#mimi's notes

[lvmimis]

cw: mild smut. minors dni. female anatomy. pillowtalk-y.

vergil's fingers slip under rumpled bedsheets to trail softly along the surface of your bare back, and you moan softly, knees bending gently towards your belly. there's still a lingering languidness to your body, that of thorough pleasure turning your very flesh into something more akin to a pleasant moldable jelly than person, and thus you don't turn - not yet.

but the bid for attention is still recognized.

"you okay?" you murmur, eyes closing with comfortable slumber.

"yeah," vergil replies. he presses kisses at the base of your neck, light touches still, then his finger pauses just over your scapula. there his touch is firmer, and his whole palm covers this area, caressing gently.

"there should be wings here," he whispers, almost too venerably.

"wings?" your eyebrows furrow as he kisses there too, then wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest.

"like an angel."

you chuckle softly.

"is this an attempt to flirt?"

with his knee, he gently parts your legs, pressing the surface of his thigh flush to your bare crotch.

"is that so ridiculous?"

his thigh starts to grind softly at the already wet space, satisfied from earlier but still receptive, still wanting.

"no," you sigh out, the grind of muscled thigh against your clit too precise, too trained, as if he's figured out your body and how to make it sing rather than tease. your head lolls back into him with the friction, and a free hand slips around your throat, applying gentle loving pressure.

"as i was saying-" he starts, before posing a kiss on your forehead,

"- you are my angel with no wings."

[amamimimi]

Big Feelings: A Guided Journal Worksheet for Vent Regressors ☆

Journaling can be fun with lots of creative activities, but sometimes regression isn't as happy or bubbly as most journal prompts seem. Big Feelings can be especially hard and scary to work through in the moment when you're small and don't have the words to talk about them. Having the comfort of a caregiver and letting those feelings out in a safe place is good start, but not everyone has or wants a caregiver and working through the feelings is a big part that I don't see many people talk about in the agere space.

It helps to have other ways to show and get out your feelings when they get overwhelming, but some regressors need a bit more of a structured, guided way to make sense of the messy feelings in their head. My little Kokki is one of them, so I decided to put together some more guided questions for journaling through Big Feelings in a way that hopefully will feel safer and still maintain that small, more simple headspace to make it feel less scary to do. Something that a regressor could do on their own or with the extra guidance of a caregiver.

I may add more as new ideas come to me, and other caregivers are free to suggest additions as well. I hope they help!

☆ Big Feelings in Our Body

Sometimes we feel Big Feelings in different parts of our body—your tummy aches or your chest gets tight or your face gets hot. Where do you feel your Feelings right now? Draw a picture of yourself or your stuffie and color in the parts of your body where you feel your Big Feelings the most. Think about the sorts of ways this Feeling shows up in your body. Is there a lot of energy in your body that needs to come out? Or is your body tired and needs a rest? Why do you think that your Big Feelings might feel differently in your body? What sort of Feeling do you think is making your body feel this way now? Now that you know where your Big Feelings are in your body and what they might be telling you, you can do things to help it feel better. Tea or a small snack can help a tummy ache, or a cool washcloth can help soothe hot, teary eyes. What are some things you can do to help your body feel better? Draw or list some ideas that you can try.

☆ Big Feelings as Art

Some people like to associate their Big Feelings with certain colors, shapes, or things. What colors are your Feelings right now? Draw some shapes or things in that color that also remind you of this Feeling. Think about how this Feeling might change the way you color. Do you scribble or draw neat lines? Do you press your crayon or marker harder or softer? Why do you think that your Big Feelings might change the way you do things? What sort of Feeling do you think is making you color this way now? Now that you know what kinds of art match your Big Feelings and what they might mean, let's think about kinds of art that help you feel better. What colors feel safe to you? On a new page, draw some shapes and things in that color that also feel safe. How has the way you color changed to match what you're drawing now?

☆ Things that Cause Big Feelings

A lot of the time, Big Feelings happen because of something that happened around us to make us feel that way. It can be scary to think about these things, but learning what causes Big Feelings to happen can help you better handle those things in the future. It's alright if you're not sure, though. Recognizing what causes Big Feelings to happen is hard and takes practice. What happened this time that might have caused these Feelings to come up? Was it one big thing or a lot of little things? Why do you think that made you Feel the way you did? Did it remind you of something that happened in the past? Or was it something new that caused bad thoughts? What are some ideas you can do for next time to help keep yourself safe? Are there boundaries you can place or safe people you can tell to help you?

☆ Talking About Big Feelings

Talking about Big Feelings can be scary, but it's very important to communicate with the people you care about. If you feel safe doing so, try sharing these prompts and your answers with people you trust to open a discussion. If you have one, share your worksheet answers with your caregiver and talk about why you answered the way you did. Brainstorm some ideas together on how you can communicate and handle similar Big Feelings next time. If you'd rather not share your regression with other people, at a time when you're feeling bigger, you can take a look at your answers again to help you find your own words to talk about it with a friend in a bigger headspace.

[lvmimis]

It's rare that Luffy falls asleep without clinging to you like a child to a well-loved teddy bear, or perhaps a particularly zealous octopus, but today, as you emerge from your quarters where you spent time crafting letters to a few of your friends on other islands, you find him sprawled on the lawn of the Thousand Sunny, likely fast asleep with his hat covering his head.

You approach slowly to inspect him, but he murmurs something that resembles your name, and with affection surging inside you, you decide you'll give him a taste of his own clingy medicine. After a quick check around to make sure no one can see - thankfully, everyone else seems to have found something to do, with the deck now deserted - you decide to plop right onto his chest, trying to match the outline of your body to his, chest to chest, limb to limb.

"Huh?" Luffy mumbles, in a daze. You pull off the hat from his head, placing it on yours for safekeeping, then give him a big grin.

"You spent too long without bugging me so I got worried."

He blinks.

"Bugging?"

Despite this, he has a wide grin on his face, his arms looping around your waist eagerly.

"I never bug you," he insists.

He's right, he doesn't, you decide, a smile creeping on your lips yourself. Changing the topic promptly, you ask, "What did you dream of?"

Your head finds its usual spot cradled in the space between his cheek and his shoulder, one hand trailing down the length of his arm to intertwine with his fingers. Like this, you are engaged in a sort of horizontal ballroom dance, even if your preferred dance partner is hard to imagine as elegant more than boorishly endearing.

"You," he says, promptly.

"Convenient," you tease, but he means it, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"You did something just like this, actually, but we were both huge from all the food we just ate. Like two big balloons."

Your mouth twists in mild apprehension.

"This sounds kind of terrible since I don't stretch like you."

He shakes his head, a few fingers idly trailing in your hair.

"You were cute. Like always."

Your cheeks grow warm like the gentle sun decided to focus its undivided attention on you.

"Go back to sleep," you say, thumping his chest gently.

"Mm... okay!" he agrees, wrapping his legs now around you too, too securely, and you consider that you might have accidentally booked yourself busy for the next hour or two. "This nap will probably be even better now that you're here."

"Luffy? Hold on-"

He's already fast asleep.

[lvmimis]

"You follow her around like a dog, man," Sero says finally, and even if the surrounding ballroom chatter doesn't cease for a moment as the table set for ten starts to receive their first course salads, the parallel conversations among the group of old friends halt abruptly to a stop. Eijiro gives Sero a raise of the eyebrow, then turns to Katsuki, expecting to have to mitigate his hot temper.

The latter clearly has heard the jeer, but he's not the same as perhaps a decade ago, where any one of Sero's teasing comments could have set him off. Glancing back for a second in the direction where you left just moments ago to go to the bathroom, followed by most of the other women at the table, he then turns to look directly at Sero.

"Yeah, that's love, right?" he says, calmly.

Kirishima blinks for a moment, incredulous, then exchanges a look with Kaminari beside him.

Katsuki, as if he hasn't said something highly uncharacteristic of himself, reaches for a bread roll in the middle of the table and then a butter knife.

"You didn't see me follow her into the bathroom, did you?" he adds. Sero snorts, but leans back into his chair.

"I mean no, but-"

Katsuki smears butter on the roll, and sets it on your empty plate, then takes another piece of bread to and butters it the same before taking a bite.

"But what?" he asks. The edge to his voice is back, something that paradoxically puts Sero back at ease.

"It looks strange on you," Denki finally points out.

Katsuki chews for a moment, then swallows, his eyes making a quick scan across the room. At another table, Midoriya's partner is focused on adjusting the lapel of his suit, and at yet another table, Iida is trying to convince Mei to keep her gadgets off the table before the MC starts another toast.

The bride and groom continue to cruise around the venue, and Katsuki cannot stop thinking about how beautiful you would look in that exact dress.

Or something of your own.

"I just can't imagine what the fuck she did-" Sero starts again before Eijiro cuts him off.

"Just knock it off for a second," he says, gently but assertively. Katsuki doesn't pay any mind to him as he observes the table favors.

These flowers are beautiful, but they aren't your favorite. They're gorgeous, but made of plastic while you'd prefer hundreds of real ones.

You've told him small weddings feel more intimate. This wedding isn't in the right season for you, but it's your second choice. You don't yet know how many people will be in the bridal party but you've floated some ideas.

You don't yet have a ring on your finger.

The many thoughts dissipate when your hand rests gently on his shoulder as you slip back into the seat next to him.

"Oh, they didn't bring out the food yet," you say, and Katsuki points to the bread on your plate, reminding you to eat.

His friends are captive audiences as you smile and take a bite, and perhaps horrified as he smiles back warmly, genuinely.

Love does look strange on him, perhaps.

But they'll have to get used to it because it will not go away.

[lvmimis]

cw: smut with vaginal penetration. love as violence a little bc yk. minors dni.

Sometimes Vergil just can’t help it. 

There’s something about the sensation of his teeth grazing along the surface of your skin - a bare shoulder, the curve of your neck, the mound of your breast that incites something primal in him, an augmented form of desire that beckons to the part of his self that isn’t human, the one he both venerates and abhors if it really comes down to it. There’s something that tells him to grow fangs and bite, to sink deep into your flesh, and let your voice cry out in the erotic nature of pain that is indulged, not unexpected.

But, pent up as he is today, the fear of devouring you outstrips the desire to bite, because of how your eyes look, pupils dilated and dark, lips gently parted and wanting.

How could he ever harm you?

He means to sigh, but it sounds staggered, like drawing in a deep breath that’s more like a gasp.

“Turn around.” 

You don’t fight him this time, not because you’ve already been pinned down to the bed, hopeless and helpless but because you’re needy. An index finger transformed into a claw has already torn down the midline of your nightdress and the open piece slips off effortlessly as you turn, presenting yourself to him. Rump angled upwards, pussy in full view, lips glistening and wet, docile. Human.

At some point in his younger years, he may have purported that he’d never kneel for anyone, no less a weak human of your ilk, but he’s on his knees as his tongue explores that precious space, sucking and slurping as if it were a sort of ambrosia that dripped from between your thighs. His teeth gently raze the surface of your labia and the desire comes back - to nibble, to bite.

He can’t harm you, he thinks, as his tongue circles your clit from behind, as he inhales your scent and massages your thighs and draws out your first tremors with his treacherous mouth alone.

Breathy, soft, you call his name, as you collapse forward, and once your knees have folded under you, he’s ready to slip his aching cock in and you gasp at the fullness, just as he shudders at the precious clamp of your body around him.

Such a weak, petulant thing, and yet you might as well hold him physically and emotionally in a vice grip. Recovering himself, he lets his hand slide down the arch of your back to take a fistful of your hair. And then it loosens. 

How could he ever harm you?

“Breathe,” he whispers, gentler this time as you whine, adjusting. It’s an order to both you and him, and his eyes close as he slots himself in firmer, more flush with your ass. You exhale, and he moves.

Slow first, gentle, taking advantage of long arms to cradle the front of your delicate neck, tilting your head upwards, a finger creeping into your mouth. Then fast, hungry, both hands squeezing at your waist, grabbing at skin and flesh. Then needy, again, pressing weight atop you as he presses his chest close to your back.

Your hand creeps backwards, bold, to caress a cheek.

“You can look at me, you know,” you offer softly between sighs. “I won’t run.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, but he allows himself the indulgence of nipping at your earlobe.

“You can’t run.”

It’s true and yet said, tentatively, begging for you to say otherwise.

“Nor would it ever cross my mind.”

Your waves flow to a stop, which only seems to accentuate how thick he is inside you, how heavy and warm his body is despite the ice he surrounds himself with, the beat of his long-neglected heart. Suspended together for a moment, without movement, you inhale the moment.

“I do want you. Terribly. You don’t have to take anything from me... you don’t have to worry about hurting me - you never can.”

His hand finds yours spread against the mattress, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“You’re foolish.”

“Love and logic don’t necessarily mix,” you murmur, a smile on your face.

Another bite at your shoulder, sharp enough to draw blood. You wince, but you endure. 

Another stroke, harder, faster this time, and you cry out, but hold his hand tighter.

“Want you,” you eke out in soft reassurance.

A few kisses scatter against your neck and a muffled, “want you,” imprints itself into your skin.

[lvmimis]

cw: quickwrite. fluff.

"you know... you're too heavy for this."

'this' is zoro who has suddenly shown up as you were re-stitching the hem of a torn shirt (yours, but with one of his repaired and draped over the chair beside you), kneeling before your feet, and pressing his head into your lap.

it's disturbed your stitching slightly, but deftly you've moved your handiwork out of the way, careful not to use your needle and poke out his other eye - something he really should consider the next time. ordinarily, you'd try to pay him no mind, and let him rest as you continued your work, but today he holds on so tightly you wonder if he's attempting to tell you something without actually saying a word.

"you okay?" you finally ask.

face still buried in your lap, you hear a muffled 'yes', and snort to yourself.

"are you being a big baby because you need to be or is there something i should be asking you?"

still muffled, without moving his face, he mutters,

"you're not very nurturing, are you?"

"nope!" you offer cheerfully.

it's his turn to snort, but he hasn't let go still. your free hand rubs carefully over the short crop of his hair, then you let out a sigh.

"you sure you're all right?"

zoro still doesn't say a word. your mind passes quickly through the last few days - conversations, battles, meals, anything that could upset or anything that could cause a surge of emotional fondness... you find that with zoro, all of his emotions mingle and mesh together, muddled and compressed so tightly that they come out as one thing.

which may be him holding you so tightly right now without a word.

as you ponder this for a moment, your hand in rhythmic motion as you stare out at the expanse of the deep blue sea before you, he finally inhales deeply, then sighs.

"you're doing it again."

you blink, then look at him. finally, his head tilts up, his chin resting on the curve of your knee.

"doing what?"

"treating me like i'm some kind of puppy."

your head tilts gently to the side.

"you're the one who came here wordlessly for a hug. do you not expect to be petted when you come in that fashion?"

he gives you a long, appraising look, but in this reverent, practically clinging position, attempting to look upset is futile, even cute.

"difficult," he murmurs.

"yeah, you are," you offer, but your hands close around his face, and slowly he comes up to his feet, guided by the pull of your fingertips, for the kiss he so desperately needs.

[lvmimis]

cw: fluff but the tiniest bit explicit near the end. domestic. reader has breasts.

"what are you doing, shoto?"

you're the first person to break this game of nonchalance you're playing with him, where he gets closer and closer and you pretend that you don't notice the weight of his body first laying in the bed next to you as you read, nor the warmth of his skin pressing closer, but now his head is halfway up the bottom of your loose-fitting pajama shirt - really one of his shirts from a convention that's faded out over multiple washes - and you can't pretend to be nonchalant any longer.

"i thought you couldn't see me," he muses, voice soft and low. he's acting like an overgrown cat now, partially hovered over your outstretched legs, supporting his weight by his forearms as he draws even closer. you huff, and he kisses right below your breastbone softly.

"can't feel me either."

despite the titillation from the contact, you keep both hands on your book, arms spread wide to avoid him, and neck craned over the peak formed by his head tenting your shirt.

"i'm not indulging this," you warn, a threat with no teeth.

even if you can't see him, you can tell he smiles before pressing yet another kiss closer up your breastbone, and you involuntarily bite your lower lip, a flush of warmth in your cheeks.

"mmm, you don't have to," he murmurs almost sleepily. he lets his weight rest on top of your thighs, pressing his cheek against your chest, as though listening to your heart beat.

"shoto," you start, softly, but he digs into the space below your legs with his arms to clutch them close to him.

"i'm not bothering you, just go ahead and read."

"but-"

"indulge me."

"i just said i wouldn't-"

shoto doesn't reply explicitly to that, but hums a bit in satisfaction. a few more moments pass like this, where you can barely concentrate on reading, and you let out a sigh, tossing your book to a side.

"you win."

"win what?" he says, but he's shimmying up higher and you consider for a moment that your very broad boyfriend might stretch this shirt too much, but once his mouth closes around the point of your nipple, you let out a soft gasp.

"shoto...," you say softer, your arms wrapping around him, as his tongue laves around the areola before closing around the nipple again.

"indulge me," he murmurs softly, once more.

[lvmimis]

is everything okay?

shoto has the odd tendency to be both a worrywart and oblivious at once, which is why this text, out of the blue, as you push down an empty cart in the local ikea concerns you but only a smidge.

yeah, why wouldn't I be?

you see three bubbles pop up for a moment, then disappear, then pop up again, as if initially hesitant, then his message arrives.

you're at ikea. did something break?

before you can start to type back, you receive a facetime call. he's not exactly looking at the phone when you connect, and you can tell he's in motion to god-knows-where, possibly in an active battle right now - how could you really know? - but he looks down at his phone quickly, then averts his eyes again. you hear something crash in the background and grimace.

"i feel like you're busy right now, shoto. i think you should focus."

"do you need me to help you carry any furniture?" he asks.

you blink.

"no?"

"what are you buying? i thought i checked, your bed was completely fine-"

there's another crash and the phone cuts off suddenly and your heart sinks, but he connects the call almost immediately.

"shoto, i really think we should talk about this later."

he frowns, but nods. "fine. love you."

your phone returns to the home screen of the two of you grinning widely, your hand gripping his chin and squishing his face.

unfortunately shoto is right. you are here to buy a new bed frame. and lots of paint. and new bedsheets.

because yes, you might not have a broken frame, but your mother made an impromptu visit a last night and was less than enthused by the singe marks on your bed frame, the smoke smudges on your ceiling and the clear ice-wrought damage on your wooden dresser.

you could send him an invoice, but the idea of him being careful the next time he fucks you displeases you enough that you'd rather address it this way instead.