#Racket Bag

[skitskatdacat63]

Thank you f1 for being canon compliant and putting Fernando in his habitual Santa suit

[heavenb3nt]

Anyways. Academy era designs

[daily-mao-isara]

Day 312 : Trickstar's poster from the official visual fan book!

[tennishopblog]

Evolution of Tennis Training Techniques and Coaching Methodologies

The world of tennis has undergone significant transformations over the years, not only in terms of how the game is played but also in how players train and are coached. From rudimentary practices to advanced, technology-driven techniques, the evolution of tennis training and coaching methodologies has been remarkable. This blog delves into the journey of these changes and highlights the importance of quality tennis equipment and accessories, which you can find at TennisShop.ae, an online shop for all your tennis needs.

Early Days of Tennis Training

Basic Techniques and Manual Coaching

In the early days, tennis training was relatively straightforward. Players relied on basic techniques taught by coaches who primarily focused on the fundamentals—grip, stance, swing, and footwork. Training sessions were less structured and more informal, often conducted on any available court without much regard for specialized equipment or accessories.

Limited Equipment

The tennis equipment available was basic. Wooden rackets were the standard, and tennis balls were less consistent in quality. Players trained using whatever was at hand, and the emphasis was more on natural talent and less on structured, methodical practice.

Mid-20th Century Developments

Rise of Professional Coaching

The mid-20th century saw the rise of professional coaching. Coaches began to develop more structured training programs, focusing on the physical and mental aspects of the game. Techniques became more refined, and there was a greater emphasis on conditioning and strategy.

Improved Tennis Equipment

During this period, advancements in tennis equipment began to take shape. Metal rackets started to replace wooden ones, offering more power and control. Tennis accessories like wristbands, headbands, and specialized shoes began to appear, enhancing players' performance and comfort.

Modern Era: Scientific and Technological Advancements

Sports Science Integration

The integration of sports science into tennis training has revolutionized the way players prepare for matches. This approach considers biomechanics, nutrition, psychology, and physiology to optimize performance. Coaches now use scientific data to tailor training programs to individual players, focusing on their specific strengths and weaknesses.

Advanced Tennis Equipment

Modern tennis equipment has become highly specialized. Rackets are now made from advanced materials like graphite and carbon fiber, offering greater power and precision. Strings have evolved to provide better spin and durability. Training aids, such as ball machines and resistance bands, are used to enhance specific aspects of a player's game.

Technology in Coaching

Technology has had a profound impact on tennis coaching methodologies. Video analysis tools allow coaches to break down players' techniques in minute detail, identifying areas for improvement. Wearable devices track players' movements and vitals, providing real-time feedback and data for analysis. Apps and online platforms facilitate remote coaching and virtual training sessions, making top-tier coaching accessible to players worldwide.

The Role of Tennis Accessories

Enhancing Performance

Tennis accessories play a crucial role in modern training. Items like grip enhancers, vibration dampeners, and high-performance tennis shoes are essential for optimizing a player's performance. Quality accessories not only improve comfort and safety but also contribute to the overall effectiveness of training sessions.

Injury Prevention

Accessories like knee braces, elbow supports, and compression garments help prevent injuries and aid in recovery. With the physical demands of tennis increasing, these accessories are vital for maintaining players' health and longevity in the sport.

Available at Tennis Shop.ae

At TennisShop.ae, you can find a wide range of tennis accessories that cater to every aspect of your training needs. From basic items to advanced training aids, Tennis Shop.ae offers everything you need to enhance your game and train like a professional.

Psychological Aspects of Training

Mental Conditioning

The mental aspect of tennis is now recognized as equally important as physical conditioning. Techniques such as visualization, mindfulness, and stress management are integrated into training programs. Coaches work with sports psychologists to help players develop mental toughness, focus, and resilience.

Goal Setting and Motivation

Modern coaching methodologies emphasize the importance of goal setting and maintaining motivation. Players are encouraged to set short-term and long-term goals, and coaches use various motivational techniques to keep them engaged and committed to their training programs.

Customization and Personalization

Personalized Training Programs

With advancements in technology and sports science, training programs can now be highly personalized. Coaches design routines based on individual players' physical attributes, playing styles, and goals. This level of customization ensures that players get the most out of their training sessions.

Custom Tennis Equipment

Customizable tennis equipment is also becoming more popular. Players can choose rackets with specific weights, balances, and string patterns that suit their unique playing styles. Personalized accessories, such as custom insoles for shoes and tailored grip sizes, further enhance performance and comfort.

The Future of Tennis Training

Virtual and Augmented Reality

The future of tennis training may include virtual and augmented reality (VR and AR). These technologies can create immersive training environments, allowing players to practice in simulated match conditions. VR and AR can also be used for tactical training, helping players understand positioning and movement in different scenarios.

AI and Machine Learning

Artificial intelligence (AI) and machine learning are poised to further revolutionize tennis coaching. AI can analyze vast amounts of data to provide insights into players' performance and suggest improvements. Machine learning algorithms can predict opponents' strategies, giving players a competitive edge.

Continuous Innovation

As technology continues to advance, so will the methodologies and techniques used in tennis training. The focus will remain on optimizing performance, preventing injuries, and enhancing the overall training experience for players of all levels.

Conclusion

The evolution of tennis training techniques and coaching methodologies reflects the sport's dynamic nature and the continuous quest for improvement. From basic, informal practices to highly scientific and technologically driven programs, tennis training has come a long way. Modern players have access to advanced tennis equipment and accessories, which you can find at TennisShop.ae, ensuring they can train at their best and stay ahead of the competition. As we look to the future, the integration of cutting-edge technologies promises to make tennis training even more effective and accessible, paving the way for the next generation of tennis champions.

[i-scavenger]

Brand new tennis racket bag found in a dumpster.

[badmintontrendz]

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[hadersversion]

but daddy i love him!

“no, i’m not coming to my senses. i know he’s crazy but he’s the one i want.”

pairing: rafe cameron x innocent kook!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut, minors dni!!! dry humping & fingering. corruption kink of sorts (rafe and an innocent reader has taken over me fully i apologize). parental violence/verbal abuse. fighting. rafe showing his true colors but quickly hiding it from the reader because rafe is a big softie for them. pet names (sweetheart, honey, darling, baby, pretty/good girl). aftercare. let me know if i miss any!

mood board!

rafe cameron was bad news.

anyone in the outer banks could tell you that.

he was a fighter, a shit-talker, a guy who you couldn’t trust.

but there was something so intriguing about him that you just couldn’t turn away.

from the day you moved to island almost 10 years ago, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. you would see him at parties, the country club, when you would hang out with his sister, around town on his motorbike with his buddies. but you had to push that crush deep down because no one in their right mind would go after that boy.

except you.

you stretched yourself on the court, waiting for your dad to come out with drinks before your tennis match. that’s when you saw him and his friends making their way to the locker room. they had just got done their round of golf, you could tell by their bags. you tried not to stare, but your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own.

“hey, y/n.” you heard him call, with a smirk painted across his face.

your face blushed and you waved to him. “hey rafe.” play it cool, play it cool.

you can see him look you up and down, staring at your legs. “nice skirt.”

you looked down at the new, white tennis skirt your dad had bought you for your report card. your fingers found a loose thread, beginning to toy with it to deal with the embarrassment you felt. “t-thanks.”

he nods before looking behind you. “mr. y/l/n.” he nods with a quick wave. you turn around to see your dad with two waters and a stern look on his face. “enjoy your game.” he says before going inside.

your dad stands over you as you sit, handing a water bottle over. “that cameron boy…” he lets out a deep sigh.

“what?” you question, getting up and brushing your legs off.

your dad pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “he’s not the kind of guy you want to be friends with, sweetie. he’s a bad seed.”

“but how do you know that?” you question, trying not to sound too suspicious.

your dad picks up his racket and makes his way over to his side of the net. “i know ward cameron. and i know how rafe is just like his dad, thinks he can get anything he wants. thinks there is no consequences to life. but there is. there always is.” your dad shakes his head. “i saw him beating up some kid here not that long ago. sure, he was a pogue but doesn’t give rafe the right to walk around like the king of the outer banks. but until someone stops him, humbles him, things’ll never change.”

you stand there, uncomfortable. all you wanted to do was defend rafe, though you weren’t close like that. but your dad is a one way street. it’s his way or no way. so all you can do is nod. “oh…okay.” you say simply, getting ready for the match.

“just promise me you won’t get mixed up with the likes of that boy, please?” your father looks sincere.

you bite your lip and look down at your clean, white shoes. “yes sir.”

“good, now watch me beat you in tennis.” he says with a laugh. i fake a smile, getting on with the game, but still have rafe in the back of my mind.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

you didn’t see rafe again until the night of a house party at topper’s house.

your friends and you walk in, buzzed from the pre-game. they immediately all go their separate ways, looking for drinks, boys, or both. this leaves you standing awkwardly by a table, talking to some people from school. they talk about prom, their grades, and teachers, making you mentally check out from the conversation. that’s when he catches your eye, he is talking to topper and kelce with a red solo cup in his hand. you watch his every move, how big and veiny his hands are, practically cover the entire cup. how he constantly pushes his hair back while he talks, almost seeming like a force of habit he has. he also licks his lips a lot, sending a very graphic image of rafe between your le-

he looks up, meeting your gaze. a blush forms on your face as you try to hide your embarrassment but taking a sip of alcohol from your cup. you give yourself some time, staring into the cup before looking up again. but when you look at him, he hasn’t stopped staring at you. the blush you fought so hard to keep away makes your face feel like it’s on fire.

you watch as he excuses himself and makes his way over to you. this has to be a dream? or some prank, right?

“hey there, y/n.” he snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. every person who you are talking to looks over to rafe then back at you. “didn’t know you were coming.”

you awkwardly shrug. “last minute choice by my friends.”

his eyes burn holes into your body as he looks you up and down. “well, i’m glad you’re here.” you nod at him, offering a shy smile. “looks like you need another drink, come inside and i’ll get you one.” he nods his head towards the kitchen door. the group you're with is watching this conversation like it’s a TV show. you make my way through them and stand next to him. he automatically puts his hand on your back and leads you inside. the feeling of his touch sends chills down your spine but it almost feels like his hand is meant to be there. like his touch is the missing piece in your life.

you get into the kitchen and he heads towards the fridge, grabbing juice and handing it over. “you strike me as a vodka and juice, girl.” he says with a smile, making my insides melt.

“and what makes you say that?” you ask, putting your hand on my hip, playing into his little game of flirting.

“well, you’re sweet and you seem to play it safe. you don’t really drink a lot but when you do, you’re never blacked out.” he admits with a laugh, giving his diagnosis. “juice is sweet and vodka is the safest way to get a little drunk, in my opinion.” he stares at your face, waiting for a response.

“you’re good, rafe cameron. a little too good.” you admit, grabbing the juice and filling up the cup. he stands over you, giving me the vodka next. “didn’t know i was that easy to read.”

“you’re not.” he admits, staring down at you while you drink. “i just think i have a special interest in you.”

you freeze in place, there’s no way he’s admitting this to you. right now. the boy you’ve been pining after since the first grade. you can tell you're shutting down but you need to play it cool. “oh really?” you look up at his blue eyes, getting lost in them instantaneously.

“really.” he steps closer, inches away from my face. you know you are not that drunk but your head feels like it’s spinning under his gaze. he leans in a little closer, your noses brushing, when the kitchen door slams and topper can be seen stumbling in. his obnoxious laugh fills the room, making rafe close his eyes and sigh. “what could you possibly want right now?”

topper laughs and comes up beside rafe, he’s clearly fucked up. “i’m just looking for some weed, man.” he hits his chest playfully. “don’t let me get in your way.”

rafe pushes him away, making topper laugh harder at us. he looks at you before speaking. “sorry for being a cockblock.”

rafe narrows his eyes at him. “just get the fuck outta here, top.”

topper staggers into the other room, still laughing.

“sorry about him. when he drinks, he becomes an asshole.” he says, running a hand across his face.

“is he drunk all the time?” i ask with a new found confidence in my voice.

rafe looks at me and laughs. “seems to be.”

you both stand in silence, not moving away from each other but unable to bring the moment back.

“i like you.” he admits.

you stare at him, unable to speak. “w-what?”

“i think you heard me, y/n.” he smiles cockily, looking into your eyes.

you look back at him. “you barely know me, rafe.”

“doesn’t mean i can’t like you.” he sips his cup and nudges your shoulder with his. “i think you could say the same about me.” he gets closer, whispering into your ear. “don’t think i don’t notice how you stare at me when i’m around.”

you feel the air leave your body and you bite your lip. you feel like your cornered and have nowhere to go. “i-i-uh…”

he brushes his finger against your lip, almost like he’s shushing you. but you can’t even fight the way your body reacts to his touch. “it’s okay, honey. i like it. i like it a lot.” he says in a whisper, almost making you forget you aren’t the only two people in the world. it feels like you can read his mind just by looking into his blue eyes. he wants you…screw that, rafe cameron needs you. and you need him. forget what your father says, or the town, or even your friends. this seems to be all you need.

how am i ever going to recover from this? you thought to yourself.

you hear your friend call your name from outside. rafe looks over as they yell from outside. “i’ll see you around, how’s that sound?” you look at him, unable to think when he looks at you like this. his hand brushes against your face before walking back out into the party.

you stand there, still as your friend comes in. “you alright? looks like you seen a ghost or something.” she asks you, laughing a bit.

“all good.” was all you can get out, staring straight ahead at the door rafe just left in.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

ever since the party, rafe found little ways to be around you.

whether it was joining you at the country club while you played tennis or hanging around you when he saw you at the beach reading. he even started knocking on the front door of your mansion to just talk on your porch, something you had to hide from your dad. with these interactions, you had no idea what everyone was warning you about with him. he was one of the sweetest guys you ever met. for weeks, you and rafe had begun a nice friendship.

but the almost kiss at topper's party was never spoken of again.

the two of you sat on your porch swing, the air was warm as summer was slowly approaching. your legs laid flatly across rafe’s lap, looking directly at him. you poured a glass of lemonade for you both, sparking rafe to hit you with a “you sure you don’t want some vodka in this?”

when you’re with rafe, the conversations seem to just flow like you are the oldest of friends. you could talk about anything and nothing at the same time. he went on for the past five minutes about how he used to love playing lacrosse but one injury affected his whole career for him.

“it sucked, ya know? i never felt like i belonged anywhere, or had a close bond with anyone like i did on that team. then one fucking torn acl later and it’s all gone for me. i had college scouts looking at me and everything. i could’ve escaped this place and lived the real college experience.” he looked out into the water that faced your house. he turned to you and smiled awkwardly. “jeez, i’m sorry i just don’t shut up.”

you chuckle at him, loving how he put some of his walls down around you. “it’s okay, i like hearing ya talk. it’s soothing.” you smile innocently at him.

he gazes into your eyes and nods, his expression softening. “really?” you nod and he just stares at you. “you’re one of a kind, ya know?” his fingers start to rub innocent circles on your leg.

“and why’s that?” you ask him.

“i-i don’t know, i feel like i can be myself around you.” he admits. “don’t ever quote me on that because i’ll deny that shit.” he points, gaining a laugh from you.

“don’t want anyone to know rafe cameron can be a softie?” you tease him.

“shut up, i’m not a softie.”

“i think you can be behind close doors.” you say.

he stops rubbing your leg and turns to you. “oh shut up.”

“well, you’re gonna have to make me then.” you say without thinking.

rafe looks at you with a fire in his eyes that you haven’t seen since the party. “what was that?” he cocks his eyebrow at you.

you just stare into his eyes, straightening your shoulders back. a confidence striking you like never before. “i think you heard me, rafe.”

without missing a beat, rafe connects your lips. all of that pent-up tension, gone within that very second. his hands found his way to your face, cupping it ever so lightly like you were a delicate flower he was so lucky to have found. his hands slowly slid down your body, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your skin. "jesus, this is all i've been thinking about." he said breaking away, looking into your eyes.

"then, don't stop." you say breathlessly, climbing on top of his lap, kissing him again.

you can tell this move took rafe by surprise as he let out a soft moan in the kiss. the innocence he once thought you possessed was now all gone. you slowly began grinding yourself against rafe's clothed cock, which was slightly hardening. "fuck, who knew you had it in you, honey." he said as he kissed down your jaw. you never felt so needier in your life chasing a high with rafe that you thought you could only dream about.

your face blushed as you looked down at rafe who was staring up at you like you were a painting held high in the louvre. the more you looked down, the more self-conscious you became. your pace which was rapidly increasing started to falter. "hey, hey, sweetheart. don't stop now. what's wrong? talk to me." he caressed your face so lovingly.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, still out of breathe. "i-i-i don't know. what if i'm doing this wrong? or it's weird for you? i'm just nervous, i never did this before."

"did what, sweetheart? dry humped?" he almost laughed, pushing hair out of your face.

you shrugged. "well yes and no..." your voice started to trail off.

"yes and no?" rafe stared at you with a puzzled expression, trying to crack the code. you watched as he deciphered your words and the gears started to turn. "y/n, have you ever been with someone like...sexually before?"

you wanted to cry, the embarrassment being too hard to handle. you just laid your head against rafe's chest and sighed. "please, don't think of me any differently. i just...i just haven't found the right person to do all this with, ya know? i used to be scared but with you...i don't know, i feel ready." rafe sat there in silence, his hands falling to your waist and gripping them. you break away from his chest and stare into his eyes, which have seemed to darken. "rafe?"

"you trust me?" he asks simply. you nod shyly, causing his breath to hitch. you can feel his pants grow tighter under you. "i want you to keep going, do you hear me? don't stop until you cum on my pants." it sounds like he is giving you orders. he brings his thumb across your lip and gives a menacing smirk. "you wanna be all mine, huh? you pretty girl. show me your mine."

with his reassurance, you pick up you begin to rub yourself against his pants. your hands grip his shoulders as he holds you down on him. "good girl, keep it going." the material of his jeans feel rough against your clothed cunt but it adds a sensation you have never felt before. "shit, look at how pretty you look on me. can't wait to bury my cock inside you. would you like that? my cock being so far inside you, you can feel it in your stomach?"

you let out a pathetic whine, your head falling back from the pleasure you have building up inside. "y-yes."

"good girl, but we gotta start with the basics, right?" his hands start to trail up your body, stopping at your closed breasts. he cups them with his hands and smiles when you cry his name. "i got you, baby. c'mon, you know you wanna cum."

you quickly grind against him, feeling desperate as you chase your high. with his words of praise and reassurance, you can feel yourself ready to release. with one quick movement, you feel the tension building up in your stomach release as you cum on rafe. tears prick your eyes as you repeat his name over and over again. "rafe, rafe, rafe."

he stares at you in awe as you finish on him. the sight of your teary eyes and his name falling from your lips in such a needy way pushed him over the edge. he found himself cumming in his pants like he was a high schooler all over again.

you both stayed there, out of breathe, not moving once. you felt like a whole new person even though barely anything has changed.

"you alright?" he asks, pushing hair away from your face.

you tiredly nod, not knowing how to form words. your hooded eyes just take in the view of rafe, his face read and sweaty with a cocky smirk painted across it.

he bites his lip and kisses you gently. "there's more where that came from, you know?" he says and your head reels. "i've been waiting for so long to have you to myself, sweetheart. i don't plan on letting go now."

you giggle into his chest and nod. "don't gotta worry about me leaving, trust me. i've never felt so good in my life." the sweet yet sensual moment you two shared came to a halt when you heard your dad's truck pulling up the gravel road to your house. "shit." you quickly climb off rafe, trying to compose yourself.

your father quickly exited the truck, slamming the door behind him. he seemed to race up to the two of you as you sat there. rafe's hand protectively went over yours as your father approached. "the hell is he doing here?" he fumes.

"d-dad, we're just hanging out." you lie to his face.

"yes sir, that's all we were doing." rafe says camly, looking at him in the eyes.

your father head snaps towards rafe. "was i talking to you, boy? no. stay outta it." his attention focuses back to you. "i told you to not mess with the likings of this boy and what do you do behind my back?" he screams at you. "you go around with this...this hooligan! i want him off my property now. acting like some easy girl, i raised you better."

"b-but, daddy." you pout, trying not to cry as rafe squeezes your hand.

"sir, you're being too hard on her. it's not her fault." rafe tries to calm him down.

your father's finger rests on rafe's chest as he gets close to his face. "oh i know that, rafe. it's you and your typical bullshit. my daughter wouldn't act this way if it wasn't for you. look at you, you're probably using her."

rafe's fists clenched as your father talks down to him, no one does this to him and gets away with it. "sir, i suggest you put that finger down."

"or what?" your father snickers in his face.

rafe's whole demeanor shifts, the sweet boy you were just talking to now gone. like he was never even there. it honestly scared you how fast rafe can change personalities. "you don't even want to know." he grits his teeth. you hate to admit the affect this took on your body, clenching your legs together.

your father drops his finger and turns to you. "inside, now." he says, grabbing your arm. before you can fight him off, he's dragging you away from rafe.

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out." he reassures as you are being brought into your house. "fuck!" he screams as soon as the door slams shut.

you watch as rafe makes his way to his truck, slamming the door shut and driving away. you turn to your father who just stares at you as you cry. "screw you!" you say before running upstairs and locking yourself in your room.

you finally had him and now you lost him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

the days past since you saw rafe.

your father grounded you and cut you off from the outside world.

you sat by your window and waited, having some false hope that rafe would be your knight in shining armor and take you away from this place. your father pulled up the driveway and seemed to struggle getting out of his truck.

you met him at the door, ready to deal with the bullshit he would throw you today. when you opened your door, your father seemed battered and bruised.

"holy sh-i mean...what happened?" you asked, holding the door open for your dad as he sat on the recliner.

"nothing." he shuttered. "nothing happened."

you stood there and crossed your arms. "clearly something happened."

he shook his head, seeming almost fearful. "nothing happened, now drop it." you stood there as he turned to you. "you aren't grounded anymore. your phone is on my dresser." he seemed almost defeated.

you stared at your dad trying to understand what the hell is going on. are you in the twilight zone? you knew you wouldn't get an answer out of him so you grabbed your things and raced out of the house before he could change his mind. the sun was setting but you didn't care, you had one thing and one thing only on your mind.

you got on your bike and raced towards tannyhill. when you finally got there, you threw your bike down and almost ran to the front door. with two knocks, wheezie opened the door.

"y/n?" she said with a smirk.

"hey, wheezie, is rafe home?" you say, snooping around the insides of the home.

she rolls her eyes and opens the door. "in his room."

you walk up the stairs and stop right before his door. your fist hovering over it before connecting it to the wood. after a few seconds, rafe stands there in the almost dark room.

"y/n." he says, almost as though he was expecting you to be here.

you quickly jump into his arms, holding onto him by his neck. you missed this. the way he smelled, the way he felt, everything about this boy drive you wild. "i missed you."

"i missed you too, honey. come on in." he lets you into his room. this was your first time being in here. sure, you've seen it through snapchat and pictures he sends but that's it. it's the typical boy room but it felt authentic. it felt like rafe.

you sit down on his bed as he walks around, picking up clothes off the floor. "didn't think i'd be having guests." he doesn't seem like his usual self, maybe you caught him at a bad time? but he invited you in, so you stayed.

you laugh at him. "no big deal, the old man let me off the hook tonight. it was weird, he came home all messed up. i tried asking but he kinda pushed me away. it was weird."

rafe stood there, silently. "oh really?"

"yeah, super strange. he's not usually the fighter type. never has been." you watch him stand there. "you all good?"

he nods and turns to you. "i am, now that you're here."

you smile at him as he approaches you. you open your legs so he can stand in between them, looking down at you. he traces your face with his finger, stopping at your lips. "all mine, sweetheart. all mine." he says before bending down to kiss you. the kiss feels rough, almost as though you are a fresh breathe of air that rafe has been waiting for. he pushes you down onto his bed and crawls on top of you.

you break the kiss and look into his eyes, his room is dark so you can only make out certain features. but you bring your hand to his face and hold his cheek, which makes him wince. "oh, i'm sorry, did i hurt you?"

"n-no, it's all good." he tries to kiss you again but you stop him.

"rafe?" you ask him, making him stop once again. "what's wrong? tell me."

"goddamn! nothing is wrong, okay? i can't miss you." he says, running a hand through his hair. you try to study his face but can't even see him. you reach over for his bedside lamp. "no, no, leave it of-" before he can stop you, the light is on. his beautiful face has a large bruise under his right eye and cheek. his lip busted and knuckles bruised.

"rafe?" you question, sitting up.

"y/n, i can explain." he pleads.

then it all makes sense. your father coming home all battered and bruised, rafe's current state, you being let off the hook too easily.

"you don't even want to know."

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out."

his words from that night ring through your head. the way his whole demeanor changed that night into a person you've never seen before.

"d-did you?" you ask with teary eyes.

"baby, look at me. i can explain." he begs you but you start to get up.

"explain what? how you beat up my fucking dad!?" you yelled, trying to grasp the millions of thoughts you had. "h-how could you?" you stand by his door, pacing, with your head in your hands.

he walks up to you, grabbing your hand. "look at me, honey, please. look at me." he begs you, trying to grab your attention.

when you finally turn to him, you see the cuts and bruises again. "rafe, why?" you say with a tear slipping down.

"because i love you, honey. you're my girl and i don't give a fuck who it is, they cannot talk to you the way your own father did. calling you easy, acting like your dumb for being around me. nobody should ever talk to you like that, ever." you stop and he cups your face in his hands. "i just wanted to talk to him, okay? all i wanted to do was talk. but then he started again with how i'm a bad person and how you were being stupid for even acknowledging me. he said he didn't need a guy like me corrupting his daughter and i snapped."

you gazed into his eyes, they looked as though they were pleading with you to see why he did what he did.

"please, say something. please." he states.

you sigh and close your eyes. "rafe, i don't need you going around defending my honor, especially to my dad. it's not worth it."

"not worth it? sweetheart, look at me." you open your eyes. "you are worth everything to me, you hear me? everything. i would kill for you if you asked me to. i never had someone care for me the way you do, have someone listen to me, or even treat me normally. you mean the world to me, y/n. i love you."

and there it was.

rafe cameron, for once in his life, showed affection.

he told someone they love them.

"i'm sorry it was your dad, okay? sometimes, i black out and can't remember things when i'm angry. i act on my impulses. but with you, i never feel that way." he shakes his head, trying to contain all his emotions. your eyes water again, causing him to wipe the tears. "what's wrong, baby? talk to me."

you smile through the tears. "i just, i love you too." no one has ever made you feel so safe and loved in one moment than rafe has this past month. he's all you could ever ask for.

he beams down at you, shaking his head. "you mean that?"

"with every ounce of my body, i love you." you admit.

his heart swelled as he connected your lips once more to his. you were all his, all he ever needed in life to feel whole.

rafe pushes you against the door, a light moan slipping from your lips as he presses himself against you.

"you like that?" he asks, a satisfied smirk on his face as he kisses your cheek and goes down your neck.

you nod under his touch, like you're cast in his spell. "y-yes."

"you want more?" he asks, sucking on one spot of your neck for a long time. all you can do is nod, already becoming a mess because of him. he pulls away, having you almost whimper from the lack of contact. "not uh, baby, gotta hear some words out of that beautiful mouth of yours. i'll repeat myself, do you want more."

"y-yes, rafe, yes please."

he groans at your begging and nods. "good girl." he pulls you over to the bed and guides you toward it. you feel the bed hit the back of your knees and you sit down, looking up at him. he quickly takes his shirt off and tosses it to the side.

he kisses your lips lightly as his hands find the end of your shirt, lightly toying with the fabric. "y-you can take it off." with the reassurance, he slips the top off and leaves it next to you. his eyes take in your body, your breasts pooling out of a flimsy green bralette. he sucks his tongue and gently runs his fingers over your tits.

"so pretty and they're all for me." he slowly reaches behind your back and unclasps the bralette with one hand, letting it fall down your body. you could swear rafe has tiny hearts in his eyes as they bore onto your half-naked body. "lay down." you follow his orders and lay against his pillows. his bedroom light shines over his features and the cuts from the fight. you bring your hand up to touch them and he gives into your touch. "you okay?"

"more than okay." you tell him.

he kisses your hand then his lips meet with yours once again. he then lets his lips trail across your cheek, jaw, neck, and down to your chest. he stares at your tits before peppering them both with kisses. he then takes one nipple in his mouth, slowly, and grabs your other one with your free hand to give a squeeze. your body instantaneously reacts to rafe's touch, moaning at the sensation of his lips. "you like that, huh?" he almost teases, switching to the other nipple.

"m-more." you whisper out, clenching your eyes.

"what was that, honey? need you to speak up for me." he grins.

"please, i want more, rafe. touch me more." you raise your voice.

"you got it." his hand leaves your tit and trails slowly down your body, resting at the hem of your jeans. he unbuttons them and lets his hands slide down your underwear, his hands automatically getting soaked. "shit, baby, all this for me?" he runs ins finger down your cunt and gathering your slick, bringing it to his mouth. he sucks it off his fingers as you watch in awe. "you're just too sweet for me, you know that?"

he doesn't even give you time to think before he puts his fingers back inside you, swirling your cunt. your hands grab his shoulders, holding onto them for dear life. "it's okay, i got ya, i always got ya." he reassures as he slowly slips one finger into your tight hole. "jesus, honey, with a hole this tight i don't know how long i'll last." he says as he slips his finger in and out of you, his thumb still toying with your clit.

your head falls back as more moans fall from your lips. "more, rafe, please give me more."

he laughs slightly. "cocky little thing, aren't ya? if you insist." he adds one more finger, your hole clenching around him as his finger slip in and out. "look how pretty you look with my fingers inside of you." he says before kissing your mouth, collecting your moans. you're so wet you hear the noises your pussy is making around him. you feel overstimulated as rafe keeps going, not stopping once. tears prick your eyes as you feel your high approaching. his thumb rubs harder as your nails connect to rafe's chest, dragging them down. "my pretty baby, i just love you so much." he says, staring at you.

with those words, you feel yourself being pushed to pleasure. you cum all over rafe's fingers, crying out his name. "rafe!"

he lets you ride out your high before taking his fingers out and putting them in his mouth like he did before. "never gonna get tired of that."

he gets up and heads to the bathroom. you want to talk to him, ask him where he's going, but you're too tired. you've never felt this good, not even from your own fingers. rafe comes back with a towel in his hand, gently, he pulls off your shorts and panties, cleaning off your pussy. the water is nice and warm as he gets you situated. he drops the rag and crawls into his bed next to you, holding you tightly.

"you know, if you want me to go dow-" but before you can finish that sentence he kisses your forehead.

"no need to rush there, honey. i wanna take my time with you, wanna show you how good i can make you feel." your heart melts in your chest as he rubs your back lightly. "get some rest, alright?"

you fall asleep fast in his arms, he holds you there the entire night and doesn't plan on letting go.

[strcwbrryklss]

୨୧﹕ mustang .ᐟ part one

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , slight smut ( makeout , undressing ) , enemies to lovers , getting caught. a/n ; this is based off of the aesthetic and time period of the ‘monsters’ show, but it is NOT based off of the menendez brothers. it is also based on ‘challengers’, specifically the tennis scenes. nicholas is a rich kid in the 1980s in this fic. summary ; after a competitive tennis match between y/n and nicholas, they decide to let their anger out in another way.

A TIE BREAKER is the last thing y/n needed for this match, and she could tell nicholas was furious too, swaying from side to side with his eyebrows furrowed, sweat dripping down his forehead slowly after a long game. it didn’t help that it was in the middle of a heatwave, and y/n’s legs had rubbed together so much that a chafing rash had began to form on her inner thighs. with every movement there was a burning sensation, but at this point she didn’t care — she wanted to make a point to nicholas, that she was better than him. she wanted to humble this rich boy so much, that looking at her in public would anger him.

so, pushing through the pain, y/n got into position and held the tennis ball against her racket, before looking nicholas in the eyes, unafraid of his intense gaze. and without a second thought, she threw the ball up into the air and hit it towards him.

with every grunt and hit of the ball from nicholas, y/n’s heartbeat raced. his muscles glistened in the sunlight as sweat drenched them. it was attractive, sure, but he wasn’t attractive. y/n could never imagine being attracted to him. the spoiled momma’s boy? no fucking way. it only fuelled her need to succeed, to show him who’s boss. so, as soon as she saw the chance, y/n hit the ball as hard as she could to the other side of the net, and without fail the ball bounced just before the baseline before bouncing once again out of the court.

nicholas just watched as he lost — he knew it would’ve been impossible to save himself from that.

as y/n and half of the audience cheered, nick agitatedly rubbed his temples with his left hand, trying to compose himself. this was until he shouted a loud “FUCK!” as he threw his racket on the ground.

y/n laughed at his outburst as they both walked up to the net, “is someone mad?”.

nicholas didn’t answer, putting his hand out for a short handshake. but, instead of letting go, he grabbed y/n’s hand tighter and pulled her in slightly, his eyes locked on hers. nick muttered under his breath, loud enough for only her to hear, “you’re fucking dead to me”, before pushing her hand away and walking off.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows. for some reason she felt hurt? it’s not that she liked him, or wanted him to like her. but that was just… mean.

after packing her things and thanking people for congratulating her, y/n began to leave the small stadium with her tennis bag slung over her shoulder. she walked into the parking lot, making her way towards her car and shoving her bag into the trunk before spotting another car — and she knew exactly who’s it was. the red 1965 ford mustang parked next to the lamppost, two rows from her car was obviously nicholas’.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows. wondering why he was still here, she decided to walk towards the car.

it seemed like nicholas didn’t realise she was walking up to his driver’s side window since he was looking down, eyes closed as he rubbed his temples in annoyance. the girl stood there for a while, pondering on how to get his attention before clearing her throat.

nicholas flinched before looking up at the girl who just beat him, her face in an awkward expression, “so..”

“no” he cut her off immediately, “fuck off”

y/n was taken aback by his rude remark before responding, “okay, no. stop acting like a fucking child”

“being annoyed about losing is acting like a child?” nick scoffed, opening his car door.

the girl moved to the side so he could get out, her arms folding as she leaned against the expensive car, “yeah, it is”

after he got out of the car, he crossed his arms, mimicking her. she had to look up to him now, as he towered over her with an annoyed smirk on his face, “it’s not my fault you’re a bitch”

“it’s not my fault you’re a sore loser” she retaliates, causing him to take a few small steps closer to her. y/n had to look even further up at him, actually seeing his face now as he blocked the sun with his head. the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat filled her lungs, which was strangely attractive to her.

nicholas spoke in a much softer, yet condescending tone than before, “sore loser, huh?”

“sore.” y/n got in his face, “loser.”

the two sat in the tension for a minute, just inches away from each other’s faces. nicholas inhaled her exhale, and she did the same with him. their eyebrows remained furrowed as they looked into each other’s eyes, filled with hate. you couldn’t tell if he was about to punch her, or kiss her.

that was until the tension broke as they both rushed to smack their lips together in a sloppy yet passionate kiss. nicholas wrapped his arms around y/n’s waist, roughly grasping her, as she moved her hands to his neck — one hand ran through his hair as the other dug her nails into his neck, causing him to let out a grunt, kissing her even rougher.

nicholas removed one of his hands from her body, reaching behind her for the door handle and opening the car door. they both swiftly got into the backseat of the car and slammed the door shut behind them, never breaking the kiss.

he then started placing sloppy kisses along her cheek and down her neck, letting y/n catch her breath as she reached for his biceps. she grabbed his muscles, getting flashbacks from when she observed them on the court.

abruptly, nick moved his hands from her waist to her thighs and pulled her in closer, placing himself in between her legs, causing y/n to let out a gasp. nicholas looked up at her, giving a playful smile which she returned before sharing another rough passionate kiss.

as he moved his hand up her tennis skirt, he lightly grazed his fingertips along her upper thighs. y/n’s body shivered at his touch before a sudden, loud knock on the window interrupted them both.

ah shit.

part i | part ii

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[stop4death]

confessions

note: i'm not a good writer i apologize in advance. but i have challengers brain rot and can't stop thinking about it so i had to write this. thinking about writing fem!reader x tashi next (reader is lowkey in love with tashi as well in this one in my mind) lmk if u like this and maybe i will

pairing: stanford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

summary: since you started at stanford, you’ve been avoiding your close high school friend, art, and you’re pretty sure he’s been avoiding you, too. when he shows up to the tennis courts while you’re playing with your roommate and asks to talk, some confessions are made.

warnings: nsfw 18+ (MDNI!), smut, sub!art donaldson, soft dom!reader, angst, fluff, grinding, hand job, praise, aftercare (reader loves art sm), art is pathetic (in a good way i love him), please lmk if i forgot anything

word count: 1.9k

posted: may 27th 2024

It’s been a little over a month since you started at Stanford. With the stress of all your classes, homework, club meetings, and private out-of-season training for tennis, it feels like you can never catch a break. To make things even worse, you’ve been actively avoiding your close high school friend, Art. You promised each other you’d stick together at school while your best friend, Tashi, and her boyfriend, Art’s best friend, Patrick, are touring. Now, you haven’t heard from him, and haven’t tried to reach out to him either. When your roommate found out you’re a tennis player, she asked if you’d be willing to teach her how to play. You happily agreed, so you’ve been going down to the courts and playing with her once a week. Today, your heart jumped out of your chest and you almost dropped your racket when you were teaching your roommate how to backhand and Art walked in, sitting down in the stands.

“You okay?” your roommate asks, concerned by your sudden change in demeanor. She looks back to where you were looking and sees Art, then turns back to you confused.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine” you say unconvincingly, and serve the ball. She doesn’t press any further, so you continue with the lesson, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.

You can’t help but keep glancing up at Art. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since he got there. Once you finish up her lesson, you say goodbye to your roommate and nervously walk up to the stands where Art is sitting.

“Hi.” you say softly, scratching at your palm anxiously.

“Hi. How have you been?” he asks, seemingly genuine.

“Um… I-I’ve been good. How about you?” you stutter, your heart racing.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, sure.” you sit down next to him, but he shakes his head.

“Privately?” he looks around at the few people who are on the tennis courts, including your roommate who’s still slowly packing up her bag and glancing up at you confoundedly.

The knot in your stomach twists even tighter, but you nod your head in agreement, standing up. You follow him out of the tennis courts and towards one of the dorm buildings. He unlocks a door on the first floor, gesturing for you to enter. As you walk into your friend’s dorm room for the first time, you look around. Your lips curve up slightly and you feel a warmth in your chest when you notice a photo of yourself with Art on a wall of photos of his friends and family. Your apprehensive look returns when you turn back towards the door as he shuts it behind him, standing awkwardly in the middle of his room. You’ve never been a fan of confrontation, but you should have prepared for it when you decided to completely ghost one of your best friends with no explanation.

“You can sit down, you know.” he says casually.

You glance between his desk and his bed, ultimately opting for the desk chair. You face the chair out away from the desk and sit down. He sits down on his bed, facing you.

“Nice room.” you say awkwardly, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” he says plainly. You suddenly feel like you might vomit at any second. You would rather be six feet underground than in Art’s dorm room having this conversation right now.

“I didn’t mean to, I’ve just… been so busy with classes and clubs and training I guess I haven’t gotten the chance to text you.” you lie. And he sees right through it.

“Can you be serious… Why haven’t you talked to me since we got here?”

You take a deep breath, and look down at your hands. Trying to think of any other way you can stretch the truth and not have to tell him what you’re about to tell him, but your mind has gone blank. You look back up at him, realizing you have no choice but to be honest.

“Art I-” you try to find the words, your heart racing even faster. “I, um… back in high school, I had this… huge crush on you." Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you stutter through the confession you've held onto for years, and you continue awkwardly, “And I knew you had a thing for Tashi, and it hurt because obviously who could ever compete with Tashi. She’s literally perfect. So over the summer, like a week before school started, Tashi and I were drunk and I decided to block your number. I thought maybe it would help me move on, start fresh, you know? I didn't want to keep being just friends and feeling, I don't know, awkward around you." You shift uncomfortably, the weight of your words heavy on your shoulders. "Honestly, I forgot I even did it until now. I thought maybe you were avoiding me, too, or… I don't know, I guess I just didn't think it through. I'm sorry, Art. If you don't hate me now, could we maybe try being friends again? I've moved past that crush, I promise. I won’t let it get in the way again.”

You try to make the last part sound as convincing as possible. You don’t think you’ll ever be over your crush on Art. He just sits there and listens as you talk. His expression is unreadable, and for a moment, you fear you've said too much. You look down again, fearing his response.

“Why didn’t you tell me before… that you had a crush on me?”

“Cause you liked Tashi. Like everyone else.”

“Tashi was always just a friend to me. I liked you.”

You look at him as if he must be lying, searching for any hint of irony in his tone or facial expression.

“I still do.” he says softly, and the knot in your stomach is replaced with butterflies.

You stand up from the chair, and Art looks at you with concern, thinking you’re about to walk out. You take a few steps forward and sit down next to him on his bed, your knees brushing together.

“I still like you, too.” you whisper and put a hand on his cheek. You slowly lean closer to him, and press your lips against his. His lips are soft and they taste of cigarettes and watermelon lime ChapStick, his favorite. You’ve dreamed about this taste for years. He places a hand on your thigh, deepening the kiss. You quickly move to straddle his lap. Your hands twist in his soft strawberry blond hair as you kiss him sloppily, as if you were trying to consume him. You feel his erection growing under you and grind your hips down against him, making him moan softly into the kiss. You tug at the hem of his shirt and he quickly removes it, tossing it carelessly across the room, then smashes his lips back against yours hungrily. His hand moves up your thigh to the waistband of your skirt.

“So impatient.” you say with a smirk, moving your head down to kiss his neck and taking his hand in yours, moving it away from your waistband. He whimpers at the feeling of you sucking and nibbling gently on his neck. You kiss up his neck and jawline then back to his lips quickly before pulling away. You move off his lap and sit further back on his bed, spreading your legs slightly and patting the space between them.

“Come sit here.”

He looks at you a bit confused, but he obeys. He sits between your legs on the bed, his back to you. You move your hands slowly over his arms and chest, kissing his neck from behind, bringing back the sweet sounds of his whimpering. He closes his eyes and leans his head back on your shoulder, giving you better access to his neck. He moans softly, reveling in the feeling of your lips and hands on him. You tease him, moving your hand slowly down his abdomen and stopping just before his waistband, then moving back up slowly. You do this a few times before he can’t take it anymore and his hips buck upwards, begging for your touch.

“Such a pretty boy… you want me to touch you?” you tease, speaking softly against his neck and driving him insane. He whimpers, nodding his head eagerly.

“Use your words.” you whisper in his ear. His hips buck up again, a needy whine escaping his lips.

“Please,” he gasps out, his voice soft and needy, “please touch me, I want you so bad.”

You smirk and move your hands to the waistband of his pants, tugging down gently. He wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers off in one quick movement.

“Good boy.” you say softly, sliding your hand down his abdomen. A strangled moan leaves his lips as you wrap your hand around his cock and start to stroke him. His hips jerk up, desperate for more friction.

“Fuck” he gasps out, his voice a husky whisper. You continue to stroke him slowly, your other hand wandering over his chest and abs, kissing his neck occasionally.

“Love hearing your moans… such a good boy for me.” you say softly in his ear. He can’t contain his whimpers as you continue.

“Feels… so good.” he chokes out through moans, leaning his head back on your shoulder again. He lets out a low moan as you kiss his neck again, panting heavily.

“Such a good boy.” you emphasize, playing with his hair with your other hand.

“Yes, I am… such a good boy for you.”

You can tell that he’s close to the edge.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

“Yes… yes.” he gasps, his eyes squeezed shut as he breathes heavily. You stroke faster now, and he lets out a loud moan as he finally lets go, cumming hard on your hand. He pants heavily as he leans back against you, trying to catch his breath. ��Thank you.”

You move your hand up to your mouth, licking some of his cum off and swallowing it, then moving your hand to his mouth. He knows exactly what you’re asking of him. His breath hitches at the sight, and he leans forward to lick the rest of his cum off your hand. He swallows then closes his eyes and leans his head back against your shoulder.

“You did so good for me, angel. My good boy.” you wrap your arms around him, holding him close and rubbing his stomach as he recovers. He lets out a contented sigh as he leans back into you further, his body still trembling slightly. He puts his arms over yours, holding onto you tightly as he catches his breath. You let him lean on you for a few more minutes, still rubbing his stomach, before the two of you lay down, you still holding him from behind. He turns over to face you, his lips curling into a smile. You smile back at him and put a hand on his cheek, stroking it gently.

“I missed you so much. Please, don’t ever leave me again.”

His words are like a shot to the heart. You still feel like a horrible person for the way you hurt him, but one thing about Art is he could never hate you, no matter what you do. You pull him close, stroking his hair gently as you whisper, “I won’t. Ever. I promise.”

[zweig-eater]

art turning his brain off every time you guys are together…

something about you, everything about you.. he feels safe, cared for, wanted, needed even. it all just makes his head dizzy and clouded with nothing but his love for you.

you noticed it gradually as he became more and more relaxed with you. it started simple, he would let you order his food for him, and pull him wherever you wanted during dates. he was your puppy, just happy to be there and tingling in your presence.

the longer you were together, the more time you spent together, he leaned further and further into you. as soon as he walked into your dorm room, his head fell and his shoulders relaxed as he dropped his bag to the floor, racket clanking as it landed, and padded over to you. every millisecond spent without your skin connected felt like a millennia for art. your room smelled of coconut and vanilla, your perfume, making his brain start to melt already.

you laid on your bed, sat up with your back against the head board. as soon as he stepped in, you closed your laptop and gave him your full attention. something he always noticed. at the beginning, this undivided attention was enough to well tears in his eyes as he realized he might have finally found a home as warm as he’d always longed for. as his eyes met yours and he was in arms length, you reached out, and just that was enough for him to give in and collapse into you.

laying directly between your legs, he rested his head against your chest, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. your hands found his hair and lower back and instinctively started scratching and tracing heart shapes into him. your legs tangled naturally and you gave art a few moments of this bliss. both of your breathing matched paces, your heart beat thumped in his ear and he swore he could feel it through his whole body. as if your heart was beating for the both of you. he breathed in your skin, your scent, every inch of you lulled him into a state of tranquility.

he could feel himself slipping. not into sleep, no, he was wide awake. slipping into some other state. his head spun, brain melting to mush, all his worries, stress and the never ending expectations piled onto him disappeared into thin air. he couldn’t even remember how he got to your dorm, god, he was forgetting his own name. everything he knew was just out of grasp, leaving only you. he felt hypnotized. tranced into this state of consciousness that was just past the brink of reality, but close enough that he knew you were real. you both were. and he was yours. entirely. you owned him. he craved it, you. he wanted to be nothing but an extension of you.

“hi puppy”, you whispered gently into his ear. the nickname sending him over the edge as everything inside of him unravelled. his tight wound strings, gently lacing and connecting with yours.

“nng i love you” he whined, it sounded pitiful, and he didnt care for a second. it was all he had the mental capacity to utter, he was drowning in his love for you, and it practically spilled out of his lips, as his hands pawed and gripped you even harder.

“i love you baby, endlessly” you told him. as you gently tugged his hair and left a kiss on his forehead.

and he believed you. you loved him. him. not art donaldson the tennis player. not the versions of him everyone else seemed to create. not the version of him he felt like he had to be. not the versions of him he couldn’t even recognize in the mirror anymore, but everyone else claimed to know so well. just him, and all of him, with no caveats or expectations. he didnt have to fight, or play, every single day for your love, for your praise. he was just him, and you loved him. and he was devoted to you.

the hearts you continued to trace on his lower back, a constant reminder, he was yours, entirely, your lap dog, and he fucking loved it.

[tennishopblog]

How to Adapt Your Strategy During a Tennis Match

Adapting your strategy during a tennis match is crucial to gaining an edge over your opponent. The ability to assess and adjust your game plan in real-time can often be the difference between victory and defeat. This blog will guide you through the key strategies and techniques to help you adapt during a match, ensuring you're always prepared to meet the challenges on the court. Additionally, we will highlight essential tennis equipment and tennis accessories that can enhance your performance, all available at Tennis Shop.ae, your one-stop online shop for all your tennis needs.

Understanding the Importance of Adaptation

Adaptation in tennis involves making tactical changes based on your observations and the evolving dynamics of the match. Whether you’re playing on a hard court, clay, or grass, different strategies are required to navigate the unique challenges posed by each surface. Furthermore, understanding your opponent's strengths and weaknesses, as well as your own, is key to effective adaptation.

Key Areas to Focus On

1. Analyzing Your Opponent

Observation: Pay close attention to your opponent’s playing style. Are they more comfortable at the baseline or the net? Do they prefer forehand or backhand shots? Identifying these tendencies can help you exploit their weaknesses.

Adaptation: If your opponent struggles with backhand shots, try to direct more balls to their backhand side. If they are strong at the net, consider using more lobs and passing shots to keep them off balance.

2. Adjusting Your Game Plan

Flexibility: Be ready to change your game plan if it’s not working. If you started with an aggressive approach but your opponent is countering effectively, consider switching to a more defensive style to disrupt their rhythm.

Experimentation: Don’t be afraid to try different strategies during the match. Mix up your shots, vary your serve placement, and experiment with different spins and speeds to keep your opponent guessing.

3. Managing Your Physical Condition

Endurance: Pacing yourself is crucial, especially in long matches. Conserve energy by choosing your moments to attack and relying on steady baseline play to prolong rallies when necessary.

Recovery: Use changeovers wisely. Take deep breaths, hydrate, and refocus your mind. This is also an excellent time to review your strategy and make any necessary adjustments.

4. Utilizing Effective Shot Selection

High-Percentage Shots: Focus on hitting high-percentage shots that reduce the risk of unforced errors. This includes aiming for larger target areas and using topspin to keep the ball in play.

Risk Management: Evaluate the risk versus reward of each shot. In crucial points, opt for safer shots that increase your chances of staying in the rally rather than going for a risky winner.

5. Mental Toughness

Stay Positive: Maintain a positive mindset even when things aren’t going your way. Avoid getting frustrated by focusing on what you can control and keeping a calm demeanor.

Focus: Concentrate on one point at a time. Don’t dwell on past mistakes or future outcomes. Staying present helps you make better decisions and adapt more effectively.

Essential Tennis Equipment and Accessories

To effectively adapt your strategy during a match, having the right tennis equipment and accessories is crucial. Here’s a list of must-have items, all available at Tennis Shop.ae:

Tennis Rackets

Choosing the right tennis racket is fundamental. Opt for a racket that matches your playing style and offers the right balance of power, control, and comfort. High-quality rackets can help you execute your strategies more effectively.

Tennis Balls

High-quality tennis balls are essential for consistent performance. They should offer durability and the right bounce to suit the playing surface.

Tennis Shoes

Invest in tennis shoes that provide excellent support, grip, and comfort. Different surfaces require specific types of shoes, so make sure to choose accordingly to prevent injuries and enhance your movement on the court.

Tennis Apparel

Wear moisture-wicking and breathable clothing to stay comfortable throughout the match. Proper tennis apparel can improve your performance by keeping you cool and focused.

Tennis Accessories

Additional accessories such as wristbands, headbands, and caps can help manage sweat and keep you comfortable. String dampeners, overgrips, and vibration dampeners can also improve your playing experience.

Adapting to Different Court Surfaces

Hard Courts

Strategy: On hard courts, focus on a balanced game with both offensive and defensive strategies. The surface offers a consistent bounce, allowing for a variety of shots.

Adaptation: Be prepared for faster rallies and adjust your footwork accordingly. Use the hard surface to your advantage by hitting deep, powerful shots that push your opponent back.

Clay Courts

Strategy: Clay courts slow down the ball and produce a higher bounce, favoring baseline players. Focus on long rallies and use topspin to control the ball’s bounce.

Adaptation: Be patient and build points gradually. Slide into your shots to maintain balance and recover quickly. Utilize drop shots and angles to disrupt your opponent’s rhythm.

Grass Courts

Strategy: Grass courts are fast with a low bounce, favoring serve-and-volley players. Aggressive play and quick points are common.

Adaptation: Shorten your swings to adjust for the low bounce and fast pace. Use slice and flat shots to keep the ball low and force your opponent into errors. Serve and volley to capitalize on the fast surface.

Conclusion

Adapting your strategy during a tennis match is an essential skill that can significantly improve your chances of winning. By analyzing your opponent, adjusting your game plan, managing your physical condition, and utilizing effective shot selection, you can stay ahead of the competition. Mental toughness and a positive mindset are also crucial for making the right decisions under pressure.

Having the right tennis equipment and accessories from Tennis Shop.ae can further enhance your performance, providing you with the tools you need to execute your strategies effectively. Whether you're playing on hard courts, clay courts, or grass courts, being adaptable and prepared can help you navigate the challenges and come out victorious.

Start incorporating these strategies into your game today, and watch as your ability to adapt leads to more successful matches and a greater enjoyment of the sport.

[euphoriaslux]

two’s a party.

summary: you recently transferred to stanford, and decide to tutor a tennis player in your class. he has a friend. severe indecency ensues.

word count: 3.3k

warnings : smut, threesomes, f!oral receiving, swearing, smoking, drinking. slight cuck energy if you squint (i’m sorry ((no i’m not))). no challengers spoilers!

a/n: this fic got away from me big time but this movie has rotted my brain and as a result i have written utter debauchery that i will not apologize for. just had to get this out of my head, enjoy!

-

stanford science hall. monday , march 3.

You swear the last thing you’ll hear before your body is lowered into your grave is the process of lactic acid breakdown.

It’s 2:30 PM. Kinesiology 189 with Professor Wilson, a lanky middle-aged man with a PhD in exercise science and a half-grown beard that you don’t think will ever fully grow in, is almost over. He’s teaching Extended Studies of the Human Body in a humid classroom filled with student-athletes, most of whom are trying to stay awake, trying to hide that they’re taking a nap, or making no attempt to hide that they’re on their phones. You don’t really blame any of them, because the professor’s voice is so soft and monotone that it feels like he’s begging everyone to pay attention to anything but him. You’ve managed to stay somewhat on course with the thread of today’s lecture, the notebook in front of you filled with scribbles of incomplete molecular structures and somewhat legible drawings of the muscular anatomy of a hamstring.

This class is required for your biology major since you’re on a pre-medicine track. You don’t know why you’re doing it, the whole doctor thing, but you’ve developed a weird fixation for this class. The functionality of the body, how muscles stretch and tear with each movement, and how amino acids work to build them back even bigger.

And, possibly because of the tennis player who sits four rows ahead of you every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

His last name is Donaldson. You know because of the faded label on the massive bag he throws on the floor every time he walks into class, at least ten minutes late with a backward Stanford Tennis cap on his head. His first name remains a mystery, partly because he never talks in class, and mainly because you’ve made no attempt to speak to him. You like to think it’s because you’re so focused on the curriculum.

Professor Wilson knows your name, though, since you’re in his office hours every Thursday at 11 A.M. In part because he gives out most of the answers to his homework, and because you just transferred to Stanford your last year and very desperately need a letter of recommendation for medical school. Hence why you agreed to tutor a student with lower than 60% in the class during one of your meetings. And why everyone in the class was staring at you right now.

“... first come first serve, so reach out to her sooner rather than later.”

You give a tight-lipped smile, glancing around the room. Most people have looked away, back to their distraction of choice, but you meet eyes with the fluffy blonde-haired tennis player.

stanford library. wednesday, march fifth.

It’s 11 A.M., and you feel like your brain is about to explode if you look at another practice set.

“Hey”.

Your head whips around to the harsh whisper, only to be met with the blue-eyed mystery from your class. He has that large bag slung over his shoulder, with the end of a tennis racket peeking out of it. His hair is slightly stuck to his face, and his compression tee is slick to his chest like a second skin.

“Hi,” you whisper back. He smiles before tossing his bag on the floor and sitting in the chair across from you, either unaware of or completely ignoring the glares he’s receiving from the other students studying.

“You know,” he pulls out some kind of nutrition bar from his bag, unwrapping it and taking an aggressive bite, “for someone advertising their services, you’re pretty hard to find.”

“You’re in Mr. Wilson’s class, right?” you ask, hoping your subdued voice will remind him that he’s in a notoriously quiet place. He hums, pointing at you with his half-eaten snack.

“And I’m trying not to fail, but you didn’t leave your number anywhere in the classroom, and you bolt after every class. So how am I supposed to patronize your tutoring services…” he trails off, his volume the same level as when he walked in. You furrow your brows as he leans back into the chair.

“That’s when you say who you are.”

You feel a burn on the back of your neck as you tell him your name. He glances down towards the problem set you’ve nearly finished.

“How do you turn in any of those, I can’t get halfway through one of them.”

You pause for a moment before leaning slightly across the table to whisper:

“This new weird thing called studying. I think it just got approved by the CDC.”

“Very funny,” he shakes his head as reaches for your binder with your class schedule printed out on the front of it.

“Why are you taking so many bio classes?”

“Because I’m a biology major,” you can’t help the sarcasm dripping from your voice, and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re making this too easy for me,” you raise your hands in conceit.

“I have practice every day at five so you can tutor me for like an hour beforehand,” he says before standing up, crunching up the silver wrapper and stuffing it into the front pocket of his blue jeans. You scoff at his sentence.

“Well, thank you for so generously fitting me into your schedule,” you roll your eyes, turning the page in your textbook. He grins.

“Tell the coach you’re there for Art. They’ll let you through.”

stanford tennis courts. friday, march 7th.

It’s 4 PM, and the California sun is sweltering. Your shorts feel like they’ve become a part of your legs, and your bag feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. By the time you make it to the tennis courts Art is already on the green concrete, shirtless with beads of sweat dripping down his face and chest. You hear his grunts as he sprints across the court, hitting the ball toward a slightly taller brunette with dangerously short red shorts. You watch them at the entrance for a few minutes, slightly entranced as the two play so seamlessly, as if they know every move the other person is going to make. You force your eyes away as you walk up the bleachers, stepping over leftover water bottles and chip bags to sit down and grab your notes from your backpack. It takes a couple more minutes for Art to notice you, yelling your name after he turns around to grab a ball his partner had hit particularly hard. You wave, and he says something you can’t hear to the brunette before the two of them jog across the courts and up the stands to where you are, blocking the sun as the two stand side by side.

“Who’s your friend?” you ask as you stuff the problem set you were working on in between the pages of your notebook.

“I’m Patrick,” he says, with a toothy smile and his ears poking out from under his hair. He has a bit more of a boyish charm to him than Art does, whose eyes are glued to his brunette counterpart.

“Are you in Mr. Wilson’s class too?”

Patrick opens his mouth to answer but Art speaks first, slightly pushing his friend with his shoulder as he says “He doesn’t go to Stanford, too busy being a tennis pro.”

Patrick rolls his eyes but his smile doesn’t leave his face. You notice how different this Art feels from the one in the library, how direct his playfulness is and how close he and Patrick stand together, their sweaty torsos nearly melding together.

Interesting.

“Like, Andre Agassi level pro?” you smile as the two of them laugh. Patrick raises the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, and you can’t help but take a glance at the exposed skin just above his waistband.

“Sorry, he’s like the only tennis player I know.”

“No, no I’m taking that as a compliment that you think I’m on the level of Agassi. No takebacks if you see me play,” Patrick points at you.

“Will do,” you salute, turning over to Art.

“You ready to study?” you ask him as he makes a comically loud groan, his head falling back. Patrick laughs, reaching over to ruffle his friends hair.

“You do remember that’s why I’m here, right? Midterms are in two weeks.”

“I definitely have not forgotten that.” he says. You purse your lips just as Patrick’s eyes seem to light up.

“I’m staying at the Courtyard Hotel for the weekend. You two can come over and study, I need to review my last match anyway. Kill two birds with one stone,” Patrick suggests.

“Just studying?”

“Just studying,” Art says, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulder. You glance between the two of them, trying to decipher the unspoken communication they seem to be doing. But you can’t crack it, so you shrug.

“Sure.”

“Let us finish this set, and then you’ll have me all to yourself. Sound fair?”

“Wow, what a privilege. Don’t take too long, it’s hell on Earth out here!” you yell the last part as Art jogs down the steps and back down towards the net. You look up once you realize that the sun is still being blocked, and Patrick is still standing in front of you.

“You ever play?” he grins, flipping the tennis racket in his hand.

“Tennis? God, no, that would not be a pretty sight. I’ll stick to what I’m good at,” you gesture to the books and notes in your lap. Patrick nods.

“If you ever want to learn, I could teach you sometime, you know if-” he’s cut off by Art yelling his name, and you both glance to see him with his hands on his hips.

“Go, don’t keep your boyfriend waiting,” you wave him off, and you swear you can see him blushing. Must have been the glare.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder as he runs toward Art.

courtyard hotel. saturday, march 8.

It’s 11 pm. There’s a cold shiver in the elevator as you wait to get to the fourth floor, your tennis shoes tapping against the floor as one hand plays with the handle of the pack of beer in your hand while the other crumples and re-crumples the piece of paper with the hotel room number Patrick scribbled on it.

what are you doing?

You don’t have time to think about the consequences of your actions as the robotic voice signals that you’re on the fourth floor, the elevator doors fluttering open. It’s like your feet have a mind of their own, as you find yourself almost mindlessly wandering through the hotel halls until you’re planted in front of room 4B. You raise your hand to knock on the door but before you can make contact with the wood it’s thrust open, and Patrick is standing behind it. His dark hair is slightly tousled around his face, his striped shirt unbuttoned and his black boxer briefs low on his waist. He’s smiling, that same big smile as before, but his face is a little flushed, a gentle pink hue touching his cheeks. The two of you don’t say anything for a few seconds, as if you were both testing to see who would concede first to acknowledge the other’s presence. You raise the pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon in your right hand.

“I brought studying fuel.”

You were never good at waiting.

Patrick laughs before he moves slightly out of the way to allow you to walk into his room. It’s small, with a queen-sized bed and a tiny desk, and the A/C emits an odd rumbling sound as it smacks against the window. Clothes and scorecards are strewn across the floor, and the scent of cigarettes permeates the room. You place the alcohol on the floor before deciding to sit on the bed, kicking off your shoes as you cross your legs. Patrick seems to stall for a moment, smiling to himself before closing the door behind him. He doesn’t lock the door, but you didn’t notice.

“Art’s not here yet?” you ask, watching as Patrick walks over and tears open the cardboard case, cracking open a can. Taking a sip, he leans against the desk as he smiles.

“Art can be bad with time.”

“As I’ve noticed,” you reach your hand out to motion towards the drink and Patrick hands it to you, staring as you take a large sip.

“Well,” you wipe the side of your mouth, “I told him to bring the topics he wanted to study, so I guess we can’t do anything until he gets here.”

Patrick nods with a slight pout, his fingers playing with the pop tab of the can. “I guess we can’t.”

“How’s tennis… stuff,” you laugh as you finish the question, not sure of exactly what to say.

Patrick seems to tense a little at the mention of the sport, moving over to sit next to you on the bed. His knee grazes your leg and you feel a slight buzz at the contact as he takes the beer from your hand.

“I’m kinda fucking it up right now,” he says, and you furrow your brows.

“How? You were like, really good yesterday.”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He hands you the beer and you finish it off, placing the empty can at the bottom of your feet.

“I’m good with Art. It feels so fucking natural and easy with him. But in my other matches, I don’t know. I just … can’t replicate it.”

You nudge him with your leg.

“Sounds like you two were made to play tennis together.”

He makes a noise of agreement, his hands slowly moving to ghost over your thigh.

“You and Art are pretty close?” you ask as he plays with the bottom hem of your shorts, but he doesn’t say anything. You take his silence as a yes.

“Do you ever get jealous?”

“Of Art?” he asks, almost incredulously. You shrug.

“Yeah, or jealous of the girls he’s with. Either or.”

Patrick sits on that for a few moments before smirking.

“What’s mine is mine, and what’s his is mine.”

You laugh at that, a real deep laugh, and Patrick giggles next to you, the both of you tipsy from the can of beer you finished. You reach over and put your hand on his flushed face, rubbing your hand across his cheek.

“What were you doing before I came?” you feel his face warm even more against your skin as you position yourself closer to him.

“Practicing- or, sorry, rereading my scorecards from my last match.”

You tutted as you moved your hand to the back of his neck, gently running your hands through his hair.

“You can tell me the truth, Patrick.”

He turns his head to press a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before looking up at you as if to check if that was too much. Whatever your expression is gives him the confidence to move down to your neck, his tongue licking your skin.

“I think you know.”

You feel a pull in your lower stomach at his words, muffled by his mouth nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear, and he sucks hard enough for you to put your hand around on his face at the pressure. Pulling his face up, the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, and his eyes glance toward your lips. You wanted to wait, to make him beg and plead for it, but your body seemingly pulled you forward as your pressed your mouth onto his.

You were really quite bad at waiting.

He tastes like tobacco and faintly of the fruit medley in the dining hall, and you sigh as his lips interlock with yours and his hand grabs the back of your neck, pressing you into him. The kiss gets messy and hard, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip and into your mouth as you lift your leg to straddle Patrick, grinding into him. He whimpers into the kiss as his calloused hands drop down to the waistband of your shorts, hesitating for a moment before dropping his hand into your underwear. You grind just a little bit faster as his fingers press circles into your clit, covering your mouth with your hand as you moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he uses his other hand to guide your hips, and your move your hands down to tug firmly on his hair. You can feel your climax building, the pressure in your stomach getting closer and closer to taking you over the edge-

You both jump at the sound of the hotel room dor slamming shut. Art is standing there, in that damn backward cap and a Stanford tee shirt as he crosses his arms over his chest, saying nothing as you and Patrick sit up straight, him adjusting his crotch and you smooth down your shirt, avoiding his gaze. Finally, the silence is broken by Art laughing.

“Christ, I’m not the cops,” he slips out of his slides as he waltzes over and opens a can of beer, drinking about half of it in one go. You look at him, and at Patrick, and then back at him, not knowing what the hell you just got yourself into.

“You want to fuck him right?” Art asks, and you can’t help your small gasp at how easily he said that. You glance at Patrick, hoping he’ll know what to say, but he’s just staring at Art.

“I-um,”

“So, no one’s stopping you,” Art cuts you off, taking a final swig of his beer and moving to stand directly in front of you. You open your mouth to try and explain, but before you can talk Patrick’s mouth is on yours again, his hand roaming your body. His grip is firmer now, his fingertips digging into the side of your stomach. He tugs at the bottom of your shirt and you separate, breathless as you pull your shirt over your head and toss it on the floor. Patrick’s mouth moves down to your neck, then your collarbones, and then your chest as he reaches around to take of your bra, and you feel on fire from Art’s gaze across the room. As Patrick kisses down your stomach and yanks down your shorts, you turn over to meet Art’s eyes.

“Come here.”

Whatever resolve Art was holding onto crumbles as he quickly takes off his shirt and slips out of his Nike shorts, tossing his hat on the dresser. In a flash Art’s hands are on your neck, tilting your head around to kiss you as Patrick lifts up your hips so he can take off your underwear. Art’s lips are softer than Patrick’s but he kisses you a little bit harder, his hand cupping the base of your neck. Somehow, they both taste the same. You moan into Art’s mouth as you feel Patrick’s tongue swirl around your clit, rolling your hips into his mouth as Art’s cock presses into your back. It’s just so much so fast, and that familiar buzz starts to pool in your lower stomach.

“Look at him,” Art turns your head to Patrick and you look into his eyes as you cum, Art’s hands hold your head forward as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Patrick’s hands are digging into your hips as he stares up at you and Art. Your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath, leaning against Art as Patrick leans back up, his mouth a few inches from yours.

“Who do you want first?

[badmintonstorefan]

In Focus: Chinese Shuttler Zheng Siwei

The world of badminton is fast and unpredictable. Often, players consider the game of mixed doubles even more demanding because they have to communicate with their partner and play a lightning-fast game to overwhelm opponents and win the game.

There is one player who has mastered the art of mixed doubles and it is worth taking a look at his game, strategies, and dedication to understand what he is doing right. Meet Chinese superstar, Zheng Siwei, the World No. 1 in mixed doubles, and learn from his game.

Career Profile:

a) Mixed Doubles World Rank: 1 b) Mixed Doubles World Tour Rank: 2 c) Three-Time Mixed Doubles Winner of the World Championships d) Two-Time Mixed Doubles Winner at the Asian Game e) 2023 HSBC BWF World Tour Finals Mixed Doubles Champion

Personal Information:

1. Birth Date: 26 February 1997 (age 26) 2. Country: China 3. Height: 1.76 m (5 ft 9 in) 4. Handedness: Right 5. Coach: Yang Ming 6. Current Partner: Huang Ya Qiong

Most Recent Wins: Witness a Badminton Champion in Action

Let’s glance at the recent wins of Zheng Siwei from 2023 and seek inspiration from the World No. 1 Mixed Doubles player.

HSBC BWF World Tour Finals 2023 (Hangzhou, China): On 17th December 2023, Zheng Siwei And Huang Ya Qiong won the finals in two straight sets against the South Korean team of Seo Seung Jae And Chae Yu Jung.

Li-Ning China Masters 2023 (Shenzen, China): Zheng and Huang won all ten matches of the tournament and secured the title of China Masters.

Kumamoto Masters Japan 2023 (Kumamoto, Japan): After winning the final in two straight sets on 19th November 2023, Zheng and Huang proved their mettle in Japan.

Yonex French Open 2023 (Rennes, France): Along with Chinese shuttler Huang Ya Qiong, Zheng lost the quarter-final of the French Open. During the year, they reached the quarter-final match of the Victor China Open, Korea Open, and KFF Singapore Open.

Victor Denmark Open (Odense, Denmark): Zheng Siwei And Huang Ya Qiong lost the final match to fellow Chinese badminton players Feng Yan Zhe And Huang Dong Ping to end the game with a silver medal at the HSBC World Tour Super 750 event at Denmark.

Total Energies BWF World Championships 2023 (Copenhagen, Denmark): Zheng won the silver along with his partner. They lost the final to the South Korean mixed doubles team.

Daihatsu Japan Open (Tokyo, Japan): He won the bronze medal at the HSBC BWF World Tour Super 750 tournament in Japan.

Kapal API Group Indonesia Open 2023 (Jakarta, Indonesia): Securing the gold medal and the title of the Indonesia Open, Zheng Siwei and Huang Ya Qiong won against the Japanese team of Yuta Watanabe and Arisa Higashino.

Yonex All England Open Badminton Championships 2023 (Birmingham, England): Zheng and his mixed doubles partner Huang won the All England Open Championships in March 2023, against their South Korean nemesis.

Yonex Sunrise India Open 2023 (New Delhi, India): They lost the semi-final by losing two sets out of three in a close match that lasted for an hour.

Petronas Malaysia Open 2023 (Kaula Lumpur, Malaysia): Zheng Siwei And Huang Ya Qiong began the year on a high by winning the Malaysia Open on 15th January 2023.

From a Wonder Boy to Mixed Doubles World Champion

Did you know Zheng Siwei was part of the junior national team in 2013 and won several medals at the World Junior Championships? He also won six golds and a silver medal at the Asian Junior Championships from 2013 to 2015. He was presented with the Eddy Choong Most Promising Player of the Year 2015 for his incredible performance.

Zheng and his then-partner, Chen Qingchen, won the World Superseries Finals in 2016 and 2017. His partnership was a successful one because they reached the World No. 1 ranking in December 2016. They also secured silver at the 2017 World Championships. During this time, he was playing the men’s doubles games with Huang Kaixiang.

Then, he joined hands with his current partner Huang Ya Qiong in November 2017 and won several titles including the China Open, Hong Kong Open, and Macau Open. He reclaimed his World No. 1 ranking with Huang in August of 2018 by winning several World Tour titles, World Championships, and even Asian Games. Zheng Siwei and Huang Ya Qiong won a silver medal at the 2020 Summer Olympics.

They won the Asia Championships in 2022. They secured several World Tour titles in 2022 and remained at the top of the rankings. They also won their third World Championships in the same year in Tokyo. Their team finished first in the World Tour Finals rankings, thus, ensuring their world dominance.

In the current year as well, they won accolades and hearts of badminton enthusiasts across the globe. Coming on top at several tournaments in 2023, they have proved their mettle as a formidable team in the world of mixed doubles.

Fast and Attacking: The Secret to Zheng Siwei’s Success

From his junior years, Zheng Siwei had great potential to become a badminton legend. When he partnered with his current teammate, Huang Ya Qiong, his game changed for the better. Their chemistry is perfect and with his strong attacking game, they dominate the opponents to win every match! She complements his playing style and badminton lovers often call them a delight to watch!

Zheng Siwei plays a fast-paced attacking game and does not slow down during long rallies. His smashes are incredibly powerful even when he is in the backcourt. His agility, accuracy, and intensity are often the characteristics that make him impressive.

Zheng Siwei’s Favorite Badminton Racket and Other Gear

Yonex Arcsaber 11 Pro is the perfect racket that complements the fast and aggressive style of Zheng Siwei. It is a great even-balance racket that offers a few extra milliseconds of shuttle control. The racket has Control-Assist Bumper technology for improved accuracy. And, Pocketing Booster material for increasing the flexibility of the racket. The stiff-flex racket delivers a controlled and offensive shot-making with precision and accuracy each time.

If you are looking for an affordable version of Arcsaber, you can try the Arcsaber 11 Tour badminton racket. It is well suited to the needs of intermediate players. For beginners and recreational players, the Yonex Arcsaber 11 Play racket will work wonders.

Zheng Siwei uses Yonex BG 65 badminton string for durability. It is a great budget-friendly string with a thicker gauge for aggressive hitting. Zheng uses the Yonex Power Cushion 65 Z3 badminton shoes for all-around performance.

Zheng uses the Yonex Pro Tournament Bag to store his belongings.

Inspiration to Young!

The life story of Zheng Siwei is one of grit, determination, and dedication. His recent achievements prove his skills as a mixed doubles champion and a great badminton player of his time. As his fans, we look forward to his game and seek inspiration from his career.

[norrisainz33]

the call pt 2 || platonic grid & gr63

summary: y/n finishes out the triple header strong after being called up to race for alpine

pairing: platonic!grid x george russell x rookie!driver!reader

fc & warnings: none and minor hate comments, bad language, and bad grammar from my end

a/n: i've never had this many people request a part 2 before so i hope y'all enjoy!! I'm going to keep her racing in the remainder of the season so keep an eye out for the rest.

part 1

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

alpinef1team has made a post

liked by pierregasly, ynuser, yourbff, yoursibling, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 876,234

alpinef1team: a point in the bag for pierre and another good drive for y/n 💼

view all 435 comments

user2: solid result for the team!!! y/n ate in her second race ever

user99: a team of losers tbh

ynuser: yay for points! let’s go pierregasly

pierregasly: we go again in brazil! points for both of us there 😉

ynuser: everyone better make sure to bet on us 🙂‍↔️

yourbff: let’s go best friend(s)!!!!

ynuser: 🫶🏻

georgerussell63: great stuff ynuser

ynuser: thanks georgie

user1: notice how he is always supporting her…. is there something here?

user2: they’ve been friends since their karting days!! if you asked me back when they were in f2 if they were tg i would’ve said yes bc they were kinda sus but now idk

user1: gonna go research the lore on their f2 days

✿

you let out a huff as you threw your padel racket on the ground and wiped the sweat from your brow, “god dammit lance! how are you so good at this!?”

laughing lance shrugged, “maybe you and george are just really bad!”

george shook his head, “no mate that can’t be it!”

you took a long drink of your water as the pair continued to bicker. “did you both see the weather for the weekend?” you asked changing the subject so they’d stop.

“yeah, lots of rain it seems.” lance put his racket into his bag and looked up at you with concern. “have you raced in the rain before?”

you shook your head, “no not really. i mean when i was karting yes but outside of that not really.”

“blimey y/n/n,” george ran a hand through his hair. “you’ve been going over those scenarios with your team right? there’s a chance of some really heavy rain.”

“i have, i have. i’ll be ok!” you assured them both with a smile but your friends looked anything but reassured.

✿

ynuser has posted to their story

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user2: jesus christ you’re so hot

user4: im obsessed with you holy f

georgerussell63: green is a good color on you. tho i think mercedes blue is better

ynuser: you mean alpine blue and pink

georgerussell63: nah i’d like to see you in my colors

ynuser: oh?

georgerussell63: you heard me

francocolapinto: 👀

ynuser: and you’re coming to play with us next time yea?

francocolapinto: si bonita

yourbff: H O T

ynuser: thanks bb

ynuser: also i think george might be flirting in my dms rn?

yourbff: WHAT?!

ynuser: he said he wants to see me in his mercedes kit

yourbff: oh that’s 🤭

landonorris: you look tall here

ynuser: thanks shortie 🩷

landonorris: uncalled for

user5: thanking your parents for doing it tbh

✿

holding in a yawn you turned to walk back to your garage after the brazilian national anthem. the 5am wake up for this ‘super sunday’ as they were calling it was catching up with you despite the butterflies swarming in your stomach. you had had the qualifying session of your life, which despite the cool confidence you played it off with in your interviews after, shocked you just as much as it shocked everyone else. you qualified in 4th. yes, you read that right, p4. something about the car came alive in the rain and you prayed it came alive again during the race but the rain was starting to pick up and it seemed like it was only going to get worse. you’d already seen several red flags in quali and would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t terrified that that was about to become you in the race.... especially with the threat of the entire field behind you, including max verstappen, wanting to push forward and push forward fast regardless of the consequences.

“y/n!” a hushed voice caught your attention. george had caught up to you and had a serious look on his face. “please be careful out there,” he pleaded.

“you too george,” you squeezed his arm lightly. “i’ll see you on the podium, yeah?"

"yeah," george winked as you turned to head into the alpine garage.

your engineer, james, handed you your helmet as he went over a few more pieces of data. he was stressing over the litany of different plans the team had put together in the very short window between quali and now. the heavy rain and your heroic lap times caused just about everything your team had prepped to be turned upside down.

“right, right i’ve got it james. plan a seems the most logical if i can keep everyone behind me.” you said as you pulled your helmet onto your head and fastened the strap.

things were about to get interesting.

✿

f1 has made a post

liked by alpinef1team, yourbff, yoursibling, yourfriend, ynupdates and 435,725 others

f1: the race is stopped under the red flag for a crash….. and y/n y/l/n is our new race leader! after running a surprisingly strong p4 for the first half of the race, she took the lead when those in front pitted for new tyres. y/n is the only woman in history to lead a lap in a grand prix

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user1: not them calling her performance surprising 🥴

user2: I KNOW THATS RIGHT!

user12: only gonna last a second. she can’t even compete with the likes of verstappen

alpinef1team: @ everyone behind, y/n.. can we pretty please keep it this way?

yourbff: real tears are being shed rn this is monumental

user9: god is this amazing

mercedesamgf1: we love to see this historical moment! even if we’re coming to take it back 😉

user11: literally the most amazing thing i’ve seen all day

✿

you ripped another tear off from your helmet wishing it would make it easier to see but to your dismay, you still couldn’t see a damn thing. the rain was coming down in buckets, your inters were worn, you were fighting the car even in the straight lines to keep it on the track and worst of all, you were scared shitless. you had no moment to even be happy about your current position in p1 because you were too busy trying not to send your car into the barrier.

“max is 2 seconds behind you and gaining very quickly. gasly is 1.2 seconds behind max and leclerc is 0.9 behind pierre.” james updated you on the radio which sent you into a fit of rage.

“james for fucks sake i don’t care!!! stop giving me timing updates!! i can’t see the road so i can’t do anything about it!!!” you almost screamed. "i can't even pass half throttle!"

“rain is expected to lighten in about 10 laps,” james reported ignoring your outburst.

“10 LAPS?! how am i supposed to survive 10 laps?!?!?” as you yelled you felt the rear of your car start to slide causing you to need to quickly snap it back into place. “there is so much standing water james - i can’t keep doing this. the front straight is like a swimming pool!”

“yes you can, y/n. lock in and calm down. you only have a couple of laps left in this class of rain.”

“lock in? calm down!? and what if i crash this damn car first?!” turning off your radio you tried to take a few deep breaths while focusing on the road in front of you. you couldn’t panic - that would only make matters worse. you had to stay calm. you knew your car, you knew to deviate off the racing line to avoid the slippery curbs in specific turns, and you knew that you had to make it through whether you wanted to or not. panicking was not going to help anyone but there was little way to explain just how scary it was on track at this current moment.

another snap of significant oversteer left you breathless and near tears. “james im so serious - i need wets and even then i don’t think they’re going to be enough. there's standing water on every part of this track. i can't race like this on these tyres. please talk to fia. please we need a red flag.”

“pitting doesn’t make sense right now, you’ll come out in traffic and your race will be over.”

“i care more about making it out of this race alive than coming out in traffic.”

“understood.”

✿

✿

“they couldn’t have taken any longer with that red flag could they?” you snapped as you pulled your race suit down to your hips.

“no they really couldn’t have! it was getting ridiculous out there.” pierre grabbed his water bottle, "driving couldn't have been more dangerous."

“alright you two! thats enough!" your team principal interrupted, looking very serious. "we have a real chance of keeping this double podium finish especially because george and lando pitted before this red flag and lost a lot of time," he explained. "y/n, you’re going to have to push, there’s not much chance you’ll be able to keep max behind you but we’ve got to be fast enough to keep george, charles and lando behind pierre.”

right... keep 3 of the fastest drivers on the grid behind you both.. you were going to need a real stroke of luck.

✿

alpinef1team has made a post

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alpinef1team: THEY DID IT!!! Y/N AND PIERRE CROSS THE LINE AS P2 AND P3! HISTORY MADE

✿

"thats p2 y/n - great job! the entire team and i are so fcking proud of you."

"AHHH YES YESSSSSSS!!!!" you screamed into the radio, banging your hands against the steering wheel, "WE DID IT!! WE DID IT JAMES!!" the emotions hit you like a brick wall, and tears quickly began falling. "thank you all so much. thank you for this opportunity. thank you to the mechanics, to everyone back at the factory, to every single one of you. thank you for believing in me when no one else did."

"you're welcome, y/n. you deserve it. you deserve it all kid."

pierre rolled up next to you to drive the remainder of the cool down lap by your side. he waved excitedly and you waved back without hesitation - you both had achieved what felt like the impossible.

you were the first woman to ever stand up on the podium and you were the first woman to score points in formula 1, but you knew you certainly weren't going to be the last. if you would do anything with your remaining races, it would be to show the world just how much women belong in this sport.

you pulled into parc ferme and shut off your car as quickly as you could. you fumbled with your straps and when you finally got them off, pierre was standing above you with his hand held out. you smiled, grabbing his hand and allowing him to pull you out of the car. "we did it, p -" you said just loud enough for him to hear over the cheering.

"we did it, y/n/n." pierre replied and with that, you both turned and ran hand in hand to your team who was waiting with open arms to greet their heroes.

✿

ynuser has made a post

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris, pierregasly, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, yourbff, and 943,124 others

ynuser: we did it 🩷 thank you to alpine for believing in me, thank you to pierre for being the best teammate a girl could ask for, thank you to my friends and family for supporting me through the ups and the downs and thank you to my fans -- i love you all so much

view all 999 comments

user1: i've never shed so many tears over a race before

yourbff: i feel like a proud parent rn

ynuser: thanks for never giving up on me bestie

georgerussell63: you're a force to be reckoned with y/n. congratulations on an impressive drive! today is your day 🤍

ynuser: mark your calendars! 11/3 is national y/n day

landonorris: speechless... i am so proud of you. if someone had to be up there besides me, i'm so glad it was you 😉

ynuser: thank you lanny. only thing that would have made it better is if you were with me up there 🩷

user10: tea LOL

francisca.cgomes: i dont think i've ever been happier?? my two favorite people are on that podium?

ynuser: stop dont make me cry agAIN

pierregasly: thankful for you mon ami

ynuser: 🤍🩷

lewishamilton: being a barrier breaker is never easy y/n but you are crushing it. i am proud to race with you!

ynuser: you have no idea how much this means to me lewis

user9: thank you from the bottom of my heart for continuing to prove everyone wrong

user95: nothing could have prepared me for 1) them running hand and hand to their team, 2) y/n crying tears of joy on the podium and 3) gr63 picking y/n up and twirling her around in parc ferme

user2: george and y/n were so cute it was actually sickening. did you see the way he fixed her hair after putting her down

user95: and how he wiped away her tears??? yeah i saw it 🥹

user2: i want them together so bad

user10: you are going down in the history books

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!!! likes, feedback and reblogs are welcome!! massively appreciate all of the support on this little series. i am really enjoying it too

tag list from part 1: @yawn-zi @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @divagreymare @raizelchrysanderoctavius @ferakillia @stressed-cherry @sassyangel16 @mxdi0 @awritingtree @danielricciardoslut3 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @seasonswinter @rawr-123s-stuff @grussellsprout @belncaldern @ellelabelle @rafeyybabyy

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform