#and Crowely is such a service top

[yourangle-yuordevil]

They are smitten, I believe <3

[stormkpr]

Shouting out to my Wesper fic At Your Service. It has more kudos than any other one-shot I've posted so I'm celebrating it tonight.

Smutfic, 3500 words, with Jesper being a service-top

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that.

Note: If you prefer plain text, you can read the plain text version here.

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism.

By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism.

You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry.

After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces.

This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of this post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism.

Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED.

In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them.

But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[fanaticsnail]

Let Me Take Care of You

Even though I have all of the one-shots planned out and added to the Masterlist, mapped out several other plot points, and attempted to prioritize fics that I've desperately been putting off - I feel like we all needed this. TLC for our broody warlord. He needs to have his burden relieved in a SFW way (for once, regarding my writing!).

Word Count: 4,323

Warnings: semi-sub-Mihawk, switch-behaviour, moaning, kissing, pining, massaging, swearing (once), barely proof-read, fluff.

Song suggestion: Older - Isabel LaRosa

The amber-coloured eyes of the warlord shut tightly as he rose the maroon-coloured liquid to his lips; barely a whisper of a flinch perking up to his crows feet as he sipped at it. He rolled the bitter liquid over his tongue, savouring the flavour of the tart tannins before relinquishing it down his throat. The alcohol trickled down his neck to pool in a heat at the pit of his bare chest and stomach as he listened further to your melodical voice speaking with expert precision his readying schedule.

“Praises of your battle have already been sent in from the World Government’s head office,” you nodded, relinquishing the rolled newspaper from beneath your arm to present to the warlord while expertly holding your clipboard up to your face.

Mihawk rolled his neck, reopening his eyes and grasping the wafer-fine paper roll from your outstretched hand. Fingertips barely whispering a small touch, you retracted your hand from his once he clasped his hand around the material.

“Go on,” he commanded in a lazy tone while unrolling the paper to begin reading it. A glimpse of agitation fell to the warlord’s brow as his eyes narrowed, skimming over the pages while you continued to relay his schedule to him.

“You expressed interest in tending to your vineyard later today: I’ve already sent for your stable-hand to brush down your Clydesdale for a ride,” your eyes narrowed as you examined your boss, “also, the horticulturalist and viticulturalist have scheduled a meeting with you and the cellar hands to ready the next vintage of Tokaji for you to sample.”

Mihawk hummed in response, his nose hissing in a small, sharp inhale afterwards.

You were accustomed to his surliness as his personal assistant; your roles being from administrative roles regarding: scheduling, to managing his liaisons with the world government contacts to running his large homestead and farmlands with his many staff; alongside his sales associate for his Tokaji distribution and growth on Kuraigana. You were on first name terms after several years within his service, but chose to remain formal while you were within working hours.

“Sir?” you asked him, sharply. He snapped his unblinking eyes to bore into your own.

“Yes?” he questioned in a bored, drawn out tone.

“You are less like yourself today,” you noted, pulling the clipboard away from the front of your torso and placing it down on the table to lay it before him, “you normally rise at the opportunity to indulge in your samples. Is there something I should be made aware of? An injury perhaps?”

A small scowl drew itself upon the lips of the warlord; something akin to a pout below his well-maintained moustache.

“If any of them had the skill to land a single blow, I would have made you aware of such an occurrence,” he taunted you, agitation again falling to his brow. He floated his hawk-eyes back to the newspaper, shaking it to stabilise the material with a firm grip.

You cocked your chin sharply at his challenge, quickly raking your eyes over his body to check it for injury or slight dishevelment. Your sights fell to his righthand shoulder; zeroing your eyes with a precise beam against his upper body.

“You’ve pulled something,” you noted through pursed lips, “an overexertion wielding Yoru, no doubt while-.”

“-I have no such ailment,” he spoke over you in a sharp tone, his eyes snapping to yours over the top of the newspaper with a scowl. You held your narrowed gaze against his own with relentless resolve, choosing to step towards him as he withdrew his sights to fall back to the newspaper.

“As you’ve been priorly informed, sir, I have quite the resume,” you began, bringing your fingertips to curl down the top of the paper Mihawk was grasping, “you are aware of my history as a rehabilitative remedial therapist, and I am glad to offer my hands to you should you ever require them.”

It was true. Your vast experience was why Dracule Mihawk hired you. Your resume was unlike anything he had encountered prior, which is why he chose to keep you close. Swordsmanship, dagger mastery, martial combat, administrative duties, expert skills in the realms of viticulture and remedial massage occupied the majority of your time in study – undoubtedly the reason you never acquired the opportunity to settle down and home-make with a partner of your own, and chose to accept the role of assistant from the great swordsman.

Mihawk chose to ignore your hand pulling the paper downwards and continue to skim his eyes on the lower edges of the page to avoid your statement. You quirked your brow at him in question before sighing and retracting your hand from the pages.

“If that will be all, sir,” you began with a curt nod, “I shall retire to my duties managing your staff.”

As you turned to flee from the large dining hall, a voice softly addressed you.

“Fine,” Mihawk uttered in a low tone, prompting you to halt your next step, “I admit it. Wielding Yoru has taken its toll recently and I may have strained myself under the weight.”

You smirked before turning back towards your boss. Tilting your neck to relieve a small ‘click’ of pressure, you dropped your smirk and turned back to face him once more.

“Would you like me to rid that burden from you, sir?” you asked him, approaching the table once more while reaching for the newspaper and wine glass from his hands, “take the weight from your shoulders?”

He sighed, dropping his head and relinquishing his grasp on the two objects and handed them over to you.

“Yes,” he admitted in a exhaled whisper.

A soft smile drew itself to the corners of your lips as you placed down the objects on the table in front of him. You had never before crossed this particular boundary between you and Mihawk; fondness in professional comradery being the only true establishment in your relationship before the years and depth of professional curtesy blossomed into true alliance.

As your tenure drew close, your relationship did begin to deepen over a glass of wine or two after you had completed your duties of the evening. He had begun asking for your opinion after your third year of service. Your fifth year, he trusted your judgements in a variety of tasks; relinquishing them completely to you.

Within the eighth year of employment, he would often seek you out for conversation regarding his staff; often seeking, in his own way, gossip amongst the members he employed. This being your ninth year of employment, you could easily find the word ‘friend’ from falling within your thoughts regarding the dark-haired gentleman before you. You held a fondness for him, often desiring to see him thrive in achieving his combatant goals and maintaining his title of world’s greatest swordsman. You could even go so far as to say you loved him; pining for him through subtlety caring for him in all ways in your duties.

“Say no more,” you responded, reaching your hand towards his own; gaining his full attention in a curt snap of his chin upwards. He gazed up at you, you almost stooping towards his seated form. His eyes held the depth of his ailment.

“Go and ready yourself in the bathing quarters; dress down but remain covered,” you nodded to him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in affirmation, “I’ll have your itinerary cancelled for the day and rescheduled for the following week. And between us,” you reached your other hand to smooth over his cheek in a gentle caress, “the grapes would do well with maturing on the vine for a little while longer.”

He hummed against your hand, eyes closing and leaning into your caress. You were taken aback at his unwithheld expression of fondness for you. Helping to guide him to his feet, you ushered him throughout the doors, noticing his usually strict and rigid posture had begun to slouch against the burden on his shoulders.

You shook your head with your soft smile remaining, watching him as the final shadow of his body fell away from view. Arrangements made through den-den-mushi calls and vocal commands to your underlings; you widened your fingers to ready themselves to rid the warlord of the burdens he was carrying in the knots littered along his back and shoulders.

Walking along the halls, up the many steps and winding along the corridors; you found your feet falling to the large bathing quarters of the large, darkened castle. You knocked on the wooden door with a tri-fold, curt rap – the inner room welcoming you with a small groan beckoning your arrival from within.

You opened the door, truly not quite prepared for the sight befalling you.

Dracule Mihawk, clad in nothing but a white towel hanging from his hips: his hat, necklace and sword being nowhere in sight. Your eyes met with his curled, dark locks as his head hung lowly; his hands clasping the marble, low-lying table beneath his palms. You could almost visibly see the waves of tension falling from his bare shoulders, prompting a small gasp of empathy to fall from your lips as you shut the door behind you.

“Why did you not say something sooner, my lord?” you asked him, approaching him swiftly. He sighed in response, holding his eyes fixed to the polished tiles beneath his bare feet.

“I do not readily present vulnerability to those I employ,” he uttered through clenched teeth, “why should you be any different?”

Your brows fell to a firm frown, eyes narrowing as you uttered: “I would have thought after nearly ten years of service, we would call each other ‘friend’ by now.”

He sighed again, shoulders slouching further under the weight of his burden.

“Okay, friend,” he mocked, bringing his eyes up to meet with your own, “if you would be so kind as to hold true to your promise. Fix me.”

You folded your arms over your chest and widened your stance in stubbornness.

“Ask me more politely, friend,” you sternly challenged him; “and I just may find it in my heart to do so-.”

“-please,” Mihawk whispered through baited breath in a tone you could only just pick up on your registry.

“Beg, pardon?” you asked him, not truly processing the words falling from his lips.

“Please,” he stated a little more firmly, his eyes almost wide and pleading with you, “please fix me.”

You were shocked. Taken-aback. Flabbergasted. Holding true to your promise, you relinquished your shoes from their presence wrapped around your feet and placed them neatly by the door.

The next item you removed was your socks, placing them within the soles of your shoes. Removing your coat and placing it by the door, you turned back towards your boss and began your approach. You stood in front of him, his head bowed low once more to reveal his broad shoulders towards you.

“If I may assess the damage, sir?” you asked, reaching your hand out to touch his shoulder.

“By all means,” he mocked you, a small chuckle almost leaving as you touched your palm to his shoulder while remaining strong in front of him. Feeling the warmth radiating from his body, an audible gasp fled your lips alongside an empathetic wince.

“Fuck,” you gasped, feeling the muscle below his skin. It was completely solid. There was no ‘knot’ to work out; his entire shoulder was one large intertwining vine of tension and pressure.

Another sigh fled from his lips at your reaction, his voice addressing you; “is it truly that bad?”

You clicked your neck from side to side, retracting your hand from his shoulder and drawing your fingers to intertwine within each other to stretch them in preparation.

“Sir,” you addressed him, his eyes drawing again to yours from their down-focussed position upwards.

“Yes?” He challenged you, his tone once again mocking you with his pained smirk lingering beneath.

“You-,” you collected his chin within your fingers to hold his gae against your own, “-are going to absolutely hate me after this.”

“I doubt that,” his smirk widened.

“Oh,” you shook your head, relinquishing your hold on his chin and returning to your pile of clothes, “you are either going to fire me-,” you said, undoing your belt and untucking your shirt to have it fall below your underwear to keep you shielded, “-or propose to me after this.”

“What are you doing?” he asked you, his shoulders stiffening upright and alert at your movements. A snarl fell to his mouth as you pulled your pants from your hips downwards to pool at your feet.

“Calm down-,” your face was completely serious, your air of command falling freely from your lips in reaffirmation, “-I am going to need my knees for the job to be properly performed. Judging from the knots on your shoulders; I’m assuming the rest of your body has been equally as ill-maintained in care.”

His snarl lessened, his jaw almost falling slack before he tensed it.

“If you insist,” he relinquished his hesitation, “you know what’s best.”

“That I do, sir,” you nodded to him, again approaching him once more with a fresh towel in hand, “use this to prop your head and lie face down on the bench. Let me take care of you.”

He immediately snatched the towel from your hands and in one swift movement, he fell immediately to lie on his stomach with his arms bent outwards to prop below his chin. You couldn’t help the small giggle to fall from your lips at his eagerness, but as you were reminded of your prior experience feeling his marble-like stiffness below his muscular definition; you would be exactly as eager to be rid of your burden as he currently was.

“Get on with it, then-,” he commanded you, halting as your firm hands gripped his shoulders and began to search his muscles for the source of the tension. His spine, shoulder blades, rib cage and biceps were all stiff and rigid; a plate of stone ready to be carved under your expert and precise skill to be restored and moulded into his glory.

You winced as you located the large knot, a place in the crevasse between his shoulder blade and spinal collum close to his upper neck. You tested the pressure with your thumbs, syphoning an unintentional moan to wince through the lips of the warlord. Mihawk tensed at the shock of the sound you managed to pull from him, opening his mouth to speak; only to be cut off with your verbal reprimand.

“There is no shame in sounds here, my lord,” you informed him, pushing down further against the knot and rotating your thumbs expertly in a circular motion, “I can tell how much this pains you, and I can sense the relief you will come to feel once I rid you truly of it. If it causes you more tension to withhold your vocalisations, by all means do not restrain yourself.”

Replacing your thumb with the precise point of your elbow had Mihawk arching back into your touch with his bottom lip clenched between his top teeth; his breath hissing out in an attempt to restrain his audible moan. You continued to utilise your left arm to drive down your right elbow for a firmer pressure; finally withdrawing a completely unrestrained whimper to escape from the lips of the warlord below you as he humbled himself truly under your ministrations.

“Well done, sir,” you praised him, dragging your elbow to the mirrored point on the other shoulder to relinquish the lesser knot on the other side, “you’re doing wonderfully-.”

“-Do not treat me like some incapable- ungh!” his words were stolen from him as you continued to work your remedial magic against his knots; battling with them and overcoming them in combat beneath your skilled hands.

“Stop holding back,” you commanded him firmly, lying your right forearm directly onto his spine and baring down your weight onto it, “the more you withhold your humility, the more tense you become. Let me help you.”

Under those final four worded commands, Dracule Mihawk became a mewling, gasping, sighing mess beneath your talented hands and forearms as you continued to detangle the firm vines of his hardened knots beneath his skin. You remained professional under the sounds you pulled from him, fighting the warmth that began rising upwards from your chest to your cheeks.

You leant down towards his ear, his dark curls brushing against your cheek as you brought your lips towards his ear.

“I am going to stand on you now, my lord,” you informed him as you continued to put pressure against his left shoulder, “if that is alright with you-.”

“-Yes,” he sighed, his eyes met with yours with his pupils completely blown with unbridled satisfaction and anticipation, “please.”

His jaw was slack, his breath fleeing his lips in shallow pants as he was guided within a place somewhere situated with the most pain his body had been within while chasing the biggest release of complete relief and descending his burden onto you.

“As you command it, sir,” you nodded to him with a warm smile, placing your palms flat on his back and jumping to situate your feet beneath his thighs as you crouched lowly. You placed your bare knees against his glutes and bore the brunt of your weight first onto those pressure points.

Another relentless whimper fell from his lips before he allowed an unbridled moan to fully escape from his lips as the pressure became completely withdrawn from his muscles; leaving his body completely exposed and mouldable below your ministrations.

“I’ll be placing my feet on you now, sir,” you informed him, testing his lower back with your left foot as you rose from your kneeling position, “if you could trust my leadership for this next experience; I will guide you on when to inhale and exhale to relieve your body completely of the tension. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes,” he sighed. His tone caused you apprehension as you began to have the warmth from your chest truly spread itself in reaction to his vocalisation. You mentally scolded yourself, reminding yourself that you were a professional and this was your job; Mihawk was your boss, not some lover or object for you to fixate your desires upon. You shook your head and began to rise your body while baring your weight against his back beneath your feet.

“My lord-,” you began, halted only by his next words.

“-Mihawk,” he corrected you, “call me Mihawk, please.”

You nodded, inhaling and exhaling slowly to not read into his correction further than needed to be.

“Okay, Mihawk,” you spoke, a smile rising against your lips as you savoured the flavour of his name rolling over your tongue, “inhale.”

His torso rose upwards to completely balloon his chest upwards as you placed your left foot steadily against his spine.

“And slowly exhale,” you directed him, chasing after his breath with your weight. You felt the satisfaction of a loud ‘crunch’ below your toes followed by a cry of complete abandon falling from the lips of your boss below your feet.

“Good job, Mihawk,” you praised him again, “you’re listening very well.”

He moaned again against your praise as you trailed your feet upwards to fall against the mid of his back; “let’s do it again. A big inhale for me, please.”

Again breathing in a long inhale, you chased his breath with your weight while commanding him, “exhale now, Mihawk.” ‘Crunch.’

As a baker would roll out and form a crusted pastry; you were spreading out the torso of Mihawk against your weight, pulling moans, groans and cries of bliss from his lips as he listened intently to your every command. Each time he would gift you with a satisfactory ‘click,’ ‘crack,’ or ‘crunch,’ of his back and spine; you would offer him praise to follow. “Well done, Mihawk,” “you’re doing so well,” or comments of “oh, I bet that felt so good,” would fall from your own alongside an empathetic groan of pleasure at the relief he should surely feel beneath your feet.

As you fell to his shoulder blades, you stood on the tips of your toes and began to shuffle your feet to rid the flesh of any tension before you fell your feet back to drop to a kneeling position: your knees falling against his shoulders with your fingertips spread wide to brace your weight fully onto his body.

You rocked your knees against his shoulders, Mihawk’s mouth fully falling slack at this stage and brows furrowing in bliss with his eyes shut tightly. You craned your head to the side to get a full picture of his face; your brows again falling to a frown at his tension.

“Mihawk,” you verbally warned him, his eyes clenching tighter in response, “give yourself permission to be truly vulnerable beneath me.”

He sighed out a sharp exhale, his face contorting again; prompting you to apprehensively reach your hand forward to cup his cheek. His eyes fluttered open with his brows remaining furrowed. His beard felt coarse beneath your hand as your thumb soothed his cheek with small circles.

“I promise,” you moved your hand up to rub your thumb over his forehead, “you will feel much better once you just let go.”

His gaze fell to your lips before reluctantly pulling it back upwards to land on your eyes; his own eyes softening as he nodded subtly.

“Good man,” you praised him with a warm smile, removing your hand and leant backwards onto your feet once more closer to his shoulders, “now inhale once more.”

With a shaken breath, he inhaled again; feeling the tips of your fingers firmly against his neck, your knees against his shoulders and the balls of your feet perched on his lower back.

“Now exhale,” you softly commanded him, rolling your weight to your knees and chasing his relief with your body. ‘Crack.’

A low, rumbly groan of pleasure exited from the lips of the warlord in complete bliss as his tension had been successfully relieved beneath your skilled ministrations.

You smiled, slowly bringing your feet to the cool, tiled floor beneath your feet. Briefly sitting yourself atop his back, your white shirt rising slightly to reveal your underwear against his bare flesh, you hopped yourself down from your perch atop him. Reflexes overtook you as you reached your hand forward to rake through his dark locks, ruffling them beneath your fingers as you drew patterned circles against his scalp.

“Do you feel better?” you asked him, tilting your head downwards to check over his face for any further discomfort. In response, Dracule Mihawk immediately sprung to his feet; his hands falling beneath your shirt to grasp at the flesh above your hips. He dragged your pelvis to lie flush against his own, angling his chin downwards and entangling his lips against yours in a dance of passion.

Your eyes widened, your hand continuing its woven position within his hair as his moustache tickled your upper lip. You squealed out in surprise as his tongue protruded and caressed your lips as he circled his chin upwards to deepen his embrace. Raking his hands further beneath your shirt and circling around your back, he fully caged you against himself as a hawk would carry his prey within his talons.

He retracted his lips from his caress against your own and began trailing affectionate, fluttering kisses against your chin and jawline towards your ear; cradling your body completely against himself with a small, gleeful sway. You felt him smile against your skin, prompting more shock to rise to your face. Your fight, flight and freeze reflexes truly all engaged as this completely unprompted response from Dracule Mihawk continued in a dance of balancing lazy and abandoned sensibilities with a passionate and calculated engagement against your body.

He walked your body backwards towards the wall and fell himself to brace against it with his head fully falling against the arch between your neck and shoulder. He allowed another moan to fall from his lips as he bore his full weight against you; your arms reactionarily falling beneath his arms to catch him.

“Sir,” you addressed him in a warning tone, “I would not have gotten up that quickly. You needed time for your body to readjust to your new alignment before you bore your full weight onto yourself.”

“Patience is not my strongest suit, dear,” he chuckled against your shoulder, pressing his lips against your clothed body, “especially when it comes to expressing gratuity to my beautiful friend.”

You giggled, bracing his body completely against your own and in turn walking him backwards to knock the point behind his knees against the marble benchtop. He fell to a seated position, his forehead remaining connected to your stomach.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his hands falling to the back of your exposed thighs and holding your body against his forehead, “can we draw up more of those into our schedule?”

You furrowed your brows at him, reaching your right hand to retrieve his chin to tilt his head upwards to gaze into your eyes.

“My hands are yours, sir-,” you began, Mihawk bringing his left hand up to cradle your right hand within it; pressing a deep kiss against your palm while correcting you.

“-Mihawk,” he uttered, pressing another chaste kiss against your palm looking down at your hands affectionately, “please. When we’re alone like this, I am Mihawk to you.”

“Need I remind you, Mihawk,” you warned him, chasing his gaze with your own, “I am your employee, not your spouse.”

“Allow me to alter that arrangement,” he smirked against your palm, flittering his gaze upwards to meet your own once more. You shook your head at his statement with a small, half-smile.

“Firing me?” you asked him coyly, your left brow arched upwards in question.

“Courting you,” he corrected you, beckoning for you to arch downwards with his chin to rejoin your lips against his once more. Smiles and sighs in satisfaction of finally giving into your desires for one another falling from you both in unified harmony.

[soap-ify]

can I ask for some general fluff headcanons for our soapy boy?

AT YOUR SERVICE ANON!! i don't usually do hcs but i wanted an excuse to ramble about him. so i present you soap hcs that start off as general but gets oddly specific!

cw — very fluffy and mildly suggestive at some places.

˙ᵕ˙ (not so) general soap hcs !

the most widely known thing is that johnny is clingy as hell. annoying but you really wouldn’t have it any other way. he is always holding onto you tight, never letting you go even if you’re desperate to get out of the bed for a shower or some breakfast. the only time he’d sometimes let you go is when you’re running late for work. he likes having his arm around your waist all the time, nuzzling his head into your neck and smothering you with kisses without any shame in front of others, especially the taskforce. is this his weird little way of marking you? maybe.

very open about how much he loves you. he’s always speaking his mind, telling you about every single thing he loves about you, all your quirks and habits.

can’t imagine this man ever being a cheater. i imagine him being raised by his mother quite well, and god forbid if he ever cheats, his mother is going to be so angry. he has been taught to treat his lovers in the best manner possible. and so he does. even if he is very playful and just awful at courting, always too eager, he still buys you lots of flowers and takes you on dates, giving you all the love that he has.

he likes hugging your leg. like actually. you’re laying down? he’s beneath you, arms wrapped around your legs, hugging it tight while his face is resting on your upper thigh. he can’t even explain why he does it.

he LOVES it when you press kisses on his crows feet. the same thing with the scar on his chin!

this man watched blade runner 2049 once and had an identity crisis for a whole week. you were concerned.

there is this very specific type of french fries that he likes with certain toppings that he can’t really find in any other fast food place and it annoys him to hell.

he begs you to match with him. it can be from watches that come in pairs for couples or maybe keychains! just match with him or else he’ll be pouty for the whole week.

once when johnny was drunk, he showed you his huge art journal. you weren’t even surprised to know that more than half of the pages were just drawings of you.

johnny loves having strangely deep and philosophical conversations with you late at night. sometimes he just can’t sleep, feeling too active and energetic. if you are luckily awake too, be prepared to question the meaning of life and the existence of everything around you both with him.

he is so disgusting when it comes to sending gym pics (you love it). all flushed and glistening with sweat, he’d be sending your mirror selfies while flexing his muscles, a proud happy grin always adorning your looks.

has a mole on his inner thigh and on his right shoulder! you love kissing them so much.

he bites. hide before he bites your tummy.

he loves taking you to snowy mountains and showing you around his homeland! expect to be attacked with lots of snowballs by him, he really doesn’t show any mercy.

loves drawing on your thighs if you’d let him. he would grab a marker or a paintbrush, drawing pretty things on your skin, loving the way you would giggle at the ticklish feeling. he might accidentally touch your other ticklish spots too just to hear you laugh.

i am a firm believer of johnny having sisters and being the only son in the family! he’d take you to meet his family once, and his sisters showed you all of his childhood pictures while telling you of his silly actions, all while johnny was in the back, face all red.

he can knit! learnt it from his eldest sister. he likes knitting you sweaters or gloves, always choosing your favourite colour.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Your robin and franky fic was chefs kiss but would you be willing to write some solo franky?? Im really into water 7 franky and would love to see what you’d come up with !!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING FOR THIS! YALL I promise you any time anyone requests a Franky fic I WILL BE WRITING THAT SHIT. This is my dream man and no one gives me enough opportunities to write for him! So, I'm sorry I turned this into a smutty nightmare if you wanted fluff... I just need to service the Fellow Franky Fuckers out there.

Pairing: (pre timeskip) Cyborg Franky x Fem!Reader

WC: 2800

Taglist: @generaldaij0bu you might need to see this

Summary: The Sunny malfunctioning is driving you up a wall. You make a request for repairs and end up getting way more than you bargained for in the workshop.

TWs: ROBO-BONING, BABES! P in V sex, unprotected sex (pls don't) sex toy use, forced orgasm, safe words, light bdsm, communication is key and Franky respects it so hard and he's so hot for it, very much dirty talk...

Too Hot (+18)

— — 

It was hot. 

The sun beat down on the Sunny all day and the unwavering heat was barely dispelled after sunset due to the humidity. You lay sprawled on the deck next to Usopp and Chopper, groaning in the unbearable heat. 

“I think I’ll die here…” Chopper groans with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to burn to death after all the horrible monster’s I’ve fought… it’s not fair!” Usopp moans and wipes his brow. 

“Just throw me overboard at this point.” You sigh. 

“But don’t you have devil fruit-“

“I DON’T CARE THROW ME OVER!” You screech at Usopp. 

Before you could murder the cowardly sniped in a fit of heat-induced rage, Sanji steps through the door to the deck from the galley. 

“Okay everyone, dinner’s on. Air con works fine in here.” Sanji calls from the doorway. 

You push Usopp and Chopper behind you as you spring to your feet and sprint towards the galley. 

After entering the swinging door, the cool air hits you like stepping through a cascading waterfall. You sigh in relief. Your bliss was furthered when you see bowls of cool gazpacho at each place setting on the dining room table. 

“Thank gods…” You grumble as you hop onto the bench and start eating. The cold soup alleviated your discomfort from the inside out and you couldn’t help but groan in content. 

“Relax, it’s just soup.” Zoro puts his bowl down next to you and gives you a concerned look. 

“Oh I’m sorry swords-for-brains, did you not notice it’s a billion and five degrees outside?” You scowl at the swordsman seated next to you at the table. 

“Who cares?! This soup is great!” Luffy chimes in and extends his rubbery arms to grab every bowl that wasn’t licked clean and shovels them down his gullet. 

You sigh. 

“Nami please tell me this heat wave will be over soon. I’m getting crows feet ON my crows feet from this sun.” You turn towards your friend and navigator. 

“I wish I had better news but it’ll be at least a few more days before there’s any relief in temperature. We’re just going to have to stay in the shade and inside where the air is working. You’re tough, y/n, you can handle it.” Nami states as she sips from her bowl of cold soup. 

You roll your eyes. 

The dishes were promptly slurped clean by your captain and Sanji cleared the table. The blaring rays of the sun had exhausted so you so you decided to take a shower and head to bed. 

After taking a cool shower, you throw on a t shirt and shorts over your panties and sports bra and lay on top of the covers of your bed. 

“Gods it’s almost like it’s hotter in here than it is out there!” You say to yourself as you lay in bed, sweat soaking through your pillow. You decide to hop up and check if the air conditioning was working. You walk over to the vent in the corner of your room and press your hands against it. HOT air was spewing out from the grate in your room. You walk backwards and fall back onto the bed. 

“Fuck.” You throw your shirt over your head and slip your shorts off and flop back onto the bed. Sweat drips from your chin down your neck to your chest. 

*whoooosh*

Hot air was being pushed out harsher and faster through the grate in the corner of your room. The temperature continued to rise and your sweat soaked through your top sheet. 

“I’m not living like this!” You shout in frustration as you push your way out of your room, without bothering to throw your clothes back on. You head down into the belly of the ship in your underwear. Upon reaching the door you were looking for, you slam it open without knocking.

“FRANKY!!!!!” You yell angrily. 

“Jeez, y/n where’s the fire? I could have been naked in here!” Franky pushes his sunglasses back on his head as he turns towards you from his work bench. 

“You’re always naked!!! Also, more importantly, why is the HEAT ON in my bedroom?! Are you trying to cook me like a rotisserie chicken?!” You pant out, still very sweaty. 

“Oh that’s no good… I’ll have to go check the generators.” Franky rises to his feet, towering over you. “Sorry you were so uncomfortable, little lady. I’ll get this sorted out super quickly. Why don’t you get some shut eye in my bed for awhile? It’s still nice and cool down here.” He gestures to his bed in the corner of the room while he grabs his toolbox. 

You sigh. 

“Honestly that would be great, I feel like I’ve been in an oven all day.” You walk over to Franky’s bed and flop down on your back. Being this deep in the ship, there were no windows on the walls, but you were so sweaty and tired you didn’t care. 

“Alright well I’m gonna go fix this for ya, try and get some rest. Your room will be back to super condition in no time!” Franky leaves and you settle into the pillows and close your eyes. The sweat covering your body began to dry and you were finally comfortable again. You find yourself relaxing into Franky’s bed, smelling slightly of cola and motor oil, and drifting off into a light sleep. 

You wake up to the door of the bedroom closing and you snap your head up. 

“Woah, what do we have here?” You hear Franky’s booming voice as you rub the brief sleep from your eyes. It must have still been late at night. 

“Some dream ya must have been having, huh?” Franky stands above the bed and nods towards your spread thighs. You look down at where he was gesturing and notice a huge soaked patch in your pink panties. It was at this moment you notice the wanton ache in your core and abdomen… you must have been having a very wet dream and were awoken before you got to the good part. You instinctively slam your thighs shut in embarrassment and cover your face with your hands. 

“Look at you, so shy but dripping all over my sheets?” Franky continues with a smile, noticing your bashfulness. 

“I-I’m sorry I-“ You stutter and try to explain yourself. 

“It’s okay sweet thing! It’s totally normal. Looks like you’re pretty pent up, huh? I can fix that for ya, if you’re interested.” 

“I.. I mean that would be nice I guess…” You pull your hands away from your face hesitantly. 

“Aaaoooww!! That’s what I wanted to hear! Let’s get started then!” Franky grins and leans down to grab something from underneath his bed. He retrieves a large metal box and pops open the lid. 

“Hmmm let’s see… Some of these… definitely this…” Your robot whispers to himself as he roots around in the large chest. He rises and brings a pile of items out and flops them onto the bed. These were things you’ve never seen before, so your eyes were darting from chain to leather to silicone you had no idea what to focus on. 

“Take that bra off for me baby, I wanna ask ya some things before we get started.” Franky grabs the hem of your panties and gently tugs them down your legs.

You did as you were told and unclasped your bra, tossing it to the side and leaning back again. Franky softly sets your panties down on his bedside table and remarks, 

“I’m keepin’ these.” 

Your body shudders when you hear the sinister tone in his voice.

“Ok doll, now tell me…” Franky traces his hands up and down your thighs, parting them in the process. “How do you like it? I can edge you for an hour or so… or you could cum until you cry… any preference?” Frankly asks casually as he organizes the objects he had turned over onto the bed. 

“I, um…” You were young, not a virgin but not very experienced. This man was almost 10 years older than you, how were you supposed to know what you wanted from him?

“I… I wanna cum… I think…” You eventually squeak out. 

“Ok babydoll, good choice. Can ya promise me you’ll say ‘red’ if you want to stop?” Franky cups your jaw and makes sure you’re looking into his eyes above you. You nod. “No no, tell me you will.”

“I will say it, I’ll say red. I can do it.” You breath out, so ready for him to please you already. You rub your thighs together. 

“And you’ll tell me if there’s anything ya don’t like, hm?”

“Yes of course I promise!” You groan out, impatient to feel Franky’s touch on your skin. 

“Super! I’m going to put you in a spreader bar now, sweet cheeks, so you can’t close your legs on me. It’ll just go around your legs like this…” Franky explains to you methodically as he straps your legs into the homemade device. You tentatively try to close your thighs to see how effective the bar was… and it certainly did its job. 

“OK and these are gonna squeeze your nipples, just like this…” Franky gently attaches the nipple clamps onto your sensitive buds. 

“Oh!!” You cry out as he tightens the screws on them. Franky pulls back and admires his handiwork. You were laid out on his bed, metal clasps squeezing your nipples, causing you to writhe against the spreader bar forcefully separating your legs. 

“Fucking perfect. If you want I can gag you, too…” Franky approaches you with a ball gag in hand. 

“Wait, no. I don’t want that.” You state clearly, even through your lust filled haze. Franky grins down at you. 

“Gods, you’re so fucking hot when you tell me what you want baby. Good idea sweetie, that way everyone can hear how good I’m gonna make you feel.” Franky squeezes your breast, eliciting a whine from your lips. He moves to grab something from the foot of the bed. It a large long, black, wand like device. 

“Spread them for me, I wanna see that cute little pussy.” Franky grabbed one of your knees and pushed it open. 

“I didn’t shave…” You try to cover your face with your arm so you didn’t have to see Franky’s eyes on your most intimate bits. 

“Good! Smells much better like this…” He takes a deep inhale. 

“Fuck,” You sigh out. “You really are a fucking pervert- OH!” The device Franky was pressing against your sex suddenly sprung to life and vibrated against your clit. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced in your life and your stomach tenses immediately. 

“Wait- fuck, Franky! Wait holy shit, wait- ah!” You scream as your orgasm sneaks up on you and takes you out like an assassin. You legs give out and flop against the bed. Franky removes the toy and cups your sex with his free hand. He feels your hole still gently pulsing against his palm.

“Oh poor baby, ya really are wound tight…” Franky coos down at you from your side. “We’re gonna need a lot more of those before you’re ready for me..” He removes his hand and returns the vibrator to your sex. You cry out as he drags it through your wet folds at the lowest intensity. He eventually keeps it at your clit and increases the vibrations. 

You squirm and moan. 

“Hey,” Franky scolds as he pulls on the chain between your nipple clamps, causing you to moan louder. “Don’t fight it, doll face… just cum, I know you’re there again…” He presses the device harder into your flesh and you crash over the edge again. This time it was even more intense, spasms continuing long after the euphoria ended. 

“Franky… It’s so much…” You whine as he leaves the vibrator pressed against your sex even after you’ve cum for a second time. 

“You can take it. I know you can. You know what to say to get me to stop…” Franky meets your gaze and raises an eyebrow. 

You pull your thighs closed to escape the sensation but the bar prevents you from doing so. 

“Come on baby, one more like this, I know you can…” Franky increases the speed of the vibrator. 

“Shit! I can’t!” You arch your back away from the stimulation. 

“Then say it, sweetheart.” Franky increases the speed again. 

“Fuck! I’m- I’m cumming!” You cry out and violently lurch forward on the bed. You grab Franky’s forearm and sob in pleasure. You hear the buzzing of the machine stop and your spasms start to slow down. 

“Think you can take me now, sweet thing?” You are broken from your post orgasm trance by your cyborg lover slipping off the only piece of clothing he had on, his red swim briefs. 

“Mmmhmmm….” You seductively whisper as you roll onto your stomach and push you ass backwards with your knees, exposing your puffy, red wet hole to him. 

“So ready for me, what a good girl.” Franky coos as he strokes down your back bone. “I’m gonna fuck you now, take a deep breath…” 

“SHIT!” You cry out as Franky’s enormous cockhead breaches your hole. You were wildly wet and open after 3 orgasms, but his sheer size was causing your insides to stretch beyond compare. 

“Its- ah” *sniff* *hiccup* “It’s so big, Frank! Ah!” *sniff* 

“I know sweetheart, it’s a lot at first, but you gotta relax and let me fuck you. You gotta open up more baby..” Franky leans forward and places kisses on your shoulder blades. He feels you lessen your grip around him and he pushes in further. “Gooood girl… stretching so nice for me…” He finally pulls back out and shoves himself into you again. 

“Oh!” You cry out in surprise. You continue to yelp helplessly as your powerful cyborg lover drilled into you from behind. 

“Yes there it is mama, cum on this dick. Feels good, huh?” Franky has the audacity to laugh as he hammers into your G-spot. 

You were involuntarily pushed over the edge and sent screaming into yet another orgasm. You sob and Franky uses his massive strength to flip you over onto your back. He enters you again and you moan out in overstimulation. 

“Come on, one more doll, bet you can squirt on me…” Franky thrusts into you from above, holding your hips into his at the perfect angle to hit your spot. 

“No, I- I can’t” You pant out breathlessly, knowing this is something you aren’t capable of. 

“Yes you can baby, come on just try it for me.” Franky pulls back and places one hand on your stomach and the other on your clit. He begins to rub circles into your sensitive nub and applies deep pressure to your lower abdomen, all while thrusting deeply into you with his cock. You snap for the nth time that evening and tears spill from your lash line as your hips spasm in pleasure. You feel different, like some sort of physical release in your bottom half deeper than the normal climax. You look up after catching your breath and see that your fluids had soaked both the bed and your lover’s abdomen and thighs. 

“Hnnnnhhhh” You whine and weep in overestimation. “It’s too much, Frank, please!” You cry out and claw at your cyborg’s back. 

“Almost there mama, take it for me…” Franky rasps into your ear as he reaches his own climax, huge cock buried deep against your cervix. The loudest moan you’ve ever heard reaches your ears and you toss your head back into the pillows. The both of your whine as Franky carefully removes himself from your body. 

You lay there in a daze and didn’t even notice that your lover had left until he returned with a warm towel to dab at your swollen, messy sex. You twitch involuntarily as he cleans your sensitive bits. He unlocks your legs from their hold in the bar and gently pulls the clamps off your nipples, soothing them with the wet cloth.

“You room should be cooled off by now, glad I could occupy your time until the repairs kicked in.” Franky helps you snap your bra back on behind your back. 

“Thanks for the help, and thanks for the distraction.” You reach up and grip Franky’s jaw to kiss it. You slide off the bed bend down to grab something. You hold the worn red pair of swim briefs up to your face. 

“I’m keepin’ these.” You giggle and bolt out of the room with Franky’s bikini. 

“HEY! Those are my only red ones! This is not very super of you!”

—

Xx 

[anthracite-writes]

Obey Me! Dating Headcanons (SFW)

ft. The seven rules of the Underworld (The demon brothers) - SEPRATE Reader type - X GN! reader

NOTE: These are just my personal headcanons for the brothers I’ve had for the 3 years I’ve been playing this game and what I think I think would fit them, if some of the headcanons are may be very OOC - apologies in advance.

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔 !!: What it's like dating the 7 brothers + love languages NOT PROOF READ - APOLOGIZES IF THERE'S TYPOS OR SPELLING ERRORS!!!

𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓯𝓮𝓻

Love language? Quality time, Acts of Service, and Words of Affirmation. He'll open doors for you, prepares you lunch, would occasionally ask if you need anything at random times.

Hands full? Don't worry, he'll take those off your hands. Sad? Boom, he made you your comfort food and got comfort snacks. You're busy studying? He'll come in and check on you every so often to ask if you want anything to drink or eat.

Invites you to spend time with him in his study while he works on the copious amount of paperwork or even to spend time with him in his bedroom as he listens to his music.

When you're together like in his study or his room, he'll pull you onto his lap. Just wanting you near him when it's just the two of you.

Constantly praises you - "You never cease to amaze me Y/N", "I'm so proud of you". Will acknowledge your achievements no matter how small they are to everyone else.

Dates? Long walks at night, listening party in his room, dinner dates, list goes on.

Man just loves spending time with you.

Probably in denial with how protective he is over you. "I'm just a little overprotective over you. That's all."

Out in public? Holding hands, hand around your waist. He's on a mission to let people know you're already taken.

Def. overworks into late into the night so you have to force him to to go to bed. Either he goes willingly or you have to drag him to bed.

WAYYY to prideful to admit he longs for your cuddles, hugs, and over all touch when he's in bed

Calls you 'my love' or 'my little angel/lamb'

Fav. areas to kiss? Hands, neck, lips for sure.

𝓜𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓸𝓷

Love Language? Gift giving/receiving

Man's broke so, expect a lot hand made gifts.

Firm believer he’s a really crafty person, not the best but he puts a lot of effort into the handmade gifts

Gifts a lot of cool found objects he finds when he’s out and about (shiny stones, cool bottle caps, etc)

Ya know… because his animal is a crow.

LOVES to give "just because" flowers [Hand pick from the woods around the House of Lamentation]

Finds a cool rock? 'Hey! Y/N, I found this rock and I thought of you because it's cool!'

Calls you 'Human', 'Dummy', 'my lucky charm' list goes on.

No, really. You literally are his lucky charm when he's gambling - Well, that's what he usually says despite how much he loses.

Dang, he actually won? He'll immediately spend it on getting gifts for you. Clothes, shoes, accessories.

Extremely caring towards you, seeing you upset or just slightly down - he'll do anything to cheer you up, no matter what; he will cheer you up.

There is never a boring moment with him. There's just always something going on with him.

Someone is picking on you? Oh, don't worry. he will make a scene. And a big on at that.

'Oh no you don't! The only person that gets to pick on Y/N, is ME!' 'AYO! The job of picking on them is already taken! Scram!'

Fav. places to kiss? Cheeks, forehead, top of the head.

𝓛𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷

Love Language? Physical touch and Quality time for SURE

Always have imagined him to be such a sweet guy, just extremely nervous due to the fear of messing up.

Gently place and hold his face in your hands, he will MELT

Honestly, any kind of touch will send him blushing and stuttering - just something like your hand brushing up against his will make his face go red and unable to speak for 3-5 business days

He would want to do EVERYTHING with you

Anime Marathons, reading manga, playing the newest game he bought or reruns of games he's already completed but wants to experience playing it with you by his side.

Will ramble on and on about his interests, be sure to listen to him

Intimacy level up if you reference something he mentioned in his rambles - he'll be over the moon that you actually listened to him.

If he sees you upset, he wouldn't leave your side.

Def. doesn't know how to comfort someone but will give you hugs and cuddles - willing to listen to you and let you vent to him about what's upsetting you

Lets you sit on his lap and cuddles you when he's gaming

When he gets frustrated on a level, Levi would most likely rage quit (after saving) out of the game and cuddle you tightly as he de-stresses himself before returning to the game

No matter how long you have been together, he still cannot fathom the fact you're willing to spend time with him let alone dating him.

Would get a teeny tiny bit jealous if you're attention is one something else like one of his brothers, Henry 2.0, or even an inanimate object like his figures.

then usually rounds back to the thoughts you're just a genuinely caring person who looks out for anyone and genuinely finds what he likes interesting.

Calls you 'normie' or just by your name. He gets nervous if he deviates from what he's used to calling you

Love it when you reassure him, cheer him on, or just listening to him no matter the situation.

Fav. place to kiss? lips, cheeks, forhead, genuinely anywhere on your face, top of the head, hands.

𝓢𝓪𝓽𝓪𝓷

Love Language? Quality time and Words of Affirmation

Reads poems and read passages in his books to you that remind him of you.

' Hey Y/N, There's this poem that reminded me of you, please let me read it to you' or 'This line in the book I'm reading made me think of you, would you like to hear it?'

Snuggles while he reads you stories for sure.

If you have a hard time sleeping or suffer from insomnia, he'll keep reading to you till you fall asleep in his arms/against him.

Loves it when you go outside with him to watch the wild cats around the House of Lamentation or let him lay his head on your chest or your lap while you read to him and gently play with his hair as you do so. It puts him at ease.

For dates he'll have reading dates, take you to cat cafes or coffee shops, book stores.

Holding hands? Yeah, a lot of that.

Def has a candid shot photo of you playing with the cats either in one of the cat cafes he took you to or when you two were out in the front of the House of Lamentation as his lock screen

Calls you 'love', some literacy reference like 'my rose' [Le Petit Prince Ref.] for example, and MAYBE 'kitten'

Fav. places to kiss? Forehead, top of head, nose.

𝓐𝓼𝓶𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓾𝓼

Love Language? Quality time, Gift Giving and Physical Touch

He LOVES it when you two spend time together. That means lots of touching...

Like painting your nails, spa and self-care days, trying on clothes, list goes on! [... what were you thinking???]

Loves buying you clothes when he's off shopping, he sees something that suits your fashion taste? oh he's getting one in every colour.

Def. matching outfits for the two of you, like genuine matching outfits - not those tacky couple's shirts, tf?

Extremely PDA, so be ready for surprise kisses and hugs.

Be ready to be shown off! He'll be posting photos of you two together on his socials, takes you to his modeling gigs, parties, the whole nine-yards.

Out of all his designer clothes and belongings, you are the one he wants on his person 24/7.

Did you forget the man's also a musician? [I'm pretty sure it's actually canon in OG OM! might be wrong - don't hold me to this statement.]

He will write songs about you, you are his muse.

Makes sure you get VVIP treatment if you attend his shows and backstage privileges and just make sure the staff at his shows/events are treating you like the gem he sees you as.

In public, he'll hold your hand, link your arm with his, or even have a hand on your waist to keep you close to him at all times.

When you're sad he'll let you lay with him in his bed and spoon you, holding you close to him as he whispers sweet nothing to you but also will listen to you if you need to talk.

Respects your boundaries - Yeah, he's very physical when showing you how much he loves you but if you show any signs of being uncomfortable or tell him to stop, he will.

He never wants to upset you with his touching of physical affection.

Finds everything about you adorable

I mean EVERYTHING. You have parts of you you don't like and are insecure about? To him, every inch of you is perfect to him. You can't tell him otherwise.

He'll call you all the nicknames under the sun.

But, would mostly use 'babe', 'hun', 'cutie', 'gorgeous', and 'my beloved'

Fav. places to kiss? Everywhere and anywhere.

But most fav places to plant his kisses are your lips, shoulders and neck.

𝓑𝓮𝓮𝓵𝔃𝓮𝓫𝓾𝓫

Love language? Acts of Service and Quality time.

Willing to cook you anything you desire [with a little of restrain and struggle to not gobble down the food he's cooking for you]

Memorized all of your fav. foods, comfort foods and snacks, food allergies, how you like your food.

Anything relating you with your relationship with food - he will remember it.

Sad? Beel's got you, he's cooking up your ultimate comfort food for you - in the meantime, please enjoy the comfort snacks he bought you while he cooks for you.

Food is his love language, you can't tell me otherwise!

uh-oh, you're having late night cravings? Most likely Beel will be in the kitchen when you get there and he'll be more than happy to cook for you - no matter what your request is.

Def. a lot of food centric dates - restaurants, picnics, food tours, street food, movie nights.

DW, not all about food when it comes to dates. Loves going for outdoorsy dates to like hikes, enjoys having you as his spotter when working out or having you sit on his back when he's doing push-ups.

If you're there with him and you're spending time with him, he considers it a date

If there's food, he wants to experience it with you.

Love just being around you.

Cuddling on his bed to going grocery shopping - he loves it.

The strong silent type but will be sure to tell you how much he loves being around you.

Would love it if you cook/bake with him

He aspires to be a chef [literally canon.], so he loves trying to make new recipes and cooking dinner with you when he's on cooking duty.

Would call you 'honey' or something... I feel like any food related nicknames he'd use

otherwise, he'd just call you by your name

Fav. places to kiss? The top of your head and forehead.

𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓻

Love Language? Physical Touch.

Cuddles and snuggles in the Attic sleeping area Belphie set up when he was captive everyday after school, though he would want it to be 24/365 or till the end of time

Loves it when you gently play with his hair when he sleeps on you.

Loves waking up next to you, if your still asleep he'll just lay there admiring you while he plays with your hair or caresses your cheeks.

Would most likely use you as a personal body pillow.

Any sleeping position works for him - the closer your body is to his, the better.

Very handsy when he sleeps, he'll cling to you when you two are sleeping together - so be ready to never be able to escape his grasps till he wakes up.

Dates include a lot of night-time activities [yeah, I'm aware that the Devildom is in enteral night] include night walks in the surrounding woods and stargazing either outside of the House of Lamentation or in the Planetarium room of the house.

Would def. find a star close enough to his and Beel's and claim it as yours so no matter how far apart you are, you'll always be close to each other in the stars he loves looking at.

Loves getting pets on the head and when you caress/hold his face in your hands

You are now his personal pillow, he will lean against you anywhere at anytime to take a nap.

In more private settings, he'll lay down on your lap and fall asleep or just chat with you like that till he drifts off to sleep

You bed is now his bed, man would def. sneak into your bed in the middle of the night to sleep next to you

Calls you 'sleepyhead' or 'sleepy-sheep'

Fav. place to kiss? Forehead, back of neck, and shoulders.

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

(Eddie rushes into Buck's exam room in the ER) Buck:...Oh. Oh, hey, Eddie. What're you doing here? Eddie: You called me! You were hysterical! Buck: Oh, right...! Doctor(to Eddie, about Buck's leg): It's a simple fracture. He'll have the cast off in about six weeks. Eddie: How did it happen? Buck: It's crazy...I was out buying cupcakes when I noticed a baby stuck on top of a building. I knew I had to save that baby, so I finished my cupcake and shimmied up the drain pipe, when suddenly the drain pipe started coming lose from the building! Eddie: - And you fell and broke your leg? Buck: No, I let go of the drain pipe just in time and grabbed hold of the telephone wire. So there I was, hanging from the wire. I started swinging myself back and forth until finally I flung myself as high as I could, hoping I would make it to the roof, but I didn't make it to the roof. I was totally out of control, and I went crashing through a giant, plate-glass window! Eddie: - And that's when you broke your leg? Buck: No, I landed flat on my back in the middle of some girl's apartment - she was super sweet, we're totally having lunch next week. Anyway, I found my way to the elevator, but it was out of service, so I had to pry open the doors and throw myself into the elevator shaft. Eddie: You fell down an elevator shaft?! Buck: Will you please just listen? I caught the elevator cables, I pulled myself up, hand over hand, until I finally reached the top, where I kicked the grate open with my feet and catapulted myself onto the roof, but right before I could grab the baby, it turned, and I realized it wasn't a baby, it was a crow! And it attacked me. Eddie: What?! Buck: I tried to fend it off, but he was one of those angry crows, and no matter what I did, he kept attacking, he wouldn't stop and he just kept attacking and attacking until, finally I lost my balance and fell 15 stories! Eddie: And that's when you broke your leg?! Buck: No, I landed on an inflatable gorilla in front of a car dealership. Eddie: So how did you break your leg? Buck: Oh, I was here for a checkup, and I slipped getting up on this table. It's really high. You should try it!...No, wait, don't. You'll break your leg like me. Doctor(to Eddie): He's a keeper.

[jewels-writes]

Surviving the Crash (Captain Price x injured! reader)

Fandom: Call of Duty Word count: 3,001 Warnings: Blood, injury, cursing, near death experiences, very poorly proofread Background information: Your callsign is Crow. Part 2 Part 3 — — — —

You’d found yourself in Price’s office for the third time this week, a result of your bad behavior. You heard him sigh, shuffling through the multiple reports he’d taken out of a manilla folder. As he read them, he’d occasionally look up at you and your bruised face. You knew better than to speak first. It was not something you did, especially not while he was reading. Sighing, he set the papers down on his desk before giving you his undivided attention.

“This is the third report I’ve gotten this week, Crow.” His words weren’t angry, not even disappointed. Just.. tired. He was tired of dealing with adults who acted like children, and as far as he was concerned, you were just another one. “Let me guess; you want to explain this one too?” he asked, adjusting his position so he leaned on one of his chair’s arm rests, his head resting on his chin. “Go on then. Give me your sob story.”

Your jaw clenched as you heard him insult your situation. You hadn’t intended to get into a fight. In fact, you hadn’t even thrown a punch; your words were enough to send the other recruit climbing over the cafeteria table at you. If someone hadn’t pulled him off of you, you were sure you’d be in a bag right now, with a letter being sent to your parents with the date for your funeral service. The way he’d grabbed your neck, there was no way he wasn’t trying to kill you.

“You read the reports, sir. You tell me what happened.” You were half curious about what the recruit said. Had he lied? Probably. Were they going to believe him? Probably. As the words left your mouth, you heard Price chuckle a few times. He wasn’t interested in scolding you; no, that wasn’t his style. 

“Tell me what bloody happened.” His words were a bit colder this time. “Explain to me why this report said you hit first when that boy doesn’t have a single mark on him, yet you were moments from a ticket to the medical wing. Tell the truth, rookie.” It almost sounded like he was concerned about you. It was in the way his eyes narrowed as he spoke, as if scanning your expression for any involuntary changes in reaction to his words. He leaned forward for effect, his head tilting to the side, waiting for your input. 

In your time here, you’d learned that this captain wasn’t like the others you’d encountered. He genuinely cared for justice and didn’t much care for people who wanted to kiss his ass. Either you told him how it was or he wanted nothing to do with you. 

“I provoked him.” You muttered, fully intending to take the entire blame for the beating. You recalled your exact words, though; you didn’t think it was appropriate to recite them, not to Price. Instead, you opted to summarize. “Something to the effect of how his parents should get a refund for the money they paid for his training.” 

You watched how Price chuckled again at your words, and you couldn’t help but feel confused. What about this situation was remotely funny? You moved your eyes down to his name plate on his desk, avoiding eye contact when he eventually leveled his gaze back at you. 

“And you didn’t fight back? Why’s that?” He inquired, intrigued by your answer. You were an enigma to him, always doing something unexpected. “Or were you restrained?” His voice dipped an octave lower in a way that made your heart flutter. You could hear the danger and power in his tone. In your hesitation to respond, he got his answer.

He sat back in his chair, tucking the papers back into the manilla folder before handing them to you. You hesitated before taking the folder from him, clearly confused. “Sir-?”

“Shred those on the way to medical.” He muttered, reaching for his pack of cigars in his top left desk drawer. “I’ll see to it that this issue is wiped from your record and that recruit is sent home.” As you stood there, unsure if he was serious, he continued. “I’ll have you transfer to my team. It seems you can’t coexist with everyone else; why not run with the big boys, yeah?” There was clear authority in his tone, leaving no room for your own opinion. But then again, you didn’t really mind the change of pace. “You’re dismissed.”

— — — —

By the end of the day, you had your things packed from your old bunker and were hauling your bag over to the other side of the base to stay with Price and his group. When you got there, you were greeted by blank, unamused stares. 

“And who the hell’re you?” The man with the skull mask asked, his British accent heavy as he walked over, his frame towering over you. “Can’t you fuckin’ read, eh? Sign says, Taskforce 141, fuckin’ muppet.”

“Easy, Ghost.” Price emerged from behind you, a hand resting on your shoulder. “They’re our new transfer.” You watched as Ghost looked between you and Price before muttering curses under his breath and taking a step back, retreating to his bunk. As you gathered yourself again, Price moved to your front, offering you a onesided smile. “That’s Ghost, a bit of a grumpy one. Don’t expect an apology from him. You’ll never get one. Follow me; I’ll show you your bed.” He made a motion with his arm before walking deeper into the tent. 

Your bed was above his. You were going to be sleeping above your captain. He muttered a quiet apology as he cleared the top bunk from some of his things, shoving them under his bed awkwardly. 

“Go on, settle in.” He offered a smile, placing a hand on the ladder, assuring you it would stay in place.

You didn’t get much sleep that night. Not because of your injuries from being someone’s punching bag, but rather because of how fast things had changed. Mere hours before, you were sitting in Price’s office, certain you were going to be dishonorably discharged, and now you shared a bunk with him.

— — — —

In the morning, you woke to a friendly banter between your teammates. There was some Scottish man who had been throwing articles of clothing at Ghost, giggling when a shirt stayed on Ghost’s head even as he tried to yank it off.

“MacTavish, you’re on thin ice.” The Brit grumbled through the cloth of the shirt. With a final tug, it came off. In a swift movement, he balled the shirt up before launching it at the other man, chuckling lightly to himself when it hit him square in the chest.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you continued to watch, a small smile growing on the edges of your lips. You heard a smothered laughter coming from below you and peaking down. You saw Price sitting up, his elbows propped on his knees, as he too watched the two men mess around. He didn’t mind letting them get a little rowdy; he knew moments like this were essential for their morale. 

Stepping down the ladder, you offered a soft ‘hello’ to Price, who simply nodded back at you, his attention on his teammates. Just as you were about to start your morning routine, Price stopped you.

“Let’s introduce you to everyone, yeah?” He offered, standing up from his bed and stretching slightly, rocking back and forth on his feet as he did so. Leaning down to your level, he put an arm around your shoulder as he pointed to everyone in the tent, naming them and calling out to them so they’d wave. “Everyone, this is our newest member, Crow. Treat them like you would treat me, or they get your provisions for a week.” He warned them. It wasn’t necessary; he knew he ran with good men, but after reading your reports, he knew the safety net would put your mind at ease.

— — — —

As you rushed over to the meeting room, your hair still wet from your shower and your uniform hastily thrown on, you were met with annoyed looks from nearly everyone sitting around the table. A woman, you recognized as Laswell, stood by a large TV, clearing her throat before motioning for you to sit. Doing so, you sat between Price and Gaz, muttering a soft apology to your captain who nudged your shoulder. You gave him a small smile in return, grateful that he wasn’t upset. 

As the meeting went on, you were briefed about an upcoming mission. You didn’t expect to be assigned as Laswell went over the mission, but your eyes widened when you heard your callsign among the names of the 141. Price noticed how your head snapped up, confusion clear in your features and he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

“You’re ready.” He mouthed with a knowing smile. The way his hand squeezed your shoulder slightly before retracting it and placing it back in his lap made your stomach flip. 

After the meeting, you stood around with your team, your hands nervously fiddling with a strap on your vest. Millions of thoughts raced through your head. Were you ready? What if Price was wrong? What if you were a liability? What if-

Price’s hand clapped you on the back, jolting you out of your frantic mind. Seeing him, you instincutally straightened up, a sign of respect. 

“At ease, Crow.” He murmured, though your shoulders stayed taught with tension. He stepped in front of you to make eye contact. “You’ll do fine. I selected you myself. Your delinquency reports weren’t the only ones I read about you.” He chucked. “You’re a valuable asset, one my team needs. Try not to stress too much.” 

“Are you sure?” Was all you could manage to say. You couldn’t fathom why he’d had such a change of heart about you. 

“More than sure, love.” His voice held a note of parental authority that you couldn’t quite understand. “You’ve got a few hours before we deploy. Get something to eat, fuel up.”

— — — —

“..come in! Crow, what’s your status? God dammit..!” Your radio jolted you back to the present as you blinked your eyes open. Immediately you felt the pain from the explosion that had caused you to go unconscious in the first place. Of-fucking-course the helicopter transporting you and your team had to get shot down by an RPG. You didn’t even want to know how far you fell.

The world around you was littered in debris and fire. Forcing yourself to sit up, you grunted with the effort, trying to scoot away from the wreckage. You could see the pilot’s burning body in the cockpit and your stomach churned. He was gone. 

“Crow, come in!” Price’s voice harped through the radio again, a hint of desperation in his tone. Groaning, you reached over to turn on your communications line. Taking a swift breath, you responded.

“Crow to Price, I hear you.” You strained, taking a few breaths before you spoke again. “I’m by the crash site. Pilot’s down. Everything bloody hurts.” You reported in, trying to hide the pain from your voice.

“You broken?” Price asked. You could hear him running in the background of his radio, seemingly toward you. “Christ, I see you. Stay where you are.”

In moments, you heard his footfalls getting louder as he approached your location. He knelt down beside you, his blue eyes assessing your condition. You hadn’t had the time to look for yourself, but you could tell something on your thigh made him freeze. You could see how he hesitated, how he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. 

Hearing more footsteps, you saw the rest of 141 jog over. They surrounded you, their eyes looking down at you like you were a lost cause. 

“Fuckin’ hell..” Ghost’s low voice cut through the air. Taking a step back, he angled his head down to his radio, muttering. “We need medevac, helo’s down.” Your stomach dropped when you heard him, knowing he purposely tried to be quiet about it so you wouldn’t hear. Not quiet enough.

“The hell you mean? I’m fine-” Looking down at your body, your words caught in your throat. A piece of the helicopter’s propeller was lodged deep into your right thigh. “Oh fuck.” Your voice came out as a shaky whisper, your panic rising. 

“Don’t look- dammit, Crow. Relax. Don’t move.” Price urged, waving Soap and Gaz over. “Keep them still.” He ordered to them as they kneeled around you, their hands free and ready. Redirecting his attention to you he asked, “How much can you feel?”

You took a moment to respond, the hesitation from the dread in realizing your entire right leg seemed to not register in your mind. Worst case scenarios rushed through your head. Looking down at your body again, you felt your pulse roaring in your ears. In the split second before Soap pressed your shoulders back to the ground, you could see the propeller plate had cut through bone, something you’d overlooked before. You saw the way it had almost entirely ripped your leg off, how the blood spurted out of the gap it created.

“Oh my god.. Oh my fucking god..” Your breathing was erratic and Price muttered a curse under his breath.

“Hey, none of that. You need to slow your breathing.” His tone was more urgent this time, one of his gloved hands reaching up to your cheek, holding your head in place. “Look at me. Shh, look. You’re going to be okay. It looks worse than it is.” He lied through his teeth. He didn’t like doing it, but he knew calming you held priority. 

“No.. no, no..” Your sobs came out like desperate pleas. “I don’t wanna die. Oh my god..” Price’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked over to Gaz, signaling for him to search the wreckage for any usable medical supplies. As he left, Price looked back down to your thigh, wincing as he looked at it again.

“You’re not gonna die, you’re gonna be fine. Just.. dammit, stay with me, Crow.” Price’s hold on your face stiffenened as he saw your eyes unfocus and your expression beginning to relax. “No, no. Stay with me, dammit.” He tapped your face with his fingers, keeping you present. “You stay awake, you hear me? Fight through it, love.” He’d hoped with the fact that the plate was still in your leg that it would stem the bloodflow, but apparently he was wrong. 

Gaz jogged back, a slightly burnt medical bag in his arms. He hurridly set it next to Price, opening it for him, sifting through it’s contents. Their dread grew when there was nothing that could soothe your pain. Nothing that could fix you. Gaz’s actions became more tense, his hands roughly digging through the bag, pushing the useless supplies around. 

“Ghost, what’s the eta on that damn medevac?” Price barked at his teammate, needing some form of good news. Despite his desperate tone, his hand held firm on your cheek, providing a steady sense of his presence. 

“They’re on their way. Five minutes out.” Ghost replied, his mask giving nothing away from his expression. Price’s heart dropped. Five minutes was too long.

“Crow?” Soap spoke in the pause, his voice nervous. At the mention of your callsign, Price’s eyes darted back down at you. Your eyes were closed, and your expression was relaxed. If he didn’t know any better, he could have thought you were asleep.

“No, no! Wake up!” Price shook you, his hands on both of your shoulders. Your body didn’t respond, not as he shook you, not as he called your name, nothing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His voice broke in his desperation. At the same time Gaz reached for your wrist, placing his fingers to it, praying he’d feel a pulse. 

“They’re alive.” Gaz breathed. Your pulse was weak, but there. “Not for long, we need that chopper here. Now. Keep trying to wake them.” He urged, taking out a roll of bandages from the bag. 

It was then that they heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter approaching. On edge, Ghost’s hands tightened around his gun, aiming it at the sky. His radio buzzed in, confirming they were friendlies.

The next few minutes were controlled chaos, with the medical team coordinatingly lifting you onto a gurney before rushing back to the helicopter. Price and his team followed right behind them, giving them the space they needed to work on you. Before the doors could even close, Price was ordering that they take off, shouting at the pilot.

Returning to your side as they took off, he rested his hand on your forehead, turning your head toward him.

“Pull through, dammit..”

— — — —

The hours dragged on. You’d been visited by doctor after doctor, each time, checking on your vitals. The beeping of your heart on the monitor seemed to mock Price as he sat beside your bed, his hand resting over yours. The surgery was done hours ago, and yet you hadn’t woken up yet. 

He’d watched as they reconnected your leg, tying the tendons, muscles, and skin back together. You wouldn’t be able to walk for a week, at least while your body healed, but it was better than amputation, right?

“How are they?” Gaz asked as he stepped into your quiet hospital room, worried like hell for you. Sure, you two had just met yesterday, but he still cared about you. He’d have to have zero empathy to not. 

“Still out. Haven’t woken up yet.” Price sighed, lines of worry mixed with his own exhaustion. “Vitals are steady; it’s only a matter of time.” 

The guilt ate at Price. If he hadn’t recruited you to his team, if he hadn’t recommended you for the mission, this entire thing wouldn’t have happened. With his other hand, he rubbed his tired eyes, feeling like he’d let you down.  Maybe he did. — — — — Note: I will not be continuing this unless requested. I hate hospital scenes/tropes. You're lucky I didn't kill Crow outright.

[verxsyon]

·:*¨༺ ❝ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖 (𝐈𝐈) ❞

with your auto workshop at risk of closing down, your best friend offers to introduce you to people who are definitely in need of your high quality services: underground street racers of blue lock, whose obsessions are winning the races. however, your arrival at the track makes them think otherwise.

✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. yukimiya kenyu, otoya eita, karasu tabito, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, oliver aiku, alexis ness, & michael kaiser x gn!reader

✧ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭. headcanon (written) ; 1.1k

✧ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. e2l au, f2l au, street racer au ; fluff

✧ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. allusions to violence (shidou & rin)

✧ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚. here’s the second part containing characters who are more egoistic than the last batch… nah, that’s debatable lol. did i actually spend the entire day working on this? yes, i was a roll; love it here. anyways, my other fave, yukki, is here! i didn’t mention it last time: this au was originally written for another fandom years ago, moved to genshin but that didn’t happen, and then here! egoistic soccer boys as street racers? yes, please.

[ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖 (𝐈) ]

𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐮. the model. he’s a member of the neo egoists and is ranked fifth of the top six racers in blue lock. his charm is the focal point of his character, driving the audience nuts. curious by nature, he wonders what important qualities you possess other than being “kira ryosuke’s date”. he also wonders how you managed to get the likes of barou, who treats everyone like trash, and nagi, who thinks of only going home, wrapped around your finger. seeing you teach nagi about car anatomy gives him the chance to introduce himself. he thinks there’s something special about you, which he intends to find out, but a teammate of his believes so otherwise.

𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐚. the ninja. he’s a member of the neo egoists and is ranked fourth of the top six racers in blue lock. he claims to be not like his fellow racers and teammates and prefers to operate in the shadows. unlike them, he doesn’t see you as an angel who was sent by god in the form of a mechanic to fix their cars. he fails to see why they’re smitten by you, therefore not interested in interacting with you at all. that turns out to be a lie when yukki gives you a tour of the turf of the neo egoists. it’ll be rude not to make you feel welcome, so he wants to give you a chance. a crow-themed racer laughs at him for fooling himself that he doesn’t find you attractive one bit.

𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨. the assassin. he’s a member of the neo egoists and is ranked third of the top six racers in blue lock. all about good vibes and having a good time, he doesn’t want his team to act “mediocre” around you. most newcomers are notorious for never setting foot in this place again. he’s so relieved to hear that you came at your own volition thanks to ryosuke’s persuasion, and everyone you’ve met is nice to you… sans certain others, so he doesn’t need to worry about making an impromptu spiel of why blue lock, aka his team dare you add, is great. if you think he’s too friendly for your taste, let’s see if the next guy who’s stalking you right now takes the top of your list.

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢. the joker. he’s ranked second of the top six racers in blue lock. unrestrained both in words and action, he goes about his day and does everything as he pleases. judging by how karasu and the rest of the neo egoists are quick to stand either by or in front of you, he’s bad news. the altercation got team z’s attention, especially kunigami who he has massive beef with. you being “ryosuke’s date” doesn’t phase him, nor your best friend going for his head for being near you. ever since the older itoshi brother joined forces with u20 and chose him to be at this side, he’s been “behaving”. the younger itoshi brother isn’t amused, as if he didn’t break his nose last race .

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧. the puppeteer. he’s the unofficial leader of the neo egoists and is ranked first of the top six racers in blue lock. the youngest of the itoshi brothers, has a score to settle with his older brother, sae, who’s participating in the upcoming race as a member of u20 along with his personal choice shidou. it’s already bad enough for racers to use physical violence to settle arguments, but it’s even worse for him to be involved in another fight with shidou, especially before a race that determines his fate and prove to sae that he’s the best of the best. he doesn’t spare a glance at you or ask if you’re alright, as sae walks into the neo egoists’ garage to check out the commotion.

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐞. the prodigy. he’s one of the new generation world 11, the best eleven racers in the streets and a member of royale. as he’ll be the only one representing his team in the upcoming race, he joined forces with u20 since they’re short by two members and personally chose shidou to fill in the other spot. even if it’s not obvious at face value, everyone can tell there’s bad blood between the brothers by the intense atmosphere created from their staring contest. sighing, he breaks contact first to search where you are, then looks at rin to scoff at his lack of concern for you when shidou approaches you. in the distance, claps are heard from a man with “u20” on his jacket.

𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐮. the player. he’s the captain of u20, the name of the team you’ve heard from literally everyone who won’t shut up about them for the past several hours. he’s highly respected among his team for his patience; dealing with sae and shidou, the most difficult people to work with on earth, is like a drive around the neighborhood. he intrudes with a reminder that the streets don’t approve of violence and that they’re going to race soon. in addition, a blue lock racer by the name of kira ryosuke has a special guest and they should be on their best behavior. yet he’s a hypocrite, flirting with you in front of his current date and promising you an autograph when he wins.

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. the magician. he’s the mechanic of bastard münchen. he understands your position as the center of attention, claiming to be just like you — having a partner for an adrenaline junkie and being the “fixer” to clean up your mess. he invites you to see his partner’s car at the special garage as he’s on his way their to fix its engine, to which you happily accept as there’s finally someone with the same job who you can geek about car anatomy and share techniques. the way he repairs the engine is like clockwork, fluid and in tempo. he really is on a different level. you hear a chuckle behind you, asking if you’re fascinated by his work.

𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫. the thorn. he’s one of the new generation world 11, the best eleven racers in the streets and one of the major forces of bastard münchen. he puts in so much faith and trust in his partner, ness, the “fixer” of his messes. also known as “blue rose” in his turf, he’s shrouded in mystery and seems like the type who can turn the impossible to infinite possibilities. but in reality, he’s a pain in the ass. within minutes of your encounter, he keeps bragging about his abilities and declaring that his victory will lead to the disbandment of blue lock, so they won’t get in his way of his career. the race’s up, and you’re hoping that a blue lock racer wins to shut his mouth.

✧ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬. if your url is in bold, that means i can’t tag you!

@2018-01-20 ; @astranne ; @kamiiyaka ; @keqism ; @lilikags​ ; @thetruepair​ ; @wanderersbell ; @venexus​

[dreamtigress]

Crow Skull Cane

My new Asterom cane. I used Molotow Liquid Chrome paint to make the wooden handle look like metal. Also added a deerskin wrist strap. Absolutely in love with it.

Asterom is an Ukrainian company that makes amazing canes. They do custom heights, and have good, quality construction. They even sent an extra rubber tip. Customer service is top notch. If you need a very sexy mobility aid, consider Asterom. https://asterom.com/

Image description: a crow skull handled cane. The head of the cane is painted silver to look like metal. The staff of the cane is black stained wood.

[vespidphoenix]

Entirely at your service

Tag list: @fanaticsnail @turtletaubwrites @weaversofnulbundin

It's Sanji's turn to stay on the Thousand Sunny while the rest of the Straw Hats explore a new island, so he makes his way up to the crow's nest for his watch. He is pleasantly surprised in more ways than one by what, or rather who, he finds up there.

Notes: NSFW, minors begone, lots of swearing, friends to lovers, porn with feelings, idiots in love, chubby OC, some angst, lots of fluff, praise kink, breast worship, consent really is sexy, inappropriate(?) use of observation haki, etc; word count 6.3k

AN: Baby's first fan fiction! Ya girl can have a little a shameless self-insert, as a treat. I've only seen OPLA and I'm not past the East Blue in the manga/anime yet, but I've done my best to keep everything consistent with canon.

AN 2: I use French as the language of the Celestial Dragons, and both Sanji and Amy are fluent. Most of the time, I'll put the English words in brackets at the end of the paragraph, but there are some recurring phrases that I'll leave untranslated: mère bleue is 'blue mother', as in Mother Ocean; merde is 'shit'; mon amour, chérie, and ma chère are endearments

Chapter One: you are here! | Next chapter: coming soon | Masterlist: coming soon

Edit: read this chapter on ao3!

(Banner courtesy of @cafekitsune)

As soon as the hatch leading to the crow’s nest clangs shut, Sanji sets his snack tray on the floor mats and collapses with a dramatic groan. 

“Fuck me raw,” he sighs.

“As appealing as that sounds, that’s gonna have to wait another couple days per Chopper’s advice,” a feminine voice deadpans behind him.

Sanji sits upright with a start, nearly knocking over his water bottle. “Mère bleue!” he exclaims as he turns to face his crew mate; “for some reason I thought you were in the landing party today.”

Amy’s reply is drowned out by the pounding of Sanji’s heart when he blinks and notices just how casually she is dressed. He recognizes her sarong as a recent gift from a grateful cloth merchant—he would stand by the assertion that everything looked good on Nami, the original recipient, but he’d have to agree with her that it suited their crew’s interpreter better—and the crocheted halter top as Amy’s own handiwork. He feels a sudden itch to find out for himself just how soft a yarn she chose for this particular work of art…

For lack of a mirror, Amy could not see what her face looked like; but she imagined that if she could, her eyes would be wide and sparkling with mischief. It’s certainly the feeling she always seems to get whenever she’s face-to-face with the handsome blond before her: a grin pressing at her cheeks to escape through the seam of lips pressed together, eyelids spread as if to take in more of him.

(Sometimes, she reckons she could spread other parts of herself for that purpose, if she thought him willing to put his money where his mouth always seems to go.)

“I’m not complaining, mind you,” she continues to say, “but this is the third—no, fourth time in a row!”

Sanji gulps and shakes the slightly-glazed expression from his face. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? I was…distracted by your beauty.” He winks one piercing blue eye, and skepticism be damned, she feels heat creeping over her body and pooling between her legs.

Amy rolls her eyes and fidgets with her sarong in lieu of making a snarky comment about blindfolds.

“As I was saying while you were ogling me, I was going to be one of the landing party, but Nami insisted on having Usopp join her in mapping the island because my handwriting is so much better than his, so I should be the one to help you with inventory. She’s not wrong, per se, but this is the third or fourth time in a row this has happened, and part of me wants to call bullshit.”

“Part of you? What about the rest of you?” Sanji asks, resolutely fixing his gaze on Amy’s eyes instead of letting it drift to her bust or the soft rolls of her exposed torso.

This time it’s Amy’s turn to deliver a blush-inducing wink. “The rest of me is simply happy to be spending time with you.”

“Well, lucky for us, sweetheart, I took the liberty of doing inventory earlier this morning so that Miss Nami would have a grocery list,” Sanji replies after taking a deep breath, “so I am…entirely at your service.” 

Entirely at your service. The words tickle Amy as she takes in Sanji’s shirtless form, supine once more and sporting that megawatt grin. As her gaze trickles down from his abs to those steel-hard thighs, she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed by how smug he looks; Mother Ocean knows how handsome he knows he is, how hard he’s worked to earn those well-toned—

“Have I rendered you speechless, mademoiselle?”

Sanji’s voice, sultry and teasing, interrupts her train of thought.

Entirely at your service.

Sanji knows he’s close to some sort of victory when Amy’s face flushes even more deeply and she still doesn’t answer right away. There’s something uniquely thrilling about fencing with words and looks the way Mosshead trains with Wado Ichimonji—maneuvering, testing, anticipating, parrying, scoring—and he reckons it has to do with the way both parties win something if one goes about it correctly.

He watches and sits up as Amy walks around to his front before she settles next to the tray of snacks. His heart thumps harder in his chest the same way that foolish thing does every time they’re in such close proximity, not quite touching but close enough that he wouldn’t even need to fully extend his arm were he to caress her cheek—

“You don’t need to sit up on my account, handsome. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer later, but right now maybe I’ll serve you some—how does that sound?” Amy plucks a single grape from the cluster and holds it above his mouth.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

It’s not often Sanji allows himself to contemplate what he might do with such an offer. As a child, he’d served in order to live; as an adolescent and now as an adult, he lives to serve. But sometimes it occurs to him that letting someone serve him instead can itself be an act of…well…service.

(It will take some time before he allows himself even to think the word ‘love’ in place of ‘service’, and longer still before he allows himself to speak it; but it’s there, waiting like a daffodil bulb in early March for safe conditions to bloom.)

There will be time for Sanji to unpack all of this later, when a beautiful woman is not offering him a grape that looks as sweet and delicious as the person holding it, looking at him with the inviting heat of an onsen—or perhaps it is the sort of hunger that no amount of grapes can quench but he might be able to satisfy anyway. 

All Blue forbid he keep a lady waiting. He lowers himself back onto the floor mats and opens his mouth.

“Good boy,” Amy teases in her best attempt at a sultry purr, frowning when Sanji gives her a strange look and shifts uncomfortably instead of rolling his eyes. “Sorry, does my femme fatale impression need work? Too over-the-top, not campy enough, too demeaning?”

“No, that was—no, no, you’re fine,” he replies, suddenly a little breathless. “How about that grape?”

If Amy notices the hunger filling both his mind and his gym shorts, she mercifully does not comment on it.

There’s a look in Sanji’s eyes that, if she didn’t know better, Amy might call naked desire, and the idea renders her dizzy with want, or it could be dehydration—she’s not sure, not in this weather. She drops the grape in Sanji’s waiting mouth, pats his jaw, and gets up to let a breeze in through a window.

She can hear the slight frown in Sanji’s voice when he calls, “Are you alright, darling? Can I get you something to drink? I think I saw a fountain somewhere…”

“You’re not beating the waiter allegations from Zoro anytime soon, are you?” Amy chuckles, the cooler air having relieved her flustered state.

“He can call me a scullion for all I care; it’s a small price to pay to see you satisfied.” The chef curses under his breath; there are no spare cups up here, so sharing his canteen will have to suffice. He brings it to Amy with an apologetic smile.

She takes a sip and smiles gratefully, and allows her eyes once again to wander over Sanji’s chiseled body. “I have a tall glass of water to drink from, and that’s a good place to start.”

Sanji draws a sudden breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Keep talking like that, and we might not get to finish the snacks I brought up.”

A wicked grin spreads over Amy’s face, and Sanji knows he’s fallen into his own trap.

“How about I help you finish your snack, and you help me finish mine?”

He groans and tilts his head back, and the creeping heat that became smoldering want is stoked into flame by the huskiness of his voice, by the way his neck seems further exposed, there for the kissing—

“Say the word, Amy, and all of it is yours.”

Amy merely smiles. She steps past him, hooking an arm around the far side of his waist as she goes; when he spins around to face her once again, she tugs on the hand suddenly holding hers.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” she asks, nodding toward the tray.

A moment’s hesitation, and Sanji steps forward into the gap between them.

“Are you gonna call me a good boy if I do?” he asks almost under his breath, just above a whisper.

They’re standing so, so close together now, Sanji is sure Amy can feel his breath on her forehead and the place where his shorts are almost too tight to contain him—because she might have called him a tall glass of water, but to him her eyes are Dressrosi kahlua, and he is so drunk on her gaze he would confess to a lot more than his longings, just for another shot.

“I can call you anything you like,” she breathes, “when I am entirely at your service.”

Their lips meet now in a kiss that, for all the repartee and flirtation that preceded it, is gentle and unhurried, a moment to be savored. After a few moments they pull apart, all smiles, long enough for Sanji to remark:

“I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”

The pair dissolve into giggles and quick pecks as Sanji finally lays himself down beside the snacks.

To his left, recumbent and supporting herself on one arm, Amy realizes her mistake and gestures to the tray. "Would you mind passing me those?" she asks.

"I thought you were supposed to be serving me," he replied with a mock pout and still-twinkling eyes. 

"I was always taught it was impolite to reach directly across someone's personal space." Amy raises an eyebrow, still looking amused.

Gently, tentatively, as if reaching out to pet a cat, Sanji places his left hand on the small of her back. The hitch in Amy's breath at his touch and the way her eyes widen send a tingling sensation down his spine, straight to his groin. He flashes her the most charming smile he can muster.

"Chérie, in case I haven't made it clear, I want you in my personal space; and unless I am reading you wrong, in which case I apologize sincerely..." He begins to remove his hand.

"No, no, keep doing that—"

(Amy almost doesn't recognize that plaintive voice as her own, but the way his broad palm spread across her back and the soothing way he moved his thumb in little circles have seared themselves into her mind like an addiction.)

Sanji, that smug, sexy bastard, grins and does as he is told.

“…if I am not mistaken, you want me in your personal space, too.” 

Amy is speechless for a moment with an embarrassment she can’t quite explain, but she knows exactly how to get back at Sanji. With his hand back in its place holding her, she smiles sweetly and says:

“Thank you…”

—she moves not only to reach across him for the food, but also to straddle him entirely, which she is sure was his plan to begin with; but then she leans her head close to his, and her smile turns impish—

“…or should I say ‘good boy’?”

Pulling her waist closer with one hand and pushing himself up from the floor with the other arm, Sanji kisses Amy again, trailing along her jawline with an unmistakable urgency.

“Mon amour,” he pleads, “laisse-moi te montrer ce que tu m’inspires…” [Let me show you what you inspire in me...]

“Ho-hold on, lover boy,” Amy gasps, giving the smallest yelp when his hand squeezes a plush asscheek and presses her body against his hardness. “Don’t forget what you came here to do. We don’t—fuck—we don’t waste food.” She pushes against Sanji’s chest and hopes he can see the sympathetic reluctance in her face.

He whimpers. Sanji whimpers, and the sound of it is almost enough to break her resolve; but she knows that if he loved anything in the world more than women, it would be food alone. She presses her forehead to his and a gentle kiss to his nose.

“We don’t waste food.”

If Sanji didn’t know better, he’d think he was dreaming. If he’s dreaming, then woe betide the person who wakes him up, he thinks.

The afternoon sun backlights Amy’s head like a halo, and the breeze through the window causes her brown hair to flutter like a curtain or a sacred veil. Sanji thanks whatever deities are listening—for surely the vision above him is divine in source as well as appearance—for every person before him who fumbled their chance at the privilege that is now his. Hell if he knows what a rejected-princeling-turned-pirate-cook could possibly offer that is worthy of a goddess like this; but he would devote himself to her, be her high priest, beg her to take him as her throne—anything for the heaven in her embrace, if she would only let him.

We don’t waste food.

The reminder nudges Sanji out of his angst, and he grins. “Let’s have those snacks, then, before we get carried away and fill up on something else.”

He gives Amy one more kiss on her lips, chaste yet searing, and lets her go.

The absence of his hand on her waist feels like a loss, until she sits back to reach for the grapes and feels something pressing below her tailbone. She exchanges a knowing smile with the man pinned beneath her, handsome as a demigod.

“You know, if we share those snacks, they’ll be gone faster,” he muses, before dropping his voice even lower. “Then you and I can have our ways with each other.”

“Someone’s eager.” Amy winks and picks up a piece of bruschetta.

“Eager to please you, eager to serve you, eager to feel you in the throes of bliss—yes, I am eager, and you deserve an eager lover, Amy.”

Amy looks stunned. Sanji gestures to the bread slice in her hand.

“Mind telling me how that bruschetta tastes?” he asks. “I used a different combination of cheese and seasoning since we couldn’t find any mozzarella in the last port.”

You deserve an eager lover.

Amy knows this to be true, knows that a lack of sex is better than mediocre sex; but knowing is one thing, and hearing a would-be lover echo the sentiment is another. Not only that: Sanji says it with such conviction, as if pleading with her to believe it too. It's refreshing. Arousing.

So...maybe she leans forward a bit more than necessary when she brings a morsel to Sanji's waiting mouth, and delights in the way his noises of appreciation seem to be as much for the heft of her breasts as for the acidic tang of the diced tomatoes. Maybe she grinds her bottom on his clothed cock just a little when she reaches for another handful of grapes, and smiles with the knowledge that his moaning isn't only for the bursts of sweetness on his tongue. Maybe she is uncommonly thorough when licking the sticky tangerine juice off his fingers.

Entirely at your service.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

Swimming as their heads are with heady lust, it takes Sanji and Amy by surprise when they find the snack tray empty. They stare at it in silence for a long moment, before—

“Should I, uh—”

“That went more—”

“No, sorry, you go—”

“You go—”

Sanji sits up, laughing, and Amy kneels in front of him, head cocked to one side.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any condoms on you, or know whether Zoro keeps any up here?” Amy asks quietly.

“Hm? I think Mosshead keeps all his in his belt thing; Franky’s shooting blanks and exclusive with Miss Robin, so they don’t need any—”

“Wait, how does Franky know…”

“Apparently the Surgeon of Death also does vasectomies from time to time—wish I’d thought of that the last time we ran into them.”

“Damn. But do you have any?” Amy asks, leaning closer and poking him gently.

Sanji sighs deeply. “Don’t got any rubbers on me, but I keep some in the bunk room…”

“Hmmm, mais je ne peux plus attendre.” With her left hand on his right cheek, Amy pulls Sanji in for a lingering kiss. “J’ai besoin de toi maintenant.” [but I can't wait anymore; I need you now]

“Fuck, Amy,” Sanji groans between hungry, open-mouthed kisses, “how’m I supposed to resist you when you talk to me all sweet like that?” He slides a hand just above the waist of her sarong for emphasis, and cautiously slips a couple fingertips between fabric and skin.

Amy allows her fingernails to lightly scrape his skin as her free hand finds his spine; the hand already on his face threads through his hair. “You’re not supposed to resist me,” she murmurs into his jawline as she pulls his head back to expose his neck. “You’re supposed to forget about that snack tray, forget about our crewmates”—she places a cluster of kisses along his neck—“and enjoy some time alone with your lover—”

Your lover. The words send shivers coursing over Sanji’s skin.

“—just…enjoy yourself for a while.” She looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and allows one hand to drift down to his waistband.

��Well, when you put it like that—merde, ça me sens bien—let me at least put a towel down for us?” Sanji reluctantly extracts himself from Amy, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand when he catches a pout on her lovely face. [that feels good]

“Make it quick, mon amour…vraiment, j’ai besoin de toi…” [truly, I need you]

Sanji pulls a couple towels from a nearby rack, drapes the larger one so that it flows from the bottom step onto the floor, and sets the smaller one beside it. Approaching Amy, he holds a hand out to her with the air of a gentleman at a ball asking a lady to dance. She takes it and pulls herself up to stand in front of him.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she asks with an adoring smile.

Sanji cups her face in both of his hands and looks her in the eyes. “We can stop at any time and it won’t cause problems between us, y’know that, right? I want this to be enjoyable for both of us.”

Amy lets her eyes flick down to Sanji’s parted lips before meeting his gaze. “What would really be enjoyable right now is you kissing me…”

“So needy,” he teases, but obliges Amy anyway.

“‘Needy’? The love cook calls me ‘needy’?” she replies with mock outrage. “You’re the one who tricked me into straddling you and got so horny over a simple pet name that you reverted to Celestial!”

Sanji gives her a mischievous smile and another peck. “You stepped into the trap very willingly, though, didn’t you?” Another kiss, lingering a moment, and he adds: “And I know for a fact you loved it when I switched languages.”

“Quoi d’autre peux-tu faire avec ta langue, hmm?” Amy whispers against Sanji’s lips. [What else can you do with your tongue]

“S’il te plaît, chérie,” he whispers in kind, his fingers dancing lightly along one arm as he lifts it to his shoulder, “je peux te démontrer…” [If it please you, I can demonstrate]

Suddenly he bends down, and with a grunt he lifts Amy by her thighs, one on either side of his waist. He sets her down on the towel.

No sooner does Sanji let go of her legs than Amy is on him, gripping his face with both hands and kissing him voraciously. 

“That’s so—ungh—so fucking hot, Sanji,” she moans. “Fuck, you’re strong.”

“You’re not that heavy, are you?” Sanji manages to say between kisses—not that he’s complaining. “Ten stone, twelve?”

“Fourteen last I checked,” Amy murmurs into his chin. “You’re so good at what you do, I’m always hungry for more.”

Sanji chuckles at her double entendre. “Fourteen’s nothin’, long as I let my legs do the work.”

“Definitely the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.” Amy sucks lightly at the base of Sanji’s neck, and almost erases his train of thought completely.

“Merde—since your own, of course, right?” He places his hands on her knees and ever-so-slowly moves them upward.

“Mmm, naturally,” Amy murmurs, more interested in Sanji’s collarbone.

“Are you even listening right now?” Sanji asks, grinning with amusement as he pulls away. He laughs when Amy makes a whining noise and chases him with her lips.

“Your tongue is doing way too much talking, lover boy. Starting to think maybe you’re all talk.”

Sanji narrows his eyes.

Before Amy has time even to discern anything from his smile, Sanji’s gripping the back of her head in one hand and nudging her mouth open with his tongue. His other hand slides higher along her thighs, tantalizingly close to where she suddenly realizes she needs his touch the most. She moans into Sanji’s hungry mouth, the noise sounding more like a whimper than she would have liked to admit were she clear-minded; but her senses are consumed with him, and she can’t bring herself to care. His appreciative groans are like held notes on a saxophone; he smells of musky cologne and sweat in a way that registers as the essence of virility in the back of her mind; he electrifies her skin with the slightest contact; she can taste fruit and spice on his tongue, and—

“Sanj, there’s something metal in your mouth, is that a piercing or…?”

Amy leans back to peer into Sanji’s grinning mouth, and sure enough, the frenulum is pierced with a horseshoe bar.

She puts her arms around his neck and pulls him close again. “You know, I’d heard you described as having a silver tongue,” she teases, her lips a hair’s breadth from his, “but I didn’t think Nami and Usopp were being serious.”

Sanji kisses her again, delicate and sweet like a meringue. “It’s surgical steel, love, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He chuckles and Amy rolls her eyes fondly.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your talent show?” she suggests.

“A show, hmm? I’ve never tried exhibitionism, but we can talk kinks later, sure.”

“You know what I meant!” Amy laughs, giving Sanji’s shoulder a playful backhand.

“Oh, yes, that’s right: the talent show in which I”—Sanji places one more kiss on Amy’s smiling mouth—“pleasure this lovely lady”—he whispers before kissing behind her ear and sliding his hands to the laces of her top—“with my tongue until she”—loosens the knot holding the halter-neck in place and nips an exposed shoulder, prompting her to buck against him—“begs me to make her cum on my face.” He presses his face into her cleavage, and looks up to gauge her expression. “That one?”

Amy combs a hand through Sanji’s corn-silk hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and gasps with something like awe marbled with need. His lust-darkened eyes peering up at her from between her breasts might be the most erotic thing she’s ever seen.

Entirely at your service.

You deserve an eager lover.

“Oh, Sanji…” she sighs and leans back against the bench. “Please, yes, I need it…

“…do I get to serve you after?”

The question is so airy and quiet that Sanji almost doesn’t catch it, occupied as he is with the scent of Amy’s perfume and the solemn task of unbuttoning her from the other side. “What’s that, darling?”

Amy holds his face between her hands and pets his flushed cheeks with her thumbs. “Do I get to return the favor once you’ve made good on those wonderful things you said you want to do to me?”

“You may not need to. I’m pretty, ah, worked up right now—might be that I’ll follow you over the edge when you cum for me.” Sanji kisses her palm and, taking hold of her hand, guides it along the faint trail of hair leading to where he needs her touch the most.

Amy wants to press the question further, but contents herself with pressing her hand to the bulge in Sanji’s shorts. She gasps in wonder at his size and the needy cry that pours from his lips.

“Let’s find out for sure, shall we?” She turns her back to Sanji and lifts her hair out of the way.

Seating himself on the bench beside Amy, Sanji can reach the buttons just fine, but he welcomes the chance to lavish her neck with a flurry of kisses. He smiles against her skin at her giggling, and thinks of how quickly the sound is becoming one of his favorites.

Amy’s breath, already shaking, hitches when she feels her top come loose, and again when Sanji sucks lightly on the skin joining her neck to her shoulders.

“Sanji, please…”

“Shhh, darling, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs as his hands snake over the bare skin of her waist to cover hers in the front. “Your body is so soft, so beautiful. I love it.

“Can…can I just…feel it for a moment first? Explore it, admire it for a bit before I ravish you?” Sanji continues, tracing with his fingers the places that had previously been covered.

“Just as long as your body stays on mine.” Amy sighs dreamily and leans against him, eyes closed, happy to let him fill her senses once again.

There has, historically, been precious little in Sanji’s life that could be described as soft or tender. Such is a hard-working life at sea, to say nothing of what came before his stint on the Orbit; even on such a well-appointed ship as the Thousand Sunny, piracy is piracy, and the oceans swallow the weak. So when something comes Sanji’s way that could be construed as even the vaguest promise of devotion, he has learned to seize it, to enjoy it while he can, before the Blue Mother’s waves inevitably carry it out of reach.

He does not seize Amy, for she is not a pipe dream or a fantasy: she is substantial, in multiple senses of the word, generous in the warm plushness of her body and likewise in the beauty of her soul. He paces himself, like a man who has known starvation followed by plenty; though he does have to take a steadying breath when she sets aside the bralette and turns toward him, now bare-chested. One hand goes to her heartbeat, one to her shoulder, trailing downward and leaving a tingling heat in its wake.

“I want to figure you out, chérie, before I take you apart,” Sanji rasps in Amy’s ear as he engages his haki.

Amy has a hunch she’s in for some of the best sex of her life. Not that she has a great deal of first-hand experience for the love cook to exceed—men did not often stay in her life long enough for attraction to develop—but even if Sanji is as much of a serial womanizer as Nami and Zoro make him out to be, he has already proven attentive and empathetic enough to be above average. It’s not his skill she’s worried about—

The casual flick of a thumb across a now-stiffened nipple jolts Amy back into the moment with a squeal.

“Fuck, Sanji, that feels so good, do it again…”

He obliges, of course he does, and pleasure like an electric shock goes straight to her cunt, suddenly flooded with slick. She arches her back, leaning forward into his touch; and he must have heard the needy impatience in her wordless moan, because he pulls her flush with him and nibbles her ear. 

“Où d’autre, where else do you need me?” Sanji murmurs. “J’ai besoin de te plaîre…” [Where else; I need to please you]

Where doesn’t she need him? Amy wonders. “Everywhere, babe, jus’—fuck—everywhere. My neck, my hands, my tits, need you inside, everywhere.”

Sanji’s face lights up like he’s received the best news of his life, and he kisses her again. 

“As my lady commands.”

As he nibbles at her ear and her neck, Amy can’t resist rolling her hips against him, flush as she is with his hardened abdomen and his cock, and spirits it feels so good—

“Amy, my love,” Sanji pleads, “I don’t want to cum yet, let me do this for you—”

“But Sanji…”

“Amy. Don’t you want me to keep my promise to you?”

He stands and pulls her up as well, and continues: “Don’t you want to find out what my tongue can do? I should think you wouldn’t want the talent show to end so early.”

“Your fingers untying my skirt are giving me a mixed signal,” Amy mutters, though her fingers digging out the knots belie the annoyance in her words.

“I’m going to have you lay back for me, darling,” Sanji says as he folds the sarong, “and I want to have a cushion for your beautiful head.” He holds the garment out to her, and he’s looking at her with such tenderness that she feels something clench in her chest. “Your comfort matters to me.”

“And you feeling good matters to me.”

“Tell you what,” Sanji offers as his hands push gently on Amy’s hips, encouraging her to sit. “I get to taste every part of you, and you get to shower me in praise and ‘good boys’ to your heart’s content. How does that sound?”

“And then I get to play with your cock?” she asks, pouting slightly but positioning herself on the towel nevertheless.

Sanji makes a choked gasp. “Merde, yes, then you can play with my cock.”

“Sounds good to me.” Amy leans back and watches as he hems her in, elbows on either side of her shoulders, powerful legs astride her own.

Sanji takes a deep breath and considers what he learns from his haki. Amy shudders almost imperceptibly with each heaving breath; her eyes, wide and dark, dart between his eyes, his lips, his chest, and occasionally his groin. Her back is arched just enough to not have the steps’ wooden lip pressing into her, or perhaps she means to draw his attention back to her sizeable breasts; and her knees are turned outward, as though readying her legs to cage his lower torso close to her own. She smells of jasmine, sweat, and the spiced tang of arousal, so much arousal. 

He can’t wait to taste her. With no dissonance of thought or feeling in her aura to give him pause, the tasting begins.

He starts, quite naturally, with her mouth: lips that capture his sight whenever she has occasion to wear lipstick, staining his fantasies a pomegranate red; gasps and moans that spill from her like an overturned glass of sparkling wine; the lingering taste of sweet words and peppery olive oil on a tongue seeking out its counterpart to pull him closer. When the cruel need for oxygen forces them to pull apart, Sanji and his own clever tongue find the sensitive spot just behind Amy’s ear that he knows will make her nerves sing—

“SANJI, oh gods!” she cries, sure enough—

“Amy, chérie, would you be very offended if I were to leave a souvenir on your skin?” Sanji asks in a husky voice while he has her ear. “A mark of my passion, so to speak?”

Amy does not answer right away and her frenzied groping stills, but her embrace remains steady, which soothes his unease. She’s considering it, Sanji reminds himself.

Finally, she caresses his cheek, and he takes the chance to kiss her inner wrist. “Put them in places that can be covered with ease,” she replies decisively. “Whatever…this is”—for the first time since he found her in the crow’s nest Sanji hears a note of apprehension in her voice—“it’s our treasure, and I’d like to enjoy it that way for a bit before making it known to anyone else.

“We may be Straw Hats, but we are still pirates,” Amy continues with a smile returning to her face. “I think we’re allowed to be a little cagey about our hidden treasure.”

Whatever this is. Our hidden treasure. When he looks back on this afternoon, with Amy’s words hanging in the air between them, this won’t be the moment Sanji falls in love, much less when he recognizes his heart as belonging entirely to her; but something does shift in him, a moment he will later describe as Amy beginning to take root in his soul.

In the meantime, Sanji’s cock is twitching at the prospect of marking this woman as his, and again with the thrill of keeping a secret. “Such an angel,” he groans into her neck, “such a privilege just to touch you.”

Such a dangerous business, this whole falling-in-love thing, Amy thinks to herself. No, she’s not in love, not with one of the most notorious flirts on the Grand Line, even if he does look like he belongs on a magazine cover instead of a pirate vessel. Even if she isn’t merely imagining the heartbroken look on his face at the words ‘whatever this is’. Even if he is the most caring lover she’s ever had—because that’s just the thing: he does love generously, he loves in defiance of the sire he left behind, he loves and he loves and it would be selfish of her to want some part of it to be hers alone, wouldn’t it? No, she’s not in love with Sanji, but the cliff’s edge is right there, and the call of the void is strong.

“Chérie, have I lost you again? Is everything alright?”

Sanji’s handsome, smiling face is hovering above her chest again. Amy runs her fingers through his hair—he closes his eyes and hums at the sensation—and tucks it behind his ear.

“I was just…distracted by your beauty.” She smiles and winks.

“Using my own lines on me, are you?” Sanji growls in mock annoyance.

“What?! I’m just learning from the best.”

“Flatterer.”

“Clearly flattery works, or else you wouldn’t be straddling a mostly-naked woman right now.” Amy begins to drag one foot along Sanji’s leg for emphasis.

In lieu of an answer, he shudders and trails a finger along the side of one breast, which he lifts toward his mouth. While Amy lets her head fall back against the improvised cushion, he mouths at one pebbled areola with relish and strokes the other with a firm thumb, basking in her babbled praises over the next several minutes.

“That feels so, so good, darling, so good…

“Gods, your tongue is incredible—yes, just like that!”

“Oh, fuck—could let you do just this to me for hours…”

…and Sanji thinks, feeling the way she bucks and tenses under his caresses, he’d be willing to do it, too, his own erection be damned, if he didn’t think muscle cramps on his part would put a damper on her pleasure. If nothing else happens between him and Amy, he could at least go for months touching himself just to this memory.

Mercifully, the sound of a soft chuckle interrupts Sanji’s anxious thoughts before they have a chance to spiral. He leaves off the sucking motion of his tongue and looks into Amy’s half-lidded eyes. “Chérie?” he inquires tentatively.

She again combs his hair back with her fingers, still smiling. “It just struck me as funny, the way you looked like a boy licking his first ice cream cone of the summer.”

Sanji stares a moment before spluttering with indignation. “And what is a man supposed to look like as he is worshiping at his lady’s breasts?” 

Unfortunately, this serves only to make the lady in question laugh harder, albeit with fondness, and touch her forehead to his.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It felt so good, but when I opened my eyes, there you were, swirling your tongue like you were afraid of letting your mint chocolate chip melt—”

“Melt?!” Sanji echoes, still playfully indignant. “Oh, I’ll make you melt—”

—to which end he pushes Amy back down and renews his ministrations with a vengeance, licking and sucking and nipping the sensitive buds, and tickling her sides. His hands slide lower and lower along her hips until he’s teasing the skin just above her panties; and when she makes no move to bat his hand away, he dips two fingers into the heat of her folds.

Amy never knew sex could be so fun.

Well, no, that’s not quite true; she’s long known, in an intellectual sort of way, that feeling safe and relaxed emotionally is conducive to both having fun and to having good sex. But the wisdom gleaned from others feels like an understatement compared to the euphoria and the anticipation suffusing her right now.

“You—” she pants, smiling, “you’re as good as your word, ah-aren’t you?”

Sanji releases a reddened nipple with a lewd smack.  “And you, love, have been melting for a while already, haven’t you?” He runs a finger along her slit, grinning wickedly at her wetness. 

“Oh fuck, Sanji, keep—keep doing that…”

“Tell me, Amy, is all of this for me?” Sanji all but purrs. Her pussy clenches at the sight of him licking her slick off of his hand and she whimpers.

A whimper is not enough for him: his fingers tease her clit, dancing around but never touching it. He flicks a nipple with his tongue. “I need words, ma chère…” he says.

Amy does not have words, though. There is nothing in Amy’s world save her body, and Sanji’s touch, and pure sensation.

“Answer me,” Sanji insists in a rumbled voice; and when he hears no answer but more wordless whimpering, he bites on Amy’s nipple and strokes her clit at the same time.

“Fuck! SANJI!” she screams, mustering the last two words in her brain as her world turns from pure sensation to white-hot ecstasy.

Likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated, especially if somehow I fucked up post formatting or my French grammar LOL

[takeomisbitch]

I’ve never requested anything before so I hope I’m doing it right. Could you please do #18 for zoro and sanji? Sfw or nsfw, either is fine. Please and thank you I’m so excited 🙏❤️

Their Love Language

A/N: Thank you guys for 300 followers love y’all ♥️

Sanji x Gn!reader and Zoro x Gn!reader

Word Count:1136

Prompt 18

Warnings: SFW & NSFW, PDA, Fem body mentioned and mentions of him being pussydrunk, food mention, pet name: Sweetheart, My Love, cunnilingus, overstimulation(Sanji), mention of being drunk, reader is kinda a book worm, pet name: Pretty, Baby, slight orgasm control, hair pulling, ass slaps, slight breeding kink, tiny little praise kink(Zoro)

Headcanon Prompt List | One Piece Masterlist

SFW

I think its pretty noticeable that Sanji's love language is both Physical touch and Acts of service 

Sanji is very touchy loves PDA loves the idea that he can touch you and that you will except his touches 

When you first started dating Sanji was very hesitant about his touches always asking if you were comfortable then over the months he would just brush his hand against your arm, sly touches on your back, leaving chastes kisses on you cheek 

Sanji also likes having you in the kitchen with him when he is cooking meals for the crew

He has you sitting on the counter, spoon feeding you anytime he wants you to try something 

It's mid afternoon, you and Sanji are in the Kitchen as he prepares lunch, every now and then Sanji would bring the spoon up to your lips asking you how it tastes. “Taste good, sweetheart?” taking the spoon into your mouth moaning as the warm food hits your tongue, “Tastes amazing Sanji.” 

Now we all know that Sanji loves cooking but what he loves even more is just cooking for you

You're not feeling well? Don’t worry Sanji is running to the kitchen to make you soup. You wanna have a day out with him? He is packing a picnic basket if you’re docked on an island. If not he would have a picnic date with you in the aquarium on the Sunny

There are times when you forget that you need to do your laundry, and when you go to grab it you find already done and folded in the basket with a note on top “Seen you needed your laundry done so I did it for you- Love Sanji ♡”

You had made the decision to be lazy today, it's probably around 9 in the morning, you have been woken up by a knock on your door. “Y/N my love, I have you breakfast for you.” telling him to come in, Sanji walks in with a plate of french toast and fruit with a side of coffee. “I’ll be back later with your lunch, sleepyhead” he tells you as he places the breakfast table on your bedside, and leaving a kiss on your forehead he walks back out of the room

NSFW. 

Sanji also puts your pleasure over his 

He could and does spend hours eating you out 

Sanji likes having you in the missionary position or in the lotus flower position he just really likes being close to you

There are times that you want to give Sanji head but he would only allow you to if you're in the 69 position only because he wants to please you as well 

Sanji has been in between your legs for an hour now making you cum more than 3 times. Your juices are dripping down his face, “Sanji.. Please I’m too sensitive” you try to plead to him but he doesn’t listen he’s too pussydrunk to even hear you. The only noise Sanji hears is the sound of him slurping your juices and  his fingers going in and out of your wet cunt. “You taste so good Y/N, I can stay here all day”   

Zoro  

SFW

Zoro’s love language believe it or not is also physical touch and quality time 

Zoro likes having you in crows nest with him as he works out 

He also likes laying his head on your lap as he takes a nap but not in front of anyone it as to be in the comfort of your room or in the crows nest 

Zoro also likes when you both are just sitting in silence together 

You're sitting in the corner of the crows nest up against the wall reading a book as Zoro works out, the silence between you two is so comforting that you don’t realize you are nodding off. Before you know it you are slumped against the wall book laying on your side. Zoro sees you asleep, stopping his workout he decides to lay with you, he gently moves your head to lay on his shoulder, giving your forehead a kiss. Zoro lays his head on top of yours and lets sleep over take his body. 

Now Zoro is not big on PDA he think that his affection towards you should only be shown in private 

Zoro loves (but would never admit it) to be the small spoon like on days where his muscles are sore and he's getting ready for bed all he wants is to be held by you, He won't tell you directly but you know when he wants it cause he would be extra clingy and kiss your neck till you get the point  

He also likes when you're both at an island and you want to explore, you’ll grab his hand dragging him from shop to shop hands still entwined together

Zoro likes when you give him massages

He also gets very touchy in public only if he is drunk off his ass

You just finished up the book you've been reading when Zoro walks into your room, slugging towards the bed before he collapses in the spot next to you,  face in the pillow arms under it.  “Zoro, do you want a massage?” you ask slowly, getting up to sit on his lower half. “Please Y/N.”

NSFW

Now Zoro likes giving backshots he fucking loves doggystyle 

Zoro not someone that his soft when yall are having sex he also likes when you finish first then at the same time 

He would pull your hair, slap your ass 

Zoro also likes the cowgirl position he likes being able to watch you struggle to take him all and he likes that he can pull you down by you neck for a kiss

Zoro really loves when yall fuck because it feeds his quality time love language 

You are currently on all fours as Zoro pounds his thick cock into your wet hole. Feeling the tip of his cock brush against that sweet spot, “Zoro, I’m gonna cum” you moan out as his hand comes down to meet your ass in a hard slap “Not yet, hold it in for me, pretty.” Zoro’s thrust starts to pick up, you squeeze his cock from the sudden change of pace, Zoro grabs a fist full of your hair bringing you up to his chest. “You wanna cum baby? Hm? Then cum for me.” Once you hear him give you permission to cum you finish with your body shaking as Zoro cums deep inside your hole. He gives your ass one more slap before pulling out and watching cum leak out your abused hole, “You did so good for me baby” he gives your forehead kiss as he sets your body back down on the bed.  

© Bella 2023

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that. (Plain text version)

I kept getting "needs pt" tags on the original post, so here's the plain text version:

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism. By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism. You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry. After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces. This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of the original post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism. Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED. In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them. But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[taduki]

M6 w/ an MC Who Babies Their Familiars

Asra

Faust is soaking up all of the attention. She is with you all the time and prefers it that way.

She is so situational in her interactions with you. You would be getting ready to boil some noodles and Faust would just appear in the empty pot you laid out. This is her pot now. You must find another one.

Asra was genuinely concerned the first time they saw it happen. Why are you making Faust noodle soup.

Lovesss getting tickled and traveling with you. Pokes her head out to peek at everything. Also, Faust flower crown.

She has a little nest made of yours and Asra’s gift trinkets. Okay, maybe not all of them were gifts… Perhaps they were stolen, but who’s checking?

If you like to, she luvvvs sharing bubble baths with you!! With the wide variety of bath products Asra brings every trip, you never run out of options and adventures.

Julian

Big ol’ crow nose all up in your business.

Always around you when Julian is writing something down because he’s joked about plucking one of his feathers to use as a quill, and now he doesn’t trust him enough to be around him while he works.

Will sit on your shoulder or head and peck at your earrings (or anything shiny, honestly).

Julian is a little jealous.

You make up for it by holding conversations with Malak in front of him. He gets so mesmerized, like are you actually able to understand him?? Asks you to tell him he’s a gander egg* and Malak immediately assaults him in a flurry of squawks and feathers.

He allows you to feed him out of your hand like a majestic fairy. Yeowch. Crow nose sharp.

Portia

How can you not love that kitty face.

She loves sniffing you up and down, head to toe. Sniff her back and she’ll whack you.

Totally a lap cat. Also a head cat. Sits gracefully on either you or Portia’s face at night.

By far the biggest suck up out of the familiars. Snack? Treats? Food time? She rolls all over the floor and yeowls until you give in. For the sake of Portia’s sanity, this may be preferable. Keep the kitty at bay and she won’t annoy her as much.

Portia is both relieved and a teeny tiny bit jealous that you’re the favorite now… She finds it cute when she walks in on Pepi purring on you like a big baby. Little kitty kissies are all over your cheeks and yes, Portia insists on overtaking them with her own kissies.

Nadia

Chandra is NOT baby.

Unless there are treats involved, in which case she is SOOO baby.

She is not a very cuddly, lovey dovey dove. She expresses her love through acts of service like bringing things for or checking up on you.

It’s no secret Nadia loves to treat you and her bird with rich delights. So, if you assist Chandra in luxurious baths or patrols, she will linger around you more often. Nadia is pleased to see her trailing behind you around the palace.

She fixes your hair from time to time. She sees it as a give and take relationship.

As such, she’s begun to imitate your mannerisms. You tilt your head when you’re confused? She tilts hers. You flutter your eyelashes? She flutters hers back.

Nadia is squealing deep down, watching you two mimicking each other.

Muriel

Inanna is a little finicky in the way that she takes care of you like a mother, but will accept any and all belly rubs.

She’s perfectly capable of feeding and caring for herself! With that being said, she likes receiving scratches behind the ears in the bath.

Please note that she does not care for strong, unnaturally scented care products… Last time, you picked up a rosemary scented shampoo, thinking it would be natural smelling enough. Alas, she took one whiff of it and ran behind Muriel’s legs…

Give her the green light to lay down on top of you and, congratulations! It is now your daily nap time!

She’s very careful not to trip you, but loves nudging her head against your legs. You can never tell whether she's asking you for head pats or asking you to move out of the way.

Every time you come back from the market, she's got her nose all up in the bag because she knows you got SOMETHING for her.

Lucio

Now THIS is what they’re talking about!

Give them petting. Give them treats. Give them kisses. Brush them. Hug them.

Is it possible to give too much attention to dogs? You’re not sure what the limit is, but they make it very clear you are nowhere near it…

Lucio starts to get a teeny tiny bit jealous when they start barreling towards you and not him when you guys come home. His initial response is to show great disdain towards them until they feel sorry, but he eventually resorts to sweeping you off your feet so the dogs jump all over the both of you.

Don’t worry. They will cushion the fall.

They like to play peekaboo!! Their big cold ‘n slobbery snouts and puppy eyes are all up in your face. Enjoy!

One sleeps close to your back. The other sleeps close to your stomach. They r pillows. :)

* A gander is a male goose. Saying ganda egg basically means rotten egg.

[nerdlingmerchling]

CROWS AND LOVE LANGUAGES

Physical touch. 

Am I surprised this one came on top for Jesper? Not at all.  

In the show, Kit plays Jesper as someone who's VERY TACTILE and sensual at his core;  experiencing the world primarily through bodily sensations. 

His signature move?  The pat on the shoulder. He does that to people he doesn't know that well (Arken). He also has no misgivings hugging strangers (Markus the circus guy). 

He pats Wylan on the shoulder several times as they get to know each other, even holds his hand for the whole “Jesper Fahey, are you worried about me” conversation. 

And when he and Wylan are figuring out their relationship, whenever Wylan's within touching distance, Jesper has an arm around his shoulders. When they first arrive in Shu Han, and Wylan is upset about Jesper finding out he can't read, you can tell how much the physical distance between them pains Jesper. Physical touch is a big part of how he seeks and gives reassurance and comfort, and not being able to do that makes him anxious. At the same time, he’s able to respect boundaries, and as much as I’m sure it must be difficult for him, he's able to refrain from touching Kaz. 

His friendship with Inej also involves a lot of physical affection : hugging, face touching, forehead kissing. It’s also true in the books. I remember a scene, much like the one in the series, where Kaz wishes he could be like Jesper and spin Inej around in his arms. Jesper is about as tactile as Kaz isn't. 

I’d argue that physical touch is also a big part of who BookJesper is. Let’s remember that in trying to figure out romantic chemistry between him and Wylan, a lot of it was riding on how it would feel to kiss Wylan (“it’s the kiss he’s been waiting for. It was prairie fire…”) 

Words of affirmation

I marked that this one would come in third ; the poll put it in second place. 

A love language is how you show love, and also how you want others to show you love. And I think Jesper craves words of affirmation. What makes me say that? His bragging and his cockiness.

He says : “I'm so handsome” because he wants to hear “you're handsome, Jesper.” 

He says: “I’m fantastic” cause he wants to be told he's indeed fantastic and a good friend. 

He says: “you're going to tell me you can't do this without me” because he wants Kaz to tell him “I can't do this without you because I value your skills and I love you like a brother”. 

I'm not saying Jesper has low self-esteem, or confidence issues as such. He just wants to feel loved and appreciated through words. He's known to be a flirt, and seemingly good at it, so that means he has some talent when it comes to complimenting people. I persist to think, however, that in Jesper's case, his actions tend to speak louder than his words.

Acts of service

I thought acts of service would come in second place. As it turns out, it comes in third.

I think acts of service are a big part of Jesper's personality. He's very loyal, and he'd do anything for the people he cares about. 

In the show, it transpires in his friendship with Inej. He offers to follow her to the Menagerie to watch her back. He agrees to kill someone for her, because she asks him to. Sure, he whines about it, but you know he's gonna show up when you need him to. 

In the hallucination sequence, his mother tells Jesper “you risk your life for your friends all the time” and he replies “but they never ask me to”. And that's the definition of an act of service : giving something without the other having to ask, and not expecting anything in return. 

I also think that giving Wylan a key to his room was much more about an act of service (providing a space where he'd feel at home) than about the key as a physical gift in itself. 

Vote for Inej's love language HERE