#motorsport asks

[trashytracktales]

Hiii, I’m not sure if your requests are open, but if they are, could you write something with Lando and Reader where they have been dating for just a few weeks, haven’t had sex yet. One day they’re working out together at Lando’s house in Monaco (the room with the mirror from the video I Ate and Trained Like Lando Norris for 24 hours). Reader is doing squats with her back towards the mirror and Lando can’t help but stare at her ass and he gets hard / flustered so he stops from doing his exercise and reader asks him what’s wrong and before he answers she realises he’s horny so she teases him - this time on purpose- and then they fuck in that room on the floor

In the heat of it | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for trusting me enough to bring this to life, it was... something 🥵

🌸 summary ──── They’ve been dating for a few weeks now, but the time was never right for them to get intimate. During a playful workout together, Lando gets caught staring, sparking a moment that leaves them both realizing just how deep their connection actually goes.

🌸 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🌸 rating ──── explicit

🌸 category ──── F/M

🌸 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, suggestive/flirty behavior.

🌸 word count ──── 3.6k

🌸 date ──── Nov. 12, 2024

IT DOESN’T TAKE long before Lando starts to regret his decision. It would have been much easier to invite his girlfriend to have lunch together. That would have saved him from a constant dry mouth and irregular heartbeat every time he feels her eyes accidentally landing on him.

The smooth floor and sophisticated equipment in his personal gym are softly bathed in the morning sun that seeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Monaco’s streets are still peaceful at this hour, considering it’s the middle of the week, and the port is sparkling in the sunlight.

The room usually has a subtle scent of cedar and rubber, fresh and energized, but now it carries a sweet honey scent, borrowed from her presence.

They are already halfway through their warm-up. She’s pulling a resistance band around her thighs, stretching before they dive into the heavier part of their routine, her focus completely on the exercises he’s walked her through. But, of course, a huge part of her focuses on how Lando touches her, purposely, to guide her when her posture doesn’t match the exercise.

Even in simple gym shorts and a T-shirt, Lando somehow manages to look so effortlessly attractive, with his curly hair a little messy, face flushed just enough from their recent sets, and his labored breathing after putting in the effort. He’s all energy, fluid in his movements, though he’s clearly trying to keep his pace casual.

“Lookin’ strong,” he teases, flashing a grin as she adjusts her stance.

The girl shrugs, “I’m just that good at following instructions. Although, I think having one of the best trainers in the area helps, too.”

Lando lets a chuckle out, “I won’t go easy on you just because you kiss-ass. But it’s cute to see you trying.”

Even though they have only been dating for a few weeks, there is an undeniable spark between them two, especially in a setting where every glance and skin-to-skin contact feels amplified by the intensity of their exercises. Her sports outfit leaves no room for interpretations, hugging her curves and defining her lines, and Lando’s imagination is stimulated every time he turns his gaze towards her.

He’s now down on the floor, holding a plank, his core engaged and muscles taut as he fights to hold his body up and spine straight. She’s supposed to be timing him, but the second he shoots her a cheeky grin, she decides she can’t resist a bit of fun; in her defense, he started it. With a simple touch, the seconds freeze on the screen of his phone, then she places it on one of the boxes stored in the corner of the room.

“Hi there,” says the girl in a mellow tone once she sits down in front of him just inches apart, propping herself up on her elbows so her face is level with his.

Lando raises his eyebrows, trying not to laugh as his shoulders shake slightly from the effort of holding his body weight. “Don’t,” he warns her, breath coming in controlled puffs.

“I’m not doing anything,” she smiles innocently, kicking her feet in the air while inching a little closer until her nose almost brushes his.

He laughs at her bad acting, his arms starting to shake a bit more. “Outrageous is what you are.”

She pouts just as Lando dips his head down, managing to steal a playful kiss. Their lips meet briefly, soft and warm, before he pulls back up to maintain his form. It makes her sigh in frustration, the ghost of a kiss not nearly enough for her. If anything, it only leaves her wanting more.

Luckily, he doesn’t pull back when she cups his cheek in her palm, pressing her mouth on his once more, his giggles mixing with hers as he tries to keep his balance. Savoring the feel of his lips and the way Lando grunts softly into the kiss, she can feel that this one is more deeper and slower — much real — making her shiver. It seems as though everything else disappears, the feel of each other reminding them both why they decided to give the relationship a shot in the first place.

“And you are so fun to corrupt,” she admits, finally getting up to give Lando time to recover.

After a few sets, she finally moves on to squats, and Lando follows her positioning herself in front of the mirror. It wasn’t even supposed to be there, but he sometimes uses the gym as a storage room for random packages. This one, specifically, came in the mail a few weeks ago and he didn’t have time to hang it in the hallway, where he initially planned. So, he simply let it rest against the wall in his gym room, and it’s been there ever since, forgotten.

Giving the circumstances, he is seriously thinking of leaving it there for good.

Conveniently, Lando decides that now is the perfect time to start his Russian twists, so he bends over to collect a dumbbell off the floor, then sits down on the yoga mat. Right in front of her.

Unaware of the effect she’s having on him, he watches her go through each squat with his eyes trailing down on the reflection of her ass in the mirror, an intense warmth spreading over him as he tries to focus on his own exercise. It is quite innocent, he’s just respectfully looking, until it isn’t.

Until he feels it in his boxers.

Until he almost drops the dumbbell, which catches her attention.

Lando tries to ignore it, though, to nonchallantly brush it off, telling himself that it’s natural and that he’s just admiring her physical appearance. Anyone in his shoes would do it. However, his thoughts start to wander, images flashing uninvited as his heart rate quickens for reasons far beyond the exercise.

“Are you okay down there, hotshot? What are you fighting?” she asks curiously, raising her head just enough to catch the dazed look on Lando’s face.

Her voice pulls him back, his breath catching for a moment, “Yeah, never better.”

It’s his husky voice that gives it away. Right after, she notices a lingering gaze, and the soft pink creeping across his features as his eyes are fixed ahead. She stops, fixing her posture and straightening her back as she turns to catch his gaze in the mirror. She realizes exactly what’s going on in a matter of seconds, a little grin forming in the corner of her mouth.

“Am I too dictracting, Lando?” she purrs, her question — and the fact that he knows she caught him in act — not helping at all.

“No,” he lies, “But I think you’re killing it with those squats.”

“And if I turn around to finish my set, what then?” she whispers, a challenge glinting in her eyes as she brushes the tip of her tongue against her lower lip.

His breath is shallow the moment he decides to abandon his exercise. “Then you would be killing me,” he admits with no restraints. “So, by any means, proceed. Please.”

She glances over to see Lando lying flat on his back, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes, as if he’s in serious pain. His other hand is splayed over his stomach, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm. It’s still funny to see him like that, but then she notices the way his chest rises and falls a bit too fast, and her eyes drift lower, catching a glimpse of the growing bulge in his shorts, an unmistakable proof of what she’s actually doing to him.

Suddenly, all the amusement disappears from her face, being replaced by a warmth that wraps around her neck that’s slowly rising to her cheeks. Her heart is starting to race, small impulses between her thighs forcing her to close them together.

Swallowing hard, she crosses the small space to kneel beside him, gently pulling his arm away from his eyes. His lashes flicker open, meeting her gaze with a mix of embarrassment and desire. And so much lust.

“How can I help you?” asks Lando, his voice rougher than usual, trying to keep things light, though the hint of vulnerability shows in his eyes, and it’s not that hard to read.

She chuckles nervously, “The question is how can I help you?”

In response, Lando uses the same hand to wrap his fingers around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She feels his hand squeezing a little, the other one moving to her waist, hesitating before pulling her completely on top of him, without breaking the kiss. His tongue slips firmly into her mouth, just as it has done so many times before, but now it feels somehow different. Somehow, they both know that the kiss is meant to lead to something much more intense, because there’s nothing stopping them anymore.

In the intimacy of his apartment, without interruption, Lando lowers his hands to her waist, rubbing her against him. Slowly. Repeatedly. The pressure forces them to moan in unison, a brief taste of the pleasure they are about to share. His hands then drop lower, roaming over her thighs, then back down to her ass, cupping it in his large palms.

He breaks away just enough to murmur, his voice low and almost reverent, “That enough of an answer?”

“Positive,” she replies, feeling his breath hitch as she shifts on top of him, straddling his hips, her hands splaying over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

Her lips find his again, sweet and intoxicating, each kiss sending sparks to her core. The new position makes her feel him much more firmly between her legs, taking Lando by surprise when her hand lowers to cover his length, massaging him through the thin material of his shorts.

“Fucking hell,” his lips stutter against hers, while rocking his hips into her touch.

“Yeah…” she agrees, breathing hotly above him, “Did I do this to you?”

Before Lando gets a chance to even think of an answer, she slips her hand under the elastic band of his boxers, taking him in her hand, feeling him in his entirety; deliciously soft skin, warm and ready, and so painfully hard.

It makes her ache for him.

She pumps his cock in her hand a few times, enough for her to feel how he shifts under her. It takes her a lot of self-control to stop herself from taking him in her mouth the second she hears his sweet little panting, her thumb rubbing gently over his swollen tip.

The workout itself had left Lando’s muscles burning, but her touch it’s something else entirely, igniting a heat in him that burns deeper than anything he’s felt before. Five more minutes enjoying the same high and he can give up cardio completely. Guaranteed.

Slowly coming back to his senses, Lando realizes that he has free will, so he slips his hands under her sports bra, palming her hungrily until he feels her nipples hardening under his touch. He breaths heavily as he rolls them between his fingers, managing to make her respond with a soft meowl, her grip on his cock losening.

That’s his cue to take the lead, pulling her bra over her head in a quick move, and flipping their bodies over so that now he’s hovering above her, eyes filled with need while looking down at her.

“Hi there,” Lando copies her tone from earlier, feeling a little fraction of the power she had over him.

She wants to talk back so badly — one of her sarcastic little comments that she knows he loves — but all she can do is let out a pathetic whimper between her lips when his mouth finds home on her bare breast. At that, Lando feels a shiver running down his spine, looking up at how she closes her eyes in pleasure, arching her back more against his mouth.

“Driving me insane with your pretty ass, baby,” he says, breathing heavily, managing to cover her body in a thin layer of goosebumps, “And your pretty fucking nipples.”

“Lando…” she lets another cry slip out, opening her eyes to look at him.

The image that greets her makes her breath catch in her throat. The way he sucks on her nipple while playing with the other one, and the way he looks up at her through his eyelashes. It’s all too much. She ends up wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him down with her. Then she runs her hands down his back, tugging at the edge of his shirt, tossing the useless material carelessly to the floor before pulling him closer for another kiss.

Mouth to mouth, chest to chest, skin on skin — who says heaven isn’t real?

But if that’s heaven, then what can she name the feeling she gets the moment his hand slips into her gym shorts and his fingers brush against her soaked entrance? Because it feels way too fucking good, much better than she expected, and certainly much better than her own hand whenever she pictured his face while fingering herself.

Lando starts slowly, spreading her wetness around her pussy, then fucking his fingers in and out, while cautiously watching her facial expressions changing. It’s not taking him long before finding that sweet, sweet spot that makes her roll her hips into his hand, desperation painted all over her face.

“Lan…,” she starts panting, “That’s—yes, right there.”

He hums proudly, sealing his mouth to hers, while parting her thighs with his knee so he can spread her more in front of him. Feeling herself open to his touch, so easy and wet, he no longer feels self-conscious about the way she’s so quickly tunring him boneless under her gaze. He realizes that the feeling is mutual, and it makes him want her even more.

If that’s even possible.

The sound of his fingers repeatedly fucking into her is all that anchors her in the present moment, but the second Lando feels her squeezing around them, he stops so he can silently ask for her permission to take the last piece of her clothing off.

She nods in a rush, swallowing the lump in her throat in anticipation.

Every inch of her is now bathed in the soft, golden light streaming through the window. Warm shadows are cast along her curves, the light outlining each delicate contour of her body as though the sun itself is painting her in real time. The image is so powerful yet vulnerable as she stands there, her figure glimmering with an almost unearthly serene confidence. Lando is utterly captivated by how ethereal she looks, like a goddess come to life, the kind he never imagined he would be close enough to even touch, let alone enjoy. He feels like he’s witnessing something sacred, something so incredibly rare, and the awe he feels is mixed with gratitude that she’s here with him, letting him see her in a such perfect lighting.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Lando finally manages to say, hoping that he hasn’t started drooling all over her in the meantime. “All of you.”

“Your turn,” she says in a muffled voice, slightly bashful at the way he stares at her like he wants to devour her. Which is not far from the truth.

He agrees that it’s a fair request, realizing that the only thing separating them now are his own shorts. Without protesting — because that would be so fucking dumb considering how hard he is — Lando gets rid of them with the speed of a perfect qualifying lap.

Matching the same pace, Lando’s hands slide around her waist, his fingers pressing gently into her hips as he guides them both to the side so they can face the window. Or that’s what she thought. Confused at first, she’s frowning at him, then follows his gaze, lost in the direction of their reflection, understanding immediately what he really wants: a show. A show just for them, in which they can lose themselves together, without limits.

She sighs at the sight of their hot, naked bodies, the way he aligns himself with her, and how he’s finally pushing inside, enough to hear her whimper. She watches as he stands above her, his hands gliding slowly over her sides, up her arms, grounding her in his touch. The image of them together, framed in the soft glow of the room, feels surreal, so intimate and vulnerable in a way that’s completely new for both of them.

Lando pauses, pulling out at her little whimper, then pressing back in, but just the tip.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You’re so fucking wet it keeps slipping out,” adds Lando in a low tone, so turned on that it makes her clench around him.

To her frustration, the speed at which Lando pushes back inside might as well be negative, causing her to explode with how needy she becomes in the meantime. But just as she’s about to encourage him to sink further, he buries himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

“Lando,” she says as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, “You… feels so good, shit,” she takes a moment to breath into his skin, then she turns her head to catch their reflection once again.

Lando is already looking, and when they make eye contact through the mirror, he starts fucking her slowly and gently, as if he could break her.

“See how silly you look for thinking we won’t match?” he sounds so amazed by how easily she opens up for him, over and over again, with each steady thrust of his hips, “See that? Taking all of me so well, baby.”

“Mhm,” she cries out at the way his cock throbs against her walls, because she knows it’s way too slow, even for him.

It’s simply agonizing.

“So perfect around me,” he states, “Can’t believe I lasted that long. Should’ve fucked you from the first night.”

At this point, he’s just rambling, but the thought makes her stomach tie in a knot.

“You would’ve let me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she speaks, already drunk on the way he feels inside her, “I would have let you fuck me in the plane bathroom, on the way to Imola. And back in your driver’s room, when Oscar caught us kissing. And last week, outside the club. Fuck. I wanted you to fuck me there so bad.”

His mind goes blank with all the lost opportunities, causing him to gradually increase his pace, the sound of them connecting so obscene.

“Wh—” he almost chokes on words, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You… stressed about work. I didn’t want to be… distraction,” she tightens her legs around him, keeping him inside her, the words losing their meaning as Lando shifts his position, wrapping his arm around her thigh to open her up even more for him. “Oh. Yes, like that!”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he swallows hard as he squeezes roughly at her thighs. “I’m so close.”

She knows that will leave marks on her skin, but nothing beats the pleasure of having Lando fucking himself so deep inside her, that her vision starts clouding.

All common sense went out the window the moment she stepped through his door, anyway.

She can feel his breath warm against her neck, hear the soft hitch in his breathing as he leans in, his lips brushing her shoulder, never breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. Lando’s hands are making their way to cup her ass, pulling out all the way, before fucking back in, all over again, until he finds the perfect rhythm between their bodies. He moans loudly, pressing his upper body on her, their scents blending together and sweat transferring from skin to skin. They move so in sync, completely attuned to each other, and the sight of their shared pleasure, reflected back at them, turns everything into fireworks, her mind completely empty. Except for how well she’s being fucked.

“Lan—Lando,” she’s so close to sobbing that she shuts her mouth at the sound of her voice, thinking it’s too pathetic to whine as she cums around him, her release dripping all over between their bodies.

The wet sound her pussy makes gives Lando way to fuck in deeper, taken by surprise that she finished without any warnings whatsoever. He grips her ass one more time before he stills inside her, his cock throbbing, and pulls out right before he starts leaking, resting his cock against her thigh, his entire length coated in her release. His cum drips from his tip to her inner thigh, making him groan while he fixes his gaze on the mirror at the image of them.

She buries her fingers in his curls after he finally collapses on top of her, their heavy breaths echoing throughout the room. With his head on her chest, he can feel her heart racing, gradually slowing down, and lets out a soft laugh as she shifts a little under him.

“We’re so fucking matching, baby. Let’s gooo!” exclaims Lando, exhaust evident in his voice.

She feels her cheeks warm, “I think you’re a little biased right now,” she jokes.

Lando shifts slightly so he can see her face, brushing a thumb tenderly along her side. He smiles softly, the usual spark in his eyes softened by something deeper, so gentle. “I’m just so happy for us.”

Her heart flutters, and she feels him sink even closer to her, threading his fingers through hers.

“And very sweaty,” she adds with a chuckle.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure that’s you,” he teases, letting the moment pass slowly, then calling out her name in a serious voice.

“Mhm?” she hums while turning to look in the mirror, watching him getting comfortable on top of her.

“Where do we go from here?” asks Lando.

“Your bedroom, I hope. The floor is killing my back.”

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Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[dedeinthewild]

pepe martí x reader, botched haircut

~ from hand scribbles series (tell me an oddly specific situation/state of mind and I'll rec/write a fic about it)

"I have steady hands"

situation : she gets a botched haircut and wants to stay at home for months as she thinks it's the worst she's ever looked

When Pepe stepped out of his morning shower, the last thing he expected to see was her—sitting in her favorite armchair with a dejected expression, her hair, or rather, what was left of it, framing her soft features.

Her arms rested limply on her thighs as she stared at her phone, her full lips set in a pout, completely devoid of the smile she always had when they were in Spain together. The same smile that usually greeted him with the smell of pancakes when she didn’t sleep in late.

For weeks, she had been complaining about how her front layers had grown too long, saying she needed to trim them to feel like herself again, to feel even just a little pretty—because she wasn’t the kind of girl with untouchable confidence.

Pepe had been looking forward to the moment she’d come back from the salon beaming, twirling in front of him as she recounted everything that had happened while they were apart. But now, that vision felt far from reality.

“You’re back,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the wall of their Barcelona apartment, letting the towel slip from his hands as he finished drying his dark hair. He had spent the morning biking with an old friend, completing his daily training session.

“Guapa, hey,” he called again, nudging her shoulder playfully with two fingers. She looked up at him with the cutest pout he had ever seen, knowing full well how much she loved it when he called her that.

“Do you have a beanie in that pile of Red Bull merch you own?” she asked, biting the inside of her cheek, trying to keep a straight face as he studied her—his dark eyes, always so perceptive, already catching onto the way she was deflecting with humor.

“I think so, why?” Pepe asked, setting the towel down on the table in front of them.

She motioned toward her hair with a long, defeated sigh, bracing herself for him to either burst out laughing or—worse—tell her it was her own fault for being too picky and dramatic, like her mom often did without realizing.

But he didn’t do either.

Instead, he just smiled, stepping closer as he unwrapped one of their favorite candies and popped it into his mouth.

“What about that?” he asked, towering over her, looking at her the same way he always did—as if he didn’t see a lopsided mess of layers and botched bangs.

“Pepe…” she sighed. “Say something.”

He paused for a moment, rolling the candy from one side of his mouth to the other, hands on his hips, his usual infuriating kindness making her even more aware of the fact that her hair looked like something straight out of a Stanley Kubrick costume department.

“It’s different from usual, but it’s not that bad,” he shrugged.

“Then why does your face say something completely different?” she stood up, looking him in the eyes as he smirked, half-disappointed that she wasn’t glowing with post-salon confidence like those girls who walked out feeling beautiful enough to take over the world, but also entertained by how she was handling it.

“I’m not stepping outside that door for the next two months,” she declared, collapsing back into the armchair, throwing her head back dramatically.

“I won’t complain,” he chuckled, imagining how chaotic it would be to have her stuck inside with him for two whole months. “But I swear, it’s not the worst.”

“Yes, it is,” she groaned, throwing a pillow at him as he leaned against the coffee table, arms crossed.

“I look like I got stuck in a ceiling fan.”

Pepe couldn’t hold it in anymore. The way she said it, combined with the utterly defeated expression on her face, made him snort before he even realized what he had done.

“Did you just—did you just laugh?!” she gasped, throwing her arms up as if she had officially given up, resigning herself to looking like a complete disaster until her hair grew out. One thing was for sure—she was never going back to that hairdresser, who clearly missed their true calling as a construction worker.

Pepe tried to deny it, shaking his head, but the laughter was already bubbling up in his throat, his shoulders shaking, making it impossible to argue his innocence.

“Pepe, are you serious?” she tried to sound offended, but she was already on the verge of laughing, too.

“Listen, I’m so, so sorry, but the way you said ceiling fan was—” he lost it again, burying his face in his large hands, muffling another laugh as she glared at him.

“God, I can’t,” she muttered, hiding behind a pillow before Pepe pushed it aside, slipping between her knees and running his fingers through her hair as she pouted up at him, fully expecting him to take a photo and send it to Christian so they could turn it into a sticker for their group chat.

“We can always fix it,” he suggested.

“We? Fix it?”

He nodded, flashing that easy, confident smile, the one that made it clear he had all the time in the world for her. It was the relaxed, happy version of him—the one who wasn’t rushing to catch a flight or stressing over his next race. The one who let himself indulge in too many churros and spent time with the people who mattered.

“Pepe, you drive cars, not handle scissors.”

“I have steady hands,” he argued. “Precision. Good reflexes.”

“It’s not even nearly the same,” she scoffed, but she could see it in his dark eyes—that quiet, stubborn desire to see her smile, to make her feel pretty again.

“It won’t get worse, ojitos,” he murmured, wetting his lips as he twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers, noting how much lighter it felt—probably because half of it had been hacked off by someone in the middle of an artistic crisis.

“You say that, and I don’t quite believe you.”

“I’ve seen a lot of videos. I’ve practiced, too,” he assured her, trying to mask the bit of performance anxiety creeping in at the idea of actually following through.

“Fine. But if you ruin it—” she warned, pulling off her sweater so it wouldn’t get covered in stray hairs as he rummaged through the kitchen drawer for an old pair of scissors.

“I won’t.”

“If you do—”

“I won’t.”

“Pepe, listen to me. If you ruin my hair—”

“We’ll both get a buzzcut,” he declared, setting up a stool in front of the bathroom mirror.

“Are you crazy?”

“I won’t mess up, don’t worry,” he grinned, gesturing for her to sit down before dramatically mimicking a poor impression of Edward Scissorhands. It earned him exactly what he wanted—one of those smiles.

The kind that puffed up her cheeks and made the faintest hint of dimples appear, the kind that made her whole face light up.

Pepe circled her, assessing the damage. The hairdresser—or rather, the criminal—had attempted to give her layers, then suddenly decided to chop her front pieces into a thick, uneven fringe that made her face look rounder than it was.

“Ready?” he asked, running his fingers lightly along the nape of her neck, making her shiver.

“You’re literally just moving my hair around.”

“I got this,” he said, completely sure of himself.

And before she could fully grasp that he had started, she heard the sharp snip of the scissors, a chunk of hair falling away.

“What the hell did you just do?”

“Nothing… nothing bad,” Pepe said, eyeing his next move.

“Nothing bad is exactly what someone says before something very bad happens.”

She watched him through the mirror as he moved, noticing how he leaned in for better precision, how he brushed through her hair between each cut with a tenderness that almost made her forget to be nervous. It was just so him—the boy who always had a smile, who wanted the people around him to have one too.

“When my mom got older,” he started, setting the scissors down and picking up the hairdryer and a round brush, “and she wanted to go out, I always did her hair.”

He smiled, remembering all the times he had experimented on his mother’s blonde curls.

“She would sit down and let me do it, and even if nothing really changed, she was always so proud.”

It was so easy to get lost in the way he talked about his family, always with that deep, unwavering affection. Every time his fingers brushed against her skin—her neck, her cheek, her forehead—his touch was featherlight, as if he was handling something fragile.

And honestly? She wouldn’t mind if he always did this for her.

He was so focused, so dedicated, as if there were team principals from the most prestigious F1 teams watching his every move, as if he were in the middle of the most important lap of his life.

“Done,” he finally said, smiling.

She had been facing away from the mirror for the finishing touches, so he gently turned her toward it. Her hair was slightly tousled, just the way she liked it.

“Did I mess up?” he asked.

The layers were perfect—soft, voluminous, straight out of a Pinterest board. The bangs, while still short, were lighter, more flattering.

And there it was.

That beautiful smile—the one he always wanted to see.

The one that said, maybe I am pretty.

“Pepe Martí, you’re the eighth wonder of the world,” she said, running her fingers through her hair.

He stepped closer, resting his hands on her shoulders and pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek, heart full at the sight of her happiness.

“I just wanted to see you smile,” he murmured.

“Still want that beanie?”

When I said oddly specific situation, this is what I meant. Two days ago I went to the hairdresser and she decided, without asking me prior to the cut, that I would look good with obnoxiously dense bangs. The result? I don’t wanna go out for at least two months…

[blorbocedes]

nico rosberg giving at talk at technical university of munich, gets asked about women in motorsports, compares redbull strategist hannah schmitz to an orchestra conductor (x)

[polepositioned]

tell me about grosjean

grosjean's crash is something that occupies my mind constantly. it's almost entirely because of engineering that grosjean is still capable of walking around, talking about his crash. after clipping kvyat's car at just over 150 miles per hour, he collided head-on with the track barrier on a fast straight. at 53G grosjean could've suffered fatal whiplash if not for his HANS- his halo also prevented injury, deflecting a large sheet of metal which otherwise could've decapitated/seriously injured him. most vital of all was likely the carbon fibre safety cell the drivers sit in- a luxury ronnie peterson did not have during his crash, evidenced by his broken legs, which became the primary shock absorber after the destruction of his car's nosecone (the safety cell was invented in 1981). technology purpose-built for incidents like this saved romain grosjean's life (ironic, as he was one of the drivers who lobbied against the introduction of the halo!). it's an interesting crash to discuss, and all the better because grosjean is still alive to discuss it too.

[superm4ks]

f1 media don’t know how to enjoy hot wet cunt when max serves it to them on a silver fucking platter smh

F1 media too busy canonizing Schumacher and Senna to appreciate the guy who still keeps their memory alive

[fcaruana]

as someone from argentina, can you please share how things are in your country with franco now in f1? and like how fast things have changed and the hype he got, the difference between f2 and f1 etc? i'm so curious to know, i assume he'll head back home after the brazil gp since there's a bit of a break and argentina is right there. i'm picturing pure chaos

oh it's INSANE the amount of support he gained in two months. he already was pretty well-known in argentina after fans pushed a campaign to get him sponsors for f2 last year. he wasn't going to be able to jump from f3 to f2 until argentinian fans came through and started making noise. when franco came there was a hundred people outside his hotel. bizarrap's dad saw the campaign and the rest is history

but while thousands of argentinians followed his f2 races, the vast majority of them already were motorsport fans. now, in f1, EVERYONE is supporting him, even people who hadn't watched a single f1 race before. right before the f1 announcement franco had 552k followers on instagram. now he has 3.2 million !!!!!

i've overheard people talking about him at the supermarket and the doctor's waiting room ??!&# which is crazy. i haven't seen something like this for an argentinian athlete in a long while. he said he hates the messi comparisons but i can see this worship getting near that level in the future if all goes well

they're planning a banderazo for interlagos so watch out for hundreds of argentinians flags. it's gonna be insane

[slutforpringles]

You know the cuntiest thing Daniel could've done would've been to sit down on a podcast with someone he trusts/knows well and told his side of the story; the actual real ins and outs of what went down and when and why, and put it out this week just before this season of DtS drops. It would've had some real media cut through, particularly given his complete silence post-Singapore and especially right now when there's not a lot of actual breaking/on track news and with the amount of media and publicity currently surrounding DtS.

[moonshynecybin]

hey! i’m super new to motogp, i was wondering if you would be able to point me in the direction of journalists who are generally trustworthy? if there are any haha. bo worries if not, thanks!!!

trustworthy is an interesting concept as we are all god's fallible little idiots but im DIGRESSING ! i get what you mean ummm lets see typically if you wanna know #thebusiness on a race weekend via social media, i'd recommend following mat oxley, david emmett (now only consistently available on bluesky), simon patterson if you can stomach it (or just wait for tumblr moots to filter out the relevant bits), valentin khorounzhiy, adam wheeler, and neil morrison. in terms of the guys whose articles i actually make sure and read its like val dave and oxley, and then as needed i head over to crash.net and pick up pete mclaren and lewis duncan sometimes. all these bitches also run podcasts (oxleybom, paddock pass, the race motogp, crash motogp pod). i would rate the podcasts in that order tbh but you usually get different opinions from the different crews so theres stuff for everyone AND i think its fun to get a bead on how much opinions can vary in the paddock among the press writ large. like okay so you guys ALSO dont know for sure about this thing okay cool im doing good...

[keepthedelta]

As a sport newborn, I need you to go on the longest tangent about how Seb was a misogynist and an asshole because these guys are so, so, so into their personal bubbles and their rebrands are so incredibly effective that I just know hippie Seb, not Mark Webber's sleep paralysis demon Seb. Pretty please? I'm asking because I loved your very well-worded Lewis takedown too. I just want to know what I'm supporting here.

i do want to preface this by saying that i'm not saying any of this to try and make people dislike seb, and i didn't say any of that stuff about lewis to make people dislike him either. i am incredibly aware that this is the millionaire tax evader oil company sport and absolutely none of them are perfect, therefore people should feel able to like whichever drivers they like. having said that, i do think we should be honest about who the drivers are and the things they've done, especially when they are trying to present themselves as activists for that cause.

with seb specifically, i think there are a lot of incidents of him being pretty gross and sexist. one time he told an italian journalist that he would only answer her question if she kissed him. another time he derailed an interview with a british journalist by talking about her wearing a revealing dress. he's made numerous jokes about grid girls and even objected to f1 introducing grid boys in an attempt to make the entire practice less overtly sexist because he only wanted to look at grid girls.

seb was always a very charismatic driver, and so a lot of the things he said and did were categorised as him being funny and cheeky, but i think when you look at what he was actually doing and saying, it does border on workplace sexual harassment. he was friends with some of the female journalists like lee mckenzie (the revealing dress incident) but she was very clearly uncomfortable in that moment, and it was really unfair of him to do that to her on international television and in front of her colleagues (mostly men who found it very funny that someone was kind of hinting at her breasts). that moment is also in a bunch of youtube compilations of seb being "funny", so she can't really escape it, if she ever wanted to. as a multiple world champion, seb had a lot of power and influence with f1, certainly more than the female journalists who likely had to work incredibly hard to get their positions and the respect of colleagues and viewers, and seb used his power to put them in uncomfortable positions where they likely would never be able to complain about their discomfort. and given that he never demanded a kiss from a male journalist, you know that it was gendered. i also think that it was incredibly disrespectful to his girlfriend/wife who was at home taking care of their children while he was doing all of this.

[formulatrash]

Which books by racing drivers/ about racing are actually worth a read? 'How to build a car' by adrian newey has been in the shopping cart since forever but I'm on a budget so before i buy all of jenson buttons books, any recommendations?

hmm, good question. a lot of the books are mostly worthwhile if you're a fan of the person in question - which isn't a knock, just that the stuff I've got out of them is extra detail about a driver I like, more than revealing stuff about racing.

in terms of pulling back the curtain there are two I'd recommend. Williams: A different kind of life by Ginny Williams & Pamela Cockerill is just straight up the best book ever written about F1; Ginny was mad when they were making it and she came from an upper class enough background she wasn't at all impressed with the glitz or glamour, has an unflinching view on everything from the paddock to the factory. Pamela Cockerill can also write the fuck out of anything, has some of the best writing of any racing book I've read.

I Just Made The Tea by Di Spires is also excellent. she ran F1 motorhomes for 30 years and it's a totally different behind-the-scenes perspective from what you'd normally see.

Marc Priestley's book, The Mechanic, is also very good for understanding the lesser-documented bits of racing.

[trashytracktales]

helloooo!! just dropping by to say I am OBSESSED with everything you write!!! you are the best

Thank you so much!! It means a lot, since I’ve been struggling to finish my works lately 😭🤍

I have sooo many requests in progress, and I feel so bad about it, because I know it’s been weeks since I last posted, but I’m currently editing a one-shot as we speak, and it’ll be up in just a few hours. Hopefully 🤞🏻

[musicfromtheceiling]

trying something with colors here, also it's time i start drawing my ocs together

[alexturntable]

"Debris on the start/finish straight - looks like a pane of glass from the starter's booth has fallen onto the track". Wile E. Coyote in charge of track safety and race direction.

It really feels like we're watching a sitcom at this point. So far we've had a power outage, glass spontaneously shattering and a bus on track. I really love testing.

[toppamplemousse]

appalled at some of the takes this morning.

“sports teams can’t operate unless you pull shit like that” yeah i actually don’t think so. i think red bull racing, a company with millions of dollars, can operate JUST FINE without someone blasting porn across their computers. i think they can make a fast car without objectifying women and creating a hostile environment.

“as long as everyone finds it funny” ha ha yeah i love when men treat women like shit! i love when they play porn because men participating in porn is normal but women doing it is a joke, something to laugh at, something to make fun, something disgusting. ha ha! well if everyone’s laughing then it’s fine, i don’t see what the big deal is, if everyone’s laughing why don’t we just grab a woman’s boob and watch everyone laugh? it’s funny, no? oh the woman’s laughing? well it must be because she finds it funny, not because men have created such a hostile place to be that even the mere thought of standing up for yourself and reporting toxic behavior will get you outcast and fired.

boys will not just be boys. MEN should be held accountable for their actions and just because some of you think you have to Play Boy in order to move forward and be liked instead of standing up and calling out misogynistic behavior speaks for itself. it’s disgusting.

[superm4ks]

love seeing lewis at the f1 academy races. idk much about doriane but it seems like lewis is a great mentor/friend to her

'idk much about doriane' bet so Miss Pin aka pocket rocket aka Iron Lynx prodigal french daughter started competing full time in the GT3 class of Le Mans wid the Iron Dames and scored 5 podiums and finished 5th overall. She stayed wid the Lynx for their entry in the European Ferrari challenge and decimated bitches wid 9 wins out 14. Then in 2022 she joined the Lynx for the last leg of the super tough Le Mans Series, set a fastest lap in Spa-Francochamps HELLO and then in Portugal they clinched the LMGT3 title. That was the first time an all women's team won a race in that series. Yall

Anyway 2023 Dori switched to the LMP2 category in endurance and her team got a podium finish. She was the first woman to receive the WEC revelation of the year award. Cud have stayed in endurance but the degree of her success, adaptability and overall racing style started raising some eyebrows in single seaters. F4 was disgustingly light work. Finished p2 her rookie year. F1 Academy emerged from the depths of Suzannes bob and Doriane was Merc's pick to represent the team on the grid along wid Prema. She IS a Merc junior officially so like in a sense shes also Lewis' rookie 🥹 Lewis was the only f1 driver who publicly called bs after she lost a win for crossing the checkered flag twice ((why did she do that I love her sm she was so excited)). Also Lewis once got asked to pick 2 drivers to build a team wid and he picked Miss Pin and I crode. Her f1a season was a lil lackluster only because we already knew shes an incredible wheeler so anything below p2 wud be strange but Abbi completely stole the show fr. ((Abbis fastest timed lap in her first ever session driving an FE car was 4.5 seconds slower than the fastest time of the official pre season 3-day test. 😐 Then u think about how she said she was relieved she won the title and got the fully funded seat because otherwise she wud not have been able to afford racing. A seat in GB3 btw which is like british f3 but worse and the engines are worse than the ones in the already very mid car she just won a world title wid and shes gonna be driving against a bunch of 16 year olds to score less SL points than she wud in FUCKING F4 lemme . OK . They had Russells crypto girlfriend hosting an event about women in motorsport bro I'm so sick of this fucking make up sponsored fucking league whtvr.))

Doriane was supposed to drive for this years 24 Hrs of Le Mans wid the Dames but had to withdraw due to broken ribs. She was also on Jimmy Kimmel because she hasn't suffered enough ig and she looked like this and said her fav track in the US was Road Atlanta because 'she likes the organs going up and down'. I wud kill for this woman. Thank u

[girldriveroscar]

I firmly believe that the length of girl!oscar's hair depends entirely on how long her mum forced her to grow it before letting Oscar decide on her own.

If her mum gave up early and kept it short, then she'd never care to get through the growing out phase and it would stay short forever. On the other hand, if her mum got her through the growing out phase when she was young, then she'd just keep it long because it's easy enough to keep it as it is

YESSS EXACTLY!! wtv was the Most hassle free hair wld b oscars go to. one time she lets the hairdresser take control and do higlights n its in fact the best shes looked ever but the maintenance is just Not her style. her mom mourns that era Tragically but oscar cannot be arsed to pay that much and go that often. (millionaire whos frugal abt haircuts its True.)

assuming she had long hair though when lando gets her hands on it Finally it is Chaos. oscar lets her do whatever #nonchalant #downsobad nd she ends up with the most botched ginger bleached hair (lando spends $$$$ getting it fixed because she feels terrible) (lando also pays for styling. is Gagged when oscar gets a blowout and suddenly goes from girl next door to Holy Fuck you are actually stunning and Unreal) (has complicated feelings abt this. Oh shit ur hot feelings coming to light.)