#Hairstyles For Cocktail

[shaadiwish]

Bookmark These Terrific Stone-Studded Hairdo Ideas For Brides To Slay Their Cocktail Look. For More Such Trends And Ideas, Stay Tuned With ShaadiWish.

[paradisebambi]

April Moodboard <3

It will be a good month 🫶🏽

[goutalk]

[iwanthermidnightz]

When I was 24 I sat in a backstage dressing room in London, buzzing with anticipation. My backup singers and bandmates gathered around me in a scattered circle.Scissors emerged and I watched in the mirror as my locks of long curly hair fell in piles on the floor. There I was in my plaid button down shirt, grinning sheepishly as my tour mates and friends cheered on my haircut. This simple thing that everyone does. But I had a secret. For me. It was more than a change of hairstyle. When I was 24. I decided to completely reinvent myself.

How does a person reinvent herself, you ask? In any way I could think of. Musically, geographically, aesthetically, behaviorally, motivationally. And I did so joyfully. The curiosity I had felt the first murmurs of while making red had amplified into a pulsing heartbeat of restlessness in my bars. The risks I took when I toyed with pop sounds and sensibilities on red? I wanted to push it further. The sense of freedom I felt when traveling to big bustling cities? I wanted to live in one. The voices that had begun to shame me in new ways for dating like a normal young woman? I wanted to silence them.

You see, in the years preceding this, I had become the target of slut shaming, the intensity and relentlessness of which would be criticized and called out if it happened today. The jokes about my amount of boyfriends. The trivialization of my songwriting as if it were a predatory act of a boy crazy psychopath. The media co-signing of this narrative. I had to make it stop because it was starting to really hurt.

It became clear to me that for me there was no such thing as casual dating, or even having a male friend who you platonically hang out with. If I was seen with him, it was assumed I was sleeping with him. And so I swore off hanging out with guys, dating, flirting, or anything that could be weaponized against me by a culture that claimed to believe in liberating women but consistently treated me with the harsh moral codes of the Victorian era.

Being a consummate optimist, I assumed I could fix this if I simply changed my behavior. I swore off dating and decided to focus only on myself, my music, my growth. And my female friendships. If I only hung out with my female friends, people couldn't sensationalize or sexualize that, right? I would learn later on that people could and people would.

But none of that mattered then because I had a plan and I had a demeanor as trusting as a basket of golden retriever puppies. I had the keys to my own apartment in New York and I had new melodies bursting from my imagination. I had Max Martin and Shellback who were happy to help me explore this new sonic landscape I was enamored with. I had a new friend named Jack Antonoff who had made some cool tracks in his apartment. I had the idea that the album would be called 1989. And we would reference big 80's synths and write sky high choruses. I had sublime, inexplicable faith and I ran right toward it, in high heels and a crop top.

There was so much that I didn't know then, and looking back I see what a good thing that was. This time of my life was marked by right kind of naïveté, a hunger for adventure. And a sense of freedom I hadn't tasted before. It turns out that the cocktail of naïveté, hunger for adventure and freedom can lead to some nasty hangovers, metaphorically speaking. Of course everyone had something to say. But they always will. I learned lessons, paid prices, and tried to… don't say it don't say it. I'm sorry, I have to say it. Shake it off.

I’ll always be so incredibly grateful for how you loved and embraced this album. You, who followed my zig zag creative choices and cheered on my risks and experiments. You, who heard the wink and humor in "blank space" and maybe even empathized with the pain behind the satire. You, who saw the seeds of allyship and advocating for equality in "Welcome to New York". You, who knew that maybe a girl who surrounds herself with female friends in adulthood is making up for a lack of them in childhood (not starting a tyrannical hot girl cult). You, who saw that I reinvent myself for a million reasons, and that one of them is to try my very best to entertain you. You, who have had the grace to allow me the freedom to change.

I was born in 1989. Reinvented for the first time in 2014, and a part of me was reclaimed in 2023 with the re-release of this album I love so dearly.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the magic you would sprinkle on my life for so long. This moment is a reflection of the woods we've wandered through and all this love between us still glowing in the darkest dark.

I present to you, with gratitude and wild wonder, my version of 1989.

It’s been waiting for you.

[toomuchracket]

keep dreaming (d word matty smut)

(pre-relationship. mentions of unprotected sex. basically, matty's in his bed and he simply cannot stop thinking about you...)

in an ideal world, matty wouldn't be doing this.

in an ideal world, he would have staved off the nerves, gotten a grip, bit the bullet, and asked you to come home with him. part of him thinks he should've - it's not as if he hasn't done it before, with girls nowhere near as beautiful and girls he didn't like half as much as you.

but that's the point, he thinks, that's why he didn't. you're too special to him for your first intimate moment to be a post-awards show shag at his house. granted, he'd fucking worship you if it was, both in bed and then out of it, for every subsequent minute of his life... but he'd far rather take you on a few dates and spoil you first, before getting you into bed.

you... bed... fuck. despite himself, matty can't stop thinking about it.

or stop from gently stroking himself to said thoughts, caving further into that little voice in his head saying "imagine what it would feel like if it was her hand instead of yours" on loop.

god, he's sick for this. but he can't help it. after all, matty knows all too well what your right hand - the hand you use to write memos to him at work, and therefore the one you would surely use on him in bed - feels like, wrapped around a part of his body. less than an hour ago, it had grasped his wrist as you tugged him to the dancefloor at the afterparty, beaming warmly enough to melt his heart and redden his cheeks.

and then it had slid down his hand and twisted to grip the tips of his fingers, and matty was a goner. he mimics the motion now on his cock with a breathy whimper of your name, and repeats it - this time, slightly more softly, slightly more like you would. shit. you would look so good wanking him off, matty thinks, the edges of your nails ever so lightly scraping against him as you move; those nails that kickstarted this specific fantasy of you giving him a handjob, after you excitedly showed him their design when you first saw him earlier, a design based on the band's newest album, described by you as "look, matty, you're all over my hands". he had smiled at the adorable gesture and kissed your palm in gratitude, but his thoughts had gone somewhere far dirtier - literally - at your words.

he's jumping the gun with thinking about his cum all over your pretty nails now, though, so matty goes back to imagining your handjob position - he thinks of you lying on your stomach in front of him, looking up that way you do when he tells you something interesting: those beautiful eyes of yours all sparkly and focused and knee weakening-ly distracting, pretty lips curved and cheeks lifted into a bashful little smile.

those lips... always so soft-looking (and feeling, matty's sure, given he's a frequent witness to your habit of religiously applying lipbalm) and definitely kissable, but even more so tonight, lined and glossy. the colour looked shockingly perfect on you, and when he first saw you earlier he'd had to shove down a memory of a makeup artist for a shoot telling him that the perfect lipstick colour is the same as one's nipples before he started spiralling. now, though, in the solitary comfort of his own bed, matty lets his brain wind itself into imagining yours, spots of that lipstick shade on your perfect tits - accentuated incredibly tonight by the black silk of your cocktail dress, it has to be said - and imagining the way they would brush against him as you moved forward to wrap your lips around him, the same way you wrapped them around one of the bottles of expensive champagne given to the band's table after they won.

fuck. matty's wrist speeds up almost involuntarily at the thought of you sucking him off, while his other hand threads itself into the bedsheets the same way he knows he'd thread it into your hair, sliding the soft waves of tonight's hairstyle away from your beautiful face. he knows you would smile around him at that, the same little sweet smile you give matty whenever he appears with a coffee for you or offers you a cig or does anything requiring a bit of thankfulness, followed by a little "thank you" and a hum of contentment when you get what you wanted or needed. it makes him swoon at the best of times - it would surely ruin him if you did it with his cock in your mouth.

matty speeds up his movement again, imagining you humming and moaning happily as you slide your mouth up and down his length, whimpering when the tip hits the back of your throat. ignoring the inkling of guilt that appears in the back of his mind as he does, matty wonders just how deep you'd be able to take him. not that he'd ever force you to do anything you couldn't or didn't want to, and not that it would matter, because he knows if you actually were to suck him off he'd have to fight not to cum immediately, but he has a sneaking suspicion that you'd try to completely deepthroat him - he knows how stubborn you are, and he's sure he's not hallucinating the way you blush whenever he thanks you for going above and beyond to help him out.

and it's not like he'd dissuade you from trying; at the thought of you, teary-eyed but turned-on, inching slowly down his length to take it all, throat closing slightly around him, lips and nose pressed against his lower stomach, moaning, he bucks his hips up again almost involuntarily with a whine, beginning to properly fuck his fist the way he would fuck your mouth if you wanted him to. would you swallow, matty wonders, take every last drop of his cum down your aching throat and clean off the tip with little kitten licks? would he let you?

or would he stop fucking your mouth as he feels the orgasm start to build, so he can fuck you until you both cum instead?

god. what a thought that is, matty gently coaxing your head up from his cock and kissing you, before rolling you onto your back and just burying himself inside you. he fucks his fist the way he would you, mixing slow, controlled thrusts in amongst shorter, sharper ones to rile you up, before setting a strong rhythm with his hips that - hopefully - would have you screaming for him. he groans your name at the thought of that, wanking desperately now - not necessarily desperate to make himself cum, but desperate to see your eyes roll back in time with his hips, your jaw drop in pleasure, those fucking tits of yours bounce with every thrust; to feel your lips on his as you kiss him like you're trying to devour him, your hot breath in his open mouth as you moan his name into it, your long, gorgeous nails digging crescents into his back, your legs quivering around his waist as you reach breaking point, and - the thing matty's most desperate for - your cunt clenching around his cock, as he circles your clit and pulls an orgasm out from within your very bones.

matty's so fucking close now, hips jerking wildly into his hand, eyes heavy and clouded with pleasure, a cacophony of moans and groans and cries of your name leaving his lips and turning to incoherent dirty talk as they meet the cold air of the bedroom. "ohhhhh, fuck, m'gonna fucking cum, baby, shit, need to fuck you, mmmmmmmph, gonna cum, gonna fucking cum."

there is, however, one final thing for matty to consider about his fantasies of you before he reaches his orgasm - where would he cum, if he was with you right now? he could pull out, and let you either finish him off in your hand or mouth, coating your throat or covering your pretty nails like he briefly imagined earlier. or he could finish himself over you, decorate your beautiful face, your gorgeous tits, your soft stomach and your thighs.

truthfully, he'd let you choose - he'd just be grateful for the opportunity to even get to do anything with you in bed, and you'd look perfect in any of these scenarios (and in any scenario in general, really). but if matty got to pick, and you were okay with it, he wouldn't choose any of them.

what matty would do is stay buried inside you and fill you up with his cum, thrusting through his orgasm with his head buried in your neck, feeling you milk his cock for everything he has.

it's a delicious thought, and it's what tips him over the edge; with a final groan of your name and a "fuck!", matty cums all over his own hand, whimpering and lightly stroking himself until he stops pulsing out white fluid, which flows over his hand to pool on his lower stomach, reaching the very edge of his hip tattoo. in the aftershocks of orgasm, he can't help but imagine you cleaning it off with your tongue; with his free hand, matty reaches over to grab a pillow he can groan into to calm down before he finds himself cumming to the thought of you yet again. christ. he really is into you, isn't he?

matty doesn't move for a few minutes - the orgasm was so strong and took so much out of him that he just lies on his bed silently, until his breathing regulates and he comes back down to earth a bit. when the liquid on his stomach starts to feel icky, that's when he finally moves, swinging his legs onto the floor and walking to the bathroom to shower. he cleans his body just fine, but the grossness in his brain lingers a minute longer - he really just got off to imagining fucking you, his trusted friend and colleague, like some sort of depraved teenager. jesus christ.

if only he knew you'd just grinded yourself to an orgasm on your pillow thinking of the exact same thing.

[oliwrites]

Emerald Green

pairing: loki x f!reader

genre: smut and lil bit of fluff

summary: you are getting ready for your girls night with wanda and natasha, whenever you realize that you forgot your shoes in your bedroom that you share with loki…

warnings: CONTAINS SMUT 18+ (minors and pearl clutchers, fuck off), dom/sub dynamics, reader being a lil brat, slight knife play, bdsm (blindfolds and handcuffs), wax play, spanking, occasional softdom!loki, aftercare during??

A/N: my neighbors have been setting fireworks off for hours and it’s annoying and loud as hell and i want to strangle someone

word count: 2.6k

You sat in front of your mirror in Natasha’s en-suite bathroom, toying with the strap of your emerald green cocktail dress. You scanned yourself in the mirror, admiring how the velvet material easily wrapped around the curve of your hips and chest, complimenting the dip of your waist. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, adoring the look of the dress as it was practically plastered to your body, You gazed down toward the end of the dress, the ending being at the middle of your supple thighs. The velvet material ended and the nylon material of your sheer, black tights ran down the expanse of your legs, making your legs look longer. Your ring clad fingers smoothed out the slight wrinkles in your dress. You wore gold rings, simple yet cute, to accompany the golden necklace that was adorned by a single emerald, which laid delicately in between your clavicles.

“Damn, I look good,” You said to yourself, slightly turning your head to look at the bun you put up in your hair. You let loose a few strands, wanting to achieve a ‘seductive lazy’ type of hairstyle, which you feel you captured quite well.

“Damn, I might have to steal you from Loki, especially if you dress like that,” Natasha smirked, slapping your ass playfully. You jumped at the sudden action, but smiled at her reflection in the mirror behind you. Natasha laughed as she grabbed a pair of earrings she had sitting on the sink just in front of you.

“Is that a threat or a promise, Romanoff?” You smirked back, not able to contain the smile on your face.

“It can be both,” Natasha laughed, wiggling her eyebrows at you through the mirror, “I’m gonna get my shoes and we can head out, okay?” Natasha chirped, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Oh shit! I forgot my shoes in my room, I’m gonna go get those and I’ll be back. Just wait for me in the commons, okay?” You exclaimed rushing out of her bathroom and to the door of her room.

“Sounds good, just don’t take too long with Loki,” Natasha said with a wink. You rolled your eyes at her suggestive comment, and slipped out of her room.

You padded your nylon covered feet down the compound hallway, approaching yours and Loki’s shared bedroom.

You opened the door to see your lover sitting on your guys’ shared bed, reading what appears to be an aged book. He had a pair of black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, showing off the chiseled ‘v’ that trailed down to his crotch, his shirt was long discarded leaving him in just the sweatpants. You smiled and walked in, closing the door behind you.

“Hello, my l— what are you wearing?” Loki started, but was surprised to see you dressed up so… appealingly.

“This?” You asked, causing the Nordic God to nod, “this is just a dress me and Nat picked up today when we went out. I wanted to wear it to the club tonight with Wanda and Nat,” you explained, smiling when you noticed Loki’s hungry eyes scan over your body as he slightly licked his lips. You began walking over to where your matching emerald green heels laid neatly on the ground. You bent over and strapped the heels onto your feet before standing back up and brushing away any new wrinkles before turning to face your lover.

“Well? How do I look?” You asked, stretching your arms out to your side, doing Loki’s signature pose.

“You look ravishing, darling,” Loki purred, closing the book on his lap and placing it gracefully on the nightstand next to the bed and standing up, “However, I will not allow you to go out dressed like that,” Loki continued, his eyes once again raking over your body.

“Really, Loki? I literally got this dress for tonight! I’m supposed to match with Nat and Wanda!” You exclaimed, flailing your arms around, hoping that they will help make your point.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, love, but I will not allow you to wear something so revealing. Your body is for my eyes only,” Loki replied with faux sympathy, stepping closer and closer towards you.

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do if I don’t change?” You taunted. You knew you were fueling the fire, however, you found yourself not caring about that at this moment. The look he gave you was pure sin and almost instantly soaked your lace panties.

“Do you truly wish to find out?” Loki whispered into your ear, his warm breath fanning across your cheek, causing a blush to arise across your face. All you could do was nod, truly wanting whatever he had in store for you.

Before you could blink, you felt a cold metal slicing the dress clean off your back, leaving you in just your tights and underwear (the dress not needing a bra). You gasped as the dagger Loki has summoned traced your clavicle with such delicacy. Words could not explain how aroused you are at this moment.

“Do you still wish to test me?” Loki spoke with lust covering his words like honey.

“I had a feeling you would do that, so I bought another one,” You bluffed, turning away from him and began to walk away, trying your best to hide your arousal.

“Try again,” Loki tsked into your ear as the dagger in his hand now rested softly on your throat as his other arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No. Bite me.” You snapped back, and before you could take that back you heard Loki laugh sadistically behind you.

“If you insist,” Loki hummed, biting down on the apex of your shoulder and your neck. Sucking and nipping at the skin harshly. You couldn’t help but let out a weep of pleasure as he attacked your neck and shoulder. You were so lost in the painful pleasure of Loki biting your neck that you didn’t realize his hand dipped below the nylon of your tights and the cotton of your panties.

“Fuck—” you moaned out as Loki began circling your clit with slow fingers. Your knees buckled, which would’ve dragged you to the floor if Loki had not been there to catch you. You reached your hand around to the back of Loki’s head, pulling on his soft locks, telling him that you wanted more. You couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling of him growling against your abused skin.

“Don’t be a greedy slut,” Loki demanded into your neck, placing a firm slap to your sex, causing you to let out a yelp.

“I’m sorry…” you whimpered out before he continued his attack on your neck and cunt. Loki slipped two fingers into you with ease as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you hastily. You shrieked out his name, clawing your nails into the skin of his forearm that held you up against him.

“You mewl so beautifully, my love,” Loki whispered into your ear before biting on your earlobe as he quickened the pace of his fingers. You scream out once again, feeling your orgasm bubbling up in the pit of your stomach.

“Loki, I—” Your warning was cut off by another moan as two of his free fingers pinched your bundle of nerves.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum,” Loki demanded in your ear, keeping the breakneck pace of his fingers. Apparently, that demand was all that it took to release all over him and your panties and tights with a scream of his name.

Loki ripped his hand away from your sensitive cunt. You wouldn’t help the whine that fell from your lips at the loss of contact. You stared at Loki as he let go of your waist and walked towards the foot of the bed, sitting down and staring right back at you with those emerald green eyes, which now looked almost black and clouded with lust.

“Come here,” he commanded simply, patting his lap. You began to walk towards him before he stopped you, “Take off your tights and panties first,” Loki added on. You obeyed, not wanting to fuel the fire anymore. You slowly shuffled the tights down your legs and the panties followed soon after. He nodded and you continued toward him.

Clearly, you approached him too slowly and he ended up just yanking you towards him and laid you down across his lap. You couldn’t help but gulp at the realization that he was going to spank you.

“Now,” Loki began, gently rubbing his large hand over your ass, causing you to shiver, “I am going to spank you, and everytime you are going to thank me for it, understand?” Loki explained, you could only nod. “Words, pet. I’m not going to begin until I have your verbal consent,” Loki said, his usual softness coming back for a brief moment.

“Yes, Loki. I understand,” You confirmed, looking up at your lover. He smiled and gave you a quick, yet soft, kiss.

Smack!

You yelped and jumped on his lap at the unexpected contact against your ass, “Thank you!” You screeched out gripping onto his clothed thighs for support.

Smack!

“T-Thank you!” You stuttered, a tear already forming in your eyes.

He continued his brutal attack, each slap getting more and more painful, however you continued to thank him for it, you enjoyed his harsh treatment and he knew you did. He knew those mascara stained tears that ran down your flushed cheeks were tears of pleasure, and he would happily give you the painful pleasure that you want, that you deserve.

“Look at you, so soaked for me, even after I bruised your ass, such a dirty girl,” Loki purred as he ran his fingers up your soaked folds, gathering your slickness between his fingers, “suck” he demanded as he brought his coated fingers up to your mouth. You complied, sucking his fingers clean.

Loki simply massaged your bruising ass with his other hand as you cleaned off his fingers. The pain of the contact caused you to flench.

“Loki..” You mewled, wanting more, wanting him, but you also knew you needed a slight break. He chuckled.

“I know, my love, I’m getting there,” He responded, sitting you up on his lap. He wiped the tears away from your cheeks and brushed the loose strands away from your face, “I love you, my darling girl, you are doing so good for me,” Loki spoke softly, kissing your lips softly.

When he pulled away you laid your head onto his naked shoulder and buried yourself into the crook of his neck. He magicked up a glass of water, “my life,” he acknowledged you, causing you to look up at him, “drink, please, you’ll need it,” Loki pleaded, guiding the glass toward you. You opened your mouth and let Loki pour the cold water down your throat.

“Thank you,” You said after finishing the glass of water. Loki smiled and kissed you once more before turning you around and laying you on your back. Your back met the plush covers of the bed and almost immediately sunk into the warm embrace around you.

“Are you ready?” Loki asked sweetly, caressing your face.

“Yes, Loki, do as you wish,” You nodded, tracing the ripples of muscle on the expanse of his torso with your nails.

“Always so eager to please me, like a bitch in heat,” He chuckled, every ounce of softness leaving his voice.

“Of course,” You replied, trying to fight the urge to rock yourself against his erection that strained against the material of his sweatpants

“So you wouldn’t mind being blindfolded and bound, hm? It is what would please me,” he sneered, magicking a black blindfold and a set of handcuffs.

“If it is what you pleasure, then yes,” You replied, looking up at him with pure lust. He smiled maliciously at you, and before you knew it, your vision was cutoff, and so was the ability to move your arms freely.

You expected him to do something immediately, but he didn’t. He just sat there and admired you beneath him. Blindfolded, binded, and covered in his marks. It drove him mad with lust, but he wasn’t exactly ready to fuck you just yet.

“Loki?—” you asked before being cut off by the feeling of something burning your skin. It wasn’t a sharp pain, just a dull and arousing pain. Then you realized, he was pouring candle wax on you.

Droplets of the hot wax trailed up from your navel up to your heaving breasts. Your back arched at the pain as the hot wax neared your nipples.

“Perhaps I should send you out like this,” Loki started, “covered in candle wax, blindfolded, cuffed, and absolutely aching for my cock,” Loki snarled as he gyrated his clothed hips into your needing cunt, causing you to cry out.

“Please, Loki! I need you!” You begged struggling against the handcuffs. You heard him chuckle, but you failed to see what he was doing, before you could start begging again, he slammed himself into you, “Fuck! Loki! Thank you!” You screamed out.

“Norns… you’re so… tight…” Loki hissed as he started on a rough pace against you.

Loki continued to moan out your name as he continued to pound into you. You began struggling against the bonds once more as you just wanted to touch him, to rake your nails down his back.

Loki began circling your clit with his fingers as he began to edge you to your orgasm, he felt the clench around him, but he continued on his pace.

“Loki!” You screamed out, trying to form a warning, but all that came out was his name. He bent down and kissed your lips, silently giving you permission to cum. His cock hit that one spot deep inside you, causing you to release all over him and his abdomen.

Loki followed through with his orgasm not long after, pumping himself deep inside of you. He stilled for a few moments before pulling out of you.

“Are you okay?” Loki asked as the bonds and blindfold disappeared before your eyes, “was the wax too much? I’m sorry,” Loki began to worry, as that was something he had never done before and probably should’ve confirmed it with you first.

“Loki, I’m perfect, the hot wax actually aroused me even more. Don’t worry, my love,” You smiled, leaning up to him and pecking his lips.

He graciously accepted your kiss and kissed you back with more passion for the woman he fell so desperately in love with.

The moment was broken when you heard your phone ding.

“One second,” You sighed and patted Loki’s pectoral, signaling him to move so you could get your phone. He listened, allowing you up.

You picked up your phone and scanned the text you received on your screen.

natasha‼️

“considering you didn’t come back and that i heard you guys that you won’t be coming to the club with us anymore so have fun with your horndog of a boyfriend😉”

You gasped and turned back to your boyfriend. Now remembering that you had your girls night tonight, and Loki had just now fucked you right out of it.

“Loki you asshole!”

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 1 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap

Wordcount: 4k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 1 | in the same room, at the same time

This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what you would tell yourself, later. But, life is funny that way - nothing ever really goes the way you’d expect it. And, when you had taken the last-minute shift at Enoteca Bruni, the fine-dining restaurant where you worked as a cocktail waitress, you could have never predicted where the night would take you.

It had started with a large reservation that had come in around 8pm, four businessmen in suits and watches that you imagined cost more than your entire month’s rent. You were used to that type - considering the prices on the wine list, nearly everyone you served here lived at least three tax brackets above you. It wasn’t a job meant for everyone - a lot of these types of customers were dismissive, rude, and expected those who serve them to disappear in the background, not to interrupt whatever they were doing, which was obviously oh-so-important. But, the tips were phenomenal, and the late night hours worked perfectly with your daytime shifts at the cafe in the city’s center.

Still, the most intriguing thing about them was that they weren’t Italian, like you had gotten used to - nor were they speaking Spanish, French, German, or any of the other languages you had learned to recognize over the last few years. No, they were American. It wasn’t often that you heard your native tongue and accent nowadays - no, it was actually jarring. But, you welcomed it. The oldest man at the table, a gray-haired, thin man with a sharp face and tailored three-piece suit, smiled when you greeted them with a hello.

“How wonderful,” he had exclaimed. “Someone from our side of the world.”

“Finally,” a younger man with a smattering of freckles on the other side of the table had said, exasperated. “We’ve got someone who actually speaks English around here.”

“Well,” you said, “To be fair, you are in Rome. I suppose you could say we are the odd-ones-out.”

He rolled his eyes, and shrugged. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m just trying to say it’s nice to actually understand who I’m talking to for once, you know? Not that I’m looking for her to talk back.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t even crack the top ten worst things a customer had said to you in your time working here. So instead, you just plastered on a cheerful smile.

“Of course. In that case, what drinks can I get started for you gentlemen?”

As the hours wore on though, it was becoming harder and harder to feign kindness. With each wave of dismissal, or snap of their fingers, you wanted to take the drinks you were serving and throw them in their faces. The worst of the bunch were probably the first older man you had spoken to, who had such a vile demeanor about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on it; and perhaps worse than him were two of the younger men, the dark-haired one with freckles, and a sandy-haired guy with what you could only describe as a mullet.

1982 called, it wants its hairstyle back, you thought to yourself. 

It was those two who you could see undressing you with their eyes, who called you over for nonsense requests, asking you to bend over the table to get things that you knew they were perfectly capable of reaching themselves. And, you weren’t deaf; you heard the comments they made as you walked away to fetch more wine and scotch.

Look at that ass go, one of them said. I’d definitely hit it.

As if you could pull that, the other said. Besides, you’ve already got two bitches on the side Billy; leave some for the rest of us.

Don’t look at me, the sandy-haired man who was apparently named Billy retorted. If anyone around here needs to get laid, it’s Harrington.

With your back turned, you rolled your eyes, and wondered if they’d notice if you spit in their drink - that was, until no-first-name Harrington replied.

Guys, lay off - just let the girl do her job, yeah? 

You took a deep breath, and recomposed yourself - it was the bare minimum, but it was something - someone who saw you as a person, maybe.

You carried the tray over with a wide smile plastered on your face, handing out drinks as you surveyed the table. You glanced at Harrington, the quietest one in the group - you had hardly heard a word from him all night, until right now. He was handsome, on the younger side of the group, but you’d estimate still about a decade your senior; he had a thick, slightly wild head of chestnut hair, and more of a boyish look about him. And with the exception of his perfectly-tailored suit and ostentatious Rolex, he didn’t look to have much else in common with his colleagues at first glance. While they sat at ease, laughing and conversing over their drinks, he sat up straight, stoically swirling his wine.

You pulled the post-dinner cigars they had asked you to bring out of the box, slicing the end with the guillotine cutter and handing the first one to the oldest man, striking a match and lighting it for him until he drew smoke. It felt humiliating sometimes, to light the Suits’ cigars for them as if they couldn’t do it themselves, but that came with the territory in a place like this, you had learned. 

You reached Harrington last, only for him to shake his head.

���Oh, none for me - thank you though.”

Thank you - he was probably the first one from the table to say that all evening. 

“Can I get you gentleman anything else?” you asked stiffly.

“That’ll be all, for now,” the gray-haired man said, waving you off. 

You nodded, and at the bar, decided it was high time for your smoke break. You glanced at your watch - your shift was over in less than an hour, and your high heels were killing you. You signaled to the manager behind the bar that you were taking fifteen, and shouldered your way out the door.

*****

The first few minutes outside were peaceful, and relatively quiet - at least, as quiet as Rome could be at this hour. There was still the distant sound of traffic, the bustle of people on the sidewalk, many drunkenly stumbling and laughing, in the midst of making merry on a Friday night. You took a drag from your cigarette and inhaled deeply - even just a few moments off of your feet, and sitting out here on this bench in the fresh air, was starting to take the edge off. Still, you couldn’t shake that table of men - your manager had warned you that it was a very high-profile client, explaining that the dinner was likely a pretense for some multi-million dollar deal to be discussed. Still, you found yourself muttering under your breath, practicing the retorts and profanities you had wanted to throw at them. The shield you had built for dealing with customers was only so strong, and if your job wasn’t on the line, you probably would have told them to fuck off hours ago.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear someone approaching, not until they’re right next to you, clearing their throat.

“Oh! Jesus, hi,” you say, clutching your chest with your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Harrington was standing above you, hands in his pockets and his tie loosened.

“It’s fine - I promise, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His smile was friendly, and a bit apologetic. He looked different in the dim light, a bit younger, and not at all like someone who spends his days in an office doing… whatever those men inside did.

“You mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you on the bench. You just shook your head, a bit wary of him still.

He smiled, and started fishing around in his pockets until he pulled out a small baggie of tobacco and a pack of rolling papers. You raised your eyebrows, and smirked.

“You roll your own cigarettes?” you asked.

He nodded, not quite looking at you, focused intently on the task and hand.

“Yep. It’s so much better than that crap you smoke, trust me.”

You scoffed, despite the fact that this man was technically your customer, and your shift wasn’t quite over yet.

“Yeah, well, I’m doing just fine with what I’ve got. Thanks though…” you trailed off, looking at him expectantly. He caught on and turned to face you, grinning.

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

He extended a hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard by the simplicity of the gesture from someone like him, but you took it, telling him your own name. His much bigger hand was warm and calloused, shaking yours firmly before pulling away.

You stared at him intently, desperately trying to figure him out as you placed your cigarette between your lips and inhaled. It was hard to figure out what exactly his deal was - but, he was talking to you like you were an actual person, so that was at least a step above most of the people you’d waited on here.

When he finished rolling, he stuck the cigarette between his lips, then sighed. 

“Shit - d’you have a light?”

You nodded, reaching into your handbag and pulling out your small blue lighter. He leaned in close, close enough that you could faintly smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off of him in the cool May evening. It took a moment for the flame to catch, then he was leaning back and he took a drag, letting his eyes flutter shut.

You looked away quickly, staring at the street ahead. Your black cocktail dress didn’t offer much coverage, causing you to shiver slightly as a breeze picked up. It was Steve who broke the silence, after a few moments.

“I want to apologize, by the way - my, uh, colleagues… they’re assholes.”

You nearly choked at his words, whipping around to face him.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“I - I don’t know how much you heard in there, but -”

“I heard enough,” you said quickly.

His face fell, then hardened. He looked… angry? Or, perhaps disappointed.

“I really am sorry. I know I probably should have said something, but…Brenner’s my boss. And, there’s a lot of people who would kill to work for him. So, you have to understand… I mean, Tommy and Billy, they’re real jerks. I can’t stand them, most of the time. So, just know that if you want to punch them in the face, I’d understand.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head. 

“Well, just between you and me, I do want to punch them. But… I would really like to keep my job, and actually get a good tip at the end of the night. So, if I can make it through the next -” you glanced at your watch, “- half an hour or so, I’ll be alright. I’m kind of used to it anyway, working here.”

You felt his eyes on you, but didn’t turn to meet his gaze. Then, he said more softly, “I’m sorry to hear that. Really.”

You shrugged. 

“It’s fine. But, thank you - most people don’t take the time to say that, I guess.”

A moment of semi-awkward silence fell between you and him, before you added, “But, it’s good to know that I apparently have a nice ass.”

He laughed at that, choking on the smoke he was inhaling.

“Oh God - Billy and Tommy really are the worst. Did you hear that they actually were trying to make a bet about you in there?”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“What kind of bet?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, staring straight ahead as he shook his head vigorously.

“You know what - nevermind, you’d be disgusted -”

“Well now you have to tell me,” you conceded, inching closer. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad -”

“They said if I manage to get you to go home with me tonight, they’d agree on this huge deal with HNL that they’ve been trying to close with our European counterpart for months - they said it because they knew it wouldn’t happen, of course, I don’t really -”

“What would you get?” you asked bluntly.

“Huh?”

“If they thought you won the bet, like, would that be good for your job?”

He scoffs, nodding fervently.

“Um, yes - my yearly bonus would probably quadruple -”

“Then let’s do it,” you said.

His mouth fell open, and he was staring at you like you had three heads.

“Do what, exactly?”

He suddenly looked flushed, frozen in place as he stared at you. You felt a devilish grin spread on your face as you looked back at him, stubbing out the cigarette with the toe of your shoe.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, Harrington.”

*****

You had made sure he arrived back at the table only moments before you. The group of cajoling men were louder now, Tommy slurring his words and Billy in a heated debate with Brenner. Steve flashed a smile at the group, then started sipping his drink as if he had never left.

“What I’m saying is, if we offer them 14 percent -”

“Well, at that rate, we may as well sell them the whole goddamn company -”

“We’re going to have to budge at least a little if we want to make headway, otherwise Upside Tech might outbid us -”

“Harrington!” Tommy cried over the other two men. “Where th’hell ‘ave you been? You left me stranded with these two, they’re actually trying to work right now -”

Then, he spotted you, suddenly flashing a grin that was too wide for your liking.

“Mademoiselle - might I say, I think you’ve only gotten hotter since I last saw you -”

“That was only about twenty minutes ago,” Steve said firmly, cutting Tommy off. “Also, we’re in Italy, not France.”

Tommy waved him off, leaning closer across the table, towards where you stood. 

“May I ask, how’re you getting home tonight, little lady?”

You just smiled.

“I’m actually so happy you brought that up - while I appreciate your concern and all, I’ve got that covered.”

You then turned to Steve, who froze in place.

“Ready to go, Steve?” you asked innocently.

All conversation stopped, then, the other men around the table stopped to gape at him. A smug smirk appeared on Steve’s face, and he stood up slowly, smoothing out his suit.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at the pet name, as ridiculous as it felt. 

“What?” Billy said, his jaw nearly on the floor.

But before they could ask any more questions, Steve was holding out his bent arm, which you graciously hooked yourself through. You pressed yourself into his side, flashing another grin back at the group.

“I’ve left your bill on the table - thank you gentlemen for a wonderful evening, and we hope to see you soon!”

Then Steve surveyed the table, adding, “I suspect you’ll be in touch about negotiation meetings shortly? Since that was the deal and all. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

Then, you and Steve turned a corner and headed out the door, to where a car was already waiting for you.

Steve gestured for you to go in ahead of him, opening the backseat door. You slid across, greeting the driver quickly and Steve followed, shutting the door behind you. The second it was closed, you both looked at each other, and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh my God - did you see their faces?”

“I’m going to live on that for years,” he added, fighting to breathe. You threw your head back, practically cackling at the memory of their dumbfounded expressions.

“That was amazing,” Steve said, regaining his composure. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it - I think I got off of it more than you.”

“I doubt that.”

You met his gaze, and your breath stopped for a moment. He really was handsome, his honey-brown eyes staring into yours with such sincerity that it was actually overwhelming. You looked away quickly, staring straight ahead.

“Well, if anything, it made my shift more interesting, so thanks,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“Yeah, and you just made me my yearly bonus, so thank you.”

After a moment, he cleared his throat. 

“So, uh, where do you live? So I can get you home.”

“Oh! Right,” you said. “Um, do you have any ID or anything?”

Steve furrowed his brow, confused.

“Why are you asking?”

“Look, don’t take this personally - I’ve watched way too much Criminal Minds in my life. And, while I’m sure you’re nice and all, I’m not exactly gonna tell a strange man I’ve never met where I live without some precautions. So, I’m going to take a picture of your ID and send it to my roommate, so she knows who to turn in if I end up on the news, yeah?”

Steve just smirked, and pulled out his wallet.

“So, you think I’m strange?”

You shrugged, fighting a smile.

“Obviously, yes.”

Steve chuckled softly, fishing his license out of his wallet.

“Fair enough - as long as you’re not trying to steal my identity or anything.”

“Oh, definitely,” you said sarcastically. “I was actually going to buy a mansion in your name, if that’s alright.”

He laughed, handing you the card as you took a photo. The address was in Indiana - interesting. He was also 30, judging from his birthday - nearly ten years older than you. Also interesting. You handed it back, shooting a quick text to Robin:

I’ll explain later, but in case I get murdered!

You attached the photo and pressed send. 

Satisfied, you leaned forward, telling your address to the driver, who nodded and pulled onto the busy city street.

You leaned back in your seat, staring out the window. You passed dimly-lit alleyways and bustling restaurants, groups smoking on the sidewalk and couples kissing on benches as the evening started winding down. The silence in the car is comfortable enough, considering that you met the man beside you a few hours ago. It’s him who breaks the lull in conversation, once again.

“So, why did you do it?” he asked quietly.

“Hm?”

“The bet? Well, kind of - at least, why did you make it look like I - like we -”

You shrugged, shifting to face him.

“Honestly?”

He nodded, gaze fixed on you.

“Well - a few reasons, I guess. I knew it would get those jerks off of my back. And, I knew it would help you, with your bonus and all.”

“And why did you want to help me, though? You know nothing about me.”

“Not true,” you said firmly. “I know one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re kind.”

It was simple, but true - for the type of clientele you usually served, he was a rare breed. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something.

“I mean, you were nice to me, and actually treated me like a person. I can’t say that for a lot of people, not in that place.”

“Oh,” he said softly. 

A beat. Two. Then, he added, “Oh no - I didn’t even ask, did you have a car, back at the restaurant? Because we can go back and get it -”

“No, don’t worry about it - I don’t have one. I usually take the bus.”

“Oh - alright.”

You tried to stop yourself from rolling your eyes - Steve probably wouldn’t be caught dead on a bus. Or any public transport, for that matter. But, you kept it within yourself, and turned out towards the window again - the sights were getting more familiar, the buildings a little more run-down - closer to home.

You noticed your phone light up in your lap, and glanced down - a response from Robin.

Um… congrats???? Getting laid???? You’d better tell me EVERYTHING!!!!

You laughed under your breath, and saw Steve move to look at you out of the corner of your eye, curious. Before you could respond to her message, the car came to a halt right outside of your apartment building. You sighed, and turned to face the man beside you.

“Well, this is me. Thank you. For the ride home, I mean - you didn’t really have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” Steve said, waving a hand. “Had to make sure you got home safely and all, it was the least I could do.”

You both looked at each other for a moment, faces soft. You shot him another appreciative smile, and popped open the car door.

“Goodnight, Steve Harrington. Until we meet again!”

You knew the chances of seeing him ever again were slim at best, but it felt like the right thing to say, given the hilarity of the situation. After slamming the door shut, you rooted through your bag for your keys, taking the steps up to your door two at a time. Before heading inside, you turned and waved to the car one more time - Steve wasn’t visible through the tinted windows, but you liked to imagine that he was waving back, maybe even smiling fondly. 

******

Two days later, an envelope was pushed through the mail slot in your door. It was Robin who brought it in, plopping it down on the kitchen table as you sipped your coffee.

“What’s that?” you asked.

She shrugged, carding through the other envelopes and flyers.

“Don’t know. But, it’s made out to you. The envelope looks fancy though - I mean, who the Hell puts a wax seal on letters anymore?”

You felt your heart skip a beat, and snatched it up, turning it over in your hands - it was thick, the nice kind of stationary that you had to go out of your way to buy. There was a return address, but it seemed like it was for an office building of some kind, with no name associated. And, right on the center, a red wax seal with an H. You felt your face grow hot, your stomach doing somersaults as you practically tore the thing open.

Inside was a simple piece of paper with a note scrawled on it. After writing out your name, it read:

Thank you again, for the other night. You have no idea how much that helped me out. Plus, it was probably the best time I’ve had at a work event… well, ever. But, since you provided such great service… you really should be tipped appropriately. I also made sure to leave a glowing review with your manager the next day. Buy yourself something nice.

S.H.

You glanced back in the envelope, and gasped - loudly enough that Robin stopped what she was doing, and joined you in her awe.

“Is that -”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s a shit ton of money.”

He had sent a stack of €100 notes - you hadn’t counted yet, but it had to be over €1,000, at least. 

“Dude, that’s like, at least two months’ rent right there, right?” Robin asks, flabbergasted.

“I - yeah.”

“Okay, be honest - are you a drug dealer? Is that, like, a side gig you’ve got going?”

You shook your head incredulously, gripping the money - the most cash you had ever held at one time in your life.

“No,” you admitted. “That would be a lot easier to explain.” Steve Harrington, you thought to yourself, what’s your deal?

Notes: a brand new fic! A ton of credit goes to my friend Em, who indulges my fantasies and headcanons with plenty of ideas of her own. Also, I've never been to Rome, so bear with me here. Also, please always read content warnings before reading each part!

Reply if you'd like to be added to the taglist

[sisisimss]

✮✮✮ lookbook #10 - Amerie Ashton ✮✮✮

ion have nothing to say but enjoy!!

fit one -

top ☠︎︎ shorts ☠︎︎ sneakers ☠︎︎ anklet ☠︎︎ earrings

fit two -

top ☠︎︎ bottoms ☠︎︎ shoes ☠︎︎ purse

fit three -

hoodie ☠︎︎ shorts ☠︎︎ sandals ☠︎︎ headphones

fit four -

top** ☠︎︎ skirt** ☠︎︎ heels ** ☠︎︎ purse

hairstyle one and two

fit four's top & bottom is the Barbie Drip Collection by Kl*bb and D*cayed. The heels are from the Cocktail Couture Collection ft. C*mplex. Couldn't find a link for them unfortunately.

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[kosmokai]

okay wait.. LEMME COOK. (this is a lil snippet of a fic i was thinking of.. lmk if u want me to make a full thing to it cause idk if i like it) alsoo thought of this while listening to chase atlantic’s tidal wave, so that’s probably what it’s gonna be called ‼️

nsfw under the cut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

so, beomgyu is at the beach with a few close friends, just for a casual outing. his friends wandered off to do something, surfing if he heard correctly, but he couldn’t be bothered to learn so he eventually found himself at the bar.

as soon as he walked in, he caught a glimpse of the prettiest girl he had ever seen… cute little two piece, skirt at the bottom, crocheted bra at the top, make up and hairstyle cute with a few accessories to top it all off was what she had on.. she— no, you, were beautiful.

of course, after seeing you, beomgyu chose to walk over to where you where, and sat a few seats away so it wasn’t… weird or anything. you saw him soon after and said hello, taking his order.

“you guys have anything interesting? something i wouldn’t find somewhere else?” you’re usual response got caught in your through as your pretty, pink lip gloss covered lips closed. “mm… well, we have a new cocktail we made a few days ago, but it’s still known beta so i’m not sure it would taste the best-” “i’ll have that. what’s it called?”

you smiled, really getting a good look at who was in front of you. his blonde locks, fluffy and covering his eyebrows, relaxed and calm expression.. he was handsome. pretty, even. but that’s besides the point. “tidal wave. cause it’s blue and stuff, and it has a kinda beach-y taste, if that makes sense. just wanted to tap into the environment, i guess!”

you smiled, taking the crinkled ten dollar note from him, smiling even more when he refused to accept the change. after a few minutes, you placed his cocktail in front of him, and he was speechless.

to sum it up, it was blue hue at the top and clear at the bottom, in a shallow like glass. there was a lemon and a little yellow striped umbrella inside, with some— uh, peach coloured shaved ice at the side of the top to resemble sand. on the opposite side along with the lemon and umbrella, was a piece of ice, somehow shaped like an ocean wave.

“it’s pretty..” he muttered a little loudly, not noticing your smug smile. pretty drink served by a pretty girl? that’s probably the first time he’s gotten the best of both worlds in one night. but little did you know, he was about to rock yours.

“thank you. enjoy!” as you were about to walk away, he shouted a little loudly. “keys! your keys.” you had left them on the counter next to him, after having to unlock the ice room for his drink. “oh my god, thank you! thanks for you i won’t get fired today.” he smiled, more of a smirk, and spoke. “don’t mention it,—“

he stopped, realising he didn’t catch your name. “oh, _______.” “pretty name for a pretty girl.. who serves pretty drinks.” you turned back to him, stopping your attempt at walking away so you didn’t have to stare into his eyes again. only because you’d find yourself staring.

“you are..?” “beomgyu. or gyu. both work.” he started sipping at his drink, a satisfied look on his face that set ease at yours. “cute. call me to clean up your drink, we can talk more.” you paused as you walked away, “gyu.” a wink flashed against your eye as you finally walked off, leaving him to smirk dumbly.

if he wasn’t feeling flattered, he would’ve been thinking about all the ways he could have you, take care, or rather, fuck you so well that you’d flush out, creating a tidal wave of your own.. right between your pretty thighs.

but oh well, guess he’ll think about that after finishing his cocktail.

THOUGHTS?? might make a whole fic abt it if u guys want :3

[danikamariewrites]

hi marie hope you’re doing well❤️

i wanted to ask if i can request something with azriel x reader, non sexual dominance. Like everyday things, maybe he helps her getting dressed/suggesting hairstyles? like the whole ic is at ritas and reader is drinking and azriel looks at her and gives her a look when she almost drinks too much, the look is screamingggg ’ is that smart? ’

i’m literally dying for some casual ddlg azriel😩

Azriel x reader ddlg headcanon

A/n: hi anon, Im good and hope you are too! This lowkey my favorite concepts for Az. He’s just so aahhhhh I know he’s so soft beyond that tough exterior

Warnings: ddlg, daddy kink

Azriel loves taking care of you

Every morning he wakes you up with kisses all over your face

“Good morning princess. How did you sleep?” You cuddle into his chest leaving little kisses above his heart

Your favorite pet names that he calls you are princess & bunny, you call him Azzy (and daddy obvi)

Make out sessions with daddy!Az are the best

You feel so loved from how deeply he kisses you to the way he holds you

He absolutely spoils you

Az takes you shopping all the time and buys you whatever you want

Takes you out for nice dinners all the time

He always surprises you with new romantic date ideas like picnics or trips to other courts

Always brings you back a gift from his missions

Az is very affectionate with you and loves listening to you. He just wants to know everything about you so he can make you happy

You mention your favorite food or drink one time and he always buys it for you and has stashes of them in the house for you

You’re big on physical touch

The first time you held his hand he was shocked bc you weren’t repulsed or scared of his scars

“Your hands are beautiful Azzy. They protect me and hold me. How could I not love them?” You kissed his knuckles and he blushed like crazy, “you’re precious bunny.”

Whenever you were out he’d always hold your hand

You’re both obsessed with the size difference

When your home all you want to do is cuddle with him

When he’s laying on the couch you’ll rest your head on his stomach and lay between his legs

Azriel looks down at you with a smile saying, “What are you doing down there princess? Come up here so I can hold you.”

You never like being apart from Az

It bothers you when you’re both in the house but you’re too far apart

“Do you want to sit on daddy’s lap while he works princess?” “Yes daddy.” You bat your lashes at him

You love making yourself at home on his lap

Az rubs your back, kisses your head

At night when your relaxing in bed you like to sit between his legs and lean against his chest

Azzy loves picking out your outfits

He’ll always pick something blue or black so you can match him

He doesn’t bother worrying about if your dress is too short or your top is cut too low

Azriel is a confident male and he knows that you only have eyes for him and vice versa

Plus he’s your personal bodyguard, he’s always going to protect you if some creep tries to hit on you

If you’re going out with the IC to Rita’s he helps pick out your outfit

You, Mor, Feyre, and Nesta were drinking Cass and Rhys under the table

After a few shots and your usual cocktail you decided to get one of the big fish bowl cocktails with Mor but you were drinking most of it

At this point you were tipsy and overly giggly

Az slides in the booth next to you taking your straw out of the large drink. You give him feigning shock and he looks down at you cocking an eyebrow

“I think that’s enough yeah princess. I don’t want you to be too hung over tomorrow.” You giggle pressing a kiss to his cheek, “ok daddy, whatever you say.” You hiccup and giggle some more

You love when he does your hair. The feeling of his fingers scratching your scalp is so relaxing

You teach him your skin care routine so he can do it for you

He knows how to braid thanks to Cassian and he loves braiding your hair, it’s relaxing for him

“Daddy, will you help me wash my hair?” Az drops everything just to come help you

Before you can even do anything he’s already in the bathroom running the bath for you adding bubble bath, salts, and getting everything he needs for your hair or washing you

He’s even ready for after with all your moisturizers and serums laid out

Azriel is very gentle when it comes to taking care of you

When he washes your hair he gives you a scalp massage and rubs your temples

Then he washes your face and back, he lets you do the rest and enjoy sitting in the water

Sometimes he sits with you outside the tub just to talk to you or hold your hand

When you get out he dries you off and wraps you in a warm fluffy robe

He carry’s you over to your vanity and brushes out your wet hair and helps do the rest of your skin care

And when he’s done he’ll kiss all over your face and then finally your lips

[ellethelynx]

❥ Dev Patel headcannon! (II)

• Thrifted vases for the flowers he gives you

• Feet massages after a long day

• Slow dancing to Thee Sacred Souls in candlelight

• Dev loves to drink! He would take you on degustation dates + loves to try cocktail recipes at home with you on a Friday night!

• Watching rom-com together and hyping him up to try for a movie like that!

•He's the kind of guy to help you with different hairstyles since you cannot view the back of your head (Picture a very concentrated Dev).

•Late at night dances... you both warm and drunk...

•The First time you saw each other was... Special. Felt just right to be with him, to talk with him all night. The stares you shared, to silence that sometimes came across. Just right. And intense. God, it was intense.

• Dev is afraid of horror movies but if you're into it he'll definitely give it a try. He would be holding your hand and biting his nails (poor thing will sleep with open eyes tonight).

[shaadiwish]

Hola beauties! Bookmark these trending & unique hairstyles for sister of the bride ! For more wedding inspirations, visit Shaadiiwsh.com

[lokisbiiiitch1993]

My Loki - Summer Headcanons

I think Loki wouldn't like Summer 🏝️🌞 ⛱️

It's just too hot... it feels like Torture to him because of his Frost Giant Heritage

You could probably convince him to go with you to the Beach in the evening/ night ,when it isn't that hot anymore 🏖️

Maybe the best place for him to go in Summer is to a Lake with lots of Trees around ...and lots of Shadows

Letting him buy Ice cream isn't a good idea... He will get you the most craziest flavours like Sweet Potato - Pepper , Pumpkin Seed Oil

Go shopping with him ...buy Loki cool Shorts 🩳 and Shirt's 👕

he would like to go out with you....to a Cocktail Bar and loves seeing you in s Summer Dress 👗

He looks good with a Man Bun - Loki let's you play with his Hair and try some Hairstyles

Loki loves about you the most that you accept and like his Frost Giant Form -this poor Man feels soo insecure about it 😔

At some point you tell him you would like to cuddle him in his Frost Giant Form because you feel so hot 🥵🔥

He is a big cool Pad for you

He's a big tease he uses his Fingers like ice cubes 🧊

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

My Masterlist

[ant1quarian]

what type of drinks does dust like to make? what trinkets have western killer on him so far?

I can't give specifics on what kind of drinks Dust makes, since I'm not personally a fan of alcohol and don't drink it (so I can't properly say what he'd drink) but he really likes cocktails, I'd think. He likes most kinds of juice, so mixing that with alcohol is a pretty average thing for him to do. ( Particularly a fan of mango-orange juice )

Killer has collected so far:

5 G (Olden G, it's made out of a much more bronze-esque, harder-to-find metal than the normal Pyrite. It's not very shiny but he finds the inscription cool)

A metal wire

Two hairbands (pink in colouration, for giving his horse goofy hairstyles)

A couple random gears he found from somewhere (they're kind of rusty,,, )

A petrified piece of wood (He stole it from somewhere. He thinks it was important?)

Two pieces of green, smooth glass! (He yoinked those, too.)

Thank you for the ask! And, as always: Feel free to ask more whenever!

[bitter69uk]

Heartfelt gratitude to the attendees of last night’s Lobotomy Room cinema club presentation of Butterfield 8 (1960) at Fontaine’s! Some musings based on my introduction: Butterfield 8 is the story of the doomed love affair between a Manhattan call girl and a rich married man. (Seriously – who among us can’t relate?). Sure, the film has a terrible reputation but that’s what this film club is for - reappraising “bad” movies. I’d argue Butterfield 8 is juicy, irresistible good fun. If it’s trash, Butterfield 8 is the acme of trash. Rewatching it, I was struck by the persistent strain of melancholy throughout the film. You just know it’s all going to end tragically. The opening moments of Elizabeth Taylor waking up alone, hungover and naked in bed, donning a white slip, sparking the first cigarette of the day and prowling around silently feels like something out of a European art movie. It boasts snappy, biting quotable dialogue. Considering it was made during the Hays Code, it’s a genuine attempt by a Hollywood film to tackle adult content like adultery, premarital sex, promiscuity and prostitution. (It does what it could get away with at the time). As discussed, Taylor hated the script and only took this role begrudgingly (it was her final contractual obligation with MGM, liberating her to make Cleopatra with 20th Century Fox), but you’d never guess from the raw emotion, glamour and sensuality of her performance. Butterfield 8 captures Elizabeth Taylor at her most “Elizabeth Taylor”. She deserved that Oscar, damn it! It also gloriously captures the fashions and décor of 1960: pink marble bathrooms. Powder blue telephones. Swanky cocktail lounges with red flocked wallpaper, gilt-framed mirrors and chandeliers. Bouffant hairstyles. Cocktail dresses with plunging necklines. Full-length mink coats. (Boy, does that mink coat cause a lot of trouble!). Squint your eyes, and Laurence Harvey and Dina Merrill anticipate Don and Betty Draper of Mad Men. There’s no April film club (I’ll be attending the Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekender) but see you again in May. Now go brush your teeth with scotch and scrawl a message on a mirror with pink frosted lipstick!

[astayinwonderland]

Silk and Fire - Chapter 3

pairing: namjoon x f.reader x jungkook

genre: romance | drama | smut +18 MDNI

status: ongoing

word count: 2.1k

You can read about this story and other chapters here.

warnings: mentions of sexual activity, masturbation, cheating, a little angst (lmk if I missed anything)

You go about your day as usual. Why wouldn’t you? Oh right... You had a dream in which Jungkook fingered you until you were a babbling mess about to cum. If that was not enough, in your dream, Namjoon was sleeping in your shared room while his friend made you moan and squirm under his touch. But that was it... it was a dream. You need to get over it so you stay busy.

Big breakfasts were not your go-to thing every morning. However, today it needed to be. You blast music on your speakers as you cook and eat, your phone facing down somewhere in the living room, Jungkook’s follower request is still there. It’s already too late for an elaborate outfit to go to work, so you just put on your nice jeans, a pale pink blouse, and your comfy work flats.

Luckily for you, the day runs by with lots of things to tend to. Meeting after meeting, a full inbox, chitchat with coworkers. Great!

“Hey, there’s someone here to see you,” Marcia interrupts your typing. You like Marcia. She is the best assistant one could have. Attentive, caring, amazing in what she does, and a true confidant and friend.

“Huh? My next meeting is not until 3:30, I was about to take my lunch break. Is Mrs. Tang early?” you start fixing your makeup. No matter if you already met a client, you always double-check your makeup before a meeting.

“Um... no, this is not Mrs. Tang. It’s a Mr. Jeon?” she raises her eyebrows, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

Walking in what appears to be slow-motion, there he is, Jeon Jungkook. Hoseok was completely right, he does like making a big entrance. He dresses in a casual black t-shirt with ripped jeans, glasses, and a messy hairstyle that gives him a look to die for.

“Thank you, Marcia, you are so attentive,” he smiles at her. Marcia is a giggling mess, especially when Jungkook opens and closes the door for her, making direct eye contact.

What the actual fuck?

“Wh-wha-what are you doing here? Wh-why? No,” you say standing up. He scans you up and down taking his time.

“This is not... you can’t just barge in, there is a procedure and why are you here?” your tone getting more and more guttural in annoyance.

“I am here to take you to lunch.”

Fuck.

_________________________________________

This was certainly not the plan. You were supposed to be here with Namjoon, the reservation was made for two, that plus one being your boyfriend not Jungkook. It seems almost funny how Namjoon couldn’t make it and you would have known this earlier if you didn’t keep your phone buried in your desk drawer specifically to avoid thinking about Jungkook’s follower request or any flashbacks of that very explicit sex dream. Now you are being walked to your table with the same man you’ve been trying to keep off your mind.

“Here are your menus. A waiter will be with you shortly,” the host smiles and leaves you alone with Jungkook. The air suddenly feels too heavy and you fight the urge to run away.

“Namjoon was really bummed he couldn’t make it, that’s all he whined about in the group chat. I just took the liberty to step in and get to know you better,” he takes a sip of his water.

You slowly nod and have some water as well, your eyes glued to the menu.

“Hello, my name is Tiffany, may I get you started with some drinks?” the waitress interrupts. She is beautiful. Gorgeous long, black, hair, full lips and breasts, her brown skin smooth, and a smile that could certainly get her anything she wanted.

“I’ll have your strongest cocktail, thank you,” you blurt out.

Jungkook can’t help but laugh, his eyes on you. You are waiting for him to flirt with pretty Tiffany, but that moment never comes. He orders whiskey instead. Neat.

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” you start, but Jungkook waves his hands dismissively.

“I wanted to see you,” and with that simple sentence you feel your heart beat faster, your hands sweaty, and let’s be honest, your cunt needy. “I– know you saw something the other night...”

“I didn't see anything,” you lie.

He smirks. He better stop doing that or you’re going to lose it. Thankfully, now your drinks are here and you chug half of it in an attempt to make the lunch less awkward. Tiffany hands Jungkook his drink, their hands slightly touching. You see her walk away, waiting for Jungkook to follow her with his eyes, but he never does. Once again those doe eyes are on you, he looks at your lips as he drinks his whiskey, shameless.

“I was hoping we could break the awkwardness now that we are alone... tell me, did you like what you saw?”

You’re shocked. What is he trying to do? You ignored his comment and called Tiffany who kindly took your order. The faster you eat, the faster you get out of there, but at this point, you were getting annoyed, annoyed by Jungkook’s audacity.

“You are missing your chance there, you know,” for the first time today, you look at him in the eye. “She is really pretty, and your type, right? Pretty waitresses?”

Jungkook almost spits his drink after your bold observation. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans closer to you, the table acting as a barrier between your bodies.

“My type is sitting right in front of me,” he whispers. “Oh please... stop that. What are you trying to do? I’m with Namjoon, did you forget that?” “Yeah, and where is he now?”

This is it. You stand up and grab your purse. Anger blinded you as your legs took you as far away from him as possible. You were angry with Jungkook, but you were even angrier at yourself because he was right. Where the fuck was Namjoon? He does this often, he promises he’ll be there but then something comes up. You miss him.

Jungkook runs after you.

“Please, don’t go I'm sorry! I’m sorry.”

You are already about the leave the restaurant.

“What is it Jungkook? Leave me alone!”

“I’m just trying to– shit, I don’t know...”

“Just go and fuck the waitress, would you?” you snap walking out, but he follows you and grabs your arm.

“I fucked her because I couldn’t fuck you!” he yells. Frustration in his eyes, you can see how his chest seems even bigger and his breathing gets heavier.

Your heart stops.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he runs his fingers through his hair as he closes the distance between the two of you.

There’s an unspoken apology, an understanding that just comes by looking into each other’s eyes. You don’t know why but there is something pulling you towards Jungkook, like you need

him. A battle between the brain, the heart, and raw desire. Your hand lands on his arm and your lips slowly come closer to his face. Jungkook turns his face, wanting to capture your lips on his, but he fails, your objective met to give him an apologetic, chaste, kiss on his cheek.

You linger too close to his lips, the faint scent of whiskey mixed with his own signature scent intoxicating your body and soul. Both your lips almost grasing you can almost taste him.

“I should go,” and betraying how much your body wanted to kiss him, you pulled yourself away from him and stormed down the street.

Jungkook watches you leave, wishing he could run after you once more and kiss you senseless. Fucking hell, how bad he wanted to kiss you, make you forget you were spoken for... his fingers wanting to touch you, his eyes wanting to see you melt for him, his ears wanting you to beg for him. How perfect must your lips feel on his, how perfect you must taste. Why Namjoon? Of course, he understood why Namjoon. But still... why?

Betraying your sense of righteousness, you look over your shoulder to see Jungkook’s face light up, his chest inflating with hope, just to deflate with dismay as you continue to walk away from him. ______________________________

When Namjoon gets home you are already in bed, begging for the sleeping pills in your system to work. He gets into bed his body craving yours.

“Babe, I’m sorry I’m so late, sorry I couldn’t be with you today,” he whispers as he kisses your temple, then your shoulder. “Let me make it up to you...” he waits for an answer but you don’t give him one. “Please...”

“No worries, babe,” you finally say, but you don’t truly mean it. However, you still give him a peck on the lips. Namjoon is an understanding man, so he gets that you are not in the mood.

Maybe you should have taken another melatonin pill. The soft buzz of your phone wakes you up. Unknown number. You always answered these no matter what, you feared it was an emergency.

“Hello?” you croak, your voice raspy, half of you still asleep. “I want you to walk to the bathroom, and close the door behind you.” Jungkook.

“Wh–what?”

“Baby... do as you are told, you don’t wanna wake him up,” he coos.

In what appears to be a trance, you obey, making your way to the bathroom, a few feet from where Namjoon lies fast asleep. You lock the door behind you, the only source of light being your phone and the city lights that creep on the window.

“You’re in?” “Yes...” you await for his next instruction, nervous. Tempted.

“Turn on the shower, I don’t want anyone else to listen to our after-hour conversation,” and he waits until he listens to the background noise of water running.

“Good... Now I want you to touch yourself,” he starts, eliciting a gasp from your lips. “Sit and spread those gorgeous legs, for me baby.”

You sit on the closed toilet seat and you open your legs. His voice gives forbidden commands that your body just does naturally like you are under his spell, but you don’t want to break it.

“Are you wearing any underwear?” “N-no...”

“Just how I like it, I knew you would be ready for me,” his chuckles audible from the other side of the phone. “I’m going to guide you through this, okay? You are not allowed to do anything if I don’t command it. Got it, darling?”

“Yes.”

“Pinch your nipples for me. I bet they’re already hard...”

You are possessed by the way his voice makes you twist with pleasure in the darkness. Your moans are forced to be kept to the minimum as he teases you.

“You have no idea how much I want to touch you, my hands teasing one of your breasts and I flick your nipple with my tongue. Would you like that, baby?”

“Y-yes, please,” you can’t help it.

“Use only one finger, but don’t put it in yet. Rub it up and down your folds, tell me, how wet are you?

“Mmmhhh... very wet, I’m wet.”

“Good. I want you to cum for me through the phone, would you do that for me?”

No answer. You are lost in pleasure as you tease yourself, rubbing just as he said.

“Already too pleasure-drunk to speak? Get one finger in... deep. In and out, baby, pound that pussy really good for me,” his breath hitching as he fists his cock on the other side of the phone.

“Ah– ah– fuck...” your little moans fuel him to get to his release as you are close as well and the palm of your hand hits your clit again and again.

“Yes, baby, just like that... are you feeling good?” “Y-yes. Good.”

Your middle finger soaked in your juices now quickens the pace, the sound of your wetness masked by the shower running beside you. It seems like there is no other place you rather be than here, fucking yourself as he orders you to. Blinded by desire, submissive to his spell. You are close, right there with him, as his voice encourages you to finish.

“C’mon, baby, cum... cum... please, I need you to cum,” and you can hear in his voice he is waiting for you to give in to his orgasm.

With a muffled cry, you give in, the tension in you shattering into a million pieces, the ecstasy of your climax engulfing you into a blanket of bliss. Jungkook curses under his breath. Fuck. This was hot. You can’t think straight, you can’t process what just happened.

“You did so well... y-you did s-so good,”; a fucked-out Jungkook says.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A knock on the bathroom door.

“Babe, is everything alright?” Namjoon.

“Goodnight, baby... See you tomorrow.”

The call ends.

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a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨ updates will be every Monday(: ... lmk if you would like to be tagged (;

tags: @paramedicnerd004 | @darkuni63 |