#✈️💙🔥

[missmaywemeetagain]

Read Need Your Love Tonight ✈️💙🔥...

It's 1961 and we're headed to Hawaii for the U.S.S. Arizona Benefit Concert! ✈️ This one is an older woman and Elvis, so buckle up, babies! All the pics are from the day/night of the concert, just cuz I know a little visual stimulation never hurts...😏

TW: SEXX, age gap (f > m), period appropriate ageist nonsense, fluff, Elvis in that gold jacket, a little sub!e for funsies

FYI: Gold Scarf ✨🧣✨comes out tomorrow for Sweethearts💕 & above tiers over on Patreon! Don't want to miss out? Join HERE ✨

March 25th, 1961

“Are you sure about this, y/n?” Margie asks you, yet again. She looks at the sign in your hand that you’ve got tucked in by your feet with doubt in her ever-practical brown eyes. “I mean, it’s not too late to just chuck it.”

You laugh, unwilling to let her change your mind. “Oh, come on, Margie! Have a little fun, will ya? It’s not like it really matters. He probably won’t even see it, anyway, so why not?”

“But it’s a little desperate, don’t you think? And it announces to the world that you’re practically a spinster at your age!” she laughs, poking you in your side.

You roll your eyes. “A divorcee is not a spinster, honey. Plus, it gives me character,” you say, fluffing your chic new bob. “Plus, lord knows Elvis Presley has plenty of young admirers. Some of these girls are just babies. They wouldn’t even know what to do with a man like him.” You wink at Margie salaciously.

“Oh, how in the world did I let you talk me into this?” she groans, teasing and giving you a smile that only a best friend could.

It’s not that her words don’t sting just a little though. You certainly hadn’t planned to be 35 years old and recently divorced, or for your husband—ex-husband—to be a giant cliché and leave you for his (much) younger secretary.

That’s why you treated yourself on this trip to Hawaii, using his money and dragged Margie, your life-long best friend, along for the ride. It was a huge bonus when you found out Elvis was going to be performing for the first time since the 50’s and for charity no less. You didn’t mind one bit when springing for the $100 ringside seats for you and Margie. It was a win-win-win situation.

Even though you’d been older than him and his target audience, Elvis intrigued and attracted you from the beginning. The young man with the sleek hair, cutting edge style, and wiggling hips set your heart aflutter even though you were married and, according to your mother, should be “beyond such things.”

Hey, there isn’t any harm in looking, was your thought.

You wiggle your feet under your chair to try and alleviate the numbness in your toes. Perhaps heels hadn’t been the most practical choice for this particular venture, but really all you care about (despite what you told Margie) is Elvis noticing you, even just a little bit. God knows you need this after all you’ve been through. And if that takes wearing a sexy outfit and making a ridiculous sign asking, “Am I too old for you?” in giant, bold letters to get his attention, so be it.

You may be in your mid-thirties and divorced, but you still look decent. And you don’t plan on being single forever. Something in you feels like if you can at least catch the eye of the most famous man on earth, you have a chance at catching another man sooner rather than later.

Your stubborn, fiery nature will come in handy tonight, you just know it will. Even as that too-grown-up shred of doubt telling you this is silly winds through your mind, you still have a good feeling about this.

Sitting through the opening acts, you find yourself wiggling in your seat, filled with an excitement you haven’t felt about anything in a while. The other acts are good—you particularly enjoy that the opening comedienne was a woman—but you are itching to see Elvis. In the flesh.

Finally, after what seems like forever, the main event begins. Your eardrums are blasted out by what must be at least two full minutes of young girls shrieking at the top of their lungs. Rightly so, you think as you watch the tall drink of water that is Elvis Presley strut onto the stage. You are blessing your lucky stars above for the divorce settlement because you are so close, you can see just how deliciously handsome the man is in person.

And, boy, is he.

Even having seen his perfect visage in movies on the big screen truly did not hold a candle to the broad-shouldered man in the glittering gold jacket standing on the stage before you. There is almost an innocence and perhaps even a nervousness in his deep-set dreamy blues. His dark hair is coiffed just perfectly and you watch his leg jiggle as he takes the microphone. A wave of heat rolls over you, flushing you from head to toe, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with the temperature in the arena.

There is a boyish playfulness to him you do not expect of the seasoned 26-year-old entertainer. He is indelibly charming and likable, not afraid to laugh at himself or the insanity of the crowd around him, but it’s not in a disparaging way. It’s more like he still can’t quite believe it’s all for him.

The reason he’s always fascinated you becomes obvious now that he’s right in front of you. He is a walking contradiction—delicate feminine features in a sharp masculine package, a deep low drawl coupled with a light warbling tenor. Singing lyrics that make you think the dirtiest things and then he turns around and does a spiritual. You have whiplash in the very best way.

You’re so distracted by his essence and the hypnotizing way he’s working the crowd that you almost forget about your sign. When One Night croons out of him with the promise of his “sweet helping hand,” a fire lights under you and you fumble around at your feet and flip the sign up for him to see.

Come on, come on, come on, you think, tapping your foot. Look over here.

At this point you will accept anything from the singer—a wink would suffice. Anything to let you know that you’re not just a washed-up divorcee who’s too old or ugly to find happiness with anyone else. Even if that happiness is just for one night because of one small moment, it’ll be worth it.

He’s so consumed by the song, his eyes closing and the rhythm pumping through his whole body, that you’re not sure he’ll see you. Your fingers grip the sign anxiously. You’d rather not have to hold it up for the rest of the concert, and you are kicking yourself for not remembering earlier, but you’ll do what you’ll have to do.

The end of the song comes, to which he adds a toe-curling groan, and when he opens his eyes, they land on you. A bolt of lightning strikes inside you, filling your veins with a scorching desire at the way those pretty eyes fall on your sign. You wait with bated breath as he reads each word silently, “Am I too old for you?” He gives you a quick cursory glance and then starts to walk away.

“Thank you,” he says to the crowd as screams fill the arena. The opening chords of Are You Lonesome Tonight start to play.

Fitting song choice, you think a little bitterly. Well, at least he saw me.

You find yourself fighting back tears, the split-second moment feeling anticlimactic and dissatisfying. A bit of a punch to the gut, really. It’s the dismissal that really stings, though your logical brain tells you he’s concentrating on his work and your sign is likely no more than a short distraction.

Suddenly, Elvis stops. He turns back towards you and steps in your direction. Your breath catches in your throat when he points at you. It is as if his finger is connected to you by an invisible string, and you find yourself sitting up taller and leaning forward on the edge of your seat. Then, he tilts the microphone away for a moment, his infamous lip curling up into a delicious boyish smile.

“Never,” he says, looking you straight in the eyes.

There’s about a hundred horses galloping in your chest and you feel like you might melt into the chair or start shrieking like one of the thousands of teenagers behind you. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief. Margie elbows you in the ribs and you blink, and realizing he’s staring, waiting, you smile the biggest smile you’ve ever smiled.

He winks in response and then turns back to the band. You let out a shuddering breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, dropping the sign on the floor.

“Oh, my god, y/n! He spoke to you! He pointed you out!” Margie whispers excitedly in your ear, bouncing up and down as if she too had been possessed by a teenage girl.

For once in your life, you are speechless and can only nod in her direction, your eyes never leaving Elvis. It’s like you are in his thrall and unable to do anything but focus on his voice and his beautiful face.

Ever the consummate performer, he uses his space well, walking from one end of the stage to the other as he brings the entire arena to quiet with the lullaby-esque ballad. Your frustrated tears from earlier have morphed into tears of overwhelm, of being moved by his voice and the melody. Combined with the lyrics of this particular tune, it feels like he’s somehow seen into your soul and is singing straight to you.

He's in front of you now, and you barely register the fact that he’s bending down, throwing his long legs over the edge of the stage to sit there, as if he weren’t performing for a crowd of 4,000. The girls shriek with even more fervor.

As he begins the spoken part, his legs dangling right there in front of you, he says, “I wonder if you’re lonesome tonight,” staring straight at you once again.

Every nerve in your body is at attention and you know you’ve flushed a shade of cherry red because he smiles knowingly at the effect he’s had on you. He looks away, continuing the rest of the spoken part, and you shiver despite the humid warmth.

Only Margie’s hand clamping over yours reminds you that you are still on earth and that this is indeed all real. And when he looks back at you and says, “I loved you at first glance,” the blood drains from your head straight into your belly and you think you might actually pass out, right there in front of him.

A choked noise escapes your throat and luckily Margie, knowing you as well as she does, starts squeezing your hand with a grip strength you didn’t know was possible from the tiny woman. The pain brings you out of your daze, and you breathe again as he looks away and finishes the song.

It was truly more than you ever could have hoped for and the last three songs of the set fly by. You don’t want it to end, but at least you accomplished what you’d set out to do, which honestly was a little bit of a surprise, despite all your talk at the beginning. For the first time in a long while, you feel a tad bit hopeful about the future. You know it’s probably stupid, this idea that a morsel of attention from Elvis Presley could make you feel valued again, but you feel it all the same. After all, if Elvis thinks your worthy of note, then you must be.

Take that, Mike. You and your secretary can shove it. The thought brings a little smile to your face.

A boisterous version of Hound Dog starts playing and you find yourself grinning from ear to ear, bopping back and forth with Margie. You can’t help but stare at those famous hips as he shakes them oh so perfectly in your direction and are quite mesmerized by them when Margie very pointedly bumps your knee with hers. Looking over, you see a short man in front of you bending towards your ear.

“Hi, Miss, I’m Joe. I work for Elvis, and he would like to see you after the show,” Joe says kindly, presenting it as more of a statement than a question. Your eyebrows shoot up to the sky and you look at him disbelievingly. “You and your friend, of course,” he adds quickly, with a disarming smile.

You shoot Margie a look that you hope conveys the appropriate amount of giddy excitement under the strategically calm look you plaster across your face. It’s one thing to be a mooning schoolgirl with your friend in the audience, but completely different once a very real and unfamiliar young man invites you to meet Elvis Presley.

You give the guy a once over and see the lanyard hanging from his neck that shows that he is indeed working as part of the show, lending some credibility to his request. Margie looks at you with keen eyes, then gives you a shrug of approval before you nod and agree.

“Come with me, ladies, or we’ll be caught in the crowd,” Joe says, ushering you two out of the area before the last song is over. Head spinning, you feel a little regretful that you are missing it, and you are almost out of sight before you realize you’ve left the sign on the floor.

The song and the sign should be the last thing on your mind, but you find your disbelief of the situation feels a little too much to handle as Joe brings you to a black door with a guard standing in front of it. If you had any doubt before, the nod of the guard and the way he instantly opens the door for Joe tells you that this might be real after all.

Margie loops her arm in yours as you step into the dark hallway and Joe leads you away from the stage and the shrieking applause of the arena. By the sound of the immense applause, Elvis’ set is finished and he must be taking his bows.

The butterflies in your stomach make you glad you had only a light dinner as Joe finally opens a door to what you assume is a dressing room. You blink against the light.

“Make yourselves comfortable, ladies. Elvis will be with you shortly,” Joe says before leaving and closing the door behind him.

You break away from Margie, who starts tittering around the room. You are so dazed you barely hear her.

“Are you listening to me, y/n? I cannot believe your silly sign worked! Elvis Presley—the Elvis Presley—wants to see us? I mean, you, really, but hey, I’m glad to be along for the ride! He is awfully handsome, isn’t he?” Margie rambles on.

All you can do is nod while your mind whirls a million miles an hour. Suddenly, all your confidence from before the show disappears and you feel incredibly silly. You’re almost an old woman, for god’s sake. What are you even doing here? What if Elvis comes back, sees how old you really are, and realizes his mistake? Oh, this might be one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done, and that’s saying something.

“Oh, no you don’t, missy. Don’t you give up on me now, not when you’re so close to the finish line!” Margie scolds, then puts her arm around you, leading you to the couch. She sits you down and turns your face to hers.

“He’s gonna take one look at me and run for the hills, Marg,” you whimper.

“Stop it—he will do no such thing. And keep your expectations manageable. We’re just meeting him, that’s all. It’s not like you are going to sleep with the man!” she laughs and shakes her head.

You don’t laugh and Margie stops abruptly. “Oh, my lord above, do you want to sleep with him? Do you think he wants to sleep with you?” she asks, lowering her voice to a whisper, her eyes widening.

This time you can’t help but laugh at her. “Okay, first of all, who doesn’t want to sleep with him? Secondly, I have no idea if he wants that. He’s the biggest star in the world, Marg! I don’t know what his expectations are of the women he brings backstage!” you whisper back, looking around as though there might be lackies lurking about listening to you two chirp away.

Margie now looks as nervous as you feel. She starts playing with her wedding ring in a self-soothing motion and you can’t help but fidget with the simple diamond necklace hanging around your neck.

“Look, it’s probably nothing, right? You just caught his eye and he wants to say hi,” she says, trying to be reassuring but it feels anything but.

“Yes, of course…you don’t think he’ll laugh at me, do you? Like he didn’t just bring us back to make fun of me, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t seem the sort to do that,” she replies, as if she knows the man personally.

Before you can respond, you hear people in the hallway, coming closer by the second. You don’t even have time to look in the mirror because the door opens and the room floods with a loud group of men.

You quickly slide your best confident and nonchalant air over your features, a skill well-practiced from your days going to Mike’s work parties with his insufferable partners and their equally insufferable wives.

The moment Elvis enters the room, the air shifts, as though his essence somehow defies physics and the atoms that make him up are different than the rest of yours. He is glowing, both with sweat and the high of his performance, his gold jacket abandoned to one of his followers along the way. His white ruffled shirt is soaked through with sweat and the sight has you beginning to sweat yourself. It’s as if his pheromones have already sent your hormones into overdrive, and you have the sudden urge to rip that sweaty shirt right off his body.

Instead, you dig your nails into your palm and wait for him to notice you. It takes a moment, what with all the hullabaloo around him. He’s still breathing hard from his performance and laughing with the men. You watch carefully as he pulls off his blue string tie and begins unbuttoning his shirt and rolling his sleeves up his forearms. The scene is so natural and intimately masculine in its way that it sends a shiver down your spine and reminds you that it’s been too long since you’ve had a man if this is all it takes to get you going.

The room suddenly feels very hot and it’s in that moment that Elvis sees you. He gives a low whistle. “Well, if it isn’t the pretty lady with the sign,” he says in his lilting Southern drawl, his eyes never leaving you as he makes his way across the room. Your heart flutters as though a hummingbird is caught in your chest. You stand to greet him.

“Mr. Presley,” you say demurely as he comes to a stop before you and takes your hand in his. The heat from it is blistering on your skin in the best possible way, and when he presses his lips into your fingers without taking those gorgeous blue eyes off you, the zing goes straight into your core.

“Please call me Elvis,” he says in a way that is sweet as pie but with an undercurrent of heat that causes you to blush. “And you are?”

It takes a second for you to remember your own name, and in that short break, Margie jumps up beside you. “She’s y/n, and I’m Margie,” she says, and you hold yourself back from shooting her a scathing look when his eyes shift to her with a kind smile.

A kind smile, but without the same heat, you can’t help but notice.

When he turns back to you and guides you back to the couch, Margie gives you a knowing glance and bites her lips in a smile, obviously trying to hold back a girlish grin.

It doesn’t take long for Elvis to cozy up to you. His arm ends up around the back of the couch and then your shoulders rather quickly, his long fingers drawing soothing circles on your dress. If you were younger and less experienced, this might have been salaciously forward. As it stands, however, sitting here so close to him that you can feel the heat radiate off his sweaty body, it is not even close to enough to satiate you.

Elvis keeps asking you questions, looking at you with endlessly deep blue bedroom eyes framed in long, dark lashes, smudged with remnants of what you assume is eye makeup. You answer his questions, nervous and coy at first, then with increasing candor, because all at once you come to a decision:

You want nothing more than to utterly ruin this boy, despite propriety, despite your reservations and low expectations from earlier. No, judging from the curiously passionate way he keeps looking at you and the increasing tightness in your lower belly, you very much know that you want to take him to bed.

Almost as if he can read your mind, he leans in towards your ear. “Would ya like to come back to my place, darlin’?” he whispers. The hushed, warm cadence of his voice sends tingles sparkling over your body. He’s surprisingly shy about the proposition considering how forward it is, and it’s all you can do to keep from straddling his spread legs right there and then.

Instead, you settle for a nod and a quiet, “I’d like that very much.”

With that, he wastes no time, popping up off the couch and announcing abruptly that it’s time to go. His entourage scrambles to attention, and Margie gives you a quizzical look as Elvis grabs your hand.

You smile at her in the way only a best friend can and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, as though she can’t quite believe your intentions. She’s nervous, you can tell by the way her brow furrows. She begins worrying her lip as the both of you are ushered out and down the dimly lit corridor.

Part of you thinks that perhaps you should be nervous, too. After all, you don’t know Elvis or his people. Yet there is something about him that is utterly disarming—a unique sort of charm perhaps, but it really is more than that. It’s a vulnerability you don’t expect from a man like him. A yearning to connect, maybe.

It’s something that makes him not so different from you.

Before you can really absorb what’s happening, you are whisked into a car with Elvis, Margie, and some of his people, and the lot of you are taken to the Hawaiian Village Hotel. Margie grips one hand while you splay the other on Elvis’ thigh. He lays his larger hand on top and threads his fingers through yours, suggesting a level of intimacy which surprises you. There is a neediness to it, and you have the distinct urge to take care of him in whatever way you can. A knot of warmth grows deep in your belly at the thought.

You feel calmer than you should because, despite his fame, every second you spend with Elvis he becomes less of an untouchable superstar and more of just a man. Even though in any other circumstance you might be afraid being in the company of so many strange men, this feels more like you were meant to be here all along. As if everything in your life has led you to this very night. You are excited, to be sure, but not afraid in the least. In fact, you are feeling more confident than you have in a while, an anticipatory excitement building in you with every passing minute.

Once you get to the hotel, Elvis does not want to let you out of his sight, or even his grasp, which makes it a little hard to convey to Margie all these thoughts of yours. It’s not until you abscond to the bathroom that you are able to get her alone, and even that gains you the cutest little boy pout from the young man who now seemingly has his sights set on only you. You escape only after telling him you must freshen up and give him a long kiss to the cheek, which you notice turns him a little pink.

Margie is beyond hesitant to leave here without you. “Don’t you think you are taking this a little too far, y/n?” she asks you with worry in her eyes.

“Marg, I know what I’m doing, and I’d be crazy not to take this chance. You know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t. And it’s not like I’m some young, innocent thing he’s taking advantage of, am I?” you remind her, checking your makeup and hair in the mirror.

“I guess not. But promise me you’ll be careful! And that you’ll call me. I’ll worry if I don’t hear from you,” she tuts.

“I know and I will. You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you smile, hugging her.

“I know I am,” she says, nodding, then whispers, “You better be ready to share all the details when you get back. A married woman can still be curious, you know.”

You laugh and say goodbye before Margie announces that she’d like to be taken back to your hotel. A few men hop to and she’s off before you know it.

Once she’s gone, Elvis grabs your hand and pulls you back into his suite of rooms, alone.

“You go on and make yourself comfortable, sweetheart. I just need to take a shower and get all this grime offa me,” he drawls, turning to the ensuite bathroom.

Emboldened by the quiet and the dark, you grab his hand and pull him back to you. Cupping his pretty face, you plant a long, lingering kiss full of promise on his lips. You can feel his surprise, at first, but he quickly relents and wraps his arms around you, deepening the kiss. Feeling him pressed against you sends your body into overdrive. Besides an angry and cliché tussle with the mailman after Mike had announced he was leaving, you hadn’t been with anyone in quite a while. That coupled with the raw, magnetic pull that had been growing all night between you and Elvis has your toes curling and your heart racing.

Elvis may be young, but he sure does know how to kiss, you think. His lips are incredibly soft and pliant and gentle, but you can feel his passion brewing just under the surface in the fevered way his hands dig into your back and his cock twitches in his slacks.

Even though you are loathe to do so, you break away first. “You’d better go shower,” you command, smoothing the ruffles on his shirt.

“Y-Yes, m-ma’am,” he manages to choke out, nodding voraciously. With one last peck to your cheek, he absconds quickly, and in his haste leaves the door open a crack. He undresses in what must be record breaking time, which you can hear from how quickly his clothes drop to the floor. Just thinking of him wet and naked mere feet away has slick gathering in your underwear. It takes everything in you to not follow him in.

Yes, you think you just might ruin him tonight, in the best possible way. Honestly, you’re not exactly sure where this self-assurance is coming from, other than the fact that he seems very taken with you and you have nothing to lose. You’re sure he’s quite experienced—there’s no way he wouldn’t be with his age and level of stardom, and while that should give you pause, you still have nearly a decade on the man. While your sex life had dwindled recently, there were plenty of better years when you and Mike went at it like rabbits.

You sit on the edge of the bed, opting not to take of your dress. There’s something about the fact that he will be naked (or nearly so) with you being fully clothed when he walks back in that entices you in such a way that it sends a shiver down your spine. Of course, it would’ve been prudent of you to wear sexier underwear, but you suppose your white lace set will have to do. Plus, you aren’t entirely certain you will be wearing them for long, anyway…

True to your prediction, the shower turns off in record time. You cross your legs and lean back on your hands, casually but expectantly. Elvis is breathless when he flings the door open, as though he just ran a sprint, droplets of water still glistening on his skin. He looks at you with hopeful, needy anticipation.

He's an absolute vision. Never has a man looked so good, you think. God surely spent extra time crafting this one, what with his high cheekbones and sparkling blue eyes and perfect lips. You make no secret of the way you take in his whole body, either, and his lips part and his eyes widen and you can’t tell if he’s maybe a little self-conscious by the way your gaze is raking over him.

You don’t care. The rapid rise and fall of his chest as he watches you tells you he’s enjoying it. His towel is slung low, wrapped and tucked in around his waist. There’s no hiding how his cock is hardening beneath it, the terrycloth twitching and tenting right before your eyes. Between that and the disheveled state of his wet hair, it makes you want to lick him dry in more ways than one.

You uncross your legs slowly and use one finger to beckon him forward in a come-hither action. You’d seen him do the same in one of his movies last year, but my oh my, how the tables have turned. He gulps visibly, his eyes drifting from your legs to your finger and back again, then pads towards you on the plush carpet until he’s standing right before you.

Looking up at him, you bite your lip coquettishly and see his eyes dilate. Your gaze drifts down his chest to his stomach, then follows the little trail of hair that goes from his belly button and disappears beneath the towel. You can’t help pressing your lips right above his navel and you feel him shudder against you, which you take as a sign to keep going. Kissing across his soft but lean stomach, then down that little trail, you open your legs and grab his hips, pulling him forward to you. He trips over his own feet to get there.

When your hands skirt the edge of the towel and begin to pull it open, his hand stops you. You look up at him to find him shaking his head bashfully.

“Y-y-you don’t h-hafta do that, m-ma’am,” he stammers out, belying his nervousness. You can’t seem to piece out why, exactly, because by the quite prominent erection he’s sporting right in front of your face, it’s evident that he’s excited by the notion. Perhaps he’s used to pretty, young things who don’t know what they are doing, or maybe the notorious 50’s rebel is a little old fashioned. But if there’s one thing you became quite skilled at in the last few years (in the failed hopes it might help your marriage), it was how to make a man fall apart in your mouth. You’d even developed quite the taste for it.

And something about the way he is calling you “ma’am” in his delightful and polite Southern accent has you licking your lips. “Oh, I know I don’t have to, baby,” you coo at him, “but I want to.” And with that, you unravel the towel and let it drop to the floor.

Elvis lets out a choked groan and his hands flail as though he wants to cover the magnificent member that springs forth before you, slapping up against his stomach. You swat his hands away, lips parting with a sigh as you take him in.

He’s intact, the red tip of him nestled under lighter foreskin. Perhaps that why his cheeks are as pink as they are. You’d heard women titter in whispers about uncircumcised men being “ugly” or “unclean,” and while you didn’t have any personal experience with it, it does not turn you off in the least. Quite the opposite, if fact, as you can feel your arousal soaking the fabric between your thighs. What is beyond evident is that God didn’t just give him a pretty voice and a pretty face—he’s got a cock to match.

“Perfect,” you sigh and smile up at him, rubbing encouraging little circles at his hipbone with your thumb.

He lets out a shaking breath and a look of relief passes quickly over his features, but there is still a vulnerable hesitance about him. It does something primal to you. You just want to eat him right up.

But before that, you think he’s due for a little teasing. It’s the least you can do after the show he put on for you earlier and how it had made you ruin your panties to watch him live on stage. Pressing your lips along the cut of his groin, you feel the tickle of the course thatch of hair he’s got curling around the base of him. He shivers violently with each kiss, holding back a strangled moan as you get closer and closer to the place he wants you the most. Not seeming to know what to do with his hands, they flounder a bit before resting lightly on your shoulders, the heat of them blazing through your dress.

Using just the tip of your pointer finger, you run it under and up his large ball sack, noticing the way they seem to draw in closer and the way he jumps when you do so. Your other hand reaches around to grab his perfectly round ass cheek to keep him near and steady. The cutest little yelp falls out of his mouth. You smile, finally dragging your finger up the silky soft flesh covering his rock-hard shaft.

He jolts, the long length of his cock bouncing toward you, knowing and eager for what you have in store for him. The tip of your finger circles the slit of him, already weepy with precum, and you see how sensitive he is around his foreskin when he sucks in a short breath as your finger circles that, too.

Without warning him, you run the tip of your tongue from base to head, savoring the clean but still musky scent of him as you go. You look up to see his eyes roll back and his lips part, a whisper of “Goddamn,” falling from his mouth like a prayer.

You kiss and lap your way back down then take him in your hand to tilt his cock down to you. The heavy feel of him in your palm coupled with the way his hands tighten and dig into the fabric of your dress has you knowing you are on the right track. You pump him once, twice, three times, your wrist twisting and changing pressure to see what makes him moan the most. When you find the right combination, you swirl your tongue around his leaking tip before closing your mouth around it.

The low keen that vibrates out of him is desperate and sensual. Your thighs tighten around his legs, boxing him in, and your pussy clenches around nothing, yearning for friction. Right now, you concentrate on taking him in your mouth, lathing your flattened tongue up and down his penis while you suck in, sealing yourself around him.

It’s then that his hands finally fly up to your hair, carting through it, and you can feel him holding back. It’s good that he knows you are in charge, and he fully submits to how you begin working his balls and the hilt of him with one hand as you inch his ample length further into your mouth.

Obscene moans are falling past his lips now, only getting louder when you match them with your own, the vibrations causing him to thrust a little down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants as you press him past your gag reflex, your throat tightening then relaxing around him. His legs tremble and you pull off him for a moment to catch your breath, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to him still.

Elvis whimpers and you smile up at him, using your hand to pump him fully. You reckon he’s not going to last long in this by the way he’s crumbling so beautifully in front of you. The urge to want to choke on his cock comes over you so strongly that you can’t wait any longer. You take him back down your throat quickly enough that his eyes pop open in surprise and his hand finally tightens in your hair the way you want it to.

He's bigger than Mike in every way, but you don’t let that deter you. No, you feel quite confident as you open your throat for him as best you can, all the while working him with your tongue and hand. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you could conquer the world, despite your age, despite being divorced, because you are going to make the king of rock and roll himself unravel at your feet. The thought has you soaking your panties as Elvis murmurs your praises.

“I-I-I’m not gonna…last…gonna blow if ya keep this up, mama,” he pants, trying to pull away as if not wanting to sully you. But you are far too experienced and far too aroused for such sentiment. Instead, you grab his ass in both hands and press him so far down that your nose hits his pelvis. Feeling him tense and shudder, you give him every trick at once, relishing his pleasure as it serves your own. His strangled cry fills the air as he pulses in your mouth, shooting his salty release straight down your throat as you swallow around him.

The pleasured run of expletives he’s moaning must be loud enough for others to hear, but that arouses you even more because you are causing it. His body shakes hard through his orgasm, and he bows over you, clutching your head in an effort to stay standing. When you finally pull off him, his saliva-covered dick is still heavy and hard.

Ah, youth, you think with a smile.

“Oh, oh mama,” he says breathlessly, “that w-was…oh lord...” Then he collapses next to you on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in a daze.

You shift your body sideways so you can look down at him in his fucked-out afterglow. Somehow, he’s even more beautiful now than he was before, both innocent and debauched all at once, his high cheekbones flushed and his eyes dark and sparkling with lust. You can’t help but run your hand down his heaving chest, just to prove that this vision is real.

The action focuses him and he looks over at you, concerned, his hand cupping your cheek. “You okay? Y-ya really din’t have ta do that, honey,” he says quietly, his dark brows furrowing together handsomely.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, baby. I loved it,” you say, smiling. “Can I show you how much?”

His eyes widen and he nods.

As bold as you’ve ever been, you take his other hand in yours, tucking it under your dress. Slowly, you run his fingers along the inside of your thigh. His callouses catch on your silky stockings and you hear him hum in approval when you reach the past where your garter belt holds them up and your soft, bare flesh is exposed to his touch. There is no stopping you now, and when you guide his fingers to the sopping fabric between your legs, you watch as his lips part in what can only be described as a reverent, aroused awe.

“Ohhhh,” is about all he’s able to get out, and your body yields to him, legs falling open of their own accord as a sigh tumbles from your lips. You dip his fingers under the band that separates you and press him into the slick, and that’s all it takes for the boy to snap to attention.

In a fast, fluid motion, his lips capture yours, and he reverses your positions so you are lying back on the bed. As his mouth explores above, his fingers mirror below, caressing through your slick folds before circling your clit. It only takes him a moment of experimentation to find what makes you quake and roll in his hand—he’s obviously skilled in the art of a woman’s body, you’ll give him that.

You moan into his mouth when he pushes two long fingers up into your wet heat. Your pussy clenches around him, tight and needy, reminding you it’s been neglected for far too long. Pumping wickedly slow, he uses his tongue in your mouth to mimic what he’s doing to your clit with his thumb. God, you want him to devour you whole, you think as your nails dig into the bare flesh of his back and he curves his fingers inside you just so.

“Elvis!” you gasp and that cheeky lip of his curls up into that famous smirk. It turns your stomach gooey and molten, and your cunt squeezes demandingly around his fingers.

Kissing down your neck, his descent is thwarted by your dress. You whine when his fingers leave you and he pulls you to sit up. In one fell swoop, he deftly unzips your dress and yanks it up over your head, discarding it unceremoniously on the floor. Hungrily, his eyes rake over your form, and the scrutiny would usually have you a tad self-conscious, but he’s on you so fast, nipping at your skin, that you couldn’t care less what you look like.

The boy is proving quite proficient in removing undergarments, unclasping your bra with such skill that you barely realize it’s off before it joins your dress in a heap on the floor. You can’t think about much of anything with how his lips pepper your breasts with kisses, and when he attaches softly to your nipple, suckling there, the zinging sensation shoots straight through you and into your aching pussy.

You want him everywhere, your soft sighs of, “yes, yes, yes” urging him on. Running his hands up your legs, he slowly pops each clasp that holds up your stockings, his thumbs massaging maddening circles on the sensitive inner flesh of your upper thighs. Shivers ripple through you when he starts rolling the silky fabric off each leg, kissing each new inch of skin he exposes as he goes.

“Look at these pretty yittle sooties,” he coos as he takes off your heels and stockings, his hands massaging your sore arches. Your body, already on high alert, nearly levitates off the bed at the delectable it-hurts-so-good feeling. His lips press into your ankles, slowly trailing their way back up to your sex.

Oh, he’s good. You didn’t expect this, though perhaps you should have. The closer he gets to the ruined gusset of your panties, the faster your chest swells. It’s been a long time since any one has been down there like this, and you almost stop him, but the feel of his mussed damp hair tickling your thighs has you in quite a state. You suppose turnabout is fair play when he lightly and quickly presses his tongue into your core over the fabric, teasing what you hope is to come.

He switches gears and makes surprisingly quick work of your garter belt. His eyes flash in the darkness as he takes your panties in his teeth, dragging them with a playful growl down your legs. Completely exposed for him, he yanks you to the edge of the bed and pushes gently on your knees, spreading you open with a delight you didn’t know was possible.

“All that for me, mama?” he asks quietly, running the tip of his finger through your dripping arousal before putting it in his mouth and licking it clean. It’s so wonderfully dirty, making your cunt throb for attention.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding furiously. When he licks his lips, you think you might die from waiting, but then he’s on you, his tongue lathing wide and flat from your ass to your clit.

You don’t recognize the sounds coming out of your mouth, the sensation of his wet softness exploring your most intimate areas being so overwhelming that it is hard to focus. He kisses and swirls around your puffy little nub, and your fingers fly into his dark hair, clasping the wet strands. When he hums against you in response, the vibrations have you gasping.

He continues his work, his tongue pointedly lapping through your swollen folds to your entrance. You think you might be dreaming when he begins fucking you with his tongue, and the tightness in your belly clinches when he flicks his finger over your clit rapidly.

“Oh, god,” you groan, hips undulating against his face, needing more of him. You had set out to ruin this man tonight and now he is undoing you piece by piece instead. He is a responsive and intuitive lover, you realize, as he replaces his tongue with his much longer fingers, pressing up into your body with precision.

Gaping, you push up on your elbows as he pulls back, and you catch the stunning sight of his pretty face slick with your arousal, looking at your cunt with determined reverence. He finds that spongey spot up inside you and takes that moment to fix his mouth to your sensitive bud and your eyes roll back in your head as you arch off the mattress to be closer to the heaven he’s bringing you to.

Fire spreads from your belly into the rest of your body, and you feel your climax closing in on you rapidly, despite part of you wanting this to last forever. When you realize he’s moaning against you and rutting against the bed, it sends a whole new set of fireworks through your nerves.

He’s getting off on this, you think. My pleasure his getting him off.

And there’s nothing sexier than that.

Adding another finger, he fucks you faster, harder, all the while massaging your clit intentionally with his tongue. He is a man on a mission now, and the searing wave of heat crests inside of you. All it takes is the guttural moan he lets go against you and you break apart.

Your fingers dig into his scalp and you thrust into his face as you come. It hits you hard and you cry out as he fucks you through it, catapulting you from your sensitive body to somewhere in the stratosphere.

Your eyelids flutter as you float back down to earth. The feel of his tongue licking up your release has you shuddering against him.

“Oh. Oh,” is all you can seem to manage, and you stare up at the ceiling wondering what good deed you did in your life to deserve this.

You feel Elvis slide his body up yours to lay beside you. He kisses up your neck until he reaches your lips, and you taste the tang of yourself on him. It shouldn’t entice you, but it does. Lying there, his naked body pressed against your side, you feel the hot heaviness of his erection hard against your hip.

“Best poster I ever made,” you breathe out, your filter completely gone after your mind-blowing orgasm.

Elvis chuckles in your hair. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman’s age, young man?” you tease, poking into his side.

“Hey now! I jus’ wanna make sure I don’t hurt ya. Don’t wanna send you to the home quite yet,” he smirks, then bites your shoulder.

“Oh, one of us is going to the home alright, and it’s not me,” you retort, pushing him over and flipping on top of him. “I’ll show you.”

He grunts as you straddle his hips. “Yes, ma’am, you’d better show me,” he says coyly.

“Good boy.” You grind down on him.

Being in your 30s has never been so sweet.

TAGLIST

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood

@sassanoe  @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 

 @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @misspresley 

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-little-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @ amydarcimarie @idontwanttoputanything  @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj @claire-elvisgirl @everythingelvispresley @louisejoy86 

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Scarlett 🔥 8816   http://www.steveb29.com/2024/08/5845-scarlett.html

[r0cketsh1p-tf]

Tag dump (pt. 1)

(Pt.2)

[pjackk]

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[cheftsunoda]

Hello! 🧚🏼

I'm not sure if you have any specific rules or guidelines when it comes to requesting, however I absolutely adore all of your poly fics and I've reread them so often! I'm just wondering if you'd ever consider doing a Yuki x Pierre x Reader? I'm open to anything with them honeslty. Your writing is so so good!! <3

If you aren't okay with it, that's absolutely no worries at all! ⭐️✨

(anything for you baby doll) (u made me blush and i hope you enjoy the fic)

haute and bothered — pg10 + yt22

smau + blurbs

pierre gasly x !hadjar fashion editor reader x yuki tsunoda

isack hadjar x !older sister fashion editor reader

YN Hadjar is Vogue France’s sharpest editor and the undisputed definition of elegance. A force in the fashion world, she’s used to front rows, flashing cameras, and never being the one caught off guard. But when she crosses paths with her younger brother’s teammate and his best friend at a fashion event, a playful request for style advice quickly unravels into something far more complicated—and far more intoxicating.

fc : aylin elma + various pinterest gals

before you read! : isack + yuki are still teammates for plot purposes— thank u, love u, bye

—

yn_hadjar

liked by isackhadjar, voguefrance, olliebearman and 1,205,777 others.

yn_hadjar : where to next? ✈️💐

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view 127,045 other comments.

isackhadjar : how about to come see your little brother and go to one of his races? 🙄

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : we are literally going to the same event tonight and i’ve cleared my weekend for you. can we please keep the dramatics to a minimum?

liked by isackhadjar

username0 : yn! will you be dressing isack for the event?

↳ yn_hadjar : obv. i cannot be seen with him in something that he came up with.

↳ isackhadjar : she literally used to set out my clothes for school the next day and she still does it for me now.

liked by yn_hadjar and username0

username15 : everyone shut up. these two r so important to me.

voguefrance : our girllll 😻🔥

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visacashapprb : we can’t wait for our fave sibling duo to be reunited 💙

liked by yn_hadjar and isackhadjar

jacquemus : we 💛 you!

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olliebearman : my favorite fashion icon

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↳ yn_hadjar : my favorite f1 rookie

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↳ isack_hadjar : excusez-moi???

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yn_hadjar : he goes out of his way to read my editorials. do you???

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↳ isack_hadjar : no comment.

lewishamilton : 🔥🔥

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↳ isack_hadjar : can you two date so he can be part of the family?

liked by lewishamilton and yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : menace

alexandrasaintmleux : si belle ma chérie <3

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—

yn_hadjar added posts to her story!

seen by isackhadjar, olliebearman, yukitsunoda0511 & 1,809,253 others.

{caption 1 : @/hugo_official event tonight} {caption 2 : someone tell him to take this off and put on what i pick out before i disown him.}

olliebearman : just disown him and adopt me as your brother

liked by yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : deal

isackhadjar : i kinda got ts on tho

liked by yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : you look like a gym teacher not like you’re about to be on a red carpet representing your team.

isackhadjar : fine then what event would you approve this outfit for

yn_hadjar : save it for your mid life crisis era

visacashapprb : thank you for making him change, yn.

liked by yn_hadjar

yukitsunoda0511 : can’t wait for my styling class you promised :)

liked by yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : can’t wait for that meal you promised to make me after

pierregasly : si jolie mon amour

liked by yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : merci mon angeeeee

—

I didn’t knock. I stormed into Isack’s hotel room like a woman on a mission—because I was. We had exactly ninety minutes until the Hugo event, and if my beloved younger brother showed up looking like a clown, it would somehow reflect badly on me. And sure enough, the universe really said, “Let’s test her.” I stopped cold. He turned around slowly, like he’d been waiting for this moment. Like he knew exactly what he’d done.

“Isack.”

He was wearing a shiny, deep red satin shirt, only half-buttoned, tucked into chaotically patterned pants that clashed so hard I actually squinted. And to top it all off? White Oakleys. Inside.

“What. The hell. Are you wearing.”

He gave me the most infuriating smile known to man. “It’s giving ‘fashion-forward driver off-duty,’ no?”

“It’s giving ’man lost in the sale bin at a Las Vegas souvenir shop.’” I walked in and tossed my bag on the bed. “Take. It. Off.”

"YN. Come on. It's kind of iconic."

“It’s kind of traumatic.”

He laughed, clearly proud of himself. “I wanted to see how mad I could make you before you threatened violence.”

“You’re so lucky we share DNA.”

I yanked open the garment bag hanging on the back of the door and pulled out the actual look he was supposed to wear— tailored black trousers, the clean charcoal turtleneck, and that sharp Hugo jacket that made him look like he belonged in a campaign. My campaign.

“You’re wearing this. Non-negotiable.”

“Jeez. Do you treat all your models like this?”

“No. Just the ones who try to show up to a luxury fashion event dressed like Pitbull’s stylist during a midlife crisis.”

He muttered something under his breath as he started unbuttoning the shirt, but I was too busy hiding a smile to care. Honestly, I didn’t know what was waiting for us downstairs or who else would be there. I just knew that if Isack made his red carpet debut in that outfit, I’d have to resign from fashion entirely. And that was simply not an option.

—

The Hugo event was in full swing by the time we arrived—cameras flashing, music pulsing, champagne being passed around like water. Isack, thankfully, looked decent in the outfit I’d forced him into. Better than decent, actually. Smug little bastard knew it too. We stepped inside the venue and he immediately peeled off to talk to someone from the team. I stayed behind near the bar, doing a lazy scan of the room. Models, stylists, influencers, the usual mix. I was half-distracted answering an email when I heard Isack’s voice again—closer this time.

“YN,” he said, a little too casually. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I looked up. Next to him stood Yuki Tsunoda, who I recognized from the grid but had never actually met. He was dressed immaculately—double-breasted navy suit, crisp collar, Hugo brooch pinned just so. And standing beside him, just slightly behind, was Pierre Gasly. All charm and smirk, wearing that kind of black turtleneck that only worked when you were French and stupidly handsome.

Yuki gave me a polite smile. “Hi. Teammate-slash-regretful Oakley enabler.”

I blinked, caught off guard by how quick he was. “So you’re the one who told him the sunglasses were a good idea.”

Yuki nodded solemnly. “I can’t be trusted before 6 p.m.”

I laughed—genuinely. “Well. At least you’re self-aware.”

Isack, annoyingly pleased with himself, gestured between us. “YN, Yuki. Yuki, YN. This is my very controlling older sister. She works at Vogue. Bosses people around. Yells at me a lot.”

“I keep him alive,” I corrected.

Yuki’s eyes twinkled. “She yells fashionably.”

Pierre stepped forward then, offering his hand. “And I’m just the plus-one. Pierre.”

“Vogue France,” I replied, shaking it with a tilt of my head. “YN Hadjar. And no one is just the plus-one if they wear a turtleneck that well.”

He grinned, teeth flashing. “Merci. I dressed to impress.”

“You succeeded.”

Isack groaned like we were already too much. “I shouldn’t have introduced any of you. I can feel the ego growing in the room.”

“Relax,” I said, taking a flute of champagne from a passing tray. “If anything, this might be the most normal group here.”

Yuki raised his glass. “Cheers to that.”

—

The party had started to blur. Most of the photographers had cleared out, the music had slowed to something low and hypnotic, and people were either drunk, half-asleep on velvet couches, or deep in conversation with whoever they were hoping to leave with. I’d lost Isack about an hour ago—probably cornered by a PR rep or sneaking off to find sliders. I was tucked into a quieter corner of the venue, perched on a velvet bench with a glass of wine in hand, shoes dangling from my fingers. And somehow—like gravity knew exactly what it was doing—Yuki and Pierre ended up there with me. They’d brought more drinks. I wasn’t even sure when they left to get them.

“This is your version of relaxing?” Pierre asked, settling in beside me with one arm stretched along the back of the booth. His thigh brushed mine casually—but it stayed there. “Watching the fashion crowd fall apart after midnight?”

“It’s better than the Met Gala,” I teased, swirling the wine in my glass. “No one’s pretending to be sober.”

Yuki laughed, sitting on my other side, close enough for our shoulders to touch. “You really know everyone in this world, don’t you?”

“I’m paid to,” I said, shrugging. “It’s part of the job. Know the faces, the designers, the drama. And make sure the magazine doesn’t implode.”

Pierre leaned in slightly, eyes warm. “So what happens when we ask you for your professional opinion?”

I arched a brow. “You mean you’re not just here for the free champagne and Isack’s tragic outfit reveal?”

Yuki smirked. “That was worth the invite alone.”

Pierre tilted his head. “But seriously. If someone… let’s say two very handsome drivers, wanted to evolve their wardrobes. Less teamwear, more… effortless Parisian heartthrob—could you help?”

I looked between the two of them—Pierre’s charming grin, Yuki’s quiet curiosity. The idea was ridiculous. And kind of… adorable.

“You want me to style you?” I asked, pretending to sound skeptical, even as something fluttered in my chest.

Pierre gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Why not? You have the eye. And we trust your taste.”

Yuki added, voice a little softer now, “We trust you.”

That—that—was what did it. The way he said it. Like it wasn’t a throwaway line. I let the silence sit for a second, the energy shifting in that charged, unspoken way you don’t quite want to look at too directly.

“Fine,” I said, lifting my glass. “But if I style you, you have to give me full control. No last-minute Oakleys. No sneakers with suits. No team caps unless we’re on a track.”

Pierre lifted his glass to mine. “Deal.”

Yuki smiled, slow and sure. “As long as you’re the one undressing us.”

I choked on my wine.

Pierre smacked him lightly on the shoulder, laughing while very pointedly not denying anything. And me? I just sat there between them, flushed and flustered, fully aware I might be in so much trouble. And maybe… maybe I didn’t mind one bit.

—

The fitting studio I booked was quiet—no interns, no stylists, no chaos. Just warm lighting, racks of carefully curated looks, a stack of espresso cups on the side table, and two very smug drivers sprawled across the velvet couch like they were born for it.

“Okay,” I said, clapping once for drama. “Fashion boot camp begins now.”

Pierre stretched his arms behind his head. “I’m ready to be transformed.”

Yuki leaned back with that deceptively innocent look on his face. “Are you going to watch us change, or…?”

“Don’t tempt me,” I muttered under my breath, already pulling hangers from the rack.

I handed Yuki a dark forest green suit with a satin lapel and shoved Pierre a moody charcoal turtleneck and tailored check trousers. They disappeared behind the curtain with too many smirks and zero urgency, clearly enjoying how flustered I already was. Pierre stepped out first, tugging the sleeves into place, and honestly? He looked unfairly good. Like something from a magazine I’d kill to shoot for.

He turned in front of the mirror, then looked at me over his shoulder. “Well?”

I crossed my arms. “Could use a belt.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You gonna help me with that too?”

Before I could answer, Yuki appeared—and my mouth actually fell open.

The suit fit like it was tailored to his existence. Clean lines, sharp collar, a single undone button at the top. He noticed my stare immediately.

“Too much?” he asked, feigning bashfulness.

I blinked. “It’s… dangerous, actually.”

Yuki smirked, stepping closer. “Dangerous how?”

“Dangerous like I might start taking back my professionalism clause.”

Pierre came to stand on my other side. “Remind me—did that clause include hands-on adjustments?”

He was teasing, but there was something in the air now. He was close. They both were. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of them, smell their cologne. It was suddenly hard to focus on fashion.

“You’re both ridiculous,” I muttered, reaching to adjust the lapel on Yuki’s jacket, fingers brushing his chest. He didn’t move. Then I turned to Pierre, smoothing the shoulder seam, just barely grazing his collarbone. He didn’t move either.

“You’re blushing,” Yuki said softly, and I hated that he was right.

“You’re both standing way too close,” I whispered.

“Maybe we like it here,” Pierre replied, voice low, steady.

It hit me then—how easy this had become. The three of us in a quiet studio, skin brushing, laughter on our lips, heat simmering just below the surface. I had invited them here to play stylist, to stay in control. But somewhere in the middle of the zippers and buttons and side glances, I’d lost my upper hand. And for once… I didn’t really care.

—

I was trying to play it cool. Trying to pretend I didn’t just spend the last hour dressing two of the most dangerously attractive men alive and getting thoroughly wrecked by the way they looked in my clothes. Professionally speaking, of course. But then Pierre ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the mirror like he belonged in a Saint Laurent campaign, and Yuki looked at me with that quiet, unreadable expression of his—the one that always made me feel like he already knew what I was thinking.

“You didn’t give us a grade,” Pierre said. “On our final looks.”

I exhaled, tucking my phone back into my pocket. “You passed. Barely.”

Yuki grinned. “That sounds like a dinner-worthy score.”

I looked between them. “You want to go to dinner like this? Fully styled?”

Pierre tilted his head. “You did say no team caps. We’re trying to be on our best behavior.”

Yuki stepped closer, casual but intentional. “Come on. We’ll feed you. You’ve been working hard. You’ve earned a glass of wine that doesn’t taste like it came from the Hugo party’s gift bag.”

I raised a brow. “Are you bribing me with carbs and alcohol?”

Pierre smiled slowly. “Is it working?”

It was. God, it so was. And maybe it was the lighting or the way they were both looking at me—equal parts challenge and invitation—but suddenly dinner didn’t feel like just dinner. It felt like… the next page of something we weren’t ready to name yet. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, fighting a smile. “Fine. But if we’re going out, you’re both paying. For emotional labor. And trauma. From Isack’s outfit this morning.”

Yuki laughed. “Fair.”

Pierre offered his arm like a damn movie character. “Lead the way, Hadjar.”

I took it—of course I did—and let Yuki fall into step beside me. And as the three of us stepped out into the night, our reflections in the shop window caught my eye. We looked good together.

—

Dinner was supposed to be normal. A low-key place tucked into a side street in the 7th arrondissement. Candlelight flickering against the windows, soft jazz humming in the background, and a little corner table that Pierre insisted on—for privacy, he said with a wink. I’d let them order for me. I was too busy trying to process what exactly this was. A friendly dinner? A thank-you? A tease? I didn’t know. But I was wearing heels again. And lip gloss. So it wasn’t nothing.

Pierre had undone the top two buttons of his shirt, gold chain peeking through. Yuki looked effortless in a crisp white tee under a jacket I hadn’t even realized I picked for him earlier. They looked like trouble. Like my trouble. Conversation was easy—almost too easy. Laughter flowing, legs brushing occasionally beneath the table. We talked about the grid, my job, fashion week disasters, and how Yuki once fell asleep mid-photoshoot.

“I was jet-lagged,” he said, totally unapologetic.

Pierre chuckled. “The stylist threatened to cry. He still follows Yuki on Instagram.”

Yuki smirked, taking a sip of wine, and then leaned toward me just a little. “Would you cry if we fell asleep during a fitting?”

“I’d make sure you didn’t wake up in anything flattering,” I shot back.

That earned a soft laugh—and then, casually, effortlessly, Yuki let his hand fall under the table. And found my knee. My brain short-circuited. It wasn’t a graze. It wasn’t an accident. His fingers curled lightly just above the hem of my skirt, warm and unhurried. Just… there. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just… interested. I swallowed. Pierre didn’t notice at first. He was halfway through a story about a party and a very confused DJ. But then his gaze drifted down. He saw the way I shifted in my seat, just slightly. The way Yuki’s hand stayed. And his expression changed. Slowly. He smirked. Looked back up at me.

“You okay?” he asked, innocently.

I cleared my throat. “Mhm. Wine’s strong.”

Pierre leaned closer, voice low. “Is it the wine… or the company?”

I didn’t answer. Because Yuki was tracing slow, gentle circles against my thigh now, his face unreadable, like we weren’t in a room full of people. Pierre’s foot tapped mine under the table. Light. Intentional. Okay. So I wasn’t imagining this. I set down my fork, took a long sip of wine, and smiled—sweet, measured, practiced.

“Both,” I said. “Obviously.”

They didn’t push. Not yet. Just sat back, smug and satisfied, the tension between us like a stretched silk ribbon, ready to snap. And I realized then—this dinner wasn’t just dinner.

—

The air outside had that warm, early summer weight to it—the kind that clung to your skin like a secret. We left the restaurant slowly, like no one wanted to break whatever fragile thing had formed between the wine and the way Yuki’s hand lingered on my thigh. Pierre walked on my right, close enough that our arms brushed every few steps. Yuki was on my left, quiet but there, his hand grazing the small of my back as we waited for the crosswalk light to change. Paris looked soft at night. Golden. But the silence between us buzzed with anything but calm.

“You live around here?” Pierre asked casually, like he didn’t already know from the reservation name and the way I’d reflexively glanced down the street.

“Mhm,” I replied, lips curled just slightly. “About five minutes.”

Yuki looked over. “We could walk you.”

“You are walking me.”

“Then maybe we finish the job.”

I bit back a smile. When we reached my building, I stopped on the steps, keys dangling between my fingers. They both turned toward me, waiting. Expectant, but never pushing.

“You could come up,” I said carefully, not looking at either of them yet. “Just for a bit. If you want.”

Pierre tilted his head, slow grin spreading. “Are you inviting us up because you want help reorganizing your closet?”

I looked at him. “I’m inviting you up because I had dinner with two men who managed to flirt, emotionally destabilize me, and look criminally good in every outfit I styled. So. No. Not for the closet.”

Yuki’s smile was softer. But his eyes held something heavier. “We don’t have to come in.”

I finally met his gaze. “I know.”

And I did. That was the thing. There was no pressure here—just possibility. The kind of quiet, magnetic maybe that I’d spent years writing off. But tonight? With them? It didn’t feel like a risk. It felt inevitable. I pushed the door open. And when I looked back over my shoulder, they were already following me in—Pierre with that devil-may-care confidence, Yuki with that quiet steadiness that somehow made me feel safer than I expected.

I closed the door behind us, letting the soft click of the lock settle between us. Pierre wandered further in, glancing around with casual curiosity—his fingertips dragging across the back of my sofa like he was trying to read the room through touch. Yuki stayed near the door. Watching me. Always watching.

“You really live like a Vogue editor,” Pierre murmured, picking up a coffee table book and flipping it open. “Minimalist. Expensive.”

“I try,” I said, leaning against the entry wall, pulse fluttering under my skin. “Want the tour?”

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “You offering… the apartment? Or something else?”

I blinked at him, and something must’ve shifted in my face, because he smiled like he already knew my answer.

“I don’t play games,” I said, quieter this time.

Pierre had crossed the room by then. He was in front of me before I realized how fast he’d moved, his hand ghosting along my hip. “Good. Because I’m not here to waste time.”

Yuki came closer too—slow and measured. His fingertips grazed mine as he passed me, just a brush, but I felt it in my spine.

“I just want to make sure you want this,” he said, voice low. “That this isn’t about wine or adrenaline or proving a point.”

I looked at him. Then Pierre. Two different energies. One storm. One fire. And somehow, I wanted to get lost in both.

“I invited you up, didn’t I?” I asked.

Pierre smiled like I’d handed him something precious. He leaned in first—his lips brushing mine, warm and teasing. Not claiming. Just tasting. Yuki’s hand slid up the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair. His kiss came next. Slower. Like he had all night. Like I could take as long as I needed to decide. But I didn’t need long. I reached for both of them—tugging Pierre closer by his shirt, letting Yuki pull me against his chest, our bodies finding a rhythm I hadn’t even realized we’d been building all night. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was intentional. Lips on my neck. Fingers on my waist. The kind of warmth that blooms low in your belly and makes you forget your own name. Somehow we made it to the bedroom without breaking apart too long. Jackets hit the floor. Pierre’s chain dangled against my skin. Yuki’s voice whispered things in Japanese that I didn’t understand but felt in my bones. They treated me like something rare. Reverent. Like I was the thing they’d both been waiting for. And when everything finally faded into soft moans and tangled limbs, when my skin was flushed and my breath shaky, I realized—This wasn’t just about pleasure. It was about belonging.

—

yn_hadjar

liked by isackhadjar, yukitsunoda0511, pierregasly & 2,090,555 others.

yn_hadjar : jet lagged as fuck so have a photo dump

—

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chanelofficial : always timeless 🩷🤍

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username0 : am i delusional or does that look like yuki in the bed??

↳ username15 : i thought the same thing but then the other pic looks like pierre

username0 : oh to be in a yukierre sandwich

isackhadjar : why is there an unknown man in your bed?

↳ yn_hadjar : who said he is unknown?

isackhadjar : i am ending it all

yukitsunoda0511 : don’t remember you taking that

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : u were 😴

username0 : not delusional.

pierregasly : white looks good on me, no?

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↳ yn_hadjar : you look good in anything

lilymhe : you are so beautiful it is insane

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↳ yn_hadjar : you are so kind 🥺

—

yukitsunoda0511

liked by yn_hadjar, pierregasly, isackhadjar & 1,220,005 others.

yukitsunoda0511 : dubyeeeeee

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pierregasly : still have frosting up my nose

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↳ yn_hadjar : my bad

username0 : unexpected trio on a vacay together??

yn_hadjar : was not prepared for a thirst trap on my feed

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↳ yukitsunoda0511 : don't act like you don't like it

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isackhadjar : are you just a professional third wheel now?

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↳ yukitsunoda0511 : mmm if third wheeling involves being apart of it then sure

username0 : YUKI

—

pierregasly added a post to his story!

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yn_hadjar added posts to her story!

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{caption 1 : never let me drive in the sand} {caption 2 : i don't want to leave}

pierregasly : you are so beautiful

liked by yn_hadjar

isackhadjar : wait- why are you in dubai too??

↳ yn_hadjar : happened to be over here for something with work

↳ isackhadjar : oh ok

↳ isackhadjar : you look beautiful though ma sœur

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yn_hadjar : first nice thing you've said in years. love you

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alexandrasaintmleux : i think i am finally catching on here;)

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↳ yn_hadjar : glad someone is because isack sure isn't

yukitsunoda0511 : 美少女

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—

The desert stretched out endlessly beneath a blazing sky, waves of sand rolling like golden ocean tides. The sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows and painting everything with a soft, honeyed glow. Yuki, Pierre, and I had escaped the noise of the city for a few hours, trading skyscrapers for silence and luxury for raw nature. We stopped the jeep on the crest of a dune, and the world felt impossibly vast and quiet. The wind whispered through the sand, carrying a scent of earth and something wild. I kicked off my shoes, letting the warm grains sift between my toes. Pierre pulled a blanket from the back of the jeep and spread it out. We settled down close, the three of us a small island of warmth in the wide, empty desert. Yuki reached out and took my hand, fingers threading together naturally, as if this had always been meant to be.

“I could stay here forever,” he murmured, eyes soft in the fading light.

I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder. Pierre draped an arm around both of us, and suddenly the desert didn’t feel so big anymore. It felt like home. As the sun sank lower, the sky exploded into color—pinks, oranges, and purples bleeding into one another. We sat in comfortable silence, watching the horizon burn and cool at once. Yuki whispered something funny, and Pierre laughed, the sound low and warm. The first stars began to blink awake above us, shy at first, then confident, until the entire sky was a glittering dome. I felt their hands tighten around mine, grounding me in that perfect moment. The desert was endless and timeless, but right there, wrapped in their arms, I knew exactly where I belonged.

—

The soft chime of the boutique’s doorbell barely registered as I stepped inside, still savoring the warmth of the Dubai sun on my skin. Yuki and Pierre followed close behind, both grinning like they were up to something—which, knowing them, they definitely were.

I was halfway through scanning the latest collection when Pierre’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Hey, have you seen that new limited edition bag from [your favorite designer]? The one with the gold clasp and the little pearls?”

I laughed, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. It’s beautiful, but honestly, a little impractical.”

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Says the Vogue editor who probably writes about impractical all the time.”

Pierre winked. “We know you’ve been drooling over it for months.”

I tried to brush it off, but my heart sped up. I hadn’t said much—it was just a tiny detail I’d mentioned once, months ago, during a dinner with Yuki and Pierre. I never expected them to remember. Yuki tugged me toward a quiet corner of the boutique, where a sleek black box rested on a velvet cushion. My breath caught. Pierre opened the box slowly, revealing the bag—exactly the one I’d admired in magazines, the one I’d secretly dreamed of owning.

“Surprise,” Pierre said softly, watching my face light up.

I stared, speechless, the words caught somewhere between shock and joy.

“You actually remembered,” I finally whispered.

Yuki chuckled, sliding an arm around my waist. “Of course we did. You’re kind of hard to forget.”

I reached out, touching the bag like it was something fragile, something magical. “This is… you guys didn’t have to.”

Pierre grinned. “We wanted to.”

I laughed, eyes glossy, heart full. “You two are seriously impossible. But I love you for it.”

—

The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the table, casting warm shadows on crystal glasses and polished silverware. The restaurant was quiet, tucked away in a secluded corner of the hotel, and for once, the world outside felt miles away. Yuki reached across the table, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was tender, deliberate, and it sent a shiver down my spine. Pierre caught my hand next, his fingers curling around mine with a quiet strength that grounded me. The way they both looked at me—like I was the only person in the room—made my heart swell.

“So,” Pierre said softly, voice low and steady, “how does it feel? Being spoiled by us?”

I laughed, eyes shimmering. “Like I’m living in a dream I never want to wake up from.”

Yuki’s grin was slow, mischievous. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

We talked through the courses, sharing stories and stolen glances. Every laugh, every brush of skin, pulled us closer. There was something electric in the way their hands found mine under the table—light touches that spoke of promises and possibilities.

Later, as the waiter cleared the plates, Yuki leaned in, whispering, “You make even the quietest moments feel unforgettable.”

Pierre’s eyes softened as he added, “We want to be part of your every moment, YN.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling overwhelmed with everything and nothing all at once. This wasn’t just a dinner. It was a beginning.

“I want that, too,” I whispered back. “With both of you.”

Yuki’s smile was pure warmth. Pierre’s fingers tightened around mine.

—

f1gossipgirls

89,003 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Things looked a little extra on the fashion front this morning—coincidence? We think not. @/yn_hadjar, Vogue France’s top editor (and big sister to Isack Hadjar), is in the paddock today… and suddenly the boys remembered what a steamer is. We spotted more linen, more color, and more intentional fits than we’ve seen all season. Let’s just say—if this is the YN Hadjar effect, we are absolutely here for it. Fashion queens, please stand up.

—

view 508 other comments.

username0 : ISACK-omg. @/yn_hadjar...do you want a sister in law??

↳ yn_hadjar : if you take over the duty of steaming his clothes...welcome to the fam

username15 : aw yn and ollie!! he rlly is her favorite rookie

↳ yn_hadjar : that's my boy. i don't play about him.

liked by olliebearman

username10 : it isn't the YN effect for Yuki and Pierre- it's the girlfriend effect.

liked by yn_hadjar, yukitsunoda0511 and pierregasly

username10 : OH MY GHDFNDKJ

isackhadjar : she held me down and threatened me to put on what she picked out.

↳ yn_hadjar : and clearly i did you a favor bc there is a comment section full of women waiting for you

isackhadjar : fair

oscarpiastri : yn i did not get the memo that you were here today. pls don't hurt me

↳ yn_hadjar : i forgive you

yukitsunoda0511 : she literally dressed me this morning so yes it is because of yn. everyone say thank you, yn!!

liked by yn_hadjar, pierregasly and f1gossipgirls

pierregasly : it is common courtesy to look good for someone as beautiful as yn

liked by yn_hadjar and yukitsunoda0511

↳ isackhadjar : barf. she is just my sister. not god.

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : ive seen god and god is a woman.

liked by yn_hadjar and pierregasly

username8 : YUKIIIIBD :fj

—

yn_hadjar

liked by isackhadjar, olliebearman, pierregasly & 3,030,053 others.

yn_hadjar : so cutesy

—

view 115,023 other comments.

isackhadjar : ollie and i carried this post

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ isackhadjar : also why are you letting random men hold our dog??

↳ pierregasly : you talk about me like im some common whore

liked by yn_hadjar

alexandrasaintmleux : you are ethereal. i am in love

liked by yn_hadjar

olliebearman : you are right. the gucci wrap was necessary for the outfit

↳ olliebearman : you ATE

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : add to the folder of reasons why ollie is my fave

yukitsunoda0511 : i do not remember anything from karaoke and i am glad i do not

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : i have videos if you need reminded

↳ maxverstappen1 : give them to me.

↳ lando : need

↳ olliebearman : pls share with the class

—

I was curled up on the couch with Yuki, his arm around my waist and his stupidly warm hands resting under the hem of my t-shirt, tracing lazy circles against my skin like he had no plans of moving for the next decade. We were watching the most unhinged documentary, but I’d let him pick because I liked hearing his dramatic commentary. It was peaceful. Dreamy. Domestic. Then the front door slammed open like we were in a horror movie.

“I BROUGHT DONUTS!” I heard Isack yell from the hallway.

I blinked. Yuki didn’t even flinch. He just muttered, “You gave him a key?”

“No,” I hissed back, still fully horizontal. “He stole it after fashion week. I just… forgot to take it back.”

And then Isack appeared in the doorway. Bag of donuts. Sunglasses on his head. Immediately offended.

“WHAT the actual hell is going on here?” he asked, eyebrows halfway into orbit.

“Breakfast,” Yuki answered flatly, as if he belonged here. As if my little brother hadn’t just caught him spooning me. I didn’t even bother sitting up. What was the point? It was already spiraling.

Isack’s jaw dropped. “Are you—YUKI?! You?! My teammate?! What the fuck?!”

“You know,” I said, grabbing a donut from the bag like this was brunch and not a betrayal, “you could’ve knocked.”

“You could’ve warned me before I walked into my literal teammate dry humping my sister on the couch!”

“We’re literally just cuddling,” I deadpanned. “Calm down.”

Yuki, to his credit, gave the most Yuki shrug of all time, like: yeah, this is happening, keep up.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Isack muttered. “I’m gonna throw up on your designer rug. You’re both—this is illegal. Against the sibling code. Against F1 regulations. This is—”

And then, like God decided this couldn’t get worse fast enough— Pierre walked out of the bedroom. Shirtless. Hair tousled. Stretching like he’d just woken from a coma.

“Oh no,” I muttered.

“Oh WHAT THE FUCK,” Isack shrieked.

Pierre froze mid-stretch, looked around, blinked. “Didn’t know we had guests.”

“WE DON’T,” Isack yelled. “WHO EVEN ARE YOU TO THIS STORY?!”

Pierre grinned. “Depends. What genre is it?”

I slapped a hand over my face. Yuki, still annoyingly calm, yawned. “Rom-com. Heavy on the com.”

Isack stared at the three of us, twitching like a sim about to catch fire. “This is a nightmare. I’m calling our mother. I’m calling the FIA. I’m calling God.”

“You want a donut before you have your little meltdown?” I asked sweetly, tossing one at his chest.

He didn’t catch it. It hit the floor.

“Unbelievable,” he said, turning and storming out. “I’m changing my last name. Don’t talk to me at the paddock. I’m disowning everyone in this room!”

“Love you!” Pierre called after him, totally unbothered.

“I hate it here!” Isack screamed from the hallway.

The door slammed shut again. Yuki looked down at me. “He took that well.”

I bit into my donut. “Honestly? Better than I expected.”

Pierre flopped back onto the couch, grabbing Yuki’s abandoned half-donut. “So… are we doing the pigeon documentary or something sexier?”

I groaned. “You two are never allowed to be shirtless in front of my brother again.”

Yuki just smiled. “Noted. We’ll wear robes next time.”

—

yn_hadjar

liked by pierregasly, olliebearman, yukitsunoda0511 & 5,090,777 others.

yn_hadjar : comments will be turned back on once isack stops having a meltdown (so never). however, i have two sexy men in my bed every night so idc.

tagged : pierregasly and yukitsunoda0511

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

pierregasly

liked by yn_hadjar, charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and 4,008,013 others.

pierregasly : my brother in law isack is not very happy with me rn so why not add fuel to the flame. love you bothhhhhh

tagged : yn_hadjar and yukitsunoda0511

—

view 175,090 other comments.

yn_hadjar : so cuteeee. love my boys

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and pierregasly

charles_leclerc : how did he not know?

↳ yn_hadjar : he was born naturally oblivious

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and yukitsunoda0511

username0 : isack's recent google search is how to make yn - no yuki no pierre

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : i fucking love you lmao

isackhadjar : you are NOT my brother in law

↳ isackhadjar : i refuse

↳ isackhadjar : my eyes are still burning.

↳ isackhadjar : had to walk in on yuki practically having sex with my sister

↳ yn_hadjar : we were literally watching a pigeon documentary

↳ username20 : always thought isacks 2025 crashout would be racing related not due to pierre and yuki dating his sister.

—

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, yn_hadjar, olliebearman & 2,097,008 others.

yukitsunoda0511 : love you both even if it means putting up with her brother and the fact that pierre is a blanket hog.

—

view 125,075 other comments.

pierregasly : love you more- even when you talk in your sleep

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and yn_hadjar

visacashapprb : we both ask that you both behave in a manner that is professional as you are teammates.

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : @/isackhadjar ^^^^

liked by yn_hadjar

lando : i need a diagram of who sleeps where

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : i sleep in the middle and those two switch sides like every 3-5 business days

liked by lando, pierregasly and yukitsunoda0511

yn_hadjar : my cutie pies

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and pierregasly

isackhadjar : i am the victim in this story and no one is talking about it

↳ pierregasly : isack erasure :(

↳ yn_hadjar : the only thing you are victim to is a horrendous fashion sense

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : yes you def are the victim after walking into an apartment that is not yours unannounced.

—

[crescentpaws]

fuck it, emoji gradient

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[xxsabitoxx]

Get to Know Me!

This is just a fun little thing I’ve been wanting to do since the dawn of time but could never find a post to reblog that satisfied what I wanted. So I made this, feel free to reblog and use it yourself!

❤️ how tall are you?

🧡 what is your sexuality?

💛 what is your favorite feature on yourself?

💚 where are you from?

🩵 do you have any pets?

💙 do you have any siblings?

💜 describe yourself in five words or less!

🩷 dream job?

🖤 favorite hobbies outside of your blog

🎂 when is your birthday?

🌙 your zodiac (Sun, Moon, Rising)

💉do you have tattoos and/or piercings

🚗 can you drive?

✈️ favorite place you’ve traveled

🎤 have you been to a concert

🎵 favorite artists

🎧 last song you listened too

📺 last show you watched

📝 last thing you wrote

🔐 something no one would guess about you

🧟‍♀️ scariest thing that’s happened to you

🔥 craziest thing that’s ever happened to you

🍓 favorite food

🍅 least favorite food

🍊 favorite season?

🍋 favorite genre to read / watch / write

🍐 if you could make one character real, who would it be

🫐 some place you’d love to visit

🍇 a word your friends would use to describe you

🍒 what is your earliest memory

🍌 what is one talent you wish you had

💌 why did you start this blog?

✏️ when did you start writing fanfic

🖇️ what are your favorite asks to answer

📚 how do you come up with the fics you write

📌 what is the fic you’re know for

🔍 what character do you enjoy writing for the most

🖊️ what character do you not enjoy writing for

💔 is there a fic you wish you didn’t write

❤️‍🔥 what character do you simp for most often

🧚‍♀️ favorite characters of all time

🪐 favorite shows / series of all time

🌝 a show you would recommend to anyone

🌚 a show you’d tell people to stay away from

🌹 favorite kinks to write for

🥀 kinks you would never write for

🌊 a kink you would like to write but you think you’d be judged

❄️ full fics, imagines or head canons

☂️ your favorite fanfic from another writer

A couple of in depth questions!

🍄 what is something that’s happened in your life that you wish you could go back and change?

⭐️ what is one of your biggest accomplishments? Why is it so important to you?

🪻what is the toughest thing you had to go through, but can say you’ve successfully overcome?

🌺 what is the best gift someone has ever given you and why is it so important

🍀 what is your comfort show/series and why is it your comfort show? How has it helped you?

[sapphicideas]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊‧.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ᝰ.ᐟ

₊˚⊹♡ about me ꒱

✧ she/her┊lesbian┊22┊switch ✧ psychiatric nurse ✧ i might post the cutest or the kinkiest stuff and i won’t apologize for either. you���ve been warned.

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

₊˚⊹♡ rules ꒱

✧ ✘ DO NOT INTERACT ✘ men ┊ minors ┊ racists ┊ terfs ┊ homophobics ┊ fascists

✧ dms are open: venting, talking, sexting, nudes... ✧ be respectful. disrespecting me, my mutuals or any of my followers will result in an immediate block. ✧ don't ask for pics ✧ if you sent an ask or a dm, i will reply! it might take me some time as i have a full time job and a life outside of this blog. please be patient.

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

₊˚⊹♡ kinks/stuff i'm into ꒱

✧ cuddling┊praising┊teasing ✧ begging┊overstimulation┊edging ✧ CNC┊degradation┊sadism/masochism┊choking

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

₊˚⊹♡ tags ꒱

✧ princess answers┊ answers to asks ✧ princess updates┊ self explanatory ✧ princess thoughts┊my own posts ✧ princess confessions┊your confessions (fridays and saturdays)

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

₊˚⊹♡ anons taken ꒱

🖤, ✨, ☁️ , ♧, 💜, 🦊, 🐇, 🍏, 🪽, 🔮, 🍎, 🐊, 🪻, 🐦‍🔥,🌿,💫,🐺,💗,👼,🐶,🕸️,🍸,⭐️,💖,💋,💙,🧸,🦈,💎,🩰,🪿,🫀,🍒,🔥,🫧,🐣,🍓,❣️,🪼,🪑,💕,🍪, 🦔,🍭,🪐,🌹,📚,🌸,🦋,🐸,🥪,😼,🍬,🦷,🥀,🦅,🐈,🦴,💌,🌙,🧚🏼‍♀️,🦥,🌼,🦈,🐰,🪄,🌻,🎀,💀,💛,🧈,🍼,🎮,🍁,📖,💚,🧼,🐍,📀,🌈,🤍,🐟,😈,🎶,🏹,💾,🍀,🤠,🌺,🐻,👞,🌕,🌘,🎫,☀️,🦖,🌌,🍷,🐭,❤️‍🩹,🌷,🎃,⏰,🧊,🧶,🪷,🦦,🐥,🍑,🫐,🦕,🧁,💐, 🌱,🌶️,🐾,🌀,🌞,🩷,🍡,🍥,⚡️,🎰,🍂,❄️,🍨,🧛🏼,🙂‍↕️,🌮,🥷, 🌑,🧞‍♂️,🤝,🕷️,🦌,🪲,🦪,🦁,🐸,🪷,🧃,☀️,🐧,🤎,🐛,🐅,🦭, 🎸 ,📱,🎲 ,✂️,🦫,💟,🍯,🧝🏻‍♀️,🐦‍⬛,🪬,🍉,🎨,🦢,🪶,📸,🎍,🫶,🚀,🍵,🩶,👸🏼,🐞,🌬️,♑️,🐩,🐆,👑,🩻,💘,🤘🏼,🩵,🎾,🇮🇹,☕,🦇,🍰,🧇,🍄,🔒,💒,🕊,🥨,♀️,🌫️,🗣️,🥐,🍧,🛸,💞,❤️,⚰️,🏵️,🐨,♟️,🦉,🔑,🐌,🇰🇪,🧡,👛,🧬,🥟,🗡️,🥯,<3,🌊,🤏🏻,🍤,🥥,♥️,🍣,🌩,🥧,🐑,🍋‍🟩,🐯,🙇‍♀️, 🐚,🕯️,🦜,🎠,🧵,❓,🍸🥯,🦄,💣,🎞️,⛲,☃️,♐️,🐡,🥂,🦮,🖍️,🩻🩻,🐝,🍇,👁️,🫆,🐈‍⬛,👑🐝,💅🏾,👁️👁️,🤭,💍,🐙,🪷🪷,🐓,🪸,🏳️‍⚧️,🫐🍓,🍝,👒,🐿️,🌊🌊,🐡🐡,🗺️,🦄🦄,✂️✂️,A,🧠,🗺️🗺️,🎻,🪽🪽,🌷👑,🐳,🩸,🌧️,☃️☃️,🧋,🪡,🧘🏾‍♀️,🐺🐺,🙈,✈️,🎞️🎞️,🌊🎶,💌💌,🐾🐾,🫟,🙃,😇,📼,꒰ა ໒꒱,😾,🫰🏻,🌞🌞,🪐🪐,👛👛,🪷✨,🛼,🌵,🎙️,🌠,🗯️,🍟,🩵🩵,🦠,🧸🧸,🔐,💉,⭐⭐,🪞,🐰🪽,🫐🍓,૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა,💝🐾,🧜🏻‍♀️,💝💝,🦢🦢,🖋️,🐻‍❄️,🎆,🕯🕯,🙈🎀,🦿,🫖,🖤💫,🐛✨,🪏,✪,🎈,🚬,🐈🐈,☄️,🍊,🦎,🧚🏿‍♂️,🙃🙃,🍓🍓,🌟,✒️,🛏️,🏳️‍⚧️🐾,🖤🤍,𝜗𓏲,🚺,🐀,🏳️‍⚧️🌸,🍒🍒,🦇🦇,🐕‍🦺,🌸🌺🌸,🫀🫀,🇧🇷,🐙🐙,♋️

[catfortress]

Welcome to Cat Fortress Blog !

• • • Here is simply where I will post drawings and possibly animations regarding my TF2 fan AU, Cat Fortress !

• • • Main Acc: @evangelina830

Basic stuff!

• No NSFW asks pls (bloody, yes ! But no sensitive topics or lewd reqs pls.)

• Asks close in May!

• Silly requests are encouraged, but please don’t go overboard ! (U know what I mean…,)

• Yes I will draw ship art ! :D dont be shy.. (I love to draw silly cats holding hands.. so yes please! As long as the ship isn’t gross…)

Also I am not super fast with asks lol I appreciate your patience!

Enjoy your visit…. =^.^=

More info under!

Tags I will use!

• #:3 - Artwork

• #:V - Doodles

• #:0 - Animation

• #:D - Answers

• #:] - (Fan?) Artwork

• #:> - Characters

• #:P - Cats info

Names!

• ⚾️Scratch - Scout

• 🪖Biscuits - Soldier

• 🔥Zoomies - Pyro

• 💣Demomew - Demoman

• 🥪Fluffy - Heavy

• 🛠️Enginya - Engineer

• 💉Meowdic - Medic

• 🎯Snipurr - Sniper

• 🚬Snap - Spy

• 📁Ms Pawling - Ms Pauling

Others so far ofc…

• 🎙️Adminhisstrator - Administrator

• 🩵Scratch’s Ma - Scout’s Ma

• 🪻Zhanclaw - Zhanna

• 🥀Beanislava - Bronislava

• 🌾Yawna - Yana

• 🫐Fluffy’s Mama - Heavy’s Mama

• 🥾Saxton Tail - Saxton Hale

• 🫒Charles Kneading - Charles Darling

• 💚Maowgaret/Maowggie - Margaret/Maggie

• 💀Whiskers - Merasmus

• 🐟Fried Fish Tramp - Fried Chicken Tramp

• 📋Furball - Bidwell

• 📕Fuzzy - Reddy

• ✈️Trots - Jerry

• ❤️Redmond Meoww - Redmond Mann

• 💙Blutarch Meoww - Blutarch Mann

• 🩶Gray Meoww - Gray Mann

• 🎀Olivia Meoww - Olivia Mann

• 🎈General Patton Dough - General Patton Doe

• 🧸Georgia Washington Dough - Georgia Washington Doe

• 🎤Tomcat Jones - Tom Jones

• 💜Mrs DeGrowl - Mrs Tilly DeGroot

• 🌷Mrs Mowndy - Mrs Mundy

• 🍅Mr Mowndy - Mr Mundy

• 🍷Loaf-Nah - Lar-Nah

• 🍵Furr-Bel - Bill-Bel

This blog is still quite new - stay tuned ! Mrow….

[missmaywemeetagain]

Read Need Your Love Tonight ✈️💙🔥 NOW with early access HERE!

It's 1961 and we're headed to Hawaii for the U.S.S. Arizona Benefit Concert! ✈️ This one is an older woman and Elvis, so buckle up, babies! All the pics are from the day/night of the concert, just cuz I know a little visual stimulation never hurts...😏

SNEAK PEEK:

Finally, after what seems like forever, the main event begins. Your eardrums are blasted out by what must be at least two full minutes of young girls shrieking at the top of their lungs. Rightly so, you think as you watch the tall drink of water that is Elvis Presley strut onto the stage. You are blessing your lucky stars above for the divorce settlement because you are so close, you can see just how deliciously handsome the man is in person.

And, boy, is he.

Even having seen his perfect visage in movies on the big screen truly did not hold a candle to the broad-shouldered man in the glittering gold jacket standing on the stage before you. There is almost an innocence and perhaps even a nervousness in his deep-set dreamy blues. His dark hair is coiffed just perfectly and you watch his leg jiggle as he takes the microphone. A wave of heat rolls over you, flushing you from head to toe, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with the temperature in the arena.

There is a boyish playfulness to him you do not expect of the seasoned 26-year-old entertainer. He is indelibly charming and likable, not afraid to laugh at himself or the insanity of the crowd around him, but it’s not in a disparaging way. It’s more like he still can’t quite believe it’s all for him.

The reason he’s always fascinated you becomes obvious now that he’s right in front of you. He is a walking contradiction—delicate feminine features in a sharp masculine package, a deep low drawl coupled with a light warbling tenor. Singing lyrics that make you think the dirtiest things and then he turns around and does a spiritual. You have whiplash in the very best way.

You’re so distracted by his essence and the hypnotizing way he’s working the crowd that you almost forget about your sign. When One Night croons out of him with the promise of his “sweet helping hand,” a fire lights under you and you fumble around at your feet and flip the sign up for him to see.

Come on, come on, come on, you think, tapping your foot. Look over here.

At this point you will accept anything from the singer—a wink would suffice. Anything to let you know that you’re not just a washed-up divorcee who’s too old or ugly to find happiness with anyone else. Even if that happiness is just for one night because of one small moment, it’ll be worth it.

He’s so consumed by the song, his eyes closing and the rhythm pumping through his whole body, that you’re not sure he’ll see you. Your fingers grip the sign anxiously. You’d rather not have to hold it up for the rest of the concert, and you are kicking yourself for not remembering earlier, but you’ll do what you’ll have to do.

The end of the song comes, to which he adds a toe-curling groan, and when he opens his eyes, they land on you. A bolt of lightning strikes inside you, filling your veins with a scorching desire at the way those pretty eyes fall on your sign. You wait with bated breath as he reads each word silently, “Am I too old for you?” He gives you a quick cursory glance and then starts to walk away.

“Thank you,” he says to the crowd as screams fill the arena. The opening chords of Are You Lonesome Tonight start to play.

Fitting song choice, you think a little bitterly. Well, at least he saw me.

You find yourself fighting back tears, the split-second moment feeling anticlimactic and dissatisfying. A bit of a punch to the gut, really. It’s the dismissal that really stings, though your logical brain tells you he’s concentrating on his work and your sign is likely no more than a short distraction.

Suddenly, Elvis stops. He turns back towards you and steps in your direction. Your breath catches in your throat when he points at you. It is as if his finger is connected to you by an invisible string, and you find yourself sitting up taller and leaning forward on the edge of your seat. Then, he tilts the microphone away for a moment, his infamous lip curling up into a delicious boyish smile.

“Never,” he says, looking you straight in the eyes.

...

Want early access?🎉 Click HERE to join!

(It'll be available here on the weekend!🌸)

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@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff  @tiredbuthappy   @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals  

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood

@sassanoe  @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 

 @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @misspresley 

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-little-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @ amydarcimarie @idontwanttoputanything  @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj @claire-elvisgirl @everythingelvispresley @louisejoy86 

[lovesailing]

Sailing Life 🤙🏼 - 📸 Via 📷: @henrik__eriksen - Tag someone who needs to see this💙 - 🛍️𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣 𝗡𝗢𝗪🔥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗬 𝗕𝗜𝗢👆🏻𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱𝘄𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗦𝗵𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴✈️ - - - - #sailingyacht#sailingvessel#påkryss#freshwatersailing#perininavi#sailinggrace#zeilboot#europesailing#sailingislife#segelleben#pantaeniusyachtinsurance#sailm8#drömbåt

[cosmic-void-themagician]

-RP Blog-

This RP blog is for my metal cardbot oc Cosmic void!

-about Cosmic void -

Cosmic void is a fun, loving yet arrogant and slightly crazy Character who loves performance and experiment his magic skills on "things". Despite their unpredictable exterior, Cosmic has a soft spot for those who can make them laugh and appreciate their unique sense of humor. They might make impulsive decisions or have sudden shifts in mood, but always with a kind heart at the core. Most cardbots enjoyed their magic shows, few stated they're Unpredictable, often shifts between two different personalities, manipulative with their sweet-kind words. When they're dead serious,they give off psychotic killer vibes.

Call their pronouns anyway you like: he,she,they,it anything. They're genderless.

Have Kleptomania. (For those who don't know, it's a urge to steal something without even needing that item.)

On planet Machina, they're infamous magician who would bring happiness to others with their tricks. They have these special playing cards thingy that can teleport them to where they have thrown,best for escape routes,tho it depends on how far they can throw.

Their card weapon is "galactic shifter", a magic wand 🪄 that shot different elements of projectile, blasting a powerful elemental Sphere.

(My main account is @vortex-randomly-fandom where I post random fandom arts and Aus, just like my account name suggests. :D )

-Blog rules-

Even though I'm old enough to know Nsfw stuffs, most RP blogs are minors so if you want to ask some personal questions, please go to my main account above ☝️.

-go on...your inner demon want to ship someone so go on, but don't over do it.

-i have never done a RP blog before so other rules will be added in the future when I slowly learn them.-

//Canon metal cardbots RP blogs\\

Blue cop - @blue-policerobot 🚓

Mega trucker - @thelatinodancerbot 🧡

Mega ambler- @unlicensedmedicalcardbot 🚑

Phoenix fire - @safety-fir3-y43h 🚒🔥

Shadow X - @shadowx-ishere1 🚁

Dexter - @k1ttykatwhisperer 🐈💛

Fleta z - @gracefulbountyhunter 🦜❤️

Buster gallon - @bustergall0n

Black hook - @capta1nstreasure ⚓

Flame nova - @flamen0va

Buffalo crush - @themilkywayofficial 🩷

Heavy iron - @heavyironsbasement 🚛

Cielo - @sky-champion ✈️

Rock crash - @thedrillingmole 🐹👷‍♂️

Blasttrain - @b1asttrain 🚂🚃

Spark bit- @ex0tic-r4cer 🏎️💛

Flash vector - @plebec-invisk8r 🏎️🏁

Deep bite - @thefriendlyshark 🦈🔵

Sky gallop - @thechivalrousskygallop 🦄✨

Musclehyde: @the-steelarm-reporter 🐂🩵

Gigantrex: @a-cardbot-abuji

//Other metal cardbot oc RP blogs\\

@shell-shock-ed - shellshocked 💙🦈

This RP blog ☝️ is the one who inspired me to do this blog so go check on them if you like metal cardbots. They're very talented artist!

@record-scratches - record scratch 🎶🎧

@askyellowjacket - yellow jacket 🐝

@vagabund-rp - vagabund 🏵️🐟

@da-lavender-sniper - lavender Aegis 🤍🩶

@mystrious-crazy-pokerbot - Cosmic Spade ♥️🃏♦️

@yabi-ilhala-cardbot - Yabi

@silver-racer - Silver racer 💜🤍🏎️

@arcticbearbot - Mitza

🌟Humans🌟:

Phalia: @peppermintpez 💜💟

Tina: @heavyiron 🩷🎧

Lynn: @hush3d-writer 📝

✨Our creator ✨

@planetmachina - Deus machina 🌐

[esrwag]

(EXTRA)ORDINARY LOVE

pedri gonzalez x famous!reader

summary: in which a relationship thought to last forever starts posting less of each other. will it be the end?

part 1: amigos de la infancia

sharing their friends to lovers relationship over the years through instagram posts. pedri is a professional fangirl.

warnings: language… for now.

NOVEMBER 26, 2013

liked by pedri, feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrr and 24,842 others

yourusername xDDDDDD

view all 1,105 comments

user finally scrolled to the bottom of her account

user 2k photos and ofc pedri is in her first post

user who else is stalking in 2023 👀

user 👀👀

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrr 👀👀👀

user ❤️❤️

NOVEMBER 25, 2018

liked by pedri, feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr and 199,192 others

yourusername happy 16th birthday to the muppet who has held me captive for 13 years, here’s to many more. 🍌

view all 226 comments

pedri was the first picture neccessary...

yourusername mayb.

user her posts are still up 😭😭😭

user one piece is real…

MAY 27, 2019

liked by yourusername, feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr and 31,568 others

pedri HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEST FRIEND 🧌

view all 77 comments

yourusername 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr where’s my post

user nothing has changed

NOVEMBER 25, 2019

liked by pedri, jennaortega and 347,724 others

yourusername pedri: a compilation - feliz cumple 🧙‍♂️

view all 300 comments

pedri CONFIDENTIAL FILES !!!!!

pedri can't trust these hoez 😔

yourusername not really confidential if they were on the big screen

pedri watch ur back.

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr why was i cropped out.

pedri this isn’t about you.

yourusername yeah go away

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr 🙁🙁🙁

DECEMBER 13, 2019

liked by pedri, bellahadid and 561,788 others

yourusername mi primera colaboración con j.balvin y el guincho (!!!) disponible en todas las plataformas MAÑANA. new song "con altura" estais readyyy ?!?!? ✈️🩷✈️🩷✈️🩷

view all 11,041 comments

pedri LO MEJOR QUE HE ESCHUCADO EN BASTANTE TIEMPOO

user me ha encantado 😍

bellahadid 😍😍😍

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr 🩷🩷🩷

user what country is she from, can someone tell me?

user queen u dropped this 👑

DECEMBER 14, 2019

liked by yourusername, ferrantorres and 43,790 others

pedri 🔁😎🎉😜🔁 link in bio y stories

view all 118 comments

user trash

yourusername 😁🩷

tasca_fernando love!!!!

ferrantorres 🔥🔥🔥

user we love a supportive bf

MAY 27, 2020

liked by yourusername, andre3000 and 100,160 others

pedri just want to wish André 3000 the most special, magical birthday ever. i love you with all my heart. also, happy birthday to my y/n

view all 180 comments

yourusername 🙁🙁😠

pedri te quiero 😘

yourusername yo también <3

andre3000 thanks man 😎 you really know how to mend an achy breaky heart! tell y/n i said happy birthday

pedri anytime!

yourusername i am right HERE.

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

user who is she

user why didnt this go viral

user 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢

user pedri 🤝 ryan reynolds

AUGUST 20, 2020

liked by pedri, tasca_fernando and 1,057,984 others

yourusername the one and only time i will get cheesy. i am beyond proud of you and am ready to support you in this new chapter of your live. watching you achieve you dreams means so much. i love you to the moon (i am not crying) visca barça y visca cataluña ❤️💙❤️💙

view all 460 comments

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr the last slide 🤣😂😂

fcbarcelona ❤️💙

pedri 💙❤️💙❤️

user barça’s future

jennaortega 🐐🐐🐐

OCTOBER 20, 2020

liked by pedri, fcbarcelona and 954,729 others

yourusername maybe ucl nights are better when he scores

view all 2,151 comments

pedri graciasssss 😁

yourusername not you

pedri wow

yourusername kidding

pedri woah 😳 well 😅 then i will continue scoring

pedri who

yourusername messi

pedri asked 😂

yourusername ok.

user who's that

user probably her side

user it's her cousin weirdo

NOVEMBER 25, 2020

liked by pedri, rosylopez78, and 920,475 others

yourusername happy birthday to this boy 🫶🏼

view all 420 comments

pedri stink stink

yourusername 18 has looked better on others, but you'll get there 😘

rosylopez78 ❤️❤️❤️

user babe wake up new pedri pics just dropped

yourusername will drop more just for pedri nation

MAY 27, 2021

liked by yourusername, frenkiedejong and 327,742

pedri happy birthday to the love of my life, you've changed my life more than you know. i love you 🤍🩵

view all 534 comments

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr happy birthday to my biggest bully 🤥

yourusername ty.

user i'm trying to be like them

yourusername writing you a song as we speak 🥲

pedri still can’t believe i’m your muse. seriously i love you

karinadiaz lovely couple

user dead six feet under decaying gone

siramartinezc my baby's bday <333

yourusername 🥰😍😘

pedri OUR baby*

DECEMBER 13, 2021

liked by pedri, landonorris and 1,323,307 others

yourusername if there's one thing i'm infinitely proud of tonight, it's the incredible styling i did on myself. #Jokes #ProudofYou

view all 1,537 comments

user 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢

user she always makes it about herself

user that’s their dynamic…

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr ❤️❤️❤️

pedri you’re not wrong. i am so going to devour you

yourusername 😳😳😳

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr @rosylopez78

user LMFAOOO

JANUARY 1, 2022

liked by pedri, mikkykiemeney and 2,001,332 others

yourusername 2021 adeu 2022 holAAAA :} to start off the year i have decided to release glue song early !!! my favorite love song i've written so far, i hope this makes you feel happy as much as it makes me. big shoutout to my friends and family for making me feel loved and who i am also dedicating this song to. finally, big love to my pedro, the reason as to why i wrote this song in the first place. please enjoy 🤍🏹

view all 5,932 comments

pedri i love you

yourusername me more

mikkykiemeney 2022 has been saved!! this is a masterpiece y/n ily

user i love this song (i'm stuck with seeing couples posting themsevles to it)

pablogavi 🥺🙌❤️

siramartinezc my dream girl

user need someone to make me feel the way this song sounds

yourusername you’ll find ur person <3

user who's cutting onions

landonorris goated 🫡

user ARIANA WHAT ARE U DOING HERE

FEB 14 2022

liked by pedri, zendaya and 2,325,127 others

yourusername MOTOMAMI ALBUM ❤️‍🔥 OUT NOW. madre miiiia! you asked, and we listened: after 3 years, it makes me very happy to share this precious art with you. thank you for waiting. thank you to everyone who helped bring these crazy ideas to life !! i also want to thank landonorris, who made time in his busy schedule to help shoot and photograph the music videos. lastly, i want to dedicate this album to my mother and boyfriend. thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart. i love you motomamis.

p.s. i have a special annoucment in a few weeks. it starts with t and ends with our ;)

view all 17,234 comments

pedri album of the year. beyond proud of you 🔛🔝🦋❤️‍🔥

yourusername bebe :(

user MOTHER MOTHER MOTHERRRRR

user we love you y/n ❤️‍🔥

bellahadid mamacita i love it so much 🦋🦋

pablogavi T..OUR??!?!?!

user he's so me

landonorris it was a pleasure 🦋 thank you. everything about the album is absolutely amazing

danielricciardo can i be hired next... i taught lando everything he knows about cameras

landonorris NO YOU DIDN'T

yourusername hired! i believe you

danielricciardo i won't disappoint 🫡

user i'm completely obsessed with the entire concept.

user this new era is going to slay

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr it was mid

MARCH 8 2022

liked by yourusername, pablogavi and 637,437 others

pedri always the happiest with you. happy anniversary to my person, my love, my y/n. five years and counting. here’s to growing old but never growing up 👴🏼❤️👵🏼

view all 1,845 comments

user bisexual awkwening....

user ask me if im ok

user a-are…y-y-you.

user BITCH NO.

yourusername brb. crying.

yourusername you’re my my my my lover

pedri 🥹🫶🏼🫶🏼

user IVE NEVER KNOWN SOMEONE LIKE U OHH TANGLED AND LOVED STRUCK BY YOUU

user the REAL childhood best friends to lovers

ferrantorres happy anniversary ❤️

MARCH 8 2022

liked by pedri, siramartinezc and 1,198,216 others

yourusername happy anniversary my love. thank you for always fixing everything with just a smile. it’ll be my pleasure to write you love songs for the rest of our lives 🤍🩵

view all 2,811 comments

pablogavi mama... papa...

user IMCRYING. SOMUCH.

pedri 🥹🥹🥺🥺🥺🥺🥹🥹🥺🥹🥺🥹

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr cringe

yourusername just say you’re lonely and go

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr 😔😔😔😔

pedri enough you two 🙄

user the most unproblematic and cutest couple in the game

rosylopez78 en los buenos y en los malos momentos... siempre juntos (trans: in the good and bad times... always together)

JUNE 24 2022

liked by pedri, danielricciardo and 1,323,775 others

yourusername BARCELONA T'ADORO ❤️‍🔥🦋 motomami tour has been amazing and i'm extremely grateful for the love my fans have given me. i cannot wait for what's next, latinoamerica y the states be ready. also swipe for a surprise >.< they somehow got past security

view all 7,209 comments

pedri i am motopapi #y/nhive #1fan #TopSupporter

yourusername 😅😅🤣

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr i was forced to go (i had so much fun 😭😭❤️)

landonorris i can’t wait for ur london show 😎

danielricciardo we*

aurorapaezg ❤️‍🔥🦋❤️‍🔥🦋❤️‍🔥 bellaaaaa

user HURRRRRY COME TO MEXICOOOO

NOVEMBER 22 2022

liked by aurorapaezg, pedri and 2,200,406 others

yourusername dropped by to support 🇪🇸 con aurora y fer

user ate that up

user i need them all in a way that is concerning to feminism

user ayoo????

user same

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr 3 years later and i’m still getting cropped out.

user SPAIN TRASH

user un grupo muy TOP!

user i thought she was on tour ???

user put a break in between to come support pedri

TWITTER

ale’s note 🏷️ : so… !!!! this is the end of part one. it was very fun and interesting to create my first social media au. let’s all pretend it’s in spanish only because i don’t want to go back and forth. sorry for any errors. it only goes down from here hehehehe

[enby-licious]

Not that anyone in the world asked for this, but I did an emoji first reaction to Unaired because I knew I would be unable to form coherent words.

Nobody’s Soldier:

🤬😤👊🫷🤘💪🗣️🙅🏼🪖🥾🔥🥁🎸🚨🌋⚔️🗡️🧨🪓❌🚫⛓️‍💥🖕🫵

July:

🫶🤞🫰👒🐝🌺🌞🎹🎟️✈️🏝️🎇🌠🖼️🧸💙🛌

That You Are:

🥰🥺🫀👩🏿‍🤝‍👩🏾💍🙈🍃🌹💫🌤️🎻🩰🗺️🌅🕯️❤️‍🔥💗

In other words, HOZIER👏 NEVER👏 MISSES👏

[nixie-deangel]

✨ Work On The WIPs ✨

Okay, so technically, I am busy most of the day but tomorrow I've got free time. So bonus WIP day!

Current WIP's I'd Like To Make Some Progress On:

🤫 Top Gun Big Bang.

🚦 Trucker AU Version 1 - Younger Bradley.

😈 Mafia Sweethearts.

🚌 Speed AU.

🍼 Hangster Speedrun Parents.

🚛 Trucker AU Version 2 - Same Age.

✈️ Soulmates Not Touching.

🏈 Practice Squad Pilot.

🍷 Seresins, We Are The Problem.

🔪 Dark Bradley.

💐 Serial Killer Jake and Normal Bradley.

🍴 Win A Date With Jake.

🔥 One of my Jake/Javy/Bradley PWP ideas.

🐾 Bradley and the Savior Puppy.

🤤 Virgin Role Play.

You send me an emoji (number of them is your choice!) and I will write a 100 words for it!

I'll be taking these today, so send in as many as you'd like! but I won't be actually working on them until late tonight and all of tomorrow!

💙💙💙

[pluralquotebook]

Welcome!!

This blog serves to act as a collection of funny things that people in systems say! The less context or explanation, the better! Quotes don't necessarily need to be system-related.

Quote Submissions are always allowed and open!!!

You can send in your own silly quotes via the ask box! Anonymous is enabled, and you can give yourself/your system a sign off (Words or Emojis) if you'd like! Quotes are set on a queue to be posted once every three hours.

This blog is accepting of systems of all origins! No exclusion here. Because of that, we ask that anti-endos/anti-nontraumagenics refrain from interacting with this blog. Please visit @/your-system-said-what instead! Aside from that, however, we do not really have a DNI.

You can use any typing quirks, fancy fonts, and/or colored text in your quote! Just know that we will re-type it in plain text so that people can properly read it.

Posts with potentially triggering topics will be tagged with #tw [thing] or #cw [thing] (brackets not included). Please don't hesitate to ask us to tag something for you, and please inform us if we forget a warning!

Taken System Signoffs are below the cut.

Taken System Signoffs

(List is updated as soon as your post is added to the queue)

🛣️ (Mod Roadtrip) 🪦🌌➡️ (Mod Sequence) 💠💎 (Mod Paradise) ✨🌈🪴(Mod Gardenview) 🧦 The Night System Invisible Anon 🍀💚 💠💌 💜🟦 🌈 ⛏️🪦 🌲🐰 💛 🩹☁️ 🪙💀 🕸️ 🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛ ✨💫 🐞☀️ Nero 🐇 🪼🌙🗯️ 🌟🪦 Sem' System 🧪 🃏 🐋 [[Neon Bridge System]] / 🟢🌉 🟧 🌦️ ♠️ [🦋] anon The Iris System / 🌈👾 Dialup Network ✒️📼 YggySys Sega System 🌪️🎈 🧬 C&C 🌳 🩷💜🐦 🌪🐾 🌧️⁂ 🌌 🎞️ The Dreamer System The Deck of Cards Sys 💻 The Harvest System / ☀️🌾 Abbreviators Anonymous System / 💠🫠 The Corporate Tower a pissed off lichen ☁️🐝 💜😶‍🌫️ e.s. ⚜️ 💛🐉 Unknown / 🐾🏳️‍🌈 {💥🖋} The Rainforest Hotel The Collectives The Featherlight Collective 💌🍴 ⛈️ / Lightning Storm Sys 🦔🫀 ✨✨ 🎭 👁📚 / The Archive System / The Archivists 👁📺 🐍♾ 🚨 🌺❄️ ⭐️🤘 system 💙🔥 ┈ ⚔️ ✦ (Formerly known as || 🎧 ✦) ♟ 🎺🐄 The Hounds' Realm The Black Mesa system 🌮🐈‍⬛ nw💫 🌑👥✨ rabbitheart collective (Formerly known as skyboxsys) UnknownOS 🐾🌸 👑 sys 🎻 🪶🐸 [[Prime Directive]] -fsys The Blitz Batch CIC🌐 🌳💥 👁️🌌 shared memories median 🌌♾️ Radio Static System 🍣🍱 sys Median Dragon Collective the turnip collective 🌠🔮 / ender eyes Garden-of-Monsters 🦠🐾 The First Ones Squadron📜🗡️ Nicole (i think) The Maple System 🍁 Starry Nights Co ghost.os 🍒sys cabbage soda collective ✨🕯️ ☀️🌊/🌊☀️ ✨⚫️✨ the legion system 🖤🪄 🌌💫 golden void crew 🌘✨ 🌳🏠 💜🟦♦️ Patchwork System Real Funny Squad 🪤✨ 🌿 The Analog Sys The Teacake Cluster the Eldritch Enclave 🐀 📼 The Big Brother House Paranormal The Radio Waves 🩶 🌌Paradox (~~ 💎📶 / crystalline.network) 🎼TSS sundaysociety 🐾🌫 ☀️💭 🍄🌌 moth system the reckoning TOWC 🌿🧺 🩸🕳️ 4️⃣🦝 🦑🏠 IPI 💐🌼🔅 🍃 the 🌌🌱 collective 🎭🌀 TINS Galaxy Brain Constellation 🎭✨ 🪴🏠 🍰♡ the Labyrinth system 💭🌎 💫✨ the leaf mischief 🎨✨ 🪱🐉 🌋🌐 system 🍄⛺ 🐎 🎸🎃 🧃☻ 🌊 CC system The Dreamy Horrors Symphony 🫖🌹 (Tea Rose Cafe) ☁️🏠 The Syndicate the uncharted system 🍇✨ IHS⁰⁵ 🔮🗒️🖍️ Sewage System 🥩🎉🍕 🐝💝 ~ 🌱 ~ 💌 🌌🦭 🎲 🐦‍⬛🌄 system 🍊 🐺💥 ✈️💥 👓👓 🪰🌲 📺 TV System 🐧🎸 🌕🗝 🦈 biohazard WS★ the storm cloud collective Purple People System 🎪💫🎡 ♟💭 the soupy system 🐾🪓 👀🖤 🐞🌈 sparkle sparkle gambling system 🧀 Sharkfeed System Lunar Collective 🌌🐚 Cosmonautilus Collective The Factory System 🦋🌕 (⭐) 🥩🦴 Celestial Stories Collective ( 📖 🌌 ) 🎩👁 the eco-system 🌌✨️ 🎪🌈 🪶📜 🪦🌸 Rean the garden party 🫖🍵🥟🍙 Tulpar Collective 🐈🐕💀🌳 the medusa system theprecuresystem 🪻sys The Cult Collective 🕛🌫️ 💫🌱 ☕️🪶 ✨️🍄 the starlight legion (🌆☄️) the Chiaroscuro Collective 🪽🌟 (Formerly known as 🦉🌙) 🗡️🌫️ 🌈🔀 🐺🎀🔪🧠 OSS 📺🔘 🕳️🐀 Aurora sys 📓📖 😶🔇 Void collective 🌫️🌲 :1 The Mental Radio / 📞📻🎙️ Oleander and Amaryllis 🪷 🍰💝 the plague system / 🎸🌈 🔪🗝 🪦🌼 🍎 System.exe 💡🏠 🌹🌌 system 🎭♾️ system 🌌🖌️ 🥤 🎸 🍒🥤 The Chaos Collective ♟️ 🪐 🌑🍄 system ~ The Flower Field System ~ The Fish Flock Shifting System Unknown 💜🥀 ⚛️ sys 🥧☕ ☔ the watchers' vault collective The Systew 🈷️💠✡️ 🦷🌸 fmdc Lunarian Network! 💐🎂🌛 🌌🌠 💻🐰 Starlit collective arcade guys valentino collective The Black Sun Coven 🐇🪽 Fishy Bomb Sys 🐟💥 ? 🍇❔ 🐡🪽 [🪐⚙] Fluid Oil anon The Skrunkly System The Plural co. 🌠🌪 🌙🌃 - 🌊The Pequod System🌊 - Misplaced Fantasies System The Timekeeper 🪻👾 🎣 the crow collective 🍓🌸 🌧️ sys 👑🦈 Shattered Thought Realm stellar sys 🌟 proxima solar system 💖The Puppet Show💖 ♠️🧠✨️ ⭐🦊 🦊💙🎩 🍀🕳 Alternate System A Spider’s Web System ✨🎨 Vivian’s system 🌉🎤 Chrysanthemum Wonderland Sys 🕶💣 system 🇫🇷 🌊💿 🌅💫 🧸🕯️ 🥞🍳 kapla collective Adam nova system 🌌 🧬👁️💢 the empty system 👁🌲🪶 «✦⅋✧» 🖐️🔪 Pink Onion Anon The Coruscant Collective j&h 💫🌀 STARLAMP COLLECTIVE 🦊💮 98sys 🌹🎸 🕸️⚰️ 🌌🔭 🎨🥫 📓📖 Hivemind System 💭Thoughtless The Treehouse Collective 🧵⚒️ The cryptid collective ¯⁠\⁠(⁠°⁠_⁠o⁠)⁠/⁠¯ 🪶 🖥⌨️ 🏁 Sweet n' Sour system kapla collective The God ’ s and Goddess ’ s Collective residents of asphodel 🎶🌹 the watercolor system Nocturnal Aurora sys / 🌊🌌 👁📚🖋 🪦🪽