#Gabriel/reader

[alexispunkkk]

the giver

- pairing: joel x reader x tommy

- summary: the ‘sweetheart’ of jackson has both the miller brothers wrapped around her finger—and they’re ready to take what she’s willing to give

- warnings: sex, threesome (m/m/f), rough sex, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, light spanking, cum eating/swallowing, sort of cucking, alcohol consumption, manhandling, creampie, light fingering, joel lovessss ass, kissing, neck kissing, thigh riding, orgasms

- word count: 10.3k 😮‍💨😮‍💨

very roughly inspired by the song ‘the giver’ by chappell roan…. writing that as i forgot about it being the inspo a third of the way through

on ao3

masterlist

Being the sweetheart of Jackson comes with its perks. 

You’re not one to join patrol shifts. Not one to dig perimeter trenches or be on the lookout for infected or raiders in the distance. Hell, you barely raise your voice in town, and folks just seem to gravitate to you.

Not once have you had any real work to do like everyone else–you sit and look pretty while the world is practically in flames around you. The comfortable town of Jackson keeps you safe from the apocalyptic world outside, and it’s virtually all you know now. Just sunsets dusted over the sky like gold, wooden porches, horses, movies every Friday night. 

It’s never too serious with you, and that’s how you like to keep it. You have the freedom to head out to bars and drink your heart away, sing alone and spend your time however you like it.

Nobody expects much out of you. You’re always in your pretty cowboy boots and tiny tanks, glossed lips, baking for your neighbors and planting flowers.

Maybe it’s your baking. Sugar-dusted pies and muffins that everyone swears are to die for. Or maybe the wildflowers you insist on planting on wooden walkways to bring pops of color to the town saddened by the reality of the outbreak. Or, it could be your smile–looking stitched by sunlight, a certain sweetness that can only come with a warning. 

The rumors say you came from a QZ in Colorado, wearing boots too clean for the end of the world. Some women are skeptical, but many of the men in town are stunned. Two, in particular. They’re wrapped around your pretty finger.

And you, on the other hand, don’t care. You wear that sneaky smile proudly and walk around Jackson calling everyone ‘darling.’ Handing out cookies to children, making friends with the community’s animals alongside Ellie, and sending an occasional wink to the many older and married men of the little ‘commie’ town. Cowboys are a favorite of yours.

You don’t normally need a map to find trouble–or to find men. They find you, and you hear it in the boots clacking on porches and smell it in the sweat and whiskey of Saturday night bonfires. 

You’ve learned how to read a glance. To read pauses, sense held breaths. Quite familiarized with stares.

It’s in your nature. 

So, you sit and look pretty on a daily basis, humming along to old country songs with the warmest voice and making your rounds. While you don’t have your own job, you seem to always help everyone else. You’re a giver. 

When a job needs to be done, they know they can call you. 

And that’s why everyone seems so devout to you–Jackson’s angel and heartbreaker all at once. 

Tommy Miller, though, is a flirt. The man could sweet talk a bloater if he thought it’d wink back. The kind that talks to anything that breathes–but in an effective manner. 

He’s attractive. A smile that belongs on a billboard and the warmest laugh ever that makes women peek over their shoulders. Lucky for Jackson, there weren’t many billboards left–so Tommy’s handsome face is kept safe in the borders of the town. 

And unlucky for you, the man knows how to work that charm a little too well. Often in your direction.

A walking distraction dressed in boots and a perfect Southern twang, he carries himself well despite going through hell–still comes out the other side with a wink and the occasional joke. Where his brother, Joel, is more silence and tension, Tommy is easy laughter and a lazy arm slung around your waist. Before you can even realize he’s too close. 

He always seems to be smiling, even if his mouth physically isn’t.

And it’s unfair. It makes you forget what you’re doing. What day it is. Your own name.

Tommy’s hair is always a little tousled by the wind, messy like he’d just taken off a hat or came in from a horse ride. His tan and freckled face seems to season him, and he wears it proudly. Comfortably. He’s gorgeous.

Strong, sure, after years of patrol and learning to fend and survive after the outbreak. But he doesn’t wear it. He’s laid back, like he’s not trying to intimidate, like he’s so casual and comfortable in his own skin that he doesn’t feel the need to flaunt. He’s the embodiment of warmth wrapped into a gorgeous body of a man–steady hands and touches.

An occasional shoulder bump, knee grazing yours under the table. Even his arm slung around your shoulders while he plants a wet kiss on your rosy cheek during a bonfire. Each touch lingers just enough to make you wonder whether or not he meant it, or if he’s just that friendly.

Joel, on the other hand, is a harder read. 

Tommy is all sunshine stirred into sawdust, and Joel is dusk. Slower movements, eyes that see more than he lets on–he doesn’t say as much as his brother. He’s older, and you can tell. You sometimes see him holding the small of his back when he stands up or hear the crack of his knees when he leans down.

And when he does talk, it’s usually gruffer and quieter. About something pragmatic, not flirtatious in the slightest.

He fixes fences, carries crates by, drops things off you don’t ask for with a small “figured you could use it.”

Not much for compliments.

But he watches, and you enjoy that. The quiet is nice sometimes in contrast to Tommy’s outward flirtation and neverending sweet talk. From across the town square, behind his guitar, over the rim of his coffee mug at his favorite diner in Jackson–he’s always just there. Watching.

Noticing you. The feeling of his dark eyes burning into you makes the rest of the world go quiet, even managing to mute a drunk Tommy on saturday nights. 

Joel has the raw and rough kind of beauty that also doesn’t flaunt itself, but creeps up on you. Broad hands, calloused and rough and capable from years of both contracting and fighting infected. His forearms are tanned from work, sleeves always pushed up to keep out of the way. A salt-and-pepper scruff covering his jaw that doesn’t behave very well, and his hair always sloppily pushed back with his hand.

Compared to Tommy, it’s like he doesn’t own a mirror. Rugged and hardened and messy but so, so gorgeous. Carries himself like a man. The most masculine you’ve ever seen. Big frame, thick and warm like a large space heater. Makes you wonder if all of him is that big. 

He’s older, but not in a way that makes him seem out of place. More like he’s earned the scars and little creaks and marks dug into the crevices of his handsome face. He looks like a fighter and still doesn’t deserve to rest, like he’s carrying something you can’t figure out.

And his voice–god–his voice. Gravelly, but smooth and bourbon-like, hiding something a little dangerous beneath it’s drawl. Everything about him gets to you. The way he keeps greater distance, doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t let himself get close like his brother does, but it ruins you even more. 

So you flirt a little more with Tommy when Joel’s around. Maybe you like watching him try not to look. 

Yes, ma’am. No, darlin.’ 

Their matching Texan accents ring in your head, drawing you to them while you head out in Jackson with an unsurprising batch of cookies–baked to perfection and nestled in tupperware–in your arms. 

The sun today is high, but not cruel, casting a warmth over the town that makes it look as golden and sugary as the pies you normally whip up. Kids are running barefoot down the road while their fathers work on splitting wood. Someone is playing their radio out of an open window. 

You can hear the faint and tinny country music over the hum of townspeople going about their normal afternoon routines. Taking your time for a nice stroll, you have an apron tied around your waist and maybe a hint of flour streaked across your denim-clad thigh. Like your badge of honor.

And, like always, you’re not in a rush. What’s the rush when there's a dozen voices calling out to you when you pass by the men working? 

“Smells like cinnamon again.” One calls out, giving you a charming smirk while obnoxiously chewing on his gum. Hot.

You laughed, but waved them off. Okay, maybe you gave him a wink.

But it’s just a batch of cookies, nothing too fancy. Chocolate chip with a sprinkle of coarse sea salt on top for the added flavor: your signature. You’re not trying to cause a stir, it just comes to you. People happen to notice when you walk by, smelling of baked goods and looking like the sweetest girl Wyoming has ever seen. 

And then, like an answer to a distant prayer, there he is. Your favorite of Jackson’s men. 

Tommy Miller, shirt half unbuttoned and clinging to his broad chest and shoulder blades with streaks of sweat. He’s standing in the gravel yard beside a pile of fresh cut logs. An axe in one hand and a rag in the other.

He’s mid-wiping the sweat off his forehead when he catches sight of you, dragging it along the back of his neck right after while he presents his usual ever-charming smile. Cheeky, but slow. And so, so handsome. 

Normally, you just shoot him a smile and offer a small glance up and down–occasionally narrowing in on his crotch. So you do the same–smile, wave, move on with your day. 

“Hey, hold on.” This time, his voice pulls you back. Easy, like he doesn’t want the moment to end quite yet. Needs a good look at you, a taste of the cookies you’re holding. Maybe of something else. 

He seems to take interest in the outfit under your apron when you stop: a pretty little white tank made of cotton and decorated with innocent lace. Big jeans held up by a dark cherry-colored red belt, matching maroon cowgirl boots thrown on your feet. And maybe he wants to know if what you’re wearing underneath would match the so-perfectly planned boots and belt technique. 

He doesn’t move, not really. One hand is still resting on the axe handle, the other now supporting his weight against the chopping block. Leaned over and propped up on his hand, shamelessly checking you out. Sweaty. Gorgeous. 

“You in a rush? He smiles, tilting his head just slightly to the left.

“Uh-uh. Not unless there’s a line somewhere waiting on these cookies.” 

You giggle and lift the tupperware, showing off the newest batch of everyone’s favorite sweets. Better than the bakery’s, that’s for sure. Your smile distracts him for a second, the pretty gloss pasted over your lips luring him in like a siren.

Tommy chuckles, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. Kind of makes him look like an asshole. But you like it. 

“As far as I know, I’m the only one who should be getting a fresh one.” He raises his eyebrows, letting go of the chopping block of wood and setting his trusty axe down. He steps closer, resting his thick fingers on the lid of the container.

“Please?” 

He looks down at you, a manipulative smirk crossing his face. His gaze is switching between your face–your lips, eyes, freckled skin–to the batch of cookies you’re supporting. Almost begging.

When he moves closer, you catch a whiff of his scent. Most people wouldn’t exactly enjoy the smell of a man’s sweat after chopping wood for an hour in the summer, wearing a long sleeve shirt, but something about it is alluring to you. Anything that relates to masculinity is alluring to you, really. Musk and the faint scent of cedar from his cologne that was barely holding on but also accentuated by the aroma of the wood surrounding you.

“Fine. One.” You give in to that smile, any woman would. Stepping back, you set the container down on a nearby block of wood, crouching down next to it. You flick your hair back and Tommy is soon gazing at your profile now, the way you bite your lip in focus to get a cookie out for him. Also, the way your ass looks when you crouch down in the dust like that.

You grab one with a napkin, shutting the lid and standing back up to return to him.

“Here. Guess you’re special today. These are actually meant for the preschool.” 

Tommy looks at you for a moment, and this time, his flirting is a little quieter. Muted. Softer. “Special? Not sure I’ve heard that one before.”

You roll your eyes, handing him the warm treat carefully before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Then nobody’s been looking close enough.” You snort, motioning for him to try the cookie. Your words shut him up for a second, eyes flicking up and down as if deciding something. Looking for the right kind of words.

But he ignores the feeling, taking a big bite of the cookie. You watch his lips as his teeth sink down into the dessert, the way his tongue darts out to clean the crumbs off his bottom lip while he chews. 

And, as usual, his face displays his reaction to the taste shamelessly. He leans his head back, the cookie eliciting a small groan of pleasure from the back of his throat. His head bobs up and down with a nod of approval, of complete satisfaction at the taste of a single bite.

Upon swallowing, he looks down at the treat in his hand and grumbles in delight. “Mmhm. Sweetheart, that’s it. You’ve mastered it this time.”

His reaction is a little dramatic, but it makes you laugh. Makes you proud. Draws out that sweet giggle of yours that he loves so much, which makes him proud in return. 

“It’s the same recipe as always. I did not master it, sweetheart.” You answer, playfully mocking the nickname he likes to use on you. Something about the way that Tommy is an expert flirt changes the way you flirt back. You don’t go easy on him, you’re a little ruder with it–sassy. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. You did.” He rolls his eyes dramatically and mocks back, expression quickly changing back to an amused grin. He finishes the cookie in two short bites, stuffing his face and rubbing the crumbs off on his thighs. 

You go back to the block of wood to pick up your cookies so you can carry on with your day, but Tommy follows. He steps right behind you, wrapping a warm and rough hand around your wrist before you can pick up the container. 

“Hey–hey.” He stops you with a laugh, making your head turn to look up at him. 

You try your best to seem annoyed, but it’s all performative. Really, you’d stay here as long as he wanted. Stay and watch him chop wood, feed him cookies to his heart’s desire. 

“One more. C’mon.” Tommy grins, holding a hand out so you bless him with another. 

“No, Tommy.” You groan, keeping your hands on the container to ensure it stays shut and he doesn’t cheat you for more treats. “They’re for the kids. I’m not gonna keep giving away my cookies to a grown ass man. You had one.”

He grumbles like a petulant child, pouting down at you. It’s annoying, but a little funny. Makes you want to give in and give him all the desserts in the world.

“It’s not for me,” he starts explaining, shaking his head in protest. “For Joel. He’s on patrol, I’m sure he’d appreciate a little snack when he returns.”

The fact that it’s for Joel makes you a little more receptive to the idea. You’re a sucker for that man, for whatever reason. And, unluckily for you, Tommy knows that. Joel Miller is your weakness.

You sigh, shaking your head and slowly opening the container back up. Tommy grins at the sight of the lid coming up and your hand reaching in for a second.

“Atta’girl.” His hand lands on the small of your back while you’re leaned over to get Joel’s treat, a warm presence that brings a flush up your neck and ears. Tommy’s always been a touchy one, especially in comparison to his brother. He loves to swing an arm around your shoulder and ruffle your hair whenever he can. Loves to say things like ‘atta’girl’ and ‘good job’ to watch how you get as red as a tomato.

Once the cookie is wrapped up in a napkin and kept safe in his pocket for Joel, he straightens his back and lets you stand back up, removing his hand from your spine. He rubs the back of his neck, something that would seem sheepish if it was anyone else. But on Tommy, it seems practiced. Like he knows just how to make you wanna lean in even more. 

“Speaking of him,” he starts, pointedly. “There’s a bonfire tonight. Out past the paddock fence.” 

You nod, knowing of it–you’re planning on going already, actually, but you listen anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Couple folks are bringin’ instruments. Drinks and whatnot. I might even get Joel to bring out his old guitar.” 

You lift an eyebrow in intrigue, especially by the sound of Joel bringing out his guitar. You’d love to hear him play–love to see his big fingers work the chords and strings under the light of a fire. 

“You’re working real hard to make it sound casual, Tommy.” You giggle and tilt your head, finally picking up the container of cookies once and for all. 

He snorts and shakes his head, wiping the sweat dripping down the back of his neck again. It catches your attention, distracting you, drawing you to the sight of little beads against his hot, tanned skin. 

He gives you a crooked, stupid grin. “Yeah, well. I ain’t askin’ the whole town if they’re going. Just you.”

Your heart does the little thing–not jumping, not exactly skipping. But warming up. By the idea of Tommy only asking you about the bonfire. Like he wants you there. It felt like settling into a chair that feels just right.

You let your gaze drift down to the sweat-streaked white shirt clinging to his shoulders and the way the sun is catching on his temples. The crumb of the cookie still left on the corner of his mouth. Hell, he could be selling sins door-to-door and you’d still buy it. Of course you wanna go.

“I was already planning on going. But since you’re asking so sweetly…” You start, drawing out the words teasingly. 

“That a yes?” He perks up, the grin on his handsome face growing exponentially. 

“I guess so. Depends. Will you save me a seat with you and your brother?” You grin and lean back, fingers drumming against the tupperware in your arms. 

Tommy nods obediently, crossing his arms over his chest. They look big that way, especially when the sweat seeps through the white shirt he’s wearing and makes it a little see-through. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fuck, that always gets you weak. Being called ma’am–by none other than Tommy Miller, in particular, has you aching. The things you would do to hear that in a not-so-innocent context invade your mind. 

“M’kay. As long as you two behave–and don’t talk through all the music–I’ll be there. See you tonight, Miller.”

You lift the tupperware in a little sort of a wave, sauntered off before he can even say anything else. Left with the little cookie in his pocket saved for Joel. Oh, it’s gonna be a long night. He’s in trouble. 

Later that night, the sun starts to dip low and spill gold light into your kitchen window. That sweet, syrupy light that makes your skin glow. Makes you wanna dance in the kitchen and mess around.

You spent the day baking and then handing out cookies to the kids at Jackson’s preschool–it was adorable. But now, you’re getting ready for a night of drinking by a fire. A self-proclaimed “date” with both of the Miller brothers at once. With the town’s two hottest and beaten up men. 

You’re standing barefoot in front of the mirror, one boot on while you weigh the options. Black, brown, or red? The outfit you settled for was a tiny old denim skirt held low on your hips and supported with the same belt as earlier. Paired with a little red gingham top you’d stitched yourself from scraps.

It was only the right option because it hugs your waist perfectly and clings to your chest, enough to surely make Tommy lose his train of thought mid conversation. 

As hard as you tried to tell yourself this should just be another normal night, another bonfire, another excuse to laugh and drink with friends–it isn’t. You know why you’re going. You’re going to get drunk and mess with two brothers to the best of your ability. Fuck it. 

Tugging a brush through your hair and letting it fall around your shoulder in lazy curls, not too fussy, you stared in the mirror. A dull red lipstick painted over your lips, highlighted by a smooth cherry-flavored gloss. Vanilla perfume on your wrists, lotioned legs–you smell as sweet as the cookies from earlier. Maybe Joel and Tommy would want a bite of you instead.

Sure, the world is over outside of Jackson. But tucked safely in the town, your biggest worry is how good you look tonight. And which brother you’d choose. Or if you’re even going to settle for one.

Your mind drifted as you put on all your jewelry.

Tommy. Sweet-talking and warmed from years in the sun. The biggest flirt you know. He makes you feel like the only woman in the room, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. There’s something so easy about him, which makes you feel comfortable. 

He’s never boring, just familiar. Worn-in and all feel-good. 

The only issue with Tommy is his flirtatious nature. Sure, it works on you, and makes you feel seen. But if he’s that good with his words, touch, and eyes, he must have too much experience. You’re sure he sweet talks every single woman in this town the same way he does with you, which makes you uneasy. 

He flirts and doesn’t try to hide it. Makes it clear as day that he wants you. But might also want other women, so you’re not sure if he’s the perfect choice. 

Then there's Joel. 

Quieter, broader, and stiller. Doesn’t flirt or talk you up the way his brother does, but hovers. Makes you feel pretty with his eyes rather than his words. 

He looks for too long, staring at you, whether you’re paying attention or not. His rougher voice settles low in your stomach when he speaks, smoke curling around your ribs and heating up your insides–all the way into your cervix, actually. 

He’s much harder to pin down and slower to trust, but Lord, he’s worth the chase. You just know it. 

Something about the fact that he makes it so much harder to tell if he wants you than Tommy arouses you. The slow burn of it all, confusion at each of his lingering glances. It gets you wondering, which eventually leaves you more hot and bothered than Tommy can get you. If Joel’d ever let himself get closer, he’d hold on tighter than his brother can. 

Tommy is more a sunrise and Joel is a storm on the horizon. But they’re both fucking beautiful and dangerous, all at the same time. 

You tap on your bottom lip in the mirror’s reflection, weighing the options. Most days, you don’t let the thought linger for two long. Jackson is small and gossip gets around quick, and you don’t want to ruin the existing flirtatious friendship with one brother and the stolen glances you exchange with the other.

Truth be told, most men wouldn’t be able to handle it very well if they were to find out that one woman was sharing attention with both him and his brother. 

But, fuck, the idea of it?

Two men, both strong and stubborn and so big. So much bigger than you. Older, beaten by years of working. They’re burdened, and it makes them hotter to you in some sick way. 

One with charm and one with intense heat, both circling you as if wanting to worship you and warn you off at the same time. What would it feel like to be in the middle of that want–to have Tommy’s hot breath and mouth on your neck and Joel’s big hands holding your hips down?

You exhale, slow and deliberate. Your thighs squeeze together and you allow yourself a single quiet smirk in the mirror. 

No harm in thinking of it, right? After all, tonight’s just a bonfire. A little whiskey and music and possibly a seat between the Miller brothers on a bench. Not so bad.

So, you settle on the red boots. They match your belt and lipstick, after all. Lacing them up and giving yourself a last look, you head out. 

The supposed ‘sweetheart’ of Jackson, ready to stir up trouble and, hopefully, have her way with at least one brother. 

Later that night, you arrive just past nine. The bonfire is crackling tall and bright, its flames licking up at the starry sky. The scent of smoke curls through the air, sweetened by sap and pine of the surrounding forest. The low hum of voices–and a guitar being tuned–fills the space.

Tommy catches your eye first, sitting on a hay bale near the fire with one boot planted in the dirt and the other propped up on a small stump. He smiles, not flashy this time, but warm. Warmer than the fire, warmer than the heat beginning to return to your belly.

He knows exactly who you’re here to see. 

Joel’s nearby, hiding more out in the corner, further from the fire. He’s tuning his guitar held across his lap, catching sight of you. 

The signature look. He doesn’t smile or wave yet, just lips tightening in a greeting as he holds your gaze. Enough to make your breath catch in your chest. He looks back down like it’s nothing, deciding the strings of his old guitar need more attention than you do. 

Fair enough, you’re already getting enough in that little outfit. From the men around the fire–Tommy, obviously.

You make your way over with a friendly smile, the firelight catching on your smooth bare legs. The glint of your lip gloss and shine of your hair not going unnoticed by the first brother. 

“C’mere. Finally made it!” Tommy pats the spot next to him, thigh brushing yours while you sit. His gaze is quickly drawn to your lap, how short the skirt is–low on your waist but still only mere inches away from exposing your panties. 

The warmth of the fire pressing on the two of you and making his skin glow more than it already does feels good, settling the moment into something comfortable. The familiar hum of the forest at night around you, all of your friends and neighbors gathered around the fire. 

“I did make it. Can’t deny an invite from you.” You flash a smile back at Tommy, already entirely turned toward his body. With a little bit of whiskey on his breath and a more relaxed outfit now, he seems even more genial to see you tonight. 

“Yeah? He chuckles, lifting the hand that isn’t occupied with a bottle to settle it on your thigh. Your smooth, shaven, and moisturized patch of skin that’s all free for him to touch. The bonfire is heating your skin up, and so is Tommy’s touch, making you feel like you’re truly on fire.

“You look good, though. I’m likin’ the gingham on you.” He nods casually, moving the hand up to toy with the bow on the straps of the top. “Lookin’ like a little cowgirl. Would never guess you’re not from the South.”

His voice is so sweet and lazy, more laid back than normally, most likely due to the bottle of whiskey in his other hand. 

“Made this top myself,” you answer, stealing the bottle from his hand and taking a long swig. The feeling of it burns your throat, makes you almost sputter. You’re still so young compared to Tommy, and the intolerance to the strong alcohol reminds him of the fact.

He raises his eyebrows, shifting to face you more, forgetting entirely about the fire and his brother thirty feet away, tuning away at a guitar. 

“Looks real good. I like it.” He takes the bottle back and drinks, slowly, before setting it down on the ground in front of the hay bale. “Almost didn’t recognize you without the apron and all the flour on your jeans.”

That makes you giggle. Of course you’re known to everyone in Jackson as the sweet girl who bakes, constantly lost in a cloud of flour and never seen without an apron. Valid comment.

“Is that a compliment or an insult, Miller? 

“Both,” he chuckles and leans his head back to gaze down your body again, eyes narrowing down on your chest–the way the homemade shirt squeezes your breasts together perfectly. With the way you’re sitting, he’s got a great view down your chest. And you certainly notice–but, obviously, don’t mind. You’re not one to dislike attention.

The whiskey is rough but sweet, lighting your stomach up, and it slowly brings everything around you into a softer blur. The music presses pause on the rest of the world when Joel starts playing his guitar. Low and easy, something old and slow that sinks into your skin.

Everyone quiets down a tiny bit and limits their conversation as Joel gets up and moves closer. Inevitably, he comes right over, plopping down and sandwiching you between you and his brother. 

The weight of the two men on your sides is two very different kinds of attention. Tommy’s is neverending, letting you know how he feels. His hand gravitated back to your thigh possessively when Joel sat down, silently pulling your leg against his.

And Joel’s was muted. Barely looking, focused on his guitar. But every chance he got to look away, it drifted toward your lap with his brother’s hand resting on it. If the guitar wasn’t strewn across his body and covering him, it’d be hard to miss the tent forming over his crotch. 

The conversations around you died down to a low whisper, leaving you able to soak up Tommy’s touch and Joel’s music. His fingers stretched out on your thigh while he let out a satisfied sigh, lazy and confident and familiar on the skin. 

He’d occasionally lean in, whispering all up close in your ear–on purpose, obviously. His breath is warm and smells of the whiskey and faintly of a cigarette he must’ve smoked before you showed up. His touch is unmoving, keeping you grounded by his side like you’re his. 

His whispers are a random assortment, making you laugh and quiver all at once. He’d mention something stupid, like making fun of someone across the fire, or he’d lean in and remind you how good your tits look in that little top. 

Joel’s playing slowed after a while, then stopped altogether. When he sets his guitar aside without ceremony the conversations pick up around you again.

You can finally take a breath as Tommy backs up and it isn’t as quiet anymore. But within seconds, it all gets more intense. Joel finally lets himself lean in and speak, smelling dangerously of cedar and something darker. 

His thigh brushes yours, jaw clenching when he gives you a polite nod. 

“Cookie was good earlier. Tommy gave it to me when I got back.”

You don’t even register what he’s talking about for a moment, awfully distracted by the feel of both their thighs pressing into the sides of yours, especially when accompanied by Tommy’s hand that seems to keep moving higher and higher. 

“Oh, right. Thanks.” For a girl who’s normally confident, you choke up a little. Tommy laughs to himself, covering his mouth and letting his thumb rub the inside skin of your thigh. 

Fuck, they’re actually getting you nervous. This isn’t what you planned for. You turn to look at Joel upon sensing he’s gonna speak again, the slow pull of attraction tightening in your belly. 

But he whispers, glancing at Tommy leaning back with his hand splayed so intimately on your leg.

“You’re lettin’ my brother get real close tonight, huh?”

He questions, finally letting on a small smirk. He’s fucking into this. They planned this. And you’re only just now realizing.

It overwhelms you, but it makes the wetness build in your panties more than it may ever have before. The idea that the two brothers actually discussed this beforehand–sharing you–gets you weak. 

“Pretty dangerous sittin’ between us like this.” Tommy interrupts before you can respond to Joel, making your head snap back around to him. You almost let out a nervous whimper, you can’t even register what’s happening. But somehow, you’re into it. You let it happen.

“Okay? I like it here.” You manage out with a gulp, eyes trained on Tommy before his brother’s hand lands on your other thigh. Still sassy. Both of them tighten their grips, squeezing at the supple flesh shamelessly as if you’re not all in public right now.

Too gone to care.

Joel snorts, shaking his head, and you look over at him now. He’s smiling, which isn’t too common of a sight. Must really be satisfied with their work right now.

“Careful what you ask for, baby.” He whispers and strokes your skin, hand moving up and down tantalizingly. You don’t know who to look at. Hell, you don’t actually know what you just asked for. 

The moment goes entirely silent, the three of you exchanging glances. You–confused, but into it. The two men–seemingly have practiced this scenario millions of times before actually illustrating it. 

Tommy’s watching you with a little half-smile, like he’s been waiting for this moment for longer than either of them would like to admit. His gaze zeroes in on your chest yet again, almost predatorily. Then, to Joel–his gaze is unreadable but filled with more desire than you’d like to imagine.

It hits you. Not fear or nerves, but want. This isn’t something to be scared of. Fuck, you were hoping for it in your bedroom while you were getting ready. You wore this outfit just for the hopes of this happening. Said ‘fuck it,’ so why would you be afraid?

In return, you let your hands rest on both of theirs, fingers trailing lightly over their knuckles. Your thumbs brush their skin, and nobody moves. The fire crackles and everyone nearby is laughing, drinking, and–most importantly–distracted. 

As if reading your mind, Tommy leans in. 

“We could get outta here,” he whispers, almost too casual. “Back to mine. Joel’s. Yours. Wherever you want.”

Your eyes flicker up to his, licking your lips and letting the overwhelming desire shine through once he essentially confirms what’s about to happen. 

“Only if you want to.” Joel adds, ever the gentleman compared to his brother.

Their hands slide a little higher on your thigh, wanting and ready, and nothing else is exchanged but a quiet nod of approval from you.

Yet again, you’re the one left breathless. 

The next thing you know, you’re at Joel’s, laid out on his bed like prey. 

His place wasn’t far from the bonfire, a quiet little house on the edge of Jackson, tucked behind fencing and lots of trees. Quiet in the same way he is. You’ve been here before, dropping off food or supplies, but never like this. Never with your heart thumping this hard, two sets of heavy footsteps made by boots following behind you, two sets of warm hands ready to explore you and converge the different flavors of need in one space. 

Joel opened the door without second-guessing anything, no more ‘are you sure?’ The two men gave you a look for confirmation when you reached the bedroom, and that’s all they needed. You, on the other hand, didn’t even have to answer.

Inside his house is warm, very lived-in. Very Joel. An old lamp in the corner and a woodworking table in the living room where he carves little animals and whatnot. He walks ahead, dropping his guitar in its case by the couch while Tommy peels off his jacket and throws it mindlessly on the floor. 

You stood quietly for a second to process, and they both just looked at you. The air shifts, thick. So, so heated.

And this time, the older brother moves first–stepping close once you’re in his bedroom. You don’t stop him. His hand comes to your waist, rough and solid, checking one last time that you’re still good with a raise of his eyebrows.

You nod wordlessly, and Joel lifts you up by the waist.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear before tossing you gently onto the bed. Neither of them took the time to get their boots off–or yours. Nothing stopping the three of you.

He climbs over you while Tommy stands back for a bit to watch. In seconds, you feel the first pair of lips on yours–firm and grounding. One big hand on the back of your neck, the other slipping underneath you to the small of your back, pulling you up against him as if he needs it. 

Joel tastes amazing. Darker than you imagine Tommy will. More tobacco, stronger liquor. 

Tommy steps forward finally, climbing onto the bed next to the two of you and smoothing a hand over your hip. While his brother is on top of you, kissing you, he waits his turn and instead lets his lips brush your shoulder. 

Their energy is different, obviously, but they move together in harmony. Joel is slower, more intense, seemingly controlling the moment. Tommy is more free and tactical, his touch lighter but never giving up. 

And you let yourself be used. 

Growing up as brothers, they had to learn to share. And, naturally, they carried that ability into adulthood. So Joel gets off, freeing your body to his brother.

Tommy laughs, diving right in and attaching his lips to yours. It’s softer but more playful, like you don’t have to take him seriously in the way you just had to with Joel. He encourages you with his hands on your waist, squeezing and tickling at your sides teasingly.

“Tommy,” you gasp and giggle, leaning your head back and breaking the kiss. 

“What?” He chuckles in return, peppering the kisses down your chin and to your neck, focusing on the soft area just beneath your ear. That way, when he whispers, it feels even better.

You don’t respond, laughing and laying back while he works at your neck so perfectly. Everything is revolving around you right now. They just want to give you everything. 

In minutes, you’re forgetting where you are, overwhelmed by the feeling of not one, but two sets of hands exploring you and worshipping you in every way possible. 

“Pretty little thing,” Tommy would laugh, sitting up and tangling his hand in your hair to give it a tug.

Joel was more quiet, but still whispered little instructions. He was more of a guidance while his brother was the fun part: both necessary in the moment. 

“C’mere,” Joel whispered, moving back on the bed after you all actually took the moment to remove your shoes. He sits back against the headboard and pillows, spreading his meaty thighs and patting the right one. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping a hand around your waist to get you nice and close. 

You comply, climbing right up and settling yourself on his thigh–legs spread and straddling his denim-clad leg. You’re surely leaking and making a mess on it, your skirt pushed up to your waist. 

Joel’s head dips down, nose brushing your jaw while he murmurs and begins to guide your hips. 

“Good girl. C’mon, you can move, sweet girl.” He manages out, hoarsely, with a bite at your sensitive earlobe. It makes you shudder, following his orders and shifting your hips.

The feeling of his jeans pressed against your clothed pussy elicit quiet gasps from your lips, leaning in and resting your head on his shoulder. He keeps an arm wrapped around you, grounding you against him and ensuring you feel safe while getting off on his thigh like this.

By the foot of the bed, Tommy is forgotten now while Joel’s scent and touch invades your brain. He’s fine with waiting his turn, though. He undoes the buckle of his belt, the clank of metal not disturbing you and his brother.

Discarding his jeans, Tommy pulls himself out of his boxers shamelessly, unable to help himself. He’s been hard since you sat down with him at the bonfire in that pretty outfit. Hell, since he saw you earlier today and you gave him a cookie. 

He begins to stroke himself–one hand moving up and down the shaft, stretching himself, while the other rests under his balls and gently tugs at them to heighten the pleasure. His eyes are trained on the way your hips move back and forth on Joel’s leg, the small wet patch he can see forming on the denim fabric, even through your panties.

“She looks so good on you like that, doesn’t she?” Tommy groans, thumb brushing over the tip of his own cock while his brother nods. 

“Mm–real pretty.��� Joel grumbles, leaning back and letting his head hit the wall when you let out a particularly pretty little moan. His big hands come back to your waist, squeezing it and holding you tight to guide you in a slower rhythm.

You whine, opening your eyes back up to look into his. Eyebrows furrowing, you pout and try to speed up again.

“Baby,” Joel chuckles, squeezing you harder to keep you in place, to keep you going the speed he wants you to. “Gotta slow down for me, yeah? Be good. Take it slow, relax.”

His words are meant to be soothing and encouraging, but the low tone of his voice that gets you so wet only makes it all worse.

“Want–wanna go faster. Please, Joel.” You whimper, trying to rut your hips and speed up the agonizingly slow pace he’s got you going at. “Feels good.”

“I know, I know it feels good.” He sighs, giving up for now and letting you do it how you want to. Tommy laughs from across the bed, amusement and arousal all wrapped into one while he jerks himself off to the sight of you and his brother. 

Joel only lets you get off on his thigh for maybe a generous twenty seconds before lifting you up, patting your ass in the process. The pressure was building in your belly, tiring you out, making you feel so good. You were approaching an orgasm in a short time, motivated by the arousal the scene itself produced in your brain, but soon were stopped by his big hands. 

“Joel.” You frown, writhing on the bed and reaching down to touch yourself instead when he sets you down. 

Tommy sits up, abandoning his achingly hard cock, crawling up to you and grabbing at your wrist. 

“Uh-uh. Don’t gotta do that, angel.” He laughs, collecting both of your wrists in one hand and pushing them back. You’re pinned down and whining under him, but eventually give up protesting when you remember it's you versus two–very, very large–men. 

He passes your wrists to Joel, who holds them with even more ease due to the size of his hands. 

“Let’s make sure Tommy gets some lovin’ too, sweet girl.” Joel kisses you once, a soft peck, holding you down for a moment to let his brother get settled. Both of you watch as Tommy fully discards his boxers, stripping off his shirt and socks in the process until he’s entirely bare.

The man is a work of art. Tanned skin, some sun damage from always working outside–little spots all over his body, and freckles. He’s covered in hair, which you’d always expected due to the thick head of it he carries. 

His lower stomach, especially. It’s got the most gorgeous spread of tiny hairs leading to something even more beautiful–thick and wiry. Not graying just yet. His cock is long but thin, already red and twitching from jerking himself off to the sight of you just a couple minutes ago. The fat tip of it is leaking desperately, just begging to be treated.

Tommy lays back, seated against the headboard like Joel was, his legs spread out wide. His head tips back lazily, sinking into the bed and patting his thighs. 

Joel lets your wrists go, and you’re lunging forward like an animal in seconds. His thick, hairy thighs open to accommodate you while you kneel between them on the bed. 

“Nice n’ big.” You whisper and giggle, hands on his thighs while you sort of nestle your head down for now. Nuzzling into his crotch, you worship Tommy’s cock–nose exploring every crevice, tongue darting out under his heavy balls. 

He moans out quietly, hand finding your hair before you even begin and wrapping it up into a tight makeshift ponytail. 

“Look at you, baby.” Tommy praises, lifting his hips up to encourage you to take him. You were resting your head on his thigh and taking a moment, but the sight of him literally aching for you has you moving quickly. 

You grab the base of his cock, giving it a slight squeeze to draw more noises out of the man. Satisfied by a little grunt, you snicker and open your mouth, taking his tip into it eagerly.

“Fuck.” He jolts, head tipping back and eyes shutting happily. You focus on only the tip for a moment, swirling your tongue around the head and collecting the embarrassing amount of precum before sinking your head down and taking as much of his length as you can.

You sputter for a moment, just as you did earlier on the whiskey, but regain your bearings and start to move. His tip is hitting the back of your throat as if urging you to take more, but you physically can’t. He’s so big,

Tommy’s hand tightens in your hair, a little rude with the way he’s tugging and forcing your head down. 

“Jesus, Tommy.” Joel interrupts after watching carefully for a few moments. “Careful with ‘er. She’s gonna gag.”

The older brother’s hand comes to your back, gently stroking it to keep you grounded while his brother forces your head down on his cock. Tommy doesn’t mind too much, easing up on the pushing but not entirely stopping. He’s always been much less of a gentleman.

“You’re okay, angel. Go slow if you have to.” Joel whispers to you, patting your back before standing up and discarding his own clothes. You hear the sound of fabric and a belt hitting the floor, and want nothing more than to look.

But you can’t, because his brother is holding your head down on his dick. It’s not all bad, though. You’re still eagerly taking it, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him with near-perfect technique. He’s very vocal, noisily encouraging you to somehow work him even better.

The mattress sinks as Joel returns from undressing, and while you can’t see, you feel where he’s going. While your head is buried between Tommy’s thighs, Joel gently unfolds your body and pulls your skirt off for you, leaving you in pretty panties and that damn gingham top.

He smiles, stretching the elastic of your underwear and letting it snap back against your skin. You gasp.

“Tommy, look at this.” He rubs your ass, giving it a gentle smack, showing off the fabric. It’s little cherries over the same red gingham that your top is made of. Matching, making you look like the prettiest cowgirl they’ve ever seen.

Tommy snorts, opening his eyes and giving your head another push down on his lap at the sight.

“How cute. Bet you wore 'em just for us, ain’t that right?” He smiles and uses his free hand to cup the side of your face, stroking it with a thumb while you suck on him so perfectly. “Fuckin’ slut.” 

Joel shoots him a glance to be nice, because he’s already pushing your head down. He shouldn’t be calling you a slut like that.

“Ignore him.” He advises you, rubbing the skin of your ass that’s now pink from the little slap. He pulls at the fabric, tugging it down gently and working it over your feet before throwing them on the floor. On his way back to your ass, he kisses the back of your feet, ankles, calves, and thighs, leaving a trail of fire all the way to where he really wants to be.

His fingers go straight to the source, not even bothering to spread your legs. He digs two digits into your folds, groaning lewdly at the filthy feeling of how wet you are. Soaking his fingers, soaking the bed underneath you. Genuinely dripping for the two brothers.

“If only you could feel how wet this girl is,” Joel huffs in amusement, slipping his fingers back out and gripping the supple flesh of your ass again. The loss of touch elicits a quiet whine from the lips you have wrapped around Tommy’s cock. 

“I bet.” Tommy answers, groaning and leaning his head back yet again in pleasure when he hits particularly deep in that warm, wet mouth of yours.

Joel grabs at your body with a mix of gentleness and fervor, lifting your hips until your knees are able to support your weight. Your head is down between his brother’s legs, your back arched, and your ass in the air for him to do whatever he desires with.

He leans over you, pressing a trail of kisses down your back–the center of it. Between your shoulder blades and down your spine, while his fingers trail all over your soft skin. Exploring. Taking his time. 

He ends the trail at your back dimples, the spot where your butt and the small of your back meet. One last little kiss before he sits back up, spreading your legs just a bit so he can fit.

Once Joel ensures you’re not overwhelmed with what you’re doing with Tommy, he grabs his own cock and strokes it before gently pressing it against your ass. You moan around the other man’s length, and Joel taps him to let you have a break. 

Tommy releases his grip on your hair, gasping when your mouth comes off of him–a string of spit connects his crotch and your mouth due to the excessive slobbering you’d been doing. Dirty and beautiful.

“Fuck.” The two men say, almost in perfect unison.

You take a moment to catch your breath, glancing back at Joel behind you when you remember he’d gotten undressed.

And, lord, he’s somehow more perfect than Tommy. 

He’s built. Broad, hairy chest and a little tummy coming over his hips. Looks like he works out but certainly doesn’t deny a beer when offered. He’s hairier, even, a thicker and grayer trail leading to his pubic bone that’s pressed against your ass currently.

Older. Seemingly more experienced. He’s scarred and hardened, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. The mere sight of him makes you moan.

Both of them laugh at the little strained moan you let out, Joel’s hand rubbing your hip while Tommy’s strokes your hair. 

“You like him that much?” Tommy chuckles, kissing your forehead.

You nod mindlessly, still searching for the air you’d lost when your head was getting pushed down. 

“Mm–mmhm. Like Joel. A lot. Fuck.” You manage out, dropping your head back on Tommy’s thighs and resting it there.

Joel smirks and lets the hand on your hip travel back to your ass, rubbing it before gripping his cock and giving it a few small strokes. “Yeah, baby?”

You nod again and groan against the fatty flesh of the thigh under you, kissing his warm skin. Your hips naturally move backward when you feel movement behind you, subconsciously begging for Joel. Your back arches as well, giving him quite the sight. 

“You want it? Gonna take me good with my brother’s cock in your mouth?”

He smiles, teasing your dripping hole with his own leaking tip. Of course you want it. You’ve been dreaming of this all day–maybe even weeks before. But back then, it was a fantasy. Never a possibility in your mind. Now, you’re bent over, face down and ass up between the two of them. You couldn’t want it more. 

“Yes, please.” You gasp out, arching more and forcing your ass back against Joel’s cock. You feel him twitch.

He hums in approval, not saying anything else before lining himself up. At the feeling of him against you, you know what you’re supposed to do in return. Tommy is back in your mouth in mere seconds, and you’re sucking and slurping to the best of your ability in hopes that it’ll get you more. More of Joel. More praise. More cock.

Joel slides in once Tommy looks satisfied, slowly stretching your tight pussy out. The noises are filthy, squelching and wet. 

“Fuck–” He groans, panting and bracing himself by gripping your lower back. He isn’t even fully in yet and he’s ready to come all over you. He’s dreamed of painting you in ropes of release, of fucking you senseless and filling you up with his seed. Now it’s happening, and, God, he doesn’t know if he can even handle a minute. 

You whine around Tommy, but he doesn’t push your head down again. He knows it probably hurts a bit, given the Millers are genetically big men. They let you adjust to Joel before resuming, going nice and slow. 

“Pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, taking me this good. Just like that.” Joel becomes more vocal as he moves inside you, picking up the pace slowly, ensuring you’ve adjusted enough to take his size before doing anything you can’t handle.

The praise makes your head spin. Apparently, Tommy’s is too. You feel him twitch more in your mouth, see the way his hips are stuttering with each little bob of your head. 

So you pick up pace. And so does Joel. Everything gets more intense.

Sucking in your cheeks, you take Tommy’s cock so deep that it hits your uvula, resulting in a soft gag. His first instinct is to let you take a break, but you continue despite the tears spilling from your eyes and the urge to vomit increasing.

Your hands fiddle with his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze that draws out the loudest moan of the night from the man. Success.

If you could smile, you’d be doing it. But he’s so deep in your mouth that you can’t move a muscle–not until you feel hot strings of release fill your throat. 

You didn’t realize Tommy was that close, but he fills your mouth up more than it’s ever been stuffed. You’ve never felt a man come so hard. So much. He’s shaking as he finishes, piping it into your mouth and seeing it dribble down your chin as he pulls out.

“Ah-” he whimpers, actually whimpers, when your lips reattach to his tip to give it a final kiss. 

Joel sees his brother’s orgasm, getting a little jealous. He would give anything to be filling your pretty mouth with his come right now, cleaning it off your lips where it spills out. But he remembers he’s the one inside you, and he has a better dumpster than Tommy does right now. 

Once Tommy’s cock is removed from your mouth, he knows he can go a little harder. He wants to go a little harder. He can actually hear your pretty little moans and whimpers now that you’re not occupied. 

When Joel starts hitting your cervix, the lewd noises slipping from your throat are unstoppable. You still haven’t swallowed the come, gurgling while moaning and trying to keep it in your mouth–almost to savor it. 

His hand comes forward to grip your hair, remaking that damn makeshift ponytail his brother was just using. He tugs, forcing your back to arch as your head flies back with a whimper. He’s fucking you harder now, one hand gripping your hair and the other on your hip to press your cunt as close to him as he can possibly get it, pounding into you at a near-painful speed.

“Joel,” you cry out, more tears slipping from your pretty eyes that are quickly cleaned off by Tommy. You gasp and finally swallow his come, groaning in satisfaction and letting your head fall forward until it’s rudely tugged back by the other brother.

“You got it, darlin.’ You can take it. C’mon now, don’t go dumb on me.”

He groans, the hand on your hip giving your ass a solid smack. You cry out again, squealing with the mix of pain and pleasure. Pain, mostly now, as he’s fucking you deep and painfully harsh.

“Hold her still. She’s shakin,’ Tommy.” Joel leans forward with a growl, draping his body over yours and letting his head fall to your shoulder while he fucks you from behind. His teeth bare, nibbling on any exposed skin he can get, licking and sucking and kissing like an animal.

Tommy’s hands come to your shoulders, holding you still and shushing you while you cry under Joel’s hard body. “Almost there, angel. We’ve got you.”

And within the next minute, you and Joel’s orgasms approach at once. You can tell with him because his pace gets sloppy, hips slamming into your ass uncontrollably and inconsistently. He can tell with you because you’re impossibly more vocal, whimpering out and trembling. 

When your thighs start to shake, he snakes a hand down your body and attaches his index and middle finger to your clit. That’s your weakness.

It’s not even eight seconds after he touches your clit that you’re coming, gasping and writhing and falling forward against Tommy. Joel follows suit, finishing deep inside you and smacking your ass as he comes.

The next thirty seconds go silent. You fell forward against Tommy, he pulled you into his arms. Joel’s now-soft cock slipped out, leaving you pumped full of his seed.

Tommy strokes your hair, kissing your forehead in an attempt to get your shaking body down from the intense high his brother had just given you. The other man lays next to the two of you, senseless now and in his own little world. His eyes are pressed shut, sexy pants coming from his mouth and into his pillow. 

The room is quiet and hazy, heavy with sweat and the familiar scent of sex. It’s absolutely filthy. Wrecked.

Your limbs are all tangled up, breath catching. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s earned. 

The sheets are tangled and damp, clinging to your thighs when Joel manages to sit up. He grumbles, moving closer and cuddling into your side that isn’t occupied by his brother.

On the floor are your clothes, laying scattered and forgotten. Tommy is on your other side, hand curled over your hip and quiet breath in your neck where his head is buried. Joel is curling onto your left, kissing your sweaty shoulder and arm, anywhere he can get. 

And you–God. You’re spent, utterly and completely fucked-out. Used. Wrecked.

You’re past satisfied, actually sure that your bones probably aren’t solid anymore. Your limbs are too heavy to move, cheek pressed to Tommy’s chest and an arm slung over his brother’s body. They hold you like they’re afraid you’ll float off somewhere.

“Nothin’ left in me now.” Joel mumbles, lips brushing your skin. His voice is hoarse and dried out, more of an exhale than actual speech. “Not movin’ at all.”

The only part of him that can move is his fingers, trailing so slowly up and down your spine. 

Tommy nods and huffs in agreement, kissing your cheek and pulling you closer. You just smile–lazy and slow and perfectly wrecked. Everything aches in the best kind of way. You feel as if you’ve been pulled apart and put back together with hands that know exactly what they’re doing. 

Your throat is burning, hips stinging from Joel’s grip, your pussy leaking out his seed. And no one said much. They didn’t have to.

The air is thick and sticky, but also soft. Comfortable. Hearts beating in sync and bodies pressed so closely that you can’t tell where one ended and the next began. 

Tommy is the last to speak–“Might have to stay here ‘til winter. Jus’hibernating.”—and you laugh. Blissed out and tangled between the men. Just laughed, warm and slow, like the fire hadn’t gone out yet.

WOO that was a journey to write. I’m going to hell. Love yall though 💋💋

TUMBLR ONLY LETS ME TAG 50 👎👎 I’m so sorry to everyone else ik i got like over 100 asking to be tagged so i tried my best

@possiblyafangirl @monicasblues @stories-we-read @pattwtf @kimm4710 @darkheartgatita @melmel-fandom @elliesr1fle @aretha170 @luvrgirls @whitewolfstar01 @taytay0403 @valyrianflower @alidiggory92 @love-you-inside-n-out @darknight3904 @cinnamon-slut @caramelic3dlatte @atthediscowithoutpanic @maystyles @justsarahbella @mynameisbaby9 @american-exodus @visenya-targarye @dilflover-3 @mani-pedro @ilovetoomanymen @xplicitz @foggypenguinrunaway @pigeonpinata0xo @majesticalcocoa @wildxxwolf @yoursweetgirl18 @millersbby @alwayswndr @zroberts13 @marzplanetz @lonelygirl56 @godlypresley @emilynersinger @ivyleagueeeee @lowrisemiller @staley83 @junajun4 @bluegardenn @grayandthyme @heavens-whore @nihilophobias @romancherry @catch1ngmoths

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | serving yourself less (tiktok trend)

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : serving your formula one boyfriend more than you serve yourself

୨ৎ : genre : comedy - tiktok trend ୨ৎ : word count : 1547

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i got a final exam tmrw and i already know im beyond cooked

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

immediately looks at your plate, then at his, then back at yours.

“that’s it?”

scoops food onto your plate without asking. “you didn’t see me doing that.”

mutters under his breath the whole time: “ridiculous. you think i’m gonna eat all this while you nibble on two leaves?”

makes you sit down while he fixes you a proper plate.

“you’ll thank me later when you’re not starving in two hours.”

yuki tsunoda

jaw drops. full betrayal.

“why is your plate sad? do you hate food?”

takes food off his plate and puts it on yours like he’s rescuing it.

“you need to eat or u will be grumpy. and you know what happens when you're grumpy.”

glares at your plate for the rest of the meal to make sure you don’t sneak food back.

will literally feed you if he has to.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

stares at your plate like you’ve just insulted everything he stands for.

“darling... that’s not a meal. that’s a sad sample.”

immediately puts his fork down. “what’s going on? why are you eating like a bird?”

gives you a speech about nutrients. you don’t even make it five minutes in before he’s switching your plate with his.

“eat. i’ll make us smoothies after. with oats. and peanut butter.”

glares at anyone else at the table who doesn’t say anything.

kimi antonelli

freezes mid-bite and just blinks at your plate.

“...wait, is that all you’re eating?”

awkwardly tries not to panic but can’t stop glancing at your food.

“you want some of mine?” pushes his whole plate toward you like a puppy offering a toy.

you say you’re not hungry and he goes quiet.

five minutes later: “okay but… what if i just gave you half of everything i have?”

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

eyebrows instantly scrunch together.

“bébé… where’s the rest?”

literally keeps waiting for you to go back for more.

when you don’t, he starts panicking gently: “is this about something? are you okay? are you mad at me?”

puts things from his plate on yours like it’s no big deal.

whispers “please eat, i hate when you don’t” like you just told him you’re leaving forever.

kisses your temple and goes “merci” when you take a bite.

lewis hamilton

side-eyes your plate with a little smirk.

“you planning to go back for seconds… or is that a cry for help?”

smooth as hell while sliding his fork over to your plate, spearing some of his food, and holding it to your mouth.

“open up, baby. i know you're hungry.”

if you say you’re not, he tilts his head and gives you the look.

“don’t make me get up and fix you a real plate. because i will.”

makes you finish at least half of his meal too, while rubbing your back the whole time.

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

stares at your plate. then stares at you.

“what’s that?”

full dramatic gasp. clutches chest. “you’re joking. that’s the appetizer, right? where’s the rest?”

scoots your plate next to his and starts transferring food over like it’s a formula one pit stop.

“you’re not doing this ‘cute portions’ thing again. eat properly or i’ll call your mum.”

makes airplane noises while feeding you a bite just to be annoying.

you try to glare but you’re laughing too hard to stop him.

oscar piastri

doesn’t say anything at first, just silently eyes your plate… then yours again.

“that’s... all?”

furrows his brows slightly. “is something wrong? are you okay?”

super calm but will not let this slide. adds food to your plate like he’s just “helping,” not completely panicking inside.

casually: “you can finish mine too if you want.”

when you finally take a real bite, he visibly relaxes and says, “thank you” like you just took your meds.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

pretends not to notice at first.

then eyes your plate like it's personally disrespecting him.

“you’re kidding. right? that’s not dinner. that’s—snack behavior.”

takes your plate, loads it up himself, and hands it back without a word.

“eat,” he says, deadpan.

if you protest, he hits you with the eyebrow raise and mutters something in Spanish under his breath like “mi vida está loca.”

cuts your food into pieces and says “better” while sipping his wine like the crisis has been handled.

lance stroll

instantly frowns when he sees your plate.

“hey… where’s the rest?”

full concerned rich boy mode: “did the chef mess something up? do you want me to order something else?”

scoots closer and starts offering bites of his meal.

“you want a bite? actually—here, have all of it.”

if you take even a few bites, he goes, “that’s my girl” and kisses your forehead like you just saved his life.

100% sneaks extra dessert onto your plate later. plays innocent when you call him out.

ʚ・williams

alex albon

dramatic gasp. like cartoon-level gasp.

“okay, what is that? no really, explain. is that a bite? a sample? a decoration?”

“i’m calling your mom. i’m calling your best friend. we’re staging an intervention.”

takes your plate and starts adding food while lecturing you.

“you’re hot and smart but your portion control is a war crime.”

kisses your temple like he didn’t just drag you and says, “eat up, pretty girl.”

continues feeding you from his plate like a clingy golden retriever boyfriend.

carlos sainz

freezes when he sees your plate. stares at it. stares at you.

“is that all you’re eating?”

you shrug. he sighs and sets down his fork. full concerned boyfriend mode.

“mi amor, that’s not enough. seriously.”

pushes his plate toward you and waits until you take a bite. then goes soft.

“tienes que comer bien, cariño.” (you have to eat well, darling.)

“te necesito fuerte y feliz, no con hambre.” (i need you strong and happy, not hungry.)

spoons extra food onto your plate every time you’re not looking. smiles like he’s done nothing.

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

gasps like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

“wait wait wait. THAT’S your plate? you’re kidding.”

points at it dramatically. “someone get the girl a real meal!”

piles food on your plate himself while mumbling, “she thinks that’s gonna get her through the day? she’s insane. adorable. but insane.”

offers to feed you personally if it means you’ll eat more.

“open up. no, seriously. i’m not letting you leave this table hungry.”

won’t let it go for a week. “remember when you tried to survive on three leaves and half a tomato?”

esteban ocon

doesn’t say anything right away. just side-eyes your plate with increasing concern.

“is that enough? are you sure? you’re sure?”

when you insist it’s fine, he just sighs and very gently starts moving food from his plate to yours like it’s a covert operation.

“just in case you get hungry later,” he says softly.

watches you eat like a hawk. when you finish, he smiles like it’s a personal win.

mutters to himself in French the entire time — something suspiciously close to, “elle va me rendre fou.” (she’s going to drive me crazy.)

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

does a double take. then slowly turns to you.

“so you hate food now? or is this performance art?”

chuckles but immediately adds more food to your plate. “this feels illegal.”

makes jokes the entire meal, “you need a magnifying glass to see that portion.”

but side-eyes you so hard every time you put your fork down.

halfway through, scoots his plate between you both. “just share mine. easier.”

whispers “you’re actually feral for that” in your ear, but kisses your cheek while handing you a bite.

isack hadjar

absolutely scandalized.

“quoi?! that’s not dinner. that’s—what is that!”

full-on offended. places a hand on his heart like you’ve betrayed his entire French culinary heritage.

literally gets up and remakes your plate. “you eat what i give you. this is criminal.”

gives you a “look” every time you try to protest. you know the one.

softens immediately when you take a real bite. “bon. merci, mon cœur.”

kisses your head like a reward and mutters, “don’t scare me like that again.”

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

immediately dramatic. like, eyebrows raised, jaw dropped, wine glass in hand.

“you trying to break my heart? because that’s what this is.”

pokes at your plate with his fork. “this is… decorative. c’est rien.”

slides his plate next to yours and starts serving you from it.

“eat, mon ange. i need you strong enough to carry this relationship.”

flirts relentlessly until you give in.

“you’ll eat for me, right? be my good girl?”

smirks like he just won the Monaco GP when you take a real bite.

jack doohan

doesn’t say much. just blinks at your plate.

“is that enough?”

you say yes. he nods.

five minutes later he’s quietly refilling your plate like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“i just thought you might want more.”

casually puts a piece of his food on your fork and waits.

won’t push you, but his quiet worry is palpable.

kisses your temple when you finish and mumbles, “thank you,” like you saved his appetite.

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

raises an eyebrow. says nothing for a full thirty seconds.

“...that’s it?”

sips his drink, pretending not to care. he cares so deeply it’s physically hurting him.

eventually breaks. sighs and says, “give me your plate.”

doesn’t ask — just starts adding food to it.

“you’ll thank me when you’re not lightheaded later.”

kisses your forehead once and mutters something like, “don’t do that again, yeah?”

gabriel bortoleto

visibly stressed.

“babe? love? angel? why is your plate empty?”

starts rapid-fire listing all the food options: “do you want rice? bread? i can go get something else—”

won’t start eating until you’ve got a full plate.

watches you take every bite like he’s tracking your hydration levels too.

ends the night making you tea and saying “you scared me,” while cuddling you for the next three hours.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[astonmartinii]

mother duck | carlos sainz social media au

pairing: carlos sainz x fem presenter!reader

carlos kissed her goodbye before she went to the rookie round table, he didn’t realise she’d come back with five ducklings of her own

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,439,045 others

tagged: kimiantonelli, isackhadjar, jackdoohan, olliebearman & gabrielbortoleto

f1: head over to our youtube channel now to get to know our crop of new drivers at the rookie round table!

view all comments

user1: i have been moved

user2: more of this type of content please

user3: i think they could’ve gotten at least a couple of hours of footage here those kids love to talk

yourusername: not what i’ve been used to but a blast nonetheless!

kimiantonelli: you will be coming to all of the races, right?

kimiantonelli: right? please!

yourusername: yes, i will be there kimi don’t worry

kimiantonelli: omg yay!

user4: oh no… they’re attached…

user5: someone call carlos sainz, is he aware he’s become a father of five overnight?

carlossainz55: excuse me?

gabrielbortoleto: hi!

carlossainz55: no no no i don’t do all of this grid kid nonsense

isackhadjar: please don’t say that i have abandonment issues :(

carlossainz55: what ???

user6: bro sat back and watched charles adopt all the kids last season but now it’s his turn

user7: ollie is meant to be charles’ grid kid…

charles_leclerc: A ROBBERY?

carlossainz55: you can keep him !!!

olliebearman: you don’t want me 😢

yourusername: carlos don’t be mean to them!

carlossainz55: what the fuck is going on right now ???

user8: carlos left his gf for one 20 minute interview and now has kids ?

user9: ugh i’ve missed this chaos

jackdoohan: can we do all media with you @yourusername ?

yourusername: i don’t think so :(

jackdoohan: so not fair :(((((

jackdoohan: if we don’t have media with you can we at least come to dinner?

kimiantonelli: i’m free for dinner!

gabrielbortoleto: me too

isackhadjar: me three

olliebearman: can we get italian?

carlossainz55: nuh uh it’s date night tonight

kimiantonelli: *our date night

carlossainz55: no?

yourusername: come on carlos…

carlossainz55: fine! but just this one time

user10: it’s going to be a long season for mr sainz i fear

yourusername

liked by kimiantonelli, jackdoohan and 381,945 others

tagged: carlossainz55

yourusername: australia that’s a wrap on qualifying - a few surprises at both ends of the grid!

view all comments

user11: i am an old man who usually hates the fluffy stuff off of track but kimi going in for a hug in the media pen was very cute

user12: i think people forget just how young he is so it’s good he feels he has other people to go to in the paddock!

user13: his poor media handler looked very confused

olliebearman: can we definitely get dinner now :( talking to you in the media pen was probably the only good thing from today

yourusername: of course ollie! i know it was a tough day but you’ll get in the swing of it with the car

carlossainz55: i thought we were going to be able to shake them for dinner :(

olliebearman: CARLOS I AM IN DISTRESS PLEASE PAY FOR MY PASTA

yourusername: he clearly needs comfort!

carlossainz55: he doesn’t need comfort he’s trying to extort us

olliebearman: so you don’t love me enough to let me extort you?

carlossainz55: no?

user14: these rookies are cracking me up

user15: please strap them down in front of a camera and let them yap

gabrielbortoleto: did you see my save?

yourusername: i did! very impressive gabi

gabrielbortoleto: did you @carlossainz55 ?

maxverstappen1: so i mean nothing to you now?

gabrielbortoleto: NO! i love you max - did you see my save?

maxverstappen1: it was very impressive bubbles

carlossainz55: definitely not a ‘b grade’ driver

gabrielbortoleto: OMGGGG THANK YOU

maxverstappen1: i give up?

yourusername: i don’t really know what’s happening right now - but just go with it max, he still loves you he spoke at LENGTH about you to me just this morning

user16: these kids be attaching to anyone who looks at them

user17: they’re just like me for real

isackhadjar: looking forward to debriefing over garlic bread :D

yourusername: you were amazing today isack!

isackhadjar: hehehehehehehehe

carlossainz55: at least this one isn’t shouting at me

jackdoohan: what about me?

carlossainz55: you know what, you’ve bothered me the least so you’re my favourite

kimiantonelli: NOT FAIR

olliebearman: but i cycle?

gabrielbortoleto: but you liked my save?

isackhadjar: all i want is some garlic bread :(

yourusername: carlos! you can’t say one of them is your favourite - that’s not how kids work

carlossainz55: i never asked for this !!!

carlossainz55

liked by isackhadjar, olliebearman and 609,285 others

tagged: yourusername

carlossainz55: back in italy for imola and on a date with my favourite girl

view all comments

user18: carlos went to italy extra early so they could have dinner without the rookies intruding lmao

user19: bro is being haunted by five kids

user20: he’s better than me because i would crumble immediately

yourusername: no one else i’d rather be with

carlossainz55: i’ve missed being with you (just you)

yourusername: we’ve had just enough alone time i think

landonorris: gross

carlossainz55: not you too

landonorris: if you think about it i was technically your first kid…

carlossainz55: ONE NIGHT WITHOUT THIS NONSENSE PLEASE

user21: i think carlos might be losing his mind

alexalbon: oh he definitely is if his loud ramblings i can hear through the driver room walls

yourusername: i think he’s just like that?

carlossainz55: huh?

yourusername: you asked me on a date because you were talking to yourself loudly before our interview about ‘how pretty my smile is’

carlossainz55: my thoughts are loud!

carlossainz55: but in that instance i’m very glad they were screaming in my head

yourusername: i’m very glad too <3

user22: omg that’s such a cute/concerning meet cute

user23: the most carlos sainz thing ever i fear

kimiantonelli: i see our invite got lost in the mail?

olliebearman: and in kimi’s home country… that’s just cruel

carlossainz55: i would like ONE romantic night with the love of my life ALONE

carlossainz55: CAN I PLEASE HAVE THAT? I DON’T THINK I’M ASKING THAT MUCH

isackhadjar: you didn’t need to be that mean about it :(

kimiantonelli: i’m sorry, i just wanted to show you the best places in imola …

olliebearman: does this mean you don’t want to go cycling on thursday anymore?

jackdoohan: can i still go for coffee with y/n?

gabrielbortoleto: we just wanted to see you guys :(

yourusername: no my babies :((( we love you and of course we want to see you! we just need to have some alone time every once in a while

carlossainz55: y/n please stop feeding into this

carlossainz55: STOP SHOWING ME THE PHOTOS THEY’RE SENDING YOU OF THEIR SAD FACES

carlossainz55: FINE! WE’LL ALL GO FOR BREAKFAST TOMORROW NOW LET ME ENJOY MY NIGHT WITH Y/N

gabrielbortoleto

liked by kimiantonelli, olliebearman and 451,058 others

tagged: yourusername & carlossainz55

gabrielbortoleto: that was a big one! i’m sorry to the team but i’m happy to say that i’ll be okay and will be back for the next race. thank you y/n and carlos for coming and keeping me company in the hospital!

view all comments

user24: okay i know we’ve all poked fun at the grid kid thing and how it’s so funny that carlos hates it but for real, i’m glad they were in the paddock and were able to be there for him

user25: that makes all the jokey stuff so much better honestly

yourusername: we’re so happy you’re all okay gabi!

gabrielbortoleto: thank you for coming! i know i’m a bit of a drama queen but my parents couldn’t come from brazil so thank you for not leaving me alone :)

gabrielbortoleto: can we have a ducky sleepover?

carlossainz55: a what?

gabrielbortoleto: y/n calls us her duckies! so a ducky sleepover would be all of us coming over (and getting ice cream)

yourusername: i think that’s an amazing idea

carlossainz55: okay, okay. but i am never calling you guys duckies.

yourusername: just you wait baby :)

user26: his radio just reminded me how young him and all the other rookies actually are

user27: i want to just wrap them all up in blankets and tell them it’s all going to be okay

user28: good thing they have y/n and carlos to do that

alexalbon: he won’t tell you this but he did run back to his drivers room to get gabi a jumper and a blanket, he’s a softy for them really

yourusername: that's my man 🥰

kimiantonelli: we’re the five duckies so please refrain from flipping into the barriers again please and thank you

yourusername: kimi?!

carlossainz55: that’s not how we word these things kimi

kimiantonelli: woah i’m trying to lighten the mood

olliebearman: everyone has been a real debby downer today - like three of us got points! (this is a joke, i am happy you’re okay gabi)

gabrielbortoleto: bring the mood back down, i’ve got some more things i want to get with my sympathy points

carlossainz55: gabi???

gabrielbortoleto: fernando taught me to take advantage of anything and everything

carlossainz55: that sounds about right…

user29: why is fernando still at the scene of the crime

kimiantonelli: he’s old! he won his last championship before i was born!

fernandoalo_oficial: @carlossainz55 control your kid

carlossainz55: excuse me? after what you’ve taught gabi?

fernandoalo_oficial: oh don’t act so innocent carlito - did isack or did isack not steal all of the goodies from the media pen because he MANIPULATED the comms girls

isackhadjar: i DID NO SUCH THING

isackhadjar: i am just a nice guy!

jackdoohan: he distracted them and i took them!

fernandoalo_oficial: scoundrels

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 561,093 others

tagged: olliebearman, kimiantonelli & yourusername

carlossainz55: as much as they’re annoying - i love our duckies and it’s going to take more than one DNF to turn me against them

view all comments

user30: oh wow he is a changed man

user31: i fear this is a real mark of maturity because believe me i’d be crashing the fuck out (pun intended)

user32: i mean now he’s seen it back he defo knows that it wasn’t really any one person’s fault

olliebearman: I’M SO SORRY CARLOS

olliebearman: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FORGIVE ME

kimiantonelli: what about me ????

olliebearman: you are NOT the priority here

kimiantonelli: we have a ship name ??? does that mean nothing?

olliebearman: not right now? not when our cycling sessions are on the line?

carlossainz55: are you guys finished arguing now?

olliebearman: can you forgive me now so we can get back to arguing

carlossainz55: i told you guys there’s no hard feelings, we all got squeezed in the rain - stop stressing

olliebearman: okay thanks

kimiantonelli: thx

kimiantonelli: anyway

kimiantonelli: HOW DARE YOU NOT WANT MY FORGIVENESS FIRST?

olliebearman: omg you’re so self-involved

jackdoohan: you gonna let him say that kimi?

kimiantonelli: ME? SELF-INVOLVED?

isackhadjar: ollie i can hear him bitching from here…

olliebearman: GASP!

gabrielbortoleto: kimi… clearly he doesn’t care about the sanctity of bearnelli

kimiantonelli: i can’t believe this 😖

yourusername: right okay let’s calm it down boys

carlossainz55: no this is quite entertaining let them keep going …

yourusername: so you are the bad influence

carlossainz55: if we have to keep them around i might as well enjoy it

yourusername: really?

carlossainz55: the longer they argue and instigate, the less they are bothering us and i can actually spend time with my girlfriend

user33: this whole comment section is just one big familial domestic

user34: they are everything to me

user35: carlos can never retire now i’m sorry those are the rules

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, pierregasly and 892,304 others

tagged: kimiantonelli, olliebearman, carlossainz55, isackhadjar, gabrielbortoleto & jackdoohan

yourusername: omg all five of our duckies scored points and carlos was on the pdoium this weekend at silverstone!!! what an anniversary weekend, and our duckies remembered!

view all comments

user36: THE DUCKIES

user37: i don’t care how dumb the nickname is i love it so much

user38: free yourself from thinking everything is cringe

jackdoohan: so since you’re from silverstone, can we claim this as a home race so we can all say got points at home

yourusername: i’ve seen shakier logic from oscar so i’ll say yes!

oscarpiastri: RUDE

kimiantonelli: he’s just bitter because no one cares about his lil grid kid stunt in monaco anymore now we have y/n and carlos

oscarpiastri: omg ??? leave me alone

olliebearman: come say that to our faces 😡

jackdoohan: he won’t we out number him

iscakhadjar: 💪

oscarpiastri: you people are all like rabid dogs

carlossainz55: watch what you say about the duckies

oscarpiastri: this is crazy, you were the one who was constantly complaining about them

carlossainz55: yes well now i like them! and i don’t appreciate your tone

oscarpiastri: why weren’t you this nice to me as a rookie?

carlossainz55: eh?

gabrielbortoleto: he just likes us better!

carlossainz55: he’s not wrong…

oscarpiastri: fine! charles is a better grid dad anyway

oscarpiastri: and while we’re at it i’m gonna claim max as well

charles_leclerc: yeah i never complained about oscar, i took him in immediately!

maxverstappen1: i don’t know how i got roped into this but yeah - we’re better!

user39: you know what? sure

user40: i stopped asking questions a long time ago

user41: they got them gifts for their anniversary? that’s too fucking cute i can’t

user42: duckies you are so iconic

carlossainz55: i guess the duckies are good for one thing - gifts

yourusername: it’s definitely a perk!

carlossainz55: but i’ll deal with all of their chaos if it means being with you

yourusername: awwwww i love you too

yourusername: so much we have five kids before being married…

carlossainz55: is this a hint?

yourusername: i don’t know you tell me?

kimiantonelli: PLEASE DON’T PROPOSAL WITHOUT US THERE

jackdoohan: that is a threat

olliebearman: bagsy being a bridesmaid

isackhadjar: i know someone who can get you the eiffel tower?

gabrielbortoleto: omg my first wedding party !!!

carlossainz55: let’s all slow down for a second - i will propose but you little devils will not be involved…

yourusername: but they’re so cute 😢

carlossainz55: maybe… but only because i love you

fin.

note: kinda on fire today? i will be crashing in like two hours so i had to be productive while i could be

[p1girlfriend]

✦you start crying during an argument and they instantly regret everything – f1 grid reactions ✦

lando norris ── .✦

he was pacing the room, running his mouth a little too fast, frustrated but not mean. but then you went quiet. your lip trembled. and tears rolled down your cheeks.

“oh—fuck. wait.” his voice cracks as he runs to you. “i didn’t mean to—i’m sorry, i’m sorry, please don’t cry.” he hugs you too tight, kisses your wet cheeks, and his own eyes start to gloss over. “i hate when we fight. i hate making you cry.”

oscar piastri ── .✦

he was calm. cold. too quiet. and then your voice cracked mid-sentence, and his heart shattered.

“you’re crying?” his walls crumble. instantly. “i didn’t want this to happen. i didn’t want to hurt you.” he doesn’t know what to do with his hands until he’s pulling you in, resting his forehead on yours. “we’ll fix this, okay? i promise.”

charles leclerc ── .✦

he was emotional. raising his voice in French, not angry at you — just overwhelmed. and when he saw your eyes fill, he stopped mid-rant.

“non… non non non. mon amour, don’t cry.” his tone drops completely. he crouches in front of you, heartbroken. “you mean everything to me. i didn’t mean any of that. i was just… scared. please look at me.” won’t stop kissing your hands.

lewis hamilton ── .✦

he was walking away. needed a moment to cool off. then he heard the sound — a little choked sob. and he froze.

“baby?” runs back, cups your face so gently. “no, no, no… i didn’t mean to make you feel this way.” his voice breaks a little. “i love you more than anything. you don’t have to be okay right now, just let me hold you.”

carlos sainz ── .✦

he was getting defensive. talking fast in Spanish, pacing. until he saw your face — crumbling slowly, tears slipping down.

“mierda.” he’s crushed. immediate silence. “no llores, por favor.” (don’t cry, please) takes your face in both hands and presses kisses to your forehead like a lifeline. “i don’t care about the fight. i just want you to be okay.”

daniel ricciardo ── .✦

he was cracking jokes to deflect the tension, trying to lighten the mood. until you turned your back and wiped your face.

“wait, wait—are you crying?” total panic. throws the jokes out the window. “shit. i didn’t realize it got that bad. baby, no, i’m so sorry.” wraps himself around you like a blanket. “don’t shut me out. not now. i love you. we’ll talk when you’re ready, okay?”

gabriel bortoleto ── .✦

his voice was low, serious. but then you sniffled. he blinked, confused — and then broken.

“Você tá chorando?” (You’re crying?) reaches for you instantly, arms around you before you even ask. “Não era pra ser assim.” (It wasn’t supposed to be like this.) whispers in your ear, rocks you back and forth. “Você é o amor da minha vida, eu juro que nunca quis te machucar.” (You’re the love of my life, I swear I never meant to hurt you.)

franco colapinto ── .✦

he was frustrated. more with himself than anything. then he looked up and saw you holding back tears — failing.

“wait—wait, no, don’t cry, please don’t cry.” he panics, immediately closing the distance. “i didn’t mean to sound like that. i didn’t mean any of it like that.” holds your hands tight in his. presses your forehead to his. “just breathe with me. we’ll get through this. i’m not letting you go.”

©p1girlfriend | requested | its open!

[cuntiel]

[allconsuminglovergirl]

[xbeababyx]

I’m sorry but he’s so boyfriend coded.

I love him so much 🥹

[millers-girl555]

i love a miller man and his belly

[whoisraii]

Even if my heart stops beating...You're the only thing I need with me

F1 MASTERLIST

☆ : Featuring : All of the drivers present in the 2025 grid ☆ : Synopsis : Them around you while they have a crush on you but you are too oblivious...

☆ : word count : 2.1k

🎧Song for this fic : Pretty Boy ( Chip Chorme and the Monotones)...The Neighbourhood

Note : this is actually my first time writing for all 20 of them so if I don't do justic to one of them I'm so sorry 😭😭

☽・Redbull

max verstappen

You never catch Max being openly affectionate.

But the camera crew does—he’s always glancing around until he spots you.

If you’re laughing with another driver? Suddenly he’s there, acting like it’s just coincidence.

Once he said something almost nice about your outfit, then looked away like he didn’t say anything at all.

“That color doesn’t look bad on you.” “Wait, was that a compliment?” “No. Just an observation. Don’t get weird about it.”

Yuki Tsunoda

Loud, dramatic, hilarious.

Yuki will yank you into comming to the races.

“Please you are good luck to me. I need you to be down there watching me”

He brings you your favorite snacks before every race and insists it’s because he “bought too many.” (He didn’t.)

Whole paddock knows he’s crushing. but you? Blissfully unaware...

You will find your favorite candy waiting for you the second you have a bad day..

“They were on sale. Don’t overthink it.”

☽・Mercedes

George Russell

George treats you like his personal planner—even if you’re just a media coordinator or on a logistics team.

Walks you through every weekend plan, sends you the brief before you ask, and gives pre-interview pep talks like you're going on camera instead of him.

When it rains, he will offer you his umbrella...Even if that means he ends up soaked.

“George, you’re getting drenched.”...“Yes, but you’re not. That’s what matters.”

Andrea Kimi Antonelli

He doesn't flirt he just teases the living hell out of you..

You mispronounce an Italian word once—once—and Kimi never lets it go.

The thing is, he’s always around. Not in an obvious way, but in that quiet, lingering in your peripheral vision way.

He stands close—too close—when he’s talking to you. Shoulder brushing yours. Arms almost touching. But if you lean away or give him a look, he just raises an eyebrow like what? am I in your space? could never be me.

He might tease you...but he will remember your everything...and he will take pictures of you candid stuff which you later find out when he sends you one by mistake..A candid. You, mid-laugh, half-blurry from movement. The corner of his jacket sleeve is visible in the frame.

will smile while you talk to him and maybe get lost in your eyes..too lost maybe..

“What?”..“You were looking at me.”..“No, I was—don’t be weird.”..(Pause)..“You had something on your face.”

☽・Ferrari

Charles Leclerc

Holds you hand to subconciously sometimes...

Gets a bit pouty when the fanbase favours you more but he secretly loves it...

knows your coffee order by heart and gets you coffee every morning...

Doesn't accept it and saty quiet if anyone tries to disrespect you or mistreat you...yeah not on his watch...

"Did you drink enough water today? and did you have breakfast? you skip that meal a lot...like a lot..."

Lewis Hamilton

Keeps it professional on camera but insists producers highlight your work and advocacy...

Makes sure to include you in glitzy events but won’t directly talk about his feelings for you.

Wraps an arm around you in press chaos but immediately acts casual if questioned.

Posts a soft photo of you with a vague caption — as if to say

"I’m here, but I won’t say more.”

☽・Mclaren

Lando Norris

Doesn't flirt with you like he does with others...he just becomes a 12 year old with a crush around you...

Will unplug your mic and act shocked when you notice and always standing behind you during group shots, pulling faces.

Starts every day with “don't tell me what to do” and ends it with “text me when you’re home. I get worried if you don't”

Is in more of your posts than in regular ones which makes the PR go mad..

(Later, during media day) “Lando, can you stop photobombing her instagram?”...“Sorry, I’m her emotional support driver.”

Oscar Piastri

He pays attention...will remember anything and everything you tell him about yourself...your coffee order, favorite books, favorite artist...everything.

He wants to listen to music? He wants to listen it with you...will share earbuds without a second thought...

Will sit beside you the second he has the oppurtunity...

If someone raises their voice at you he will polietly but firmly to keep their tone in check...and most of the times not infront of you...

“Oscar went full lawyer on that journo for you.” you would probably find out form someone on the team...

“You never said.” “Didn’t need to. He was wrong. You deserved better.”

Since he remembers almost everything...you will find coffee or something to cheer you up the second you have a bad day...

“You didn’t have to bring me tea…”..“You sounded tired. Figured you wouldn’t stop for yourself.”

☽・Aston Martin

Fernando Alonso

Will subtly shake his head all the time while maintaining eye contact with you while you speak

Also asks you to be there in the garages while he srives because he sees you as his lucky charm...

He would never admit it but things you give him are always kept safely and a keychain you gave him is always on his backpack because it reminds him of you...

If anyone tries to get dissmisive about you job title or say anything bad abt you...He wont think twice before speaking up and sometimes maybe not so politely...

“If you don’t know her role, you shouldn’t be asking questions.”

Lance Stroll

He might be the most nonchalant guy to others but he laughs the hardest the second you make a joke...even if its dumb or stupid...

The one to buy you your favorite snacks in bulk and just keep then with him in case you are ever hungry..

And he will stick to you because to him you are his comfort person...

You might see him scribbling your name in his notes and stuff...its subconcious but its just him...

“You wrote my name?” “It’s not weird! I mean—it’s just for luck. Like… positive manifestation. Or whatever.”

☽・Williams

Alex Albon

He's tall so he walks fast but when you're walking with him...he will slow down his pace to just match with yours so you can walk more comfortably...

If its your first time at a grand prix...he will try his hardest to make sure absolutely nothing goes wrong for you...

Picking at eachother is deffinately the love language between you both...but he would never cross the line...

If he ever notices you skipping breakfast or any meal of the day...he will make sure to carry something with him so that he can hand it to you immediatly when it looks like you're hungry...

If you have anything big comming up for you and you're nervous...he will slide you notes and pretend that they were absolutely not from him...

“‘Knock ‘em dead, superstar’? What happened to ruthless sarcasm?” “Who let you see that? I was trying to be mysterious and emotionally unavailable.” “Too late. Your soft side is showing.” “Damn. I knew I should’ve written ‘Don’t trip on camera.’”

Carlos Sainz

Will run to you the second he feels even a minescule spec of stress...he calls you his 'calming presence' because your voice feels so calm...

Will send you his song recomendations...

Is probably the kind of guy to beg you to get song widgets where you can pick out songs for eachother when it reminds you of eachother...

Would'nt think twice before offering you his jacket with a small smirk and nodd...

“You remembered my favorite artist?” “Of course. I listen when you talk. That’s what friends do...Especially the special ones.”

☽・Haas

Oliver Bearman

He will drop everything and run to you the second he spotts you...unless its very important or work related...

Will repeat the complements you give him under his breath just to relieve the happiness of what you had just said...

He gets visibly happy when you say "see you later" even if its a part of rouine at this point...

He will cling to you like a koala and see you as his comfort person...

Also sees you as his lucky charm so asking you to be his plus one in gps is the most normal thing...

Remembers your orders and your favorite songs by heart...

“Ollie, breathe. It’s just lunch.” “Right. Normal. Casual. Totally regular human food consumption...You know, if it were just us forever, I’d be fine with that.”

Estaban Ocon

Will hold everything for you...the door...the umbrella...your sanity...

Will get you an extra pass so that you can come watch him race..and will panic if he forgets to get you one by any chance

Also knows your coffee order, food orders and schedule like its the back of his hand...

will strict heartedly follow the sidewalk rule...

If you have a bad day and he gets to know about it...expect him to get you your favorite takeout and ask if you want to have a movie night at his with him...

"why do you always make me drink water and get me food?" “Because you forget to eat when you're stressed… and you always leave your water bottle behind.” “So you’re stalking me for hydration purposes?” “Exactly. I'm a very noble stalker.”

☽・Racing bulls

Liam Lawson

Liam will give you nickanames that only he has rights to use...if anyone uses them...he will make sure that he makes it a point that only he can call you that...

He will carry some of your favorite snacks with him always in case you miss a meal or are genuinly hungry...

He will pretend to trip over his feet just so you can check up on him...

Calls you his 'lucky charm' and will cling to you...

Gifts you stuff...and makes sure nothing wrong happens to you...

“Did you seriously bring me gummy bears?” “You said you liked them once. In January. Of last year.” “So this is… thoughtful stalking?” “No! It’s called long-term strategic snacking...…Also I needed an excuse to talk to you today.”

Isack Hadjar

Isack will always be at the corner of your eye...everyone knows if you are somewhere he is nearby...

He wears the friendship bracelet you gave him like its a sacred thread...if anyone tries to touch it...he will yank his hand away...every single picture...its there on his hand...all the time...

Somehow always ends up holding your watter bottle or jacket or lanyard...he will say that you maybe lost it and hes just here to return...but its obvious that he has been holding it for about thirty minutes or so...

Remembers your coffee order and favorite songs...he will share his earbuds with you...

He would never flirt directly...but the second you say that you are cold...his hoodie is in your hands before you can even complete the sentence...

“You okay? You’re twitchier than usual.” “Didn’t sleep much.” “Why not?” “Was trying to figure out how to talk to you without sounding like an idiot.”

☽・Alpine

Peirre Gasly

Is convinced that you are his soulmate...he will flirt with you...and smile at you the entire time you talk with him...

Calls you 'sunshine' because he thinks you bring hope to him...

Will act offended if Simba likes you more but secretly loves you playing with Simba...

He will send you flowers under a fake name but then ask if you liked them...

"Liked the flowers on your doorstep this morning sunshine?" "That was you?"

Jack Doohan

Jack is the defination of 'Act cool. Panic later'

He is all soft smiles and hopeful glances, pretending he’s totally chill around you while in reality...he’s memorized every conversation...rehearsed his jokes, and 100% lies awake replaying the way you laughed at something he said three weeks ago.

Shows up with spare team merch "just lying around" and melts when you wear it

Gets adorably tounge tied if you complement him...say "you look nice today" with that soft smile and watch him trip over a cord or somthing while smiling...

The inside of his notebook has one scribble in the margin that reads: “Ask her out before the season ends. Please.”

You catch him staring sometimes, not in a cocky way, but like he’s just genuinely stunned you exist near him.

“She’s just… I don’t know. She makes everything feel less chaotic.

☽・Kick Sauber

Nico Hulkenberg

Is a little bit grumpy about everything except you....

He will say something like "you again?" but immediately make some space for you so you can sit...

leaves his jacket on your chair by "accident" when ever its cold...

leves you little notes in the jacket pockets...

"media days dont suck if shes there..."

Gabriel Bortoleto

blushes if you talk to him...blushes if you stand close to him...blushes if you smile...blushes if you wave...basically a blushing mss when it comes to you...

Will ask you to be in the garages during the race and reassures himself with a “Breathe. She’s here.”

Will give you his water bottle if you can't find your with two hands like a nervous kid giving yo a flower..

also wears the bracelet you gave him like a sacred thread...

"please come to the race...you help me keep my sanity down there..."

©WHOISRAII 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[warmestsugarcookie]

i NEED more tommy miller x reader content PLEASE

[alexispunkkk]

the giver

READ HERE!!

- pairing: joel x reader x tommy

- summary: the ‘sweetheart’ of jackson has two brothers wrapped around her pretty little finger, and they’re ready to take what she’s willing to give

- warnings: sex, threesome (m/m/f), rough sex, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, light spanking, cum eating/swallowing, sort of cucking, alcohol consumption, manhandling, creampie, light fingering, joel lovessss ass, kissing, neck kissing, thigh riding, orgasms

roughly inspired by the song ‘the giver’ by the lovely chappell roan.

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | you cant just kiss me

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : the trend where you kiss your partner in the middle of a heated argument just to see what happens

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slight angst? ୨ৎ : word count : 616

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : im so locked in omg... (ive been so tired lately lmfao i wanna sleep writing this...)

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

he's mid-rant, hands flying, accent thick. "you don't listen sometimes, you just—"

you grab his face and kiss him. hard.

he freezes. literally forgets what planet he’s on.

blinks a few times, then mutters, "that’s not fair."

forgets the argument entirely. starts dragging you toward the couch.

yuki tsunoda

arms crossed, ranting about how you left dishes in the sink.

you're like "mhm," then suddenly lean in.

yells a muffled "ehh?!" against your lips.

pulls back with wide eyes and red cheeks. "what was that for?"

giggling now. argument forgotten. yuki is shy mode activated.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

pacing like a whole dad. "i just think it was inconsiderate."

you stop him with a kiss that makes him stumble.

stunned silence. then he smiles, shaking his head.

"you can’t keep weaponizing your lips."

forgives you instantly. no notes.

kimi antonelli

baby boy is flustered already just from the argument.

you kiss him mid-sentence.

he stops. blushes. looks at the floor.

"you can’t do that... i was mad."

except now he’s smiling like a dork and pulling you closer.

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

full hands-in-hair frustration. "you never tell me these things!"

you kiss him suddenly.

freezes. then kisses back like it’s life or death.

pulls away slightly, forehead resting on yours. "don’t do that when i’m upset. i’ll forgive you too fast."

lewis hamilton

calmly explaining his side like a grown adult.

you interrupt with a kiss that knocks the calm out of him.

blinks. "okay. what was that?"

starts laughing. "i can’t argue with you when you do that."

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

sarcastic. hands waving. being dramatic.

you kiss him mid-rant.

goes: "wait... wait what?"

absolutely loses track of the fight. probably forgets his own name.

grins, "do it again. i dare you."

oscar piastri

logical argument mode. stating facts.

you pull him in and kiss him.

very confused. "i… what were we talking about again?"

gives up. you're now cuddling. fight over.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

intense. staring you down. voice low.

you lean in and kiss him and his brain malfunctions.

pauses. then smirks. "clever little trick."

pulls you in again. "we’re still talking after this, though."

lance stroll

softly upset. furrowed brows. a little pout.

you kiss him unexpectedly.

shocked. then all melty.

rests his head on your shoulder. "that wasn’t fair... but okay."

ʚ・williams

alex albon

rambling while trying not to smile because he knows he’s losing.

you kiss him.

chuckles. "you little cheat."

wraps his arms around you, completely abandoning the debate.

carlos sainz

passionate argumenter. lots of hand gestures.

you grab his shirt and kiss him.

pulls back like "what just happened?"

then grins. "you’re evil. beautiful, but evil."

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

awkward and a little stiff when he's upset.

you kiss him in the middle of a sentence.

instantly blushes. stammers.

"i... okay. i forgot. what were we saying?"

too distracted now. cuddles ensue.

esteban ocon

talking in full paragraphs.

you just go for it.

stunned silence.

then he mumbles, "not a bad strategy..."

argument forgotten. he's now planning dinner.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

slightly sarcastic. mock-angry.

you kiss him.

instantly flustered. tries to recover.

"you can’t just... ugh fine. you're lucky you're cute."

kisses you back harder.

isack hadjar

super passionate when arguing.

mid-rant, you press your lips to his.

freezes. mutters something in french.

forgets why he was mad. kisses you again.

"you’re so annoying. and hot."

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

dramatic and expressive.

you kiss him.

fake-offended. "don’t think you can shut me up like that."

kisses you harder.

"okay maybe you can."

franco colapinto

slightly overwhelmed by the fight.

you kiss him.

all wide-eyed and breathless. "wow..."

hugs you like a teddy bear. won’t let go for 10 minutes.

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

stern. classic german dad vibes.

you kiss him mid-sentence.

pauses. sighs. "you know that doesn’t solve the issue."

but he's smiling. and holding your hand.

gabriel bortoleto

passionate and a little dramatic.

you catch him off guard with a kiss.

he breaks into a grin.

"okay okay, you win."

pulls you into a hug and forgets why he was mad.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[ohhoneypascal]

Get me to Paris asap

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Max's ducklings

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot with the rookies. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

The first time you jokingly referred to the rookies as yours and Max’s ‘kids,’ it had been just that—a joke. A harmless, offhand comment made while watching Kimi tail Max through the paddock like a lost puppy. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but then Gabriel had started tagging along too, and soon, Oliver was trailing after them both.

It became a running gag between you and Max. Every time you saw one of them lingering near your boyfriend, you’d nudge him and whisper, “Your sons are waiting for you.” Max would roll his eyes, grumble something in Dutch under his breath, and pretend not to care. But over time, the joke started feeling a little too real.

You were the one who noticed it first. Max would casually check on them in the garage, making sure they had everything they needed. He’d offer Kimi a few words of advice about tyre management, remind Gabriel to stay out of trouble on the track, and even critique Isack’s qualifying performance like a strict but well-meaning father. And it wasn’t just them—Liam, Oliver, and Jack, who had already taken their first steps in F1, had somehow joined the ever-growing group.

“They’re not my kids,” Max insisted one evening after a race, arms crossed as you teased him about it. “They’re grown men. They don’t need parents.”

You smirked, sipping from your drink. “Oh, really? Then why did you tell Kimi not to overwork his tires like that again? And why did you give Gabriel that pep talk about confidence? And why did you tell Isack to ignore the media when they criticized him?”

Max scowled, grumbling into his beer. “They’re just young. They need guidance.”

“They need parents,” you corrected playfully. “And, like it or not, you’ve become a dad.”

Max groaned dramatically, but he didn’t argue.

The paddock caught on quickly. Social media was soon flooded with memes about ‘Papa Max’ and his ‘ducklings.’ A particularly viral post had an edited picture of Max and you, your faces photoshopped onto a mother and father goose, with Kimi, Gabriel, Isack, Liam, Oliver, and Jack waddling behind you. Even Christian Horner joined in on the joke one day, patting Max on the back and saying, “How’s fatherhood treating you?”

You expected Max to brush it off, maybe even get annoyed. Instead, he just sighed and muttered, “Exhausting.”

The real shift came after a particularly rough race weekend for Isack. He had made a mistake during the race and spun out, leading to a wave of criticism online. Pundits started questioning if he was even good enough for F1, and some of the comments were downright cruel. Normally, Max stayed out of these things. He rarely engaged in media debates that didn’t involve him directly. But that day, in the middle of a press conference, a journalist brought up Isack’s struggles, asking Max if he thought the young driver was cut out for the sport.

Max’s response was immediate. “Isack is a talented driver. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. It’s easy to sit behind a screen and criticize, but racing at this level is incredibly difficult. He’s learning, like all of us did when we started.” He leaned forward slightly, gaze sharp. “Maybe people should stop expecting rookies to be perfect and let them grow.”

Your phone buzzed almost instantly with messages. ‘DAD MODE ACTIVATED’ read one from Lando. Another from Liam simply had a bunch of crying emojis.

When you saw Max later that evening, you couldn’t help but tease him. “I think that was the most dad-like thing you’ve ever done.”

Max groaned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. You defended him like a protective father.” You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I think deep down, you love your little ducklings.”

He huffed, but there was no real irritation in it. “I just don’t like seeing young drivers get ripped apart when they’re trying their best.”

You grinned. “Uh-huh. Sure. And next, you’ll be giving them bedtime stories.”

“If they stop making stupid mistakes, maybe.”

From that moment on, Max stopped fighting the joke. He still pretended to be exasperated when the rookies stuck to him like glue, but he never turned them away. When Liam had a tough weekend, Max was the first to check in on him. When Kimi finally had a strong race, Max clapped him on the back and muttered, “See? Told you it’d come.”

One day, as you watched the six young drivers standing around Max, hanging onto his every word as he gestured animatedly about car setups, you smiled to yourself. He’d never admit it, but Max had fully embraced the role.

Later that evening, as you two walked back to the motorhome, you leaned into him with a grin. “So, how does it feel to be a dad?”

Max groaned, shaking his head. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He sighed, glancing back over his shoulder toward where the rookies still lingered in the paddock. “Fine. Maybe… maybe it’s not so bad.”

You grinned, slipping your hand into his. “Our little family.”

[p1girlfriend]

father’s day with him as your baby daddy ── .✦

content: dad fluff, soft chaos, baby giggles

lando norris ── .✦

“they got me a bib that says 'daddy’s fastest lap' and I’m gonna cry.” he wakes up to your baby in a helmet-themed onesie and your sleepy kiss. tries to act cool but chokes up when they hand him a crayon drawing that says “i luv you dada” you tell him he’s doing great and he immediately makes a TikTok about it while holding the baby upside down (giggling, not in danger).

oscar piastri ── .✦

you and your toddler bring him pancakes in bed. he looks like he’s holding it together but he absolutely tears up when the baby hugs him and says “papa.”

“I didn’t know I could love anything this much.” takes a hundred quiet photos of you two. won’t stop smiling the rest of the day. takes them to a bookstore and calls it “dad time.”

charles leclerc ─ .✦

cries. literally cries. his baby gives him a squished flower and he holds it like it’s a trophy.

“Mon coeur, did you help mama pick this for me?” walks around with the baby strapped to his chest all day. takes 40 photos of you and the baby together and captions them “my heart” in every group chat he’s ever been in.

lewis hamilton ─ .✦

it’s giving gentle king energy. homemade breakfast. jazz in the background. your baby in a bucket hat and oversized shades just like him. he thanks you 50 times throughout the day for “giving me the greatest gift I’ve ever had.” writes a caption so long on IG about fatherhood it makes everyone cry.

carlos sainz ─ .✦

pretends it’s just another day. but then your baby gives him a card with scribbles and he looks like he’s been punched in the soul.

“They made this… for me?” yes, king. lets them crawl all over him during the day. accidentally falls asleep holding both of you on the couch.

daniel ricciardo ─ .✦

full clown dad. matching outfits. he puts the baby in a cowboy hat.

“they’re baby yee and I’m haw.” gets emotional over a handmade card with glitter. turns to you: “you made me a dad. that’s, like, top tier sexy.” definitely ends the night with cake… and cuddles.

gabriel bortoleto ─ .✦

he is the softest, calmest dad. wakes up to the baby snuggled between you two, babbling nonsense. holds your hand over breakfast like

“this is my dream, sabia?” tells you that you’re the best mama in the world. takes your baby on a little walk around the block so you can nap. comes back with flowers for you.

franco colapinto ─ .✦

your baby says “papa” while holding a soft toy and he just. shuts down.

“that’s it. i’m done. take my whole soul.” you made a handmade Father’s Day card “from the baby” and he carries it in his wallet like a relic. refuses to let go of your waist all day. “we’re a little family. do you realize how cool that is?”

max verstappen ─ .✦

he’s weirdly nervous about his first Father’s Day

“do I get gifts? am I supposed to do something?” you surprise him with a matching race suit onesie for your baby. he melts. “they’re gonna be faster than me one day.” doesn’t say much — but holds your baby like they’re glass. kisses you goodnight and whispers “thank you for them.”

©p1girlfriend | requested | requests open!

[cuntiel]