#One Day Race

[gruppocompatto]

Paris - Roubaix (1.UWT): il percorso e i protagonisti

257 km, 29 settori sul pavé per un totale di 55 km sulle pietre. Dylan Van Baarle lo scorso anno stacco tutti vincendo in solitaria a Roubaix Dylan Van Baarle  (Photo by Bas Czerwinski/Getty Images) Una delle classiche più attese, la più dura e imprevedibile!!! Questa domenica sarà davvero una domenica di passione per coloro che saranno impegnati nella centoventesima edizione dell’Inferno del…

[circuscountdowns]

I just don’t think the bishops would’ve stood by while lamb puts shamura in the pillory

[love44lew]

kinktober day one: in heat

彡driver max verstappen x reader

彡genre smut (with a little plot), sub!reader, a little dumbification, petnames, unprotected, dirty talk, multiple rounds, reader gets put to sleep #melatonindck

彡summary you wake up from a nap uneasy

彡notes october is my favorite month of the year!! i should’ve started the first but whatever 🙄🙄

彡warning sexual content

———👻————-🦈-————👻———-

you plopped down on the couch next to max. you had just woken up from a nap with and ache in your lower stomach and in between your legs, you thought it was just your period but that had already passed a week ago. you didnt know what was wrong with you. 

your panties were soaked and your palms were clammy. probably had a wet dream, but now that wet dream has effected your real life and you need help. you lie in a fetal position with your hands pressing your lower stomach. max placed his phone down and ran his baby soft hands down your back, moving his thigh a little so your head can rest on it. “whats wrong liefde?” his brows furrowed as his face showed genuine concern. you just groaned in response, your nose nuzzling into his thigh with your eyes shut. “baby” he tucked some hair back from your face.

your eyes fluttered open as your gaze locked on him. your puplils dilating a little wider upon seeing his face. “my pretty girl, whats wrong with you? are you sick?” he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. you were a little warm, but its naturally cold in the house so you were all wrapped up in your blankets. “mm-mh” you shook your head. “cramps?” you shook your head again. “i cant help you if you dont use your words” he brushed a finger over your eyelid as his hand cupped the side if your face. “t-touch me, please” your legs slightly shivering as the words managed to collect into anything but a slur. “ima need you to be more specific, i’m touching you right now” he lifted an eyebrow and you whined a little in frustration with his slight naiveness.

“touch my body while you fuck me. fuck me please, it hurts” your breath hitched and your voice cracked as you sat up. without a word max began stripping off his clothes. you quickly threw aside your shirt which was the only thing you had on. you turned around your knees dug into the soft cushions and your back arched as you waited dripping for him. max slapped his heavy cock on your cunt, your legs shaking a little. “so fucking wet for me” he rubbed his shaft between your folds before positioning himself aligned with your dripping cunt.

his cock sunk into you, air released making a funny sound. max giggled, “pussy talking to me, huh?” his hand landed hard on your rear mounds. the sting was so sweet your hips thrusted back onto him.

he continued thrusting into you as your bodies moved in synch with each other. he reached his hand over to grab your wrists, holding them behind you as his other hand lay on your lower back. his cock dug deeper than before, your cunt making wet noises as your slick coated his shaft. “mm doll, you’re taking me so well” his voice rung sweetly in your ears. you hear nothing but the sounds of your own muffled moans him pounding into your soaking hole.

you felt like you could go on for hours without being completely satisfied, which is exactly what happened. you both came in 5 different positions and your cunt still wanted more, your legs were so tired and you could barely collect words together or even form a thought. the pressure had relieved a bit but his cock felt sooo soo good and you took him so well he couldn’t get enough of your cunt either.

“my dick might fall off if we keep this up” your mouth tugged into a weak smile at his remark.

“you like it when i make you cum back to back though..” he sat up and tapped his thigh signaling that you get on. you straddled him as you slowly sunk down onto his still very prominent arousal, using his shoulders as leverage. you rested your temple on his shoulder and felt yourself start to slip away. max pushed his shoulder forward forcing your head up as your tired eyes stared into his.

“stay awake, just a little longer.” your head tipped to the side as you sigh. “here, hold my hand” he whispers, taking your hand in his as your fingers intertwine.

his other hand grips on your hip, squeezing until it feels like its bruising—like you didn’t already enough of those. you gripped your hand on his shoulder and tried to lift yourself but you came crashing down as soon as you went up. you whined as your head fell onto his shoulder.

“i know baby, i know.” he rubs circles on your hip with his thumb. max adjusts himself causing you to let out an involuntary whimper.

he lets go of your hand and slides both of them to under your bum to hold you up to slowly let you back down and then up again. you feel his strong arms and chest flex with every movement. he groans when you rock your hips for him to go faster. his hips buck up into you, you yelp at the sudden force.

“sorry, sorry” max kisses your cheek along with a trail of apologies.

“dont s-stop” you whine out and he obliged, bucking his hips up again and again. he fucks you so good you could feel another orgasm approaching with every time he hit the spots you didn’t know existed but stung oh so good. “oh fuck-“ you felt another thick knot welling up in your core. you hugged him closer your moans and whines muffled into his shoulder.

your walls spasmed around him as your legs began to quiver.

“are you close, mijn liefje?” he asked panting a little. you just nodded, too drunk on bliss as his shaft continues to bruise your cunt.

“fuck—me too” his cock twitches inside your gummy walls.

“you want me to fill this pretty pussy again? hm?” his voice quivered a little. you nodded once again.

his pace picked up as his own climax came near. max’s tone went up a little higher than before, his groans and moans shifting into panting and a couple whimpers here and there.

“fuck fuck fuuuhh~ fuckfuckfucshitkfuck” as he pumped pearly ropes into your cunt, your own climax followed shortly behind. you now using his arms as support to grind your clit down onto his base. waves of pleasure washed over you as your body shivered and shook. your body had given out, passing out in his arms, with his cock still buried deep in your walls.

“liefde?” max called to you between pants, none to his avail, no response. a smile creeped on his face,

“i put my baby to sleep, hm?” he said to himself quietly as he felt all your muscles relax, your body melting impossibly further onto his. with his soft, plump lips, he landed soft kisses on your shoulder and neck, rubbing circles up and down your back.

[ryssbelle]

Thought of this while at work, sorry it's a bit hard to read I sketched it out really fast before my last shift lmao wanted to get it done so I could work on other stuff hehe

If it's any consultation Floyd is mostly talking about himself

[finifugue]

something about red bull being where world champions go to kill and ferrari being where world champions go to die

[formulanni]

Dear lord please double Logan Sargeant’s misfortune and give it to the British this weekend 🧎‍♀️

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time

[cleopatragirlie]

Do you ever think about

[formulaonedirection]

Lewis Hamilton surprises kids for SkySports

[ladymarvel27]

Happy Carlando Day to those who celebrate❤️🧡

Phew! Time flies so quickly.🥲

[cryptidstealingyourcreditcard]

okay but hiccup and snotlout are totally the type of cousins to just randomly enter each others room, say something mildly disturbing, and leave without closing the door

[lunawolf444]

Hope you caught the race yesterday 😘

[gruppocompatto]

Dwars door Vlaanderen (1.UWT), One Day Race: il percorso e i favoriti

11 muri e 9 tratti in pavé rappresentano le difficoltà della settantasettesima edizione della Dwars door Vlaanderen Planimetria 77esima edizione della Dwars door Vlaanderen – A travers le Flandre (1.UWT) che si svolge domani con partenza da Roeselare e arrivo a Waregem dopo 183,7 km e un dislivello di 1437 metri; in programma 11 muri per quella che è l’ultima corsa di avvicinamento alla Ronde van…

[dynamo-deepblue]

Crash doesn't like to see Coco get frustrated, so he helps out by working his magic! Crash himself probably doesn't even know what he did to help, lol.

I've never really done a comic-type thing like this so this was more a challenge for me to draw characters interacting and also attempting to draw them consistently. It was a fun exercise :)

[wtfforged]

doodle from september that i colored, you guessed it, during dnd. my sanji-is-just-a-bit-taller-than-zoro propaganda also. zoro my beautiful prizewinning tomato plucked fresh from garden

non-loser version bc i think he looks cuties on his own.

[batsplat]

Wait what’s the tea on Valentino’s sleep patterns 👀👀 (fellow insomniac / recent motogp fan always looking for more representation)

oh yeah, if you're looking for representation for poor sleeping habits you've very much come to the right place. his sleep patterns are pretty remarkable you have to say. way too nocturnal for a professional athlete, reliant on naps to get through the race weekend, all power to him for somehow making that work and winning all those titles. pretty sure I've read somewhere that he's still known for doing sim races at ungodly hours these days, just how he lives his life

tbh I can't remember off the top of my head where I'd actually read about his sleeping patterns, but I've cobbled together a decent selection of quotes from the usual sources. the most interesting stuff he's said on the topic is in his autobiography - where he goes into rather a lot of detail about his preference for the night. given that it's quite a lengthy passage, I've chucked it under the cut. he frames his nocturnal inclination as not only suiting his natural body clock better, but also as a way of escaping the rest of the world - of being able to move around in peace and silence and anonymity. plus, he liked to spend his nights in the garage to... *pinches bridge of nose* have some special personal time with his bike, when it was just the two of them. take that as you will

before that, let's just start with a few more general descriptions of his sleeping patterns. from early in his career, jerez 1998 (from oxley's vr files):

The camper only holds two people, but that's okay. I don't like my dad to sleep with me, because when it gets to ten o'clock he starts saying: "Vale, Vale, got to bed!", but I can't go to sleep before one or two. We did share a motorhome in '96 and it made life very, very difficult for me.

and about brno 1999 (from oxley's vr files):

On weekends when I'm not racing, I never go to bed before six or seven on Sunday morning. If it's a party, maybe even later, but going to bed at six in the morning is quite normal for me! Even when I was 14 I used to go to bed at 4am. Quite often I'd be riding around the local minimoto tracks until after midnight! If I go to sleep at 11 or 12 I just lie there, my eyes wide open. Maybe I would be good for 24-hour racing!

and then a few years into his premier class career, valentino says the following (x):

'I have a lot of energy after 2am,' Rossi agreed. 'I like to sleep in the morning. I have some problems at the start of the day.'

we've also got a description of crew chief jb's influence in terms of making sure valentino wasn't slacking off by sleeping in (from oxley's vr files):

Burgess' talents aren't restricted to getting the best out of a 500. The Aussie has been in GPs for decades and knows how to extract the best from riders as well. He expects 100 per cent commitment both on the track and in the pits, and when he doesn't get that, he gives 'em hell. Some other crew chiefs won't do that - they're too overawed by their riders' superstardom. JB laid down the law last summer when late-sleeper Rossi turned up late for practice. Rossi suggested that in future one of the crew should be despatched to his motorhome each morning to make sure he was out of bed. No way, said Burgess, I'll be there to give you your wake-up call. Rossi's not overslept since.

and from 2001, in valentino's own words:

Q: Tell us about your sleeping habits, JB has had to wake you a few times for practice... VR: I never go to bed before 1 o'clock, and there's no limit on when I go to bed, but even when I go to sleep very late I always wake up at 8.30, though when I do wake up I always have a big confusion for the first five minutes, then after that I remember: "Oh fuck, I'm at world grand prix!" So I have a shower and then I'm okay. I never get up too close to riding time because the 500 is a dangerous bike so it's necessary to be awake when you climb aboard. Back in the afternoon after practice at four or five o'clock I'll sleep for another hour.

only semi-related but valentino's also talked about... you know, this generational shift - where the sport has become more professionalised, which is reflected in certain lifestyle changes (from barker's rossi biography):

"The next generation is always stronger. They are more professional, they put more effort in, they make a perfect life, they eat in a good way, they don't drink, they go to sleep early, they train every day from the morning to the night... I come from an era where the riders drank beer and smoked cigarettes!"

also plenty of talk of jet lag obviously... doesn't struggle with it too much headed westwards because he says he basically lives on american time anyway. the other direction is tougher, but in his youth he decided that he might as well try to continue living on italian time. so he essentially went racing at 5 in the morning (about phillip island 1998, from oxley's vr files):

I don't have a problem with jet lag, I always sleep. Last year in Indonesia I stayed on Italian time for the whole grand prix - so I was racing at five in the morning! But the difference is too great to do that in Australia.

how on earth are you racing motorcycles like that. mind you, he won that 1997 indonesia race

so yeah. king of disordered sleeping. given the nature of motogp schedules and how they do kind of require you to actually get up in the mornings, congrats to him for being remotely functional during race weekends. crazy how he even won the odd race

and here's the autobiography passage:

My day, usually, begins in the afternoon. It’s as if I exist inside my own personal time zone. I live at night, because I love the night. Now, this might make you think I do goodness-knows-what in the wee hours, or that I don’t live the life of a professional athlete. It’s true, I don’t live the life of an athlete in the traditional sense — early to bed, early to rise and all that — but this does not mean that I’m not careful about what I eat and drink or that I don’t train. In fact, I train a lot, both in the gym and on the bike. It’s just that I go to the gym in the afternoon, rather than the morning. Equally, when I’m training on the bike, down at the quarry, I always go in the afternoon, never at nine o'clock in the morning. My body has a certain type of metabolism. It is used to living according to a different body clock. That’s why, even if I’m travelling all over the world, I don’t experience jet lag and I rarely go to bed before 3 a.m. It’s much more likely that I’m just tucking into bed as people are leaving for work. As I say, I have a special relationship with the night. I like moving in it, living in it, thinking in it, relaxing in it. The night fascinates me, because it’s the period of least confusion. The world calms down, it goes quiet. And, besides, I’m Valentino Rossi. I’m wanted... I'm a fugitive. Yes, I’m always running away from my _ beloved countrymen. The Italians. I’m proud to be Italian, I'm proud of our merits and I regret our shortcomings. Italians are exceptional people. In every way. Even when they start loving you. Because that’s actually when problems can arise — if it’s you that the Italian falls in love with. Italian people are warm, empathetic, spontaneous. But they can also be excessive, oppressive and disrespectful. I don’t know who said that Italians will forgive everything except for success. Whoever it was, they were right. Because it’s absolutely true. After the 1997 season, I could tell I was becoming popular. Year after year, that popularity turned into fully fledged love. They’re in love with me now and, as a result, since the 2004 season, I’ve been a man on the run. And there’s no escape, no end in sight, because wherever I go they find me. There are simple things, the little pleasures in life, which I simply can’t engage in when I’m back in Italy. I can’t go to the bar and have a cappuccino, because I would not be able to drink it. To be fair, I can do it in Tavullia, but that's the only place. If I go more than a few kilometres in any direction from the centre of town, that's it, everything changes and I become, once again, a hunted man. I can’t walk into a store, look at something and decide what I want to buy. In fact, I can’t stop anywhere, not even at a petrol station. If I stop, I’m screwed. Somebody will recognise me (Italians are exceptionally good at recognising people), make a lot of noise, call other people and then, before I know it, I’ve been swallowed up by the crowd. If I schedule a meeting with someone, we have to meet in a secret, out-of-the-way location and, even then, we can't linger. I can't go to a restaurant if there are too many people inside. And if I do go, I can't go at a normal time, say eight o'clock. I have to go later, much later, when people are leaving. And I can't sit where I like, I have to hide away in a corner, in the shadows. As for places like cinemas or the beach, forget about it. They are just always off-limits.

Having said that, I do mix with people. I do it because I like doing it. It’s just that I wish I could do it as a normal person, because, deep down, I am a normal human being. This is part of the reason why I have to live at night. It would be that much tougher during the day, with all those people about. Plus, I don’t like the traffic, the chaos, the noise, all those people running all over the place, stressed out and out of breath. The night is different. Everything is softer, there are fewer people around and you are much more free. It’s like a parallel dimension. The world is different at night. Everything is different. That’s why I’ve assimilated the lyrics of a song by the Italian artist Jovanotti, “Gente. della notte” (“People of the night”). It has become my personal anthem. Jovanotti is one of my favourite singers and I find myself agreeing with him on most things. I love his work. What else can I say? The night is my reality. And I don’t change just because Grands Prix are scheduled during the day. My way of being and living is reflected in what I do during races. I don’t really change. Obviously, I don’t go to bed at dawn, but let’s just say that when I do, finally, go to bed, there aren’t many people around. Everything is better at night in the paddock. There is silence, the people _ have disappeared and, with them, the chaos. I can wander around freely, most of all I can enjoy the empty pit area and my bike. Yes, my bike. Because at night I often slip into the team garage. At some races I do it every single night, because I love being with my bike. My night-time activities can be traced back to the years racing in 125cc, and are directly tied to my passion for aesthetics and the stickers, which would later become my obsession. I don’t leave anything to chance'when it comes to choosing the colour or the stickers for my bike. That’s why I’ve always been central to any and all discussions when we were deciding the aesthetics of my racing bikes. I’ve done it always, with every bike, at every level, with every team. And, naturally, I still do it today. Nobody has ever been allowed to attach a single sticker to my bike, unless it was the logo of a technical sponsor. Until a few years ago I was totally inflexible about this. Now, Roby takes care of the number: he attaches it because then he needs to cover it in transparent paint. But apart - from -this, which is primarily a technical procedure anyway, I take care of everything else to do with the stickers. And this takes time and planning, which is why I started going to the garage at night. During the day it is packed with people. There are mechanics, technicians and others around. I would just get in the way, if I wanted to get near the bike just to check the stickers. As I got older and progressed from 125 to 250 and then to 500 and on to MotoGP, I maintained that passion for aesthetics and stickers, as well as the habit of dropping in on the team garage at night. I enjoy the bike during the day _ obviously, but my relationship with the bike is so special that I can spend hours with it, just looking and admiring it, making sure that everything is in order. Those are very personal moments which I find difficult to describe. The Japanese guys, both the executives but also the engineers never knew this, not the guys at Honda, not the ones at Yamaha. I don’t think they would really understand. They would probably view it as a waste of time, since I don’t actually do anything concrete. I never touch anything to do with the bike itself, beyond, obviously, the stickers. And yet I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. It’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy.

During the day everything happens so quickly, frenetically, neurotically. However, there is a sacrosanct moment when I need to step away and isolate myself. Once my commitment to the team is over, usually around 5.30 p.m., I retire to my motorhome, relax and take a nap. It usually lasts a couple hours and then I go out. There’s always something to do after dinner. Of course, the range of options depends on how many friends are around. I really start enjoying the paddock around ten o'clock at night. Before going to sleep I check on the bike again and then I go into the team motorhome, which serves as an office. Now that I’m at Yamaha, I have an office all to myself. That’s where I keep all my race gear. I do this for two reasons. My own personal motorhome is an absolute mess, nothing more fits in there and I probably couldn’t find anything amid all the junk. Plus, the office is where I change into my racing suit before going out on to the track. Thus, at night, after going to the pits to see the bike, I go to make sure that all my stuff is where it should be: gloves, suit, socks, boots . . . everything needs to be perfect, because I just don’t have time in the morning to hunt around for stuff. Thus, each morning I have to follow a very precise routine. I’m like a robot, everything is the same each day. Because the truth is that I need to be like clockwork. I just don’t have the time to think. Somebody generally comes to wake me up — usually it’s Jeremy, because he doesn’t trust my ability to wake up on my own! I then get up, wash my face (my eyes are still shut at this point) and try to stay awake as I ride the scooter from the motorhome to the pits. I then go up to the office and get dressed. There too everything is done mechanically. It takes the slightest hiccup to throw everything off, forcing me to be late to the testing.

"I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. it’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy" well -

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Father’s Embrace

word count: 733

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Wife!reader, ft. Jack

Summary: A peaceful day on the yacht brings Toto, Y/n, and their son Jack closer, as they share a heartfelt moment wrapped in the serenity of the ocean and the warmth of family love.

______________________________________________________________

The sun hung lazily in the sky, its warm golden rays spilling across the ocean's surface, casting glimmers that danced on the calm water. The gentle hum of the yacht's engine was soothing, a low murmur that blended seamlessly with the distant calls of seabirds. The air was filled with a quiet peace, the kind only found far from the bustle of their daily lives.

Toto sat with a soft smile playing on his lips, his arms wrapped protectively around their son, Jack, who had curled up into his chest, lulled by the rhythmic sway of the boat. His normally energetic little boy had been worn out by the sun and the excitement of the day. Jack's head rested against Toto’s chest, his small arms clutching his father, who wore his favorite white sweater. Toto’s sunglasses reflected the serene blue of the sea as he glanced out across the horizon, then down at Jack, his expression softening even more.

You leaned against the railing of the yacht, watching the two of them with a fond smile, the sight melting your heart. It wasn’t often that you saw Toto so still, so utterly at peace. He was always moving, always thinking, whether at the track or managing the pressures of his team. But here, in the quiet embrace of the ocean, with Jack asleep in his arms, he seemed to breathe a little easier.

“Mommy,” Jack had mumbled earlier before drifting off, his little body cocooned in warmth. You had smiled and kissed his head, the soft curls tickling your lips. Toto had reached out then, gently pulling you closer into their cocoon of warmth.

Now, as the yacht drifted along the coastline, you moved closer and sat beside them, your hand finding Toto’s. He squeezed it gently, a silent acknowledgment of the peace between you all. No words were needed—this moment spoke volumes. It was the kind of quiet joy that came from simply being together.

Toto turned slightly to meet your gaze, the sunlight catching his eyes behind his reflective glasses. “He’s out like a light,” he whispered with a grin, careful not to wake Jack. His other hand stroked Jack’s hair absentmindedly, the gesture so full of love and tenderness that it made your heart swell.

“He had a big day,” you replied softly, your thumb running over the back of Toto’s hand. “Couldn’t wait to follow you around the boat earlier.”

Toto chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. “He’s always got so much energy, just like his mother.”

You laughed quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He’s got your determination, though. He doesn’t give up until he gets what he wants.”

Toto smiled, a glint of pride in his eyes. “That’s true,” he murmured. “But right now, all he needs is to rest.”

The wind picked up slightly, causing the edges of the water to ripple. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, and Toto shifted, drawing you in closer without disturbing Jack.

“We should do this more often,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “Just us. No races, no meetings. Just our family.”

You nodded, your heart warmed by the sincerity in his words. “I’d like that.”

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the only sounds around you the gentle lap of the waves against the yacht and the occasional soft breath from Jack. The world felt far away here, like nothing could reach you.

As the sun dipped lower toward the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you looked up at Toto, the man who held your heart just as securely as he held your son. He caught your gaze and smiled that soft smile reserved only for moments like this, where it was just the three of you, wrapped in a cocoon of love and tranquility.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind.

“For what?” he asked, brow slightly furrowed.

“For being you. For always being here.”

Toto’s grip on your hand tightened, and he brought it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll always be here, love. For you, for Jack. Always.”

The yacht continued its gentle journey across the water, carrying with it the quiet promise of more days like this, filled with love, laughter, and the warmth of family.