#I'll try to write like a short drabble

[breadmercury]

Y'all.... it's ok to write "bad" fic. U don't need to be super technically advanced at writing to write something super self indulgent for urself. None of my writing will ever see the light of day bc it's all self insert emotional support fic for only me to see. U don't need to rely on an ai that scrapes and steals from other people's works to simulate comforting conversations with ur blorbos. And script fics are a thing too!! U don't need to write it all out in prose, u can stick to something closer to rp format!!! So even if u don't want to rp with real people u still have alternatives to using c.ai.

Nature will only heal when y'all stop using Character AI chats and just go rp with your friends

[jayparked]

hii!! congrats on 1k! ^^ can i perhaps get 47 + 75 with jungwon? <33

warnings: overstimulation, established relationship, rough sex, possessive/dom!jungwon, bathroom sex, semi public sex, dirty talk

wc: 516

"jungwon, please! it's too much!" you cry out, tears staining your cheeks while your boyfriend relentlessly pounds into your pussy. he has you sitting on top of the bathroom sink in some random person's house, the music from the party downstairs vibrating the walls around you. it's the one thing you try to focus on in order to hang onto your sanity. jungwon has already made you come twice now and he's showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

he watches the spot where your bodies connect carefully, lips parted slightly as he pants with each hardened thrust. his tongue pokes out to swipe along his bottom lip before he looks into your eyes, his own cloudy with determination.

"not stopping," his words come out ragged as he continues to put everything he has into each thrust, "someone else thinks they can fuck you better? im gonna make you come so many times on my cock that you'll never doubt that i'm the only one who can do this to you. only i get to ruin you like this, you hear me?"

"wh-? what are you talking about?" your eyelids are fluttering now and you're desperate to ignore the way your bruised walls clench around him.

"heard some guy talking about you, eye fucking the hell out of you too. said he could probably make you come in less than five minutes," jungwon scoffs, "well i made you come in one minute. and i bet i can do it faster if we were at home." a darkness flicks across his iris's and suddenly he's gripping you even tighter, moving your legs higher up on his waist.

"i want you to scream my name," growling, jungwon grabs your hips and pulls your body in pace to his thrusts, each one harder than the last and it's a miracle you can even understand what he's saying with the way you're so fucked out.

"th-there are people outside this door. you want everyone to know we're having sex?"

"well, this isn't about them now is it?" he grows more aggressively, lips now attached to your collarbone, nipping and sucking on your flesh until pretty little red marks appear.

you try to hold on, you really do. but jungwon lifts you off the counter and holds you against his body, using his upper body strength to bounce you on his cock while he leans against the bathroom wall. the squelching is getting louder as your ability to hang on dissipates.

"fuck! yes! jungwon right there! oh my god jungwon please!" you dig your nails into his shoulders and flex your leg muscles around his waist, his pace still not letting up.

you were doing just fine until suddenly, jungwon's voice drops to a lower register, his tone even and demanding, "that's it baby. tell everyone i'm the only one who can ever make you feel this good."

suddenly, without any warning, you're releasing on his cock once again, his name leaving your lips with a scream that rips through the house right as the music goes silent between changing songs.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[seelestia]

✧ a healer's touch.

although more than capable of healing himself, mydeimos finds no harm in seeking out medical help for convenience — and when he does, it's almost always and only from you. { 1.2k words }

#STARRING. mydei & healer!reader (gn).

#GENRE. slice of life, fluff, established friendship with feelings.

#NOTES. set pre-3.1, mentions of a minor injury & treating it (pls forgive inaccuracies!), one brief instance of close proximity, mentions of phainon as a tool of banter which leads to jealous mydei, reader is a bit of a gremlin & a tease.

#THOUGHTS. my first try writing for amphoreus charas and it's mydei !!! :-) bcs the concept of him w/ a healer!reader is so hdhshfhs. this was also supposed to be shorter but i got carried away. pls enjoy reading this short drabble! 𖹭

✶ masterlist.

© seelestia on tumblr, mar 2025. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Befitting of the Kremnoan pride he bears, it comes off as no surprise that MYDEI’s gaze is closely accompanied by smoldering heat that can scald those who dare to catch a mere glimpse.

But as he stands before you now with a hand over his wounded flesh, whatever flame that persistently lingers ablaze within his sunset eyes seems to have faded into something else... something more akin to avoidance.

Avoiding your gaze, more specifically.

At this point, the entrance to your small clinic might as well be considered a close friend of Mydei’s thanks to the many times he has paid this place a visit. For as often as his feet have stepped here though, it still gets annoyingly difficult to take even a single step inside when you're looking at him like that.

“This is the third time this week,” you let out a deep sigh. You aren't a fool. Obviously, the smooth cut of his injury and the prior ruckus you heard outside point to one thing: another argument-turned match between him and Phainon over... anything, really.

The disappointment in your voice doesn't bother to conceal itself and its presence alone is enough to cause the mighty warrior to flinch slightly. He doesn't question why the thought of disappointing you stings almost as much as his wounds do.

The pen in your hand has been put down, scribbled footnotes about patients are set aside, and your mind forsakes your papers in favor of addressing the looming presence at your door. Looming in appearance but not so much in attitude with the way he still refuses to look you in the eye.

"...I know,” Mydei grumbles. No resistance and no hostility, only acknowledgement towards this particular lecture of yours that he has heard several times before.

“I might have to start using webs as gauzes in the future,” you shake your head. “You and Phainon are going to be the reason I'll run low on medical supplies one of these days.”

This time, he frowns—a fearsome sight, if it weren't for how familiar you are with it in less than fearsome settings—not at you but at the issue proposed by your statement. Mydei glances around to scan your workspace and although it lasts briefly, his conclusion seems firm as he finally looks you in the eyes.

“...I'll bring it up with Aglaea next time,” he crosses his arms against his chest. Carefully, of course. Even with immortality running through his veins and his gradual numbness to the prickly touch of pain, he still can't risk getting a sharp glare from you for being inconsiderate towards his “bodily misery”.

There are times you think that Mydei can be considerate in his own way, though. Just like right now. “Oh, I jest,” you can't help the way your eyes soften around the edges. “I still have leftover supplies from the last time you did that. I'd rather not trouble her again.”

“Well then,” you quickly usher him to the empty chair near your desk before any sort of protest can escape from his mouth. “Allow me to take a look?”

He clicks his tongue—either at your act of rushing him or refusing his offer or both of them—but doesn't protest. Taking a step forward is already enough to indicate his agreement. One, two, three, four. . . exactly four steps from the doorway to reach the empty chair, a rhythm that Mydei doesn't even realize he's gotten used to.

You don't waste time getting to work as soon as he takes a seat. Following your routine, your eyes meticulously examine the wound on his skin to assess its qualities. The silence doesn't have the opportunity to stretch long as you pipe up with a particularly, frequently asked question.

“So, who won this time?” you hum as your hands deftly grab a few items off your shelf, moving on to cleaning his wound.

“Ha, as if you even need to ask,” Mydei proclaims haughtily. It's never not amusing to witness his inherent boldness resurface... after getting nagged, that is.

“Let me guess. Phainon won?” you deduce, but it's less of a deduction and more of an attempt to get on Mydei's nerves. The offended look he gives you afterwards is the exact reward you wish for.

“Don't try to be funny—” he shoots you a scowl, then hisses when you dab a damp washcloth to the area around his wound.

“Worth a try,” you smile amusedly before offering him a small apology. There is a tinge of guilt in your conscience for not giving him a heads-up about it. Cries of pain are never a melody to a healer's ears, after all. You direct your focus back to cleaning his injury, your movements more gentle: “Thankfully, your wound this time isn't as deep as your usual ones. The bleeding is also lessening faster than normal which I assume to be your ability at work,” you observe out loud.

“...Just say it's a curse,” he sighs. “No need to sugarcoat it, healer.”

“Different interpretations,” you counter.

“Whatever,” he relents, an indifference that is betrayed by his flushing cheeks. Hm, is it the heat? You're very sure all the windows in your clinic are ajar, though.

“Let me take one more look,” you scooch a little closer to inspect his injury again. The sudden shift in proximity effectively throws Mydei's senses into overdrive. He can quite literally smell the fragrance that sticks to your clothes with you this close. It only lasts for a few moments, however, and it's when you pull away that he realizes he's been holding his breath.

“Hey, you look like you're burning up,” you frown as you give him his space back. “A wound accompanied by a fever could indicate—”

“I'm fine,” his response is hastier than he would've preferred. Not enough to preserve the pieces of dignity he feels he has lost just now, but he can pick them up just fine.

“Alright then, would you like a kiss after?”

(Now, he really has to pick those pieces back up with his own bare hands.)

“I— what?”

Mydei looks at you as if you've lost your mind, as if the black tide has materialized out of nowhere to help you accomplish that.

“After I wrap up your wound,” you explain, trying your utmost best not to keel over from laughter right then and there. You know what you're doing. “Children ask me for them all the time. Says it helps with their recovery.”

Mydei can't even choose which aspect of this absolute incredulity he should address first: the logic (or lack thereof) in the sentence itself or the sheer audacity you have to ask him that. Amidst his loss for a response he deems proper, the only thing he can manage to utter is this: “Never suggest something so preposterous ever again.”

You ignore the horror in his voice in favor of fueling the flames a little more. “Not even to Phainon?” you ask, just a tiny bit goading.

“Especially him,” he snarls, “unless you want me to hurl him at death's door myself.”

“Duly noted.”

Ironically, Mydeimos thinks you are going to be the death of him someday. If that's even possible.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

— THANK YOU FOR READING! another reminder: please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

[yoo-joonghyuks-big-naturals]

I want to write an orv fic but I have no ideas

[captain-huggy-bear]

Jack is one that if you aren’t paying attention to him because you’re cooking or reading. He will literally pout

Oh, yeah, big time! Like you're just making your breakfast, trying to fry an egg and he's sat there pouting because you won't cuddle or kiss him because you're dealing with hot oil, Jack! I'd love to do more of these short drabbles/prompts, especially any like dialogue prompts where people send me a single sentence/word/piece of dialogue and who they want it with like '"You're pretty..." with Luke' type vibes. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"Baby..."

"Mmm...." You don't look up from the frying pan, too focused on the egg you're frying for your avocado toast sandwich, trying your best to avoid spitting oil as you cook and trying to get the perfect consistency for your yoke. (Failing miserably because who said you were a great cook?)

"Baby..." He's pouting now, not that you can see it because you're refusing to look at him and this is a fucking crime. He's just sat here and you're so close but you won't even look at him. His bottom lip juts out away from his top, eyes turning sad and pitiful like a puppy. Not that you notice, which makes his pout deeper.

"Yeah?" Still you don't look at Jack, your egg is nearly cooked and you move away to get your toast as it pops out of the toaster, slathering guacamole across both sides and bits of avocado, drizzling sriracha mayo over top.

Jack makes an executive decision, if you won't look at him then he'll just have to make you take notice of him. He picks the exact wrong moment to get up and slide his arms around your waist. The moment when you're transferring your egg to your sandwich and you nearly, nearly drop a boiling hot fried egg on your foot as a result.

"Jack!" You're quick to save the egg, getting it onto your toasted bread before putting the pan and spatula down. Jack's nuzzling into your neck, still pouting because you're more focused on your food than on him and it's not fair, he's been away for a week on a roadie and he's missed you. Didn't you miss him?

"You're ignoring me..."

"Jack, I'm not ignoring you but I need to eat my breakfast, you know how crazy my blood sugar gets..." You try to reason with him, putting the top bread on your sandwich and cutting it in half. He's latched onto you like a limpet on a rock, pressing little kisses to your neck, nose nuzzling against your skin in a way that is far too ticklish.

"You won't even look at me, do you not love me anymore?"

You can't help but laugh at him, turning in his arms and wrapping your own around his neck. Jack's pouting down at you, but there's a little twinkle in his baby blues that tells you he's messing about and just being silly.

"Of course, I love you, Jackie."

"But not as much as your stupid food." His pout manages to become deeper as he glares over your shoulder at your breakfast.

"I love you more. I promise. C'mere..." You cup his cheeks and smile at the way he melts into your palms, practically nuzzling into your hands as his pout melts away. You drag his face closer, pressing one, two, three kisses to his lips before attempting to pull away from him. You should have known that wasn't going to happen.

"Nooo...." He doesn't let you, hands sliding into your back pockets, cupping your arse and pulling you as close as possible. Jack's busy pressing kisses now to your cheeks and nose and you can't help but giggle, a laugh that puts his pout at rest and makes him smirk because he did that. He made you laugh. You're paying attention to him.

"Jack...I need to eat..." You say it between giggles, face scrunching as he kisses across it, finding any and every spot imaginable.

"But I wanna be close to you, baby..."

"Then I'll eat and sit on your lap, is that enough of a compromise?" You try your best to get him to release you, he takes a moment to think, pretending that the decision is a hard one.

"Okay, but I want kisses after."

"Deal."

[froginmygarden]

Got a little brain worm on the way home and have a need to write it down. Just a drabble because I'm not good at writing.

DC x DP Just a (clone) couple

Joung Adult!Team Phantom for some reason end up in the DC universe. For reasons, there aren't any equivalents of them here. Danny and Sam are together and Danny and Dani have a familiar relationship. Whatever the reasons they stay in this universe.

So Sam, Danny and Dani start making a life together as a family, Tucker goes on to make a "small business" involving VPN's and tech in general (finds an anthropomorphic girlfriend on the way or something), Jazz goes to uni (JL members city of choice, although I advise against Gotham or Metropolis, because that would make this too short).

For some MORE reasons unknown, although they might be by the making of our favourite clock-man, the DP people's DNA has by default markings of being clones in DC (I don't know if this is canon or fanon but Connor had something like that ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭). The thing is here Jack = Bruce, Maddy = Alexander and Jeremy = Clark, Pamela = Lois! Do you see my vision here??

So *JL member from the perspective city* meets the Fenton/Manson/Nightingale?? family accidentally when they are visiting Jazz, and has a sweet deja vu moment. Some time passes and the off handedly mention it to someone in the JL.

Batman being the paranoid bastard that he is goes on to check this thing out, because he can smell the fish from a mile away. Thinks the couple are clones, gets very paranoid again and starts making plans, plans get found by his kids, kids tell the JL and friends. So starts the collective discussions of what should they do, some say that they should get rid of the clones, some others that they don't have proof for anything nefarious and shouldn't do anything at all, someone points out that they have literally showed up out of nowhere and that it is reasonable to be suspicious. And Connor is also there.

Meanwhile Team Phantom is going about their lives like normal, but with a "I know that you know" mindset, and don't really bother with hiding themselves.

In my opinion the part that has to be the most glaringly noticeable about them should be that Danny (Batman's clone apparently) should wear a lot of flannel and have a "Midwestern Nice" personality" (the stuff of legends I have only heard about in passing) and over all should resemble Clark in fashion sense. For Sam (Superman's clone apparently) the exact opposite - she can put the GOTH in Gotham.

And all JL angst/drama/confusion happens in the background as we follow Connor Kent's/Superboy's POV and him dealing with having two half siblings and the half siblings being together and them having a child and this is too much for him oooooooooo noooooooo nononoonononoonononononno what in the sweeet home Alabama whhhhhyyyyyyyy!??!

So it's like a metronome tick's between the POVs of fluffy new life/potential threat to the JL I mean the child of Bruce/Lex and child Clark/Luis having potential super-smart, super-powered (potentially evil??) children. But overall it's crack.

Maybe I'll plan it out and actually try to write it, but meanwhile you can enjoy my half-ill/fever induced brain worms and play in the brown dirt puddle I call my creative thinking.

To who ever finished reading this

Good night! ;P

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Love Through Food🥘

You've ordered: a spiced cardamom tart! enjoy!

"Just the thought of not being alone gets me through"

Jamil Viper x reader | word count: 748 words

Summary: after hearing that you're not eating enough for Iftar, Jamil takes matters into his own hands 🥘 (short little drabble that i spent way too much time on-)

Warnings: reader is yuu, other than that, none!

Note: finally finished this! writer's block sucks 🫠 inspired by this post i made, encouraged to write this by @multifandom-milktea-simp 's comment on said post. can't believe there's only 10 days left T-T Ramadan Mubarak!! 🌙

Ramadan was a hell of a lot harder this year. Or at least that's what your friends thought. Not only did you have to not eat for practically the entire day, you were constantly stressed with whatever absolute bullshit Crowley made you deal with. They just didn't know how you did it.

"So, you really don't eat all day?!" Grim exclaimed, currently chowing down on a can of tuna you got him.

"Nope. I mean, I've been doing this since I was what? Ten years old?" You replied, using the extra time to do some homework.

"Jeez, I could never." the cat like creature mumbled, licking his paws.

"It doesn't seem all that complicated, Grim." You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. And there he stood.

Jamil Viper, vice housewarden of the Scarabia dorm...and your boyfriend.

"How's the fasting going? Are you eating well when you break your fast?"

For your Iftars, you would usually just have Ace and Deuce take extra portions of food during lunch and keep them for you until sunset. You'd take the food to Ramshackle and try to turn the leftovers into something filling.

"Mhm. I usually find something to eat. Sometimes, I cook for myself and Grim in Ramshackle." you said, not wanting to worry him.

"Really? Good, good...You know..." Jamil began, glancing up at you. "I could always cook Iftar for you. It not a big deal."

"No, it's fine. Really. You already have so much on your plate..." you muttered, Jamil frowning a bit.

You didn't want to bother asking him to cook for you since he already had to do so for Kalim. But when he overheard from the Heartslabyul duo that you were basically eating whatever meatless food items they brought, it just didn't sit right with him.

"Are you sure? I can always-"

You placed a hand on top of Jamil's, gently patting his hand while giving him a reassuring smile as you stood up.

"I'm positive. My class is about to start. I'll see you later. Come on, Grim."

And with that, he watched as you left the cafeteria, a nagging feeling gnawing at him.

Even though you told him you were eating okay, he couldn't help but worry, causing him to take matters into his own hands.

The smell of various herbs and spices filled you and Grim's senses as you two made your way into Ramshackle that night. You didn't remember ever cooking anything. Maybe the ghosts made it.

As you stepped into the living area, your jaws dropped. On the table was a lavish spread of mouthwatering foods: roasted and spiced meats, sautéed vegetables, rice and beans, a pot full of curry, and various sweets. And of course pitchers of freshly squeezed juices.

And who stood at the head of the table with a smile on his lips? The one and only: Jamil Viper.

"Jamil, you..." You were so awestruck by the display, feeling your heart swell with affection. "When did you do all of this?"

"Who cares? Let's eat!" Grim exclaimed, rushing over to the table, only to be stopped by one of the Ramshackle ghosts.

You turned your attention back to Jamil, who reached out and cupped your face in his hands.

"You've been working so hard and fasting everyday at that. You only deserve the best for your Iftar, no more cafeteria food." he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you, Jamil. Really, thank you so much. I...I don't know how to repay you..." you muttered, placing your hands on top of his.

"There's no need. Seeing the look on your face as you enjoy my food is enough for me. Now come, let's eat." Jamil hummed, pulling away and pulling out a chair for you.

"About time!" Grim yelped, scampering into his seat and beginning to stuff himself silly.

"Grim! Slow down, you'll choke!" you chuckled, the cat like creature not minding your words as he grabbed another lamb skewer.

As you began to eat, your eyes widened, taste buds bombarded with various spices and herbs and sauces. It all left you speechless, your reaction being a thumbs up and a frantic nodding of your head.

Jamil was over the moon that you liked his food. Seeing you eat well after studying and fasting all day set his mind at ease, his hands moving to hold your empty one.

This was by far the best Iftar (and the best Ramadan) you'd ever had. 🥘

© m00nkissedlover, 2025

[douqhnxtss]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MY GIRL, MY GIRL, MY GIRL ✧˖°.⋆.˚⊹ ࣪ ˖

𝓛𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝘢𝘧𝘢𝘳. 𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚. 𝓣𝒁𝑼𝒀𝑼 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝓨𝑶𝑼, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦��, 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌. 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋; 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.

✧ fluff, domestic, drabble, down bad!tzuyu, lots of blushing and giggling and love, not much just two lovers basking in eachothers love and presence, proofread — girlfriend!tzuyu × fem!reader ⋆ wc! 0.61k 𐙚𐙚 pls make do w this tzuyu drabble while I slowly work on redamancy.. soz I'll try my best to get it pit this week and also, I love tzuyu so much, write this for ml @y0ziimisii the tzuyu to my sana hope you like it >_< love ya<33

✧ now playing! — we fell in love in october ♪ girl in red 𐙚

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

THE ESSENCE OF LOVE FLOWED WITH THE SOFT BREEZE. you circled your arm around hers, interwining your fingers in the process. your head rested on tzuyu's shoulder.

"best first anniversary date ever." you said with a soft smile, tilting your head up to look at the taller. she looked at you, her lips parted like she was about to talk.

tzuyu's eyes followed every bump and crevice on your face, your eyes, nose, lips, brows, everything. you let out a little giggle, a soft blush presenting itself on your cheeks, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"do i look that pretty?" you asked softly, your teeth holding your bottom lip hostage. her other hand reached up to your face as her thumb gently pulled your lip out of its hold under your teeth.

"you.. you look mind numbingly gorgeous, love." tzuyu whispered in a hushed tone, her lips curving into a lovesick smile. no matter how many times she'd addressed you with the nickname, you never failed to blush.

"thank you, you look beautiful too, tzu." you complimented the taiwanese, her crimson cheeks were harder to see but her ears covered in red gave her away. she looked away for a second before her gaze locked with yours once again.

"thank you so much." she whispered, giving your hand a little squeeze making your heart race. speaking of your heart, it was content. having spent a whole day with the person it cherished most, it couldn't have wished for anything more.

a few minutes passed, you looked away, overwhelmed by her loving gaze. you chose to look at the stars and moon, the only shining objects in the dark canvas that was the night sky.

she didn't look away though, eyes looking at you as if she was carving every detail about you in her mind, "you didn't say you're welcome for the date." you gave her a glance.

she just hummed, realizing she did indeed overlook the statement, "oh, yes. you're welcome, i couldn't be happier." you couldn't help but blush even more, her mere presence was enough to make your stomach do backflips.

"why do you always admire me, even when we're beside eachother?" you asked, looking at her teasingly, tilting your head. tzuyu looked at you for a second too long with her eyes which were drunk in love before she responded.

"you've got me lovestruck, my love. you're also too beautiful and too mine to not be admired by me." your heart skipped a few beats, eyes widening a fraction. you swiped your tongue your bottom lip, "you're... so good at getting me flustered."

she let out a soft giggle. she leaned in to give you a short and sweet kiss before pulling away. tzuyu's grip on your intertwined hand tightened slightly, not enough to hurt you and just enough to give you a reassurance that she's there and grasp your attention at the same time.

you turned to look at her. tzuyu chuckled and began, "obviously i'll be good at getting my girl flustered." she brought your hand up to her lips, pressing a lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt but it didn't matter. all that mattered in the moment was you two and your love for eachother. the world seemed to have shrunk down into just the two of you, time also felt like it had been slowed down, giving you two a chance to just be happy for the stretching night with eachother.

"i love you, tzu." you connected your forehead with hers, never leaving her hand, keeping them intertwined. she pecked you sweetly before whispering, "i love you too and always will, my girl."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ᯓ✦ 𝓊𝗻𝚒𝘷𝐞𝗋𝓢𝙚 !

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ regulars! @woniefication @shyoko

Douqhnxtss © 23042025 — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. do not edit, translate, repost or plagiarize any of my work !

[jettiesadork]

Vi x Girly Reader Headcanons

Hi guys! More bad writing ^_^ Just wanted to get this idea out of my head before I leave for work so its pretty short lol

I'm not sure if these make sense but I hope you get the idea I'm trying to get across

I'll probably write a drabble about this when I get home

-Loves watching you do your hair, makeup, or skincare

-Anything really

-She just loves seeing your routine and watching how focused you get when that one little piece of hair is refusing to straighten or watching the look on your face when you're trying not to mess up your eyeliner

-Lets you sit in her lap while you paint your nails

-One time you put a 'V' on your ring finger and when she saw it she was ready to propose on the spot

-Once you guys started dating, you would buy anything in hot pink if it was an option

-Hot pink hair brush, pens, socks, hair ties, you even managed to find hot pink cotton swabs one time

-She thought you just really liked the color

-She doesn't know it's just because it reminds you of her hair color

-Straddling her lap while you do her skincare for her

-She'll ask a million questions about what each step does

-Sometimes she'll try to guess what flavor your lip gloss is after you kiss

[gasp-hehe]

Tutor!Gojo Headcannons

cw: satoru gojo x fem reader, nerdjo, university au, gojo is a gifted kid, you are a bimbo, physics major gojo, doctorate gojo, cheerleader reader, fingering, grinding, dry humping, use of petnames

kinda just had a blurb and wrote this drabble, i never write so the punctuation lord. idk i need this and ik i'll pass with flying colours.

MDNI

cheerleader!reader who's easily capable of landing on top of the pyramid but has no idea how to write the formula for what she did.

cheerleader!reader whose sports scholarship is barely holding on with her current grades, leaving her no choice but to accept her professor's recommendation for a tutor.

tutor!gojo who is the same age as you but getting his PhD right now.

tutor!gojo who calmly and patiently teaches you each and every concept from the beginning again, entertaining all your questions.

tutor!gojo who clears up way more than two hours a week because he needs to see you you need it.

tutor!gojo who suggests sessions right after your cheer practice so that he gets to see you in that slutty lil' uniform your brain is 'sharper'.

tutor!gojo who can't bear the fact that you're sitting all dolled up for him in your mini skirt and liner, huffing and squirming with every problem you don't get.

tutor!gojo who loves riling you up by slowly tracing the pencils underneath your skirt when you space out or pinching at your waist when you make a mistake.

tutor!gojo who adores seeing you so flustered that he sets up a reward system, making you fall right into his arms.

tutor!gojo who starts off with small words of praise like "good girl" "attagirl" "that's my girl".

tutor!gojo who then starts reprimanding your mistakes by doing the sum over again with his hand enveloping yours and making you trace the words.

tutor!gojo who has you sit on his lap for 'overlooking your work better', but this just leaves you grinding on his thigh with your barely there shorts as you try and solve these problems.

tutor!gojo who slowly bumps his leg up and down to help you, sometimes moving his own hips by accident.

tutor!gojo who grabs your hips with his massive hands, engulfing them as he glides them back and forth, dragging you like a doll on him.

tutor!gojo who then comes up to your ear and whispers "haan- that's it, check the directions of the waves again" as you mewl pathetically writhing on him.

tutor!gojo who has you sprawled out on his desk before your final exam for the semester, three fingers deep in you as you try to solve a paper

"p-please right there, jus' ah-" you moan as his fingers scissor your folds apart.

gojo looks at you with a condescending grin before he tsks, "baby you know the deal, you get to cum when you answer all the questions right."

"b-but 's not fair." you whine out as his fingers squelch loudly in your tight wet heat.

"sweetheart come on," he sighs at you "i know my girl, if you weren't so slutty you'd have been done long ago"

"can't, shit, can't i need more please, i can't focus." you beg him with all but tears in your eyes.

"come on love, 3 more questions yeah? you solve 'em right maybe i'll even give you more than jus' my fingers" he teases, pulling your thighs so that he's situated deeper inside you.

you cry out at the feeling, but before you can get a word in he speaks again "if not guess i h've to keep edgin' you" he coos into your ear and now the tears flow.

don't repost, plagiarize, or copy ig.

[actuallysaiyan]

May I please have Smutty Prompts 11 and 19 for Ichigo? 😁

warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, unprotected sex

You hadn’t been anticipating this at all. After all the two of you had gone through, making out with Ichigo was probably the last thing on your list of things you expected to happen. You had been friends for years and through all the crazy things in his life, you still stayed by his side. But to be in his bed with him, kissing like two horny teenagers…well you really never would have guessed it.

You tug on his orange hair, pulling a grunt from him. The two of you pull away for air, he’s got such a cute dumb little grin on his face. You can feel his erection pressing against you. You giggle as you cant your hips forward, earning a groan from Ichigo. His eyes are locking with yours, and he groans again when you try to grind against him.

“Shit…” he chuckles. “I can’t believe this.”

You kiss him sloppily. “Can’t believe what?”

He smirks before pushing you back on the bed. His lips are on your neck; he sucks hard, leaving a deep red mark on your skin. Your eyes are half-open as you look at him.

“I can’t believe you’re on my bed with me. “I’ve been dreaming about this for a long time…”

You’re at a loss for words. Just how long did he have these feelings for you? Before you can think of a response, Ichigo’s lips are on yours once more. The kisses are heated; it’s a clash of teeth and your tongues wrestling.

His hands soothe up and down your sides. You shudder at the way he keeps caressing you like you’re a beloved treasure that he never wants to get his hands off of. When his hands come up to cradle your face, you feel your heart racing. Ichigo lets out a moan when you reach down to squeeze his dick through his jeans.

“Eager huh?” He teases you.

You show him just how eager you are by stripping off his clothes. He lets you press kisses and leave hickies on his neck as you take care of taking off his clothes. Ichigo looks at you, and the love is very apparent in his eyes. He flips you over so that you’re on top of him.

“I like this side of you,” he comments with a smirk on his face.

It’s not long before he has you completely naked. There’s a lustful glaze in his eyes as he prods your tight little hole. You whimper his name as he fingers you, curling his digits just right to get that sweet spot. You kiss him hotly as you dribble on his long fingers. Your hips begin to move in time with his pumping.

“Ready for me?” he pulls his fingers from you and replaces it with the tip of his cock.

You bite your lip, nodding eagerly. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Slowly he pushes into you, leaving you both panting and whining. As he bottoms out, he wraps his arms around you to pull you close to him. His lips are hungry as he kisses you passionately. You let out such a cute moan when he starts thrusting up into you.

“I could never love someone the way I love you…”

dividers by: @adornedwithlight

Send me a prompt and character and I'll write you a short Drabble!

[jayparked]

well done <33 can i please ask for 68 and hee?

warnings: inexperienced reader, language, f2l, unprotected sex

wc: 569

"i'm sorry...what?" heeseung leans forward, eyebrows knit tightly together in confusion.

"you heard me."

"no! i don't think i did!" scoffing with a nervous chuckle, heeseung stands up from the chair in your room and places both hands on top of his head, pacing back and forth.

"please heeseung i hate being so inexperienced. no one has let me do it before so please just let me do it once. i swear it won't change anything with our friendship."

heeseung can't believe what you're saying, genuinely cannot believe what the hell you are talking to him about. he's been your friend since middle school and now that you're in your second year of college the friendship seems pretty set in stone for life.

"say it again," he mumbles, now turning to face you.

"let me ride you."

"fuck...alright. but you're stupid if you think this won't change anything so i hope you're sure about this." truth is, heeseung has been trying to get over the fact that he's been in love with you since the first day you two met. only recently did he finally feel like he was making progress and even contemplated the idea of seriously pursuing this one person who was dropping major hints they are into him (it's the barista at his college campus. they leave their number on heeseung's cup every single day with cute messages and doodles).

but you just had to ask him this, something he would never be able to refuse.

minutes pass in a blur and suddenly both of your clothes are off and heeseung is laying on his back, on hand behind his head as he tries to get a good look at you without completely ogling.

you get on the bed and straddle his hips, careful not to lower yourself on his hardened cock. you wish you had a few more moments to just stare at it, completely thrown off with the length and girth your best friend has been packing this whole time. the thought of that going inside you is exhilarating and terrifying.

once you look into your best friends eyes though and see all the feelings he's tried to hide all these years, you don't hesitate and take the plunge. the way he stretches your walls has you gasping outloud, having to rock your hips back and forth slightly to try and help the stretch.

"ah...oh yeah, y/n, fuck you're so tight." heeseung's hands are on your waist but his eyes are on your chest. with a quick eyeroll you grab his hands and place them where his eyes were.

"you don't know how many times i've dreamed of this happening," he whispers.

with a laugh you reply with a simple, "me too," your stomach fluttering when you see the shocked look on his face. heeseung opens his mouth to say something, but you're fully sheathed on him now and immediately put your hand on his chest to stable you as you grind your hips against his crotch. all that comes out of heeseung's mouth for the next few moments is a slough of swear words, praises, and "i can't believe we've never done this before"'s. and once he's coming undone underneath you all he can ask is if you can do that again exactly how you did it before, because fuck that felt so good and he needs it tattooed into his memory.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[mrsmangi]

Hibiscus 🌺🌺🌺

late night call - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: hibiscus - the realization of a friendship becoming something more - meaning: in victorian times, the gift of a hibiscus bloom meant that the giver was acknowledging the receiver’s delicate beauty. ♡ w.c.: 1k ♡ a/n: hi, love! thank you so much for your request. srry for the delay, i'm a bit backed up with requests. she's a short one, but i hope you enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

“Do you ever think people realize just how loud their ceiling fans are?” 

His voice comes through the phone, low and scratchy, like he’s been lying on his back for too long, staring at his own ceiling. You giggle softly, shifting against the pillow propped against your back. Your own fan spins above you, a rhythmic hum filling the space between his words and yours. 

“It’s white noise,” you say, quieter than usual. “After a while, you get used to it and stop hearing it.” 

“Mm, not tonight,” Luigi sighs. “It’s like the fan’s trying to keep me awake for as long as possible.”

You laugh again, a soft, breathy sound that feels just a bit too loud in the stillness of your room. It’s past midnight–long past the time you’d planned to be asleep–but this is how many of your nights with Luigi go. What starts with casual texts morphs into a phone call, then into hours of talking about nonsense; everything and nothing.

“Maybe it’s just your thoughts,” you tease. “What are the voices yelling at you about tonight?” 

He pauses on the other end of the line, just the faint sound of his breathing audible. You know Luigi well enough by now to know he’s not actively ignoring your question; he’s only deciding how much of himself to give away. 

“Life,” he answers lamely, though the vagueness of the reply altogether makes it clear there’s more to it than that. “Do you ever feel like no matter how much you do to succeed, it’s never enough?” 

You roll onto your side, pressing the phone closer to your ear. The dim glow of your bedside lamp casts uneven shadows against the wall. 

“All the time,” you reply honestly. “It gets exhausting, though. I feel like I’m just running a race no one even cares to watch.” 

He exhales, a sound that crackles through the receiver. When he speaks again, his voice carries the kind of understanding that comes from being seen. “Yeah. I get it.” 

The two of you fall into shared silence, the steady hum of your ceiling fan whispering across the line. You let yourself picture him for a moment–probably sprawled out on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. His phone would be balanced in his other hand. The image feels familiar, like something you’ve seen a thousand times before, even though you haven’t. 

“Can I ask you something?” His voice breaks the quiet.

“Always.” 

He’s quiet again, but you don’t rush him.

“Do you think…” He pauses again, and you can hear the shift of his breathing. “Do you ever think it’s possible for something to change without either person realizing it? Like, to wake up one day and feel like everything’s changed, even though nothing is actually different?” 

“Maybe,” you say cautiously, voice softer now. “Sometimes things can change so slowly you don’t even notice until it’s already different. Then, you find yourself wondering how long it’s been that way.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That’s exactly what I mean.” 

You stare up at the spinning fan, asking him, “What’s different, Luigi?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. His continuous pauses make you grow somewhat uneasy, stretching a distance between you. “Us,” he says. “I think we’re different.” 

You exhale slowly. “Different how?” 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But it’s like every time we talk, it feels different. More important, somehow, like there’s something there that wasn’t before.” He stops and you can nearly hear the way he’s turning the words over rin his head. “I used to just…enjoy talking to you, but now, it feels like I catch myself waiting for it. I’m counting down to the next time I’ll hear your voice. And when we’re not talking, I’m thinking about what I want to tell you the next time I see you, or wondering what you’re doing, or–” He breaks out into nervous laughter, cutting himself off. “Um, does any of that make sense or am I just rambling?” 

It makes perfect sense. Too much sense. Your heart picks up speed, the weight of his words pressing against the thoughts you’ve tried to push to the back of your mind. You notice it too. You’ve felt a change in the way you catch yourself thinking about him at odd moments–when a song reminds you of something he’s said, or when you replay the voice messages he sends just to hear his laugh on repeat. Tonight, he speaks heavier, like he’s cracked open a door you have both been staring at for weeks, maybe longer, unsure of who will turn the handle first. 

“It does,” you whisper. 

There’s a small, nearly imperceptible breath on his end, like he’s been holding it and didn’t even realize. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You chew on your bottom lip, letting the word sink in. “I didn’t know if I should say anything. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.” 

“Me neither,” he says, “but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it. I do. All the time.” 

You close your eyes, the glow of the lamp behind your lids is a soft orange hue. “So, what now?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says. There’s no pretense, no cleverness to soften the edges of his words. “But maybe we can figure it out. Together.” He says his last word carefully, almost like it’s fragile–like it may break under the weight of its meaning if he doesn’t say it the right way. 

You hear him shift, the faint sound of fabric rustling through the receiver. It’s a small thing, but it makes the moment feel so real, tangible, like he’s not just a voice in the dark. You let his words settle over you. Luigi doesn’t have the answers to all your worries and neither do you. But, it feels comforting somehow–to know that he’s with you in this journey, and you with him. 

“Okay,” you say. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You know he can hear it, even if he can’t see it. Your heart is full of love for this boy as you exhale: “Together.”

[bbokicidal]

i know nobody is going to read this but i'm going to be real open and vulnerable for a second.

i'm not going to continue the 4K event and i'm sorry if that lets people down, but i can't right now. i really just can't, and the reason is because i hit 4k. the last few weeks i've been feeling so detached from this blog and i didn't know why, but after talking about it i think it's purely because last year when i hit 4k on my previous blog i deleted it shortly after due to an overwhelming amount of hate.

hitting 4k here is unreal and i wish i could personally thank every one of you who follows me for supporting me and my writing even if it's always off the walls and crazy. (y'all begged for and read a tentacle porn fic from me??? that crazy, i love you guys sm.) but with hitting 4k has come an overwhelming wave of anxiety that somehow, something is going to happen and i don't know what. i'm grateful, of course, for all of you psychopaths (<3) that read my writing and indulge in the delulu with me, but all of that positivity, right now, cannot conquer the negativity that's sort of just swirling around in my head at the moment.

i want to try and push that feeling away and i want to regrow my attachment to this blog - i want to feel the passion for writing again and i want to strengthen my love for skz as a group because if i'm honest, it's been dwindling.

i'm sure you all know, i suck at events. i suck at finishing them, i suck at writing and creating them. so i'm not calling this an event; let's think of it as.. starting fresh. rather than giving up on the blog like i've debated doing, i'm going to try and do something i think is fun for not only you but also myself - not something i'll slave over writing and dread doing for days on end. remember that nsfw ice cream event i mentioned doing for 4k as a possibility? we're bringing her back.

give me some time, but soon i'll be posting a menu of sorts that you can place a custom order from. it's going to be short answers, short scenarios, not even drabble length replies but fun nonetheless. maybe we'll find out chan's favorite position or the toys minho chooses to use on you; or maybe we'll get to see what kind of content innie uses to get off.

either way - i just want it to be fun. whether you choose to be included or not, whether you read this whole spiel or not, thank you for being here and putting up with me while i've been distant. thank you for waiting for me.

(and yes, my concussion is getting better. stitches out soon. <3)

love you guys and looking forward to our future endeavors together,

mama bboki

[captain-huggy-bear]

michael in his gf’s tiny dorm bed?

Trying to fit this man in a normal sized twin bed? Practically impossible, but i'm sure we're all willing to try <3 Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

"Michael...this is ridiculous, you're not going to fit." You're watching him stand next to your stupidly small dorm bed. Twin sized, barely 6ft long in length and stupidly small compared to your boyfriend. 6ft 5, 217lbs and definitely not what your dorm room bed was designed for.

"I'll make it work, baby." He's sizing up the bed like he can find a way to make it bigger, a way to make it work for him when it clearly doesn't. It has you crossing your arms and shaking your head with a sigh because the last thing you want tonight is for Michael to try to shove himself into that bed, to be uncomfortable just because of you.

"Just...we can just go to your place instead, you're not going to be comfortable." Your already moving to grab your shoes, ready to just go to his place in your pjs because quite frankly it's ridiculous to expect Michael to cram himself into a bed that's 5 inches too short.

But, Michael won't have it. He's already clambering into your bed, head as far back onto the pillow as he can get, side pressed into the wall...and his legs...his feet and then some are hanging off the edge of the bed, toes exposed to the elements...to the demons.

"My place is across campus, it's like midnight and you have an exam in the morning. It'll be fine. See," The grin he sends you is light-hearted, unbothered by the possibility of monsters nibbling on his toes in the night.

"Your legs are literally hanging off the edge..."

"Baby, I'm fine, or I will be when you get over here." It's the grin combined with the grabby hands, mixed with your own exhaustion and desire to just curl up with Michael that has you accepting defeat.

Squeezing yourself in next to him, you accidentally elbow him as the two of you try to make it work. Michael turning onto his side to spoon you, tugging you back flush against his front. His toes come up onto the bed, only because his legs bend around yours, trapping you into his embrace.

But you love it. The feeling of safety, security, as he curls around you. As his breaths puff out against your neck and his cologne swirls around you. The way his hands press against your stomach to hold you near and his hair tickles your cheek.

The only reason he's over is because you've been stressed about your exams and this? God, you needed this. Michael always makes your brain quiet when he holds you, it's like he's pressed a mute button and all those worries, all those concerns just fade away until all that's left is Michael, just Michael and this moment.

"You comfy, baby?" He's softened his voice until it's sweet and low, the sort that's designed not to disturb the peace and quiet that surrounds the two of you.

"Mm, very, you?"

"Yeah, got all I need right here in my arms." Michael squeezes you tight against him, a kiss pressed to your shoulder.

"Sap."

"For you? Yeah."