#If you thought this was a serious post I am so sorry

[justanothershippingcan]

After the last chapter, I have read many who think of Fukuzawa&Fukuchi as a more soukoku-y couple than Fukuzawa&Mori and I personally disagree.

Soukoku duos to me are ones where both components of the duo find themselves mostly disliking and not understanding the other at the beginning, just for them to be forced to have a partnership together and fight, becoming then basically unstoppable even with all of their differences in terms of personality and beliefs. In (gay)-anime-tropes terms, they are all - roughly, because their characterization at times goes beyond that - red and blue power couples, tinted with a sort of philosophical theme (the most blatant, Shin Skk and the whole “we want to live but what can we do to deserve this life?” concept) and a “I hate you, but I don’t, and I trust you” vibe. There is just a magnetism that leads and ties them together wheter they want to or not and their powers just either mesh together well or one of them needs the other to work at the max of their capabilities (Soukoku and corruption).

Which, in terms of the two Fukuzawa’s relationships, fits more Fukumori, with Fukuchi and Fukuzawa being instead “childhood friends who understood and loved each other at the beginning but took different choices in life + the one who got away”. We have yet to learn more, but with also how Fukuchi accuses his ex bff and doesn’t apparently seem to know Fukuzawa is (was) an assassin - and has seen some fucked up stuff as well -, I’d say, they sure know each other well, but have drifted apart and don’t seem to understand everything about the other anymore.

All of this just to say that discovering the ties between Fukuzawa and Fukuchi, along with Zenki Soukoku, actually leads to one realization, and that’s how Fukuzawa is very specific regarding what he wants. 

He is criminalsexual. He likes (war) criminals and (war) criminals exclusively. If a man hasn’t committed illegal atrocities, he doesn’t want him. If the criminal has some knowledge about blades, be it a sword or surgeon scapel, and is the leader of a squad or organization, that’s even better. Even if he might have to file up some divorce papers later on (he draws the line at hurting his children and cats), he is committed to his tastes in men.

And I think that’s beautiful actually. 

[the-real-google]

Is this anything

[leovaldezdefender]

do you think Leo is a misogynist

nope and i'm not just saying that because he's my favourite character. calling leo a misogynist is just objectively ridiculous; the most "misogynistic" behaviour he ever exhibits is flirting awkwardly and thinking of himself as a casanova but even then when he gets put in his place it's not like he gets angry or violent or even all that upset. it's clear that his flirty behaviour is just another coping mechanism that can manifest negatively like, say, his bullying frank. he's best friends with piper, is intimidated by annabeth, and becomes close with hazel and reyna. all characters with which he has completely normal and meaningful interactions with. frankly i don't get at all how people see him as some raging misogynist—the most he has is a minor sexism problem that is typical of most teenage boys, one that even percy has.

tldr; no. nothing leo does is ever that serious.

[afaramir]

im thinking about denethor and thorongil tonight. all im saying is that even if they didn’t fuck in real life they were both always eternally thinking about it right. and they both had psychic powers. do u know what im getting at here. do u [I AM FORCIBLY REMOVED FROM THE NEW POST WINDOW][DESPERATE MEASURES BY MARIANAS TRENCH IS PLAYING]

[starbuck]

what if I cut down that withered peach tree just like you asked me to and I hacked it into pieces and set it on fire with your face in plain view at the near window where you stood watching me split the wood and we were both boys?

[yoongisautumnleaves]

as soon as i think wow life is pretty okay right now something always has to happen

[floral-hex]

So this is my thing now, I’m afraid to go to sleep. This is kinda bullshit, brain.

[eldritch-nightmare]

some updates uhm. i finished up cody's valentine's day prompt!! i haven't started on bo's or carmina's but hopefully i cant get started on one of them tomorrow if the universe will permit it.

[nariism]

neuvillette is aware that he shouldn’t have let you get so close. but he did, and now he’s lamenting the fact that your hands are grasping at his soft horns — his fucking horns, of all places — and he might like it.

uptight and strait-laced, you’ve never known the chief justice to be someone so easily flustered. yet here he is with heat crawling up his neck, so warm that you can feel it against your palms as they ghost over his skin.

you can’t help but laugh at his current situation.

he was vehemently against you coming anywhere near his hair at first, grumbling about how his horns were on the sensitive side and he would rather not have to go into work feeling uncomfortably aware of their presence on his head.

however, you were hard to deny with that little smile on your face and such soft hands grabbing at his arms, tugging him closer. a sweet voice chanting, "please, honey? pretty please?"

neuvillette has never been good at denying you what you want.

it’s how he ends up sitting at your shared vanity. you comb through his long hair, watching him with amusement in the mirror as he huffs and jolts with every brush of your fingers against his horns.

the fact that he was letting you get anywhere near them was surely a testament to his trust in you. he was completely vulnerable here, at your mercy.

“sorry,” you mumble disingenuously, clearly enjoying seeing your usually serious husband falling apart with a simple action. you quickly tie off the end of his hair with a bow and he sighs in relief, thinking that the torment is over.

it's far from over.

he draws a sharp breath when you lean forward and press two gentle kisses on him; one on either side of his head just beside his horns.

neuvillette glowers at you in the reflection, disapproval written all over his face. "stop that," he scolds.

you do, but only because you're worried he might melt into a puddle before your very eyes if you continue.

it becomes a daily routine after that, with him sitting patiently in front of the mirror while you brush and tie off his hair. and you always end it the same way: two kisses, a soft "have a good day at work," murmured against him, and a mischievous little smile that makes him sigh.

he responds everyday with the same two words. "stop that," with a narrow-eyed glare.

the day you do stop, he's confused and irritated.

not only because you have the audacity to throw a wrench into routine again, which you know he hates, but also because he can't figure out why he misses your lips so much.

"what are you doing? i am going to be late."

"hm?" you peer up lazily from your spot on the bed, still half asleep.

"you have to do my hair."

"i thought you didn't want me to, so i slept in today."

your husband is eerily silent for a moment as he mulls over your words. then, he carefully perches himself on the edge of the bed, back turned to you expectantly and still wordless.

no, he would never admit he likes it just a little bit — the vulnerability, the trust, the feeling of your hands threading through his hair, the intimacy of it. hell no.

but neuvillette doesn't have to say a lot of things for you to understand; not when the way his skin heats up says it all; not when you're the first person to touch his horns in centuries; not when he’s saying stop that with such an affectionate glimmer in his eyes.

you give him four kisses that morning, two on either side.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[zosanbrainrot]

first part of my WCI Zoro AU comic!

sorry Sanji not only am I late for your birthday but also all you get is pain shdjjd

01 02 03

I really wanna draw a happy birthdayboy Sanji all smiley and wobbly 💗💗💗 but cant sketch anything new rn and cleaning the comic is much easier, no thoughts, head empty

Anyway, ramble time

I don't have much experience with making comics, the żabka AU one being the one I roughed out first, but it was much less complicated. I dont recall making a serious comic effort before that... I now have a newfound admiration for drawing fight scenes, found it extremely hard lmao Generally I keep second guessing myself, always thinking I should have added more panels to make what's happening more clear, not sure if the flow of it is right. Even though I already moved onto cleaning I still keep making changes to the sketched out panels that were supposed to be final lol I also second guess the plot I'd planned, maybe I didn't think this characterization through enough? What if people dislike it?

But! If I keep tweaking and overthinking it I'll end up never posting it and I don't want that. And if I focus on other people's judgement I won't find joy in making art and I don't want that either.

So here's to sharing art! Regardless of mistakes and doubts 💗

[joeloverture]

hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax. 

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing. 

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. 

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from  — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky. 

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining. 

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down. 

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…” 

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee. 

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head. 

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.” 

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel. 

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?” 

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

 “Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips. 

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become. 

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel. 

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily. 

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him. 

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is. 

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!” 

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi! i saw you were taking requests for post prison spencer, so hey

i was thinking about spencer meeting a kinda sunshine reader, and it’s like…love at first sight. she’s literally the one to make him smile for good

feel free to add your magic to it, and to ignore it, don’t feel pressure at all!

have a good day/night <3

babe you guys are saving my life with these requests right now! I'm feeling so good about everything I write again <3 enjoy sunshine!reader x post prison!spencer who looks less tense and serious around you

You’re at his desk, sitting there all perfect in your orange button up and flared pants, Mary Janes clicking on the linoleum tile as you tap your pen against your lips. Your hair is scraped back into a ponytail, the plait brushing the spot between your shoulder blades. 

Spencer had asked about you to Penelope, asked about your personality, about how you work- all the important things. What he didn’t ask was if you were gorgeous and Penelope, who loves to divulge, had never said a thing about your looks. 

“Hi, you’re Y/n right?” Spencer’s standing before you, not realising how intimidating he must look till you jolt in your chair. 

You’d been trying to get your morning crossword and read in before the day had officially begun, a habit you’d been trying to keep up with since you started the job. So far it’s been going- the crosswords are boring so you have to pretend to be distracted by it to let it last a bit more than four minutes.

“Oh sorry, I am. You’re Doctor Spencer Reid,” you lean back in your chair, not bothering to hold out a hand to you. Penelope had grilled you on his aversion to germs and touching people more than needed. “I’m sorry about taking over your desk, but they didn’t have any free ones.” 

Spencer shakes his head, you take a moment to look him over. His hair is a bit looser than you’d imagined, Penelope said curly hair and you’d thought tight spirals- he has pretty loose ringlets, dark and mocha-like.

He smells like leather and something else, maybe plum and black currant- it’s a bit of an all encompassing smell that you like already. He’s much prettier too, he looks tired, but still pretty. His stubble presents a problem, you know it’s going to be your downfall. 

“It’s alright, we keep a tight ship. Have they been treating you well?” 

You tilt your head, “The team or the unsubs? Because it’s been too many cases to have real team building.” You grin when Spencer huffs, making his lips twitch. “But I think getting concussed while saving Newbie’s ass counts for something.” 

Luke grumbles as he walks by with his coffee, “You were hired after I was,” patting Spencer on the back when the taller, lithe, man rolls a chair to sit opposite you. 

“Do you still experience headaches or migraines?” Spencer kicks himself when he sees your tongue poke into your cheek- you’re trying hard not to smile at his question. He also thinks he’s doing a shoddy job of flirting but that can be fixed- he’s been in prison for the last three months, he just needs to get back in the swing of things. 

“I’m pretty sure your first official day back starts with you in Emily’s office and not giving me an impromptu physical, Dr. Reid.” His lips twitch again, cheeks jumping as he shakes his head. 

“It’s just a check-up, no physical yet.” he stands, not really giving himself time to overthink what he’s just said. It’s more than a little presumptuous on his part but you don’t call him an asshole or swear at him, so he thinks he’s okay with it. 

“Do you want your desk back, Spencer?” you’re earnest in asking, not wanting to fuck up his routines and his norm. You can tell you like him already and it’s hardly been a fifteen minute conversation. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take the one right there.” Spencer points a finger to the desk right in behind yours with a little less severity to his lips, his stubble looking even more attractive as he does so. 

You watch him walk away, willing yourself to be professional about all this, he may be hot but he’s your coworker and you know all about close proximity relationships possibly being shams. You’re not here for that, so Spencer will be a good friend. 

You make your way into the kitchen, steps light as you reach for your mug- a cute blue mug with an orca as the handle. 

“So you come in and the kid’s already obsessed with you?” Rossi’s right beside you, making you jump as you put more than the recommended amount of tablespoons of coffee into your mug. 

“It’s not like that, you all made him out to be this awkward shy mess and he isn’t.” You try to sound as casual as you can, but you profile your own voice and know how it sounds to everyone- wistful. 

“Maybe he’s seen a pretty girl and the ‘awkward shy mess’ melted away,” Rossi places his hands on your shoulders. “He’s a good kid. You can trust in that.” 

You roll your eyes, stirring your coffee. “I’m pretty sure he’s in his thirties, Rossi.” You take the milk from him, pouring it in till your coffee is just at the lip of your mug and smile. “Definitely too old.” 

Rossi waves his hand, “I’ve been married four times, old isn’t a marker for romance anymore. Not when you’re only twenty four.” He leaves you be for a moment, and on your walk back to your desk to fill out the remaining crosswords you mull over his words. 

As you sit, you look down and find it all filled out in black ink, opposed to your blue and you know who did it, if the messy scrawled message is anything to go by- ‘You should get The Washington Post puzzles, much more stimulating.’

[timmyyyturner]

Dm's: Jason Todd x Fem! Reader

TW: Alcohol.

jasontodd: I'm in love with you.

y/nl/n: i literally have no idea who you are.

It started a few months ago when you were followed by some random guy on Instagram. He had a racking of 28 Million followers and you were just a girl with 2K posting GRWM's and make up tutorials.

jasontodd: you looked so pretty in your livestream like MARRY ME TF??? ♡ liked by y/nl/n

y/nl/n: thank you, baby ♡ liked by jasontodd

You didn't get why you were so special.

y/nl/n: *voice memo* I'm serious like is there a reason you think I'm soooo pretty? ♡ liked by jasontodd

jasontodd: Damn. Even your voice is hot.

jasontodd: I'm sorry for inhaling the same oxygen as you🙏

y/nl/n: LMAO

It was kinda cute, kinda stalkery. Every single thing you posted he liked, seconds after. Praising you like you were an absolute goddess. At first you thought maybe it was a fake account but no, he was the real deal (he sent you a picture of his ID with blurred out details). When you Googled his name, you didn't expect his adoptive dad to be the BRUCE WAYNE. You might not be Wayne obsessed but everyone in Gotham know who Bruce Wayne was.

jasontodd: You busy??????

y/nl/n: no, why?

It was late almost 3 in the morning and you'd been occupied by messaging some guy who slid into your dm's six months ago. You were surprised when a incoming video call notification popped up on your phone. You were hesitant to but answered it. "Hello?" His camera was moving a lot but it was quite on his side, you could hear how heavy his footsteps were. You were laying in bed cozied up holding your pillow in your arms, another propping up the phone.

"Gimme a second." You watched him set the camera up in his bathroom, toothbrush hunging from his mouth. "There." He continued brushing his teeth. "Where are you going dressed so handsomely?" He snickered. "Well, pretty lady. It's not where I am heading but where I've been. I just got home from a friends after party."

"Probably using the art of back bending to bring home chicks?" You tilted your head. "Unless the chick was you, pretty, Ion want her near me." You smiled, He yawned causing you to do the same. "Dick is making me brush my teeth cause I threw up in his car and now my breath stinks." You nodded, listening to his little rant. "He's getting me a bucket so I don't choke on my vomit in my sleep, how many people do you think died like that?"

"Well-" You attempted to answer but he cut you off unintentionally by throwing up off screen, thankfully before returning to the screen, rinsing his mouth and rebrushing his teeth. "Who's Azealia Banks? Is she a influencer?" You smiled. "She's in the music industry, a real controversial person." He hummed.

"Who are you talking to?" Jason picked up his phone. "My girlfriend and you can't see her cause she's mine, your brain will hurt with beauty." Jason kissed the screen before you heard Dick approach him. "C'mon Jay get in bed now."

"No." You watched Dick attempt drag Jason— who was throwing lowsy kicks and punches at Dick— to bed. You giggled watching the camera angle change in the hands of drunk Jason before the phone fell somewhere. "Get. In. Bed."

"No." It was funny hearing Jason have an actual sibling bond. "Fine, I'll just call in the big guns. ALFRED!" You could hear Jason mumble a 'fine' before a ruffling of blankets as he got in bed. "NOT ON YOUR STOMACH!" Dick yelled, picking up the phone, looking at you. You waved at him sweetly. "Jason, there's no way you pulled her. She's so pretty and nice and you're... Jason." Jason snatched the phone frowning. "I don't like you." Jason laid on his side, Dick was on his way out of the room before turning to Jason to say something. "Hey, Y/n, do you wanna get married tommorow?"

"Uhm, I'll discuss this with sober you, okay baby." Jason hummed. "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?" You smiled. "Okay." Dick smiled leaving the room.

He fell asleep a little over a hour later. You pressed a kiss to your screen before hanging up and going to bed. He woke up with a throbbing headache. He grabbed his phone seeing you posted on your story 30 minutes ago. He opened it seeing a picture of him and you on a video call. Did he call you last night?

"don't go! what if I choke on my drunk vomit and die?!" - jason todd. He chuckled reading that. He liked the story immediately getting a reply.

y/nl/n: alive then?

He smiled.

jasontodd: Sorry about last night lol.

y/nl/n: lol don't worry about it :))!

After that you sent him a picture of lots of you cooking, which he liked. What you did next though surprised him.

y/nl/n: 📍live location

y/nl/n: join me? we can discuss our marriage, boyfriend ;)

He never got out of bed faster.

[avis-writeshq]

heyyy omg I love your writings so much! congrats on your latest milestone, it's DESERVED 👏 can I pls request track one with spencer reid where he gets an epiphany and decides that he wants to propose to his girlfriend? just superrrr cute and fluffy 😍 thanks a lot!!

glue song – spencer reid

summary: “but you’re here, and so i love you.” in which spencer realises that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. pairing: s5!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: spencer in a knee brace (tell me why that’s attractive. why does he look good at his worst. face card never declines), he’s genuinely obsessed with you, not proof read oops a/n: thank you so much anon !!!! i’m so sorry it took so long to post; i kept changing and editing it hahaha i hope you enjoy it !! wc: 1.05k

“Careful watch your– no, pivot a little, pivot–” 

“I am pivoting! There’s nowhere to pivot to! Why is it so messy?”

You suppress a grimace as you manage to somehow squeeze your way through Spencer’s tiny doorway and into his apartment, the shoe rack on the side dangerously close to his damaged knee. You stumble a little as Spencer grips your shoulders tightly for support, his other hand holding onto a crutch. 

“Maybe we should move into a bigger apartment,” you muse, helping him to the couch. Your gaze shifts to his injured knee, your face falling. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I think about it. Which is pretty much all the time,” Spencer says, wincing as he finally collapses against the cool leather cushions. “Thank you for doing this.”

You look almost offended at his words as you brush his hair out of his face and into a makeshift ponytail. “Did you think that I wouldn’t?”

He hums as he feels the way your fingers pull lightly at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. “Thought you’d get tired of me. After, you know, everything.”

“None of that was your fault,” you remind him swiftly. “This–” you gesture to his knee– “isn’t either.”

He softens, leaning his cheek on your shoulder. You’ve been there for him through everything and he knows what specifically it is you’re referring to. He could see it from the moment his doctors informed you that he wouldn’t take the vicodin they had prescribed to him to soothe his discomfort. His thought process makes sense; he didn’t want to risk it. Regardless, he was left with a growing pain in his leg that didn’t shake even after taking toradol. 

“I’d never get tired of you,” you clarify, squeezing his hands. “You’re too pretty to get tired of.”

He lets out a proper laugh as he squeezes back. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

He laughs again, shaking his head adamantly. “Liar.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Spencer beams in your direction, pressing kisses against the soft of your jaw. “You’re right.”

A triumphant smile spreads across your face at his words. “Exactly.”

*** 

From his spot on the couch, Spencer watches guiltily as you hustle and bustle about in the kitchen, grabbing plates and filling them to the brim with the food you ordered from the Chinese place he loves. He feels bad seeing you work so hard looking after him; especially when you have your own workload to take care of. He doesn’t even notice that you’ve already placed his portion of food in front of him until you whack him lightly on his head with some napkins. 

“Stop it. I know what you’re thinking.” You shoot him a half-hearted glare as you snap open your chopsticks. “I want to do this. I truly don’t mind.”

“You’re already doing so much,” he insists, “I’m okay, angel, I swear.”

You are not easily convinced and you point to the list of things the doctor suggested you to do in order to ensure Spencer’s speedy recovery. “I have a responsibility, Walter. What will your team do without you?”

“They’ll live,” he assures, reaching a hand out to massage the muscles by your shoulders. “I think you’ve seen me naked more the past two weeks than you have our entire relationship.”

“Well it’s not my fault that you need to bathe,” you argue, stabbing at your noodles. “You love it really.”

His cheeks burn with embarrassment at the accusation. “I do not! It’s humiliating.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you soothe, smiling at him. “Besides, it’ll only be like this for a little while longer.”

“If you consider five months to be ‘a little while longer’,” he quips as he shovels food into his mouth.

You let out a laugh, not finding offence is his sarcastic blow. He thinks you’re a blessing and he figures that you definitely are. Who else can deal with the problems of him being, well, him aside from you? Spencer doesn’t know what he would do without you. How could he when you manage to push all the darkness and negativity away?

“I’m lucky to have you,” he says finally, his gaze on your face. “You’re so good to me.”

You hum in response, wiping your mouth and curling into his good side, draping an arm over his middle. “That’s true. You’re good to me, too.”

He brings his hand over your waist and kisses the side of your face in an act of reciprocation. “You’re beautiful.”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears at the sudden compliment and you can’t help the silly bashful smile that pulls at your lips. Your mouth opens and closes, deciding on what to respond with before you settle with a simple, “Thank you.”

It’s the honest truth. There’s a look about you that tells him that you don’t believe it, but he doesn’t say anything more to try and convince you. He tells it to you everyday; he’s sure that you’ll end up accepting the compliments more readily. Your being beautiful might have been what had drawn him to you in the first place. Although he isn’t entirely sure. He recalls a certain folktale about invisible stings and how it was tying him to you. There’s something pretty about that thought, the mere idea that you were made for him and he was lucky enough to actually hold you in his arms. 

You’ve turned the television on now, a romance movie playing on the screen with familiar actors. It’s supposed to be a comedy, at least that was what the description on the DVD said, about the main male lead reminiscing about his year that he spent with some manic pixie dream girl. Spencer doesn’t understand how that could be comedic but you seem to enjoy it. 

Spencer has tuned out the movie now, finding entertainment in the reactions you have. Your face morphs into different emotions with each dramatic scene and in that moment Spencer realises one very important thing. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. 

“What was that?” you ask obliviously and you lift your eyes to look up at him. 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Just keep watching the movie, angel.”

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[sunkissed-zegras]

𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "paige x iowa!reader (pre-relationship) on game day where maybe r is mic'd up the whole time so fans hear how they flirt, joke around, etc so they start shipping them? the other uconn/iowa girlies always tease them abt it and one night they all go out to a bar tg and someones on live and accidentally catches p and r against a wall kissing or smthn 🫣" for my lovely disco nonnie!

─ word count | 2.6k

─ warnings | teasing, lots and LOTS of teasing, mention of injuries, so much flirting, teasing, slightly suggestive, kissing.... oh and did i mention teasing????

─ taglist | guys idk why my taglist isn't working pls help me and lmk

─ ev's notes | okay so i want to know if yall like the little comment section i put in some of the posts, because i love doing them and i wanna know what ur thoughts are.

"OKAY, HEY LADIES and gents. It's your favorite, me. Y/N L/N," you tried to whisper into the mic secretively as you looked around. Before you could continue talking, you felt Caitlin grab your shoulders and shake you, eliciting a yelp from you.

You sent her a glare as she giggled and walked away, causing you to roll your eyes. "Anyways, sorry for that stupid interruption. It's game day here at Iowa and we're going against... I don't even remember their names."

You were obviously joking, you had plenty of friends on the UConn basketball team and it was running joke that you didn't like them. You smirked into the camera, knowing full well that your faux ignorance would rile up some competition.

"But hey, who needs names when we've got game, am I right?" You grinned, your enthusiasm showing. "So, while we prepare to show those other guys what real basketball looks like, let's talk strategy."

Leaning in closer to the microphone, you adopted a more serious tone, though the mischievous glint in your eye remained. "First off, we gotta dominate the boards. Rebounds win games, folks. Then, we'll run those fast breaks like there's no tomorrow. Speed kills, baby."

You paused for dramatic effect, pretending to adjust an imaginary headset. "And of course, let's not forget about defense. Lock 'em down, make 'em work for every shot. That's how we do it here at Iowa."

You turned around to see some of your teammates giggling at you, causing you to roll your eyes. "I'm getting bullied again, guys. Remember amazing, hot and very cool players have feelings too, okay?"

"Can you shut the hell up and come stretch with us?" You heard Caitlin shout from the court, causing you to sigh dramatically.

With a playful wink at the camera, you turned away, joining your teammates on the court for the pre-game warm-up. As you stretched and bantered with them, you saw the opponents walk in. You couldn't help but bit your lower lip as you averted your gaze from a particular blonde whom you've gotten close to these last couple of months.

After last year's game, Paige followed you on Instagram and you began talking more. However when you two got injured around the same time, it caused you two to talk more and form a closer bond. Eventually, it turned into Paige texting and calling you every single day and now, it's like you two have known each other your entire lives despite you guys seeing each other face to face three times.

You couldn't help but steal glances at her as you stretched, a small smile playing on your lips whenever your eyes met. The familiar banter and teasing between your teams seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn to her presence.

But amidst the closeness, there lingered an unspoken tension ─ a delicate balance between friendship and something more. You couldn't deny the flutter in your stomach whenever Paige's eyes met yours, or the way your heart raced whenever she flashed you a smile.

Caitlin's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. "Yo, Y/N! Focus up, we've got a game to win!"

"Oh my gosh, look it's serious Caitlin I'm so scared," you spoke into the mic quietly, hoping that she wouldn't hear you. Unfortunately, she did and she got up, holding up her hand as you put your hands over your head. "No, I'm sorry!"

Caitlin laughed at your antics, her laughter infectious as she waved off your dramatic apology. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, Y/N," she teased, giving you a playful shove before turning back to the team. "But seriously, let's focus up. We've got a game to win, and I don't plan on losing to those guys."

"Yeah, me neither." She helped you get up from the floor as you walked to the bench. "Thanks, Cait," you said with a grin, falling into step beside her as you made your way to the bench.

As you settled onto the bench, you took a moment to mentally prepare yourself for the game ahead. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, the echoing noise of the crowd, and the anticipation building in the air all served to fuel your determination.

You rose to your feet, eyes fixed on the court ahead. With a quick glance at the UConn's lineup, you immediately spotted Paige among their starting players. Your heart rate quickened slightly as you realized the task at hand — you needed to guard Paige and shut down her scoring opportunities.

In any other situation, it would be easy. Even if the person you were guarding was someone you were friends with, you always made sure to stay professional but this was slightly different. Paige had been the theoretical shoulder you'd been crying on for the last year about your injury that you'd just healed from.

As you stepped onto the court, Caitlin's words from earlier echoed in your mind. You couldn't afford to let Paige get the better of you, not today. You made your way toward Paige and as she met your eyes, she gave you a small smile. You could still talk to her, right? She held out her hand for a quick dap-up and you accepted it gratefully.

"Bro, me and Nika were just talking about how your hair is probably gonna be perfect. You have the best game day hair," Paige spoke finally as you laughed nervously, your gaze momentarily averting to the floor then back to her.

You felt yourself blush under her gaze as you playfully brushed off the compliment. "Oh, you think so, huh?" you smiled, trying to keep the mood light despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Well, what can I say? Gotta look good for the cameras,"

Paige smirked in response. "Oh, trust me, you always do," she teased, her words laced with a playful flirtation that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked into Paige's eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that washed over you. There was something about her presence, her easy smile, that made you feel at ease, even in the midst of a game.

"Says you, with your cute braids. You gotta teach me how to do those one day, you know." You playfully nudged Paige's shoulder, a smile spreading across your face."Now you're just showing off," you teased, your tone light and playful as you admired the braids that framed Paige's face.

Paige chuckled, a soft sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Or I can just do them for you once you actually visit Connecticut, like you promised."

You just realized that you were mic'd up, as you glanced down at the mic. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Alright, alright, you've got yourself a deal," you replied with a playful wink.

You then felt Kate's hand tap on your shoulder, motioning for you to come to the bench with her. Paige gave you a small smile as she did the same, your heart fluttering at the sight of her smile. With one last glance at Paige, filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, you followed Kate to the bench.

"Are you gonna lock in, Y/N?" Caitlin's voice rang out as you glanced up at the tall brunette. You saw the slight smirk on her lips as she gazed at you, teasing you without saying anything. She was practically screaming "you're whipped!" as she did.

"Yeah, I'm locked in," you responded as you averted your gaze, laughter echoing in between your teammates as a blush covered your cheeks.

"You know, cus if you're not, I can guard Paige while you go shoot-"

"Oh shut up, Caitlin I hate you." You groaned, causing her to laugh along with the rest of the team. Caitlin's teasing banter was a familiar part of the pre-game ritual, and despite your protest, you couldn't help but smile at her antics.

"Hey, just looking out for you, Y/N," she teased, her tone lighthearted as she flashed you a grin.

As the referee's whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, you shook off any lingering distractions and locked into the moment. This was it the moment you had been waiting for. With a deep breath, you blocked out the noise of the crowd and zeroed in on the game plan.

At one point, as you and Paige push for position under the basket, you couldn't help but let out a laugh as Paige jokingly accused you of stealing her post moves. "Hey, imitation is a form of flattery, right?" you quipped, earning a playful shove from Paige in response.

But perhaps the most memorable moment came when you and Paige found yourselves face-to-face during a heated confrontation for the ball. With the game hanging in the balance, you couldn't help but exchange a playful smirk with Paige, feeling a slight warmth on your cheeks.

Iowa had ultimately won the game but there was no bad blood between the two teams (thankfully), players from both teams exchanged handshakes and congratulatory words, acknowledging the hard-fought battle that had unfolded on the court.

Sure, some of the players were a little hurt but it wasn't like it was the end of the world. However, you knew at some point the two teams would have to play against each other during play-offs but you didn't let yourself get too worried right now. Right now, it was important to savor the moment, to celebrate the hard-fought victory with your teammates and bask in the camaraderie of the game.

──

"You looked good," Paige spoke as she leaned against the wall of the bar. Some of the girls on the team wanted to go out and celebrate and the UConn girls wanted to join. And that was how you found yourself standing next to Paige, a little tipsy as you leaned against the wall beside her, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks at her compliment.

"Thanks, you too," you replied, unable to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. You felt yourself shy away from her gaze, a stark contrast to how you usually were ─ teasing and outgoing.

Paige noticed that quickly, a small smirk appearing on her lips as she took a tip of her drink. "Aw, look at you, all flustered," she teased, her tone light and teasing as she nudged your shoulder gently.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you replied, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Gotta stay humble, right?"

Paige laughed, the sound sweet and infectious as she leaned closer to you. "Don't worry, I think you can handle it," she said with a smirk, her words sending a shiver down your spine.

She gazed at you for a little longer as you looked away, only for her to grab your chin and hold it so that you kept looking at her. With a soft chuckle, Paige leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You're cute when you're flustered,"

"I never thought that you could be shy, you know... with all that shit-talking on and off the court." Paige remarked as she let go of your chin, her gaze still heavy on you. "It's kinda giving me an ego boost,"

"Oh shut up," you mumbled as you took a sip from your own drink, Paige's gaze following your lips. There was something about the way she looked at you, the way her eyes seemed to linger on your lips, that made your heart race.

As you lowered your drink, you met Paige's gaze once more, a playful glint in your eyes. "You're not so bad yourself, you know," you replied with a smirk.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I know," she teased, her voice low and teasing as she leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in her eye.

She wasn't usually ever this cocky, sure she's had her moments but never to this extent ─ she didn't know if it was the alcohol or just you. There was something about her self-assured demeanor that was both enticing and captivating, drawing you in with each exchanged word and shared laugh.

"Well, aren't you just full of yourself tonight?" you teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in closer to her.

"Can you blame me?" Paige replied with a grin, her confidence unwavering as she met your gaze. "I mean, if you had a pretty girl getting flustered over every word you say, even after her beat team yours, you'd be feeling pretty confident too," she continued, her playful tone tinged with a hint of desire as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath grazing your skin.

"Well, I guess I can't argue with that," you replied with a grin, your tone light and teasing as you leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in your eye. "But just remember, I'm not one to stay flustered for long."

With a playful smile, she leaned in closer to you. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to enjoy a challenge."

Her eyes kept flickering down to your lips as she downed her drink, putting it down on the table next to you. She leaned in closer, as if to test the water, grazing her lips against yours as your breath hitched.

She took your reaction as a yes, her hands finding your hips as she pushed you against the wall. She pushed her lips into yours in a hurried kiss, the intensity of her touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

You responded eagerly, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as you pulled her closer, the world around you fading away as you lost yourself in the moment. With a sense of urgency, Paige deepened the kiss, her hands exploring the contours of your body with hunger.

The taste of her lips was intoxicating, a heady mix of alcohol and longing that left you breathless. You forgot all about your teammates and who might see this and recognize the two of you, because neither of you really cared anymore.

Jada drank her water as she kept skimming through the comments of the live, reading them and chuckling at every remark toward you and Paige. Kate was behind her, momentarily blocking from everyone seeing what you two were currently up to.

Kate heard someone call her name as she quickly got up from her spot, turning to respond to the voice. As she moved away, the brief obstruction she provided from prying eyes was gone, leaving you and Paige momentarily exposed.

As Jada's gaze flickered to the screen, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected sight before her. "Oh shit- I mean, shoot." She quickly moved her phone as she glanced at the sight, giving the camera a shocked look as she thought about what she should do.

She had basically just outed the two of you but to be completely fair, it was on you two for making out in a very public bar. "Guys, don't worry that wasn't Paige that was just some other blonde. Sorry guys, you know how Y/N has a thing for blondes."

She sighed as she locked eyes with Kate, who gave her a shocked expression as she looked down at her phone. Kate gave her a look before Jada looked down at her phone, laughing as she waved.

"Looks like we are gonna have to end the live, sorry guys. Love you, bye, mwah mwah."

Paige finally broke the kiss, leaving the both of you to catch your breath. She smiled as her finger swiped your bottom lip, tracing the outline of it gently. You couldn't help but catch your breath, the taste of her lingering on your lips like a sweet memory.

"You're fucking beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips again.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[astonmartinii]

bite the hand | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem musician!reader [face claim: clairo + clairo, boygenius and taylor swift music]

having fans are great, but sometimes it goes to far and you have to bite the hands that feed you

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 913,551 others

tagged: beabadoobee

yourusername: howdy ladies, gentlemen and all that's in between, it's single release day. i had so much fun on this track with bea and getting to pour all of my love for maxy onto such a cute melody... hope you all enjoy my loves x

view all comments

user1: YES THANK YOU MOM THIS IS JUST WHAT I NEEDED TODAY

landonorris: how many letters in devoured?

yourusername: ATE 💅

landonorris: ate and left NO crumbs

maxverstappen1: why oh why did i ever introduce you two

yourusername: because you love us both?

maxverstappen1: i sure love you, jury is out on lando

landonorris: boooooooooo

user2: ugh if y/n had to date an f1 driver why couldn't she go for one of the hot ones like lando or charles?

user3: for real like bro he just drags her down

user4: you can't be serious? he's a professional athlete at the top of his sport and by what they show us a massive softy who loves y/n? why would we want anything else for her?

liked by yourusername

user5: y/n will NOT stand for any max bashing idk why you guys try it every time

maxverstappen1: so unbelievably talented and the artist of her generation

yourusername: maybe it's because i have a top notch muse ?

maxverstappen1: NO NO IT'S ALL YOU YOU ARE THE ARTIST I AM JUST LUCKY TO BE IN YOUR VICINITY

yourusername: i am the lucky one baby

danielricciardo: leave your cute shit offline i already have to hear it all of the time let me be on instagram

yourusername: nope love my boyfriend too much

maxverstappen1: nope love my girlfriend too much

user6: they're so insufferable i love them

user7: this song bangs so much more when you pretend it's not about ... him

user8: bro is acting like max verstappen ran over his puppy

user7: sorry i don't want a GREAT artist and BEAUTIFUL woman being dragged down by THAT

user9: you are insane, you do not know y/n, you enjoy her music, that doesn't give you the right to have power over things in her personal life

user10: you people are why this fanbase has a bad name and before long y/n will get fed up too

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 829,043 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: the off weekend spent right

view all comments

user13: i need a man so obsessed with me that all he does is post my face

user14: crazy that all this guy does is wax lyrical about how much he loves her and she's like never at his races ... interesting

user15: and her weirdly entitled fanbase say he doesn't deserve her when she clearly doesn't support him as much as he supports her

yourusername: i love you and our soft little weekends, i wanna do it all the time :(

maxverstappen1: gosh our day jobs are really quite unconventional i guess we should just retire to a remote island to live on a small farm?

yourusername: you said it not me i just wanna be anywhere with you

maxverstappen1: i love you <3

user16: RETIRE TO A REMOTE ISLAND? SOMEONE TELL THIS RAT THAT IF HE IS THE REASON WE DON'T GET MUSIC WE WILL RIDE AT DAWN

user17: babe have you ever thought that maybe the reason he said that he wants to retire away from everyone because you people stick your noses in all the time

danielricciardo: @yourusername a soft weekend you say? how many hours did max spend on the sim?

yourusername: a solid ten but he even let me have a go

danielricciardo: oh wow that man really is in love

maxverstappen1: i think she'd rival a couple of you with some practice, i'm working on getting her to join redline

user18: ugh this is so annoying... preaching like you like spending time with your girlfriend and then spend it all playing a video game and letting her have one go?

user19: the sim is something f1 drivers use to train? if anything max probably shouldn't have let y/n have a go she could've accidentally changed the set up or other things

user20: i'm seeing charles and lewis training this off weekend and he just lies in bed with this girl? he really needs to ditch her to stay at the top

user21: literally two comments up is them talking about him training on the sim the jealousy is insane from both fans at this point

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 893,442 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: happy to take home another win in mexico, i love this track and am forever thankful to this team and my loved ones.

view all comments

user25: holy shit idk what f1 can do but the paddock looked insane today there's no way that is safe for the drivers and personnel.

user26: there's so many videos of people rushing max and although some of them look like max fans who are just excited but there were a lot of very rude rival fans trying to get too close for comfort

yourusername: forever proud of you !! you're like jimmy and sassy with zoomies on crack <3

maxverstappen1: that is the highest of the high compliment thank you my love

yourusername: champagne is on me girlypops no expense spared for the love of my life

redbullracing: do we all qualify as girlypops ???

yourusername: of course !! don't think i didn't notice the supply of vegan pizza rolls you truly are the lactose intolerant allies of the grid

user27: can she stop spending all her hard earned money on this scrub that just uses her

user28: bro makes millions in a year he doesn't NEED her but that doesn't mean he can't want her? you guys are crazy

user29: some of these fans need to do some serious evaluation, drivers are not zoo animals, they are people and deserve respect and that includes respect to their personal space.

user30: for real like why was brad basically having to act as a body guard for max and y/n

user31: this was such a dangerous event for max and y/n. they're both very famous individuals and should be able to move around the paddock without being in danger.

user32: max joked about getting a body guard for this weekend but i think he should seriously consider it especially is y/n is coming to more races while she's not touring

danielricciardo: it has been brought to my attention that y/n has stated that she will spare no expense, i am making a formal enquiry into whether this will cover my bar tab?

yourusername: i will within reason but only because your bffs with maxy and will drink the fruity lil cocktails with me

danielricciardo: REAL men drink cocktails

maxverstappen1: do NOT disrespect the humble gin and tonic on my post

user33: i'm glad they're in high spirits after the shenanigans in the paddock today and the booing towards max :(

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, maxverstappen1 and 1,442,776 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: there is no full way to articulate my feelings right now. my fans have to respect my personal relationships and my boundaries. i appreciate your support but you have to understand that i am not your personal friend and you do not have the right to my personal life. i also understand that in sport, there are a lot of heightened emotions, but drivers do not owe you their safety. this is something i have felt for a long time since max and i became a public couple and the onslaught of hate came for him. you may say that it comes from a good place, or for my best interests, but the manner in which some 'fans' have expressed their 'worries' is unacceptable. i do not want to bite the hand that feeds me, but there's only so many slaps me and my loved ones can take from the hand.

bite the hand is out on all streaming platforms. please listen closely a re-evaluate your relationships with your favourite artists, thank you.

comments are not available on this post.

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,220,664 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: i love you and i will never let other people tell me when i'm not enough get in my head again. we both appreciate our support and acknowledge that we would be nowhere without it. but our relationships are ours, please respect this.

comments are not available on this post

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,344,229 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: okay sad songs are important but it's now time for me to sing my wee little heart out about how much i love you and how i know we were always made for each other.

i love you maxy, invisible string is all about my muse. out now.

view all comments

user41: IT BANGS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

user42: ffs i guess we're stuck with this man for life now ...

user43: LISTEN TO BITE THE HAND AND BANG YOUR HEAD AGAINST THE WALL AND HEAR THE PINBALLS OF YOUR BRAIN GOING CRAZU

user44: speak your truth sis

maxverstappen1: ISN'T IT JUST SO PRETTY TO THINK THAT ALL ALONG THERE WAS SOME INVISIBLE STRING TYING YOU TO ME

maxverstappen1: so true, you make me believe in soulmates YOU ARE MY SOULMATE I LOVE YOU

yourusername: i love you to the moon and to saturn for real

yourusername: and that thread of gold is made from all of your trophies LET'S GO RAHHHHHHHH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU

maxverstappen1: the gold of that grammy @thegrammys yall heard bags?

user45: the way they're each others wags and completely embrace it

user46: i love that they're still their goofy asses they don't give a shit abou t yall

user47: y/n dropped a heart wrenching track and immediately went ... but hey i'm SUPER happy and that's all you're going to hear

landonorris: so like can y/n remix the dutch anthem so we can actually bop every weekend

yourusername: i kinda wanna marry the king of the netherlands so maybe not

landonorris: you broke up ?????

yourusername: no you dumbass max is the king of the netherlands

maxverstappen1: not factually but i do have a medal from the royal family so same thing

landonorris: why do you guys have to clown on me every time

yourusername: you're like our baby brother it's our duty

maxverstappen1: sorry not sorry

user48: you could never make me hate them they're made for each other

user49: finally bite the hand shamed the crazy bitches into finally shutting the fuck up

note: i love bite the hand i actually fear it might be my fave boygenius song and i recommend it to everyone. i actually did my university dissertation on parasocial relationships with athletes so like i feel like a good couple of sports fans could do with a listen to bite the hand. hope yall enjoyed and had a good weekend !! (chelsea gave me a heart attack but what's new, even though i was too sick to go to the game:()