#I’ve been meaning to make this for a while

[luna-azzurra]

Fictional kiss prompts

Forbidden Kiss Prompts (“We’re not supposed to do this” but oops, we are)

a kiss in the shadows, hands clenched in fabric, trying to stay quiet because someone might hear.

“We can’t—if someone sees us…” — and then they kiss anyway, consequences be damned.

a stolen kiss through the bars of a prison cell, whispered promises of escape in between.

a “we’re on opposite sides” kiss during a truce, lips barely touching because if they kiss fully, they’ll never walk away.

a last-second kiss right before one of them is betrothed to someone else.

Angsty Reunion Kiss Prompts (“I thought I lost you” edition)

a kiss the second they see each other again—rough, breathless, and on the verge of falling apart.

a kiss interrupted by tears, hands holding like they’re afraid to let go.

“Why didn’t you come back?” whispered into their mouth between kisses.

a kiss where they pause halfway through just to look at each other, both a little older, a little more broken.

a kiss that tastes like salt and rain and survival.

Soft Domestic Kiss Prompts (Wholesome fluff to rest your soul)

a sleepy morning kiss, lazy and warm, exchanged without even opening their eyes.

a kiss planted absentmindedly on the top of the other’s head while making tea.

a kiss stolen while brushing their teeth together—foam and giggles included.

a soft kiss over a grocery list, mid-aisle, because “you looked too cute to ignore.”

the kind of kiss shared in bed while reading—just because one of them couldn’t help it anymore.

Post-Confession Kiss Prompts ( “Oh my god this is real” edition)

a kiss that stumbles right after the words “I love you,” like neither of them know what to do with their hands.

“You mean it?” — “Yeah.” — cue the most careful, reverent kiss of their lives.

a kiss that starts with laughter and ends in a dazed, overwhelmed silence.

one of them whispering, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” right before kissing them senseless.

a kiss that comes too fast after the confession, clumsy and colliding—because they’ve waited too long.

First Kiss Prompts (that change everything)

a kiss that starts mid-sentence, because one of them couldn’t wait one more second.

the trembling, breath-held pause right before their lips finally touch—eyes wide, hearts racing.

“If I kiss you right now, will you hate me?” – they kiss them anyway.

the kiss that’s followed by shocked silence, and then one of them blurts, “Okay… wow.”

the hesitant brush of lips—barely there—until one of them pulls the other closer like they’ve made up their mind.

Comfort Kiss Prompts (Love as a safety net)

a kiss placed gently on a trembling hand.

a kiss offered like a promise—“I’m here. I’m staying.”

a forehead kiss given after a nightmare, while whispering soft reassurances.

“You don’t have to be okay right now.” – kissed on the temple like a prayer.

the quiet, slow kiss after a panic attack, grounded in breathing and touch.

Jealousy Kiss Prompts (when emotions boil over)

a sudden, possessive kiss that shocks both of them—especially because they weren’t “together.”

a kiss to shut someone up mid-flirt—“They’re with me.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” – “Because I saw you flirting with them.” – followed by a sharp, angry, perfect kiss.

the kind of kiss that starts in fury but ends in breathless “I need you.”

a kiss that screams “You’re mine. Even if you don’t know it yet.”

Accidental / Surprise Kiss Prompts

tripping and falling directly into a kiss—then freezing in shock as realization sets in.

a practice kiss to “make it look real” that very much does not stay platonic.

a drunken kiss that was supposed to be a dare, but lingers just a second too long.

mistaking the other person for someone else in the dark—“oh… wait—” – “don’t stop.”

an “oops-I-thought-you-were-joking” kiss that they immediately want to do again on purpose.

[crystaltoa]

I feel like such a mean old nasty hag saying this but… do they not plan on existing past the age of 35? In their 20s a breakup wouldn’t necessarily destroy their lives (or they could bounce back from it at least) because there would be another rich guy around the corner, but it’s going to get harder and harder with more competition as time goes on.

Fascinating that it’s considered ‘eroticising’ the inequality. I’m bad at picking up these things as I’m very ace, but now that I see it I can’t unsee it. interesting that boyfriends/husbands don’t appear prominently in this imagery, if at all, and it seems that the content is targeted at straight women. But the partner is not the fantasy, he’s just the key to unlocking the fantasy.

Gen Z and younger millennials have been previously known for ‘quiet quitting’ and other anti-work attitudes, which is not in itself a gendered phenomenon. It stems from the cost of living crisis and the state of the modern workforce and the dawning reality that getting ahead and meeting traditional milestones is bordering on impossible for many, work is not rewarding in the emotional or financial sense, and that one might as well try to actually enjoy their current existence rather that running themselves into the ground for a hypothetical better future.

While there is a lot to be said for living in and enjoying the moment, avoiding thoughts of the future isn’t healthy when taken to its logical extreme. Something I’ve observed as a general trend in women across generations is being caught up so much in the day-to-day stuff that they forget to take care of their future, especially financially. Honestly, I think part of my own interest in personal finance came from the realisation that I wasn’t straight and that I couldn’t gamble on marrying someone who would know all the things I didn’t and make good decisions to ensure a happy future.

Which led me to the realisation that actually, straight women shouldn’t gamble on this either. But many of them still do, even those who consider themselves quite progressive. And from talking to others I learned that also, a lot of men don’t know much about personal finance either, it’s just often assumed by their partners that they know what they’re doing (*glares at my parents*). Apathy toward the future is bad for everybody.

I don’t think GenZ’s disinterest in work or “ little treat” hedonism is inherently a problem. Nor do I think not working carries any moral weight one way or another. I am very much pro-UBI and I think it’s actually essential to achieving true equality. But the stay-at-home trophy fantasy plays off the generation-wide frustration with work and appears to provide a solution, which can be very dangerous if not viewed with healthy skepticism.

this little glamorized misogyny "joke" has run its course right. can we leave this corny demonic shit in 2023. it is done now. we've had enough.

[kxsagi]

hear me out bllk characters with an “innocent” s/o who doesn’t understand pickup lines/takes them too literally 😭 with my freaky kings shidou, kaiser, aiku, karasu and otoya, pretty please

“𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐳? 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?”

a/n: omg nah this is peak 🙏

(don't know art credits so sorry, but it's super cute)

ft. shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, aiku oliver, karasu tabito, otoya eita

shidou ryusei

shidou, being the menace he is, cannot resist dropping the dirtiest, most unhinged pickup lines on you. 

he corners you one day, eyes gleaming, and purrs, “you wanna ride me like a skateboard, baby?” 

you blink up at him with those wide, innocent eyes and a soft gasp. 

“but ryu... i don't know how to skateboard.” 

and you sound so genuinely distressed about it too, like you just failed a pop quiz. 

he stares at you for a second. just stares. like a man witnessing the purest creature alive. 

his brain actually short-circuits. 

“nah, nah, princess, you don’t gotta know how to ride. i’ll teach ya, easy.” 

you perk up immediately. “really?! i've always wanted to learn!” 

shidou goes through it. 

next thing you know this man is out here dragging a skateboard out of the garage, fully committed to giving you lessons like he didn’t mean it in the filthiest way possible. 

he falls in love every time you wibble-wobble on the board and giggle when he catches you. 

thinks you're the best thing since violence and energy drinks. 

kaiser michael

kaiser is OBSESSED with you. 

he thinks your innocence is a gift from the gods, handcrafted to make his life more entertaining. 

one afternoon, he leans back lazily against the wall outside, smirking, and says, “are you a magician? because whenever i look at you, everyone else disappears.” 

your eyes go HUGE. like a cartoon character. you start whipping your head around, frantically looking around the room. 

“wait, where is everyone? what did you do?!” 

you’re actually worried. you start listing people: “wasn’t ness just here? and that man selling pretzels?” 

kaiser nearly slides down the wall laughing. 

he’s gripping his stomach like he's about to ascend. 

when he finally manages to breathe, he cups your cheeks and plants a kiss right on your forehead. 

“relax, schatz. it’s just me being stupidly in love with you.” 

you still make him check if ness is okay, though. (he texts ness “u alive?” ness replies “unfortunately.”) 

aiku oliver

oliver has no shame. 

if he sees you in cute shorts or a dress, he will immediately pull out the worst pickup lines he knows. 

lounging on the couch one day, he winks at you and says, “your body’s 70% water... and i’m thirsty.” 

you stare at him, so genuinely confused, like, “you can just drink from the kitchen? i refilled the brita.” 

realizing how sassy that might have sounded, you legitimately run to get him a bottle of water and come back looking so proud of yourself. 

“here, stay hydrated.” 

oliver’s just sitting there with a hand over his face, sobbing internally from how precious you are. 

he accepts the water, kisses your hand dramatically, and mutters, “god gave you to me because he knew i couldn’t handle anyone else.” 

karasu tabito

karasu thinks he’s the king of smooth. 

he leans over your shoulder while you're cooking, breath warm against your ear, and says, “are you from tennessee? ‘cause you’re the only ten i see.” 

you immediately turn around and frown very seriously. 

“tabi... i’ve never even been to tennessee.” 

you sound so sad about it too, like you’re worried you disappointed him somehow. 

karasu has to physically restrain himself from collapsing into giggles. 

he straightens up, clearing his throat dramatically. 

“nah, babe, it’s just a cheesy way of saying you’re insanely hot.” 

you light up like a christmas tree. “oh! thank you!!” 

and then you very earnestly offer, “i can go to tennessee if you want!” 

karasu almost proposes on the spot. 

from that day on he makes it his mission to hit you with a ridiculous pickup line at least once a day just to see your confused little face. 

otoya eita

otoya thinks he’s the smoothest operator in the universe. 

he slides up to you while you're minding your business and purrs, “do you have a map? ‘cause i just got lost in your eyes.” 

immediately, you gasp and start rummaging through your bag like your life depends on it. 

“i don’t have a paper map on me, but i have the maps app in my phone! wait, wait, don’t panic, i’ll find it!” 

otoya watches you absolutely spiral over helping him and he has to cover his mouth to hide the fact that he’s losing his mind. 

when you look up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, holding your phone out like a lifeline, he just melts. 

“no need, princess,” he croons, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i’m exactly where i wanna be.” 

you: "yay! so you’re not lost anymore?" 

otoya internally: somebody please call an ambulance, i’m in love. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[steddieasitgoes]

Eggs

written for @steddiebingo hop into spring mini event prompt: eggs | rating: g | wc: 1.8K tags: pre-relationship, humor, post-Season 2, Eddie POV

this is really dumb, but I’ve been in a terrible writing rutt because 2025 is being incredibly cruel to me and this idea made me laugh and I needed to write it so here we are

“This is bullshit!” Eddie swears, throwing his arms up and nearly knocking over the display of cheap gum and candy behind him at the register. 

“We have a strict policy,” the clerk says, tapping a worn Post-it note stuck to the small counter separating him from Eddie. 

Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You mean to tell me that big man Bradley himself has requested his minimum wage employees police the amount of eggs that paying customers can buy?”

“Yes,” the clerk says. “One dozen per person under the age of 21.” 

“It’s not alcohol, James. It’s eggs.”

“Eggs, you and your freak friends use to damage property.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not going egging?” 

“That’s what they all say.”

Eddie wants to scream.

Sure, shitty kids in this town have been known to buy dozens of eggs just to hurl them at homes and people, but he’s not one of them. At least, not the one that’s doing the throwing; he has had his fair share of being on the receiving end, though, which is why he wouldn’t stoop to such low activities. 

Egging is beneath him. It’s not creative enough of a punishment for the assholes in this town — and yeah, okay, maybe it’s also because he can’t throw an egg to save his life much less hit the right target but that’s beside the point. 

Eddie fingers through his wallet, plucking out a handful of bills. He slams them down over the worn Post-it note and shoves them towards James. “Just take the money and give me my eggs.” 

He reaches over, yanking one of the cartons into his hands. He moves to grab the second, but James’s faster, swatting it out of Eddie’s grasp. It hits the edge of the counter on the way down, opening and sending a dozen of eggs to the ground. A few crack at Eddie’s feet, covering his boots in fresh yolks, while a handful roll down towards the exit.

“Damn it,” James swears, flicking raw egg from his own hands. “That’s the dozen you’re payin’ for.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Eddie growls. The entire store is looking at him now, including a bruised and battered Steve Harrington, who's clearly seen better days. At least someone is having a worse day than he is. “I’m not paying for those! I’m paying for three cartons of uncracked eggs.” 

“You’re not paying for a damn thing,” James says, yanking the phone free from it’s base beside the register. “I’m calling the police.” 

Eddie can’t help himself; he laughs this time. “For eggs?” 

“No, for assaulting an employee.” 

“I didn’t even touch you! You touched me!” 

“We’ll see about that,” James says, dialing the number to the Hawkins Police Department. 

Eddie does scream this time, letting out a primal groan of frustration. “You’re a piece of shit James. I hope you get a raise for being the patron saint of fucking eggs!” He snatches the money from the counter, shoving it into the pockets of his jacket before stalking out of the store with both middle fingers raised. 

Fucking James. Eddie knew he should have waited in Mable's long line. She may take twice as long, but at least she would have let Eddie make his totally reasonable purchase. Hell, she probably would have offered him a quiche or egg salad recipe because that’s the kind of person Mable is. She’s considerate -- something James is not. 

But no. He just had to pick stupid James’s line because it was the shortest. He should have known better. It’s always the same with his type — lame ass jocks who peaked in high school and are now stuck in their hometown making life miserable for everyone else. 

Eddie’s too fired up to get behind the wheel right now, so he pulls out a cigarette instead. The nicotine does little to curb the frustration coursing through him, but at least it gives him something to do besides marching back into the store and starting something with James, he knows he’ll lose. 

After taking a long drag, he glances at the watch on his wrist. It’s five to eight; far too late to get in the car and drive the twenty miles to the next down over and pick up three dozen eggs. Gertrude is going to be mad. And then Wayne is going to be pissed when she and her gang retailiate against their trash. 

Fucking James. 

Eddie finishes his cigarette, snubbing out the end with the boot of his foot. He’s about to climb into his van when he’s accosted by none other than Steve Harrington. Great. Just what Eddie needs. Another lame, has-been jock giving him shit for simply existing. 

Steve’s eye is a deep shade of purple. There’s dried blood caked into the corner of his cracked lip, and there are remnants of some cheap band-aid adhesive around a gash above his eyebrow that probably needs stitches. And that’s just his face. He’s walking smaller, curled in like every step he takes closer to Eddie physically pains him. He probably shouldn’t be lugging around two paper bags full of groceries either, but what does Eddie know? He’s not a doctor. 

“You look like shit, Harrington.” 

“A plate to the side of the head will do that to you.” 

Eddie winces. He’s been hit in the head by a fair share of objects, but never a plate which leads him to wonder who Harrington pissed off. He doesn’t ask. Instead, he deflects. “Bet the other guy looks even worse.” 

Steve snorts, immediately grimacing. “Sure, let’s go with that.” 

Eddie fidgets, feet shuffling. This is the longest he’s ever been in Steve’s presence outside of mandated classes, and he doesn’t know what to say to him. Especially not when his face looks like that. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to because Steve moves, holding out one of the brown paper bags for Eddie to take. 

“Does the liege need an assistant to his chariot?” Eddie asks, staring at the heavy brown bag Steve’s struggling to keep hold of. “I’m sure one of the fair maidens inside would have assisted you.” 

Eddie waits for Steve to scoff and give him shit for speaking like some medieval idiot; but the judgment doesn’t come. At least, not in the form of harsh words. He does get a front row seat to Steve Harrington’s bitchy eye roll though so it’s not a total loss. 

“These are for you.” 

“For me?” Eddie asks, reluctantly taking the bag from Steve’s hand. He glances inside, almost afraid that something is going to pop out of him. Instead, he finds not one, not two, not even three, but four dozen eggs carefully stacked in the bag. “What the hell?” 

“I heard you arguing with James inside,” Steve says. “He’s a jerk. I mean, the guy is working a minimum wage cashier job and he’s still finding ways to be a total douchebag.” 

“So what? You just went to a different cashier and bought four dozen eggs?” 

“No,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I went back to James with three dozen eggs, and he threw in the fourth for free so I could ‘teach whatever freak that rearranged my face a lesson’.” 

“Fuckin’ hypocrite.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

Eddie blinks, the reality of the situation hitting him all at once. Ten minutes ago he was nearly arrested for trying to buy eggs and now he’s standing out here holding four dozen bought and paid for by Steve “the hair” Harrington who took a plate to the head less than 48 hours ago if his bruises are anything to go by. 

What the hell is going on in this town? 

“I uh,” Eddie starts, then stops, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.” 

“It wasn’t a big deal. I mean, they’re just eggs, right?” 

“Just eggs to you and me maybe,” Eddie says.  “But these things are gold to Gertrude. You saved my ass from her wrath. 

“Gertrude?”

“My pet. She loves eggs.” 

“I didn’t know dogs could eat eggs.” Something washes over Steve in an instant — a look of panic if Eddie’s not mistaken. His eyes grow wide and then narrow into slits as they scan the permiter of the parking lot. His grip on the bag tightens as his entire body goes stiff. And then he’s leaning closer, lips practically touching Eddie’s ear as he drops his voice. “It is a dog, right? Like a furry, wagging tail dog with a full face kind of dog?” 

“Are there dogs without faces?” Eddie asks, suddenly very concerned for Steve’s well-being. If he didn’t get stitches for the gash over his eyebrow, there’s no way he got looked at for a concussion. Maybe he’s hallucinating right now. That would explain why he willingly bought four dozen eggs for Eddie of all people. “Are you concussed still, Harrington? Do you need a ride home or something?”

“I need to know who is eating all these eggs,” Steve says, deathly serious. He takes a step closer, backing Eddie up against the van. “It’s not a dog, is it?” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

“Does it have a face?” 

“Man, what are you—“ 

“Does it have a face, Eddie?” Steve shouts, startling a few shoppers headed to and from their cars. 

Eddie’s never been more grateful for ease droppers than right now because Steve takes a few steps back, giving Eddie enough space to take a deep breath and try to figure out what the fuck is going on. 

“Eddie, I swear to—” 

“Gertrude is a raccoon!” Eddie says in a rush. “She’s a mother racoon who lives in Forest Hills and thinks she owns the damn place. She had babies this year, and I’ve been feeding them so they stay out of our trash. 

Apparently, Gertrude is a gossip and told other raccoons, and now we have a whole horde of them. If I don’t leave scrambled eggs out on the porch, they wreak havoc on the entire park.” 

“Oh.” Steve takes several steps back now, clearly satisfied by Eddie’s answer. “Are they cute?” 

Eddie’s not a hundred percent sure it’s possible to get whiplash from a conversation, but if it is, he’s experiencing a pretty severe case of it right now. “Are you sure you’re not concussed?” 

Steve waves him off. “Hop gave me the all clear last night. Told me to ice it with some peas, which is why I came here.” 

“Okay…” 

“So is she cute? This Gertrude raccoon?” 

“I mean, she’s a raccoon, so yes, obviously.”

“Right,” Steve nods, then glances at the bag in Eddie’s hand. “Four dozen eggs is a lot for one person to make. Do you want some help?” 

Jesus H. Christ, what is going on right now? 

“You, Steve Harrington, want to help me make scrambled eggs for a family of raccoons?” 

Steve shrugs. “Beats sitting at home alone with a bag of peas on my head.” 

“What the hell,” Eddie mutters to himself, before turning to Steve. “Alright, Harrington. You can come help, but no distractions. If we don’t have eggs out on the porch by 9:30, Gertrude will make us pay.” 

“Nothing’s scarier than a hungry woman,” Steve jokes. “Lead the way.” 

[jenjensd]

I literally had to turn off all messages for a while to stop receiving these. After I thought they moved on to someone else I reinstated it. Now they’re all on anon and I received the mosabsdr one multiple times a day for weeks until I turned off anon. I’m afraid to turn anon back on because this was absolutely harassment and blocking never worked. Likely because the person it tagged was not the same person spamming my inbox. This and other likely scammers legitimately put me off responding to any of them, it’s what I’m going to call Charity Fatigue unless there’s another name for it.

Where you’re begged for help so many times and by so many people (some who are real and some who are scams) that you can’t help all of them and just get exhausted trying to verify and respond. I don’t even have enough money to support myself, let alone give to others. So there’s this cumulative feeling of helplessness as well as the fatigue of being asked so much.

And some of them get mean about it when you don’t respond. I’ve been accused of being heartless and supporting the genocide by some of the people if I don’t respond to their requests in just a few hours. Which makes me even less inclined to want to help. I know it’s not the fault of the real and genuine and kind people who are in need. I hope they get help. But I can’t be one of the people to help them. And it just feels exhausting.

I miss when I would get Tumblr asks that actually said things and weren't just digital panhandling scams.

[clarkeysbedchem]

slip ups

george clarke x fem reader

summary: you and George have been hiding your relationship from the internet but there’s been a few slips along the way before George finally bites the bullet.

masterlist | main masterlist

At first, your appearances were barely noticeable—just subtle background moments that, if you blinked, you'd miss. You and George had been officially together for just over eight months, having been talking for just under a year. So, when you started spending more time at his flat, it was only a matter of time before your presence began to be noticed.

Example A: In George’s one-shot-every-minute Halloween video with all his friends, you could be spotted for a split second, helping Arthur Hill get a bowl of water for the apple-bobbing challenge.

Arthur stumbled into the kitchen, half-blind from his ghost-face mask, rustling around in the cupboards. You were sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching the five boys with amusement when George nodded toward Arthur, “Help him, will you?”

You laughed softly and got up to join him in the kitchen. Kneeling down, you grabbed a saucepan big enough for their heads and held it up just as the camera turned to you. “I’ve never been in this kitchen before. I don’t know where the bowls are,” arthur joked, in a terrible attempt at the Ghostface voice - one that was slowly slipping into a Donald Trump impression.

The boys laughed, and the camera panned back to them as you stood up, filled the saucepan with water, and dropped the apples in. You carried it over to the table for them, prompting a drunken ArthurTV to laugh, “What a great assistant you have, George!”

You flipped him off with a laugh before taking your seat back on the sofa.

Example B: At George, Chris, and Arthur’s annual New Year's party, the fans a new girl made a random appearance.

You had been featured in a few of Florence’s TikTok’s and Youtube videos over the years so that lead the fans away from assuming you were dating any of the boys. But being pictured near George? That was new. Still, it apparently wasn’t enough to make fans speculate anything.

You were sitting on the sofa, squashed between your boyfriend and the back of the couch, while a particularly drunk Chip sat next to you, yelling over the music.

“You two make a good-looking couple, you know?” he slurred, taking a long sip of his drink. You and George both laughed, “Like you’d have gorgeous kids. Nice hair and eyes.”

“Oi, Chip!” Isaac yelled grabbing his attention, pointing his phone at him, the flash blinding him.

The two boys burst into laughter, and Isaac posted the video to his TikTok without a second thought. He didn’t realize that in the background, you could be seen with your legs draped over George’s.

The fans brushed it off, too busy laughing at Chip’s antics to notice that George was clearly cozy with someone – a few of them saying it wasn’t even George in the background.

But when Liv and Sabina posted photos the next day and you appeared in them, fans started matching the tattoo on your wrist to the one in the Halloween video, some of them started to get a little suspicious.

Then George started streaming on Twitch and you both knew it would be harder to stay in your secret bubble. Still, you were okay with it.

The biggest giveaway of your presence in his life happened during one of George’s casual streams where he had no set plan - just chatting with the fans while scrolling through ‘Private Clarking,’ laughing at some of the ridiculous tweets people were posting.

“Anyone else think it’s weird he has a willy?” George read aloud from the chat, making you snort from the bed off-camera, “What the hell does that mean?”

You laughed louder at his confused, defensive tone, which made him smile and glance over at you. His eyes flicked back to the chat as it suddenly flooded with question marks about the mysterious laughter in the background. But George didn’t acknowledge it; he just kept scrolling through Twitter.

His eyes landed on a poorly photoshopped picture of him. He opened it full screen, let out a sigh, and spun in his chair to face you, pouting.

“You’re such a drama queen,” you muttered, teasing him, but loud enough for the chat to hear.

George froze, not expecting you to speak. His mouth opened in shock, blinking like he’d been hit. He quickly spun back around in his chair, shaking his head with a shy laugh, “Ignore that,” he mumbled, reaching to mute his mic immediately.

He walked over to you, pulled you to the edge of the bed, and you let out a surprised yelp before laughing at his stunned face, “They’re gonna go mental,” he muttered, referring to his chat.

You shrugged, “So?”

Instead of replying, George cupped your face in his hands, pulling you in for a sweet kiss before returning to his stream, red-cheeked and smiling like nothing had happened.

That’s when the fans finally started to catch on. Not completely, but the seeds had been planted.

The moment it all blew up came during a podcast episode. George and Max had shown up for a recording, and you were off-camera as usual, sitting with Calum, Andrew, and Maisie. The boys were deep into one of their random tangents while Calum tried his best to steer them in a more normal direction.

But Max was in top form as he leaned back in his chair, smirking, “So, George, important question, because I’ve been seeing it all over TikTok,” Max began, “Do you have a new flatmate?”

George blinked, confused, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, “What are you talking about?”

Max grinned, “You know, the mysterious giggling, the random arm that keeps popping in and out of videos. There’s some off-camera entity in your flat. So, either a new flatmate, or a ghost.”

George sputtered on his drink, laughing nervously, “We’re not doing this,” he mumbled, eyes darting off-camera toward you.

“Oh, so we are.”

And that’s when the fans started losing it.

Old clips from nearly a year ago – from both your socials - were being shared all over social media, edits popping up within hours of the podcast dropping.

Slow zooms on George’s reactions, dramatic music, and screenshots of every moment you were half-visible. Stan Twitter threads started mapping every single appearance you’d made, complete with timestamps, and even theories about who you were - some of which were surprisingly close to the truth.

You had officially been dubbed “The Mystery Girl” by fans, even though many of them already knew who you were and followed your channel.

But with the love came the hate. Some people started sending you hate and threats, even though they didn’t know who you were. You swore it didn’t bother you - but it definitely bothered George. He did everything in his power to protect you, even posting a long message on his story and a stream where he ranted for an hour defending you.

And, of course, then there were the theories. Some fans swore you were just friends, others thought it was a PR stunt to boost George’s subscriber count, which made him laugh and turn it into a running joke.

George never expected to do a ‘hard launch’ to be honest, he thought they were a bit cringe. But there he was, at 1 a.m., having just finished a stream, with you asleep beside him, one arm flopped across his chest, the other tucked under your cheek.

His mind was racing, replaying all the questions he’d dodged during the stream. Almost every question in his life had become “Who is George’s girlfriend?” And yet here you were, peacefully curled up next to him, blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil your boyfriend was experiencing.

He exhaled slowly, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

He could just keep denying it - say you were just a friend, a flatmate, or claim Max was joking. But the fandom wasn’t buying it anymore. They had screenshots, edits, and the timeline down to a tee.

And you weren’t a secret he wanted to keep. He wanted to show you off, share moments of you on his social media, involve you in his videos. He wanted you more than anything.

He carefully reached over for his nightstand, making sure not to disturb you, and opened his phone, staring at his camera roll for a moment before tapping on his favorite photo of you.

It was from the recent ski trip to Lapland: you smiling at the camera while George leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. It was his favorite photo from the whole trip, and he hadn’t been able to share it anywhere.

He posted it without hesitation, tagging you and adding a simple red heart emoji.

Then, in a panic, he tossed his phone across the bed, “What did you just do?” you mumbled, curling closer into him, your voice groggy from sleep.

He pulled you close, hiding his face in your hair, “Ruined my life.”

“Okay, but did you post the one where I look cute?”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your head. “Obviously.”

“Then I think you’ll survive.”

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chrismd10 thank god abt time 🙄

arthurnfhill brilliant now i dont have to keep lying

userone THIS IS TOO CUTE 😭😭

usertwo shes so pretty i cant 🥰

bambinobecky those 🫵 are my parents

italianbach this is so cute dafaq

userthree she’s not what i imagined him to be with icl

┃usertwo good think nobody asked

arthurtv ah its my favourite assistant 🙂‍↕️

userfour she definitely timed this with her channel blowing up, don’t be blind

taglist: @jamiekluivert @reidyourpalms @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology @canyouseethesainz

[bernardsbendystraws]

can you write a short blurb abt snow and matt having sleepovers pls! im curious as to why and i really just love them. thank you!

ೃ࿔*:･ Snow .ᐟ Reader x FWB.ᐟ Matt

You can't sleep in your own bed.

⚠︎ mentions of previous SA, cuddling, fluff, short

You haven’t been sleeping, at least not in your own bed. 

It’s unusual. Matt does not appreciate when he’s unable to get his alone time. Having nights to himself used to be a necessity—but you were just…different.

He doesn’t know the gruesome details, he doesn’t need to. He’s aware you were hurt—traumatized, even. The way things ended with your ex was not good. It wasn’t even the cheating and manipulation that made you finally break things off with that poor excuse of a man, it was the way he violated you. 

You got rid of your comforter. Every stuffed animal you owned had been thrown deep into your closet, left to collect dust. A soft mattress no longer brought you peace, it made your heart race with a devastating nausea in the pit of your gut. 

“Do you wanna just spend the night?” he asks, hugging you a bit closer under his arm as you both lay on his bed. You nod slightly. Matt sighs as you lazily trace your fingers over his chest, your frizzy hair tickling against his jaw in a way that makes his heart flourish with a wave of comfort. 

You won’t sleep in your own bed—Matt knows you won’t. You’ll show up with tired, swollen eyes the next day. And he hates seeing that. There’s no part of him that minds having you in his bed. In fact, sometimes he craves your touch more than he’s willing to admit. 

It’s confusing. Your own bed—especially alone—feels like utter torture to toss and turn in all night. But sleeping in Matt’s bed is heaven. 

“Are you sure though?” you ask, gnawing on your bottom lip, “-I’ve stayed over like three nights in a row—”

“Do you need clothes or something? We can make a quick trip to your place if you need stuff,” Matt points, completely oblivious to the point you’re trying to make.

“Matt.” you huff, looking up at him with a firm glance. “I mean, I don’t wanna overstay my welcome.” 

“What?” he asks, his eyes furrow in confusion. “No, no—not at all,” he breathes, letting his hand around your waist massage in light circles as he shakes his head side to side. Clutching you close, he cradles the back of your head while pushing you to lay on his chest. 

“You’re gonna get sick of me,” you laugh.

“Nah,” he sighs, pressing a light kiss to the crown of your head, “-just get some sleep, alright?” 

A/N: In no way am I trying to “romanize” anything. I write about real world issues that countless amount of people unfortunately have to endure. I place warnings to prohibit triggering anyone and also try to write everything tastefully. If this is not okay with you, that’s fine but do not send hate about it. You know nothing about me or what I’ve gone through in life.

With love and big tits, Rose 🌹

[lucygraysboy]

“thank you, lucy gray. if it makes you feel any better, just know i’ll be regrettin’ that for the rest of my life.” what an idiot he was. there really is no excuse, but knowing she’s forgiven him means a lot. it’s more than he could ever ask for. “and you do the same, okay? even if it’s somethin’ small, tell me, yeah?” even if it’s one of her paranoid thoughts, he’d still like to hear it and explain himself, help her out. “that’s what i’ve been thinkin’. i mean, charlie and manuela are expectin’ their first baby and they aren’t gettin’ married anytime soon.” meanwhile, he and lucy gray were determined to be husband and wife back when they were ten. they really are meant to be. “baby boy. am i your baby boy now?” a chuckle escapes his lips and he gently tickles her side, finding the pet name adorable but also a little awkward. “well, so do i but only if it’s with you. exactly,” he agrees, nodding his head even if she can’t see him. their favorite movie playing in the background, the upbeat tune of bop to the top filling the room, but neither seems to be paying attention. “think i’d die if another man’s child had your eyes.” that would be the end of him. “i’ll never have children or get married if it’s not with you.” maybe it’s silly of him to make such bold statements while in his twenties, but he genuinely can’t picture himself committing to anyone else. “what about you and your other cowboy? when’d that even start? how?” he wonders out loud, thinking it’s alright to ask since they’re on the subject of former flings. “well, yeah… there were no goodbye kisses or anything like that, no maybe we could give it time and work it out, okay? and i don’t have any feelings for her. i feel like an asshole for dating her in the first place.” because he never had any feelings for that girl. “are we? at least we’re insane together.” laughing, he just has to agree — they really are insane. 

“well i have no choice but to forgive you now, but it really hurt back then.” little lucy gray would have been so happy to know future billy would one day apologize for the hurt she was feeling. “alright, i’m countin’ on you.” to tell her whatever he feels like is bothering him instead of repeating history. “well how darlin’ of you, baby boy,” hand rubs his cheek, “only us though.” a soft laugh emits, only they as children would want marriage that soon— but didn’t that prove they really were written in the stars all the more? “yeah, maybe i do.” she values marriage and daydreams about it, “but it has to be with you and if it doesn’t end up bein’ with you, i won’t want it.” lucy gray admits, deciding to completely honest about it since her mind is made all up on her stance about marriage anyway after experiencing what relationships are like when they’re not with her soulmate; the one meant for her. hearing his answers to her question, brows gently lift as she stares at him, “oh, alright.” saying casually, despite a little skepticism hidden deep down. “just left so easily like that?” sounds like a rebound, then. “abused…? never. you’re a drama king,” she giggles softly, watching the movie. “that’s what it means, billy b.” a smirk. a long pause in between them before she finally speaks again, “we’re insane.” that’s what she decides on, dropping these kisses and love confessions, but not officially being together… it’s insane.

[intromortal]

ꕥ MAKE YOU MINE ⸻ lee heeseung

lee heeseung doesn't do relationships or any of that 'labels' stuff, it's a known fact. yet when jay's gaze lingers too long on you, he can't help but leave his mark on you in one way or another

this work contains ⋆ smut. mdni. jealousy, p in v, creampie, no protection, manhandling, name calling, degradation!!! hair pulling, mean hee won't kiss you, kinda toxic situationship thing going on, Feelings, reader is kinda crazy but also i've had too much caffeine today So ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

length ⋆ drabble ⸻ 1.8k words

Heeseung, all things considered, is a pretty chill and laid back guy. Not prone to big displays of jealousy, especially anywhere public.

Most of the time he's quietly laying back on a couch at a party across the room, watching you with a glint in his eyes as you reject yet another guy trying to sneak his way into your pants. There’s something about the way you so obediently glance his way every time someone tries to flirt you, how your expression ever so slightly shifts to something he would describe as needy when he slouches further into the soft brown cushions, legs spread almost as if to invite you over on his lap.

It’s been months since you started fucking, and as embarrassing for you as it feels to admit, you two haven't really put a label on what your... status actually is. You’re definitely more than friends—though you don't know if you would even consider Heeseung your friend in the first place—but you also don't believe you're anywhere close to being a thing yet. That litter sliver of something keeps you fucking hooked on Heeseung though, even when you know it's terrible for you.

And he enjoys every second of it. How you're so loyal to him even when he doesn't give you any reason to be.

He’s confident you'll follow him around everywhere like a little lost puppy as long as he keeps feeding you whatever crumb you need; a gentle brush of his hand whenever he greets you, a soft compliment whispered in your ear before leaving you to find something to drink, a sweet forehead kiss at the end of the night when you've both found your way between the bed sheets. I’ve got it under control, he thinks.

Yet he can't find any explanation—one that he’d make peace with, that is—for the scorching rage that overcomes him whenever he sees you and your bestie walking hand in hand around campus. The slightest twitch to his eye when he notices how bright you seem to be around Jay, how hard you laugh at his jokes and how touchy you are, shoving his shoulder away when he makes a stupid comment, yet letting your hand linger on the cotton of his shirt. There’s a different light coming from within you when he's around, and Heeseung fucking hates it with his entire being.

Mostly because he doesn't want to admit what it really is. Lee Heeseung is the furthest thing from a relationship-kind-of-guy you could possibly ever find, and it's always been this way, everyone knows.

To fuck with him is to make peace with the fact that you'll never be anything more than someone to warm his bed—or car backseats more often than not. And most are okay with that as long as they get their hands on a piece of him, no matter for how short. You were okay with that too, at the very start. It just doesn't help that lately he has fucked you like he loves and hates you at the same time, and while you try your best to not let his empty calculated affections tie you down to him too much, it's gotten harder and harder to escape the literal black hole Heeseung is.

You promised yourself to only orbit around him for a bit, then escape at the first pull you feel is too strong. But here you are, on the event horizon anyway.

His lingering stares whenever Jay is around don't go unnoticed by you, far from it actually. And maybe you even play into it a little too much, because here you are, underneath Heeseung, and for the first time in weeks he's fucking you like love is the furthest feeling possible from both his mind and heart.

It's funny, how he's tried to maintain his cool around you so desperately, and what finally breaks him is Jay staring way too long at your ass for it to be a mistake. There’s nothing Heeseung would have loved more than to beat him to a pulp, for looking at his girl like that.

Except you're not his girl—he hadn't even realized he really wanted you to possibly be until then—so he can't do that. But what he can do instead is take it out on your poor unsuspecting pussy.

"You are such a nasty slut," he whispers against your lips as he pistons into your weeping cunt, ignoring every attempt you make to kiss him, biting down on your bottom lip when you don't catch the hint. "Walking around in that tight black skirt, for what?" It feels like he's spitting venom at you, a primal edge to his tone unlike anything you've ever heard from him. Despite everything, you'd be lying if you said it didn't make your pussy clamp even harder around him, trying to milk his girth for all it’s worth.

You take too long to reply for his liking, his hand digging almost hurtfully into your cheeks to force you to look at him. "For. What?"

"I– fuck, i don't know."

He looks at you incredulously, like you must've gone dumb on his cock already, while his movements come to halt, despite your little cries and begs for him not to.

"Yes, you fucking do," he spits, grabbing your thighs and flipping you over onto your knees. A little scream rips out of you at the sudden motion as he manhandles you in whatever way he wants, paying no mind to any possible aching body part of yours or any discomfort you may feel. "Wore it to flaunt this ass around, didn't you? I know you did."

He lands a harsh smack on the skin of your bottom, kissing his teeth in annoyance when your entire body jerks forward, front collapsing on the bed. He eases his cock back into you in one thrust, setting a pace that is somehow faster and harsher than the one you could barely keep up with earlier. "Wanted  Jay to bend you over like this, huh?"

"N-no! I– ngh." Your rebuttal is cut short by his hips slamming into yours with a harsh thrust, his thick hand pushing your head against the sheets, uncaring of all the drool that's dripping from your mouth, your eyes rolling into your skull. He plants one of his feet into the soft mattress, the new angle helping him reach so much deeper inside you as the hold on your hips becomes nearly unbearable, sure to leave a flashy bruise.

Good, he thinks. Let everyone know I own you.

It doesn't matter that you two will still not put a label on whatever you have going on after this, Heeseung will find a way to mark you up with his actions instead. He'll fuck you so good even in the off chance you give Jay a chance all you'll think about is gonna be going back to him right after.

"Oh, shut the fuck up." He grabs some of your hair, using it as leverage to fuck into you even harder, the mix of pain and pleasure so unbelievably delicious you don’t even know what to do with yourself if not just lay there and take it all. "That’s all a slut like you is good for anyway, shut her mouth and let me use her pretty pussy as I please."

And it doesn't matter for you either you realize, a fucked out smile spreading on your face as he takes you like he has never done before, because to get a reaction out of the ever so collected Lee Heeseung, it means you have made him your bitch as much as he has made you his. He just doesn't know it yet.

The sudden thought is so euphoric it pushes you close to the edge instantly, your cunt clenching around him more and more while Heeseung is behind you wondering why he just heard a giggle leave your throat in the midst of it all.

"Is this some kind of fucking joke to you?" His voice is rough, but the hint of uneasiness behind the facade is easy to pick up on, it only spurs you to laugh more—as much as you can manage, because soon his thrusts get angrier and you don't know if you're laughing, crying or moaning anymore.

You taste the salty tears running straight into your open mouth, and you don't exactly know why you're crying because you have never felt lighter, even with the harsh, repeated press of Heeseung's hips against your red, marked up flesh.

Heeseung thinks you must've gone delirious on his cock, the proof being the very white ring you're leaving on the base of his cock, and while his chest blooms and tickles with something unfamiliar to him, he can't help but want even more. He wants to give you even more.

He doesn't recall when this punishment he's inflicting on you turned around to him chasing your approval so fucking bad, but he can't stop. He can't stop himself from gawking at your bent back littered in his marks, he can't stop himself from bending down to mouth at your neck when all he initially wanted to do was put you back in your place, he can't stop himself from letting his hand find your familiar little bundle of nerves to roll circles on it.

He tells himself it's not for you, it's for him, so he can hear all the divine noises you're making for just a little longer, just enough to reach his orgasm.

His lips brush your nape again, and he wishes he hadn't turned you over so he could taste your laugh right off your lips. He almost opens his mouth to say something he might regret, but he stops himself with a low, guttural moan and a stripe licked on your skin instead.

Neither of you last long after that, and you come with shudder around him, cunt milking him for all he has, all he is worth. He gives it all to you, filling you up so well it has you clawing the sweaty bed sheets beneath you.

You're glowing underneath him as he gets off of you, and Heeseung doesn't want to linger on the fact that his chest cavity, where his heart is supposed to be, glows just as much for you. It's a scary thought.

"You're mine," you whisper, like you've finally cracked the code to something you couldn't wrap your head around for the longest. You state it like a fact, like how you do when you say things commonly agreed upon—like the earth being round and Sim Jaeyun having the prettiest dick on campus.

You don't turn to Heeseung when he says nothing after and all that fills the room is the swooshing of his clothes being collected from the floor and your front door shutting with a soft thud.

It doesn't matter, because whether he likes it or now, you know he has nowhere to go if not back to you.

[formulaonecrumbs]

can we get oscar older sister au? pleaseeee

little big moments

Oscar Piastri x older sister!reader

summary: oscar’s favourite person is his older sister.

warnings: hospitals, broken leg, implied dance injury.

A/N: projecting myself into reader cuz i’ve always wanted to be a ballerina :p enjoy my lovvvveeeee 🫶🫶🫶

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

8 & 13

the monsters don’t wait for the closet door to creak open or the thunder to roll in.

they crawl out from behind his eyelids—sharp-toothed and angry—chasing him down a hallway that doesn’t end, his legs heavy and too slow. his voice doesn’t work. he’s trying to scream but it’s like all the air in the world is gone.

then suddenly, he’s awake.

his chest is tight. his throat hurts. he’s not sure if he screamed or if it only happened in the dream. the shadows in his room don’t look right, even though he knows they’re just his race car poster and the chair with his hoodie on it. still, his heart’s thudding and his eyes are hot and—

he climbs out of bed.

his feet are cold on the wooden floor, but he tiptoes anyway. carefully. quietly. his door creaks when he opens it, and he pauses, breath caught. no one stirs.

reader’s room is at the end of the hall. he knows the number of steps by heart. twelve small ones. he doesn’t knock—he never knocks—and instead just presses the door open a crack and peeks in.

she’s still awake. the warm, soft yellow of her lamp is still on, and she’s lying on her stomach, writing in the little purple notebook she always keeps beside her bed. her hair’s up in a bun, messy and half-falling apart.

he hesitates in the doorway, and she looks up like she already knew he was coming.

“nightmare?” she asks, voice low and gentle.

he nods.

she doesn’t say anything else. just shifts over and lifts the blanket.

he scrambles up onto her bed, dragging his pillow with him. he lies on his side, facing the wall, and she presses her chest against his back. her arm comes around his middle, warm and steady.

for a while, it’s just the quiet hum of her lamp and the soft rhythm of her breathing.

“what happened this time?” she asks, fingers brushing his hair.

he shrugs. “dunno. running. screaming. couldn’t move.”

“was i there?”

“no.”

“should i have been?”

he nods.

she hugs him tighter, her hand finding his and squeezing it once.

“next time,” she whispers, “i’ll be there.”

it’s the kind of promise he’ll remember forever. not because she says it like it’s big, but because she says it like it’s already true. like she would’ve fought every monster with her bare hands if she’d known he needed her.

he breathes in slowly, and everything starts to settle. the shadows look softer now. smaller. quieter.

and eventually, with her heartbeat behind him and her arm wrapped around his middle, he falls back asleep.

10 & 15

oscar hates hospitals.

he hates the beeping, the weird smell, the dull grey walls that make it feel like everyone’s holding their breath. he especially hates the food—the tray they gave her yesterday had some green mush on it that looked like it belonged in a science lab, not a lunch.

but he hates seeing her here even more.

she’s in a private room, one with big windows and soft blankets their mum brought from home, but it still feels cold. she’s lying back against her pillows, leg in a cast and propped up, her eyes half-glazed from the pain meds.

she doesn’t smile much these days.

so he comes armed.

he knocks once before coming in, even though she tells him every time that he doesn’t have to. her head turns slowly when he enters, and he sees that flicker in her expression—the one that means she’s trying to look okay even when she’s not.

“hey,” she says softly, voice a little hoarse.

he doesn’t say anything back. just climbs up into the chair next to her bed, backpack thumping onto the floor. he unzips it carefully, glancing toward the hallway like he’s expecting a nurse to barge in and arrest him.

“you didn’t,” she murmurs, already smiling.

he grins and pulls out a crinkly packet of oreos. “of course i did.”

she lets out the tiniest laugh. “you’re gonna get in so much trouble.”

“worth it,” he says, and then pulls out the second thing—a tiny ziplock bag of gummy bears, the good ones, not the off-brand kind.

her eyes go soft. it’s the most he’s seen her smile all week.

“gourmet,” she teases, reaching out with both hands like it’s the most sacred offering.

“only the best,” he says, but his voice drops a little at the end.

she eats slowly, more from the exhaustion than anything else, but he stays quiet while she chews, kicking his heels against the chair legs. he keeps glancing at her cast. it’s so big. it looks heavy. and even though she hasn’t said it out loud, he knows—knows she’s scared. knows something’s different this time.

she finishes her oreo and leans her head back, turning to look at him. “thanks, oz.”

he shrugs, suddenly shy. “s’not a big deal.”

“it is to me.”

her voice wobbles just slightly at the end, and that’s what breaks him.

he scoots the chair closer and leans his head gently on the edge of her bed, near her hand. she brushes her fingers through his hair, soft and rhythmic, and he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t ask why her eyes are glassy or why her hand trembled when she reached for the snack.

he just stays there.

because she’s always been the strong one—the dancer, the graceful one, the calm in his chaos. and now she needs someone to be that for her.

so he’s going to be. even if it just means sneaking in gummy bears and sitting beside her until she falls asleep again.

when he leaves later, he hides the empty wrappers at the bottom of the bin, like a secret only the two of them will ever know.

THE END :>

[lowkeyerror]

My Wife, My Everything

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Notes: Requested, established relationship, Rio in the coven, fluff, wedding

Summary: It's been over 300 years it might be time to put a ring on it.

An: 🫣 hey... how yall doing? It's nearly 3 months since my last post, it's also 3am. The inspiration came and died and then i got scared to go the app 🫣 idk if I'm back, but hey

Masterlist | Masterlist 2

It just made sense. That’s what you told yourself when you decided to propose to Agatha. She hadn’t hinted at wanting to get married or pressured you into it, but it had been years. Hundreds of years, that you had been committed to each other. You’d been married over and over if common law had anything to say about it.

You were in the backyard of your house late on night. Simply going down memory lane with each other. Sharing stories and laughter easily. Agatha was looking out at the sky while you were looking at her. The ring box flat in your pocket.

“We should get married,” you had said casually.

“Is this you asking me?” Agatha had an amused tone in her voice.

“Give me second.”

It’s not graceful as you get out of your chair. Her eyes follow you as you get down on one knee. Your hand finds one of hers.

“Are you-?”

She watches carefully as you pull out the ring box from your pocket. It opens, and inside is one of the most beautiful gems Agatha has laid her eyes on. The central diamond sparkles something fierce while the band also gleams.

“I think it’s fair to say that I’ve already made the decision to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s nearly been 3 centuries that we’ve been together.  Which perhaps makes this very long overdue, but neither of us are too keen on good timing. I don’t want to ramble too much. I did have all these things I wanted to say and express, but I think in the simplest terms, it’s just that I’d love to marry you.”

Agatha had tears welling in her eyes, she wiped them away dramatically, “I mean you could ramble a little.”

You roll your eyes but begin speaking nonetheless, “We never really talked about marriage so it never really crossed my mind. Recently though, I’ve been wondering, why not? Why not add, my wife into the vocabulary of all the other things I call you? It’s a new age, it’s perfectly legal. I decided a long time that I wanted forever with you and I'd like to think you want forever with me. This ring is just me doubling down on something I already believe in, us.”

She takes your face in her hands, “You’re taking my last name.”

You surge forward, lips pressing against her’s. Her soft palms feel warm against your face. You melt like it’s the first time you kissed her.

You pull away first a giggle escapes your lips, “I figured that much.”

She pecks your lips once more, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Wedding planning wasn’t something you and Agatha were necessarily good at. However, your coven was more than capable of handling the special day. It wasn’t going to be anything extravagant, just a backyard affair with your closest friends.

Rio handled the flowers, Jen and Billy worked on the set up, Alice was preparing the music, and Lilia would be officiating.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you look at yourself in your wedding attire.

The classic white color with accents of purple had you smiling.

“About time any longer and I would’ve stolen her back from you,” Rio approaches you from behind.

“Very funny Vidal,” you say dryly.

She turns you to her straightening out your clothes a bit, and fixing a loose strand of your hair. She smiles at you brightly, “There, now you look a little more ready to marry the love of your life.”

“Thank you, Rio. For all your help,” you get sappy with her.

In classic fashion she rolls her eyes, “Don’t go all soft on me. I just want to see my girls happy. Now get out there and make it official after 300 years.”

You go out first, standing to the right of Lilia as your other friends looked on. You couldn't stop the smile on your face waiting for Agatha to walk down the aisle.

Alice begins playing the classic wedding song. Your posture straightens a bit. When you see Agatha in her dress for the first time it knocks the air out of your lungs.

You don’t fight the tears that spill from your eyes. How could you? She was stunning possibly even more than the day you met her.

When she’s directly in front of you, you reach for her hands and she takes yours.

Lilia properly starts the ceremony and when she gets to the vows you’re prepared, but Agatha wants to go first.

“I never thought that someone like me could be afforded a happy ending. The life I lived is far from innocent and pure. It had been an uphill battle for as long as I could remember. Then you came into my life and did something that I didn’t think was possible. You loved me. Despite all of my… flaws, despite my reputation, despite my stubbornness, you loved me. There’s not a second that goes by that I don’t feel your loved wrapped around me. Something like a warm hug shielding me from a snowstorm. It doesn’t seem like enough, but from you it is. I vow to be that for you until my last breath because for over 300 years you’ve been saving me from freezing me to death."

It takes everything in you to keep from sobbing during her voes, your speech forgotten in your brain. You look into her eyes when it’s your turn, speaking from your heart.

“When I proposed I said I didn’t want to ramble, because if I started, I’d never stop. There’s nothing that I don’t love about you Agatha. I love when you scowl at the kids at the mall, I love when you use magic for mundane things like turning the lights on, I love when you hum to yourself while you work, I love when you yell at me for not wearing my glasses. You say that I’ve been saving you, but love, you’ve been saving my ass since the day we met. You quite literally saved me from those hunters, you took me in when you didn’t have to. When everyone was saying it was against your character. Maybe I saved your from freezing, but you’ve saved me from burning myself into the ground. I don’t have anything new to promise you after over 300 years. All I have is the same thing you’ve had since the beginning; my everything.”

There’s not a dry eye in the audience as you two stand across from each other. Tear streaks running down your faces. Even Lilia has to wipe her eyes.

“If anyone has a reason that these two shouldn’t be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Rio slowly pretends to raise her hand before Jen smacks her in the back of the head. It earns a chuckle from the audience, everyone knowing it was a joke. It was needed after such intense vows.

 “Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Neither of you hesitated. Though you had an audience there was no use in trying to hold back the passion. The vows had charged the moment. With rings on your fingers and tears on your face, you melted into each other.

Applause and boisterous cheers rang out when you parted. When you looked into her eyes it’s as if she was the only person there.

“I love you, my gorgeous, powerful, and brilliant wife,” you can’t help but smile while saying it.

Agatha lets out an endearing laugh, “I love you too. My wife, my everything.”

[whatifitis]

♡ for the better - OP 81 ♡

Summary: for the first time in your life, you were happy. you were loved. and now the person who loves you, may grow to resent you.

WC: 3318

CW: fluff, angst, spiraling a bit, not proofread

It started off as just being friends. A group of you were brought together by an interest you all had in common. But you two had managed to grow a special connection over the course of a month. It started as just a silent adventure between the two of you. Taking a walk together in the park, not talking, just enjoying the comfortable silence. Each walk in the park, he began to grow more comfortable and confident around you. He started picking flowers each walk, to tuck into your hair. He started to ask you more questions, to get to know you. 

One day, he stopped to look at you and said “Do you wanna go out?” with a shy smile.

You smiled brightly at him “Yeah, I'd love to.”

Your first date was something you’d never experienced. No one had ever put so much effort into you. He had set up a little picnic at the park you two frequented. There was a light green (your favorite color), checkered blanket on the ground. A top the blanket sat a picnic basket, packed with your favorite snacks, 2 painting canvases, paint brushes and some paints. To say you were overwhelmed would be an understatement. His simple actions meant so much to you. You never thought someone would be able to care for you as he did. 

He knelt down onto the blanket and reached out a hand, inviting you to sit by him. You took his hand and sat across from him. 

“This is so incredibly sweet. You didn’t have to go all out, I mean, it’s just me. It’s not like the Queen is coming… right?” you’d asked with a giggle.

He gave you a toothy grin and said “No, no, the Queen isn't coming. This is all for you. I tried to think of the best thing to do for a first date with you. You’re so amazing, I didn’t want to disappoint.”

“You could never disappoint me.” 

With that, you two began to eat the contents of the picnic basket. Both of you laughed and smiled, talking about the craziest things. One question that got you two riled up a bit was whether sprinkles were a seasoning. Who would’ve thought two people could debate for so long on the subject. But you had fun. 

Once the two of you had finished eating, you and Oscar began to paint each other. As you guys painted, loving glances were exchanged between you two. 

When you two had both finished painting, you took turns showing each other your works. 

“Alright,” Oscar started “Countdown from 3 and I’ll show you the masterpiece that I’ve just created, alright?”

“Alright, ready? 3, 2, ,1….” 

You burst out laughing at the sight of what you’ve been shown.

Oscar furrows his brows but can’t hide his smile “What? What’s so funny? It’s good!” he insists.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” you try to say through your laughing fit “but that’s so bad. I mean, what happened to my eyes? They look wonky, they’re 2 completely different sizes.”

“Well excuse me, Misses I have an art degree so I can tell people their blood, sweat and tears result in absolute shit.” he laughs with you.

“Come on, let’s see your supposed “masterpiece” now.” Oscar said.

You turn your canvas around and smile brightly at him. 

He’s stunned. He’s speechless. He’s ashamed of his painting of you. 

“Love, I- HOLY SHIT! This is amazing, baby! Oh my god we have to hang it up somewhere. My house, your house, a museum, the Met, THE LOUVRE.”

You’re laughing again, wiping the tears from your face. 

“It’s just a painting Oscar, it’s alright, no need to hang it anywhere. Especially not a museum darling.”

“Wrong. I’m keeping this and hanging it up at home.”

“Whatever you want, my love” you said, smiling fondly at him.

-=+=- 

One day, you and Oscar are chilling in the park. Oscar laying back on his arms while you lay your head across his stomach. The two of you sit, making idle conversation with each other for a few hours. 

“Y/n?” Oscar says, looking down at you. 

“Oscar?”

“I don’t want to lose you. I hope this never ends. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

You sit up to look him in the eyes properly.

“What’s going on? Why are you saying this?”

“I’m just in my feelings. But I’m serious, I love you Y/n. I love this feeling I get when I’m with you. I don’t know the word for it, or if there even is a word for it. But I know I always want to feel this way. You mean more to me than life, darling.” 

Your nose feels fuzzy, tears are forming in your eyes. You grab his hand and squeeze it three times. 

You give him a smile, “I love you, Oscar. You don’t know what you mean to me. Everything you’ve done for me, it means so fucking much. If I ever lose you, I don’t think I’d be able to live. Thank you, my love.” 

You two share a kiss. It’s soft and gentle, but at the same time, it feels urgent. You feel like you can’t stop, like you can’t let go, cause if you do, it’ll slip away. But you don’t, and you won’t. You’ll hold onto each other until your last dying breaths. Possibly even past death, you’ll have each other. 

-=+=-

“Has anyone seen Oscar?” You ask for what feels like the millionth time. 

Oscar has been missing for half an hour and no one can find him. He’s meant to be on the track in 15 minutes but he’s not answering his phone. 

You’ve been running around the paddock like a maniac, calling out his name. You don't have long til all the drivers are meant to be out on the paddock for the national anthem. 

You’re sprinting down the halls when something catches her eye. You stop and look to see a figure pacing back and forth in a dark corner. You know exactly who it is. 

You begin walking towards Oscar and stop 4 feet away from him. He’s too in his head to notice anyone is near him, so he keeps pacing with his head down. You walk to him, and grab both his hands in yours. You press your intertwined hands into his chest to try and ground him. 

Oscar is startled at first but once he sees it’s you, his face falls and he lets go of the tears he’s been holding. 

You immediately pull him into your arms, wrapping them around his neck and scratching the back of his neck softly. His arms wrap around your face and he nuzzles his face into your neck. You let him cry it out for a minute before speaking.

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

He sniffles as he says “Panic attack I think.”

“Do you know what brought this on?”

“I think I’m just tired. We’ve been working for so long, going from place to place every week. I just don’t think I’m performing as well as I should be. I’m not as put together and the fans have noticed. I hate letting them down and I just don’t know how to fix everything.”

“Baby,” you say as you grab the side of his face gently, wiping away some of his tears “The fans understand. You said it yourself, you guys have been put through the ringer as of late, especially with all the crazy regulations the FIA created. They know this and understand if you’re not as aggressive and calm as usual. You need to stop putting yourself down like this, love. Things happen, so we just have to manage.” 

“I know, but it’s hard. A lot of them travel from so far away just to see these races. They’re buying tickets, booking hotels and flights, just to watch us be the best. All for me to go up there and be a disappointment.”

“Hey, no. You’re not a disappointment, Oscar. You’re anything but that. You’re stubborn, stupid at times, and mental. But you’re not a disappointment. And I love you because of all that, okay?”

“Okay” he says, giving you a shy smile. 

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up and on the track for everyone to see your talents.” 

“Thank you, baby, for everything. I don’t deserve you.” 

“No need to thank me baby. If anyone is undeserving of the other, it’s me. I don’t know what I did to be able to have you in my life.”

With a quick kiss, you two set off to the Mclaren garage to help Oscar freshen up for the race. 

-=+=-

“Darling I told you, I can’t go. I’ve gotta meet Mark and some other guys. We have so much to do before we even think about renewing the contract. I don’t have time for this.” Oscar said whilst putting his shoes on.

“I asked you weeks ago if you could come. And you’d said yes. We’ve had this planned for ages. You can’t just dump our plans.”

“I can if it’s for work. This is something that I can’t ignore. This is my job. The thing I’ve been working towards my whole life. I have to get this stuff done.”

“You’ve been away from home every night for the past month. And you’re telling me you can’t just take one night off? Is that much more important than one night with your girlfriend?”

At this, Oscar stops and his face drops. He didn’t realize how you might have felt, that you’d felt like you came second. He realizes his neglect towards you and your feelings. He walks to you and holds your hands in his. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ve been treating you like shit, not taking into account how you feel. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll call Mark and cancel.” 

“No, Oscar. It’s okay. Go to the meeting.” you say softly. 

“No, no. we’re gonna do what we planned.” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket while simultaneously taking his shoes off. 

“Baby, you don’t have to. I was just a little upset. I’m okay now, you can go.”

“No, go get ready. I’ll call Mark, then we can go out like we planned.” he smiles at you, trying to make you feel better. 

“Are you sure? I’m fine with postponing. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal, you were hurt. We’re going, end of discussion.” he said as he kissed your head. 

That night, the two of you went out as you’d planned. You went and had lunch at a new restaurant you had been raving about to Oscar. He was happy to take you and was pleasantly surprised when the food turned out to be the best he’s ever had (of course not as good as your cooking). 

After lunch, the two of you took a walk in the park. You and Oscar walked hand in hand for ages. Enjoying the quiet breeze and the warming sun. During your walk, you two had discussed the origin of the argument that took place earlier and worked your way through it. With some compromising, you two felt better about the result of said argument. 

After your afternoon walk, you and Oscar headed home where he showed you exactly how sorry he was. And he didn’t use just his words. 

-=+=-

He’d been planning this for ages. Tonight was the night he’d ask to be yours forever. He’s been in love with you for ages. He can’t think of a better time to do this. 

“Baby? You ready to go?” Oscar asked you from the front door. 

“One second darling. I can’t get this shoe on.” 

“Do you need help?”

“No baby, I got it.” you said as you walked up to him. He’s never seen something so beautiful. You’re standing there in your favorite dress, some pieces of jewelry and a simple pair of heels. 

Oscar holds his hand out to you, and you immediately grab it, kissing him before walking out the door with him right behind you. 

-=+=- 

The two of you enjoy a nice dinner at a restaurant you and Oscar frequented. It was so nice to get out of the house and spend some time with Oscar. You’ve missed him a lot since he’s been away for work, but it’s what he loves to do. And you love seeing him happy. 

After dinner, the two of you take a walk in your favorite park. Walking, hand in hand, you ask Oscar “What do you think the meaning of life is?”

“42” he says laughing to himself.

“I’m being serious,” you laugh with him “what do you think it is?”

“I think it’s whatever you want it to be. It can be to find the end of space. It can be to find out where the megalodon went. It can be about finding the love of your life, your soulmate…. speaking of which.”

He stops where he is, moving to stand face to face with you and grabbing both your hands in his. 

oh shit

“Y/n, I have loved you for a long, long time. I’m not gonna lie and say it was love at first sight cause, ya know, that’s kind of crazy. But I will tell you that the second I laid my eyes on you, I was enchanted by you. And I was really hoping you weren’t in love with someone else, hoping you didn’t have someone waiting on you. Since the day we met, there was never a day where I didn’t think about you. I love you Y/n, so fucking much.”

He gets down on one knee while pulling a box from his pants pocket. He holds the box in both hands, presenting it to you and opening it. Inside was the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. He knew you weren’t a fan of traditional engagement rings that had a huge stone on the top. He knew you loved the rings that looked as if they were created in a magical land, far far away, crafted by the most powerful jewelers of the land. 

“Y/n L/n, will you do me the honor of allowing me to be your husband?”

You stood there motionless with your hands covering your mouth that had been hanging open since he began his speech. Tears were streaming down your face. You couldn’t believe it. He actually want to marry you? He loves you that much? How did you get so lucky to find your person?

“Are you sure? Like really sure?” you’d said.

“Yes I’m really sure darling. You are the love of my life. I want to spend forever with you.” 

Tears are streaming down his face too. The anticipation is killing him. 

“Yes. Yes, I want to marry you too.” you finally say.

“Oh my god! I love you so much darling, thank you so much.” he said as he began to stand up. 

Once he was standing straight up, he pulled the ring out of the box and put it in your ring finger. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled you impossibly closer. Neither of you stopped or let go for ages. You guys were it for each other. There would never be anyone else. 

-=+=-

it’s for the better 

i know it’s for the better

it’s for the better

You were pacing the living room that you shared with Oscar. Your bags were already packed and in the car. 

You couldn’t let Oscar go through with this. You couldn’t let him do this to himself. He deserves to marry someone better. Better than you. You love him so much, but you weren’t enough for him. You didn’t want to bring Oscar down with you.

You continued pacing the living room, waiting for him to come back home. You feel so sick like you could throw up. Your heart is racing and your hands are shaking. You didn’t want to let him go, but it would be selfish to hold onto him, when he could do a lot better than you. 

The sound of the front door caught your attention. Oscar was home. You stood there in the middle of the living room, fighting your hands.

“Darling, I’m home.” he’d called out from the front entrance.

He walked into the living room to see you standing there, pain and sadness written all over your face. 

“Hey darling, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” he said as he walked to you. 

“We need to talk.”

“Alright, what’s going on?”

You took a moment, trying to find the strength to say it. 

“We- need to break up.”

“What? Why? Did something happen?”

“No, I just think it will be best for the both of us.” 

“You’re confusing me darling, what do you mean “better for the both of us?”’

“I mean, you deserve something better. Someone better. I can’t be that for you. I can’t give you everything you deserve. I love you too much to hold you back. So I’m letting you go. I’ve already got everything packed, I’ll be going.”

“What? No. No, we’re not breaking up. Y/n, I love you. I don’t want to lose you. You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. You’re what’s best for me. You’re what I want. You give me everything I could ever need or want. There’s no one I’d rather be with.”

A tear slips loose and runs down your cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Oscar. But I have to let you go. You’ll be miserable if you stay with me. I need you to be happy, even if it’s without me. I’ll always be there to support you for everything. I just can’t be the one right next to you, with you. I won’t let you do this to yourself. Goodbye, Oscar.”

You begin to walk out the door as Oscar starts to plead, asking you to stay. 

“Y/n, please don’t go. If you need some space and time to think then I’ll give that to you. You can stay here and I’ll stay with Lando or something. We can get through this, darling.”

You kept walking out the door, towards your car. Oscar was running after you. As you began to get into the car, Oscar ran up to the window to try and convince you to stop.

“Baby, please talk to me.”

He’s crying now. Tears upon tears were streaming down his face. He was begging you.

“Baby, please. If it was something that I said or did then I’ll fix it. I promise, I’ll fix everything. Just please don’t go. I need you.”

“Oscar, please let go.” you say weakly. “You have to let me go.”

“No. I won’t. I don’t want to live without you. I can’t live without you. Please don’t go.”

“I’m sorry”

And with that, you put the car in drive and made your way out of the driveway of your once shared home. You didn’t have the strength to look in the rear view mirror. You didn’t have the strength to see him. 

-=+=-

Once you got to the hotel room you had booked for the week, you dropped your bags and just started sobbing. You can’t believe you let him go. You already regret it but he does deserve better. So much better than you. He’ll find someone. You know it. 

You can wish all you want, but it won’t bring you two together. 

All you can do is repeat the same things over and over, trying to convince yourself that…

it’s for the better

it’s for the better

it’s for the

for the better

i know it’s for the better

know for it’s the better

for the better

the better.

[k1mbe3rly]

hi dear I hope you’re doing well.

could you please make a sieun x reader where sieun is envious cuz the reader (his gf) is getting too close to suho. thank you!

Jealousy looks good on you

warnings: smut,

Ever since you and suho met each other y’all were quick to become best friends as well, he even taught you a bit of fighting moves and third wheels you and Sieun, but lately it’s like sieun is third wheeling you both, Sieun was quick to notice you and Suho closeness and how quickly y’all connected, he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous because of it. At first he was gonna ignore but he couldn’t

After having lunch with both of them, Suho had to go to his job leaving you and Sieun alone, you smiled softly wrapping your arm around his arm while walking home, you groaned “Ughhh i’m so full! are you?” you said making a conversation, he looked over at you and just nodded looking foward, you raised an eyebrow “Are you okay Sieun? why the long face?” you said with a cheeky smile pointing his cheek, he gently shoved your hand away, “I’m fine..just thinking.” he said plainly

“About?” you asked him still looking up at him, he hesitated to tell you and just shaked his head, once yall arrived to his place it’s been a tiny bit awkward, still noticing his plain expression, “Are you sure your okay? what’s wrong?” you asked him, he sighed softly, “What’s going on between you and suho..yall been, i don’t know hanging out a lot?” he simply asked, you raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean? we’re just good friends” you told him, “You sure about that?” he said with no hesitation, than realization hit you, he was jealous as you smirked a bit, “Why? jealous Sieun?” you teased

He just stared at him his back against the headboard, you crawled on his lap, “You have no reason to be jealousss, i’ve never seen you jealous, it’s look good on you..” you whispered to him, he got a bit flustered, “Seriously tho. What’s going on?” he asked again, “Nothing, i swear, i’ll distant myself for you baby” you said kissing his cheek

He hummed a bit, you than kissed him which he kissed you back, his hands slightly going to your hips, you slightly pushed your tongue in his mouth which made him grunt in surprise, but he went along with it, your tongue on his dancing around it, finally pulling back you took off your own shirt, his eyes soften at your body admiring it, your hand took his off which he didn’t resist, “I’ll make sure you never feel jealous again okay..?” you told him as he just nodded feeling excited

His hands exploring your body, he then unhooks your bra letting your bra fall off. You lifted up a bit to slide down your pants as he watches, his breath going heavy a bit as he realizes he should undress too quickly fumbling with his pants and pulling them down as well, he waited until he saw you take off your panties to take his boxers off, which was right after your pants were off

He quickly removes his boxers, positioning you directly above his cock, he slowly lowers you down onto his length, filling you completely with one smooth thrust, you moaned softly, as he let out a tiny noise at the sudden hot and tight feeling, as you begin slowly riding him, his hands begin roaming over your stomach and chest possessively, slowly guiding you as well, his cock hitting all the right spots nice and slowly, soft moans falling out your mouth, while riding him you kissed all over his face making sure he feels completely loved and that nothing is happening

You slowly picked up the pace, his eyes closing and his mouth opening slightly, enjoying the feeling of you doing all the work, “I’ll make sure you feel good okay? you just sit there” you whispered to him as he just nodded, he was practically hugging you, his arms around your waist and your chest on his chest, his face in your neck moaning softly, as you pick up the pace again, his whines become more frequent. He loves how you're treating him so gently

You paused for a moment steadying him, wanting him to be able to cum, you slowly bounced on him, second by second going faster, he moaned out feeling your ass crash down onto his hips as you kept going faster, he watches your boobs bounce with your movements, he tilts his head back, a loud moan escaping his lips as you bounce faster on him. His fingers clutch desperately at your thighs, his nails leaving marks. His hands move up to your bouncing hips, trying to slow you down but your relentless pace makes his arms weak, “Just wanna make you cum..” you moaned to him as he nodded feeling his orgasm build up

You started moaning as well feeling your orgasm build as well, his hands move to the bed sheets quickly clawing at the bed sheets, “Oh my-.. i’m gonna- i’m gonna cum!” he whimpered out, you tried to speed up as you suddenly came on him, your cum making a mess on his cock as he looked down biting his lip, watching as his length disappears in and out, he moans loudly as he also cums, you panted stopping

Both of yall taking a breath as you fell onto him hugging him slightly, “Feeling better..?” you asked him, he nodded as a small smile formed on his face being glad to have you with him.

[hannahsturniolo]

ᴄʜʀɪs ғɪɴᴅs ᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀɴ ᴏʀɢᴀsᴍ

Warnings: fingering, kissing, first ever orgasm, praise? Kinda

Summary: Chris is your best friend, and while watching a movie, a sex scene comes on, and he sees how uncomfortable you are, and asks you about it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You’re sitting next to Chris watching a movie, when all of a sudden a sex scene comes on.

Your heart stops. You didn’t want to watch a sex scene in front of him, that’s just weird.

So you pulled out your phone, and he notices.

“I can skip this scene if you want” he laughed.

You just looked at him and laughed. “It’s okay, I just won’t watch.”

“Why are you so uncomfortable with it? We’re not watching porn together, it’s just a simple little sex scene” he asked looking right at you.

“It’s nothing. I just… I don’t wanna talk about it” you replied shyly.

“It’s not like something you’ve never done before, it’s a natural part of a relationship.”

“I just don’t want to talk about it Chris- I just-“ you tried to talk, but he cut you off.

“You’ve never- uh had sex have you?” He asked.

Your heart raced, your heart stopped. You didn’t know what to say.

“Ummm.. no- I haven’t” you said shyly, looking away from him embarrassed.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Is there a reason you haven’t, you were in a relationship last year, you guys didn’t have sex?” He asked.

“No- we- we didn’t. He didn’t want to be with someone who was inexperienced, and when I told him I’ve never had- um- an orgasm before, he just didn’t want to be with someone who experienced nothing, ya know?” You said with your head down into your chest.

“You- you’ve never had an orgasm before?” He asked, moving closer to you.

You just shook your head.

“Not even, like by yourself?” He asked shyly.

“No.. I just haven’t been able to figure it out. What makes me feel good you know? Like I’ve tried fingering myself, but my fingers aren’t long enough to hit the right spot, and I- I don’t even know why I’m telling you this Chris. I’m sorry.” You kept your head down.

“No need to apologize. Would y-you want your first orgasm?”

“Yeah.. I mean I’ve wanted it for years just couldn’t get there.” Your cheeks were turning rosy pink, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Chris- would you want to try? Y-you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m just curious.” You replied. Not looking at him, scared he’s gonna freak out saying you’re just best friends.

“Sure.” Chris said. You looked over at him and his cheeks were also very pink. “If you’re comfortable with that”

You just shook your head yes.

Chris moved closer to you so he was right beside you on the couch. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” He said leaning in.

You leaned into his kiss. It was a soft, and gentle kiss. And you felt him putting his arm behind your waist pulling you in closer.

The kiss turned passionate pretty quick.

He pulled away from the kiss. You laid back on the couch.

He passed you a pillow to put under your head. “You’ll be more comfortable if you have a pillow to lay on” he smiled.

He gently pulled down your pants and underwear.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

You nodded.

He spread your legs apart gently. He was looking down at you like you were the most beautiful human in the world.

“You’re s-so beautiful” he said looking down at you with a gentle smile.

All you could do was smile. You were so nervous, your lower half exposed to Chris.

He started rubbing up and down your thighs, “take a deep breath, relax.”

You took a deep breath, trying to quiet down all of your thoughts that were going through your head.

“Are you okay if I touch you now?” He asked shyly.

all you could do was nod because of how nervous you were.

He reaches down, his right thumb on your clit while the other hand is rubbing up and down your thigh, hoping to relax you.

You jolted at the contact. “Breathe” he said with a warm soft voice.

He rubbed your clit in small lazy gentle circles. He felt you were getting a little wet. He took that as a good sign.

He started by putting one finger in your pussy, and you winced in pain.

He gently moved it in and out. “Remember, deep breaths it’s okay. We can stop at anytime if you’d like.” He reassured you.

He then noticed you weren’t making a face like you were in pain anymore, so he slipped a second finger in.

Again, you winced in pain, gripping the blanket below you. He kept rubbing his hand up and down your thigh.

But slowly, that pain turned into pleasure. He continued his thumb on your clit, and the 2 fingers hooking inside of you.

“Does this feel good?” Chris whispered.

“Yeah.. it does” you said shyly.

You seen Chris smirk.

It took a couple minutes for you to really feel the pleasure, and your body was jolting in front of him.

“It’s okay sweetheart, don’t be shy to express how you’re feeling?” He said reassuring you.

It felt so good, but you were so shy to let out the sounds that you were holding back.

It started to feel realllly good. You let out a soft moan, and your face twisted in pleasure.

“There you go, let it all out. It’s a safe space” he giggled.

He continued rubbing your clit and fingering you.

All of a sudden you felt something in your stomach you’ve never felt before.

“Chris… I think it’s going to happen. But I don’t know, I feel so-something I’ve never felt before in my tummy” you breathed out heavily.

He continued the same speed and motions he was doing because he knew you were almost there.

He felt you keep clenching on his fingers.

“I know baby, I feel you clenching my fingers” he said smiling down at you.

You felt your body going warm, knowing that it was probably an orgasm.

All of a sudden you felt insane pleasure you’ve never felt before, and an explosion feeling go off in your tummy.

You started shaking uncontrollably letting out soft moans.

Chris just kept doing what he was doing, and helped you ride out your high.

You just kept letting out soft moans, and you looked up at Chris and he was grinning.

You felt the pleasure slow down, and your body feeling warm and relaxed.

He pulled out his fingers, and smiled.

“That was definitely an orgasm sweetheart. You were squirming.” He said giggling, “how did that feel?”

“G-great” you said trying to breathe but you were still heavy breathing from experiencing your first orgasm.

“You did so amazing, you took my fingers so well.” Your tummy turned when he said that. Instant butterflies.

“I kind of want to do that again.” You said laughing.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[mintyys-blog]

hai! Can you do Nicole! Or Jecka! Reader with Mark variants? From class of 09 🤭🤭‼️‼️‼️

HEADCANONS | mark variants with Nicole or Jecka! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: smoking, swearing

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

MAIN MARK

Mark never fully understood what drew him to you. Maybe it was how you laughed at things you shouldn’t. Maybe it was the way you always said what everyone else was too scared to. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because despite your dark humor and unapologetically brutal mouth, you never once lied about who you were.

You were curled on the couch in one of his hoodies, makeup smudged, eyes bored as you scrolled through your phone. “Some girl on Twitter just said you’re the reason half of Chicago is dead. She’s not wrong.”

Mark looked up from the kitchen, confused. “Are… are you okay?”

You turned slowly to him with a smirk, “I’m fine, boy scout. Why? Gonna cry if I say something mean again?”

“No,” he muttered. “You’re just—You’re a lot sometimes.”

“Good,” you replied with a wink. “Be more worried if I start acting soft. That’s how you know I’ve been kidnapped or lobotomized.”

You didn’t flirt like other girls. You insulted him and then smirked when his ears turned red. You were quick-witted, toxic as hell, and had zero interest in playing the role of doting girlfriend. But when he was injured, when he dragged himself home bloody and half-conscious, you always patched him up. You always made sure he ate. You cussed him out the whole time, but he never missed how your hands trembled while stitching him back together.

“I don’t need your help,” he said once.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, and I don’t need birth control, but here we are making bad decisions together.”

For all your venom, you never made him feel unsafe. Even when you called every man a walking red flag, even when you mocked him for getting teary during a movie—you still climbed into bed beside him every night. You were fire. And sometimes he burned, but God, he couldn’t stop coming back.

SINISTER MARK

Sinister Mark was used to liars, manipulators, and people who smiled sweetly before stabbing him in the back. But you? You were different.

You never hid what you were.

You called yourself a sociopath in the first ten minutes of meeting him. Made a joke about how you only cry when your dealer dies. When Mark raised an eyebrow, you just gave him a crooked grin and said, “At least I’m honest about it.”

He found you fascinating.

Not because you were evil. He’d met evil. He was evil.

No—you were comfortable with your darkness. You wore it like silk. Made it look glamorous and sharp all at once.

“Your eyes are twitching,” you said one evening, stretched across his couch in a stolen Viltrumite cloak like it was just another thrift store piece. “You thinking about murdering a planet again, or are you mad that I flirted with the bartender to get a free drink?”

He didn’t answer. He was still watching you.

“You’re so fucking creepy,” you laughed. “I like it.”

Sinister Mark wasn’t the kind of man who coddled or doted. But he let you talk. Let you unravel your venomous thoughts without flinching. Most people would’ve tried to fix you—he just let you be.

You toyed with his knives, walked barefoot around blood-soaked floors, and made ruthless jokes at the worst possible times. And when he called you out on it?

“You think I care about moral high grounds? Babe, I’m dating a guy who vaporized a school bus.”

The truth was—he trusted you.

You didn’t have morals, but you had rules. You never lied to him. You never betrayed him. You treated him like a weapon to be admired, not feared. And for someone who was used to being a monster under the bed?

That kind of devotion was addicting.

He didn’t say I love you. You didn’t either. But the moment you laughed while stitching him up, whispering “Don’t die, asshole, you owe me dinner”—he realized he wouldn’t let anyone else have you.

Ever.

MOHAWK MARK

Mark was the emperor of the Viltrumite Empire now—but none of that meant anything to her. She sat on the throne’s armrest in ripped tights, a wrinkled band tee of MSI barely hanging off her shoulder, and a cigarette between her fingers. He didn’t like the smell, but he let her have it. She was one of the only things that still made him feel anything other than rage.

“Shouldn’t you be interrogating someone or vaporizing a planet?” she asked lazily, her pupils slightly blown from whatever she’d taken an hour ago. “I’m bored.”

Mark’s fingers tightened on the armrest, but not from anger. It was restraint. Every time she looked at him with those indifferent eyes, that tired smirk—it reminded him that she wasn’t afraid of him. Not really. And he liked it. Needed it.

“Maybe I wanted to see you instead.”

“Ew,” she snorted. “Cringe.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling her effortlessly onto his lap. She didn’t resist, just exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, still smirking.

“You’re gonna ruin your lungs.”

“And you’re gonna ruin the galaxy. Guess we’re both problematic.”

He chuckled under his breath, running a hand along her bare thigh. “You didn’t answer my message last night.”

“I was busy,” she lied, easily. “Nicole had another freak-out over some dude trying to text her ‘good morning.’ We had to spiritually hex him.”

“Nicole’s psychotic.”

Y/N turned to look at him. “And you’re not?”

Touché.

He didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he kissed her—tasting smoke, lipstick, and the chemical tinge of something that probably wasn’t legal on Earth anymore.

She leaned back with a lazy smile, one hand curling behind his neck. “You gonna marry me or what, Emperor?”

He blinked. “Was that a proposal?”

She popped a pill from a little case in her bra, swallowed it dry, and shrugged. “Nah. Just gauging your reaction.”

He laughed. “I hate you.”

“Love you too, baby.” And somehow, she meant it. In her own messy, numbed-out way.

VILTRUMITE MARK

The silence in the room wasn’t peaceful. It was loud. Thick with tension.

Mark stood across from you, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed in suspicion—or maybe frustration. You couldn’t tell. You were too busy lighting a cigarette, one leg casually crossed over the other as you sat on the countertop in his home. Your home now, apparently. Not that you gave a shit.

“Can you not do that in here?” he said tightly, waving his hand at the smoke cloud.

You took a long drag anyway. “And you can punch a guy’s face off, but my Marlboro Light is the problem?”

“You’re going to destroy your body.”

You snorted. “Bit late for lectures, Daddy Warblood. We passed destruction like four exits ago.”

Mark moved closer. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

You flicked ash into a glass. “So am I. You didn’t fall in love with a nun. You picked me.” You tilted your head, smirking with venom. “Unless you’re regretting that.”

Mark glared. “You know I’m not.”

“Then what’s the issue?” you said, hopping off the counter, leaning into his space like you weren’t talking to a genetically perfect super predator. “That I talk shit? That I don’t simper and coo like your little Earth girls? That I know how to make a grown man cry and piss himself in one sentence?”

He didn’t move when you pressed a finger against his chest.

“I’m not soft. I’m not sweet. I’m not your dead mom’s idea of a wife. But I’m real.”

Mark stared at you. You could see it behind his expression—he didn’t always understand you. Hell, he probably didn’t even trust you fully. But you weren’t here to be trusted.

You were here to be feared. Loved. Broken maybe, but beautifully so.

And for all your filth, your cruelty, your manipulation—he never raised a hand to you. Never hurt you. Because some twisted part of him liked it. Liked you.

“You’re reckless,” he finally muttered.

You grinned. “And you’re into it.”

He kissed you then, harsh and possessive, like he was trying to shut you up with his mouth.

Didn’t work. But it was a good start.

OMNI MARK

Omni Mark didn’t understand her.

Not in the way most people claimed to “not get girls”—no. He was a being that had lived centuries, had studied humans, ruled them, ended them. And yet… Y/N—dressed in a pleated skirt, MSI blaring from the busted speaker in the corner, cigarette tucked between her fingers like it belonged there—was a complete enigma.

“You’re smoking again,” he muttered, voice low and unimpressed, standing in the doorway with his arms folded.

Y/N exhaled slowly, then lazily glanced over her shoulder. “And you’re breathing again. Guess we both have addictions, huh?”

She grinned as he stepped forward.

“You’re going to destroy your lungs,” he said, tone flat.

She looked up at him from the couch, her makeup a little smudged from the night before, a pill bottle sitting open beside her. “I mean, if the warlord I’m screwing isn’t killing me, I gotta get creative.”

“You call that creativity?” he shot back dryly, eyeing the mix of medications and the ashtray.

But she just patted the seat beside her. “You knew what you were getting into, Viltrumite Daddy.”

He ignored the nickname. Always did.

Omni Mark never said much about her habits—he’d erase her stash, toss the pills, demand she eat instead of pop a bar—but never yell. He wasn’t a yeller. He was worse—controlled. Cold. And yet, there was a strange protectiveness in the way he watched her—especially when she slept, or when she mumbled his name during a bad trip.

“Sit,” she said more softly this time. “I’ll switch to edibles or whatever if it’ll make you stop hovering.”

He sat beside her, one hand resting on her thigh—not possessive, just grounding.

“You are… volatile,” he muttered.

“Mm. So are nukes,” she replied, nuzzling into his side. “But people worship those too.”

He glanced down at her—eyeliner smudged, fingers trembling slightly from the high, and a playlist of angry electropunk pouring from her phone—and said nothing.

But he didn’t leave. He never did.

NO GOGGLES MARK

There was blood on the floor again.

Not yours. Not his.

Just another idiot who thought they could mouth off to you in front of him.

You were wiping a smear off your cheek with the back of your hand, smirking as you stepped over the crumpled body. The twitching was slowing down. Good. You hated when they made noise for too long.

“You didn’t even let me finish my sentence,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder at him.

Mark was leaning against the doorframe, hands still bloodied, his expression unreadable under the splatter. His lips twitched, like he might smile—but with him, who could tell?

“You said you wanted a quiet night,” he said flatly. “So I shut him up.”

You clicked your tongue, flicking a piece of brain matter off your boot. “I meant dinner and maybe fucking on the couch while something burns in the oven. Not murder in the goddamn foyer.”

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, looking down at you like a predator sizing up something just as sharp. Just as dangerous.

“But you liked it,” he murmured, his voice deep and calm. “Don’t lie to me.”

You met his stare. Didn’t blink. “I loved it.”

And it was true.

You weren’t like his other versions of Y/N. You didn’t gasp when he tore someone apart. You didn’t flinch at the violence or beg him to stop. You egged him on. You lit the match. Sometimes you handed him the knife.

And when you did it yourself? He watched. Intrigued. Turned on.

The two of you weren’t in love. Not really.

It was something darker. Something fucked up. A deep need to hurt and be hurt. To own each other in a way that was just shy of ruin.

“You ever get bored of this,” you whispered, pulling his shirt by the collar and pressing against him, “you better kill me. Because I’m not letting you go.”

He stared at you.

Then laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

for some reason I found it really hard to write both Nicole’s and Jeckas personalities— so they aren’t the most accurate.

[skzstarl0ver]

I know you did a long distance Felix but can you maybe do an in person one. It would make me really happy. and if you would allow me I'd love to reblog it if you do. But over all I absolutely love your work ♡

if you do accept my request please make sure to tag me if you can.

Love, Ember_Fires ♡

ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

Hii @emberfiresbitchy I wasn't 100% sure what kind of fic you prefer so I just mixed a little bit of smut and fluff, I hope you like it xx

Lee Felix x reader / classmates to lovers / slow burn / smut / fluff / one shot

**involves!!** sex, strong tension, cursing, teasing, dirty talk

enjoy xx (request open)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

There’s a rule in our class that everyone hates, except for maybe two people.

Every Friday, Ms. Jang makes us add one song to the shared class playlist. She says it “fosters emotional intelligence and communal bonding through sound.” I say it’s just a way to expose everyone’s deeply embarrassing music taste.

But fine. Whatever.

At first, it was funny. Someone added “Barbie Girl” ironically, another added a 12-minute Norwegian death metal track that played at full volume while we were doing worksheets. But then..

The first time I notice it, I’m curled up in my dorm bed at midnight, trying not to cry over a theory exam I definitely failed. The shared playlist starts auto-playing, and instead of some chaotic EDM garbage or meme audio clip, it’s… soft.

Lo-fi. Gentle. Intimate.

The lyrics?

“I keep noticing you.” “How you laugh. How you lean back in your chair like you own the world.” “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

The title is even worse: “if you knew what i felt, would you smile?”

My heart clenches.

I glance at the username. felixlee

We barely talk. He sits a few seats behind me in class, always in hoodies, always with that quiet, raspy voice that makes you want to lean in closer. He laughs easily. Smiles like he means it.

We’ve had small talk about—coffee machines, shitty printers, dumb assignments—but never anything real.

So why does this song feel like a secret he accidentally let slip?

The next week, he adds another one. And then another. Every Friday night like clockwork, after everyone else has already dropped their songs, he adds his: quiet confessions buried in dreamy lyrics.

“You smile at me like I matter. I don’t think you know what you do to me.”

I don’t say anything. I pretend I don’t notice.

But I do.

I start listening alone in my room, legs tangled in blankets, headphones in, heart in my throat.

I start looking at him differently, too.

The way he drums on his desk absentmindedly. The way his hair flops into his eyes. The way he’s started waiting at the classroom door for me.

I tell myself it’s a coincidence.

But when I laugh too hard one day and glance behind me, he’s staring.

And smiling.

We get paired for a midterm project.

Three weeks of working together. Study sessions. Shared notes. Coffee runs. Him leaning over my shoulder to look at my screen. Me catching his scent—clean and warm and a little vanilla—and pretending it doesn’t do things to me.

He teases me constantly.

“You always chew your pen when you’re stuck. It’s cute.”

“Is that a playlist of sad girl indie music? On brand.”

“You gonna steal another one of my pens?”

I roll my eyes. I call him annoying. I think about kissing him every goddamn day.

It finally breaks one night, deep into our last project session.

We're sitting side by side on the floor of an empty practice room, laptop between us, snacks spread out, low music playing from his speaker.

“I like your taste in music,” I say casually.

He glances at me. “Yeah?”

I nod. “I’ve been listening to your playlist songs.”

A pause.

His voice drops, quiet. “What do you think they’re about?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. “Someone you like?”

He looks at me. His eyes are soft and unreadable. “Yeah. Someone I’ve liked for a while.”

My breath catches.

He leans closer.

The air between us snaps.

And then he kisses me.

It’s soft. Gentle. Warm.

His lips move against mine slowly, like he’s giving me time to pull away.

I don’t.

I kiss him back—harder, messier. My hands in his hoodie. His fingers sliding into my hair.

We’re breathing into each other’s mouths, flushed and panting, when he pulls back just enough to whisper, “Do you wanna—?”

“Yes.”

We stumble into his dorm thirty minutes later, soaked in rain and adrenaline.

He shuts the door behind us, then pins me to it—gently, hands braced beside my head. He kisses me again, slower this time. His tongue slides against mine and I groan softly.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he breathes.

My shirt is gone before I realize it. His hoodie follows. I run my hands down his chest, and he shivers under my touch.

He lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the bed and lays me down like I’m something delicate. Then he kneels between my thighs and just looks at me.

“Been thinking about this for weeks,” he murmurs, fingers sliding under my waistband.

I whimper. “Then stop teasing.”

He grins—and pulls everything off me.

His mouth on me is heaven.

He licks slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on mine while he holds my hips in place. I moan shamelessly when he flicks his tongue just right. His name slips from my lips like prayer.

When I come, it’s with his fingers inside me and his tongue still working my clit.

He climbs up my body after, kissing his way up my stomach, chest, throat, lips. “You okay?” he asks softly, voice hoarse.

“Condom,” I whisper.

He grabs one from the drawer. Rolls it on. Lines himself up—

And sinks into me with a groan that sounds like he’s been holding it in forever.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, forehead pressed to mine. “You feel so good.”

He moves slowly at first. Deep, languid strokes that leave me gasping. He holds my hands above my head, kisses my mouth every time I moan. It’s not rushed. It’s not just sex.

It’s him saying everything the playlist couldn’t.

When I come again, I cry out his name. He kisses me through it, whispering how beautiful I look, how much he likes me, how he can’t believe he finally has me like this.

He follows right after—hips stuttering, breath catching, forehead pressed to mine like he never wants to let go.

We lie tangled in his sheets after, sweaty and breathless.

His arm is wrapped around my waist. I’m tucked into his chest. He kisses my forehead and murmurs, “You know they were all about you, right?”

I smile against his skin.

“I do now.”

The next morning, he adds a new song to the playlist.

“your name tastes better than coffee.”

And that’s when the class group chat blows up.

I feel like this one was kinda short but I still hope you liked it xx