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loveshotzz · 10 months ago

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A sneak peek 🌻

[This snippet takes place after your first night back in Hawkins, the morning after a party that Steve had to take a very drunk you and Robin home from. The morning after some things were said that you don’t remember 😌]

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Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud insight to hide you from its light.

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty, the toe of your sneaker kicking small rocks as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you have a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, and a dimple filled grin cracks wide across his face as he stands up.

“Glad to see you’re alive princess.” He teases, stepping out of his glass case with coveralls that are clean today, not the stained mess they were last night.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle, but there’s no saying no to Robin, you know that.” You laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to react to the sound of your voice.

“Trust me, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dance across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve Harrington emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“I slept through my alarm.”

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light up with obvious amusement.

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of his tank top shines with sweat.

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.”

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” You snort, making him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, stopping just close enough for you to smell how the cedar of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad news,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial up on the speaker in his office.

End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them. You can see the green that hides in his eyes, only shimmering if you look close enough in the sunlight.

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it has your blood pressure returning to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him.

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.” He sighs with a disappointed expression.

“Is this the bad news?”

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck.

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?”

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch.

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath.

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes.

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap this time. A thumb and forefinger find their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his tooth paste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again, turning into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his work bench before adding,

“Do me a favor though and tell Robin she owes me a new pair of sneakers.”

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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dinozarr · 1 year ago

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†⠀❝ FUE MEJOR. ❞ ✶ CHOSO KAMO !

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♱

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ “STREETRACER!CHOSO HEADCANONS.”

★⠀warning y disclaimers — fem!reader. streetracer!au. fluff. smut. lapdog!choso. obsessed. lover boy syndrome. awkward choso. family oriented choso. he loves you so much that he introduced you to his brothers as “his one and only”. (gojo core) pussydrunk! choso. body worshipping. face fucking.

NOTEZ : this is for my lovely girlfriend who i just hit 4 months with on the 20th😫🫶🫶 y/n is based around her. love you mi vida mucho besitos @angelsfae💗🤕

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀who sits comfortably along the front edge of his Black 1970 Chevrolet Nova SS , feet planted firmly along the graveled cement with your body snuggled perfectly within his broad arms as your back rested against his solid chest; small circles dancing along your plump thighs from his calloused hands that held you dearly to him. you two always seemed to stand in that same position every time you went to a track meet, his teammates being annoyed since he’d get distracted by you and would forget to watch the time for their s-race.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀who begged you to be one of their flag girls when the last one quit, just so he could (consensually) slap your ass once you spun on your heels and dropped the flag. it was his favorite thing about having you tag along to his races, aside from your presence alone, of course. each time he won a race and would cross the finish line, he’d do a doughnut around you before jogging to you and spinning you around; giggles and squeals of enlightenment hollering from your lips all the while you cupped his cheeks.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀that hoists you onto the trunk of his car just so you could feed him whatever snack that the gyaru girls were handing out to everyone. your legs would wrap around his waist with his hands resting comfortably against your hips, his finger delving into the smooth flesh of your skin. he loved everything about the position. how close in proximity you two were, you smiling like a bread winning baby while you fed him the sweet treats, his hands roaming your body in a subtle yet endearing way. everything about it was utterly perfect to the man.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀is what most would consider a lap dog (or golden retriever) boyfriend. he may not be a man of many words, but he shows his love through his affection even if it’s very subtle. whether you’re out and about, or at home relaxing with a nice ‘ole horror marathon, he has to be next to you at all times. like even if your legs are laid along his thighs with his hands caressing yours, he will take the initiative to pull you closer until you’re literally sitting between him. his head would rest along your shoulder while his hands wrap around your sides and fiddle with the strings of your shorts.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀that was a socially introverted mess when his brother demanded to meet you. he could barely get a coherent sentence out while you were excitedly introducing yourself to yuuji. the redness that shuttered all over choso’s face when yuuji uttered the words “so you’re the one he swears is his one and only!” was priceless. if you had a phone, it definitely would’ve become your lock screen. that moment indefinitely plays on loop in choso’s head, and your constant hysteria and laughter about it does not help his case one bit.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀even though putting you and yuuji together was his biggest mistake, he loved nothing more than “family outings” with the two of you where yuuji would treat you like a sister. the only reason choso was so hesitant when introducing you two was because of how similar you were. and he was frightened by the fact that two positives could possibly make a negative and you wouldn’t get along. yet, the moment he watched you two pick out matching bracelets, he knew you truly were his one and only, and he was going to make it his mission to marry you some day.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀absolutely loves fucking you on the hood of his precious Nova. he loves watching as you desperately attempt to claw at anything and everything that surrounded you to help push you through the immense amount of pleasure that coursed your body. his hand were always either gripping your plump thighs, making sure your legs were spread just enough that he could watch as a rim of cum formed at the base of his dick anytime he thrusted out of you. or, they were firmly holding your sides with his hips colliding with yours at a star-seeing pace.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀that would flip you two over so he was laying back down on his hood, urging you to sit on his face with your ass getting a direct view of the nightly Tokyo skyline. you were always cautious no matter how many times he begged you, scared to hurt him since there was metal beneath his head. however, he made sure to let you know that even if he suffocated, he didn’t care, because at least he’d died doing what he loved most. (eating you out)

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀loved pinning your knees to your shoulders and pressing a hand sternly against your lower abdomen, feeling just how deep his veiny dick pumped into your womb. your tight walls clenched around him so dearly he himself could swear he saw stars each time he thrusted into you. the cum that would leak from your dripping cunt lathered his bed in juices, your tears that were from the pleasure causing you to apologize for the mess. choso never cared though, he’d continue to pound into you just so he could make even more of a mess.

NOTEZ : second post to my streetracer!au. and again, any other ones i make for jjk characters will be within the same universe as this one, and my gojo one, so be advised. and, enjoy, ofc!

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automundoarg · 7 days ago

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Chevrolet presentó sus novedades: Desde la Silverado hasta Blazer EV

Chevrolet Argentina lanzó oficialmente cinco nuevos modelos que se suman a su catálogo local, durante un evento exclusivo en La Rural. Con un enfoque hacia la innovación y la tecnología, la marca se anticipa así a la gran celebración de 2025 por su centenario en el país con una serie de vehículos que incluyen desde pick-ups potentes hasta el esperado SUV eléctrico Blazer EV. “Estamos realizando…

#Chevrolet Blazer EV #Chevrolet S10 #Chevrolet Silverado #Chevrolet Spin #Chevrolet Trailblazer

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dollykiller · 4 months ago

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Spin me ’round, kiss me in your Chevrolet you found me when I had lost my way 🐇🍦

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thatprettybunny · 2 years ago

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A Little Sleepy

Daydreamed this on a long drive. Enjoy <3

Katsuki's realized he was unfit to drive after he swerved to not hit a sheep crossing the road, but after maybe a second or so of confusion, realized it was a crosswalk. His head spun in every direction it wasn't meant to, and you both were still at least two hours away from your home. God how he craved the sweet release of your bed.

Katsuki was definitely in no position to be driving right now. He'd maybe only gotten eight hours of sleep total in the past four days, and once the clock strikes three, it would make it 6 non-stop hours he'd been driving for.

If he was delirious now, imagine him with the flashing lights of Matsufutsu blaring in his eyes.

The issue was you were in no state to drive either; you laid in the passenger seat with your neck breaking against the seatbelt, heading bobbing up each time Katsuki pressed gas and droll falling down your chin. You were still in your scrubs, and after the 18-hour shift, he suspected you'd be sleeping in the uniform. Besides, since Katsuki has been away for the past two weeks, he knew you were having a hard time sleeping, so God knows how you were still awake at work.

With a heavy brain and heart, he made a judgement call and swung off the slightly devoid highway and into the gated community only ten minutes off. He pulled into the cobblestone driveway, parking alongside the shiny silver chevrolet in the yard.

"Fuck," He hummed under his breath, willing his aching body to get up and out of the car. Slowly, he got out of the car, before opening the passenger door and attempting to wake you.

He shook you hard, but you only stirred, mumbling something sightly incoherent under your breath before spinning in the other direction and dozing off.

With no other clear option in his fuzzy brain, he hoisted you out of the car, stumbling backward as a wave of nausea hit him so hard he felt it in his throat.

He took a heavy breath, placing you to weightlessly stand on the ground until you were conscious enough to do that on your own.

"Where are we babe?" You asked, head pounding from the overuse of caffeine at work. This certainly wasn't your driveway and even worse you couldn't tell your head from your big toe with Katsuki's heavy breathing in your ear.

Perhaps he couldn't hear you, because he never answered you. Instead, he dragged you both over to the doorbell, pressing it a concerning amount of times.

Maybe five minutes passed before the door swung open, Katsuki's mom standing in the doorframe and cussing like a sailor at you both having woken her up.

"Sorry," Katsuki told her, "I don't feel safe driving home now, can we stay the night Ma?"

Ma.

This had to be serious.

She gave you both a look over; you both standing in her doorframe looking like you haven't slept in years. She sighed cursing to herself as she impatiently ushered you both inside and force you two into the kitchen.

You both took a seat, your head collapsing straight onto the smooth granite island before either Bakugo could get a word in.

"Honey? Is everything alright with Katsuki?" Masaru called from at the top of the stairs.

"Yeah, yeah. DO me a favor Love and just make sure Kiki hasn't left a mess in his room, please? They're spending the night." No further response came from the staircase, but Mitsuki didn't miss how her son flinched from the noise.

"So, why do you both look like ass?" Mitsuki asked as she filled the tea kettle with water and placed it on the stove. Katsuki gave her a slightly dazed and shortened version of the story. He hummed and listen to his mother talk about all sorts of things that had happened in the past few days (her attempt at keeping him awake), all while mixing up some herbal tea and a serving them both each a leftover bun she'd had from a grocery run.

Mitsuki lightly shook you awake so you could drink your tea, quickly reaching to catch you before your head slammed into the cup. She patiently feed you the bun and helped you drink your tea. Ignoring your mutters of "healing my ass" and other comments she blamed on the lack of sleep.

When you both finished, Mitsuki grabbed your dishes and went to the sink to wash up.

"You two, go take a shower before you sleep. Honey, make sure Katsuki keeps his hands to himself, Katsuki make sure she actually gets some sleep." She says, watching you both slowly make your way up the stairs.

In the shower, the water is hot and soothing. Katsuki lathers you with soap, as his mom predicted, hands caressing every inch of your body as you lean against him for support.

Once done, you both dry off using the only clean towel that was folded in one of the drawers. Then Katsuki helps dress you up in one of his old boxers and one of his many UA PE shirts. He pulls on another, slightly larger pair of boxers before literally dragging you into bed.

Lucky for him, not only did you leave your phone in the car, but you were downright drowsy. So you feel sleep clutched in Bakugo's arms for the first time in two weeks,

#bakugou fluff #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #mha #cute #fluff #thatprettybunny

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coimbrabertone · 9 days ago

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Martinsville Cooked...Until It Was Cooked

Now, I will go ahead and admit this: I think I'm the polar opposite of a NASCAR boomer when it comes to tracks. I like most of the 1.5s, while I generally find the little bullrings like Bristol and Martinsville to be more demo derby than good racing. That being said...I think the Martinsville cutoff race yesterday delivered.

At least until the playoff shenanigans soured the end of the race.

One step back though, because let me set the stage for all this first.

I missed stage one of the race, ironically enough - I needed a bit of a break from racing after the Brazilian Grand Prix went from a chaotic wet race to the worst guy in the sport running away with it - but when I tuned in early on in stage two, it was already looking surprisingly good.

Chase Elliott was leading off strategy, Byron was gaining on him, but then behind them it was a pair of Fords battling with Brad Keselowski ahead of Ryan Blaney. Now, the way things were going, Byron could point his way into the championship four, as could Christopher Bell in the #20 Toyota, but...

Chase Elliott in the #9 Hendrick Chevrolet, Kyle Larson in the #5 Hendrick Chevrolet, and Ryan Blaney in the #12 Penske Ford were all heading towards a must-win scenario.

Thus, we had two Hendrick teammates battling and potentially knocking each other out of the playoffs, while behind, a pair of Fords were reeling them in.

Brad Keselowski was out of the playoffs, but he was racing for pride. He wanted to win at Martinsville.

Ryan Blaney, however, won at Martinsville the previous year to advance to Phoenix and won the championship that way.

Then Byron gets ahead of Elliott.

But...a caution comes out for Burton spinning, and it immediately breeds another when Truex also goes around. For a moment, I thought "ah crap we're getting into the short track nonsense part of the race" but no, not quite...instead, it led to a crucial strategic choice.

Byron and Elliott both pit off the Truex caution, Blaney and Keselowski stay out, along with Hamlin and Bell who are also sniffing the chance to advance.

And to add insult to injury, Elliott has a slow stop and drops to the back of the fresh tyre cars.

Keselowski gets out ahead and manages to win the second stage ahead of Blaney, Hamlin, Larson, Byron, and Bell.

This stage makes it official that Blaney and Elliott are must-wins, and Hamlin is more or less in the same boat. With non-playoff car Keselowski in the lead, as they run:

Logano is locked in from his win at Vegas.

Reddick is locked in from his win at Homestead.

Byron is 15 points above the cutoff line.

Larson is 6 points above.

Bell is 6 points below but can win tiebreakers off of previous results.

Hamlin is 17 below.

Ryan Blaney must win to advance.

Chase Elliott must win to advance.

Bell, however, can clinch a spot no matter what so long as he finishes 13th or above, therefore, Byron and Larson are in a points battle for the fourth and final spot. A points battle that becomes a moot point if any one of Hamlin, Blaney, or Elliott win.

Stage three is quite literally 200 laps long, so it turns into a bit of a lull for awhile as cars need to knock off laps, but then...Ryan Blaney begins his charge.

He overtakes Larson, goes hunting down Byron.

Catches Byron as William is lapping Shane Van Gisbergen, so Ryan Blaney bumps SVG up and into Byron, slipping underneath the both of them to take position. This is the kind of move that they say Martinsville is all about, bumping, banging, ruthless, but smart. All three cars continue.

Blaney again catches up to Keselowski but the #6 is a wily old fox and makes it hard to pass.

Fast forward to 117 to go, and it looks an awful lot like stage two; Elliott is leading after an earlier pitstop gave him the undercut, Byron is faster and is hunting him down, while Keselowski and Blaney in the Fords are also entering the picture.

A spin by Carson Hocevar gives all of them the chance to pit.

Meanwhile, Byron, Larson, Ryan Preece, and Austin Cindric stay out, making a play for track position.

The green flag comes out, Larson overtakes Byron, Cindric overtakes Preece, and the yellow comes out again as Kyle Busch lost a wheel on the restart. Byron is angry because he feels they shouldn't have restarted at all given a car lost a wheel, but NASCAR declares that Larson is the leader.

And in the following stint, things start to fall apart for Byron.

Elliott gets him off the restart, Blaney follows not long after, and even the likes of Cindric and Hamlin start pressuring him.

So at this point, it's Larson, Elliott, and Blaney the top three and each of them are in must-win scenarios given how Byron is running and how Bell has a points advantage.

Elliott forces his way inside of Larson to take the lead with 24 to go and completes the pass in turn one, keeping Larson out wide as Blaney grabs the draft and tries to follow him through.

Larson gets down in front of Blaney before turn three, but Larson is maybe a foot higher up in the lane than Blaney is, and that's all Ryan needs as he bumps Larson up in just the right way and then barges through to go side-by-side onto the start-finish straight, completing the pass in turn one.

Larson tries to bump Blaney up and retake the position, but Blaney keeps enough traction in the upper groove to come out ahead onto the backstretch. Now, he starts reeling in Elliott.

Ten laps later, Blaney sends it up the inside in turn three, gets a nose ahead through four, and comes onto the start-finish straight ahead of Elliott to take the lead with fourteen laps to go. Blaney restarted behind Cindric and Hamlin, overtook them both, overtook Byron, and charged through Larson and Elliott as well.

He literally moved through 3/4ths of Hendrick Motorsports to move into the lead. A hell of a drive.

Unfortunately...this is where the shitshow began.

Hamlin and Cindric moved ahead of the struggling Byron as well by this point, so Byron is sixth, the worst position he can be in and still advance. Ross Chastain, Austin Dillon, and Brad Keselowski are all behind Byron and are all faster.

Now, William Byron drives for Chevy, as do Chastain and Dillon.

Joey Logano, locked into the playoffs already, is a Ford driver.

Tyler Reddick, also locked in, drives for Toyota.

Ryan Blaney, about to win his way in, is in a Ford.

Larson and Elliott are out of it with Blaney winning and pulling ahead, while Christopher Bell with the points advantage is in 19th in a Toyota. Byron needs to finish 13 places ahead of Bell to advance, and 6 is exactly 13 ahead of 19.

If Chastain or Dillon pass their fellow Chevrolet, they'd be knocking their manufacturer out of the final four.

So instead, Dillon plants himself on the bottom, Chastain on the top, and they effectively block for Byron, keeping him in sixth place regardless of how slow he is.

So, Chevy is making sure that Byron doesn't lose points.

Now, what does Toyota do?

Well, Bubba Wallace starts reporting with three to go that he feels like a tyre is going down. He is off the pace, and Bell starts gaining on him, passing him in the final corner of the final lap.

Pause now, because what happens next flips the script.

At this moment, with Bell going around him, does Bubba Wallace really have a tyre going down? Technically speaking, it doesn't even matter, because he doesn't say he for sure has one, just that it feels like he has one. There's no penalty for thinking your car has a problem and driving accordingly.

And from his onboard, he does definitely seem to be struggling, and you can see cars going past him and establishing a gap.

That being said, as far back as ten to go, Bubba's onboard does show his spotter keeping him informed of the points situation between Byron and Bell.

And here's an interesting thing as well: at the start of the final lap, Wallace is forced high as Byron, Dillon, Chastain, Keselowski, and Logano, that whole group of cars, goes underneath him to put a lap on him. So he clearly sees the two Chevys behind Byron protecting him from the pair of Fords behind.

The #20 of Bell, also a lap down, tries to take the opportunity to slip under Wallace as well, however, he has a wobble in the middle of it, loses control, and hits the wall. Bell panics, throttles it, and rides the wall to the finish, crossing the line in 18th place.

This ties things with Byron, thus, Bell advances off the back of a tiebreaker.

The problem here is...you smell that smell? Yeah, that's the stench of bullshit.

You quite literally have two cases of race manipulation to gets drivers into the final four. Byron had two other Chevrolets blocking for him in a move which the fanbase has already memed as either Byron's Armada or the Chevy Motorcade - let me know which one you think is funnier in the comments - while with Toyota...

The generous interpretation is that Wallace had a genuine problem, was slow, and his spotter was keeping him informed on Bell just to keep one Toyota from taking out another.

The less generous interpretation is that 23XI informed Wallace that Bell was behind and needed one more point to advance, so they had Wallace fake a problem and deliberately slow down to make sure that Bell got through.

Bell did get through, however, he slipped on the marbles as it happened and wound up in the wall and decided to ride the wall to the finish. This is problematic, as the Martinsville wall ride was explicitly banned after 2022 when Ross Chastain used it to propel himself into the final four.

There is a bit of a distinction, in that Bell was initially attempting the corner instead of full throttling it into the wall, however, the end result is the same as Bell was full throttle against the wall at the end.

And that wall ride, I think, gave NASCAR an easy out as we unpause, because it makes what Christopher Bell did go from dubiously legal to definitely illegal.

You see, without it, you had Chevy definitely doing some race manipulation to keep Byron in the playoffs, while Toyota very likely had race manipulation as well to get Bell into the final four, so this was going to be a very sticky situation as NASCAR would have to figure out how to put an end to these manufacturer games.

Manufacturer games which have already flared up twice this season. First at Daytona, when RCR got pissed off at Parker Retzlaff for pushing Harrison Burton in an attempt to win the race, rather than helping Kyle Busch in another Chevrolet take the win.

Secondly, at Talladega, where Kyle Larson didn't push the Ford of Brad Keselowski to the win, instead allowing the fellow Chevy of Ricky Stenhouse Jr. to take the victory.

These races have decided who goes to the playoffs and who advances in the Round of 12, and now, we've seen two manufacturers manipulating the cutoff race for the final four.

And at least in the case of Chevrolet, we know for sure that there was a coordinated effort to help Byron.

Why? Well, remember Austin Dillon's spotter from Richmond? The guy who yelled "wreck him!" over a monitored radio channel as Dillon took a swipe at Hamlin to win the race? A bit of radio that caused NASCAR to strip Austin Dillon of a playoff berth?

Well, Dillon's spotter, henceforth known as Loose Lips, said the following things over the radio:

LL: "The #24 is two points to the good, if we pass him, he'll be out."

AD: "Does the #1 know the deal?"

LL: "Trying to find him to tell him...Justin, can you tell the crew chief also, clear off."

AD: "Does the #1 crew chief know the deal?"

LL: "Yeah, he should"

Like...Jesus Christ you amateur, watch what you say when you're doing something borderline illegal. You'd think he'd learn his lesson after the whole Richmond thing but evidently not.

So yeah, Chevrolet was definitely helping Byron, and as for Bubba Wallace, his car is currently being torn down by NASCAR. According to Bob Pockrass, the expectation is that there will be some sort of penalty if NASCAR finds nothing wrong with the car.

Oh and, because of how toxic the NASCAR fanbase is, I have to say this part: Bubba Wallace did what his team and his manufacturer expected him to do. The fact that he is black does not make him any more guilty than Austin Dillon or Ross Chastain.

Unfortunately, if Bubba Wallace is found to have helped Bell, I expect he'll receive the blunt of the criticism from a certain subsection of the fanbase. Don't be like them. Wallace is not the problem, Chastain is not the problem, Dillon, as dumb as he and his spotter are, is not the problem either.

Chevrolet wants a Chevy to win the championship, Toyota wants a Toyota to win the championship.

This is an inevitable result of the increasing amount of manufacturer alliances and tiered support.

So yeah, Chevy was stinking up the show, Toyota was probably stinking up the show as well, and that little wall ride by Bell gave NASCAR a way of ruling on the issue without addressing the core issue.

Both Byron and Bell benefitted from cars of the same manufacturer, so you can't punish one without punishing the other, however, Bell is the only one to benefit from a wall ride, therefore, NASCAR sends him to the back of the field based off that, and Byron advances to the final four with none of the manufacturer stuff addressed.

We'll see this week if NASCAR rules on either incident, but I'm not holding out hope.

NASCAR is not going to do anything that might piss off a manufacturer, not when nobody new has entered the sport since 2007.

Anyway, I feel bad for Blaney in all this, because he had this heroic drive to overtake all these other playoff cars and advance to the final four, getting the chance to defend his title. And instead of talking about that, everyone's just talking about this Chevy and Toyota drama.

So of the championship four: Tyler Reddick's team is suing NASCAR, Joey Logano is fifteenth in regular points and only got this far because Bowman was disqualified at the Charlotte roval, and William Byron advanced off the back of all this bullshit.

I really hope Ryan Blaney wins the championship, because anyone else would lead to an unbearable amount of offseason discourse.

#motorsports #racing #nascar #nascar cup #christopher bell #william byron #ross chastain #austin dillon #bubba wallace #Loose Lips the Richard Childress Racing Spotter

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emotionallyattachednerd · 1 year ago

Text

Speed of Light | TP Smokescreen x f!human reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 2200+

Warnings: Smut ( car sex and robot holoform on human ) and mentions about sexuality. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Greetings! First story for Smokescreen. Love the rookie! Sorry for the delay but hope you're all enjoy, and thanks @seasonschange32 for sending in the request. 🥰

☕ Coffee

Racing is like an addiction for you, the speed and the vibrations always made your head spin, in the most delightful way possible. Sometimes you do get carried away but you lived through what you loved doing, and you always were more than happy to let your friends tag along to find something to race against. You owned a Chevrolet corvette thanks to your parents high cash earning jobs. You could have anything and never worry about money. It's nice.

It was late in the evening as you drove around, no doubt running a red light or two, but it truly got your heart beating. You and your friends laugh, enjoying yourselves on that evening together.

You're forced to stop at the next set of lights and you were very glad you did, because right beside you was the most beautiful nissan fairlady race car that takes your breath away, even your friends hover over through gazing eyes. That wasn't all though, the guy driving was fucking cute!

"Hey hot stuff!" You suddenly yell making your friends react through giggles and squeals. The guy looks at you surprised, cute blue eyes darting between you and your friends with his beach blonde hair you just want to run your hands through.

"Um...hi?" What a charming baby voice he has! You bit your lips through a lusty smile.

"Wanna race?" You ask through a silky purr before revving up your car.

Smokescreen was out enjoying a drive, exploring more of this planet's cities and understanding the humans behaviour better. These females seem riled up for some reason, he isn't sure, but he knows that lusty stare you're giving him all too well.

"Sure." He answers through a smile. "Two laps around the city right back here."

"And the prize?" One of your friends asks from the passenger seats. "There has to be a prize! Winner takes all!" You smirk and look back at the guy.

"Well...young man, if you win, you can have all of me." She suddenly moves her hand under her skirt and tugs her panties off, hanging them on her finger as she hangs it out the window. Your friends are going wild! The guy seems quite stunned before you flick it into his open window for him to have.

"And if you win?" Smokescreen really wasn't sure what to expect, but not this, though he can't help but wonder just where this might go. After all, he was out and about learning about human behaviour.

"Same thing." You finish, right before the light goes green and you hit the gas, speeding off through the race with him already catching up behind you.

This is going to be so much fun!

You're already a skilled driver so you weren't afraid as you sped through the city and swerved in and out between other drivers, the sound of their echoing horns only made you grin before you make it out of the outskirts of the city onto the long strip road and pushing forward with speed.

"Shit! He's catching up!" One of your friends yelps through her own buzz of adrenaline. Not that it matters much to you, as you were just as excited to get some action from the guy, but you did want to impress him with your driving skills first. It's a win win.

Looking in your mirror you see he is indeed right on your tail, though it looks like he's holding back, almost like he's admiring your rear which makes you smirk. He's teasing you.

Suddenly, he pulls up beside your car, matching your speed, looking over at you casually and gives you a wink before getting ahead of you. On the second lap you attempt to overtake, but the guy was just too damn good. Cute and skilled. You feel you've hit the jackpot!

As good as the race was, he's declared the winner before you both pull up on another. You and your friends were emotionally going wild. What a night this is turning out to be.

"Good race, but it seems I won. So, does that mean I get to have you?" The way he tilts his head is fucking gorgouse.

It's decided. You let your friend drive as you trust her with your car. You'll see them all tomorrow anyway. They make suggestive comments and erupt in giggles as you get out of your car and slide around to the passenger side, gently gliding your hand across the polished hood. You feel the car vibrate under your touches, as if responding to your actions.

Settling yourself in his car you can't help but let out a quiet purr as the new car smell hits your senses, along with the cleaness and the silence within as he drives off with you. Not bad at all.

"You got a name?" He asks you through a polite tone.

"Y/N. How about you stud?"

"Just ah...call me Smoke."

"Interesting nickname, Smoke." Not his real name, you think to yourself, least this is what you're convinced. "So, wanna get this party started?" Your hands move over your skirt and tuck up the hem over your upper thighs. Your panties you had tossed in before lay on his dashboard, and you're madly eager for a good orgasm.

"Sure! I know somewhere private."

Smokescreen keeps it together. Not the kind of evening he had planned but he was all charged up because of you. He keeps his holoform in a stronghold, using his solid-light projector to the max without limitation. Sure, I uses more energy, but nothing he couldn't handle. He wants to feel you through his holoform, to experience what it's like to interface with a human and enjoy himself, while giving you the kind of party you crave.

Once in a good spot, Smokescreen's holoform adjusts his seat to allow more room, and you understand the meaning before climbing across to setting yourself in his lap.

"Hey stud." You hum softly, feeling his shoulders under your hands and letting them linger as you take in everything.

"Hi." He says through a nervous smile with a handsome baby face.

"You don't do this often, do you?" You sort of picked this up already.

Smokescreen gives a small innocent shrug. "Am I that obvious?"

"A little, but it's fine. I'll take good care of you." With that said, you lean forward and kiss him, feeling him stiffen slightly before relaxing back down quickly. Good, at least he's relaxing under your touches.

You coil your tongue with his, tasting a new sweetness that makes you deepen the kiss between you two, savouring the tasty treat. He leans into the kiss more slowly, feeling his hands slowly roam up against your waist and over your hips, fingers gently dragging into the thin fabric of your dress.

Skillfully, you slide your hand down between your both and towards the zipper of his jeans, feeling around for only a few moments before you manage to drag the zipper down, gently digging under the waistband of his boxers and moving out his semi-hard cock.

For a young looking man, he was quite a remarkable size you think to yourself. Smiling smugly at him you then proceed to stroke his cock and get him more hard for you.

Your pussy is throbbing to be filled. All the adrenaline still bubbles in your from the racing, and you're eager to ride the stud into an oblivion.

While stroking his cock under your warm hand you can't help but watch his face, studying his reactions. He's liking it, you know this, but something was off, so you decided to ask. "Are you a virgin?"

"No!" His answer was quick, almost offended, but this quickly disappears from his face. "I-I mean...well, sort of?" He's never been with a human before, so does that count?

"Sort of?" You're a bit confused. "Well, it's a yes or no question?"

Smokescreen needed a way out from the awkward talk and hopefully still goes along with this. "I mean I've done it before, just not..."

Your brows are furrowed before you raise them a little. "Wait, are you gay?"

He's not familiar with this term, so he does a quick search on the world wide web. He finds it without trouble. Oh.... "Um, yeah." It seems the only thing to get her to understand.

"Oh, so you've never been with a woman." You declare, which you do find interesting, "Do you just want to feel like a woman?" You can't help yourself, since you've never fucked someone who was gay, or confused by whatever they were feeling.

"Yeah, that's it." Smokescreen feels himself grow even more warm and holds back a moan. "I just want to feel you."

The fact he says 'you' and not just anyone got you feeling warm and bubbly inside, or maybe you are just horny and desperate to fuck. Whatever it was, you liked it, and you craved more from him.

Once hardened more under your pumping hand you then position yourself over, teasing yourself against his throbbing tip before sinking down on him. His cock stretches you like nothing else before, so thick and pulsing, sending electric pulses against your channel and through your body.

"Holy fuck." You whisper between soft heated pants against his gaping lips.

Smokescreen has never felt something so tight before wrapped around him. Sure, different with the tangible holoform, but he feels it all, the arousal and pleasure building rapidly through him, and you all the same.

"Primus." He says through a whisper that catches in your ears.

"Primus?" You question, confused by what he said.

"Oh...nothing. It's fine, this is good, really good." He tries to brush it off.

"You're a strange one." You can't help but smirk softly through a light moan. "But lucky for you, I like strange things."

Before he could say something back, you start to ride him, making him let out a stuttered moan and feel his hands gripping into your hips, your own resting against his shoulders for support.

You slowly move yourself, grinding down into his lap with skillful movements, slowly swaying your hips on him as you let out gentle moans against his neck, tongue darting out to slide it against his skin. There was no musky man smell or sweat much to your surprise, guess he's just a very clean guy, with an impressive thick cock.

"I've got to say stud, you're an interesting man." You make small talk while riding him, clenching around him as you purposely grind your pussy down hard, stimulating your clit.

"Oh...thank you." Smokescreen smirks through his moans before the car lets out a loud rev. "Sorry! Foot on pedal..." A lie. He just slipped a little and reacted without his holoform.

"It's alright, I liked it. Do it again." You pant through a lascivious smile. The vibrations of the car feels nice rocking through your body.

He seems to like hearing this due to his childish smile. "You've got it."

With your rocking motions and the vibrations of the car, both your arousals continue to boil and grow. Your heart is hammering wildly, head spinning, both the speed of racing and sex all froths through you completely erupting louder mewls from your plump lips.

Smokescreen can feel this won't be a lasting moment as he can already feel himself about to overload. His focus is on you, but also on himself, not wanting to slip up again and freak you out even further.

"Oh fuck, fuck!" You curse out through the pleasurable joy, clit stimulated and clenching harder on him, feeling every pulse and twitch through your soaked depths. "Come on stud, cum with me, let us ride this orgasm together."

It's like he is given the command, or permission, because he suddenly grabs hold of you tightly, burying his face against your collarbone and lets out a startled groan as he erupts his hot seed in you.

It's oddly hot, but damn it feels good. You don't hold back as you suddenly fall apart as goosebumps erupt through you, right before cumming on him, hips slowing down to a stop and keep yourself embedded on him, savouring every moment of it.

Smokescreen vents heavily as you collapse onto his chest while still embedded on his cock as you both let yourselves cool off for a moment. You move your hands up to wrap around his neck, curling your fingers into his blonde hair and leaning closer to give him a heated kiss.

"Wild stud indeed. Would you mind giving this lady a ride home?"

"Only if you promise me more races in the future." He wants to see more of you and you can't help but giggle through your diminishing arousal.

"Racing with the wild stud? Definitely."

He smiles like an excited kid. "Awesome. Want your panties back?"

"You keep them, as a reminder of the first woman to fuck you."

Smokescreen is going to remember you indeed, as the first human he had lots of fun with. Perhaps there is plenty of fun on earth with the humans, though he does find you quite a lot of fun all for himself. He looks forward to your next race.

#transformers #prime #smokescreen #valveplug #smokescreen x reader #reader insert #tf #street racing #smut #fanfiction #writing #sugarrusheag

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itoshi-s · 2 years ago

Note

*escapes from jail* street racer! rin taking you in the back seat of his car with your legs thrown over his shoulders until the expensive leather is soaked with the slick of filthy, post-race frenzy sex

RIVER !!!! U CANT KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS :((((((((((((((((((( the way i am sooo dizzy thinkin abt this i hope it throws u back into the street racer thot hours bc thats what u deserve for riling me up !!!!!!! >___<

street racer! rin who's well known not only for his smooth drifting and steel concentration on the roads, but also for his foul mouth and short fuse. his temper isn't something to be toyed with - but sometimes, these newbies just don't know about it (which seems impossible, given his authority among the streets that makes everyone shudder) or are simply dumb, with the way they want to try and rile him up.

street racer! rin, who already has the worst frown etched into his sharp features, doors of his metallic navy chevrolet courvette slamming as he get out of the drivers seat. he's tall n strapping as he approaches the other car, a glitter to his turquoise eyes and perspiration gleaming along the back of his neck. there's a crazed look in his eyes, adrenaline steaming off him in waves as he nearly hauls the other guy out of the vehicle. "that's how you want to fucking play? huh? fuck right off. son of a bitch." he snarls, slams the guy (who, by the way, looks no older than nineteen - but the ravenette doesn't seem to care) against the side of the car and gets ready to swing.

street racer! rin, who does many not necessarily favorable things - but when he wants his dopamine rush, he does it fair. he knows that his way of getting his fill is dangerous enough - and that there's a pair of open, warm arms and lovesick eyes waiting for him back in his roppongi penthouse - or, if he gets lucky, standing by the finish line and looking out for him to reach it first. that's why no matter how good it feels, he makes sure to come back to you in one place. and no fucking dipshit trying to play dirty, purposely getting way too close to grazing the rear of his sportscar and trying to leave it tumbling to the side, will get away for stopping him.

street racer! rin, who lands the first punch that's enough to leave the kid stumbling to the side, blood splattering onto the concrete, but the white noise dies down as soon as he feels sharp nails digging into his bicep - a familiar voice reaching his ears. he whips around, frenzied eyes searching for yours, and it's almost visible, the way his shoulders slump and broad frame relaxes upon the sight of you. "stop it," you breathe, heat still red on your cheeks as you drag him away, instead grabbing his face to pull him down for a messy, needy kiss. he nearly groans against your mouth, hands firmly resting on your ass to pull your frame as close to his as it can physically get. "y'won. made me proud, as always." you whisper, hot against his parted lips - and the cold sweat that crashes down his body is better than anything he's ever felt.

street racer! rin, who has you folded in half in his backseat barely fifteen minutes later. deep grunts bounce off the fogged up windows, air thick with lust and the leather squeaks as your clammy skin drags along it. his pace is relentless, hips rutting up into yours so heavily it makes your head spin and thighs burn from the way he has you spread so nicely - hamstrings pressed flush against his chest, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other pushing your ass higher up, creating an angle that makes you cry. "mhm- just like that. fuck." it's low and guttural, searing on your skin as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your jaw, already bruised with his need and affection. "my good luck charm. knew you'd be there." he snaps his hips against yours, tilts his pelvis so that his cock buries so deep in your cunt, you almost feel him in your guts. you whimper and give him a teary eyed look as well as an urgent nod, at loss of words from the rough treatment he gives. "couldn't pass up on seein' me like that. on being a sleeve f'me. right?" your mouth falls agape in a muffled sob, eyes rolling backwards and back arching as the head of his cock nudges your cervix. unsatisfied with the lack of verbal answer, he grabs at your jaw, fingers digging into the bone, and looks at you - "right?" he repeats, but this time, there's a desperation to his baritone that pulls the trigger and leaves you babbling. yes, rinnie, all - all f'you, baby. wanted t'see you so bad, need you so much.

street racer! rin who is absolutely smitten with you - his prettiest arm candy, the most passionate lover, and future wife that he'd be ready to drop this fucking racing nonsense for, if you ever did as little as ask. rin, who plows you into the seats for hours more, leaves the leather soaked through with your filth - and knows that you're the only thing that gets him higher than all of this.

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