#Motorhome for rent

[caravanhireindelhi]

Motorhomes on rent in delhi

Motorhomes on rent in delhi, offering flexible and comfortable travel options. Ideal for exploring the city and its vibrant surroundings at your own pace, equipped with essential amenities for a memorable journey.

[lxndonorris]

such a tease - Max Verstappen

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: Smut (you've been warned) helping Max change after the Chinese GP, appreciating how good he looks in his racing suit and without x word count: 3570+ taglist: @game-set-canet EN: I had to use this picture, it lives rent free, got another for CL and LN planned, if you have any requests for others, let me know. Its my longest yet I think. Hope you like it. We need more body worshipping Max imo.

As you stood in the vibrant atmosphere of the Shanghai International Circuit, your heart raced with anticipation. It wasn't just any other day; it was the Chinese Grand Prix, and Max Verstappen, the love of your life, was poised to dominate the track.

As the lights dimmed and the engines roared to life, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. With each passing lap, you watched Max weave his magic, his driving prowess on full display for the world to see.

The tension mounted as the race unfolded, but Max remained unfazed, his determination unwavering as he led the others around each corner and each straight. Lap after lap, he danced with danger, his skill and precision leaving you in awe.

And then, as the checkered flag waved in the air, declaring Max the victor, you felt a swell of pride wash over you. You made your way toward the pitwall, just in time to catch him emerging from his Red Bull race car. 

Max's energy and excitement were infectious as he cheered loudly before he turned to meet your gaze. In one swift motion, he approached you and the rest of his team, hugging you tightly.

With a radiant smile gracing his features, Max held his throphy aloft on the podium, the golden light of victory illuminating his face. Dressed in his racing suit, adorned with the colors of his team, he looked every bit the champion he is.

As you watched from the stands, your heart overflowed with admiration for the man you loved. His determination, his dedication, and his unwavering pursuit of excellence were on full display for the entire racing world to see. And in that moment, amidst the cheers and the applause, you couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky to be by his side.

While Max soaked in the adulation of the crowd, his eyes found yours in the sea of faces, a silent acknowledgement of your unbreakable bond. And as he raised a hand in salute, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, you knew that this was a moment you would cherish forever.

As the press conference unfolded, you noticed Max's gaze constantly finding yours amidst the sea of flashing cameras and eager reporters. His smirk, subtle yet unmistakable, sent a shiver of excitement down your spine.

With every question fielded, his eyes lingered on yours, and as he spoke, his hand subconsciously drifted to his chest and thighs, a gesture that seemed to amplify his magnetic charm.

Watching him, so effortlessly captivating and utterly beautiful, a rush of adoration swell within you. You knew how he felt right now—the excitement and adrenaline of the race lingering deep inside him, and the desire to share this moment with you and you alone. 

For just anyone, this seemed unimportant, but you knew that with every stroke, every little move of his fingertips, he imagined it was you instead.

As the conference drew to a close, Max's gaze met yours once more, and with a knowing smirk, he got up from the sofa. Together, you made your way through the paddock to his motorhome.

Now inside the cozy confines of his motorhome, Max wastes no time grabbing a cold can of Red Bull from the fridge, his go-to source of energy and focus. With a deft twist of his wrist, he cracks open the can, the satisfying hiss of carbonation filling the air.

Taking a long sip of the invigorating drink, Max's expression softens, a look of pure satisfaction crossing his features.

Turning to you, his eyes sparkle with a mix of exhilaration and contentment. Despite the intensity of the race and the demands of the press conference, he still manages to look effortlessly hot in his racing attire, clad in his sleek racing suit and signature cap.

As he stands before you, radiating confidence and charm, his presence fills the room. You let your eyes roam all over him: his racing suit hugs his athletic frame, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the muted tines of the motorhome's interior. Paired with his cap, adorned with the logo of his team, he looks every bit the part of racing superstar.

With a playful grin, Max extends the can of Red Bull towards you, inviting you to share his post-race ritual with him.

Taking it from him, you marvel at the warmth of his touch, the electricity that seems to crackle between you. And as you take a sip of the Red Bull, you enjoy the cold, refreshing liquid running down your throat.

With an hour until his next interview, you put the can down on the table next to you before turning back to meet Max's gaze right away.

With a confident swagger in his step, Max closes the distance again. One arm wrapped securely around your waist, he pulls you close, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

Steadying yourself against him, you can't help but be swept away by the intensity of the moment. His proximity is electrifying; his scent, a mixture of his cologne, sweat, and champagne, fills your senses as he leans closer, his lips grazing against your ear.

"Care to lend a hand?" he whispers, his voice husky with desire. His playful tone sends a surge of heat coursing through you, and you play along, relishing in the teasing banter.

With a playful smirk, you nod in response, your fingers trailing lightly along the contours of his racing suit as you begin to assist him in changing.

The adrenaline from today's race still surges through his veins, and his whole body tenses with the remnats of the high-octane action on the track. Despite the exhaustion that threatened to set in, there is a raw energy emanating from him.

You stroke his chest firmly through his racing suit; every muscle in his body seems to be coiled like a tightly wound spring, ready to unleash its power at a moment's notice. The fabric hugs his frame flawlessly, accentuating his athletic build and adding an air of intensity to his already striking appearance.

His eyes, ablaze with the remnants of the fierce competition, hold a magnetic allure that is impossible to resist. There is a primal energy to him, a wildness that sets your heart racing and your pulse quickening with every passing moment.

As your hands glide across Max's chest, tracing the contours of his racing suit, you feel the tension in his body gradually give way to a sense of relaxation. Enjoying how the sleek fabric feels underneath your fingertips, you stroke him even firmer, causing him to purr happily.

You let your hands run along his waistline as well, feeling his butt filling out the suit fully. Your hands are now freely encompassing all of him, from the small of his back, running along his spine and back around his shoulders, to his firm chest.

"That feels good." His smile widens as he pulls you closer, his grip firm yet gentle on your waist, a clear invitation to continue.

With each stroke, you sense the pleasure building within him, the sensation of your touch heightening the electric connection between you. His racing suit, once a barrier between you, now serves as a conuit for your intimacy, amplifying the intensity of your shared desire.

Max leans, his lips brushing over your neck and your ear, before he lets out a low, guttural moan, giving you goosebumps.

"Mhmm." You shiver as your hands gilde over his thick pecs and right his arms. As your fingers trail along Max's muscular arms, stroking the sinewy contours underneath his suit, he responds with a subtle flex, the muscles beneath his skin rippling with power.

He leans his head back, and with a knowing smile, he invites you to feel the strength of his arms. 

As you press your hands against his flexed biceps, you marvel at the firmness of his form, the raw energy simmering just beneath the surface. His muscles tense under your touch, a silent invitation to explore further to revel in the sensation of his strength.

With each flex, you feel a surge of excitement coursing through you, the heat of desire building with every second. Max's body is a canvas of power and grace, a testament to his relentless pursuit of perfection, both on and off track.

And as you continue to stroke him, tracing the contours of his arms with reverence and awe, you can't help but be captivated by the sheer beauty of his physicality.

"Oh, fuck." You speak quietly, watching your fingers run along his arms and back to his chest. As your gaze meets his once more, a knowing smirk plays on his lips, and he lowers his arms just to grab your waist again, securely holding you in place.

"Feels good, huh?" He licks his lips as his gentle fingers run along your waistline.

"Oh, yeah." You respond with a coy smirk forming on your lips, and then you let your hand run up his chest and right to the collar of his slick racing suit.

As you toy with the zipper of his suit, teasing him with the promise of what lies beneath, you can't help but revel in the power of your own arousal. The sight of Max, so strong and commanding yet vulnerable in his desire, stirs something primal within you, igniting a fire that burns with ferocious intensity.

And you tease him with the zipper while looking right into his sparkling eyes. You alternate between gentle caresses and playful tugs, causing a low, deep rumbling in his throat.

The firmness of his form beneath the fabric carries an intoxicating allure, pulling you closer and closer.

As you unzip his suit slowy, teasingly, you reveal the snug white fireproofs underneath, and a low growl escapes his lips, a primal sound of desire and anticipation. With his head leaning back, he surrenders to the sensations, his body tensing beneath your touch.

Sliding your hands inside his suit, you feel the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric, the firmness of his muscles, even more evident now, inviting your touch. 

With each stroke, you apply just the right amount of pressure, eliciting a shiver of pleasure from Max as he arches into your touch. His breaths come in shallow gasps, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in the space between you. 

And as you continue to stroke him, your movements growing bolder and more confident with each passing second, you feel the arousal within you intensifying as well, matching the intensity of his own desire.

With a shared determination, Max and you work together to remove the upper half of his racing suit, leaving the sleeves hanging down his waist. As the fabric falls away, his muscles are revealed, defined, and taut beneath the thin material of his undergarments.

Each contour is accentuated by the tight fabric, a testament to the physical strength and endurance required of a Formula 1 driver.

Unable to restrain the urge to touch him or feel him, you place both of your hands on his chest again. With every touch, every stroke, Max lets out a low, primal growl of pleasure. 

His grip on your waist intensifies as well, as he starts to stroke you in response. This spurs you on, fanning the flames already burning inside your belly, encouraging them to engulf your entire chest with burning desire.

Your hands explore the planes of his chest and the curves of his abdomen. The sensation of his muscles rippling beneath your fingertips only fuels your desire further, each growl serving as a symphony of passion between you.

Running your hands up Max's chest and neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your hand, you trace the outline of his lips with your thumb, a teasing question poised on your lips.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" You ask, a playful glint in your eyes.

Max's response is a simple nod, his expression softening as he meets your gaze. The tension that gripped his features now melts away, replaced by a look of pure contentment and desire.

With a mischievous grin, you reach up and remove his cap, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud. His messy hair spills out from beneath, tousled and tousled from the excitement of the race. Running your fingers through his hair, you marvel at the softness, the strands tangling around your fingertips like silk.

Leaning in closer, you caress his cheeks, feeling the stubble beneath your touch. His skin is warm and smooth, in stark contrast to the rough texture of his racing suit.

At the same time, you keep stroking his tummy, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs with your other hand. The look in his eyes, dark with desire, tells you that he is enjoying every moment of the exquisite torture.

You let your hand wander even further down his body, and you gasp once your hand encompasses the desire bulding up inside his racing suit. In response, Max lets out a low sigh and starts to grind his hips against the palm of your hand.

Your eyes meet his, and the two of you smirk knowingly.

With practiced ease, Max slips off his shoes, the tension in the room palpable as he stands before you, his clothes clinging to his form.

As the racing suit falls to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment, your eyes trace the outlines of his body, mesmerized by the sight before you.

Max stands tall and proud, his muscles defined and toned beneath his tight fireproofs. The fabric is hugging his form like a second skin, and unlike the racing suit, it is unable to hide any of his features. 

His muscles ripple underneath, his biceps are thick with tension, just like his entire chest and thighs. The unmistakable bulge forming inside his trousers shows the effect all that teasing has on him, and Max isn't even trying to hide it.

Instead, he rubs the palm of his hand across his member while biting his lower lip and watching you closely. Still, you're not done teasing him yet.

Placing your hands back on his firm chest, you continue to stroke Max through his undergarments, eliciting a chorus of enticing sounds from his throat. With each touch, each stroke, the desire threatens to consume you both.

Max responds eagerly to your touch, pulling you closer until there is barely any space between you. His hands, once idle at my sides, now roamed freely, exploring every curve and contour of my body with a fervent hunger.

Feeling his hands on your butt, pulling you flush against him, sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you. The sensation of his touch is all-consuming, setting your skin ablaze with longing and need.

You suddenly can't wait to feel his bare skin under your fingertips. Tugging greedily at his shirt, you expose the hard lines of his abs. Responding to your need, he takes his shirt off in one swift motion, exposing his beautiful, toned chest.

Just like before, you stroke him and play with his hard nipples, just the way he likes it. His skin is so warm, tensed, yet oddly soft. His muscles react to the simplest touch, and you know he's longing for so much more.

Your eyes follow his hand, stroking himself, his chest, abs, and then further down to his member, tenting visibly. Max is letting out low growls, pressing his body against yours while biting his lips.

"Let me take care of that." You smirk and kiss him lovingly before you make your way down his chest. With every stroke, his breathing quickens, and you place kisses all over his chest, down his abs until you're on your knees.

Max runs a hand through his hair and across his face. His entire being is craving a release, to let go of all this pleasure and desire building up inside him.

Teasingly, you trace the outlines of his member with two fingers, causing him to moan quietly. Then, you slip your fingers inside his pants. As you play with the waistband, teasingly tugging at the fabric, Max's reaction is immediate; a low groan escapes his lips as he leans into your touch, his desire palpable against your fingertips. 

With each playful tug, his arousal grew, the fabric of his fireproofs stretching against the swell of his desire, its heat radiating through his clothes.

There is no room for restraint or hesitation. Both of you are consumed by the fire of your shared passion.

You pull his pants down and let your hands roam all over his thighs before you focus all of your attention on his dick.

As you take him inside your mouth, your entire body gets just as stiff as he is, and right away, Max lets out multiple low moans, leaning his head back while running a hand through your hair, encouraging you to take it all.

Easily, the two of you adapt to each other's movements, moving in sync with one another to an unseen, unheard rhythm.

Max moves deliberately, soft and gentle, even though he is already on the verge of cumming. All that teasing, paired with the excitement of winning today's race, dominating the entire grid, built up inside him, just waiting for this moment.

It doesn't take long for him to lean his head back even further and let out an exhausted, long moan.

His familiar taste spreads across your tongue, causing you to relish in that moment.

Max runs a hand through your hair as you separate yourself from him. He bends down, placing a hand at your neck, stroking you with his fingertips. 

"That felt so good." He moans as he leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he helps you get up and steadies you against his firm frame. 

"It was amazing." You lick your lips, savoring the taste still lingering on your tongue.

Max then steps out of his fireproofs, leaving them pooled at his feet. He stands before you, completely exposed, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see.

He touches himself a few times, still feeling that pleasure running through his veins, and you can't help but smile.

As you watch Max get dressed again, your gaze lingers on every movement, captivated by the effortless grace with which he moves. 

He starts by slipping into a fresh pair of underwear, the fabric clinging snugly to his form. Max struggles a little with his stiff member, but that just makes the two of you giggle.

"Always the same with you." You tease, but he just shrugs.

"I can't help it." He tilts his head slightly. "That's what you're doing to me." 

Rolling your eyes, you can't help but giggle again.

Next, he pulls on a pair of jeans, the denim hugging his legs in all the right places. With each movement, the tension in the room seems to grow again, amplifying the allure of his every gesture.

Finally, Max reaches for his signature Red Bull shirt, the fabric stretching tautly across his firm chest and shoulders. Even though it is a familiar sight, the shirt seems to fit him even more perfectly than usual, accentuating every contour of his muscular frame.

As he smoothes down the fabric, adjusting the shirt just so, you can't help but reach out for his chest once more. 

You run a hand over Max's red Bull shirt, feeling the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric. A shiver of excitement exhoes through you.

Your soft strokes elicit another guttural rumble deep from within his throat, and he places his hand on top of yours. The fabric of his shirt stretches and molds to the contours of his body, flattering him perfectly.

His familiar scent envelopes you again, filling the air with an intoxicating aroma that is uniquely his own. It is a scent you know and love—a blend of musk and sweat mixed with the subtle hint of his favorite cologne.

"Do I smell okay?" He asks suddenly, and you just nod.

"Yeah, so good." You smile and lean in to him, kissing him deeply while still stroking his chest through his tight shirt.

As you pick up the discarded clothes from the floor, you can't help but revel in the sensation of Max's racing suit and fireproofs between your fingers. The fabric is so soft yet sturdy.

As the two of you fold the garments neatly, you notice how they still retain the faint scent of Max—a scent that fills you with a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Feeling his arms wrap around you from behind, his touch gentle yet possessive, you melt into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his presence. His hand strokes your tummy with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter, each caress sending waves of pleasure through you.

Turning around to face him, you are greeted by the sight of Max in his signature look, his cap firmly in place, and a playful glint in his eyes. Despite the intensity of the day, he is ready for the next challenge, his confidence unwavering as he prepares for the next interview.

With a smile, you reach up and adjust his cap, making sure it is perfectly aligned. Max grins in response, a silent acknowledgement of your unspoken bond.

[chilling-seavey]

Silence of the Mountains (gr63)

↳ A/N After watching Zhou's motorhome tour over the Austrian GP weekend, I ended up having a dream Saturday night...this is the written version of that dream. And, hey, it must have been a premonition because look who won the next day ;)

↳ Summary: George decides to rent a motorhome for the Austrian Grand Prix weekend like some of the other drivers do; he's sure it'll make everything so much more convenient. Sharing the space with his trainer might be beneficial for work but certainly not when it comes to taming your insatiable appetite.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 4.2k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, risky locations, forced silence (smothering sounds with hands, pillows, sheets), little bit of grinding, whispered dirty talk, slight degradation, George goes from 🤭 to 😈 in like a flip of a switch, unprotected sex (& creampie because is it really something I've written if that's not included?)

The gentle hush of rain through the quiet night was a calming contrast to the thunderous sound of race car engines that had once filled the Austrian countryside. In the secluded section of the lush green forests, carved by breathtaking mountains and rolling hills, a half dozen million-dollar motorhomes rested in an organized cluster. There was an almost eerie darkness that surrounded the camp with nothing around but nature and twinkling stars hidden behind hazy rain clouds. 

The light drops fell in a soft pitter patter against the roof of the motorhome, creating a lulling atmosphere for a well deserved sleep before the impending race the next day. Within the protection that the luxury mobile home offered from the elements, the rhythm of the rain was countered by the soft sounds of timid kisses and breathy giggles that were muffled by the gentle rustle of sheets.

“We should sleep.” George’s whispered voice reached your ears under the sea of luxury linen. His hand rested on your waist, sliding around to the dip of your spine and back again.

Directly beside him, face to face, you had an arm tucked under his neck and the other strewn around his shoulders, holding him as close against you as you could physically manage. Your fingers clutched onto the fabric of his shirt as if worried he was going to move away and, once he spoke those words, your grip tightened a little more. 

“I don’t want to.” you replied in a hushed whisper.

Your lips met again in a few more passive kisses. 

“I want to keep kissing you.” you added dreamily, eyelids lovingly closed.

You could hear him smile through the darkened room, his adoration for you as clear as day in his tone, “Me too, love, but I need some rest for tomorrow.” 

The taste of his lips was addicting as you nuzzled your face a little closer to steal more chasté kisses from him. George would never complain. 

You laid there together in the king size bed in the motorhome you complained heartily about staying in that weekend (“You’re partnered with two hotels, I’m sure we can connect with one, rather than suffer in this glorified tin can on wheels”), limbs tangled under soft sheets, breaths falling in calm unison. When your eyes were closed, the place could almost pass as a hotel. 

The two of you were cuddled so close that it was physically impossible for there to be any space between you. You shared the mattress, the blankets, a pillow. Hands caressed clothed skin under the down-filled duvet, holding and coddling loving bodies, such a tangle you weren’t quite sure where you ended and he began. Chest to chest, you could feel your heartbeats thudding in slow, steady time; the shape of his pecs through his t-shirt pushing faintly against the curve of your breasts under yours like you were one entity. 

George’s breaths fell softly against your cheek and yours returned the favour, faces millimetres apart. So close that you barely had to pucker your lips and you would be kissing him. It was easy and convenient and you had been laying there together like that for who knew how long, making the most of the moment. Familiar hands, comforting breaths, lazy kisses.

It always felt so surreal like this; warm, dreamlike, ethereal. You wanted more of him, all of him, always. 

You pulled your hand out from under the blankets to slide around the back of his neck and into the roots of his soft hair, holding him firmly in place as you kissed his lips; the bottom one, then the top one, then both, both again, and again, and again-

“Sweetheart,” George murmured with a smile, his voice low and warm like melted caramel, “that’s enough.”

“No, it’s not.” you countered urgently, whispered words wavering through the darkened room before you pressed your lips together again. 

George let out a little ‘mmph’ against your lips at your insistence but he was never one to decline you. He always kissed you back.

Your leg slid up his until you could slide it around his waist, naturally urging his thigh between yours. He shifted in your arms a little, lips still locked in a lingering kiss, his large hand trailing over the curve of your ass and down to your thigh as if to keep you wrapped around him. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours and your hips naturally nudged against the muscle of his leg that was pressed between yours. 

Just as you let out a tiny whimper at the friction, George pulled away from your kiss. He rested his forehead against yours, sighing out, “Okay, that’s enough, love.”

“No, it’s not.” you protested, leaning in for more kisses from his swollen lips before adding, “I want more of you.”

He smiled against your lips, letting out a breathy laugh as he pulled away, “We can’t.”

But you just kept kissing him, kiss after kiss after kiss.

George chuckled softly with his hand rubbing up and down your thigh, reiterating when you paused to breathe, “We can’t, love.”

“Mm,” you whined softly, shifting in his arms to kiss his chin and then his throat, nibbling at his neck as your hips rolled naturally against his bare thigh again.

George’s breath shuddered slightly and his hand gave your bum a small pat, reminding you in a whisper, “Aleix is only a room away…and these walls are so thin…”

“Should have gotten a hotel room like I said.” you mumbled between soft kisses along the expanse of his neck.

George groaned softly and his head tilted back a little to give you room, his hand tightening around your waist as if he were torn between drawing you closer or pushing you away. He had figured renting a motorhome for the European races like most of the other drivers did would have been much more convenient; it would be closer to the circuit, there was hired security, his trainer would be right there should he need anything. But, despite all this, the convenience of using the second bedroom in the motorhome to sleep his trainer suddenly felt anything but ideal. 

He seriously needed to listen to you more often. 

“Baby,” George huffed out, his breathy words drowned out by a gust of wind that had the rain pelting down on the roof a little harder.

Your fingers pulled at his shirt, head lifting to chase his lips again. You knew you were being needy but you also knew how weak it got him when you were. So much so that he didn’t so much as offer an argument and, instead, tilted his face back down to lean in just as eagerly and lock your lips with his in a passionate, hungry kiss. 

The sounds of your kisses danced with the sounds of the rain all around you, growing needier and sloppier as George faced his losing battle. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, pulling away from your kiss to rest his forehead against yours for a moment to breathe. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“Do you promise to be quiet?”

His voice had lowered, coming out as a thrilling rumble from his chest that proved to you that you had him right where you wanted him. 

“Yes, sir.” you purred, scratching your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

His nose brushed against yours as his lips sought out yours in the darkened room for one more kiss, or two, or three, before he was untangling your leg from around his waist with a husky, “Turn over for me.”

You shuffled yourself around under the sheets to face away from him with a giddy smile, right away wiggling back against him until your bodies moulded together like who halves of a whole. It was apparent just how into it he was with the feeling of the stiff tent in his underwear pressing right up against your ass; his hesitant words had been abandoned by his body. George groaned lightly against your shoulder, leaving a kiss to the same spot while his arm dropped between you to arrange himself. 

Your hand followed too, reaching behind you to rub your palm over his erection, palming him strongly through the thin fabric of his boxers. 

George’s arm tightened around your waist, locking you close to him as you touched him and he groaned against your cheek, words thick, “You’re a bloody tease, you know that, eh?”

“How am I the tease when you’re the one trying to deny me what I want?” you muttered back, already feeling hazy with lust while your hand slipped under the waistband of his boxers to touch him properly. “So many excuses.”

“Mm,” his lips brushed against your jaw, his fingers ghosting over your thigh under the sheets until he guided your leg up towards your chest, “did you forget who’s in charge, little one?”

You withered at his words and the feeling of his open mouthed kiss to the spot where your jaw and neck met, only making your mouth fall open as his slender fingers dragged along the thin fabric of your panties nestled between your legs. Your hand wrapped around his hardening dick, giving him a few messy strokes the best you could whilst facing away from him. 

“The only way this is going to work,” George breathed against your ear in a tone that had butterflies filling your stomach, his fingers pulling the fabric of your panties to the side so he could blindly caress your pussy under the sheets, “is if you do what I say and stay perfectly quiet. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

A tiny moan slipped from your lips but you nodded in response, turning your head to the side in need for more of him. He obliged and propped himself up on one arm a little more so he could lean down to kiss you over your shoulder, his fingers still toying with your pussy. You used his kiss as a way to muffle your little content sounds and since you were so gentle with your noises, he didn’t tell you off. Besides, you sounded far too pretty like that to warrant a scolding. 

“That’s my girl.” George purred against the corner of your mouth as your kiss broke, his fingers slicking up in your dripping wetness that pooled between your legs, “My messy, needy girl.”

Your top leg was bent up towards your chest at a ninety-degree angle to your body to keep you nice and spread open for his fingers, making it easy for him to touch you as he pleased. You took your hand from his dick to raise to the side of his face instead, pulling his lips back on yours as he blindly shoved down the front of his underwear under the sheets. 

His other arm was tucked under your neck and wrapped around your front, one hand naturally finding one of your breasts and he gave it a greedy squeeze as he kissed you sloppily over your shoulder. You pushed your ass back into him, sharing small groans into each other’s mouths as the warm shaft of his cock nudged between your cheeks. 

“Fuck, baby,” George panted as he broke away from your lips, his breath hot against your ear, “be a good girl for me and stay nice and quiet, yeah?”

You reached a hand back to pull at the flesh of your ass to try and hold yourself open for him as he got himself situated behind you. He dusted a kiss to your earlobe in silent thanks while his hand between your bodies angles the head of his dick against your cunt. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in anticipation, waiting for it, but then he just slid it forward to smear between your legs and right to your clit. 

George chuckled lowly against your ear as he pulled back a little to do it again, basically just thrusting against you without getting inside you first, forcing you to just feel how hard he was between your legs and unable to do anything about it. Your teeth pressed harder into your bottom lip, holding back a tiny displeased groan as you ached with need for him. 

Before you could protest, he pulled back again and, with the next press forward, he was slipping inside you slowly but surely. Your breath caught in your chest as he stretched you out on his cock, his hand flying to grab your hip as he sunk deeper into you. He let out a wavering moan against your neck that was almost too loud and you turned over your shoulder again to pull his lips back on yours. 

Right away, he started to rock into you at a steady pace in slow curling thrusts, not thinking much of it apart from letting your humanistic drive lead you. George’s fingers pinched your nipple through your t-shirt, earning a whine out of you into his mouth and he took that opportunity to lick across your bottom lip. 

Despite having kissed half the night, they never moved past the point of innocent; tender and closed-mouthed. Now, as the heat rose between you, he was eager to get more out of you. You gladly opened up for him and let his tongue push into your mouth between sensual kisses that matched the pace of his hips pushing into you. It was filthy; the sound of your kisses overpowering the flurry of rain on the roof of the motorhome, wet and hungry and lewd. 

George’s hand moved from your hip to wrap entirely around your middle, giving you a tug back against his chest and thus forcing his cock deeper inside you. You gasped sharply into his mouth, letting out with a muted groan as he ground his hips strongly against you. He held you tightly in both arms for a moment as he pushed deeply into you again and again, both of you just panting into each other’s open mouths. 

After a moment, George’s hand slid across your stomach and under your thigh to lift your leg up a little more, spreading you open under the sheets as he adjusted his position behind you to start to drive a little faster into you. You gaped dumbly into the darkened bedroom at the warm fullness he offered you, giving you every inch of him in firm succession. And he was so hard…you were nearly salivating, mouthing a silent “fuck” to the room. 

“Such a good listener, aren’t you, baby?” George cooed against your ear, “But we’re just getting started. I’m gonna get a little rougher with you and you’re gonna stay so quiet for me, yeah?”

“Please.” you huffed out.

George kept his hand under your thigh to keep your leg up as he started to shove into you a little harder, letting out a faint grunt against your neck in the process.

You couldn’t help the soft squeal that slipped from your lips, your hand splaying across the mattress to grasp onto the fitted sheet to try and ground yourself. George hushed you against your ear, fucking you firmly under the luxury linen sheets with your leg still held up and slightly tenting the duvet. 

“Oh my God.” you squeaked, eyes screwed shut. 

“Shhh.” George lifted his hand from your chest to press against your mouth, taunting hotly against the shell of your ear, “You don’t want Aleix to hear, do you?”

You whimpered against his palm.

“No, we don’t.” he cooed, shoving into you a little harder as if he were trying to make it difficult for you, “Naughty fucking girl, aren’t you? Insatiable little slut.”

You cried out his name against his palm still clamped over your mouth, your fingers grasping his wrist tightly as if wanting to pull him away. George slowed for a second, grinding deeply into you to push another withering moan from your mouth while he arranged himself behind you again, situating into a better position so he could get back to those precise thrusts. 

You couldn’t help the shriek that fell from your mouth and into the palm of his hand, forcing him to pull your head back against his shoulder with a firm hush against your ear. He drove into you in quick succession, ramming right against your g-spot until your eyes were nearly rolling, stumbling out hungry moans against his palm. 

If it wasn’t your uncontrollable sounds that might have given you away, the lewd clap of his skin against yours would certainly do it. George had to slow himself down a little, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh to arrange the two of you a little to find an angle that minimized the sound. Once he was back at it, you were clawing at his hand still clamped over your mouth. 

“Shh, you’re getting loud.” he whispered sternly without faltering his movements for a moment, his breath hot against your neck as the temperature rose under the sheets and duvet. 

You couldn’t help the sounds you let out as he nearly fucked the moans from your chest, so delicious and dizzying. You turned away from his hand to press your face into your pillow instead, smothering yourself into it while your fingers bunched at the sheets. His pace was mouth-wateringly good with his hands all over you; groping your breasts and grabbing your thigh and his soft lips trailed hot, wet kisses up your neck and he nibbled at your earlobe. Your entire body was trembling under his touch, especially as you tried to hold yourself back. 

Your hands tugged at the sheets, trying to pull them towards your face, pressing them against your mouth in fistfulls to try and keep yourself quiet, dampening the expensive white linen in pleasurable tears and drool. Even still, you kept your back arched a little just so George could have perfect access to you and he could give you every last inch unobstructed. 

“Jesus, you’re incredible…” he panted, his voice thick and strained with pleasure of his own, “The way you take my cock…fuck.”

As the warmth rose inside you, reaching every nerve ending in your body, you were torn between wanting it all and having to keep yourself quiet. It was growing increasingly difficult by the second as George’s firm pace drew you closer to an orgasm at an impressive rate. The overwhelm coiled within you, aching for him, barely able to think a coherent thought as the moans and gasps fell from your lips and into the sheets you held clutched in your hands.

Desperately wanting to be quiet so as to not face the embarrassment of facing Aleix tomorrow morning, your body started to try and squirm away from your boyfriend as if pleading for some sort of mercy. Your head turned farther into the pillow beneath you and your shoulders followed as if you were subconsciously trying to turn away from him to keep yourself composed for even a second. 

But George wasn’t to be warned off that easily and even as you pulled your leg from his snug grip on your thigh to stretch it across the mattress as your hips tried to turn away next, he followed right after you. His body covered yours as you rolled yourself flat onto your stomach, arms encircling your pillow that you helplessly drooled onto while he kept giving you such perfect firm thrusts you swore you were seeing stars right through the cloudy nighttime sky. 

“Fuck-” you groaned out into the down filled pillow, elongating the word dreamily. 

“Mhm… that’s it.” George whispered from over top of you, resting his forearms on either side of your head and folded arms so his lips could brush against your ear. His hips snapped against yours in firm strokes that had both of you wearing the same raw expression of pleasure into the darkened room. 

The sheets were a tangled mess over the two of you, shielding your filthy late night rendezvous from the privacy of your rented bedroom and falling low across George’s lower back as he moved on top of you. The decency of the sheets were the least of his concern at that moment as he kept giving you what you wanted, his body pressed right down on yours, pinning you underneath him. Then, he slipped one hand under your hips and weaseled it down between your legs, blindly getting his fingers on you to start to rub messily at your clit.

“Fuck, George-” you whimpered into the pillow, knuckles turning white from how tightly you gripped it in your arms, voice rising in pitch, words muffled. 

He groaned lowly against your neck, almost as if he were struggling to keep himself quiet now. 

“You’re gonna have to cum without making any noise.” he told you lowly, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, panting. 

The bed rocked faintly under the force of his precise thrusts, getting so deep inside you and grazing your g-spot over and over with his three fingers trapped under your body and rubbing mercilessly at your clit. Your eyes were rolling back in your head, eyelashes fluttering, drooly lips dampening the pillowcase your mouth was pressed into. He had you entirely surrounded; body and soul. 

“Think you can be a good girl and do that for me? Not a sound.” 

You could barely choke out a, “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah?” he kept shoving strongly into you, getting slightly faster as he, too, felt that rising pleasure coiling deep within him. He spoke in a hushed tone against your ear, sending shivers down your neck, “If you’re a good girl and don’t make a peep, I’ll reward you with a nice big load deep inside you. You want that?”

“Uh huh-” you cried out into the pillow, barely able to understand anything he was saying you were so far gone. Naturally, your hips raised up a little to try and feel as much of him as possible no matter how much he had you pinned underneath his body weight. 

“Yeah? Want me to cum inside you, baby?” he purred, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

“Ugh, please.” you moaned, muffled by the pillow and sheets, face pressed firmly into the linen. 

Your hand flew out to slam against the built in headboard to anchor yourself on something, writhing against the mattress and his hand that was still stuffed between your legs. You were a moaning mess and desperately tried to use the pillow to keep yourself quiet as the euphoria ramped up strongly within you, burning heat. 

“That’s it, baby.” George praised through his teeth, still fucking into you strongly despite the way your body started to clench down around him, “Shh, shh, that’s it. Fuck, that’s it.”

His voice was handsomely strained, face contorted in beautiful pleasure tied in with proud satisfaction as he made you cum underneath him. With his hand that wasn’t busy between your legs, he pressed his palm against the back of your neck to keep you in the pillow to make sure no excess sounds would escape you as you cried out for him through your orgasm, muffling your chanted ‘yeses’ as he took you over. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl.” he groaned lowly. 

With a few more thrusts, he was coming hard inside you, giving you a few more shoves to make sure he was as deep as he could get. His jaw clenched and long lashes fluttering, he moaned softly, beautifully, through the sticky warm air of the bedroom. You pushed your hips up to wiggle your ass back on him a little, milking him dry just a little more until he was entirely spent. 

George pressed a kiss to your shoulder and then sat back on his haunches, letting the sheets fall off his flushed body as his hands trailed down your curves and over the fabric of your shirt that was now slightly damp with sweat. He gripped your hips and eased you back flat onto your stomach so he could pull out slowly, his hungry eyes staring between you as he left you empty and gaping.

You turned your head out of the pillow to gasp for air as he pulled out, letting him adjust your panties back into place before he was tucking himself back into his boxers and flopping into his spot beside you. His sigh didn’t go unnoticed and you blinked at him like that for a moment, a proud and pleasured smile starting to form across your lips, before you reached a hand out to rest against his chest and his rapidly beating heart. 

George lolled his head to the side to meet your gaze and set his hand over yours. You stared at each other for a moment before he leaned in to softly kiss your lips, sharing a few lingering kisses between heavy breaths. When he pulled away, he rested his head on the pillow right with you so your noses were almost touching; both of you much preferring the comfort of each other’s personal space - especially after nights like that. 

With a sigh, George grumbled begrudgingly as if hating to admit that you were ever right in the first place, “We’re getting a hotel room tomorrow night, I don’t care.”

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[laura1633]

lestappen + oscar a/b/o is living rent free in my head..

Max pulling up to the paddock with two mating bites, a bright smile on his face as cameras see him popping his head into both McLaren and Ferrari motorhomes, giggling with his alphas. And when Max wins with his two alpha's on the podium with him? Gosh, he was ready to cut the cameras and fuck them both in the cool down room, but waited until they got back to the hotel.

im so normal about this laura im definitely sane

I am completely crazy over the idea of Alpha Oscar, Alpha Charles and Omega Max!

I need to finish my Omega Charles Monaco Victory fic first before I go back to my other wips but there is a Lestappen & Oscar poly a/b/o that was going to be a one shot but is growing and growing.

I just love the idea of Max being completely taken care of by two absolutely wonderful alphas and I think Oscar and Charles would be perfect for him. They'd be gentle and soft with him when he needs it and give him lots of praises but they would also have him whining and writhing about as they take it in turns to fuck him. During his heats he would be nice and full up the whole time.

Max would show up to the paddock not only with two mating marks but with two alpha's scents all over him.

Max is a special omega, he deserves two special alphas.

[askengiecow]

Dell had been making mortifications to the van all yesterday, and now that the day and come Dell was excitedly ushering Taurie over.

“Only made a few simple adjustments, added a teleporter so we can take back as many apples as desired- we tested it, apples don’t get tumors- and the back extends like a motorhome to give us more room of we want to spend the night out there.” Dell had also added a fold out mattress, a good amount of pillows and some thick blankets, one of which was a picnic blanket, and even a top window so they could better see the stars.

He had the place rented out till tomorrow afternoon and he was really hoping they would stay, it might be a little chilly but he had a feeling they would keep warm enough. He didn’t get Taurie that big fuzzy pumpkin sweater for nothing.

“Also got some butternut squash soup in a big thermos in the back if we want a break from apples.” That and a self heating pumpkin mug for Taurie do do with what he pleased. Even though he was no longer a cowman Dell had been trying (painfully) to keep off chocolate, even if it meant avoiding the luxury of hot cocoa on a chilly day.

Dell had a couple more things in the car, a locked box under the pillows, but that was a surprise for later. “So what do you say? Ready to pick some apples?”

Having been called from the workshop unexpectedly Taurie followed Dell curiously. When he saw just what the man had cooked up he blushed, slinging an arm around Dells shoulders. The memory of their time at the orchard was a cherished one, signaling a turn in the two Engineer's relationship.

"Shucks Sugar, ya got all this ready just for us?" He asked, clearly impressed as he looked over the modifications. Hopefully Dell hadn't overworked himself. No matter, he'd be all too happy to help him rest.

"Course ah'd like to spend the night. Can't think of a better way to spend the weekend." He hummed, pulling Dell in to kiss his temple, "Sides, ya expect me to say no to fresh apples? Please." He chuckled, looking over the pile of blankets and pillows. With the growing chill in the air here lately wrapping up together later would be welcome.

"Been thinkin about last time we were there... must of read mah mind." He hummed, "Won't take me long to grab a few things, if yer ready to head out." Judging by how excited his lover seemed he was rearing to go.

[winterisol]

I saw this on Twitter 💀

(it was Mat Oxley talking about how Jorge rents one of these things and not a motorhome)

[kingofthering]

any cat marc au thoughts recently 🤲?

Not much more than the ones I had when I posted the fic but I can expand on those a little.

They don’t talk between Marc leaving Valentino’s motorhome and Marc’s surgery but it’s barely a handful of days (Marc leaves Valentino on Saturday morning and he gets surgery the following Thursday iirc).

I’m still 50/50 on whether or not Valentino sends Marc a text before the surgery but he definitely does after the surgery (which he hears about on the press/see Marc’s post on Instagram).

I think it goes something like : heard your surgery went okay, good luck for your recovery and then, a handful of minutes later because if he lets himself think about it more the text will stay in his drafts forever : if you need someone to be with your for a shift, my schedule is not very busy in the next few months.

Objectively, I think that Marc genuinely doesn’t see Valentino’s text immediately. His phone must be flooded with messages and he’s still the US and Marc already FaceTimed the most important people (parents, Alex) and Carlos (his physio who was there with him) already texted everyone else who needed to know he was fine.

When he’s back in Madrid, though, and he’s bored one night and can’t sleep, Marc takes the time to read his messages and finds Valentino’s. It definitely surprises him and makes him feel pleased, in some sort of way (body going warm for a second, thinking about Mugello, waking up in Valentino’s bed and Valentino taking care of him afterward). He puts a thumbs up to the second message and moves on.

Moving on means not saying more to Valentino but thinking about the attention and the offer a lot. Marc is too weak to shift even if he wanted in those very first few weeks but he still has a lot of recovery to do.

I’m also 50/50 on whether or not they establish contact again before meeting up. I think yes, just texts Marc can’t send to anyone else because everyone else will worry or be annoyed and he doesn’t want that (and it doesn’t matter if Valentino is worried or annoyed, they’re not friends, it’s whatever). Probably starts with Marc impulsively grabbing his phone one day and firing Valentino a text out of nowhere, complaining about not being allowed to do something or how boring his weeks are without racing, you know.

Anyway, the thing that happens for sure is Marc and Valentino meeting up so Marc can shift while someone he trusts is present (yes he has a ton of people he trusts with this at home but again, he doesn’t want to worry anyone/knows that some of them wouldn’t approve and would think it’s too early in his recovery).

I think they pick a neutral ground, renting an Airbnb somewhere in Europe where they have no risk of running into anyone they know (which: that’s a lot of countries but the point is, not Italy or Spain) (it’s the middle of the summer, let’s do cabin in the woods in the middle of the mountains or something, it’s not like they’re going to hit the beach) (they can have a lake, though).

[cars-on-the-moon]

Still in a tiz-woz and cannot write or create anything for the life of me.

So, here’s a little, goofy Carlando thing below.

It had started in Monaco.

Lando could see the difference. It was so much so as to what the Spaniard said, it was the way he carried himself around him. His posture was straighter, his arms always rigid on each side and his smile tight-lipped. He hadn’t given it so much thought, not when he declined to go out together nor when in Barcelona he cancelled their plans to go golfing. He was extremely busy at his home race after all.

“Mate, hey!” Lando jogged the Montreal deserted paddock to reach him.

Carlos turned to find the voice that had called him and his lips slightly quirked up. “Hey.” he said lowly. “How are you?”

That was a bit too formal for Lando’s liking, so he furrowed his eyebrows and bumped his shoulder. Carlos lost balance for only a moment and grinned a bit wider than before.

“My back is killing me. Those cars,” Lando exhaled deeply. “Seriously, I’m not having a great time.”

“Really?” Carlos looked at him again.

“Yeah, I have changed my training.” he confirmed. “I have to strengthen my back. How’s yours?”

“It’s fine. Not the best, but good enough.” Carlos replied him. “I’ll see you later, be careful with that back.” he patted his shoulder and jogged away.

Lando stood there. He stood, gazing towards the man that had left after exactly uttering five sentences to him. But who was counting.

“Good job, Lando.” was the next words to him. “Lando Norris leading the British Grand Prix.” he turned to find the man grinning to him.

“Thanks, hey, thanks!” Lando replied, turning his body fully towards him. “We are celebrating, you know.”

Carlos chuckled, throwing his head back. Rupert found them there, right in between the motorhomes, embracing Lando quickly.

“We are flying straight to Budapest but have a shot for me, okay?” Carlos replied him.

“Wait, Carlos-” he exhaled, puffing his cheeks. “What is it with him, d’ya know?” he asked the other Brit.

Rupert followed his gaze and looked at Carlos too. “I don’t know, mate.”

“Oh, come on! You are conjoint.” Lando snorted.

The trainer then shrugged. “Ask him, but he won’t say. He’s been very private.”

“From you?” Lando almost –almost, squealed.

During the summer break, Lando forgot. He nearly forgot about the coldness he received from Carlos. He did a million things from following Martin to his shows to renting a yacht with his family and diving into water without a thought in this small brain of his. He played padel with other drivers and hung out with Max lots. He laughed and bantered with a few people around; he even got frisky with a beautiful dark-haired young man from Malta one night he had one too many vodkas.

However, when he returned in Zandvoort, the first person he laid eyes on and really looked was Carlos.

“Good summer break?” he found him on Sunday for the driver’s parade.

“Oh, he talks!” Lando joked, following Pierre’s step.

Carlos smiled tight-lipped, the way Lando didn’t enjoy. Not the huge, exaggerate, whole-hearted laugh of his that Lando adored. Loved.

“What did you do?” he asked then, as he grasped that Carlos was not going to neither remark nor continue the conversation.

“Not much. I trained and hang around with friends.” he replied him.

Just like that, Carlos greeted Alonso and their private conversation had ended.

Again.

 

He took a long breath and nodded along with what Lawrence was saying. He was tired and very warm and- his eyes found the screen that was broadcasting the podium ceremony. He seemed so happy then. In a way that he hadn’t looked in so long. In a way that he used to be around Lando without podiums, awards or *his* Ferrari.

His press officer nodded at him.

“Um sorry, I was watching the podium.” he turned back to Lawrence. “Do we-we aren’t allowed to have smoke in Silverstone. Anyway.” he shrugged, trying really hard to focus in this bloody interview.

Lando liked Singapore. It was in fact one of his favourite tracks. Not from the driving perspective that much, but from the atmosphere, the aesthetics of the night. The city was beautiful and interesting and modern and another thousand little words he didn’t have the intellectual capacity to find.

“Lando?” he heard his name while taking a picture of a very intriguing and complex neon painting above the lift.

“Carlos? You’re staying here too?” he asked.

Carlos nodded, confirming his first thought.

“It isn’t that hot this time around, ey?” the Spaniard asked him pushing the button to call the lift again.

Lando stared at him.

“No?” Carlos asked, furrowing his eyebrows to the lack of a reply.

 “We never talk anymore and your opening is the weather?” he apparently couldn’t hold back.

“What are you talking about, Lando?” Carlos entered the lift.

Lando incredulously snorted at him. Wanting, needing to sound like a f*cking brat.

“You haven’t said a proper word to me in ages! I even texted you and you ghosted me.”

“I have been busy-”

“Yeah, me too mate but I am not an asshole.” Lando interrupted him. “We talk through journalists now apparently. You talked about my back pain without even checking on me.” he added.

The lift *pinged* and Carlos got off. It wasn’t Lando’s floor but he trailed him, suddenly yearning for an answer.

“Your room is better than mine.” he remarked after looking around for a moment and a half.

Carlos crossed his arms.

“Bloody Ferrari, no?” he said.

Lando rolled his eyes at his own past words and shook his head.

“What is going on, Carlos? Did I do something? Because if I did I want to know what I am going to apologise for.” he told him.

“No, you didn’t.” Carlos replied quickly.

“Then what is it? Did my mum do anything? My dad? My sister?”

“No, Lando.” Carlos shut his eyes, hanging his head low.

“Max? Jon? Like-McLaren? Oscar?”

“What? No!” Carlos replied, looking at him again.

Lando parted his lips to ask again but he remained silent. He looked at the Spaniard’s eyes. It was peculiar; the sadness they were displaying.

“What is going on?” he asked again in a lower, softer tone.

Absolutely, completely, utterly unexpectedly, Carlos took a heavy step forward and grabbed Lando’s head, leaning in. Their lips met and the Brit almost yelped to the pure absurdity of the gesture. He froze. He didn’t know what was kissing and how it was supposed to go.

What pulled him back was the scorching hot tug he felt on the back of his head and as Carlos was about to pull back, Lando got scared and pushed. He pushed his lips on Carlos’s more and grabbed his waist tightly to keep him close, in his space.

Carlos pulled back and placed his palm over his lips. His eyes were big, bigger than the usual surprise and he breathing hard, harsh.

“I’m so sorry.” he said. “I’m sorry, Lando.”

“Bloody hell, mate.” Lando stupidly offered.

“I-I am sorry.”

“Well, don’t be.” Lando shrugged. “Is this why you’ve been cold?”

“No, yes, well-”

“Since when do you like men?” Lando asked.

“Since you turned 23.” Carlos replied with a long-crawled huff.

Lando raised his eyebrows to the bloody heavens.

“I found you fit since I was 17 or so.” he said earnestly. “If that makes you feel better. Because well, you seem a bit pale.”

“How can you be so unfazed by-by-what? You like me?” Carlos ran his hand through his freshly-cut hair.

Lando nodded. “Mate, you’re very hot. Very very hot. Like Singapore hot.”

“Lando!” Carlos whined, burying his whole face inside his palms.

The Brit chuckled then and patted his back in an extremely condescending way.

“You never showed.”

“What? I always showed.” Lando replied him.

“You are like this with everyone in the paddock. All you friends.” he spat the last word out.

Lando stopped caressing his back and walked across him.

“You’re jealous that I have friends?”

“You have too many friends.” Carlos immediately remarked.

“What can I say? I’m a good boy.”

Carlos raised his eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Wait, I meant a good guy.” Lando quickly corrected his words.

“No, you said good boy. Are you a good boy?” Carlos took a brave step to him.

Lando’s breath was violently taken away from him. His legs; what were legs even?

“How-how did that happen? I was trolling *you* a moment ago.” he stuttered his words.

Carlos reached for the back of his head again and tangled his fingers with Lando’s curls.

A very rebellious groan escaped the Brit and he had to close his eyes to feel the pure intensity of the atmosphere, of Carlos’s touch.

“If I carry on, we might never comeback.” the Spaniard whispered closely to Lando’s ear.

“We are friends first, Carlos.” Lando replied him.

Carlos shared his frustrations with Ferrari. The misery he felt that he had completely changed his whole online and offline persona to size up to the Italian team’s standards. How he had to maintain appearances about everything, unable to even control his own social media anymore. How he was good, very good and Charles was still the golden prince. How he missed him. How he missed himself in the presence of Lando. How he wanted to be himself and how he wanted to be around Lando.

He shared his skills in bed and left Lando absolutely discombobulated.

He promised to try. Only try.

Now, if Lando seized the opportunity and slapped Carlos’s bum while the latter was in an interview the following day, it was nobody’s business. Friends right? Right.

[rubyceleste]

hello its the rancid alpha anon and re:rancid alphas… charles in itsl is TRULY rancid!!! (affectionate) rereading the scene where carlos pretends to hurl just to get charles away and 😭literally comedic genius but also! the contrast between charles and oscar, at least in carlos’s pov then!!! sweet carcar! thank you for writing, its truly a gift

let me pull out my rancid alphas scholarship glasses once again.

the fake hurl scene lived in my head rent free before i got around to write it, super happy you think it's funny - it's pulled out of the trenches of the brainrot sleep deprived parts of my mind. grave look.

you are right in saying there is a contrast between oscar and charles when they're around carlos at the same time, something that happens in chapter 4 too. it is some kind of transition for carlos, who can see how differently they react to similar situations, but we have to keep in mind that this was challenged in chapter 3/4 when oscar ghosted carlos after the motorhome episode. it gave carlos a taste of what he previously experienced and doesn't want to experience again. so carcar are not exactly out of the woods yet. there's a lingering fragility.

and that is partly to blame on...drumrolls... RANCID ALPHA CHARLES! applause applause. he has to be one of my favs to write because yes he's there to be the catalyst for carlos' trust issues (and to make things more entertaining) but he's such a complex little guy.

[uncle-mojave]

In a couple weeks I'll have two things I never had together before. Time and money. It won't be that much but it'll be enough to set me up in a place for a year or two and help me either kick up my business or go back into a w2 job.

My goal was to motorhome around the lower 48 but looking at my finances I can't afford to do that longer then six months then everything is gone.

My new goal is to hopefully get into the place I want, rent for a couple years then if it works out option to buy it and live there the rest of my life looking at the red cliffs in my backyard.

Travel can wait. I need to set a home base first and theres no better place than the area I am trying to get into.

[lorifragolina]

Wish upon a star

The second fill for the green bingo card of @harringrovesummerbingo! I combined it with the weekly prompt "Using Tongue" for @aug-kissed.

Lately I feel a little difficult writing smut or explicit sex but I hope you can forgive me!

Title: Wish upon a star

Square & Prompt: C3 "Nude beach"

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2393

Major Tags: semi-public sex, nude beach, public nudity

Summary: Yes, Steve is now at peace with his sexuality, and Billy is twenty years old, hot and free. And he is teasing him. An innocent walk to see the shooting stars, in a nudist beach… what can happen?

Read on AO3

Billy Hargrove emerged from the sea foam from the ocean, and Steve Harrington thought he fucking wanted that man. 

Billy ruffled sensually the water from his hair, and looked at him sticking his tongue with a wicked smile, after dropping on the towel at his side, on his stomach, and sunbathing until dry. Steve took a hem of his own towel and covered his crotch, embarrassed, trying not to glue his eyes on Billy’s back and in the curve of his buttchecks under the obscenely low waist of his trunks.

Max wanted to visit Billy that summer, and convinced Steve to go with them; Steve always wanted to see the coast with a motorhome, so they rented one at the airport and went to collect Billy to go and have an adventure. Steve wasn’t prepared for the effect that Billy made on him, two years after he left Hawkins to return to San Diego.

“You can’t just let go of your flock, I see,” muttered Billy, seeing Max, Lucas, Jane and Will coming out the vehicle, and Steve blushed. 

“They can drive the motorhome if they want,” argued Steve.

“Not on my watch,” scoffed Billy climbing in the passenger side. 

Steve spent a minute looking at his profile, sharp as even, with the blonde curls naturally bleached and his face lightly red and peeled.

“Hey, do you want a picture? It lasts more,” mocked Billy, and then: “Go,” when Steve SI snapped out of it and looked bothered at him.

It wasn’t easy for Steve;  twenty years old Billy was even hotter than eighteen years old Billy, he seemed less a tough guy and more relaxed, he smiled more and… well, Steve had made peace with his bi self and now he looked at Billy with different eyes. He even smelled hot. 

He gulped dry and started the car. Billy gave him directions for the beaches and the sites he wanted to show them, and they passed the first day in and out the water, chasing the waves with rented surf and eating ice cream; Billy seemed to tease him, but it was the same old Billy that made fun of him as usual, and Steve tried to cool down, otherwise the trip would been a terrible pain. 

At night, they opened all the lodgings and there was a little fuss for where everyone wanted to sleep. 

Billy gave Lucas a dirty look when Max claimed the double bed in the bottom of the van, but he didn’t say anything. His sister was almost an adult and he couldn’t prevent them from doing anything with violence, he had to be smart.

“I can lend you some protection if you want,” he said coldly, patting Lucas’ shoulder with a fake smile. 

“Oh God, gross,” exclaimed Max, and so Billy made sure they wouldn’t do anything when he was present. 

He smiles slyly to Steve, who had followed all the conversation, and made him blush and look away.

“I think we have to sleep in the bunks,” murmured Steve.

“Not me, I’ll sleep outside on the beach chair”.

He opened the chair in the patio, where a fresh wind was blowing, tempting compared with the hot air inside.

“There are two,” blinked Billy, and again Steve blushed. 

Billy was definitely joking with him and Steve was sure he was reading all the situation wrong, due to his altered perception; it was obvious that Billy wasn’t teasing him and that Billy didn’t even thought about it, he was a healthy, straight boy who was enjoying a holiday with his friends and who would start hunting girls at the first change.

Billy sat in the chair spreading his legs and lit a cig; he looked at Steve under the feeble light of the patio,covered by little flies, and smiled, blowing the smoke to him.

“You smoke?” He lent the cig, it was a normal cig but Steve took it, dragging Billy’s flavor along with the nicotine.

“I have something stronger, if you feel adventurous,” continued Billy.

Steve returned the cig and pursed his lips. 

“Another time, maybe… I’m tired”.

Billy scoffed and finished the cig, then turned on his side, looking at him with a hand under his chin.

Steve arranged his chair to lay down and closed his eyes.

“A pity…” he whispered, and Steve, who was already falling asleep, was’n sure. “I know some ways to keep you awake”.

And there they were. The kids - although Steve couldn’t call them kids anymore, they were almost legally adults and Lucas and Will were already taller than him- were enjoying the beaches and the ocean, Billy was surfing and teasing him, and he was sitting in the sand covering his boner because he didn’t want to get arrested there.

Billy turned on his back and Steve almost jumped saying the glimpse on his pierced nipple, that he didn’t notice the day before because he tried not to stare. 

He had a sigh of surprise and tried to look away, but it got worse: Billy had a sensual piercing on his navel too, sensually resting on his happy trail that now Steve couldn't avoid to follow. Billy moved and arranged his trunks on his crotch, then stared at Steve.

“What, princess?” He mocked him. He tore off the towel from his crotch and laughed loudly. “Well, don’t worry, it’s full of pretty girls, it’s normal”.

Steve blushed, lowering his eyes and staring unwillingly at the piercing.

“Oh,” Billy followed his bouncing eyes. “Those”.

He fidget with the nipple piercing. “Do you like it? You know, it makes things a lot more… sensitive…” he whispered, enjoying Steve's embarrassment. He stuck again his tongue and Steve lowered his eyes.

“I bet…” he murmured, and the opportune arrival of the kids saved him from more inconveniences. 

He tried to wash his stupid thoughts away, under the cold shower, but Billy came under the one at his side and kept moving his trunks to wash himself under it, and Steve couldn’t stop his heart from jumping out of his chest.

But Billy was straight and was only joking as when they were in high school, right? Come on, Steve, he thought, you had a million showers together, and naked, and you never had nothing to hide…

Well he had something to hide in that right moment, something hard, but he was sure Billy wasn’t teasing him in that way? Right?

He took his time under the cold water to rinse his hair, and Billy got bored of mocking him and went away. When he finished he found Billy sat on the rock wall waiting for him; he saw that he crossed his eyes with a tall, brown haired guy with a board and he smiled to him, then blinked, and the other blinked to Billy too, going away; Billy licked his lips looking at the boy’s ass and squirming, without noticing Steve. 

Steve cleared his throat, absolutely distraught. The guy was hot as fuck, and he was indubitably a man, that meant… 

He tried to stop his heart. Even if he was wrong about Billy’s preference, how could he fancy him with those Greek gods available at his fingertips?

“Hey Harrington, it seems you see a ghost”. The piercing glimpsed in the sunset. 

“No…” Steve blinked, and combed back his hair with his fingers. “Let’s go?”

That night they slept again in the beach chairs, and they shared a joint looking at the stars. They heard laughs and chats from inside and everything seemed peaceful and clear.

“Have you ever seen a shooting star, Harrington?”

“No, not really”.

“Did you know you can make a wish when you see one?”

Billy’s words lingered in the air, while Steve dragged slowly the joint and blew the smoke in Billy’s direction. He smiled, relaxed and bold.

“I didn’t know. And you?” He passed the joint to Billy again.

“Well…” Billy blew the smoke in little perfect circles. “Once I had a boyfriend who liked looking at shooting stars. But I always ended up doggy when we went to see them, so no, I never see one,” he smiled mischievously, spreading his legs a little more.

Steve was a little dumb for the smoke, so his low parts catched Billy’s words before his brain. He popped a half boner and gasped when he realized.

“Your… boyfriend?” He gasped 

“Yeah…” said Billy slowly, looking at him. “Problems?”

“No… no,” stuttered Steve, frightened by the glimpse in Billy’s eyes.

“Good,” he whispered, putting a hand on Steve’s tight, casually. “I have a surprise in mind for you”.

Steve jumped at the touch and stood up suddenly. “I… ehm… Fuck, it’s… it’s hot, isnt’ it? I… I need water,” he entered the van for a glass of fresh water. 

Billy snickered and lied down on the chair. When Steve returned with his glass of water, he had turned his back and didn’t say anything else.

Billy acted normal the next morning, drinking the hot coffee they prepared on the stove. He blinked at Steve just once, and talked to him with his usual mocking tone, so Steve convinced himself that all last night had been a stoned moment and nothing else. But while Steve was driving, he slipped  a hand on his leg again. 

“I want to show you something where we are going,” he whispered, and Steve muttered something.

“Haven’t you come here for some adventure?” Continued Billy, bending on his ear. Steve could calm down only when they parked near a desert beach. 

The kids ran to the water in the afternoon, but Steve waited a moment, enjoying the panorama and the open sky.

“Hey princess,” Billy threw a towel to him. “Ready for the adventure?”

Steve shook his head, but Billy stretched a hand to help him stand up.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked after a few minutes, craving to take Billy’s hand again. 

“It’s one of my favorite places,” he only said, and kept guiding him for a path of sand and pebbles. 

They came to a wooden fence surrounded by a patch of trees. 

“Here, this is one of my favorite beaches”.

Billy left the towel in the sand and took his shirt off. 

Steve looked at him, confused, and Billy giggled when he started to take his trunk off and Steve gasped.

He pointed to a sign: “Naturist beach”, and giggled again at Steve’s surprise.

“What? Are you embarrassed? We can go away if you want”.

“No… no”, he stubbornly took his shirt off, followed by the bathsuit. 

The beach was empty and Billy took his hand again, to guide him on an isolated dune where they could see all the beach and the ocean. Steve walked trying desperately not to stare at Billy’s bottom. 

They put the towels down and Steve discreetly covered himself.

Billy looked at him and smiled, oddly shy, then lowered his eyes. “I hope I didn’t read the signal wrong,” he said, caressing Steve’s arm with the back of his hand. He licked his lips.

“I… hope I didn’t send wrong signals,” answered Steve, without logic, and Billy scoffed. 

“Can I?” He touched the towel that was covering Steve. He nodded, shivering. 

Billy smiled, uncovering Steve’s boner, and Steve blushed when Billy tilted his finger in his inner thigh. He raised a hand to touch Billy’s face. 

Billy pierced his fingers in his delicate flesh and Steve moaned, grabbing his face in return and closing his eyes.

Billy kissed him and Steve moaned filthy at the touch of his tongue, then fell on his back taking Billy over him, rocking their waist together and whining more, finally relieved and relaxed. 

“Shit,” Billy smiled leaning on his arm. “I was fucking wanted it since you descendend that stupid plane”.

“”Me too,” laughed Steve.

“Come on,” Billy lent his hand to him, “Let’s go in the water”, he dragged Steve and they ran together, completely naked and excited, in the water. 

Billy pulled him and they kissed again between the waves, with the light of the sunset, and Steve thought that he was about to lose his mind.

The moon raised and they lay down on the beach under its light again, kissing and touching, and Steve fidgeted with the nipple piercing until Billy screamed. 

“Look! A shooting star!” Steve pointed at the sky, but Billy was kneeling between his legs and looked at him with a bothered face. 

“Well I’m always on my knees when they pass,” he pouted, biting Steve’s skin. 

“Shut up,” he shoved his dick again in Billy’s mouth. “Be a good boy and I’ll let you make a wish”. Billy whined, touching himself, and sucked a little more, taking him on the edge, then left him unsatisfied.

“Can I make one now?” 

Steve emerged from the beginning of his climax.

“Does it imply me coming inside you?” He groveled.

Billy nodded. “Rail me,” he jerked himself. “Even if I won’t see a shooting star”.

Steve lay down and grabbed his hips, making him turn his back to him.

Billy smiled and straddled him, giving him a complete vision on his hungry hole. 

“Fuck me, baby,” he begged, and Steve almost came in his own hands. He pushed inside Billy, making him scream, and grabbed his hair to arch his neck and adjust the angle. 

He thrusted inside Billy once, twice, three times. 

“Baby, I’m close…” he moaned, trying to hold back. 

“Christ,” Billy whined, bouncing on Steve’s legs. Steve pulled more his hair, so he was facing the sky while Steve was fucking him. 

He jerked himself, and he felt close too.

“I’m close, baby, please, please come inside me, please, please,” he begged, feeling his dick melting in his own hand. 

“Oh yes, baby, fuck,” Steve shoved his dick in his guts once more and came, feeling Billy’s orgasm all around his cock.

“Look! Look!” Screamed Billy, still coming. “There’s one! There’s one!” He pointed to the tail of the shooting star. 

“Did you make a wish?” Asked Steve sweetly, helping him descend from his legs.

Billy nodded. “Do you want to know?”

“If you say it doesn’t come true”.

“I’m pretty sure it would come true anyway. I wish you would keep coming inside me all night long”.

Steve smiled. 

“Ok then. Let’s make it”.

[oneknightstand-if]

Surely surely one of the possibe reincarnations is Nimue or Morgan? One of the backstories obviously involve magic and they're the more famous mages in Arthurian legend outside of Merlin.

Idk if Nimue is famous enough to be easily recognised for that but Morgana surely is so that's checked, both could be justifiably close enough to Arthur (depending on the particular telling), enough to be allowed free reign over the castle, to be told secrets and also just hold a ton of passive power, enough to justify being sent to play host to the guests...

I guess main thing is that there rent actually that many famous trusted magic types in the lore that I can think of? So....

However the biggest thing against Morgana i think would be that she is very much in the list of could not bes Merlin sent us, even going so far as to mention we might meet her soon. But THEN you also mentioned Merlin's compendium might not be trust worthy so until we meet her it is still a distinct possibility!! She was also maybe referred to in the third person? But ehhh

Everyone in the version of Camelot that OKS is based off of is inherently magical to one degree or another. It just depends to what degree they specialize in it.

Nimue is one of the those known as The Lady of the Lake. That's about as top tier an Arthurian legend as you can get outside of King Arthur himself. She's also in the Major Enemies section, which means Merlin would throw her reincarnation off the motorhome and into the sun.

Otherwise, what's going on with Morgana and Avalon in general remains a mystery.

[therealgamble]

Brian turned slowly down the loop of campsites as Tabby watched for the number they'd been given. They passed by Campers and RVs, tents set up in the long grass, and small campfires burning even in the afternoon sun.

"This is it, babe." She could hardly hide her excitement, bouncing slightly in her seat as she pointed towards the right where an extremely long motorhome was parked. There was just enough room left in the long driveway for Brian to park the Corvette that Riley had gifted him a few years ago.

Tabby practically burst from the car the moment he had it in park, her excitement as infectious as always. He followed just as Riley came around from the other side of the motorhome. "You made it!" He grinned, giving Tabby a hug.

"I should have expected you'd go all out." Brian laughed, taking a moment to look down the long side of the house on wheels.

Riley gave a shrug. "These ladies deserve a palace. Come on, I'll give you the tour."

Brian rolled his eyes but followed anyways, walking around the car and the end of the motorhome. At that moment he and Tabby both got their first glimpse of the rest of the campsite and they stopped short, taking it all in.

"Holy shit." He breathed softly. Directly in front of the palace were the normal fire pit and picnic table. Riley had several bundles of wood ready at the firepit and a ring of comfortable looking chairs. The table had been completely taken over by Beth. She had surrounded it with a screened tent-like structure, keeping all the bugs out. On the table was a tablecloth and a vase of flowers. Strung inside were fairy lights and lanterns.

But that wasn't what made them stop short. Beyond the firepit and table was an expanse of grass, lined with tall pine trees blocking the view of the neighbors on both sides, and ending with an unobstructed view of the lake below. It wasn't close enough to walk to, but the view was breathtaking.

Riley let out a laugh and clapped Brian on the shoulder. "I told you, they deserve the best." Brian could see Tabby bouncing out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah they do." He replied, "Alright, show me this thing." He turned towards the door of the motorhome as Riley opened the door.

"You two can have the bedroom on this side." He stepped up inside and Brian and Tabby followed.

Brian was not prepared for what he saw on the inside. It was what he expected Aerosmith's tour bus looked like, but with less groupies. Everything was polished and clean, creamy tan leather and thick carpet. The appliances in the kitchen area were paneled with light colored wood.

Corinne sat on an overstuffed couch facing a window with the lake view, a sketchbook in her lap. Beth and Jay were playing cards at a polished table. They all looked up and smiled as the trio walked in. Tabby ran to give them all hugs and share her enthusiasm for the weekend.

"I brought our tent." Brian turned down the offer of the plush bedroom.

Riley sighed and rolled his eyes. "Tabs, you're welcome to stay inside with your own bathroom and a real bed while this caveman sleeps outside."

"Me like caveman, sleep outside." Tabby grunted with a low voice. Then her voice changed back to normal, "But I'll take you up on the bathroom part." She grinned, "And if the weather turns on us I'm totally sneaking in."

"Thunderstorm slumber party." Beth sang happily, dealing another game out on the table.

"Christ, man." Brian laughed, still looking around and taking it all in. "You don't do anything by halves, do you."

"Nope." Riley confirmed, opening up the fridge and grabbing a couple of beers. "Just wait until you see the boat I rented."

Brian let out a long happy sigh as he took the beer that Riley held out for him. "I fucking love you."

"I know." Riley answered automatically.

-------

Memorial Day Riley style - with all the crossed streams. @tabbyrp @corinnebaileyrp @morgansmornings @brooklynislandgirl @tarnishedhalo

[ladyvictory22]

Hopelessly Devoted To You (Part 2)

It had been a few weeks since Christian had found Toto in an anxious state in his motorhome... two weeks during which he had felt depressed and disappointed... reminiscing about the times when he wasn't in this situation.

He felt guilty... guilty for not realizing, for not being there for him, for not helping... Toto didn't want him around, and Christian didn't dare to get closer... he feared causing more harm, he didn't want to bother him.

Yet he did want to know more about what had affected Toto so much... the season had been tough... but... he didn't think it would affect him this way. He wondered what had triggered this situation, what had pushed Toto to the brink of anxiety and depression.

On the other hand, Toto had undergone a change after his anxiety crisis; now, he cried for anything and everything, and he detested it in a certain way... he felt so sensitive, so vulnerable.

"You've released an emotion you've kept buried for a long time," the therapist had said. "It's normal that you cry so often; you're recalling things with a mix of longing and sadness... things you hadn't allowed yourself to remember, and that's what triggered the anxiety crises."

Toto no longer wanted, no longer could endure this process, even though the therapist said it was progress... because the things he remembered with longing and sadness, the ones that used to trigger anxiety when mixed with hurtful words, were his moments with Christian.

He remembered perfectly the day they had escaped for a while from the paddock during the Monaco GP... they had rented a boat, taken a short ride, and sat down to talk while watching the sunset. There, he had seen how the sun's rays touched Christian, his hair, his eyes... his skin... and the exact moment he knew he was in love was when they both looked at each other, and Christian gave a soft, sweet smile... so tender... that Toto wanted to freeze that moment forever.

Toto genuinely thought there was something there... because he didn't remember how, but they started holding hands occasionally, small mutual touches, smiles... gazes... Toto had felt it... or had he deluded himself... rather, he had formed false illusions.

And Toto reproached himself; his love for that man had seduced him to the point that, in the heat of the season's climax, he had spoken those words in public... he had waited for Christian to show up and apologize... to tell him it wasn't serious... but Christian never appeared; he acted as if he hadn't said anything serious... and shattered Toto's heart in a short time.

And now his sole objective was to remove Christian from his heart, no matter the cost...

"Then he asked me to leave," Christian said, looking out the window.

"Oh... Toto must be going through a tough time..." Max said, with a concerned expression.

"Has Lewis never mentioned anything to you?" Christian asked.

"No," Max replied. "Maybe he didn't even know what was happening... or perhaps he did... I don't know."

"He has to know... he's close to Toto."

"Yes... you're right," Max said, thoughtfully. "But have you tried approaching him?"

"I don't want to hurt him... I don't want my presence to upset him," Christian said. "Though I do want to..."

"Hmm, then you need to find a quiet place to talk, away from people or something..."

"Yes, but how? If he knows I want to talk, he'll refuse," Christian said.

"I think I have an idea..." Max said.

During the Singapore GP, Toto had received a message that Lewis wanted to talk to him about some strategies in a hotel room. Toto had gone there at the appointed time, but when he entered, Lewis was nowhere to be found.

Christian was examining the room's decorations when he heard Toto approaching, and he looked at him. Toto didn't understand what was happening and remained calm... he knew how to coexist with Christian politely... but he would rather not have to be close to him for too long.

"I'm sorry, I... thought that..." he began to say but was interrupted.

"Was Lewis supposed to be here?... well, maybe... Max took his phone..." Christian said, sounding nervous.

Toto was puzzled... "And why would he do that?" He said in a neutral tone.

"Toto... I... wanted to talk to you, and I didn't know if you'd accept..." Christian said, sounding nervous. "I... genuinely care about you... I want to know how you are..."

"You don't care about me, don't worry about anyone other than yourself or your team." Toto interrupted, sounding annoyed.

"That's not true... I genuinely... didn't know you were going through this... I want to help you," Christian insisted.

"Help me with what? To hurt me even more?" He said, with a voice broken and full of anger.

"What?...No... I didn't..." Christian began to say. "Toto, listen... let's talk... let's find a solution."

"What do you want to fix?... you're two years too late, Christian..." he said, with tears in his eyes. "And if you hadn't seen me, you wouldn't even care how I was."

Toto couldn't take it anymore and turned away. He didn't want to talk anymore, but Christian grabbed his arm when he turned around, and he saw the shorter man with tears in his eyes.

"But it happened, I saw you, and I realized how you were..." he said, desperate. "So it's a sign for us to..."

"It's a sign for nothing..." Toto said, trying to break free from Christian's grasp.

"Toto... please..." he pleaded, tears on his cheeks, watching Toto's back.

Toto sighed, turned, looked at Christian, and approached him again. He pressed him against the wall, holding his face with his hands, and kissed him. It was a raw kiss... a clash of suppressed emotions that were now unleashed. Christian went along with the storm of feelings; he could feel Toto crying, and he was crying too. Toto's tongue entered his mouth, teeth... licks... an angry kiss from Toto, and Christian allowed it.

When they parted, Toto whispered, "There's no relationship."

"What?" Christian said.

"There's no relationship... that's what you said... you never apologized... you used me and then discarded me," Toto said, his voice broken.

"Toto, no... I didn't want... I didn't use you... I..." Christian stammered, touching Toto's cheek, which he quickly pulled away.

Then, Toto hit the wall and left Christian frozen for a moment. "Don't lie... I don't believe you... don't pretend you want to fix anything."

And with that last sentence, Toto walked away and didn't look back... because there was still a hint of temptation in him to forgive Christian and have him in his arms.

Christian remained frozen against the wall and finally fell to the floor while crying. This time he understood... he was to blame... he himself pushed away the person he loves.

~~~~

I must say that I was inspired by Good Omens of course for a certain scene

@silvereds ok...we keep crying

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Rise in Housing Prices Forces Brazilians to Live in Tents in Portugal

Improvised camp brings together dozens of immigrants in one of the most upscale areas of greater Lisbon

Amid soaring prices for renting or buying a house in Portugal, there are more and more Brazilian immigrants forced into precarious housing situations, including overcrowded accommodation and even camping tents. In a wooded wasteland in front of Carcavelos beach, one of the most valued regions of greater Lisbon — next to an English school where the children of Lisbon's elite study, with monthly fees around €1,400 (R$7,400) — the number of improvised homes has been growing in recent months.

Among the new and old residents of the place, there are at least 20 Brazilians. Some are accommodated in old motorhomes, but most are housed in plastic tents.

Continue reading.

[pixeldistractions]

Gameplay notes on a broken, stinky camper:

They haven’t set off on their adventure quite yet, by the way. There’s a bit more story to go still. But this is a glimpse into their future to show off the camper, since I need an entire empty lot to park this thing on, and the camper shown in the previous story scenes is just deco.

Here is the camper build that they’ll actually live in. It’s a decent sized class-C motorhome. As Jordan said, it’s not really one of those cute little renovated #vanlife campers that Ingrid has her heart set on. (Like this one <- I am a total geek over this woman’s van life channel, lol!)

But maybe Ingrid will get hers someday.

This camper is old and run down, definitely in need of some renovation. Jordan is a handy guy, so I have no doubt he’ll keep it running. But creative or stylish, he is not. So he’s probably quite happy to make it smell better and just leave it be.

It’s off-grid, and doesn’t currently have any power or water capabilities, but he is welcome to upgrade those systems when he’s ready.

It’s off-grid, and a micro home on 32 squares. (33, actually, being 3x11, and I cheated out a block from the bathroom so it could remain in the smallest tier. 😉 )

I haven’t played with either of these lot types in gameplay before, and I’m super excited to try them! I’m also looking forward to the gameplay of bringing this camper to different locations and playing in some towns that I don’t normally play. But it’s a bummer that, more often than not, I’ll have to bulldoze an entire building to place it somewhere.

(OMG give us world editing tools!!!)

The lot challenges are filthy, gremlins, and creepy-crawlies. And because it was said to be very stinky in the story, I placed a few of these apartment problem stink clouds around to pop up and give them a bad surprise from time to time.

The whole camper, not counting the lot value of wherever it’s placed, is around $7000. Neither of them paid that much for it, or even have that much money to their names. I keep my sims broke, lol! But I do have a kind of personal gameplay rule that my sims can get a bonus “kaching” for each apartment problem or lot challenge they add, to help out with the purchase price. Because in game, lot challenges don’t make the lot any cheaper, even though they kind of should, in my opinion.

Then they would have to pay $1000 in “repairs” to get rid of the lot challenge or apartment problem, if they ever decide to.

(Sadly, I suspect my apartment problems are about to totally break with the new For Rent pack we’re getting, and I’m not sure I have the brain space or ability to fix them this time. Oh well, we had a good run with them, didn’t we? Hopefully someone with more skills and time can pick up the torch.)

Jordan imagines renovating this back room with a couple of bunk beds for his boys, for the hopeful occasion that Colette lets them come out to visit.

So, they’ll take this thing to a few locations on their way out to California, and then in a couple weeks, Jordan will end up in Sierra Nova to meet up with Maya for the climbing club she hosts through Tyler’s adventure park. The plan is that they’ll train for a season in Sierra Nova, then travel to Komorebi to train further and then attempt to summit, which is another bit of gameplay I haven’t tried before.

I am not going to attempt to wrangle any sort of road trip driving shots with this thing, or the deco object, either. We will use our imaginations!

(Oh, but how cool would a cars/road trip pack be, where we could own a camper and drive it from place to place? But I bet even if they made a pack like that, the campers would be rabbit holes like the tents are.)