#<- not a hot take at all. like that shit is cold

[brokenengene]

✩ ‧ ₊˚ share one seat - y.jw

He won the race. But when she takes control in the backseat? That’s when he learns what winning really feels like.

pairing: racecar driver!jungwon x pit crew!fem reader

genre: NASCAR au, smut, sports romance

This content is only for readers 18+

content warning: strong language, explicit sexual content, car sex (obviously), oral sex (f + m receiving), subby!jungwon, angst, emotional tension, power dynamic themes, suggestive dialogue, light dom/sub, dirty talk, car innuendos,

word count: 11k

soundtrack: sports car-tate mcrae/ dear god- tate mcrae/ collide(solo version) - justine skye

The last thing you needed was a last-minute switch-up. 

You bend over the open hood of one of Toyota's fastest race cars. Your arms are already elbow-deep in grease and grime. The familiar smell of oil and grime fills the air of the cold garage.

 There's race tonight, and you were tasked with making sure every detail was perfect. 

This job is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Especially for a woman, even more so for a woman like you. 

It wasn’t easy, it seemed like every day there was another backhanded compliment, another guy staring too hard at your boobs. You didn’t take shit, and soon the whole crew knew exactly the type of woman you were. 

You got word this morning that there’s a new rookie in town. Flown in straight from South Korea last night. 

Bold move.

To say the least, you're not excited to meet him. You’ve seen it enough times. Boys all talk, no real bite. Cocky and reckless.

You were sure this new rookie was the same. 

You’ve seen it time and time again how quick they ruin their image.

He probably won’t last a month before the sponsors pull him out.

You check the racecar's oil before taking a dirty rag to clean your hands from the grease. To be sure, you take one last look under the car hood.

Looks perfect, so you shut the front hood with a loud slam that echoes off the walls.

You step back, admiring the car. You truly do have a love for them. It’s sexy the way it sits low to the ground, ready to take off at max speed across the startling line.

The way the body is welded to curve against the wind. The deep crimson is decorated with vinyls from sponsors. 

And his name is already there, freshly painted in white onto the side of the racecar—

Y.Jungwon

You roll your eyes. 

You open the garage door, letting the sunlight in through the cracks. In the distance, you see the figure of a young man approaching the door. Helmet held loosely at his side, fireproof suit already zipped to his collar. 

Jungwon. 

You cross your arms and lean against the car as he comes into view. He’s prettier than you expected. Too pretty.

His eyes are big and round, dark pools that reflected the harsh rays of the sun. His skin a smooth, glassy porcelain.

Guess he is hot shit. 

None of the other rookies were this pretty, you'll give him that. 

Your eyes linger as he steps closer. His suit hugged his figure perfectly, the leather settling into every curve of his muscles. 

Shit…

He walks into the garage like he’s already won the damn race. A smirk on his lips and confidence in his stride.

You’re already sick of it. 

“That’s all for me?” Jungwon asks with a playful smirk as he steps into the garage, his eyes flicking between you and the car. 

“Wow, not even an introduction, typical,” you say, rolling your eyes again.

The things you would give for this season to be over already.

“Name's Jungwon, figured you already knew since it’s you know painted on the side of the car?” He teases as he lets a gloved hand trace across the edges of his new racecar, right across his painted name.

“By any chance, do you know where I could find my Crew Chief?” Jungwon asks, tearing his gaze away from the car to glance at you. 

Here you are standing in front of him covered in oil. Your mechanic's uniform is tied loosely around your waist to keep you cool.

You’re just left in a grimy white tank, showing off your collarbone and cleavage. Again, you weren’t expecting to meet him so soon.

You let the question hang thick in the air. His eyes drag shamelessly down your figure, gaze lingering on your waist and hips before your voice snaps him back to reality. 

“You’re looking right at her—“

If Jungwon had a drink in his mouth, he would’ve spit it out. His eyes go wide. No way. You? Crew Chief? 

“Y–you? M–my?.” He says a voice frantically stuttering... He wasn’t expecting a woman, let alone one just his type, to be his new track guide. 

“Here to make sure you step off that track in one piece,” you say playfully. Clapping your hands together to remove the rest of the dirt.

Jungwon chuckles before rounding the car to stand right in front of you.

He extends a gloved leather hand. You glance down at it, hesitating.

Of course, you want to win; if you want a good season, you know the two of you need to work together.

So you push down the hard feelings for now. For your sake and Toyota's. 

Your heart skips a beat as you take his hand, feeling how warm it is underneath the leather. It’s just a handshake, but the gesture feels like so much more. 

Hell, this boy's life is in your hands now. 

Guess the stakes are high. 

Later that night, you arrive at the racetrack. The stands are illuminated with bright white lights. The crowd thumping and cheering loudly.

You’ve changed out of your mechanical attire into your uniform. The same crimson red that was also painted across the racecar. 

You immediately snap into work mode, barking orders to your crew. Checking that extra tires are in place, and that there’s plenty of fuel on standby. 

You watch as Jungwon slips into his gear. Cheeks flushing as you glance at how the leather holds his body.

Too bad that cocky smirk ruins his whole build.

“Jungwon, you’ve got 15 minutes before countdown —“ you stay sternly through your headset. 

It cuts into silence as you drag your boots across the scorching asphalt toward the loading dock where Jungwon and the car are stationed.

Jungwon fixes his posture as he sees you approaching. Like he’s trying to cover up jet lag and nerves all at once. 

You chuckle to yourself as you approach him with a confident smile. 

“You ready for this?” You ask breathlessly as you glance at his expression. Jaw tight, shoulders tense, chipping at his confidence. 

You step closer to him, and the smell of leather and cologne makes your head spin. He lets you in his space until there are only a few inches between you. 

“Never been more ready.” He replies with a cocky tone. Lips curving into a smile.

But you heard it, that tremble in his voice. 

Jungwon dips low into the driver's side of the car. Exhaling sharply as he leans back against the seat.

His hands already trembling and he doesn’t exactly know why. 

You bend down, leaning across him to grab the harness straps. His breath hitches as your warm body presses up against the hard planes of his own. He nearly moans at the scent of you. Motor oil mixed with citrus—enough to drive a man crazy. 

“Just breathe for me,” you say, your voice is the softest it’s been all night.

You can tell he’s nervous even if he tries to cover it up. The way his breath catches in his throat, the way his hands are glued to his side.

You pull the harness gently, glancing up to look into his eyes. 

Jungwon nods. His cheeks flushed as he looked down at you. His chest rises and falls, and his heart races in his chest.

You're convinced it’s not entirely because of the adrenaline of the race. 

“I’m not that nervous…” he says even though his tone of voice betrayed his words. 

You bite back laughter as you pull the straps tighter, biting your lip as you hear him gasp sweetly beneath you. 

“Jungwon, you listen to me. You follow my orders, okay? No tricks, no showing off. You come out of that race in one piece. You hear me?” You say, voice dropping low as you let your fingertips shamelessly rest on his sides.  

“Y-yes ma’am…” Jungwon chokes out. His cheeks are red, bright red. His breath is shaky with nerves and heat. He shifts awkwardly in his seat as he feels himself strangely turned on by the gesture.

Your fingertips slide up his sides, brushing across his muscles and chest to adjust the radio cord dangerously close to the pale skin of his neck. 

He flinches at your touch, heart thumping, cheeks burning. Eyes lingering on every place of your body that they shouldn’t. 

His lips parted as he looked down at you, scanning your collarbone and chest. His breath is hot against your skin as he noticed the way that crimson suit hugs the curves of your body.

“My tits make a better view when I ride—trust me.” You say with a playful tone before letting your palm playfully thump against his hard chest. A slick smile on your lips as you see his reaction.

“What?! I wasn’t, you–I didn’t mean–“ Jungwon stutters out. Like he wants to snap back, retaliate—anything. 

But you’ve already completely wrecked him with your words. 

You watch his jaw visibly drop as you pull away with a soft chuckle the corners of your lips tugged up.

You look at him strapped into the driver's seat, obviously, painfully hard. 

“You do good out there, and maybe I’ll help you with some of that tension,” you say, voice dripping with promise as you gesturing playfully to his more than obvious boner.

His breathing is heavy, thighs parted on the leather seat. The fireproof covering his skin all of a sudden, feeling too hot and tight.

You shut the car door before he can respond. Jungwon looks like he’s going to pass out through the window.

He swiftly pulls on his helmet in an attempt to spare him from any more embarrassment before he turns on his radio. Your voice rings in his ear as you stride back towards your pit box.

“Don’t fuck this up rookie..comm check in five.”

✩ ✩ ✩

You get situated back in your communication tower overlooking the racetrack. You glance down at the rainbow of cars lining up at the starting line as you adjust the headset over your hair.

The adrenaline of the race is already starting to affect you. The engines rumble beneath the track, and the crowd roars with cheering fans.

This is it.

“Radio check…” You say into the mic as you spot Jungwon’s crimson Toyota lined up by the starting line.

“Check,” Jungwon gasps, his voice cutting sharply through the static. His hands grip the steering wheel with bruising strength as he fights the ache you left in his pants. 

“You nervous?” You ask, voice low and teasing. You know you shouldn’t toy with him, but you’re enjoying his reactions a little too much.

“A little, mostly excited though,”  Jungwon answers comfortably as he waits at the starting line, the engine roaring beneath him as he stalls for the green light.

“Mhmm, I could tell,” you say playfully. 

Jungwon almost whimpers into the other side of the headset.

The ref starts to count down, and Jungwon locks his focus on the track ahead. His head swims with the purr of the engine, the roar of the crowd, and the sound of your voice in his ear.

And the memory of your promise to relieve the tension, if he’s good. 

“Remember the plan, stay low on the first two laps, stay on the inside then—”

“Strike from the back—got it.” Jungwon finishes confidently as he settles into the driver's seat. He puts all his focus on the race.

He knows Toyota is taking a chance on him. He can’t screw this up.

On the count of three, the red light turns green, and he doesn’t waste a second before slamming on the gas pedal. The engine roars as his car shoots forward across the starting line.

“Good pace…” You mutter into the microphone, hands gripping the edge of your desk, as you try to keep your heart from racing. You watch as he stays centered on the track just like you planned. 

“Brake, don't blow your load on the first round—” You command deeply into the mic. 

Jungwon gasps, gripping the wheel even tighter, his racecar slightly falling out of line.

“Shit—god I'm driving 200 miles an hour, you can’t—“He gasps as he's nearly pushed into the steel barrier lining the racetrack by the other cars.

He grips the wheel tight, pulling it sharply to the left to fall back in line, finding his rhythm in the middle of the race. 

“Come on, left Jungwon, left.” You pant into the microphone as you watch him clear the first lap. 

Two more to go.

Your adrenaline is pumping. Ears ringing, and palms clammy as you watch the race from above.

Even though it’s just a qualifying race, it’s his chance to prove he’s worth the shot.

And a win tonight would prove you’re more than just a mechanic with a pretty face.

Jungwon grips the wheel tighter, pushing back towards the inside. 

You smile down at the track as you watch. He's good, real good. Just watching him drive is already proving your initial assumptions wrong.

You’re starting to like this rookie.

“Fuck Jungwon," you whisper into the headset as you watch him take fifth place, then fourth.

“You enjoying this?” He gasps, his cocky tone returning to his voice now that he's got a shot at the win.

“Hell yeah, I’m enjoying this. Come on, show me what you’ve got on this last lap.” You say calmly. 

“If you win, maybe I'll show you what I can do on yours.” You say into the headset with a dangerous smirk, cheeks flushing as you imagine the moment.

The second your voice hits his ears, Jungwon slams on the gas, riding tight in third place.

It’s risky.

Cold sweat already runs down his neck and chest as he holds his position.

You stutter, there he goes, being reckless.

“Fall back, don’t—” You say firmly into the mic as he pushes up close behind the winning cars.

“There's an opening, I'm fucking taking it,” Jungwon grunts as he aggressively slams on the gas. Gritting his teeth as he keeps his body tight against the seat.

“Jungwon, don’t! There's not enough space!” you yell into the microphone.

God, maybe you spoke too soon. This idiot is going to get himself killed before he even has a shot at the Daytona 500.

Your words are no use, his car engine roars as he takes the opening. His racecar nearly spiraled and clipped another. You wince as you open your eyes to glance at the board.

Y. Jungwon.

Second place.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Your grip on your headset immediately loosens.

He’s almost to the finish line.

Jungwon pushes his car to the limit, holding his place. Adrenaline is racing between both of you.

You grip your headset to the ground yourself, leaning on the desk, watching the white finish line painted below.

He’s tight in second, neck and neck with first. You hold your breath as he rounds the corner and crosses the finish line. 

His car flies across. It’s close. 

So close.

You don’t even want to look, but you force your eyes to look back up at the screen. Your jaw nearly drops. 

Y.Jungwon 

First Place. 

You can hardly believe it.

You rip the headset off your head and run down the pit tower's stairs. Boots hitting the asphalt hard as you finally reach the track. 

Jungwon’s car comes to a halt right in front of the winner's box. The door opens, and he struggles to stumble out hazy and breathless. Adrenaline still pumping through his veins. 

Immediately cameras flash and reporters swarm him. Jungwon flinches as he pulls the helmet off his head. His dark hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat.

He winces at the camera's flashing before he can even process what happened.

“Yang Jungwon has just won his first qualifying race with NASCAR! One of the youngest in history! How do you feel!?”

“Yang Jungwon has blown it out of the water tonight. Could he be NASCAR’s biggest new star?”

The overwhelming chatter surrounds Jungwon as cameras and microphones are shoved into his face.

He holds his helmet at his side, swiftly answering the reporters and posing for the photographers like it’s second nature. 

You push through the reporters and television crew in an attempt to get to him. Bumping shoulders and weaving through the crowd as fast as you can. 

“Excuse me! I need to get through!” You gasp as you weave through the crowd, no one paying any attention to your pleas. 

Everyone besides Jungwon.

His eyes light up as he hears your voice in the crowd. You’re almost there when he reaches out and grabs your wrist and pulling you through the barricade of reporters. 

“Jungwon! I told you no stunts.” You say firmly. Brows furrowing in an attempt to fake anger. 

Jungwon signals for the reporters to turn away. Reluctantly all the camera shutters come to a stop. 

Before you know it, it’s just you and him leaning up against the racecar, engine still burning hot. 

“It wasn’t a stunt. I had a clear opening, you just need to trust me more.” Jungwon says, almost breathless, like he’s still winded by the intensity of the race. 

The rest of the world seems to fade into the background. The cool night air blows around you, and the lights start to dim as more and more people start to exit the stands. 

“Not bad for a rookie…” you say softly. Your tone is no longer mocking or antagonizing. Without the press, it’s sweet and truthful. 

Jungwon holds his helmet in his other free hand, hesitating as he reaches out. Is this too fast? Too soon? 

You step closer, the space between you dissolving by the minute. Jungwon glances into your eyes, his dark eyes scan over the features of your face. 

There it goes again, heat rushing to flush his cheeks and ears.

He’s only just arrived in America, he’s just won his first race—

And his new Crew Chief is making his heart flutter. 

With a sharp breath, he rips off his driving glove with his teeth, tossing it to the ground without care. 

If he’s going to touch you, he wants to feel it.

Skin on skin. 

His hand gently closes the distance without a word, cupping the side of your face, his thumb sliding across your cheek, over your soft lips. 

Jungwon licks his lips, his mind racing with thoughts, you can see it in his eyes.

He leans in, just a few millimeters enough for you to smell the faint scent of his cologne. 

Masculine yet sweet. Just like him.

Even though no words are said, the two of you have confessed enough. 

More of the stadium lights go out around the track as the press packs up to leave. The stands are now empty. The other racers retreated to their trailers for the night.

It gives you a false sense of privacy. In that moment it truly does feel he’s the only man in the world. 

“You’re one hell of a Crew Chief…” Jungwon whispers. His voice was heavy, cracking with want. A tone you’ve yet to hear, but you love it. 

“Well you’re the one risking your life out there, you did good. Better than good.” You say your voice a gentle whisper. Your eyes unintentionally lock on the wide brown of his. 

You notice the shape of them in the dark, how big and round and wide they are like you could be swallowed up in them forever.

Your heart flutters as you notice the upturned angle of his eyes, the slope of his nose, and how his dark hair contrasts against his pale skin. 

Jungwon chuckles deeply as he notices your gaze admiring his features. His breath is soft like he can’t believe that this is real and not a dream.

You can’t look away from him, the sound of his voice making your stomach flip as he steps even closer. The cool summer air blew more of his messy hair out of his face. 

You glance down, cheeks burning as you take in the shape of his lips as he smiles.

Shit. He has dimples. 

Your heart nearly stops completely. You can’t hide your smile and neither can he.

You can’t pull away from him and he can’t pull away from you. It feels like there's a magnet holding the space between you together.

And out here on the empty track, and there's no one to shut down what you're feeling.

“I’m sorry if this is crazy…but…”

“Can I kiss you right now?” Jungwon whispers.

Your heart races in your chest. You can hardly even think. 

The look on his face isn’t cocky or arrogant. It’s hopeful, soft—even wanting.

Maybe it’s just post-win adrenaline but the way he's looking at you, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Yeah…you can.” You whisper, voice just loud enough for Jungwon to hear. 

He hesitates, stalling, only for a moment.

Then his helmet drops to the floor with a loud thump. Both of his hands gently cup the sides of your face, fingertips brushing against your soft skin. 

You’re not entirely sure who leaned in first. But your breath hitches as his lips capture yours. Soft yet hot. Moving like he wants to savor every inch of you. 

His lips are hesitant like they’re still learning as he moves against you. One of his hands cupping your face the other sliding down to your lower back. Pulling your warmth closer into the hardness of his muscled body.

Jungwon gasps against your mouth as his back hits the warm metal of his racecar.

He pulls you into him. Gasping for air between kisses as they only grow more heated. 

Jungwon swallows your weak breaths as he keeps his mouth hot against yours. You smirk against his lips as you feel his confidence growing. Breath hitching at the way he sucks lightly at your bottom lip before barely pulling away.

“You’re…really pretty.” He says his voice a low whisper. Lips ghosting against the heat of your own. Barely holding back like he needs to lean in for more.

He does, swollen lips finding yours again.

He moves slowly, intimately only to break away for another shared breath. 

“I’ve wanted to tell you all day—just didn’t know how…“ Jungwon murmurs as he smiles into another kiss. His heart fluttered at the confession. 

He pulls away only to rest his sweaty forehead on your own. Exhaling, blood pumping fast as he takes in the faint scent of citrus from you.

You don’t move, in fact, you push into him more. Your lips brush against the sharp edge of his jaw as you pin him to the side of his car.

He laughs under his breath with disbelief that this is real. That he’s won his first race, that he’s really kissing you and you're kissing him back.

This is the part of the dream where he usually wakes up—

But he doesn’t.

“I thought you were going to be a cocky, arrogant asshole…” you say softly with a breathy laugh.

The truth. 

Warmth pools in your stomach as you push into him more, nearly moaning as you feel his hard planes against your softness.

Jungwon laughs as he pulls you closer. His fingertips rub small circles into your back. There's not a single millimeter of space between you now.

Your brain is screaming at you to stop this, to pull away.

You can’t.

Instead, you gently drag your lips across the perfect angle of his jawline. You kiss his soft skin, mind flooding back with the sound of his beneath you as you strapped him in before the race. How he bit his lip, the whimper that escaped unintentionally.

“This is usually the part where I prove you right with a—fuck…a smart-ass comment,” Jungwon says, his voice shaking as you kiss his sensitive skin again.

His grip on the outside of your suit tightens as his body rolls against your own with need.

You take control, mouth open, and hot against his skin and neck. Your hands push his suit over his shoulders letting the top pool at his hips. 

Jungwon whimpers, his chest violently rising and falling like he’s two seconds away from hyperventilating. 

“How about this time…you listen to my orders—“ you say seductively as your lips find his neck, dragging down to his collarbone. 

“Y—yes mm—ma’am” Jungwon stutters as he starts to break out into a sweat beneath you. 

Your fingertips push the soft fabric of his undershirt to the side, letting your lips latch onto his sharp collarbone. 

You gently suck on the porcelain skin, leaving a faint mark behind and out of sight.

Jungwon whimpers. His body jerks against your own with need. 

“You still okay?” You ask softly, your mouth leaving his collarbone to place a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

He can’t even speak. All he does is lock eyes with you and nod. Letting out another soft whimper as his hips shamelessly press into yours. 

You kiss him again, putting a flat palm to his hard chest, pushing him harder into the side of his racecar. 

Jungwon moans as he feels your thighs pressed up between his, chest on chest. Everything is hot from your fireproof uniforms. 

You let a soft moan slip from your lips as you feel how hard he is beneath you again…your hips grind lightly into his, and fuck you can feel just how large he is already. It’s almost painful against the zipper of his suit.

“Do you fuck like you drive? Fast? A little reckless? Like you need me to talk you through it—Just like I did during the race?” You say, voice dripping with seduction. 

Jungwon whimpers again. Fuck you could get used to having him like this.

You kiss him again, tasting the saltiness of sweat on his skin. 

Jungwon can’t even speak, he just nods, eyes wide like he’s begging, pleading for you to take care of him. 

You grind harder against his cock, feeling the outline of it aching behind the tight leather. You both let out a shameless moan. Your hands grip him harder.

Jungwons eyes roll back at the sensation. He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he grips at the side of the car for support. 

“Holy shit—“ he says voice cracking, out of breath, like he’s on the verge of tears and you haven’t even undressed him yet. 

You bite your lip as your fingertips slip between the sweaty heat of your bodies still covered by leather.

You find the cold metal zipper of his suit, you pull it down just slightly, glancing at him for consent.

Jungwon nods, and right as you pull away to drop to your knees—

“Hey! Track is closed for the night! You two need to get this car out of here…” A voice calls out from the distance

Jungwon groans, his forehead falling against your shoulder to hide just how flushed he is. Like maybe if he doesn't look it'll go away.

“You're holding up track cleaning protocol.” The man says with obvious annoyance as he steps closer, clipboard gripped tight at his side.

“Shit—” You mumble under your breath, still trying to process the thought of what almost just happened between you two.

With a deep sigh, you reluctantly pull away.

“I apologize! Moving the car now—to the garage…” Jungwon stutters awkwardly as he adjusts his suit to cover up how hard he still is, not sure that he could handle any more embarrassment tonight.

“Hurry up kid! We don’t need a lawsuit filed tonight…” The man says his voice dripping with disgust as he turns away. Muttering more unpleasant things under his breath.

You nervously fix your suit, brushing off tension like you weren't about to blow the new rookie on his first night.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow maybe?” Jungwon asks his eyes wide and hopeful.

You pause.

“Well, depends if your car needs any work done before the next race—” 

“Tires! Tires need to be rotated, like soon…like tomorrow soon—” Jungwon interrupts, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

You glance at the car illuminated in the dim safety light of the stadium. Your eyes looking at the front set, then the back…you’ve been here long enough to know…

Racecars don’t even need tire rotations.

You chuckle to yourself as Jungwon sits back in the driver's seat. Looking up at you with those big sharp eyes.

“My shop tomorrow, don't be late…” You say with a soft smile.

Jungwons face lights up, and it makes your heart flutter again. You can’t help but lean down and give him a soft kiss goodbye.

✩ ✩ ✩

The next morning, you hear the rumble of an unfamiliar car pulling up to the open garage door.

You’re elbows deep under the hood of a Chevy Camaro you’ve commissioned to work on for weeks.

You hear the engine cut. Your eyes widening as Jungwon rounds the corner to the garage. 

“Didn’t think you’d actually show…since you know—” You tease.

“Racecars don’t get their tires rotated? I know, I know.” Jungwon chuckles as he runs his hand through his dark hair. 

He’s dressed casually now, jeans and a tight shirt paired with a leather jacket. You can’t deny he looks good. 

“Well, my Stinger just got in yesterday…I was thinking we could maybe work on it together?” Jungwon asks with a weak smile. His voice is desperate but terrified that he’s crossing a line. 

Your eyes light up at his words. A Stinger? Fuck—there’s no way he has good taste in cars too.

“A Stinger? Shit Jungwon let’s bring her in—“

Hours go by as the two of you work on the details. Hands covered in grime, smudges of dirt across your face as you lean over the hood. 

He helps you rotate the tires, hands you a wrench when you need.

But for the most part he just watches you with a stupid grin on his face as you’re arms deep in one of most prized possessions. 

And you look so damn good doing it. 

Jungwon's mind wandered to last night, the race, the kiss, all of it.

He bites his lip as he replays the memory again. Your lips on his, the way your hands felt on him as you spoke. 

“Hey, so, about last night—“ Jungwon blurts out unexpectedly.

You stop. The noise of metal against metal fades in an instant as you come up from beneath the hood. 

“What about it?” You ask casually as you grab a towel from your workbench to wipe your hands clean like it’s second nature. 

“I just…was I crazy or was that definitely more than a heat of the winning moment thing—“ Jungwon confesses. 

There it goes again, your heart rate picking up. You wipe the sweat from your brow as you subconsciously take another step closer to him. The sound of your footsteps echoes off the walls as you close the distance.

“No, I liked it. It felt better than it should.” You say softly, your voice almost rigid like you're holding back. 

“Would you punch me in the face if I asked to do it again?” Jungwon says softly, his eyes glancing at your grease-stained figure like it's the only thing he wants to see.

He steps closer, boots echoing on the concrete as he closes the distance. His fingertips caress your face again, just like he did last night on the empty track.

Your breath catches as he licks his thumb, before gently wiping a streak of black from your cheek. 

“Jungwon…” you gasp, voice shaky at just how soft and intimate his touch is. 

 You don’t even realize you’re glancing at his lips and he’s glancing at yours.

Hungry, craving more of the taste he had last night. 

You close your eyes and lean in, this time the kiss is gentle, his lips caressing your own softly like you’re made of glass.

This time there’s air to breathe. 

He pulls away, trembling. Praying he didn’t cross another uncrossable line. 

“Will you go out with me tonight? Like on a date?” Jungwon winces as he confesses before he has a chance to change his mind. 

You look up at Jungwon in shock. Maybe all the loud engines got to you—because you aren’t hearing things right. You open your mouth to respond but words just can’t fall out. 

Jungwon just stands there, trembling, softly stroking the skin on your face.

You just nod, completely breathless like you can’t believe this is happening. 

“I’d like that…” you whisper enough for the words not to echo off the walls. 

“Yeah?” Jungwon asks his voice breathy as his shoulders drop all the tension with your response. 

“There’s an old diner off Main Street. It’s a little bit of a drive but…maybe we can get you your first real American meal.” You say with a smile.

Jungwon can’t hold back his excitement and relief. Grinning ear to ear as he pulls you closer. His lips ghosting against your own as he speaks. 

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” 

✩ ✩ ✩

Once you're back in your apartment you realize it’s been years since you were last asked on a date.

A real date not just a hook-up or a link.

The thought alone makes you giddy.

You decide to keep it simple tonight. Wear a plain black tank that hugs all your curves and pair it with your favorite pair of jeans. You throw on your brother's old racing jacket to pull the whole look together. 

You glance in the mirror, adjusting your makeup and hair how you like.

And that’s when you hear a knock at the door. 

You run to answer it, knowing exactly who you were expecting.

Jungwon stands in the doorway. His hair is styled out of his face, letting you see his forehead and eyebrows.

He’s wearing nearly the same thing as earlier. A pair of jeans and a tight shirt, tied together with a leather jacket. 

He has a small bouquet in his hand as he nervously rubs the back of his neck with the other. His expression lights up the second you open the door and he sees your face.

God you look perfect, those jeans, that jacket. He almost has to pinch himself to see if this is real, if you’re real.

He nervously shakes his head clearing his throat. 

“These are for you…you look stunning,” Jungwon says his voice almost shaky with disbelief as he hands you the small bouquet. 

“Thank you…” you say softly cheeks heating up from the kind gesture. No one’s ever done anything like this for you. Your heart races as you look over the flowers he picked out in your favorite color. 

You step into your kitchen and place them in a small vase of water. Before you know it, you're grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

The drive to the diner is comfortably quiet. The hum of the engine cuts through the air, and the radio plays softly in the background as the two of you talk.

Conversation comes easy, you talk about racing, music, the town. He drives slowly. For the first time, he’s savoring the moment instead of racing towards a finish line. 

The neon lights and cracked parking lot pavement signal you’ve made it. Jungwon opens the door for you and offers his hand as the two of you walk into the old diner. 

Immediately you’re hit with the smell of grease and coffee. It’s comforting in a way. The bell rings as you step in the door.

One of the waitresses greets you before leading you across the checkered tile to a small booth in the back of the restaurant. 

Jungwon sits across from you, fingertips holding the sticky menu in his hand. Glancing over the top to smile at you. 

You help him pick something off the menu. The air between you isn’t nerves, there’s no pressure to perform with him.

For once you feel like you can just be you.

The waitress brings the two of you your meals. A plate of burgers and fries and two milkshakes, one strawberry and one chocolate.

Jungwon throws a few more fries into his mouth before breaking the silence. He asks the question that’s been lingering on his tongue since he met you. 

“So…how did you get into all of this? Racing and cars I mean.” He asks curiously. 

You exhale, taking another sip of your milkshake and slouching against the sticky leather of the booth. Your throat tightens and you glance out the window. The memories already starting to come back. 

“It was my brother. He used to race..” you say with a soft whisper, voice heavy from holding back.

“He was older…always took care of me you know? He loved cars since we were kids. Would watch reruns of NASCAR every weekend on our shitty TV.” You say with a warm smile as you start to open up. 

You gesture to your racing jacket. Patched with yellow and black and your last name is embroidered on the front pocket. 

“This was his. He only got to race a few times before he passed. I know if he was still here he’d be one of the best.” You say softly as tears swell in your eyes. 

Jungwon just listens. He reaches out across the table, taking your hand in his. Rubbing small circles across your knuckles in an attempt comfort you. 

“The racing and cars? That’s the last piece I have left of him. And I just can’t let it go—even if I have to fight twice as hard for my spot.“ you whisper. 

There’s a beat of comfortable silence before Jungwon softly speaks up. 

“It’s hard, you know...being the foreigner, people never really take me seriously,” Jungwon confesses. 

“They take one look at me and hear my accent and just—I know what it’s like to fight twice as hard for a spot,” Jungwon says, his hand tightening around yours. 

“It’s like no matter how good I drive or how fast my lap times are they just see me as the kid from Korea with bad English,” Jungwon confesses, his voice heavy. 

“You know Jungwon…you don’t have to prove anything for me, you don’t have to change anything. I like you the way you are—like really like you.” You confess voice barely above a whisper. Like saying it softly would soften the impact. 

Jungwon squeezes your hand a little tighter with a soft smile. He lets the tension drop from his shoulders at your words. 

“You have no idea what that means to me…” 

The two of you continue to drink your shakes and munch on the plate of fries between you. The air is charged, like there’s still so much left to say.

“You know I usually don’t do the whole dating thing…” Jungwon confesses, his ears flushing red. 

“You know it’s always been racing, practice, training, that type of thing. He adds softly. 

“No I totally get it…most guys don’t want to date a girl who can change a tire faster than them.” You say with a weak self-deprecating chuckle. 

“Their loss,” Jungwon says with a soft breathily laugh.

 “I like women who know how to lead and take control,” Jungwon confesses, biting his bottom lip at the thought. Trying to hide the massive smirk threatening to form on his face.

“Oh yeah? That’s why you were all whiny last night after the race?” You tease, raising an eyebrow. 

“You have no idea what you did to me after the race…I almost came in my suit—“ Jungwon confesses his breath sharp as he locks eyes with you. 

And you know his words are nothing but the truth. 

Jungwon takes care of the check and walks you back to the car. The drive back to your apartment is quiet and charged. Like there’s so much both of you need to say but can’t. 

Jungwon pulls into the garage, swiftly backing into an empty space in a dark corner. There’s hardly anyone else around. 

“I—uh, really had a good time with you tonight.” He says softly, his eyes still scanning your features in the dark light. Lingering on how the light cast highlights your best features.

There’s still so much tension simmering beneath you two. 

“I don’t want this to be over…” you blurt out before you can even process the words leaving your mouth. But between the kiss last night, and the way he’s looking at you now, you can’t pass this up…

Jungwon swallows hard, throat bobbing at your words. His eyes flicker to yours, then down to your lips again. 

“Y—you don’t?” Jungwon chokes out breathlessly. Tense like he wants to reach out but he doesn’t know if he should. 

You shake your head. Smiling softly as you lean across the center console. He puts the car in park, letting the engine softly rumble beneath your seat. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Jungwon…” you confess, leaning even closer into his space. Eyes half-lidded with desire. 

Jungwon can’t even respond. He just closes the distance, kissing you again. 

It’s heated, hot, fast. He breathes hot against your lips swallowing your breath as you kiss him back. Your fingertips roughly tangling in his dark hair.

You break apart, barely to whisper against his lips.

“I think I should fulfill that promise I made you yesterday…” you whisper voice hoarse with need. 

“Want some help with that tension, rookie?” You ask, but this time it’s not teasing. It’s just as mutually desperate. 

Jungwon just nods, eyes locked on yours just like the night before on the track. He’s begging, pleading for you to take care of him. 

“Backseat?” You ask as you lean in, kissing him once more before pulling away with a dangerous look on your face. 

“F—fuck…fuck yeah, I’m coming…” Jungwon stutters as he removes his seatbelt with a quick click before the two of you climb into the backseat. 

The minute the doors lock your hands are on him. He pushes your racing jacket off your shoulders as you climb onto his lap. 

You gasp against his lips, he’s already hard, trying to bite back another moan as your hands slide up and down his heated body. 

Your lips drag down his throat, messy and hot as you leave wet kisses across his warm skin. The windows are already fogging from the warmth. 

You moan as you grind down on him again. The roughness of your clothes causes friction that drives you both crazy with need.

You gasp, feeling your thighs twitch with the anticipation. 

Jungwon's head hits the window as he gasps back. Soft whimpers fall from his lips as he lets you take control. His cock throbs hard in his pants, hands gently resting on your thighs. 

You glance at how wrecked he is already, still completely dressed just like back on the empty track. You bite your lip as you grab the bottom of your tank to pull it up and over your head. 

Jungwon moans at the sight of you. His eyes are half-lidded as he looks at you straddling him. His fingertips softly trace your sides, feeling the soft warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. 

Your breath hitches as his hand slides across your sides and the underwire of your bra. You flinch at his reverent touch. 

“You okay?” He whispers intimately as his fingertips drag across the curves of your breasts, your stance faltering at the softness of his touch. 

“Yeah I’m just not used to this—this feeling…” you gasp, the confession slipping past all logic in the moment. 

But there’s something about the way he looks at you. The way he looks beneath you and you can’t hide behind a mask anymore. 

“It’s okay, I’m not used to it either…” Jungwon coaxes softly, his hands gently find your bare back, and he pulls you down to lie on top of him chest to chest. 

There’s a quiet pause, the sound of your harsh breathing feels loud in the quiet backseat of the car. The air is already thick and steamy. 

“Do you want this? Want me?” Jungwon asks, his voice cracking with emotion. He looks up at you with those wide round eyes.

You want him, you really do, all parts of him. From the cocky attitude on the race track to the quiet whispered confessions.

You want every single part.

“I want you Jungwon…you don’t even know what you’ve done to me—“ you say a little breathless. 

Jungwon gently grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you down, capturing your lips in a soft reverent kiss like he’s trying to pour every unspoken confession into your mouth. 

You break away panting, thighs trembling as heat builds in between them. 

You gently kiss the side of his face, slowly dragging your lips back down his neck and over the faint mark left from last night. 

Jungwons hands still at his side like he doesn’t know exactly what to do. 

“You can touch me…please Jungwon touch me.” You mumble into his skin, taking in the faint scent of his sweet cologne. 

Jungwon hesitates, freezing underneath you. You can’t help but chuckle deeply. 

You’re going to have to talk him through this. 

You gently slip your hand between the heat of your bodies, popping the button on your jeans and pulling the zipper down. 

Jungwon’s still panting beneath you, hands trembling. Scared he’ll somehow fuck this up. 

“Breathe for me…” you coax sweetly as you grab his wrist, gently guiding it to the heat between your thighs. 

Jungwon catches the hint, his hand slips inside your jeans, pushing your panties aside. He moans as he feels how wet you already are. 

His fingertips are still trembling, a little unsure as he moves his wrist, dragging his fingertips through your folds like he wants to memorize every part of it. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet…” Jungwon whispers, cheeks flushing hot as he gently slips his index finger into your heat, gently pumping in and out moaning as he feels you clench around him.

“That’s all for you—“ you gasp, completely breathless as the feeling of his finger inside you sends waves of pleasure through your body. 

Jungwon bites his lip when he sees your reaction, he pushes your panties aside even more, gently pushing in another finger. Stretching you out even further.

Your head falls to his shoulder as he fingers you at steady pace. Your hips chase his fingers and he pumps and curls them hitting spots that only make you wetter. 

“Fuck—can I taste you?” You ask the words stumbling out shamelessly as your hips buck against his fingers.

“Hell yes—hell fucking yes…” Jungwon stutters his hands retreating from between your thighs as you awkwardly try to shift positions in the tightness of the backseat of the car. 

Jungwon brings his fingertips to his lips, reluctantly tasting you. He lets out a deep moan as the sweet taste hits his tongue. 

“Holy fuck…you taste so fucking good—“ he murmurs completely breathless as you pull down the zipper of his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers enough to let his cock spring free. 

“Holy shit—let me taste you too…” Jungwon mumbles as he grabs your hips, pushing down your jeans and your soaked panties, before tossing them to the car floor. 

He awkwardly manuevers himself underneath you, hands gripping at your ass, knees cramped on either side of his face. 

You position yourself to be at eye level with his cock. Hard, twitching, and already leaking. 

You kiss his swollen tip, gripping the leather edge car seats to keep yourself up. 

The top of Jungwon’s head hits the side door as he kisses the inside of your thighs, already slick with arousal.

He lets out a shaky moan as your tongue slides across his sensitive tip teasing him before sucking a few more inches into your mouth. 

Jungwon pulls you down, hands gripping your ass as his tongue slides through your folds. He closes his eyes, hips bucking up into your mouth for more.

You close your lips around his cock, hand gripping the base to pump the inches you can’t take inside your mouth. You moan around his hard cock, hips twitching each time Jungwon flicks your clit with his tongue. 

 Your spit pools at the base of his cock, and you tactfully use it to lubricate your movements. He’s already twitching, hips arching off the leather car seat into your mouth. 

Jungwon pulls away to gasp for air…mumbling under his breath. 

“Shit…shit I’m gonna come—“ he whines as he lazily drags his mouth across your pussy with no coordination. 

You immediately slow down your movements, earning a strangled moan from the back of his throat. His cock twitches with need as you slide your lips off of it. Licking the salty pre cum from your lips with a satisfied groan. 

You slide off his chest, flipping back around in the cramped backseat. Jungwons hips buck up into the air as he whines—actually whines. 

“Please...oh God I need to come—I fuck…please just ride me til I come..” Jungwon begs beneath you shamelessly. 

You bite your lip. Feeling more wetness slip down your inner thighs as you watch him squirm and beg for you to take him. 

You line yourself up with his cock, his pants still pushed down to his knees. You reach between your bodies to grab his twitching slick cock, guiding it to your entrance. 

Jungwon cries out painfully as you touch him. Sweat runs down his brow as he feels his swollen tip pushing into your aching walls.

He grips the side of the leather seat hard. Crying out your name you finally sink into him. 

You let out a breathless sigh as you finally take him. His girth stretches you with a pleasurable sting. You gasp for air as everything inside the car feels too small and hot all at once. 

“Fuck you’re so deep Jungwon...” you moan as you finally sink completely down. You rock your hips back and forth, slowly chasing your pleasure as his cock drags deliciously against the front of your walls. 

Jungwon can’t even conjure up real words. There are tears in his eyes as he whimpers and groans beneath you almost like he’s in pain. His hands are shaky as they rest on your waist. Your thighs burning as you do all the work. 

The slick sounds of skin on skin fills the inside of the car. You bite your lip as you look down at Jungwon, riding him with a steady pace. 

His hips buck up into you every time you slam down onto his cock punctuated by a breathless moan. 

Jungwon’s cock twitches inside you and you know he’s close. Barely holding on, but he’s holding out. Waiting for you to permit him. 

You pleasure yourself on top of him, gently letting your hand cup his soft face as it contorts with pained pleasure. His cheeks flushed, hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat.

You let your fingertips slide across his cheek, across his lips as he murmurs and moans beneath you. Tears fall down his soft cheeks as he painfully tries to hold back his release. 

“Please, I can’t—I fucking can’t…let me come...please just let me come…” Jungwon begs beneath you. Sniffling between sharp breaths as his cock twitches painfully inside you.

“You’ve been such a good boy…” you say softly as you push more of his dark hair out of his face. Gently using your thumbs to wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

“Fill me up Jungwon…” you whisper. 

Jungwon breaks—sobbing your name as he shamelessly spills his load into you. Painting you with his cum as he lets out a strangled cry. His hips jerk as he comes hard. 

You help him ride it out. Hips rolling satisfying circles on his dick as you milk every drop he has to give. 

Jungwon falls against the door, panting for breath on the verge of hyperventilating. He can’t even speak as his chest rises and falls as he struggles to regain his breath. 

“You did so good Jungwon…” you whisper against him as you slide off his cock, cum dripping onto the leather seat as you gently cup his face. Kissing him slowly. 

His eyes flutter shut, too weak to really even kiss you back or move his hands. 

“You fucking wrecked me…I need a goddam inhaler—“ Jungwon stutters out against your lips. 

“You did good rookie..” you mumble against his lips as you intimately kiss him one more time. 

He chuckles softly, eyes still shut, mind still dazed.

“Jungwon…” you choke out, heart racing in your chest, fingertips trembling. 

“Yes?” He chokes out between sharp breaths. 

“Stay—please stay the night with me.” You whisper so softly it can barely be heard over the sharpness of his breathing. 

“Of course…I’d love to.” Jungwon says beneath you. A lazy smile spreads across his lips as he looks you up and down. 

“Plus, I think I still have a job to do—” Jungwon smirks as he gently holds your hips again. Noticing the aching heat still building between your thighs. 

“Fuck yeah, you do…” you mumble against his lips. 

And later that night you find out, Jungwon truly is a man of his word. 

He stays. 

And to you that means everything. 

✩ ✩ ✩

The next morning, you wake up completely enveloped in warmth. Jungwon is in bed with you, breath soft against the back of your neck, his arms draped across your naked body.

Jungwon stirs awake as you shuffle through the sheets. The cool fabric brushes against your skin as Jungwon pulls you closer.

“Morning…” Jungwon mumbles into your skin, his lips placing a soft kiss on your shoulder as his legs tangle with yours.

“How’d you sleep?” You ask softly, leaning into his warm, comforting touch.

“The best I have in years, thanks to you…” Jungwon mumbles as he pulls you closer, hands across your chest.

He gently runs his fingertips across the fullness of your breasts, across the curve of your waist. He's not trying to arouse you; he's genuinely worshiping you.

Every curve and inch…

You hum softly as you let his hands slowly roam over you underneath the sheets. Between your legs, over your stomach, and hips. You tilt your head back, letting his lips find yours.

“Breakfast? Or another round of pussy first?” You ask playfully.

Jungwon groans, pulling you closer to him, his lips dragging across your jawline, stopping just underneath your ear.

“Have you learned nothing about me?” Jungwon teases, his hand already slipping lower between your thighs, across your folds.

“Let me taste you again…” Jungwon mumbles into your hair from behind, his fingertips pushing through your folds to find your clit, rubbing small tight circles across it.

“You didn’t have your fill last night?” You ask with a soft groan, feeling that warmth between your thighs again with each circle of your sensitive clit.

“Mhmm, never,” Jungwon groans into your skin. He slowly pulls his body away from the warmth of yours, letting you rest flat on your back.

He doesn’t waste any time; he lazily pushes your thighs apart, licking a slow, wet stripe from hole to clit. You let your head fall back against the pillows as he starts to tease you with soft licks to your folds.

You’re still sensitive from last night, hands tangling loosely in his hair as he makes out with your pussy at a lazy pace.

He's in no rush to make you come—and it's driving you crazy.

His tongue lazily fucks into your hole, and you clench around him, moaning shamelessly as you pull him closer by the hair. Your thighs are already shaking, pulsing with need.

Jungwon closes his eyes, dragging his tongue across you until he finds your clit again. Your back arches off the mattress and he holds your thighs apart. Flicking at your clit before sucking on it.

“Fuck—” You curse as your grip on his hair tightens. Your thighs shake and deep moans escape from your throat signaling that you're close.

Jungwon doubles down on your clit, pressing the tip of his tongue against your fast and firm. It draws you right to the edge.

“Shit—I'm coming” You gasp as Jungwon coaxes you through another orgasm with his tongue. You grip his hair tight, heat pulsing with pleasure as wave after wave of arousal spills onto his lips and chin.

He laps up every drop shamelessly as you lie limp beneath him completely spent.

“Fuck I don’t think I'll ever get tired of eating you out—” Jungwon mumbles as he places another soft kiss on the folds of your pussy before pulling away.

“That's one hell of a way to wake up—” You say, completely spent already, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“Fuck breakfast…let me just have some more of your pussy for real—” Jungwon mumbles as he puts his hands on either side of your head, leaning down to kiss you, slow and deep.

“God I'm never letting you go—” You mumble against his lips.

✩ ✩ ✩

Over the next few weeks, long training days turn into sleepless nights of pleasure. Jungwon is picking up skills fast, on the track, in the garage, and inside your bed.

Somewhere, as weeks bleed into months, Jungwon becomes something you never expected. He’s become your strength and weakness all wrapped into one. 

He stays. Every night.

And you wake up in his arms every morning. 

After all the qualifying races, Jungwon was selected as a stand-by-driver for the Daytona 500. And Toyota has made it clear time and time again.

This rookie? He’s still a gamble.

No matter how many seconds he cuts off his lap time. No matter how fast he drove in the qualifying races. 

You’ve been tasked with making sure his car is in pristine condition for the race, should he need to step in. You had been sure that wouldn’t happen. 

You’ve watched the Daytona for years. You know it's the biggest, most nerve-racking race of the year. Of course it is, the big prize is on the line.

It's a race even seasoned veterans can only dream about competing in. It is long, tough, and something people train decades for.

But not Jungwon.

He nearly drops his phone out of his hand when he gets the call. One of Toyota's veteran drivers had a collision during practice. He’s got a concussion, and he’s out. 

Which means you're now guiding him through the Daytona 500.

You could say there was a little bit of nerves on the day of the race. 

Trailers line the track, fans fill the stadium, and national television is on every single corner.

Your hands are clammy as you step onto the track, going over the usual checklist, plenty of extra tires, and a large stash of fuel. Extra pit crew and mechanics on standby for the intensity and length of the race.

Your heart stops as Jungwon appears, cameras flashing from every angle as he makes his way onto the track. He was pale, so pale, trembling as he tried to hide his shaking hands behind his back as cameras flashed relentlessly.

You’re breathless as you watch him approach the side of the car, you can’t help but feel your heart overflow with emotion for this man you've come to love.

You meant what you said back at the diner. You don’t just like every part of him.

You’ve fallen in love with every part.

Your eyes are glassy with tears as you climb over the pit wall to the loading station. Jungwon's crimson red Toyota rumbles, hot and ready to conquer the track. The press soon moves to another racer, just in time for you to reach him.

Your boots drag against the asphalt as you walk towards him, slowly savoring every moment of his big day. You’ve watched him push past his limit in training.

And you know from the bottom of your heart, no matter what happens out there on that racetrack. Nothing can change what's grown between the two of you now.

Jungwon’s heart beats in his chest as you approach him, the roar of the crowd and announcers fades into background noise the second he lays eyes on you. His hands tremble as he reaches out, grabbing your waist like it's second nature.

He breathes you in, that same citrus scent from your shampoo that drives him crazy. He pulls your body into him, letting his face bury in your hand, hands shaking as he holds you.

“Breathe, Jungwon…you’ve got this, we’ve got this…” You whisper into his chest as he holds you close.

Your words do help slow the frantic racing of his heart. He swallows a sharp breath, throat bobbing with nerves as he chokes out a whisper.

“I don’t know if I’m ready, I'm definitely not ready for this…” Jungwon confesses.

“Trust me, you are. No matter what happens out on that track, you're making history, baby—” You say with a weak chuckle of disbelief.

Here’s the man you love, about to race in the most important race of his life. The race you grew up in, the race that bonds you to your late brother.

You can't help but let silent tears fall down your face as you remember the times you spent in your living room watching the Daytona on your shitty boxed screen TV. Your older brother right by your side for every lap of the way.

He would be proud of you, so proud.

So proud of the woman you became, so proud of all the things you've overcome.

Jungwon can't help but let silent tears fall down his cheeks, he knows how much this race means to you. He knows how much this means to your very soul. 

He pulls you closer, letting the rest of your tears fall without a single word.

You inhale sharply as you pull away, letting his gloved hands wipe the rest of the tears off your face.

“You come back to me, rookie—promise me you will…” You gasp, your forehead falling against the warmth of his own.

He kisses you, for good luck, before pulling away, panting, completely breathless. 

“I promise you I will…” 

You watch from your pit tower as Jungwon's red car lines up in the starting position. The crowd roars as the countdown begins. 

“You’ve got this Jungwon, just like we practiced” You breathe out into your microphone. Hands trembling as you look down at the racetrack and the rainbow of cars behind that white finish line.

“Copy that—” Jungwon replies, his voice still low and shaky. He shifts in his seat, gripping the wheel tightly as he watches the 

Those three seconds are the longest of his life. Once he gets the green light, he's off into the race.

He keeps a steady speed as he pulls into the race, taking lap after lap. The nerves wear off slightly with each mile he takes. 

Your voice over the headset grounds him as you talk him through the race. The two of you have become a good team, and here is your moment to prove it.

“That’s it, stay outside,” You say professionally as you watch the track below. 

“Copy that,” Jungwon says confidently, sliding his car to the outside of the track as you navigate him through the congestion.

“Watch 53 on your left coming up fast—” You command through the mic. 

Jungwon immediately reacts. Checking his mirrors as he weaves in and out of the sea of rainbow-painted cars.

The crowd roars, and he continues to take lap after lap, mile after mile, holding his center spot in the race.

After about 100 laps, things start to heat up. He pumps the gas harder, fighting to keep up with the rest of the racers.

“100 more to go. Keep it steady,” You say, shoulders relaxing as you watch him take 18th place, then 17th, steadying at 16th on the leaderboard.

Jungwon fights, 25 laps, 25 more on the last 50; he gives it his all.

This is the moment he's trained for. He grips the steering wheel tightly, hands sweating underneath his gloves, hair sticking to his forehead underneath his helmet.

The adrenaline kicks in as he picks up speed, taking 15th place.

The crowd cheers as the race gets closer and closer to the end. Jungwon fights, holding off 15th place as his own.

You bite your fingertips as you watch the leaderboard. Watching his speed below.

On the last five laps, Jungwon pushes his car to the limit, the engine roars as he floors the gas, and the finish line in sight right in front of him.

He pushes and pushes, as fast as his car can go. You can hardly breathe as he crosses the finish line.

Not first but not last.

You're already crying as you throw off your headset and run to the track.

Your boots slam against the track as you run straight to him. Pushing through the usual crowd of reporters and journalists. 

Tears start to fall as Jungwon removes his helmet to see you running through the crowd straight towards him.

You crash into him, wrapping your arms around him like a lifeline. He hugs you back, sobbing as he lifts you off your feet to spin you around in the chaos. 

Just as the winner is announced, he leans in and cups your face, kissing you like there's no tomorrow.

You pull away completely breathless, his slick forehead resting against yours as you struggle for breath.

“I'm so fucking proud of you…” You gasp before crashing your lips into his again. Jungwon chuckles with disbelief as he kisses you back, dipping you without a care in the world.

“I didn’t win…” Jungwon chokes out weakly as he pulls you up, holding your thighs as you settle yourself back on your feet.

“You came back to me…and that's everything,” You say, voice getting caught in your throat as you hold back more tears.

“I always will, every time—” Jungwon mutters, the cheer of the crowd and the crowning of the winner becoming background noise to the charged moment between the two of you.

“I love you…” You say, strained, raw, completely real.

Jungwon wipes another tear from his cheek as he fights off more of your words. 

“I love you too.” He whispers back, voice cracking and deep, tears on the verge of spilling over.

He didn’t cross the finish line first, and it doesn’t even matter.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to chase the finish lines.

You love him. He’s enough.

And he'll come back to you.

Every lap. Every race. Every time.

And that's the only finish line that matters.

© brokenengene

note: I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! I've been dying to write for Jungwon...the fact that I outlined even more for this fic, but it ended still being 11k with the cuts is insane. Let me know if you are as obsessed with this as I am. It was so much fun to write a little out of my comfort zone!

I'm truly grateful for every reblog, like, and comment. It truly means the world to me. Thank you for reading! I wish you guys all the best!

Written with love,

xoxo kate <3

masterlist!

taglist: @yenienha @meowwons @svquon @won1yoiz @nishimura-mimura @cutehoons02 @nics-fxy @aggarwaldrishti @seokjinthescientist @enhastargirl @kyunlov @yang-garden0906 @won4me @shaysimpss @bestboileeknow @kristynaaah @onlywwon @k1ttyjwon @pr3ttyf4ce

[doomdaddytop]

I LOVED ONE LAST TIME!!! can we please get a thanos fic where him and the reader take the pills together?

BATHROOM & PILLS

THANOS/SU-BONG X FEMALE READER

summary: you and thanos connect by taking a small detour to the bathroom when the lights are out. just innocent talking leads to something more and helps you relieve some stress.

WARNINGS: swearing, drugs, slight smut, thanos being himself.

A/N: sorry this took so long! i started writing this part offline and i kept disappearing, so i had to rewrite it so many times. i did my best. hope you all like it :)

it was hard to ignore su-bong. he was everywhere and anywhere. he stuck out easily in a crowd, purple hair and his tall frame already familiar to you. su-bong had some kind of superpower that always made you look for him in a room full of people. even before you were introduced to him, you would always spot him, unconsciously remembering where he was or what he was doing. su-bong had a charm that was hard to ignore in a room full of boring people.

it didn’t take long for su-bong to notice you either. he was immediately all over you, blabbing flirty comments your way. you knew what su-bong was clearly trying to do, but somehow you still fell for his irresistible charms. you tried to play it cool, giving him the cold shoulder or acting like you didn’t care, but at the end of the day, he was the only person you were thinking about.

things lead to another and that’s how you ended up stuck in bathroom stall with su-bong. at first, the two of you just talked, a normal conversation about life and a lot about his rapper career. it was easy to talk with su-bong, he always had something to say. the conversation flew, but the deep feeling of dread still remained in your stomach. you were stuck here, a place where you had to survive. if you didn’t, you would die.

you were scared, maybe even terrified.your eyes moved to the cross around his neck. you knew he had drugs in them, some heavy pills that worked almost immediately. you weren’t usually very interested in drugs, you stayed away from them. but now, they seemed so appealing. you wanted to get rid of this feeling, the emotions that wore you down. your anxiety would only make this whole thing worse. why would you pass an offer to get rid of it?

“can i have one?” you asked, not even specifying what you wanted. he knew immediately, hands moving down to the cross. he slid closer to you, opening up to necklace to show you the various colors of pills. your finger moved to reach for one, but su-bong moved the cross away from you.

“you sure? this shit is fucking crazy.” he expressed, emphasizing the part of it being crazy. you didn’t care how crazy it was, you needed something to ease your stress, the pain of emotions that were swirling through you. it was easy to see how nervous you were, hands shaking and flinches at sudden movements. su-bong could tell you were struggling, and that said a lot.you eyed the necklace for a moment, thinking over your choice. die with anxiety or die happy? the latter seemed like a better choice.

your eyes moved up to su-bong’s intense brown orbs, nodding your head. he didn’t react immediately, just stared into your eyes, almost like he was thinking deeply about something. he let out a huff as he was brought back to life, his normal enthusiasm shining in his eyes again. he shifted closer to you, opening and reaching the cross over to you.

some of the pills were different colors. blue, yellow and red. you tried to think which seemed the most appealing to you. it was clear they all had the same effect, but you wanted to pick a suitable one for yourself. the red ones screamed death to you, almost like a warning not to take them. the yellow reminded you of the sun or the hot beach sand that burned your feet in the summer. blue reminded you of the tracksuits you were wearing and the overall color of this place. then it had to be blue. this pill was going to guide you through the games, giving you enough of a boost to help you stay alive. hopefully.

you took the blue pill, popping it into your mouth. it didn’t have any specific taste as you chewed it, but the sensation of it in your mouth was definitely not very pleasant. soon the pill dissolved in your mouth, a layer of its contents still on your tongue. su-bong’s eyes stayed on you, gauging your reaction to the drug. you weren’t sure if he was worried or just interested, all that mattered to you was that he was here.

“how is it? you feel good?” he asked, curiosity evident in his voice. your body almost immediately relaxed, a sigh escaping your mouth. it felt better already. the stress you had experienced before was slowly easing into nothingness. your head fell to su-bong’s shoulder, hands moving around his arm. he felt so soft, so warm. he didn’t feel this soft before.

“you know, thanos is so stupid. i like your real name better. su-bong. su-bong. su-bong. su-bong…” you muttered out, body feeling completely limp against his. su-bong chuckled, wrapping an arm around your back. you heard the click of the cross opening, eyes moving to see what he was doing. su-bong picked up a blue pill too, quickly throwing it into his mouth.

after a moment in silence, su-bong shook his head, his alive eyes moving to see you. his leg started shaking, like he wanted to jump around the place. you on the other hand just felt fuzzy on the inside, a warm feeling flowing through your body. su-bong pushed himself up from the ground, pulling you with him. you didn’t complain, his hand was still around you. his head snapped over to you, eyes trailing your body. “can i show you how much your name means to me?”

su-bong turned his body towards you, his hands finding your hips. your eyes lazily moved over his body before up to his eyes. he hungrily stared back at you, fingers tightening around you. “fine. but don’t make too much noise.”

his hands instantly started roaming your body, lips crashing into you. your posture loosened as you felt his hand travel under your jacket and shirt, his rough calloused fingers rubbing against your skin. his touch felt so good and the drug he had given you before made you feel more relaxed than ever before. it was so hard not to give into su-bong. he was like a magnet, pulling you closer.

he crashed his lips onto yours again, hands firmly tied to your hips. his body was closer to you now, letting you feel him all the way. his body tried leaning closer to you, but that only ended up in you getting shoved against the bathroom stall’s door. su-bong wasn’t still pleased with the non-existent proximity between the two of you. he pushed himself even closer to you, his hips pinning you down on the door, his hard against you.

you swore you heard the bathroom door open, though that sound barely registered in your brain. your hands moved to su-bong’s hair, pulling his purple strikes up. moans escaped his mouth, the vibration of them against your lips making your knees grow weaker. su-bong craved getting closer to you, now rolling his hips against you. his hands frantically moved under your shirt, his silver rings already warm from the heat of your body.

suddenly, your body started to fall back, the stall’s door opening quickly. thankfully, su-bong’s held onto your body, still distracted by your lips. you slowly pushed su-bong’s face away from yours, his hungry lips still trying to get closer to you. as you leaned away from you, three pairs of eyes were staring at you and su-bong. player 120, player 149 and player 222 were all staring at the two of you. geum-ja immediately moved closer to you, starting to hit su-bong on the shoulder.

“is he bothering you? how did you get into the women’s bathroom?” she asked, first you in a sweet tone and then su-bong, raising her voice at him. she hit su-bong harder on his shoulder, making him let out small yelps. geum-ja pulled su-bong out of the stall by his ear, yelling at him about behaving himself. you just chuckled, too amused to stop her.

“it’s fine. we thought nobody was going to use the bathroom when the lights were out, so i helped him get in.” you smiled to the three of them, stepping out the stall, almost stumbling down from the effect of the drug. su-bong wrapped his arm around you, seeing how much you were struggling to properly move. geum-ja backed away from him, giving him one last glare before turning away from him.

jun-hee moved away from hyun-ju and geum-ja, walking into a different bathroom stall. the room was starting to spin. your body felt light and leaned against su-bong’s tall frame. his arms gripped your hips holding you steadily up. he looked down at you, his concerned brown eyes moving over your body. it was unusual to see him worried about something or someone. your eyes closed for a moment trying to regain your sense of balance and sight.

“you better get her back to bed before i pull those ears off your head!” geum-ja threatened, hitting su-bong’s shoulder again. he just waved her off, wrapping his arm around your back again. hyun-ju and geum-ja followed behind as su-bong guided you out to the bathroom door. your legs felt wobbly, almost like jello and you couldn’t help but wonder how su-bong was holding up so well. he must have taken these pills way more than you had initially thought.

“make sure she gets some sleep.” hyun-ju said, concern clearly evident in her voice. su-bong nodded at her before opening the door for you. you the women one last smile and stepped out of the bathroom. a guard was outside, eyeing you and su-bong. he just laughed at the guard as he helped you navigate through the place. you chuckled too, not knowing at what, but to you it was funny nonetheless.

[ninisdollie]

drinking wine with bf jungwon 𓈒ིུ ❤︎

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me” — maroon, taylor swift

romantic, suggestive

‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧

chill, quiet, romantic nights with your boyfriend Jungwon are the best.

the night wrap around the apartment like velvet, heavy with that kind of peace that only comes when everyone is asleep. outside, the city is a blur of traffic and soft lights, but inside, it’s only you and him. the kitchen glowing gently, the only source of light being from above the stove, golden and warm. it bathes the whole room like sweet honey. the speaker humming in the background, a slow jazz melody filling the air with the low saxophone and piano chords. but you barely notice the sound anymore, it’s just part of the atmosphere, blending with the soft clink of your wine glass while you swirl it in your hand.

you perched on the kitchen counter, legs swinging slowly, your bare feet brushing against the cold cabinet doors. you’re wearing your hair down, your boyfriend’s white shirt over your body, the sleeves drapping past your hands, the two top buttons undone, making it slide over your shoulder slightly. you’re not wearing pants, just your usual cotton panties.

Jungwon is leaning against the island, wine glass in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his gray sweatpants. his hair is messy, his lips are wine-stained, slightly parted as he looks at you the same way as always, lost, completely in love, devoted to you. but his eyes are a little glassy, his cheeks a little red, and he has that lazy, sweet smile that always appear when he’s a little tipsy.

and he’s all yours.

you just said a very bad joke, so bad it made him laugh like he couldn’t believe it. “you know you have the worst sense of humor in the whole world, right?” he says, his eyes a bit narrowed. you grin softly, lifting your glass towards him in a mocking toast “oh, i know. but i know you love it.”

he lets out a low chuckle and sets his wine down before walking toward you slowly, like he’s savoring the moment. like the intimacy of being like this together, just the two of you, is the only thing he wants in his life. his hands find your knees first, warm against your skin as he steps between your legs. you tilt your head, laughing under your breath because of course you’re already tipsy too. he leans in close, his hot breath brushing your cheek, and murmurs “you’re so cute.”

“am i?” you tease, your fingers slipping into the collar of his t-shirt to tug him even closer.“mhm” he kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, each press of his lips lazy and warm like the night itself. his mouth is wet against your skin, it makes you shiver, but you lean into his familiar touch. his voice is low but sweet “you’re the cutest ever. my sweet girl” you laugh, the sound soft and fizzy in your throat. “you love me that much, huh?.” he hums into your neck, nuzzling the skin just below your ear. “you know i’m crazy for you.”

in one moment, you place a little kiss on his neck just when he’s taking another sip, and he chuckles again but as he does, his elbow bumps the wine glass in his hand, just enough to jolt the liquid forward. you gasp as a splash of red wine lands across the front of the white shirt that belongs to him, staining the cotton fabric with a maroon crime scene. “shit—” he blurts, setting his glass down quickly, his hands already reaching for you, wide-eyed. “oh my god, babygirl, i’m sorry” you look down at the faint red stain blooming near the collar and burst out laughing. “Jungwon!” his face twists into a mixture of guilt and panic, even as your giggles echo through the kitchen. “i swear it wasn’t on purpose, you know this is my favorite shirt on you.”

his eyes trail down your body, how the soaked fabric sticks to your chest, you’re not wearing a bra, and you watch the way his breath hitches. jungwon’s brows lift, but there’s that flicker of a grin tugging at his lips now, bleeding into the spark of want that starts to bloom in the air between you. he steps closer again, hands still hovering like he doesn’t know if he should touch you or apologize again. you lean into him just slightly, tilting your head up, your lips inches from his.

he kisses you slowly at first, his lips warm and wine-sweet, wet, dragging over yours like he’s savoring you. he always kisses you like this, soft but demanding, taking from you, exploring into your mouth with his tongue like you’re his property. but the second you sigh into him, just a little, something shifts. his fingers tighten at your hips. the kiss deepens, you tilt your head and open your mouth so he can go deeper, creating a hot mess of spit, a shiver going down your spine, you feel it settling between your legs, right on your pulsing core. and then his hands slip under the wet hem of the shirt, sliding across the skin of your stomach, warm and deliberate.

“you drive me crazy,” he mutters against your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he pulls back just enough to glance down again. the fabric still clings to your chest, sheer where it’s soaked, nipples peeking faintly through. his thumbs brushes your sensitive buttons, hand cupping your breasts and squeezing just right, and his jaw clenches. “you have no idea.” your hands rest against his chest, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “i have some idea,” you whisper, tilting your hips against his just barely, and you feel the hardness against your inner thigh. the groan that escapes him is low and needy. “take it off, baby” he whispers.

and when you reach for the buttons, his hands come up to help, slow and reverent, peeling the wine-stained shirt from your shoulders slowly, like he has all the time in the world, because he does. his eyes drag over your exposed skin, lips brushing your collarbone as he lets it fall to the floor. then he goes lower, until his warm and wet mouth closes around one of your nipples, which makes you sigh and let your head fall backwards.

his voice, a little rough now, vibrates against your skin “gonna make you forget all about that shirt, babygirl.”

[untilwefind]

https://www.tumblr.com/sleepy-hyperfixations/787801657479184384/jo-imagine-will-wrestle-with-mack-for-fun-all-the?source=share

hope you don't mind me asking buuut were you up to write about Will using wrestling to rub his dick subtle on Mack's ass 👉👈🥺

(Both think the other one is straight, so they both try to get themselves off by wrestling and rubbing their dicks subtle at each other)

Just Guys Being Dudes

Another fun one! You guys have some banger prompts lately...

The Sharks have practice at 7 a.m. the next morning, but Will’s wired. His body’s tired, legs buzzing from drills, shoulders loose from lifts, but his brain is chewing through itself. So he throws on sweats and drives down to the team gym, because at least then he can pretend he’s doing something about it.

It’s quiet. Dim. A couple of overhead fluorescents still hum above the weight racks. The mats in the back corner look freshly wiped down, the rubber floor giving off that faint chemically clean smell.

Mack is already there.

He’s sitting against the wall, legs stretched out, scrolling on his phone. His hoodie’s halfway off his shoulders like he gave up mid-strip. His hair’s wet at the roots, curls damp and pushed back from his forehead.

Will stops short, and something slow curls in his chest. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Mack looks up. Shrugs. “Just felt like moving.”

“Same.” Will ambles over, lowering himself to the mat with a quiet groan. “God, I’m so sore.”

“That’s what you get for racing Eky on suicides.”

“He was talking shit! I had to.”

Mack huffs a laugh, and the edge of it slides warm under Will’s skin. They fall into easy silence. Mack stretches his arms above his head, t-shirt riding up to flash a strip of taut stomach. Will very intentionally does not look. Or if he does, it’s just for one second.

Just to take in the competition.

Will nudges him with a toe. “Wanna wrestle?”

Mack turns, one eyebrow raised. “Like… for real?”

Will shrugs, heart picking up pace despite himself. “Combat cardio. You know. Old school.”

Mack stares at him for a long beat. Then he slides his phone into his shoe and pulls his hoodie the rest of the way off. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Will wasn’t actually expecting him to say yes.

They square off in the middle of the mat, barefoot, grinning like idiots. It starts half-hearted. Will circling, Mack mimicking him like it’s a game. Which it is. Kind of.

Will lunges, gets a hand around Mack’s waist, tries to flip him. but Mack twists and counters like a goddamn snake, slamming his shoulder into Will’s side until Will topples backward.

They roll.

Will laughs. Mack grunts. Will shoves. Mack pins.

Will’s breath catches.

Mack’s weight is fully on top of him now, thighs bracketing Will’s hips, hands planted on either side of Will’s shoulders. He’s breathing hard. So is Will.

Their hips brush.

They both freeze.

Mack’s eyes flick down to Will’s mouth for half a second before darting back up. His face is unreadable. His thighs tighten slightly where they’re straddling Will’s.

Will swallows. His mouth feels dry.

He should move. He should roll away or make a joke or laugh this whole thing off, like he always does. But Mack is still on him. Still flushed. Still staring at him like he’s waiting for something.

The air is hot. Dense.

Finally, Mack pushes up and off, quick and smooth, already retreating toward the wall.

Will lies there for a second, blinking up at the ceiling.

Then he gets up. Grabs his water bottle. Forces out a grin.

“You win this round, Celebrini.”

Mack tosses him a smirk, but there’s something sharp behind it. “I always do.”

Will showers with the water on cold and jerks off with his forehead pressed to the tile, teeth gritted, hand fast and mean.

He doesn’t think about Mack.

He doesn’t think about how good it felt.

He doesn’t think about why he’s lying to himself.

---

They’re two months into the season and already half-dead from travel. Anaheim back-to-backs suck in theory. Less sleep, less prep, too many post-game media requests. But in practice, it’s mostly just sitting in a beige hotel room trying not to kill each other with passive-aggressive sighs.

Will’s got nothing to do and nowhere to go. Him and Mack aren't rooming this trip so naturally, at 10:37 p.m., he texts Mack.

u up?

gym mat looks lonely

There’s a long pause. Then:

5 mins

Will doesn’t even bother pretending he’s not already half-dressed.

He tosses on a hoodie over his thin base layer and slinks down to the hotel gym like some kind of degenerate. It smells like old sweat and fake citrus cleaner and the walls are lined with sad motivational posters: Hard Work Beats Talent When Talent Doesn’t Work Hard. Will almost takes a selfie beside one and sends it to Mack, but before he can, the door opens.

Mack walks in. Tank top. Compression shorts. A faint sheen of leftover post-game sweat still clinging to his collarbone. His hair’s a little flat on one side, like he was lying down before Will texted. He doesn’t smile.

“You’re actually serious about this?” he says, stepping onto the mat and toeing off his slides.

Will shrugs, already rolling his sleeves up. “Gotta keep the heart rate up.”

Mack raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t argue.

They start slow again. Almost cautious. Will circles like a shark, no pun intended, while Mack just watches him, solid and quiet, weight settled evenly through his hips like he’s waiting for the right moment to strike.

Will lunges.

Mack ducks. They collide.

It’s sharper this time. Less laughing. Less banter. Mack’s grip on Will’s biceps is tight and focused. Will plants his foot and pivots, tries to twist free, but Mack yanks his arm and takes them both down in a heap.

They roll. Will ends up on top for half a second before Mack flips them, slamming his thigh between Will’s legs and grinding down instinctively.

Will gasps.

Not loud. But enough.

Mack freezes. Will does too.

They’re pressed together from knees to chest, Mack’s arms caging him in, Will’s hands still clutched in Mack’s shirt. Will’s heart is hammering. His dick’s already half-hard and pinned awkwardly beneath the friction point of Mack’s thigh.

They both feel it.

Mack lifts his head, face unreadable. “Are you—”

“Sorry,” Will says, voice high and fast. “That was—I didn’t—”

He tries to shift his hips, but the movement only drags them together again. His stomach flips violently. Mack goes still, eyes darting between Will’s face and his mouth like he’s trying to solve a fucking equation.

Will’s breath stutters out. He thinks, kiss me, for one terrible second.

Mack blinks.

And then he’s up. Off Will, away from the mat, palms on his thighs as he catches his breath.

Will lies there for a second, staring at the ceiling like it holds answers. Then he sits up too fast and regrets it immediately.

“You good?” Mack asks, too casually, voice sandpaper-dry.

“Yeah,” Will croaks. “Totally.”

They don’t talk on the way back to the elevators. Don’t talk on the ride up to their floor. Mack scratches the back of his neck and mutters a “see you tomorrow” before disappearing into his room without looking back.

Will gets in his own bed and stares at the ceiling for what feels like hours, hard again for no goddamn reason except that his body can’t seem to forget the feel of Mack’s weight, the friction, the sound he made when their hips slotted just right.

He tells himself it was an accident.

He knows he’s lying.

---

They win in regulation. A clean, hard-fought home game that leaves the locker room buzzing with leftover adrenaline and mid-season optimism.

Everyone’s going out after. Steakhouse downtown, maybe somewhere sleazy after that. Toff throws an arm around Will and chirps him about not being late to team dinner and Will laughs, promises to catch up.

But he doesn’t.

Because Mack’s already packing up in the corner. Quiet. Focused. Still humming with tension like his blood didn’t get the memo that the game’s over.

Will doesn’t even think about it. He just catches Mack’s eye across the room, jerks his chin slightly.

Mack nods.

They don’t say anything.

The facility’s dark by the time they sneak back in. Staff’s gone home. The mats in the back gym are still laid out, slightly askew from earlier warm-ups.

Will sheds his hoodie the moment they step inside. Mack follows suit, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to shake off a second skin.

No warm-up. No jokes. They crash together like magnets.

Will shoves first. Mack resists. They lock arms and jostle, the air thick with breath and the squeak of socked feet on the mat. Mack’s t-shirt clings to his back in a way that makes Will’s throat go tight.

“You’re holding back,” Will grunts, digging in.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Mack growls, actually growls, and throws his weight into it.

Will goes down hard.

The air leaves his lungs in a rush as Mack straddles him, pinning Will’s wrists above his head like he’s done it a thousand times in his sleep. His thighs are pressed tight to Will’s hips. There’s nowhere to go. Nothing to do except—

Rock up.

It’s instinct. Muscle memory. Need.

Will does it once, just enough to feel. Mack’s breath hitches. His grip loosens.

Will blinks up at him.

Mack’s lips part like he’s going to say something. But nothing comes out.

And Will, God help him, does it again.

This time slower. Deliberate. His hard dick grinds against the unmistakable bulge in Mack’s compression shorts, and they both just... freeze.

It’s not an accident this time. It’s not a joke.

Mack’s hands drop away like Will’s skin is on fire.

Will doesn’t move. Can’t.

“I—” Mack starts, but his voice cracks, raw.

Will sits up, chest brushing Mack’s. “We should—”

“I know.”

Neither of them finish the thought.

Mack scrambles off first, yanking his shirt down over his waistband. Will doesn’t look. Or he does, but only for a second. Long enough to see the flush spreading across Mack’s throat, the too-tight set of his jaw.

They don’t speak as they gather their clothes. Don’t speak in the hallway. Don’t even glance at each other when they split at the locker room doors.

Will showers with the water scalding and one arm braced against the tile while he jerks himself off aggressively with the other.

He comes too fast, a groan tearing out of his chest that makes him bite his own hand.

It’s not the orgasm that wrecks him.

It’s how clearly he hears Mack’s voice in his head right after, soft and breathless and very, very real: “I’m not.”

Not straight.

Not pretending.

Not alone.

---

They lose in OT.

It’s not even a bad loss, just one of those games where nothing quite clicks, where the puck bounces the wrong way and everyone walks out of the rink with that twitchy, unfinished kind of energy.

Will’s buzzing. Not the good kind. He doesn’t want a shower beer or a group hang. He wants to hit something. Or someone.

Or—

Mack.

Mack, who sits two stalls over and doesn’t say a word the whole way through undressing. Mack, who’s been avoiding Will’s eyes for three days, ever since the last wrestling session ended with Will on his back and Mack halfway hard on top of him, breathless and terrified and still not kissing him.

Will doesn’t ask this time. He just gets up, yanks a hoodie over his head, and walks out of the room without saying a word.

Mack follows ten seconds later.

The gym’s empty. Dim. Quiet.

Neither of them speaks.

Will throws his bag down beside the mat and turns around just in time for Mack to shove him, hard, full-body and loaded with something dangerous.

They crash together like it’s been waiting to happen. No circling. No warming up. Just arms locking, chests slamming, Will’s heel catching on the edge of the mat as they tumble to the floor.

Mack lands on top. It’s not graceful. It’s hot.

Will grabs him by the waist and yanks him down until their hips collide.

Mack stutters out a groan. “Don’t.”

Will’s voice is wrecked. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t—fuck—don’t start this unless you’re gonna finish.”

Will huffs, grinning through his own dizzy pulse. “Pretty sure we’ve only been starting things.”

Mack breathes in deep, like he’s bracing for impact.

Then he kisses Will like a fight.

It’s teeth and spit and weeks of unsaid things, all of it breaking open in the space between their mouths. Mack groans when Will grabs the back of his neck. Will grinds up into him without shame this time, no half-excuses or pretend slippage. Hust pure, unbearable friction.

Mack is hard against him. Fully, obviously hard. And when Will reaches down between them to palm him through his shorts, Mack jerks like he’s been shocked.

“You sure?” Will mutters, even as he palms him again.

Mack pants against his neck. “I’ve been sure since fuckin’ camp.”

Will laughs, stunned. “You—”

“Shut up,” Mack breathes, rolling his hips. “God, shut up.”

They fumble out of their clothes with all the elegance of horny teenagers. Mack’s still wearing his base layer top when Will gets his pants down. Will ends up shirtless in his compression shorts, kneeing his own water bottle out of the way as Mack yanks them down.

Their dicks brush and it’s like a live wire snaps between them. Both of them gasp.

Will spits in his hand, reaches down between them, and wraps his hand around them both. Mack groans, loud this time, helpless. His hand comes up to cover Will’s, guiding the pace, their hips grinding in time.

“I’m not gonna last,” Mack whispers, forehead pressed to Will’s.

“Yeah, no shit,” Will breathes back, kissing him again, softer this time. Slower. “We've been edging each other for weeks, Celly.”

The nickname hits its mark. Mack lets out a wrecked little sound, hips stuttering.

They rut together like animals, skin sticking, hands slipping, breathing like it hurts.

Will loses it first, hips jerking, voice catching on Mack’s name as he spills between them.

Mack follows half a second later, gasping into Will’s mouth, whole body curling inward like he’s trying to crawl under Will’s skin.

They lie there after, tangled and slick and stupidly content. The room smells like sweat and sex and cheap gym mats. Mack’s cheek is pressed to Will’s bare chest. Will’s hand is still on his thigh.

Neither of them speaks for a long time.

Eventually, Mack says, “So… combat cardio?”

Will laughs. “Best workout of my life.”

Mack hums. “We’re gonna have to stretch next time.”

Will’s heart trips a little. He turns his head, looks at Mack, really looks at him, flushed and soft and smiling just barely.

“There’s gonna be a next time?” he asks, quiet.

Mack rolls his eyes, fond. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

[camficdiner]

Hii! Can I request 1.5 (with the older reader trope), 2.18, 3.1 (maybe some angst as well), 4.3. We know Will isn't overly physical on the ice, but reader and Will just made their relationship public, and a player from the other team finds her hot. Well tensions rise during the game and a player is not chirping Will, this dude is taunting him about how he's gonna steal her right out from under Will and the dude says "there won't be a thing you can do to stop it Smith" and he fights the guy. Please and thank you!

☕️Cams fic diner — order 094

🍒 thank you: to the girlies who want loyalty that burns. ice fights. clenched jaws. someone who gets mad because they care. this one’s yours.

💬 “Worth Every Penalty Minute”

✨ description & prompts:

character: Will Smith

prompt: he gets into a fight on the ice and finds you waiting in the tunnel — furious, and scared

type: pure fluff, angst, comforting tension

wc ~1.4k

🍒🧁🛼✨

You saw it happen before it even started.

Will was on the second line tonight — not a big shift, not a huge crowd, just another regular season game. But you’d come anyway. Sat two rows behind the bench, tucked beside one of the girlfriends, jacket zipped to your chin even though the arena wasn’t that cold.

You were just getting used to it — being public.

Just getting used to the looks.

People knew now. Your name had trended for a few hours the day the photo dropped: his arm around your waist, both of you laughing after a team dinner. He didn’t post it himself — it was someone else. A soft launch that turned into a hard one real fast. And you knew the attention would follow. The questions. The chirps.

What you didn’t expect was what the other team would say to him.

You didn’t hear it all. But you saw the moment it shifted.

Will had just circled the back of the net, skating hard into a check, when the other guy — #82, short, smug, pushing thirty — leaned in and said something.

Will turned.

Fast.

His helmet tipped forward, chin down, fists already rising — not reckless, but decisive. The way he squared up was like something had been boiling in him long before the game even started.

They dropped gloves at center ice.

The whole place erupted.

You were already standing.

Will swung first — clean, brutal. The other guy reeled back, then lunged again. They twisted, slammed into the boards, fists flying, a blur of muscle and heat and spite. You could barely breathe. Could barely think.

He never fought. Not like this.

You knew he could, but he didn’t.

Until now.

It ended with Will on top — the other guy slumped, pulled back by refs, blood trickling from his nose. Will’s knuckles were raw, lip split, chest heaving as they dragged him off the ice.

And you were already on your way.

Down the stairs. Through the gate. Past the security who barely glanced up — they knew who you were now.

You waited in the tunnel. Jaw clenched. Hands trembling in your coat pockets.

You didn’t like this part.

You didn’t like the way adrenaline lived in your chest like a second heartbeat — especially when the reason he fought was you.

Because you knew. Even without hearing it, you knew.

Will stepped off the ice.

His skates clattered. Jersey torn. Blood on his chin. But his eyes were already on you.

He walked fast.

Straight toward you.

No medics. No trainers. Just you.

“Will,” you snapped, half-whisper, half-sharp. “What the fuck was that?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept walking until he was in front of you, shoulder to shoulder, taller than usual with adrenaline still pumping through his body.

“He said some shit,” Will muttered, gaze flicking down to your lips like he needed to anchor himself.

“That’s not enough of a reason.”

Will leaned in. Not sweet. Not rough. Just there — his forehead nearly brushing yours.

“He said he was gonna take you from me. Said there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.”

Your chest tightened.

“And you thought fighting him was the answer?” you asked, breath trembling. “You thought bleeding for it would prove your point?”

“No,” he said, voice low, “but I wasn’t gonna let him say that about you. Not when you’re mine.”

The word hit harder than you expected — not possessive, not childish. Just honest.

Yours.

Because he was yours, too.

You exhaled. Let your fingers drift up to where the collar of his jersey tugged against his throat. “You didn’t have to prove anything to me.”

Will’s mouth curved, just barely. “Didn’t do it for you.”

You blinked.

He leaned closer, voice barely audible now. “I did it for me. Because the second he said it, I knew I’d rather lose the game than sit on the bench pretending I didn’t want to knock his teeth in for looking at you like that.”

You didn’t say anything. Just stared at him, at the boy you’d tried not to fall for — the one five years younger who still opened your car door and remembered your coffee order and smiled like he meant it every time he saw you.

“You scared me,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I didn’t.”

You finally let out a breath and dropped your head to his chest. He wrapped his arms around you like they were made for it — like you’d always fit there, even if you hadn’t believed it.

“I was still scared.”

He stepped closer — so close you could feel the heat coming off his jersey, see the bruise already starting to bloom near his mouth.

“Then let me make it better.”

You didn’t move right away.

But when you did — when you reached for him, hands curling into the fabric at his waist — he wrapped you in his arms like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Like there was nothing to be scared of anymore.

Because he was already yours.

And he wasn’t letting go.

[bxllxebxtch]

Your Voice Never Left

tw - cursing, Billie being a meanie, flirting, dirty talk (mean) Chapter 2!!! (short)

The air is cold and soothing. You stretch and reluctantly leave you bed. It was quiet, just how you liked it, No noise, No distractions, No Billie, just you and your morning thoughts.

You swiftly remove the hoodie from off your body, staying in your bra and a sweats. You move to the kitchen and hot some water in the kettle to make tea. You yawn as the time on the clock ticks silently.

It was all calm and peaceful until 'ASSFACE OPEN THE DOOR!' you hear someone scream out. A recognizable voice.

Billie

You groan and move to open the door. Billie hears a soft click and burst open your door. "What the fu-" "Shut up" she says cutting off your sentence. 'It's to fucking early for this shit' you groan walking towards the whistling kettle. "Soo...i came to say.. sorry about yesterday...i didn't mean to-" she pause her voice steady and weirdly calm "it was that noise you made. It's a natural reaction." she murmurs out. You hum softly, basically ignoring her and forgetting about the little situation from yesterday.

She looks at you, her eyes dull and almost emotionless. "Anyways" she pause taking a brief glance at your tits "put on a shirt" You face goes pink with embarrassment then it slowly fades "well i wasn't expecting a guest, eilish". She giggles under her breath "new nickname? ok, princess" Her voice is soft and so fucking soothing it's annoying.

"Want tea?"

"It had poison, right?"

"I wish..."

"Peppermint....please"

She says the last sentence with a menacingly soft chuckle. You hand her the tea, her fingers brushing against yours.

"Why do you hate me?"

"because you are you, eilish."

"Ouch, princess"

"why do you call me princess?"

"because-" she pauses her face looking hesitant "because you act and look like one" That makes you giggle.

"Is that a compliment?"

"maybe...do you want it to be one, princess?"

"ok...fuck you, assface"

"why not"

"you fucking dirty minded bitch..."

Your tone is low and playful, the usual venom lacking in your voice as you sip your tea. Sometimes you forget you hate her. For all you both know you both can be best friend but something always ruins it.

"Did you finish Mrs. Roxanne's assignment?" she says a bit awkwardly

"let me guess...."

"yep I forgot about it"

"really, eilish" you say rolling your eyes "c'mere, i'll share"

_________________________________

You both spend the whole day doing the assignment. She rolls on your bed, you don't even remember why you both where doing the assignment and studying on your bed but wtv. "Fuckin' hate this" Billie murmurs as she rolls on you bed, tiredly. "Hmmmmm....wanna listen to music? that might help" she nods almost immediately and you share your airpod with her.

That's normal, right?

Music fills your mind along with hers, humming to the melodies softly. Your eyes scan the paper her eyes scans your body.

"Why do we hate eachother?"

"Society is a problem"

"Oh yea"

"we love this world huh"

"for sure, princess"

_________________________________

You don't even remember falling asleep in her arms. You wake up with soft, warm breath on your neck. You feel a weight on your side and look over to see Billie's arm, you were cuddling with your enemy....what the fuck?!

"shit.."

"princess, don't move.."

a/n - hehe

[crows-in-the-house]

hi hi hi hehehehe x3 saw ur hcs about the brothers with a popular mc and rlly liked ur writing and how u wrote them <3

was wondering how do u think the obey me brothers + datables (pls i need my solomon n barbatos crumbs) would react to an mc who's hands and feet get easily / constantly cold ? not in a cutesy mildly chilly way but in a 'holy shit did they take you out the morgue or smth 💀' typa cold

bonus points that when they sweat, IT'S COLD SWEAT. so now their hand feels like touching a slowly defrosting chicken lmfao (heavy projection on this one, basing off when someone told me my hands felt like the ones of a dead person. greatest compliment ive received)

anyways ty for reading and i hope u have a lovely next 24 hrs <3 may the local street cats never rejects ur pspsps 🙏🙏

Aww thank you! Sorry I've been on hiatus I had uni exams, but now that i have vacations i can finally finish my drafts

(I made only 4 guys tho, cuz all of them at once is a lot hahah)

pairing: Solomon, Barbatos, Diavolo and Mammon

tw: none

Solomon

mortified, he actually freezes for a second

tries to figure out what's wrong with them, tbh tries everything - medicine, superstition, checks out your whole family history up to Lilith

you have to stop him so he does not theorise that it's a curse from the Angels

maybe a better diet will make ur bloodflow reach the hands and feet?

he can make a curse to make it nicer, if u want

not that it's a problem for him ofc, his hands are also weird

in his case they are very boney and rough (bc of using all those wird things in the food he makes) so if you ever were selfcontious about your hands, he's going to grip yours thigly with a shiteating grin and say that now you can be gross together!

Bartbatos

actually concerned, at first he just thinks you must have tauched something cold like ice (or a melting chiken)

won't show that tho

will try to warm up your hands with his breath

his tea parties are more frequent now - when at first he would just do it once a month, to give you space, now it's once a week, so you can wrap your palms over the cup and drink the hot liquid

he secretly wishes to hold them but won't say anything if you won't do it urself

tbh he's also a cold handed person - baing a snake u know? so he's kinda thankful to know he's not the only one

maybe you would want some gloves? he could spare you a few pairs? (he secretly enjoys that option because that means you two will match)

Diavolo

will be concerned but somehow amused

do all humans have such cold hands??? Is it a defensive mechanism? Can you become cold on your whole body? Do you still want to hold hands?

His are probably very hot so he will joke that you two balance each other

He doesn't mind if your palms are very sweaty, he just finds it endearing to learn a new thing about you

Mammon

is the one to tell you ur hands are cold like the chicken (seriosuly???? xd)

and then he's going to panic, while blubering apologies and excuses

but he can get used to this, those are the hands of his human! He will cherish them, however they look and feel like!

(and he's even ready to lick them to prove it, might be gross, but at least it will make you laugh)

(hopefully)

if you want to he will buy you some handcreams that can help! (from shady "organic" sellers and witches)

[paperbacksinner]

AHH I FIRST OF ALL, I LOVE LOVE LOVEEE UR WRITING SMM! U WRITE JOE GOLDBERG SO WELL<3

Also can i request reader taking care of sick Joe Goldberg :3?? (bonus points if it includes smut🫣) thank youu!

Don’t Leave Me

Joe’s sick. He swears he’s fine. He’s not. But you’re there — and suddenly, being taken care of doesn’t feel so foreign after all.

TW: 18+ explicit smut

———

Joe looks like shit.

Like, actually. Pale, sweaty, hoodie clinging to one shoulder, hair messy in a way that isn’t quite cute today. You find him in the kitchen, hunched over the counter, trying to pour hot water into a mug with one hand while the other rubs at his face.

“You’re up,” you say gently, padding into the kitchen.

“I’m fine,” he mutters before you can even finish the thought. “Didn’t want to waste the day.”

“You have a fever.”

“It’s just—” cough, sniff “—a cold.”

You pluck the mug from his hands before he spills it all over himself.

“Joe,” you say softly, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, “you’re burning up.”

“I’m not—”

“Come to bed,” you murmur against his spine. “I’ll take care of you.”

That gets him.

He stiffens. Just slightly. Like the concept is foreign to him.

But then you feel him melt.

“…Okay.”

You run a bath first—warm but not too hot, with eucalyptus salt because he “doesn’t care about stuff like that” but you know he secretly likes the way it smells.

You sit beside the tub, guiding his hand to the washcloth when he’s too tired to lift it on his own. He won’t meet your eyes. Won’t say much. But he lets you wash his back. Lets you shampoo his hair. Lets you wrap him in a towel like he’s fragile and precious.

Because today, he is.

You help him into bed—oversized hoodie, clean sheets, a cool washcloth on his forehead. You bring him soup and meds, rub his chest with Vicks (he glares, but you catch the way his eyes flutter shut under your touch). He tries to protest, but every time, your voice soothes him:

“Shhh, I’ve got you.”

“You don’t have to do all this.”

“I want to.”

By evening, he’s settled in the sheets, curled under the blankets with his head in your lap.

“Your hands are cold,” he mumbles sleepily.

You smile, stroking his hair. “That’s kind of the point.”

He exhales slowly. Quiet. Comfortable in a way he never lets himself be.

“This is nice,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?”

He nods against your thigh. “I’m not used to it. Being… looked after.”

“You deserve it.”

Another beat of silence. His eyes drift open, glassy and unsure.

“…Can I feel you?”

You blink. “Joe—”

“Just a little.” He shifts, sits up slightly, voice low and hoarse. “Please.”

“You’re sick—”

“I know.” His hand touches your thigh, warm and shaky. “But I just… I need you. I want you close. I’ll be good.”

God help you.

You nod.

You climb into his lap slowly, straddling him as he leans back against the pillows. He’s flushed, fever-warm, and desperate in a way he doesn’t usually let show.

Your lips brush his cheek, his jaw, his collarbone.

You grind down over him, slow and teasing, panties damp from the weight of his attention alone. He groans, eyes fluttering shut.

“I missed you,” he murmurs.

“You’ve only been sick for two days.”

“Still missed you.”

When you finally guide him inside you, it’s slow. Painfully slow. Your walls pulse around him, warm and wet, and he groans like it hurts.

His grip on your hips is shaky but tight.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, voice broken. “You always do.”

You move carefully—just enough to build a rhythm, keeping your foreheads pressed together, your nose brushing his.

He’s warm. Everywhere. Sweat beading at his hairline. Eyes heavy.

“You’re burning up,” you breathe.

“Then cool me down,” he murmurs. “Ride me. Please.”

You do.

Soft. Deep. Unhurried.

You grind in slow circles, fingers in his hair, mouth on his throat. He groans your name like a prayer. Like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth.

“Don’t stop,” he pants. “Please. Don’t stop. Don’t leave me.”

You cry out when you come—body shaking, heart pounding—and he follows seconds later, spilling deep with a long, ragged moan and his arms locked tight around you.

After, you clean him up. Wipe the sweat from his neck. Kiss his warm forehead.

He pulls you down beside him, still half-hard, still feverish, but softened.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

You kiss his temple.

“For what?”

“For loving me when I’m not at my best.”

You nuzzle into his shoulder.

“I love you all the time. Especially then.”

[taintandviolent]

I like the way you kiss me ; Oz Cobb x reader

summary: [PART TWO TO BLISS — READ HERE!] It's been a week since you met Oz at the club. But he hasn't forgotten. Apparently. He wants more, and fortunately for him, you're good for it.

word count & w a r n i n g s: K | FEMALE READER, no use of y/n, SMUT, kissing/making out, oral sex (both male and female receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, reverse cowgirl, praise kink, alcohol and drug mention (fictional drug; bliss), younger woman/older man, power dynamics, a little bit of a humiliation kink maybe If you squint, kinda dom!reader (defo not a sub!reader here).

a/n: *checks watch* eight months later, Bliss finally has a second part. huge thank you to my moot who asked for a part 2 and helped me out with aspects of this (you know who you are, mwah mwah mwah), title/some dialogue inspired by the Artemas song, I like the way you kiss me. banners by @/adornedwithlight, @/strangergraphics, and @/arminsumi!!

↓ fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Rain pelts against the window, despite the weather forecast saying it was going to be clear all night. Typical — Gotham seems to rain more often than not. The bathroom's bright light illuminates the bedroom and heavy steam rolls out from the open door. Music plays from your phone, filling the small apartment with something new and catchy — something that makes you want to grind your body against someone else. The week had been long and it was time to unwind.

Your friends had texted you earlier, mentioning a girl's night. That, inevitably, meant club hopping. It had become routine now, almost every weekend, they wanted to go out. You weren't complaining; you liked the euphoric release that clubs brought. And last week, you'd been introduced to a new kind of euphoria — that new drug that was floating around Apex, the one that exploded your world into colours and made you feel like you were in heaven. You hoped your friend would have more of that, wherever it was that you went tonight.

After drying off your body, you towel dry your hair, watching the blurred reflection in the foggy glass. You straighten up, wrapping the towel around your naked body, and tucking it into itself. On the counter, your phone lights up. The notification bubble pops up on your screen, and you lean over the phone to read it.

Hey doll

You squint at the number; it's not a saved contact, but it's a Gotham City area code. You tap the notification and open it up, prepped to ask who the fuck this is — who the fuck even calls you doll? Immediately, you see that there's past messages, so it's someone you've contacted before. With your index finger, you scroll back through them. There's only a few — they're from last weekend.

"Oh, shee-it." The realization hits like freight train; it's the guy from the club. The one you gave head to. Oz. Your mind conjures up the imagery; kneeling on the cold bathroom floor, taking his thick cock into your mouth and going to town. Your cunt clenches hungrily at the memory — it was hot. Admittedly, you were messed up that night. You woke up the next morning feeling like you were on another planet, but despite all that, you remember what he looked like. It's fuzzy, but you remember being very into him.

You'd told him to text you that night, but you didn't think you'd hear from him again afterwards. He seemed like a busy man, probably with some underground shit that you had no business being apart of. Still, you pick up the phone and thumb out a simple response.

Hey

You set your phone on the counter, start to walk away but it immediately pings again. Smiling inwardly, you pivot and snatch it off the comforter.

You remember me?

You tap out another quick response. Yeah. And your cock. What's up?

The response isn't so immediate this time, and you laugh to yourself. He probably didn't expect that, if you remember his demeanor. He was hesitant at first, didn't think you were into him.

You add:

What's up really? You want another blowjob?

That gets the typing dots going. They stop. Start again. Stop. Start again. This goes on for far too long and you roll your eyes before tapping the number, and promptly hitting call. You bring the phone to your ear. It rings twice before he picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hi," you say, the tone low and the syllable drawn out. "You looked like you were having trouble typing, so I thought I'd just call. Make it easy for you."

"Jesus Christ," you hear him mutter. You smirk and saunter out of the bathroom and plop down on your mattress. You lean back on one arm.

"So what did you want, huh? You want another blowjob?"

"Listen, doll—"

"C'mon, you can tell me. You texted me because you were thinking about my mouth around your dick and you got hard. Is your dick in your hand right now?"

Oz is silently flustered — because you're talking like you two were about to have phone sex. "Nah, my dick ain't in my fuckin' hand, alright? I was just seein' if you wanted to grab a drink is all."

You laugh. Though his words are defensive, he sounds almost sheepish, like you touched a nerve. "A drink? C'mon, Oz."

"What, a guy ain't allowed to buy a chick a drink?"

You pause, chewing on a stray piece of skin on your lip. After you bite it off, you relent to his words and say: "Sure, okay. You can buy me a drink. But…"

"But what?" He sounds raspy, disappointed that there are stipulations.

"Just know that I know that's not what you really want." A beat as you get to your feet, heading to your closet. You thumb through your dresses, deciding one which one is the lucky winner for the evening. "By the way… you have any more of that stuff? The red candy?"

There's something like a breathy chuckle on the other end. "Sure, sweetheart."

Staying with the theme, you tug a simple but flattering red dress off the hanger and toss it on your bed. "Good, bring it. There's a bar on Onyx. Meet me there in an hour or so. I'll um…"

Your words trail off as you bend down to retrieve a strappy pair of black heels from the depths of your closet. You remember why they were tucked away — they're uncomfortable. Alas, they're cute and go with the vision you have for the night, so you toss them by the bed.

"Sorry… I'll text you the address. Bye, Oz."

You end the call, and after dropping the address into the message with him, immediately text the group chat to break the bad news.

Sorry girls

not tonight

A flurry of disappointment floods that chat, thumbs down reacts included.

I've got a date 🤪

Amongst the oh my god's and question marks, the friend who was with you at Apex immediately reacts with an exclamation mark. She's clocked you, and if you needed any further confirmation, a new message from her pops up.

PLEASE tell me it is not that guy from the club last week

😇😇😇😇😇

The next thing your thumb taps is the Uber app.

You arrive at the bar before Oz does, and order a cocktail for yourself. It doesn't matter to you that he'll probably buy you another one whenever he arrives.The more, the merrier, right? You pull out your phone and navigate to the messages. You tap Oz's number and save him as a new contact: Oz 🍆

Twenty or so minutes later, he ambles up next to your booth, his leather jacket dotted with rain drops. He slides in across from you wordlessly, his eyes dark and focused on you. He wipes his hand over his hair, smoothing back any strays.

You take another sip, nearly finishing it off, and smirk, your lips curling at the visual. This man's aura is insane, you think, swallowing. He takes up so much space with his broad shoulders and big gut. You liked that last week, and still you like it now. "What, no hello, how are you? No pleasantries?"

"You uh — you said you didn't want small talk."

"Good boy," you coo. "The bathroom here is kinda' gross, though. We're not doing it in there."

"You got somethin' else in mind?"

You nod. "But, let's enjoy the drinks first."

He waves the waiter over. He still has a commanding presence, even outside of Apex. You roll your lips inward and bite down, withholding the arousal. Easy, girl…

"I'll take a Scotch. And uh…" He looks to you, expectantly.

You bring the glass to your lips, swallowing the rest of your drink before setting it on the table a little too hard. Oz's eyes flick down to the glass — then back up to yours. You turn to the waiter with a smile. "Another Negroni, pretty please."

The waiter takes note and disappears. Your gaze falls back to Oz, a small, bemused smile on your face. He really is behaving.

"So, you've been thinking about it, huh?"

"Can't stop."

"Mmmm."

He shifts his shoulders. "You sure 'bout this? If you ain't got it in ya', I can walk away."

You clasp your hands together underneath your chin and plant your elbows on the table, leaning forward. "You still think I'm not into you? That I was just high?"

"You was, doll."

You nod your head to the side. "Okay, valid — I was, but that doesn't mean my types change when I'm sober. I'm here, aren't I?"

He can't really argue with that. Thankfully, the waiter comes back with the drinks and he doesn't have to. He brings the glass to his lips, taking a long sip. Your foot lifts underneath the table and stretches until the toe of it touches between his legs. You feel the soft bulge of his flaccid cock and press your toe further, increasing the pressure.

He looks at you pointedly and you raise a brow as if to say, What are you gonna' do about it?

He shows you very quickly. Oz takes his left hand, tucks it under the table and grabs your ankle — hard enough that you can't move it either way. Now both brows raise on your forehead, shocked by this display of dominance from him.

"What? Can't handle a little a public teasing?"

"C'mon, this ain't the place for it."

"Oh, excuse me. I didn't know that sucking you off in a public bathroom was okay, but touching your dick under the table was off limits."

That pulls a reaction from him. Not a quite smile, not quite not. "You always like this or what?"

"Like what? Assertive? When I see someone I like — yeah."

That seems to lands with him. He takes another sip of his drink, still holding your ankle tightly, but his thumb strokes the flesh absentmindedly. It feels good — maybe a little too good. You lean your head back against the booth and grin.

"Why don't we finish our drinks and go back to my place?"

~

By the time you get back home, you're chomping at the bit.

"Make yourself comfortable, baby."

You slide the lock into place and hang the chain while simultaneously taking your shoes off with the other hand. As he takes off his jacket, Oz observes your apartment — not out of judgement, but out of genuine curiosity. You assume it looks exactly like he'd imagined, because his eyes flit to you again. You pad over to him, your hand finding his blindly. The alcohol is buzzing in your system now, leaving you in a happy, hazy, and horny state. Your smaller fingers intertwine with his bigger ones, and you turn, pulling him with you.

You lead him down the tiny hall to the bedroom, still only illuminated by the bathroom light that you forgot to turn off. With your back facing him, you tilt your head slightly and reach behind, tapping the edge of the dress. He understands, and you feel the tension of the dress releasing as he drags it down the curves of your back. You expect that. What you don't expect is the feeling of his warm, scarred lips on your shoulder, lining the length of it with sensual kisses. You hum and close your eyes, reveling in the sensation.

"Ohhhh," you breathe, the smile evident in your voice. "I can tell you missed me."

Oz's mouth opens slightly, his mouth suckling at the nape of your neck as he slides the straps down your arms.

"You already hard, Oz?"

You bump your ass against his groin, against the bulge that meets your cheeks, and give a little wiggle, just enough to make it twitch in his slacks. He reaches down to palm himself through the fabric.

The kisses cease for a moment. He chuckles once against your skin. "Gettin' there, sweetheart. You think I wouldn't be? C'mon."

The dress pools at your waist and you bend, shimmying it down the rest of the way. You turn then, pressing your bare breasts against his white dress shirt. Your hands slip underneath the suspenders, stroking along his chest a few times, toying with them before you slide them off his round shoulders. You reach between your bodies, sliding the length of your fingers over him, over his stiffening cock. The need builds in your gut, and before you have time to think, you're doing something that you didn't do at Apex.

You're kissing him. Passionately. Your mouths are open, tongues tangling with each other needily — needy to taste, to feel, to devour. You feel Oz shift as he slides out of his shoes, and you take that as a cue. Piece by piece, you start undressing him. Though you're doing it with meaning, there's a frenzied sort of hunger in your touch, you can't get to the prize fast enough. First the shirt, then the slacks. Oz steps out of them and one of his large hands comes down to your hip, fingers tightening around the elastic of your lace underwear. He breaks the kiss to yank them down your thighs, and you kick them somewhere across the room.

"Lemme' see that cock again."

You kiss him again, just once, lingering on the taste of him as you repeat his earlier action, pulling his underwear down his legs. With a firm hand on his chest, you push Oz back against the bed. He bounces into it, the mattress giving way under his weight. In nothing but his socks, you marvel at the look of him. Coarse, dark hair covers his body, and that drives you up the wall. "Fuck," you whisper. "Fuck."

His cock stands to attention between his legs, leaking and waiting to be touched. With a satisfied smile, you crawl up on the bed next to him, your hands snaking over his large shoulders and arms. You kiss the side of his face before moving past it, bringing your head to his dick. Your lips wrap around the tip, laving over the slit and the backside of his cock. Instinctively, his hips buck upwards, forcing more of it into your mouth. You let him do that this time, gripping him hard at the base and moving your hand slowly up and down, bringing his cock to full hardness.

Amidst his grunts and expletives, the sound of you moaning around his fat cock fills the otherwise silent room. It goes on for a few more minutes, before you pull away, mouth slick with pre-cum and laugh, almost teasingly.

You roll over onto his lap and look up at him with a wanton gaze, wiping your bottom lip with your thumb. Your hand moves from your chest, down the length of your stomach. As your hand descends further, so does Oz's gaze. "You wanna fuck her?" You say, spreading your cunt open with one hand, revealing the glistening flesh to him like a plate of dessert. You pump your fingers into her, to see just how wet you are. The result pleases you.

Oz nods heavily.

You revel in the hungry, single-minded look in his eyes. "Yeah? Fucking… say it."

"I wanna' fuck you."

"Say it again." You demand. It's fun.

"I wanna' fuck you, baby…" he says, a little heavier. Louder.

"Yeah. Yeah you do. Move back."

There's a rustle against the comforter as he scoots towards the headboard, leaning up against the plush pillows that cover it. You quickly arrange yourself over his naked lap, facing away from him. With a wiggle of your hips, you dip the top half of your torso towards his legs, giving him a full view of your now throbbing cunt. You hear a low rumble of pleasure in his throat as a single, thick finger comes up to sweep through the slickness. You shudder.

"You… you're so fuckin' wet," Oz rasps.

"Believe me now?"

Just as you're about to straighten up and lower your hips down onto his waiting cock, Oz grips both your thighs, tugging you firmly back towards his mouth. When you feel the heat of his breath against your cunt, you hum and turn your head, just enough to see him in your peripheral.

"Mmm, what do you think you're doing?"

"Returning the favor. It's only fair, huh?"

His tongue separates you, sweeping through your folds with intention. You let out a pleased moan and arch your ass up to his face, making the position easier for him. He grips the globes of your ass and tugs gently, thumbs pulling apart your folds. Oz kisses your cunt repeatedly, tongue darting out taste her in between. After a few more tantalizing kisses, he delves deep into your entrance, lapping up the arousal that drips from it, then presses his face further into your cunt, tongue flicking hungrily. The feeling ignites your entire body, tightening your core with need.

"Fuuuuck," you whine. "That feels so fucking good… you like that? You like eatin' me out?"

He nods against your cunt and pulls back enough to speak. "'Course I do. I've been wantin' to taste you since you put your fingers in my mouth, sweetheart."

An image flashes before your eyes; you'd forgotten you'd done that. But he didn't... clearly. You know he's jacked off to you, the thought is solified in your mind. You picture him, tugging on his cock in the safety of his bedroom — whatever that looks like. Mmm. Your cunt clenches with hunger. Oz nuzzles his nose against you before diving back in, suckling at your wetness like he's starved for it. You can't help but moan now, the sound bouncing off the walls. His cock slides through your tits, leaving a glistening trail between them.

The way he laps at you, swallowing it is so reverent that it makes your face feel hot. His attention is fully on you, and he's doing everything he can to make you orgasm. Your climax gallops towards you, and even though you'd planned on fucking him, you know you have another in you. You arch your body and let out a high pitched moan, letting Oz taste your sweet, leaking nectar as you come. He doubles down, pushing his face into her, swallowing your release.

Just like I did him. You yank yourself off of his mouth with a slick, suctioned sound. You hear him swallow and breathe heavily.

"Look how hard you are," you say, running a single finger along the length of it. You let out a tittering laugh. "It must hurt, huh? Needs to fuck something?"

You don't need a verbal answer, the way his cock twitches tells you everything. His hips buck up into nothing and you smile, knee-walking a little further down his legs until his cockhead slips down over your swollen, sensitive clit, and prods your entrance. You lower your hips down, taking him whole.

"Ohhh. Oh fuck." He groans.

Bouncing your ass on his lap, you find a rhythm quickly and keep it. Oz is hard and hot and hitting you in all the right places. It won't take long for another orgasm to find its way to you. Now, the sound of your ass hitting his lap fills the room.

His hands rest on top of your ass, not pulling you, just touching you, feeling you. There's something to be said about hitting it from the back, it feels less personal, less intimate. But the way Oz kneads your flesh, letting his sizeable hands slide over the flesh of your ass and up your back feels… attached. Like he might like it a little too much.

A symphony of moans leaves your lips as you force his cock into you repeatedly, splitting yourself in half on him. You've been with guys with longer dicks, but the thickness of his has you coming apart a little too quickly.

"Fuck yeah, fuck yeah… oh fuck!" Your head feels heavy and dumb as your cunt flutters around him, your clit throbbing as your second orgasm hits.

Oz feels this and seizes up underneath you, his muscles contracting as the orgasm threatens. With one more weighted bounce of your hips, he comes. It's a heavy load, and drips down his cock with each tantalizing thrust you give him.

"Shit, baby…"

You raise your hips, letting his spent cock slide from your cunt. You pivot on the bed then, facing him, looking into his big, brown eyes. You kiss him again. He kisses you back, a little too hard.

"Didn't need drugs for that one, did I?" You pause, remembering your request. "Did you even bring them?"

Oz swallows. Nods. "In my jacket pocket."

"Mm. You can leave them — I'll use them next time I go clubbing."

He reaches for the back of your neck and pulls you in for another kiss. Despite feeling an uncomfortable twinge of attachment in your core, you let him. You let him and you kiss him back.

Queen of casual fucks — you aren't used to this.

But maybe you could be.

[cervinae-canine]

you know, i really dislike how people have little or no empathy over minor proshippers and/or harass them because it's obvious they didn't exactly choose to be that. unrestricted internet access at a young age can lead to some really disturbing rabbit holes that the child or the parent - are none the wiser to.

i first got exposed to gore and hentai when i was 12 and 11 respectively, and during the time, this was celebrated and encouraged because that was the culture of the spaces i was in (mostly anime and true crime). It takes a village to raise a child, and the parents should not exclusively be to blame; especially when they are illiterate to the online world.

i don't know, i just think people should actually care about minors being in inappropriate circles and put more responsibility on the adults in those circles. saying minor proshippers should've been "normal" and treating them terribly instead of giving them guidance doesn't benefit anyone and all it does is make the minor feel more emboldened to stay. it's just victim-blaming at that point and does more harm than good.

[shsl-panic-at-the-everywhere]

Kuma did not send Sanji to Momorio island just for people to still think he’s cis/het

[timetravelstudies]

GOD I LOVE people and humans beings and such. Yeah❤️

[missmolsa]

Dudee can't believe I finally did something with that old Agata redesign <3

[snapbackslide]

i have. SO MUCH ON MY MIND. so much to say. aaaaaaaa

[batsplat]

Hello! I have a question about tyre pressure penalties. Why do they pop up so often and why now? It didn't seem to be a big topic a few years ago, what changed? The tyres, the bikes, the rules?

Thank you so much for answering

yeah, the rule was introduced in july of 2023, so it is still a very new thing! and... well, it's basically the bikes and the rules that have changed, whereas the tyres haven't changed as much as they need to. here's the tldr on why the rule was initially introduced:

so I'm afraid the actual explanation is going to be a bit longer and more complicated - but here's the most basic summary. if you don't read anything else, hopefully this will give you a general sense of what is going on here:

last few years: more aero, ride height devices, faster bikes = more stress on the tyres, more heat, higher tyre pressures

when you follow another rider, your tyre pressure may rise very quickly; when you're in clean air it'll get lower

too low tyre pressures = tyre may degrade which can be safety issue

too high tyre pressures = bike buckles under you, makes overtaking harder and crashing more likely (also competitive disadvantage)

controversy in 2022: leaked michelin document showing several riders weren't above minimum tyre pressure level. rules just hadn't been enforced -> teams demanded change

proposed rules in 2023 for minimum tyre pressure: seen as very strict + harsh penalties were criticised. the penalties were reduced, rule when introduced was still controversial

particularly heated discussion when it looked like it might influence the title fight, with both pecco + jorge receiving a warning

rules changed for 2024, made somewhat more lenient than initially proposed, but clearly it remains an issue

okay, that's the short version. let's give a little more context. discussion surrounding this proposed rule introduction really got going in 2022, as a result of a controversy surrounding the lack of enforcement of the existing rule. we've had tyre pressure rules since basically forever... it's just that michelin wasn't actually going to the stewards and saying 'hey, you've got to penalise these riders'. the thing is, all teams are chasing low tyre pressures to gain a performance advantage. you're trying to get the tyres to operate in the ideal window of grip level - if you're setting them low, you're attempting to ensure that you won't be screwed over if your rider ends up in a race situation where the tyre pressure suddenly rises outside of that level. see this from 2022:

so, again, to be clear: the existence of tyre pressure regulations isn't new, it just hasn't been enforced. the article I linked to was from a piece after jerez 2022. it's about how a leaked document from michelin confirmed that several riders, most notably pecco and ducati, had essentially run their tyres in an illegal manner but would not be penalised for it. this had been common practise for years and years, but at last other manufacturers were complaining about this state of affairs - which stemmed from a "gentleman's agreement" between the manufacturers and michelin not to disclose any breaches. for obvious reasons, this is not ideal. it's a) unfair from a competitive standpoint, and b) quite possibly dangerous. which also doesn't really make this bit ideal, does it:

and here's the leaked michelin document:

'only 0 laps' slay

so basically it was the manufacturers themselves that had kinda had enough of the status quo and provided the initial impetus for change (ironic, given where the rest of this post is going). the situation also wasn't helped by how michelin had told journalists like a race earlier that infringements were "very rare", which obviously they were not

which, okay. seems straightforward enough, right? teams are chasing performance advantages - but they should be penalised if they're pushing things too far. tough for them if higher tyre pressures are making them slower! the issue is... well, these fluctuating tyre pressures and how often they end up getting very, very high is actually a massive issue in and of itself. it doesn't just make bike performance worse... it makes the racing worse. from another article at the time, that outlines how few overtakes there had been in recent races and how this was a problem riders up and down the grid had talked about:

basically, the idea is that if you end up following another rider too closely, your tyre pressure might suddenly rise to the stratosphere. (obviously, you saw the reverse of that in assen - marc worrying his tyre pressure was too low and having to fall back behind diggia to try and get it up again.) it's described as quite a radical difference, not just in terms of performance (making it harder to overtake), but also in terms of handling... and ultimately safety, because suddenly rising tyre pressures can make crashes more likely. I'll give a bunch of quotes from riders here, but I'll also summarise them afterwards

and to get slightly more technical with this, here's how bastianini described the issue:

so, tldr for the above quotes:

even tiny changes in tyre pressure can make a massive difference in how the bike handles

following a bike closely can cause the tyre pressure to rise enough to make it start buckling under you, making it a lot easier to crash. specifically, it becomes really hard to brake in a controlled manner

it's easier to lock the front when you're braking in these conditions (with a smaller contact patch between tyre and ground), so you're compensating by pushing more when braking, with less grip - that's what makes you more likely to crash

this makes overtaking harder, essentially relying on bikes in front to make a mistake. unless you have a clear speed advantage, you may be stuck in a pattern where you gain but then have to drop back for tyre pressure reasons

it's very hard for the teams to figure out beforehand how to set the tyre pressures, not least because obviously it depends on what sort of race situation their riders will be in

and that's the problem in a nutshell. low tyre pressures are a problem for safety reasons. high tyre pressures are also a problem for safety reasons, plus come with the added downside that they have contributed to making the racing a lot worse in recent times. it's tough for teams to predict how they should set their tyre pressure, but some teams had been deliberately going high risk (low pressure) for a competitive edge - even if their riders weren't always aware of it. and the rule wasn't being enforced

so, let's tackle the obvious question: why has this become such an issue at all specifically in the last few years? I'm going to basically just summarise the linked article for this, though obviously I'd recommend you go read that in full:

the michelin front slick tyre has always been sensitive, though it's gotten particularly bad these last few years

the racing is both faster and closer now than it used to be, so these small margins have become more important

the out-sized aerodynamics have reduced wheelies and led to greater downforce during braking, which means you have more load on the tyre. to explain a bit more (from here): tyres are being pushed down by weight of bike + rider, the engine generates friction, which determines grip - and also heats the tyre up. more heat = more pressure

rear devices: dropping the rear of the bike on straights for reduced wheelies and to "adjust the angle of the downforce aero". so basically you're sticking the tyres to the ground, you're keeping the bikes super low, there's more weight, you're putting a lot of stress on the front to do the front to do the braking and you're braking from higher speeds. all of this raises the temperatures enough to be a problem

slipstreaming: typically a massive part of racing in motogp, as it gives the rider behind an advantage when following. the problem is if you have aero that's creating such a massive vacuum that it's essentially sucking the rider in... creating a lower-than-atmospheric pressure that makes it super hard to brake. because low pressure = good when you're on the throttle and trying to go fast, by extension low pressure = bad when you're attempting to brake and go slow

I hope this is like... more or less clear - we could get more technical with this and I'd advise you to follow the links I've provided, but I'm trying to keep it relatively straightforward. also, obviously I'm extremely not an expert on this either. basically, it's aero and ride height devices and sheer performance that are putting a lot of load on the tyres. increased stress means more tyre pressure fuckery and threatens the integrity of the tyre. high tyre pressures are dangerous. low tyre pressures are also dangerous. not ideal. these michelin tyres also fundamentally were not designed with aero and ride height devices in mind (they've been working on a new front tyre since 2019). there's a few different reasons why michelin hadn't been able to roll out more suitable tyres, including a) covid-caused delays, b) the reluctance of riders to actually test new tyres (preventing enough data from being collected), and c) the reluctance of motogp to force the issue by having enough testing and bullying riders into using the tyres. all this has meant that now, in 2024, we still don't have a front tyre that's really suitable to the actual bikes we have

so, what to do? now, obviously *casey stoner voice* maybe you should simply ban literally all this shit. strip off every single wing, chuck out everything that even looks like it might be applying for 'device' status, take a hammer to anything that wasn't on these bikes twenty years ago. also, just slow the bikes down! while michelin isn't responsible for most of this and being a tyre supplier in a motorsport is a notoriously thankless job, they are the primary reason why everyone is smashing lap records left right and centre this year. get rid of all of it. racing was better twenty years ago. return to the glory days, bring back the real sport *end casey stoner voice*

given they're not going to change the tech regulations overnight - and the proposed next ruleset (while far from perfect) does include changes that theoretically should help address this problem - it was felt like a more immediate change was needed. so over the course of 2022, there were more and more discussions about how you'd more firmly clamp down on teams playing fast and loose with the existing tyre pressure rules. initially, the new rules for tyre pressures and how strongly they'd be penalised were supposed to be introduced pretty early in 2023, with the introduction of a unified monitoring system that ensured these teams didn't like... just pretend their own problematic numbers were down to their inability to measure their own numbers

these proposals were met with massive backlash - and I think you should be able to guess why. these tyre pressure rules are about mandating a minimum level... but a lot of this post has been about why high tyre pressures are also a massive problem. as we've established, different race situations can also lead to very sudden changes - so if you're setting it higher to begin with, it might end up being so bad you cause a lot of crashes:

the other big complaint was about the harshness of the proposed penalties, which were initially going to be instant disqualification. eventually, once the rule was finally introduced in mid-2023, it was with lighter penalties:

another quirk was that, initially, it was checked through randomised post-race inspections. this is because they didn't want to just rely on the new system they'd installed in the bikes, but also wanted to manually check afterwards - which they didn't have the capacity yet to do on all the bikes. even with this change, the rule wasn't exactly universally popular. one complaint, expressed here by zarco, was with the idea that low front tyre pressures even are as dangerous as they're being portrayed as:

and again, the argument that this is bad for racing:

the more moderate version of this complaint was aired by aleix - the rule itself was fine, but the exact application was too strict:

this situation is the definition of lose-lose-lose. it's bad for riders because they're constantly having to monitor tyre pressures, running the risk of being penalised and also racing in a dangerous manner if their tyres aren't exactly right - plus racing in a dumb manner if they have to adjust how they're conducting their race to what their tyre pressures are doing, for instance by dropping back into the pack to get back to an acceptable level. it's bad for michelin because everybody's constantly complaining about this rule and their tyres - and while this rule they've insisted on doesn't necessarily appear to be the best solution for an imperfect situation... of course they're not the main party to blame for the imperfect situation in the first place. and it's lose for the viewers because, well, it makes the racing processional and at times extremely daft

now, there was obviously plenty more discourse about this, but the controversy really got going again late last year - at the height of the title fight, when both jorge (after thailand) and pecco (after sepang) ended up being slapped with warnings, with a penalty to follow with another infringement. obviously, given how close the title fight was, the idea that it might be decided by something this dumb was appealing to literally nobody. martin was particularly outspoken after sepang about how it was impacting the racing:

it was very visible in the sepang sprint how jorge was adjusting his tactics to this race situation - he just couldn't race normally because of the tyre pressure calculation they'd made not matching to the race situation. on the flip side, bastianini was given a warning after the race for his low tyre pressure... but well, he won that race, and it was obviously worth it for him to low ball it, given the absolute lack of championship implications and how the rules essentially gave him a freebie. which, if this is a safety rule, how is that a reasonable way of regulating it? you're allowed to chew up your tyres in a dangerous manner but just this once, as a treat?

as ever, jorge was backed up in his complaints by aleix:

make engineers less anxious 2k23

also, I do just need to quickly bring in another thing jorge said, because it's still very funny to me

no?? don't do that?? just because pecco also has a warning, that does not mean you can take all the risks you want?? how does that even WORK?? what if pecco plays it sensible and he doesn't get a penalty??

anyway, of course neither of them ended up being penalised - though diggia lost a podium at valencia. with plenty of talk again at valencia, obviously it was a concern going into the next season, especially given the penalties were supposed to be escalated so that a rider would be disqualified at first offence. the organisers ended up changing their mind on this rule last minute - and now we have a mere 16 second time penalty instead. more importantly, the actual threshold was made a little more lenient:

relatively speaking, the situation this year... well, it could be worse. there's been a few penalties here and there, like fabio's in the jerez sprint - which obviously was a complete chaos race where fabio from pee five million on the grid really wouldn't have been expecting to run in clean air. (four other riders were also penalised there.) marc's assen one is particularly memorable, given it included those bizarre moments where marc let other riders ahead of him to get his tyre pressure in an acceptable range. that still wasn't enough and due to (according to marc, anyway) the bastianini contact he ended up just falling afoul of the laps you need within the allowed margins. of course, none of this is ideal. there's a bunch of ways in which it makes racing worse: for safety reasons, by making overtaking harder, by making it harder for riders to adjust to unexpected race situations. there's also not really an easy solution and no party here is 100% blameless. hopefully michelin will at least construct a new tyre that makes all this a little better. hopefully we can one day fire ride height devices into the sun

[indiiglow]

House doesn't wear the white coat because autism