#hes so damn amazing how can you just use him for one show

[scannainscanrula]

going public with rockstar!remmick

haigh tumblrinas. a very happy r!r update to all who celebrate

Marcia tosses a tabloid on the table. 

You’re meeting in her office– much earlier than you’d prefer, with your new night owl sensibilities.

“I’m not reading that,” you tell her, shaking your head.

She scowls and two more join the pile. The usual drivel about Remmick being a Satanist, the Devil, or the antichrist himself. There are a few standout revelations, about the girls in the rock genre he’s burned and– notably– his strange, murky past. You’ve talked extensively about your childhood. You know he has Irish roots, and he’s from North Carolina. 

The articles also touch on the cultish nature of his band and circle of friends. How all of them have the same answers to certain questions, always harping on about how important the music is, how the music is something special. Using odd words like fellowship, all things you’ve heard Remmick say before. You admire that about him, his devotion to the craft and the art. You do think the band is weird, but you figure their brains are scrambled from all the drugs they take. 

“You want to go public? With this?” 

“This? Marcia, I love him.”

“Oh my God,” she sighs, pinching her nose bridge. “Look, this was still cute when you were still Sweetie Love, but now?”

Sweetie Love– or Lovey– was your nickname in 2*Sweet. Your other groupmates were Sweetie Boss, Sweetie Smart, and Sweetie Bad. You all had your manufactured personalities. Bossy was the oldest, she’s a mother now, happily married and largely out of the spotlight. Smarty was the brainy one, she does science programmes for children. Baddie was the tough girl with an edge, and she’s a professional wrestler. 

You were the only one who truly embodied your role, even in private. You were the youngest in the group, the cute one, the crybaby, the lovergirl. You loved the other girls so much, they were like big sisters to you.

You remember crying over some PR relationship you had with a boyband member– you were only sixteen– in private, he’d made it very clear that you were only dating in public, not for real. You bawled like a baby to the three of them.

“He was a jerk anyways, kid,” Bossy said, waving her hand. 

“I’m sorry he said that to you, Lovey,” Smarty comforted you. 

“Can you let her cry? You’re the one who set her up with the dickhead in the first place!” Baddie shouted at your group manager, barring him from entering the room. 

“I just… I really liked him,” you sniffled, looking at your hands.

You’re grown up now, but damn it if you’re not still a romantic.

And you’re hopeless about this guy. 

You slump back in your chair.

“I mean it, Marcia.” 

You feel those childish tears pricking at your eyes.

“I just…” you can almost feel yourself at sixteen again, made to feel small and stupid. 

You see her soften, huff and shake her head.

“Fine. But I want to meet with his publicist.” 

“Yes!”

You pop up in your chair and embrace her. She smells like cigarettes and hairspray and drugstore perfume, but you adore her at that moment. 

“Yes, oh, you’re the best, Marcy!”

“Alright, don’t push it.” 

Remmick is coming late, and you wait for him, watching as the clock turns to 10:45, playing with the ties on your shorts. You see a car pull up in the drive and open the door, running out to hug him and kiss him. He came straight from his show at Dodger Stadium, and he’s still sweating. 

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. 

You thank and tip the driver, and Remmick listens to you babble as you walk him to the door. He examines the threshold until you giggle.

“Oh, won’t you please come in?” you joke. 

He grins at you and passes through. He follows you through the house, amazed at the way you can talk all the way until you reach your bedroom, when his bag and suitcase are tossed on the floor. You’re still chattering when his hands grab you by the face and pull you to him, giving you a dizzying kiss.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes against your mouth. 

“Hm?”

“Shut up.” 

You giggle nervously as you push him back on the bed, crawling over him and kissing him all over his face.

“Oh, you missed me, huh?”

The teasing tone of his voice has you feeling wild. You sit back and admire him for a second. Still sweating, smudged eyeliner on his face, you can see under his shirt he’s still covered in red handprints from the fake blood they use at his shows. 

You perk up and pat his chest.

“Will you put the fangs on for me?”

“What?”

“The fangs you wear at the shows? Please?”

Remmick’s stomach flips. He hasn’t felt that in decades. He doesn’t wear fake fangs. They’re his own, which he allows to slide from their position in his mouth and uses for a few key moments, always hiding when he does to make it seem like fake teeth. 

“Please? It’ll be fun!” 

You feign distress, the back of your hand pressed to your forehead.

“Oh, no, don’t suck all my blood,” you joke. 

You giggle and don’t notice when Remmick swallows nervously. He has to hold back every single time you’re around each other, when he smells your warm blood, the sound of your heartbeat making his ears ring.

“Can I bite you?”

“Won’t they pop off?”

“They’re uh… pretty well-made.”

“Fine. But don’t bite too hard… if I show up at the office tomorrow with a bite mark on my neck Marcia will literally die.” 

“Oh, I can think of somewhere else to bite you,” he murmurs, his hand squeezing your thigh. 

You grin at him and nod. He sits up and you climb off, letting him go to his bag. He takes it to the bathroom, shutting the door. He lets his fangs slide down, willing his claws to stay short. He reenters the room and parts his lips, letting you see the gnarled teeth between them.

You bite your lip, giggling. 

“They look so real up close,” you murmur in amazement, sitting up on your knees. “Can… can I touch them?”

He nods and you reach up, dragging your index finger down his front teeth. Your manicured nail touches his lips and he jokingly snaps at you. You pull back your hand and giggle. He can smell you getting wetter and he shoves you back on the bed, kissing down your tummy as your shirt rides up. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and drags them down your legs, sinking to his knees. He tosses them to the side and clenches his jaw, trying to maintain his control.

“Ew, they’re all slimy,” you whine. 

He’s drooling now, really drooling, dripping onto his leather pants as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your clit. As much as he would love to drink from your cunt– our soft, warm, drooling cunt where the blood would be so sweet he’d get a sugar rush– he knows he can’t. Knows he won’t be able to control himself, knows he’ll turn you prematurely. He pretends to take off his fangs and shove them in his pocket, where he’s actually stuffed your panties, and dives in to eat you alive the acceptable way. Fingers deep in your cunt, tongue lapping at your clit like he’s dying of thirst. Every raucous, slurping sound he could make leaves his mouth as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

His teeth scrape at your thighs– hard enough to leave streaky bruises– in a desperate attempt to draw blood by accident. He tries this several times until you push on his head, whining. 

“Rem, that hurts…”

“Sorry,” he pants against your skin. “M’sorry, baby, you just taste so good.” 

When he’s finished, when you’ve cum twice and he’s ruined his own pants, he lays in bed with you, his head on your chest. He listens to your heart, constructing melodies in his head to the thrum of you. 

Soon.

You tap your foot as you sit in the office with your publicists, Marcia and Remmick’s guy Richard. They work for the same PR agency, even though you and Remmick are signed to different labels. 

Something that should be a declaration of love is turning into hostile business negotiations. You impatiently watch the sun as it slowly bleeds into a sunset, disappearing behind the hills of Hollywood, the lights under the sign illuminating it. 

Finally, when it’s that cool purple tone, Remmick opens the door. Sunglasses over his eyes, hair a mess. You know he just woke up and– from his twitchy manner and the way he’s sniffing– just took a bump. You’re not even mad at him for being here so late and high, you’re just relieved you don’t have to listen to this much longer. 

“Christ, there he is,” Marcia grumbles.

“Marcia, good to see you again,” he greets her sarcastically.

“Oh, this is nothing. I usually meet with him at two in the morning.”

Remmick hands her the letter you two wrote the night before. She skims it quickly and gives you a look.

“What?”

“This is ridiculous.”

“But I really mean it,” you whine. 

“Is she always this sensitive?” Richard mutters.

“Always,” Remmick and Marcia answer at the same time.

You pout at the three of them. 

“You really want to print this? This is so sappy,” Richard grimaces at the words. 

“She wrote it.”

“We wrote it together,” you correct. 

“Can you two just be honest?” Remmick huffs.

“She makes you look like you’re losing your edge.”

“Oh, I still have a fuckin’ edge.”

“He’s ruining your reputation.”

“I don’t want that reputation. I don’t even wanna be that girl anymore! I’m not Sweetie Love, I’m just… me. And I love him and I love the music I’ve made because of him. And th-the music we make together? Oh my God! You know it’s his voice on Right to My Face?”

Remmick hides a smirk behind his hand at how passionate you are. He takes a slow, calculated breath. He can feel his heart swell with that sick, ancient blood that flows through him. Your growing care for the integrity of the music and the importance of it is clear in the way you speak. 

“Oh, I know. I was the one dodging questions about it for you. For weeks.”

“Because it was on the charts for that long! Everyone was talking about us- they’re still talking about us because they love us!”

You catch yourself in a moment of such intense emotion and slump back in your chair, dragging your hands down your face. You arrived bare-faced, mostly just to go a bit incognito. 

“We’ll tweak this. Make it sound less… dear diary,” Richard mutters.

“Dear diary?” you pout again.

“A little more polished, hon. We love your enthusiasm.” 

“One more thing,” Remmick says.

“Yeah?”

“We’re doing a pap walk for my show tonight.”

After the blur of camera flashes and the feeling of Remmick leading you through a crowd, you sit on the cozy chair in his dressing room backstage. 

You sat in his lap while the band and crew discussed the minor changes to the setlist for the evening, and you agreed to add your voice to Tongue Out, with a microphone offstage.

“And ladies and germs, do not forget that we’re endin’ with Dirty Blessing tonight, cause tonight my lady is joinin’ us,” he had joked, squeezing the arm around your waist. 

The band was strange as ever, hardly adding their own ideas as he leads the conversation. But even the crew seemed to be part of this weird, reverent energy in the room. None of them looked at you, focused only on him. 

“So… what’s their deal?” you ask once everyone leaves.

“What deal?” 

“Are they all just, like, whacked out?”

“Well, probably. But um… it’s different tonight.”

He looks at you. He’s serious, red eyes full of want and locked on your own.  

“This one is gonna be…”

His eyes trail down to your chest, like he can see your heart through your skin.

“Fuck, it’s once in a lifetime.”

You watch the show from a box in a far corner, mostly hidden. Some of the people around you notice you, and you do get flipped off a couple times. In a few cases– mostly with men who brought their cute girlfriends– the girlfriend sees you and waves wildly. You send them back a wave and you blow a few kisses. 

You’ve seen Remmick perform before, mostly in videos. He gifted you a VHS of his performance at Woodstock ‘94. You’ve probably burned a hole in the tape, how many times you’ve rewound to see him grinding against the stage while he sang Coming In. 

He takes a drink of water, leaning against his mic stand as he shakes out his sweaty hair. He wipes off his face with a towel that he tosses into the crowd. 

“Don’t sell that! Now, in a moment we’re gonna get to singin’ Slippery up here,” he holds out the s again, interrupted by cheers. “Now, I have been fuckin’ hounded by reporters, by paparazzi- shit, even by you motherfuckers! Everybody wants to know about this song. Everybody’s always askin’ me, ‘is it about… say, a certain pretty ‘lil popstar who I was wildcattin’ with in the news last year?’ And I am just here to put those rumours to rest, alright? Because this song… is absolutely about her. Well, a certain part of her.”

He laughs as the band starts to play, and he climbs up onto the platform with the drummer. A few people turn back to see you giggling behind your hand, body already moving to the thrumming bass line. 

By the end of the show, the stadium is wrecked. There are trampled-on signs, discarded wristbands, the odd ticket or two. You see the empty package of a condom, which makes you shudder to think where the thing itself ended up. The crew packs up, and Remmick requests that you stay with him and the band while they have a drink to celebrate the end of this group of shows. 

He never tours, not like you have. Just announces short bursts of shows, a handful at a time in random cities, before not performing again for a few months. 

You join him backstage, hugging him tight, kissing his mouth with those silly fangs in it. The corn syrup blood smudges on your lips and you giggle, swiping it away and licking your finger clean.

“You’re gonna be all sticky if you don’t wash off,” you tell him.

“Mm, you still let me fuck you last time.”

He kisses you again, differently. His hands hold your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“I love you too, Rem…”

“I love that you came tonight… that you got to share the music with us all…”

“Yeah, of course, I was so excited to see you play. You guys were awesome!” you chirp to the band, who smile politely.

“Thanks,” one of them says. 

You see their white contacts close up.

“Whoa, can you even see anything through those?”

“I can see you fine, sweetheart,” the bassist answers.

You don’t see her hand gripping the sofa cushion so hard she could rip it in half. You don’t miss the way she calls you sweetheart, however. 

“Rem,” you say softly.

“Yeah?”

“Is this like… like an orgy thing?”

“No, do you want it to be?” he answers you in a jokey tone.

“No, I… what’s with everybody? You guys are freaking me out,” you laugh nervously. 

“Baby,” he says, his voice in a different tone, his cold, sticky hand gripping your shoulder.

“Wh-”

“You know I wanna be yours.”

“You are mine,” you tease him.

“Wanna be yours forever. Wanna make music with you forever.” 

“Is this…” your voice drops, “a-are you proposing right now?”

Fellowship and music.

You whip your head to see who whispered in your ear, finding nobody. He turns your head back to him, holding your chin in his hand. 

“Oh, this is bigger than marriage, sweet thing.”

No pain.

He doesn’t let you move your head again, his grip– suddenly so strong�� keeping you in place. 

“Rem, wh- you’re scaring me-”

“Baby. C’mon,” he laughs. “C’mon, you can’t be that stupid.”

You feel like your feet are glued to the floor as he circles you like a shark.

“Never seen me in the day. Never seen me eat. You never ever questioned how I just show up in the middle of the night? No, why would you? Huh? You want it so bad… you’ll make up any little excuse. What’d you think? Hm? Drugs? Maybe I’m just the asshole everybody says I am… me and these morons, we ain’t no two-bit cult, baby, oh no. No, they’re all me. And I’m all of them and now… you’ll be me and I’ll be you, pretty thing. Make you part of this beautiful band, make you me.”

You can’t speak, your voice caught in your throat. You make a pathetic little whimpering noise and he puts a finger to his lips. You watch all of his digits grow, bones pushing the skin out longer– slow, gory, and painfully– into long, razor-like claws. 

A tear rolls down your cheek and he swipes it away, licking it off of his thumb. 

“So sweet. Don’t cry now. Don’t cry, baby, this was always how it was gonna happen. Well… see, when I started that little fight, I was just feelin’ nasty… but now? Oh, darlin’…”

His clawed hands cup your face. Delicately, like you’re something precious and priceless but his. 

Only his.

The candlelight in the room bounces off the reflective eyes of the band, who wait in patient silence while their maker claims his bride.

“I never thought you’d be… you. The way you talk about the music, the way you love it, baby.”

He puts one hand over his heart.

“You’re perfect.”

From behind you he leans in, taking in the fragile floral fragrance of your perfumed neck. He snarls, you feel the cold puff of his breath against you. 

“God, I been waitin’ so long for this.”

It doesn’t hurt at first. Your body goes into shock and numbs the pain of his bite. 

Then it blooms. Your shoulder is on fire, his teeth dig so deep, ripping the skin, the muscle, the tendons and every little fiber of your taught body until you finally find your voice and scream. You fall to your knees but he’s there to catch you, easing you down as he drinks down your blood greedily. 

“Oh, fu-ck,” he gurgles. “Goddamn, s-so sweet, baby, y’so fuckin’ sweet,” he pants, his mouth coated in your blood. 

Your body goes limp, unable to hold yourself up on your elbows, sliding until your Remmick t-shirt touches the carpet. You’re bawling, hot tears streaming down your face as you gasp for air, his weight crushing you against the floor. You can feel the throb as blood gushes from the wound and into his waiting maw– it almost feels like he’s trying to bite your whole arm off. 

This is it. 

No more tours, red carpets, fashion shows, parties, photoshoots, songs, albums, TV spots, scandals, or lovers.

There will be no 2*Sweet Reunion Tour when you’re fifty-five. 

You will never be a princess on your wedding day. 

You will never be a mother or a grandmother. 

You will never win a Grammy or an Oscar or do anything else because you are dead. 

You’re bleeding out behind a locked door, in a closed stadium, in the middle of the night, where nobody will find you unless they want you to be found. 

Your eyes close and you take a shaky breath.

A split second later, your eyes shoot open. The pain is gone, morphed into something else. The blood spilling from you seemed to reroute itself, and has rushed down to pool in a needy warmth at your belly. Your body is hot, so incredibly hot. You try to speak, only choking.

He turns you over. 

You see Remmick for what he is. Eyes glowing, claws gripping your leg, fangs on display. You’re not afraid. You know him, you’ve known him. You see through your eyes, through his own eyes, as every drooling thing around you does.

You can’t speak, your mouth pooling with saliva. 

“No, just breathe.”

You focus your breathing, in through your nose and out through your mouth.

Drool and blood make a sickly cocktail, dripping from his mouth. Something takes over your body, you immediately crane up to lick his face clean, tasting that coppery tang of your own blood and the unsatisfying sweetness of the lingering corn syrup. 

“That’s my girl,” he purrs, helping you sit up with him on your knees. You can feel his hands on your skin and feel yourself grabbing your own skin. “Whoa, girl. Relax.” “I… I c-”

Instead of words, spit dribbles from your lips.

“I know, shh, I know, baby. Hivemind’s a lot at first… gotta ease you into it.” He looks to the band.

“Leave,” he commands, his voice echoing in your head. 

They get up and exit the room, and you try to join them. Remmick keeps you on the floor with two hands on your shoulders. 

“No, not you, sugar. Not you. You stay here.”

You paw at his chest, still trying to speak. 

“What, you need somethin’? Huh?”

He’s teasing you. He ate you and now he’s fucking teasing you. 

Suddenly, you feel white hot rage bubble up inside of you and boil over, reaching up to swipe at him with your own claws. He catches your hand before it even gets near his face, pinning back to the carpet. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” he snarls at you. 

“What the fuck am I?” you spit at him. 

“Sweetheart, I know you know what you are.”

His low voice is reminding you of that insistent need, that throbbing between your legs. You would love to fight with him but instead you just part your legs, skirt riding up your thighs.

“There she is,” he coos, running his hands down your thighs. “There’s my girl.”

You watch his hands return to their human form, gagging at the way the skin shifts and the bones crack back into place. Your disgust subsides when you realise you can grab his hand and bring it to your mouth, licking the blood from his fingers ravenously. 

“That’s it. Yeah, lick all that up, c’mon. Good girl.”

He settles between your legs, his leather pants grinding against your soaked panties as you scramble to hold something. Your claw nicks him by accident when you try to grab onto his arms. He hisses and you cower.

“No, no, that’s alright. That’s okay, baby, you’re learnin’. You can scratch.”

He drags your panties down your legs and undoes his belt, shoving down his pants, his cock springing free. He twitches and grips himself at the base, pushing into you. You gasp, claws digging into his shoulders as you hold on for dear life. 

“You feel that? You feel yourself, baby?” 

The feel is something entirely new, the familiar stretch of him in you but the phantom sensation of just how damn tight you are around his cock, just barely there.

“Oh, f-fuck… mm, you always feel me this deep? Goddamn.”

You shudder when he bottoms out. He hovers over your face, panting.

“Show me your fangs,” he says. “Let ‘em out.”

The fangs moving is slow at first, slimy and agonising as they lengthen and come to points in your mouth. You bring your hand down to touch them, distantly remembering the feeling of his teeth in your house. 

He starts with shallow thrusts, just hardly pulling out of you. Your legs are hooked over his hips, ankles crossed behind him.

“Yeah, take it like that. Take it deep for me.”

He laughs at you, drool running down the side of your face, smudged with blood and corn syrup.

“Dirty girl. Got you all messy, huh?”

You can’t speak, just moan and sputter as he rubs your clit in tight, mean circles.

“R-Rem-”

“You close, honey? Yeah, I know you are, I can feel it now. My pretty bride… you cum on this cock, baby, you show me who you belong to.”

You whimper.

“I’m right behind you, right there fuckin’ up in you so deep-”

You both moan when he lifts your hips and angles up, his tip grazing the spot inside of you that has you crying.

“Oh, baby… that’s what th-that feels like?” 

He rocks his hips, just pushing himself against that spot again and again, feeling it through you. He keeps going until he’s gasping for air, whimpering.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for me, please, please, claim me. Just claim me, tell me I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, Remmick,” you sob. 

“Oh, God- I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

Testing your newfound strength– and also because he lets you– you turn him over, his back slamming onto the floor as you bounce on his cock.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes! C’mon baby, c’mon baby, please, please,” he chants desperately, breathlessly. 

You feel the muscles in his abdomen pull taut as the pressure in you releases, simultaneously feeling yourself gush on him and him cumming inside of you. You keep going until he lifts you off with a snarl. You wince like a dog, wriggling from his grasp to touch him again. You need to be on him, skin to skin. You nuzzle against his cold, empty chest. You hear a single heartbeat and look up at him.

“Old thing like me, I’m lucky it’s that fast.”

“But… you…”

“Just a ‘lil glamour, baby. Man’s gotta have a heartbeat.”

He cups your face.

“What am I?” you ask quietly. 

“You’re in the band, darlin’.” 

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[thewritingfairy]

of course 🙄 jason’s terrorizing a civilian family once again, so not heroic 😒 ngl how is the rest of the JL not hearing about how the family is acting towards Reader? surely some of the public must’ve noticed the behavior of the family and said something about it, right? 😭 right??? 😖

(this is not meant to be hate towards your writing, it’s amazing and it’s giving me many thought worms about it. i’m just curious if any of the other leaguers besides Clark have noticed or heard anything about the batfam bc it seems like they’re trying to look normal about missing Reader but it looks like Jason is failing terribly 😓)

Phone format, chapter mentioned; 06. Reassurance

I absolutely understand your questions and I absolutely take it as a compliment that my writing brings up questions. Because if there are questions there is a story still to be told.

I have a small detail I keep in the background, in most comics I've read Batman is the reason the Justice League can exist without government interference. In my fanfics its that and worse.

The justice league is willing to overlook how Batman acts towards you because you are just a small life compared to all the lives they can save as the justice league. (In my fanfics the JL knows who batman is and his family because it creates great angst potential)

It's something Superman doesn't agree with, but he cannot deny how the JL and the younger JL has helped his children.

The JL only exist with Batman because without Bruce Wayne's money they cannot function. They cannot fund such activities on their own, and if the government were to take over their civilian lives would be in danger.

And you kept it all hidden until the end, you who is as strong as your mama. You deep down know who your family is, but you still don't want to admit it.

You're in denial, why wouldn't you be?

How could your father be so kind to others but not to you? A child from a woman he loved more than himself, from a woman he almost loved as much he loves Gotham.

When your grandma told you nothing but great stories about their love? Even when her eyes narrowed while thinking of Bruce, he's your biological father and her own grievances against him never became clear until you showed her the scars Jason left.

From that day forward your maternal family did everything they could to keep the Wayne's on their toes but you safe. At first they thought it was out of anger that Bruce cheated on your mama, but the second you disappeared it became clear. It's you, it's always been you.

Your grandma hates Bruce not just for cheating on her daughter, she hates him because she reminds her of everything that's wrong in this damn world. A man who's privilege keeps him from falling, someone who tries to do good yet cannot be good to those in his life.

Your maternal family's anger bled over to civilians, but Gotham has never been the most morally pure now have they? Civilians could empathise with the rumours of neglect surrounding you, that you have scars from the child that suddenly rose from the death. But it's the villains that empathise the most with you, for you in this story are one of the few that still looks at them with eyes that show humanity instead of just fear.

You are not afraid of Gotham's villains, nor are you afraid of Luthor (is it Luthor or Luther?) but that's a story for a different time, you embrace them with the same warmth your mama would have used. You condemn them, but you recognise their human. The side of society that pushed them towards this life, you still think that they should do better and be better. But compared to others you never fail to see their humanity.

Well except the Joker and Death stroke. You've only really interacted with the mild-mannered villains (besides Penguin) so are you truly that well versed in the world of Villains? No.

The you in this story is very similar to someone I know or rather knew, you are done fighting. Sure, you'll be petty by asking Penguin to leave clues behind for your family (and the bats). And those clues contain nothing but your pain ridden writings.

Where you write about how you wish life could have been different, how you wish you weren't so alone. How you wish you didn't feel like dying. How you wish that every breath felt like a relief instead of poison waiting to explode.

Jason is the one who takes these clues the hardest, it's also why he sucks at acting normal. These letters started to increase after he attacked you. Isn't that a clear indication that he fucked up your life to a point of no return? That he is just like the Joker?

But back to your question because I'm getting off track, due to you not really giving a shit anymore besides not wanting any contact, the JL doesn't really talk about you. They see it as a sign that you've moved on.

At least, besides both Conner and John (Superboy) and Superman. Those three talk shit about the batfamily without hesitation, mainly because Clark knows he isn't the best either. But at least he's never neglected a child to the point of them almost dying.

Diana is a bit of a weird story however, she wants to kill Batman but at the same time the world needs him so she can't. Yet, unlike the others she has found you.

Not because of a hospital visit, but because of your mama. Diana had a dream and the day after she found you. (I'm definitely making side chapters on the dreams because this is me coping with the fact that my intuition is a bitch and with the fact I still have nightmares almost daily)

The rest of the JL? They care, but they don't care enough to piss off Batman. Like, Aquaman doesn't even understand what the fuck is going on. So, he doesn't meddle.

I can't give a more in dept answer in case of spoilers because this is already spoiling it a bit ngl.

[trippinsorrows]

life with you + gmar

authors note: believe it or not, this is one of my favorite plots i've created for a story. joe and mari just have me in a hold. idk. but, i decided to write a couple shorts/oneshots giving some more insight into their past and relationship.

super big thank you to all you amazing folks who continue to read and support this here story. it really means a lot to me. 🥺

some lore is def sprinkled in here. for sure.

masterlist

words: 3.8k

warnings: fluff and mari being a hot mess express

dividers credit: @bbyg4rlhelps

Late 2020

“Ya’ll know that random, striking cramp you get up your asshole when you’re on your period? The one that lasts like less than ten seconds but makes you feel like you’re about to meet Aaliyah, Pac, and Jesus?” Mari plops another Doritos blue ranch chip in her mouth, chewing while talking. “Hate that shit.”

A glance over at the TV that plays an old rerun episode of The Bernie Mac Show. She narrows her eyes, focusing in on the characters and nature of the scene, quickly determining that it’s from season 2. One of her favorites.

Digging in the bag for another chip, preferably a larger one, she asks, “or, is that just me?”

The thought never really occurred until this moment that perhaps her symptom is one of uniqueness versus a shared experience across the XX group of gals.

Except, reading the comments after locating the most perfectly shaped and sized chip reveals a different set of responses.

Mari, sweetie, I think you need a nap.

LMAOOO WHY IS SHE LIKE THIS YA’LL?

I literally just got on your live, friend, and that’s the first thing I hear. Omg.

since no one is saying it, i will. YES, AND IT’S THE MOST PAINFUL THING EVER OMG. 😫

Finally landing on a comment that expresses the agreement she was looking for, Mariella makes a sound and finishes swallowing before sharing that appreciation. “Thank you! And, no, cause it really is. Literally feels a like steel, burning rod is going up my booty hole.”

She reaches for the bottle on the coffee table, downing down a couple ounces of water when she notices someone asking where she got her bottle. “TJ Maxx!” Mari answers, pointing at the colorful bottle that has lines to mark ounces along with words of encouragement. “I love me some TJ Maxx. They always have the cutest stuff for affordable prices.” A small smile on her face as she uses a napkin to wipe some of the crumbs from the corner of her mouth. “Big Daddy hates going there with me, cause I love to go down every aisle to see what they got, meanwhile he maybe checks the athletic section and is ready to go soon after.”

Why is that not surprising?

am I the only one who cringes every time she calls him that? like, that’s your husband, sis.

@/user Am I the only one who cringes every time someone gets mad about what another woman is calling HER husband? Like, that’s HER husband, sis.

I feel like most men hate shopping altogether, unless it’s for like home improvement stuff...

Mari rolls her eyes and nods in agreement at the latest comment. “No, we can be in Home Depot damn near two hours, and he’ll still not be ready to go. Standing there with his hands on his hips, looking at shit I don’t understand or care about, asking me some—” Mari lowers her voice, doing her best to mimic Joe’s deep baritone. “Baby, what you think?” She switches back to her own voice, sucking her teeth and pouting. “Nigga, I don’t care. I’m just ready to go. A bitch is hungry. Shit.”

LMAO MARI PLEASE!

I swear, you are like the big sister everyone needs. 😂😂

it’s the fact that i can see this so plainly lmaoooo

They are the cutest fucking couple ever UGH

I wonder if they want kids, because their babies would be so adorable.

@/user they do. she's said it in interviews before. i believe she said they're just waiting for a good point for them to pause their careers.

So random, but Umbrella came on my playlist the other day, and I kept thinking about that one interview she gave and talked about how she wrote it for them. 🥺

It’s the last comment she catches that causes Mari’s mood to shift a bit. Less playful. Not serious. More poignant.

“You know what’s funny?” She sits back against the bottom of the sofa, crossing her legs over one another. “What a lot of people don’t realize is while that record is upbeat and a song you could easily dance to, it’s also extremely emotional for me, which is why I don’t talk about it a lot in interviews anymore, cause I’ll just start crying, because as you all know, I’m a crybaby.” She pauses, feeling the emotions stir within. “Gosh, I’m gonna start crying now.” Mari blots at her suddenly watery eyes, clearing her throat. “That song will always be so special for me, and it has nothing to do with it being my first major single and everything to do with the man it’s about.”

Nothing at all, because the truth of the matter is that Umbrella truly represents her relationship with Joe in ways that no one could ever understand. The depth of their dedication and trust and love for one another. Every word holds meaning, every verse carries depth, and every line a vow she meant and will always hold. Because just as much as she knows she’s been there for him, wrote a whole song dedicated to her devotion to him—several—it’s always been 100% reciprocated.

No one has ever supported her as much as her husband. Even when her own parents started to gently suggest that she maybe “think about other options” while she hustled and worked hard to pursue her dreams, he never swayed.

Always encouraged. Always supported. Lights cut off, barely any food in the fridge or pantry, robbing Peter to pay Paul, the sacrifices made on both ends, whatever it took, he did, was right by her side.

She’ll never forget the time she called him, doing her best to hide the fact that that was the first time in her life she ever really started to entertain the idea that maybe her dream was always just that—a dream. Waning belief spurred by a hopeful meeting with a music producer, who turned out to be nothing but a sleaze ball and predator, and resulted in her running out of that place, clothes disheveled and hope dashed. She just wanted, maybe even needed, to hear his voice, to be reminded that even though he wasn’t physically with her, he was still there. Still available to comfort her, and that was all she needed. Just to talk to him. She didn’t need him to necessarily come home and see about her, but that’s exactly what he did.

An 8 hour drive there and back, because they certainly didn’t have any money for a plane ticket, to see about her, because he already knew that she was far from okay. No matter how hard she tried to hide her distress. Distress that was partially amped by how exhausted he looked upon his arrival as well as his departure. He was drained, exhausted, and working his ass off to try to provide for them, yet none of that stopped him from coming to see about her. In one way or another, Joe has always been there for her.

Even before they realized that they had romantic feelings for one another, there’s always been that connection and magnetic pull of sorts. A rapport that can’t be manufactured. Only developed from a natural inclination. The man she’s shared so many moments with throughout her life. From him to coming to meet her on the side of the road, because she should have taken her fuel gauge seriously when it was screaming at her to fill up her tank. To rescuing her from disastrous dates that left her wondering if singleness was her forever future. To countless unintentionally comical moments like their wedding night where she more or less almost had a panic attack after seeing his dick of the first time, resulting in an almost fifteen minute rant about how they would have to have a sexless marriage, because there was no way he was fitting that inside of her.

Good, bad, somewhere in between, he’s always been there. Because that’s who he’s always been to and for her. A reliable, firm pillar of strength.

And that type of loyalty is a rarity to find this day and age, hence why there’s no path or direction in life for her that doesn’t include him.

There is no Mariella without Joe.

Plain and simple.

Clearing her throat once more, she reads more of the comments, smiling at the one that stands out the most.

Wait, where is Big Daddy, motha?

Her grin deepens, as she wipes at her eyes. “Ya’ll wanna see him?” A bit of a silly question, she can admit, when she’s met with a plethora of “yes” and “hell yeah” from her impromptu Live that, according to the number in the corner of her screen, has bypassed 250k viewers.

Damn.

Clearing her throat, Mari angles her body towards the left, in the direction of the spiral staircase. “Big Daddy!”

A brief yet noticeable pause followed by a loud enough yet calm. “Ri.”

She covers her mouth, trying but mostly failing to conceal her laughter, calling out, “can you come here?”

In preparing for the arrival of her husband, Mari works quick to clean off the crumbs from her lips and uses the pack of sanitizer wipes to rid her fingertips of the stains from one of her favorite snacks. The timing is perfect, when heavy footsteps soon follow as Joe walks into the living room.

Her smile returns as she looks up at him and bites down on her bottom lip. Sweats, a plain white shirt, his favorite slippers she got him a few years back for Christmas. His hair is lazily pulled back, a few strands of loose curls dangling, and wearing his black rimmed glasses.

Even so dressed down and casual, the man looks good.

His deep voice rings, dragging her attention from his attractiveness to his presence. “Yeah?”

Her smile deepens as she lifts her hand, reaching for him. “Hi.”

Joe sighs, a loud, irritated thing, while still walking over and briefly holding her hand before plopping down on the sofa, close enough to where she can hold onto his leg from where she sits on the floor. It’s only then his gaze lifts to the table where she has her phone propped up against a stack of decorative books. “You on Live?”

She nods, holding onto his leg, gesturing to the phone. “Say hi to my friends.”

“Ri.”

Mariella presses her face into the cotton of his sweats, giggling, “you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Nigga.”

I love the way he always looks so done yet so in love with her at the same damn time. 😭

And, I oop—why he do you like that, friend?

Joe said you interrupted my sleep for THIS?

Random, but that man fine as sin, geez. 🥵

A glance at the screen allows Mariella to see some of the comments, prompting her to scoff, “he wasn’t doing nothing but playing that damn video game. Or, solitaire on his phone.”

“The second,” Joe supplies as she moves from off the floor and climbs onto his lap, sitting sideways, his big hand naturally cupping and squeezing the meat of her ass. Mariella kisses his temple and casually strokes the hair at the nape of his neck.

He proves his point by pulling his phone out the pocket of his sweats, showing her the screen. Mariella rolls her eyes and lays her head against his shoulder. “You’re such an old man.” He pecks her temple, as she redirects her next statement more towards the viewers. “Ya’ll, I swear, if they still delivered papers, and he was home more, he would be that neighbor you see coming out in a long robe, mug of coffee in hand, going to retrieve it. A lil ‘hey there, neighbor’ sprinkled in there for some razzle dazzle.”

Joe feigns irritation. “And, what’s wrong with that?”

She lifts her head and presses her lips together. “Exactly my point.” Mariella adjusts in his lap once more, murmuring, “Mr. Rogers headass.”

Not Mr. Rogers CTFU 😂😂😂😂

Whyyyyy are you roasting this man like this omggggg?

I am so in love with how in love they are. It’s not even funny.

Mari doesn’t even feel like a celebrity, and I think that’s one of the reasons we all love her so much. She’s just Mari. 🥺

“We need music,” Mariella announces with a gasp, sitting up on Joe’s lap.

But, while she looks excited, he simply scowls, “Ri, no. I’m not for that shit tonight, cause I already know what you about to do.”

“What you say?” She says with an almost genuine confused expression, starting to climb off. “I can’t hear you.”

“Ri—”

“Huh? Baby, you gotta speak louder,” she continues to ignore him, taking his phone an navigating to Spotify.

“Mariella—” He’s stopped when the opening notes of a most familiar song fills the living room, his wife having connected to the speakers built throughout their mansion.

His eyes close, his head back against the sofa, as he mutters, “every fucking time.”

I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me

But, it’s too late, Mariella has his phone tossed back on the sofa beside him as she stands up and bends over to push back the coffee table, accidentally knocking her phone over in the process.

“Ooops,” she laughs, fixing and adjusting it so it’s focused on her excitement and her husband’s misery as she transitions into a full on random dance routine meets cheer choreography.

MOTHA WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING????

why is she dancing omg 😭😭😭😭

it’s the way roman looks so done with her 😂😂😂😂😂

THIS HAS TO BE THE BEST LIVE I’VE EVER BEEN ON.

Mariella moves to sit on Joe’s lap, bending over, palms planted on the carpet as she twerks on his lap, on beat to the music, at that.

She gasps, feeling his hand move over the curve of her plump ass, a squeeze and slap, followed by, “you better stop before you start something you can’t finish, baby girl.”

At that, her eyes widen a bit, the laughter minimizing as she forces herself to move back, sitting on his lip once more, squealing when he yanks her against his chest. “Joe!”

She giggles, eyes shut, hands holding onto his forearm, as he presses kisses and sucks on her neck. “Stoopppp. We can’t do it on my Instagram Live.”

YES YOU CAN!

we won’t tell if you don’t, sis.

God, it’s me again. When is it my turn?

Ya’ll can have Russ and Ci. Give me Joe and Ri.

wait, don’t stop. we trying to see something. 👀

Leaning over to read more of the comments, Mariella ignores her husband’s fingers messing with the waistband of her shorts. Really, an old pair of his basketball shorts.

She’s always stayed in his clothing. A preference and thing that really started when he made the career shift to wrestling and was gone a lot. Sleeping in his clothes always helped her to feel close to him, and years letter, both deeply immersed in successful careers, it’s something that hasn’t changed.

She makes a sound, tapping on his muscular forearm and wiggling until she’s standing up, his gaze lifted to her. “I gotta pee.” She bends over, slapping his hand away as he once again move it to her ass. “Ya’ll, watch Big Daddy for me.”

“Ri.”

Mari quickly scurries away as he slaps her booty, lifting his foot, pretending to kick her away.

Naturally, instead of paying attention to the comments, Joe, the undeniable and will never deny it more quiet one of the two of them, grabs his phone, turning down the music as well as grabbing the remote for the TV.

“Why the hell she got both on anyway?” He mutters to himself, paying her phone and Live no mind.

LMAO he’s such an old man, complaining about the TV being on.

Good God, how can a man be so attractive while doing absolutely nothing? 😫

Does this mean we’re not getting the live sex show? 😅

@/user Lita and Edge did it first.

^^^^Who?

…..Lawd, it’s time to die, ya’ll. The kids don’t even know they history no more.

Joe casts a brief, lazy glance to his wife’s phone before easily refocusing on his own. He was in the middle of a good game, too.

“Baby!”

He sighs, already knowing it’s about to be something. Anytime Ri calls him with that tone and voice, it’s something.

“Yes?”

And, he was 100% correct. “Can you bring me a roll of toilet paper? We’re out!”

At that, he sucks his teeth, sitting forward on the sofa. “Ri, it’s right there in the bathroom!”

Her answer comes quick and panicked. “But, there’s a spider near the rack! I need you to kill it, too! I can’t do it cause there’s urine dripping from my vagina!”

“God,” he groans, running his hand over his face. “No filter whatsoever.”

I AM SCREAMING RIGHT NOW OMG

this has to be the funniest shit i’ve ever seen. 😂😂😂

It’s the way he looks so done with her right nowwwww.

This has to be the third time I’ve heard her ask for someone to kill a bug for her. Is she scared or something? 😅

“Yes.” It just so happens that Joe is lazily and casually reading some of the comments, curiosity getting the best of him. “When she was 10, she killed a spider, and a week later, she ended up in the ER cause a brown recluse bit her. At 12, she was stung by a wasp and had a bad allergic reaction, ending up in the ER again. Ever since then, she’s refused to kill any bugs, cause she’s terrified and convinced one might try to kill her afterwards.”

……I mean, she may not be wrong.

What in the Final Destination hell?

Damn, Mari. 😭

You better get to it then, sir.

“Baby, are you coming?” Mariella shouts, Joe rolling his eyes as she sing-talks, “it’s getting closer!”

“I’m coming!” He groans, standing up. “Always something with your ass…”

The disappearance is nothing that exceeds 10 minutes, viewers continuing to sit and wait patiently for free entertainment.

Mariella soon bounces back in front of the screen, offering a small wave. “Back!”

Joe is right behind her. She reaches for his hand, his arm settling around her, as she looks over her shoulder when he says her name. “Hmm?”

“Weren’t you supposed to be working on dinner?”

And, it’s in that very moment, she knew she fucked up. Mari’s eyes are wide as saucers. “Oh, Lord!”

Dashing away from him, Joe plops back down on the sofa, legs spread, head tilted back.

And, he counts, knowing and prepared, “three…two….on—”

“Oh no!”

Another loud sigh.

“Ri?”

A noticeable pause. “H—huh?”

“You burned the food again, didn’t you?”

Double pause this time. “No.”

Joe rubs his temples, allowing himself to view the latest set of comments.

Mari, sis, didn’t you burn the damn food the LAST time you was on live??? 🥲

Not only is this man tired, he hungry as hell. A shame.

Sis, not you eating on them Doritos like dinner wasn’t going up in flames! 😫🫠

Someone get this girl some cooking skills.

“That’s not the problem. She’s a decent cook,” Joe defends, explaining as he runs his hand over his face. “She just gets so damn distracted that the food ends up burning half the damn time, because she’s doing everything but watching it.”

He removes his focus from her phone and turns his head to see her standing with her hands behind her back, that ‘please don’t be upset with me’ look on her face. “Ya know, I was thinking. Lasagna is so overrated. We should totally just go get some takeout from that Chinese restaurant you—”

“Ri.”

“Hmm?”

“Just be honest. You burned it, didn’t you?”

Her eyes widen, her jaw dropping with faux repulsion. “How dare you suggest such a thing—”

He gestures behind her. “Ri, I can see the smoke coming from the kitchen.”

She snaps around, sure enough seeing smoke emanating from their kitchen, traveling and making its way through the house. A squeal followed by her disappearing, Joe practically visualizing the sight of her with one of the kitchen towels, trying to fan it away, as if it’ll make a difference.

And, because it wouldn’t be a typical night with his wife without some type of system going off, the irritating beep of the smoke detectors is the icing on the cake.

This has been the single most chaotic night of my life, and literally none of it happened to me.

MARI PLEASE NOT YOU ABOUT TO START A WHOLE ASS FIRE COOKING DINNER.

starting a petition asap for these two to get a reality show. 😭

I think motha took her man’s opp theme song a lil’ too serious.

As Joe briefly contemplates removing the stove from the kitchen altogether, another alarming and obvious alert from his sweet but sometimes clueless ass wife. “Baby! The smoke detectors are going off for some reason!”

SOME REASON? MARI, MY SISTER IN CHRIST, YOU ALMOST BURNED DOWN THE HOUSE, SIS!

No wonder that man be on the road so much. She is a LOT. 😶

ya know how people talk about folks who need adult supervision at all times? it’s mari. she is the folks.

I am DEADASS in tears. Oh my gosh, this is hilarioussssss. 😂😂😂

“I’m coming,” he calls, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Ri is a mess. Always has been. Even when they were kids. Differing and varying levels of her chaos always marking their friendship and now marriage. But, as…..stressful as things can be at time, as crazy as she can drive him some days, she’s also the first and last thing on his mind each and every morning and night.

The one person he knows he can always go to and count on for anything. When he was at his absolute lowest, the space that exists below rock bottom, spiraling deeper and deeper into a depression that no one recognized, she was there. She saw it, extended her hand and never let go. Pulled him out of a place he doesn’t know he would have escaped if not for her.

So, yes, there are definitely times where her….quirkiness is a lot, that she stresses him out with the random ass situations she lands himself in, but at the end of the day, she is everything and all that he needs in life. It could all go away tomorrow, and as long as he still had her, he’d be okay.

There is no Joe without Mariella.

And, that’ll never change.

Ever.

[swytdoll]

𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 [art: @hunnismokah :)]

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮: toji’s bulking and you’re ovulating! how can you keep your hands to yourself when all you want to do is touch? 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝐸𝒩𝒯 𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢: any color can read<3 size difference (toji has a monster cock ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა), blowjob, female oral, choking, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, cream-pie, explicit language, mirror sex, 69, toji fucks you in a headlock ݁𖥔 ݁˖

BULKING!TOJI who always seems to be wearing the sluttiest clothing. muscle tees that grip his meaty arms enticingly, showing off every curve and bulge of his well-defined biceps. his sweats always seem to hang too low on his hips, revealing a dark happy trail that leads down to his waistband. the fabric clinging to his thick thighs.

BULKING!TOJI who religiously carries a protein shaker with him, even on date nights, because he's serious about his bulking diet. he’s got a variety of protein powders, from chocolate to vanilla, and he loves mixing them with different fruits and oats to keep things interesting.

BULKING!TOJI who loves trying out new high-calorie recipes and often ropes you into cooking massive meals with him. you two have fun experimenting in the kitchen, making everything from giant stacks of protein pancakes to hearty chicken and rice dishes, always ensuring they meet his caloric needs. he’s genuinely grateful. often, hugging you from behind while you cook, placing the sloppiest kisses behind your ears, his tattooed arms coiled around your frame. his gratitude is evident in the way he nuzzles into your neck, whispering sweet nothings about how much he appreciates your efforts. “i love you, y’know that. . .right?”

BULKING!TOJI who’s noticeably chubbier, you like it. really like it, often burying yourself into his pudgy side with a satisfied sigh. “i could die like this.”

BULKING!TOJI who despite his intense workouts, always makes time to cuddle and watch movies, using you as his favorite "recovery" time. he loves resting his head on your lap while you binge-watch your favorite series, feeling your fingers run through his hair as he relaxes. “i hate this scene.”

BULKING!TOJI who gets annoyed and sleeps on the couch when you won’t stop playing with his tits. “you’re so damn annoying.”

BULKING!TOJI who you make sure has a secret stash of snacks in his gym bag for when he needs extra calories on the go. protein bars, nuts, and dried fruits are his go-to, and he always has a little something to munch on between sets or during quick breaks.

have a good workout<3 - signed your amazing beautiful girlfriend

BULKING!TOJI who becomes an expert at meal prepping, and his mini fridge is always stocked with containers of chicken, rice, and veggies. each container meticulously measured to ensure he gets the right amount of protein, carbs, and fats, and he takes pride in his perfectly organized fridge.

BULKING!TOJI who likes wearing your crop tops, flexing in front of the mirror. “take it off! you’re stretching my shit toji.” “no.”

BULKING!TOJI who can’t resist squeezing your face in his bicep, laughing as your chubby cheeks push together. “haha!”

BULKING!TOJI who just throws you over his shoulder during arguments. “i’ll put you down when you’re done being a brat.”

BULKINGTOJI! who thinks it’s dumb as you tie a pink ribbon around his wrist, demanding he stay still. he thinks it’s even dumber when you record it, the video boasting one-million likes on tiktok. “they loveeeeee you!”

BULKING!TOJI who’s entire hand covers your face. jeez, your poor cunt, he thinks.

BULKING!TOJI who can’t help but admire the way your swollen sticky lips suckle at his thick cock, pulling him back in greedily. usually, it’d take some time for him to ease into your tiny hole. but, you were ovulating today and after seeing your boyfriend walking around shirtless with nothing but boxers on, you practically jumped his bones.

BULKING!TOJI who presses all his weight onto you as he fucks your soppy pussy, the pressure in your back dull as he prods into that sweet spot from behind. pale veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, spreading you, revealing your puckering hole. a glob of warm spit followed by his thumb lubricating your asshole has you arching your back in anticipation. “papaaaa,” glossy eyes squeeze shut as he gently sinks his thumb into your asshole, pelvis relentlessly slapping into your sore ass. the sight has his dick twitching, ���humph, look so pretty with both holes filled.”

BULKING!TOJI who doesn’t care that you’re overstimulated, rocking his dick into your tight velvety walls at a mean pace. you don’t know how many orgasms the man has yanked from you. “i know baby, doing so good. takin’ all of me like a big girl, fuckkkk.” glazed eyes watching the way you glisten on him as he folds you against the wooden headboard, your legs flush to your chest. “tojiiii,” you whine, he could get drunk off the way you whimper his name. “am i deep baby?” he groans, thick cream building on his base. “mhm!”

BULKING!TOJI who has you in the nastiest headlock, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other forcing you to look into the mirror. you’re a mess, disheveled hair, tear-stained cheeks, swollen lips. the man’s so fucking huge he covers your entire body. “unt, unt. eyes open beautiful.” he sends a particularly deep thrust that has you shivering. slick, slick, slick, a repetitive noise that has him grunting deeply into your ear.

BULKING!TOJI who eats your pussy while you suck his dick. it’s a struggle taking him, drool seeping down your chin as you slurp at the veiny masterpiece. it’s also a struggle to concentrate as he eats you out like a starved man, spitting, slapping, fingering. god, you’re gonna cum again. “cummin!”

BULKING!TOJI who watches as his cum trickles out of your pulsing hole, pushing it back inside with a frown. “stay.”

[2-dsimp]

“Order up! With an extra tip on the side!”

Tw: NSFW MDNI, yandere pizza deliverymen x bimbo reader! Dubcon, sexual transactions, food tampering, obsessive/posseive tendencies, cum eating, handjobs,

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

yandere! Pizza deliverymen who fight over the rotations in who’d get to deliver to their favorite regular customer, and receive a special tip in return.

You always had a craving for pizza so you got to know most of the delivery staff for YanSlicers. They only accept cash for payment at the door, to which you forgot about half the time.

So you’d always be so embarrassed going up to the door with insufficient funds. As you had difficulty handling cash and figuring out the percentage of tips and whatnot.

Bottomline is you sucked at math, even the basics. So the nice deliverymen would always offer you an alternative.

One day, you didn’t have enough and the youngest pizza delivery man showed up leaning at your frame door panting out of breath.

Oma had won the ticket lottery to come to your address. And despite being pulled into a minor scuffle by his sore loser colleagues. Which left him looking like he came outta a car wreck.

He just boyishly grinned at you as if he wasn’t wearing a torn uniform, a head wrap bandage, and a dozen hello kitty bandaids slapped across his face.

“Oh I can already tell! You must not have enough this time either huh cutie pie?” Oma sounded so elated that you couldn’t even pay him. As if he didn’t work to get paid to begin with, and only does it to see you.

His sweaty hands were already fumbling with the buckles on his pants. Knowing the drill you got on your knees looking bashful as but determined to get that box of hot pizza.

“Aweee you look so damn adorable when you get on your knees for me~ we trained you up real good.” He gushed, with a heavy flush on his cheeks. Eyes blown wide staring down your cleavage. “C-can you do me a favor and take out a slice for me?”

Oma was the most tame, when it came to alternative payments. Or was mainly scared that if he fucked you like the others, he’d make a fool outta himself.

Since he knew the moment, he’d attempt to penetrate inside that juicy cunt of yours. He’d seen from pictures and videos his colleagues sent in the group chat that he’d bust a fat nut instantly.

You opened the box he handed to you, smelling the lovely aroma of melted cheese, fresh toppings, and toasted bread. Making you salivate before you held the slice up for him to aim at with the tip of his cock.

“Now lend me your other hand, uh huh that’s it keep pumping me just like that and squeeze it real tight.” He was always so vocal about what he wanted from you to make him feel good. And he relished in how obedient you were.

His length was warm, and slimy twitching in your hand. He helped in guided you to fap it faster and squeeze tighter around his thick girth.

Damn his knees were already starting to buckle, which was understandable as he’s been erect. Pathetically palming at himself the whole car ride to your place.

His tongue lolled out as his hips stuttered into your enclosed fist. Small dollops of precum dripped onto the pizza slice. “You’re doing amazing honey, just one more favor, tell me I’m your favorite. That you love it when I’m the one knocking at your door. Please?”

Oma always was a stickler for being praised and wanted by you, as your favorite deliveryman.

He wanted to rub it in his colleagues face, tell them that their adorable regular adored him the most.

While he may get ganged up on and possibly get stomped on by his jealous coworkers. Nothing would ever break his inflated ego which came from your cute voice telling him he’s the best.

You really did enjoy how needy he was and continued on praising him with a sweet smile on your face. He was just so charming when he was an sniveling overstimulated mess.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m cumming sweetness, this love sauce is just for you! T-take it all for me!” He whined, head tossed back using your hand to jerk off his shaft furiously, till his mushroom tip spurted ropes of his hot jizz all over your face and the pizza slice.

You continued to stroke him, even when his hand left yours. Making sure to coax all of his extra love sauce onto your slice. Making him curl his toes and squirm while biting his lip.

“Haa, thank you. I— shit I need to take a picture.” Gods, you drove him wild he got so flustered looking at you. That He nearly dropped the phone he was fishing out of his pockets.

“O-okay uh smile for the camera baby, need a clear shot so I can mount this moment on my wall—I mean mark it for a delivery well received!” You merely gazed up at him, making him groan from how slutty you looked with his baby batter, sticking to your cheeks.

Fuck his dick was rearing up for more again, and really it didn’t help when you bit into the cum covered slice giving a peace sign.

He didn’t have much time left, before the others would rally up and complain about him going over the time limit of delivery.

Oma shakily exhaled, clumsily angling his phone to take a momento of this transaction.

It was a procedure they said that was required of them to do, to make sure you get more points for your VIP membership.

Funny thing is they never had a rewards membership program to begin with being a new franchise. They just needed an excuse to spread their photos of you in the group chat. And gloat about who left you marked up as theirs the most.

But you didn’t have to know that.

[girl-lostconnection]

For @nightunite. I actually came back with some Seal!Soap and some hurt/comfort of poly!141 x fruit bat!Reader. Hope this is satisfactory

Harbour seal!Soap who’s off the base whenever he can — getting back home as soon as possible, the favourite baby of his mama, the oldest son and pride of his family.

Harbour seal!Soap who has difficulty slotting into most teams, he’s not a pack hybrid, he’s not attuned to the thin threads of connection that wolves or bats or even cows can feel, he’s him and maybe that’s the problem?

Harbour seal!Soap who tries hard to blend in, because he is friendly, of course he is friendly, he’s the friendliest guy on base but whispers are that he smiles too wide, that his laugh is too strained, that his teeth are always out — sharp, menacing things.

Price takes one look at his file and thrusts the pup in Simon’s hands, hums to take care of the seal and Wolf!Simon isn’t even sure what the fuck is he supposed to do.

The lad is jumpy despite obvious brilliance, the lad is trying to smile so hard Simon’s wolf grumbles with the urge to paw at him, press cheeky pup in the ground, teach him some bloody manners. You don’t show your teeth off to the likes of Simon unless you want to have them knocked out.

But Soap wiggles his way in every conversation, eyes shiny and smiles wide up until Ghost corners him, looming like death himself — snarls that if he doesn’t want a big bad wolf to bite him, he’ll fucking stop.

Simon doesn’t know whether to act on his promise or laugh in disbelief when Johnny raises his head and grins wider, now showing off his own canine’s deliberately. Look at that, the pup can bite, can’t he?

Komodo dragon!Price just hums when he finds them tangled in each other and places a bite under Soap’s collar, teeth sinking in warm salty flesh, tongue licking off the blood.

Komodo dragons thrive on hierarchy, Price thrives on power — that’s the only thing he won’t compromise on.

Johnny grins and finds way in his arms as well. Too damn bad, captain, too damn bad. Harbour seals thrive on attention.

Their unit is all live wires and sparks and heavy heady tension — air so thick with perpetual hunger that they could carve their initials inside of a little heart.

It gets easier when Kyle arrives — he takes away some of the tension, he gets each of them, catching up on everything twice as fast as Soap did.

It scratches Johnny the wrong way, makes a sensitive small part of him whine that this is it, that Kyle will take his place because how can anyone not like Kyle? Kyle is handsome, Kyle is bright and so effortlessly charming Soap wants to whip out little notebook where sergeant speaks.

But at some point Gaz pecks a kiss to his temple and pulls him on the couch of the rec room. Warm, inviting, draping hand over his shoulders — draping wing over both of them.

Soap watches him — teeth sharp, jaws itching to try the pretty wings on the pretty Gaz, head plopping in his lap.

Kyle slots into their team like he always was there — fingers careful in Johnny’s hair, hands warm around Ghost’s shoulders, talons sharp on Price’s skin.

And then you arrive. Little bat with big eyes and big wings and some of the fluffiest hair Soap has ever seen.

You don’t slot in like Gaz, you are a little rougher around the edges, a little awkward with your approaches.

Bats are social creatures but not all of us take the best parts from our hybrid sides.

You are bloody amazing at what you do, your efficiency is not a concern but you don’t wiggle your way right in the team.

You hover on the outside, you eat your fruits alone (he isn’t even sure why you even eat them? Aren’t bats carnivores? Maybe you just like them) and in the dark, you watch them — always in the periphery of the vision. But never too close.

You remind Soap himself.

Small childish part of him wants to keep things that way, small childish part of him doesn’t like new people on the team, doesn’t like sharing attention.

But you don’t ask for any. You are just there.

It takes him month and a half and a stupid joke Ghost makes about vampires for you to reply that you are a) vegetarian b) a fruit bat and not a spectral bat for Soap to feel like someone kicked him in the face. Simon pauses, tilting head to the side, his tail stopping its friendly wag.

Your smile is too wide, your teeth are so sharp and you don’t try to fit in.

You try to stay away.

They don’t know you and you just let them know that they don’t. You just let them know that they haven’t tried to know you.

Soap spends the whole evening googling information about your species with Ghost hovering above his shoulder, dark eyes reading faster than Soap scrolls.

The next morning is the first time none of them comments on the amount of fruit you consume for breakfast.

Kyle slots in next to you, murmurs “gorgeous wings, love”, asks if you could help him with preening, offers you company for the morning drills.

Offer makes something in you flutter, sending spark of hope down your chest, your big eyes zeroing on warm friendly Kyle.

(Kyle will never admit how embarrassed he was to realise that you slipped through the cracks. Kyle will never admit that social “bird” part of him croaked with distress when he noticed that you are always a little behind. Never with them.)

Soap feels something in him clench when you glance in his direction and then shake your head at Kyle. Soap knows why you looked at him very very well.

He notices Price with your file in the afternoon, reading glasses on the tip of his nose, tail swaying in with something very similar to agitation. Price doesn’t know how to crack on you, you never fight for his right at the top of the food chain, you never contest his power. He has nothing to bite down on.

Soap isn’t sure you will give captain anything to hook on. Soap isn’t sure you feel like you can.

Johnny finds you late at night, ridiculously big bowl of fruit in your lap, his cheeks burning when your head snaps up at him and you put it away.

He and Ghost used to tease you about the amount of fruits and berries you consumed — you started eating less at dinners with them.

Soap’s throat bobs when he gulps and he shakes his head, plopping himself down on the carpet next to you.

He should have thought you’d find a way to catch up on your meals when no one looks.

When no one can make you feel wrong for eating what you like to eat.

Johnny extends his palm to you. You won’t eat while he’s here but he’d like you to. Maybe you will continue if he asks you to share.

Wikipedia page smacks his brain immediately, reminding that fruit bats eat alone and are very protective of their food.

Bloody awesome, Johnny, you might’ve as well tried to wrestle fruits out of your grip.

But before his panic forces him to hide his palm away you carefully place a date in his palm, your darker claws cool and pointy. Soap doesn’t know why but he stares, eyes gluing to him.

“Can do damage with these, eh?”, he attempts at having conversation, trying not to smile too wide. Not to show off too much teeth.

You hum out “depends” and in demonstration poke a piece of orange, skewing it on a thin claw.

Soap feels his brows arch, leaning closer, unbidden “how many can you stack on ‘em?” leaving his mouth before he thinks.

To his absolute delight you snicker and pass him the bowl.

He spends the rest of the hour stacking pieces of fruit and skewing berries on your claws and watching as you practically inhale them once he’s done.

When you two finish up the bowl, you both are covered in juice and are grinning like mad idiots but Soap never felt lighter.

He watches you grin back at him — wide and toothy — and feels something shifting.

Maybe he’s not the pack hybrid like Ghost or doesn’t have Kyle’s easy charm or even John’s acute understanding of dynamics within the team. But he is him and it seems like that’s exactly what you need.

Few months later Soap finds himself with you nuzzled in his neck, Kyle plastered over you two like he’s a big blanket, Simon reading something in the quiet low voice of his and John already crawling into den you call bed.

It’s warm and he’s squished by people who like him from every side and he finally belongs.

Soap presses a kiss to the top of your head and smiles wide when you raise it, giving him a slow sleepy blink. His smiles are wide and toothy.

His smiles are always welcomed with his team.

And so is he.

[hollyoongs]

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚's 𝗩𝗘𝗥 !

prólogo Heeseung loved you, but he can't deny how good you make him feel when you clench around him while you praise (he won't admit the last one, but his moans just gives him away) [MASTERLIST]

elenco lee heeseung x f!reader

género smut with little plot

antes de leer mirror sex, unprotect sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink (both), breeding (plus mentions of having his babies), dirty talk, clit play, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), squirting, multiple orgasms, Heeseung loves reader, reader los Heeseung, mentions of hickeys, thigh riding/grinding, facial, cum eating (please let me know if I missed something)

# palabras +2.3k

Heeseung's eyes were so pretty when they were captivated by the adrenaline consuming him.

The second day of Coachella finished, hence why you were in your bed watching the fancams that were already out on probably all social media while your boyfriend showered.

Your phone screen lit up with the thumbnail of a close-up fancam—to be specific, a 'Paradoxx Invasion' fancam of today. Your finger was quick in tapping the video immediately. Your heart thudded while looking at the way his body moved; he was confident, and he knew he was the moment alongside the members.

The trail of sweat tracing his jawline as well as his neck, his neck a little red due to the hair dye that went along with his sweat, he was showing his presence, and it was impossible to look away, whether you went there or not. You held your breath when the camera zoomed in on the moment of the hip thrust, head back and his movement sharp, just to give a teasing smirk after.

The soft thud snapped your attention away from your screen; the bathroom door creaked to show him—towel slung low on his hips, another running through his damp hair.

"Did you catch me again?" he asked in a tone that made you roll your eyes. You block your phone to stand, grabbing the towel he was using to dry him properly.

Water still clung to his chest, his collarbones glistening under the warm light of the hotel room you were staying in, and his eyes were on yours. "Yes, I was watching you. You look hot and did amazing up there."

The small dominant facade he had briefly shattered a little bit, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he looked away in a shy demeanor, "Then why are you watching on your phone when you got to watch it today?"

"Because I could never get enough of you." You gave him the towel after finishing your job; his eyes were tender on yours. He reached out, the towel falling carelessly to the floor as his arms wound around your waist, drawing you in close until your body was pressed flush against the heat of his.

For obvious reasons, his skin was still warm, the citrusy and soft scent of the body wash he used lingered in the air, and you could hear his slightly fast heartbeat. "How can you say all this stuff in such a nonchalant way?"

Your fingers curled lightly against his chest, tilting your head to meet his gaze, that damn smile that made your heart also jump. His lips hovered close to yours, eyes searching your face again. "Because it's true."

Your nose brushes against his as your hands slide slowly around his back, making him chuckle under his breath. "I want to reward you for a successful Coachella." His eyebrow raised, intrigued, your waist getting subtly tightened by his hands.

“Really, what kind?” Without breaking eye contact. Your fingers decided to slowly trail down his back, feeling the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch until the tips of your fingers lay on the towel, taking it out from his hips completely to have him fully naked in front of you.

You made him sit in the bed with a fake innocent smile on your face. His cock was slowly getting hard. You began to strip in front of him, slow enough to see his hand beginning to ghost on his base, eyes glossy in need.

You turned around after taking your bra off your body, getting a view of your tits with an almost vanished hickey he gave at the top of one, your thumbs on each side of your panty, and pulling them down, clearly hearing a moan from him when he saw the wetness that was already creating in your entrance. The soft sound sent a rush of satisfaction through your body, making your little performance a success.

You turned again, this time facing him and grabbing his face with your hands, your thumb caressing his left cheek tenderly. Once again, his eyes—now slightly hooded—were glossy, neediness written all over your face, silently begging for your touch once and for all, but you could also see his dominance shine through it. One hand was moving up and down on his cock while the other one was on the matter to generate support; he was manspreading the whole time, which made it easier to get closer.

“How do you want to start, baby? You decide.” Your word out, he was fast enough to manhandle you to sit on top of his naked thigh; you couldn’t contain the whimper that left your mouth at the delicious friction, soon being cut by his lips in a passionate kiss. A type of kiss that he was always eager to give you.

Both of you lost yourself in the moment; his hands went to your ass as yours were messing his hair from the back. The kiss deepened—sloppy and hungry, your lower lip getting sweetly bitten by him—as your hips instinctively moved, grinding slowly against the firm muscle of his thigh. The mere sound of your soaking cunt and the soft moans that ended directly on his mouth made him groan, his head throwing back as he was slowly ascending to heaven.

Your kisses went from behind his ears to his jaw to end up on his neck, smiling wickedly at an idea that popped out. Heeseung hissed at the sensation of skin getting sucked, but soon smiled at your sweet attempt at revenge. He looked to his left, noticing the full-length mirror your room had that protected the filthy scene they were creating.

The pretty view of you starting to desperately grind against his thigh harder with your head hiding on the crook of his neck, coating it with your juices, and his hand on one of your ass cheeks, a quick spank landing on it, and he could swear he saw strings of your arousal when you jumped in surprise.

“Fuck, you look so hot.” You lifted your head and followed his gaze; the scene was hot, indeed. The knot was generated very quickly, especially when Heeseung’s fingers joined to finally touch your throbbing clit.

“God, you know how to make me feel so good, Hee,” you moaned. Heeseung's lips curled into a smirk as your praise washed over him, his fingers drawing slow, tight circles over your clit.

“And I’m not even close to being done.”

You whined softly, your forehead falling to his shoulder one more time as your hips chased his touch, grinding deeper into his thigh while his fingers worked you with precision, one that only came from knowing your body like second nature. His free hand moved to your waist, holding you firmly, grounding you while your body threatened to lose control.

"Such a messy princess, and I haven’t even—" He cut himself off with a sharp exhale as you rocked against him harder, your moans growing in volume.

Heeseung groaned against your lips, lifting you effortlessly as he laid you back onto the bed, spreading your legs with a look so intense it made your breath hitch. His cock was tall and proud; grabbing it by the base, he slapped your cunt, the tip of it teasing your entrance and laughing at your pathetic attempts to finally have him inside you.

“I love how she’s so eager for me.” A sloppy slap landed right on your entrance, provoking more arousal to generate.

“Please, Heeseung. Fuck me already,” He didn’t wait for more begging; he didn’t even actually want to wait any longer. He slid himself in with ease, hips going back and forth with a controlled pace to not hurt you. The face of full bliss was a perfect mind picture.

It was raw; you could feel every vein, how he twitched the moment your tight walls hugged him, and how your broken moan made him smile cockily. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them up to keep them wide open for him.

“You said it’s whatever I want today, right, baby?” He whispered, and you simply nodded, your voice only being available for moans and whimpers. “I want you to look at me; I want to see how good I make this pussy feel.”

“You always know how to treat this pussy, baby—fuck.” Your eyes shut close briefly before opening again, obeying him by locking eyes with him despite the haze of pleasure that was clouding your mind at that moment. The praise made him go faster, his cock dragging perfectly against your wall and his tip touching that sweet spot that only he and his fingers could reach. “God, Heeseung—” your voice broke into a moan, hands reaching your own breasts, you played with your nipples for extra pleasure. He leaned down enough to suck one of them.

He pulled back to admire the way you arched beneath him. “Can’t wait to paint you with my cum.”

“After you get me pregnant, baby,” you could see how that threw his head into a spiral; now your legs went around his waist, screaming at the sudden change of pace, hips snapping harder into yours, the dirty sounds of the skin slapping echoing in the room mixing with muffled words.

One hand slid between your bodies to rub fast, tight circles on your clit again, adding more pleasure. You could feel yourself close—so close—you started trembling under him, your eyes rolled as you felt your orgasm coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna cum in your cock.” He leaned close to you, lips hovering right above yours.

“Go on, princess. You behaved so well that I will give you all the babies you want.” You could barely hold on at the thought of it, your nails digging into his back as you cried his name like a mantra, your climax crashing over you in intense waves that made you even think if ecstasy was possible. Your walls pulsed around him, milking every inch, and he let out a strangled groan, pushing deep, chasing his own high.

With a few more rough and sloppy thrusts, he spilled inside you, burying his face in your neck, his breath ragged. A few minutes passed, and he took his cock out, but the break was over as soon as you didn't feel the mattress below you.

You two were now standing in front of the mirror, you in front of him as if you were bowing at the mirror with your hands on each side of the frame. You were weak, but you won’t deny how turned on you got after seeing him putting all his cum back inside you as it started to drip from your cunt, holding it in with his fingers for a couple seconds before standing again. “Eyes on the mirror, baby.”

He slammed his hips, a high, broken moan ripping your throat as he touched your spot right away.. “Fuck, Heeseung!”

Heeseung groaned low and deep behind you; you couldn’t even think straight, you could only focus on the reflection—your body trembling, legs barely holding you up, his hands gripping your hips for dear life, arms flexed due to the effort. All of this while watching you—his gaze was burning through the glass, almost like a hungry focus that only you ever got to see.

His hand travelled to your throat, holding it up with a little bit of pressure, his free hands touching your body from your breasts to your clit, rubbing it relentlessly. “That’s mine, all of it.”

You whimpered, your knees threatening to give out with every thrust. The mirror wobbled slightly under your grip, your skin flushed and shining with sweat, hair stuck to your neck, lips parted around the cries you could no longer hold back. Heeseung's hand gently wrapped around your throat was still holding you, just enough to make you tilt your head, eyes locking in the mirror again.

“All yours,, baby—fuck!” He adjusted his grip, pulling you tighter , hips meeting yours with bruising intent, “Heeseung, i-it’s too much.”

“Give me another one, sweetheart—I earned it, remember?" he said, his cocky smile still shining through his wrecked facade.

“Yes, you did. Fucking this pussy good.” The heat built again—way too fast to the point that the overwhelming sensation also started to be overstimulating—and the second he slid a hand back down to your clit, your body reacted on instinct. You came harder than before, stars dancing behind your eyes as your legs shook and your forehead fell against the mirror, the cool glass basically supporting you.

You felt the liquid falling from your thighs to the floor, your squirt also reaching his legs and coating his dick clean. “Oh God—I’m going to cum.” Heeseung pulled back, and you took a moment to kneel in front of him. Breasts touching each other, tongue out, and your tired yet begging eyes looking right at him.

His dick was red, thighs completely flexed, announcing how he was going to give you a good facial, head thrown back, and hand on the frame of the mirror to keep him standing.

The first warm strand landed on your tongue, followed by another, then another—marking your skin like a painter finishing his masterpiece. Heeseung moaned loudly, hips jerking slightly with every wave of release as he emptied himself onto you. His fingers dug into the edge of the mirror for support; the image of you on your knees, panting and flushed, will definitely be on repeat when he goes alone on tour.

When his breathing finally slowed, he looked down, eyes softening at the sight of you—messy, beautiful, radiant in the afterglow. You blinked up at him, licking your lips with a satisfied smirk, and he chuckled, a breathless sound that melted into the quiet of the room.

"You're going to kill me one day," he whispered, reaching down to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You giggled, voice raspy. "Worth it."

TAGLIST (OPEN): @heesexual74 @vixialuvs @riqomi @beomgyus11 @starry-eyed-bimbo @rawrrxan @veilstqr @k1ttyjwon @fancypeacepersona @kittympirty (COMMENT TO BE ADDED)

─── DAY TWO HELL YEAH i know it was supposed to be posted yesterday (i'm posting this at 11:11 p.m) but my laptop is my main hater, hope i can bag some hee stans with this one 💗‼️

[iamasaddie]

speed limit

lot lizard!Joel Miller x truck driver!f!reader

summary: different truck stop, same outcome. you meet Tommy’s brother down the road and learn that charm runs in Miller family warnings: again just a PWP nothing more; PinV; dirty talk; sex for money; mentions of past encounter with Tommy; no y/n or reader description wc: 3,9k a/n: I've tried writing in present tense and i am obsessed? hope u don't mind that change. thank you for the love and excitement over this silly idea <3 this is not heavily edited and once again, English is not my first language so mistakes are... there. most likely. previous part | series masterlist | next part

lot lizard (slang, US) — A prostitute at a truck stop.

Fate itself forces you to stop in Texas when a small red icon on the dashboard of your truck lights up, informing you of a plummeting tire pressure. You swear softly to yourself, turning the steering wheel and driving towards the first parking lot you see. Fortunately, even if you have a punctured tire, it will not prevent you from reaching your destination point, still, it will be useful to check all the others before you set off.

Before you jump out of the cab, you look behind the seat and fish out a red case where you kept necessary tools. You find the gauge quickly and jump out of the truck.

It's quiet in the half-empty parking lot, and from where you are standing you can see a heavyset man in his sixties dozing with his head thrown back in one of the trucks. A few more parked trucks look empty at first, but you know the drivers can well be napping in their cabins or having breakfast in the small shabby-looking diner. At the thought of breakfast, your stomach rumbles and you automatically squeeze the fabric of your T-shirt there, as if trying to stifle the shameful sound. That morning you drove off so briskly at first light that you completely forgot that the last time you ate was about twelve hours ago.

You quickly decide to stop by the dining room as soon as you've dealt with the tires. The road was empty in the early morning and you were already a couple of hours ahead of schedule.

The anticipation of breakfast—your mouth watered at the thought of fresh waffles and hot coffee—made you move faster. One by one, you approached each of the 18 tires until you found the one that failed you. As you thought, only one of the tires was showing pressure below normal, so you decide that you will be able to get to Iowa in the next couple of days no problem, unload and see a mechanic before going back to New Mexico.

  Still, you shake your head in frustration. It was damn irresponsible not to check the truck before leaving. You had your head in the clouds all early morning, the effects of a more than pleasant night in the company of Tommy were spreading under your skin like warm bliss. Your lips stretch into a silly smile when you remember how soft his curls felt under your fingers, and his lips on your-- You pinch the thin skin on your wrist, forcing yourself back to reality. Damn, just thinking about him made your panties wet and your eyes blur. He knew exactly what he was doing. Best 50$ spent in your life, you giggle to yourself.

You quickly realize that when you turned into the parking lot, you didn't even notice where you were. You remember that you saw a sign for Brookshire, and looking around the parking lot, you finally notice a huge, worn sign that says “Flying J”. Amazing how you haven’t noticed the huge red roof and the airplane logo earlier.

“Flying J, Brookshire. Texas.” When you say the words out loud, it suddenly dawns on you why they seem so familiar. The man, Joel. Tommy wanted you to say hi to him, but he didn't even tell you how to find him, just gave you the name of the place. You couldn't help but laugh with irony, you were taken to a place where only your curious pussy was planning to go.

With a grin on your face, you pull open the heavy door of the diner, the ringing of the bell informs everyone of your presence. After a quick inspection, you realize that “everyone” is an elderly waitress who is arguing with a guy in a dirty chef's hat, and a man who is sipping a cup of black coffee, if the half-empty coffee pot on the table is a sign.

 Without giving it much thought, you fall into the next table and wait for the waitress to bring you a slightly sticky laminated menu. While she dusts off her apron and quickly checks with a chrome spoon whether she has stained her teeth with her bright coral lipstick, you begin to study the man.

It strucks you almost immediately, that feeling. His skin is an almost familiar shade of golden, the curve of his strong nose and the curls that remind you so much of the ones you squeezed and pulled hours ago. 

Was he really? 

For a moment you stop yourself, taking the situation for just wishful thinking, even though you haven’t really been wishing for anything. And then, as if sensing your stare, he glances back at you. When he gives you a smile, you're ready to bet your entire salary that it is the man Tommy’s sent sleepy greetings to. He was right, they really do look alike, but somehow not so much in appearance—although the brown of their eyes is so memorable you think you could draw it from memory if you knew how—but more something inexplicable united them. The same vibration came from both men, a wave that penetrated you faster and deeper than you could understand and control.

“Y’know he can charge you for starin’, that one.”

The rattling voice of the waitress—Denise, as her crookedly pinned name tag said—pulled you out of daydreaming. The heat of shame rushed to your neck and you hurried to pretend a fool.

“Sorry?”

“‘m askin’ if you made your choice. Food?”

“Right!” Your eyes scan the menu quickly, but the words blur in one unintelligible line. “Sorry, yeah. Can I have some waffles and coffee?”

“No waffles, sorry, sweety. Not sure that punk can make anything besides biscuit an’ gravy.”

“Oh,” a slight disappointment settles at the bottom of your stomach, but it isn’t enough to satiate your hunger, so you just nod.“It’s okay, biscuit and gravy sounds great.”

Denise gives you a sympathetic smile and scribbles something in her crumpled notebook for show. “You need cream with your coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in a moment.” She only takes a couple of steps away from your table before she starts shouting your order out. Apparently, the cook's name was Jack.

Curiosity, or maybe not enough sleep, pulls you out from your own table and forces you to fall at the next one, settling down next to a familiar stranger. He doesn’t bat an eye, but smiles into the cup, giving you the opportunity to speak first.

“You’re Joel, aren’t you?” 

You’ve been expecting a surprised look, or at least some reaction to the fact that you know his name, but apparently he is quite popular in these parts and therefore he just smiles, puts the cup on the table and throws his arm over the back of the chair, half-turning to you.

“Sure am, ma’am. What can I do you for?”

His voice is thick as fog on the road after a cold and humid night. It seeps under your skin with goosebumps, raising your hair on the back of your neck. A slight southern accent and morning hoarseness makes you squirm in place, and the seam of your jeans, pressing right into your pussy, reminds you of the arousal that has not left you since you woke up.

“You can do me.” You don't know who said it, but it was definitely your voice. Your bluntness even made Joel choke a little. Perhaps he is a little more modest than his friend after all. “Tommy said hi.”

You can see the cogs in his head turning until everything falls into place. His face changes before your eyes: a slightly sleepy, morning smile turns into a predatory grin, and eyebrows that have been raised in surprise droop, casting a shadow over almost intimately familiar brown eyes.

“Mighty nice of him,” He nods, and pushes the empty cup away from the edge of the table—the sound cuts into your ears—and you're already too caught up in the man to twitch. “And how's my baby brother doin’?” 

Brother, of course. As if reading your mind, his broad palm finds your thigh under the table and boldly squeezes your soft flesh. Feeling under some spell you've cast on yourself, your legs spread slightly, telling Joel everything he needs to know. “He still treats little ladies nice?”

“He sure does.” Your voice is trembling, but it's not from fear or embarrassment. For the first time, you hear it tremble with excited impatience.

“Good,” he nods more to himself than to you. His hand doesn't leave your leg, his thumb draws small circles through the thin material of your jeans. “Otherwise I'd have to go over there and kick his lazy ass.”

You’re not sure how, and more importantly why, but you already know where you want this meeting to go. And Joel's narrowed eyes and lips, spread in a cheeky grin, tell you that he doesn’t mind. “Do you treat little ladies nice?”

He moves closer to you, fanning your ear and neck with his hot breath, which smells a little like the bitterness of black coffee. “Only if they ask for it.”

When Deborah puts your plate in front of you, she has a knowing grin on her lips.

It takes you about fifteen minutes to get from your table to now an even more empty parking lot. Your truck stands out like a sore thumb, giving Joel an understanding where to go. 

His hands don't let go of your waist, and you constantly trip on your way, distracted by the wet kisses he insistently leaves on your neck throughout the walk. 

When you finally climb into the cabin, you shrink a little, as if looking around through new eyes at a miniature room that accommodates only a mini mini-refrigerator; a single bed, which sometimes felt cramped for you alone; and a portable TV that you inherited from your uncle.

“Sorry, it’s pretty tight in here,” you purse your lips, but Joel stops you almost instantly, running his thumb over your lower lip and forcing you to release it from the captivity of your teeth. He wraps his hands around your neck, their imprint is hot, like an engine after a day of driving non-stop. 

When he leans towards you, for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you.

 “I like when it’s tight.”

Instead of pressing his mouth against your lips, his teeth bite your jaw, your earlobe, and descend with biting kisses to your neck. He cures each bite with a wet swipe of his tongue, and you feel like your nipples can cut through the soft cotton of your old T-shirt.

“Wait, the...fuck, the money.” You're almost suffocating, your brain is shutting down under the attack of skillful lips.

“50$ oral, 100$ sex,” he whispers as if it's something mundane, but as sexy as complimenting your soft breasts or wet pussy. “I’ve got condoms.” He finds your hand, which is clinging to his denim vest, and puts your palm on his jeans, where his cock is practically bursting through the hard denim. You can almost feel the way he thrums under your touch, all swollen and ready for you. “You want him?”

“Fuck, yes. Yes, god, yes, I want him.” You squeeze his cock slightly through the material, pulling a soft moan out of Joel.

“Good,” he nods and presses his forehead to yours, your eye-contact is so charged that the air between you is about to sparkle. “He wants you, too.”

As if following an unspoken order, you begin to pull off your clothes. You're doing it faster, considering you are only wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Your busted sneakers are thrown under the bed along with your socks, and you fall on the bed in your panties, enjoying an impromptu performance from Joel.

He pulls off his vest and T-shirt that had its sleeves cut off, exposing his strong, but at the same time soft body to your eyes. The golden skin of his chest, a couple of shades lighter than his arms, was dotted with sparse hairs that grew thicker, descending to his navel and hiding behind the waistband of his jeans. His stomach bulges slightly above the belt and you want to sink your teeth into the yielding flesh, but instead you just reach out and run your hand over the skin, which immediately explodes with goosebumps under your touch.

Joel keeps his hungry eyes on you as his big fingers reach for his fly, finally getting rid of the rag shackles. Underneath, he's wearing white briefs that feel uncharacteristic and do nothing to hide the hungry monster that is leaking in excitement to feel you.

Having lost all three drops of shyness that you had, you reach for the waistband and gasp when he gently slaps your palm and clicks with fake disapproval. “Impatient.”

You almost burst out laughing, they really are brothers, no matter how fucked up it is in your situation. “I’ve been told.”

Instead of letting you finish undressing him, he starts to get down on his knees, and you notice how his eyebrows tighten when he hits the hard floor of your temporary home. You immediately understand what he wants to do when he puts his palms on your knees and spreads them apart, so you grab one of his hands and try to pull him towards you, causing him confusion.

 “Wait, no,” you tremble like a leaf, your nipples are hard buds that beg to be touched and played with, “I need something else, somethin-”

He shushes you softly, leaving a small kiss on your knee. “It’s okay, I know exactly what you need, little lady.” The nickname is gentle and sweet on his tongue that promises you nothing but wicked things. “But can I at least feel her first?”

His hand creeps up to your pussy, hidden behind the cotton of your plain panties. Along the way, he tickles the inside of your thigh with the tip of his index finger. There is a quiet thought in the back of your brain how Tommy’s fingers felt much softer, yet both of them elicit the same whimper from you. “I wanna know what it’s like to have your pretty pussy wrapped around my fingers before I split you with my cock. Trust me, it won’t be the same after.” 

“You’re cocky.” And after squeezing what he had in those jeans you know he had every reason to be, however you just can’t let that slide without saying something, without tickling him in a way. Everything about him is unexpected, and so is his reaction to your words. Joel lets out a soft laugh, and traces your slit with the same fingertip he teased your thigh with.

“Soon you’ll be, too. Can’t stay humble when you’re full’a cock like mine.” His eyes go pitch black at the promise, lips wet where he licked them in anticipation. “Know you’ll take it like a good girl.”

Your legs spread wider, and instead of baring your cunt, he tugs on the waistband of your panties, swiping his thumb over the place where a wet stain already blooms. 

He pulls on your panties so that they stick to your pussy like a second skin. The friction makes you moan and you almost bump your head into the wall when he caresses your clit with his finger, moving the pad up and down over the panties, teasing you relentlessly.

“So pretty, bet she’s tasty too.”

“I- -”

“Don’t worry, little lady, I remember how needy and impatient you are. Wanted me to fuck you before you even had your breakfast. That’s so hot.”

Then he hooks his fingers over the underwear, tugging it down. Your wet skin becomes cold when the air hits and for a split second you wish he would put his mouth on you, if only just to warm you up.

Instead, he glides his finger along your slit again and again, lathering it in the slick that covers your skin. Gently, he probes at your hole that welcomes him easily, the soft moan of your partial relief prompts Joel to move his digit in and out a few times before pushing a second one next to it.

“Mmm, she feels even more perfect than I imagined.”

“You imagined how my pussy feels?” You whisper, breathless, your body pushing itself on his fingers on its own accord.

“The moment you walked your pretty braless tits into that diner.” He hums, enjoying the squeeze of your walls and starting to feel impatient himself. Before he slides his fingers out, he places a kiss on your mound, just above your begging clit, tickling your skin there with his mustache.

You try to catch your breath, your hand involuntarily reaches out to where Joel has just been now to soften the feeling of his absence. He pulls off his boxers without a drop of grace, and bends down to a pool of his jeans on the floor, revealing to your gaze a juicy pair of his buttocks. Watching the muscles tense under his skin, your fingers enter your sticky wet hole, and you roll your eyes, fucking yourself.

“Uh-uh,” Joel shakes his head in mock displeasure. His massive cock is squeezed into a condom, and it's a little disappointing, but necessary. However, the white rubber can't hide the large, cum-filled balls covered with fluffy dark hair, and you almost drop your jaw when he starts to come closer to you, his cock swaying heavily.

“Nothing is stuffing that pretty pussy except for me while we’re together, little lady.” 

“Don’t leave me empty for so long, then,” you bit back flirtatiously, and drag your soaked fingers up your navel, leaving a wet path on your skin.

He’s on you in mere seconds, your bed barely holding the weight of you both and it’s just limbs, touches and wet kisses before he pushes inside you in one smooth movement, stilling for a second. 

You both forget how to breathe, as you grip his cock tightly and bite into the crook of his neck. It’s too much, it’s not enough.

He finds your eyes, swiping a strand of hair off your forehead, and you can almost hear him grit his teeth as he tries to stay still.

“Okay?”

“Please, move.” You beg, close to crying from your need.

His hips move gently at first, unexpectedly so. He cages you with his body, taking all of the space you’ve had and you don’t mind it. On the contrary, you want to carve more hollows inside you so he can get more of him in.

The wet squelches of your pussy taking him in are vulgar in the tiny cabin. You both let them fill the space, your eyes never leaving each other making the moment more intimate than it should be. Momentarily coming to his senses, Joel begins to build up the rhythm, the thrusts of his hips become sharper and more confident. When your pussy pulses around him, he bares his teeth and almost growls.

“Fuck, what a great fucking pussy, so wet and hot around me, drives me mad even through the rubber.” Joel drops his head, covering your outstretched neck with kisses and moving lower. His teeth bite your collarbone and you cry out softly, the sharp pain recedes as soon as he starts caressing the bite with his tongue. Soon, his lips are enveloping your nipples, first one, then the other. He nips at the delicate buds with his teeth, lightly biting the hard flesh. You writhe under him like a snake, but he doesn’t let you escape from his captivity.

His nicely trimmed pubic hair teases your clit and his cock feels even bigger when your pussy starts to shudder in orgasm. It lasts so long that it feels like you're cumming several times in a row and Joel continues coaxing pleasure out of you by sucking and nibbling on your skin, while his cock doesn't stop the rhythmic movements in and out of your puffy, sleek cunt.

“I, fuck, that’s too much.”

He doesn't stop moving, but grabs your chin, forcing you to look into the black depths of his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”

Stop? Slip out of the tight embrace of your pussy leaving it empty and gaping without him? Nothing sounded worse.

“No, please,” at that moment you think you can give all the money you have just to keep him inside you forever. Stretching you, pushing you over the limit again and again until you cry, powerless.

“Good girl,” he whispers in your lips, like it is the only right answer. 

He changes his position without slipping out of you, and rests on his knees, lifting your hips higher to make it easier for him to move. When he returns to pounding your pussy, you're half out of it, your brain is completely useless and only your body responds to Joel with moans and twitches.

He freezes as suddenly as he started moving. With your tender inner walls, you can feel his cock twitching inside you, pouring into the condom. You watch the veins in Joel's neck and forehead bulge with tension, his teeth clenched tightly and his eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He whispers, his hips continuing to jerk erratically before he collapses on top of you, leaving a barely there kiss on your sweaty neck.

 “I should work mornings more often.”

You’ve covered your nakedness with a thin sheet and now watch as Joel pulls up his jeans and stuffs his underwear into his back pocket. Your throat is dry and, as if he's read your mind, he hands you a half-empty bottle of water from the top of your refrigerator. You feel a strange pang of sadness as the thought of never seeing Joel or his sunny brother, Tommy, again hits you.

“Remember when you said about going to Tommy?”

Joel jerks his head up, looking up from turning out his T-shirt. “Y’want me to kick his ass? He grins and continues to pull on his clothes as if nothing had happened. There's a crisp hundred sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“No.” You smile back and hesitate before continuing. “But maybe we can go down there sometime for a different kind of activity.” Devils glint in his eyes when he looks at you again, and for some reason it makes you feel shy, perverted all of a sudden for your rush of desire to have more when you’ve just had an overflowing cup of orgasms. “If that’s... If you’re okay with that.”

Joel doesn’t look phased by any part of your suggestion, so he leans to you and pinches your cheek gently. “Ain’t had a better preposition my whole life.” He places a kiss where the sting of his pinch still burns and grabs his vest from the floor. “You come over on your way back, I'll be waitin’ right here and we'll see what we can do.” He winks at you and leaves the cabin without further ado.

When you get behind the wheel, you have no doubt that you will see them again.

PLEASE, LEAVE A COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKED THIS WORK. IT TRULY MEANS A LOT!

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[no1blacksapphirefan]

Shadow milk watching us refer to different cookies are our ‘favorites’- I just told my best friend that Holly berry is my favorite followed by Golden cheese

how do you think your Self aware au cookies would react to being called the readers favorite?

That is a funny thought ngl, I always tell my friends my fav is black sapphire and how much I love him (I think they're getting sick of it/silly) These 3 requests seemed a bit similar, the plush one kinda connects to the rest cuz I feel like a lot of ppl would buy a plush of their fav character if they could hehe (Someone make a black sapphire plush I beg)

Pure Vanilla Oh he's so flattered, out of all the cookies you favour him the most? It's just so sweet of you, he tries to contain his blush as he overhears your conversation with your friend, he knows he should't listen, even though it is a bit harder.

But how can he not hear how giddy you sound as you happily show your friend the screen with him there, he hears your praises of how you love him so and oh he can hardly contain himself from giving himself away as he sees you show your friend a plush you've made of him.

How can you be this sweet? You're carrying it around too?? Oh my, you're gonna make him hope he can meet you in person now.

White Lily Hearing you gush so sweetly about her and her character makes her so flustered and embarrassed, even the part of her story as Dark Enchantress made you love her?

Oh she isn't sure how long she can keep a straight face as you go on and on about how much you love and favour her character out of any other, she's so flattered, she wants to thank you so much.

As soon as you pull out the home made plush you made of her, she nearly lets out a squeak before happily telling other cookies about it, she's so happy about it believe me.

Dark Cacao He's so startled as soon as he hears you gush about him to your friend while showing them who you were talking about, he stares with a straight face as he watches your friends giggle at how much you loved him and honestly? He wanted to join in, of course not in a bad way but damn he isn't used to this kind of love.

He doesn't know how to fully feel knowing out of all the cookies you could've favoured you chose him, your're so kind. He's sure there's other cookies worth your love but knowing you still chose him makes him feel content.

His eyes can't help but widen as he sees you happily cuddle a plush version of himself, you made that? Because you liked him? He wonders what else you do just because of that, he isn't complaining though, he can't deny the plush looks cute. Maybe he can find find someone who can make a plush version of you...

Golden Cheese Oh she loves it, high praise. She loves hearing you talk so it's a win win, hearing someone praise her for her story, design and game-play and it's you saying it? Oh you talk her up too much. Though she can't complain. She loves hearing you speak.

She stands pridefully as your friend looks at her from your phone, seemingly also amazed by her appearance. Oh she enjoys hearing how giddy you seem to get as you rant on and on about her, nearly makes her blush.

She can't help the smile that creeps on her face as she spots the plushie you made of her, seeing you enjoy her character so much fills her with pride no other praise can imagine of achieving.

Hollyberry She swears her heart soared to all new levels as she hears you talk about her, seeing that amazing cute smile as you happily list out the reasons why she's your favourite. Witches, she could probably do the same for you. List countless reasons why you're her favourite person.

Hearing you rant about her to your friend? How adorable!! She's so happy to hear you seem to like her just as passionately as she likes you. Makes her smile to each corner of her face.

Oh and her heart might as well have floated away as she sees you make a plush of her, oh how she wants to reach out and give you the biggest hug instead, she can't help but let out a laugh every time she spots you cuddle it as you play the game.

Shadow Milk Really? He's your favourite? Don't get him wrong he's honoured and he has always wanted your attention and loved how you showed it to him but actually hearing the words fall out of your mouth? That was different. You truly favoured him out of the countless cookies there was? You truly want to stay by his side?

Hearing your loving voice talking about him to your friends, telling them how much you loved his design, his back story. Maybe you told them he was the reason for you to join or come back. Honestly any verbal mention of why you favoured him so makes his heart beat faster, he won't admit it though. He plays it off to others as if it were "To be expected" but truthfully? He can't help but be a bit flustered.

It was different, he swears it's different from your usual small displays of affection cuz not only were you talking about him and what you loved, you're talking about him to a friend and showing him off...and seeing that plushie you made of him? Almost intensified his want to get out of the game and meet you.

Mystic Flour She didn't expect it, sure, her design is pretty to most and perhaps her backstory pulled at your heartstrings, hearing how she became a beast and looking at how she still truly cares, even but deep down. But she didn't expect that those things pulled together made you favour her so much.

Hearing you chatter away to your friend about her, sent a weird feeling in her body, you really like her that much? You're willing to talk about her to others? Despite her usual apathy, you continue to be an exception to how she feels. Perhaps it's because you seem to understand her story well, you would never betray her or constantly ask things of her.

Upon seeing that plush you made of her to continue showing your love for her, even if you didn't realise she was watching your every move. Just seeing that small plush you made for her, makes her heart swell in happiness and nearly pride. She likes the fact that she's your favourite. And she hopes she continues being your favourite.

Burning Spice His eyes quickly perk up as soon as he hears his name and "favourite" in the same sentence. He lets out a loud laugh hearing you happily talk about him to your friends. But not one in mocking, one in a mixture of confusion and satisfaction.

After becoming a beast, he nearly expected everyone to be scared of him, sure he has his minions who aren't but to others they should be scared of him. He'll bring destruction to your land but hearing you talk so sweetly about him? With words he swears shouldn't be used for him but...if it's you? Maybe he's willing to make a small exception. Besides, it's your voice that's speaking right now, he could listen to it all day, plus your almost boosting his ego with your sweet words.

Oh he loves that plushie you made of him, even if it's getting more physical affection then he is. Yes he knows you couldn't even if you knew he was wanting it but hey!! He wants those cuddles too, they kinda look nice...he wonders how willing you'd be to hug the real thing, are you going to change your mind and be scared of him? Oh will you continue loving him?

Black Sapphire Oh how he wishes he could podcast the words coming out of your mouth. To record and show other cookies and make them jealous that you yourself have stated that he was your very favourite. It fills him with so much pride.

Though, he won't deny your words nearly make him flustered, hearing your voice talk on and on about him, his part in the story, the despair in your voice as his banner left. Hah, you really know how to make a cookie swoon huh? He smiles so sweetly as you continue to speak, not daring to say a voice line to gain your attention if it meant hearing those kind words of praise continue.

Oh and that plush? The cutest lil thing, don't worry you'll get the real one soon. For now, he's content with pretending it's actually him in that plush, whether that be his soul is in there or he's fully replaced the plush? But for now, he'll settle for just imagining it.

Elder Faerie You first started to do it after his death scene, or at the very least he first heard you. Well you ranting to your friend about his death. It was strange for him, he had died yet he was here, you truly were magical. Hearing you so upset over his death surprised him for a bit, he could've sworn there wasn't much information about him though...he guesses that doesn't matter.

He doesn't mind hearing you chirping away to your friend about how much you like him, he's figured it out after hearing your sadness due to his death. He didn't think it would effect him at all actually due to the prior information but he was proven wrong as he felt his heart race. You truly were something, he didn't mind though. Simply smiling as he hears you continue talking to your friend, who to him, seemed a bit tired. Seems you've done this alot, even without the game being open.

Oh he finds the plushie you made adorable, and it's of him? If other cookies see that, they might get jealous...than again, not many would dare to possibly upset you by somehow taking it away. While he wishes to be in the plushes position instead, he can't help but smile so sweetly if he sees you fall asleep with that plush in your arms. He didn't think he'd adore you this much.

Espresso Cookie It catches his attention almost immediately, nearly breaking him out of his tiredness as he had researches quite a bit the previous night. He isn't surprised per say, he guessed as much when you paid extra attention to making him stronger than any other cookie but hearing you talk your friends eye out with reasons why you like him?

He listens intently hearing you speak of him, he knows technically he's ease dropping but you aren't aware that he's listening in, plus when you show him on the screen in the cookie profile, he can't help it. He tries not to smile, your sweet words almost getting to him. Well they did get to him, he's been thinking about it for awhile. Hearing you talk so happily about him makes him feel almost refreshed and energized despite his previous fatigue.

When he catches wind that you made a plush just for him? Oh he can't help but look at every detail, he's impressed. You got everything done to a tea, if he could he would praise you for your handy work but for now he'll settle for just staring at that plush, thinking about how much it continues to show your favouritism towards him.

[h4m1lt0ns]

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode sixteen :: BABY DEER

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various drivers x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔y/n finally takes a well deserved break, but leaves everyone with one last song for the year.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ cussing, light angst, none.

t

☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS

babygirl alex: wait

babygirl alex: so to summarise what this 3 hour zoom meeting

babygirl alex: HE’S upset because you asked a rational question and decided to push YOU away????

y/n: basically yeah

honey badger: lewis hamilton.

honey badger: lewis hamilton when i catch you

my baby lando: when i fucking catch you lewis hamilton

chal eclair: wtf is his problem

yukino: no like why

PIERRE GASLYYYY: what would push him to even think like this

girlfriend kika: one thing a man will have is the god damn audacity 😒

angel carmen: amen

princess george: exactly

chili!: genuinely what was the reason

papaya baby #2: y/n are you okay?

y/n: no

y/n: that actually fucking hurt me

babygirl alex: my poor baby 💔☹️

my baby lando: it’s on sight when i see him istg.

angel carmen: do you want us to come over? alex and i are close by

y/n: no, it’s okay, thank you tho

y/n: i’m meeting up with seb later, gonna talk to him

y/n: i’m busy for the rest of the week, i have grammy rehearsals so i’ll be in the US

albono: yeah, it’s probably best if you stay out of monaco for a bit

chili!: ^^^

chal eclair: yeah, but we’re always here when you need us

y/n: i know, and i love you guys

y/n

♡ liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and 10,382,294 others.

y/n what a year. can’t say it was amazing, nor can i say that it was awful. it was a learning experience to be fully honest. major lows and phenomenal highs, different places, different people, so much seen and heard. this year genuinely re-wired my brain. and to end it with six grammys, i couldn’t be more thankful 💕 i’ve said this so many times, and i mean it more and more each time, thank you —truly, humbly, and from the depths of my heart. for everything. for the love, the support, the messages, the energy, for every time you showed up, for everything you did and every word you said 🫀🫂 i’m so grateful to have all of you by my side, to know that all of you will always have my back 💌 i’m sending you nothing but love and light, and i’m wishing you growth and warmth as we enter this next year. i love you. always. forever. ♾️🤍 very deerly 🦌

tagged: sebastianvettel

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y/n and y/l/nestate

♡ liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt, and 5,204,104 others.

y/l/nestate and for her last trick, y/n secretly worked on a new song over grammy weekend. just one last song for the last month of the year. the newest single “baby deer” comes out at 12:00 am EST, december 1st. set your alarms 🤍🦌🪽. have a well deserved break our deerest y/n <3

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username and the crowd… the crowd burst into tears???

username you ain’t had to release this one brochacho 💔

username “SHE’S HAPPY! SHE’S NOT HEARTBROKEN AGAIN!” i scream as they drag me back to the padded room 😞

username ho did you just stab me

username “but i adore than man, like nobody can, he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again” hey so like, stand up maybe????

username me when i play the song of fucking pure heartbreak

username DIVA DOWN!!!!!! I REPEAT. DIVA DOWN!!!!!!!

username name dropping seb is crazy btw

alexandrasaintmleux 🫂🤍🫂🤍🫂🤍

username WHY ARE WE BACK TO SAD SONGS AGAIN

username hey so how about we not do this 😀

username i just started crying i dont even know why 😭😭

username wait sO WHO IS THIS ABOUT?????

→ username HAS to be lewis. HAAAAS TO BE.

→ username it’s abt m4x i fear

→ username there’s no way she’s still singing about max

→ username deadass this could be about any of the dilfs lowkey

username WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS ME TO ME 💔💔💔

username where does she keep finding these villains oh my god

username may this kind of situationship never find me

charles_leclerc 🦌🦌🦌❤️❤️❤️

username shaking ass to c,s&a then this comes on shuffle 😞

username 💔💔💔💔💔💔WHY💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

sebastianvettel 💐💐💐

→ username wHAT DO YOU KNOW

→ username TALK HOE

username guys i think we know who the perpetrator is ☹️

→ username right. bc who else has bambi eyes

→ username i’m gonna have to turn a blind eye bc i ship them hard

username she said i watch “my” baby deer. dear god why. 🫩

username NAME DROPPING SEBASTIAN?? wtf does he know

username i’m glad she’s on break bc this is getting out of hand

→ username i’m gonna hold ur hand when i say this.. it’s time to stop dating for a while 🫱🏽‍🫲🏼🫱🏽‍🫲🏼🫱🏽‍🫲🏼

→ y/n you’re probably right

→ username OH?

→ username UHMMMMMMM.

mercedesamgf1 and y/l/nestate

♡ liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt, and 4,204,104 others.

marcedesamgf1 Y/n Y/l/n has decided not to renew her contract as the ambassador for the Mercedes AMG Formula One team for the 2025 season. More on our website.

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[fastandcarlos]

“I Do” : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: follow along as the countdown to becoming mrs norris is on 🥺

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liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 293,705 others

ynusername: last race week of the season, wedding season is officially under way 💕🤩

38,028 comments

username1: I can’t wait for all the wedding spam that’s coming our way!!

username2: lando as a husband is a vibe 🥺

landonorris: thank you for always supporting me again this season 🫶🏻

ynusername: @/landonorris always your biggest fan 💕

username3: another amazing year in the papaya 💪🏻🏎️

oscarpiastri: sorry where’s my congratulations for my season too???

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri congrats osc, I’m very proud of you too!

username4: osc 😭😭😭

username5: you two are everything omg

carmenmmundt: I cannot wait to make you a bride 🥺

lilymhe: bridesmaids assemble 🫡

username6: deep in my feels knowing these two are getting married in a couple of weeks

username7: please remember your fans and share everything with us 🙏🏻

georgerussell63: you just wait and see what we’ve got prepared for lan 😂

danielricciardo: can’t wait to lead your soon to be husband astray 😬

username8: why does this feel like it’s about to be the messiest wedding ever lmao

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liked by georgerussell63, danielricciardo and 1,593,604 others

landonorris: last trip before we get married, I think my face shows just how excited I am to marry you 🫶🏻

138,593 comments

tagged: ynusername

username9: I wish I had someone as excited to be with me as lando is with yn

username10: his smile 🤧🤧

maxverstappen1: you’ve got your vows to be soppy, keep it off of social media 😂

ynusername: thank you for the best time ❤️❤️❤️

username11: the outfits woah 🤩

username12: my heart can’t cope with much of the adorableness between these two

lewishamilton: talk about making everyone feel jealous about how happy you are 😂

charles_leclerc: we get it. you’re getting married. jeez.

landonorris: @/charles_leclerc do one party pooper 🙃

username13: if I don’t have a marriage like these two then I’m not interested

username14: oh how I wish I was yn right now 😭

carlossainz55: little lando norris is all grown up

landonorris: @/carlossainz55 but big lando norris where it matters 🤭

username15: pls say these two will be forever together

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liked by charles_leclerc, alex_albon and 483,605 others

ynusername: when people ask me what I see in lando to want to marry him, this is what I show them 😂💞

28,505 comments

tagged: landonorris

username16: can always count on yn to throw lando under the bus lmao

username17: thank you for reminding us what an idiot lando is

oscarpiastri: fyi he’s raging that you posted these 😂

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri remind him of all the times he’s done this to me hahah

username18: these are the photos we LOVE

danielricciardo: saving all these photos for future use as we speak 🤷🏻‍♂️

alex_albon: you’re a brave girl yn 😂😂

lilymhe: how are you so unserious all the damn time 🤦🏻‍♀️

username19: keep it coming pls yn I beg you

landonorris: remind me again why I’m marrying you when all you do is bully me

ynusername: @/landonorris because you love me 💞

username20: why does the second picture leave me with so many questions 😂😂😂😂

username21: it’s picture one for me ☺️

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liked by ynusername, maxverstappen1 and 1,795,203 others

landonorris: BEST STAG DO EVER 🍻

136,594 comments

ynusername: please say you arrived home in one piece 🤦🏻‍♀️

danielricciardo: @/ynusername can’t make any promises 🤐

username22: lord help us if daniel ricciardo organised lando’s stag do

username23: poor yn having to deal with the hangover from this 😂

oscarpiastri: and I promise not to show yn the photos of you doing body shots off of max

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri I don’t think I want to see these photos 😂😂

username24: wtf I wanna see these photos

georgerussell63: happy to give you the send off you deserve 🫡

username25: this sequence of photos is titled lando living his best life

username26: how many shots do we reckon were drunk last night??

pierregasly: remind me never to go out partying with you again

carlossainz55: I think I need about three weeks to recover from this 😭

username27: not lando wrecking all his fellow drivers

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by and 10,583 others

f1wags: congratulations are in order as today’s the day lando and yn tie the knot - wishing you guys the best day ever 💕🥂

960 comments

username28: ah I can’t wait to see all the photos from this

username29: I’ve never met two people so in love

username30: so glad they’re getting their happy ending 💕🤧

username31: the perfect match finally tying the knot 😭

username32: I’ve got major fomo today omg ☺️

username33: I never imagined lando even getting married until he met yn

username34: praying we get lots of content from the boys today 🤞🏻

username35: hoping they have the best time, they deserve everything!!

username36: I’d do anything to be there and see lando in his suit

username37: I can’t believe the day has finally arrived, I’m not even getting married and I’m nervous

username38: mr and mrs norris 🧡🧡🧡🧡

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liked by and 9,492 others

f1updates: here’s just some of the drivers suited and booted as they attended the norris wedding today, they all look great 🤵🏻🏎️

1,302 comments

username39: how can a trio of men be so beautiful 😭

username40: asking for a friend…are any of these single???

username41: now this is the content I wanted from today 😂

username42: anyone else wondering what charles was thinking with those sunglasses hahah

username43: not carlos looking like the finest best man to exist

username44: petition for these guys to appear at my wedding too pls

username45: if these guys are a warm up I can’t wait to see what lando looked like

username46: my heart is so happy that all the drivers showed up too

username47: I can’t wipe the smile from my face after seeing these photos ☺️

username48: race suits, formal suits, these guys pull off anything 😭

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liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 783,504 others

ynusername: the day I’ve dreamt of since I was a little girl, so proud to be your wife lando norris 🥺🫶🏻

54,593 comments

landonorris: the best day of my life, so happy to be able to call you mine forever 💞

username49: congratulations you guys!!

oscarpiastri: thank you for inviting me and lily to be part of your special day 🥺

danielricciardo: well done for not messing up your speech 👏🏻

landonorris: @/danielricciardo it was touch and go for a while 😂

username50: I can’t believe my favourite duo are officially married!!

maxverstappen1: best wedding I’ve ever been too…lando’s dad dancing aside 😝

alex_albon: you guys are the cutest, so happy for you both 🫶🏻🥂

username51: I can’t get over how adorable these photos are

username52: the smile on yn’s face omg 🤩

carlossainz55: proud dad over here 😂😂

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 best in law ever!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 2,043,483 others

landonorris: I could get used to married life 😂 honeymooning with the most beautiful bride in the world ❤️

78,492 comments

ynusername: cannot wait to spend forever with you my love 💞🫶🏻

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˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Ultimate Glow-Up – Part 2

Part 1

Word count: 704

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando is thrilled to reunite with his childhood best friend Y/n – until he realizes she has a boyfriend

________________________________________________________

Lando was, without a doubt, experiencing a full system malfunction.

Because Y/n—his childhood best friend, his former awkward-phase companion, the same girl who used to send him Minecraft memes at 3 AM—was giggling at something Oscar said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and Lando was standing there like a complete idiot, staring at her like she’d just walked out of a damn movie.

This was not fair.

“Earth to Lando.” Y/n waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance. “You okay? You look like you just got hit with a blue shell.”

Lando blinked. “I—yeah, no, totally fine. Just—” Just having a minor crisis because I think I might have a crush on you now, and that’s really inconvenient, actually.

He cleared his throat. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She grinned. “Yeah, well, I was in town, and I thought, ‘Hey, why not check out the Grand Prix and see if my old best friend is still driving in circles for a living?’”

Lando rolled his eyes. “Wow. You make it sound so impressive.”

“Oh, it is.” Y/n nodded, dead serious. “So impressive that I even convinced my friend to tag along. Speaking of which…”

She turned and gestured to someone behind her. Lando was too busy fighting a ridiculous smile to process what she’d said, so when he looked up and saw some ridiculously tall, broad-shouldered, objectively good-looking guy walking over—with his arm around Y/n’s waist—he almost had an aneurysm.

“Oh,” Lando blurted out. “Who’s this?”

Y/n, completely oblivious to the way Lando’s brain was short-circuiting, beamed. “This is Ethan! We met a few months ago. He’s the one who got me into F1, actually. Can you believe I never really watched it before?”

Lando could believe it, because back when they were kids, Y/n was much more interested in Redstone contraptions than racing cars. But at the moment, the only thing his brain could focus on was the fact that Ethan—this guy—was standing way too close to her.

Lando plastered on a smile. “Ethan. Right. Nice to meet you.”

Ethan, to his credit, seemed nice enough. He reached out for a handshake, and Lando shook his hand, possibly a little too hard.

“So, you two have known each other for a while?” Ethan asked.

Lando forced a laugh. “Oh yeah. Since we were kids. She used to kick my ass in every game we played.”

Y/n laughed. “Still would, if you ever picked up a controller again.”

Lando opened his mouth to say something smug in response, but then Ethan did the unthinkable.

He leaned down and kissed Y/n’s temple.

Lando’s brain completely flatlined.

Nope. No. Absolutely not.

This was a disaster. A catastrophe. A red flag moment.

Because surely—surely—Y/n wouldn’t have just shown up looking like a walking dream, obliterated Lando’s ability to form coherent thoughts, and then casually introduced him to her boyfriend. Right?

Right???

Y/n, still blissfully unaware of Lando’s inner turmoil, looked up at Ethan with an affectionate smile. “I was just telling Lando how you got me into F1.”

Ethan grinned. “Yeah, took some convincing, but once she saw a few races, she was hooked.”

Lando wanted to argue that he had been talking about F1 for years, but apparently, it had taken Ethan to get her interested? Unbelievable.

Oscar, who had been standing off to the side watching this unfold like it was a Netflix drama, finally decided to intervene. “Well, Y/n, since you’re here, you should let Lando show you around the paddock.”

Lando shot him a look that said Are you kidding me?

Oscar just smiled.

Y/n’s face lit up. “That would be amazing!” She turned to Ethan. “What do you think?”

Ethan nodded. “Go for it. I’ll grab us some drinks and meet you later.”

Lando’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, but he pushed it down. He wasn’t jealous. He refused to be jealous.

Because Y/n was his best friend. That’s all.

Even if she looked like that now.

Even if her laugh made his heart do stupid things.

Even if he kind of, sort of, really wanted to be the one kissing her temple instead.

Yeah.

Lando was so screwed.

[ddlydevotion]

OUR DAY WILL COME ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Being Bo Chow’s Wife headcanons…

a/n: this was written with a black fem reader in mind (this is a little self indulgent lol) but anybody can read & enjoy this! I’m not strictly a Sinners blog so I won’t be writing for these characters all the time. Also, the backstory was inspired by @nothanksofficer, so go check them out 💌!!

Currently listening to: We’ll Be United by The Intruders

You cannot tell me that this man doesn't teach you how to string together sentences in Mandarin (if you don't already speak it). It'd start with him having sweet little nicknames for you in his native tongue, then you'd get curious & end up wanting him to teach you what he knows.

Many of the nicknames he has for you derive from your characteristics & personality. I'm really set on the fact that he'd call you 'little sweetheart' in Mandarin. It's also quite obvious if you've seen the movie that he'd call you baby. Imagine this man calling you baby/sweetheart/honey in that smoky southern accent...I need to be put down.

You were known in town as the girl to go to if somebody needed artistic or creative direction in whatever they were working on. That lady down the street needs help patching up a dress? You'd show up with your sewing kit ready to go. The owner of a local bakery needs assistance painting over some stubborn stains? You'd be there with your very own paint, gloves, brushes, and a little stool for you to stand on. That's how you and Bo met in the first place. He was in desperate search for somebody that'd be able to help him produce a sign for his store. Every time he'd ask somebody if they knew anyone who could assist him in such a task, they'd reply with your name and nod their head towards your studio.

and by God, were you gorgeous. Bo stumbled over his words for a good ten seconds before pausing and finally spitting out "uh d'ya think ya could help me with a sign? I heard ya paint and do all sorts of things and uh- it's for my store." He was nervous but he'd be damned if he screwed up his first impression and ruined all his chances of working with you in the future. But, you simply flashed a sweet smile his way and graced him with an enthusiastic "of course! Whaddya have in mind?"

he loves eating pussy. send!

he’s very very handsy when he’s eating you out. One of his hands is always kneading and pinching your tits, savoring your sweet little sounds before trailing down to settle his hand on your tummy. He wraps his strong arms around your aching thighs, anchoring your hips down to the bed.

What he had in mind was him getting his act together so he could see that sweet little smile of yours every single day & night.

Bo definitely wants to have at least one baby with you. He's brought it up many times when the two of you are laying in bed together, skin-to-skin, after he's worn you out. He'll trace your plush hips n torso with his fingers, racking his eyes up the body that he adores oh so much before saying "I think we should go again, hm? Just to make sure it really sticks."

This man is suave he knows exactly how to flirt with you and what it takes to get you going. He doesn't lay it on thick (unless it takes you a while to understand he's flirting), he's slow with his touch and intentional with his words. Sorta like a game of cat and mouse.

Gives amazing massages. He'd definitely be the type to plop your sore feet onto his lap after a long day of walking around and start rubbing them.

"Does that feel good? Oh, I bet it does. You're real tense, baby."

He is a monster when it comes to eye contact and he'd do it even more if you're quick to get shy. He uses your flustered state to his advantage and gets you to finally look at him by placing a hand on your chin & tilting your head in his direction.

"y'know you can look at me right, ya don't gotta be all shy. Such a pretty lil thing, aint'cha?"

His proposal was one of the sweetest things you ever witnessed. You couldn't contain the gasp that left your mouth at the sight of him getting down on one knee. He went on to list all of his favorite things about you, your sweetness, compassionate nature, the protectiveness you harbor for the things you cherish. He recited his favorite moments that the two of you have shared, how he loves when your nose scrunches up when something is too sweet, how you bite your lip when you're concentrating, how you can't help but close your eyes and smile when your favorite song comes on.

"and I just knew from the very first moment I saw ya, baby, that you were the girl I wanted to settle down with. I wanted to bring you to meet my mom an' dad, buy ya a house, give you my baby if you'd let me, everything -anything you wanted, I wanted to give it to ya. and that's exactly what i'ma do, baby. All ya gotta do is say yes."

He undoubtedly got misty eyed seeing you walk down the aisle. Your wedding photos look a lot like the ones below (I know these aren’t time accurate let me have fun):

Bo is most definitely the type of man to hand feed his woman. Whenever the two of you are working on dinner together, he’ll hold a spoon up to your mouth so that you can have a taste of what he’s fixing up.

I’ll be posting a part two soon so let me know if you’d like to be tagged once it’s finished 💌🌷.

[wordsofwhimsy]

you were too young to be exposed to the things that you were.

mark knew it. you didn’t. you were too sweet. too naïve. too trusting. he remembered the day you came to his house after school one day – senior year. 18 finally, the beginning of adulthood.

“mark!! you won't believe it - i got an offer for a MODELING gig!!” you’d spilled, the words stumbling out so fast it made you trip on your feet. you fell into him, and he caught you without thought.

you were beaming up at him, quick to regain your footing as you started bouncing on your heels. “can you believe it?!”

he let go of a breathy laugh, hesitant to drop his hands from your arms before rubbing at the back of his neck. “that’s awesome! not really surprised though, i mean you’re—” he stopped, and your expression fell for a minute, looking up at him with those damn eyes. wide and blinking like you needed to hear the rest of that sentence.

he cleared his throat, letting his stare flick toward the wall as if there was something really interesting about the way the paint had dried on that particular spot. he could only properly breathe again when you brushed past him and fell onto his bed, arms splayed above your head as you stared up at the ceiling. “i feel like my life is finally starting to begin, y’know? like, this is it! this is my big break!”

as it turned out, your big break was a 50-something year old man who claimed to be a photographer. who posed you in positions that were just too much, your clothing too scarce, your dignity not considered at all. but the man had promised you this would get you into the big-name magazines, and more.

when you showed mark the unedited photos, you did it with an excited hesitation—and it was the hesitation that he immediately picked up on.

he felt like he shouldn’t be looking at that them, and then he realized these were pictures that soon would be available the world.

he swallowed hard, carefully lowering the phone from his line of view so he could look at your eyes instead. “these are… wow,” he breathed nervously, giving a small smile.

“I know right? they’re so professional!”

that’s not the word he would use to describe them, but he swallowed his heart and let it sit heavy in chest. you were happy, and he couldn’t take that from you. not now. even if he had just seen you in underwear with your legs spread for the first time in what you described as ‘a real photography studio’.

soon enough you both fell into a rhythm of just watching tv, half-heartedly, as you worked on homework. all he could think about though was how he wished he was braver. how he wished he had his powers – so that he could put the sick fuck in his place who decided to take these pictures of you. he imagined himself, bursting into the makeshift ‘studio’ and punching the guy clean out; his foot on his chest after he fell to the floor, Mark’s grin and arms equally spread for you.

and you would fall into him, holding him like the savior he was while he brushed his hand over your hair and reminded you of just how amazing you truly are.

“i’d walk through hell for you,” he sighed, out loud, almost in a dreamlike state. you blinked, brows furrowing together as your pencil eraser rested on your lip.

“huh?”

mark went rigid, just now realizing those words weren’t just said in his mind. “what?” he said, as if you’d been the one to say something out of place. you just smiled and giggled a little.

“you’re so weird.”

his chest clenched, be he gave you an awkward smile anyways.

someday, he would be braver. stronger. tough enough to stand up to every devil that crossed your path. but for now, he would have to be okay with just sharing this space with you while you both cursed silently over trig equations.

[ipushhimback]

this… is a french braid

pairing: max verstappen x leclerc!reader warnings: none words: 850?

summary: who could have known that a braid can cause so much drama

It was the morning of the Dutch Grand Prix. You were standing in front of your daughter’s suitcase as you showed her the outfits you packed, none of which Emily agreed to wear.

“But look, chérie, this is such a pretty dress”, you said hoping that your daughter would finally agree to wear something.

“No. It is not. I want the one Uncle Charles gave me!”, your daughter pouted.

Sadly you knew that Em was stubborn. She wouldn’t just agree to wear something she didn’t want to.

“I don’t have Charles dress here… Please. Just wear one of these dresses… Or do you want to wear a jeans? With one of the shirts Papa got for you?”, you asked again, praying Emily would agree to the tiny Red Bull shirts Max got her just a few days ago.

The five-year-old scrunched her nose as she thought about it before agreeing.

“Ok. But I want pretty hair”, she said as she looked up at you.

“A braid?”, you asked as you pulled out the little jeans and Red Bull shirt for your daughter.

Emily nodded. “The pretty braid you always do. The not-just-on-the-bottom-braid.”

“You mean a French Braid?”, you asked while helping your daughter in the shirt.

“Yes. The magic braid that doesn’t look ugly after I run very fast.”

You just nodded as you grabbed the comb from the suitcase and tried to gently detangle your daughter’s curls. Methodically, you parted her hair and placed one strand over another while you listened to Emily rambling about how Uncle Charles promised her that Alex would bring Leo with her and Uncle Arthur had promised her to bring her chocolate to the track.

“And Uncle Charlie said he will give me an own car so I can drive around alone-“

“Charles said what?”, you asked shocked. “A car?”

“Yes, a car. A red one. Like his car”, Emily said dead serious.  

You just stared at her through the mirror, deciding that you’ll have to talk to Charles about that… car for your five year old daughter.

You finished the braid by wrapping a small elastic around the hair.

“Such a pretty girl”, you said smiling which made Emily giggle.

“You are pretty, too, Maman”, Em said and you had to admit, not even a compliment of Max could compare to your daughter complimenting you.

“Thank you, chérie. Now, let’s go. Papa is probably already waiting for us.”

“YES! Can I show him my hair then?!”, Emily said excitedly.

“Of course you can. Can we leave now? Is your outfit good? Braids don’t hurt?”, you asked praying that everything would be good so they could finally leave.

Emily thought for a moment but nodded eventually, making you sigh in relief.

“Amazing. Then get your backpack, chérie.”

—-

Only half an hour later they arrived at the paddock and as soon as Em saw Max she started running towards him.

“PAPA! Look at my pretty hair. Maman did a braid! The magic braid!” The five-year-old turned her head so Max could look at her hair.

“Wow! Such a pretty braid, Em!”, Max exclaimed before he looked closer.

“Liefje, this”, he looked at you while pointing at the braid, “is a French Braid…”

You looked absolutely confused. “Yes? It is the one your daughter requested after not wanting to wear anything…? Is there a problem?”

Max now looked like he might start crying. Seriously, it was the exactly same face, as Emily’s before she throws a tantrum.

“We are at the Dutch Grand Prix! She… she cannot have a French Braid! We… we are Dutch! My baby girl is Dutch!”

You looked up in the sky, pinching the bridge of your nose, while telling yourself it wouldn’t be worth it to start yelling now. After the drama with Emily not wanting to wear anything, your nerves were already used up.

“Mon cœur. I really really love you. But a damn French Braid does not mean she isn’t Dutch anymore…”

Max pouted. “But-“

“No!”, you exclaimed before you could stop yourself. “Max. Next time I will gladly let you braid her hair but today, please just accept that she has a French Braid. Ok?”

Max still looked sad but nodded. “I guess your Maman chose France over the Netherlands”, he whispered in Emily’s ear.

“But Maman is from Monaco”, his daughter said confused.

“Close enough”, Max sighed. “Tomorrow, when it is race day, I will braid your hair, ok? And we will choose a pretty dress.”

—-

The next morning you had the time of your life. You were sitting on the balcony of your hotel room while Max was in the room, trying to get Emily to wear a dress.

“Baby girl, please! This is so pretty! I beg you! Please just wear it. I am sure Uncle Charles will love it!”

You have been hearing Max beg for around half an hour now, even considered going inside to help him. But honestly, you were enjoying the sun and your coffee way too much. Max will handle it…

a/n: this was an idea i had in the middle of the night… i hope it is good hahah

taglist: @strawberryy-kiwii / @a-distantdreamer / @requiemforthepoets / @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicalivy / @sid-is-gr8 / @picklesbuddy93 / @sadiemack9 / @f1fantasys / @cloud-55 / @sunny44 / @widow-cevans / @gigicisneros / @mbioooo0000 / @sinfully-yoursss / @bravo-delta-eccho / @rue-t / @mayax2o07 / @alexanderachillesisgay / @maviesamour / @suhchenjun / @pippyth3hippy / @sweate-r-weathe-r / @joannaln4 / @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy / @aleatorio1234 

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington X F! reader, friends to lovers, flashing (f) WC: 762 Summary: Steve's amazed by the number of things you can fit in your bra when you refuse to lug around a bag with you.

In the last two hours you'd pulled out a wad of fives to pay for the snacks you'd both picked up at the gas station, then a lighter as the two of you sat out on the hood of Steve's car, overlooking Lovers Lake while you had a smoke and last, a pack of minty gum for you to chew and smack on when you got back in the car.

What fascinated Steve was that none of these items had been stored inside a bag like one might expect, all of them pulled out of your bra like it was an entirely normal thing to do. Unable to ignore it any longer and more than a little flustered, he finally breaks his silence on the matter.

"Okay, I have to know. What else do you have in there?", Steve carefully gestures vaguely in the direction of your breasts, looking all kinds of exasperated. You return his look with an amused smirk.

"I'll give you two guesses", you puff your chest out, the answer so obvious it makes him roll his eyes.

"Not them- uh, those. I mean, c'mon. Doesn't it ever get, I don't know...uncomfortable having to wedge it all in there?", he asks trying and failing to choose his words carefully while his eyes flicked back and forth between your face and your cleavage.

You see your chance and pounce at it, especially since he'd set you up for it so perfectly.

"I don't mind a tight fit, Steve", you chew on your gum with a wink, torturing the poor boy as you leisurely blow a bubble big enough to pop.

"You- you know what I uh, what I meant", he tells you while trying his damndest to appear composed, his voice giving him away when it cracks enough to make you snicker.

He does have a point though, you could admit that much as you cut the jokes and decide to answer with a simple shrug. "I don't know. It's something I just got used to. There's enough space for everything I need. And besides, I hate having to carry a bag around. those things make my shoulders sore as all hell", you explain honestly although you can tell that Steve's nowhere near ready to move on from the subject just yet.

"Tell you what. Since you're so interested, how about a game? loser has to do whatever the winner says if you can guess how many other items I've got in here.

"Seriously?", he checks, eyes all round and alert.

"Yup", you confirm.

Knowing of three items already, he thinks hard. Much harder than he ever has before, his eyes fixed on your breasts, trying to ascertain what else might be hiding under your clothing, even working up a light sweat near his temple which makes you giggle.

Steve's making it out to be some sort of life or death deal and honestly, you liked how seriously he was taking this, showing you how much and how badly he wants to get a peek under your sweater.

"C'mon Harrington. Don't wanna be out here all day you know", you chide after another minute ticks by.

"Okay...five?"

Reaching inside, out comes the lighter, the gum and the money again, his eyes still hopeful when you fish out your apartment key followed by a tube of lip balm only for his face to crumble when you finally pull out a spare hair tie.

So close. He'd been so damn close as a really pitiful look of defeat spills over his face.

"Okay, so what to you want from me?", he groans, ever the sore loser.

You might have won but you don't feel any thrill in having done so. If you were being completely honest, you weren't exactly mad at the thought of Steve winning. In fact, you'd quietly hoped for him to do so just to see what he might have asked of you.

Well, you've got a pretty good guess as to what it might be.

Boobies, of course.

You didn't have to. You really didn't have to but the sight of him like this makes you feel oddly compelled to reward him anyway. Anything to wipe that dour look on his face.

Reaching round, you watch Steve's perplexed face with glee as you unclasp your bra and pull it out through your sleeve so seamlessly, winking at him before picking up the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to let him see your breasts bounce free and bare.

"Your undivided attention", you grin at his cherry red face, knowing full well this wouldn't be the last time you let him see them.