The only part that 100% was not from all of the Straw Hat Crew, was a box with Law’s name on it at the bottom of the much larger box. Inside the present addressed to the “Captain of the <3 Pirates” was a neat little coin display with places for 25 coins, as well as a card tucked in beside the display.

“Well, it was nice of all of you then.” He concedes with a snark in his voice. “And, uh… I like what you got for me, y/n.” Law’s voice comes out a little quieter, and maybe even a little deeper towards the end. He sounds hopeful, not 100% sure if it was you that had chosen his gift, yet knowing that only you could have selected something so sentimental and- ugh, perfect. His tone makes your stomach do flips.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad.” Your voice, now a bit softer, replies. “I was worried you might have already had-“

“I-I didn’t. I’ve just been storing my collection in boxes...” He trails off, now tracing the edges of the coin display you’d gotten him. It was nothing exceedingly special or expensive, but it meant a lot knowing you had thought of him- just him- and went out of your way to send him a gift. The thought that you cared about him as much as he did you had his heart beating faster already.

You only knew Law was a coin collector because he chose to tell you. Thats how it usually was with him- he only shared the parts of himself he wanted to share. (Though you did also have a knack for “catching his vibe” as you liked to say.) Anyhow, you also knew his office was painfully tidy and there was little to no decoration, despite having ample bookshelf space. And so, a display for his not-so-secret hobby seemed like a perfect gift!

But, that wasn’t the only thing you’d added to his present. There was also a card, in which you’d written something along the lines of “I’m so glad I met you…. You deserve so many great things, but hopefully this coin display will suffice for now… I have feelings for you…. Merry Christmas! xxx, y/n” You had sort of just slipped in the confession between other clauses.

“And did you read the card…?” Your face suddenly feels a little warmer. Not that there was anything scandalous in the card, just some very honest words about your feelings for Law. Words you hadn’t ever been bold enough to say out loud and in person, and still hadn’t been brave enough to write without lots of other thoughts and well wishes surrounding them.

“Card?…” You hear some shuffling on his end, “I’ll read it now.”

“Mkay.” Your short response is a telltale sign of your own nerves, which makes him curious to find out what you could’ve written.

There’s a prolonged silence as he reads, and Law’s heart skips a beat as he nears the end. His eyes go back over and over 5 specific words: “…I have feelings for you.” He feels nearly giddy with excitement, but it comes out as pure anxious energy. He never thought this would actually happen; a scenario where you reciprocated his affections had only ever happened in his imagination up until now. Usually in these scenarios, he’d have worked up the courage and audacity to tell you how he felt in person, and not only would you accept his confession; you’d also return his feelings. But now that it was actually happening? He found himself at a loss for words, heart beating in his ears and probably blushing like some lovesick idiot.

Law wants to say something perfect for you, something charming and witty, but all he can think of in the moment is, “… I read it.”

His throat feels dry, like he doesn’t know what else to say. Law likes you too of course- how could he not? Ever since you’d met back in Saobody Archipelago, though the interaction had been brief, he’d thought you were beautiful, strong, and somehow a little different from the other Straw Hat Pirates. Then he’d gotten to know you; really know you, beyond your fighting capabilities and the information on your bounty poster. You were kind, witty, selfless, hardworking, and so much more. And alas, absence only makes the heart grow fonder.

Sure, you’d started off as allies, but that quickly became friendship, and a close friendship at that. He liked you because of your acceptance for nearly anyone, so long as they seemed a good person. Even more so, your ability to understand his emotions despite his usually reserved nature (he secretly thinks it’s some sort of sign, but in reality you’re just emotionally intelligent.) And you like Law because of his obvious (though he tries to hide it) love and passion for so many things: his crew, his work, etc. This, along with his witty, albeit odd sense of humor, made you enjoy his company quite a lot. The two of you took most every chance you had to be in each others company, since they were few and far between. Sometimes you’d chat, with you doing most of the talking and Law being content to listen and only add comments where he thought them necessary. Other times you’d follow each other into battle to provide support for the other, though neither of you had ever really needed help in those situations.

You swallow the lump in your own throat and continue, “You don’t have to have an answer or anything right now, I just want you to know how I feel.” Law doesn’t say anything, and so you continue while trying not to sound disappointed. “Merry Christmas, Law.”

“…”

“Law?”

“I like you too.” his words come out sort in a rush, like he had been holding his breath.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Well, uh, I have to go now, but… Can I call you tonight?” He asks hesitantly, even though you’ve already confessed that you feel the same way he does.

“Yes, that’s fine! I… I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way for a second.” You laugh, light and airy.

He scoffs, but you know it’s not meant to sound mean when it comes from him. If anything, it’s endearing. “Of course I do.”

You giggle again, “Bye, Law.”

“Bye, y/n.”

As soon as you hang up, his nervous frown turns into a small smile, and it grows and spreads across his face until he’s grinning like a fool and hiding his face under the brim of his hat.

[fanaticsnail]

Pretty Red Ribbon

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,700+

Synopsis: After your birthday was ruined last year at the hands of a certain pink-feather-donning, glasses-wearing gentleman who you love to hate, your fellow warlord, Sir Crocodile, gives you a little gift you did not expect to darken your doorstep.

Themes: Doflamingo x f!reader, birthday, enemies to lovers, nsfw themes, suggestive content, not explicit - but mdni just in case, warlord!reader, platonic crocodile x reader, dom!reader x sub!doflamingo, gendered terms used

Notes: I had been wanting to write for Doflamingo for a while, and the art by @wesaier gave me the final shove that I needed to get it done. (Their Rosinante also has me in a chokehold. I adore their work. Also, happy birthday!) First time writing a proper fic-length for Doffy before his series.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @vespidphoenix @mfreedomstuff

The soft growl of the den-den-mushi atop your kitchen bench began rattling and humming in an awakened dance. The steam from the scorching water in the kettle whistled in unison to the rumbling call, the rattle of teacups on trays causing your attention to pull in a variety of directions in your large kitchen.

“I’ll get it, Miss,” your employee called from the corner of the room, his body carrying his vast height towards the den-den in three lengthy strides. He picked up the transponder end of the snail, elevating the mouth and earpiece to his face. Thanking him with a smile, you returned to continue readying yourself a cup of your desired tea. 

“You really shouldn’t be making this for yourself, Miss,” your lady’s maid addressed you over your shoulder, “You employ us to take care of you and your needs. You should let us do our jobs and spoil you, especially on a day like today-.”

“-And that will be the last I hear about anything regarding ‘today’, Dinah,” you scolded her with a playful wink, “It’s just another day, and I would like to have it remain as such,” you moved the loose-leaf strainer in your teapot, collecting the remnants of the scorched leaves and discarded them, “Besides, I always love being in the kitchen with you all after another stupid meeting at the world-government headquarters. They always seem to gather any excuse to call us all in: exercising their rights as masters and holders of the tight leash. Absolute bastards, the lot of them.”

“And we adore you down here, Miss,” Dinah lulled her head on your shoulder and laced her hands around your midsection, “We love the gossip about the other warlords, and we always enjoy hearing about your day. You take such good care of all of us, but I think we all just wish you’d let us celebrate your birthday-.”

“-Absolutely not, Dinah,” you giggled at the younger woman embracing you, unlacing her hands from your waist and collecting your teacup and saucer from the tray you had prepared, “Last time I attempted to celebrate this day, I was held up for a multitude of times because that stupid Donquixote continued to ask stupid questions that had the meeting at the marine base go overtime. Missed reservations, didn’t make it to check in time at the homestead - and didn’t even get to enjoy that bottle of wine I ordered for myself. I swore that would be the last time I attempted to celebrate, and that’s that.”

“Just because your last birthday was ruined last year doesn’t mean you should swear them all off, Miss,” your handmaid smiled at you, “We’d adore making you feel special if you’d let us. Today is free of Donquixote Doflamingo, after all.” You growled at just the mention of his name, feeling your disdain elevating in your throat as a sour bile. 

“I despise that tall pelican man. I loathe him, hate him even,” you confessed, prompting Dinah to huff a small laugh in response. You groaned out more frustrated admissions to your lady’s maid, “I would have him drawn and quartered, hung and splayed, whipped and chained. I could wring his neck and spit in his face if I knew the sick bastard wouldn’t like it.” 

“I’m sure he would appreciate any scrap of your attention,” Dinah teased you with a sly tone, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “He seems to vie for your head to turn, by any means necessary.”

“He vexes me, torments me,” you continued, much to your handmaid's delight, “He needs to be knocked down a couple of pegs. Be made to crawl on all fours and beg like a dog-.”

“-Apologies for the interruption, Miss. I’m sorry to disturb your polite conversation,” the larger man holding the den-den-mushi to his ear held out the earpiece and transceiver to you, “Sir Crocodile is on the other end of the call. Says he has something for you.” You groaned out an exasperated breath before taking the shell into your hand.

“Thank you, Arturo. I’m sorry you had to hear that. I got a little fiery for a moment there,” you nodded to the man, who straightened his back before taking your saucer from your hands. He smiled down at you, moving to his place next to Dinah, anchoring his hips and leaning back against the sink with a smirk.

“What’s the call about?” Dinah whispered in a hushed rush to Arturo beside her.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Arturo hushed back his own scratchy whisper, attempting to hold back his laughter. You shot them both a sharp look, your smirk still drawn up on your pursed lips. 

You raised the end to your ear and huffed out a sigh, calling into the piece, “Sir Crocodile? To what do I owe the pleasure of your voice gracing me today?” A rumble of silence purred through the receiver against your ear, a lengthy puff of smoke coursing through the grimace of the crocodilian man.

“I heard it was somebody’s birthday,” the rattle of his drawl taunted you through the crackled speaker. You shot your employees a dark look, prompting them to immediately spin on their heels and return to their duties. You groaned as you turned to face away from them, still holding the shell to your ear. 

“Not a cause for celebration, Sir,” you purse your lips, examining your fingernails and cuticles, “But I appreciate your call regardless.” Your tone depicted your smile, truth spilling from your lips as you truly meant every word. 

Sir Crocodile was your closest and oldest ally of all the warlords presented to you. You enjoyed sitting by him, both basking in the aura of one another. You held each other in the highest regard, you could even call each other ‘friend’ without it stretching too far out of the ordinary. What solidified your bond the most with one another was your complete and utter dislike for Donquixote Doflamingo. 

“The appreciation is reciprocated, Highness,” Crocodile’s smirk purred through the receiver, “Which is why I decided to send you a little gift. Should be darkening your doorstep right about now.” 

“Sir Crocodile, while I appreciate the sentiment,” you acknowledge his gesture with a kind and even tone, shaking your head as you take your den-den to the front door of your manor, “The only thing I really want is that feather-wearing asshole: stripped down, bound and gagged, on his lanky knees and looking up with his eyes all watery and pleading,” you reached the door, opening it and shrieking in shock as your eyes met with the gift presented before you.

His body was bound in a thick length of red ribbon, chest bare and hands bound behind his back in seastone cuffs. Pointed glasses lay askew on his face with his lips gagged by a ball strapped to his face. Drool gathered at the base of his chin, his glassy eyes looking up at your face with bewilderment. His bare chest was strangled beneath the red ribbon, his pants hanging limply over his hips as the top button and zipper exposed his slender adonis belt. 

Lips falling slack, you almost dropped the shell from your ear as shock wrote itself over your features. Donquixote Doflamingo was bound, gagged and on his knees on your front doorstep: entirely at your mercy. 

“I thought topping it with a pretty red bow would be too on the nose,” Sir Crocodile called over the mushi, “But he is apprehensively allowing himself to be on the receiving end of your retribution, given his disruption of your last birthday celebration.”

No words gathered in your mind, all thoughts racing as the wealthy Donquixote continued to hold his gaze against your own. His lips trembled around the gag, his brow triangulating in an upward peak as he darted his eyes between yours to gauge your intent. 

He had no idea what possessed him to accept this little adventure, and he did not remember agreeing to be cuffed, gagged and without his entourage. As he witnessed the wicked streak spark within your eyes, he truly had no idea what you were going to do with him like this. Without a whisper of admission to it, he truly did everything in his power to gain your attention and hold it for as long as he could. He’d go through great lengths to be subject to your steely gaze.

Ruining your birthday last year was when he felt he truly went too far. You kept your private life quiet for the most part, only a select few were privy to the knowledge of your innermost thoughts. When he was made aware by Sir Crocodile how far he managed to spoil the occasion, he was given a choice by the cigar-smoking gentleman: “Your left hand, or to be subject to her mercy?” 

He thought he made the appropriate choice. 

Evidently, he did not know the extent Sir Crocodile was going to take his punishment. 

“Do you like your gift, Highness?” the voice cracked through the receiver after several moments pause, “Or would you like to return it? Got one in a similar shade and style?” You giggled into the mouthpiece, prompting Sir Crocodile to chuckle his own sinister laughter. 

“I think I’ll keep it,” you purred, holding your eyes half-hooded as you reached your index finger down to swipe the collected drool from his chin. Doflamingo whimpered as you hooked your finger beneath his jaw, prompting him to fall forward and lean into your touch, “How long do I have it for?” you hovered your face above his, uttering a final question, “And in what condition should I intend to keep it in?”

“Your prerogative, Highness,” Sir Crocodile confessed, drawing up a large breath of smoke in his mouth and exhaling, “Use him, abuse him, torment him, torture him: he is yours to play with for the next fourty-eight hours. Happy birthday, Dear.” At the final utterance, Sir Crocodile clicked the end of the receiver off: leaving your snail to crackle its muffled voice shut. 

You hummed in deep thought, gazing down your nose at the tall man who, even on his knees, is nearly at eye height. Moving his face in your hands, you clicked your tongue as one would when examining an object intended for purchase. He whimpered further when your hands began exploring his torso as you circled his body. Your fingertips felt like lightning on his skin, igniting his expectations and triggering his wanton intrigue. 

“If I remove the gag and seastone cuffs,” you whisper into his ear, trailing your fingertips down his spine, “Will you behave yourself, pelican?” He nodded frantically, lulling his head back on his shoulders to bring himself closer to you. You hummed in thought, hooking your fingers over the material tugging the gag over his lips. 

“Feel better?” you asked him, maneuvering around his body to face him once again, “Less restricted and more of your repulsive self?” 

Taking a moment to roll his tongue in his mouth to regain the sensation, he felt himself relax into your touch as you loosened the cuffs. He moaned as your hands caressed his wrists to reignite the blood flow swelling down into his fingertips. 

“Always so kind,” Doflamingo commented with his signature smirk rising to his lips, “Do you ever grow tired of being so good all the time?” His eyes searched yours, still unsure of how you were going to respond to him on his knees. 

“Would you prefer if I were cruel to you?” you arched your brow up and lowered your tone, “Abused you for my own sick entertainment?”

“You could choke me, flog me, spit in my face - better yet, in my mouth,” Doflamingo listed, his pupils blown with lust beneath his pink glasses, “You could step on me, rake me over nails and hot coals, and all I would say is: ‘thank you for a scrap of your attention’. It is your day, after all.”

“Obsessive and excessive, Donquixote,” you scolded him, tugging at the red ribbon constricting his chest to have him rise to his feet and follow you into your manor, “Why must you always provoke me?” 

“Because I want you,” he whispered after you, a small whine in his voice as he followed closely behind you. His heavy feet trotted like a prized pony after you, allowing you to lead his body throughout the halls to your manor, “I want you so badly. I want all of your attention, all of your focus. I want to be at the very center of your universe, by any means necessary.”

Making eye contact with Arturo and Dinah, both of which shot you quizzical looks as Doflamingo pranced behind you attached to a line of red ribbon. You shot them both a look to forbid them from uttering a single phrase in questioning you, prompting them to hold up their hands in defense. 

“Should I bring you your tea, Miss?” Arturo called after you as you exited the frame of the door to the kitchen, “Perhaps a couple of glasses of wine?” 

“Perhaps later, Arturo. I’ll send for you if I need you,” you mentioned over your shoulder. 

As you looked behind you, there was a foreign expression painted over Donquixote Doflamingo’s face. His cheeks were tinted with a pink dust, his eyes glassy and eyelids half-closed and gazing at you through thick, blonde eyelashes. His signature smirk was replaced by a dumbstruck, goofy smile and his giddiness adamant in each of his pepped steps. 

Scoffing and rolling your eyes at him, you lead him into the master suite of your manor and force him to kneel in the center of the room. You took a seat on your plush armchair and gaze at him disinterestedly. He was all but vibrating in anticipation for your next movement. 

“Anything to say for yourself, Donquixote?” you purse your lips crossing your legs by hooking your right knee over your left and rocking your foot at him. He crawled forward on his knees, hypnotized beneath your cold stare. Eyes meeting with yours, his lips fell agape in a perfect circle as your foot met with his chest to halt his movement. 

Looking down at your heeled shoe, he bowed low enough to brush his forehead in a deep nuzzle against your shin, rocking his head to the side and attempting to become the very picture of innocence. You leant forwards, removing his glasses from his face and glaring into his expressive eyes with a wicked glint. 

“Go on, pet,” you spat down at him, “Unless you have nothing intelligible to offer me in conversation.” He pressed his lips against your shin, grazing his mouth up your legs and inadvertently slotting himself between your knees. 

“Happy Birthday,” he uttered against your skin, pressing a lengthy kiss against your right knee and integrating his entangled self between your legs further, “And I apologize for ruining the one prior.” Peppering kisses over your knee and up your thigh, his tongue flicked out over your flesh and swirled against you. 

Patience wearing thin, you redraw your right foot back over his chest and nudge him backwards to look into his eyes. Your lips curled into a snarl, eyes narrow and accusatory as you gnash your teeth at the tall blonde on his knees in front of you. 

“If you want my forgiveness, Donquixote Doflamingo,” you whisper in a warning tone, danger written over your features enough to cause the large man to shudder beneath your wicked stare, “Beg for it.”

Forty-Eight hours was more than enough time for Doflamingo to become a begging, pleading, whimpering mess beneath your skilled and expert hands. His mind fell blank, his body not experiencing the amount of sensory overload and sensory deprivation with a partner in encounters prior.

He was always the one in control, him only ever taking and taking to provide himself the pinnacle of pleasurable experiences. To be the one out of control, to simply have to take what he was given with his mind vacant of all thoughts aside from being subject to your desires.

The only things he continued to manage to befall from his lips were three phrases: “I’m sorry,” “thank you,” and “forgive me.” Just how you wanted him: complacent, dumbstruck, and all wrapped up in a pretty red ribbon.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tim Through the Years - The First Date

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Tim go on your very first date. 0.3k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the love on this series so far! My friend and I are looking forward to hearing more of your thoughts and ideas!

Sitting in front of Tim at a really fancy restaurant was stressful, to say the least. Everything on the menu was hard to pronounce and you didn't know what any of it meant. Luckily, Google was your friend that night.

“See anything on the menu you like?” Tim asked from behind his own menu.

“Um, everything looks so good. It's hard to choose,” you said while grimacing about the fact there are five items that include snails.

“To be honest, this isn’t really my thing. But I know a fantastic Chinese restaurant down the street. Their noodles are amazing,” you said while placing down your menu.

“That sounds amazing. I wanted to impress you, so I tried taking you somewhere really nice,” Tim said while standing and offering his hand. 

“So tell me about yourself,” Tim said while drinking some water.

“Well, as you know I’m a teacher. Graduated with my twin brother from Stanford. I was born and raised in Kansas with a heavy male influence,” you stated with a smile.

“What does your brother do?” Tim asked.

“Well, my older brother moved to Stanford with me and my twin so we can all stay together. He opened a mechanic shop. My twin is a lawyer, he has his own firm. We all are really close, so we get together at least once a week,” you said while smiling; you love getting to talk about your brothers.

“Wow, I wish I was closer to my sister. She is actually moving closer to me, so I will get to spend more time with her and my nephews,” Tim said when the food arrived.

The night went on with telling stories and getting to know each other better. It was going so well that the both of you decided to go get ice cream because you weren’t ready for it to end. But after walking along the pier and getting your frozen treat, the later it was getting. The time for the end of the date had come.

“I had fun tonight,” you told Tim at your front door.

“Me too. Can I take you out to lunch tomorrow? I want to see you again really soon,” Tim said with a cheesy smile.

“I would love that.” You kissed Tim on the cheek. “Goodnight, Tim.”

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

■●○Shojou Pain○●■

“I want to have a connection with someone. I want to be needed by someone. I want the confidence to feel like it’s okay to live.”

[0][1-Here!]

─── ⋆⋅✮⋅⋆ ──

"Ask the second years!" Yuji chides, the two of you huddled up on the floor. A note book sitting on your lap as dozens of manga lay across the your desk. "No way!" You create a an 'x' symbol with your hands.

"What if they think I'm not good enough for him!" You cry out, tugging at your hair. Your phone digs as a notfication from Junpei pops up.

"Ha..? They wouldn't." The pink-nette deadpans.

"Think about it..!"

The heroine was cornerd in a desserted hall as the rival scowls. "Why do you keep bothering him! Weirdo!"

"There's gotta be someone we know who has info on him.." Itadori ponders aloud. "Someone with experience.."

Grabbing your phone, you see the small text. Even he was trying to help you out, even if he was doing special training with Nanami. You read outloud the text he sent.

"Junpei said: "Someone one that knows him well enough." "

Yuji hums in agreement. "Someone we know too.."

The two of you stew in thought as Nobara and Megumi return back to the classroom. Lunches in hand, converseing quietly.

"Wait."

Fushiguro pauses, a strange look on his face. The brunette blinks, turning her attention ahead of them.

"Geh-!? Creepy..." Kugisaki mumbles.

There teacher, who had been hiding by the doorway, watches excitedly. Teetering back and forth on his long legs. Readying to jump into the classroom, like a dog having there name called!

"I got it!" You cheer, jumping out of your seat. Slamming your hands against the desk, your gaze faraway.

"Who?"

"Todo!"

Aftee those words were utter, you could hear a small distraught yell from outside.

─── ⋆⋅✮⋅⋆ ──

"Okkotsus type eh..." Todo mumbled, his muscular frame leaning back against the chair. "Hmmm.. Well, when I first heard of him. I thought of some total badass."

"He is-!" You tried to defend, but stop yourself, never actually seeing him in action. But hearing how Fushiguro respected him, along with being a Speical grade, hell, even close with your seniors!

He... Was a power house.

But. What did you actually KNOW about HIM?

Shaking away your thoughts, you wait expectantly for an answer.

"Ha! When I saw him though, he looked like a scared lamb!" Todo laughed. "But, I could feel his cursed energy as soon as he stepped in the arena."

Sipping at your drink, you watch your friend smirk as he recalls the memories. You nodded along, especially the smallest details.

"But type of woman... He never really told me." He shrugged as you choke on your straw, coughing into your fist.

"Though, your strength to puruse him is admirable!" Todo pat your shoulder ruffly, laughing again. "I'm quite good at reading people, so I'm sure I know his type!"

You sweated, maybe asking the second-years should of been your first choice.

"A strong, resilient woman, with a big rack." Todo nodded thoughtfully.

"...." You smack your head against the table as Todo smiles smugly at his answer. "...Thanks, Todo..." You grit out, before popping your head back up in realization. "Oh! Right, I almost forgot, here!"

Taking the papers out from your bag, you slide them over to him. Whispering, "for your trouble's." You said seriously.

"Huh? What's this.." He picks them up, then immediately becomes quiet.

Holding out your hand, he takes it quickly. Gripping it firmly as the two of you share a look of aknowlegement.

"Good luck! (Y/N)!"

"Thank you!"

─── ⋆⋅✮⋅⋆ ──

Eyes ahead on the lap course, you huff as you do. Not as good as your pink haired friend, but doing your best!

Hearing laughter near the bleachers, you slow your pace to get a peek.

Maki laughed manically as she swiped at Yuta with her spear as he expertly dodged. Swinging back at her with his blade.

You gaze in awe, almost stopping completely until your nudge by Kugisaki. "Hey, you' alright? You seem space-casey." Your pace became snail-like as the two of you walked and talked.

"I'm fine, just thinking!" You laugh it off, glancing away.

"Hmmm..." Nobara sighed. "I heard from Itadori that you went out on a date."

"HUH!? -A-h.. No!" You explain your situation to jer quickly, fumbling a bit on a few words. But making sure your point came across.

"Good! Cause' I thought either one of us went on a date we'd tell each other, that idiot was lying, I knew it!"

You bashfully defended Yuji, "He just meant "going out" not.. "OUT." " Nobara scowls. "Your worse than he was when I asked."

Huffing, she leaves your side, but pauses. Glancing back at you. "Though, I'll be sure to help you dress probably for a real date." She sassed, before leaving the track to grab her watterbottle.

You follow after before driffing over to Panda's side discreetly as you could.

Noticing you, the cursed corpse welcomes your presence. "Hey (Y/N)! You wanted to see the action?" Panda jokes as Inumaki agreed. "Salmon."

Face warm, you take a seat with them. "Ah, well... I wanted to ask something."

"Go on.."

"Is.. Is.. Okkotsu, seeing anyone?" You smile anxiously, gazing at your senior classmate hopefully.

"Kelp."

"Oh-ho~!" Panda pats your back encouragingly. "I see! You should of said something sooner! Toge is right though, he's single."

You beam, letting out a relived breath. "Ha... I was super curious, but I got worried, then I asked Todo. And he said Yuta's into big bo-"

"He perfers normal." Panda interupted your rant.

You pause, shutting up. Waiting for him to continue eagerly.

Before Panda could continue, Maki yells at you. "Oi! (Y/N), don't slack off." She calls at you, while you squeak when seeing even Yutas attention directed at you.

Slumping in your seat, you smile reassureingly at your two seniors. "Right.. Sorry."

You hop down from the bleachers, not daring to catch a glance at the male who held your heart. Gazing ahead, you walk past Yuta as your eyes light up when seeing Yuji call you over to the field.

"Hey! (Y/N)! Junpei said he's free this weekend to see Earth Worm Four!"

You scream back with delight as you ran to him. "No way! You think we could convice Nobara and Megumi to come with-!"

The Heroine misses the glances she got, oblivious as a typical shoujo maiden.

Maki sighs at your shouting, ignoring it as she glances at her friend. "Yuta, we can take a break now. You don't seem very focused." She mocks, reading his slightly stiff movements easily.

"Sorry Maki."

"YUUUUTAAA~!" A cheery voice sings, walking into grassy area.

"Oh, Gojo-Sensei?"

"The one and only! But, I got a mission for you."

─── ⋆⋅✮⋅⋆ ──

[Taglist: @mint129106 @iamboredowo @yveening @okkvtsu @bankaixx @imphuong]

[Fan art, reblogs, comments are always apperciated! I hope you all like the update! Are poor guy needs some love!]

[leonw4nter]

Boy So Pretty, You’re All I See

Boyfriend!RE2R!Leon x F!Reader

“It feels so good to be back home for the break,” you softly sigh as you drive your rental car to your parents’ house. There’s about 5 minutes left for the drive, the both of you tired from various flights but still excited to see your parents again.

“Yeah. I was starting to miss Mr. and Mrs. L/N,” Leon sheepishly admits. “Mrs. L/N’s chicken curry tastes heavenly.”

His words tug a little giggle out of you; if anything, your parents might be missing Leon more than they do with you– they’ve basically taken him in as their own son. Your parents spoil him each time they get to see him: packing him food that he loves whenever it’s time for you two to go back home, giving him stress-relieving teas, making sure he always takes his vitamins and whatnot. You’re thankful that you’ve got parents who treat Leon so warmly, especially since he’s been an orphan for most of his life and have probably only felt this kind of parental love now.

“My parents will be hugging you first before they rush over to me. They’ll probably make sure you sit down before I do but I know you love the attention.” You tease, which tugs the corners of Leon’s boyish, pink lips skyward.

“Maybe.”

After the final turn to a street, you finally spot your parents’ house. Leon sits up, adjusting his round glasses and pushing it up at his nose bridge; his eyes shimmer with anticipation, probably charging up with a cuddly bear hug for both your parents as soon as he’s done helping you lug your bags inside.

You pull up into the driveway and do the backing, parking the car neatly before pulling the key off of the ignition and opening the door to get out. Before you could even pull the handle, Leon zips up from his seat and briskly runs over to your side, almost tripping over himself in the process just to be the one to open your door. He finally gets to your side, slightly out of breath. Along with the chillier weather, his cheeks and the tips of his ears are flushed pink and his glasses have slid down his nose again, the lenses foggy.

“Whatever happened to ‘ladies first’?” You ask with a playful smirk, stepping out of the driver’s seat.

“I can always close your door and walk back inside so you can get out first–,” he playfully proposed as he started to close the door at a snail-like pace.

“On second thought.” You interrupt as you push the door open and finally step outside, flashing Leon a toothy grin.

You two walk to the back of the car, lifting the trunk to take out the luggages and bags you two had brought along. Of course, Leon opted to take the heavier ones so you’d get the lighter ones instead (ever the gentleman that he is).

“Normally, I’d say ‘take a picture, it’ll last longer’ but you’ve already got so much pictures of my arms on your phone and I worry for your storage,” he quips as he notices your shameless ogling at his arms and hands. Despite his attention being turned to taking suitcases out, he still managed to catch a glimpse of you from the corner of his eyes.

“Shut up!” You protested. “I do not have a photo album of your arms, you’re just vain.” You do, in fact, have a photo album full of pictures of his arms. It’s not your fault when they look absolutely munchable especially now that the sleeves of his navy blue bomber jacket are rolled to his elbows, showcasing the pale blue of veins beneath his skin.

Shortly after, all the suitcases were out and the trunk is now empty. With a click to the doorbell, you two wait on the front steps with thrilled smiles. Before you know it, your dad opens up the door and in the blink of an eye his face lights up. He hugs you tight, patting your back as he goes on about how long he’s missed you and your boyfriend.

“Honey, what’s all that fuss about? Close the door!” You hear your mom call out from somewhere in the house.

“Hi, Mrs. L/N!” Leon happily booms. Even if you two don’t even see her yet, he’s already got his arms above his head and are waving them. Your mom dashes for the door at a comical speed, her own face lighting up like your dad’s when she sees Leon.

“Leon!” she gushes as she jogs over to Leon and gives him a warm welcome hug. “How’ve you been?”

“Never felt better, ma’am.”

“That’s good to hear, you’re looking better than when I last saw you! How’s law school?”

He shyly laughs, placing his hands on the pockets of his acid-washed jeans. “Aw, psh. You don’t look so bad yourself, ma’am. You’re radiant! Law school’s alright, it gets a little complicated at times but that’s nothing I can’t deal with, right?”

Your mom blushes at the compliment, unadulterated glee radiating off of her and rubbing off on everyone else. You and your dad finally finish catching up on life for the past few months, your mom ushering everyone inside for some snacks.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“That sounds amazing, honey! I’m very proud of you.” Your mom happily remarks, setting down a bowl of hard pretzels. You just finished going over all the events in your life, not missing a single detail. You proudly shared to her about how your grades have risen, along with being the semester's Dean's lister.

“Feel free to have some, kids. I’m sure the plane food wasn’t too fulfilling.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” Leon says as he reaches to take a pretzel. You decide not to have any since you felt quite full but knowing your boyfriend’s black hole stomach, he doesn’t have it in him to resist a treat or two. He takes a bite and shuts his eyes, humming in delight as he chews the snack.

“God, these taste amazing!” Leon marveled. “What brand is this? The saltiness, the crunch– it’s all perfect!”

Your mom giggles, sitting even closer to your dad as a pleased smile graces her features, the smile lines in her eyes deepening.

“I made these, actually. I’m glad you can’t get enough of them!” she responds.

Leon’s mouth nearly drops open, the tips of his ears turning warm with an accompanying flush.

“Oh! Wow… they’re just so… these are divine! No wonder they’re wonderful, your cooking always hits!” He beams as he throws two thumbs up.

“Gosh, Leon, leave some for my dad! He loves mom’s pretzels too!” You giggled as you watch Leon slowly empty the bowl, one spiece at a time.

“Oh!” He stops and chews up the pretzels in his mouth. His entire face turns red, the room suddenly feeling a lot warmer than it was. “I’m sorry, sir!”

Your dad roars with laughter instead, taking his mug of hot cocoa and bringing it near his face. “Don’t fret, son. I’ve already had some earlier, just help yourself.”

He brings the mug up to his lips, taking a nice sip before setting it back down and asking you questions of all sorts from school to your part-time job then friends, and the weather back at the state you’re studying in. You answer them happily, Leon occasionally chiming in with answers of his own.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After tugging your bags up the stairs and into your room, you and Leon climb into bed and cuddle. He is splayed on your belly, arms wrapped around your lower back as you idly stroke his soft hair whilst talking about random nonsense and giggling. You had Leon’s glasses on, talking about how his lenses makes everything look trippy.

“Damn, you can’t see without these. What a loser,” you jokingly mumble as you crane your head here and there, getting a full glimpse of everything.

Leon lifts his head up from your stomach, pouting and narrowing his eyes whilst his bangs partially covered his sight but that doesn’t mean anything if what he’s looking at is the greatest view possible: you.

“Then that makes me your loser,” he groggily mumbles as he gently takes your and presses a delicate kiss to your knuckle, letting his lips stay pressed and warm up that region of your hand for a little longer before he pulls them away and looks up at you, flashing you soft puppy eyes– eyes that embodied a raindrop on a blue Lobelia. You two just stared at each other for a moment, warm silence settling between you two until your mom knocked at the door and came in.

“Hey, kids. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” she says as she scans you and Leon. He sits up, gently plucking his glasses from your face as he puts them on and turns his attention to your mom, running his slender fingers through his hair as he tries to fix it. You two respond that she wasn’t barging into anything, much to her relief.

“So… I’ve recently gotten into knitting and I figured that since you two are here and the weather is cold and I’ve got a knitting pattern for sweaters, I decided to get knit these up for you guys,” she excitedly says as she takes her hands from behind her back and walks over to you both, setting down knitted sweaters on your laps.

The sweaters are chunky but cute: perfect for looking good on a cold day. They’re both in a piggy pink shade, red heart patterns all over the clothing. Both the sweaters look oversized but the one that looks significantly bigger could be Leon’s; your mom placed it on his lap after all.

“I know you like your shirts and sweaters oversized so I sized yours up by a little bit,” your mom explains. “You don’t have to take Leon’s anymore. The poor boy gets cold too, ya know.”

Leon smirks and your face burns in slight embarrassment, hiding it behind the soft yarn of your new article of clothing while she laughs good-naturedly.

“Valentine’s Day is coming up in two days too. You two will finally have something matching to wear when you’ll go on a date. That’s enough from little old me, I’ll leave you two to go canoodle or something.”

Your mom turns on her heel to leave your bedroom but you bolt up from your bed and give her a nice hug from the back, which she returns.

“Thanks, mom. You’re the best. Thank you for this and for everything else– thanks for treating Leon nicely,” you softly admit. She stays there for a bit, leaning a little into your touch.

“You're welcome, honey.” She responds. “I can tell he loves you very much and you do too so I’m making sure you two have the best time ever while under my roof, okay?”

You nod, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before unwrapping your arms around her and watching her close the door on her way out.

“You’re lucky to have a mom like that. She’s really nice. She’s an amazing woman, she raised you well,” Leon softly whispers.

“Yeah. I owe everything to her, so I’m doing my best to live in a way that doesn’t worry her or anything.”

He smiles and opens up his arms, gesturing for you to come closer. You come closer and you two hug, breathing in the comforting scent that is solely his. You stay like this for a few more moments before you pull away, excitement all over your face.

“So… how about we try on these sweaters? Don’t they look cute?”

“Sure.”

Leon decides to try the sweater on before you do, shedding his jacket and shirt, which you help him with. Taking his shirt off was a lot more giggly than you thought, Leon being ticklish whenever you do so (and you weren’t exactly careful as you took it off, wanting to make him giggle hard). He finally tries it on and he looks absolutely handsome. He looks so geeky and nerdy you can’t help but pinch his cheeks, causing the spot where you pinched to look a little more pink.

“Oops,” you apologize.

You try your own sweater soon and you do finish up, also looking adorable. You hear your dad from downstairs announcing dinner so you two quickly change out of the sweaters in order to not get it stained, ready to go have some food before a snuggly movie night.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Two days later.

The sun is out, only a few cotton-like clouds dotting an otherwise clear sky. The weather is still cold, people in the streets out with their puffer coats, jackets, and scarves. You and Leon wore the matching sweaters from days ago, proudly showing off the work of your mom.

“God, I promised myself that I wouldn’t be doing cringey couple-y things like these when I get a boyfriend,” you mutter to yourself as you roam the streets with Leon.

“Look at you now, younger you would be disappointed,” he quips as he clicks his tongue and gently shakes his head.

“She just didn’t know what an absolute eyecandy of a boyfriend she would end up with.”

“Don’t call me ‘eyecandy’ before my ego inflates to three times its size.”

You roll your eyes and link your arm with his but not before readjusting his red scarf and taking pictures of him in every lighting angle possible; he’s just too cute to not be taking pictures of! You already made a trip to the flower shop earlier, getting Leon a pretty bouquet arrangement of baby’s breath, white and baby pink tulips, and baby pink lilies of the valley. Leon also got you a bouquet and when he realized that you got him one too, he insisted on bringing it along to whatever date you planned. You did tell him to bring bread but that’s all he knows. After a leisurely walk, you two were now alongside a pond with a scenic picnic spot but you two weren’t here for a picnic. Hand on his wrist, you tugged him to you and urged him to run with an ecstatic beam on your radiant face. After a little bit, you got behind him and tip-toed to be able to reach his eyes and cover them.

“Hold on, Leon. The surprise is yet to come,” you pant since you were still out of breath from the running.

“I thought the surprise was the sudden jogging session we had,” he breathily jokes.

“Can you take your hands off now?” Despite him asking, he doesn’t make any effort to move your hands away from his sight.

“Hold on, baby. I need to get this right,” you respond. You wait for a few more moments and then they finally come out. Slowly, you take out your hands from his eyes and point to the group of them. “Vóila! Surprise, baby!”

He looks a bit confused but his face instantly lights up with the brightness of a million happy suns clustered on his soft, rosy features. He finally sees a raft of ducks on the water, along with yellow ducklings. The stars align on the blue sky that are his eyes, dazzling amidst a canvas of blue as his grin grows even broader at the sight of the birds on the water with their feathery little tails wagging. He nearly drops the bouquet you got him out of pure excitement at seeing the ducks, tears probably forming at his waterline.

“Baby– There’s– Babe– Ducks!” is all he can muster at this moment. He hands you his bouquet while he takes his phone out and furiously heads over to the Camera app, clicking several pictures of this core memory forming right this very moment.

You remembered seeing Leon watch videos of people feeding ducks at ponds and sat through many of his talks about how much he wanted to see a duck in real-life and give it bread, no matter how silly he sounds or will probably look (since almost everyone has seen a duck at least once or twice in their life while he hasn't). You didn’t make fun of him at that moment: seeing Leon fuss over images of cute ducks he found on the Internet seemed to heal his inner child, letting himself revel in something so innocent and simple as a cute animal. Since there wasn’t a pond with ducks nearby your college and dorm, you two had to make do with cute duck videos which seemed to be enough for Leon. Remembering that there’s a pond near home, you decided to seize this opportunity to take him on a duck feeding date, hence the bread you asked him to bring along.

You took your own pictures of Leon taking his pictures of the ducks. You felt proud at seeing sunshine and rainbows radiate from Leon, the world falling into a peaceful silence and tranquility– it felt as if it’s just you, him, and nature. He pockets his phone, taking the bread and ripping off tiny pieces to feed to the ducks.

“Having fun sweetheart?” you sweetly ask.

“Tons! Loads!” he simply replies.

He hands you a half of his bread and you tear off tiny pieces and begin tossing it to the small duck family waddling in the water. You two do this in total silence– a comfortable one. You take out the digital camera from your pocket, powering it on and focusing it on the trees, grass, and ducks.

“Leon! Say ‘hi’ for the camera!”

For you, ‘forever’ isn’t exactly a word fitting for people since all our times will end; rather, ‘forever’ is a word fitting for treasures like these. Treasures like Leon and all the happiness you can attribute to him.

“Hi!” He waves, shooting the camera a charming smile. “Hi kids, this is your dad! I’m very happy to be feeding this ducks. Sometime in the future, I hope I can take you here!”

You blush a little bit, red creeping up your cheeks and filling the apples in with color. It flustered you to think that Leon would want to start a family with you, to see little version of yourselves running around in your future home. “Y/N, don’t these ducks look cute! See? Look at that one! The little bro looks so cute! The way their little tails wag– oh my God I’m going to pass out, they’re too adorable for me! Sweetheart, how does owning a duck sound like? What if I take a duck home with me? Baby!”

NOTE - 1 fic down, six or seven more to go!!! My Leon photocards finally came home and they look SOOOO good!!! My friend gave me the package in class and it looked like we were passing zaza (which is illegal, where I'm from). One of my teachers literally eyed the package in my desk and I literally had to repeat that this is just an unopened package 😭 Also we made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in philosophy class, which was fun. What was NOT fun was Banana Fish, like that damn anime broke me-- I literally just read the wiki and I already fell apart so this is my cue to swear to never watch that anime (my bff made me watch the final ep in class and I bawled, like I fucking sounded like a lawn mower). Also please listen to "the way you say hello" by tiffy and City Girl, I listened to that while writing this and on GOD I was turning with green with envy bc y/n and Leon r 2 sweet. That's it and I hope you enjoyed this fic!!! Happy Valentine's Day!!!!!! <333333

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[genderqueerdykes]

Hey I just wanted to say that today someone in class was presenting about aniamls and used the h word for being intersex and when I corrected them they said cool and where open about learning. I am not intersex myself but I am trying my best to help educate and be educated.

Ps I don't have people that would understand so I just wanted to share how people where super open in class.

Also your blog is the best sorry if this comes of werid.

hello there!

that's a little troubling to say the least. the word "hermaphrodite" is appropriate and acceptable when referring to other animals, such as snails, for example. they are hermaphrodites due to having complete sets of 'male' and 'female' reproductive organs. they can take either role when reproducing, the word hermaphrodite or hermaphroditic is used for these types of animals

however in humans that's just not the case. our bodies do not work like that. intersex people do not develop complete, functioning sets of reproductive organs, both a penis and vaginal canal, clitoris, uterus, scrotum, prostate, and so on. intersex people can have a lot of these features but we do not develop 2 complete, functioning sets of genitals. we will have bits and pieces from male and female anatomy, and/or hormonal imbalances

i hope people learn the differences between these terms, and how these biological occurrences in sex occur and why they do. they're not similar in that it serves a direct reproductive purpose for animals to be hermaphroditic but with humans intersex conditions occur for different reasons.

thanks for stopping by, sorry you had to hear about that. good luck, thanks for also wanting to educate yourself to help others not spread myths about intersex people. feel free to stop by again