#and make it full of things you actually like

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Heritance

There's not much left for Tim in his parents' wills. Or, well, not much by his standards - the rest of the family, barring Bruce and Damian, think he is absolutely loaded and too full of himself to care. Which is maybe a little bit true; receiving about a dozen properties across the world, a trust fund and a wide collection of artifacts that his parents have accumulated through years of their archeological escapades is a lot by middle class standards.

But Tim knows how much money Drakes actually had, and a few old houses and an assembly of junk seems like not much in comparison.

In any case, it's all rather useless in Tim's position. He has no interest in traveling aside from when he has to for a mission, and he couldn't give less shits about archeology even if he tried. The trust fund is fine, he guesses, but it's not like he needs it, what with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and one of the Wayne Wards.

So, as morbid as it is, the best reaction he can muster at his inheritance is a shrug and a mention in his mile-long list of 'things I need to figure out when I have time'. Which basically means he'll maybe get to it when he's old and retired, and not any sooner, because Tim Drake the CEO and Red Robin the vigilante are both very, very busy people who never have time.

Naturally, his life has other plans, and it's only two or three months later that Tim finds himself breaking through the balcony window of his own apartment in Praha.

It's at that moment, when he's lying on top of a soft persian rug, surrounded by glass shards and wondering if this move was enough to lose his tail that he realizes his inheritance might be slightly more than just a few properties and some boxes with old things.

Because, through his own heavy breathing, he hears a thoughtful, slightly sarcastic voice from inside the room, "I guess the door was too hard to figure out for you, wasn't it."

He sits up, turning his head so sharply it almost snaps. His eyes immediately fall on a boy not much older than him, sitting with one leg thrown over the other on the dark red couch near the wall. He looks like he clearly belongs here: white, vintage collar shirt and black, high-waist trousers, a silver ring on his thumb that looks too old to have been bought in this century, dark raven hair and perfect porcelain skin.

And he is reading a newspaper. Like a slightly bleeding costumed guy in a domino mask breaking the window and falling onto the carpet is just another Tuesday.

Hold on, this is Tim's house! He double-checked the address, there's no mistake!

"Who are you?" He demands, frowning, as his hands reach to the birdarangs out of habit.

"Keeper of Doors," the boy answers, not looking up and flipping the page, "And you're the Drakes' heir, I assume."

Tim blinks. The response provides no actual answers, it only creates more questions. "What doors?" He asks because the rest of the points can most likely be addressed later. Like the issue of his busted secret identity, right.

The boy sighs and closes the newspaper, folding it in half and uncrossing his legs to sit a bit straighter. "Doors, capital 'D'. The ones that lead everywhere you want."

"The what?.." Tim repeats, dumbfounded and lost in this unexpected nonsense. The boy gives him a truly unimpressed look, his eyebrow twitching. Then, he stands up - Tim's fingers close around the birdarang again - and steps towards the nearest door, grabbing the handle. His feet make absolutely no sound.

"Drake manor," the boy announces and pushes the door open. He doesn't step through, however, instead just standing in the doorway and turning back to Tim, gesturing for him to look.

Tim does.

Seeing the familiar hall, the one he's seen so many times, the one he walked through every day before he moved out, makes him realize a few things at once. One, he needs to revise the list of houses he inherited since it looks like they are not just properties but a map of teleportation points, most likely. Two, his parents knew full well he didn't need the trust fund, it wasn't for him, it was probably for this boy, who may or may not be the, well, gatekeeper. Three, if the first part of his inheritance turned out to be this, he is going to need to call in Zatanna to sort through the collection of his parents' artifacts lest something turns out to be actually cursed in there.

Four, he's been staring at the boy and gaping like a fish for longer than its socially acceptable.

"...What's your name?" He asks, suddenly conscious about the fact he was kind of rude before. The boy snorts, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he closes the door back.

"Danny," he introduces and snaps his fingers. The glass shards around Tim move all at once, rising from the ground and going back towards the window, like a reversed video recording. A second later, the balcony window looks as good as new, not a crack in the glass. "And you?"

"Red Ro-" Tim starts, but then pauses. Fuck it, he might as well, "Tim."

Danny waves his hand in the air, like snatching something out of nowhere, and, just like that, there's a box that looks suspiciously like a first-aid kit in his hands.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. Now, get over here and stop ruining my carpet with your blood."

[bloatedandalone04]

Kiwi

Summary: You’re pregnant with Rafe’s baby, and he’s more stressed out about it than you are (and rightfully so).

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: fluff, swearing, protective rafe, soon to be dad rafe, smut, angst if you squint, unprotected sex, pregnancy.

You were steadily entering your second trimester, which was shaping out to be a little easier than your first. You were still craving the weirdest food combinations, but Rafe would never complain about needing to go out and buy them for you since the grateful smile you always gave him made his heart feel so full. 

Seven years with you, and he was still as crazy about you as he’d been since the first date. 

With that being said, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend to like your weird (and sometimes really fucking gross) pregnancy cravings. But he would have to, since you’re carrying his baby like a fucking champ, and you looked so stunning while doing so. 

Rafe had just gotten back from a grocery store run, sporting a bag full of odd food choices for you, and he set it down on the counter before leaving the kitchen to go find you. 

You were in the living room, your feet planted on the couch as you scrolled through your phone. Why you were standing on the couch, he had no idea, but the thought of you accidentally falling was the first thing that flashed through his head, and he was not about to let that happen. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he rasped, quickly walking over to you and grabbing your waist. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You’re four months pregnant, babygirl, you need to be careful. Jesus Christ.”

“I am being careful,” you defended yourself, holding your phone in one hand while your other ran through his hair. You looked around the living room, your eyes flickering between every corner as you stayed standing on the couch. “I saw a spider, and I don’t know where it went. And you know how much I hate spiders. I had to make sure it didn’t crawl on me or something. Then I would’ve been the one having a heart attack.”

You sounded so unserious, but Rafe knew you were being completely genuine. Your fear of anything that had more than two legs was no joke, and he couldn’t count the times he’s killed something for you on both hands. 

“Plus, I’ve only been standing here for, like, five minutes,” you added, looking down at him and shrugging casually, as if you didn’t feel the way his grip tightened on you at your words. 

“Five minutes is too fucking long,” Rafe muttered, shaking his head afterwards as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against your belly. “You’re not thinking straight right now, are you? That’s the only logical explanation for this.”

His big hands stayed planted on your waist, keeping you steady as he pulled away and looked up at you, his blue eyes wide and full of nothing but adoration for you and the little life growing inside of you. 

“You’re going to give me gray hairs, you know that right?” he grunted, a smile forming on his lips when you let out a soft laugh. 

“Ooh, silver fox Rafe,” you teased, draping your arms around his neck as he helped you off the couch. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You’d look so fucking hot with gray hair, baby. Like, so fucking sexy. So don’t tempt me.”

Rafe scoffed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Silver fox? I’m twenty nine, baby, not forty,” he mumbled, “But, I guess if you like that sorta thing…who am I to judge?”

You laughed, leaning into his touch as you pressed your lips to his jaw. “I like anything that involves you,”

He smiled down at you, his hand coming up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I like anything that involves you too, babygirl,” he murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed against yours. “Actually, I love everything that involves you.”

Then he was leaning all the way in and kissing you deeply and slowly, his hands sliding down your body until they grazed your ass, and then he was full on groping you through your leggings. 

You whined against his mouth, your lips pressing more firmly against his as you pulled him impossibly closer to you until your bump was pushing against his abs. “You always have to one up me, don’t you?” you muttered, “And what’s with you always grabbing my ass? You’ve been obsessed with it since we got together.”

Rafe smirked down at you. “Of course I’m obsessed with it, it’s part of you,” he replied, and you pressed your lips together. 

“You are so fucking sweet and sexy and I think we should go to our bedroom before I-” you cut yourself off by screaming directly into your husband’s face as you practically jumped back up onto the couch with wide eyes. 

Rafe didn’t even need to turn around to know that the eight legged creature who scared you before had made its big return. “What did I tell you?” he muttered, taking you into his arms as he lifted you from the couch. 

“Rafe! Stop, it’s literally right there and it’s so fucking big,” you protested as he carried you out of the living room and into the kitchen. Once he had you sitting safely at the breakfast bar, he slid the bag of food over for you to inspect as he grabbed a piece of paper towel. 

“Stay here, okay? Eat something,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he walked back into the living room to find the harmless insect that had been tormenting you during the entire time he was gone. 

-

You were pulling Rafe along with you towards the bedroom, your lips all over his neck and jaw, but he was moving so slowly. You were now six months pregnant, and Rafe had become more and more protective of you, if that was even possible at this point. 

And while you loved him for it, his hesitation every time you initiated sex was making you go crazy. You were so turned on, and you needed your husband. 

“Rafe,” you moaned, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you walked backwards. “I need you. I need you so bad. Please? I promise, I won’t break.” you whined, nearly stumbling as you pulled him along with you. 

Rafe’s hands instantly tightened on your waist, his thumbs brushing along the underside of your belly as it pressed against his abs through his shirt. “Easy, babygirl,” he cooed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” 

While you knew he wanted to be gentle and sweet with you, you also knew exactly how to rile him up and get him going. Rafe had been obsessed with your body since the second he first saw you completely bare, and his obsession had only intensified once your body began to change due to your pregnancy. 

You stepped back and pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts that had grown so much, they were nearly spilling out of your bra. You watched Rafe bite his lip before you moved onto your leggings, and you stepped out of them and kicked them aside as well. 

Rafe groaned as he pulled off his own shirt and jeans, his hands finding your waist again as he moved to sit on the bed. “Come here,” he murmured, sliding your panties down your legs before he guided you onto his lap. 

You willingly went, a needy whine leaving your lips as you settled on top of him and pulled down his boxers, freeing his hard cock. “I love you,” you moaned, kissing him as you began to rub yourself along his dick. “I love you so much.”

He gripped your hips, guiding the slow rolls of your body. “I love you too, baby,” he groaned, “More than my next fucking breath.”

His words made your head feel all fuzzy, and he lifted you slightly to position himself at your soaked core. When he eased you back down onto his cock, you both let out a sound of relief as you came together as one, and you reveled in the feeling of his big hands on your body. 

“Fucking perfect,” he praised, his eyes hooded as his hands slid around to grip your ass gently.

You moaned loudly, holding onto his shoulders as you rolled your hips against his as best as you could with your bump persistently brushing against his stomach. “Fuck,” you whimpered, arching your back a bit and making your chest press right up against his. “Oh fuck, Rafe, you feel so good.” 

He felt so good, you were powerless to stop the loud moans from leaving your mouth as you rode him. Rafe’s hands slid up your back and fumbled with the clasp of your bra before he pulled the fabric away from your body, his palms immediately roaming over the newly exposed skin. “Fuck, babygirl, you’re so tight and wet for me. Sweet pussy was made for my cock,” he grunted, rolling your nipples between his fingers until they pebbled under his touch. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Then he was leaning in and kissing you deeply, his tongue brushing against yours as he met your bounces with upward thrusts of his hips. You moaned against his mouth, his words making your body heat up in a blush. You’d never get tired of hearing him say things like that. 

His hands moved to your belly, and he caressed it as he broke the kiss and buried his face against your shoulder. “God, you feel so good,” he moaned, making your blush deepen as you moved a little faster and a bit harder.

“Rafe,” you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt your thighs start to burn from over-exertion. “Oh, fuck…I’m gonna cum.” you warned, feeling the knot that had been steadily building up inside you start to tighten. 

Rafe grunted, reaching in between your bodies until the heel of his hand was pressed firmly against the underside of your belly and his fingers were brushing against your clit. “Yeah, cum for me, baby,” he murmured, his other hand moving to your hip as he guided you to take him a little harder. “I’m close too.”

His fingers pushed you over the edge, and your head fell forward onto his shoulder as you came for him. A cry left your lips as you weakly bounced on his lap, your legs shaking a bit as you pulled on his hair. “Fuck,” you gasped, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders as you felt him thrust a few more times before he stilled.

A deep groan left the back of his throat as he held you close to him, his warmth filling you up from the inside out as he let out harsh pants against the side of your neck. “I’ll never get over that,” he muttered, placing soft kisses along your shoulder as he ran his hands up and down your back. “I’ll never get over you.”

You grinned as he gently eased you off him and moved back on the bed, taking you with him as he leaned back against the pillows. “Good,” you hummed as he turned you around and spooned you from behind. “Because I think you’re stuck with me for life.”

When you guided his big palm to rest on your belly, Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head as his thumb rubbed along your swollen skin. “Good,” he echoed. “Because you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. You’re all I want in the world.”

A lazy smile formed on your lips as you snuggled back against him, and only a few seconds later, you had fallen asleep.

-

Not me working on my birthday again...thanks for reading x

[kashverse]

I love your drabbles!!

What about nanami preparing to confess to us?

i wrote this with teacher! nanami x teacher! reader in mind :)

you never in a million years thought the nanami from the class next door would like you.

sure, you had an undeniably stupid crush on him—the kind that made you stare too long when he rolled his sleeves up, or made your brain short-circuit when he adjusted his tie with those his hands. but he was nanami. effortlessly cool, the most responsible adult in the building, the man whose serious expression could make a room full of five-year-olds sit up straight. he was way out of your league. so when he pulled you aside in the middle of the kindergarten hallway—two fully grown adults wearing aprons with cartoon animals on them—and said, "i like you," your brain malfunctioned.

“oh, uh, you like—what, my new markers? yeah, they’re pretty great, got them on sale, actually. or wait—did you mean you like my lesson plan from this morning? yeah, the pigeon thing was a hit, huh? unless—oh god, you meant my classroom decor, didn’t you? listen, the rainbow border was a choice but—”

“i like you.”

“right, so when you say ‘like,’ do you mean as in friendly coworker appreciation, or like as in—like my handwriting? because i know it’s neat, but—”

“i like you.”

you opened your mouth. closed it. opened it again. nanami sighed, then—he took your hands. your hands. in his hands. like it was nothing. like it was normal.

and he was blushing. cheeks dusty pink, a ridiculous contrast to his sharp blonde hair and the completely straight-faced delivery of his confession.

meanwhile, your entire nervous system short-circuited. the world blurred for a second—just you, standing there, trying to process what was happening—until a piercing shriek shattered the moment.

“OH MY GOSH, MR. NANAMI IS HOLDING MS. Y/N LIKE A PRINCE!”

followed by more shrieks. the tiny, high-pitched chaos of your entire class losing their minds.

you turned your head in slow, mechanical horror to see dozens of little faces pressed up against the glass door, hands smushed against it, their muffled cheers breaking through the barrier. nanami’s class, having witnessed the commotion, joined in. soon, the whole hallway was filled with kindergarteners chanting ‘KISS! KISS! KISS!’ like a cult.

nanami let out the heaviest sigh of his life. “i should have picked a better place for this,” he muttered.

“you think?!” you whisper-hissed, face now hotter than the sun.

he squeezed your hands. seriously. earnestly. like he meant it. like he meant all of it.

the chanting only got louder. the kids were now banging on the glass.

“so…” you swallowed, eyes darting around. “wanna run?”

nanami nodded.

you ran.

[theodorenmyth]

Little Loveboy

Pairings; Mattheo Riddle x GN!reader

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has been hopelessly in love with you since third year, but he refuses to admit it. He dates around, flirts with random girls, and scoffs whenever his friends bring you up—but he just can't shake his feelings. His jealousy is uncontrollable, and his friends never let him hear the end of it. Eventually, even professors start teasing him, much to his dismay.

A/n : starting from today to the 16th of February, I'm gonna make Valentine themed fanfics so no angst.

Warnings ; none

Word count ; 900+

Mattheo Riddle was, as Theodore put it, fucking doomed.

He had been doomed since third year, when he first saw you absolutely wreck the entire class during a debate with Snape about the properties of Amortentia. The way your eyes gleamed with passion, the way you sat so effortlessly confident, the way you were just so fucking smart—it made his heart do something weird. Like it wanted to jump out of his chest and roll across the floor.

And that? That wasn’t normal.

So, obviously, he did the only logical thing—he ignored it. For years.

Instead of admitting that he found you painfully attractive, he spent his time flirting with girls, dating left and right, pretending like he wasn’t being driven up the wall whenever you smiled at someone else.

But the problem with having a hopelessly obvious crush was that Mattheo’s friends were absolute menaces.

“You’re staring again, Little Loveboy,” Pansy sang, flicking his forehead.

“I’m not staring,” Mattheo grumbled, leaning back in his chair, definitely not still looking at you.

“Right,” Blaise drawled, looking over at where you were sitting by the window, absorbed in a book. “That’s why you’ve been looking at Y/N for the past—what? Fifteen minutes?”

“I don’t like him,” Mattheo snapped, but the moment he said it, he glanced at you again.

And just like that, Theodore fucking grinned.

“Oh, mate,” Theo laughed, shaking his head. “You are so gone.”

Draco, sitting beside him, smirked. “It’s honestly embarrassing at this point.”

“You know what’s embarrassing?” Mattheo scoffed. “The fact that you all have nothing better to do than bother me.”

“You make it too easy,” Lorenzo snickered. “Little Loveboy.”

“I will throw you out the fucking window.”

And then, as if the universe hated Mattheo, you looked up from your book. Your eyes met his for half a second, and you smiled at him—a simple, small thing, but oh my fucking God.

Mattheo nearly choked on his own tongue.

His friends exploded into laughter.

“Oh, he’s red!” Pansy gasped. “He’s actually blushing!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mattheo hissed, yanking his hood over his face.

But the teasing didn’t stop there.

No, it got worse.

Because apparently, his suffering was entertainment to not only his friends, but also his professors.

During one particularly terrible Potions class, Mattheo had spent a good portion of the lesson staring at you. Not that he noticed. It just kept happening..

And Snape, ever the observant bastard, took full advantage of this.

“Mr. Riddle,” Snape drawled, interrupting the entire class, “perhaps you would find this lesson more engaging if you spent less time gazing longingly at Mr. Y/L/N and more time focusing on the assignment?”

The entire class turned to look at him.

Mattheo’s jaw dropped.

Even you looked over, blinking in surprise.

“Oh, fuck me,” Mattheo muttered under his breath as his friends burst out laughing.

“Bloody hell,” Draco wheezed, gripping the edge of the table. “Even Snape’s in on it.”

“I hate all of you,” Mattheo gritted out, slamming his book shut.

Snape smirked. “Detention, Riddle.”

Mattheo groaned.

But it didn’t stop there.

Because McGonagall got involved too.

During Transfiguration, Mattheo had, once again, found himself subconsciously staring at you instead of his assignment.

He was trying—he really was—but you had this habit of biting your lip when you were focused, and it was distracting as fuck.

“Mr. Riddle,” McGonagall said, sighing dramatically, “if you’re quite done swooning over Mr. Y/L/N, perhaps you’d like to contribute to the class?”

The Gryffindors howled with laughter.

Mattheo buried his face in his hands. “I’m actually going to die.”

And, of course, the final nail in the coffin was Hagrid.

It was during Care of Magical Creatures. You were partnered with some random Ravenclaw—too close, too friendly, and Mattheo hated it.

He stood there, arms crossed, glowering at the poor guy.

“Merlin, that’s a death stare if I’ve ever seen one,” Theo muttered.

And then, loudly, Hagrid chuckled, “Oh, don’t be jealous, Mattheo, ‘s not like Y/N’s runnin’ off to marry ‘im.”

You turned to look at Mattheo.

Mattheo, absolutely horrified, turned and ran into the fucking woods.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

After that, Mattheo’s denial crumbled like a cheap pastry.

He liked you. He liked you so much it physically hurt.

And after weeks of torment, he finally decided—fuck it.

So, he found you sitting by the Black Lake one afternoon, reading as always, and he sat down beside you.

You glanced up, surprised. “Hey, Mattheo.”

Mattheo almost short-circuited.

Your voice. Your fucking voice.

“Hey,” he muttered, trying to act casual, even though his entire body was buzzing with nerves. “So. Uh. I—uh.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You okay?”

Mattheo exhaled sharply. Just do it, Riddle.

“I like you, okay?” he blurted out.

You blinked. “You—what?”

Mattheo groaned. “I like you. I’ve liked you since third year. I tried to ignore it, but—Merlin, you’re just so fucking cute and smart and perfect and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your face slowly turned red.

“Oh,” you said.

Mattheo stared at you, heart pounding. “Oh?”

And then, after several painfully long seconds, you smiled.

Smiled.

“That’s funny,” you murmured, “because I’ve liked you since third year, too.”

Mattheo’s brain broke.

“…You’re kidding.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to suppress a laugh.

And then, without thinking, Mattheo grabbed your face and kissed you.

The moment your lips met, his entire world tilted.

You kissed him back, smiling against his lips, and everything felt right.

When you finally pulled away, Mattheo was breathless, staring at you like you hung the bloody moon.

“Little Loveboy,” you teased.

Mattheo groaned. “Not you, too.”

You just laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder.

And for once, Mattheo didn’t deny it.

[tooturtly]

Just so ppl know it does get better! I didn’t really have friends from ages 13-18, and even before then I always felt a little different (gay and neurodivergent). And yeah, it sucked. I thought I was doing everything right. I talked to people in class, I did extracurriculars, I was involved. But nobody was texting me unless it was about something school related. I wasn’t invited to anybody’s house. Twice the people I ate lunch with made homecoming plans but never invited me, I just showed up bc of how much they talked about it.

It finally took seeing the group of people I thought were my friends really overtly reject an openly neurodivergent guy from the friend group. Why? Because he talked too much, he was too sincere. It wasn’t any fault of his own. When I hung out with him in a smaller group, I had a blast. And I realized it wasn’t his fault or mine, but the people who I didn’t even like that much who were pushing me away. They were doing the same thing to both of us, and I should be pissed about it! (I still am, even know people change, it was still a shitty thing to do)

My senior year I finally put myself first and realized that having bad friends was worse than being alone. And I might as well be alone on my terms. I went to homecoming and prom by myself, I wore my own weird clothes and danced by myself just to have fun. I realized that going with those people had made me have less fun, because they hardly wanted to dance to the music if they didn’t know the song. I decided I was going to have fun and be my own person.

The only people I had who were friends were the older people at the game shop I went to. They were kind and patient with me when I didn’t know all the rules, and I’ve since lost touch with them but everyday I’m thankful that I had them in my life. Thank you for taking care of this weird teenager who was too loud and too pushy, and who you guided anyway! Thank you for humoring me!

And then I did find lasting friends. I graduated high school and found a group of amazing, nerdy, goofy people who I clicked with. We play D&D together, we eat together often, we share our stories, we talk and we laugh, we have inside jokes.

As I’ve gotten older I know I still have those moments. Even with my closest friends, I have doubts and anxieties about if they actually like me, if I’m a good and kind enough person to be able to sustain a friendship. Sometimes I think maybe I’m better off alone, because then any hurt I cause will only be me. I’ve never had friends before, I don’t know anything! Sometimes I think I’m too full of hurt to do anything but hurt. But I don’t trust those thoughts! My brain lies to me all the time! Those terrible twisted feelings never come from me, they come from a me that doesn’t know anything but pain and sorrow. I’m an entirely different person when the depression hits, and I’ve learned enough not to trust how I feel in those moments.

I know that I’m trying and my friends know it too. I’m not purposefully mean, I make amends when I make mistakes, which is all you can do because everyone makes mistakes. And I think about how much sadder my life would be without my support network. I would be miserable! Yeah I can do it alone, but I don’t want to! Doing it alone sucks! I love my friends! I don’t want to let them go, and they want me around. If my friends didn’t want me around, they’d tell me to pack it. Yet I’ve continued making friends, I find fun and weird people everywhere!

Fuck it, I’m gonna be me as much as I can! Life is terrible when you’re pretending to be someone else. And I’ve been lucky enough to find space irl where I can be me. If you can’t do that in person, go online, find community anywhere you can get it. I know I learned a lot from lurking online in high school.

My friends love me even though I have flaws, and I love them even though they have flaws. Including the anxiety and self doubt! Loving with flaws is human. Confidence is your armor against that self doubt. Even if it’s fake! Say fuck it and love your life, love yourself! The world is beautiful! Life is beautiful in those small moments laughing, in talking, in smiling.

Yes this is optimistic positivity! Because pessimism made me sad and being sad does not make you want to live! And I want to live. I made the choice once to live as much as I can. God’s tried to kill me twice and he has failed so far, so I will dance through life laughing.

I can still be depressed and I can still laugh! I can be lonely sometimes and still have friends! I can know that there’s always light at the end of the tunnel if I smile and greet the darkness as my friend.

On Isolation

[heliosunny]

I've read a manhwa with the plot of MC being in a marriage of convenience with the ML in their first life and they work hard to make it work/feel like an actual marriage but the guy didn't give it much thought so they died and in their second life, the MC just decided to not focus on the guy but that somehow attracted the guy's attention

So that premise with Mydei (or Phainon, I just thought it suited Mydei more) where in reader's first life they had loved him and dedicated their whole being to him but they end up dying so in their second life they were more confrontational and willing to potentially piss off Mydei but that just had the opposite effect on him.

Bonus I guess if he remembers what reader did after a certain time and makes him fall harder (or go full on yan route idm)

Yandere!Mydei x Reader

[Artist]

You had loved him once.

It was a quiet, steady love, the kind built on careful devotion rather than reckless passion. A love that manifested in the way you always reached for his hand in public, in the way you made him pomegranate juice exactly as he liked it, in the way you handled every social obligation so he wouldn’t have to. A love that, despite being arranged, had been genuine on your part.

Mydei, however, had never given you much thought.

Your marriage had been one of convenience, a political arrangement that benefited both parties, nothing more. You knew that. You had known it from the start. But knowing didn’t stop you from hoping, didn’t stop you from trying to be someone he could come to love.

Yet you had tried.

You learned his preferences. You shielded him from trivial nuisances. You defended him against enemies in court. You ensured his home was warm when he returned, even if he never cared whether you were there waiting or not. You gave him everything you had to offer, even as your own needs went unnoticed, unfulfilled.

And then, one day, you died.

It was an illness, slow but inevitable. The kind that ate away at you little by little until there was nothing left to give. You had fought to stay by his side, to live long enough for him to notice you, to care. But as you lay on your deathbed, your body weak, your breath shallow, Mydei had stood beside you with the same unreadable expression he always wore.

“It’s unfortunate” he had said, his voice calm. “But there’s nothing to be done.”

He hadn’t held your hand. Hadn’t begged you to stay. Hadn’t even asked if you were afraid. And so you died, alone in a marriage that had never truly been shared.

But then, against all reason, you awoke again.

A second life. A second chance.

And this time, you wouldn’t waste it on him.

----

The first time you met Mydei again in your new life, he had the same detached expression, but this time, you weren’t the same.

“Oh. It’s you.” he said, mildly surprised.

You stared at him, deadpan. “Tragic, isn’t it?”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback. In your past life, you would have smiled softly, eager to please. Now, you met his gaze with all the warmth of an ice sculpture.

“You seem different.” he noted, as though observing the weather.

“Yes, well, dying does that to a person.” You crossed your arms. “But don’t worry, I’m not here to cater to your every whim anymore. I have better things to do.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a reaction so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t known him so well. It was funny. For the first time, Mydei found himself unsure of how to proceed.

Days turned to weeks, and you continued to avoid him as much as possible. When you couldn’t, you treated him with polite indifference.

“Here, I brought you tea.”

Mydei raised a brow. “Tea?”

“I just grabbed the first thing I saw.” You sipped your own drink with a smirk, watching as he hesitated before taking a sip. No more pomegranate juice, but you made no move to correct it. Let him suffer.

He gave you a long, unreadable look, then quietly finished the tea anyway.

You weren’t sure when it started, but Mydei began seeking you out more often. Not for anything important, just small, meaningless interactions that, in your first life, he would have ignored entirely.

“You’re busy” he observed one day, watching you pour over books in the library.

“You’re perceptive” you deadpanned, not looking up.

“I can help.”

You finally met his gaze, incredulous. “You? Help? With something that doesn’t benefit you?”

“I’m capable of generosity” he replied smoothly.

You scoffed. “Sure. And I’m the Empress of the Universe.”

To your growing unease, Mydei only chuckled, as if thoroughly enjoying the challenge you presented. If he had ignored your love in your past life, he now seemed intent on prying into your every thought in this one.

You weren’t sure which was worse.

What made it all the more complicated was that Mydei had no idea you had already lived and died once before. To him, this was just the first time you had ever looked at him with anything less than quiet admiration. And while he couldn’t understand what had changed, he was undeniably intrigued.

-----

The third prince’s birthday celebration was an unavoidable event. No matter how much you wanted to stay far away from Mydei, you were both expected to attend.

Dressed in formal attire, you entered the grand hall, carefully ignoring Mydei’s presence beside you.

As expected, the noble ladies flocked to him almost immediately, their voices sickly sweet.

“Mydei, you look as composed as ever” one simpered, lightly touching his sleeve. “Surely you must save a dance for me?”

“And me as well” another chimed in. “It’s not often we get to see you at these gatherings.”

You sipped your drink and turned away, uninterested.

Mydei, however, seemed less inclined to entertain them. His gaze flickered to you, watching your utter lack of reaction.

“You’re ignoring me” he murmured, stepping closer.

You didn’t even glance at him. “Congratulations, you’re learning.”

His lips twitched slightly, as if amused. “Are you jealous?”

You turned to him at last, offering the driest look you could muster. “If I had a single grain of salt for every second I cared, I wouldn’t even be able to season a meal.”

He chuckled. And you had the distinct feeling Mydei wasn’t going to let you ignore him forever.

Sensing your chance to leave, you excused yourself quietly and slipped away. You navigated through the bustling crowd until you reached the gardens, where the young third prince stood alone, watching the lanterns flicker above. You wished him a happy birthday, exchanged brief pleasantries before excusing yourself, intent on leaving before anyone noticed. Unbeknownst to you, Mydei had followed—watching from the shadows as you spoke to the young prince with a warmth you had never once given him in this lifetime.

The door shut behind you with a quiet click as you stepped into your quarters, letting out a sigh of relief. The evening had been long. You had done your part, made an appearance, and now you could finally shed the pretense of civility and rest.

You barely had time to unfasten the heavy jewelry weighing on your ears before there was a knock at the door. Your brows furrowed. It was late. Too late for someone to be calling on you unless it was urgent.

Still, you already had a sinking feeling about who it was.

“Enter” you called, bracing yourself.

The door opened, and sure enough, Mydei stepped inside. His usually pristine attire was slightly disheveled, his coat unbuttoned at the collar. But what truly caught your attention was the way he moved, slower, more deliberate, as if something was weighing on him.

He had never been one to drink, and yet, something about him seemed... off.

You sighed. “It’s late, Mydei.”

“You left early” he countered, shutting the door behind him. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—something quiet and simmering beneath the surface. “Without informing me.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to retire for the night” you replied dryly, turning away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“I saw you” Mydei interrupted.

You stilled. “Saw me?”

“With the third prince” he clarified, stepping closer. “In the gardens. You seemed… close.”

You exhaled through your nose. “He’s a child, Mydei. I was wishing him a happy birthday.”

“And yet, you looked at him with more warmth than you’ve ever spared me.”

You turned to face him then, brows arching. “Are you jealous?”

Mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied you. He took another step forward, invading your space, forcing you to tilt your head slightly to maintain eye contact.

“Would it matter if I was?” he asked at last.

You scoffed, stepping back. “No. Because it wouldn’t change anything.”

Mydei was a man of control. To be thrown off balance, to be met with resistance where he once found compliance, was undoubtedly foreign to him.

Good. Let him feel what you had felt all those years.

You turned away, signaling the conversation was over. “Go sleep, Mydei. We have nothing more to discuss.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he let out a quiet chuckle, a sound devoid of humor. “You truly are different now.”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t look back.

Because if you did, you might have noticed the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides. And you might have realized that Mydei was far from willing to let things be.

-----

Over the next few days, Mydei seemed to have an unusual amount of free time. His duties, which once kept him busy, were now seemingly cast aside. Wherever you went, he was there.

It started subtly: walking in step with you through the halls, his presence a quiet shadow. Then it grew bolder. Sitting beside you at meals, his knee brushing against yours and never pulling away. Standing behind you, fingertips grazing the small of your back under the guise of guiding you forward.

You would have ignored it, written it off as coincidence—if not for the way his touch lingered. The way he reached for your hand absentmindedly, as if it were second nature.

One evening, as you sat by the window, lost in thought, you felt it again, his hand, warm and steady, against your shoulder. A familiar presence, yet wholly unfamiliar in its intent.

“You’ve been avoiding me” Mydei murmured.

“I’ve been living my life” you corrected, not looking up.

His fingers curled slightly, almost as if to pull you closer, but he hesitated. “And yet, somehow, I find myself a part of it more than before.”

You turned to him then, meeting his gaze directly. “Perhaps you should ask yourself why that is.”

A smirk ghosted his lips, though his eyes held something heavier. “Oh, I have.”

You had tolerated it long enough. Mydei’s constant presence, his lingering touches, the way he hovered around you as if he had never been indifferent.

The final straw came when he followed you into the private study, an intimate space he had never once stepped foot in before. You slammed the book you were holding onto the table and turned to face him, irritation burning in your chest.

"Enough!" Your voice was firm, unwavering. "What exactly do you want from me, Mydei?"

He arched a brow, unfazed. "I would think that’s obvious."

You scoffed. "Obvious? You ignored me for years, treated our marriage as a mere obligation, and now—now you cling to my side like a shadow. Why?" Your breath hitched slightly, but you pushed forward. "Is it because I no longer chase after you? Because I finally see this marriage for what it is?"

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—something unreadable. He took a step closer, but you raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"No" you said sharply. "No more. This ends now. I want a divorce."

For the first time since his sudden shift in behavior, Mydei’s expression darkened. "You don’t mean that."

"I do." You met his gaze head-on. "I refuse to stay shackled in a marriage that was never real."

He exhaled slowly, as if reining himself in. "And what makes you think I'll allow it?"

Your fingers clenched into fists. "Because it’s not your decision to make."

"You truly have changed."

You didn’t back down. "And I intend to keep it that way."

His eyes lingered on you, calculating, something darker stirring beneath the surface. Then, as if making a silent decision, he took another step forward.

"Then let's see how far you’re willing to go" he murmured.

-----

Determined to push him into agreeing, you invited Duke Laurent, a respected noble and someone with a clear interest in you, to visit. If Mydei would not agree to divorce out of reason, perhaps jealousy would make him let go.

Just as you began conversing with the duke, Mydei’s arm suddenly snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You stiffened at the public display of intimacy, something he had never once shown before. The duke’s expression remained polite, though there was clear tension in the air.

Mydei leaned in, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. "You think bringing another man here will make me release you?"

He turned his gaze to the duke, his expression composed but lethal. "You see, we are still very much married."

Before you could shove him away, he tilted your chin up and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of your lips, just enough to make the moment scandalous.

"Mydei—" You hissed, shoving at his chest, but his grip remained firm.

Then came his final blow, spoken with a smirk against your skin. "If you truly wish to fulfill the divorce, then surely, as tradition dictates, our marriage must bear an heir first. Otherwise, it would be incomplete."

The audacity of it, the sheer arrogance—

Fury surged through you. Without thinking, you leaned in and bit his shoulder, hard enough to make him tense, hard enough to leave a mark through his fine fabric. Just hoping it'll make him let you go. He inhaled sharply, but instead of anger, something else flickered in his gaze. Interest.

His grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your waist. "How intriguing" he murmured, almost amused. "You’re becoming more and more fascinating."

You could only glare, breathless with anger, as he leaned in even closer. "I’ve decided—I shall never let you alone."

That night, Mydei made his final decision.

You found yourself restless, pacing in your chambers, feeling trapped in a game you never agreed to play. The door creaked open, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

"Leave!" you ordered without looking up.

Instead, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "You asked for a divorce. I gave you my terms," he said smoothly. "But I have a better idea."

You turned, narrowing your eyes. "I don't care for your ideas, Mydei. I want my freedom."

"And I want you," he countered effortlessly, closing the distance between you. "So, it seems we are at an impasse."

He reached out, tracing a hand over your wrist. "You see, I’ve realized something," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. "I cannot let you go."

"Then you will have to learn."

"No" he whispered, leaning in "I will simply ensure that you never wish to leave."

This was no longer a battle of marriage or freedom.

This was war.

Then, his voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "If you try to run, I will find you. If you seek another, I will ruin them. And if you deny me..." His fingers trailed over your throat, "I will make sure you have nowhere to go but back to me."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Wouldn’t I?" The smirk on his face only triggered you more. "You forget, my dear, I am not a man who lets go of what is his. And you? You belong to me."

A slow, measured pause before he added, "So fight me if you must. Hate me, struggle, scream. But in the end, you will always return to me. I will make sure of it."

---

Another day passed. Nothing happened. Until-

You were sitting stiffly in your chambers, the weight of Mydei’s last words still pressing against your mind.

Mydei entered, once again without your consent.

A goblet sat before you, filled with deep crimson liquid—the rich, unmistakable hue of pomegranate juice. It was his favorite, something he drank often, something he had tried countless times to get you to enjoy.

“I had the servants prepare this just for you” Mydei said smoothly, swirling the liquid in his own goblet. “It would be such a shame if you ignored my gift.”

You hesitated, glancing at the drink. Something about his tone made you wary, but refusing would only stretch this moment further. You reached for the goblet, only for Mydei to intercept, his fingers ghosting over yours as he picked it up himself.

“Let me.”

His hand cupped your chin, tilting your head slightly. Before you could react, the cool rim of the goblet pressed against your lips, the sweet aroma of pomegranate thick in the air. The moment the liquid touched your tongue, warmth flooded through your body. A strange, numbing sensation curled through your veins, heavy and inescapable. Your limbs felt sluggish, the world turning soft around the edges.

Your breath hitched as your body betrayed you, sinking against the silk sheets.

Through your hazy vision, you saw Mydei standing by the door, watching. His expression was unreadable, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Rest well, my dear”

But he didn’t leave.

Instead, he moved closer, his fingers brushing against your cheek before he slid into the bed beside you. His arms wrapped around you, firm yet deceptively gentle, caging you against him. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and in your hazy state, resistance felt… unnecessary.

“You’ll understand soon” he whispered, his breath fanning against your ear. “You don’t need to fight anymore. Just listen to me.”

Your thoughts wavered, slipping further into a fog. Your body felt too heavy to move, your mind too sluggish to argue. His presence, once suffocating, now felt… inevitable.

Through the night, he held you close, his grip never loosening. Each time your thoughts stirred, his voice was there, murmuring soft reassurances, reinforcing his presence, reminding you he was always there.

By the time morning light crept through the curtains, your mind was no longer as sharp as before. The idea of pulling away seemed distant, unnecessary.

He was still here.

His arms remained locked around you, as if this was how it had always been. His breath, slow and even, ghosted against the side of your neck, warm yet oppressive.

“Awake already?” His voice was low, thick with the drowsiness of someone who had slept well.

You swallowed, trying to shift, only to realize just how intimately entangled the two of you were. One of his legs had hooked over yours, anchoring you beneath the weight of him. His fingers, idly tracing over the fabric of your nightclothes, stopped just at your wrist, where his hold subtly tightened.

You were trapped.

“I need to get up” you muttered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Mydei didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, his arms curled around you more securely, pressing you deeper against his chest. “You don’t, actually,” he murmured. “Stay.”

Something in his voice made your stomach twist. There was no plea, no request, just the quiet certainty of a man who had already decided what would happen.

“I have things to do” you tried again, frustration slipping into your tone. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t I?” Mydei interrupted lazily, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you properly. His hair was slightly tousled, falling over sharp eyes that gleamed with something unreadable. “You haven’t been well. I think it’s best if you rest today.”

“I feel fine” you lied, pushing against his chest.

He caught your wrist easily, his thumb pressing against the rapid beat of your pulse. “Do you?” His smile was slow, knowing. “You still look dazed. You’re warm. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were falling ill.”

Mydei had always been perceptive, dangerously so. And in this moment, with your thoughts still sluggish, you knew you were at a disadvantage.

“Mydei,” you tried to keep your voice steady, “what did you do?”

His grip on your wrist didn’t waver, but his expression softened into something almost… fond.

“I’ve merely helped you see things clearly.” His fingers traced over your knuckles before he lifted your hand, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your palm. His lips curved against your skin. “You always try to run. You make things so difficult for yourself.”

“You drugged me.”

Mydei sighed, tilting his head as if mildly disappointed. “It was just a little something to help you relax. To stop you from making rash decisions.” He leaned in closer, his nose grazing against your cheek before his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “You wouldn’t want to make any rash decisions, would you?”

A surge of unease coursed through you, your body screaming to move—to fight. But your limbs still felt leaden, and Mydei knew it. He had planned for it.

“I thought we had an agreement” you gritted out. “You can’t keep me here like this.”

“What do you mean by 'keep you'? You’re mine, my dear. You always have been.”

Your breath hitched as he finally released your wrist—only to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him properly.

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Author's Note: Old request #3! More Idia for the soul 💙 I think I have a thing for shut-ins/gamer nerds/socially awkward men 💀

Pairings: Idia x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Idia, adult Idia, teasing, rough sex, breeding kink, college AU

The bed creaked horribly as the two bodies on top of it collided again and again. Your cock—buried to the hilt inside of your boyfriend—slammed into Idia's ass, leaving his cheeks red and tender from the abuse. Idia's sharp teeth tore into his pillow while his dick rubbed against the sheets from the power of your thrusts.

If your rooms were any further apart, you'd never have such wonderful mornings like this; Mornings where you dump a load or two into Idia before you head off to your classes, leaving him floating on cloud nine as he can't ignore the gooey mess dripping out of his hole and into his boxers until lunchtime. Yeah, mornings like these were the best 💙

“Mmmkhnmffnh-”

“What was that? Can't hear you when you're chewing on your pillow, babe.”

Idia unclenches his jaw long enough to whine “I said n-n-not so rough… aah! If you keep doing that, I won't be able to walk to class–” before chomping down on the plump surface again when you pound into him even harder.

“As if you wouldn't enjoy staying home. Besides, you were just on your knees begging me to– hnmgh… begging me to breed your cunt, remember?”

Your full weight is on top of him—crushing him against the mattress. Idia's eyes roll into his skull when you fill him the first time, followed by a long moan that drips from his lips like honey.

You don't pull out. Cum fills Idia's hole, plugged inside by your thick dick, and he can't fight you off when your tip is so far inside that it practically fucks his brain dumb — not that he really wants you off, anyway. With your pretty boy all pliant, you lift his hips and press a hand on his upper back, forcing him into an arch. Once again, Idia's ass becomes your fleshlight.

“Mhhnmfn–!”

You repeat your earlier sentiment about not being able to understand him when he has a mouth full of pillow.

“Aah- breed me!” Idia cries. Exhausted, but desperate to feel more of your seed flood his guts before his legs quit working entirely. Though staying inside and not dealing with people sounds rather tempting…

Per his request, you fuck another load deep into his hole, pressing your hips as close as physically possible into him so that your cock can unload all the way inside. Still not pulling out, you rub Idia's shoulder while you recover. The entire time, he whines into the pillow, grumbling as you plant little kisses on the back of his neck and try to cheer him up.

His head lifts off of the pillow and he says in a raspy voice, “If I get pregnant because of you, we're in trouble…”

“……Idia? Do you actually…?”

“What?” he finally turns to face you. His brows are furrowed, and the slight annoyance on his face makes you realize that he's serious.

“………”

“Y/n???”

“…you're right, you really shouldn't skip class…”

[harrysfolklore]

hi! i have a little bitch blurb request - piastri sis is on painkillers after a minor surgery or after being at the dentist and while carlos is taking care of her she says things she never would’ve DARED to say out loud - even about the fact she’s been infatuated with him longer than she’ll ever admit 😋

this was so fun write 😭😭 i love my little bitches so much

"Carloooooos," you slur through a mouth full of gauze, reaching blindly for him as the nurse wheels you out. "I missed you. Did you miss me? I was asleep but I missed you."

"Yes, mi amor," he tries not to laugh as he helps you into the car. "I missed you too."

"Your face is so nice," you pat his cheek clumsily. "Like... so symmetrical. Are you real? Maybe I'm dreaming."

He buckles you in carefully. "I'm real."

"Prove it," you demand, then immediately start giggling. "My mouth feels like clouds. Do clouds feel things, Carlos? Are clouds sad?"

"I don't think so-"

"We should ask Lando," you say seriously. "He knows about clouds. He's British. It rains there."

Carlos bites his lip to keep from laughing as he starts driving. You're staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Your hair is so fluffy," you reach for him, missing completely. "Like a lion. My lion. Did you know lions mate for life? Are we lions, Carlos?"

"Eyes on the road, eyes on the road," he mutters to himself in Spanish, fighting a smile.

"Oh! Spanish!" you perk up. "I know Spanish! Te... te something. What's the word? The love word?"

"Te amo?"

"YES!" you try to clap but miss your hands together. "Te amo! I love you SO much. Like... like more than pizza. And I really love pizza. I think I love you since the first time I called you a stupid little bitch."

"I'm honored-"

"But shhhh," you stage whisper. "Don't tell Carlos. He'll get a big head. His head's already perfect though. How is it so perfect?"

"Mi amor, I am Carlos."

You gasp dramatically. "No way! Since when?"

"Since birth, I think."

"Birth!" you suddenly look devastated. "I wasn't there for your birth! I missed baby Carlos! He was probably so cute. With tiny baby abs."

He can't hold back his laugh this time. "I don't think I had abs as a baby."

"Lies," you poke his arm, missing twice. "You came out of the womb with a six-pack. And perfect hair. And that smile that makes me want to take off my-"

"Okay!" he interrupts quickly. "How about some water?"

"Water is boring," you pout. "You're not boring though. You're exciting. Like racing. Vroom vroom."

He hands you a water bottle anyway, helping you drink without choking.

"My hero," you sigh dreamily. "Saving me from death by water. We should get married."

He nearly swerves. "What?"

"Yeah! Right now! Call Lando, he can be the flower girl. Oscar can be the ring bear."

"Ring bearer?"

"No, ring BEAR. He has to dress as a bear. It's traditional."

"Since when?"

"Since right now. I just decided. I'm very smart, Carlos. The doctor said so."

"Did he?"

"Mhmm. He said..." you scrunch your face in concentration. "Actually I don't remember. But I'm sure he did. Because I am smart. Smart enough to date you. HA! Take that, Instagram models!"

"What Instagram models?"

"The ones that slide into your DMs," you try to look stern but your numb face isn't cooperating. "I see them. With their perfect teeth. Well guess what? I have no teeth now! I win!"

"You still have teeth, mi amor. Just minus the wisdom ones."

"Wisdom..." you gasp. "Carlos! Am I going to be stupid now?"

"No-"

"Quick! Ask me something smart!"

"Like what?"

"Like... what's your favorite color?"

"That's not really a test of wisdom-"

"BLUE!" you shout triumphantly. "See? Still smart! And your butt looks really good in blue. Like REALLY good. Science fact. I used to stare at your butt when I pretended to hate you."

Finally, you reach home. Carlos helps you out of the car as you ramble about his "science butt" and whether lions know about race cars.

"Time for rest," he says, laying you on the bed.

"No," you grab his shirt. "Stay. Protect me from the tooth fairy. She's a thief, Carlos. A professional thief."

"I'll protect you," he promises, sliding in beside you.

"My hero," you mumble, already drifting off. "Hey Carlos?"

"Yes?"

"If we have babies, will they have wisdom teeth? Or will they be born wise? Like little wise lions...Or wise little little bitches."

You fall asleep before he can answer, drooling slightly through the gauze.

And Carlos can only smile.

[werevampiwolf]

I had a high school teacher who had TB decades ago, and he told us about how he was stuck on bedrest for six months. This used to be a fairly common thing.

Obligitory "bedrest isn't inherently bad" statement here. I'm a spoonie, I'm as damn near permanently on bedrest as a person who lives alone and has to have a part-time job, so I'm not homeless (again) can be. I'm not even supposed to be working (and have been told that by doctors for the last decade), but the government doesn't want to give me money to live. My point is that having TB fucking sucks and even if you make a full recovery, it's a biiiitch that derails your life. Also, TB never really goes away. It leaves calcified nodules (so, basically little rocks) in your lungs that can still contain TB and can reinfect you if your immune system weakens or gets overwhelmed by something else.

You see all that crap in there? Yeah, that's bad. It can also cause cavities AKA holes to form in your lungs. The holes don't go all the way through, but they leave a space for bacteria to hang out and multiply, and it destroys the parts of your lung that actually take in oxygen where the cavity is.

TL;DR: TB isn't something you want to fuck around with.

Also, like COVID, you can have Latent TB, where you don't have any symptoms but are still contagious, and it can turn into Active TB with little to no warning.

[ms-demeanor]

You have mentioned that osteopaths (DOs) are not just medical woo and are roughly equivalent to MDs. I was looking into it more and finding that myofascial release and osteopathic manual manipulation seem to be verified about as well as chiropracty. As these seem to be the main differing abilities of DOs from MDs, would you explain your reasoning on trusting DOs?

I see one as part of my regular hEDS medical care for realigning and unsticking joints as well as craniosacral therapy. My perception is that it’s helpful when I’m in pain and often I can tell that something was misaligned and has been realigned, but I recognize that I see significantly more improvement when I’m regular about my PT, which is significantly more supported by medical literature.

It's not that they're roughly equivalent to MDs, it's that in terms of licensing, training, certification, scope of practice, and education they are *exactly* equivalent to MDs but they sprinkled some woo on top.

At some point, some people practicing osteopathy decided that they wanted to be real doctors, so they organized and lobbied and, very importantly, *went to medical school about it.* (As long as they went to medical school about it - make sure you're seeing a DO, not an "osteopath" - one is a legally protected term that grants the right to practice medicine and the other is not)

Completing a degree in Osteopathic Medicine requires first completing a bachelor's degree with specific requirements for biological sciences - the same course work and degree you'd do before applying to a medical school, basically. Then you get the four-year DO degree, then a one-year internship, then a residency of anywhere from three to eight years. In order to practice medicine, they have to pass the same medical board examines and have the same training qualifications as an MD. In the US, MD and DO are equivalent degrees, though DOs take extra time to study osteopathy (which is, yes, pseudoscientific nonsense).

DO programs have more of a focus on holistic one-on-one patient centered care than a lot of MD programs; DOs train and focus more on becoming primary care physicians and are less likely to become specialist surgeons (though there are DOs who are licensed to practice surgery!), but a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine is a fully qualified doctor. They have done all the same things that an MD has done - including 10,000+ hours of clinical training as part of a residency. They just ALSO do a couple hundred hours of the osteopathy stuff. There are DOs who are obstetricians, ER doctors, surgeons, endocrinologists - a DO is a full-on doctor. One of the doctors Large Bastard was treated by in the hospital in December was a DO. I cannot emphasize that enough, they are legally certified and educationally qualified to practice medicine throughout the united states.

Compare this to chiropractors, who also want to be seen as doctors, who do not need a bachelor's degree before attending a chiropractic college, whose chiropractic education is 3-4 years, and whose requirements to practice include about 4200 hours of clinical training. (Chiropractors, it should be noted, are very specifically not allowed to practice "medicine, surgery, osteopathy, dentistry or optometry" and may not provide "any drug or medicine" to patients; eat shit chiropractors)

However, you're correct, and both chiropractic and osteopathy are unsupported by good evidence.

I think the osteopathic stuff that osteopaths do is kind of a weird quirk that is tolerated by the medical establishment because it's unlikely to do harm and it doesn't prevent people from seeking actual medical care (because the DOs providing it should be providing medical care beyond osteopathy).

And even though the osteopathy itself is nonsense, a lot of people with chronic illnesses find better success being treated by a DO as their PCP because DOs - probably at least partially because they are trained in nonsense - are less dismissive of patients presenting with unusual or difficult-to-believe symptoms. DOs are less likely to ignore patients who come in with a stack of research from the internet and a journal of symptoms who are saying "I think I may have XYZ uncommon condition and I need treatment."

Personally I wish the osteopathy was cut out of it and there was just a branch of medicine that trained to listen to patients better than MDs do, but given that osteopathy isn't likely to cause significant harm either directly (WAY less risk of bad outcomes from gentle pressing and moving of the body than from rapid twisting and pulling of the upper spine) or indirectly (DOs can order tests, DOs can prescribe medication, DOs can refer to specialists, DOs get the same kind of comprehensive diagnostic education that MDs do) I don't have that much of a grudge against it. I see it more in the vein of "drinking peppermint tea probably doesn't actually do anything for nausea but hot drinks with honey in them feel good" area of pseudoscience than in the "chiropractor treating someone's cancer with apricot pits" area of pseudoscience. Except that they then also do real science.

It's a weird field, I'm not gonna lie! It feels very much like if you were talking to an orthopedic surgeon who was very much an orthopedic surgeon and then they sat you down for five minutes of a sound bath before your procedure. Doesn't make sense to me really, but the standards of practice that they have ("use actual evidence-based practice in addition to the osteopathy") cancel out the "okay but osteopathic manipulation is fake" of it all.

They kind of drive me crazy, and for a huge group of patients they're probably the best kind of provider. Hell, a DO might be the best kind of provider for *me* if I didn't have the most wonderful PA in the world as my PCP.

[pochaccoups]

cw — nsfw content minors dni, pregnant sex, size/strength kink, daddy kink, cheol calls reader ‘mama’ once, breeding kink, choking, light degradation, creampie. sequel to put a baby in me.

There’s something different about Seungcheol since he got you pregnant.

It’s not the increased attentiveness to you, or the more frequent spoiling and doting on you, or how extra protective and touchy he’d become. These things you saw coming.

It’s something physical. His aura had changed. Something about him is more… virile. Even more than before.

It’s hard not to notice it as he steps out of your en-suite bathroom with a towel around his hips, hair damp as he pushes it back out of his face, stray droplets of water dripping down his gleaming skin here and there over rippling, veiny muscles and full pecs.

“When did you get so big?” you say to your husband, hoping he doesn’t notice the way you’re squeezing your thighs together.

Seungcheol raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into something smug. He brings his arms forward and flexes them so that the muscles in his biceps pop. “You finally noticed.”

Normally you would consider throwing something at him for acting so cocky, but frankly your second trimester hormones have turned you into a wild animal. Unfortunately, his stupid display makes your entire body swelter.

“I’m bulking up so that I can be big and strong for you and the baby,” he continues, and for a second your entire vision flashes white.

Between your legs you’re throbbing so hard it hurts, and in your brain there is only Seungcheol’s shoulders, his pecs, his arms, his cock. You need it in you. You’ll die if you don’t get it.

“Fuck me?”

Seungcheol laughs, but he can’t conceal the gleam of arousal in his eyes as he watches you crawl across the bed and tug at the towel that’s covering what you crave.

“I just showered, my love,” he says without a single ounce of actual sincerity. He doesn’t even flinch when you unwrap the towel, let it drop to the floor, and take his cock in your hand as you stroke him to full hardness.

“And you have a pregnant wife who needs to get fucked or she’ll die, so what are you gonna do about it, daddy?”

He bites his lip for a split second, then he’s scooping you up in his thick arms and laying you against the heap of pillows at the headboard, slotting himself between your legs. His mouth is hot on yours, his tongue licking into you, while his hand sneaks its way between your legs and presses at your crotch.

“Do you want my mouth or my fingers first? Or both?” he quips, gazing at you through half-lidded, lust-filled eyes.

“Neither. Just want your cock in me, daddy,” you whine, reaching for his dick again.

“You know the drill, my love, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Cheol, I’m soaking wet twenty-four-seven because of the hormones. I’ll be fine,” you say, tugging at his cock like a minx.

Your husband is torn. One part of him wants to treat you with care; against your own judgement, he wants to open you up slowly for him like he always does, like the routine you both know. The other part, the part that is the reason you are as spoiled and adored by him as you are, sees no joy, no point, in not giving you exactly what you want.

The latter part also happens to be more animalistic, clawing its way to the forefront of his mind.

“If you insist,” he grins, tugging your shorts down your legs, spreading you apart for him, but not before he swipes a pillow from beside your head and tucks it underneath your lower back like you’re weightless. The action alone sends arousal flooding out of you.

He wastes no time then, prodding at your dripping cunt with his tip before he lines himself up with your hole. You gasp when he pushes in, slides every last inch into your heat without any resistance until he’s balls deep, until you’re stuffed full of him. While you’re you moaning from the mind-numbing stretch of his cock, his hips fall into a steady rhythm of rutting in and out of you.

His hands find themselves at the hem of your t-shirt, pushing it up over your swollen belly and over your tits too, bunching it up just under your neck.

“So beautiful, god,” he muses, drinking in the sight of you, his pretty wife, full of his child, while his warm hands dance all over your skin. “And all mine.”

He thinks you want to be coddled and pampered and made love to.

“Fuck me hard, daddy,” you whine, clawing up his biceps with your nails. It’s not enough to have him inside you, fucking you lazily like this. You’re greedy, hungry, for more.

There’s reluctance in his eyes as he stares at you, as he gives a glance at your belly. Usually it makes you swoon, how considerate he is of you, but right now it’s pissing you off.

“Ah, but, honey-” he starts, only to be cut off by you.

“I’m not made of glass, Cheol, so use those big muscles of yours and fucking pound me.”

He hisses at the way you clench your pussy around him, taunting him, his hand flying to the base of your neck. “Fuck. You’re being awfully demanding.”

“I think it’s only fair considering you knocked me up,” you grin, watching as he reels his hips back just to slam back into you.

“And who was begging me to a put a baby in her?” he teases, punctuates it with another harsh thrust that makes your mouth drop in a pathetic whimper.

He watches how your eyes roll back finally, feels the way your cunt clamps down on him again, and realises you weren’t being dramatic at all. You were craving a good, hard dicking down from him, and he sees that now, and he knows your cunt can take anything he gives you, so he leaves behind any hesitation, any mercy, and he starts to fuck you hard.

The switch is almost immediate. The tenderness leaves his eyes, replaced with something much darker, and all of a sudden Seungcheol is grunting as he pounds into your sopping hole, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to keep you pinned to the bed. His hips move fast, meeting yours with wet claps of skin against skin, and hard—so hard that the bed frame starts to squeak.

“Ah, f-fuck, Cheol!” you cry, clawing at the sheets beneath you as he hooks your legs over his arms and grabs at your hips, fucking your entire body along his length. His arms bulge as he manoeuvres you as he pleases, his shoulders so broad. The sight makes you hot, makes you gush even more of your juices until the sheets are a mess.

“Huh? Too much, baby? This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he growls. “Wanted to get fucked like a slut.”

“S-so big, daddy- ah!” you squeal, your nerves on fire with overstimulation as his cock carves open your walls, punches at your sweet spot again and again. The thing about pregnancy is it’s made you a hundred times more sensitive—everything he does, every touch, sends floods of hot, sparking pleasure through you and straight to your core.

You’re also warmer inside, and, like you said, wetter. Tighter, somehow, too. Seungcheol has to use twenty years of the mental discipline he’d learned from his training to not bust then and there from the way your pussy clings to him, tries to pull him inside and keep him locked there.

And he wants so badly to let you. Fuck, how he wishes he could stay inside your heat forever. He curses the Korean entertainment industry and he curses capitalism. He wasn’t born to be an idol, nor to work. He was born to stay buried in your sweet cunt, to keep you filled forever, to put baby after baby inside you.

Something compels him to bend over you, though he’s cognisant of your bump, and to catch your lips in a deep, heated kiss that makes your brain short-circuit. His cock is enough to make you go dumb, but his kisses are what kill every last thought in your brain, until all that’s left there is how good your husband’s dick is.

“My pretty mama,” he coos, hovering against your lips. His frame covers you entirely. “You take me so good, don’t you?”

“Yeah, f-fucking love your cock,” you sigh, grasping at his shoulders only for him to straighten up again a second later, back to letting you admire his figure.

He angles your hips up a little, hitting even deeper now with every stroke, his cock jumping as you reach for his abdomen so you can rake your nails along his soft tummy, behind which is a set of hard, toned muscles. You’ve always loved that he’s not just sharp, hard lines like stone, that when you cling to him, your fingertips sink into thick skin that’s only tough when he flexes.

Seungcheol nearly draws blood from how hard he bites his bottom lip, watching you writhe and whine and moan from the way he jostles you, as your tits bounce from the force of his thrusts. His handsome features are twisted into pure concentration and utter bliss as he pounds away at you, determined to make you come undone while simultaneously holding off his own release.

“Wanna cum, daddy,” you keen, tears brimming your eyes. “Want your cum, too. Wanna be full of you.”

“You’re already full of me,” he laughs, full of mischief. “What, my baby in you isn’t enough? Greedy little cumslut.”

“Cheollie, please! Right there.” You’re whining, your hand dipping between your legs to rub at your swollen clit, and you see stars starting to form.

“Cum on my cock for me, baby, and I’ll give you my cum,” he moans, gritting his teeth as your walls tighten around him and your soul starts to leave your body before he can even finish his sentence. His heart leaps and twists with adoration and love as your tears finally spill over, as you tremble and shake in his hold, rapt with unimaginable bliss.

Your orgasm makes him let go, too, and finally he gives in to the hot, velvety chokehold of your pussy. He cums with what’s almost a whimper, lurching forward so that he can burrow into you impossibly deep and empty every last drop of his seed into you.

Even though he knows he gave you exactly what you asked for, Seungcheol can’t help the post-nut guilt that creeps up on him about the way he’d handled you—so vulgar. It’s even worse now that you’re carrying his baby. He’d fucked you like a toy, not the mother of his child. He’s a disgrace of a man.

Then there’s you, blissed out, skin glowing from being well fucked. You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Twenty minutes is enough for you to recover, right? Because I’m riding you next.”

[taffywabbit]

taffy, do you have any tips on how to get motivation to draw when adhd makes focusing or even just starting on it hard?

youre one of my favorite artists and hearing you have adhd too made me feel a bit better abt my struggles with it

hmmm. I mean even after I started finally getting medicated for it I still struggled with this so I don't know if I have any GREAT tips lol, but here's some stuff that seems to help me:

- keep a list somewhere of ideas you wanna draw or techniques/styles you wanna practice or whatever, so you can add stuff to the list whenever you randomly think of it

- find ways to get yourself into Art Focus Mode, like a flow state or hyperfocus or whatever. for me that usually means making sure my water is full, eating a snack, wrapping my lower body in a blanket (my apartment is always a little chilly), and either joining a discord call with some friends (often screensharing so I feel sorta accountable if I get distracted and stop drawing) or just closing social media tabs and pulling up music/video essays/stream VODs/etc. the point of any of this is largely to make it harder to randomly get up and do other stuff if I don't actually need to. I'm at my desk and I'm drawing, it's happening, I'm locking in

- if you have something you NEED to draw (like me with commission work) and you can't find the motivation to just jump into that right away, this is where your list comes in. look at it and find something that currently interests you to draw (either fully or at least just starting it) and try drawing that first for a bit. then once you're kinda already in the art mindset, you can pivot over to the Art Task and it's usually a bit easier than jumping in raw. (setting a timer may also be helpful if you find your warmup drawings end up going on too long)

- this one might be a bit more of a me thing and specific to my workflow, but I also like keeping a little stopwatch app in the corner of my screen while I'm working so I know how long I've been drawing for. it's good for keeping track of how long I spend on commissions relative to how much I'm getting paid so I stay roughly within my "time budget", but it's more immediately helpful for just making sure I take breaks when I notice I've been working for a couple hours already. taking breaks often feels counterintuitive to the whole process of trying to induce hyperfocus, but you GOTTA take them or your bones will explode, so make them structured and make them count. get a snack, walk around, stretch, whatever you gotta do, and then restart the process and get back to drawing (and remember to unpause your timer lol)

that's all I can think of right now! hopefully some of this is helpful!

[regrator-the-ninth]

Forge the traction with your bare hands! Build it from scratch! Here are some ways to build fandom community when not a lot of it exists:

Create interactive posts! Accept requests, play ask box games, tag people in things you think they'd like!

Find people from larger fandoms that are similar to your small fandom and see if you can convince them to give yours a shot (don't cold message them like "watch my show pls"— that's a little weird, but if you already know them as friends or if they're asking for recs you can give them a polite nudge).

Create self contained content! Make art/write fics that will still be enjoyable even if the people looking at it don't have full context. It will draw outsiders in and make them curious about your fandom.

Encourage small creators (even if you are one yourself)! Everyone in the mostly dead tag is feeling discouraged from the deadness of the tag. Reblog their stuff with positive comments and tags!

Host events! "Why doesn't my fandom have cool zines and exchanges?" Because you haven't made them. Go make them!

I get that a lot of these are high time and energy commitment and not everyone has the bandwidth, but if you do, it's worth it. Everyone who doesn't have the bandwidth will be happy to join in once the momentum has built up and you'll feel like you have an actual community.

This is a slow fandom zone

None of that "Oh no they bomb-dropped all the episodes in a week 1 month ago, I'm late!" "The tag hasn't been active all week is the fandom dead?" "I only got a hundred shares the first hour no one cares about my art"

Slow down

Take a deep breath and slow down

Fandom is YOU. And me and everyone. If we doodle stick figures for a show that ended 30 years ago we aren't "late" or "doing too little", we're playing dolls in our own time and having fun with works of art that mean a lot to us

You can literally watch and engage with something that aired in 2004 as if it aired yesterday

If the tag hasn't been active for 14 months guess what? If YOU post there, it isn't dead. Literally you can talk about anything you want whenever you want there is no weird law against watching things that people aren't actively talk about

Let's be deranged about stories together

[sunseed-fandump]

The Tarot from the new trailer has me FLIPPING OUT (Sorry for the shitty screenshot) I was already making an analysis on the previous cards we got, but THIS has really got me doing backflips in my head because of the implications.

Let me explain.

First off, have you noticed that one of these cards is not like the others?

The first card, Strawberry Cookie, is in reverse. She is on the major arcana card XII - The Hanged Man. When the Hanged Man is in Reverse, it represents Delays, resistance, stalling, indecision, stagnation.

"The upright Hanged Man encourages you to pause for a moment and see things from a different perspective. Reversed, this card can show that you know you need to hit the pause button, but you are resisting it. Instead, you fill your days with tasks and projects, keeping busy and distracting yourself from the actual issue that needs your attention. Your spirit and body are asking you to slow down, but your mind keeps racing. Stop and rest before it’s too late. The Universe will only dial up the volume if you ignore it, and as a result, you may end up crashing. So, as soon as you hear the call, clear your schedule and make the space so you can tune in and listen."

Next we move on to Gingerbrave's card: 0 - The Fool.

In the Upright Position, the Fool represents new beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit, and adventure.

"To see the The Fool generally means a beginning of a new journey, one where you will be filled with optimism and freedom from the usual constraints in life. When we meet him, he approaches each day as an adventure, in an almost childish way. He believes that anything can happen in life and there are many opportunities that are lying out there, in the world, waiting to be explored and developed. He leads a simple life, having no worries, and does not seem troubled by the fact that he cannot tell what he will encounter ahead."

Finally we have Wizard Cookie's card: I - The Magician.

In the Upright position, the Magician symbolizes logic, desire, resourcefulness, willpower, intelligence, skill, and manifestation.

"When you get the Magician in your reading, it might mean that it's time to tap into your full potential without hesitation. As a master manifestor, The Magician brings you the tools, resources and energy you need to make your dreams come true. Now is the perfect time to move forward on an idea that you recently conceived. The seed of potential has sprouted, and you are being called to take action and bring your intention to fruition. The skills, knowledge and capabilities you have gathered along your life path have led you to where you are now, and whether or not you know it, you are ready to turn your ideas into reality."

So what do these 3 cards mean together? Well, we have someone who is stagnating, who is stuck and unable to move forward. But they go through a rebirth - an epiphany - and start on the path of a new journey. And on that new path they unlock their full potential.

This is Pure Vanilla Cookie's story in the next update in a nutshell!

Sorry for the sorta long post, i just wanted to geek out about this since I love love love it when Tarot is used as a narrative device :)

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY 2 • JEY USO

author's note: happy valentines' day my beautiful angels💌 I hope you are having an amazing day, whether you have a special someone or not, I love each and every single one of you🥰 part two of SLC is hot and fresh for y'all, just like part one it'll be short n' sweet but with a little bit of heat this time as promised😌 I hope you enjoy and happy reading💗!

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise aka candy)

tags: 18+ (MDNI), time-lapse, slow burn, lap dances, flirty banter, teasing, kissing, touches, dirty talk, pussy eating, fingering, jey is a certified munch™, daddy kink, pet names (pretty girl, mama, baby, babygirl), these mfs don't even know they're in love already (well jey does but cherise? poor baby needs a little help).

word count: 2.6k words

read part one here!

soundtrack playlist

3 months later…

Nursing school wasn’t a walk in the park.

Cherise sat at a cramped desk in the back corner of the library, eyes flickering between the highlighted notes in her textbook, a whiteboard full of her scribbled thoughts, and the lukewarm iced caramel latte beside her. Her braids were up in a bun, her glasses perched low on her nose, her purple scrubs wrinkled against her frame.

Nothing about her in this moment screamed Candy.

No stilettos. No glittering lingerie. No sultry confidence.

Just Cherise.

Quiet, focused, tired as hell.

Balancing school and dancing wasn’t easy, but it paid the bills. The club gave her freedom—let her work when she wanted, let her make rent in a single night sometimes and maybe give her a boost a confidence. It wasn’t forever, but for now? It worked like a charm.

Still, sometimes she wondered what it would be like to only be Cherise.

No stage names. No personas. No men sexualizing her with grabby hands and ravenous looks in their eyes.

No thoughts about a certain wrestler who disappeared on her for months. She hated that she even thought about him. It wasn’t like she expected him to chase her, but still…That night had lingered.

The way he touched her. The way he talked to her, teased her, made her feel like he actually saw her as a human. He was smooth, but it never felt like a pick-up line with him.

And then…nothing.

Not a single glimpse of him at the club since.

She wasn’t pressed, though. She had other things to worry about. Like passing her damn pharmacology exam. Cherise sighed, rubbing her temple. She needed a break.

And a drink.

Which meant…

Back to the club.

♡

Cherise had been backstage, touching up her lip gloss, her hair, and fixing her outfit, when Trinity had strutted up to her with a knowing smirk.

"You got a visitor, sweets.”

"Huh?" Cherise barely glanced up, adjusting the strap of her tiny lace bra. "Who?"

"That fine-ass Samoan you was tryna act like you ain’t been thinkin’ about."

Cherise froze.

Her stomach flipped. Her heart kicked up a notch.

"Shut up."

"I ain’t lyin’." Trinity leaned in, whispering.  "Jey is in VIP right now, waitin’ on you girl. Cherise felt heat creep up her neck. She cleared her throat, straightened her posture, forced her face into Candy’s confident smirk.  "That man ain’t nothin’ special."

Trinity laughed.  "Girl, if you don’t take yo’ ass out there so I can get Jim all to myself…”

So she did.

♡

And when she pushed open that VIP door? He was right there, sitting back on the couch like he owned the place.

Clad in a blue Nike fleece tracksuit. Thick thighs spread wide.  He had a gold grill peeking out when he grinned, one hand resting lazily on his knee, the other draped over the couch.

Looking good as hell.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

"Damn, ma… took you long enough." His voice was slow, teasing.

"Didn’t know you still remembered me." She smirked, sauntering closer, deliberately dragging her nails down his chest as she straddled him. "Been a minute, Joshua."

Jey exhaled a quiet laugh, hands settling right on her hips.  “You miss me, baby?"

"Mmm." She rolled her hips just enough to make him suck in a breath.  "I shouldn’t… but maybe a little."

"That’s cute." His hands slid lower, squeezing the curve of her ass.  "Been busy, mama. Mania comin’ up. You know how it is."

"Do I?" She arched a brow. "I wouldn’t know, since somebody ain’t keep in touch."

"Damn…" Jey chuckled, gripping her tighter. "That what we doin’?  You tryna guilt trip me ‘cause I got a job?"

"I’m just sayin’." She traced the chain around his neck, lips barely brushing his jaw. "I give a man my name and he vanish on me.  Kinda rude, don’t you think?"

"Nah, see it ain’t even like that…” His grip flexed on her hips, voice dipping lower.  "I was tryna be respectful, baby girl."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He smirked, leaning in.  "’Cause the way I wanted you last time? I’d have fucked you silly if we weren’t on a time limit." Cherise shivered, heat flooding her stomach.

Jey felt it too, the way her thighs twitched in his lap.

"Mmm…" He licked his lips, voice thick with heat.  "See that, baby?  You tryna act all tough, but you feel me talkin’ to you, huh?"

"Shut up." She should have more control over this, more restraint, but Jey was dangerous. He could see through her entire ‘Candy’ act like cellophane. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "Why? ‘Cause you know I’m right?" Her breath hitched. Jey groaned, voice gravelly. "I’on like unfinished business, baby girl. You left me high and dry last time."

"Maybe I like making you work for it."

"Yeah?" His fingers trailed between her thighs, barely grazing the heat of her pussy.  "Then lemme clock in, mama." Cherise gasped, hips jerking. "Jey-”

"Shhh." He kissed her, slow and deep, groaning into her mouth as he slid his hand into her panties. "Mmm, baby…" His fingers brushed against her slick folds, teasing, just barely pressing inside. "You feel so good, damn."

She whimpered, biting her lip.  "Jey-”

"Nah, I got you, mama."* He sucked at her throat, voice husky.  “I’m gon’ take real good care of you."

Something about the way he said that sentence made her almost want to melt away all of her resolve and let him take complete control over her.

Almost.

A shudder rolled through her. Jey noticed.

“Aww.” His grin was wicked.  “Is that what you need baby?”

Cherise’s breath hitched.  “Just…shut up and do something..”

"Oh, I’ma do more than that."

His fingers found her clit, swollen and throbbing, rubbing the nub in slow circles. Cherise gasped, hips jerking into his touch, her body betraying her even though she wanted to play this game a little longer.

"Shit…" He licked his lips, his free hand gripping her thigh, spreading her wider over his lap.  "You been sittin’ here actin’ like I ain't been on your mind, but this lil’ pussy tellin’ me somethin’ different, mama."

Cherise bit back a whimper, glaring down at him.  "You talk too much."

"And you still soakin’ my hand.” His fingers slid through her slick folds, slow, teasing, barely applying any pressure where she needed it.  "Mmm, damn, baby… I missed this."

"You ain’t even had it yet, Jey."

"Not yet." His grin was pure sin, eyes locked on her face as he dipped one thick finger inside her, slowly.  "But I’ma take my time wit’ you.”

Cherise’s head tipped back, a quiet moan slipping past her lips. Jey felt the way she clenched around him, her hips subtly rolling to meet the slow pump of his hand. "That’s it, baby girl…" His voice was dark, husky, dragging his finger out almost all the way before pressing another one inside.  "Let Daddy feel you."

A full-body shudder rolled through her.

Jey smirked. "Oh, you like that, huh?" Cherise bit her lip, cheeks heating, but she wasn’t about to admit anything.

"Mmm." Jey kissed her throat, tongue flicking out to taste her skin as his fingers curled, pressing just right against her g-spot. "Don’t gotta say it, pretty girl.  Your body already tellin’ me everything I need to know."

"Fuck…" Cherise whimpered, fingers curling into his hoodie as pleasure spiked through her. "Mmm, that’s what I like to hear, mama." Jey’s pace picked up, his fingers thrusting deeper, rougher, messier. "You hear that?" He groaned, grinding his palm against her clit. "Listen to this lil’ pussy, drippin’ all over my hand, damn…"

Cherise could hear it—lewd, sticky, wet sounds echoing in the dimly lit room.

Her breath hitched, hips bucking against his touch. "Jey-“

"Nah, baby, we ain’t done yet." His hand suddenly disappeared from her panties, making her whine at the loss.

Jey grabbed her by the waist and flipped her, laying her back on the couch, his body looming over her, heat radiating from him like a furnace. "Been waitin’ too long for this, mama…" He licked his lips, gaze locked right between her thighs as he spread them apart. "Lemme taste you, baby."

Before she could protest—not that she even wanted to—Jey lowered himself, dragging her panties down to her ankles with his fingers. "Ohhh, fuck…" His voice dropped an octave, eyes dark with pure hunger.  "Goddamn, baby… look at you."

Cherise squirmed under his stare, trying not to let it affect her. "You gon’ eat or just sit there and admire?" Jey chuckled, but his grip on her thighs tightened.  "Nah, I gotta take a second, baby… You just got a pretty fuckin’ pussy baby… shit, I knew you would." She whimpered, clenching at his words.

Jey could sense it.

"Awww, baby…" He grinned, pressing his lips against her inner thigh.  "She likes when I talk to her, huh?” Cherise’s face burned, but before she could throw out a smart remark, Jey’s tongue pressed against her clit.

"Ohhh fuck!” Her hips jerked, but Jey held her down, hands locked around her thighs as he devoured her. "Mmm, there we go…" he moaned into her, lips wrapping around her swollen clit, sucking slow, deep, dirty.  "Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby… goddamn…"

Cherise’s fingers flew to his short curls, gripping tight as he worked her with his tongue.  "Jey… oh my God-“

"Mmm-hmm…" Jey hummed against her, sending vibrations straight to her core. "You like that, baby? Feel good?"

"Y-yeah—fuck—" She gasped, thighs trembling.

Jey smirked against her, dipping lower, tongue dragging through her folds, fucking her with slow, teasing licks. "Mmm, yeah… gon' fuck around and give me a sweet tooth, mama."

Cherise let out a shaky moan, back arching as he flattened his tongue against her again, again, sucking, licking, tasting like he was starving.

"You close, baby girl?" Jey murmured, voice dripping with sin as he slid two fingers back inside her, curling them just right.  "C’mon, mama… make a mess on my tongue."

"Jey—fuck, I’m cumming—ohhhh!" Her body snapped, pleasure ripping through her as her orgasm rushed over her like a tidal wave. Jey groaned, keeping his tongue and fingers right where she needed them, working her through every aftershock, swallowing every drop of her arousal.

"Mmm, good girl…" His voice was pure gravel, lips shiny with her slick as he finally pulled back, dragging his tongue over his lips like he wanted to savor the taste.  "Damn, I love this lil’ pussy, baby… look at her, still twitchin’ for me…"

Cherise could barely move.

Her legs shook, body weak, head spinning.

Jey grinned, leaning down, kissing her slow, deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue. "See what you been missin’, mama?" She hummed against his lips, still floating. "Mmm… maybe you should remind me again…"

Jey chuckled, nipping at her bottom lip.  "You bad, girl…"

A sudden knock on the door made them both freeze.

"Time’s up, Candy!”

Jey let out a frustrated groan, resting his forehead against hers.  "Man… fuck."

Cherise giggled breathlessly, brushing her fingers down his jaw.  "Guess that’s my cue.”

The knock on the door lingered in the room like an unwelcome intruder. Cherise sighed, pushing her trembling thighs together, body still buzzing from the way Jey had just worked her like he owned her.

This man is dangerous.

Jey sat back on the couch, one arm slung across the top, legs still spread like he had all the time in the world.  His smirk was lazy, smug, and damn near irresistible.

"Time’s up, huh?" He licked his lips, his hand sliding down his face as he looked her over. "They ain’t even let me finish makin’ you mine, mama."

"Please." Cherise rolled her eyes, smoothing her hands over her thighs before standing on slightly shaky legs. "I think you finished plenty, Joshua."

The way she said his name had him sitting up straighter, that cocky grin softening into something warmer.  "Damn, you really like callin’ me that huh?”

"What else would I call you?" she teased, bending slightly to grab her panties and pull them back up to her hips.

His gaze didn’t miss a thing, the soft, teasing shift of her voice, the way her hands moved over her body.

"I could think of a few things." His tone was low, playful, with just enough edge to let her know he wasn’t entirely joking.  "Daddy would sound real good comin’ from your mouth."

Cherise’s lips parted, blood rushing to her ears, but she only shook her head and smirked as she reached for his hand.  "You gon’ keep playin’, or you gon’ let me write this number down before I change my mind?"

"Go on, then." He handed her a pen, his gaze steady as she took his hand, her nails lightly grazing his palm as she began writing. "I don’t usually do this," she murmured, her voice quieter now, softer than her Candy facade. "You better not make me regret it."

Jey tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "Mama, you really think I’d fumble somethin’ like this?"

"Mmm, I guess we’ll see." She capped the pen, slipping it back to him, but didn’t pull her hand away just yet.  Her fingers lingered against his for a moment longer, and when she looked up, Jey was staring at her like she was his whole world.

"Get home safe," she said softly, her voice more Cherise than Candy now.

"You too, pretty girl."* He gave her a smile, the kind that wasn’t cocky but genuine, the kind that made her stomach flip.  "Don’t be actin’ shy when I hit your line, though."

She laughed quietly, adjusting her skimpy outfit.  "I’ll think about it."

And with that, she slipped out the door, leaving him alone in the quiet heat of the VIP room.

♡

The apartment was quiet, the faint hum of the city drifting in through the cracked window.  Cherise lays in bed, tangled in her cozy blankets, her body still sore, her mind still replaying the night in vivid detail.

She didn’t even know why she’d given him her number. It completely out of character for her. She didn’t do things like this—getting caught up with clients, letting them get under her skin.

But Jey…

Joshua.

Something about him felt different.

Her phone vibrated on the pillow beside her, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the darkness.

Her heart skipped.

She reached for it, thumb swiping over the screen, and there it was.

Unknown number: You still up, baby girl?

She smiled, biting her lip as she stared at the text for a moment.  Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Cherise: Maybe. Why? 👀

The three little dots appeared immediately.

Jey: ’Cause I’m thinkin’ bout you. 😘

Her stomach flipped.

Cherise: Oh really?

Jey: Hell yeah. Shit, I can still taste you on my lips, baby girl. 👅

Her cheeks burned, her thighs pressing together at the memory.

Cherise: You’re ridiculous🙄

Jey: Nah, I’m serious. Been waitin’ three months to see you again, and now all I can think about is how bad I wanna see you outta that club.

Cherise blinked, rereading the text twice, her breath catching in her throat.

He wanted to see her again?  Outside the club?

Cherise: I don’t know if that’s a good idea…

The reply came almost instantly.

Jey: Why not? You scared I’ma make you fall in love wit’ me?😏

She rolled her eyes at the screen, but her heart was beating a little too fast.

Cherise: Boy, goodnight. 

Jey: Goodnight, pretty girl.  Sweet dreams. ♥️

She set the phone down beside her, staring at the ceiling with a quiet smile on her lips.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

But damn, it felt good.

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[ohgodthevoices]

going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt

tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry

osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack

as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?

you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…

either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle

just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.

he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.

sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.

he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces

“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…

thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.

omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too

ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd

“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”

osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable

there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.

it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.

there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.

“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?

he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs

he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face

his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly

“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.

before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.

i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about