moonlightwriter

[moonlightwriter]

DUSTY GOLD PNGS . no credit required .

[moonlightwriter]

───⠀"cooking" themed pngs

sourced from pinterest don't credit me, free to use repost allowed

[moonlightwriter]

Notebooks with scribbles/writing pngs!

If you love pinterest, check out my boards at

📌 @magicloopsdotart

📌 @trinkkyy

[moonlightwriter]

cottagecore-themed dividers

credit not needed. recoloring welcomed. feel free to edit as you need!

[moonlightwriter]

Advice for writing relationships

Ship Dynamics

How to create quick chemistry

How to write a polyamorous relationship

How to write a wedding

How to write found family

How to write forbidden love

Introducing partner(s) to family

Honeymoon

Date gone wrong

Fluffy Kiss Scene

Love Language - Showing, not telling

Love Language - Showing you care

Affections without touching

Giving the reader butterflies with your characters

Reasons a couple would divorce on good terms

Reasons for breaking up while still loving each other

Relationship Problems

Relationship Changes

Milestones in a relationship

Platonic activities for friends

Settings for conversations

How to write a love-hate relationship

How to write enemies to lovers

How to write lovers to enemies to lovers

How to write academic rivals to lovers

How to write age difference

Reasons a couple would divorce on good terms

Reasons for having a crush on someone

Ways to sabotage someone else's relationship

Ways a wedding could go wrong

Arranged matrimony for royalty

Signs of a Toxic Relationship

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[moonlightwriter]

Not again

That one awful time you got a UTI because you didn’t pee after and it ruined both you and Simon for days...and the future.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore.

It’s distant. Slow. Boneless and heavy and floating at the same time—like you’re made of liquid, spilled across the bed, soaking into the mattress where Simon left you.

Everything’s sensitive. Your thighs are trembling. The inside of you feels warm in a way that shouldn’t be possible—so full, so sore, still twitching from the way he held you down and ruined you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. it’s all Simon.

You might’ve fallen asleep. You’re not sure.

Then you hear him shift.

You don’t move.

“Five more minutes,” you mumble into the pillow.

He exhales slowly through his nose, amusement crackling under the surface of his voice.

“It’s been thirty.”

You groan, long and dramatic, and turn your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. “You said you’d wait.”

“I did. And I have.” He leans in, mouth brushing behind your ear. “But you’ve got to get up now.”

“No, I don’t,” you mumble, lips barely moving.

“Yes,” he says, not unkindly. “You do.”

“Fuck off.”

“You need to pee.”

You sigh with a full-body shudder. The last thing you want is to move. Your thighs still twitch with every shift, every reminder of how hard he’d been in you—deep and rough and mean, the kind of mean only Simon can be when he knows you like it.

And now?

Now your brain’s caught somewhere between satisfaction and irritability.

You squirm an inch and hiss at the soreness. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I literally can’t feel my legs.”

He hums again. Not arguing. Not pushing. Just present.

And then you snap, just a little. Not angry, just done.

“God, why are you like this?” you bite. “You get off, and suddenly I’m a project.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, with that same frustrating calm “I get off because I wreck you, sweetheart. But I also remember what happens when you don’t move after.”

You're quiet.

“Yeah.”

You groan again. “Don’t bring it up.”

“I am bringing it up.”

He shifts beside you, moving the hair away from your damp cheek.

“You remember what happened last time.”

You do.

Unfortunately.

That time when you’d passed out immediately after sex—sore, blissed out, perfectly used—and slept the whole night through. Didn’t pee. Didn’t think to. And the next morning?

UTI. Full force.

Your insides were on fire. You couldn’t sit down without wincing. Couldn’t even have him look at you, let alone touch you.

You were grumpy. Snappy. Miserable.

He was worse.

Because not only were you suffering, but he couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t fuck you. Could barely cuddle you without getting a sharp “Don’t touch me, Simon.”

He was all but climbing the walls by day two. You'd heard him mutter “This is hell” when you snapped at him for putting the wrong tea in your mug.

And even then, he never said I told you so.

He just brought you cranberry juice and heated pads and ran you a bath and kissed your temple like he didn’t feel half-insane.

Now?

Now he’s not risking it.

“You were a nightmare,” he mutters, rubbing your lower back. “And I didn’t get to fuck you for a week.”

You roll onto your side to glare at him. “It was your fault too.”

“Exactly why I’m carrying you.”

You pout harder. “I’m not talking to you.”

“You’re literally talking to me right now.”

“Simon—”

He sits up and leans over, scooping you effortlessly into his arms. “I'm not doing this again.”

You huff, but you don’t fight. Your limbs flop against his chest like dead weight. You nuzzle into his collarbone, still grumbling.

“You’re annoying.”

“Mm.”

“Bossy.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I still can’t feel my legs.”

He chuckles and carries you across the room, his big palms smoothing over your bare skin as he holds you close.

Once in the bathroom, he sets you on the toilet like something precious.

And instead of stepping back or giving you space, he stays.

Right in front of you.

He’s standing tall, bare chest in your face, warm hands on your shoulders—guiding you gently forward until your cheek rests against his stomach.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

“And you’re soft,” he says. “All bark.”

You don’t respond.

Your body’s buzzing. Your thighs are still trembling. But when you finally relax enough to pee—

“Oh—oh my God—”

You jolt.

The pressure. The release.

Your muscles seize instantly, twitching with overstimulated nerves. It’s not just peeing. It’s like a second, slow-burning orgasm. Your body shakes with it, cunt fluttering around nothing, your legs twitching like Simon’s still inside you.

You gasp against him, trembling. It's not even about the release—it’s the aftershocks. The sudden emptiness as your muscles unclench. The way your cunt spasms around nothing as your body reacts to being let go.

Simon holds you tighter.

Your fingers grab fistfuls of his sweatpants.

His hands drop to your back.

“Easy, love. Just let it happen.”

Your knees buckle where they’re spread. You squeeze his sweatpants for balance, forehead still pressed to his stomach as you twitch through it—little pulses, flutters, everything still too much.

Your voice breaks. “Feels like—feels like I’m coming again.”

“I know.”

“Still—God, it’s still in my spine—”

You twitch again. His arms stay firm. He pets down your back, anchoring you, holding you upright as your body finishes unwinding in slow, shaking pulses.

And you do. You feel everything. His hands rubbing your back. The warmth of his chest under your cheek. The way he steadies your thighs when they jerk.

And when it’s over—when your breath evens out, and the spasm finally dies down, you just stay there. Arms weak. Legs numb. Whole body ruined.

Simon strokes your back.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You did perfect.”

“I’m mad at you,” you mumble, voice muffled in his skin.

“You always say that.”

“You didn’t have to go so hard.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘don’t stop.’”

You groan. “I was lying.”

“You were begging.”

You slap his thigh half-heartedly. “I hate you.” He grins and helps you stand, supporting you like your knees might give out again—which they might, honestly.

You lean on him as he cleans you up, wipes you with practiced tenderness, and carries you back to bed without another word.

Once there, he slides one of his shirts over your head, tucks you under the blanket, and stretches out beside you with one arm around your waist.

Your face is buried in his chest. His heartbeat is slow, steady, solid.

[moonlightwriter]

after a tearful hug from your maid of honor, she returns to her seat so bakugou can approach the mic set up next to you and izuku’s table for his own speech, his hands in his pockets.

he clears his throat, then surprises literally nobody by starting with, “m not real big on public speaking.”

a laugh ripples through the crowd of your family and friends.

“so i’m just gonna let deku do all the talkin.”

you turn to izuku with a curious look, half expecting him to stand up, but he only shrugs in response, a divot between his brows as he shakes his head a little. there’s some rustling as bakugou withdraws his cellphone and takes a moment to scroll through it, as if hundreds of people aren’t watching him with dubious expressions.

but then, izuku’s voice crackles through the speaker. “hey, kacchan! you’re probably still on patrol, but i just...”

izuku’s voice is muffled by traffic, the wind, and his own heavy breaths as he walks through it, but even as a few words get lost to the noise, it becomes unmistakably clear that he is describing your first date.

where you ate, how you wore your hair, the way you tilted your head to show you were still listening when he started to babble — and how that only made the babbling worse.

“and i know i’m doing it again now, so i’m gonna hang up, but i just wanted to tell someone — tell you, i mean — that i think... i might’ve found the one.” his laugh is somewhere between bewildered and embarrassed. “that sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

you turn back to your husband with a slack jaw and stinging eyes. his face is vermillion, but his smile is unrestrained.

[moonlightwriter]

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚘𝚑, 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚠…

⤷ mha x f!reader (use of she/her pronouns, fem. relationship labels)

⭑ number-one hero deku, sitting on the couch across from his girlfriend in his pajamas, applying matching green face masks and giggling at the mess they’re making

⭑ cold and formidable pro-hero shoto, cross-legged on the wood-paneled floor with his wife as they share a bottle of wine, despite the large vacant table and long vacant counter, laughing quietly about the most recent scandal at work

⭑ great explosion murder god dynamight, begging for mercy as his fiancée sits atop his chest grinning triumphantly and tickling him without remorse, his eyes watering and lungs burning because she knows exactly the spot that makes him unravel 

⭑ fashion icon pinky, known for her model-worthy looks, bundled up in blankets and stolen hoodies and mismatched socks and sweatpants with her girlfriend as the two of them binge-watch all five seasons of riverdale 

⭑ charming and dashing hero chargebolt, sitting in front of the tv at seven am, sharing a blanket with his fiancée and watching cartoons and eating cereal because neither of them wanted to cook and definitely not resembling two responsible adults whose wedding is in two months

⭑ the ever cool and composed ingenium absolutely losing his shit because his wife was unaware that the dominos pasta containers are aluminum and cannot go in the microwave, as they found out the hard way, the pair now staring at a crispy microwave and charred countertop

⭑ sweet and kind uravity who becomes an absolute menace when up against her girlfriend at mario kart because they agreed the loser would do the dishes and she refuses to even touch that mountain of plates after tamale night 

⭑ the manliest of all heroes, red riot, who swears there is no manlier thing than going for drive-thru at one in the morning with his fiancée in the passenger seat because they had a fry craving

masterlist — dividers by @/cafekitsune

[moonlightwriter]

izuku loves to be as close as possible

izuku was always touching you. he always had his hand on you or arms wrapped around you in some way, wanting to be close to you at all times. he especially loved the touch you gave him as well, whether it was a hand rubbing his cheek, your lips touching his, a hug, or something else.

he enjoyed it because it made him feel so loved. he tried to have skin-to-skin contact with you whenever he could, finding comfort in your heartbeat and breathing.

so when the two of you are in your room and getting ready for bed, izuku thinks about a position he should sleep in. should he spoon you? should you spoon him? what was he supposed to do?

but he suddenly had an idea, and hopefully you would be comfortable with it. he took his shirt off with ease and threw it onto your chair. then, he shyly crawled under your shirt, making sure you didn’t have a bra on. he needed to fully feel you, after all.

you mumbled, “what’re you doing, zu?” and felt his chest and head on your chest, he let out a soft laugh.

“just want to feel you. is this okay?”

“it is, baby. don’t worry about it.” you reassured, rubbing his back as both of your chests were touching.

his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your waist, and his head poked out through your neckline. his soft hair tickled your chin and cheeks, but you played with it nonetheless. he mumbled in satisfaction, loving how your hands were all over him.

izuku’s lips eventually found their way to your neck, kissing the soft skin a few times before stopping. in response, you kissed his forehead, feeling his smile on your collarbone.

it didn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep, and he rested with dreams about you.

haii another izuku writing!! sry if this one was boring

[moonlightwriter]

Just some expression practice with him~ ✨️

[moonlightwriter]

★ ── 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐈'𝐒 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘ⵑ status: active | tag: reis slumber party

come on in!! we're about to do some face masks and yap about our faves. ♡

★ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

this is not limited to followers or mutuals only & all fandoms are welcomed

you may submit more than selfship/ask, but please keep each one limited to a pairing (i.e - if I wanted to submit for katsurei & sakurei, two separate asks!)

there's no limit to the number of entries but remember i'm only human and will get to them when I can!

event will be open until friday, june 20th.

★ 𝐑𝐒𝐕𝐏

omg you can make it? rad! choose one of the four prompts:

love notes: uh oh, your crush found out that you like them! (a short note confession from your fave/s)

scrapbook: don't deny it, you're totally in love! grab a magazine and some scissors, we're make a crush collage (moodboard of your fave/s focused on them & a color/s of your choice)

secret admirer: no way! they got you a gift?! (a stuffed animal that your fave/s gifts to you)

mix tape: we've got plenty of blank cds and i've got the sharpies! (a three song playlist related to you & your fave/s)

and include the below in an ask!

some details about your ship! any and everything you think is important that defines you (dynamic, tropes, favorite things, vibes, etc.)

anything else you’d like to include!

★ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

tbd.

𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐈: as a 90s girl, that y2k sleepover vibe runs in my veins and I love the idea of getting together for a good old fashioned slumber party. let's have some fun as a thank you for 3k !! ♡

[moonlightwriter]

so this is the end, huh?

[moonlightwriter]

hi there! if your divider requests are currently open, could i possibly request line dividers with the hex codes #472f26 #8f5e5f and #b89c8c? not gif dividers, just solid or solid gradient that don’t shift, please! ♡

# ——— [#472F26]

# ——— [#8F5E5F]

# ——— [#B89C8C]

☆ GRADIENTS

# ——— ONE

# ——— TWO

© 𝐓𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 2025 : all designs made are original, requests made by anonymous users can be used by anyone unless stated otherwise. they can only be used under rightful credits given to owner. for both light and dark mode use. they can used in anything as long as it’s on tumblr. all rights reserved

[moonlightwriter]

honey themed headers w/dividers:

please like and credit if you use, reblogs are appreciated! thank you! 💕

[moonlightwriter]

Here’s a random collection of ivy / vine dividers. I’m practicing my art nouveau design stuff

[moonlightwriter]

Simon never heard his father say sorry, or please, or thank-you, or I love you.

In their house, when his mama would put down hot, heavy casseroles, her skin damp with sweat, eyes darting for some sweet words, his father never said one word of thanks, let alone 'some'. Only waved his thick, impatient hand.

His father never took the plates to the sink. Never noticed when she stayed up at night to sort the screws by size and purpose—organizing the chaos he left behind just to find one damn hammer.

His father never said ‘please can you—’ only grunted with that bitter mouth, glared with those unkind eyes when he needed something.

Simon never heard him say I love you. And he couldn’t believe his eyes the day his father plucked out his baby brother from his mama's arm, and didn’t spare one glance for his Ma. She didn't deserved that, did she? Her weak frail body, cracked murmuring lips — she should be celebrated with adoration, comfort, love.

Love, and an infinite of it.

His father never sat beside her just to drink tea. Never told her about his day. Never asked about hers — what she did, or liked, or wanted. Never reached out his thumb, however calloused it was, to wipe away the sprout on her chin. That he was grateful she's next to him, that he loved her.

So when life happened, and Simon was left to pick up his pieces and place them in a way he wanted to be—he thought whomever he will be, anything, but his father.

Anything but him.

And then life happened again but this time it arranged itself in beautiful ways. Because you came with it this time. You and all your silly lovely ways, you who kissed your knee before resting your chin, you who cheered up catching up with fridge' light switching off, you so beautiful, so kind, made up of sundust. His sunshine — lighting up his world.

And God, he was so, so grateful. Every moment, every day !

“I love you,” he’d say the moment he wakes up next to you. Pressing his love on your lips, on your shoulder, on your neck.

“I love you,” when you spill milk in the morning daze and stare at it like it might disappear.

“I love you,” when he wipes your chin and kisses your forehead.

“I love you,” when he takes your hand in his and rubs it between his palm, why ? Because he'll spend his whole life keeping your hands warm than anything else.

“I love you.” because he loves, loves, and loves you so much that it hurts, so much that it heals, so much that it's everything sweet ever happened to him.

“I love you.” for all the ways his father failed, and Simon too, as a son, as a brother — failed to save his mama and lil' brother. I love you, because in loving you he is allowing himself to be loved.

Masterlist