ℬ

[inspiredangel]

⠀ ︵ིྀ ⠀ㅤׅ   maybe the world is yours

doe eyed angel s.her pink everything drew starkey´s gf brasil baby summer nights pink lipgloss floral scented perfume biggest cry baby ever films . . .

　 ﹒ ༊࿐ masterlist ⅋ taglist

‎ maybe when it rains it pours ⊹ ㅤ𓈒 ⠀݃

[inspiredangel]

uhhhh... helloooo????

[sturnsflirt]

i have yet to see someone pull off a buzz cut other than drew starkey

[inspiredangel]

HOCKEY PLAYER!RAFE

introducing . . . hockey player!rafe ⟢ best paired w you !

hockey player!rafe is only friends with the people on his team. backwards hat is his go to. lowkey a softie. antisocial most of the time. anger issues. his breath always smells like mints. your picture in his wallet. always at practice, or with you. only plays hockey to make his dad proud. team captain. number 11. late night swims at the lake or beach. always fights with the ref. pnd super fan. loves having deep convos w you.

hockey player!rafe who loves neck kisses. always has a bruise or scratch. his frat throws the best house parties. rough sex when he’s mad. always wearing a bracelet that you made for him. buys you gifts all the time. daddy’s money. touch starved 25/8. loves spicy food. his favorite color is yellow and black. loves pasta. thinks studying is for losers.

hockey player!rafe and you two met when he was walking to class and accidentally bumped into you and spilled soda all over your white blouse, he promised he would buy you another one. which he lived up to and after one of his games he handed you a brand new white blouse that looked identical to the one he stained.

hockey player!rafe wants you to wear his jersey

more coming soon . .

send in asks about him !! and lemme know if you have any ideas / reqs for blurbs :))) layout was inspired by the beautiful @lustagel ᡣ 𓈒⋅ ⩊ ⋅𓈒ྀིა ㅤ

INSPIREDANGEL © 2024 do not copy any of my works

[inspiredangel]

this had sm potential, i wish i worked more on it :,)

[inspiredangel]

Is tha you in your pfp?

nope! the pic is from pintrest 🤍

[songbirsd]

riding rafe cameron

the windows of rafe’s range rover are already fogged up, the low hum of the engine still running as you straddle him in the driver’s seat. it’s late, the beach parking lot deserted, just the crash of waves outside and the heavy sound of his breathing.

rafe’s hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t move you yet. he wants to watch.

“slow,” he rasps, voice rough from the way you’ve been teasing him for the last ten minutes. “i wanna see every fucking inch.”

you reach between you, fingers wrapping around his cock. you lift up on your knees, lining him up with your soaked entrance, and sink down just enough for the head to slip inside.

a low groan rips out of him. his head falls back against the seat, but his eyes stay locked on where you’re joined.

“fuck… look at that,” he mutters, watching himself disappear into you inch by inch as you lower yourself, agonizingly slow. your walls flutter around him, stretching to take him, and he curses under his breath when you finally seat yourself fully, his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

you pause there, letting him feel how tight and wet you are, how perfectly you fit around him. then you start to move.

a slow roll of your hips, grinding down in lazy circles, your clit dragging against him with every swirl. his hands slide to your ass, “jesus christ,” he groans, hips jerking involuntarily. “you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

you lean forward, hands on his shoulders, and start riding him properly now. each time you drop down, he bottoms out, the head of his cock kissing your cervix, making your breath hitch.

rafe can’t stop staring. one hand leaves your ass to reach down, thumb brushing where he’s stretching you open, feeling the way you pulse around him.

“keep going, baby,” he growls, voice wrecked.

you whimper, speeding up just enough to make the car rock faintly on its suspension, your thighs trembling as you grind down harder, chasing that perfect angle.

the air inside the car is thick, humid, smelling like sex and salt and the leather of the seats. rafe’s pupils are blown wide, black swallowing blue, fixed on the place where his cock splits you open. every time you sink down, your slick coats him, dripping down to his balls, making the wet slap of skin on skin louder, filthier.

“fuck—look at you,” he growls, voice shredded. his hands clamp onto your hips so hard his fingers dig crescents into your skin. “taking every inch like you were fucking made for it.”

you roll your hips harder, grinding your clit against the base of him, and he snaps his hips up to meet you—once, brutal—driving so deep your vision whites out for a second.

“rafe—” It comes out broken, desperate.

“that’s it,” he snarls, yanking you down harder on the next drop so your ass smacks against his thighs.

your pace turns frantic. you’re bouncing now, fast and sloppy, thighs burning, tits jolting with every thrust. the head of his cock punches against that spot inside you over and over until your moans turn into choked sobs of pleasure.

he can’t look away from where he’s ruining you. one hand slides down, thumb pressing roughly over your clit, rubbing tight, merciless circles.

your whole body locks up. the orgasm slams into you so hard your nails rake down his chest, drawing blood. you scream his name—raw, wrecked—as your walls clamp down around him in rhythmic pulses, gushing over his cock, soaking his lap.

“f-fuck, there it is—” his head slams back against the headrest, jaw clenched so tight it trembles. “goddamn, baby, squeezing me so fucking tight—”

he loses it.

with a guttural groan he thrusts up once, twice, burying himself to the root and holding you down as he comes. you feel every hot pulse deep inside, his cock jerking hard, flooding you until it leaks out around him, running down his shaft in thick streaks.

for a second the only sound is both of you gasping, shaking, the car creaking faintly beneath you. then he grabs the back of your neck, drags you into a messy, bruising kiss, and mutters against your lips:

“turn around. hands on the dashboard.”

[inspiredangel]

THE CHALLENGE.

The music was pounding hard, as if keeping pace with the accelerated rhythm inside his chest. It was a party full of beautiful people, low lights, expensive drinks, and easy laughter floating in the air. But nothing—absolutely nothing—had captured his attention... until her.

She was different. And everyone knew it. It wasn't just the obvious beauty that made heads turn wherever she walked. It was her manner. The firm stride, the cutting gaze, the posture of someone unimpressed by status, fame. She didn't entertain just anyone—and she made sure that was clear. It was almost like a challenge.

Rafe approached calmly, glass in hand, his smile slightly crooked. She was in the corner of the room with a friend, but she noticed him even before he had said anything. She raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "Are you going to try, too?"

"What´s up," he said, looking straight into her eyes, with the confidence of someone used to winning, but without the arrogance of those who think everything is easy.

She didn't answer right away. She looked Rafe up and down, as if studying him, and then she smiled—but not that yielding smile. A short, calculated smile.

"Hi, Rafe," she said, and her tone carried more provocation than courtesy. "I thought a kook prince like you only approached women through DMs."

Rafe let out a slight chuckle. She was quick. "Most of them, perhaps. But I like to look into a woman's eyes."

She tilted her head slightly, as if saying, "Hmm, interesting." But she still hadn't conceded an inch.

"And you think you're going to impress me with this straight forward talk?" She chuckled "Try again."

"I'm not trying to impress you. I just came to talk to the woman who made half the party look with respect and the other half with fear."

She laughed—a real laugh this time—and turned her face away as if trying to hide the fact that she liked it. The liquid in her glass swayed gently, and Rafe knew he hadn't won anything yet. She wasn't the type of woman to be swept away by smiles or rehearsed lines. Her ego was high, yes. But there was something else there... curiosity.

"Alright, Kook..." she said, looking back into my eyes, now with a different sparkle. "Let's see if you're good at the game."

She turned slowly, walking towards the bar. But first, she threw one last look over her shoulder. A look that said, "If you want to follow me, you'll have to play fair and play well."

And there, in the middle of the party, between lights and deep beats, he knew: this game, he didn't want to lose.

@lilahthedoll @eepwtf @sturnsflirt

[inspiredangel]

⠀ ︵ིྀ ⠀ㅤׅ   maybe the world is yours

doe eyed angel s.her pink everything drew starkey´s gf brasil baby summer nights pink lipgloss floral scented perfume biggest cry baby ever films . . .

　 ﹒ ༊࿐ masterlist ⅋ taglist

‎ maybe when it rains it pours ⊹ ㅤ𓈒 ⠀݃

[inspiredangel]

updated <3 my tumblr comeback is approaching ...

[inspiredangel]

my taglist ! like or comment on this post if you´d like to be added <3

@lilahthedoll @eepwtf @sturnsflirt

[inspiredangel]

LOVE AND HATE

You would tell him how much you hated him, looking straight into his eyes.

But he knew it was a lie—everyone did. You and Rafe were like that. You’d fight over anything. Jealousy, nonsense, sheer stubbornness—and every argument felt like a battle neither of you were willing to lose.

“She keeps saying I’m not her type,” he’d tell his friends, “but she´s always tryna fuck, you know?”

But the moment one of his parties started—the music pulsing in the air—everything fell apart. All it took was that look he gave you, half daring, half pleading, for you to forget the entire fight. Then you’d meet in his room, breathless, laughing at your own drama, fucking eachother like the world outside didn’t even exist.

Deep down, you both knew: the hate was never really hate. It was just the crooked way of loving you two invented to call your own.

There were nights when he’d press you against the cold metal door, murmuring “you drive me insane” against your mouth, and you’d bite back a smile because you knew you did. And he knew you loved that.

But there were softer moments too. The ones no one else ever saw. Like when he’d rest his forehead against yours after everything, still panting, still trembling, whispering, “don’t go yet.” Or when you’d fix his hair with your fingertips, pretending you weren’t doing something tender.

And the funny part was how everyone around you had already given up trying to understand it. The kooks would exchange looks whenever you showed up at the middle of one of their hangouts, pretending not to notice the tension snapping between you two like static electricity. They knew that if you were quiet, it was worse. Quiet meant a storm was about to break.

Rafe pretended he didn’t care. Pretended he didn’t look for you in the crowd.

And you pretended not to care either. Pretended you weren’t at the parties just for him. Pretended you didn’t know every detail about him, every movement he made, every habit, every stupid grin he flashed before kissing you. Pretended your heart didn’t trip over itself every time he looked your way across the room.

But then again, denial was always part of your story.

[inspiredangel]

FINALLY posted something after months

[inspiredangel]

LOVE AND HATE

You would tell him how much you hated him, looking straight into his eyes.

But he knew it was a lie—everyone did. You and Rafe were like that. You’d fight over anything. Jealousy, nonsense, sheer stubbornness—and every argument felt like a battle neither of you were willing to lose.

“She keeps saying I’m not her type,” he’d tell his friends, “but she´s always tryna fuck, you know?”

But the moment one of his parties started—the music pulsing in the air—everything fell apart. All it took was that look he gave you, half daring, half pleading, for you to forget the entire fight. Then you’d meet in his room, breathless, laughing at your own drama, fucking eachother like the world outside didn’t even exist.

Deep down, you both knew: the hate was never really hate. It was just the crooked way of loving you two invented to call your own.

There were nights when he’d press you against the cold metal door, murmuring “you drive me insane” against your mouth, and you’d bite back a smile because you knew you did. And he knew you loved that.

But there were softer moments too. The ones no one else ever saw. Like when he’d rest his forehead against yours after everything, still panting, still trembling, whispering, “don’t go yet.” Or when you’d fix his hair with your fingertips, pretending you weren’t doing something tender.

And the funny part was how everyone around you had already given up trying to understand it. The kooks would exchange looks whenever you showed up at the middle of one of their hangouts, pretending not to notice the tension snapping between you two like static electricity. They knew that if you were quiet, it was worse. Quiet meant a storm was about to break.

Rafe pretended he didn’t care. Pretended he didn’t look for you in the crowd.

And you pretended not to care either. Pretended you weren’t at the parties just for him. Pretended you didn’t know every detail about him, every movement he made, every habit, every stupid grin he flashed before kissing you. Pretended your heart didn’t trip over itself every time he looked your way across the room.

But then again, denial was always part of your story.

[inspiredangel]

your blog is so pretty!

thank uu! so is urs <33

[inspiredangel]

omfg i love your blog and themes so much holy smokes

thank you cutie pieee, i love urs smm

[inspiredangel]

omg hi

[sturnivo]

♡ @deansbeer 𝜗℘ ༝ ݁ 𓂃 ⊹

⋮ 𝓴𝐚𝐫𝐢. ✝︎ mast. ✝︎ visuals. .ᐣ

𝓪𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝓻𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬. 𝓯𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬.

[sturnivo]

matt sturniolo ⅋ fem!reader. minors do not interact … ♥︎

♡ྀི 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. .ᐣ couch sex, riding [cowgirl], strong language, choking, oral sex [m!receiving], praising && dirty talk.

the gray afternoon light was fading, but you hadn’t bothered to turn on any lamps. the only illumination in the living room came from the tv, which was playing some show neither of you were watching. you were on the floor, kneeling between matt’s legs as he sat on the couch, your head in his lap.

his fingers were tangled in your hair, a gentle but firm grip, as you took him into your mouth. he tasted clean and musky, a taste that was just matt, and you hummed in contentment, the vibration running through him and making him groan. you loved this, the lazy intimacy of it, the complete control you had in these moments.

you picked up the pace, your head bobbing in a steady rhythm. his hips began to move, a slow, unconscious bucking motion against your mouth. his groans became louder, less restrained, filling the quiet space between you.

“fuck, baby,” he panted, his head falling back against the couch cushions. “just like that.”

you took him as deep as you could, your throat protesting slightly, and you felt his whole body tense. his grip on your hair tightened, and his hips stuttered, a clear sign that he was getting close. but you weren’t ready for it to be over yet. you wanted more.

you pulled back, leaving him slick and wanting. he let out a frustrated whine, his eyes snapping open. they were hazy with pleasure, his pupils blown wide.

“what’re you doin’?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“i want to be on top,” you said, your voice equally breathless.

a feral grin spread across his face. “oh fuck, yeah.”

he helped you up, his hands on your waist as you climbed onto the couch, straddling his lap. you kicked off your sweatpants, the cool air of the apartment a shock against your hot skin. his hands roamed your body, his palms warm against your back, your sides, your ass, as you settled onto him.

you guided him to your entrance, his blunt tip pressing against your wet folds. you lowered yourself down onto him slowly, excruciatingly slowly, a shared gasp leaving both your lips as you took him inside you. he was so thick, filling you so completely it was almost overwhelming. you both stayed still for a moment, just breathing, letting your bodies adjust to the feeling of being joined.

then, you started to move.

you started with a slow, lazy bounce, a gentle rocking of your hips that made the old couch springs groan in protest. his hands were on your hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin there, guiding your movements. his eyes were locked on yours, and you could see every flicker of pleasure, every hitch of his breath.

the pace quickened, your slow bounces turning into more energetic, deliberate thrusts. you rode him with a steady, confident rhythm, your head thrown back, your hair fanning out behind you. all you could hear was the wet, slapping sound of your bodies meeting, your own soft moans, and his low, ragged grunts.

“god, you feel s’ good,” he breathed, his head falling back against the cushions. “so fuckin’ tight.”

you leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest, your faces just inches apart. “you like this, baby?” you panted, your hips not slowing their relentless pace. “like seeing me on top?”

“love it,” he growled, his hands sliding from your hips up your stomach. “love watching you take what you want.”

the pleasure was building, a tight, coiling knot deep in your belly. you could feel the tell-tale signs of your orgasm approaching, your muscles clenching around him. he must have felt it too, because his expression shifted, becoming more intense, more focused.

his hand continued its journey upward, his palm sliding over your chest, up your neck. his fingers wrapped gently around your throat, his thumb finding the delicate, hollow space at the base. you froze for a second, your hips stuttering.

his eyes were locked on yours, a silent question. you gave a barely perceptible nod.

he squeezed.

it wasn’t hard, not painful. it was just… pressure. a firm, possessive pressure that made your vision swim and your breath catch in your lungs. a jolt of pure, unadulterated electricity shot straight from your throat to your core.

you let out a choked gasp, your hips picking up their frantic pace again. he squeezed again, a little harder this time, just as you felt the first wave of your orgasm begin to crest. the combination was too much. the world narrowed to two points of intense, overwhelming sensation: the feeling of him buried deep inside you, and the pressure of his thumb on your throat.

your orgasm ripped through you, a violent, screaming thing that made your body convulse uncontrollably. you cried out, the sound muffled by the pressure on your throat, as you were consumed by wave after wave of pure, shattering pleasure.

your release was all it took to push him over the edge. with a final, desperate thrust that buried him to the hilt, he roared, his own body going rigid as he poured his release into you.

you collapsed onto his chest, a boneless, trembling heap. his hand immediately loosened, his thumb now just stroking softly over your racing pulse. you were both panting, your bodies slick with sweat, the only sound in the room your ragged, synchronized breaths. he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your sweaty temple, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

( © . sturnivo )

[sosasturns]