#also when that sun hits through the window???

[rafescurtainbangz]

Frat Rafe Headcanons +18 Minor DNI

Ask: @babygorewhore Baby I need more frat rafe headcannons please feed me mommy

Sorry this took me so long, babe. Thank you so much for your ask Also, if you haven't, please read @xxbimbobunnyxx frat carwash blurb you should because it’s so cute. Those carwash videos make me blush for reallll. And I swear I'll be dropping some pervfrat!rafe part 2 soonish

Also I dropped fic yesterday and didn't tag people 😭 here

unedited

Pet names, unprotected p in v, mentions of oral sex, public sex, choking, jealousy, ownership kink, perv Rafe, recording sex, possessive, mentions of fighting, degradation

Meeting Him…

Frat Rafe - Who first noticed you from across the lecture hall. Luckily for him, you were sitting next to a pledge who quickly switched seats the second Rafe gave him a hard look. He didn't say a whole lot at first, chuckling to himself as he watched a little blush creep across the apples of your cheeks when he spread his thighs slightly brushing his knee against yours.

Frat Rafe - Who couldn't take his eyes off of you through the soapy glass at the Fraternity Car Wash. You shamelessly recorded the show, giggling and smiling as he and his brothers washed cars between slow grinds and finger-drawn hearts. A very wet Rafe Cameron somehow made it through the car window, his tall frame barely fitting inside the cab as he continued to work for your cash. He danced to the music blaring through the speakers, smiling cheekily as you tucked a few extra dollars in his short red trunks.

Frat Rafe - Who waved you down before you could pull out of the lot, jogging up to your freshly cleaned car, asking you to come out to the bar that night.

Frat Rafe - Who sent three back-to-back text messages before you could pull away, the third making your mouth fall open. You looked through the window, watching Rafe chuckle and smirk, pretty proud of himself at the reaction that he got from you and the smile you couldn't take off your lips.

Frat Rafe - Who you fucked after the first date. You couldn't stop thinking about him after the carwash, his tanned, toned skin glistening in the sun. It was unclear just how many times you watched that fucking video, but it was a lot. You couldn't wait to get your hands on him. Rafe Cameron lived up to every one of the rumors. The sex was amazing, the best you ever had, rough and slow, fast when you needed it. His long thick cock filled you deliciously. It seemed like he was always one step ahead of you; like he knew what you wanted before you even asked. His beautiful blue eyes were always on you, hazed with sex. His soft lips and tongue pleased you again and again ‘til you were a babbling mess.

Dating Frat!Rafe…

Frat Rafe - Who’s affectionate and gentle with you. Only you get to see that side of him, Rafe, reserving all his sweetness for you.

Frat Rafe - Who loves to wrap his strong arm around your neck in doggy, tugging you as close as possible, ‘til you're begging him to let you cum.

Frat Rafe - Who went absolutely crazy the first time you called him daddy. The petname quickly became his favorite.

Frat Rafe - Who loves to brag about you to his frat brothers, especially when he's drunk. The blonde, quick to remind them how much better you are than the girls they are hitting on to the point where it's downright rude. You’ll scold his tipsy ass, and he’ll sass you as he continues to dog his friend until you have no choice but to smash your lips against his and steal the words off his lips.

Frat Rafe - Who sent you this message just a few days after you started talking:

Little did you know how much it was on his mind. He hated that you weren't official. A much as Rafe wanted you to belong to him, he wanted to belong to you.

Frat Rafe - Who asked you out that night ‘cause he couldn't wait any longer.

Frat Rafe - Who loves sneaking away with you at parties. Sure, he loves showing you off, but his favorite thing to do is chill in his truck, listening to music while the two of you share a joint and talk.

Frat Rafe - Who would rather spend every night at your place than the frat house because he can actually relax. Some nights you go to sleep alone and wake up with Rafe’s strong body hugging you from behind after he let himself in with the key you had cut just for him. He couldn't sleep and needed you.

Frat Rafe - Who lives in weathered fraternity t-shirts and snapbacks if he's not rocking a crisp polo. At any function, Rafe’s hat usually ends up on your head, one way or another, left on from time to time when you suck him off or ride his cock.

Frat Rafe - Who doesn't trust any of his frat brothers around you but Top. If you’re coming over to hang out he's meeting you out at your car to walk you in. If you're at a party his hand is in yours, resting on your back, draped over your shoulder, or wrapped around your waist. He loves the contact just as much as he loves keeping you safe.

Frat Rafe - Who texts you cute/horny shit when he's drunk and you're away.

He often questions how he got so lucky or why are you dating me again? Rafe knows you love him, he just loves hearing it. His frat brothers also know when you're gone for the weekend because Rafe turns into an absolute dick, bitching about everything until you're back.

Frat Rafe - Who doesn't care if people can hear the two of you having sex in fact he loves it. Rafe coaches you through each orgasm, trying hard to get you screaming for him.

"C'mon, princess... Let these boys hear how good daddy’s givin’ it to you."

"Shh... Baby, I'd hate for all these guys to hear what a filthy fuckin’ slut you are f’me."

“Bet he didn't think I was fuckin’ you right. What do you think he thinkin’ now huh?”

He also loves watching you walk back into the party all flushed and wobbly knowing that he was the reason you were weak in the knees. Rafe loves to mark you with love bites, and hand prints, dark hickies on your cleavage that peek out of your low-cut dress, pairing beautifully with the sparkly little R pendant around your neck.

Frat Rafe - Who dedicates every Wednesday night for date night and will never let a frat meeting or function interfere.

Frat Rafe - Who’s a surprisingly good dancer. He’ll only dance at the bar if he's wasted, but when he does, your ass is pressed up against him with his strong hands clutching your hips. It doesn't take long until you’re dress is bunched up around your waist, panties pushed to the side, with Rafe’s pants in a puddle around his ankles as he fills you up in the dingy bar bathroom. On the other hand, if you’re at the frat house, it only takes a song or two until your bent over the bathroom sink or pressed up against the hallway wall.

Frat Rafe - Who couldn't wait for Spring Break. Each drunken day was spent at the beach with his frat brothers and your friends - each night, a different bar. But Rafe made sure you still had some moments alone whether it be to take you shopping, share a beer, or watch the sunset.

Frat Rafe - Who got rid of his dirt bike and bought a motorcycle instead. Of course, making sure he bought a helmet for you so he could bring you to class or for a cruise around campus.

Frat Rafe - Who fell in love with you all over again when you made him a beer poster with yourself as the model. You had no idea how much he loved it until you showed up to the next frat party and saw it framed on the wall.

Frat Rafe - Who’s gotten in trouble with the law a few times for fighting. Rafe, no stranger to a fight on account of you when someone tries to start shit or gets handsy. He never ends up making it to jail, usually talking or paying his way out of it.

Frat Rafe - Who knows your class schedule like the back of his hand. Whenever he's at the library he’ll text you and ask if you need a study break which is code for stuffing you full of his cock in study room D.

Frat Rafe - Who jealously gets the better of him, and when he pisses you off, all it takes is a flirty smile and a wave at one of his frat brothers or a hockey player to set him off. The rest of the night consists of rough, possessive sex, and punishment which somehow turns into sweet, slow passionate sex where's he's mumbling I love you’s and I’m sorry’s between deep strokes and kisses.

Frat Rafe - Who loves it when you wear his clothes, especially his oversized frat t-shirts paired with your cute little panties.

Frat Rafe - Who sends you gym selfies because he knows how crazy they make you, especially post-workout shots.

Frat Rafe - Who couldn't keep his hands or eyes off you at the frat formal. It was hard not to think about the future when you looked so pretty in your white sparkly dress.

Frat Rafe - Who’s fiercely loyal. You never need to worry about other girls around him, but the sight of it still makes you jealous. Rafe is quick to assure you you're all he wants and needs.

Frat Rafe - Who has a thing for your panties. The lacey and prettier the better; wrapped around the shift of his truck, looped over the hand of his bedroom door, the rung of his bedpost, anywhere and everywhere. He loves to wrap them around the base of his cock when you ride him or knot them around your wrists when he ties you to his headboard. But his eyes roll back in his skull when you stuff them in his mouth because he loves how you taste.

Frat!Rafe - Who loves recording the two of you having sex and frequently snaps pictures of you just ‘cause.

Frat!Rafe - Who won't just send you dick pics when you ask, but videos with the sounds on, usually moaning your name until he’s spilling onto his hand, using the pictures or videos the two of you took as porn.

Frat!Rafe - Who had to change his lock screen when you took him home for the holidays because it was a picture of you in his favorite lingerie.

Frat!Rafe - Who has pictures of you everywhere and he doesn't care who sees because don’t you wish you had a girl like mine.

Masterlist

Pictures and texts from Pinterest

Tags: @voyeurmunson @romaescapes @gri959 @redhead1180 @h34rtsformilli @joannamuns9n @waywardsoul113 @marahgubler @akashababy @dckweed @humanvampire13 @drewstarkeyslut @juniebugg @wearemadeofstardust0 @imbabycowboy @rafesgiirl @obxbabies @cutielando @rafedrewandjjs @rafesthroatbaby @999ares9996 @oxpogues4lifexo @dilfswife @Dilfswife @chiaraanatra @ietss @drewswifeeee @theoraekenslover @niyahnotnia

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafecore #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron headcanons #frat!rafe smut #frat rafe #frat rafe cameron #rafe cameron hc #rafe headcanons #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe blurb #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron blurb #boyfriend rafe cameron #soft rafe cameron

[asapeveryday]

We Have Now

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader

Warnings: lil bit of angst, suggestive content

Summary: The season is over, the seniors have graduated and the summer has begun. The future holds a lot of uncertainty, but your feelings for Nika have never been uncertain. Is it too late for you?

A/n: I just can’t resist summer themed fics. Also I’m ngl this is NOTT my best work so I’m sorry for that… enjoy anyways.

“Holy shit!”

Through the window of your bedroom you can see the sunset has turned outside an entrancing mix of tropical colours. Pink, purple, orange and yellow mix in the clouds and paint the world around you for a moment, and you know you need to see it up close.

You rush down the stairs and past the living room, where the rest of the team is sleeping on the couch with a movie on in the background.

It had been a long day for everyone, the team had planned to spend a couple days of July at an airbnb in Rhode Island back in February, and the plan thankfully took off.

The day had been filled with a long car ride, various TikToks, loud music, unpacking, swimming and barbecuing. Everyone was exhausted.

When you rush out to the deck you’re encapsulated by the scenery. Sunsets were beautiful, but even better by the beach. The white sand and deep ocean water against the rich setting sky was something out of a book.

After taking about a hundred photos and videos, you put your phone away and just stood in astonishment.

Playing basketball with these girls at Uconn was one of the biggest blessings you’d ever received in your life, and you were going to miss them so much. You often found yourself swimming in old memories at night, memories of locker room conversations, late night drives, shared playlists, loud Friday night parties, shared looks, useless yearning and post game tears.

You’d already gone through your sad feelings at graduation though, and the draft had brought some more light to the situation. You had no regrets whatsoever about your college career, except for maybe one thing. And that thing was on the beach right now.

Nika was laying on the sand, just far enough from the ocean to avoid getting hit by the high tide. She didn’t say anything when you laid down beside her, the both of you just stared at the darkening sky as the sound of waves filled the silence.

“Remember how different things were when we first met?” You finally say after some time.

Nika quietly laughs. “How could I forget?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Gosh, I thought you were so weird.”

“You were weirder.” She grumbles.

“You just thought all Americans were weird.”

“Because you guys are! I never saw so many overly confident basketball players who were so bad till’ I came here.”

The two of you laugh together for a moment, then it’s quiet again.

Your hand is excruciatingly close to hers, but neither of you move closer.

“Everything’s so different now.” Nika mumbles, almost to herself.

You turn your head to face her. Nika’s side profile is strong, prominent nose, perfect lips, sharp eyebrows and expressive eyes. Her cheeks are pink from being out in the sun. You have the urge to make them pinker, but you shake the thought away.

“Yeah. Everything is different…but that’s a good thing”

Nika nods solemnly, but you can tell she’s thinking hard.

“Niks, don’t worry too much okay? Things work out if they’re meant to.”

She brings a hand to her face, covering her eyes and muffling her voice, which slightly wavers when she says. “What if I don’t make it?”

With this you give in and take her hand, squeezing it tight for a moment.

“Baby they’re lucky to have you. One day with you and they’ll know you’re needed on that team. Everyone else knows it for sure.”

“Says who?” Her eyebrows furrow. “I can’t just assume this’ll work out. What if it doesn’t? What the fuck do I do then? All my work will have been for nothing.”

“If Seattle doesn’t see you as an asset to their team, then I assure you there’ll be another team just waiting for you. Everyone here knows how valuable you are as a player, and the internet wouldn’t let anyone forget.”

She isn’t very convinced, but she turns her head to meet your gaze. Her eyes remind you of a puppies eyes. “Thank you.” She says, sincere and slightly embarrassed. Her hand is still in yours and your noses are almost touching. You wonder if she’d ever talk to you again if you kissed her.

At the thought of that, your stomach sinks. You sit up suddenly, hand breaking from hers. You don’t see how her face drops when you do it.

“I-“ you start, but hesitate. You didn’t want to regret anything like this again. You wanted her to know every thought in your head, even if it had a chance of going sour. “I’m really gonna miss you Nika. More than anyone else, I think.” You finally manage to get out.

She sits up now too, her brown hair blowing in the salty wind, her almost hazel eyes glinting from the reflection of the water, or perhaps something else, something like hope.

“More than anyone else?” She questions you.

“Yeah.” You say, turning to meet her stare. “I’ve always liked you more than the others.”

“Hm.” She says, as if she was expecting more.

The silence is eating at you, you just want to scream out how badly you want her. You know it’s too late, when this trip is over everyone splits. You to your hometown, Aaliyah to Washington, Nika to Seattle, Paige and the others to Connecticut. Still, you didn’t want to live with this in you forever.

“I had a massive crush on you during freshman year.” You utter as confidently as possible.

Nika’s lips part in surprise “You- you did?”

“Yeah. Major.” You scoff. Those days were almost pathetic in hindsight, obvious to everyone but Nika and yourself.

You watch as Nika draws swirls in the sand with her finger. You can practically hear the gears turning in her head.

“And…when did this crush fade away?” She finally asks you.

You let a beat pass before sucking it up and saying. “It didn’t.”

Nika’s eyes really widen now. You hold her gaze as best as you can. “I never stopped liking you. It just got stronger overtime, actually.”

You almost recoil when she scowls at you.

“Fuck you.”

“What?”

“Fuck!” She rubs her face, exasperated. “You- urgh, I wish you told me. I wish you told me way, way earlier.”

You don’t say anything.

“I wish I knew. Don’t you get it?” She whines, almost pleadingly. “God, if you’d told me way earlier we could’ve…maybe we would’ve..” she trails off.

Finding out that Nika Mühl, your best friend and longest love, also loved you should’ve been the best moment of your life. Instead it had you thinking of everything that could’ve been.

“I was scared.” You mutter. “I was so, so scared, I don’t know why. I wish I’d just told you, but you know me. I never take chances. I pass the ball, I don’t make the shot. I just…I wouldn’t have been able to take it if you didn’t feel the same. So I never did anything.”

She’s close to you now, hand on your knee, face flushed.

“What are we gonna do?”

You stare at her face, eyes darting from her eyes, then lips, the her eyes again.

Her eyes are beautiful. Honey brown, golden in the sun but piercing now at dusk, eyelashes long and fluttering as she tries to make sense of this situation.

You’ve wanted her more than you’ve wanted that ring at the end of the National Tournament every single year. The thought of you wasting time that could’ve been spent pressed next to her, skin to skin and soul to soul? It was sickening to you.

Still, here she was. Eyes begging you for something you’ve dreamed of. The sky now staining the beach a violent pink.

When your mouth meets hers it’s everything you’ve fantasized about. Her lips are full and soft, fitting perfectly against your own. You can feel her lashes tickle your face as you tilt your head just right, her arms get goosebumps when you fiddle with her hair.

Pulling away from her, you can’t help but melt at the satisfied smile on her face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Nika says. “I just wish it could’ve happened earlier.”

“I’m tired of wishing.” You say, putting a hand on her face gently. “We can’t change anything now. It’s over. But we have today.”

She drinks in the feeling of being this close to you. “We have now.” Nika whispers.

Your kisses are sweet and chaste at first, but it’s getting colder out and you need her warmth. She changes the pace, clashing into you with a sense of urgency now. When her mouth slightly opens and you feel her tongue against yours you know it’s over for you. She can have whatever she wants.

Nika finds herself straddling you now, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of everything that’s happening.

After four years of thinking of her before bed, before letting your hands take care of yourself night after night to the thought of her, here she was in all her glory. Body toned and breathing hard, hair sprawled against her tan skin, fingers untying her bikini top.

She leans into you, but instead of kissing you she puts her mouth to your ear. You can feel her smirk against your skin.

“How much of the past four years do you wanna bet I can make up for in one night?

#Spotify #fanfic #fanfiction #uconn wbb #light angst #angst with a happy ending #rpf #nika muhl x reader #nika muhl #nika mühl #uconn women’s basketball

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (17) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: finally, you enjoy your honeymoon. 

word count: 1,417

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: another short chapter im so sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, sexual references, implied smut, pet name (petal), not proofread

Light streamed in through the window as the sun began to rise. Coryo’s pale blonde hair almost seemed to glow. You reached up, brushing a strand away from his face. He looked so soft like this. He looked a lot softer generally now. Could this be the almighty honeymoon phase of a relationship blinding you to his flaws? No, you mused. Coryo had always been different around you. Before, you thought it was out of distaste, but now you knew the truth. 

You ran your thumb over the swell of his cheek. This was nice. You understood why Coryo always liked to touch you. There was something so sweet about it. Something so intimate, knowing that no one else will ever touch him like this. A smile tugged at your lips. You scooted closer, kissing him softly. You couldn’t help it. 

“Now who’s accosting who?” Coryo teased, his eyes still shut.

You pressed another kiss to his lips. “What? I can’t kiss my husband?”

Coryo’s hands settled on your waist. He rolled over onto his back, pulling you over so you laid on top of him. “If you promise to wake me up like this every morning, you can kiss me whenever you like.”

“Deal,” you giggled. 

Finally, Coryo opened his eyes. He reached up, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. He smiled up at you, his pale blue eyes twinkling. “What are you doing awake so early? The point of a honeymoon is to relax.”

“I was admiring my husband. Is that not also the point of a honeymoon?”

Coryo pulled you down for another kiss. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You held back a giggle as you remembered where else that tongue had been—how your Coryo spent the entire night between your legs until you begged for mercy. Coryo’s fingers carded through your hair, tugging you closer. Your nose bumped against his. This time, you did giggle. 

“You think my kissing technique is funny?” Coryo chided. His tone was playful, though. A far cry from the boy you thought you knew on the schoolyard. 

“I think I am lucky to have such a loving man for a husband.”

“Don’t try to distract me. You laughed as I kissed you,” he said. You leaned in to kiss him, but this time he let out a sarcastic laugh as your lips touched his. “Doesn’t feel very good, does it, petal?”

“You are a spiteful man, Mr. Snow. You don’t even know why I laughed.”

“Tell me then.”

You pet Coryo’s hair, a soft smile on your lips. It was a stark contrast to the wetness you felt between your legs as you recalled the memory of last night. “I was thinking of where else that filthy tongue of yours has been.”

Coryo’s eyes fell shut. You felt him stiffen against your thigh. Your smile turned to a smirk. “Oh, petal, you can’t say things like that first thing in the morning. I’ll never be able to continue my day like this.”

“Hmm, but we’re on our honeymoon, aren’t we? What else do we have to do but enjoy each other?” you reminded.

His eyes snapped open. A low hum reverberated in his chest. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Your smirk grew. You shifted off of him, slipping out of his hands. Your feet hit the floor. As you moved toward the door, “In that case, I’m going to ask if breakfast can be made. Do you have any requests?”

Coryo let out a growl. He followed you of the bed, trying to grab your hips and pull you back against him. “My little petal has some thorns of her own, hm? I think you know what I want for breakfast.”

“No, no, I don’t want to kill my husband. Not after I’ve decided to like him, you know.” You kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m thinking pancakes.”

You slipped out of his hands again, giggling to yourself as you made a beeline for the door, shutting it behind you. In the distance, you heard Coryo fumble with the door before his footsteps echoed down the hall. You picked up your pace, nearly making it to the kitchen when you felt a pair of hands grab you from behind. A squeal escaped your lips.

Coryo’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “Now, I’ll let you tell the staff to make breakfast,” he growled, “but as soon as we’re finished, I’m dragging you back to our room and finishing you off as dessert. Am I understood?”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Snow?”

His teeth nipped at your earlobe. “It’s a promise, Mrs. Snow.”

And he kept it. 

“How many children do you want?” you asked Coryo as he dragged a rag between your legs, cleaning up the mess the two of you made. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as his brows pinched together. 

“Does it matter what I wish? You’ll be the one giving birth.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course it matters. A marriage is a partnership. We should discuss these sorts of things.”

A sigh escaped his lips. He stepped away, taking the rag to the bathroom. You were left alone for a minute before he returned. Coryo climbed into the bed. He settled on his back and pulled you into his arms. “One, I think. I would like to give you the experience of motherhood, if you so wish it. But I don’t think I can handle seeing you in that sort of position more than once.”

“That sort of position? What are you—oh.”

It was easy to forget about his mother. Even though you knew this was the cottage where she had him and was going to have his sister, the very same cottage she lost her life in, it was easy to forget. One part of the Coriolanus that you once knew that remained true for your Coryo was that he kept his true, most vulnerable, parts to himself. In a lot of ways, he’d exposed those parts to you. But there were still things that you still hadn’t been exposed to. This was one of them, you supposed. 

“I don’t know what I would do with myself if I lost you,” Coryo said. When you tilted your head up to look at him, his eyes were shut. If he hadn’t just been speaking, you might have thought him asleep. “Burn all of Panem to the ground, I suppose.”

“You don’t mean that, Coryo.”

“None of this matters if I don’t have you by my side,” he said. His grip on you tightened. “When I was younger, I had always dreamed of being King. My Grandma’am and Tigris were always so sure I would one day sit on the throne. We would talk about all of the glorious things I would do. How I would honor Panem. But these few years I have sat on the throne…While it was what I expected, it didn’t bring me satisfaction, joy, like I thought it might.”

His eyes opened again. A smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t feel joy until the first time I got to dance with you, my petal. And now that I have it, I’m afraid I must be selfish with it. I won’t do anything that would risk your health and safety. And to bear a child…That is the one danger I cannot completely control. Should anything go wrong, I cannot do a thing. I have to place my trust in the physician to ensure your safety. I don’t like having to trust others. Besides you, of course.”

“Coryo…”

“One child would suffice to carry on the Snow legacy. Any more and I fear I might keel over with the anxiety.”

You rolled over so that you half-laid on his chest. Reaching up, you carded your fingers through his hair. “Thank you for telling me that.”

He huffed a small laugh. “Well, you told me your anxieties. I thought it was only right that I told you mine.”

“And I think I would be happy with just one child, too,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “But I am in no rush to have any now. I was just curious.”

“How I love that curious mind of yours.”

A part of you, one that you were still trying to familiarize yourself with, nearly said that you loved him too.

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

[ruumirmir]

"Hey, hey- did you hear? Lord Regrator promoted someone as the new branch manager of our bank!"

"Don't tell me... it's him, isn't it?"

"But of course, I heard the harbinger is playing favorites now-"

𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕓𝕠𝕪'𝕤 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕖

When you feel the caress of a mask; an identity, Who do you become?

Finished cooking Pantalone's Loverboy a little bit more with this character layout. While a good chunk of his aesthetic has been pinned down, I probably won't go further to draw any sort of outfit or character design for him. As of now, I'm keeping his finer details ambiguous enough to classify as a M!reader. @eluxcastar comrade wake up new Loverboy content just dropped.

ੈ♡˳ 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤

Under the hierarchy of Regrator's ordinance, Fatuus above a certain level of authority don masks signifying their position. Ordinary agents working with classified business information must never run the risk of disclosing their identities after all. One such mask, dipped in a red of warning and adorned with a platinum wing on it's brow is the telltale identity of the bank's Venator Dux. Whether you stand against him in a negotiations meeting, or battle, he's no less intimidating without the mask.

ੈ♡˳ 𝐇𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

"Hydro represents faith, regardless of how misguided it maybe." "This vision is given to people who either have a strong dedication towards something, or have a desire to help or protect others." From wind to water; That day celestia's eye honed in on the fool falling past a shattered window, dragging down another with him. "How amusing..." they'd think, and brush past the reject to bestow heaven's blessing upon the far more pitiful one.

ੈ♡˳ 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱

Also called 'wine red' or 'black rose'. Like the lovely wines of plum occasionally imported from Liyue. Like blood to snow in the region colored head to toe in muted greys and blues.

ੈ♡˳ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐬

A flower that smells like fresh chocolate. They symbolize peace and tranquility. It is said that Chocolate Cosmos in particular mean “I love you more than anybody can.” Is it more obvious. He offers to pin it on the Harbinger's coat with a knowing grin. A frost-sensitive flower; It requires partial sun or full sun, and flowers from mid to late summer. It cant flourish naturally in a frost-bitten habitat and is artificially kept in greenhouses, only glimpsing the sun every few days through tinted windows. Pantalone barely needs to lift a finger to commission a set of cosmos flowers turned to jewelry for his Loverboy to wear.

ੈ♡˳ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐰𝐚𝐧

A Black Swan signifies an insight about yourself that changes your position from one of victim to victor. Black Swan is a graceful reminder to move from any position where you feel powerless and at the mercy of external forces; it is time to reclaim your personal power. A coin always has two sides however; The black swan theory states that, "It is an unpredictable event that is beyond what is normally expected of a situation and has potentially severe consequences."

ੈ♡˳ 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝

Equal parts strategic leader and hands-on agent, the Venator's blade is no less mightier than his pen. Come hell and high water, his feathered quill can enlarge thrice over to chase down it's targets with a mind of it's own, like a missile dart. You wouldn't fare better in close quarters either. The feather reinforced with hydro can sharpen it to the degree of splitting icebergs and necks alike. Why else do you think his ink occasionally flows in hues of red?

ੈ♡˳ 𝐈𝐜𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐂𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

The steely frost seeping into his coat, A heady spice from the smoke warming the air, and the slow bittersweet aroma that doesn't hit you until after he's gone; an aftertaste.

ੈ♡˳ 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

"I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings Be your Valentino, just for you" "I'd like for you and I to go romancing Say the word, your wish is my command" "Ooh, love (there he goes again) Ooh, lover boy (he's my good old-fashioned lover boy, ooh) What're you doing tonight?"

ੈ♡˳ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲

"Faithfulness to something to which one is bound by pledge or duty." "In the shimmering expanse of ice and snow, I pledge my unwavering devotion and undying loyalty to the illustrious Tsaritza, sovereign of this frozen realm. As the frost bites deep and the chill of winter grips our souls, I stand firm in my resolve to serve her reign with pride and honor." "With every breath, I swear to defend her name, her realm, and her legacy, even if it means laying down my life upon the icy plains, for in her sovereignty lies the very essence of our existence. Today, I embrace the cold embrace of eternity, knowing that I have lived and died under the banner of our revered Tsaritza, with unwavering loyalty burning bright within my heart..." And he didn't mean a single word of it. He wondered when that would be the death of him.

#➳❥ Ooh Lover Boy #pantalone #genshin #genshin impact #fatui #fatui harbingers #pantalone genshin #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone x male reader #genshin impact fatui #➳❥ Rumour writes #genshin imagines #gensin impact headcannons

[shrimpscrawling]

LITerally nothing better than just sitting very still with a cup of coffee. That’s relaxation babeyyy

#if I don’t get to lean against my kitchen counter and totally check out for 3 to 5 mins each morning #I’m not living right #also when that sun hits through the window??? #bliss #coffee #black coffee #morning sun #sunny aesthetic #relaxingday #fall aesthetic #spring #work from home #disassociation #check out

[sukunas-wife]

Sealed 2

1 3

“Year after year after year the hours pass and it never ends, I’ve been here for millennia is Ryomen even trying?” You sat down onto the pile of bones, skeletons supporting you the best they could. The Prison Realm had become your domain, you’d molded every bone and skeleton to do your work. Your elbow resting on the spine of skeleton your cheek pressing against your fist as you stared bored.

Looking down the pile of bones and skeletons holding up your throne that you had formed to match Sukuna’s you saw two Skeletons battling for your amusement. Sighing you slouched back in your throne, watching the two headed four armed skeleton using sharpened bones as spears, fighting a towering 6 armed Skelton. His arms like vices ready to grab and shove whatever into its gaping rib cage to crush it. “This needs more!” The two skeletons looked up at you, before the rumbling of the skeletal centaur could be heard, a centaur of bone, his torso with 4 arms, it held an extended spine as if it were a chain. Lower two arms ready to grab at anything, more specifically rip off the head and spine of its opponents.

“YES! THIS IS what we need!” You smacked the skeleton who stood near you on the back. His bones shaking as you leaned forward, you’d find out soon which of your creations was truly the strongest. “Let’s get this show started-“ it was quick blur of red and black before you were standing head tilted to the side as you stared irked at the man in front of you. “Do YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID.”

“PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I BEG FOR MERCY I SPENT MUCH OF MY LIFE LOOKING FOR THIS TREASURE THATS BEEN hidden away heating the tales of how the sourcerer’s of old time had wrongly imprisoned a Diety of Fertility separating her from her son. I just come to beg and ask you give my wife your blessing to have a child were old in age but she’s always prayed and begged. I’ve run out of hope until i heard you tale, i beg and hoped you’d have mercy- Sit up” was all you said. The man went from groveling to sitting back on his heels. Sighing the conflict inside of you was great. You looked around tucking your arms into the sleeves of your worn Kimono. “Bring me your wife,” you looked up through the canopy of the trees you see the sun at mid day, “you have two sunsets and then I leave.” The man quickly bowed again at your feet thanking you before running off. You kicked the prison realm box “Damnit who won!” You snatched it up, the air was familiar, you started to look around. The reason it was so familiar was because it wasn’t to far from where you had been sealed. The skeletal remains of the sourcerers made you seethe. You found the remains of the man who sealed you grabbing his skull with your free hand making it look at you, “my child my husband,” you crushed it without fail, “you took it all from me and now everyone will pay.” Th tears falling down were hot. Dropping the remains you started your first technique “Reanimate.” A wave of purple radiated from you, hitting every border of the palace. Skeletal remains shaking and coming together to stand, “Get this place back into shape.” They started moving, you made your way inside the palace the inside help had been reanimated also, your ladies in waiting now remains, standing beside you as you enter “Find fabric I need new robes.” They rushed off and you made it to your old room, the massive bed your son had fallen off many times when he would try to sleep with you and his dad. The wardrobe filled with your husband’s old robes. The room was dusty and smelt humid, shoving the window open you tried not to cry, on the window sill was a talisman Sukuna had created for Yuji. Sniffling you turned your head, finding a small blanket and stuffed Tiger doll Yuji carried around that morning. A gift for his 2nd birthday that he loved and it showed on the tigers rugged appearance.

“My Yuji..” your faint whisper sounding so loud in the silence as you ran your fingers of the stuffed doll holding it close to your chest as you made your way around the room planning your moves. Your plans had always been to follow in similar steps to Sukuna. Except that you’d be known for good to balance out the evil perspective they had of your husband. First, fix your palace. Second, create miracles in the closest town or village to make profit and move into a bigger city to improve profits. Find wherever Sukuna had been sealed away, and break him free. Find Yuji and take him back from this cruel world.

❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️

It’s been over 100 more years and you’d grown accustomed to the changing in technology and times, passing the crowds into your shrine you smiled ruffling the heads of kids who smiled up at you, rubbing the plump bellies of pregnant women you passed and “blessing” the sick with instant health with simply laying a hand on them and smiling kindly.

Entering your shrine for the last time your Gentlemen in waiting was packing up what was left. The last thing left was the main room where your wide throne sat, you’d be leaving it being to your followers, the cushions you provided for your followers during your sessions. “Morí.” You called out and he came from the room he was in bowing and holding his hands out in front of him. “Yes Lady Y/n?”

“Morinozuka, we’re leaving tonight to Sendai City. The mark of my binding vow is burning more, but are you sure that’s where we need to go?”

“Yes Lady Y/n.” He spoke not looking up from his bow. You nodded, “then it’s final.”

❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️

“So this is the place?” You turned to Morí and he nodded. “It’s not as lavish but this is the closest we can get… Your excellency.. I strongly recommend you continue to hide your cursed energy until I suggest otherwise.” You nodded getting out of the car “Very well, I will.”

It was morning when you had arrived, standing in front of the door to the house you looked over an elder man was walking out of his house he looked over and you smiled at him and he had a very faint twitch of his lip. Until a man with pink hair came out, follows by a woman with black hair and you felt it. The pulse of cursed energy and instinctively you grabbed Mori by his robes and pulled him towards you, “That woman, she’s no woman that- is the carrier of your child.” You head snapped instantly to him, “The father of my child, that’s the sorcerer who knew Sukuna, and he is going to mother my child?” Your face showing your exact emotions Mori placing a hand over yours, “Lady Y/n, please recollect your thoughts. I can assure you he will NOT be mothering your child, and her husband will not be fathering him either.” Letting go of his robes you nodded. Looking over your shoulder you watched the couple get into a car the elder man scowling when they started to drive away.

Turning to look at you he tucked his arms behind his back walking over, “Good Morning I’m L/n Y/n.” You greeted bowing after you moved closer, he dismissed you with a wave of your hand. “Morning, Wasuke Itadori.” He cocked a brow and looked over at your house, “It’s been up for sale for a long time. Almost 3 years before someone has moved in.” You looked back at your house, “I moved in to get closer to work. I thought it was just a blessing for everything to line up so perfectly.”

He nodded, “Well, blessings only go so far here. My son’s wife is something I’d consider to be a curse.” You nodded, “oddly enough I wouldn’t disagree. I know a snake when I see one and from a brief glance I wouldn’t trust her at all.”

He nodded, “Have a good day moving in, if you need help my son and his wife will be returning soon. I’m sure either of them would be willing to help with any problems.”

“Have a good day Mr.Itadori.” You bowed your head slightly and you both went separate ways.

“Mori,” you sighed entering your house “count these days.”

#sukuna ryomen #jjk anime #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #daddy sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna thirst #sukuna x wife reader

[wordstome]

kosovo maiden (könig x reader)

Well, I did it again, gang. I wrote another story based on a painting. This one is by Uroš Predić in 1919, and was posted to Tumblr here (thanks to arcana-imperii for posting!)

I don't know anything about Kosovo, so the reader here isn't explicitly Serbian ;; please forgive me. Also, apologies for possibly inaccurate ambiguously late-1800s setting, medical information or German. Please enjoy!

2.2k words

There are soldiers in the field.

You heard the sounds of battle early in the dawn, the piercing explosions of gunfire and cannons ringing out as the sun rose. You weren’t concerned at first: it was far enough away that you felt safe enough to carry on as usual. But the gunfire drew closer and closer, and by noon you could hear the shouting and the battle cries, driving you trembling into your attic with terror. Mercifully, the fighting peters out as the sun sinks lower in the sky, but when you finally work up the nerve to peek out of your window, you find to your horror that the grassy field adjacent to your humble little home is littered with the bodies of dead and dying men.

Without a single further thought to your own safety, you grab a lantern and a pitcher of water and rush into the night.

It’s awful. Most of the men left behind are already cold, some whose eyes you have to shut yourself. The ones who were able to be saved were likely evacuated by their comrades, so the only ones left to face the cruel nighttime are the ones who won’t see the morning after. A few are still conscious when you find them, but you have little more to offer them than a gentle touch and one last drink of water. Their eyes are what will haunt you most after today: slick with tears as grown men weep, all semblance of courage and proud masculinity stripped from them as they face down their imminent demise. It’s terrible, heart-wrenching, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’re the only living thing left that can offer them comfort in their last moments.

The jug of water dangles from your hand as you trudge through the field, looking for anyone at all that you can provide help to. You’ve long abandoned any hope of finding someone you can save when you come across him: the giant in the grass.

It’s well and truly nighttime at that point, your lamp the only source of light upon what seems like a sea of human misery. The light hits his face, and you gasp. Your first thought is of how huge he is, at least 200 centimeters if he were standing. Your second thought is of how handsome he is…

You jolt to attention as he shifts and groans. He’s alive! Shaking some sense into yourself, you don’t hesitate to rush to his side. Your hands roam across his body, assessing the severity of his injuries. To your surprise, he doesn’t seem to be mortally injured. They’re severe, to be sure—he won’t be able-bodied for weeks. But he’s far from at death’s door, only confused and dazed…had his comrades only left him due to his sheer size?

Using your hand to support the back of his head and neck, you tip some water into his mouth in an attempt to revive him. The man cracks an eye open, regarding you with feverish wonder.

“Ein Engel…” he murmurs. You’re too elated that he’s alive, so you don’t actually properly hear what he said. With light, deft fingers, you tear strips of his tattered shirt and use the cloth to wrap up a scrape on his arm and stem the flow of a very nasty-looking wound up along the broad plane of his torso. To your alarm, however, the man seems to slump, his head laying back as if he’s about to lose consciousness.

“No, no,” you cry in panic, shaking him without heed of his injuries. “Sir, you cannot sleep here, I am unable to carry you…you will die out here!”

He mumbles something inaudible, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn’t passed out on you yet, but you have to act quickly to properly care for his wounds. You shift your body so you can maneuver his uninjured arm onto your shoulders. Luckily, he seems to comprehend what you’re trying to do, and manages to stumble to his feet while leaning his weight on you.

It’s an awkward, fumbling dance, considering your earlier assessment of his height was correct—he’s a huge man, and his torso alone nearly dwarfs your entire figure. But with a good measure of patience, you manage to get him moving towards your house. It’s high time you returned home, as well: your stomach roils as you remember what happens to corpses left outside for scavengers to find.

The two of you stumble through the doorway of your home, you murmuring soft affirmations and encouragement to the man. He makes no indication that he understands what you���re saying, but he’s nodding along, responding to your gentle tone. You guide him to lay on your bed, his body visibly relaxing as he sinks into the mattress.

You bustle around, lighting candles, stoking your fireplace, and rummaging around for medical supplies. You return to him with a basin of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages—before stopping dead in your tracks.

In the low lamplight out in the field, you hadn’t noticed the color of the man’s uniform, much too preoccupied with his signs of life. But now the truth is laid bare in front of you as you take in his attire, eyes traveling over his broad body—

You’ve just taken in an enemy soldier.

The man has seemingly fallen asleep, likely exhausted by the battle and the effort it took to get into your home. That does nothing to assuage your fear, though: what are you going to do if he passes away right in your bed? Even worse, what are you going to do if he wakes? Will he be hostile? Will he attempt to take you as a hostage to secure safe passage out of his enemy’s territory?

It's clear to you, though, that if you don’t help this man, he will die. His wounds could easily turn septic, and then he’s a goner. You steel yourself and approach him, kneeling at his bedside.

You work slowly and carefully to reveal his injuries, wincing when they’re completely exposed. He’s no longer bleeding profusely, but he will absolutely need stitches. For now, you settle for cleaning them with a damp cloth, trying to keep infection at bay.

He must be well and truly knocked out, because he doesn’t even stir as you wrap his arm securely with clean bandages. You’re much more hesitant to deal with his chest wound: if he wakes and struggles, he could make it much worse. But his unconscious state affords you the best opportunity to stitch him up…

You furrow your brow and go to find a needle.

You’re awoken by a gentle touch on the shoulder.

You stir from your sleep, wondering what your mother could possibly want at such an early hour. At least she put the fire on—you can hear the crackling. But why is your bed so hard? Did you fall asleep on the floor? Actually, now that you think about it, you do recall dozing off on your sheepskin rug last night, because—

Your eyes shoot open to see a huge, hulking figure standing over you.

The soldier startles when you scream, scrambling to move away from him. He cuts an intimidating figure in the early morning light: he towers over you in a state of undress, the bandages you put on him last night splotched with rusty dried blood. But you calm down as you realize he means you no harm, his hands outstretched in front of him as a show of peace: no weapons.

“Wo bin ich?” he asks. You squint at him. That sounds like German, but you can’t speak a word of it.

“I don’t speak German,” you try. He tilts his head, looking as puzzled as you feel right now.

“Never mind all of that,” you say, shaking your head and pushing yourself to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!” The soldier watches with amusement as you press your hands against him, careful to avoid touching his chest where you know his wound lies, in an attempt to get him back into bed. He allows you to do so, lying back down like an obedient dog.

“Muste pissen,” he murmurs as you fuss over him. You shoot him another confused look as you check the stitches you put in his chest wound. All seems well, you note with relief.

“What?”

He huffs a sigh. He gestures towards the door, and then then to his…oh.

“I see,” you say, cheeks feeling hot. You can’t bear to look at his face, but when you do, you find he’s watching you with amusement.

You tap his chest with a finger, then mime a sewing motion. “Don’t get up on your own from now on, you could tear your stitches,” you tell him, pointing to the door and then to patting your own chest. “I’ll help you.”

He snorts, but nods. You start to unfurl the bandages on his arm, heart twinging with sympathy as he grits his teeth in pain. You bite your lip in chagrin as the wound is revealed. It was much less severe than the one on his chest, but it’s doing much worse: pus and fluids are leaking everywhere, and to your horror, you think some parts of the torn flesh might actually be turning green.

“Es sieht schlecht aus?” he asks, concerned. You put on a smile you hope is comforting and rise from his bedside to go downstairs and rummage through your cupboards.

You return to him holding a bottle of liquor, the strongest you could find. He seems to realize what you intend to do, and shifts slightly to allow you better access to his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. “This is going to hurt.” Without further warning, you dump a good amount of alcohol on his wound.

“SCHEIẞE!” The bellow of pain that rips out of his throat seems to shake the very foundations of your home. You wince as he hollers and lays back heavy against your poor little bed, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. That can’t have been pleasant…

“Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen,” he grits. You give him a sympathetic little pat before withdrawing to get the bandages.

He’s calmed down by the time you return to him. He watches you curiously as you wrap him up nice and snug, then turn your attentions to his chest wound. The stitches are still in place—it seems he was careful when he relieved himself—but you still need to clean and dress the wound. He lets out a sigh of relief when you opt for a clean cloth to dab away the dried blood instead of the liquor bottle.

You work quickly and efficiently, worried about him catching a cold with his chest out like this. You also can’t deny that the whole situation is starting to make you a bit shy—a foreign man, and an attractive one at that, is in your bed, shirtless, and you’re all but sprawled out on top of him to get up close to his injury. By the time you’re done, you’re fully blushing at the closeness of the contact between the two of you.

“You should be alright, it’s a good sign that you lasted through the night and haven’t developed a fever yet,” you tell him as you gather up the soiled bandages to be washed. “You’ll need to stay in bed so I can keep an eye on you—”

You’re drawn up short when you look up to see his face. Far from the angry scowl he wore when you disinfected his wound, his expression now is almost…admiring? You shift slightly, caught off guard by the adoration in this stranger’s stare, and your arm brushes against something solid and warm.

You stand up as if burned, turning to see what you just touched. To your chagrin, you find that the soldier is…well, he’s hard.

You whirl around to fix him with an outraged look, but he only laughs at you with obvious delight. What a pervert! You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do or where to look, but you’re stopped by the sensation of him reaching up and pressing a hand to your face.

You stare at him, wide-eyed, as he strokes your cheek with a sort of reverence that stops you in your tracks. “Mein Retter…” he murmurs. “Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders.”

You huff, recognizing that he’s trying to apologize. “You don’t act like an injured man at all,” you complain. A spark of mirth comes into his eye at your pouting tone as he just chuckles at you. You turn to walk away, yelping when you feel his hand brush against your bottom. You shoot him with a deadly look as he laughs again.

You scurry away, feeling awkward and hot all over. You had been so concerned last night about whether you should stay in the same house as the potentially dangerous soldier, pacing the floor and biting your nails as you pondered whether you should give him up to the local authorities. In hindsight, you’re glad you didn’t—they would surely have locked him in a cold cell with nobody to look after that festering gash on his shoulder, to say nothing of his chest wound. It was worth it to risk waking up to a man angry and spitting hatred at you, if you could save his life.

But now you’re realizing that you hadn’t considered the opposite possibility: that the soldier might like you a little too much.

ein Engel = an angel Wo bin ich? = Where am I? Muste pissen = had to piss Es sieht schlecht aus? = Is it bad? Scheiße = shit Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen = That hurt worse than getting the damn wound in the first place Mein Retter = my savior Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders = I'm sorry. I couldn't help it

Once more, I wrote this in a frenzy akin to being possessed, so it's a little short. But there will definitely be more! Thank you for reading <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely

#könig #König x reader #König x you #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #I really need to sort out my tag list... #fic: kosovo maiden

[yoon-kooks]

seven tattoos later | jjk

🐰pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x tattooartist!reader

🐰genre: fluff, smut

🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?

🐰word count: 3.3k

🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry

As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.

Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.

It’s lonely.

You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay. 

That was around two months ago.

“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.

“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.

“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.” 

At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)

“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.

After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”

“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”

For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.

But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.

What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?

You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.

It was for the best.

So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)

Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”

He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.

“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.

Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.

You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.

A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.

Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.

You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.

Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in. 

Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot. 

Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.

Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)

When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.

jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”

[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]

[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]

jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”

Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”

Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”

You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?

Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.

“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”

“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?

“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.

“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.

You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.

You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.

“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.

“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”

He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.

“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”

Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.

“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”

You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.

At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”

“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.

“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.

“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”

After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.

“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”

You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.

“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”

“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”

“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.

“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”

That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.

“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”

“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.

“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.

Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.

You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top. 

Your hips start to roll against him.

“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”

You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.

Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.

You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette. 

“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.

“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.

“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.

“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”

Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.

“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”

“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”

As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.

The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.

“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”

He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.

He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.

This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.

“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.

“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”

Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.

He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can���t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.

“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”

“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.

As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.

He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.

This boy is different.

He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.

“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”

He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”

You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)

“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.

Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.

You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook tattoo #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fuck boy au #seven tattoos later

[makethatelevenrings]

"back off" with Jaason?

TW: patronizing man

Scary dog privileges. That’s what Artemis called it once when she saw him in action.

Even if you were simply stopping by the corner store for some more bananas and yogurt, he was there. Anytime the sun set on Gotham and the criminals began to crawl out of the shadows, you couldn’t go anywhere without your guard dog.

At first it rubbed you the wrong way. Did he not trust you?

But then you learned quickly that it wasn’t you he didn’t trust. It was the leering monsters of Gotham who preyed on young women like you. You found solace in his presence, even if he insisted on following you the ten feet it took you from your work to your front door.

But this was the first time that Jason Todd had to go into scary dog mode during the day.

He had left the table the two of you were occupying so he could go help a woman outside who appeared to be struggling to juggle her grocery bags and her cane. You loved your kindhearted man and savored the sight of the way the corner of his eyes crinkled with his laughter. He took her bags in one of his big, strong hands and offered her his arm which she gladly took. Jason glanced at you through the window and jerked his head towards the left before holding up four fingers. 

He wouldn’t be gone long so you could hold down the fort for a bit.

The humid Gotham air caused condensation to gather on the surface of your travel mug and you absentmindedly drew your finger through the droplets as you thumbed through some paperwork that Bruce asked you to take a look at. For Wayne Enterprises, that is. Not the night job.

The Bowery wasn’t just Jason’s territory. You pulled the marionette strings for the daytime practices. As he cleaned up the mob, you focused on filling in the power vacuums left behind by various murders and arrests. Job training programs, continuing education, supporting schools, that was your thing. So when Bruce approached Jason about building a new library in the Bowery, your boyfriend directed his father to you.

You were so engrossed in the details of the building plan that you didn’t look up when the chair across from you pulled away. You assumed it was Jason, of course.

“Did you know your dad wants the entire first floor to be for children and teens while also supplying a social worker program on the second floor for the unhoused?” you mused. When your question went unanswered, you raised your head to find a man who was decidedly not your boyfriend leering at you.

“Can I help you?” you sighed.

“Hi. I’m Mark. I was working over in the corner and noticed that you were really focused. Can I ask what you’re working on?”

“No, but you can fuck off,” you said as politely as your sharp words would allow. “If you saw me sitting here, then you saw my boyfriend seated here too.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I was just looking to make polite conversation but you’re over here jumping to conclusions. Can’t a guy just come say hello?”

You clasped your hands in front of you on the table and leaned forward. “Alright, Mark. What were your intentions when you came over here? Especially since you waited until my boyfriend was gone. That doesn’t seem to be polite conversation but predatory behavior.”

You flashed him a fake smile and batted your lashes. His lips screwed up tightly and he scoffed. “All of you females are the same. I mean, you really thought that I would want to hit on you? How arrogant can you be? Here’s a tip: learn to respect men an-”

He was cut off by a hand curling around the collar of his shirt. Jason yanked Mark up and out of the chair and pulled him in close, his lips peeling back in a sneer.

“Here’s a tip: you see any girl, but especially my girl, and you learn to back off before I break your arm off and shove it down your fucking throat,” Jason growled. You blinked up at the two men and then grinned, leaning your head on your hand and watching as your guard dog went into attack mode.

“Hey man, I was just trying to be friendly,” Mark gasped out. There was no way he could take on the over six foot tall tank that was Jason Todd. Your boyfriend’s jaw clenched and a vein throbbed under his skin, which you really shouldn’t find so hot. 

“Yeah? I wasn’t. You should be glad I’m feeling charitable today. Now, you’re gonna pack your shit up and get out of my fucking sight.”

He let go of the weasel and stepped back so his thigh brushed against your shoulder. Jason crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating his already massive form with the bulge of his biceps. Mark raised his hands as he scooched around the mountainous man and darted back to his table.

“Sorry, Mallory,” Jason called to the owner of your favorite cafe. She merely waved him off and shot you a wink. You leaned your head against Jason and raised your hand to settle on his waist but he didn’t relax until Mark was out of the store, the bell ringing behind him as the door slammed shut on his ass.

“He didn’t touch you, right?” Jason asked. His voice still held that sharp edge to it but it softened when he turned to face you. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and you smiled at his touch.

“No, baby. I wouldn’t let him touch me even if he tried.”

“Good.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before he rounded the table and settled back in his seat. One of his hands remained clasped over yours as he gazed at you from across the table.

“Guess what your dad wants to do on the first floor?” you asked as you waved the building plans in front of his face.

“Tell me,” he hummed. Jason Todd might be your guard dog, but you never saw his fangs directed at you. Despite his size and stature, he was just a little puppy when it came to you.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #honey's 3k celebration

[greatooglymooglyyy]

Driver's License (Matt Sturniolo)

request:

a/n: anon i love you so much, both of your ideas were so good. i hope you love this. i cut off the second part to gatekeep it till it comes out 💕 also ik in the song, it is the boys fault but i've done a few of those so I wanted this one to be on the reader.

contains: angst, fluff, breakup to makeup, abandonment issues, happy ending, kissing, cussing, 1.3k words

Three Months Ago:

“Okay, whoa. Don’t hit the break that hard. Ease on to it.” Matt says quickly, leaning forward a bit. I roll my eyes at his dramatics. “I barely pressed it, Matt.” I continue circling the parking lot slowly since he refuses to let me go over 5 miles per hour.

When a car enters the parking lot near me, I tense up but Matt jumps in. “You got it. You’re fine. They’re just gonna pass you.” He says, calmly, his hand resting near the steering wheel, just in case he needs to grab it. The car passes me and I relax, smiling over at Matt. “See.” He says, giving me a small smile back but then gesturing back out the window. “Look at the road, babe. Not me.” I snap my eyes away and focus back in.

“Pull into this one right here.” He gestures at a spot a couple of feet away and I turn into it, barely in the lines, and put the car in park. I wince and glance over at him, expecting him to talk shit, but he just smiles. “Not bad, baby. You wanna try to get on the street?” My eyes widen and he laughs and takes off his seatbelt.

“It’s okay. Next time.” He leans over and presses two kisses to my lips before opening his door so we can trade back. He comes around the car and opens the driver’s door, leaning in. “You’re gonna be coming through to pick me up in a second. Just wait.”

*********

I look down at the floor of the DMV and shake my head, trying and failing to push down my thoughts of Matt. Today is probably the hardest day without him I've had since we first broke up two months ago. Two months since I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life and didn’t even have the strength to try and fix it. Every time I think about the look in Matt’s eyes when I told him we were done, I want to crumble. So instead, I try not to think about it at all.

The attendant calls my name sharply and it snaps me out of my impending pity party. I quickly scramble over and take my license from her, muttering a quiet thank you. As I head back to my car, I can’t take my eyes off it. I always thought this moment would be so much bigger but it just feels empty now.

When I get in my car, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel for a second trying to clear my head. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to muster up something resembling self-respect before my heart wins out and I pull out my phone. This is a bad idea. I know it and repeat it to myself as I type Matt’s name into my Instagram search bar.

This has been a hard limit I set with myself, alongside not texting him or his brothers. I don’t stalk his Instagram like some psycho ex. Except apparently, I do today. And god, he looks good. His hair is longer than the last time I saw him, the ends curling up slightly. In his most recent post, he’s got a slight smile as he looks up at the camera but it’s the glint of something around his neck that makes my breath hitch. I scroll to his next post and zoom in to confirm it’s what I think it is and my eyes begin to water. He’s still wearing the necklace I got him on our first Valentine’s Day.

I close my phone and pull down my sun visor, staring into the mirror. Does it mean he still loves me? Do I still have a chance? Or does he just really like that necklace? I shake my head and push the visor up, throwing the car into reverse. It doesn’t matter. If there’s even still a fraction of a chance, I have to try.

*********

This was a mistake. I’m an absolute freak. I’m a loser. Why would I drive to this man’s house like everything’s fine? I put my head in my hands and count to three trying to calm down. I’ve been sitting outside of the triplet’s house for two minutes trying to get my nerve back but with every passing second I feel stupider.

Okay, it’s fine. This is fine. Before I can talk myself out of it anymore, I get out of my car and march up to their door. I knock twice, deciding that if they don’t answer in ten seconds I can run back to my car and pretend this never happened. I get all the way to eight before Chris swings the door open. We stare at each other blankly for a couple of breaths before Chris turns and calls for Matt to come down. He turns back to me, hardening his eyes. But he must see something in my face that makes him take pity because he just sighs before leaning in and whispering a low, “Don’t fuck this up, kid.”

As soon as Matt starts down the stairs, Chris turns and rushes back up, tapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder when he passes him. When he sees me in the doorway, Matt freezes momentarily, recovering quickly and setting his jaw. I take an involuntary step backward at the icy look he gives me as he leans against the door frame.

“Can I help you?” He asks. His voice has way less steel than I expected but the question still guts me. It feels like I’m standing in front of a stranger and not the boy who used to hold me every night.

“I just-” I start, biting down on my bottom lip as I try not to cry. “I got my driver’s license today,” I say lamely. I cringe slightly and he furrows his brow in confusion.

“Okay?”

“I just wanted to tell you that, I guess.”

“Alright. Thanks for the headline.” He says sarcastically.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” I say, turning to retreat.

“That’s what you’re sorry for?” He demands, clearly angry now. “You’re not sorry for leaving me out of nowhere? For never answering a single one of my messages? For breaking my fucking heart?”

I swallow thickly and nod, stepping closer. “Matt. I’m sorry for all of that. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I promise you that was never my intention. I was just scared.” He laughs bitterly at that and shakes his head.

“No. You don’t get to use that excuse. Everybody’s scared. I was scared. You don’t get to just run when shit gets real.” His voice cracks a bit at the end and he runs his hand over his face. I reach out tentatively and place my hand on his arm. He locks eyes with me at the touch but doesn’t immediately snatch away.

“I wish I could take it back. I wish every day that I had just talked to you. And I understand if you can’t forgive me for that, Matt. I don’t know if I would either. But, I promise if you can, I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving that I’m all in.” His eyes search mine desperately for truth and I hold my breath waiting for his response.

“Tell me that you love me.” He says, quietly.

My heart jumps as fear floods my body. I’ve never said it out loud before. I exhale deeply, letting my eyes trail over his face. “I love you, Matt.” My voice is a little wobbly but I pour as much honesty as I can into those words, hoping he hears what he needs.

He nods, his serious demeanor still in place, and sticks out his pinky finger. I laugh wryly and lock our pinkies, sealing the promise.

Matt pulls me inside of the house and takes my face in his hands, kissing me so intensely that my body leans sideways. He pulls away, pressing another one to my lips quickly and then drawing me into his arms. I wrap myself around his waist, feeling like the weight of the world has been lifted.

“I missed you so much.” Matt’s voice grates against my ear as he kisses behind it. I slip my hands under his shirt before I pull back to look at his face and grin.

“Enough to finally let me drive you on the interstate?” I say hopefully.

“Absolutely fucking not-”

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo oneshot #matt sturniolo oneshots #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #maggie b writes

[cosmicpearlz]

flavored kisses

summary: in which you wear a different flavored chapstick everyday and your boyfriend xavier loves it.

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader

…………………………………………………………………………….

you kept chapstick on you at all times, especially now that it’s cold outside. but of course, you’d never been the one to stick to just one flavor. you have a variety of chapstick flavors just because.

currently you and xavier were in the library studying for the exam that was coming up for your shared botanical sciences class. xavier couldn’t keep his eyes off of you while your eyes were stuck on the book. he liked the way the sun shone through the window and hit your cheek making your face glow.

“didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare thorpe?” you glanced at the boy sitting across from you with a grin on your face.

“i can’t help it when my girlfriend looks so kissable right about now.” this is what you loved about him, he never failed to make your stomach flutter. you shake your head and go back to taking your notes.

“focus on your notes xavier.”

“you gotta give me a kiss first sweetheart.”

you eyed him again seeing that he was dead serious about kissing you.

“no.”

“then i’ll just sit here admiring you until you kiss me.”

“that’s very creepy babe. i hope you know that.”

“i could care less. i’m just asking for one kiss,” xavier shrugged his shoulders giving you a pearly white smile.

“you know damn well that it’s not gonna be just one kiss. you do this to me every time,” you pouted at him.

“baby i swear it’ll be just one kiss.”

you playful rolled your eyes at him, “will you stop being so needy and focus on your notes if i kiss you?”

“oh absolutely.”

leaning over you meet xavier in the the middle to place a peck on his lips. not keeping his promise, he lays both of his hands on your cheeks to deepen the kiss. you were not surprised at all that he deepened the kiss. secretly, you enjoyed him doing so but he didn’t need to know that.

you were the first one pull away and he snuck one more peck to your lips. “that was not one kiss xavi,” you glared at him.

“hey, i did say one kiss. i just didn’t say how long i was gonna take,” he licks his lips tasting more of the strawberry chapstick that graced your lips.

“focus on your notes and maybe, just maybe i’ll consider giving you more kisses.”

-

from loml <3

hi honey, come meet me in the art shed.

to loml <3

that desperate to see me? ;)

from loml <3

always. now hurry your ass up, i wanna show you something

you began your short walk to the art shed. when you got there, the wooden doors were slightly open for you to just walk in. you closed the doors behind you and wrapped your arms around xavier’s shoulders placing your chin on his head.

“okay baby, i need you to close your eyes really quick.”

“really?”

“yes, trust me. i think you’ll like it,” he places small kisses on your forearms that were still around his shoulders. xavier then gets up and leads you to the middle of the floor. you could hear him shuffling around before it was quiet again.

“you can open your eyes now.”

you opened your eyes to a large canvas that he painted of you and him. it was the exact picture ajax took of the two of you at one of the nightshades parties. you were sitting in his lap with a red cup in your hand while he stared at your smiling face.

“also watch this,” he raised his hand to make the image move as if it was playing a scene from a movie. picture you laughed and then looked at him to place a quick kiss upon his cheek making picture him smile.

“baby. i’m at a loss for words right now,” you turn to him teary eyed. you immediately close the distance and pull him into a kiss. he’s hasty to grab your hips bringing you further into to him. cherry he thinks to himself. you tasted like cherries today and he’s sure this is one his favorite flavors from your collection.

“i love this and i love you so much.”

“i love you more. only the best for my girl,” xavier kisses to top of your head and hugs you.

-

it was unusually easy to sneak into xavier’s dorm room this night. you guys would often hang in his dorm rather than yours because of the fact he didn’t have a roommate. leaving you guys to do whatever you wanted. it was movie night and like almost every movie night, the movie was just background noise.

xavier had his back up against the headboard of his bed while you were positioned with your legs on both sides of his lap. he takes the time to wiggle his hands under your shirt to caress your skin before pulling you into a kiss. the kiss was slow yet very savory. sugar cookies? forget the cherries, this one was definitely his favorite one.

“that’s a new one.”

“a new what babe?” you peered at him with questioning eyes.

“the chapstick. it tasted like sugar cookies, i don’t think you’ve ever had that before,” he gently brushed his thumb against your lips. you couldn’t fight the smile that came on your face.

“yeah, i got it in town a couple of weeks ago when i was with enid! it’s a new holiday flavor.”

“this one definitely has be my favorite flavor out of all your chapsticks.”

“wait, xavier you noticed i change my chapsticks everyday?”

“of course i noticed sweetheart. it’s one of the many little things about you that i love.” suddenly you felt shy in front of him. it made you feel good that your boyfriend noticed this little thing that you’ve been doing since you were a kid. you put your head on his shoulder in attempt to hide into his neck.

“don’t hide from me babe. i think it’s absolutely cute that you have different flavors. it makes kissing you even more enjoyable,” the both of you start laughing.

“i’m glad you enjoy it my love.” xavier moves both of you to fully lay down and begins lightly dragging his hand up and down your back. this motion alone was already making you tired.

“get some sleep baby. i’ll be here when you wake up.” you snuggled more into his warm chest and drift off to sleep.

you never thought that xavier would notice something as small as you changing your chapstick everyday. but being the observant boyfriend he is, of course he noticed. you were his girl, he’s always going to notice anything when it comes to you.









#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe fluff #percy hynes white #wednesday

[heavenlyhischier]

untitled | rafe cameron

word count: 3.4k

warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT— smut, fingering, oral (male receiving), slight degradation, God and church are mentioned, unprotected sex (use protection my friends), praise kink maybe, spanking, hair pulling

note: 90% smut. 10% plot. the way i’m attracted to this man is insane. i’m obsessed w him. loosely inspired by Church by Chase Atlantic.

The relationship you had with Rafe Cameron was anything but complicated. The two of you would see each other at a party, or a two a.m. “you up?” text was sent, and you would end the night in your bed with evidence of the night between your thighs. It wasn’t anything more than sex, and the both of you were okay with it. Neither of you had room for a relationship in your lives, and you’re not entirely sure a relationship is something you would want with someone like him. He comes with a lot of baggage that you know he’s not to blame for, but you also know it wasn’t something you were equipped to handle.

Instead, you get to have some of the best parts of him, and he gets to have some of the best parts of you with absolutely no strings attached. Well, maybe there were a few strings. You and Rafe often danced over the metaphorical line and into domestic territory. He would give you random kisses, ensure your aftercare was nothing short of stellar, shower with you, and sometimes he would even stay the night with you. You weren’t entirely innocent, either. You found yourself wearing just his shirt around your apartment whether he was there or not, and there were times where you caught yourself smiling too widely at your phone when his name appeared on the screen. Yet, despite these things, you knew that in the end, the two of you would cross back over the line and fall back into your own normalcy.

Last night was one of the times that Rafe had asked to stay over after your nightly activities, and you never told him no. You always caved in to his wants and desires, and his request to sleep in your bed was never a privilege you were going to deny yourself of. Despite your relationship being based off pure, unadulterated lust, you found a sort of warm comfort when you woke up with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. The physical contact was nice, and it made you feel far less lonely than when you woke up in a cold and empty bed.

The crisp autumn air wafted into your apartment through the open window, hitting your exposed thighs as you made your coffee. Turning to go into the living room, you caught a glimpse of your overturned dining chairs and memories of last night's events flooded your mind at once. Images of Rafe bending you over that very table left your cheeks burning and the knot in your stomach tightening as you settled into a spot on the couch.

The sun shone through the breaks in the curtain, the soft light decorating your living room in a way that covered your scattered trinkets in a golden hue. Despite the late night, you still found yourself slipping out of Rafe’s arms fairly early in the morning. Your sore legs had wobbled as you left him to sleep, his soft and quiet snores getting quieter the further away you got from him. Now, as you sat in the comforting silence, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the naked man in your bed.

About an hour later, you had just finished picking up the remnants of last night when you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. It was sickeningly domestic and familiar the way your lips turned upwards into a smile as he neared you. The way the mere sound of him had you smiling was pathetic, and often left you wondering if you could get over his immense emotional baggage and let yourself love him the way a small part of you wanted to. Though, the harsh reality of the Cameron family was not easily forgettable, and made it easy to draw yourself back from what could be.

“Thought you left me alone this morning,” He whispered, voice thick with sleep as his arms encased you against the kitchen counter.

You let out a delicate hum as you leaned into him, “Not today.”

“You look sexy wearing my shirt,” He rasped, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Your body shuddered, eyes fluttering shut as you tilted your head back against his shoulder. His hips were pressed against your back, his bulge poking into your ass as his breath fanned against your neck. Your heartbeat quickened at the proximity, eager and ready for what was undoubtedly to be ahead of you. His hand slipped underneath your shirt, goosebumps following in the path of his long, slender fingers.

“Rafe, please,” You whimpered as his hand slipped into your underwear, teasing your core with the lightest touches.

“Please what,” He teased, his middle fingers sliding through the wetness in between your legs, “Use your words, baby. Beg for it.”

“Touch me. Please touch me,” Your voice was breathless and needy as your hips grinded against his finger, eager for any sort of friction to ease the tightening coil in your stomach.

He let out a puff of air against your neck in approval before sliding his finger inside of you; a mangled moan slipping through your lips as you screwed your eyes shut. His finger curled inside of you as his thumb found your clit, rubbing small and perfectly paced circles. His breathing was heavy in your ear, only adding to the pleasure coursing through your veins as he worked the digit inside of you.

“Think you could take another finger, princess,” He goaded, his voice deep and thick with desire as he watched you writhe beneath his touch.

Your response came out strangled and breathless as he quickened his pace, your mind going hazy and unclear as the ball in your stomach became tighter and warmer. Taking your lack of response as a response,

he slides in a second finger and you nearly collapse against him. His ring brushes against your skin, lighting the flesh on fire as he buries his fingers and curls them inside of you; your nearly pornagraphic moans bouncing off the walls around you.

The way your heart was thudding against your ribs and your eyes were rolled back in your head, it made you feel closer with Rafe than anything. He’s been the only person to ever get you off this way, and a part of you wanted him to be the only person to ever get you off. You’ve never been one to let a one night stand to finger you in your kitchen, but Rafe wasn’t a one night stand. He was much more than that.

Rafe Cameron knew your body better than he knew his own, and he knew exactly what to do in order to guide you to your release. You were squirming underneath him as his fingers continuously scraped against your g-spot, your cries filling his ears and fueling his already already stiff cock. While he’d never admit this out loud, getting you off with his fingers was the best way to get him hard and eager to fuck you into oblivion.

With the combination that was working between your legs, your release came quickly and was tearing through your body with white, searing hot heat. Stars dotted your vision as you rode his fingers, Rafe still scissoring and curling them inside you while your orgasmic screams echoed around him. His touch was becoming too much, your legs wobbling against him and your head becoming so dazed that you couldn’t think straight.

He yanked his hand out from your panties, leaving a trail of your wetness up your naval and across to your hip so that he could turn you around flush against his chest. Still dizzy and legs still shaking, your lips meet his with the most effort your hazy mind can muster up. Your teeth clash against his, the kiss sloppy and messy as you tangle your hands in his air, but it doesn’t last long until you’re at a need for air.

“God,” You gasped into his mouth, vision hazy and unclear as you tried to recover from the body shaking orgasm that was still rippling through you.

“I’m not God, baby, but I am about to take you back to church,” He whispered against your swollen lips, gaze taunting and lustful, “Now, on your knees, pretty girl.”

Your eyes widen, mouth dropping in awe as you slowly drop to your knees, Rafe’s hand finding place on the back of your neck the whole way down. He’s slightly tugging at the hair on the base of your neck, tilting your head upwards so that you were looking up at him. You knew he liked you in this position, with your hair in his hand, looking up at him like he owned you, almost entirely at his mercy. Though deep down, he knew that you were always at his beckoning no matter what, no matter when, no matter where.

“You always look so pretty on your knees,” He rasped, the grip on your hair tightening so that he could better angle your head, “But you look so much prettier with your mouth on my dick.”

“You sure know how to make a woman feel special,” You playfully mocked, eyes rolled as you looped your fingers into the waistband of his overly expensive boxers.

He roughly yanked your hair back, sending a sharp pain from your scalp to your fingertips as he chastised, “Don’t be an ungrateful brat.”

“I’m sorry,” You swallow thickly, pupils blown in innocence and fervor, the aching between your legs growing.

“‘I’m sorry—,’” He raises his eyebrows, teasing and taunting you in a way that only he could make look hot.

“I’m sorry, sir,” You finished as you slowly tugged the fabric down his toned legs, subtly rolling your eyes in a way that he couldn’t see.

His length sprang out from underneath its previous confinement, presenting itself right in front of your face. You peered up at him, a mixture of eagerness and haughtiness swimming in his eyes as he watched you spit in your palms. He threw his head back, a guttural groan passing through his lips as you took his length in your hands, gently squeezing and tugging, preparing yourself to take him in your mouth.

Flashing one more look up to his face, you focused on the task in hand, literally. Your thumb swirled around the precum that covered the tip of his dick, a string of euphoric whimpers escaping the man above you. Just like Rafe with you, you knew his body, its tells, its likes and dislikes, like they were your own, and you knew exactly what to do in order to get him off properly.

Licking a teasing strip from the base of his cock to the tip, you feel his body shudder underneath the hand you’re using for support. You’re taunting him, taking your time and making slow, calculated movements that left him jerking his hips towards your face. Obscene words flew from his mouth as your grip tightened, and your lips hovered over the throbbing length in your hands.

Finally, your mouth wrapped around his tip and you let out a hollow hum that reverberated against his hard-on, eliciting a slew of mangled breaths and moans before he was pushing your head down onto his entire length. His tip is hitting the back of your throat, tears pricking your eyes as you gag against him. Your cheeks are hollowed as he thrusts into your mouth, the grip on your hair tight and unrelenting as he guides your head himself.

“Fuck, baby,” He groans, “You’re doing so good. Taking me in your mouth like the slut you are, yeah?”

You glance up at him through the water clouding your vision, and the sight above you makes your core throb. His head is thrown back, eyes screwed shut in nothing short of pure ecstasy as your head bobs against him. Your tongue is flat against his cock, your hand still grasping what couldn’t fit in your mouth as you worked him to his release. Despite Rafe’s dominant nature showing with his need to set the pace, you still knew exactly what to do to send him tumbling over the edge.

“Keep doing that,” He encouraged, his breathing shallow and desperate as his grip on you faltered, “Jesus Christ. Don’t stop.”

Your dropped your hand that was grasping his length and placed both of them on his thighs so that you were able to gain more control and suck around him in a way you couldn’t without balance. His thrusts into your mouth grew tired and sloppy, but your movements were unyielding and merciless. It wasn’t long until he was shooting ropes of his hot, thick cum into your mouth; his hand keeping your mouth against his cock as he came undone.

He’s pulling himself out of your mouth, a string of saliva mixed with cum trailing between the two of

you. Rafe’s breathing is heavy as he watches you swallow what was left in your mouth, his eyes never leaving your own before he’s yanking you up off the floor. He slams his mouth against your own, kissing you with force and with enough passion to have you grasping his biceps to keep yourself steady. He’s gripping the back of your thighs, silently signaling you to wrap them around his waist so he can take you wherever he’d like.

Your mouths on his neck, sucking and biting at the exposed skin as he’s walking you to your room. He gives you a less than gentle slap to your ass when you bite too hard, but you don’t stop. You wanted to leave a deep, purple bruise marking him as yours, even though he wasn’t really. Barely having separated your mouth from his neck, he was throwing you onto the unmade bed.

“Take your clothes off,” He demanded, standing at the foot of the bed, and it was only then did you realize that he hadn’t put his boxers back on.

He was bearing every inch of his body to you, and there was no stopping yourself from dragging your eyes all across his body. Rafe was truly built as if someone had sculpted him for the Gods with his toned muscles and lengthy limbs. He never failed to make your mouth water, and your core shamelessly yearn for his touch, for his cock. It was pathetic really, just how badly you needed him, but you were long past the point of return, and you fell into the desire head first.

“Baby,” His voice is quite and careful now as his knees fall onto the bed so he’s hovering over you. He’s using one hand to support his weight while the other is cupping your chin, his thumb and forefinger pressed to your cheeks, “I said take your clothes off, not stare. Now, be a good girl and take. Your. Clothes. Off.”

His fingers press deeper into your flesh as he’s enunciating the words with a force that had your thighs clenching together. With your eyes wide, you submissively nod your head and he’s rolling off you after that. You nearly whine at the loss of contact, but you’re ripping your clothes off at record speed so that you could feel him again. With your clothes off, he’s hovering back over you with nothing but greedy desire swimming in his eyes.

“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you baby,” He whispers into your ear, his hand gliding up the inside of your thigh, “You’re just a needy little whore.”

“Only for you,” You breath out, trailing your fingers across his toned abdomen.

He threw his head back, his laughter reverberating around you as he said, “Oh, I know.”

His fingers are plunging into your heat without warning, and you let out a startled yell at the sudden stretch and feeling. He’s cupping the back of your head with his free hand, tilting it backwards so that he could cover your mouth with his own in a sloppy kiss. You’re moaning into his mouth, grasping at his arm and back as he relentlessly fingers you, vison blurring and head clouding with nothing but the man next to you.

“Tell me what you want,” He rasped as his pace slowed, but the thumb drawing circles on your clit did not, “C’mon, baby. Treat me like a priest. Confess all those dirty thoughts I know are swimming in that pretty little head of yours. Give me your worst, princess.”

A string of unintelligible words fell from your lips in between the salacious moans that were bouncing off your walls. You could barely think straight as his fingers curled inside of you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He called out your name, goading your response.

“— Just fuck me, Rafe,” You begged, mind hazy as any other coherent thought left your mind, “Just need you to fuck me.”

“That I can do,” He lightly chuckled, pulling his fingers out of you.

Your walls clench around nothing as you let out a quiet whimper, watching as he moves around on the bed. He carefully grabs your shoulders and shifts your body up higher on the bed so your feet weren’t hanging off the end anymore, and then his entire body is encasing yours against your mattress. You could feel his dick pressed into your thigh as his eyes danced across your face, admiring the way your cheeks were flushed and hair was still untamed from the night before.

What he did next took you by surprise, yet you leaned into it all the way without a second thought. His lips are on yours, tender and soft as he kisses you like he never has before. His hands cupping your cheek in his hand, thumb gently stroking your cheek as his tongue slips into your mouth. You sigh into his mouth as you pull him into you by his neck. Its full of passion and a feeling that you would mistake as love if you didn’t know better.

Without warning or breaking the fervent kiss, he slams himself inside of you. You throw your head back into the pillow, crying out in intense pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt. Rafe’s soft grunts fill your ears as he pulls himself back before snapping his hips into yours, his cock stretching you in a way that burned just a little, but it was a sensation you welcomed with open arms.

Wet, sticky sounds filled the room as he moved himself in and out of you, and it was like the fucking symphony was playing in Rafe’s ears. He loved hearing your voice, but he loved hearing your writhing, desperate moans more. Your nails were scraping against the tanned skin of his back as you explored the expanse of the skin in search of something to ground yourself to. Your moans were loud and shaky as he fucked into you deeper, harder than anyone ever had before. Of course, you’d had sex with Rafe before, but with him, it was always different.

“You’re doing so good, princess,” He grumbled, his head falling into the crook of your neck, “You’re taking my cock so good.”

“Rafe— Oh my god,” You mewled, wanton moans echoing around him with each thrust into you.

All of a sudden, he’s pulling himself all the way out of you and flipping your body over without effort. He grips your hips so roughly that you’re certain you’ll have fingerprint shaped bruises their later, but you didn’t mind as he’s hoisting your ass into the air. Your face is shoved into the mattress, yet you could still hear him adjusting himself behind you before he’s roughly slamming into you again.

Your hands are gripping the sheet, your eyes rolling as he fucks into you so deeply that you black out for a brief moment. Rafe’s hand sharply slaps your ass, pain mixed with pleasure shooting through your body as his cock scrapes against the part of you that only he could ever reach. A moment later, he’s gripping your hair in a makeshift ponytail so he could yank your head up and better hear your lewd moans.

“Fuck,” He groans as you clench yourself around him, “Keep doing that and I won’t last much longer.”

Rafe’s hand slides to your clit, and you swear your soul left your body when he began to rub circles against it. The knot in your stomach is becoming so tight that you knew it was about to burst any second, and he knew it too. He watched as your hips stuttered against his own and your fingers were grasping at the fabrics like you were going to float away, and that’s how he knew you were close.

You feel him press his chest into your back and he continues pounding into you, and he mumbles a mangled, “Cum for me, princess.”

With his cock still thrusting into you, your orgasm is jolting through your body, leaving you breathless and aching. You barely feel him pull you against his chest as your body writhes against him, your mind cloudy and grasping to the feeling that was coursing through your veins. Rafe’s thrust are becoming messy and slow as he reaches his own release, and it comes quick as you feel the warm, sticky liquid fill inside of you. His hips snap against you involuntarily as he rides out his high, his hand cupping your breast as he pants behind you.

You fall forward into the bed, your legs limp and pussy aching from him splitting you open and pounding into you without mercy. You feel the bed dip and then hear

his footsteps retreating towards the bathroom, but he reappears as quick as he’d left. He takes the towel and gently cleans between your legs, his eyes never leaving your face. He always loved the way you looked after he’d throughly fucked you; your face tired yet pleased all the same.

He’s tossing the towel to the side, taking the spot next to you before he lets three words slip out of his swollen lips, “I love you.”

What. The. Fuck.

the ending kinda sucks but there will not be a part two!! what happens after is up to your imagination ;)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks #obx

[supernovafics]

a lazy morning with boyfriend!steve (18+)

wc: 964

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it was a soft stroke against your cheek and a featherlight kiss against your forehead that pulled you from your sleep.

your eyes fluttered open and you saw steve, who had the sweetest smile on his face. you would’ve been at least a little annoyed at him for waking you up right then, at a time that you knew was way too early, if it weren’t for that smile.

the soft glow of the early morning sun poured through the curtainless windows in his bedroom. if it hadn’t been steve waking you up right then, you knew that in a couple of minutes it would’ve been the sun when it hit his bed almost too perfectly. you’d much rather have a wake up call from your boyfriend than the sunlight that felt incessant this early in the morning. 

you let out a soft groan and pulled the blanket over your heads, enveloping you both in some darkness. “i really need to get you some curtains.” 

“you mean us. you need to get us some curtains.” 

“i technically don’t live here.” 

your boyfriend shifted closer to you, lips brushing against your forehead once again. “yet.”

it was hard to keep track of the nights you’d spent here at his apartment over the last year; you’d lost count after the first few months. it was something that definitely happened more often than not and you practically were already a permanent part of it; your presence lingered even when you weren’t there, and you loved the moments where your nights and mornings were spent with steve. but it was hard to make the official leap into making the place “ours” instead of simply just his. 

because, logically, it was too soon; you two had barely been together a year. but it also felt so weirdly right, and there was a part of you that wanted to throw practicality out of the window and lean so heavily into that “rightness.”

you buried your face in his neck and let out a soft hum. “soon.”

“soon sounds really good,” steve hummed back as an arm circled around your waist and pulled you closer. you didn’t waste a second to tangle your legs with his and wrap yourself around him, your hand beginning to trace mindless circles against the bare skin of his back. 

you were wearing his t-shirt and yours was somewhere on his bedroom floor, thrown there by him after he hurriedly pulled it off of you last night. and steve knew that you’d forget about it and it’d probably stay there for at least the next few days, but he didn’t mind that in the slightest.   

he loved finding the random little pieces of “you” that were littered around the small apartment— a book that you finished reading but forgot to take home, cassettes of some of your favorite albums that now sat on his shelf, a couple pairs of your underwear and so many of your socks that somehow ended up in his laundry.

there was a part of you that wanted to lull yourself back to sleep for at least an hour or two longer, arms and legs wrapped around steve and face buried in his neck; an unconventionally comfortable position. but then there was something else that you wanted to do on this early sunday morning where neither of you had anywhere important to be anytime soon. 

your lips found the underside of his jaw, pressing a soft kiss against the stubbly skin. “need you.”

the two words practically vibrated his skin and the low groan he let out was immediate. his hand snaked underneath your, his, shirt and started trailing up, up, up until it was circling your breast and his thumb was brushing against your nipple. 

“please, stevie,” you whispered, and hearing how needy you sounded made him want to immediately fold. 

steve nodded, it was the only response he could give you in that moment. his other hand found your chin and tilted your face upward, so that he could press a kiss to your lips. 

and from there it was a mix of tangled limbs beneath the sheets and warm mouths against soft skin. the movements were rushed but also slow and languid. steve made quick work of pushing your underwear down your legs and you did the same with his boxers, but the kisses you shared were the opposite; they were attentive and sweet. you took your time sucking on a certain spot on his neck and leaving a pretty little mark, and he slowly moved his mouth against yours, wanting to savor it all. 

“need you inside,” you whined against his lips. 

“mhm, i know, honey,” he whispered as he grabbed your leg to hook it over his bare hip. he squeezed your thigh tightly before pushing home inside of you with one slow movement. 

the pretty noises you let out were swallowed by him before you were burying your face in his shoulder and then deep into his neck, your soft moans sounding like sweet music to his ears. 

probably from one of the first few moments you two met, steve knew that he wanted this forever. he was good at that; falling hard, falling fast. 

he wanted to always fall asleep with you and wake up next to you, fuck you every early morning; even on the days where one or both of you had places to be. he wanted his space to become yours too. but, he was also okay with waiting until you were fully ready to take that next step. 

and it would be next week, when you two were having another moment just like this one, that you finally listened completely to your heart instead of your head and told him yes.

#something sweet for valentine's day<3333 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagines

[chvrryzpop]

SERIAL KILLER

ghost face m. sturniolo x ghost face fem!reader

summary: Killing is fun when it comes to a little action after it…right?

warnings: dom!matt, smut, angst, swearing, blood, spanking, p in v, oral sex (fem!receiving), paraphilia, fingering, degrading kink, pet names, creampie, use of y/n, hair pulling, choking kink, edging, unprotected sex (do not).

not proofread!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You were running down the streets, your vision blurry by the fabric covering the mask you were wearing, feeling the cold breeze of the night hitting your entire body. A stinging sensation on your feet every time they stomped on the hard ground. Police sirens were encircling in the background, making the situation worse.

You thought that this was it, this is how the police would catch you, after months of doing this, this would be the moment that you were so afraid to come.

You made a turn on the right, a downtown neighborhood emerging on sight just a few miles away from you. This was a great sign for you, relief filling your body. You’re finally getting closer to your home, the police sirens getting quieter and quieter every step you take to get there.

You took your mask off and felt the cold breeze hitting your face, the strands of hair sticking on the sides of your sweaty face, and the numbness in your feet getting worse and worse with each step you took. The knife in your hand trying to slip off it.

Climbing through the cold metal ladder that you left against your room window makes you feel tingling sensations on the palm of your hands.

Finally, home sweet home, the police sirens stopped and the sun was rising from the sky. The mask that used to cover your face a few hours ago lying down on your desk with your knife beside it, stains of dried blood on both things.

Your neck also had a few stains of blood, you sat down at your desk, looking at yourself in the mirror using wipes to try and wipe off the blood on you. Until a sound made you jump up off your chair, taking the knife with you.

As you got closer and closer to where the sound was coming from, it became louder, big stomps on the ladder that you climbed just a few seconds ago.

A tall silhouette sitting on the edge of your window with the same disguise that you had, their big veiny hands gripping it to take it off, revealing their face.

It was Matt, your boyfriend.

You sighed out of relief, tossing the knife on the floor as Matt got inside your room, the blue hour making an aureole around his silhouette. “You fucking scared me, Matt!” to which he replied with a chuckle, getting closer to you.

“What? It’s not like I’m a serial killer or something.” The both of you began to laugh at the statement.

He wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you closer to him, “We almost got caught tonight.” He states, pulling a strand of hair out of your face, and checking it. The blood that covered his neck and a bit of his face was still fresh.

“Well, at least we got time to hide the evidence, didn't we?” Your lips now graze against his, making him bite your lower lip delicately. “Yes, we did.”

He pushed you down into your bed and began to kiss you around the neck, collarbone, and then lips, meeting them in a hungry kiss. His hands roam all over your body.

You lifted his shirt in a signal for him to take it off, a chain hitting your chin delicately, he then removed your dress revealing a crimson-red lingerie set on you, admiring the sight of your body lying down made him fuel his desire even more.

He shook his head a bit and smirked, “You little whore.” He crawled on top of you, spreading your legs wide open, fluttering kisses all over the exposed skin, shivers sending down your spine.

Wet kisses on your lower stomach until he got to your panties, biting the waistband as his eyes stared at yours. He looked like a lion ready to devour his prey.

Your breath was hitched, waiting impatiently for the bit of friction of his touch on you, your hips bucking up, provoking Matt to push them back on the mattress and pin them against it. “Please…” you plead.

“Please what?” He asks, removing your panties painfully slow, your toes curling a little at the smallest contact that he was giving you.

Words could barely let out of your mouth, you just needed him, you needed his touch and love for just a minute. “Touch me.” You breathed out, a dark chuckle coming from him as a response.

“You would like that, hm?.” His lips grazed on your wet cunt, shivers were sent down your spine by the action. “Y-yes.” You whine.

Matt twirled his tongue painfully slow in your wet folds, quiet moans coming out from you as he did so. His tongue was now playing on your sensitive bud, your back arching by the action, whimpers coming out from you and your hand now reaching for the back of his head. Entangling your fingers with a few locks of hair.

The way this man was driving you to the edge with his tongue was making you go insane, your grip on his hair got tighter each time his tongue swirled in your heat.

His groans vibrate through your entire body each time your grip tightens on his hair. His tongue switched from your sensitive nub to your entrance, teasing the tip of his top around it. “Please…please,” You muttered through gritted teeth. Matt finally gave you what you needed the most as a response.

Feeling his tongue thrusting in and out of you pushed you to the edge, sensing the ecstasy gain control over your entire body, letting out the loudest moans you've ever had in a while. The grip on the handful locks of hair loosens up to reach for the spot on the mattress next to you, your hands gripping the silk bedsheets, your knuckles turning white as you feel his tongue swirling in circles inside you.

“F-fuck!” You whined out, bucking your hips up so you could seek more contact with his tongue, Matt pining them back to against the mattress. He pulls away from your wet cunt to look at you, his free hand now gripping your jaw to look at him. “Do that one more time, Y/N and I swear to God I’ll fucking stop.” His tone was harsh.

You nodded desperately, needing him more than anything. Instead, he just stands up, looking down at you, his hand that was attached to your jaw now resting on his side looking down at you. He had the exact look in his eyes that you noticed just a few minutes ago.

That’s when all of a sudden you were now lying on your stomach on all fours, feeling the anxiousness and the need to feel your orgasm once again causing you to whine. A smack on your ass makes you squeal. “Look at you, being a whiny bitch for me.” He said, smacking your ass once more, gripping it afterward. “You like that, huh?” He asks a husky tone showing up in his voice.

You nodded, feeling his hand now gripping your hair and pulling your head as up as it could go, he leaned to whisper in your ear, “Words, use fucking words.”

“Y-yes, I l-like that.” You breathed out, Matt returning to his initial position, his grip on your hair never leaving. “Maybe this will teach you to use that little mouth of yours,” His fingers tease at your entrance, whines coming out from you as you feel his fingers now pumping in and out of you.

“O-oh, m-my God.” You cry out, tears forming in your eyes as his fingers keep hitting the right spot inside you, feeling the knot forming once again in your stomach. “I-I’m s-so c-close.” You muttered, feeling your walls clenching slightly.

“Fucking hold it,” Matt demands through gritted teeth as his fingers now were holding a new pace, causing you to hold onto the mattress, tears now streaming down your face. “I c-can’t.” You blurt, feeling your release closer and closer each time his fingers dug deep inside you. “Y/N, don’t you fucking dare.” He warns.

You shake your head as you feel your walls clenching around his fingers, your juices sprawled all over the bed and Matt’s fingers. He takes them out, a soft popping sound as he does so. “I’m sorry,” You said.

Smack.

“What the fuck did I just tell you? Hm?” He replied.

Smack.

You squeal, feeling the stinging sensation each time he spanked you. “I’m sorry.” You repeated.

“You've been behaving so badly tonight.” His lips made a tsk sound while walked around the room, picking up his knife, the floor now covered in a few stains of fresh blood. “Maybe…a little punishment will show you how to be a good girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat when you felt the cold blade against your skin, feeling the blood that covered it painting your back slightly, causing you to quiver at the chilling sensation. Tossing the knife somewhere on the floor.

His thumb is now on your mouth, savoring the salty iron flavor in your mouth, making you whine a bit. “Clean it off.” He demands.

You swirl your tongue around his thumb tasting the red liquid as if it were your last meal ever, not wasting a single drop of it. A popping sound when you finished cleaning out the blood around his thumb, licking your lips slightly as you chuckled. “Good girl,” Matt says.

All of a sudden you felt his cock deep inside you, forceful thrusts as one of his hands snakes to grip softly on your throat and the other one gripped your hip. You let out small groans, driving deep into your core with each stroke. His dick hammering deep inside you, hitting your g-spot each time he did so.

The tears were back again, the overstimulation making you feel weak, as you let out pornographic moans each time Matt picked up a harder pace at you. You whispered a few praises each time you felt closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“You like that, don’t you? You fucking slut.” Another smack on your ass, your breathing getting hitched by his continuous motion.

Another harsh slap on your ass, the stinging sensation back again, and a red mark now forming where Matt had been slapping on. “Fuck.” He groans, the sound of their bodies slamming echoing around the room, the blue hour on the sky was fading away now.

Your vision began to get foggy, panting sounds coming out from you as he slammed himself deeper and deeper inside you, reaching all the right spots. “M-matt.” You moan out repeatedly. Feeling the well-known knot forming once again. His grip on your throat gets tighter as a signal that he’s also close to his release. “You feel so fucking tight.” He breathed out, slamming harshly into you, his nails digging into your skin.

You clench around his shaft, trembling by the pure ecstasy that you felt at that moment. Loud moans come out from you as your juices dripped out of you.

“F-fuck!” Matt whines as his hot cum fills you deep inside, his cock slipping out from you as a thin line of both of your juices trails around your entrance to his dick. The hold of his hand around your throat loosening slowly.

You let yourself fall on the mattress rolling to lie down on your back, huffing a little bit. Matt crawls to the spot next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“What about a good and long shower?” He asks softly, placing a small kiss on your forehead as he strokes your hair lightly.

You chuckled “Sounds good to me.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

a/n: This was kinda short but I liked it!

tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn @sturnioloslurps @cindylcuwhoknows @3mm4yung @mattsfavwh3re @blahbel668 @lov3bug @ilovethesturniolotriplets @junnniiieee07 @mstarniolo @sara2233445 @mbbsgf @thecynthh @mattsturnioloisbae @will-yummy @braindead4l @freshsturns

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader #nick x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #SoundCloud #Spotify

[homeslices]

Euphoria (Azriel x pregnant!reader part one)

Summary: You and Azriel find out you’re pregnant.

A/N: Thought his idea was cute and I’m thinking about making this an entire series of dad!Azriel. Also I’m sorry if this isn’t good, it’s my first time writing anything for acotar, but I do really like it so I plan on writing more in the future.

Pairings: Azriel x pregnant!Reader

Warnings: suggests smut, slight angst about not being able to conceive a baby (fluff to make up)

Word Count: 1.0k

Azriel and you had been trying to have a babe for a while. While the only people in the Inner Circle who had a child was Rhys and Feyre, you have been mated for hundreds of years and were beyond ready. 

Having children was something you had to have many lengthy discussions about first. Azriel’s trauma with his family as a child and your own trauma being an Illyrian women whose wings got clipped before being cast out of your home only too be found and taken in by Rhys’s his mother, were all things you both had to think about before even considering bringing a babe in this world. That’s not even mentioning the war you and all of your loved ones fought in and somehow survived. However, seeing Feyre and Rhy being amazing parents to their son, and just seeing Nyx in general, has confirmed what you both have wanted for a while. 

But, as much as you both wanted a child, it just did not happen. It’s been years since you started trying, and as much as you love to be with Azriel intimately, it started to feel more like a task rather than something fun. There have been a few nights that Azriel has woken up because you forgot to close the bond and was flooded with your feelings of self-loathing. All he could do was cup your tearstained face and whisper reassuring and loving words to you. You blamed yourself and as much as Azriel denied it, those thoughts just didn’t go away.

After the third night of that happening, both you and Azriel decided to just stop trying. Of course you both would continue to not take the tonic, but your goal while being intimate was no longer having a baby, it was to enjoy each other. After a time, sex was pleasurable again, your mindset improved, and while you did have moments of self doubt, Azriel was always there for you as you were for him. Similarly, your family was amazing the entire time. While Azriel and you were fairly private about the situation, you didn’t hide what was going on with them. Their support helped you heal, both of you. It’s been a few years since then, Nyx was now six and it is true that time heals all wounds. 

Azriel was the one who noticed it first. The sun was starting to rise, light beginning to stream through the window of Azriel and your shared bedroom. It was one of those rare occasions that neither of you had to go anywhere that morning, however, Azriel was so used to being up before the sun that he was already awake. Your face was peaceful as you slept, your bare figure tangled in the sheets, and the only noise heard was your soft breathing. His hazel eyes watched your calm face, all the while having his shadows watch both of your surroundings. Weirdly enough, his shadows also kept brushing over you, almost like they were scared to let you out of their grip. It reminded him of when you first mated, at least one of his shadows had to be with you at all times once both of you got out of the frenzy.

There was something different, something unusual that Azriel could sense that made him feel uneasy, but not on edge. It bothered him, however, as your eyes fluttered open and you shifted your body to face your mate, it hit him. Well, your scent hit him. Before, the room smelled of the previous night’s activities, but with your change in position, he could now make out that your scent has changed. It was subtle, but the slight sweetness in the air was all that was needed to figure out what was so strange. 

Azriel’s face was the first thing you saw as you woke up. Despite being able to mask how he’s feeling extremely well, his slightly widened eyes, along with the millions of thoughts running rampant behind them, were all telltale signs that he was in shock. 

You hum curiously before speaking.

“What is it?” you question while reaching up to cup the side of his face, rubbing your thumb along his cheek. You could feel the coolness of his shadows brushing all over your body, it was comforting yet slightly unusual to wake up to. 

“You're pregnant.” 

Sitting up suddenly, as if a bucket of ice water had been spilt on you, you look at him bewildered.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

A grin filled with pure joy took over his face as he answered you once again. 

“You’re pregnant.”

All you could feel was disbelief and elation. You could now tell that your scent was different and all you could do was look at your husband, your mate, incredulously. His deep laugh fills the room, only further showing his happiness. You beam at him as he lifts you in his arms and settles you on his lap. His bare skin felt warm against yours, and the chill that continued to brush over you from the shadows felt perfect against you. The only time you’ve felt this overjoyed was when you found out you were mated to Azriel. You brush your lips against his as he cups your face, brushing away the tears you didn’t know were falling. 

You knew things were going to change from that point on. You knew how male got when their mate was pregnant, how protective they became. You saw first hand when Feyre was pregnant with Nyx, she could never move more than a few feet away before Rhys was next to her once again, and if a stranger came up to her, everyone could feel the power he unleashed to get them away. Rhys had mentioned it was similar to how males are after first being mated, but also said that that is nothing compared to how protective he felt of his mate carrying his child. 

You knew that this was only the beginning of troubles you would face. But at this point in time, wrapped in one another’s embrace, tenderly kissing tears of joy off each other's face while the morning light poured in, all you could feel was euphoria. 

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel fic #dad!azriel #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acotar x reader #acosf #acomaf #acowar #acotar fluff #acotar x you #azriel x pregnant!reader

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 15)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, doesn't actually happen.

Word Count: 4,008

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Masterlist]

Notes: ENJOY. Also, someone plz tell me they got tagged this time 😭

_________________________________________

Everything fucking hurts.

Your head is throbbing like someone is repeatedly hitting you with a hammer. You can’t even open your eyes because the dots of light in your vision are swimming in circles, and you’re pretty sure if you crack your eyes open and squint into the room you’ll surely lose the contents of your stomach, which is still mostly alcohol from last night.

You groan in agony because it’s the only thing you can do. Curling in further on yourself, you tug the covers up over your head, trying to block as much of the sun, creeping steadily in through the windows, as you can.

A deep inhale to try and ease your stomach brings along the scent of freshness; like night-chilled mist and cedar. The smell is so perfectly balanced, familiar and fresh in your aching lungs that it almost lulls you back to sleep. It’s effortlessly masculine and with another luxurious inhale, your brain connects the scent to its familiarity. It’s the same as the soap you’d used when you were forced to stay the night at the apartment next door, while Feyre and Rhysand had been having their public nudy show in your living room.

You want to snuggle into it, wallow in its comfort all day, but your mind is quickly catching up to you, running that specific thought back a second time, but slower.

It smells like the same soap you’d used when you were at Azriel’s apartment after the rainstorm. 

Your eyes snap open and your body jolts into an upright position that makes your stomach roil, shoving your head down between your knees.

Fuck. You drank way too much last night.

You blink away the bleariness, the dizziness from your vision, staring down at your lap. You’re still wearing the clothes you’d ambled over to Cassian’s party in, and the fabric sticks to your skin uncomfortably. You feel like shit all around, sick from the alcohol, dirty from the night spent dancing and sweating, and you’re pretty sure your breath smells like you’d licked the floor of the local dive bar.

Another blink brings the sheets into focus, certainly ones that are not yours. These are a deep charcoal color, softer and smoother than anything you’ve ever touched. The thread count must be in the thousands. The mattress beneath your aching body feels like a cloud, and all of the effort that went into curating such a lovely bed surely shouldn’t be wasted.

You’re impressed for all of a few seconds until you lift your head and realize where you are.

Azriel’s room.

It’s easy to tell because your memories of last night slowly roll in like flipping through pages of your sketchbook.

“Look,” Cassian grunts as you stumble again and he has to put you on your feet again. He’s faring slightly better than you right now, but only because there are women to flirt with. “I know our friendship is still kind of new, but if you keep hanging all over me like this you’re going to scare away the ladies.” 

You can’t help but to laugh. It feels good, so good that your chest aches with it. Your cheeks are red with drink, and Cassian hasn’t ever seen you grinning so much. 

It kind of scares him.

“Where are your keys?” he continues, his hands warm on your hips where he’s trying to keep you from falling flat on your face. Maybe that last shot you’d taken together had been one too many. “Can I pat down your pockets?”

“I know you wanna feel me up, Cass,” you slur playfully, and his name sounds snake-like, with the way you drag out the S.

“Of course I do, (Y/N), any man would be stupid not to want you,” he comments but his words don’t register because the floor is slipping out from under your feet again.

“Feyre has the keys,” you hiccup. Then, “Are we on a roller coaster? The room is spinning.”

Cassian curses, poking his head out of the crowd to search for your missing roommate. She’s with Rhys, no doubt, but he doesn’t see them in the mass of bodies crowding his apartment. What he does see are a lot of disappointed, single women.

He gestures to you and then slices his hand under his chin in a cutting motion, signaling that he’s not with you, even though you’ve wilted against his chest, rubbing your cheek into the soft fabric of his shirt. Cassian watches his message land, their eyes sparkling in intrigue again, and he doesn’t care, he needs to get you somewhere safe so he can take that pretty brunette and her friend to his room.

The safest place in the apartment he knows is Azriel’s room.

“Oh my fucking Gods,” you groan, holding your head when your curse rings in your ears. Of course you’re in Azriel’s room, because you’re fated to end up in situations that will make him hate you even more.

Slowly, you shove the blankets away, slipping your legs over the edge of the bed. The good news is, you feel like you’ve slept for a hundred hours. The other good thing is that you didn’t throw up anywhere in his room that you can see, or smell. 

The bad news is that you don’t know where Azriel is.

But at least he’s not currently here to witness you rising from the dead.

Blindly, you reach for you phone, patting across the table next to the bed. In the back of your throat sits a lump that you consciously work to swallow down. Later, you might regret not purging the rest of the sickness from your body, but the last place you want to do that is here, in Azriel’s room. What the fuck did you end up drinking last night? You remember the flaming shots and Cassian throwing out a partygoer who looked awfully familiar.

Then there had been Mor, who had told you all about Rhysand growing up over a few drinks. The longer Cassian had forced the two of you to talk, presumably so he could sneak off to flirt with girls while you were distracted with each other, the more Rhysand’s cousin seemed to relax. Those cutting looks had turned from pinning you to your spot to glaring at any of the girls who came up to the both of you to ask about the hosts of the party.

Mor’s stories had you seeing your roommate’s boyfriend in a different light. And the embarrassing ones were even better. Like the one time they had gone sledding down the slope of Mor’s family home in Colorado. It had been a steep incline and they’d been warned many times not to go down there, but the fresh snow had been all too tantalizing not to.

Their punishment had been to walk back up the hill to the house, and when they were small the trek felt like it was ten thousand steps high. And they had to carry their sleds behind them. Rhysand had thrown up halfway and Mor had gotten sick from the tears of laughter streaming down her face afterwards.

Cassian’s words cut through the smile trying to sluice across your face. Azriel had said something about a date. Your stomach revolts but you don’t know why. The thought of Azriel missing out on one of Cassian’s parties doesn’t seem out of character for the broody man, but going on a date? This is the first you’ve heard about Azriel doing so. You know much more than you’d like to know about his roommates’ sexual lives, but you didn’t think Azriel was even open to going out. You don’t know why you care.

You don’t.

It doesn’t sound as convincing as it may have once been.

He’s ridiculously attractive, so why wouldn’t he be going on dates? He probably has a plethora of phone numbers from girls begging to go out with him. So many that it makes your teeth grind at the thought.

Your fingers connect with your phone and your head throbs at the brightness of your screen, rivaling the sun’s rays spearing through the blinds.

And then you see the time.

“Shit,” you curse, scrambling for the shoes someone had kindly taken off for you. They’re piled at the foot of the bed. 

You’re late for class.

Gods, you don’t remember the last time you drank like this. Must have been sometime last year because even with all the wine you’d consumed during your pottery painting with Feyre, Cassian, and Rhysand, you hadn’t felt this badly. This is a next level hangover.

You brace yourself when your hand lands on the doorknob to his room. There’s a lock and it’s flipped shut, so you turn it back carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when the click is quiet.

You freeze in your tracks, breath catching in your throat when you slide the door open.

Azriel is lying on the couch, his body splayed out in a long line. His shirt has risen from where he’s lifted his arm, resting it over his eyes to block the sun coming in through the windows, revealing the cut of his hips. There’s two tattoos painted on the skin that you hadn’t noticed the other night, a pair of feathered wings lining the defining muscle of his hips.

You lick your lips before realizing that in the quiet of the apartment, Azriel is fast asleep. The steady rise and fall of his chest helps give him away. That, and the fact that he’s not snarking at you or shooting daggers in your direction.

It’s your saving grace.

The coffee table shoved in front of the couch is littered with cups and rolling paper wrappers, alcohol spilled across its surface. You have no idea how the glass tabletop has survived the rowdy part unscathed, because you’re pretty sure there was one point in the night where you saw a girl standing on top of it, readying herself to fall into the crowd of people congregated in the living room.

The floor is much the same, and you feel like you’re walking a minefield as you tiptoe around questionable puddles and garbage. The stench of alcohol in the air makes your head spin, your stomach protesting and you press a hand to it, trying to comfort the ache.

You escape the apartment without waking Azriel, breathing a sigh of relief that has the remainders of your final drink swimming up your throat.

You make a run for your apartment next door, and thankfully, Feyre answers your knocking.

You don’t like the knowing look she’s wearing, but she doesn’t pester you while you make a break for the bathroom.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take you long to get ready for class.

You’d told Feyre to go on ahead without you when she had knocked softly on the door while you had your head in the toilet, but the sound still clanged through your head like a gong. She was going to get coffee with Rhysand before class and asked if you wanted anything, to which you gratefully accepted.

Even though you have plans to meet Lucien at the coffeehouse for a drink, you need something now or you’re afraid that you won’t make it through the day.

As badly as you want to go and be a hermit in bed all day, you don’t want to miss your classes. Alis is bringing in another model and grading what you come up with in class, and you don’t want to be docked points for missing out. 

Your other class for the day is Art History, and you need to show up to be able to drink in as much of the different styles of art as possible.

Dressing quickly, your clothes stick to your freshly-showered skin. You shove a baseball cap over your hair because while you had the time to wash your body, your hair had been left neglected until later tonight.

Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you snag your sketchbook from your desk, shoving all of the loose papers hanging out the edges inside. It’s a haphazard job at best, but you’re already running too late for your liking, and you can organize them later.

Like as you wait for the Gods-awful elevator your apartment building has.

The queasiness in your stomach has gone down but the piece of toast you’d forced yourself to eat threatens to come right back up when you spot Azriel, his own backpack slung over his shoulder, waiting for the elevator.

You can still turn around and hide away, there’s definitely still time to—of course he’s turning around at the sound of your approaching footsteps.

His golden eyes glitter with amusement and you can’t shove away the shiver that slides down your spine like a paint filled brush as he trails you from head to toe.

“Sleep well?” He asks gruffly, and the sound of his voice makes your knees weak. Tripping on your next step, your sketchbook goes flying from your hands, spilling the loose papers you’d just stuffed in there everywhere. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you can hear Azriel curse in surprise, but you feel the hot mortification slicing through your body. There are sketches of his hands fluttering to the ground. Ones you had drawn while working on your last project for Alis’ class, the one where you drew Leonardo’s Study of Hands. Azriel’s had been your inspiration, and there’s sketches of them in all sorts of poses, some more promiscuous than others, and you’re completely fucking mortified.

You drop to your knees, face burning red as you scoop the papers closer to you, praying that he doesn’t see. Azriel’s already crouching down with you, helping gather some of the drawings, and the fact that this is the first time he’s ever seen any of your work is overshadowed by the fact that there’s a piece of thick drawing paper right next to his boot. It’s creased from its fall, half of it turned up at an angle. You can see the wavy lines you’d tried so hard to recreate from memory. If he picks that up and looks at it you will have to transfer schools.

“Don’t touch that,” you almost screech when his fingers close around the edge of the paper. You watch it in slow motion, the clench of his jaw, the way that his eyes flick down to his hands, marred flesh fully on display. Oh Gods, you think you might throw up all over again. He thinks you mean that you don’t want him to touch your things because of his fucking hands. Your throat tightens, heart beating so fast in your chest that you’re sure it’s going to burst through your skin. Quickly, trying to rectify yourself, you plead, “No.” Your voice cracks around the lump forming but you shove past it. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Azriel’s face is tight as he stands. You scramble, collecting your papers into your arms. He towers over you, even standing, and you don’t like the flicker of muscle in his jaw because he’s clenching his teeth so hard. 

You don’t like the shadows writhing through the gold of his eyes, molten with anger.

He hands out the papers he’s picked up and an apology is on the tip of your tongue. Reaching out, you’re just about to grasp them, croak out a thank you, when Azriel drops them.

You watch them flutter to the ground again. The elevator dings and the doors squeal open, but you can’t stop staring at the paper on the ground now. You swallow hard, the mortification bubbling into annoyance.

Azriel’s boots twist in your vision and he enters the elevator without another word.

Your eyes prickle but you don’t know why. The breaths you’re releasing through your nose to keep calm are harsh and shaky. Like Azriel’s hands. You need to go to class, and he can fuck off now.

You dip down and snatch the papers from the hall floor, not caring if they get crumpled in your haste. The doors of the elevator begin wheeling shut but you slip through before they can shut completely, trapping you inside with Azriel.

The tiny, metal box that grinds down the elevator shaft is filled to the brim with tension. You can feel the stiffness wafting off of Azriel’s body, though he’s leaning against the wall like he doesn’t have a care in the world, head currently buried in his phone.

Your anger emits in waves, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. What you had said came out the wrong way. You had in no way meant it in the way that you didn’t want his hands touching your work, but the way you’d seen Azriel go preternaturally still, something flash in his eyes, still makes you sick to your stomach. You want to cry, because they’re not tainted in the least. If anything, his hands are the most beautiful hands you’ve ever seen, imperfect yet so, so perfect. 

Of course he had retaliated in the way that he did. You would’ve misconstrued the comment as well, but there’s an itch on your side that tells you he didn’t have to react like that, throwing your papers back to the ground. Another misunderstanding between the two of you.

You open your mouth to speak, but there’s a screeching that’s more horrible than it usually is, and the elevator is jerking to a grinding halt.

You stumble a little, and Azriel steadies you before removing his hands just as quickly. His brows are pinched and the lights in the tiny space flicker before going out completely.

“What the fuck?” You question, pitched higher because of your nerves. You’re stuck, the elevator has stopped working and you’re stuck in it with Azriel. “Oh my Gods, we’re trapped!”

Azriel grunts, punching the buttons on the door. An emergency light flickers on, casting the metal box in a low, fluorescent light. Nothing that he’s doing works, and you’re officially beginning to freak out.

You watch Azriel try to pry the doors open, but even with the bulging of his biceps he’s no match for the metal jaws of death.

Throwing a look over his shoulder, he says, “What are you standing around for, princess? Call the fire department or something.”

“Right,” you respond weakly, pulling your attention from his muscular form. The dispatch is nice about it, sending someone your way and all you have to do is stay calm and await assistance. “Thanks, “ you reply to her, hanging up the phone and turning back to Azriel. “So we wait.”

He looks like he wants to ask more questions, but he nods instead, sinking down and making himself comfortable against the wall. Looking up at you expectantly, you sigh, dropping your bag from your shoulder and collapsing to the floor across from him.

His legs are so long they nearly stretch across the entire elevator, and you can’t help but follow the path back to his eyes, glowing as he watches you. You avert your gaze as quickly as possible.

You don’t know how long it will take for the fire department to get here, so you shoot a quick text to Feyre with your predicament, letting her know that you won’t be able to make it to class and to give your coffee away. Then you send a sad emoji because you really, really needed that caffeine.

Across from you, Azriel’s phone buzzes. He reads it, and then his eyes flicker up to yours in a glare.

“Cassian seems to think that this is funny,” he says, and you don’t know why the deep timber of his voice feels like fingers brushing across your skin. “Why did you tell them?”

“I texted Feyre,” you huff defensively. Crossing your arms over your chest, you level him with your own glare. “I don’t control who she tells.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, shutting off his screen.

It’s silent for a long time. There are no sounds coming from outside of the elevator, and you wonder if anyone has even noticed that it’s trapped. The godsdamned thing takes so long to arrive at any floor that you think most patrons take the stairs now, or give in when the elevator of doom never reached their floor.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, mostly to break the silence. Azriel raises a straight brow and you flush. Sheepishly, you continue. “I didn’t mean what I said in the hall like that. I just—I didn’t want you to see my sketches.”

It’s the most you can give him without spilling the truth of exactly what the drawings were.

Azriel’s jaw works, and it looks like he’s contemplating something important, with the way he’s assessing you. Maybe he’s trying to read if you’re telling the truth, if your apology is sincere or not. The intensity of his eyes makes you want to pull your hat down over your own face to hide it from sight.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He surprises you by asking.

Your lips part in shock. “What?”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He asks again, because he doesn't know how he can word the question any differently.

The question throws you. Azriel’s ignored your apology, and instead he’s asking what you’re doing tomorrow night? Has the elevator getting stuck somehow transported you into the Twilight Zone? Is this even really Azriel sitting here with you?

“Um…nothing?” you respond, and he quirks a brow.

“Is that a question or an answer, princess?”

“An answer. I’m doing nothing. Why?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, tipping his head back to rest against the wall, as if he’s contemplating even finishing his question. He looks ever the picture of nonchalance, but what you can’t see is the way he’s curling his fingers to stop their trembling, the rapid beating of his heart.

“I’m having an exhibition tomorrow night. Would you like to join me?”

What? You’re even more dumbfounded now than if that had been the end of the conversation. An exhibition? Tomorrow night? And he’s asking you of all people?

“Who are you and what have you done with my douchebag neighbor?” you ask, shifting in your spot.

A wry smile cracks his mouth and it makes your heart flutter. “Still here, princess.”

Your mouth twists sourly at the nickname. “Let me get this straight. You want me to go to an exhibition with you tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” Azriel nods, agreeing with the echo of his words you’ve just replayed back to him.

“Why don’t you ask your roommates to go with you?”

“They don’t know about it.”

Huh. You don’t know why Azriel wouldn’t invite Cassian or Rhysand to an exhibition he’s having. Well, you could see Cassian wreaking havoc and drinking too much champagne, but Rhys? It seems like the perfect spot for someone like him.

You mull it over, analyzing him. Azriel waits patiently as you study his eyes. The gold is bright under these lights, looking like two golden bars of sun. He’s never been easy to read, and even right now, as you’re trying with all of your might, you can’t find any flicker of anything that tells you this may be a joke.

You tut, crossing your arms over your chest to stop yourself from wringing your fingers in your lap. “Why me?”

“No one better to go with than someone I’m not trying to impress,” Azriel answers seriously. And, he has a point there. You won’t have to hold back from telling him your honest opinion of his work.

You hope that he’s terrible at art, but you have a feeling he’s anything but.

“That doesn’t give me a lot of time to find something to wear.” 

His eyes flash and you wish you knew why.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

Azriel nods, and that’s that. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight, then.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

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