#Full Body Workout With Wall Exercises | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

allywthsr · 9 months ago

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24hrs with Lando | (l.norris)

summary: you also follow Lando‘s daily routine in the new quadrant video

wordcount: 1.8k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of smut

notes: requested! Kinda rushed and don’t like it as much as I hoped I would :/

requests are closed!

When the doorbell rang, Lando jumped up from the couch and opened the door, today was going to be hard, but fun, you knew it. You followed Lando and welcomed Ethan and Morgan to your Monaco home, after a quick hug you also said hello to the camera, it wasn’t unusual for you to be in front of the camera, and being Lando Norris’ girlfriend comes with that. Because you were a fan favorite, they wanted you to join him for the next a day in the life video, and who were you to deny their wishes?

The day started with showing the boys and the crew around your apartment, Morgan breaking the case of Lando’s trophy and the next thing was breakfast.

The overnight oats weren’t on your normal breakfast schedule, you were more of a toast person, but for the sake of the video you ate it, making the same jokes as Ethan, saying you were full after a few bites. You stood next to Lando and offered him the rest of yours, he actually kind of liked what he was eating, and wasting food wasn’t good, so he happily ate the rest of yours.

“Yo mate, wanna eat mine too? I only spit slightly in it.“

“Nah, I’m good, I don’t care about Y/N’s spit, but I don’t want to eat yours.“

“I bet you don’t care about her spit, probably eating different things too.“

Lando laughed high-pitched and you blushed, thinking about this morning where he went down on you, making you moan and yanking on his hair until you two really had to get up.

The kitchen was filled with laughter and jokes until it was time for the workout, this was something you were used to, often joining Lando for a workout, but your own workout. You and Jon had created a workout specifically made for you, you weren’t training your neck, but a full-body workout was almost on the daily agenda.

You all went to the small home gym, and Lando looked for the resistance bands.

“They might be in our bedroom.“

“How’ve the workout bands made it to the bedroom?“, Ethan asked while Lando went and grabbed them off his bedside table, again, you blushed and turned around, so you faced the wall, laughing quietly. While the boys gasped you remembered the night before, you two forgot your handcuffs at the last hotel you were in and forgot to get new ones, so yesterday Lando wanted to tie your hands up, he couldn’t think of something else to use but the workout bands, quickly grabbing them from the gym and he could finally tie your hands to the headboard. Clearly forgetting to put them back in the morning.

When Lando came back and found the three of you giggling, well, Ethan and Morgan and you stood against the wall blushing, he knew what the topic was, a slight red tone covered his cheeks as well, he wasn’t ashamed of what people would think, but he knew his friends wouldn’t let him live that down easily.

“I’m not going to comment on that“, Lando grinned and put an arm around your shoulder while turning you back around.

The workout wasn’t as fun as the breakfast was, Lando showed the exercise before the three of you repeated it, and you did work out, but Lando’s workout was harder and with more weight than yours was, lets not even begin with the neck training, you saw Lando suffering every day, but doing it yourself was probably the hardest thing ever. You’ve tried it before, as a joke, Jon barely pulled on your neck, to not hurt it, but you almost cried when he did, and he barely used any weight.

You trusted Lando, and he knew to use barely any weight at all, he slightly pulled the thing on your head and you were already struggling to hold your head straight. With a pout, you looked at Lando and he knew that was your sign to stop, he removed the device from your head and kissed your forehead, to make up for causing you pain.

Morgan commented this with a quiet ‘Aww’, which you smiled away, you weren’t hiding the PDA in front of the camera, but you also didn’t shove it in anyone's face, which was why it always made you a little uncomfortable. You knew this would be all over Tumblr, TikTok, and Reddit when the video came out, you could already hear the comments, not that they would be bad, but the fangirls would freak out, good and bad.

The boys laughed while doing the neck workout, you also couldn’t keep your laugh in, it looked funny, but you weren’t better. The comments from the boys were the funniest too, especially when Ethan made that comment about being pulled by Lando into his crotch when Morgan said he would let go, you let out a laugh, “Y/N has let go before, I know that“, with a gasp, you hit him lightly on the shoulder.

When Lando did it, it was no surprise that he looked brilliant while doing it, you were used to pulling on the rope, Jon wasn’t always around and you tried it once, and weren’t too bad at it, so it was a normal thing for you. You had to almost put your whole body to work to challenge his neck, but you did it perfectly in his eyes.

Ethan and Morgan were surprised by how much power you could put in when doing that, Lando couldn’t be prouder of you, thanking you silently with a squeeze of his arms when you were done.

Next was the protein shake, this also wasn’t something new for you, Jon always provided a shake for you too, and you were happy that he included you like that, ordering you pre-made food when you tell him, you don’t have time to cook a meal.

After the shake, it was time for the cryotherapy, you’ve never done that before, and weren’t too opposed to trying it out either. You knew Lando wasn’t the biggest fan of it, and it wasn’t a normal coldness, it was fucking freezing. The cryotherapy wasn’t too far away from your apartment, so you walked there, getting some steps in and breathing some fresh air, everyone joked about it, but you knew they all would be shaking in a few minutes.

Because you didn’t want to stand there in your lingerie, you changed into a bathing suit and met with the guys in front of the door to the frozen hell, you were given gloves, masks, and the cute headbands, to keep the most important parts of the body somewhat warm. You did check out Lando in his boxers, and you loved the Calvin Kleins on him, the fabric did little to hide what he was trying to cover up, and that got you drooling, not only in your mouth, but you just hoped you couldn’t freeze from the inside.

Together with the boys you got in the cabin and looked at Lando with big eyes, you knew it would be cold, but you didn’t know it would be THAT cold.

When Lando said his mustache is frozen you couldn’t contain but make a little side comment: “Just shave it off then.“ He couldn’t believe you said that, he was proud of his beard and you knew it, you still needed to get used to it.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest to cover your hard nipples a little, right when you did, Lando mentioned how fragile his nipples felt, and the only thing you could do was nod. Yours hurt a lot, not only did they feel like they would fall off any second, but you felt serious pain in them. You prayed the three minutes would go over fast because you couldn’t stay in here longer, you tried to stay near Lando, to get some body heat off of him, but he was as cold as you were. He quickly knew what you were trying to do, so he pressed your chest to his’ and stroked your arms to create some warmth.

“It’s unfair, ginge, they have each other to keep warm, we need to cuddle too.“

Morgan pushed Ethan with a disgusted look away from him and they both laughed. When you pushed yourself away from Lando because it was time to leave, you accidentally touched his nipple, Lando commented: ”Ouch, Y/N, my nipple,“ which made you all burst out in laughter. You were extremely happy when you went through the door and finally felt the warmth of the room, it was way warmer than you thought before, thanks to the cold chamber.

Next was lunch, you were somewhat used to these meals, they weren’t a delicacy, but good enough to eat them, todays chicken teriyaki looked delicious, despite Morgan and Ethan saying otherwise. You and Lando dug into it, quietly rolling your eyes at the boys saying how disgusting it was, you‘d like to have a pizza now too, but that wasn’t on Lando’s meal plan, tho you might order some takeout later when you were sitting in front of the tv, but they didn’t need to know that. You chatted while eating and played some Jenga afterward, you were impressed at how high you were able to build the tower.

The last thing for the video was the simulator, which also wasn’t a new thing for you, especially at the beginning of your relationship, you often sat in the simulator and drove around the different tracks. It was a lot of giggles and snarky comments from Lando, but it was so much fun, you tried your best and almost ended up on top, but around the last corner you slipped off track and straight into the wall. But Lando kissed it better, the two boys made kissing sounds when he pressed some on your forehead, and you blushed again.

The rest of the day couldn’t be filmed because Lando had meetings with McLaren, and no one was allowed to be near him, in case someone could overhear some important things about the car and share it with the world. Lando trusted the boys, but it would be unfair for them to sit around in the flat and do nothing, so Lando send them on a helicopter ride.

In between meetings, Lando had his midday snacks, you stopped following his day because you had your own stuff to do, but after Lando finished all of his stuff, you two ordered some pizza to enjoy in front of the TV.

taglist: @millinorrizz @jamieeboulos @loxbbg @noneofyourfbusinessworld @myownwritings

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #lando #Quadrant

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hypnagogics · 4 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/plutolovesyou/755080548722081793/do-you-think-ellie-would-be-more-a-strap?source=share

this with abby PLZZ

ellie version. dina version. your wish is my command ♡ smutty yap ahead! ++ lil bonus scenario under the cut: just like before, abby loves it all. she loves you and your body, and making you see stars any and every way she can. ima gloss over the other ways because i'd rather write full fics about em ;) but one method rises above the others, in my opinion. i think abby would be a fiend for fingering.

i think she'd be quite visual, and what gives her a better view than this—stuffing her thick fingers inside your pussy, watching you fall apart on nothing more than a few of her digits working diligently to bring you a world of pleasure. she'd love watching the fluids leak out of you and soak her hand, occasionally pulling her fingers free to stretch them apart, and admire the shiny webs of slick that have been created. and we simply can't forget the praises that would fall from her lips the whole time, when she's not completely hypnotized that is.

"look at that...takin' me so well, so well, baby." she's sitting there in awe at the way you're swallowing her up so perfectly, the unforgiving pace of her pounding in and out rendering you an utter mess. your broken mewls, sharp gasps and intakes of air when she curls her fingers skyward juuuust right, pleas for more and lewd poems of her name, combined with the soaked squelching sounds of her ministrations curated a soundscape that was straight (heh, not!) out of her fantasies. she wouldn't stop to give either one of you a break, and would go on for ages, thanks to all the exercises she does—incorporating special hand and arm workouts into her routine for this very purpose.

and if your brain wasn't a fucked out pile of goop, you'd prop yourself up to watch her gorgeously toned arms flex and ripple at her movements, which made the experience even better. plus, because she's such a huge fan of feeling you around her fingers like this, over time she has grown to recognize what every little squirt, squeeze, and flutter of your squishy walls meant, and she'd move her thumb to circle your swollen clit to increase intensity of it all. when the peak approaches, she'd continue what she was doing until you're bordering on tears from the overwhelming sensations, talking you through every moment. "that's it, yeah. let go for me, cmon. give it to me- fuck, so perfect..." only when you were trembling and truly couldn't take any more, she'd let up, eyes sparkling while she's examining her handiwork (LMAO) then she sticks her fingers in her mouth to lick them clean, sucking up every drop and sighing at the taste, her blue eyes closing in pure bliss.

bonus: same thing as last time, something that isn't one of the three mentioned but i think she's obsessed with, is thigh riding. hell, even ab riding. dare i even mention dove fucking...? because her physique is so powerful and beloved by you, she would love watching you grind on her taught muscles desperately—however way, whether you were riding her flexed thigh like a rodeo, or straddling her 6-pack, bracing yourself on her broad shoulders, humping her skin until there was cum all over her and dripping onto the sheets. sometimes she'd take her strong hands to your hips and waist to guide you, pulling you in, pushing you down harder against her until your hips stuttered, but other times she'd lazily cross her arms behind her head, lay back and enjoy the show. she'd love watching you rut up and down, rolling your heat on her frantically in all directions, huffing and puffing until you're so close, yet so tired and whining miserably. she would help you out of course, but not before muttering, "go on, keep going baby, doing so well." until you eventually did it, and collapsed on top of her, and she wrapped you in a warm embrace. OKAY GODDAMN THE OTHER ONE WAS LIKE A THIRD OF THIS LENGTH LAWRD...

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moonlightndaydreams · 5 months ago

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Room 143 | idol!han x fem!reader

Delulu! Absolute delulu!

So we all know a skz comeback is in the works (including a tour) and I have suddenly felt all nostalgic about seeing them in Sydney in 2023.

Last year I wrote a little fic about y/n going to the concert and by chance having a night of passion with the yummy Han Jisung.

I thought it might be nice to revisit it with a rework (the original had an original female character but I’m changing it to y/n).

I’ve only changed a little bit so far and want to know if you want me to continue to share the fic?

Plus…. I thought it might be nice to revisit to celebrate 1k followers here.

If someone had told you that you would have one night with Han Jisung, you would have laughed in their face.

[ Han heard your frustrated, pathetic cry. “Tell me what you need me to do.” He whispered huskily between kisses.

“Touch me, Han.” You breathed, and you reached down to touch his hand on your thigh. “Please.” Your voice was barely audible.

He let out a shaky breath and looked down to where your hands were resting together on your leg. Your hand slid back up his arm to grip his bicep, and he slowly inched his fingers up the inside of your leg, his hungry eyes following his hand as it disappeared under your skirt. ]

Earlier that day…

It was finally Tuesday, and you woke up in the hotel room with excitement. Tonight was the night. Stray Kids were having their Sydney concerts tonight and tomorrow night and you were going to both!

You flicked the sheet off of you but continued to lay there trying to ground yourself in the reality that you were actually going to see them in real life. They would be in the same place as you. At the same time. You squealed and flapped your arms and legs around in excitement. You were such a nerd.

Sydney had been hot this week. February was the hottest month of the year in Australia, but this week was outrageously hot, and STAYS were getting worried about the outfits they had chosen for the night. It was definitely not the weather for black pants and boots, or any of the punk/goth-like attire many had planned to wear. You’d been sweating for days, and you hoped the boys would be able to cope tonight. They had already performed two concerts in Melbourne, and that city had had a heatwave too.

You had arrived at the hotel yesterday evening, to give yourself a little bit of a mini break from your busy life, and, because you didn’t know anyone who liked Kpop, your mini break was also a solo one.

But that didn’t bother you at all. You knew from the STAY’s Facebook group that many were going to the concerts solo. You loved the idea that young people these days are happy to enjoy the things that light them up, even if no one else they know likes it.

You checked the time on your phone. 8am. You had too many hours to kill, and decided you’d go have some breakfast and then go do a workout in the hotel’s gym. That should pass some time and get a smidge of your pent up excitement out of your restless body.

Down in the restaurant you ate the standard “Continental breakfast”, and filled up on pastries and orange juice. The restaurant was practically empty. Any business folk would have already eaten (if they had even eaten at all) and be off to work, and since it wasn’t the weekend, there weren’t any families around. Empty and quiet.

Once you had enough to eat and drink you headed to the gym room.

You’re not the fittest person in the world, and you were definitely not the most confident person in a gym setting, but you did like to make sure you exercised three times a week to relieve stress.

You were thankful the gym was empty too. Good, no one would see your awkwardness. The room was moderately sized, with several treadmills and elliptical machines along the back wall, a floor area for mat work, some strength training equipment and free weights along the full length mirrored side wall. Two weights benches were parked nearby.

After warming up on an exercise bike you wandered over to the weights and picked up the 4 kg dumbbell and sat down on a bench and began a set of bicep curls.

That’s when you heard voices outside. Male voices. Getting closer to the gym.

Fuck. Don’t tell me some gym guys are going to come in here?

You could feel your skin flushing as you became flustered. You listened hard trying to find out what the voices were saying.

One voice was bellowing loudly, another laughing. But you couldn’t understand them. They were speaking a foreign language.

The gym door burst open and three men dressed in black confidently sauntered in.

They noticed you right away and nodded a polite hello to you, bowing slightly when they did.

You automatically responded with a friendly smile and a “hello, how are you.” But inside you had frozen.

It was fucking 3Racha.

A/n: I’d love to know if you want more of the story???

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @starr-lvst @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @chuuchuu1224 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @yaorzu-blog @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @everythingboutkpop @jiminssluttyminx

#han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #skz imagines #sorshas fic

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godisshook · 1 year ago

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A Strange Encounter

It was supposed to be a regular day for Sam. He walked into the gym, his muscles tight from a long day at work. Looking around, he didn't notice anybody particularly intHe had just started working out a few months ago, and while he wasn't the biggest guy in the gym, he was proud of his progress. Walking to the changing room, he looked around, hoping to see

He changed into his workout clothes, put on his headphones, and walked back out to begin his workout. Just as Sam finished his shoulder exercise, he noticed a huge figure approaching him. Sam sized him up at first, thinking that this guy was going to instigate something. The man towered over Sam, his muscles bulging from his tight tank top. He had introduced himself as Blake, a regular at this gym. Sam couldn't help but stare at the man's broad shoulders and thick arms. His interest was immediately piqued, and Sam didn't know if he wanted Blake, or if he wanted to be him.

Sam could barely do a thing from then on, as he found himself sneaking a peek at Blake whenever he could, as it was impossible not to look. As Blake's muscles strained from each lift, Sam tried not to drool at the sight of it. Finally, exhausted from his own workout, Sam decided to finally hit the showers. Walking past Blake in the middle of deadlifting a weight twice as big as Sam himself, he decided to make a bold move. Waiting until Blake finished his deadlift, Sam walked up to him and said,

"Meet me in the showers when you're done." Sam was surprised by the confidence in his words but didn't let his face show it. Blake, taken slightly aback by the forwardness of his offer, mustered a response, saying, "I just might take you up on your offer."

As Sam walked to the showers, butterflies raced through his stomach. He hadn't truly anticipated the next steps but decided to simply go with it. Grabbing his towel from his locker, Sam walked to the furthest shower and began washing up, waiting for Blake to join him. But, as he began to wash off his soapy skin, dismay washed over Sam as Blake had still not come. Doubt now turned to disappointment, Sam washed off and got out of the shower, ready to simply leave in embarrassment.

With his shirt drenched in sweat from an intense workout, Blake decided it was high time for a shower. As he entered, Sam met his gaze as he walked out of the shower. Blake's muscles glistened with sweat, and Sam's cock stood at full attention. His heart raced as he realized his bulge was showing through his towel.

Noticing Sam's "situation," Blake let out a hearty laugh, "I guess you're excited to see me," he said as he playfully flexed his biceps. He approached Sam and got in close, whispering "I hope I'm not too late." Sam's body buckled as Blake's strong hands gripped his waist. Finally able to let out a response, Sam muttered, "I mean I'm always down for another shower." Blake replied, "I don't think our plans are gonna involve the shower anymore," his eyes darkened with desire as his eyes scanned over Sam's lips, before pulling him into a deep kiss.

After their kiss, Sam guided Blake to the shower. Turning on the warm water, Blake pressed Sam against the shower wall, his massive cock pressing against Sam's thigh. Blake grabbed Sam's wrists and pinned them above his head. Sam let out a moan as Blake's cock rubbed against his stomach. Blake leaned down and kissed Sam's neck, sending shivers down his spine.

As water flowed over them, Blake positioned his dick and slowly pushed inside Sam. Sam gasped as Blake's massive cock stretched his hole. Blake began to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of Sam's body. Sam's eyes rolled back as he felt Blake's dick hit his prostate. Blake picked up the pace, and as the two came to burst, Sam felt different.

Sam didn’t know what was going on, suddenly, he felt as if his body wasn’t his. Just as the release from Blake’s cock surged through him, he felt an out-of-body experience, as if he wasn’t himself anymore. With a whirlpool of emotions and pleasure mingling throughout him regardless, he had little time to think about it and just chalked it up to mind-blowing dick.

But as Sam came back to reality, his suspicions were heightened once again. Looking down, realization dawned on Sam. Somehow, someway, he had swapped bodies with Blake. Confirming his suspicions, he reached a hand to what was his old body, to discover a shocked Blake, now in a much skinnier figure than he was used to. "What the fuck happened?" Blake said, now inhabiting Sam's body. Sam had no idea what to make of things, but knew he wasn't going back to his old body and so, with a shrug, he replied, "Who knows?"

Leaving the gym, Blake had attempted to catch up with him, but as he was no longer in his body, his threats didn't amount to much. Sam had just been handed his dream body on a silver platter. It was time for him to take this new body out for a spin, and worry about the details later.

#body swap #male body swap #muscle #muscle tf

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bedoballoons · 10 months ago

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Ahhh thank you for this request!! Honestly feels like I'm torturing some of them though hehe~ Also, I apologize for this being late and if these weren't the characters you wanted!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️

{༻~Time to workout~༺}

CW: GN! Reader! Mentions of the characters wearing their hair up, reader is less in shape then the characters and sweating also makes a appearance! Suggestive!

(Includes: Diluc, Heizou, Xiao, and Wriothesley!)

𑁍༄Diluc:

100 jumping jacks~

You plopped onto the ground, a light sheen of sweat coating your body and your muscles already on fire. You were exhausted from the workout and it felt like you could pass out at any second from lack of air...but it was more then worth it. Everytime you finished a round faster then Diluc you could sit there and catch your breath while he caught up with you...and that was always entertaining.

Today he had his hair tied up in a bun, loose strands of it clinging to his face and neck. He was wearing tighter tighter clothes then the ones he'd normally wear, meaning that every outline of his muscles was visible as the moved and god it was perfect to watch. You weren't shy about staring, even when his bright red orbs met yours with a knowing glint, he was just to good to look away from.

𑁍༄Heizou:

100 burpees~

"Phew, this is harder then I thought." Heizou leaned against the wall, using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow as you continued to finish up your round of burpees. His hair was disheveled, sticking to his skin and his hand when he tried to run it through the locks, even with his lack of clothing and ice cold water bottle he was still soaked and when you say it made your face blush...

You sat back after the last burpee, looking up at him with wandering eyes as he threw you his bottle...to think he'd gone shirtless. He had to of known what he was doing...

"If you keep staring at me like that, we are gonna be doing a very different kind of work out." He smirked at you as your heart skipped a beat... working out was working out...no matter what kind right...

𑁍༄Xiao:

Planks~

You bit your bottom lip, watching Xiao as he continued to plank in front of you...showing off his stamina that you loved oh so much. He'd always last longer then you with these exercises, not that you were complaining. You simply sat back against the wall, watching him as his strength was put on display for you, muscles moving and his tattoos only accentuating his perfect self as the glistened with beads of preparation under the light.

"Xiao, so you think you could still plank even if I sat on you while you did it."

"No."

"If you were sitting on me, I wouldn't want to plank anymore. I'd have other matters to attend to~"

Your eyes widened slightly at his answer. You knew full well he could without breaking a sweat....why in archons name did he say no? "What-"

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

75 crunches~

You were sprawled out on the floor, looking at the ceiling above you as your heart pounded in your ears. You couldn't believe you'd done the whole workout. "I did it. Wrio I did it! Woohoo!" You tilted your head to look at him, but he'd already moved from his spot next to you, instead sitting up like he was about to get up and head to the showers.

You didn't really knew what got into you...where the energy came from, but your rolled yourself into his lap, straddling him as you pushed him back down onto the mat. "Hey, I was really proud I completed that. Let's appreciate the moment together a little first."

"You should be proud, that was a hard workout...but I just hope you're prepared for the next one."

"What do you mean?"

"You said you wanted to appreciate the moment didn't you~"

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

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the-californicationist · 1 year ago

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he hunts you down

Captain John Price is recruiting for the 141, and when he takes you on a field exercise to the middle of the woods, you try to show him that you have what it takes to survive.

This is Part 1 of 2. If y’all are interested in a Part 2, it’s here. Or, you can read it in full on AO3.

MDNI/18+

TW: primal play, dubcon, abuse of power

AO3 Link

The sun was setting through the verdant green leaves of the trees, beams of light sparkling through them, casting light and shadow on the forest floor as you raced through the underbrush. You were bending your feet, sprinting in the way that he had taught you, nearly silent as you leapt across rotting boughs and piles of fallen leaves. Controlling your breathing, you found a tight pace - fast enough to escape, but restrained enough to withstand it for a generous duration. The air felt sharp in your throat.

Captain Price had taken you on as the newest recruit to the 141. Many recruits had come before you, and many had failed to pass muster. So, here you were, top of your class in Westpoint, but young and unblooded, trying to keep up with the most fearsome group of hunters in the modern world. Terrorists filled the world with fear, and John Price filled them with fear in turn. He was the monster’s monster, and you were desperate for him.

When you’d first laid eyes on him, you were intimidated by his sharp confidence. He was snappy, impatient, but level-headed. He had his power under such a tight-laced control that you would have given anything to watch him unleash it on someone. A dark part of you wanted that someone to be you. When you sparred, he was ruthless. Soap was fun to wrestle, even if he let you win. Gaz was a challenge, but a fair fight. Even Ghost had let you get the upper hand once or twice, but Price had shown no mercy. After the captain was finished with your body, you’d go back to your quarters battered, bruised, and sore for days. He’d even dislocated your shoulder once in order to break your hold, and then he’d had the audacity to shift into a caring medic, helping it back into its socket, bringing you ice and meds that night, checking on you before rounds in the morning. He was enigmatic.

You had gotten your hopes up, that was the problem.

One night, you were putting in a late workout at the gym, fists digging into the heavy bag, trying to improve on your power and speed. Trying to get him out of your head, more like. Your handsome commanding officer and his huge, hairy, muscular form had been haunting you for weeks in the night while you lay in your bed alone. The smell of his cigars was enough to send shivers through you at this point. So, you came to work off some steam. It didn’t help.

You had wanted to shower after your self-flagellation session with the punching bag, but when you went to the locker room, your heart froze. The water was already running. Since no one had been in the gym with you for hours, that wasn’t possible. You were facing the door the whole time…well, most of the time. But no one moved that quietly. You would have heard them.

Thinking someone had left it on, you moved to shut it off. A voice stopped your hand right on the edge of the cold handle. Low and growling, you heard your name come from behind the wall, floating out from the shower. Haunted and in a state of shock, you stood stock still, listening for it to happen again. You took a breath and pulled open the stall door to find Price’s broad, scarred back, hunched forward in what may (or may not, damnit) have been a contortion of ecstasy. He’d spun around to catch his intruder, but you had already turned back toward the gym door, sprinting for your life out of the bathroom. You went to bed sweaty and wet for more reasons than one.

It was his idea to drag you out here. The rest of the team had remained back at base, but Price had decided to take you on a solo helicopter flight out to a remote Hebridean island, uninhabited and cut off from the public, completely alone.

You had geared up for the weather, anticipating the slight cold front, but Price had added a level of challenge to your first field trip that made you concerned. He had only allowed you to bring one set of clothes. You’d be out for four days - if he didn’t find you before then. Four days was a long time to wear the same underwear and socks. Especially now, at the middle of day three, you were noticeably pungent. You’d also finished off your canteen this morning, so as you moved through the wooded hills, you mapped the path to the closest stream. Honestly, you were proud of yourself for evading Price for this long. You wanted to make it the full four days. Maybe he’d even consider giving you a more permanent position. You kept losing every single grappling match, but you scored high on your marksmanship testing, and your survival skills were top notch.

Rushing, bubbling water came into view as you headed into a small glen. There was a gorgeous waterfall waiting for you, and you couldn’t wait to bathe. It was a huge risk, but you were itchy enough to take it. You quickly shed all of your layers and scrubbed them in the clean, cold water with loose gravel, trying your best to rub as much grime out of them as you could. Then, you laid the clothes out on the rocks to dry in the sun and slowly waded your way into the water. It was cold enough to burn, but you had to admit that even the frigid water felt nice on your skin. Quickly, you washed your face and body, keeping your braided hair out of it as much as you could, splashing your breasts and rubbing between your thighs for some relief on your most sensitive parts.

Satisfied, you returned to the shoreline. You blinked, stunned, finding the rocks bare and missing your garments. All of them. Your heart raced in your chest. Your hunting knife was stuck straight up on a nearby stump, placed there on purpose.

Price.

He’d seen you in the water. Why was that your first thought? You bolted in the opposite direction, not caring any longer to move silently. You thought you might be able to outrun him, but just as you were about to clear a fallen log, you were tackled to the ground, your breath knocked out of your chest. Instincts high, you fought for your life, kicking and clawing at your attacker. He was fully geared out, and his clothing made rough scrapes against your skin as he clutched your back to his chest, wrapping his hand around your throat and an arm around your waist.

“Fuck! No!” You shouted, unsure as to what you thought that might accomplish.

You heard a dark chuckle in return,

“Thought you got away from me, little bird? Hope that bath was worth it.”

He flipped you so that you were laying face-down on the ground, his heavy body pinning you, squeezing the air out of your lungs that you had fought to recover.

“Give up, Sparrow. You’re caught,” he growled, fighting with your writhing form.

“No! No…I was so close,” you stilled, finally giving in, disappointed in your failure, laying your forehead in the sticky leaves.

“Yes,” his voice had an eerie, sultry quality to it, and that surprised you. Your body responded, melting into him, trying to determine his intentions. He spoke into your ear softly, “You did so well. But, I knew you’d need water, and all I had to do was wait. I didn’t expect you to reward me quite as well as you did, but that was a bloody nice surprise.”

He punctuated that last sentence with a buck of his hips and then you felt it. You had thought it was his holstered gun that was digging into the crack of your asscheeks, spreading them uncomfortably wide. It was too rigid to have been any part of his anatomy, surely. But, you were wrong. The heavy, solid pipe that was rutting against your ass was Price’s impossibly fat cock.

You gasped, involuntarily.

“Mm,” he was smiling; you could hear it, “Hard as a stone, innit? All your fault, birdie. You out there in that fuckin’ stream, grabbing your tits for me in the water, running from me so I can watch this gorgeous arse jiggle. Tha’s like teasin’ a hound with a bone, sweetheart. My cock’s aching for ya.”

“Captain, we can’t…we - ”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want to you,” he snarled, shouting. The sudden increase in volume made your blood run cold, and your pussy clenched down tight, traitor that it was. He started to grope your asscheek roughly, talking to you the whole time, “You’re caught, and if I was the enemy, you’d be watching Peter look your name up in his big book right about now. So, I feel like your punishment should fit the situation.”

You couldn’t help but shiver. He was right, you were out here all by yourselves. There were no comms, and the seaplane wouldn’t dock back here for another day. If Price wanted to hurt you, he had all the time in the world, and you were in no position to fight him off.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered, listening to your own shaky whisper with shame.

You heard a buckle and a zipper, and then you felt a tell-tale warmth against your skin. He was rubbing his length across your body, hungry and dripping with precome. You breathed in through your nose, trying to hold back your shock.

“Say no, little bird. Tell me to stop. Say that you surrender, and I’ll take you back to the camp and warm you up. I’ll put you on that plane and send you back to New York with a letter of recommendation in hand. You have my word. Or…”

He paused for a long time, waiting for you to take it. You should. It was no small accomplishment to get a letter of recommendation from a man as infamous as Captain John Price. But, something in you wanted a punishment more than a reward.

“Or?” You asked, your voice sounded so small.

It was his turn to draw in a trembling breath. You felt the whiskers of his mustache brush the side of your neck as he tasted your skin there, sucking hot kisses and sending chills across your back.

“Or…” he replied, “I will fuck you right here into the goddamn dirt, and every night, when I get hungry for you, no matter where our task force goes, you’ll take my fucking cock how I want, whenever I want, no questions asked.”

You let his threat sink in. How could he expect such a heinous, feral thing? Did he want you on the task force? A thousand questions flooded through your mind, but you heard yourself saying,

“Okay.”

A warm, fleshy head prodded at the entrance of your cunt, slipping through your folds and spearing you, almost painfully, with his difficult girth. His cock was so fat that you could feel your walls expand to fit him, panicking at this new level of intrusion and flooding you to try and mitigate the situation. He let out a ragged sigh,

“Oh, fuck, that’s so good. Tight, so bloody fuckin’ tight,” he laughed quietly, a tone of disbelief on his lips, “Welcome to the team, little bird.”

#captain john price #captain price #john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #captain price x reader #captain price x you #cod #primal #feral #dubious consent

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redtsundere-writes · 10 months ago

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Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mmafighter!sukuna ryomen x coach!reader

Part 2. The New Coach.

Beginning | Next →

Sypnosis: Sukuna Ryomen is a fighter with anger issues. Beating his ass once won't stop his shitty attitude. The training session is on. Contents: Jinx AU. Fighting. Cursed words. Sukuna is always angry. Itadori and Sukuna are brothers. Reader and Sukuna have top energy. Word Count: 2972 words. Author's Note: So I posted this in AO3 like two days ago, and I forgot to post it here lmao. Sowwy uwu

When Sukuna said he wanted to start immediately, he wasn’t joking. He ordered me to follow him to start right away. We returned to a gym full of confused fighters, witnessing the strongest fighter dragging his new coach by the arm. Nanami scolded him, telling him that he should be more careful around me, but Sukuna didn’t give a shit about it. He was really a tough one.

“You are not doing the sit-ups correctly. Don't bend your back,” I ordered as I watched Sukuna's posture like a vulture. His breath was shaking with each sit up, sweat was dripping from his forehead, and he was focusing on doing the exercise correctly. At the end of the day, he is a boxer, it is understandable that he doesn’t like leg workouts. He was visibly upset, but if he doesn’t want to be defeated by a floor fighter, he should start training and thinking like one.

The secret to becoming a great floor fighter is flexibility. Using your legs in your favor will always lead you to the good path. Being a floor fighter requires being intuitive, and sometimes, creative. Most fighters are often used to only using their upper body to defend themselves and use their legs just to move fast, Sukuna is one of those. I needed to change his mindset.

The sight of one of the fighters caught my attention. He must be one of the younger fighters in the gym. He was a thin, black haired boy with curious blue eyes. I didn't pay him any mind because maybe he was just a fan of Sukuna, and he was watching him and not me.

I ordered Sukuna to do stretching exercises. Trying to reach for your toes sitting down is something that sounds easy in theory, but it's pretty hard in practice. I saw him struggling to even reach them with the tip of his fingers. Sukuna groaned under his breath, trying to do the exercise right. His black tribal tattoos stretched, following the flow of his tender skin.

“I know you can do it,” I cheered behind him, pushing his sweaty back with my palms to make him reach further.

I felt around his back with my curious fingers to learn his anatomy. His shoulders were wide, his shoulder blades; sharp, and his back was super tensed. It was like I was feeling a giant brick wall. My hand traveled to his shoulders, being careful enough to not tickle him. I squeezed the curvature to inspect them.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He yelled at me, abandoning his posture to look at me. I slapped the back of his head.

“Look forward!” I yelled back. He squeezed his teeth to avoid saying something else, focusing again on the stretching exercise. “Can you just relax? You are tenser than a suspect of murder.” I said, pushing his shoulders downwards.

“Sukuna is always tense, it’s in his nature.” A woman behind me said. A brunette with deep eyes and clear skin, aside from her tired violet eye bags. “My name is Shoko Ieri, I’m his physiotherapist,” she introduced herself. I introduced myself as well. She looked like a very serious and observant person. Even though she didn’t have a friendly face, I could see that she took her job very seriously.

“Sukuna has a therapy session now,” she said. Sukuna sighed and stood up. Without seeing me or saying goodbye, he went to one of the healing rooms. I ground my teeth upon the lack of consideration, I had to remember myself who I was working with. Apparently today’s training was done.

“It looks like you will accept the job.” Nanami approached me while I was putting away my stuff in my bag. His face was more relaxed than in the morning.

“I've wanted the job since I entered,” I answered, unwrapping the bandages off my hands.

“Really? You didn’t look like it,” he said.

He was right. There was an explanation for it. Last night I researched everything I could about Sukuna. If his manager told me that he goes all out to get rid of his coaches, I need to go all out as well. I had to make sure Sukuna could see that he needed me so he could maintain his champion title.

“The key of a good coach is to make the trainee see the clear power difference. As a light heavyweight champion, Sukuna struggles to see that difference,” I explained with a wise voice. I knew what I was talking about from experiences. I was a woman in the middle of a male dominated world.

“You were planning to fight against him from the beginning?” He asked curiously. I just nodded. This was my only way to make him see and know what will be the result of his next fight if luck isn’t by his side.

Nanami led me to his office, so I could sign my job contract under the conditions we previously talked on the phone. I had fixed schedules, which allowed me to continue teaching jiu-jitsu lessons on the weekends. The pay was excellent and made me feel like I was in the UFC again. I was happy everything went according to plan, I just needed to continue having Sukuna under my wing.

Also, Nanami let me know that Sukuna had an upcoming fight in two months, so I had to be really strict with him so he could be ready. When I heard the name of his opponent, I knew I had to take things to the next level quickly.

“It’s so nice having some time away from that brat,” Gojo said as he stretched his arms while sitting on the office couch. “I was praying for this day to come.”

“What day?” I asked.

“The day somebody kicked his ass. His ego meter has gone through the roof. I didn’t know if I could handle him anymore,” he explained, visibly irritated.

“You don’t seem to be too fond of him,” I commented.

“Don’t get me wrong. Sukuna is great, an amazing fighter, but he is just too stubborn,” he said. I thought the same way. His technique, adaptability, and strength were obvious. Yeah, he was an asshole, but a very impressive asshole.

“How long have you been training him for?” I asked him, curious about how he got the job. Did he have to do something like I did?

“Sukuna and I went way back, I was his first coach. I met him when he was 12 years old.” I knew Sukuna was 26 so that meant he had been coaching that little shit for over 14 years.

Gojo must be a saint by this point. I bet Sukuna was one of those brats with too much energy and time on his hands. I could picture him bullying his classmates and running around the dojo while Gojo tried to give the lesson.

“He was always like this?”

“Nah, he was worse. His little brothers were the ones who got the nice genetics from his father.” Gojo pointed to the window to another pink-haired boy, he was with the black haired boy that caught my attention earlier. They were running on a treadmill while chatting. He had a bright smile and a friendly vibe. “A great kid. He works really hard, but Sukuna is on another level.”

Exiting the small sports office, I made my way to the elevator to go home, but the boy with black hair and Sukuna’s little brother caught my attention again. Now, they were discreetly looking at me, whispering things to each other. I needed to know what they were whispering about.

“Can I help you?” I asked them as I got closer to them. They looked at me with a spark of surprise in their eyes, as if I caught them in the act.

“Hey, my name is Yuuji and my friend, Megumi, wanted to ask you something,” the friendly pinky said while pushing his friend to step forward. Yuuji seemed to be someone genuine and friendly. On the other side, Megumi was reserved and poker-faced.

“Hi Megumi, what can I do for you?” I asked like he was a new student in my gym.

“I saw the fight today, you are very talented,” Megumi complimented me. I didn’t know if he was being genuine or not because his voice was monotone. “I was wondering if you could give me some fighting advice,” he asked. I checked the time since I wanted to go home, but it was pretty early. I was still in the mood for some training, plus these two can be a lot of help because they knew more about Sukuna than I did.

“I’ll do it if you buy me a sandwich later on,” I asked with a smile. They looked at each other in excitement before accepting.

Training Megumi felt completely different to training Sukuna. Sukuna was a fierce beast with a destroyer punch, while Megumi was a strategist with a quick wit. His posture was great, his punches were connecting well, and his moves were well thought. He was punching my gauntlets with precision, following my pattern of moves. It was evident he spent a lot of time training.

“You are doing it great,” I said while attacking him with the gauntlet so he could match my speed. “But this is mixed martial arts, not fake wrestling.”

My left gauntlet was supposed to move horizontally, signaling that he needed to dodge. Instead, I slapped him across the face and he dropped to the floor. Yuuji covered his face so as not to see his friend flop against the thin mattress under our feet. Megumi grunted, struggling to get up from the surprise attack.

“You are talented, kid. You just need to act more by instinct and not mind, do you get it?” I asked. Megumi nodded, getting back on his feet with grace. “Let’s go. One more time,” I prepared myself with the gauntlets.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Sukuna asked me angrily, standing outside the area we were practicing in. Apparently, his therapy was over.

“We are in the middle of something, don’t you see?” I asked, not paying him any mind. This wasn’t enough for him. He stomped closer to me and grabbed my wrists, trying to take my gauntlets away. I squirmed around to release from his tight grip. His hands were bigger than mine, so it was hard to get away. “What the fuck are you doing?!” I asked. I pushed him away from me with my elbow to keep distance.

“Who gave you the right to coach someone else?! You are my coach and only mine!” He yelled, catching the attention of the surrounding fighters. I scoffed as I took the gauntlets off, I wasn’t in the mood to train anymore. Megumi tried to defend me, but I stopped him.

“My contract stipulates that I can’t coach other active UFC members and fighters. Coaching Megumi doesn’t interfere with my contract,” I explained, keeping my cool.

“This is my fault, brother. It’s just a one time thing,” Yuuji said to Sukuna, trying to calm him down, but he was still throwing daggers at me.

“I don’t give a shit what your contract says. If I say you quit training this little shit, you stop!” He screamed once again.

“Megumi is a rookie and falls two weight classes under yours. He is not a threat,” I defended him.

“But he is the son of my next opponent, you stupid bitch,” he groaned.

This caught me by surprise. I looked at Megumi looking for answers, but I just needed to take a good look at him. The resemblance was so obvious, how I didn’t see it before? He was a compact version of Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna’s next opponent.

I have watched Toji’s fight live and on TV, and he was a real menace in the heavyweight weight class. He fights so naturally, fighting for him is as normalized in his body as walking. He always looked so calm and bored while fighting that it was scary.

“I only admitted him in the gym because he is Yuuji’s friend, so stop playing around and focus, or you’ll lose your job on your first day,” Sukuna threatened me.

“Fine,” I scoffed. Sukuna passed aside, pushing my shoulder to get back to his training. Yuuji followed him to keep trying to change his mind. I wanted to punch him so badly for the insult, but he knocked me out successfully. I humiliated him, and he humiliated me. We were even.

“I am so sorry, I should have told you before,” Megumi apologized.

“Don’t worry, I should have noticed before. You looked like your father,” Megumi’s face softened when he saw that I wasn’t mad at him.

“Everyone says that, do you know him?” He asked, taking his boxing gloves off.

“Not personally, I used to train in the gym he started training in,” I explained. “He is an excellent fighter, why don’t you train with him?” Megumi shook his head at the idea.

“He told me that if I wanted to ‘be better than him’, I should train away to get experience,” he explained. I could get behind that logic.

“Well, I hope my advice today will help you to achieve that goal faster.” Megumi thanked me and continued with his training alone.

A month passed by, and every training session with the champion was a challenge. Sukuna is not the type of person who likes to receive orders whatsoever, so I had to adjust my sentences every time I had to ask him to do something. For example, I have to say “Let’s do some pushups” instead of “Give me 50 pushups.” Sukuna is just a big brat waiting for a reason to throw a tantrum. I sometimes needed to remind myself why I was doing this in the first place.

“A good kick is not just about strength, it's about precision and speed. It’s about focusing on a target.” I told Sukuna, who was focused on my words. “Show me your best kick.” I asked him while patting the punching bag.

I stepped aside so he could have the room to himself. He breathed deeply and did a standard kick so powerful that it made the punching bag swing. It was quite impressive, and he was quite proud of himself. I applauded him for his execution.

“Did you like that?” He asked me with a smirk.

“Yeah, I do like it, but it was too slow. Anyone could dodge that with an arm block. You are better than that,” I said as I made him step aside from the zone. “I want a quick swipe.” I said before kicking the bag as fast as I could with perfect form. The bag barely moved, but it sounded way louder than Sukuna’s.

I heard someone clapping behind me and I thought it was Sukuna, but I was totally wrong. It was a tall man with long, raven black and deep, piercing eyes. I could tell from his clothing that he wasn’t a fighter or a coach. He was wearing a maroon turtleneck with black pants and nice boots with a cross body bag.

“That was a great kick,” he complimented me.

There was an aura of mystery around him, a sense of depth that beckoned to be explored. He was like a riddle wrapped in an enigma, his heart guarded by walls built from his complex past. Yet, there was an undeniable warmth there, a flame that could ignite with the right touch. He was so hot. That aura was ruined by Sukuna of course.

“What the fuck do you want, Choso? Can you see I am in the middle of training?” Sukuna scoffed at him. Choso’s aura completely changed from this cool, mysterious guy to a poker-faced boy who doesn’t want to deal with the king of the ring.

“Where’s Yuuji? He asked me to bring him his lunch,” he explained as he pulled out a well wrapped lunchbox.

“I don’t know. Maybe he is training, grabbing some water or fucking Megumi in the locker room, I don’t know.” Choso rolled his eyes and then looked at me.

“You must be his new coach. Yuuji told me about you,” Choso greeted me with a respectful bow, which I reciprocated.

“Oh, I see. Are you his friend?” I asked. Choso was about to answer, but then Yuuji came running up to him.

“Hey, bro! Thanks for bringing my lunch, I was starving.” He excitedly said with a bright smile as usual. Choso smiled back at him and then checked his watch.

“I should go back to work. It was nice finally meeting you,” Choso said goodbye and gave me a warm smile. After that, he quickly left the gym. Yuuji followed him on the way out. I followed them with my eyes until they got to the elevator.

“I hate when people just distract me from training,” Sukuna scoffed as he practiced the kick that I showed him.

“He was cute, who is he?” I asked him curiously. Sukuna smirked at me.

“You are joking, right?” He asked.

“Why would I be joking?”

“I am not man winging my brother with my coach, hell nah!” I gasped as soon as he said that.

“What? Your brother?” I asked in disbelief.

“He is the middle one. Yuuji and him are pretty close,” he said before replicating my kick almost perfectly. Sukuna was a complete asshole, but he is an incredible fast learner.

“You are not close to them too?” I asked him as I watched him prepare himself for another kick.

“They are just another distraction,” he stated before kicking the bag perfectly. He is so insufferable sometimes.

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creations-by-chaosfay · 8 months ago

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Fun fact a doctor shared with me when they learned I'm a quilter: it's a very healthy hobby.

Most of my time is spent standing because I have to press seams. With foundation paper piecing, I use a hand presser (looks like a rolling pin on a stick) because the paper curls and warps under heat. Machine sewing involves a lot of shoulder and arm usage. Cutting fabric uses even more, and I cut a lot more when I use foundation paper piecing. I use a wall in my bedroom as a design wall, and it results in stretching and reaching. Getting up and down from my chair, plus all the standing when pressing and cutting fabric, works out my legs.

When the doctor asked about how my body feels when I'm working on quilts, she also asked if my heart races. It does! I get very excited when working on a quilt, and occasionally frustrated, but my heart is hardly at rest. Just thinking about working on quilts gets it going. They told me it's something they would call light cardio, especially for someone like me. I have moderate to severe asthma, and doing more than light cardio (speed walking for example) results in my asthma acting up. So this? It gives my heart a good workout.

I also exercise my brain, especially with the planning and focus. They mentioned quilting, and the arts in general, have been proven to help delay and even prevent dementia.

Making quilts also helps treat anxiety. Does making something big cause you anxiety? Then go small. Before I started using medication to treat my ADHD, I made a lot of smaller things because Instant Gratification is very nice. Now that I'm on medication, big things are significantly easier to work on because I don't feel the mental itch for NOW NOW NOW.

I also apply everything I learned as a macrame artist, painter, and poet, when I make my quilts. My family can see the influence in the work, especially the other quilters. The doctor explained this helps me retain my memories, and again exercises my brain.

Next time someone has the audacity to tell you making quilts is a lazy hobby, invite them to join you. Have them do as you do. My husband has never once called it lazy because he knows it's not, but someone else did. So I told them to join me for the work. They left with very sore shoulders and feet, and apologized later with a gift of a mini jelly roll (for the uninitiated: it's a precut bundle of fabric that's 2.5 x 42 inches, and a full roll is 40 strips).

I highly recommend getting a couple relief mats if standing for long periods of times causes you pain. I have one because of pain. My feet are so highly arched only about 20% of each foot is on the ground when I'm standing, my lower back has a permanent arch that prevents me from ever touching my toes (I haven't been able to touch my toes since I was about three years old; my dr suspects some of my lower vertebrae are fused, but we need x-rays to verify), and my knees have always been brats. My sewing days are only about 3-5 hours because all the standing has my back screaming at me. Before my relief mat, it was a max of three hours.

Making quilts is hard work, both mentally and physically. It's 100% worth it though!

#words from the artist #mental health #physical health #quilting #sewing

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hanmaitani · 4 months ago

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Fun and Games

PAIRING - Bodyguard!Matsukawa x Reckless!Reader WC - 1.1K GENRE - smut, angst CW - nondescript mentions of masturbation, nondescript mentions of sex

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

You don't think that you're getting to Matsukawa as much as you are. Completely oblivious to the full effect you have on him.

You're truly no better than him, however. Your phone hooked up to the building's security feeds, unbeknownst to your precious bodyguard and roommate.

He'd gotten more comfortable leaving you alone in your shared apartment while he dropped by the building's gym. Gotten more comfortable agreeing to let you out of his sight if there were the right security measures in place.

Like the new security system in your home that sent notifications straight to his phone. The one that notified him when the doors and windows opened.

You feel some sort of guilt when you lock yourself up in your room, opening your phone to click down to the gym's security cameras. Your own guilty pleasure, watching Matsukawa walk into the gym and strip his shirt off before he started his workout.

Your own sin as you slip your hands into your shorts to watch him do his hip thrust exercises.

It's impossible to keep your eyes off his body as he does. Weights piled across his hips as he moved. The high definition cameras surely did justice to the sheen of sweat that covered his abs and chest. To the definition of his pelvis as it moved up. The look on his face made you bite your own lip as he focused on his task at hand.

You can't help as your mind wanders to putting your own weight across his hips. Imagining gliding your hands across his chest as he thrusts up into you. As he scrunches his face in concentration when you’re his task at hand.

And late at night, when you need another hit, you don’t mind guiltily slipping your headphones in your ears and biting your lip to keep quiet as you rewind the video footage to watch it again. Oblivious to what he does just on the other side of that wall from you.

Your freedom to be in the apartment alone wasn't the only thing you had gained with Matsukawa's loosened grip on you.

You had to admit that you missed the way he attached himself to you when you insisted on going out. He now agreed to occasionally let you take a replacement guard out on nights he had off rather than telling you to wait.

Tonight happened to be one of those nights.

You'd intended to be out late into the morning, drinking and causing mischief that Matsukawa usually wouldn't let you get into.

Unfortunately, something dragged having the replacement having given you zero of the reactions you'd come to look for that Matsukawa gave you.

You'd made the replacement, a name you didn't bother to learn, take you home early.

You thought maybe that he would be up for a movie with you, some takeout and just relaxing. Those thoughts stopped just after the door shut to your apartment.

It's quiet in the apartment, dark. Your mouth had barely moved to start forming his name when you heard it.

"Oh fuuuck." The low groan from Matsukawa's room. You froze as you heard a girl's moans softly radiating from his room.

You swallowed hard as you heard another moan from Matsukawa and you felt like something just shot through your chest.

A girl. That's why he'd been okay with you going out tonight without him. You'd be lying if you said you weren't upset.

Well… call yourself a liar then.

Telling yourself that you weren't upset as you turned into your own room. But, if he could invite people over, why couldn't you?

A short text sent from your phone to an old fling and you sat in your room to wait. Part of you wanted to invite Suna, something that would surely make you feel better, but like always, he was out of town.

It took everything in you to try and ignore the sound of Matsukawa through the wall, still ignorant to the fact you were even home. You'd never heard him so vocal and you figured he probably liked this one, it made something heat up inside of you.

It didn't really register in your still slightly intoxicated mind as you shushed your visitor and giggled as you snuck him inside of your room.

Your reasoning hadn't clicked for yourself as you pushed him onto your bed and sunk down on the boy.

The louder moans and cries, not caring about Matsukawa hearing you for once, only seemed to encourage your partner as the night went on. But when you kicked him out at the end of the night, your apartment was finally silent... both you and Matsukawa were upset.

Matsukawa hadn't even heard you come home. Too busy watching one of your latest videos without headphones once. Pretending that the way the sound echoed around the room was how it would if you were truly there.

It wasn't until he heard you giggling in the room next to him that he'd rushed to stop, only to hear your male companion for the night respond to you through the muffle of the wall. He knew he had no right to be upset, but his headphones had gone on then, for other reasons.

You didn't see him until the next morning. Your rendezvous from the night before still in your head, trying to piece together the events before and why they'd led to your rash decision.

Grunts from the living room had drawn you out of your room to investigate. The sight of Matsukawa doing his workout routine in the center of your shared living room was not what you had planned to see that morning. In fact, it had frozen you in your tracks.

It was then that you realized why you'd done it. A small flash in your mind of imagining a different girl sitting across Matsukawa's waist as he did his hip thrusts made another small flash of heat rocket through your chest.

A bit of green clenching its fist around your throat.

"Have fun last night?" Matsukawa's voice was strained from his workout but a bit of what had taken you over last night crawled into his voice and you struggled to find your voice to reply.

Maybe you wanted him for more than just teasing now. Maybe it wasn't just the fun and games that you thought it was. And maybe-

"I need a shower." You turned on your heel and pulled yourself away from him without gracing his question with an answer.

Yeah you needed a shower, a very cold shower.

a/n theyre so stupid i love them

TAGLIST - OPEN

@boosyboo9206 @faumpje @miyamizuna @all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings

@qichun

#matsukawa angst #matsukawa issei angst #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa fanfiction #matsukawa issei fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #𓇻 PYWML

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fitnessnirvana · 4 months ago

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How can getting more sleep improve my gym success?

We've already discussed how doing out can improve your sleep, but did you know that obtaining the proper amount of sleep can also improve your ability to work out? This is the approach...

Sleep is when the body really recovers:

Any kind of exercise works by putting the body under stress and creating little injuries that must be healed. The body will recover stronger and better equipped to withstand the burden the next time around if the repairs proceed as planned. Your body seems to go into full recovery mode as you sleep. Research has shown that growth hormone levels jump dramatically at night, but only when participants are soundly asleep.

It doesn't matter if you lift weights or run—sleep is necessary for both recuperation and improvement. Make sure you allow adequate time for your body to rest and recuperate from your workouts if you want to know whether your efforts in the gym are paying off. Not only should you think about getting enough sleep, but you should also schedule frequent rest days to avoid working out every day.

2. Poor sleep promotes fat gain:

Lack of sleep is directly linked to higher levels of the hormone ghrelin, which causes hunger, lower levels of the hormone leptin, which causes satiety, poor insulin sensitivity, which causes fat to be deposited more readily, and other factors, according to a 2009 analysis of the scientific literature. In the end, this means that lack of sleep can set off a series of negative events that culminate in weight increase. Making sure you're getting enough sleep is a smart idea if your gym goals are centered around losing weight, as for many of us, the last thing we want is to increase our appetite while simultaneously storing more fat.

3. Sleep deprivation means 'hitting the wall' faster:

Studies have revealed that while mild sleep deprivation doesn't seem to have a direct effect on cardiovascular response or muscle strength, it does shorten the duration until fatigue sets in. Furthermore, people who lack sleep always have higher levels of perceived effort, which means that whatever activity they undertake will feel far more difficult and uncomfortable regardless of their actual condition.

The main takeaway from all of this is that not only will you feel much worse about getting up, going to the gym, and starting your workout in the first place, but you won't have as much energy to get in a quality workout or for a prolonged workout, which is particularly bad for endurance athletes.

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cosmical777 · 5 months ago

Text

summer master plan

70 days to lock in and reach my goals

goals

75kg

build glutes

flatter stomach

revise for grade 11

work full-time

get prettier

healthier hair

get a tan

weekday schedule

6:00 - wake up

6:00~6:30 - get ready

6:30~8:30 - study

8:30~4:30 - work

4:30~8:00 - exercise

8:00~9:00 - free time

9:00~10:00 - study

10:00 - sleep

weekend schedule

9:00 - wake up

9:00~9:30 - get ready

9:30~12:30 - study

12:30~1:30 - lunch

1:30~3:00 - study

3:00~7:00 - exercise

7:00~11:00 - free time

11:00 - sleep

exercise

daily workout playlist

1 hour cardio

45 min targeted work

15 min stretch

workout split

monday - abs & cardio

tuesday - glutes

wednesday - arms, chest, back

thursday - thighs & side glutes

friday - abs & arms

saturday - legs & cardio

sunday - pilates full body

diet

3L water daily

limit meat & dairy

limit added sugars

omad + 1 protein shake

prioritize protein & fibre

anti inflammatory

other habits

nose fascia routine every morning and night

read every morning and night

small stretch every morning

floss morning and night

summer watchlist

requiem for a dream

the green mile

eileen

prozac nation

words on bathroom walls

pearl

lilja 4ever

jawbreaker

#glow up #wonyoungism #self care #softmaxxing #skincare #academics #workout #gym #looksmaxxing #summer

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somejazzinthemorning · 2 years ago

Text

tightrope. 03

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language Word Count: 7.241 Previous chapter: 02.

Drowning myself in work is my go-to coping mechanism for more than half of my problems.

I'll either resort to racing or tracing brand strategies in an attempt to avoid having to face whatever problem throws my way and, that night, being 11 pm on a Wednesday, my laptop and the small whiteboard on my desk became my saving grace.

Despite the burning eyes and my aching back, after hours sat at my desk, my mind was still racing, high on whatever feelings the brush of his lips had evoked in my body. I fell asleep to the memory of his eyes and the velvet lips.

There was no way to escape it. We were already falling.

I woke up late, the next day.

My phone had a full wall of notifications ready to present me. A single text in the middle of the dozens of work-related emails, most of them answers to the ones I’d written during the night and scheduled to be sent in the early hours of the work day. I only realised I was smiling, probably high on my own expectations, when I felt my smile drop, after seeing who sent the text. Amanda. Not him.

“those updates on the project at 3 am??? r u okay?”

“sorry! i remembered to schedule the emails, but forgot about the notes on the project.” "got some good work done, tho”

"need to take a moment to reread all of your incoherent notes” "all that rambling is… wow” "BUUUUUT come to the office” "the things from the berlin store just arrived, you will love them”

"can’t make it today” "send pics!”

"come tomorrow, then! ill get churros for breakfast”

My phone went back to the nightstand and I pulled up the comforter, wrapping it around myself in an attempt to find some security and calm of mind. I peered out from under the comforter, staring at the dark room, only lightened by some streaks of light created from a gap in the blinds. I was still tired from the night, and my mind scrambled from everything we had shared.

Eventually, I left the bed. My mom was downstairs, and a copy of Shadow of the Wind rested on the kitchen counter while she cooked lunch. Frank Sinatra played on the old record player in the living room and the music continued to stretch around the house as we ate together. Luckily, her birthday party was keeping her busy; busy enough that she didn't remember to ask me about the dinner from last night.

Truth be told: I'm a terrible liar. I would never be able to escape her questions.

At the end of the day, I met Rocco for a workout, in a nearby gym. He was waiting for me, leaning against the reception counter, teal Puma t-shirt paired with an amused smirk; I knew he was more than ready to put me through my paces. And I was right. It only took me a couple of exercises to lay on the floor, panting and sweating."Have you thought about what you're doing next season?" I looked up, in the direction of the voice. Rocco was standing in front of me, holding my water bottle.

I sat up straight and extended my hand to grab it. "Not yet," the water was cold and refreshing. Just what I needed. "Maybe a third year in the Challenge and," I paused to breathe. "You know, the reserve seat. Not ideal, but yeah."

He frowned, sitting down on one of the plyo boxes near me. "But yeah?"

"Yeah. Works." I answered, laying back down on the green turf. The small fake grass ticklish on my legs and arms. "Not much, but it's racing."

"I think I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Why? It's just how it is."

He cleared his throat, the deep sound making me open my eyes and stare at him again. "Up," he commanded, refusing to help me get up. I brought the hand I'd just held up to the floor, to help me get up.

"I thought we were done," I said. He didn't even need to say anything to make me understand that we were, in fact, not done. "Are you mad?"

“Annoyed,” he turned back to me. “What the heck was that answer? Of course, a third year in the Challenge and a reserve seat in WEC are not ideal. I was hoping for a real answer, not some… whatever that was.”

“It’s the reality,” I shrugged. Instead of turning back and going back to do whatever he was about to do, he just kept looking at me. Not the conversation I was hoping for today.

“You had a plan. What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing happened. I had a plan. And it’s going as it’s possible.”

"Excuses, Eva," Rocco exclaimed. He stepped forward and looked me in the eye. "You have a plan. You know what you want. And you have the talent."

“Congrats, you just solved gender inequality.” I gave him an ironic thumbs up, my mind still scrambled from the efforts of the workout and the encounter from last night. This kind of conversation was not what I wanted.

“You’re more than capable of getting a decent seat next year.”

“As we know,” I wiggled my finger between both of us, “It’s a tough path. Being capable won’t get me a seat. ”

“Locking yourself in an office keeping track of TikTok trends will?” I sent him a look. He held up his hands in defence. “You’re making excuses. There are other drivers fighting for the same things as you are and they are not taking no for an answer.”

“Neither am I.”

"Come on," he chortled, eying me carefully. I could tell that he wanted the best for me, but I was not really in the mood to discuss this at the moment. "When was the last time you actually planned something for yourself, and not just some new fashion designer or boujie vegan chef?"

I felt a little bit of annoyance creeping its way up my spine. I had been pushing myself so hard for the last few months, and I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with all the pressure.

“Can we focus on the races I have left to win?” I asked, my voice taking on an exasperated tone. “We can talk about this after I win this championship?”

“Sure.” He bent down to grab a 15 kg power bag from the floor and dropped it off at my feet. "This wasn't planned, but that self-pity is annoying me."

“A punishment?" I took my hands to my hips, a light chortle abandoning my lips. "Burpees and never-ending lounges? That's what you think I need right now?"

"No, no burpees," he said, his grin widening. "But maybe a few extra lounges wouldn't hurt." He was clearly enjoying this. I rolled my eyes and glanced down at the power bag in front of me.

“It was not—”

He cleared his throat, cutting me off, and I went silent. Then, looking at him, I saw that he was grinning at me once again, content. Yeah, it was self-pity. Yeah, the future is scary, especially when you’re a 25-year-old woman in motorsports and your career seems to be stuck.

I took a deep breath and bent over to pick up the bag, the cold weight of it dragging my body down to the ground. Rocco took a few steps back and then motioned me with his head to start.

"Andiamo," he said. “20 steps back and forth. Three series.”

So I did. I started lounging with the bag, back and forth across the green patch of turf on that side of the gym, trying to keep a steady pace. With each step, the pressure of the bag weighed me down. I kept going, pushing forward and gritting my teeth against the pain. When I finally reached the twentieth step, I dropped the bag and breathed out, my body aching from the effort.

By the end of the third series, I had pushed my body to its very limits and back. I sunk down onto the cool grass beneath me, feeling the relief of the softness beneath me—my muscles aching and my body dripping with sweat, my hair matted to my neck and temples.

Rocco sat near me, guiding me through a couple of moves, helping me to loosen my tight muscles and stretch out my body. Despite the big (and somewhat threatening) muscles he had a gentle touch.

“What’s on your mind?”

"Hm?" I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing together as I closed my eyes, feeling his hand pressing down on my thigh, pushing it firmly against the hard floor. I could feel the pain radiating through my body, but I tried to focus on the sensation of his grip.

“You always complain this hurts,” he said. I opened one eye. Now, I could feel the pressure from his grip. Probably something shifted on my face because he instantly asked, “Now it hurts?”

"It hurt before, I was just distracted." I shook my head, closing my eyes again and focusing on the sensation of his grip. “I’m free to feel like shit when things go badly." I let out.

“Things are not going badly,” he sighed, leaving my leg and switching to the other. “You’re simply letting yourself fall behind.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, my head falling back against the floor. I stayed there for a few moments, my heart pounding against my chest and my thoughts racing a million miles per hour. When I finally opened my eyes again, I looked up at Rocco, this time because I felt my thigh burning with discomfort, he was still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

"Too much." I glanced below while patting his arm. He raised an eyebrow, implying more pressure. "Ei!" I scrunched my nose. He just arched a brow. Sadistic fucker. “What? Are you going to hurt me until I hold someone at gunpoint and ask for a seat?”

“You talk like you don’t have good offers, Eva.”

“What is a good offer? Driving against 19-year-old boys in Formula 3? It’s humiliating.”

“W Series?” He suggested.

“I want to race with men and show people I can win against them.” I sat down. Rocco took his hands from my legs. My muscles tingled with the same intensity my thoughts did. “I like the Challenge because I’m showing them I can do it. But the team does not have a budget to race in other series. And I can’t be a reserve forever. So I can do another year and hope things change.”

“See? You’re choosing to fall behind.” He took a deep breath, understanding my frustration. "You can always look for sponsorship," he said, his eyes focused on the floor. "You have the talent, the connections—"

“I spent my teenage years sending letters and desperately trying to talk to people. You saw how that went.”

“You have results to show them, now. In two weeks you’ll have a championship.” I dragged my hands over my face. Instant regret. Both my hands and face were tingling with the same intensity my thoughts did. “W Series will give you exposure. Will give you points. You need points..”

“Why are you so interested now?” I arched an eyebrow, feeling a bit suspicious. “The year is long. Anything can happen. A lot can change.”

“I just don’t see you planning ahead.” He deadpanned, his expression unreadable. “What if you can’t do another season of the Challenge? Will you be content with just being a reserve in WEC?”

“Why so many ifs?” I asked, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Motorsports are unpredictable,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve been around long enough to know that. And I’m your coach, not just a trainer. It’s kinda my responsibility to do this.”

“Nah, I’m not having it.” I paused, still not entirely convinced. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Rocco just shook his head. The dark strands of his hair moved in unison. “Eva—” He shrugged. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Whatever he was about to say, it seemed like it wasn't completely true. "One," he continued; his tone shifting. "I don't want to be left without a job when you get bored of racing." I threw my towel at him, though I knew he was only joking. Unfortunately, he dodged it. "Two," he continued, "you're racing like a pro. You should race with the pros."

At least, in one thing he was right. I was racing like a pro.

On the other hand, I was not acting like one.

My team and my dad, the main sponsor, were the only support I had. Despite having other offers, none met our expectations. I had been a third, fourth, or fifth driver for too long. I had spent too much time in the garage, running simulations, and taking part in test sessions. Years of it. Each of these experiences had demoralized me.

Racing in the Challenge, learning with my team, taking time to understand the car and driving it to a podium made sense to me. Standing in the garage and hoping for someone to get food poisoning or COVID was not only morally wrong but also quite dull.

“Did you make this whole drama when Rio told you he wanted to stop racing and just go to college and become an engineer?” I asked, getting up from the floor and picking up my towel, still lying on the ground.

“It was worse actually,” my trainer said, following me. “I think I almost killed him when he told me.”

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, you do. Your poor father has his hands full with you two.” We stopped walking when we reached the locker room. “Go have a shower and get some rest.”

The second I reached my locker and opened the wooden door, I reached for my phone, looking for a message that hadn't arrived. Pathetic. A part of me considered taking the initiative and being the one to call or text him but, to be honest, what was left for me to say?

I had already told him everything by asking him not to kiss me and I might have told him even more by refusing to let go of him.

The office smelled of churros, so I knew Amanda was around. Either that or someone else had the same idea as her.

Familiar faces smiled back at me as I crossed the corridors and the work areas until I finally reached the common area and took one of the available seats. Since I had chosen to work remotely, and only visited the office casually for occasional meetings or when I needed a place where I could focus, I wasn't given an office.

The room was filled with the buzz of people chatting and the occasional laughter, making me feel a bit out of place. I knew most of them (read: I knew their names and which projects were under their purview), but rarely talked to any of them. Amanda, one of my friends from college, and the one who had introduced me to this agency was the only one I regularly talked with.

I sat down in my chair and pulled my laptop out of my bag. After talking with Rocco yesterday, I decided to take action on my career and spent last night looking at emails and reading my dad's notes on the sides of those he considered important enough to print. So, when I opened my laptop, my screen showed me my Notion board, which honestly felt like a showcase of my own failures. Not the first thing I wanted to see that morning.

A knock on the glass divider of the office made me lift my head up and find Amanda on the other side of it. A beautiful purple jumper highlighted her beautiful curves; her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. In her hands, a white box.

I waved at her.

“Vamos,” she motioned with her head. “Before anyone tries to steal these from me.”

I smiled and grabbed my laptop, zipping it up before getting up and walking towards her. “You know I have an important weekend ahead, right?”

She laughed, opening the box. “A churro won't weigh you down, don't worry.”

I took one of them and walked near her to the cafeteria. The morning light was soft, and the day was not too warm. Ideal to sit on the balcony and talk for a while. So, that's what we did. I grabbed coffee for both, while she walked outside.

The sunshine on my skin was just a slight warmth as I leaned on my chair, and the smooth breeze of the morning cooled off my skin. Traffic sounds in the background, the ruffle of chairs and the occasional bark of one of the dogs playing on the balcony of the start-up that shares the building with us.

While having a sip of her coffee, I noticed Amanda's eyes widening, and I could practically see the bell ringing in her mind. Instantly, my brows were drawn together. Brace yourself, Eva.

"So, I heard on Twitter dot com…" I rolled my eyes at the last part, and despite provoking a small chuckle from her, she didn't stop talking and her gaze still remained twinkling mischievously. "Carlos was in Mugello last weekend."

Oh, for fucks sake.

"If that's what Twitter says, it must be true."

"Yes. So," she paused. Her head tilted slightly, honestly looking like a pup who saw a threat in the distance. "Did you two talk?"

I shook my head; my fingers busy on the handle of my mug, desperately trying to seem unbothered by the question. "Nah, we didn't talk."

"You sure?" She asked, her eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said, my voice steady. "It's not like we're friends or anything."

"That's too bad," she murmured, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "It's not like Carlos and your brother are still like, the best of friends and maybe— maybe he went there to visit him and you end up talking?"

I sighed. "Stop it."“You're a terrible liar, Eva.” Amanda said bluntly, her gaze intense.

“Amanda,” I said, my voice stern and my eyes piercing. "Stop it."

“So, you talked.” Amanda gave me a knowing look. "I knew it. I saw those tweets and I realised we had barely talked this week, and that only happens when you're too busy overthinking. And then boom, I woke up to dozens of notes made at 2 am? You always go to bed early." She crossed her arms, her gaze still intense. "Come on, just tell me what happened. If it’s not him, it’s anything else. That worries me too. I'm here for you, no judgement."

I sighed. "Fine," I said, setting my mug down and leaning back on the chair. "We talked. A lot. We actually had dinner."

Amanda's gaze softened, but then she frowned again. “Dinner? The three of you?”

“The two of us.”

"Just the two of you?" Amanda's eyes widened in surprise, lips smiling brightly. I nodded to her question. "What did you talk about?"

A part of me wanted to end it there. The other part of me needed some guidance. And Amanda was a friend, she always had good advice. On the downside, she loved to gossip. But we were friends. Guidance. But gossip.

I shrugged. “Just normal things. Racing.”

“Okaaaay, that’s good.” At this point, her lips were curving up like she was the one having dinner with him. I couldn’t decide if her reaction annoyed me or made me happy. "So, what now? Are you going to keep in contact with him?"

I shook my head. "I don't think the dinner changed anything.” Liar.

“Eva,” she propped her elbows on the table. “You’re a terrible liar. Spit it out. What happened? If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me that. Just don’t lie.”

Talking about it would make a big deal. A bigger deal, actually. I dragged my hands over my face, tired and confused. Thinking about it was challenging enough and I truly didn't want to transform all my confusion and emotions into words. Amanda, on the other hand, couldn't hide the fact that she wanted the truth, her gaze so strong it almost made me melt over the iron (and obnoxiously red) chair I was sitting on.

So I told her. Every single detail. From the glorious vision of him under the bright lights of my garage, which for a second made me feel like I was living in an alternate world, through the call at dawn, to his gauze under the beautiful sunset glow. His warm, velvety lips brushing against mine. I told her about the “I think I might have loved you, too”, and the way that even in my dreams I couldn’t seem to forget his scent when he hugged me goodbye.

I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, as I spilled my heart out onto that small table, and when I finished all I could hear was the sound of her sigh. A ridiculous rom-com kind of sigh.

“I just feel like we messed it up because of pure desperation,” I said, crossing one leg over the other and looking around. “He messed it up. I think we just missed each other so much we… I don’t know. Got confused on the feelings?”

“He messed up?”

“I didn’t kiss him back. I just asked him to please, don’t.” It was more ridiculous saying it out loud now than when I recalled the moment in my mind.

“You’re even stupider than I thought,” was her answer. I arched my brow. “The guy cooked for you, at his place, told you he “thinks he loved you too” and tries to kiss you and now you’re mad because he didn’t text you?” She paused. “What the hell will he say? Of course, he won’t text you. What would you say to someone after being denied a kiss? Text him yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Why not? I asked myself the same question. Because I can’t trust him to stay. Better, because I can’t trust him to not leave. “Don’t be stubborn, come on. Just by looking at you, I know you’re dying to get that kiss.”

“Can’t we go back inside and talk about work?”

“Oh, no, missy.” She shook her head. “Those AB tests can wait. I want to talk about you and how you’re so dumb you might lose the chance of your life.”

“You’re exaggerating. As always.”

“Eva.” She was stern, her eyes burning on me. “He was your best friend. At least try to mend that friendship. Even if you don’t want anything else. Whatever the reason.”

I sighed, bowing my head in defeat. Amanda had a way of making me see sense, even when I didn't want to. "And if I can’t see him as a friend but still can’t give a step in the other direction?”

“Then, you give it time. Just don’t give it too much space.” She got up from her chair. Mug on one hand. The empty white box on the other. “Remember how that worked up last time.”

Fact one about Amanda: she was probably the most curious person I knew. Any arguments in the office, celebrity rumours or gossip of literally any kind she knew by heart, down to the last detail. And while that was remotely irritating, especially at exhausting times, like during Amber and Johnny’s trial, or when (especially when) the news broke about Pique and Shakira's divorce, it could also be a blessing. At least from my point of view. Perhaps all the stories contributed to her having a broader view of relationships and, as a result, being so good at giving advice. Fact two: there was no one more insistent than her, so, evidently, she couldn’t leave the office without reminding me to text him.

It was 5 pm, and I was utterly absorbed in the presentation for the new restaurant. I was head down, consumed by the details of culinary and marketing analytics, and, to tell the truth, my mind was so focused on this project that I couldn't really think of anything else.

Amanda was getting ready to leave. Jacquemus purse over her shoulder and a strong pink lipstick on the place where a less saturated one had been during the day.

“You stay?” She asked me.

“Aham,” I briefly made my eyes leave the screen to look at her. “I need to finish this. Next week I’ll be too busy.”

“You leaving for Italy on Monday?”

“Tuesday,” I corrected her, my eyes going back down to the laptop. “Don’t want to leave this to the last minute.”

“Okay. I’ll try to have a look at it before you leave. Also,” my eyes went up again. “Send the man a good luck text.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes at her. "He doesn't need my luck text.”

Amanda nodded, her eyes still twinkling mischievously. "Okay, send him a whatever text, then. An emoji. Like his Instagram story.”

“I’m afraid liking his story won’t work.” I leaned back on her office chair, which I had taken in the middle of the day when she needed to leave for a meeting and left me to use her small office.

“Text him, then. Anything. I wouldn’t let Carlos Sainz escape, but you do you, babes,” she shrugged, turning her back to me to walk to the door.“Enjoy the weekend. Besos!”

“Bye!”

I didn’t text him. Of course. In the same way, she was insistent, I was stubborn.

Actually, let me rephrase it.

I didn’t text him then.

Mid-afternoon, Rio had called inviting me to dinner, and when I asked about the kids, he told me he had booked a nanny, so they would stay home. It was either business or pleasure. I didn't need to ask; as soon as he mentioned my dad was invited, I knew we'd be discussing business. And after Rocco's worries last night, I knew it was partly my business, too.

My nerves were on edge as I prepared to leave the office. They only worsened as I neared the restaurant - a way too fancy place for a Friday dinner with the family.

Crossing the sidewalk, my heels clacking on the cement, my head spinning from the long hours in front of my laptop, and the anxiety building in my chest, I looked inside. My dad was seated at the end of the table, with an empty seat to his right - the seat I was supposed to take. Marjorie was already waving at me. Smiling politely to the man standing at the door, I said, "They're waiting for me." He nodded and let me enter.

My eyes drifted to their table, and I allowed myself a few seconds to study the mood. They were laughing, but my palms were still sweating as I settled in for what would surely be an uncomfortable conversation.

"Sorry, traffic," I said, punctuating my apology with a kiss on each of my parents' cheeks. "Am I too late?"

"No, no," my dad said, his voice warm and comforting. "Your brother was about to tell me something, but you just distracted him. Go ahead, Fabrizio."

I turned to him, curious.

"I'm sure we can wait a bit more. Just... after the food," he said.

"Why are you so nervous?" Marjorie asked, her violet fingernails softly laying over his arm in a gentle caress. "It's something good," she said to me. "Don't worry."

"Are you pregnant again?" my mom asked.

"No! No, no!" my sister-in-law responded quickly, her voice almost echoing in the room. Even Rio seemed surprised by her rapid response. "It's Rio's news. Not mine."

“After the food, then,” my father said.

“I hate it when I do that,” I muttered to my brother, grabbing the menu from the table and letting my eyes drift through the print. “You haven’t ordered yet, right?”

My dad shook his head. "We were waiting for you.”

I glanced at the menu one last time before setting it back down. My dad's hand called for a waiter and, after the young man left, the conversation resumed. As usual before any Grand Prix, the race weekend was the matter on the table and, that night specifically, Carlos' penalty was the urgent matter. Ferrari had the pace and Carlos had the skill, but as I sat there, hearing my brother and dad's input on how wise the choice had or hadn't been, my attention diverged to the DNF he had suffered in Austria, less than two weeks ago. Vivid images of the flames engulfing the car, the heartbreaking words on the radio, and the cheers that echoed through the crowd as his teammate stepped onto the top step filled my mind.

One feeling the glory, the other one consumed in ruin.

“Good luck out there this weekend.” "Don’t pull another Austria. That one was scary.”

Done. I’d texted him. For better or for worse, it was done. And I didn’t have time to put the phone back in the purse before it vibrated again in my hand.

“Thank you. I really need it.”

I checked the time.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m resting." "Listening to my teammate rant about food, but resting.”

“Why? Did you tell him about the cheese-less pasta you tried to feed me?” “If I expect Leclerc to teach you something is how to cook pasta."

"He’s a terrible cooker.” “I’m better learning it from you.”

"I’ll be sure to give you a lesson someday."

"I'll hold you to that."

"What are you smiling about?" Marjorie asked, my attention immediately being grabbed from my screen to the table.

"Nothing, sorry," I said quickly, tucking my phone back into my purse. "Amanda just texted me about the work I was finishing.”

"Ah, Eva, if you put that effort into racing…" he said, as the waiter came back with our food. I tried to ignore him, especially because there was no use fighting back his comment.

Even with the food on the table and the anticipation to find out about Rio’s news tugging on my chest, the conversation didn’t go further from Formula 1. My dad, a lifelong Italian Ferrari fan and a very biased Carlos supporter was ranting over the lack of professionalism he was sensing from the team and how the choices they repeatedly made ruined not only the drivers but the prestige of the team. Nothing new. Rio and I have been listening to the same tirade for a long couple of years and nothing seemed to change, even after the amazing start to the season the team had.

“I had my reservations at first, but you could be a nice fit for the team, actually”, my dad said, pointing at Rio, with the knife he was using to cut his steak. Rio looked confused at him, and then, at me. “Have they given you an answer?”

What?

For a moment, I felt like I’d fallen on a different table, a completely different conversation. My gaze shifted from one to the other, confused by my father’s question.

“Who’s they?” I asked. Marjorie was biting her lip; her violet fingertips on my brother’s arm, once again.

“Ferrari,” my father responded, clearly stepping over my brother’s feet. Rio seemed bothered; clenched jaw, restless fingers that Marjorie tried to calm by positioning hers over. “Are those the news?” He asked him.

Rio nodded, his jaw unclenching and his lips transforming to a slight grin. "Yep. They offered me a job." He looked around the table, his gaze caught mine for a second but quickly left again. “I need to let them know my decision until Monza.”

“You applied for a job at Ferrari?” I asked. Honestly, I was so confused I couldn’t piece all the things together. “We’re doing so good at the Challenge, you could have waited for just one m—”

“Eva.” My dad interrupted me. The strong stern voice pulled my attention. The authority value of his words over the sweet comforting voice of the beginning of the dinner. The mood had definitely shifted “Wait? You’re the one that’s always urging the team to aim for higher heights.”

"Exactly. The team won't do that without Rio."

"But your brother will. And so will you." I tried to interject but with no success. He continued before I even had the chance to talk. "You can't possibly think your brother would stay with the team knowing he could have this huge opportunity."

"I didn't know about any opportunity." I was replying to my father, but my eyes were directed to Rio. "What about the team? And the Challenge?" I inquired.

"In less than two weeks, the championship will be over. I have no doubts you will win it. You're just losing time there," my father's tone was bothering me, but the fact that he was still cutting his steak as he talked was really aggravating my temper.

Rio, on the other hand, didn't react. His expression didn't even shift. He remained silent, eyes shifting between mine and dad's face. In his silence, though, he was telling me much more than he thought.

"This is not a formality," I said to my father. "Can you please look at me while you talk about our future?"

Finally, he put down his cutlery and remained silent for a few seconds. Deep blue eyes looked up at me, cold and serious.

"There's no future for you if you're afraid to take a serious step," he said finally. "I won't let your brother get stuck in the Challenge when I know he can do so much more. I won't let you make him fall behind because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Why else would he stay at the Challenge?" I stayed silent, feeling my fake sense of confidence being stripped away with the weight of my dad's question. The answer that my conscience gave me was selfish and I refused to say it out loud. I was afraid of staying alone, rather, I was afraid to see Rio flying solo in the higher aims I ambitioned for me and not being able to carry along. Only if he waited, we could jump up together. "Why would he choose anything less than Formula One?"

"So, you have it decided, then?" I asked Rio. "How did that even happen?"

His tongue crept in between his lips, eyes wandering on my face, afraid to reach my eyes. It was making me nervous. Not just because he was about to leave me, but because he didn't tell me about it, prior. My dad knew about it. He even thought that I knew about it. And like a lightning bulb lighting up on my head: Rocco knew it, too.

"It was proposed to me. The job. At Silverstone, a few weeks ago." Even though Rio was stuttering, and his words barely constructed a sentence, piece by piece it all fell together. "Apparently, Carlos talked to someone about you. About the Challenge. And he mentioned me, my results..." he explained. "Carlos invited me there for the Grand Prix and surprised me with an interview."

Why didn't it surprise me? Carlos. The “right time”, of course.

"Your results? Why hide this from me?” I asked, looking around the table. “Clearly, everyone else knows.”

“I wanted to tell you, but didn’t get the chance to do it.”

“But what?” I asked, half defeated, half annoyed. Angry, even. There was so much going on inside me, I couldn’t think straight. “You just said you had the interview in Silverstone. Weeks ago. You had plenty of opportunities.”

“I knew you would snap and react like this,” Rio tried to justify himself.

“Snap? I’m not—” I paused and took a deep breath. At this point, I was seething with anger. “I’m asking questions. I’m not… snapping.”

“You should be happy for me,” I would if I didn’t feel betrayed. “I know you well enough to know that you would react… badly to the news. Especially if you knew Carlos was involved**.**”

Even though his name was blinking on my head, in bold red letters, I tried to set apart his involvement in this story. So, I carried on,

“And you’re just going to do it? Leave the team, the whole project and ditch us? Without even consulting me?”

He shrugged. “I’m consulting you now.”

“This is not a consultation, Rio. Please.” A pause. “This is you telling me what you’re going to do, without even considering my opinion or the team that’s behind your great results.”

“Go ahead.” He made a gesture with his hand. “What’s your opinion, then? You are the one that’s always telling me to aim higher. This is my dream. Always has been.”

“What? Formula One? I thought your dream was to drive in Formula One. Or was that before you noticed you’re a shitty driver? Enlighten me.”

“Eva, enough,” the deep voice cut me off.

I felt like I was going to burst. I wanted to scream, to cry, to express my anger somehow. But my dad's stern gaze kept me in my place. I felt completely helpless and unheard.

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Rio, cutting through the silence. “Childish, even. Ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful? I’m not the one leaving.”

“Why does leaving need to be bad?” The question settled in for a second. “Grow a bit, and maybe you’ll get some good opportunities too.”

“Sure, maybe then my friends will get me jobs, too. Is that what you mean?”

“Enough.” My dad's fist hit the table, loud enough to silence us, but not to the point of attracting too much attention.

My gaze lingered on his clenched fist on the table. I nodded, forcing myself not to say anything else. I placed my napkin on the table and got up, making sure my chair wouldn’t make any noise when pushed back. Before turning around, I paused briefly, my gaze now resting on my brother. “Good luck with your new job.”

It didn't surprise me when I saw Carlos fly through the track the next day, setting amazing times in the qualifying session, despite the penalty waiting for him for the race. He was dancing with the car, tracing beautiful lines within the colourful ones Paul Ricard was known for. Carlos would start P19 the next day, only ahead of Magnussen, who also had a back-of-the-grid penalty.

I traded the interviews for a dip in the pool and lingered there for the remainder of the afternoon. Perhaps because I was not the best person to have around that day, my parents had left just before lunch and didn't get back until after dinner. Alone, with music echoing throughout the house and the crippling anxiety the events that week had provoked, I felt myself get lost in the doubts and uncertainties.

My phone rang when I was already getting ready for bed. On my nightstand, the name Carlos appeared over an old photo of both of us. Like I couldn't control it, I walked to the phone and sat on the bed. I let it ring a few times before picking it up.

“Hi,” he said. I just looked through the window, to the dark backyard. “No good luck text today?”

“Guess not.”

“And why's that?”

“Did you know Rio had an interview to work at Ferrari?”

“Yes...?” He paused. “Is that a problem?”

“Did you know he got a job offer?”

We both fell into a moment of silence. A long sigh stretched through the line. I closed my eyes, not sure what to expect from the conversation. The next time his voice was heard, it was more serious.

"Can we stop asking questions instead of answering them?"

"The timing is funny," I said. "Just that."

"What do you mean?"

"You coming to Mugello? Was that a coincidence?"

"Eva, what?" Carlos was silent for a few seconds. "Don't make this into a drama," he said. "Rio is talented and if he got a job offer it's because he earned it. The things are not remotely related."

"I'm not complaining about him getting the job."

"Then what are you complaining about?" Carlos asked.

"That it took you years to finally come back and talk to me and it happened just when he got a job in your team. Did you really want to talk to me or did he make you do that?"

"I didn't do it for him," Carlos said. "I did it because I wanted to see you."

"I wish I could believe you."

"And why don't you?"

"It's been three years. Coincidences don't just happen."

I could hear him breathe. Silence weighed down my chest. He wasn't denying it. He wasn't telling me why he was there, that night. "Can I see you this week?" He asked me, before a long sigh.

"No."

"I'll be in Maranello for a few days." I bit my lip, shaking my head to the void. "You'll be in Imola, right? I can go there—"

"I don't want to see you." I talked over him and then paused for a brief second. "Don't show up there, please. It's an important week and I don't really need more distractions."

“Eva, por favor.”

“Good luck tomorrow.”

I put my phone away and let myself sink into the bed, feeling nothing but the warmth of the comforters on my skin and the instant sense of security that came over me. I allowed my eyes to close and my mind to drift away, and before I knew it, a prayer for Carlos came into my thoughts.

I prayed for strength for both him and me, for us. I knew that, whether we were on or off the track, we would need to find a way to get through whatever was to come.

Next Chapter: 04.

Thank you for your support in the previous chapter! Carlos will become a more present character in the future. Pinky promise. Don't abandon me until that happens, please! <3

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