#to finally put a face to your username

[vasattope]

I met @whenyoulovesomebody IRL at the end of the show. She's so nice!!! She even gave me these bracelets 🥹🥹

(One of them closes with magnets, she's a genius)

[pucksandpower]

I’m a Feminist

Franco Colapinto x team principal!Reader

Summary: everyone knows that Franco has a thing for older women, okay … so when his team principal turns out to be a (stupidly attractive) older woman, he can’t be held responsible for his actions

Franco sprawls in the chair, arms crossed over his chest like he’s holding court instead of facing an emergency meeting. His grin is wide, cocky even, and wholly unapologetic. Across the desk, you pinch the bridge of your nose, willing patience to come like some kind of divine miracle.

“Explain,” you say, voice flat, your tone giving nothing away. You refuse to let him see how utterly exhausted you already are by this conversation.

“I sneezed,” Franco says with a shrug, “and liked all your pictures. Really, it was — how do you say — an accident.”

You stare. No, you glare. "And commented damn mommy on all of them?”

Franco falters — barely. There’s a half-second where his grin wavers, his bravado cracks, but then it’s gone, replaced by another shrug. “I-I have the flu?”

Your exhale is sharp, just shy of a growl. “Franco.”

“What?” He leans forward now, feigning innocence. “Is it so bad? You look muy guapa in your photos. Should I not celebrate my team principal’s beauty? This feels sexist, no?”

“Sexist?” Your eyebrows climb so high they might leave your face.

“I’m a feminist,” he announces, as if that explains everything.

“Do feminists call their bosses ‘mommy’ in the comments?”

“Only the hot ones,” he shoots back without missing a beat, then quickly adds, “Joking! I’m joking.”

You slam your palms down on the desk, the sound sharp enough to make him flinch, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. If anything, it widens. “Do you even understand how unprofessional this is? I have sponsors asking me if I’ve been hacked! The CEO of Dorilton Capital called me himself this morning!”

Franco’s face lights up like you’ve just paid him a compliment. “Darren! He likes me. He said I was charming.”

“He said you were a walking HR violation!”

His grin falters again, but there’s something annoyingly endearing about how quickly it returns. “Well, at least he talked about me.”

You sink back into your chair and drag a hand through your hair. God, you’re tired. “Do you even know how this looks? You went through every single photo I’ve ever posted. Franco, that’s-”

“Dedicated?”

“Obsessive,” you snap. “Creepy. Insane.”

“Romantic,” he offers, leaning back again like he’s just solved a puzzle.

“You are twenty-one years old!”

“And you’re …” He trails off, letting the sentence dangle in the air like bait.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

He smirks. “I was going to say timeless.”

“Franco, enough.” Your voice is sharp enough to cut through his bravado, and for the first time, he looks a little serious. “Do you have any idea what kind of position you’ve put me in? If this gets out-”

“It won’t.”

“It already has! You didn’t think people would notice when every post I’ve made since 2016 suddenly has your username in the likes and comments?”

Franco shrugs. ���I’m a fan.”

“A fan?” You throw your hands up. “What are you even a fan of? My press conferences? My sponsor meetings? My ability to yell at you when you ruin your tires on lap seventeen?”

His grin returns, this time with a little more sheepishness. “How sexy you look doing that last one, mostly.”

Your head falls into your hands, and for a moment, there’s silence. You think — foolishly — that maybe he’s finally run out of things to say.

But no.

“You never answered my DM,” he says, voice lighter, teasing.

Your head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

“Last week,” he says, tilting his head like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I sent you a DM. Very respectful. Very sweet.”

“I don’t even check my DMs!”

“Well, now I’m offended.” He places a hand over his heart like he’s genuinely wounded.

“I’m going to lose my job,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Franco says, waving you off. “You’re too good to lose your job. Everyone knows that.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’re the one who’s dramatic! I can’t believe I’m sitting here having this conversation right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re not flattered,” he counters, leaning forward again. “I thought women liked grand gestures.”

“Grand gestures?” You bark out a laugh, humorless and sharp. “Franco, this isn’t a romantic comedy. You don’t win me over by cyberstalking me!”

“Cyberstalking?” His mouth falls open, mock-offended. “That’s harsh, no? I think of it more like … research.”

“Research?”

“Sí. I’m just a very dedicated employee.”

“Dedicated?” Your laugh this time is louder, more incredulous. “I swear to God-”

“Would it help if I apologized?” He interrupts, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering.

“Yes,” you say immediately.

He doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head, watching you in that unnervingly focused way he sometimes has, the one that makes you feel like he’s cataloging every detail of your expression. “You wouldn’t believe me, though. Even if I apologized, you’d think I was lying.”

“Because you would be lying.”

“Touché.” He grins again, but this time it’s softer, less of a weapon and more of a shield. “Okay, so maybe I’m not sorry. But I didn’t mean to cause problems for you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter.

“I mean it,” he says, and for the first time, there’s something like sincerity in his voice. “I thought it was funny. I didn’t think-”

“That’s the problem, Franco. You didn’t think.”

There’s a beat of silence. For a second, you think you’ve finally gotten through to him. His expression shifts, the grin fading into something that almost looks like remorse.

Then he says, “But if I had thought about it, you’d still be mad, so really, why bother?”

“Franco!”

He laughs, bright and unrepentant. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. I promise. No more liking your pictures, no more comments, no more DMs. Contenta?”

You eye him warily. “You swear?”

“On my life.”

“Franco.”

“On my seat,” he amends, holding a hand to his chest.

You sigh, long and heavy, but you nod. “Fine. Just — keep your head down for a while, okay? Don’t give anyone else a reason to call me about this.”

He stands, smoothing his shirt with exaggerated care. “Anything for you … mommy.”

“And don’t call me ‘mommy,’” you snap as he heads for the door.

He pauses, hand on the handle, and glances back over his shoulder, smirk firmly in place. “Not even in private?”

“Franco!”

He’s laughing as he leaves, the sound echoing in the hallway long after the door closes behind him. You sink back into your chair, exhausted, and wonder — not for the first time —if this job is going to kill you.

And if it does, you think grimly, it’ll probably be Franco Colapinto’s fault.

[totalswag]

Hii I have reques if you feel comfortable with it!

I read your drew fic with the arrest and I loved it!! I was wondering if reader was preforming bed chem outro instead of the back up singer it’s Drew and they get a little to carried away in front of the crowd. If That makes sense💕

bed chem ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note thank you for sending this request and it makes glad you liked my arrested for being too hot fic. my requests are still open and i'm gonna be working on the requests that are in my inbox right now from recent requests. also, you can picture singer!reader picture any way you want <3 i’m using sabrina carpenter as inspo for singer!reader.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary drew coming on stage at the very end of your song and you both get lost in the moment for a second in front of fans.

warning(s) mentions of intimate positions, kissing, touching.

Earlier in the show, you arrested Drew, your boyfriend, for being too hot— everyone in the arena went crazy seeing him. What they aren't expecting to Drew making a second appearance.

At the very end of bed chem one of your backup dancers will come into frame holding a camera on his shoulder, and when the curtain closes you pretend to do intimate things then the stage lights go off.

Prior to the show you asked Drew if he would be okay to go this— he agreed. Making sure he's comfortable was your first priority. He talked about different ways coming on stage that were so funny.

You start singing the final chorus of bed chem on your knees, legs wide out and free hand in front of you as you lean forward. The curtain signal is about to close. From the corner of your vision, you can see Drew approaching with the camera on his shoulder, dressed in dark pants and a white tank top���fans immediately began to cheer as he entered the frame.

He looked so good you couldn't control the redness of your cheeks spreading like a teenager seeing their crush.

To make the moment better, you sway your body around on the bed, allowing yourself to relax. Drew is looking at you with a smile on his face as he gets closer to the edge of the bed.

Motioning him to get closer— he lifts one leg on the bed as the curtain makes its way around the bed. Slowly setting down the camera on the edge of the bed.

You moved closer to Drew, pressing your bodies together in a false display of intimacy. Drew played along well, massaging your sides as he drew you closer. The crowd's cheers intensified, and the excitement in the arena reached a fever pitch.

You leaned in and kissed Drew deeply, as the curtain began to close behind you. The kiss was supposed to be a tease, a staged performance for the spectators, but you found yourself becoming lost in it.

Drew's hands crept up to cradle your face, his touch soft yet forceful. You forgot about the crowd, the cameras, and everything. It was just you and Drew, completely lost in each other.

Your hands drag down his bare chest, and he leaps forward into you at the gentleness of your touch, sending lightning down your body. 

Once the lights turn off you both pull away from each other. Everything in your body right now is all over the place you think you are gonna explode. You are breathing heavily.

"You always know how to put on a show," he said quietly, his voice hoarse.

You giggled softly, your fingertips tracing the contour of his jawline. "And you always know how to make it unforgettable."

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[altkys]

ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE ANAXA SMUT HEAD CANNONS PLEASE PLEASE

ılıılıılıılıılı NOW PLAYING… Lights Down Low

RAHHHH this took so long I’m so sorry (⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄‸o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝) Mostly because halfway through researching him it was like… you’re an Al Haitham, and I fucking hate that guy. You also didn’t specify much so I made Anaxa a sub, since I personally lean more dominant, I’m open to redos if you’d like! I also threw in a short Drabble as compensation <3

Anyways, hope you enjoy, sorry for the wait!! (One helluva username btw)

❝ Take it slow, put it down on me I said jump on it, ride like a pony Lights down low, time to get naughty ❞

→ Anaxagoras may have power and mystery in public, but behind closed doors, he’s secretly thrilled when you take the reins. The moment you push him down by the shoulder or whisper what you want, that ever-calm expression falters — just slightly. It’s the only time his carefully maintained control crumbles, and he likes it.

→ You love to make him straddle you — his long silver hair messy around his face, breathing shallow, eye wide with anticipation. When you hold his wrists behind his back or have him ride you slow and steady, his soft gasps and clenched jaw are everything.

→ He’s articulate, but when it comes to asking for what he wants — being touched, being taken, being praised — he hesitates. You use it to your advantage, making him squirm with low demands:

“Tell me you want me to ride you again.” He’ll hesitate, throat dry, then obey — quietly, obediently. And when he finally does, it’s devastatingly pretty.

→ He’s usually the one talking in riddles and cool analysis — but once you start grinding down on him or whispering dirty praise, his mouth becomes a mess. Half sentences. Little groans. Quiet pleases he never thought he’d say. Bonus if you tug on his earrings or kiss just under his jaw.

→ He tries to stay composed—but when you start going faster, deeper, rougher, he loses the rhythm of his own voice. His words come out rushed and strangled:

“Y-Yes, just like that, wait— wait- don’t stop—” It’s music to your ears. He hates how quickly he comes when you’re in control, and you love pushing him past the edge.

→ When things get rough, he loves being grabbed by the back of his silvery hair and tugged into place. Biting his throat, leaving visible marks across his collarbone — it makes him shiver. He’s so pale that every bruise shows beautifully, and you delight in that.

→ He’s the definition of a pillow prince — he will lay back and let you ride, fuck, take your time, and won’t complain. But don’t mistake him for passive: his hands roam with purpose, his teeth graze where you know it counts, and that single intense eye contact from below? Devastating.

→ When he comes, it’s a full-body reaction. He arches, jaw slack, eye fluttering shut, and whimpers softly. You find it addictive to hold him there, trembling, overstimulated, and whispering sweet, filth-laced praise into his ear as he rides it out. He never knows if he’s being worshipped or wrecked — and that tension turns him on more.

→ After it all, he’s clingy in a low-key way: resting his head in your lap, letting you wipe him down, eyes half-lidded and dazed. Stroke his hair, whisper “good boy,” and he won’t even deny it — just hums quietly, face tucked into your skin like he belongs there.

→ Fitting for a philosopher, his safe word is “paradox.” It’s rare that he uses it, but it fits his aesthetic — and when it’s whispered, immediately pull him close, hold him until he's grounded again.

✦ "Lights Down Low" — Drabble; 1.3k

The first time you told him not to touch, he didn’t listen. Now? He wouldn’t dare.

You’re above him again tonight—just like that first time, only slower now, crueler in the way you savor him. The way you ride him without a rush, without mercy. He’s already on edge, his body betraying him with every twitch and whimper, but you haven’t even started to fuck him properly.

You're just… watching.

And he’s just… waiting.

Like a sword on display. All shine, all restraint. But underneath? He’s begging.

You lean in, lips near his ear, breath warm.

“Hands stay there,” you whisper, pressing his wrists back against the headboard.

And he nods. Because of course he does. Because your voice melts right through whatever icy pride he still thinks he has left.

“Good,” you murmur.

He doesn't even know what you did to him. Only that when you speak like that it folds him open in places even he didn’t know existed.

Your hips shift down and Aeons, he can’t help the sound that spills out of him, quiet and strangled, like shame wrapped in silk.

“Don’t make me hold you down,” you say, teasing. But there's a real warning in it.

“I- I’m not moving,” he breathes. And he means it. His arms ache to touch you, to pull you closer, to feel the curve of your spine under his palms. But you don’t want that tonight. You want him still — under you, for you, yours. And he gives it.

He always gives it.

Even if it kills him.

You start to move again — slow and deep. He can feel the slick slide of you around him, dragging over every hypersensitive inch of him, and it’s too much, already too much.

“Fuck,” he breathes, brows drawn tight. “Please…”

“Please what?” you ask, slow and cruel. “Tell me.”

He doesn’t answer at first. He can’t. He’s panting, barely able to breathe with the weight of how you’re rolling your hips — so steady, so controlled, it’s like you want him to fall apart in pieces. And maybe you do.

“Use your words,” you say. “Come on, Anax.”

A shiver runs down his spine. You only use his name like that when you mean to ruin him.

“…I- I want to come,” he admits, voice wrecked. “Please. Gods, just — let me…”

You tilt your head. Smile.

“Not yet.”

And it shatters something in him. Not because you denied him. But because he’ll obey.

You always make him obey.

You start to fuck him in earnest now — harder, deeper, riding him like you own every inch of him. And maybe you do. The way he reacts to you — throat tight, eyes glazed, hips trying so hard to stay still — it’s devotion. It’s surrender.

You reach down, hand splayed over his chest, pushing him into the mattress as you grind down.

“You look so pretty like this,” you say. “Falling apart underneath me.”

And he does. He knows he does. He can feel it in the heat flooding his cheeks, in the sheen of sweat on his body, in the way his cock twitches helplessly inside you, desperate for friction, desperate for permission.

Every sound he makes is for you. Every shudder, every breath, every whispered, broken plea.

You lean down and kiss him like you want to taste how far gone he is. He moans into your mouth and gasps when you pull away, eyes fluttering open.

“You wanna come, pretty boy?”

He nods frantically. “Please— please, I can’t—” He breaks off with a sob when your hips stutter just right.

“Then beg.”

And he does. Because pride is dust in the air when you're above him like this. He doesn't even know what he's saying — just your name, again and again, some mix of please and love and fuck and I need you so bad, I’ll die if you stop.

You must like the sound of it. Because you lean close again, nose brushing his cheek, lips at his ear.

“Come for me, Anaxa. I want to feel you fall apart.”

And when you say it like that, he doesn't stand a chance.

He comes with a sound you've never heard from him before—guttural, raw, like it's been torn out of him. His whole body arches up under yours, and he still doesn’t move his hands. He still follows your rules. He’s trembling, gasping, nearly sobbing from the intensity, from how hard you made him wait, from how good it felt to finally, finally be allowed to give in.

You don’t let up until he’s shaking. Until his legs won’t stop twitching and he’s gone soft inside you, ruined and sensitive and beautiful.

When you finally stop, you lower yourself gently over him. His arms drop—finally—and wrap around your waist. He buries his face in your throat, breath shallow, heart racing.

“I hate you,” he mutters weakly.

You smile into his hair. “No, you don’t.”

“…No,” he admits, barely a whisper. “I don’t.”

Thank you for the request!! Please reblog or comment feedback, love yous! ♥(⸝⸝⸝ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ᵕ ก̀⸝⸝⸝)ෆ

[crushpunky]

actress!reader, drew, and break up rumors

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based on this ask. also used a fake username for drews insta because i dont want impersonate/fake a real person lol warning: period pains and some mental health struggles

The last week had been hard for y/n. Her bones felt entirely seeped in fatigue and tiredness, the sharp cramps brought about her period not helping. Despite the fact all she wanted to do was curl up in bed all day with a heating pad, she had meetings and commitments that forced her up and out the door each day.

She’d just gotten back from a lunch meeting with discussions about a potential audition and was already drained. Y/n shucked her shoes off before flopping down onto the couch with a sigh. She wished Drew was here. All she wanted needed right now was to snuggle up on the couch with him and watch some cheesy old movie.  He had decided to run to his mom’s to help her clean out the basement, insisting he had to help to ensure she didn’t throw away any of the “gold” they would inevitably find buried under boxes of photos and old basketball trophies. He had also taken Charleston with him, the dog always happy at an opportunity to run around in a backyard bigger than their own, meaning y/n was left entirely alone in her and Drew’s house.

A sudden cramp knocked the wind out of her lungs, her hand shooting out to grip onto the couch. With a groan, she rose up to her feet before slinking into the bathroom. After digging through the cabinets she found some pain medication, swallowing the pills dry as she braced herself against the countertop. Y/n attempted to steady her breathing, tears brimming in her eyes as she tried to push down the anxious thoughts of auditions and schedules and appointments.

Suddenly, however, she was pulled out of her ruminations by the sound of a car door closing. Y/n moved out of the bathroom, rushing down the hallway until she finally made it to the front door. She flung the door open, greeted by Drew, his arms full with boxes as Charleston scurried through the door.

���Hey—” Drew said, but was cut off as y/n wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a crushing hug. He shifted the box in his arms, allowing one of his hands to wrap around y/n’s torso to smooth along the small of her back.

“What’s going on?” Drew said, pulling slightly out of the hug to get a good look at y/n’s exhausted and teary face. She shook her head, resting her cheek on Drew’s cheek with a sigh.

“Just tired,” y/n murmured against the fabric of Drew’s t-shirt. “Missed you.”

“Once I get these boxes in, I’m all yours, a’ight?” Drew said, pressing a kiss to the top of y/n’s head. Y/n looked up at Drew with a small grin, Drew pressing another kiss to her nose before entering the house to put the box in. 

“I’ll help.” Y/n said, his hand still resting along the small of her back as they made their way out to Drew’s truck. The bed was filled with various boxes, all filled with everything from scrapbooks and picture frames to flower vases and a lamp.

“I look like I’m moving in.” Drew chuckled as he picked up another box.

“Or moving out. I’m tired of your snoring, Starkey, you’re out.” Y/n teased, her under eyes still a bit puffy despite the smile now adorning her lips.

“You’re kicking me out?” Drew groaned, tossing his head back in faux dramatism. Y/n giggled, taking a box from the truck before bumping her hip against Drew.

“I’d never kick you out, who would I have to annoy all day?” Y/n said, looking up at Drew as he grinned back at her.

Luckily y/n didn’t have anything planned for the morning, her and Drew staying up late (or late for them, considering they both were usually in bed by 10) eating popcorn, drinking wine, and watching shitty movies. However, her morning of sleeping in was interrupted when her and Drew’s phones began blowing up with concerned texts from friends, family members, and managers.

“What is going on?” Drew said with a groan, lifting his face from the pillow. Y/n blinked, adjusting to the bright sunlight as she turned over in bed. Drew’s arm was flung across her stomach, his fingers brushing against her ribs as she reached for her phone.

baby im so sorry, im here if you need to talk :( did you and drew break up ?!?!??!??! what did he do? ill beat his ass. what is going on rn ? I thought you and drew were good ?!

“I… I’m confused.” Y/n shook her head, trying to understand the text messages before she switched over to Instagram. Immediately, she was greeted with the post that answered her questions:

Y/n groaned, running a hand through her bed head before she turned her phone around for Drew to see. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he leaned in, letting out a small chuckle as he looked at the picture.

“I mean… it doesn’t look good.” Drew grumbled, flipping over to his back before scooting up to sit against the headboard. He rolled his shoulders out, his toned and tanned arms stretching out before coming to rest around y/n.

“This is the last thing I wanted to deal with right now.” Y/n sighed, flopping over to rest her face against the skin of Drew’s stomach.

“Well, it could be a lot worse.” Drew said, resting a hand in y/n’s hair. He played with pieces of it, his fingers combing through the strands.

“How so? Everyone thinks you're single now.” Y/n said, peering up at Drew. “Do you know how many people I will have to fight off now?”

Drew chuckled, patting his hand against y/n’s cheek as he let out a pitiful “awww” at the pout in y/n’s cheek. Y/n rolled her eyes dramatically before falling back into Drew’s lap.

“Don’t you worry.” Drew said, reaching over to the nightstand with a groan. He grabbed his phone, quickly swiping past the bombardment of notifications to go to Instagram. With a smirk on his face, Drew snapped a picture of y/n. After typing out a snarky caption, he pressed “post”.

Y/n’s phone dinged once more, her lifting her head to see the notification on her screen.

drewseph has tagged you in a story

“What did you do?” Y/n said, narrowing her eyes at Drew, who shrugged innocently.

“Nothing.” Drew said simply. “Just solved our problem.”

[dontsh0vethesun]

i’m hungry, i hope you feed me

masterlist

my username used to be just-a-torn-up-masterpiece

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: carol and valkyrie bring you a bottle of an asgardian aphrodisiac, you decide to put it to use

18+: sex potion?, smut; edging, fingering, face riding, oral, overstimulation, slight degradation, masturbation, underwear used as a gag, lots of biting nom nom

a/n: please let me know if you want a part two where valkarol join in too because i’m so tempted 🙏

word count: 2.4k | song for the vibes - ‘desire’ by meg myers

Carol and Valkyrie sat across from you, recounting their recent visit to Asgard whilst you leisurely sipped on drinks; the conversation was always easy and the four of you had made it a habit to spend your evenings together whenever you could. 

As the evening bled into the night, you were gulping the last mouthfuls of your drinks before you parted ways; Carol reached beneath her seat, pulling a bag into view. 

“So, we brought you a couple of gifts,” she spoke with a mischievous smile pulling at her lips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you returned, eyeing the bag she pushed across the table. 

“We know,” Valkyrie returned. “But we always do. Plus, we know you get sulky if you don’t get a souvenir.” 

“I do not,” you gasped, finding three pairs of questioning eyes peering back at you. “Okay, fine, I like gifts - is that so wrong?” 

“I, for one, think you deserve gifts every single day,” Natasha grinned, poking your side teasingly. 

“Open it then,” Carol groaned, growing impatient with her excitement. 

You eagerly took her command and reached in, grabbing something from the bottom of the paper bag and immediately smiling at the sight of it. 

“Is this what I think it is?” 

“If you think it’s a piece of rock from Aladna, then yes,” Carol laughed, leaning back in her chair as you marvelled at it. 

“You got me space rock - finally.” 

“Well, considering you ask me to bring you some every time I go to space, I figured I’d actually make good on my promise.” 

“The other gift was my idea,” Valkyrie smirked. Natasha reached in this time, wrapping her hand around the neck of a bottle. She peered at the label for a moment before laughing slightly. 

“I’m not sure we need this,” she cockily murmured, handing the glass bottle over to you to read. 

“Don’t knock it before you try it, Nat,” Carol grinned in return. 

“An Asgardian aphrodisiac?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up bashfully. You missed the way the three of them exchanged looks at how adorably shy you can get. 

“It’s strong stuff, have fun ladies,” Carol laughed. 

“And let us know how it goes.” 

— 

Despite agreeing you wouldn’t use it - not any time soon, at least - only a few days later, you were sat with two shot glasses in front of you. Natasha poured the pale pink liquid until they were full to the brim before sitting in front of you on the bed. 

“I have a wager for you,” she murmured, a playful smirk pulling at her lips. You looked at her curiously for her to continue. “A competition to see who can abstain the longest.”

“You’re setting yourself up for a loss already,” you grinned. 

“Mm, I don’t know,” she cooed, stroking the back of her fingers along your cheek to feel how easily they heat up with her attention. “You get pretty desperate. And you’ll be so pathetically eager for my attention - begging me to get you off.”

“Well, what does the winner get?” you huffed, looking away from her before you gave in before the game even began. 

“Total control,” she returned. “If you win, you can do whatever you want with me - I’ll do anything to you that you beg for. And, if I win,” she began, pretending to ponder on her response. “I think I’ll keep that to myself for now.” 

“Then let the best woman win,” you answered, passing her a glass whilst you lifted yours to your lips, waiting to drink the liquor down at the same time. 

— 

Twenty minutes later your back burned against the headboard of the bed; you’d built a wall of pillows between your bodies whilst you distracted yourselves with a movie. 

Every inch of your skin was on fire, your veins pulsed with need. Within thirty minutes, your shirt had been discarded with a petulant huff, hoping to cool off under the light breeze coming through the window. Your core throbbed and begged for some attention - some sort of release - but the smugness on Natasha’s face each time you squirmed in your seat only fuelled your competitive streak. 

The movie wasn’t even halfway through and you’d both stripped down to your underwear to combat the prickling heat the dreaded drink had caused. Natasha’s neck shone with beads of sweat, and you thought of dragging your tongue along her skin to taste it. She was so close that you could pull her into you with ease, pushing her hand between your legs; the desperation made you dizzy. 

She looked over at you when she felt you staring, her eyes dark and lust-blown, pupils wide and cheeks pink. Her breathing faltered beneath her desire and her fists grasped at the sheets to keep herself from touching you. 

“You giving up yet?” she rasped, desperately wishing you would so that this awful competition could be over. 

“No.” Your voice was breathy, it made her need you more. She could see your thighs clenching tightly together, your hips beginning to subtly buck upwards. 

“I can see you need me to touch you,” she mused, licking her lips. “I could make you feel so good, baby. I could give you what you need.”

You let her words linger. The way your cunt throbbed and ached was almost painful, your hand began its descent without any thought. You were so close to bypassing the waistband of your underwear until a hand wrapped itself around your wrist. 

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” she mocked with a laugh. “Just admit defeat.”

You’d lasted 45 minutes. Surely, that was long enough to keep her from holding this victory over your head. You couldn’t wait a minute more. 

“Fine,” you grumbled, rushing over to plant your knees on either side of her, instantly pushing your clothed cunt against her thigh. You gasped at the mere contact and gave in to the kiss she dragged you into. Never have you felt a kiss so heated with passion, a newfound arousal made for sloppy kisses, teeth clashing and hands groping at anything they could reach. 

You felt as though you were on the brink of combustion, teetering on the edge with just a push against her; each nerve ending in your body was alight, frayed and ready to spark at a mere glimpse of heat. Natasha moaned into your mouth, grinding against your knee as best she could. You could feel the growing dampness of her underwear. 

She pulled you closer and closer to release; your body twitched and bucked with reckless abandon until she pulled away just at the precipice. You whined as she lifted you out of her lap, positioning you on the bed as she shuffled away to kneel before you. 

She kept her eyes on your panting form as she slipped her underwear away from her, putting her soaked cunt on display,

“Don’t think I forgot about our deal, honey,” she breathed, tossing her bra to one side, making a show of the soft pinching of her pert nipples. 

“But I-”

“Mm mm,” she tutted with a shake of her head. “No talking. And no touching.” To keep you silent, she forced her underwear past your lips, and you slackened your jaw to obey. “Patience is a virtue, little slut; good things come to those who wait, so sit back and look pretty, and I’ll fuck you when I’m done.” 

You fisted at the bedsheets to refrain yourself and, despite every muscle begging for the opposite, you kept as still as you could. She wasted no time before her fingers danced over her clit, swollen and sensitive, pulling a grunt of desperate arousal from her throat with the slightest pressure. Her hips rolled, her digits thrust into her core, and her head leaned backwards.  

It was the most desperate you’d ever seen her; a pure ravenous streak coursed through her and you could see it in the fervent movement of her digits. Each rub of her thumb against her made her gasp a moan, and her body flushed deep pink with need. 

You could hear how soaked she was - you could see it dripping to her knuckles - you wanted to wrap your lips around them. A choked moan fell from her lips as she came, you’d never heard her make such a cry of hunger before but it only made you need her more. 

“Fuck, I wanted to make you wait a little longer, but I can’t,” she sighed through heaving breaths. “I’ve never needed you so bad - I feel like I’m starving for you.” 

You couldn’t even utter a reply before her lips were claiming yours, hungry like she was parched and you were her only source of salvation. Your bra and underwear were soon discarded and your skin pressed against hers in a burning heat, the scent of sweat and sex filling the air. She knelt between your legs, trailing her fingers down to swipe through your folds; she smirked against you at how drenched you were and brought the shining digits to her mouth to lick them clean. 

Natasha’s eyes were primal when she looked at you, sparing no time before she shifted on the bed, licking a stripe through your cunt. It was messy and sloppy, each suck to your clit and flick of her tongue; the hand that wasn’t roughly digging into the flesh of your hip was buried between her legs; she practically whined against your sex whilst she humped her own hand with pathetic need.

She felt you near the edge of release and, for her amusement only, she pulled away. She left you hopelessly balancing on the precipice of relief whilst she came again, sinking her teeth into your inner thigh so roughly you’re sure they drew blood.

“Nat, I-“

“No. Just do as I say.”

You obeyed, of course, somehow enduring three more waves of relief being ripped away from your grasp. You ached and your eyes grew tearful with how much you just needed to be allowed to cum. Your jaw ached too from the way your teeth had been tightly clenched, biting into the underwear she decided to shove past your lips again when all you did was whimper and murmur unintelligible grumbles of disapproval. She’d allowed herself the freedom of rutting against her hand, soaking the duvet beneath her, whilst simultaneously leaving you in painful purgatory. She’d lapped at you for so long that your core burned with pain, clenching around nothing with tear-stained cheeks. 

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled away from you completely; her lips were plump and shining with your slick, stray hairs clung to her forehead and the rest was mussed up from the aimless tugging of your hands. 

“Such a pretty little slut,” she mused, panting almost animalistically as she cupped your jaw and pulled her underwear from your mouth. “Such an obedient girl.” The Asgardian elixir still had her pupils wide; both of you continued to thrum with desire, hearts thudding. 

Despite the want for attention between your legs, you couldn’t withhold your excitement when she crawled up your body, gripping onto the headboard as she lowered her cunt to your lips. The taste of her coated your lips immediately, soaked and hot and ready for you to devour. You moaned at the flavour, letting her grind onto your face with mindless pushes of her hips, burying your tongue deep within her. With the way you were so sex drunk, you ached to consume her entirely, dig into her as far as you could until the end of you and the beginning of her was too difficult to distinguish. 

She moaned at the feeling, pulsing around the muscle of your tongue, revelling in any feeling of friction applied to her sensitive bud that she could get. Your lips latched around her, messy and unbecoming and your nails clawed at her thighs whilst your own clenched as tightly as they could. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good,” she grunted out above you. “Make me cum, baby - God ‘m so close.”

The eager, desirous pleas spurred you on until she came onto your lips. You swallowed down each drop she gave and pressed soft kisses against her as she came down from the high. 

“Nat, I need you, please,” you begged. “I feel like I’m gonna explode.” 

She laughed at your pouted mumbles, kissing along your jaw with bites into the flesh, stroking her fingers down your body until they slid through your folds. The pads of her fingers were instantly soaked, easily pushing into your wanting hole. 

“You’ve been so patient, honey,” she whispered, languidly moving her fingers with the heel of her palm nudging against you. You gasped at the sensitivity, twitching up into her touch. It was soft and gentle; she pampered your abused cunt with tender attention, letting you fall over the edge as soon as you needed to. 

Natasha knew you needed more - even she longed for more despite how many times she’d brought herself to climax - so she kept her attention on you. Your body was littered with marks, anywhere her teeth could reach had grooves and bruises from her bites. She thought of pleasing you forever; staying splayed on the sheets for as long as she lived until you were both worn out and spent. 

The air was filled with sounds of her fingers fucking into you, hoarse moans from the back of your throat and pants for breath like primal animals. The breeze didn’t cool your skin anymore but you were so wrapped up in one another that the sticky warmth didn’t matter.

You came again, and again until you had to push her hand away with a wince at just a ghost of a touch. You needed more but you couldn’t take it, she pulled away with a loving kiss to your lips. 

She crawled from the bed wordlessly, legs wobbling as she padded away, returning moments later with a glass of water for you to share. She took a sip before handing it to you, sitting next to you with kisses pressed against your shoulder as you drank. 

“Carol and Valkyrie are evil,” you grumbled between gulps. 

“I didn’t think I’d still be so horny after all that,” Natasha answered with a laugh. 

“I know,” you sighed with a mirrored chuckle. “How about I return the favour - we can take shifts until it wears off.” 

“Or until we pass out,” she smiled, already dropping the emptied glass to the floor to pull you on top of her.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BURNER ACCOUNTS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! reader, loser ex-boyfriend! satoru, exes to lovers, college! au, satoru making burners to watch your stories, miscommunications—satoru is not perfect but he’s trying okay?, gossip icons shoko & suguru <3, i had a silly idea and it turned into 2.6k words my bad

there’s a peculiar account watching your instagram stories—@user273582838, to be exact. you don’t think it’s a very well timed coincidence seeing as you and satoru have just broken up—so you decide to do some digging. 

which of course, means enlisting the help of shoko.

“i think satoru is stalking me,” you mumble, making her pause in the middle of sipping on her energy drink—for a med student, her habits don’t seem every healthy. this is her third one of the day.

“okay,” she nods, “i wouldn’t put it past him, but what makes you say that?”

“look,” you turn your phone to face her, the blank, anonymous instagram account right there on the list of users who have viewed your story. she crinkles her brows, blinking for a moment before humming.

“that definitely seems like something he’d do,” she nods—and then, “i have an idea.”

“okay,” you brighten, nodding enthusiastically, “what’s the plan?”

“try and log in with that user.”

“shoko,” you look at her like she’s grown two heads. maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to her—no amount of energy drinks can save her at this point. “we don’t have the password—”

“—and that, dummy,” she rolls her eyes, making you scowl at the name, “is why we click forgot my password and see the last four digits of the phone number that registered the account. if it’s satoru’s number, we’ll know.”

okay—you take it back. shoko is a genius and a full-blown brilliant mastermind that you could never hope to come close to. you’re glad you chose her to help—you’re even more glad she agreed because you would not have thought of that. this is fantastic. a fool-proof plan. 

you grin wide, eyes lighting up as you gasp, “shoko! you’re so smart, that’s a great idea!”

“i know,” she grumbles, “took you long enough to notice.”

ignoring her, you quickly pull out your phone and try to log onto the account, typing user273582838 into the username box and clicking forgot my password. shoko is hovering over your shoulder, and your breath is held as you wait for the page to load and the number to pop up. within just a few seconds, the first few digits are censored with asterisks, but the last four show, and—

yeah. it’s satoru’s fucking number. just as you suspected—you and shoko scoff together at the same time, rolling your eyes. 

“well,” you look at her, lips pursed in irritation—of course, satoru refuses to give you space and leave you alone after your break up (which was his fault, might you add), “what now?”

“send the verification code to his number,” she presses, “it’ll definitely spook him when he sees.”

she’s so good at what she does, you think in awe, staring at her with heart-eyes. nodding quickly, you press send code. 

hopefully, that’ll give satoru the heart attack you want it to.

———

satoru stares at his screen in abject horror—who could be trying to log into his burner account? the only person who should possibly stumble across it is you, but surely you’re not closely inspecting your story viewers, are you? so then, who could be trying to log onto the instagram account of @user273582838?

“suguru,” he says in a trance, “are you trying to log onto the burner?”

“are you bringing that shit up again?” suguru grumbles, controller in hand as he pays attention to the screen, “i told you that was a stupid idea. a pathetic one too—”

“well, i didn’t want to keep waiting for you to send screenshots to see the stories—”

“you’re a fucking loser, do you know that? pathetic,” suguru reiterates. “move on.”

“no,” satoru hisses in disbelief, “why would i do that? now, was that you or not? you’re the only other person who knows the user.”

“as if i care to log onto your loser burner account,” suguru snorts, shaking his head in amusement. he beats satoru’s high score, turning to give him a sly grin as he adds, “i wasn’t removed, so i can view the stories all i want.”

“you’re a jerk, you know that?” satoru grunts, crossing his arms and pouting, “i’m having the worst heartbreak of my life, and you—”

“who’s fault is it that you’re dumped?”

satoru deflates. 

okay, so he supposedly hasn’t been the best boyfriend. it’s not that satoru isn’t helplessly committed to you—he’s so sickeningly obsessed with you, it’s actually a bit unhealthy. suguru says so, at least. but satoru is…well, satoru, and he doesn’t always seem to take things as seriously as most people would hope. 

evidently, that includes your relationship—though, he does insist on disagreeing on that. according to you, he doesn’t take you on dates often enough, and sometimes he flirts back with random strangers. that’s not true—he’s simply a bit of a tease and enjoys it when you’re jealous, but he doesn’t flirt back. that’s outrageous. you’ve even claimed he’s mean about it and makes a joke out of it all—satoru would never be mean on purpose; he only teases because the banter is always endearing. 

but, unfortunately, you don’t seem to see it the way he does, and now he’s woefully single and cold and alone in bed. no cuddles, no goodnight kisses, and no head scratches. 

life is so cruel sometimes. 

“suguru,” he says in distress, “i’m serious. someone’s trying to hack my burner—who could it be?”

“hmm, i don’t know…maybe the one and only person who would notice the account in the first place?”

“but why try and log in if the password is unknown?”

suguru looks at satoru like he’s stupid—apparently, he is because he’s not putting two and two together. 

“maybe because sending a verification code shows the last four digits of the registered phone number? you’ve probably been caught, you idiot.”

satoru pales at that—he didn’t think about that. it slipped his mind completely. fuck, he should’ve used a burner email instead. he stares down at his phone numbly—yeah, he thinks, he’s screwed. 

———

after two days of continuous log in attempts into satoru’s burner account—it’s only just to spook him extra—you finally decide to confront him. 

we need to talk. is all you send him. 

the three bubbles appear on his end multiple times before disappearing—you and shoko get a good cackle out of that and laugh at him for a bit before he finally answers. 

miss me already? knew it ;)

wow. what a dickhead. 

so, because you can be equally as much of a prick, you send him a screenshot of his phone number on the log in page followed by a message that says: no. it’s so you can explain this. 

the three dots show up again for a few minutes before he finally responds with: okay. you caught me. when do you wanna meet?

well, that was easy. satoru is the type to not go down without a fight no matter how cornered he is—he’s stubborn and annoying like that. you turn to shoko for help.

“meet him now,” shoko crosses her arms, “don’t give him time to come up with some ridiculous excuse.”

“what excuse could he possibly come up with?” you snort, “that he was possessed and the evil spirit in his mind made him stalk his ex like a loser?”

“true,” she concedes, taking a sip from her energy drink—seriously, how many of these does this girl drink in a day? “i just want to know what happens,” she shrugs, “so do it now.”

of course, as on brand as ever, shoko is merely in it for the drama. you roll your eyes before sighing and nodding. 

“okay,” you huff. 

meet me at my place. now.

on my way, he sends back almost instantly. 

“he’s probably just excited to see you,” shoko snorts, “like the loser he is.”

“you’re probably right,” you purse your lips in exasperation. in all your time knowing him, you’ve definitely realized that satoru is definitely…well, a case. 

———

“hey,” shoko whispers to suguru through the phone, walking out your door so you can prepare to confront satoru. “did you know satoru’s been stalking—”

“—on a burner account? yeah, i know.”

okay, she frowns to herself, that was no fun at all. suguru is already aware of the drama. but that’s no matter—surely, he can’t possibly already know that satoru has been invited over to be scolded. 

“yeah, well,” she says smugly, “did you know he’s actually on his way over to—”

“—get yelled at? yeah, i’m aware. he called me panicked. what a fucking loser.”

“okay, well since you’re up to speed,” shoko grumbles bitterly, rolling her eyes. she was supposed to be the knight in shining armor with the juicy updates—but evidently, satoru is pathetic enough to already cry to suguru about his dilemma. “wanna meet up and get sushi nearby? i bet they’ll get back together in twenty minutes.”

“i bet ten. loser pays for the food?”

“you’ve got yourself a deal.”

———

satoru sits on your couch in shame, bouncing his leg nervously as you sit on the opposite end with your arms crossed and brow raised. 

it’s quiet. he doesn’t have the guts to say anything, waiting for you to break the silence. maybe you’re not that mad.

“so,” you start, “it’s nice to finally meet you, user273582838.”

he rubs his neck awkwardly, chuckling through his nerves as he mumbles, “oh, hey there! it’s a small world, huh?”

“satoru.”

yeah, never mind. you seem pretty mad. 

“okay, look,” he begins, “you can’t blame me. you dumped me, your sweet, loving, and unsuspecting boyfriend out of nowhere! i was heartbroken and shattered—and then you didn’t even give me a chance to work it out! i was not in the right headspace to make wise decisions so…so this is basically not my fault.”

that doesn’t seem to help his case—in fact, it only makes it worse. 

“so it’s my fault?”

“wha—no!” he says quickly, “no, definitely not.”

you sigh, rubbing your forehead in defeat as you mumble, “satoru, we are broken up for a reason. you can’t overstep and—”

“it’s a pretty stupid reason,” he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms and frowning. you glare at him from the side as you scoff in disbelief. 

“of course,” you chuckle dryly, “of course you would say that. nothing is ever serious enough to you—”

“it’s pretty fucking serious to me,” he spits, shooting you a look that tells you he’s just as shocked as you, “that’s obviously why i’m the one who’s still not moved on as easily as you. how seriously did you really take it?”

“that’s not fair,” you grit, “you made it abundantly clear you didn’t care enough, so why should i—”

“i fucking cared a shit ton,” he says incredulously, “that’s bullshit, and you know it—”

“don’t curse at me, satoru—”

“well, don’t accuse me of not caring when i clearly—”

“oh, yeah cause you cared so much when you were laughing with that waitress as she hit on you,” you seethe, throwing a pillow from your couch at him. he can catch it easily—you know this for sure, but he lets it hit him out of what you’re sure is at least a little consideration to your feelings. 

“i wasn’t laughing because i enjoyed it,” he crinkles his brows as if you’ve said the most ridiculous thing ever, “it was just funny because she was trying so hard. and you looked all cute when you got mad.”

“what kind of boyfriend enjoys watching his girlfriend get mad—”

“the kind of boyfriend who thinks his girlfriend is adorable when she’s mad—”

“yeah, well your idea of a date is going to the mall with shoko and suguru. what kind of date is that—”

“okay, i was a bit clueless sometimes, but you could’ve said something instead of just dumping me like i was some random guy in your dm’s—”

“you need to grow the fuck up, satoru—”

“now look at who's cursing!”

it’s silent—both you and him have your arms crossed and lips curled into scowls as you both glare at each other. you’re stubbornly convinced satoru doesn’t care as much as you do, and he’s firmly committed to the idea that you’re twisting him into some douche who doesn’t give two shits. 

it’s quiet like that for a bit before he deflates and slumps against the couch, rubbing his face as he groans. 

“look,” he starts, “i’m sorry. i never meant to make it seem like i enjoy attention from other girls, and i didn’t realize you wanted more dates. i’d have done things differently if you told me how you felt.”

he sounds sincere. and he’s looking at you with those eyes of his—god, those stupid little eyes that are so wide and blue and deep and full of love. even after that whole argument, satoru is clearly as painfully in love as ever. 

you sigh before playing with a loose thread on your sweatpants. 

“i…guess i could’ve talked it out first. i probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to breaking up,” you mutter, not meeting his eyes. 

satoru stares glumly at you from the corner of his eyes before he adds bitterly, “you don’t seem to miss me. not even a little.”

“toru,” you pinch your nose, “of course i miss you. i was not gonna be mopey on instagram, though—”

“doesn’t seem like it,” he huffs. he’s a bit hurt—you can tell because he’s not meeting your eyes, and he’s not got that playful little upward curl of his lips. 

you’re a bit weak, you realize—but you suppose you always have been for satoru, because you’re shuffling to his end of the couch and poking his cheek gently. 

“i miss you tons, y’know,” you murmur—you smile a little at his pout before adding, “i want more dates this time around. and stop letting girls get away with being shameless flirts.”

he finally meets your eyes—it’s like a child on christmas, the way his face lights up and his lips curl into an excited grin.

“you mean i get to be your boyfriend again?”

it’s cute—the way he asks to be your boyfriend and not if you’ll be his girlfriend. maybe you’ve been a bit unfair, maybe satoru has always cared deeply in his dumb little clueless way of his own. 

“fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes. he looks hopelessly excited as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side, tucking you under his chin as he rests his cheek on your head. 

“you should really talk to me more,” he murmurs, “i’m…things fly over my head sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too,” you admit, “i’ll talk to you—but you better listen to me if i do. don’t turn it into jokes.”

“i never turn things into jokes,” he grumbles petulantly, huffing to the side as you shoot him an unimpressed raise of your brow. “does this mean i can follow you again?”

“yes,” you snort.

“and you’ll follow back, right?”

“yes, satoru,” you sigh, shaking your head in amusement. he’s already back to being a handful—but you can admit you might have missed it just a bit. “but for the love of god, please delete that burner.”

“fine,” he pouts, tugging you closer. 

you giggle, he grins, and then you’re kissing—and everything feels as it should be. 

———

“they’re back together,” shoko says in disbelief, staring at your text. suguru groans, pausing mid bite as he rubs over his forehead in defeat. 

of course, you and satoru just have to make up in exactly fifteen minutes. not ten. not twenty. exactly fifteen. 

how considerate of you both. 

“are you kidding?” suguru grumbles, “so neither of us win.”

“guess not,” she says sourly, rolling her eyes. 

woefully, they both agree to split the check. 

suguru and shoko are so me and my friend every time our other friend argues with her boyfriend we deadass be making bets over when they make up and loser has to pay for boba LMAO

[boiohboii]

The Twitter Marriage

(Oscar Piastri x fem!driver!reader)

Yn Ln has had a crush on fellow driver Oscar Piastri since their f2 days but she never and will never tell him.... at least not to his face

or

In which Aston Martin driver needed the alcohol to confess her feelings

N.B: rushed a bit cause of finals, but I hope you like it. Also, doesn't follow any timeline tbh. NOTHING IN THIS IS ADDS UP IN REGARDS OF DATES AND CHARACTERS AND STUFF, IT IS JUST FOR FUN.

WARNINGS: REALLY BAD PICK UP LINES, SOME SWEAR WORDS. Probably some spelling mistakes as well. Short fic.

faceclaim: sabrina carpenter

Masterlist

Liked by ynmyworld, f1memes, charliethesinglemom and 168,920 others

Keepingupw/f1: Aston Martin driver, Yn Ln, tweets as she celebrates her p3 in Monaco.... it seems like she has something to say to fellow driver, Oscar Piastri.

username: the entire grid is just having fun with that joke.

username: miss ma'am, STAND UP!!

username: what do you mean stand up? SHE FOLDED LIKE A CHAIR

username: understandably so tbf

username: no but her offering to make Spain Oscar's home race LIKE CARLOS ISN'T LOOKING FOR THAT MAN'S BLOOD.

username: so foul of her 💀

username: her tagging him is insane

username: pr is gonna have a headache tomorrow

username: the fact that she's tweeting this shit while in a club, WHERE OSCAR IS A FEW METERS AWAY FROM HER

username: you know she's out of it when she starts using twitter.

Liked by F1_updates_live, ynmyqueen, oscaroopastryy and 184,710 others

Keepingupw/f1: yn ln on her way back to the hotel last night after celebrating her Monaco podium.

username: she got wasted omg

username: now those tweets make sense

username: where did she even get the shoe box from

username: and where did her shoes go, papers fell out of that thing

username: so are you guys gonna post the video or?

username: what video?

username: there's a video going on twitter where these pics are taken from she was so drunk, she was actually dancing in the middle of Monaco (go queen, live your best life) and then the papers fell out of the box and she immediately went down to pick them up and put them back but then after she was halfway through she kept looking at the ground then at the box and then at her feet, you can see her pouting as she kept putting away the little papers in the box again

username: shut upp!!! I need that video! IT IS A LIFE SAVING MATTER ATP

username: yn ln is gonna be the death of me

yn ln has shared a story

text: when you wake up to a video of drunk you on the streets of Monaco and some tweets that should've gone with you to the grave

yn ln has shared a story

text: self pity and cringe time over, back to our regular schedule of slaying

Sebastian Vettel has shared a story

text: someone tell her that staying with me till the Spanish GP isn't going to make people forget that she exists

yn ln has replied to your story: your kids love me! AND SO DOES HANNA

yn ln has replied to your story: also, please take pity on me, I can't face him again, ever, I will just retire, I can't do this

yn ln has replied to your story: why are you ignoring meeeee!!! Not you too, Oscar is already doing thaaaat, I wanna turn into a worm, I'd die quicker if I was a worm, I wouldn't have to go through this much embarrassment if I was a worm

Sebastian Vettel replied to your message: are you drunk right now?

Liked by pierregasly, wtf1, oscaroopastryy and 268,715 others

Keepingupw/f1: we bring you part 2 of the osyn saga

username: i love this family

username: yn is such a pr nightmare

username: the ACTUAL child of fernando

username: wait, now that you reminded me, I need to update the family tree

username: post the updated family tree you coward

username: anyone who doesn't watch f1 will 100% believe that Charles and Nicole are Oscar's parents

username: hey, don't disrespect charles' heartfelt adoption like that

username: this sport is so fucking unserious

username: I refuse to believe that this is real

Sebastian Vettel has shared a story

Text: huh..... it's not so bad having her here

Liked by OscarPiastri, Charles_leclerc, Arthur_leclerc and 918,037 others

yn ln: let her cook now 🧡

username: yn.... yn..... YN.... WHAT ARE YOU COOKING YN

username: it has started, I can feel it in my bones

username: so she's with Oscar now, good to know (screaming into my pillow as I type)

username: oh so if I wear orange I'm dating Lando now, nice to know ig

username: fuck off away from my replies, I wanna have fun

username: yn pls don't, I can't lose you, you were the only wife left standing

username: PLS TELL ME THAT MY SHIP SAILED

username: if I see that australian's face anywhere on this account I will start biting ankles

username: ok Leo, geez, no need to terrorise your sister-in-law

username: I can't believe she was simping on main for a boy that goes 'wut'

Liked by Ynln, pierregasly, Arthur_leclerc and 890,627 others

Oscar Piastri: let him cook 💚

username: nope, no, nuuh, I see nothing

username: other partner's team colors, matching captions, liking the posts..... yup, they're officially dating

username: we lost her to a mini kimi raikkonen

username: I see that as a win tbh

username: kimi was and is the IT girl of the grid

username: how dare you forget about our very own Britney Spears.... nico you will always be missed

username: you can't prove that they're dating from just that

username: oh boy, the delulu is strong with this one

Oscar Piastri and Yn Ln shared a post

Liked by Charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 903,815 others

Yn ln & Oscar Piastri: I said let them cook 💚🧡

username: YES YES YES YES YES YES

username: MY PARENTS

username: This is why women shouldn't be in f1, wtf is wrong with Oscar? Why would he date yn? And what is this hand placement? Where can I get a yn? Or an oscar?

username: slowly deleting my paragraph

username: had us the first half, ngl

username: yn hide oscar really well during the Spain GP, we leave his safety in your hands

username: THE CURLS OMG

username: MR OSCAR JACK PIASTRI WHAT IS THIS BEHAVIOUR WHAT IS THIS HAND PLACEMENT

[piastrisun]

the second account.

pairings: franco colapinto + singer female reader.

summary: after franco accidentally exposes his secret twitter account, fans accuse him of being delusional about his supposed relationship with you.

faceclaim: malina weissman.⠀warning: none.

request: could you make a franco and singer!reader where he "shows off" his girlfriend on his secret twitter acc but her fans don't believe him so she decides to surprise them by finally making a music video of "bed chem" casting him?

notes: messy dates, as usual. a brief use of gracie abrams for the music video part. and i know franco would put everything in spanish but it had to be in english for u guys. thank you so much for the request, i had a lot of fun making it. :)

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

translations: “every time she sings i forget how to breath, do you guys think it’s a medical condition” “my pretty princess” “check out her eyes, dude” “good morning to my girlfriend and my girlfriend only” “i’m head over heels for her what do i do” “no one sings like she does, man”

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

francolapinto added to their story.

yourusername and others liked your story.

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by username, username1 and others

yndaily day 1 of using @/francolapinto’s tweets as captions: “imagine waking up and the first thing you see is yn’s face. a dream for you, a reality for me”

tagged yourusername

view all comments

username NOOOO THIS IS SO FUNNY PLS KEEP THIS GOING

username1 if i looked like this, i’d just walk around expecting people to fall in love with me

username2 franco is gonna see this and panic

username3 petition for this to become a daily series until he acknowledges it

username4 it’s crazy how all his tweets work as captions bc he’s LITERALLY a yn fanpage

username5 okay but why is she actually the most beautiful person alive

yourusername i fully support this, keep going

username6 she’s so chronically online IM CRYING

username7 SHES INSANE LMAOOOO

username8 @/francolapinto i get you man

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by username9, username8 and others

43updates @yndaily has inspired us to start talking about franco the way he tweets about yn, wish us luck

tagged francolapinto

view all comments

43updates guys what if i’m actually yn and i’m doing this to bother him

username9 i’ve never seen you and yn on the same room

43updates 👀

43updates joke it can’t be me, i’m clearly unemployed… like SOMEONE I KNOW

username8 PLEASE let’s make him experience the secret account treatment

username7 he has created monsters i fear

francolapinto i suddenly understand how this might have looked from the outside, PARAAÁ

francolapinto but i mean, if you’re gonna do it, go all in. but NO ONE, can talk about me the way i talk about her

username6 LMAO, yeah okay, ‘her’, you mean the girl you run a fan account for?

username5 are u confirming or denying this i’m confused

username4 girl we need receipts, you look delusional

username3 we’ve been through this already, no one believes you 😭😭

username2 franco finally getting a taste of his own medicine

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by francolapinto, username and others

yourusername bed chem video drops tomorrow!! 🌟 i couldn’t be more excited for you all to see it. it’s one of my favorite projects yet, and i had the best co-star.

also, since you guys are basically detectives. yes, this is my boyfriend. yes, he’s been running an account to talk about me this whole time. and no, i did not ask him to do that. but i was aware of it and i love him.

tagged francolapinto

view all comments

yourusername p.s. he’s been mentally preparing for this moment since the second account incident. be nice to him!!!!

francolapinto please!! i’ve suffered enough

username NO WAY i need a moment

username2 SHE JUST SAID IT LIKE IT WAS NOTHING HELLO??? 😭

username3 “yes, this is my boyfriend” GIRL I HAVE BEEN HAVING A MELTDOWN FOR WEEKS

yoursister you two are perfect together!! 🥹

francolapinto but seriously, every day with you is my favorite. you already know that, but saying it here too just in case, te amo 🤍 ♥︎ liked by author

yourusername i’ll put you in my pocket starting now, te amo más <3

username3 forget it when i said this was one sided…

oliviarodrigo need all the behind-the-scenes footage!!

francolapinto also hi. yes boyfriend here, happy to be included!! ♥︎ liked by author

francolapinto and for the record, my account was NOT a fan account. it was a highly curated appreciation page. there’s a difference

username4 five comments from him, he’s so obsessed 😭😭

username4 the way we all thought he was a lovesick fan and turns out he was just a boyfriend with too much free time

francolapinto i’m trying to not take any offence by this

username5 this is the funniest celebrity hard launch ever

alex_albon wow. shocking. so unexpected. truly a plot twist.

yourusername ❓

username6 she’s so funny for that caption 😭😭

username7 he was running a whole stan account for his own girlfriend and she just let him

username8 his twitter account was a love letter, i’m gonna be sick

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[takaraphoenix]

I saw someone refer to Steter as a comedy relief duo earlier and it just completely sent me, because that's just... so far from what Steter is, in canon?

As I'm currently rewatching the show, it has shot up into being my favorite ship on the show because of the gravitas it has.

It's a ship that highlights Stiles' fearlessness in such intriguing ways, in canon. From the boy who yelled at a feral Alpha in the school, to their first face to face meeting at the hospital, when Peter recognizes him, knows him, acknowledges him ("You must be Stiles", as though Stiles' reputation as the one who figures things out proceeds him, as he is the first one to put together that Peter is the Alpha).

There's nothing comedic about the scene on the lacrosse field, when Stiles is kneelng beside Lydia's unconscious form and Peter... for reasons beyond comprehension... decides to curl his claws beneath Stiles' chin and guide him up. Not grab him by the arm and haul him up, not command him, not demand.

This is... sensual, filled with tension, and I don't even necessarily mean the sexual tension (even though the imagery of Stiles kneeling before Peter and Peter grasping his chin is something that I find hard to not see a sexual read on).

Peter kidnaps Stiles into the parking garage to force the boy to track down Derek and, sure, the "His username is Allison? His password is also Allison?" - "Still want him in your pack?" is absolutely iconic and is comedic... how do you boil that entire exchange down to "comedy relief"?

The way Peter offers Stiles the bite - Peter, who so far, only took whatever he wanted, never asked or offered - and doesn't force when Stiles says "No". Even the way Peter catches Stiles on the lie is a moment of tension and revelation on Stiles' part. The way Peter acknowledges Stiles as the clever one.

The season 1 finale? When Stiles sets the survivor of a horrific house fire on fire? Absolute riot, huh. It's vicious, it's cruel - it's everything.

And when Peter is resurrected? Sure, Stiles sarcastically asks if someone can kill him again and sure, Peter snarks about living in a cave system. But even in that episode, these brief comedic moments are absolutely overshadowed by the way Peter and Stiles work together, figure out what the vault is made of, then call Scott to warn him and Derek, by finishing each other's sentences. Two brilliant minds working together, on the same wavelength.

The next time they interact is when Peter tells Stiles about Paige, explains what the blue eyes mean. It's one of the more heavy and serious moments in the season, aside from all the death scenes. It's a big lore drop and character background on both Peter and Derek. And it's Stiles this information is shared with. It's a serious moment and even as Peter tells it all, Stiles doesn't trust, sees past the silver tongue and that too is part of the appeal.

When Peter and Stiles work together to save Cora's life in the hospital, while the Alpha Pack is hunting them down? Blind trust. Stiles asks Peter to help him and Peter doesn't even ask, much less quip, he just follows Stiles' lead and they work together.

Now, I'll admit, I haven't seen seasons 3B through 6 in six years and hey, maybe they'll be a real Abbott and Costello in season 4 and I'm just not remembering it, but damn it all to hell if the first half of the show doesn't present them as two clever minds challenging each other, with a growth from terror and pain to respect and teamwork.

I understand and respect not liking a ship, but I am genuinely baffled when people deliberately misinterpret a canon to suit their needs. Always makes me wonder what alternate reality's version of the show they were watching, surely not the same as me.

[ryebread0605]

Humbly begging on hands and knees for Ruggie with a taller female reader who laughs openly and isn't afraid to put the boys in their place when they step out of line. Say what you will but I completely head cannon that the beastmen act at least a little like their animal counterparts and I just KNOW he'd go feral with a strong female partner. (Since hyenas live off of a matriarchal society) I'd like it to be smut but I understand if you get more ideas writing it as fluff, lol.

First of all, incredible username. Second, YES I AM TOTALLY ON BOARD WITH THAT HC! Now I do hope you are ok that I made Ruggie trans as I personally hc him to be trans. With that out of the way, enjoy your smut my dear reader!

“- And if I have to tell you guys again I swear to the Sevens I will lose it!” The growl in your voice made even Leona’s hair stand on edge as you glared at the guys who had stupidly decided you must be an easy target, being the only girl in NRC. Yeah, that didn’t exactly go as planned for them, not when they realized not only how tall you were but also how strong you were. Only one of them wasn’t tensed up like the rest.

The hyena beastman simply stared in awe at you. Tail wagging rapidly, ears perked up, and a dumb smile on his face.

In that moment he knew he had to be yours. 

After weeks and weeks of bringing you items that he thought of as high value whenever he would… *borrow*… from the dumpsters, you finally realized the small hyena was attempting (rather poorly but still adorably) to court you. And when you told him, with a laugh that sent his little heart soaring, that you loved him too? Oh Sevens his tail almost broke from how fast it was wagging.

He adored seeing you snap at others when they stepped out of line, always feeling a surge of happiness at your displays of dominance as it solidified for him that he chose the right partner.

And yet, you never snapped at him. 

Even now, as he lays on his stomach with his hips propped up and a paddle hitting his bare ass, you still coo and praise him for ‘handling it so well’ and ‘making such cute noises’. He adores the way you make his mind melt, letting him be a complete submissive mess for you as his tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

“There we go, such a good boy~ being so loud for me, letting everyone know exactly who you belong to~” you cooed into his ear as you thrust your strap deeper into his leaking cunt that just pulled you in more. His moans were like heaven to you, the boy having no problem being loud with his occasional cackles added. 

“Yes~ I’m a good boy~ your good boy~!” His tail was wagging fast as you continued to thrust fast and hard into him, each shove hitting his g spot over and over as your index finger rubbed at his sensitive clit. He had lost count of how many times he had cum, and yet he didn’t feel the smallest bit exhausted yet. His stamina was incredible for someone his size and it only made you even more lustful to break him. 

It didn’t take much longer for all semblance of actual words to leave his mind, the only thing he was able to focus on was the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his system as he came around your strap for the nth time that night. He didn’t care if anyone gave him dirty looks the next day, all he cared about was being dominated by his big strong girlfriend and nothing else mattered. 

You smiled softly as you pulled out of the now worn out boy, tucking his messy hair behind his ear and kissing his cheek gently as you praised him for how good he had been for you. Despite his exhausted state, his tail still continued to wag as you cleaned him up and lay beside him. With his head on your chest, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, knowing his perfect mate would protect him from anything that could ever harm him. 

[siriuslylantsov]

canine tendencies

pairing: sirius black x reader

description: in which, you put charms in sirius' hair and confront certain traits of his.

tags: fluff! fem!reader, mmm pining, cuddling, totally platonic activities going on here, r is muggle-born hence the vet and dog anatomy knowledge, sirius is a puppy agenda, pretty women from the 70s mentioned (dont pay much attention to it), flirting.

a/n: staying true to my username with more sirius black. wanna play with his hair for days tbh. happy reading!

wc: 1.7k

“you don't know when to give up, do you?”

you raise your chin indignantly, “i'm stubborn.”

sirius fixes you with a withering glare, it doesn't pack much of a punch but you can tell he's stalling. he finally relents with a long sigh, ever the dramatic. you squeal, walking over to his bed with a little pouch that jingled as you moved. you nudge at his shoulders to lean against the headboard and set yourself down beside him. he grumbles, muttering something along the lines of waste of time and how your neck is gonna hurt. you bite back a smile at his cause for concern: you. 

“complain all you want, but you know this is gonna look good,” you muse, with an air of smugness. “you’ll be singing my praises.”

he lets his head hang to the side, looking at you, up those pretty eyelashes of his. his eyes are indifferent, yet they crinkle at the corners, trying to not prove you right. pools of grey and blue, you could drown in them. 

your elbow is wedged between a pillow and the headboard, propping you up, knees curled, poking into his thigh. his legs are sprawled out in an obnoxious man spread, effectively making you move closer so you don't fall off the bed–that's small enough regardless of the space he's taking up. 

he's avoided you all day since you proposed the idea at breakfast: putting charms in his hair. what's strange is that you’ve done his hair plenty of times before sans protest. you ponder it quietly, simultaneously willing him to concede with squinted eyes, as he deadpans you.

if he could, he would've told you that he’s afraid to be alone with you. not that he hasn't been before, he has and he's been this close to you too (he constantly is). but something is different now, something about your hands in his hair that he can’t deal with. especially recently, you've taken to scratching behind his ear and it drives him a little crazy. he won't stop you though, on account of it feeling so good. usually, you're around the others so he can shift his focus elsewhere rather than think about how softly your fingers pad over his scalp, but now you’re alone and he's cursing lily for dragging his friends to some stupid baking endeavour that he stealthily got out of. 

you watch as annoyance passes over his features (directed to lily but you don't know that) and it instantly worries you. maybe he was serious about not wanting this, were you pushing him?

“sirius, if you really don't want me to do this,” you start, a nervous edge to your fast rush of words, “please tell me. i don't want to force you into doing anything-”

“hey,” he stops you with a hand over your arm and a small reassuring smile. “i'm sorry, i do. i just think you’re hot when you're irritated.”

“you must think i'm farah fawcett all the time then,” you mutter, rooting around in your pouch for the gold cuffs you thought would suit him. “and i'm not irritated, i have a surprising amount of patience for you,” you correct, inspecting the cuffs in your palm.

sirius sits up a bit to peer at them, chewing his lip in thought. “mmm not her. barbara carrera maybe,” he adds, looking back at you, his resistance fading away.

your eyebrows shoot up slightly, in mild shock. “she's pretty,” you remark to his comparison and the seemingly honest delivery.

“yeah,” he says, incredibly earnest, “so are you.”

curious and curiouser. “you think flirting with me is gonna get you out of this?”

“i don't know, is it working?”

“nope,” you say curtly, bring your hand back up to his face, this time with a few charms as well. “pick.”

he does, and sets them in your other hand held out. you begin parting his hair for the braids, you settle for placing them under the top of his hair, since his layers are short they'll peek through nicely. you tie a sloppy half bun to the unused portion of his hair so it's out of the way and section out a piece to braid. 

sirius dutifully holds the gold adornments in his hand as you work, suddenly quiet. he always gets like this, you've noticed. all quip remarks are silenced when your hands are in his hair. you make note to tease him about it later but for now you're content to stay quiet. 

he's humming something quietly, a tune you're unfamiliar with, it's ok he’ll tell you later. it fills the silence nicely. you pick the first charm, looping it into a strand of hair and continuing the braid to secure it. his hair is unbelievably soft, it's probably why you like touching it so much. you both know it gets greasier faster because of your constant contact but sirius makes no move to stop you, ever, simply muttering a spell to revive it. 

it goes on like this for about ten minutes, mostly because the charms were a bit more difficult to work with than you thought and also because you were extremely wary of trying not to tangle his hair. he stares at you diligently out of his periphery and you try not to meet his gaze. 

when you're done you lift the handheld mirror to his face. fuck, he looks beautiful. you have to look away, allowing him to assess everything on his own. 

he shoots you a blinding grin, looking exceedingly pleased with how it turned out, “thanks, dove!”

“you’re welcome,” you respond. “it looks good, right?”

he nods, looking into the mirror again. “really good. you did an amazing job.”

your heart flutters at the praise but you don't let it show, accepting his words with a smug smile. it doesn't last long though as he jumps you with a hug, winding you. arms wrapped around your middle, his head rests on your chest, just below your chin, squeezing you in appreciation. you wrap your arms around him in tandem and lean back against the headboard and the pillows, practically pulling half of him on top of you.

it's rough and tumble for a moment before he settles with a low hum, arms still circled around your torso. he knows they’ll go numb the longer he stays like this but he doesn't care. 

you trail one hand into his hair instinctively, like it's second nature. your nails lightly graze over that spot behind his ear and he’s done for. when you begin scratching, he melts, like truly melts against your body, letting out a long, pleased sigh. he makes note to kick himself later for acting like this. beneath his cheek, he feels you shake. are you laughing?

he lifts his head, a little incredulous. “what?”

you chuckle, seeing how he blinks away the blissful air to his expression. “nothing, it’s just-”

he looks at you expectantly as you contemplate your words.

you let out an amused snort before speaking again, “i don't know if it's, like, a subconscious response to your animagus form but dogs really like being scratched behind their ears.”

he gapes at you, affronted. “are you calling me a dog?”

“you are, padfoot.”

he whines petulantly before dropping back to your chest. he noses at your sternum, his own wordless way of getting you to continue. so you do. 

“dogs have a very concentrated area of nerve endings here,” you explain quietly, scratching his scalp again, just behind his ear. “when stimulated, it causes the brain to release endorphins, making them feel relaxed.”

he hums in thought though it sounds more pleased and it scarcely proves your point. 

“how’d you know that?” he asks, voice muffled by your shirt.

“my friend had to take her cat to the vet and i read one of those pet magazines to pass the time,” you murmur, your voice still quiet as you begin to feel sirius growing heavier over you.

“y’so smart,” he slurs, words trailing off in the beginning of sleep.

“don't fall asleep,” you whisper, though you make no effort to wake him up.

he mumbles something incoherent, nuzzling further into your neck but giving you a little grace by shuffling off of your body. one leg is still tangled with yours and his arms are still tightly wrapped around you but at least he's not crushing you. 

“tell me more,” he requests, words trailing up at the end in question.

you think for a moment, reaching to the depths of your brain to retrieve the dog facts you read about that day, perking up when you do.

“hmmm dogs have incredibly sensitive noses. they have up to, like, 300 million scent receptors, where humans have about 5 million and the part of their brain that processes smells is 40 times larger than ours,” you mumble, tapping a light finger to the tip of his nose. 

“cool,” he exclaims, though it's anything but. his eyes slowly flutter shut as you coil a piece of his hair, sealing your fate for the rest of the evening. that is until, much to sirius’ dismay, his roommates come bursting in.

flour scattered over their clothes and hair alike, they’re boisterous as they enter, chatting something along the lines of baking is actually kinda fun. he groans against your body, sleep stretching far and wide from his grasp. you stifle a laugh as he glares at them annoyedly. they pay no attention to the boy, instead making plans on playing quidditch. to this, he brightens. jumping from the bed at a speed you can't quite justify, not being overly fond of the sport yourself. you were more inclined to flying for fun, rather than competition. 

he glances back at you, tentatively, asking for your permission almost. you shrug indifferently, you were going to make your way down to the field anyway. he grins and leans down, pressing a quick firm kiss to your cheek before rushing after the dwindling voices down the stairs, his own broom in tow. 

you bite your lip to push down the giggle that bubbles up in your throat, maybe there are some innate canine tendencies.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[totalswag]

i love you’re writing so much!! keep it up ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

i do have a request, if you haven’t done it!

popstar reader wins an award and drew is the one who hands it to her? like they’re dating and he’s presenting the award she nominated for!q

forever grateful ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note may i just say thank you 🥹 really means so much hearing this. i haven't written something like this yet. feedback is always appreciated <3

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary drew giving you an award in one of the categories you were nominated in.

warning(s) none! bunch of cuteness.

Tonight marks the Billboard Music Awards. You've been having a great time with your friends, watching performances, and witnessing award ceremonies. Most importantly, Drew came with you as your plus one, and he will announce the category for which you have been nominated.

Drew was given this opportunity at the time the nominations were first announced. This is crucial for him since he has always wanted to make an award announcement. Drew said previously, "Imagine I announce your name when I present the award."

"Y/N, I can't believe Drew is announcing one of the categories you've been nominated for," Olivia Rodrigo stated before swallowing her water. 

"Dude, tell me about it," you giggle, "I think it's crazy, and we talked about it today," you explain with hand motions.

The lights dim throughout the arena, indicating that Drew is walking on stage. Your face brightened up as he walked on stage with the envelope in his palm. 

Drew walks on stage, microphone in hand, with a confident yet slightly anxious smile on his lips. He's dressed in a fine black suit, every bit the heartthrob the world knows him to be, yet your eyes is drawn to the faint twitch of his fingers, a telltale sign that only you would see. He's nervous about you.

"This next award," Drew's voice echoes through the stadium, smooth yet with a tiny hint of something gentler, "is for Best Pop Artist⎯an award that recognizes not just chart-topping hits but the artistry, passion, and heart poured into every lyric, every note."

The audience cheered and whispered names with anticipation. Applause filled the arena as the screen displayed the talented pop artists that received nominations.

Drew's smile grows a little wider, a little prouder, and his eyes scan the audience⎯searching for you, finding you. "And the winner is..."

"I'm so nervous" you mumbled to yourself.

Drew kept a straight face as he opened the card, "Y/N Y/L/N!" He smiles turning the envelope around before clapping his hands.

The room erupts. Applause, cheers, a standing ovation from some.

Your jaw nearly falls to the floor in absolute shock. This all feels like a fever dream⎯waiting for someone to pinch you. Only thing you could do was put both hands on the side of your head as you lift yourself up from the chair.

When you walk on stage, your dress shimmers under the lights. When you reach him, he hands you the award and whispers, "I knew it, baby."

"I don't know what to say, guys..." you start breathlessly, a giggle slipping through as the audience quiets. "This is a huge honor, and I couldn't have done it without my amazing team, my fans who've supported me every step of the way... and," your gaze turns toward Drew for a moment, "to the person who's been my rock through all of it."

Drew and you will always support one another. It's known that you both don't show affection in public⎯behind closed doors or with inner circle. Fans are gonna go crazy with this.

After thanking those who helped you along the way and those who nominated you, you were escorted back stage. You couldn't take your eyes off the gorgeous award in your hand.

Drew approaches you with a gaze of love and appreciation. "I am really proud of you, and we will celebrate tonight with any takeout you want.

Throwing your head back in laughter at his final comment, "First, I love you so much, and who can say their boyfriend gave his girlfriend an award," he chuckles, "and I will gladly eat takeout with you."

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✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

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[ceramini]

THEN DONT 人 sjy

𝟏𝟑𝟕𝟖𝒾 ──── loser!jake f!rea ✿ angst & smut ᵕ ᵕ blow job, riding, based on this ask ❞ 𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑹𝒀 ｡ ⠀

REBLOG FOR A KISS !? ʕ´   ᩙᩙ `  ʔ

Jake doesn’t mean to overhear it.

He’s just in the hallway, minding his own business, looking for you, actually—when he hears the voices. Familiar ones. People he knows. People you love.

He freezes when he hears his name.

“I mean, yeah, Jake’s sweet and all,” someone says with a shrug. “But don’t you think she could do better?”

He doesn’t breathe.

“I always thought she’d end up with someone… I don’t know. More put-together. More confident. He’s like a lost puppy most days.”

There’s laughter. It’s not malicious. Not sharp. But it cuts Jake anyway. Deep.

He doesn’t stay to hear the rest.

The feeling follows him. Clings to his ribs and gnaws at his throat like guilt.

You don’t say anything when he curls into your side that night and holds you tighter than usual. When he kisses your shoulder instead of your lips. When he pulls away before you can touch him.

You always assumed Jake was clingy because he was horny or needy or soft. But sometimes it’s because he’s scared.

Scared you’ll leave.

Scared someone better will come along and you’ll finally realize he’s nothing but a sad, annoying, insecure boy who likes Legos too much and cries too easily.

A few days pass.

He doesn’t bring it up.

He tries to act normal. Happy. Like his brain isn’t chewing him alive with doubts. He makes stupid jokes, buys you snacks, plays with your hair in bed until you fall asleep on his chest.

But the pit in his stomach only grows.

And then it gets worse.

Jake’s lying in bed with you one lazy afternoon, head on your lap, when your phone buzzes. You ignore it at first—too caught up in rubbing little shapes over his temples, humming some random tune, but he notices.

You’ve got a lot of DM requests.

When you finally go to check one, Jake sees it.

Not the message, but the sender. The profile pic. A verified account.

A face Jake remembers from weeks ago; a party you dragged him to, where he sat awkwardly in the corner nursing a Sprite while you chatted and laughed and looked so effortlessly you.

He remembers that guy talking to you. Tall. Perfect smile. Designer shirt. Confident in that smooth, cocky way Jake could never be.

His chest tightens.

He doesn’t say anything. Just makes a mental note. Later that night, when you’re asleep, Jake opens Instagram and searches the guy’s username. And of course, it’s bad.

He’s gorgeous. One of those guys who looks like he knows he’s gorgeous. Shirtless gym selfies. Thousands of likes. Flirty captions. Comments full of girls. Jake scrolls for way too long, each post punching a little deeper into his gut.

He looks at his own profile after. Blurry mirror selfies. You in the background of half of them, making fun of his camera angle. His follower count isn’t even close.

He shuts his phone off and stares at the ceiling.

Why are you with him?

Why him, when you could have that?

He gets quiet again.

You notice.

“Jake,” you nudge him on the couch. “Why’re you all droopy?”

“M’not.”

“Liar. You’ve been weird.”

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “Just tired.”

He’s not. He hasn’t slept properly in days.

But what is he supposed to say?

“Hey, I stalked one of the hot guys in your DMs and now I feel like crawling into a hole and dying because I will never be good enough for you?”

He doesn’t want to sound pathetic.

So he smiles instead. The weak kind.

You frown. “You sure?”

He tries to lighten the mood.

“I mean, it’s not like you don’t have a thousand guys in your inbox dying to take my place.”

You snort. “Jake.”

“I’m serious. I saw a few. Some of them were hot.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

He shrugs again. “Maybe.”

“Well, I’m with you, dummy. So what does it matter?”

He laughs, quiet, breathless. “Yeah… sometimes I don’t even know why you are.”

You roll your eyes and swat his arm. “God, I don’t even know why I’m dating you sometimes.”

You mean it as a joke. Obviously. But the second it leaves your mouth, you feel the shift.

Jake goes still. His smile fades. His face falls. Something breaks behind his eyes, quick and silent and devastating.

And then, softly—

“…Whatever.”

You blink. “Jake—”

He stands, brushing your hand off his leg. Doesn’t look at you. “I’m gonna go build for a bit.”

Your heart sinks. “What?”

“I’ll be in my collection room.”

The door closes behind him before you can say anything else.

You sit there for a while, stunned. Confused. Guilt blooming like a bruise across your chest. You didn’t mean it. It was just a throwaway line. Something stupid. Something Jake normally laughs off.

But this time—he didn’t.

You wait ten minutes. Then twenty.

You try knocking.

No response.

So you go get the box from the closet. The new Lego set—the one he’s been talking about for weeks. The one you secretly ordered and saved up for. A rare one. He’d been rambling about it all month.

You crack the door open, peeking inside.

“Jake?”

He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, a half-built model in front of him, but he’s not moving. Not building. Just staring.

You step inside quietly, holding the box.

“I got you something.”

No response.

“It’s the Galaxy Explorer set. The vintage re-release. Remember?”

Silence.

You set it down gently beside him. Still nothing. You kneel in front of him, heart twisting. “Jake…”

He blinks up at you slowly. Eyes dull.

“You’re not gonna open it?”

He shrugs.

And that’s when it hits you. He’s not just upset. He’s hurting. Like, deeply. Broken in a way Jake almost never lets you see.

Your chest caves in.

“Jake,” you whisper, crawling into his lap. “Come on. You’re the best boyfriend—”

“I’m your only boyfriend,” he mutters, eyes downcast. “How can you say the best when there’s no one to compare to?”

Your throat closes.

“I was joking,” you say quickly. “Baby, I swear—” He doesn’t answer. You feel the tears in your own eyes now.

“I’m not good at this,” you whisper. “At being soft. Or saying how I feel. You know that. But Jake—fuck, you’re everything to me. I don’t want anyone else. I can’t. You’re the only thing in this world that makes me feel safe. And stupid. And warm. And real.”

You’re babbling. Desperate. Pulling at his hoodie until you’re straddling him fully, pressing your forehead to his.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur. “Even when you’re sad. Even when you cry. Especially then.”

Jake closes his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. You kiss it away. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He swallows. “You didn’t mean to.”

“I know. But I still did.” You kiss him softly. And again. And again. Then lower. Down his neck. To his chest. To his stomach.

You kneel between his legs, hands trembling as you tug his sweatpants down. “Let me show you,” you whisper.

And then you take him into your mouth, slow and reverent, like you’re praying. Jake gasps, hips jerking, hands flying to your hair. But you don’t rush. You worship. Licking and sucking, moaning around him just so he knows how much you love it. How much you love him.

He starts crying again—quiet and raw—and you don’t stop. You let him fall apart while you give him all the softness you usually hold back. When he cums, it’s with a broken sob of your name.

And when you crawl back into his lap, he holds you like he’ll never let go. You ride him slowly, tearfully, kissing every inch of his face.

“Jake,” you breathe. “Jake, I love you. I’m sorry. You’re everything to me. I’m never leaving. I swear. I swear.”

He doesn’t speak. Just holds your waist and cries silently, thrusting up into you like it’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. And when you both finish, shaking, clinging, crying into each other’s mouths, you don’t move.

You stay like that. One trembling mess of love and fear and forgiveness.

TAGLIST ࿀ ׁ @gxwesn @gyarumindd @somuchdard @ssanhwatto @jinxedly @seokjinthescientist @hoonprksung @eunvyue @kkxheeluv @enhawonnie @ghost-of-minnie @underscorealastor @yazmike @tokkisluv

[kentocidal]

lucky winner

users: piercer!bakugou x afab!fem!reader x tattoo artist!kirishima

internal warnings: descriptions of needles/tattoos/piercings as they occur, long fic, wow there's plot in this!, consensual threeway, established krbk, oral (m and f!receiving), piv, spit, size kink, light dacryphilia, spitroasting, inaccurate positioning, ask to tag

internal notes: three way won the poll so i went ham. my fault og. final word count somehow came to 5.2k ish.

new notifications: @kaedescara

you stared blankly at the notification on your phone, wide-eyed and jaw agape. you blinked slowly, rubbed a hand down your face, and then clicked your phone off and back on again. the screen lit back up to your screensaver and the single notification that sat covering it. ‘@sincitytattoojp tagged you in their story! check it out!’

you looked up from your phone to your friend, who you now realized was calling your name and snapping her fingers. “uh, hello? earth to y/n? what’s going on? did your ex message you or something?”

“i think i won something.” you mumbled, turning your phone to show your friend. she furrowed her brows together and took your phone from your hand, studying the notification before cracking a grin. 

“is this that tattoo parlor in tokyo that you keep talking about hypothetically going to?” she laughed as she punched in your passcode and opened up instagram, pressing on the icon to the parlor’s instagram story.

you were quick to snatch your phone back to watch the story yourself, raising the volume on your phone to hear it. it was a video of someone’s hand reaching into a very full fishbowl of printed instagram handles, pulling out a tiny piece of paper and unfolding it to reveal your instagram username. the caption read in big red lettering, “congrats to @[y/n] for winning the human canvas raffle. reply to this post by midnight to schedule your slot.”

you swallowed thickly and looked up at your friend. “i won the fucking raffle. i won the nine hour session.”

your friend sucked in a breath before laughing and lifting her glass to you. “godspeed, soldier.”

you looked back down at your phone and clicked back to rewatch your name be pulled from the bowl. you had entered the contest on a whim – you hadn’t expected to win. you had reposted the parlor’s picture and tagged your three closest friends to enter a bid into becoming a human canvas for a day, i.e. getting tattooed and pierced until you tapped out. the parlor owners couldn’t seem to decide on whether to call it the human canvas contest or the no mercy challenge, not that it mattered. both fit the bill to describe what you had just won.

you swiped up on the story.

you: i dont know whether to be terrified or excited.

@sincitytattoojp: both, sweetheart. sign this and get it back to us [1 attachment]

you had gone through an extensive back and forth that night, printing and signing and scanning different waivers and papers to ensure that you would be able to handle an entire day of sitting in a chair getting poked and prodded with needles and getting art permanently printed on your skin forever. you were grateful that they took so much precaution in ensuring you were well aware of the situation you were putting yourself in, and getting ample consent confirmed ahead of time. you already felt comfortable as you stepped off the train in tokyo and started towards the shop.

sin city tattoo and body art. the small tattoo shop had garnered a massive following around the globe for the gorgeous work that consistently poured from the studio. the artists had never shown their faces on their page, but it was clearly just a two man show. sometimes one of them would film the other doing their newest piece on a client they handpicked from the waiting list, and it was clear that the two were a little more than close friends. 

you trusted their work. you were a new client, obviously, but after following their page for over a year, you knew you would be okay with going through with this. you were just… inexperienced. you had a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on your ankle and your ears double pierced in the lobes, but that was it.

you rounded the corner and saw the neon sign over the glass doors to the shop, the shutters pulled down. you took a deep breath and tried the door, mildly surprised that it opened up. a tiny bell chimed over your head as you stepped inside.

the shop was small, but it was clean. absolutely pristine. for a tattoo shop called sin city, you were expecting a bit more of a grunge theme, not exactly the creamy white walls littered with black picture frames of flash art available for purchase, a tall cabinet filled with various jewelry for fresh piercings, plants in the corners surrounding two chairs that were supposedly for a waiting area. there was a tall partition behind the front desk, and the shop stretched backward, most likely leading to a tattoo chair and then a piercing table, respectively. 

you stood awkwardly by the front door, gripping your bag in front of you. you had brought a few little snacks and some water in preparation for being there all day. you shuffled your feet as you heard footsteps coming up from the back of the shop, and suddenly you were reconsidering your outfit choice. you had tried to be helpful by going with a tight spaghetti strap tank top and a high riding skirt, knowing that you would probably need to shuffle clothes around during the course of the day.

your thoughts got clogged almost immediately when a brick wall of a man rounded the partition, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at you with big red eyes that looked curious, almost playful. he had to have been at least six-five, looming over you with broad shoulders and bulky arms that were covered in tattoos that went all the way down to his knuckles. his red hair was tied half-up half-down, the black roots at his forehead showing through.

you gaped at him like a fish out of water, face starting to feel warm as he glanced you up and down, and then smiled, revealing a wide set of sharp sharklike teeth. “aye, kats! i think she’s here!” he called over his shoulder before stepping behind the front desk. “you’re our pretty contest winner, right?”

“uh-”

“my name’s eijirou kirishima. i’m the main tattoo guy here.” he grinned at you, boyish and peppy, and it stifled your nerves somewhat as you returned the smile, but you were flustered beyond belief. you had seen the videos of him tattooing, you knew at least that his hands were big, but not the rest of him.

“ah, yeah, hi. i’m y/n. it’s nice to see your fsce for once.” you giggled nervously, and he laughed and nodded.

“yeah, we’re not all about showing who we are online. the page got too big, tokyo’s a big place, we don’t want the extra attention, yknow?” he smiled warmly at you as he bent down and shuffled through some paperwork under the desk, pulling it out and gesturing for you to come closer. “i know we already got a lot of your stuff online, but this is the last waiver. pretty much a final agreement that we get to do whatever we want to your body until you either tap out, or the clock hits six, whichever comes first.” 

you made a little squeaking noise at his phrasing, glancing at his face as he just continued to smile. he fumbled around for a pen and held it out to you, and you reached to take it, but he snatched it back and leaned across the desk. “just so you know, you can say stop at any time. we’re not forcing you to be here. if you say no to an idea, we won’t do it. stuff like that. okay?”

you blinked at him. he seemed so genuine, really making sure he was thorough in his explanations of the paperwork and of your position in this. it helped you take a deep breath and nod. “i know. i’m all good.”

“awesome. you seem like a real trooper.” he chuckled in a deep, rumbly voice, and finally held the pen back out to you. 

you took it, your soft fingers brushing over his rough skin and making you feel like your hand was alight in flames. you signed your name at the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it back across the desk to kirishima. he just grinned at you and shoved the paper into the desk again.

“bakugou! come on, man! she’s all good!” kirishima leaned his head around the partition, and you jumped slightly when the familiar voice of kirishima’s partner sounded from the back of the shop.

“i fucking heard you the first time, i’m not fucking deaf!”

“well, just hurry up!” kirishima laughed and turned back to you. “sorry, he’s a real stickler for making sure his spot is all clean. i’m clean, but he’s a neat freak.”

“who’re you calling a neat freak, red?” a slightly shorter man stepped out from down the hallway, and again you felt your breath catch in your throat.

he was still tall, but far more intimidating in his black wife beater and jeans. he took off his mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing a nose piercing and snake bites around plush lips. his fluffy blonde hair was standing up in all the right places, piercing red eyes looking your form up and down as he cracked his knuckles. his arms were littered patchwork-style, much different than kirishima’s full sleeves, and he clearly liked to hit the gym seven days a week.

you gulped and shifted your weight as bakugou’s eyes drifted over you. “name’s katsuki bakugou. you’ve already met red. didya sign the form?”

“uh, yes. all of the forms.”

“great.” his eyes locked on yours. clearly, this guy was all about professionalism and business, at least while he was on the clock. then he turned his head to kirishima. “so, where did you want to start her?”

you found yourself laid down on your chest, head turned to the side to stare at bakugou’s back as he organized something off to the side. music was playing, but you could hardly hear it over the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the weight of kirishima’s hand on your back.

you chewed on your lip as you felt the needle trace over the skin of your lower back, occasionally lifting to get more ink, only to return and start the ministrations over again. it wasn’t an easy spot to get ink done; tramp stamps were adorable and sexy, but the skin on that part of a person’s back is notoriously thin. despite this, however, you always found the pain to be… enjoyable. 

you felt kirishima’s free hand slide over to the middle of your back, splaying out, applying some pressure to get a better angle as he leaned over you. if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you would be able to feel his warm breaths fanning out against your sensitive skin. your eyes fluttered and you did your best not to move as your neurons fired over the sheer size of his hand against your back. splayed out like that, his fingertips were on one side and the heel of his hand almost felt like it was on the other. perhaps your perception was being warped on account of the buzzing needle poking your back, but you couldn’t be entirely sure.

kirishima added more pressure even as the needle lifted away from your skin, pushing you down into the bed, making you squeak softly. bakugou’s head turned briefly to you, glinting in the white overhead lighting almost devilishly, before turning away again.

“so,” kirishima’s low voice made you flinch slightly, having been entranced by the weight of him looming over your form, “i don’t really see any ink on you. is this your first time?” you heard him chuckle into his mask as he waited for you to relax again, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down, before pressing the needle down again. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”

you felt like some kind of high schooler talking about her virginity. “it’s- it’s fine. no, it’s not my first, but it’s my first big one. i’ve got a little one on my ankle.”

“your ankle?” he repeated, still pressing the needle to your skin and definitely coloring a shape in. “who did that for you? wasn’t us.”

“right, yeah.” you giggled slightly, really trying not to move as you wiggled the foot that held the little tattoo. “just an old friend who was an apprentice somewhere else.”

“ankle’s a rough place for a first tattoo,” grumbled bakugou, finally turning towards you and sitting down in a chair a little ways away, manspreading in your peripheral. “how’d you sit for that?”

“it hurt, but i liked it.” you mumbled back honestly, glancing back when you felt kirishima put the tattoo gun down and reach with a gloved hand towards your ankle, bending your leg at the knee to study the work.

“hm. it’s real cute on you, but i would’ve done it a little different.” his thumb brushed over the tattoo, over the thin skin of your ankle, sending a spike of heat through your body. “i could touch it up later.” he guided your leg back down and brushed his hand over the back of your thigh briefly before picking his tattoo gun back up and reapplying that heavy pressure to your back again.

“yeah, okay…” you murmured breathily, feeling small underneath kirishima’s weight and the power of bakugou’s gaze where he was staring at you, at kirishima, at how kirishima’s hands left indents in your skin as he worked.

your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your head feeling like all the blood had drained from it and gone south. you shouldn’t be thinking like this, feeling like this, not while effectively getting stabbed thousands of times per minute.

bakugou hummed as he stood up again to get within your line of sight. “you said you liked the pain, huh? you one of those weird people that gets a high off of getting ink done?”

you felt your face burst with heat, unable to move as you opened your mouth and stammered. kirishima chuckled behind his mask.

“don’t tease, kats.”

“‘m not teasin’. i was just sayin’ that i agree with her.” bakugou smirked at you before stepping around the wall to go get a water from the fridge.

kirishima’s free hand slid from your middle back to just above your ass, his thumb rubbing into the fabric of your tight skirt as he worked.

“you’re sitting really well for this, doll. ‘m proud. probably one of my favorite things to do is back tattoos. especially these.”

you hummed softly in the back of your throat, probably mumbling a thank you that just made him laugh again.

you didn’t say anything when his free hand squeezed your ass as he leaned back to get more ink in the gun.

kirishima had spread the second skin across your pretty new tramp stamp with precision, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle or peel away until your tattoo was healed. you were given a snack of chips and a bottle of water to recuperate while bakugou prepped his area, pulling on a mask and snapping black latex gloves over his hands. “so, how ya feelin’?”

“good,” you took a breath as you capped your water, sitting quietly on the tattoo bench and waiting to move to the piercing table. “ready to move on, i guess.”

“hope you don’t mind, but i took some photos when red was doing you.” he glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled and waved it off.

“i don’t mind at all. my friend didn’t believe me when i said i was actually gonna come.”

“that so?” bakugou cocked a brow, his mouth hidden behind the black mask. “anyway, what’re you thinking for this next bit? industrial? nose?”

“ah.” you shifted on the bench, glancing away from him as kirishima rounded the corner. “i was, uh. i was thinking i could get my… i could get my nipples pierced first? get the worst ones out of the way?”

kirishima blinked once and immediately shot a look to bakugou, who made eye contact. it was like telepathy; there was a silent exchange between them before bakugou nodded and waved for you to step over. “sure, whatever. it’s definitely not the worst pain, though.”

“really?” you stood on jelly legs and walked over to the piercing bench, sitting down in front of bakugou, who pulled a chair over to sit.

“mhm. worst i would say for a girl is the clitoral hood.”

you flushed and shook your head. “no thanks. i think i’ll stick to this for now.”

“okay.” bakugou sat back in his chair, staring at you. you stared back, tilting your head. bakugou furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, making an ‘up’ motion with two fingers. only then did it click that you needed to take your shirt off.

you looked around as you started to tug your tank top up, looking over at kirishima, who was leaning against the wall with fascination. “ah, sorry! if you really want, i can leave.”

“no! no, it’s fine.” you shook your head, and finally got the courage to lift your tank top up and over your head. in preparation for this, you had simply forgone your bra in the morning.

you were left in just your skirt and panties, essentially. kirishima hummed low in his throat, earning him a glare from bakugou. you felt like you were on fire when bakugou reached a hand out to your shoulder. “lay back. slow.”

you shuddered under his grasp and laid back on the table, bringing your feet up and bending your knees to be a little more comfortable. your nipples pebbled and hardened from the cold air of the parlor.

bakugou studied your tits with an intense gaze, clearly focused on his job in a way that kirishima was not. where kirishima was flirty, groping and grabbing, bakugou was cold and practiced.

“so this is gonna go something like this. one of these is gonna hurt more than the other. when i tell you, you gotta breathe in, and then breathe out all at once. it’ll make the pain a little easier to handle.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be quick, but we gotta do one at a time.” he grabbed a skin safe marker and finally his hands reached for one of your tits, rubbing his thumb into the skin as he marked where the needle would enter and exit. you felt like you were shaking, being grabbed and examined in such a professional manner.

“you can’t have any fuckin’ saliva or jizz or whatever touch these till they’re fully healed, you got that?”

you squeaked, almost jumping in surprise at his words, before laughing and shaking your head. “no worries there.”

“you sure?” bakugou tilted his head, eyebrow raised, and kirishima laughed as he walked over towards the bench.

you didn’t get a chance to answer bakugou, because kirishima was by your head, offering his massive hand to you. “you can squeeze my hand so you don’t pass out.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, squirming on the bench as bakugou squeezed your tit. you didn’t answer, just reaching your hand up to hold onto kirishima’s. his hand was large, warm, and so rough. you wanted to feel his-

“alright sugar. take a deep breath in for me.”

you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and then suddenly a white hot pain shot through your body, something never experienced before. your vision whited out and you may or may not have cried out and dug your nails into kiri’s hand, gripping it tightly.

your head swam as you were encouraged to breathe, and then to breathe in again as the wide bar was slipped through the new piercing. you yelped and jerked on the table, making bakugou put his gloved hand flat between your tits to try and ground you. “relax, brat. stay fucking still. gotta get this stupid ball on.”

“aw, she’s cryin’.” kiri chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. your cheeks did feel wet as the pain subsided slowly. you whimpered as bakugou leaned away from you and reached to grab another needle package and the second bar.

“one more, drama queen. you can do it. just one more.”

“already?” you whined, shaking your head at him as he scooted his chair closer to get a better angle on your other nipple.

you did not get a chance to beg for mercy. “breathe in deep, good fuckin’ girl.”

you screamed this time. bakugou had been right, one hurt more than the other. your head felt so light all of a sudden, your vision blurring as you gripped kirishima’s hand like a vice and shook. your breath punched out of you when the bar was pushed through and the little ball at the end was screwed on.

you stared up at the ceiling and tried to get your bearings as kirishima let go of your hand to pet your hair and keep it away from your tears. “you did it, pretty girl. you got it. just breathe. did such a great job, yeah?”

you gathered your thoughts together as you listened to bakugou get up and take his gloves and his mask off, tossing them away, ever the professional. he walked back over to where you were laying and held up a mirror over you to show you your new jewelry. the sight made the pain worth it; your nipples, perky and red and hard, glittering with bars pushed through.

“what do ya think?” bakugou cocked his head at you, and you let out a deep breath.

“they look… really nice.”

“really sexy, more like.” kirishima chuckled over you as he openly ogled your chest.

you made a noise of surprise, which was immediately followed by your voice getting caught in your throat when bakugou’s free hand moved to start rubbing up and down your thigh. “you okay?”

“y-yeah.”

“you need a break?”

“i think so.”

bakugou nodded and looked to kirishima, who broke into a grin and bent over you just a little, his voice dropping an octave. “let’s take a nice long break, then, huh doll? you think you might wanna relax a bit with us? take your mind off the pain?”

“what?” you shifted to sit up on your elbows, wincing from the pain in your chest, looking between them.

kirishima laughed, “come on, doll. i know you didn’t come in here wearing just that tiny skirt for nothin’.”

“you can say no.” bakugou’s hand moved off your thigh, clearly the more level headed of the two. “we’ll take a break and come back in a half hour to keep going-“

“wait.” you flushed and put up a hand to make him shut up, glancing between them. “you’re not- together?”

“well, yeah, fucking obviously we are,” bakugou rolled his eyes at you while kiri chuckled, “but if we see a hot chick, we’re not gonna say no.”

“true.” kiri was practically purring.

they were standing over you, broad shoulders and tattooed hands and muscle, red eyes honed in on your shirtless form, and for some reason you allowed your inhibitions to fall away.

you took a deep breath and pouted. “just don’t make me get an infection on my new piercings.”

“never.” bakugou cracked his first real grin, foxlike and dirty, already moving back down towards your legs to start pushing your knees apart. you sat up a bit more, onto your hands, sucking in a breath when the bench dipped under bakugou’s added weight as he pushed your knees far apart and revealed your plain cotton panties with an obvious wet spot in the crotch, your pussy throbbing with the realization.

bakugou hummed as he slid rough fingertips down the insides of your thighs. “look at that shit, red. she’s already soaked. got this pretty pussy all needy even after pokin’ her.”

“figured as much. she was all spaced out during her tat.” kiri’s meaty hand slipped around the column of your throat, practically engulfing it in one palm as he turned your head to make you look up at him.

you gasped, and kirishima’s mouth came crashing down onto yours; he had to practically crouch to get even close to you where you were sitting. your hands flew up to his hair, body twisting slightly as bakugou started to work his fingers along your hips to further push your skirt up around them.

you felt yourself start to whimper as bakugou pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers through your wet folds. you shook and moaned as his fingers skillfully rubbed slow circles into your clit, making your hips jerk.

kiri laughed against your lips and squeezed his hand slightly around the column of your throat, pulling away from your mouth to look at your dazed expression. “lay back, doll.”

he guided you back to lay on the bench again, letting go of your throat only for a moment to start unbuckling his belt. “kats, i’m takin’ her mouth first, mkay?”

“hm?” bakugou glanced up from where he was licking his lips, about to press his nose to your pussy. “oh, yeah sure whatever. i’m getting a taste first.”

“someone’s got an oral fixation.”

“shut the fuck up, you red-haired loser.”

you felt yourself start to giggle at their interactions, but suddenly there were lips wrapped tightly around your cliff and a fat cock hanging over your face, drooling with pre.

you swallowed as your mouth practically started to water. your head was spinning as bakugou worked his tongue against your clit, a finger starting to push its way into your right, wet heat. you moaned and felt your eyes flutter, fingers curling into the sides of the piercing bench. “ah, i-i don’t know if i can fit-“

“shh. all you gotta do is swallow. can you try just the tip?” kiri cocked his head at you, suddenly all puppy eyes as he stroked his cock to his boyfriend eating you out.

you whimpered and nodded. how could you say no? you ground your hips against bakugou’s face as your lips parted, and kirishima pushed just the fat head of his cock past them with a low groan.

you felt full. bakugou started to push a second finger into your weeping hole, drool and your juices dripping down his chin and dotting the bench as he ate you out and found the spongy spot within you that made your back arch off the bench, knees attempting and failing to snap shut around his head. bakugou growled against your pussy, unhappy with you disturbing his meal.

you couldn’t respond what with kirishima shallowly thrusting into your mouth, working inch after inch into you. you felt his heady tip hit the back of your throat as your head hung down over the edge of the bench, and you coughed and sputtered.

“shh, careful, careful. breathe.” his hand returned to your throat, feeling the way he slipped further and further in. his balls hung down in your face as he started to effectively fuck your throat, groaning when you whined around him.

you did your best to suck his cock, slobbering and drooling down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back when bakugou removed his mouth and rubbed circles into your clit with his thumb. “she tastes fuckin’ good.”

“yeah? y’think so?”

“yeah,” bakugou breathed out, almost like an offering, and as he pulled his fingers out of your wet pussy, he shoved them directly into kirishima’s mouth.

kiri groaned loudly and sucked on bakugou’s fingers with the eagerness of a dog, gripping your throat with one hand and bakugou’s wrist in the other. he made sure bakugou’s fingers were clean before letting go and rolling his hips against your face. “shit.”

“mhm.” bakugou was panting as he hurriedly fussed with his jeans, shoving them down enough to get his cock free. it was difficult, positioning himself on the bench, but he made it work as he slapped his tip against your clit.

you cried out and gagged again on kirishima’s fat cock, gurgling pathetically while they both laughed at you.

“poor babydoll,” bakugou hissed, pressing his tip to your entrance, “she can hardly breathe, eiji.”

“she’s doin’ a good fucking job. i can feel how deep i am in her throat.”

“i can fuckin’ see that.” bakugou snapped right back before taking a deep breath and sinking so slowly into your pussy.

your walls fluttered around his cock as he sheathed himself inside you, one hand gripping your hip dangerously tight and the other reaching to grab for kirishima’s free hand. “fuck, red, she feels so fucking tight.”

“if- if you think her pussy’s tight, wait till you feel her throat.” kiri panted lowly as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand over you.

you felt like an object, a plaything, lightheaded and so, so full, almost screaming when they both started to fuck into you at once; they were slightly off pace, both focused on their own pleasure, chasing their highs and smothering you all the while.

kirishima’s hand slid from your throat to the middle of your chest, a compressing weight that left you truly breathless as his balls practically smacked into you. you did your best to try and suck his cock, really, you did, but it was so difficult when bakugou was bullying your pussy and making you shake and cry out.

kirishima was the first to falter, his hips starting to jerk erratically as your vision blurred from tears of pleasure. “oh fuck yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“

“already? pathetic.” bakugou snapped, only egging kirishima on and making him whine as he tossed his head back and came deep in your throat, making you gag and choke.

he didn’t pull out until the thick, heady ropes of his cum were seated on your tongue, taking a step back to let his fat cock slap wetly against his thigh. it was clear, then, that his refractory period was short; he was already at half mast again as he watched bakugou fuck you into the bench, hiking one of your legs up around his waist to get deeper.

you cried out loudly, voice ragged and ruined as bakugou’s thumb returned to your clit.

“come on pretty girl, lemme feel you cum around my fuckin’ cock first. come on. i know you’re close. i can feel ya squeezin’ me in. shit, baby, fucking cum for me.”

your back arched off the table and your eyes rolled back as you came hard around his cock, your vision going white as you jerked and spasmed on the table. bakugou moaned and dropped his head forward, holding on until the last second when he could pull out and cum all over your twitching cunt, jerking himself off all the way. thick ropes of cum splattered against your skin and made you shiver, all parts of you sensitive.

kirishima, cock still out and hard again, stepped over to swipe his fingers through your pussy and get a taste of yours and bakugou’s cum, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to bakugou’s cheek. “you wanna fuck her throat next?”

“fuck yes i do.”

[w2soneshots]

Two becomes three -George clarkey

words: 2.4k+

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, sickness, worrying, birth.

summary: you and your husband George’s journey to unexpectedly becoming parents along with your social media posts during your pregnancy.

notes: hello my loves! Here’s the request. I love writing fluffy fics like this🥹. I hope you all enjoy this extra long one shot!!🧸🎀🤍 (please lmk what you think!)

Liked by wroetoshaw, mollymae and 934,125 others

y/username: baby has entered the chat @georgeclarkeey

-comments-

chrismd10: congratulations guys❤️

faithloisak: how cute!! So happy for you two🥹✨

max_balegdae: ahhhhhhhhh

y/nfanpage21: there's no fucking way!!🙊

user27549810: the random George jump-scare at the end lol

user60286430: didn't they just get married like five seconds ago?😅

I met my now husband George four years ago. He followed me on instagram, I followed him back and not long after that we were dating. Last year he proposed and just under a month ago we had our wedding, which was beautiful and only had our closet friends and family.

An hour ago I took a pregnancy test. I was only a day late on my period but I took it just in case. I could hardly believe it when I saw two lines and it was so faint that I convinced myself I was seeing things so I decided to sleep on it and then tell George when I knew for sure.

But I just couldn't keep it a secret. I blurted out, "George, I think pregnant." As soon as he walked through the front door after his shoot with Arthur tv. He was baffled. "You- woah- you think?" I nodded. He took a moment to process what I just said. "And you took a test?" He finally asked. "Yeah, the lines were really faint though. I was gonna wait until tomorrow to tell you but- it just came out."

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I let out a soft sigh of relief. "If you are then I'll be so happy," he whispered into my hair. I smiled, though he couldn't see me. "I'm so overwhelmed," I mumbled. His hand made its way up to my hair and he gently ran it over my scalp, silently reassuring me.

That night everything felt so strange. You're supposed to take the tests in the morning anyway for the most accurate results so we were just waiting and trying not to get our hopes up in case it wasn't positive.

The next morning I woke to an empty bed. I reached for my phone and then read the text George had sent me just ten minutes ago; "gone to buy more tests, hopefully I'll be back before you're awake x" I sighed softly then got up.

As I was brushing my teeth the front door clicked open and soon George was walking into the ensuite. He smiled softly as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, looking at me through the mirror. "Ready, love?"

"You look. I can't." I quickly passed the upside down test to George as we sat on the end of our bed. Just seconds before, the alarm on my phone rung but I couldn't bring myself to look at the test.

He took it and flipped it over. A wide smile spread across his face as an excited chuckle escaped his mouth. "Seriously?" I asked, shocked. "Y- yeah, you're pregnant!" He shot up of the bed. I giggled. "I'm gonna be a dad!" He pulled me up and into a bone crushing hug.

The next two months weren't very fun. At the beginning we were both so ecstatic. Then the morning sickness hit. I could barely eat, sleep and it was becoming impossible to make up excuses for why I couldn't go out.

George was like my rock through the entire ordeal. He was by my side every time I had to run to the bathroom, he held me and gently stroked my back as I tried to get some sleep, he pleaded with the doctor when we went for my first appointment hoping there was something, anything they could do and he let me ramble on about how I just wanted to feel normal again.

Slowly our friends figured it out and offered their help. The girls put together a basket and Faith made sure to include everything that helped her through her first trimester, Chris came round to keep me company while George had to go and film something for a brand deal and George's sister sat with me as we online shopped since I couldn't really go out.

When the sickness slowly started to ease off everyone was so relieved, George especially because he hated seeing me constantly upset. I was finally able to enjoy pregnancy, announce it on instagram and suddenly the last few months were erased from my mind.

Liked by faithloisak, arthurtv and 513,290 others

y/username: love, hate relationship with the heat

-comments-

taliamar: you're glowing babe!!💞

-> y/username: 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

georgeclarkeey: 🐊

y/nfanpage21: the puppy🥹

user85299106: this is adorable

At twenty two weeks we went on our little baby moon. I spent twelve days relaxing in the sun while George fussed about suncream and making sure I was in the shade. Since becoming pregnant he's been much more protective, which I don't mind since it's never overbearing. He's just trying to help in anyway possible.

"Good morning sleepy head." George greeted me quietly, sitting on the side of the bed next to my sleepy form and gently pushing the messy hair from my face. "Mornin'" I mumbled, shuffling slightly. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead before asking if I wanted some breakfast, to which I immediately nodded.

We left our little apartment after getting ready and walked hand in hand down the street towards the cute little outdoor café we'd spent quite a few mornings in the past week and a half.

"Thank you." I smiled at the young girl handing me my pancakes. "Will that be all?" She asked politely after placing George's breakfast in front of him. I nodded and she walked away.

"Mmm, I'm so glad I can actually enjoy food again," I said after swallowing a mouthful of food. George just stared at me. "What?" "I just love watching you." I chuckled. "That sounds a bit creepy babe."

When the day came that our baby moon was over I was sad to be leaving such a beautiful place that I'd made life long memories in but I was secretly very excited to be going home and getting back into normal life.

Liked by chrismd10, taliamar and 623,309 others

y/username: clearing out my camera roll✨

-comments-

arthurtv: fifth slide?😭

-> georgeclarkeey:🫃🏼🤰

faithloisak: stunning!!!

y/nfanpage21: you, the bump, the flowers, all so cute💝

user10479624: you're both going to be the best parents

The next few months were spent relaxing and preparing for the arrival of our baby, who we found out the sex of just after our baby moon. We had a little gender reveal at our apartment with our families and a few special friends. We decided on a cake, classic, cute and delicious.

"I can't tell!" George announced. I stood next to him, my hand holding the knife that was cutting through the cake. Both of us were trying to peek at the sponge but it wasn't until I pulled the slice out that we spotted the pink.

Immediately the room erupted into cheers. I placed it down on a plate along with the knife and I turned to my husband. Tears welled in my eyes and when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body off of the ground the commotion around us seemed to disappear and all I could focus on was us.

"We're having a girl," I whispered, as though I was trying to convince myself that this was actually real. He gently placed me down, his hands landing on my hips. "I knew it. Dad intuition goes crazy." I giggled before pushing onto my tip toes and placing a loving kiss to his lips.

After that day I was suddenly obsessed with buying baby clothes, what the nursery was going to look like and the realisation hit me that I was actually going to have to push a human being out of my body, though George was quick to reassure me about that.

"Baby's the size of a small pineapple this week," I informed George as we sat on the couch, my feet resting on his lap as he slowly massaged them through my socks. I turned my phone around so he could see the app that keeps track of the baby.

"That's huge." He muttered, eyes widening slightly. I chuckled. "When she's done cooking she'll be the size of a pumpkin." "Oh god, I'm sorry." My brows furrowed, an amused look on my face. "What are you apologising for?"

"You're gonna have to lug around a pumpkin sized baby," he replied, deadly serious. I just laughed, though I wasn't particularly looking forward to that.

The months flew by and suddenly I was actually carrying a pumpkin sized baby in my stomach. At thirty seven weeks my back constantly ached, I needed to pee every five minutes, I wasn't sleeping properly since I had a future gymnast kicking around in my stomach and all in all I was just uncomfortable.

Since I could now go into labour at any second George was watching me like a hawk. Every grimace when I felt an extra strong kick, every sigh and every time my hand touched my stomach he would sit upright and just wait for me to say something.

"I'm fine, George," I'd say. "Just checking," he'd reply and that interaction would repeat itself another one hundred times before the day ended.

"I won't go if you don't want me to, Chris can find someone else last minute," George whispered as we lay in bed, my back pressed against his chest as he gently drew circles on the side of my bump. "No, I'll be okay. It's only a few hours," I mumbled back, half asleep. "Okay, just promise you'll call me if anything happens?" "Promise."

He left early the next morning to film the football video for Chris' channel, meaning I woke up alone. I went about my routine like normal though it felt like it was taking me longer to do my usual things, like I was moving at snail pace, which was slightly strange but I brushed it off.

An hour later I lay on the couch scrolling through instagram when I felt a twinge in my lower stomach. My brows furrowed slightly. "That was weird," I thought but I continued to scroll.

Until I felt it again. This time I decided to keep my promise to George and phone him. It ring a few times before he picked up. "Everything okay? Is it the baby?" He said immediately in a rushed tone. "I'm not sure, I just feel... weird."

He took in a shaky breath. "I knew I shouldn't have come today! I'm coming home." "It's fine, I'm- we're fine. Calm down-" "no no, I'll be there in twenty minutes, love you." And with that he ended the call. I sighed, feeling slightly bad that he'd had to leave the shoot but also a little relieved.

Just under twenty minutes later he burst through our apartment door. I stood in the kitchen, hands on the countertop as I took a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut. I heard his bags drop then the sound of his feet racing towards me.

"You said you just felt weird!" He placed his hand on the small of my back. I looked up at him as the pain subsided. "I did! It started getting worse after I called you."

George collected himself. "Okay okay, you're having contractions?" "Mhm, think so," I responded quietly. "How far apart?" "Like five minutes." He thought back to the birthing class we'd gone to last month. "I think we've got some time and the woman said the first kid always takes a while so let's not stress," he tried to reassure me and himself.

"I'll go get the bag, you just- uh... breathe." I chuckled softly, already calmer now that he was here. He emerged from our bedroom minutes later with the small suitcase in hand.

It took half a hour to get out of the door, drive to the hospital and get checked into a room. After that we could both relax.

The contractions weren't unbearable but I wanted the epidural as soon as possible. "Hmf-" I squeezed George's hand. "Another one?" He asked softly. All I could do was nod. "You're doing amazing sweetheart, so so good. I'm so proud of you."

Once I got the injection I felt like a million bucks. I couldn't feel the contractions, just a little bit of pressure. I sat in the bed happily as I ate my ice chips. Before I knew it, it was time to push.

Liked by sidemen, prettylittlething and 1,004,586 others

y/username: we've been in our little baby bubble this week but I wanted to officially introduce you to Maddie Clarke🤍👼🏼💫

-comments-

georgeclarkeey: my girls❤️

max_balegdae: yasss mother

taliamar: congratulations🥺💓

y/nfanpage21: I'M CRYING

user02781643: they're literally living the dream life omg!!

"She looks just like you," I said as I watched George's eyes fill with tears, his arms secured around his daughter, just ten minutes after she'd entered the world. He glanced down at me. "I love you so much, this is officially the best day of my life," he whispered. I smiled fondly and somehow I fell in love with George all over again, in a completely different way.

We spent a day and a half in the hospital before being discharged. It had been just me, George and the baby in a little room so it felt amazing to go home. I waddled after my husband as I watched him carry our newborn -who slept soundly in her car seat- out and toward the car. He strapped her in then helped me into the backseat.

"I get what people were taking about now," I said as he stared the engine. "Huh?" "I saw a video about the 'hot dad walk' out of the hospital and I totally get them." He chuckled, though he was cautious of the sleeping baby.

After a few days and once we were in somewhat of a routine his family came over to visit. His slightly younger sister was so excited and could barely keep quiet. "She's adorable. Oh my goodness, look at her little feet!" "Okay everyone, no touching until you've washed your hands!" He announced, pointing towards the kitchen sink.

I watched with a smile on my face as he fussed over whether Maddie's head was supported, it was extremely sweet how much he cared for and loved our daughter. I couldn't wait to watch as he became the best dad ever.