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glowettee · 20 days ago

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✧ girlblogging saved my life | tribute to girlbloggers of tumblr

💌 a love letter to the girls who feel everything all at once

hi angel. mindy here.

i just want to talk to you for a second. not as a persona, not as a brand, not even as a blog, but as a girl who started typing into a blank text box one day and never stopped.

because the truth is, i didn’t make this blog because i was healed. i made it because i was hurting.

and somewhere between the aesthetic pinterest photos, the late-night diary entries, the posts that only got 3 notes, the 2am reblogs of girls who looked like soft versions of my pain... i found something. i found you.

✿

i didn’t know i was creating a life raft when i made this blog. but looking back, i can see it so clearly now: i was a girl who needed a safe place to feel everything. to be too much, too emotional, too ambitious, too dreamy. irl, i felt like i was being graded for everything, my appearance, my intelligence, my tone of voice, even the way i sat in a chair. everything had to be curated and clean and perfect.

but on here? on tumblr? i could fall apart in lowercase.

i could write things like “i feel like a forgotten ballerina in a dusty theater” and no one would ask me if i was okay. they’d just reblog it with “me too.” and somehow, that felt more healing than any conversation i’d ever had.

✿

girlblogging didn’t just save my life. it gave me one.

a life where i could romanticize my flashcards, where healing could look like claw clips and classical music and drinking water in a wine glass. a life where i could turn loneliness into poetry and ambition into art. a life where i wasn’t just surviving... i was curating, creating, soft-launching a girl i had always dreamed of being.

i started girlblogging when i didn’t have the words for what i was feeling. but now i know, it was grief. it was burnout. it was self-abandonment. and slowly, one pink post-it thought at a time, i started writing my way back to myself.

✿

when people ask what girlblogging even is, i just smile. because it’s not something you can explain in one sentence. it’s something you feel.

it’s the way you post blurry photos of your eyeliner because it makes you feel powerful. it’s the way you build entire personalities out of fictional girls like spencer hastings, wonyoung, cher horowitz, and elle woods. it’s the way you turn your trauma into templates and your survival into routines. it’s how we whisper “you’re not alone” to each other through digital scraps of diaries, gifs, playlists, and checklists titled ✧ how to feel like yourself again.

girlblogging is archiving your girlhood in real-time. and i think that’s the most radical thing we’ve ever done.

✿

i’ve met girls here who are quiet geniuses. girls who write like moonlight. girls who study like the world is ending. girls who’ve taught me how to rest, how to flirt with life again, how to turn breakdowns into soft resets. girls who made me feel seen in a way real life never did.

and the best part? they’re just like me. just like you. we’re all here, in this glittery corner of the internet, building worlds from our bedrooms, lighting candles for each other, sending each other healing in the form of moodboards and poetry and routines.

this is a community of unspoken survival. we never say it directly. we just post something beautiful and hope someone else recognizes the ache behind it.

and we do. every time.

✿

so this is my love letter. to you. to the girlbloggers. to the dreamers who stayed up late to make a new aesthetic header even though they had homework. to the girls who reblogged posts about self-worth while silently trying to believe them. to the ones who took notes like it was an artform. to the ones who healed in lowercase and sparkles. to the ones who are still learning how to love themselves in soft, sustainable ways.

you saved me. girlblogging saved me. you taught me how to live again.

and i just want to say... whatever you’re going through, you’re not weird for needing this space. you’re not cringey for making everything an aesthetic. you’re not “too much” for feeling everything at once.

you’re just a girl in the middle of becoming. and that’s a sacred thing.

never let the world convince you that softness isn’t powerful. it is. it always has been.

✿

so keep posting your little poems and guides. keep updating your theme at 1am. keep reblogging things that feel like you. because maybe girlblogging isn’t about being seen. maybe it’s about seeing yourself for the first time in forever.

and maybe that’s enough.

tributed to all the girlblogging community on tumblr + these amazing creators/girlbloggers:

@prettieinpink

@honeytonedhottie

@b3byd0ll

@thegirlingold

@dollywons

@agirlwithglam

@cantmakeitonmyown

@bunnysdollette

@maxiglow

@malusokay

@girljournal

@bloomzone

@4theitgirls

@milkoomi

@realprissygirl

~ mindy ♡

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thedilfdiaries · 2 months ago

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I can't hear it now

acacius x f!reader // 3.6k

summary: A love that was never meant to be. A choice that was never truly yours to make. Acacius was never yours to keep, yet in the dark of night, beneath the weight of duty and desire, he was yours still. For stolen moments, for whispered names, for aching hands tracing the lines of something fleeting, something doomed.

But love does not always mean staying. And when his words reach you at last—words of longing, of regret, of a desperate plea—will you go to him? Or will you let the fire consume him, the way he has already consumed you?

warnings: mdni, 18+, alludes to smut, acacius is married, forbidden love, this is pure angst like I hurt myself writing this lol I wanted it to hurt real bad... I am sorry.

notes: this is for Freya's @almostfoxglove 's angst challenge. this was my moodboard. I have not written for Acacius at all so please be gentle with me. The moodboard and song Freya so kindly created and linked really gave me an idea instantly so thank you for giving me such a beautiful idea, this was probably the easiest I've ever plotted out a fic before and it's all thanks to your creative genius. Big thank you to my baby @thundermartini as always for being my biggest cheerleader, reading this over for me and always assuring me. how could I ever write anything without you? I love you so much <3 and big thank yous to my other cheerleaders for always supporting me big time @itwasntimethatdidit40 @sawymredfox and @myownwholewildworld I love you all so so so much <3

masterlist

The room lay bathed in shadow, the moonlight slipping through the narrow slats of the shutters, casting silver bands across the floor. The air was thick—heavy with the mingled scents of sweat and skin. Distant voices carried from the villa beyond, but they were meaningless here, swallowed by the hush of this stolen moment.

Acacius’ hands found you, firm and unrelenting as he pressed you against the cool stone wall. His tunic hung loose, its ties undone, revealing the golden plane of his chest, glistening in the dim glow. His lips were warm upon your throat, tracing a path of fire that left your breath unsteady, and your limbs weak.

"You are reckless," you murmured, though your hands betrayed you, tangling in his dark hair, nails grazing his scalp.

"Reckless?" His voice was a low whisper, rough with amusement, yet laced with hunger. "And yet you are here, pressed against me, trembling beneath my touch."

You said nothing, could say nothing, for his mouth was upon yours in an instant—urgent, possessive, as though he might claim you wholly in the space of a single heartbeat. You let him, let yourself drown in the sensation of him, for when all else was stripped away, this was all that remained.

His hands slipped beneath the folds of your clothing, calloused palms branding your skin as they traced the curve of your waist. He drew you closer still, until there was nothing between you but heat and need. A gasp escaped you, and he exhaled a quiet laugh against your lips.

"Soft, sweet thing," he murmured, though his voice held no mockery. "Do you know how often I dream of this?"

"Then do not speak of it," you whispered, though even as you said it, you knew it was futile.

"Let them hear you," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "Let them see what you do to me."

A laugh trembled at the edge of your lips, but it died the moment his mouth found yours again, slower this time, less desperate—deep and consuming, as though he wished to savor every moment, every taste. His hands roamed you as if memorizing you, as though the mere thought of parting was unendurable.

For a fleeting breath, you allowed yourself to forget the wife who awaited him beyond these walls, the life he could never offer you, and the cruel weight of reality that loomed just beyond the night’s embrace.

But then his lips left yours, trailing lower, and your mind unraveled once more, dissolving into nothing but him, only him.

"Acacius," you whispered, his name slipping unbidden from your lips, trembling upon the air between you.

He stilled, his forehead pressing to your collarbone. His breath came heavy, ragged. "Say it again," he murmured, hoarse with longing, his grip tightening upon your hips.

You obeyed, softer now. "Acacius."

He lifted his head, meeting your gaze, and in his dark eyes burned something raw, something perilously close to love—but shadowed with something else, something darker still.

"I am unworthy of you," he said, the words thick with sorrow. "But I would sooner rend the stars from the sky than let you go."

You cradled his face between your palms, thumbs brushing over the sharp lines of his jaw. "Then do not," you pleaded.

If only it could be so simple.

His lips found yours again, fevered with desperation. His hands roamed your body, as though trying to commit each curve, each breath, each shiver to memory—as though he feared this would be the last time.

And perhaps it would be.

The bed was scarcely large enough for one, but neither of you cared as he laid you upon it, the weight of him pressing into you in a way that made you ache, made you crave. Your hands roamed his broad shoulders, pushing the fabric of his tunic aside, eager to feel the heat of him, the solidness of him.

A growl rumbled low in his throat as he shuddered beneath your touch. "You undo me," he confessed, his lips ghosting over your skin.

You smiled, breathless. "Then show me."

He did.

The world beyond ceased to exist, lost in the press of his body, the reverence of his hands, the whispered prayers of your name against your skin. He worshipped you as though you were something sacred, something divine.

And for a time, you allowed yourself to believe it.

When at last you lay spent in his arms, his breath stirring against your temple, he murmured something soft, almost inaudible.

You did not ask him to repeat it. You did not wish to break the fragile peace that had settled over you both.

But peace is a fleeting thing.

As the first light of dawn crept through the shutters, reality stole back in with it.

"Do you ever wonder?" you whispered, breaking the silence.

Acacius stirred, his lips grazing the tender hollow beneath your ear. "Of what?"

"What it would be like," you said. "If we did not have to hide. If this," you gestured faintly between you, "was not all we could ever have."

He stilled. You felt it in the way his fingers once idly tracing patterns against your skin, froze. The weight of your words hung heavy between you, thick as the morning air.

"It is better not to think on such things," he said at last, his voice rough, his gaze falling away as he sat up. "I cannot give you what you deserve."

The words struck as surely as a blade, though you had known them long before he ever spoke them aloud.

"But you will take all that I may offer," you said, sharper than you had intended.

His head snapped up, a flicker of pain in his dark eyes. "Do not say that."

"Why not?" you challenged, sitting up, putting space between you. The warmth of him, once a comfort, was now a memory. You already missed it. "It is true, is it not?"

Marcus raked a hand through his dark hair, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. "You think this is easy for me?" he asked. "You think I do not loathe myself with every step I take from you? With every lie I speak to her?"

You flinched, and he saw it.

"Do not speak of her," you whispered. "Not here. Not now."

His hands came to your arms, gentle but firm, forcing you to look at him. "I would protect you from all of this," he swore. "From her. From them. From myself."

You laughed then, but there was no mirth in it. "You cannot even protect yourself, Marcus."

His hands fell away. The silence between you was deafening.

"I love you," he said suddenly, the words scarcely more than breath, yet they shattered you all the same.

Your throat tightened. Your eyes burned. "Then fight for me," you pleaded. "Do not let this be all we are."

For a moment, you thought he might say yes. You saw the battle waged behind his eyes, the war between duty and desire. But then his shoulders sagged, and he looked away.

"This holy ground burns my feet. I cannot stay, and yet I do not want to leave," he said, so softly it nearly broke you.

Tears slipped free, and you did not stop them. You turned toward the door, your movements slow, heavy with the weight of what had just been spoken—of what had been left unsaid.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your discarded garments, the fabric cool against your skin as you pulled them back into place. Each tie fastened, each fold smoothed, felt like sealing away a part of yourself, tucking it back behind the mask you wore beyond these stolen hours. The warmth of his touch still lingered, but it would fade, as it always did.

"Wait," he said, his voice cracking. "Please."

You hesitated.

He reached for the simple band of gold upon his finger, hesitating only a moment before sliding it free.

"Take it," he murmured, pressing it into your palm. "Keep it. Until we meet again."

You hated how easily you let yourself believe him. How your heart still clung to the idea that there would be another moment after this, another night where his hands would map your body and his lips would trace words he was too much of a coward to say aloud.

You swallowed hard, forcing down the ache that lodged itself in your throat. “And if we do not?”

Acacius exhaled sharply through his nose, his head bowing for the briefest moment before he shook it, as though warding off the thought itself. “Do not speak of such things.” His voice was strained, rough with something perilously close to despair.

You stepped back, slipping the ring into the folds of your clothing. It should not have felt so heavy. And yet, it did.

Acacius turned away, his movements rigid as he reached for the table in the dim corner of the chamber, where his armor lay in a careful arrangement. A small scroll of parchment rested beside it—deliberately placed, waiting.

He picked it up, his fingers lingering over the edges, then hesitated before pressing it into your hands.

“If ever you should change your mind,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the space between you, never daring to meet your gaze, “open it.”

You hesitated, fingers curling but refusing to take it. “What is this?”

His jaw tensed, a muscle feathering in his cheek. “A choice.”

A quiet, bitter laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it. “No. It is another way for you to break my heart.”

Acacius flinched as though you had struck him.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Slowly, your fingers closed around the parchment. Without a word, you tucked it away, into the same hidden place where his ring now rested.

And then you turned.

You did not look back.

He did not call you to stay.

—

Days passed. You did not open the letter.

Every night, you traced the edges of the ring beneath your fingertips, feeling its warmth against your skin, like it still held his touch.

He did not come to you again. You did not go to him.

Then, a week later, you cracked.

It was late when you unrolled the parchment, your hands shaking, the candlelight flickering against the ink-stained words.

My love,

I do not know if these words shall ever reach you. Perhaps they should not. Perhaps it is a cruelty to write at all, to leave behind mere ink when I have already left so much else. And yet, I must. I must, for the weight of what I carry cannot go unspoken.

I did not wish to leave you—never think it so. Had the gods willed another path, I would have taken it, would have stood against fate itself with sword in hand if it meant remaining by your side. But this world is not merciful, nor does it grant peace to men like me. Had I stayed, it would have torn me from you in ways far worse than this. That, I could not allow.

You were my only sanctuary, the one truth I never questioned. To love you was the sole virtue of my life, the one act I shall never repent. And though I am lost to you now, though the fates have severed what was once whole, know this: I am yours, now and always. Neither time nor death shall unmake what we were.

I pray the gods are kinder to you than they have been to me. That joy may find you once more. But if it does not—if the world turns cruel, if you find yourself adrift and wonder whether I still think of you—know that I do. In this life and the next, I shall always think of you.

And so, I ask this of you, though I have no right to, come to me I beg it of you. If there is still a place in your heart that has not turned against me, if even the smallest ember of what we were still lingers, meet me where the olive trees stand at the edge of the city, where the river bends and the world quiets. Let me look upon you once more before the gods tear me away, if only to commit your face to memory, to carry the light of you into whatever darkness awaits me. If nothing else, grant me this.

With all that I am,

Acacius

The candle’s flame flickered against the parchment, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Your hands trembled as you read Acacius’ words, your breath catching on the weight of them.

Each sentence carved through you like a blade, slicing past your anger, your sorrow, your resolve. I am yours, now and always.

How dare he? How dare he write such things, spill out his soul onto parchment, and yet still choose duty over you? Still choose a life where you were nothing more than a whispered secret?

Your vision blurred, a single tear spilling onto the page, smudging the ink where his name had been signed with careful, deliberate strokes.

You hated him.

You loved him.

The fire crackled beside you, the embers shifting like they, too, could feel your turmoil. You held the letter over the flames, hesitating just for a moment—just long enough to wonder if you'd regret it.

Then, with a sharp inhale, you let go.

The parchment curled as the fire devoured it, blackening at the edges before collapsing into itself. The words disappeared, burned away as if they had never been written at all. But you felt them, still, seared into your skin, your soul.

You pressed the ring tethered around your neck against your lips. You should throw that into the fire, too. Should rid yourself of every last piece of him.

But you couldn't

Days passed.

You should have let it go. Should have cast the ring into the river, let the current carry it far beyond your reach. Should have buried the memory of him in the recesses of your mind, left it to rot like the dying embers of that flame.

But you did not.

Instead, you wrote.

Your hand trembled over the parchment, but the words came quickly, as though they had been waiting to be freed.

Acacius,

I have burned your letter.

Not for hatred—though I wish I could hate you. Not for anger—though I should be wrathful. No, I burned it because to read it again would be to let it wound me anew, and I have suffered enough at the hands of your absence. Your words, though fair, are a cruelty. They speak of love yet bring only sorrow.

You write that you did not wish to leave me, and yet you went. You write that you have loved me, and yet you chose a life where I am nothing but a shadow. You speak of the gods as though they are the authors of this pain, but it was not their hand that severed us—it was yours.

And yet, I am a fool. A fool, for I write you still. A fool, for though I know you will break me again, I offer you this:

Come with me.

Leave the battlefield. Abandon your duty, your name, your oaths. Let the burdens of Rome fall from your shoulders. We will go where no man knows us, where no law binds us, where the weight of our sins shall belong to no one but the gods themselves. You speak of fate as though it is unyielding, but I do not believe in fate. I believe in choice.

So choose me.

Come to me, Acacius. And if you do not, if you cannot, then let this be the last time my name passes your lips, the last time you think of me beneath the stars.

With all that I am,

Yours

The moment you set the quill down, you felt the finality of it settle into your bones. You had bared your soul upon the parchment, laid it before him with trembling hands. And yet, you did not send it.

Not that day.

Not the next.

Days turned to weeks, and still, the letter remained hidden away, unsent, unread.

And then, one evening, when the city was bathed in the amber glow of torches and the streets murmured with whispered news, you heard his name.

You did not want to turn, did not want to listen. But the words struck you like a blade to the chest, piercing through bone and marrow, hollowing you out from the inside.

Acacius was dead.

They said he fell in battle, a sword through his ribs, the blood pooling beneath him dark as the night sky. They said he fought like a man possessed, as though he had nothing left to lose.

Your breath left you. Your knees buckled, but you did not fall. You could not fall.

You had waited too long.

The letter still sat, unsent. He would never read it. Would never know.

The world felt unbearably still.

But grief did not move you to tears. No, grief moved you to action.

The moon was high when you reached the place where they had laid the fallen. The air was thick with the scent of death, blood, and smoke, and the torches lining the corridor flickered against the stone walls like restless spirits.

You had no right to be here. No place among the mourning wives, the grieving mothers, and the sons who had come to claim the fathers they would never see again.

But you came anyway.

Acacius was there, just as they had said. His body lay upon the raised stone, displayed beneath the flickering torchlight, surrounded by the scent of burning oils. There were no mourners. No whispered prayers. Just silence.

Just you.

He looked almost peaceful, as though he had simply closed his eyes and drifted into slumber. But the truth was written in the deep wound beneath his ribs, in the dried blood that marred the golden skin of his chest.

He had died a soldier’s death.

Your breath came shallow, uneven, as you stepped forward. No one stopped you. There was no one left to do so.

Slowly, carefully, you reached out, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his skin. He was cold. Cold in a way he had never been before. A lump formed in your throat.

“You fool,” you whispered, the words meant only for him. “You were supposed to come back to me.”

But he had not.

You had given him a choice, and in the end, he had made it. He had chosen the battlefield over you, just as he always had. And now he had paid the price for it.

Your fingers curled around the ring that still hung from your neck, the small band of gold that had once rested upon his hand. You held it tightly, as though you could somehow press all your grief into it, as though it might carry the weight of your sorrow in place of you.

It would be easy, you thought, to slip it back onto his finger. To leave it with him, to bury it alongside him when the time came. But something inside you rebelled at the thought.

He had left you behind in life. You would not allow him to do so in death.

Carefully, you took the ring and tucked it away once more, pressing it against your skin as though to keep him there, with you, even now.

Then, with hands that did not shake, you reached into the folds of your cloak and withdrew the letter. The one you had never sent. The one that had remained hidden away for far too long.

Your eyes burned as you looked at it, the inked words staring back at you, mocking you with all the things he would never hear.

A fool’s hope. That was all it had ever been.

And yet, still, you bent forward, pressing the parchment into the stillness of his hands.

“Here,” you whispered. “Take it, Acacius. Take the choice you never made.”

He could not read it now. But perhaps, if there were gods beyond this life, they would allow him to hear your words. To know that, even in the end, you still wanted him.

Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the lines of his face, memorizing every detail before the earth claimed him. He had always been beautiful, even in death. And that, more than anything, shattered you.

A quiet breath left your lips as you leaned down, pressing your forehead against his. His scent was faint now, masked by the oils and the cold stillness of his body, but it was there. Just enough to remind you of what you had lost.

Then, with all the tenderness you had once held back, you kissed him.

One last time.

His lips were cold, unmoving, but you kissed him anyway. Slowly. Softly. As though, for a moment, he might still kiss you back.

But he did not.

He never would again.

When you finally pulled away, your vision blurred with tears you refused to shed. You had lingered long enough.

So, with one final look, one last whispered goodbye, you turned and walked away.

#marcus acacius #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #marcus acacius fic

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drunkinyourbenz · 21 days ago

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DIE FOR YOU

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 watch the world from the sidelines, had nothing to prove, till you came into my life, gave me something to lose. — sidelines ; phoebe bridgers

୨ৎ bodyguard!billie eilish x princess!reader

୨ৎ summary: you were the crown princess of your kingdom, raised to be elegant, poised, flawless, and a perfect balance of kind and calculating. your whole life was planned out for you, it had been since you were born. there had never been any other option, you were the future ruler of your kingdom, and you were expected to act like it. but sometimes, things happen that you can’t control—and before you know it, you’re faced with a choice that may result in betraying your family, your kingdom, and your people.

୨ৎ content: listed per chapter. smut, fluff, and angst.

୨ৎ warnings: this series includes: period typical homophobia, smut, family issues, angst (anything heavy will be labelled for each chapter), arguments, forebidden love

୨ৎ note: hi my babiesss <3 here's a little series i've been working on for youuu... hope u like her cause she's my baby fr.

00. moodboards

00. intro & playlist

01. chapter one

02. chapter two

03. chapter three

04. chapter four

05. chapter five

06. chapter six

and so on...

୨ৎ taglist: (comment on this post or any of the chapters to be added or removed!)

@47lake @st0nerlesb0 @n0vabug @darkside-0f-the-sun @asterisk-eyes @amara-eilish @dragoneyelashart @greenbttrflyy @bilswifee @tan1shere @asothinking @ilovealiceosemann @chrissv4mp @lovelyy-moonlight @cantlandonmyfeet @jayjaywetforbils @karaaeilish @billiesbabygirll @g0ldwingedwildfl0w3r @eloiseluvsbillie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @hkkuugu @ash198458 @youmademefeel @jennaswifey

#୨ৎ lyd writes #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #billie eilish smut #billie eilish angst #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x reader smut #billie eilish x you #billie x reader

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pizzaapeteer · 10 months ago

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lay all your love on me

Weee little blurb and moodboard for week 3, another little fluffy Mattheo but with more implied smut 🌙@thatdammchickennugget & @finalgirllx for jinxed July challenge 💛

An: if you can’t tell I was inspired by ABBAs lay all your love on me, as well as used the prompt night swims. No warnings but swearing and f x reader. Prettty divider by wrathofrats!

Moonlight streaks down on the empty beach, waves lulling soundly against the shore side, a perfect night as you dance around to the sounds of ABBA. Picked clearly by you with a drunk protest that enforced Mattheo little choice but to please you at this early hour. The alcohol flows through you as you spin so dramatically, your hair whipping, spraying specs of sea salt everywhere.

You hum along to the words of Lay all your love on me, lowering yourself down and with a slow crawl; move towards him imitating the movie's scene. His eyes never leave you and your playful movements, taking a sip of his beverage, his eyes greedily roam over your body at the now exposing a view of your cleavage.

Fuck, you’re a goddess. The things he wants to do to you right now. He’s never been so in love with you, and the goofy personality you bring out. At any and all times. For instance, it’s currently striking one AM and your energy seems to be in no way ready to disappear. He finds himself matching your fun loving smile as you stand up and grab his hand to dance with you.

He’s never been much of a dancer or a fan of ABBA, but for you, well, that’s a different story. There were no lengths he wouldn’t go for you. He twirls you around, becoming infatuated by the way your smile grows bigger.

The private beach feels so welcoming when he has you in his warm embrace, and he scoops you towards him, lifting you up. Eating up the sweet giggles that rapture out of you as your legs kick into the night sky.

“Lets go in!” An excited idea spurs from your mouth the moment your feet land back on the ground. With a tug of his arm, you're already tempting to lead Mattheo to join you in your new determination adventure towards the dark sea.

“Seriously, you want to go swimming now? It’ll be freezing!” He protests, his heels digging into the depths of the sand, creating sunken caverns trying to stop your surprisingly strong pull.

“Come on Matty.. We have the whole beach to ourselves, we can do whatever we want.”

Any hesitancy drops at the cheeky grin you throw his way, and with the extra revelation of skin. He cocks a brow, his lips curling up into a smirk, “Oh we can do anything huh.”

The removal of your bikini top excites his interest further, but he's quick to pout when you cover your goods before he can see. Watching, you ran away with a giggle towards the water, drunkly struggling to rip off the remaining clothes before you reach it.

Following behind, he discards his own shirt and catches up at light speed, bounding on top he submerging the two of you together. The tension of calm water is broken with his childlike jump, and he’s met with the invigorating coldness that seeps into his core, his skin stinging like needles.

The shock of the water's temperatures pulls a sudden gasp from him as he emerges, his arms wrapping around you seeking warmth. “Holy fucking shit! This was a terrible idea.”

There's a slight tremor in his complaint, his bottom lip beginning to quiver. The closeness of your bare chest pressing snuggly against him does little to provide him warmth. He’d forgotten how badly he handles cold, having been stupidly tempted by your alluring self.

“Let me warm you up.” The needed heat he had been craving soon welcomes him with a passionate kiss captured by your lips and he engages eagerly. The two of your lips guide meshing together like so many times before, your kisses becoming more hectic, fusing into a feverous make out.

He hisses in pain as you bite his slowly numbing lip, a low whine falling from his lips, granting you the moment to slide your tongue in, taking charge. He groans at your dominance even if your intoxicated behaviour mostly fueled it. His hands wrap, moving, feeling every contour and curve growing his excitement. Too much to the point, his dick throbs hard in the wrong kind of way.

“Okay, I love this it extremely hot but I’m so fucking cold, I fear my dick's going to fall off.” He states pleading, knowing he wants to follow whatever you have in mind, while not losing any limbs to frostbite.

An adorable snort makes him grin lovingly. He loves when he can make you laugh. He’s happy you‘ve agreed to exit the depths of the frozen ocean. He watches how you whimper, complaining about how your tits are going to fall off too, having lost the pleasant heat from him and your shirt.

He takes great pleasure in covering them with his large hands, grinning slyly as he repeats your earlier words. “It’s okay. I know a way to warm them up.” His heart is already glowing with its usual warmth as he prepares to lay all his love on you in an unforgettable way.

Masterlist

#jinxed July #Mattheo riddle #Mattheo riddle fluff #Mattheo riddle cheeky #Mattheo riddle x freader #Mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin boys #jinxed July challenge #pizzas works 𐙚

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sunnysidesevenup · 3 months ago

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Hello and welcome to my second event! Moonlight Song is still ongoing, so don’t worry if you still wanted to join that event as well <3 I just enjoy working on multiple things at once.

I’ve been pretty excited for this event, as many people know. I love coming up with events and making all the little assets for it, it really is so much fun and I adore seeing people’s entries!!! So, without further ado, here’s the Mad Tea Party Event!!!

Rose Court: Mad Tea Party

Every year, the high society of The Queendom of Roses hosts a party, in traditional tea party fashion. The host and organizer changes every year, and this year specifically is a special event: the reclusive and world famous author William Archibald James Alexander the Fifth is hosting it, a man who has not been seen in public for nearly fifty years!

Although, apparently, the man has given his grandson the task of organizing the party, and will not be attending. Never mind that his grandson is a bit young, and has never been heard of before now, and no one even knew William had a partner… But he’s surely capable, right?

As part of famous arcane academies, both RSA and NRC, as well as a few other academies around the globe, have been invited to send some of their best and brightest! This is considered a wonderful debut environment for promising members of society, after all!

NRC, of course, hosts a lottery for the students to win the lucky privilege of attending (…and the privilege of sharing transportation with RSA students).

Dress Code:

The invitations, written by the host and organizer, are VERY clear about the dress code. One must wear a colorful and eye catching outfit, and a hat. No hat, no entry. You may, upon entrance, attempt to convince said host of the validity of your chosen hat.

Here are some moodboards, and a reference. “Circus Lolita” is a good starting point to search for, but feel free to mix and match whatever styles you want!

Rules:

it’s not at all necessary to be following me to participate in this event! ANYONE is welcome to join!

Any type of entry is welcome: cards, general art, edits, fics, anything!

It’s not required to use the backgrounds I made, I simply thought it would be fun to draw one ^^

If you don’t want to link your character to my oc, don’t worry about it! It’s not necessary to follow the event story, you can still have fun with the outfits and aesthetic if you want, I don’t mind at all!

If you WOULD like your oc to interact with Ali or Tilly, feel free! You have my permission.

ANY Character is welcome to this event! NRC, RSA, some other school or place… Feel free to come up with some random reason your oc could be attending!

I will be writing my own ships in the event story, but don't hesitate to include characters in this event who may be shipped with the same character! Like I said, it's not necessary to follow the event story at all. This is all for fun.

You can draw/write for your own character OR a canon character, whatever you want <3 there are “official” participants, but this is all for fun, so it’s not necessary to stick to those.

Please tag me and use #Mad Tea Time! with your entry so I can properly gush about it ^^

There is NO DEADLINE on this event! Go crazy!

Backgrounds for the SR Cards:

Featured Characters:

[Limited Character] SSR Tilly

SSR Ali

SSR Ruggie

SSR Che’nya

SR Riddle

SR Idia

SR Jade

SR Silver

SR Azul

R Kalim

R Epel

R Trey

SSR Camlo Mendax

SR Ivory Gambit

SR Rosalie Bridget

SSR Yuuki

SSR Morana Gleamspore

Cerise Outfit Concept

Tachus Outfit Concept

SR Laine Tickery

SSR Saiyuu Akiko

SR Piper Chrysal

SR Desmond Mont

SR Iris Thornly

Yuu Kingsley

Willow

SSR Kimiko Shindo

FIC!!

#ITS HEREEEEE #alistair cearbhaill oc #twst tilly oc #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst oc #twst original character #twst fanart #twst fan event #twisted wonderland fan event #Mad Tea Time!

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moonangelxo · 2 years ago

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play time with mommy!wanda x little!fem!bunny! <3

my other moodboards ! follow me here !

#honestly just made this for myself #moodboard #mommy!wanda #mommy!wanda x bunny #moonlights moodboards <3

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khrrarepairweek · 13 days ago

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KHR Rare Pair Week 2025

Hi everybody! The KHR Rarepairweek mods are happy to present this year's prompts for KHRRarepairweek 2025!

Day 1 - Storm Day: Star Crossed Lovers AU | Grievous Injury/Serious Illness Day 2 - Sky Day: Secret Dating AU | Stuck in a Closet Day 3 - Sun Day: Regency AU | Personal Assistant Day 4 - Lightning Day: Childhood Friends AU | Bank Robbery Day 5 - Rain Day: No Mafia AU | Sunny Golden Retriever/Moonlight Black Cat Day 6 - Cloud Day: Selkie AU | Murder Mystery Day 7 - Mist Day: Cruise Ship AU | Masks Day 8 - Earth/Flameless Day: Dystopian Future AU | Height/Size Difference

The event will run from Monday, July 21st to Monday July 28th. We will be tracking submissions using #khrrarepairweek2025, so please make sure to use the tag within the first 5 tags of your post.

All forms of fanworks are encouraged, from fanmixes and moodboards to fan art and fanfiction.

For more information please follow the links below! Or if you have any questions feel free to message us on tumblr or discord!

We look forward to seeing all your wonderful creations in July!

~khrrarepairweek mods

#khrrarepairweek2025 #khrrarepairweek #khr #katekyou hitman reborn #katekyo hitman reborn

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vortexbloom · 3 months ago

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Velvet Nights (Part 1)

Pairing: Phainon x Escort Girl Reader

Fandom: HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

Warnings: Spicy, Modern Au

─୨ৎ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────୨ৎ─

Masterlist - Honkai Star Rail

Masterlist - Genshin Impact

Moodboards - Genshin Impact

Masterlist - Marvel

Boycott List

Velvet Nights (Part 2)

Velvet Nights (Part 3)

Velvet Nights (Bonus)

─୨ৎ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────୨ৎ─

English isn‘t my first/native language, so there might be misspellings etc.

I do NOT own any Characters !

Have fun reading this :D

Art by: @junnoelle on X (Twitter)

The club was a world of its own, dimly lit, drenched in gold and crimson, filled with the scent of expensive perfume and whispered secrets. It was a place where people came to forget themselves, to indulge in fantasies they couldn’t have anywhere else.

And it was here that Phainon saw you for the first time.

He wasn’t supposed to be there. Someone like him, refined, composed, with an aura of effortless power, didn’t belong in a place like this. Yet, there he was, sitting at the private bar, his eyes glinting under the low lights as he watched you with an unreadable expression.

You were used to being watched. Men gazed at you every night, their stares hungry, some filled with reverence, others with lust. But Phainon’s gaze was different. He wasn’t looking at you like he wanted to own you, he was looking at you like he wanted to understand you.

And that was dangerous.

You approached him with the same confidence you always carried, your dress hugging every curve as you leaned on the bar beside him. "You don’t look like the kind of man who usually comes here," you mused, swirling the drink in your hand.

Phainon’s lips curled into the faintest smirk. "And you don’t look like the kind of woman who belongs here."

You let out a soft laugh. "And yet, here we both are."

There was a pause, heavy with tension.

"You don’t belong to anyone here, do you?" Phainon asked, his voice smooth but edged with something deeper, curiosity, possessiveness, maybe even something more dangerous.

You tilted your head. "No one belongs to anyone here, darling. That’s the rule of the game."

Phainon leaned closer, his voice a whisper against your skin. "Then what would it take to break the rules?"

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾

Phainon wasn’t like your usual clients. He never asked for what the others did. He never demanded, never treated you like you were a fantasy to be bought and sold.

Instead, he talked to you.

He asked about your dreams, your fears, your past. He watched you with those eyes that seemed to see through every mask you had carefully built over the years.

And that scared you more than anything.

One night, he made an offer.

"Come with me," he said, sliding a thick envelope onto the table. "One night. Just you and me. No games."

You arched a brow, fingers grazing over the edge of the envelope. "And what exactly do you want from me?"

Phainon exhaled, his gaze softer than you’d ever seen it. "Everything you won’t give to anyone else."

Your heart pounded. This was different. This was real.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for real

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾

That night, you went with him.

Not to a hotel. Not to a private room in the club.

But to his home—a sleek penthouse overlooking the city, so quiet compared to the chaos of your usual life.

"You can leave whenever you want," Phainon said, standing by the window, his silhouette bathed in moonlight.

You hesitated. You had been with countless men before. You knew how to play the game. But this wasn’t a game. This was something else entirely.

Slowly, you stepped closer, your fingers grazing over his suit. "And what if I don’t want to leave?"

Phainon turned, golden eyes dark with something unspoken. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your lips.

"Then stay."

The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow, deep, like he was savoring every second. Like he was memorizing the way you felt under his hands.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t just another fantasy to him.

Maybe, to Phainon, you were real.

Make sure to tell me if you want to be tagged in the next parts.

Have a good day/night/evening/morning/afternoon ☼꥟☽

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