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“Bring back cunty F1”
Y’all can’t even handle Max Verstappen
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𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✩ 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲. <𝟑
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞. ’𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 !
• 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 <𝟑
𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐜: 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢! <𝟑 ……………………………………………………………………………
the moment was perfect. he was more than absolutely sure that he was dead, residing in the divine above with an angel shaped like a girlfriend. jazz was playing as he held his lovers waist, humming along to the smooth sound as he rambled through his overbearing day.
“missed you. we both did.” she cooed, batting her lashes up at her boyfriend as he caressed her stomach.
“I know you did, I missed my girls, too.” he smiled as their puppy, miss grapes, nuzzled happily at his legs. watching his girl prepare dinner while their shared puppy played with her toy should have been more than enough to wipe his brain clean from anything else. still, his mind was running wild with the previous hours of his day.
“maybe if I burned my phone, zak would still find me.” he scoffed, sitting on the bar stool as he watched his pretty girlfriend bake. or cook. or whatever she was doing, he was never kitchen privy anyway. “maybe if you considered that you’re one of the only two McLaren drivers in the world, and that you’re painfully essential to the team, you’d understand why zak needs to reach you.” she teased, shoving a spoonful of frosting between his lips. he groaned appreciatively, taking the small silver spoon between his fingers and sucking happily.
“maybe i should stop waffling on and on. that could be a possible solution.” he groaned existentially, leaning back in the plush stool as he resigned all negative thoughts. he was home, and his heart was focused on his pretty wife girlfriend. he stood up, his long legs easily carrying him over to meet her.
“i think it’s cute when you waffle.” she smiled, welcoming his touch as he held her from behind. their hips swayed to the light jazz playing, the golden hour’s beams kissing them through the kitchen windows. “it proves that my boyfriend isn’t a broody, antisocial near-emo.” she grinned. “boyfriend is a funny word, no?” he said softly, moving her brown waves to the side so he could admire her back. whatever dessert she was making was momentarily forgotten as he lost himself in her softness. “it’s painfully temporary, is what it is.” he concluded.
“this pretty finger would look so much better with a ring.” he hummed softly, more to himself, nuzzling into her shoulder as she resumed her stirring. “you know, ‘m gonna make it happen real soon, babe.” he purred, hands trailing over her stomach as he inhaled her warm scent. it was a new favorite mix of tom ford and yves saint laurent, he learned a few days ago when she excitedly recounted her recent saks fifth avenue spree.
“don’t make promises you can’t keep.” she said softly, tilting her head back to grant his lips more access to lavish her skin with the upmost affection. her hands continued to work, stirring the mixture as promises of devotion and obsession spilled from the australian’s lips. “id miss you far too much if you dipped.” she said softly.
“ouch. i’ve never broken a promise that i have made to you, smarty. i can’t say the same for others, but for you, im honest.” he mumbled, leaving a soft bite on her jaw just to spite her. “you make it sound like you don’t wanna be mrs. piastri one day, which im sure isn’t true because ive got child bearing hips, and you of all people would never turn that down. you do want to marry me, dont you?” he asked gently, dropping the jokes as his lips stopped their way along her neck. he genuinely worried for a moment.
“honestly?” she sighed, looking back at him.
“honestly, sweet thing.” he held a breath, lifting his head to watch her face for any sign of truth.
“i honestly can’t ever see myself being mrs. piastri…” she said softly, looking to the ground.
“you can’t?” oscar’s voice broke slightly, the tears forming in his eyes threatening to realize the moment. if that’s how she really felt, he was NOT stronger than that and was willing to convince her to hear him out. he could cook, clean, learn how to make those damn towel swans. anything to keep her with him and happy.
“no. i don’t know, ive just always seen myself as more of a mrs. pastry. i hope you can understand. it’s not me, it’s you.” she said, feigning seriousness as she tried to hide the prettiest smile. he released a breath held from his innermost workings, coming down from a near heart attack.
“see what I did there? huh? pastry? piastri? you know, because im baking?” she smiled stupidly, playfully gesturing to the unfinished tiramisu sitting on the marble counter.
as he adored her cheesy smile, he knew he was done for in that moment. he knew he wanted to end his days with his soul wrapped around her heart, keeping it warm until its final beat. and even then, he’d love her in whatever came after the grave. he was ruined.
𝐟𝐢𝐧.
𝐚/𝐧: 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝!!!! 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐤! 😃
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i'm in tears with this picture why is he hiding in the bushes 😭😭
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he was walking around like a lost little penguin istg he’s so ༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
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