#Yamaha Jacket

[leathercollectionus]

Marlboro Yamaha Jacket

A specially designed marlboro yamaha jacket, providing the best of what a racer or a rider desires. Max Biaggi wore it to participate in the year 2001 with Marlboro Yamaha. This suit really helps to maintain and improve the motorbike riding experience.

Marlboro Yamaha Jacket

[jay779656565]

How Does a MotoGP Size Guide Help You Choose the Right Motorcycle Race Suit

A sheepskin bomber jacket or leather suit will be the best companion for any biker. Many companies are now making motorbike suits in a variety designs, with different accessories like shoes and gloves. People are looking for unique designs and high abrasion resistance. The race suit's protection quality and fit are important. The custom designed motorcycle race suits is the best option for street bikers as well as professional racers. The suit is perfectly tailored to your body.

Let's now discuss the question of "how should a motorcycle race Yamaha Jacket or suit fit?" It will also depend on whether the rider intends to use it professionally or for everyday street riding. Both require different fittings & designs. This is the short version:

It is important that the suit you wear for your motorcycle racer must fit like a glove.

Maher Leather is a UK-based firm that provides MotoGP racing leather suits. They use high-quality original leather to produce their products. Maher Leather is renowned for its exquisite designs, craftsmanship, quality, and service. Their 100% custom made leather motorbike suits are the best thing. You can customize your Ktm Jacket to fit your body. This suit will fit you perfectly and turn your face smart. It also provides you great protection on the street or at the race track.

To make it easier for you, we've made a detailed list of what a motorcycle racesuit should look like. Let's quickly take a look at them.

How to make a Professional MotoGP Racing Leather Suit Fit

Professional bikers will need a tight-fitting suit with high abrasion resistance and comfortable elements. These features include high-quality leather and sewing style as well external and internal armor. They prefer race suits with a custom-sized fit that is very snug. A perfectly fitting outfit should look just like their alternate skin. It should also be sturdy enough to protect riders against serious injuries.

Professional biker clothing must be curved. Sleeves, legs and legs must also be pre-curved when riding. These pre-bends allow for excellent control of the motorbike. They are also comfortable for bike riding. The rider can stay focused and engaged thanks to the smooth blood flow from the pre-curved bent race suit.

It should fit comfortably on the rider's back. It should fit comfortably. You will always find the right-fitting outfit no matter whether you're wearing a MotoGP outfit or any other. The perfect body measurements will be important. These measurements include your chest, sleeves length, shirt length, inseam and belly sizes.

You should remember something when taking your measurements or choosing the size for a motorcycle leather suit. You shouldn't get a suit that is too tight or restricts your movement. Maher Leather has a great reputation for creating custom racing suits. They have a fine-class stretch fabric and premium leather that will resist abrasion. A customized size can also be provided for an excellent fit.

How to Make a Street Riding Motorbike Suit Fit

An all-day street rider should have a comfortable, fitted leather outfit. Riders should feel relaxed while riding at on-the-street tracks. Riders should feel comfortable in their suit. The street riding suit is a great outfit for casual rides as well as for touring and adventure.

For the perfect fit, these suits require that you measure your body. Measure your chest, belly and shoulder sizes. Also measure your pant length. For street riding, most riders only wear leather moto jackets. However, a full suit will provide more protection than a simple jacket. For street riding all day, a motorbike suit that is loose will work well.

Conclusion of Talk

As we have written, it is recommended that you wear a fitted one-piece motorbike suit on the racetrack. A looser, two-piece motorcycle suit can be worn for street riding. Maher Leather can make both of these styles suits. They are fully customizable, so you can get the perfect fit for your body.

[boanerges20]

Motolove

[batsplat]

A sentence in Casey’s book impressed me, even though he didn't name anyone explicitly

“Maybe someone who could put on the charm when they need it regardless of sincerity could have turned the situation around but I don’t have that skill.”

He totally gets that Valentino has endless charm, lol. I’m sure he felt it too when they hung out

yes!! this was about casey and his relationship to the fans wasn't it, and in a section of the book where he was talking about his rivalry with valentino, so hardly a stretch to say it was deliberately alluding to him. and of course casey talking about valentino's charm is not unrelated to how casey did seem to like valentino perfectly fine back in the day... how he said back in 2007 that he liked talking to valentino, that they generally talked about stuff other than racing, how valentino gets on with most guys in the paddock... though it's interesting (if not particularly surprising) how by the time the autobiography is written, casey portrays the early dynamic between the pair of them pretty dispassionately. just from the book you'd get the sense of someone who was coolly respectful of valentino until valentino started pissing him off, rather than someone who was... y'know, also a bit of a fan. somebody who got the valentino rossi appeal, shall we say. we all have our crosses to bear

which, I don't even think it was just about the racing. I doubt he ever wanted to emulate valentino in the same way jorge or marc might have wanted to do off the track, but stuff like calling him a "great competitor and a great sportsman"... that for years he'd been "dreaming to be like him"... that valentino and doohan were "the sort of people I wanted to become like"... I reckon that's a little more than simply respect for him as a rider, and I don't think casey back then would have said that stuff just because he knew it'll play well with the public. he found valentino exciting, like so many before and since have done - and still did so for the entirety of 2006 (he said more recently that he was even more impressed by valentino after that season, which is kinda noteworthy given that's the year valentino did, you know, lose the title). but then they became direct rivals, and. well

of course the "regardless of sincerity" in the quote is pretty pointed lol, like he does clearly see valentino as very two-faced and willing to spin a line regardless of whether it's true or not and also as someone happy to deceive others for his own gains. and his rhetoric has also changed just a wee bit since he published the autobiography on that count, where he more recently does stress how... well, he did learn from how valentino played the media! he learned how to get friendly with journalists! he learned how to play that game, of trying to win the public discourse! he might never have liked it, and he still probably would say like in the autobiography that this "charm" "regardless of sincerity" isn't something that he'll ever be as good at as valentino was. but he did dabble in the dark arts just a touch... I think one of the most interesting tensions of that rivalry is to what extent valentino forced casey out of his comfort zone both on- and off-track and ended up making casey adopt behaviours and attitudes he continued to find reprehensible. casey considers valentino 'selfish' both on- and off-track but to fight him both on- and off-track he became more selfish in turn... very dramatically compelling

anyway, here's casey chatting to fellow aussie jb when he's come to watch the podium celebrations after one of valentino's 2005 wins:

[comradejoanmir]

Everyone who's even mildy into motogp watch dhoom rn like right this second

[crystalcapsulecloset]

Yamaha Racing Jacket ✭ Black Market Vintage

[honeyed-disgraceful]

[leathercollectionus]

Yamaha Riding Jacket Blue

Yamaha Riding Jacket Blue with super safety and upgraded comfort features to keep the rider safe and comfortable without compromising dexterity, designed from Toprak Razgatlioglu Pata Yamaha 2023 WSBK suit.

Yamaha Riding Jacket Blue

[saintobio]

⊹★⋆ two wheels and a hot guy.

pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader tags. 1k wc, biker boy x biker girl au, non-sorcerer au, crack, fluff, dirty jokes (?), satoru rides an s1k, biker!sukuna mentions, same au as my other fic. sparked by a random idea bcos why haven't we thought abt biker!gojo honestly? he would be so funny on tiktok if he was a biker boy lmao

You’ve all heard about Biker!Sukuna. That famous biker boy on biketok who has tattoos and rides a blacked out Yamaha R1. 

But have you heard about Biker!Gojou? 

Well… For starters, Satoru Gojou wasn’t a seasoned biker. 

In fact, he was more of a poser than anything, but you’d never catch him admitting that. His prized BMW S1000RR, the crown jewel of superbikes, was more about image than skill. The sleek, aggressive lines of the machine, combined with the prestige of the BMW logo, were all he needed to keep up appearances on TikTok. And he learned that appearances were everything, especially when Sukuna, with his obnoxious face tattoos and natural charisma, hogged the limelight (especially from all the girls!) with every post, even with a girlfriend already in tow. The sheer audacity of that scum was enough to drive Satoru up the wall. Fine, he had to admit. He was jealous of Sukuna’s popularity and the fact that he snatched a cute booktok girlfriend as his backpack. 

Suguru, his best friend and fellow biker, didn’t let him forget it either. As they stood by their bikes outside Barnes & Noble to spot booktok girls, Suguru glanced at Satoru’s liter bike and smirked. 

“Pretentious motherfucker,” he muttered, slinging a leg over his Yamaha MT-10, the less flashy but undeniably badass naked bike. Unlike Gojou, Suguru didn’t care about clout. The MT-10 was all about raw power and agility, the kind of bike a real rider appreciated. “You only got that thing because it’s a BMW. You gonna actually ride it for real one of these days?”

“Shut up.” Satoru rolled his eyes, adjusting his white Alpinestars riding gloves while holding his phone up to go live on TikTok. Starting with a 1000cc as a beginner bike wasn’t a very wise choice, but still... “People love the S1K, you know that.”

And let me tell you about Satoru’s favorite time of the day (or night). It was whenever he would go live, and the comments would pour in as soon as his stream started. That was when he could lavish in his social media presence the most.

user19463: Bro, when are you gonna show us some actual riding content?

anon875biker: All that thirst trapping. Bet you don’t even take that thing out of the garage. 

harleysRbetter: U punks R ruining the riding community! 

Gojou grinned at the screen, winking at both his followers and haters. “Alright, boomers, calm down. I’ll post some riding content soon. Don’t cry too much before then, yeah?”

r1.skn: Sir, can you do wheelies? 

Suguru found that comment hilarious, recognizing the username and knowing exactly who it belonged to—Sukuna. But Satoru’s competitive nature kicked in instantly while he continued to scroll through the comments. “Yeah, I can do wheelies. Ignore Sukuna, guys. Focus on me!”

msbikerluvr: Still looking for a backpack, Gojou? Lmao.

“About the backpack… you know, I’m just waiting for the right one. Applications are still open—” He was about to launch into another witty retort when a sound cut through the chatter of his stream—it was a deep, throaty rev that sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. Satoru’s head immediately whipped to the direction of the sound, just in time to see a flash of race blue zipping down the street.

There you were, riding a Yamaha R7, your black Dainese jacket hugging your curves as you leaned into the wind. The way you handled the bike, so smooth and confident, it was as if the motorcycle was an extension of you. 

“Damn, she’s hot.” Without a second thought, Satoru ended the live stream abruptly, “Gotta go, guys. Someone just stole my heart,” and pocketed his phone.

“Did you seriously just—” Suguru started, but Satoru was already mounting his S1000RR.

“Catch you later, Suguru!” he called, gunning the engine without even looking at his best friend. Soon enough, the 1000cc bike roared to life when he shifted into first gear, and he sped off in pursuit of the blue R7.

He caught sight of you at the next red light, the signal holding you in place just long enough for him to catch up. Thank God there was no sign of a biker boyfriend around when he pulled up alongside you, visor down, adrenaline still kicking him alive. He tried to get your attention by revving his S1K, and you turned your head slightly, barely acknowledging him as you pulled your visor up and revealed the prettiest eyes Gojou had ever seen. 

Satoru flipped up his visor too, then flashed his most charming grin. “Hey there,” he said, trying to keep his voice smooth and casual. Like it was a normal encounter. “You’re fast. I like that.”

You may have rolled your eyes, but he could tell you were smirking underneath the balaclava as you talked through the Cardo intercom linked to your AGV K1s. “And you’re obnoxious. I don’t like that.”

Oooh, she’s spicy. He laughed at the silly thought in his head, unbothered by your dismissal. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to get to know the girl who stole my heart in the middle of a live stream.”

“Your heart, huh?” you teased, revving her engine just slightly. “Sounds like you’re more interested in what’s under my jacket.”

“Now that’s a baseless accusation,” he retorted, leaning in slightly. “I don’t do anything on the first night, you know. I usually wait until the second, after a nice dinner. I’m a gentleman like that.”

His remark made you snort, shaking your head at his boldness. “You’re a ridiculous guy.”

“But I’m also serious,” he added, his voice sincere despite the playful glint in his eyes. “Let me take you out, just dinner. No strings, no funny business—unless you’re into that kind of thing. I don’t mind that, either.”

Your laughter sounded like a sweet melody to his ears. “You’ve got guts, mister. I’ll give you that.” Has anyone told you how hot you looked while leaning into your bike? Damn. Satoru was distracted, checking you out for a moment until you spoke again, “Fine. One dinner. But don’t think you’re getting into my pants just because you ride a fancy bike.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised, grinning from ear to ear.

The light turned green, and without another word, you revved your engine and took off with Satoru right on your tail. The chase was on, but this time, it wasn’t just about the thrill of the ride. 

For Satoru Gojou, it was about something far more exhilarating—winning the attention of the most intriguing biker girl he’d ever met. 

And perhaps, the biker boyfriend and backpack girlfriend content he’d been hoping to post on Tiktok may slightly change into a different direction than he expected. 

[willownwisp]

ree's leon valentine's day advent <3

hi everyone. <3 as the leon kennedy fluff truther, i'm making an advent for valentine's day because pookie deserves so much love! everyday, i'll be posting a fic ranging from nsfw/sfw fluff for babu leon, i'll be putting out the scenarios and snippets below if y'all are interested. author's note: i've been meaning to put this out like a week ago when i finally figured out the problem w my account as to why tumblr wasn't letting me reply to comments :( but sadly, college got me so head empty. anyway, i've already got 2 days worth of fics already finished so i hope y'all can give me a read. <3

FEBRUARY 8 𖹭 nice legs, daisy dukes. (vendetta!leon x fem!reader) Leon feels like a creep, fuck that. He definitely looks like a creep. Thirty-six year old in all of his 5'11 glory standing outside his girlfriend's college leant against his Ducati like a dick, carrying a box of those, instagrammable pastries you always like to look at. It doesn't hurt to be sweet. Not when you walk — run, at the sight of him in your preppy mini dress, highlighting those long, long legs. Nothing is sweeter, especially when it's wrapped around him.

FEBRUARY 9 𖹭 starry skies, blue eyes. (re4r!leon x fem!reader) Stars dot stygian skies, the night is young, the moon is high. Leon's heart soars with your every laughter. The way your eyes close and your nose scrunches. God he was so in love with you, he could forgive the fact that the tent should have been up hours ago before night. You swear you remember your knots from your wide-eyed Girl Scout days, and he swears these silly moments with you are what makes life bearable.

FEBRUARY 10 𖹭 cold woes. (re4r!leon x fem!reader) Leon S. Kennedy. The apple of his instructors' eyes (and yours), he's a top graduate in the Police Academy for fuck's sake. He's decimated hordes of zombies in his first day as a rookie cop. Endured military training in the middle of nowhere, he's saved the President's daughter. He doesn't get sick. Only that he does catch a cold at the expense of prioritizing you, his clumsy girlfriend, who forgot to wear a jacket on a camping trip, offering his warm clothes to you. He doesn't regret it, he likes taking care of you, but there's something adorable about your sheepish apologies as you wait on him. He could get used to being babied. FEBRUARY 11 𖹭 love on me. (di!leon x fem!reader) As much as Leon loves the sun, the beaches, the tropics. Oh what he would give to become a beach bum in his next life instead of being smacked by bioweapons day in, night out, and being a good bitch to good ol' U.S of A. Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights. So why in the world were you dragging him to a love hotel? FEBRUARY 12 𖹭 fill up your cup. (re6!leon x fem!reader) He feels himself spiraling recently, turning to the bottle because a glass is never troubled by his woes. He breaks them of course, can't help it, seems like his life is doomed to him breaking in the end. Fragments of glass scatters on the floor, vodka spills on the floor splashes it around like his grief because his body can only take so much. You arrive as he tries to pick them up, attempts to pick himself up. You whisper assurance, he doesn't deserve it. The way you look at him ardently, the gentleness that is your existence. You empty out his pain, and fill it with love. FEBRUARY 13 𖹭 the thrill, the love. (damnation!leon x fem!reader) He wills his old Yamaha to go faster. Your dainty arms clinging to him, the softness of your touch as his speed breaks the sound barrier. What started as mere curiosity turns into rituals. Secrets that only the both of you know. He knocks on your door at midnight, drives you around town. He scolds you every time your arm breaks free, throwing them to the wind. You don't care, you love the thrill, you love him. Leon admits that there is something alluring to the thrill of the chase. Perhaps that's why he's spent his years chasing Ada, but with you it was different. FEBRUARY 14 𖹭 kiss it better. (di!leon x fem!reader) Leon is a man full of stories, his pain, his peace, his fears, his needs. There is more to him than just being a formidable weapon against bioterrorism. He never was a weapon, just a flesh and blood human, and in his mortality there are scars. Deep within him, and littered in his skin. You kiss the faded slash on his hand, he tells you how he'd got it from when Ashley Graham had tried to stab him under the influence of the plaga. You kiss it again, and what he doesn't tell you is the wave of warmth that washes his entire being, it tugs on his very soul. You kiss the scars because it's there, because it's him, and in his reverie, he thinks you truly are his person.

[nova-amor]

𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫!𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 [𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.], 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 [𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫], 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢����𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟏.𝟖𝐤

"what the fuck was that?" choso hisses through gritted teeth, pinning you to the farthest corner of the bar. his hands are on either side of your head, palms pressed hard to the wooden walls behind you. "what the hell do you think you're doin'?"

you're clutching a brown beer bottle close to your chest, the cool condensation dampening the fabric of the black crop top you're wearing. choso is seething— golden eyes narrowed down at you, cheeks reddened with anger, muscles tensed; he looks like his head is about to implode and you’re loving every second of it. like the good person you are, you fight back a smirk, bucking your hips into choso's front, your legs intertwining with his. and, you’re just loving every second of this moment.

"what?" you tease, your eyes glimmering with a sense of mischief that doesn't go unnoticed by the man. "they play really good music here on the weekends, can't help that i want to dance to it."

"you were dancin', huh? so shaking your ass against a complete stranger in front of me is dancin' to you?" choso is on the verge of exploding, his knuckles growing white beneath the fabric of his motorcycle gloves. 

choso fought to restrain himself from going over and punching the man that you had been entertaining just seconds before, he knew better than to get into a bar fight on his own. even if he knew he could take on multiple men at the same time.

"you like pissin' me off, baby? like makin' me jealous so that i can take my anger out on you later?" choso ranted, his eyes darkening as he lifted his hands off the wall. his strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing your body tightly to his. you could feel his erection poking at your pelvis, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans. "do you know how crazy you make me? i hate it when you act like a little slut in public, fuckin' hate it."

you tilt your head back to meet choso's gaze, one of your hands resting at the top of his shoulder blade. the pad of his motorcycle jacket is rough against the soft palm of your hand, well-crafted and hardy material designed to protect him from asphalt burns and other injuries. you loved seeing choso in all of his gear, the full blacked-out outfit making your pussy clench whenever he rode to meet you somewhere.

"we're just friends, choso," you whisper to him, voice heavy with desperation for him to claim you. you two had spent months running circles around one another, unable to put a solid title on the relationship you had regardless of the true feelings you held for one another. "there's no reason for you to be jealous when i'm not your girl."

choso rolls his eyes, pulling away from you like you were acid-burning his skin. he gnaws on his bottom lip, a habit he always did whenever he was deep in thought. and, before you could get a grasp on his actions, choso snatched the bottle of beer from your hand and gulped down the rest of it, tossing it into the bin next to you when he was done.

with a low "we’re leaving", choso snatches your wrist with his large hand, the rough padding of his gloves digging into your bare skin as he drags you out of the bar. the two of you earn confused and irritated gazes as he shoves through the crowd on the dance floor, pushing past everyone with long strides and little regard for those around him.

"choso, what the fuck!" you snap at him as soon as the two of you are out of the door, his hand finally releasing you as he stalks over to his motorcycle. it's an all-black yamaha r7, matching his riding attire with hints of silver along the handles and mirrors. "where the fuck are we going, choso?"

he snaps his head over at you, throwing his long leg over the bike with ease. he's glaring at you, his mouth curved down with a sneer yet he holds his helmet out to you, silently commanding you to get on the bike.

"home," he says, his voice low and gravely. he tilts the bike upright with the support of his strong legs, the motorcycle roaring to life, the smell of its exhaust filling the open air. "you wanna be my girl, right? so get on the fuckin' bike and i'll show you how to be."

without a single moment of hesitation, you throw the helmet on, the foam pads squishing your cheeks. with the help of the footpeg, you climb onto the back of the bike, wrapping your arms tightly around choso's waist like the many times you had done before. his hand pats your interlocked hands as a warning before he revs the bike, peeling away into the night.

"choso," you call out as he strolls into his apartment, the garage door lowering behind you. he completely ignores you, abandoning you in the garage, the door slamming shut behind him. "can you wait for a damn second!"

you hook the helmet onto the footpeg, making sure it’s secure before following after choso. he shrugs off his motorcycle jacket, tossing it onto the kitchen countertop before removing his gloves.

"what the hell is your problem?" you snap at him, crossing your arms over your puffed-out chest. you're beyond frustrated with him and his silence. you wanted to fight him, knock some sense into him with the way he's treating you.

with long strides across the kitchen floor, choso picks you up by your waist, biceps flexing as he easily plops you down to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter. he stands between your legs, glaring down his nose at you.

"you're my fuckin' problem," he growls, dipping his head down to your neck. his kisses are hot, open-mouthed, and wet— sucking and biting at the delicate column of your neck. "talkin' about wanting to be my girl and then slutting yourself out whenever we go out," he sucks at the sensitive point underneath your ear. "you've always been my girl, baby; thought i made that clear when i started bouncin' ya on my cock months ago."

your head rolls back, brows furrowed as you arch your neck further to the side, allowing choso to stake his claim on your skin through bites and hickies. your brain is reduced to mush as he drags the flat of his tongue from the crook of your neck and up to the hinge of your jaw. your fingers lacing themselves into his hair, tugging and pulling at the silky strands, earning a hiss from deep within his throat.

"never gonna share you; no one gets to use you the way i do," choso bites at your neck before pulling away, his black pupils blown out as he peers down at you. his lips are bruised, cheeks flushed from abusing your skin to his liking. you can only imagine the bite marks and bruises that decorate your neck. "no one knows your body like i do; doesn't know how to make you moan, and beg, and turn you into a messy puddle that can barely form a sentence."

your clit throbs against the cloth of your panties, your underwear soaked thoroughly with your arousal. choso never really spoke during sex, rarely spoke in general, yet whenever he did, it was either to say a joke or command authority over your friend group whenever they got a little too rambunctious. the switch in his behavior caught you off-guard, but you weren't one to ever complain. you liked it when he took charge.

"no one knows how much you like it when your nipples are pinched," he tugs your crop top up, prying your breasts from the confines of your bra, spilling them out into his warm hands. he tugs and rolls the sensitive buds between his fingers, a series of moans bubbling from your lips. "such pretty fuckin’ tits, baby, fuckk," he mumbles, admiring the view.

"no one knows how wet you get when i play with them, bitin' and suckin' on them 'til their bruised and puffy," he dips his head down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, sinking his pearly whites into the soft flesh. a cry rips through you when he pulls at your nipple, harder and harder until he lets go with a ‘pop’. "bet you're fuckin' soaking already, baby. let me pull these jeans down and see,"

you shuffle atop the countertop while choso helps to pull your pants down, the cool surface causing a shiver to run down your spine as your bare ass cheeks make connect with it. 

"i was right, huh? got niagara falls forming in your panties, baby," choso kneels to the ground, inhaling the musky scent of your arousal through the soiled cloth. his nose nudges against your clit, tongue teasing at your entrance, soaking your panties further with his saliva. "no one could make you get this wet but me, ain't that right, baby?"

"yesyesyes—" you're breathless, too far gone to form a proper thought. your hands grip choso's hair, the only support tethering you to the earth. "fuck, cho, please need your mouth— need ya t’ fuck me with your tongue— needs it s’ bad—"

choso chuckles, standing up to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. his tongue invades your mouth, the pink muscle scouring every crevice and cementing his claim all over it. he tugs your panties down to your thighs, rubbing your clit around his index and middle fingers before dipping a single digit into your wet heat. he slips into the tight ring with a grunt, poking and prodding against the tight clench of your walls grasping at his finger.

"so fuckin' tight, lemme hear them pretty moans," he slips another finger deep inside of you, scissoring and hooking them into your gummy walls. "wanna hear how needy you get f'me."

choso strokes at every inch of your cunt, pulling moan and moan out from you with little effort. you're putty in the palm of his hand, allowing him to mold you around to his liking. his nose is pressed to your neck, peppering kisses and bites along the path, drenching your skin with his saliva. 

"remind me who fuckin’ own this pretty pussy, baby," he curls his finger into your spot, your thighs trembling as your walls squeeze harder around him. you could feel peak coming along, so close and just barely out of reach. "tell me what i want to hear and i'll let you cum, can feel your pretty little walls clinging to me— i know you’re fuckin’ close."

your eyes flutter shut, mouth agape as choso’s name leaves your lips like a prayer. "i'm your's, i'm your girl," you moan, choso chuckling at how fucked out you sound, so pathetic and desperate for release. "no one else's, cho, you own this pussy, was made for you and only you."

"that's my good girl," choso purrs, slipping another finger deep inside you. the stretch is sweet, your hips bucking to chase after the sweet release he had promised you. "cum on my fingers, baby, cum for me."

your release hits you like a freight train, gushing all over his hand and pooling on the countertop below you. choso chuckles as your cunt milks his fingers, grasping and clinging to him as your body quivers against him. you swore you caught a glimpse of heaven.

"that’s my good girl," choso retracts his fingers from inside of you, your body feeling so empty with the absence of his touch. he presses his fingertips to your lips, your tongue poking out to lap at his fingers, humming at the taste of yourself. "that's it, baby, be my good girl. clean my fingers up and i'll give ya some cock as a reward, okay?"

[boanerges20]

Motolove

[beneaththehalo]

love and deepspace car headcanons

sfw ramblings about which cars i think all of the l&ds guys would drive. i don’t know much about cars, so this is entirely based on personality & aesthetic. the car is pictured below the description. 300 words. contains: rafayel, xavier, zayne, caleb & sylus.

rafayel — maserati

it’s been said he drives a fancy sports car and is referenced several times throughout the game. the logo of maserati is a trident, which i imagine stuck out to him right away when he was car shopping. he was never one for material items, and he’ll pretend to brush it off when you show interest despite how proud it makes him feel. no wonder he always offers to drive.

xavier — honda suv

out of everyone, he rarely ever uses a car. with his teleportation ability, it’s likely just a silly expense so i imagine he bought one to keep up appearances but just lets Jeremiah borrow it. he took the first one off the lot and got conned into all the upgrade features. however, since he’s been on earth awhile, i think as a passion project, he secretly has an old classic car that he tinkers with now and then.

zayne — audi

cardiologists are notorious for having luxury cars due to their impressive salaries, especially a cardiothoracic surgeon. i like to think zayne keeps it more on the humble side of ‘luxury’ cars and chose an audi. the audi has consistently received high safety ratings, so on top of looking good, it’s also an overall good car.

caleb — mustang + yamaha motorcycle

in the warm months, caleb rides a motorcycle. he loves the adrenaline rush of the wind flying past him. if you ever take him up for a ride, he’ll keep you safe despite laughing at your tight grip to his jacket. in the colder months, he drives a mustang to the airfield since he can’t take his motorcycle.

sylus — rolls royce

something about a mafia boss and a rolls royce. rolls royce screams quintessential antagonist in a storyline. they are sleek, luxurious, spacious, and private. perfect for doing shady business in the back seat, take that as you will.

beneaththehalo || est. 2024

divider credit: saradika-graphics

[bunnyscrypt]

how i envision jason todd in my head + fics i write for him

*.⊹˚🖤 ‧₊˚

starting off with looks; it depends on which version of him i’m thinking of. comic!jason: i fluctuate between these face claims. i like the michal mrazik face claim and use him for my college!footballer!jason au. in my mind jason has a hooked nose (those nose shapes are so beautiful and i love them)plus a scar on his cheek + neck

his hair: black with a white streak. keeps it short but grows it out & usually just wears it down but will tie it back sometimes.

body type: strong arms with a lil pudgy tummy . my baby is thick okay! he’s 6’4!!

jason has a lot! of tattoos. all over his abdomen and chest. an almost full sleeve. one i’ll mention is the taif rose near his heart with a ribbon that says “ummi jaan” dedicated to talia (my favourite one). his tattoos dedicated to you.

his style: very much so contemporary faunlet vibes. lots of reds and blacks. green too. he’s very simple laid back. sweatshirts and sweaters. boxy 90s cut leather jackets. jean jackets. skinny jeans and cargo pants. black or grey sweatpants on lazy fays. likes muscle tees and graphic tees. wears a lot of rings and a couple necklaces (a simple chain & cord necklaces). will throw on a random hat from time to time. wears simple shoes: doc marten boots.

bonus: drives a matte black yamaha yzf-r3 sports bike. speaks arabic and urdu. his favourite hobbies include collecting knives, listening to music (he’s a metal head), thrifting, fixing cars and motorcycles, long drives, gift giving as a love language, horror movies and action movies (the kingsman movies in specific), cemetery dates, gun ranges, reading, eating, kissing, hand kisses, cuddling, giving back love bites, getting tattoos, playing sports, acoustic guitar, going to shows, hanging out with duke, baking, sunsets, writing, and many many more.. <3

[nayziiz]

Speed | CS55

Summary: In a chance encounter at a gas station, a mysterious woman on a Yamaha YZF R6 catches the attention of Carlos, a charming Ferrari driver. Little did they know the journey they would both go on.

Warning: Smut, fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Lola)

Masterlist

Chapter 4

As they arrived back at Lola's home, an hour after finishing their dinner, Carlos followed her into the living room. He watched quietly as she stood and removed her boots the moment they stepped inside, her movements graceful and fluid.

“Let me change into something a bit more... suitable and see if I can find some of my brother's gear for you to wear. Please make yourself at home.” She explained before quietly disappearing up the staircase.

Carlos nodded in understanding, a sense of anticipation coursing through him as he glanced around the cozy living room. He took in the warmth of the space—the soft glow of the lamps casting a gentle light, the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals lingering in the air.

As Carlos settled onto the couch, he couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity tugging at him. His eyes wandered around the room, taking in the cozy decor and the myriad of photographs adorning the walls. Most of the pictures featured an older couple, likely Lola's parents, along with Lola herself and a younger male who he presumed to be her brother.

Driven by his curiosity, Carlos stood up and approached the photographs, his eyes scanning each one with interest. In one picture, he saw Lola as a child, her face alight with laughter as she clutched a toy in her hands. In another, he saw her standing proudly beside her parents, a sense of warmth and love radiating from the image.

But it was the photograph of Lola and what he assumed was her brother that caught his attention the most. In it, they were both grinning from ear to ear, their arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace. There was a sense of and affection between them that was palpable, a bond that transcended time and distance.

As Carlos studied the photograph, he couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for Lola and her family. Here was a woman who was deeply rooted in love and connection, surrounded by the warmth and support of her loved ones.

Lola came down the stairs and spotted Carlos studying the photographs. A small smile crossed her face. She hadn’t brought a man over in years and it was strange seeing him in her space studying everything so personal to her and her family.

“Hey.” She greeted him softly, her voice filled with warmth as she reached his side. “Finding anything interesting in the family album?”

Carlos turned to face her, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks at being caught in the act. As Carlos glanced up, he caught sight of Lola in her biking gear, and a wave of admiration washed over him. She had changed into a pair of skinny jeans that hugged her curves perfectly, and she had adorned a leather jacket that accentuated her figure in all the right ways.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of attraction towards her as he took in the sight. There was something undeniably alluring about Lola in her biking gear—a sense of confidence and freedom that seemed to radiate from her every pore.

Despite having seen her dressed up during their dinner date, Carlos found himself liking her even more in her biking gear. There was a rawness and authenticity to her in that moment that spoke to him on a deeper level—a reminder of the adventurous spirit that had drawn him to her in the first place.

“Just admiring the photos.” He admitted with a sheepish grin. “Your family seems really close.”

Lola diverted the topic elsewhere as she glanced down at the gear in her hands, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. 

“I could only find one of my brother's jackets and a pair of gloves, but that should be fine.” She stated, her voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Carlos pointed to a photograph on the wall, his curiosity piqued by the images of Lola's family.

“Are your parents home?” He wondered, his tone gentle as he gestured towards the picture. Lola's smile faltered slightly at his question, a hint of sadness flickering in her eyes.

“Uhm, no.” She replied softly. “My dad passed away when I was fourteen, and my mom passed away last year.”

Carlos's expression softened as he listened to her words, a pang of sympathy tugging at his heart.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Lola. I didn't…” He trailed off, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words to express his condolences.

“No, don't apologize. We haven't changed a thing in the house, so it still looks how it did before she died.” Lola added, her voice tinged with nostalgia as she glanced around the room.

Carlos nodded in understanding, a sense of reverence settling over him as he took in the familiar surroundings. He could sense the weight of Lola's words, the bittersweet memories of her mother lingering in the air like a gentle breeze.

“And your brother?” He inquired, his curiosity piqued by the mention of Lola's family.

“Logan's away at university.” She answered, her tone tinged with pride. Carlos nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“You look so alike.” He observed, his eyes scanning the photographs once more. Lola offered him a small smile, her heart warming at his observation.

“Yeah, we do.” She agreed, a hint of nostalgia coloring her words.

Lola handed Carlos the jacket and gloves, a playful glint in her eyes as she led him to the garage through the kitchen. With each step, anticipation hummed in the air, mingling with the faint scent of motor oil and leather.

As Lola flicked on the lights, Carlos's eyes widened in stunned disbelief at the sight that greeted him. The garage was a veritable treasure trove of motorcycles, with four in total parked neatly in rows. His gaze swept over each one in awe, taking in the sleek lines and gleaming chrome.

Beside Lola's Yamaha, he spotted a new Honda Civic, a stark contrast to the rugged beauty of the motorcycles surrounding it. Carlos couldn't help but marvel at the sight, his mind racing with questions.

“Now you know what I drive when it's raining.” Lola joked with a playful wink as she opened the garage door, revealing the impressive array of motorcycles. Carlos chuckled at her remark, his eyes still lingering on the bikes as he took in their details.

“What bikes are these?” He asked, his curiosity piqued. 

Lola gestured towards each one in turn, a fond smile playing at her lips as she explained their origins.

“The Honda is my brother's old bike. He's upgraded to a newer Suzuki.” She began, pointing to the sleek Honda nestled among the motorcycles. “The BMW was my dad's. And the other Yamaha was my old one I crashed with.”

Her tone tinged with a hint of nostalgia as she glanced towards the well-worn Yamaha nestled beside her own.

As Carlos listened to her explanations, he couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for Lola's connection to each bike. Each one held a story—a memory of a loved one or a moment shared on the open road.

“So, where do we start?” Carlos asked, his voice filled with anticipation as he prepared to embark on their ride.

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Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @notyouraveragemochii @heyheyheyggg