#sports talk radio show
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
happybunnykat · 4 months ago
Text
Please for the love of god let the masses learn some phone etiquette
3 notes · View notes
nanamiskentos · 11 days ago
Text
SPORTS CAR ✤ jujutsu kaisen
Tumblr media
SYN. ➤ Zero decorum, max horsepower, full send. They don't just want the checkered flag, they want you wrecked and beggin'. This grid certainly doesn't play fair!
𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Gojō, Tōji, Chōsō, Sukuna, Kashimo, Yuki, Shoko
cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, FORMULA 1 AU, semi-publíc, praise, cockpit séx (highly inaccurate), possessive séx, chóking, spánking, reader is called 'bunny' in kashimo's, rough hándling, dírty talk, créampié, óral (f), mirror séx, backshóts, under the table, voice kínk, fíngeríng, overstím, squírting, medical pláy, tríbbing, strípping, cervíx kissing
wc. 8k
呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) i've watched every sports car x f1 edit on tiktok i think. any likeness or resemblance to real f1 drivers is only a coincidence, nor is this reflective of the real profession 😭 didn't write this with particular racers or teams in mind.
Tumblr media
☁︎ GOJŌ SATORU ➤ p1 & panting
". . he did it in tokyo, he did in kyoto, satoru gojo wins again, folks! that's his fifth prix win this season! absolutely unbelievable, my god."
the engine's still ticking down, the comms are crackling. you can barely register the deafening cheers before you're being yanked forward, senses overtaken by the scent of peppery armani.
"satoru –, wait," you're gasping, half-tripping into the cockpit as the pit crew's radio voice filters in.
"gojo, repeat, are you still in the car? you need to –"
but the headset cuts off with a click as he tears it from your ears, tossing it somewhere that you can't see. his crimson race gloves have been pulled off, but gojo's skin is still searing hot, slick with sweat and speed. pink lips parted, panting, not just from exhaustion, but from the look he's giving you.
"you're lucky i didn't pull you in mid-lap," gojo grins, and you fight the urge to tell him how impossible that would be, as his sharp white canines peek out from underneath his wolfish grin, flushed with victory, "baby, did you see that finish?"
you know the rational option here would be protesting, knowing that the team is probably workin' themselves up into a flurry in the garage, but it's hard not to feel light-headed and so damn hungry when gojo's gripping your waist, and dragging you just in front of the console, right up against the curve of the cramped cabin. thank god, the team opted for a mildly roomier cockpit this year, or else. . .
his helmet's off, snow-white hair a mess, and his jewel-blue eyes are electric, "i've got 'bout five minutes before they notice i'm not doing interviews." gojo's already pawing at your thighs, fingers desperate to tear down the waistband of your underwear, "i want them to wonder where i am."
gojo's teasing hands slips between your thighs, already playing with your slippery centre, and your boyfriend's leaning in, that rasp echoing against your cheek, "wanna show me how proud you are of your winner, baby?"
the car's still hot, the windows are fogging, and outside. . .the cameras are still flashing. but inside, it's just you and gojo, and the scent of burnt rubber and carbon fibre, and he's clearly not letting you go 'till you've screamed louder than the crowd.
gojo's already shoving his scarlet racing suit down to his shapely hips, movements sloppy with urgency as he settles you in his lap. long leaking cock already smearing a thin line of pre over his chiselled abdomen, "just a few minutes, sweets," he's murmuring against your throat, "we can make it work, yeah?"
you shouldn't, you really shouldn't. the entire paddock must be outside. the media, the team, the telemetry crew. . .everyone is either lookin' for him, or watching the live feed gojo's just abandoned. or they know not to look too closely, it's hard to challenge the king of the track when he's just pulled another podium win.
gojo's hands are rocking your hips back and forth, and he's determined to have as much of your slick coat his base before he truly snags his cock in. tongue laving at your jumping pulse, peppering sharp kisses against your soft flesh.
"t-toru –," you try, shaky breath catching as he continues to grind your folds against his cock, parting them to slot his thick shaft between them. teasing, and so sensitive.
"you looked soo hot standin' there," gojo murmurs, cerulean eyes lidded and starving to feel you drip arousal all over him, making a sticky mess, "lookin' so g-gorgeous, and – heh, this wet all f'me? is that it, baby? can't even think straight."
you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as his thick, bulbous tips snags against the hood of where you're most sensitive, giving your clit that most delicious friction you'd been craving.
"yeahhh," gojo purrs, nosing along your jaw, "i saw ya', crossed the finished line and thought how l-lucky i am that you're mine."
god, you just need to breathe through it, breathe through the incredible aphrodisiac that's called gojo satoru. he's already tweaking his fingers through your sopping cunt, dragging them against your folds to reach up and pinch at your clit.
"we don't have t-time –" but your thighs are shaking, heart already jumping at how close the stimulation has you to knocking on the door of a brilliant orgasm.
"i'll make time," gojo simply says, already lining himself up. the fucker's giggling to himself, heady and drunk from his win, slowly pattering his fingers up your abdomen as though he knows just how deep he's going to be. kneading at your groin, like x marks the spot.
the stretch simply steals the words from your mouth, rendering your language into a soft mush, shaken by how delicious his cock feels in your sticky, gummy walls. your head lolls against his broad, flushed shoulder — the creamy skin mottled strawberry-pink.
gojo's hissing, low and feral, absolutely gone as he holds you down, filling you straight to the hilt, each vein pressing and melding against your pussy.
"hahh, oh, baby," your boyfriend groans, bucking up once to test the clear water, fast and deep, like he wants to feel every tremble of your form above him, "always s-so perfect for me after a win."
the pace is brutal, desperate, made worse by how little space there is in the cockpit. your back slams into the dash, but it's softened by his large hand splayed across the skin. legs hooked haphazardly over his carved waist, bodies tangled in both victory and vice.
plap! plap! smack!
"ya' feel t-that," gojo pants, thrusts growing harsher, cock pressing up against that sweet spot that makes you sob, "that's what champions do, heh."
every low swirl of his shaking hips is hypnotic, and so dizzying, making a filthy mess that you know is going to puddle and seep into over his groin, soak into the curl of white hairs dusting the base of his girthy shaft.
"you gonna' cum for ya' w-winner?" gojo gasps, that priggish, love-struck grin still painted over his gorgeous features, even as his voice begins to shake, "say it, baby. tell me i'm your f-favourite."
"you, s-satoru," you half-sob, half-plead, "you're my favourite. god, it's so deep." wrecked, begging, and he groans like this is the podium he wanted all along.
your orgasm hits like white noise, blotting out the world beyond. you can barely register his stuttering hips, his sharp curses of your name, god, he loves you. his sharp breath hitches as gojo follows you over the edge.
satin-like ropes of cum shooting up to fill you up soo perfectly, and the world champion is sinking his teeth into your neck as he moans your name, low and ruined.
"i can't believe you were that horny n' hard after a race," you scold, body still trembling from the aftershocks. feeling warmth pool between your tacked groins, as your arousal mixes with him seed.
"you love it," gojo replies, not a hint of shame colouring his voice, "besides, this car's seen worse. like the time i got myself off, jus' thinking about you in spain. was only lookin' at you through the windows, that was enough."
"you did it on your own in this car, just from looking at me?"
gojo kisses your jaw, "don't shame me, i'm a sensitive man." he snickers as you smack his, holding you tighter.
outside, the pit crew must be losing their minds. but inside, gojo just won the real prize, and he's buried inside.
☁︎ GETŌ SUGURU ➤ in the devil's seat
the telemetry room is freezing, cold enough to keep everyone sharp and alert, absolutely on edge. but noting could make you more on edge than the hot seat that you're currently sitting in right now. just besides geto suguru, headseat askew, trying to not to moan when his fingers scissor through your folds again.
on the wall, the sector times update in real time, and god. . .the room is packed. screens flickering, engineers perched over the high chairs as they murmur, utterly focused on the little red dot zipping across the map.
see, you'd joined the team for simulations, not stimulations. but you're hardly one to complain, not when you know how much of an effect this has on geto. his sculpture-carved jaw is ticking, a faint flush blooming on the back of his neck that could be easily attributed to the excitement of the race.
"gojo, purple in sector two," geto's flatly leaning into the silver microphone, voice entirely level, "box this lap, copy?"
his other hand is under your waistband. two fingers, long and expert, utterly merciless, circle your slick folds deep and slow. knowing exactly how to make you tremble without a sound, thankfully, with the table in the way.
the rough pads of geto's fingertips are soaking up every beading drop of your arousal, his knuckles glossy with your release. he leans in, cool lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low and determined, "c'mon, stay still. don't want my pretty girl embarrassing herself."
you can only nod, biting your lower lip so hard that you swear iron blooms on your tongue. but it had been hard to resist anything when geto suguru looked at you like that before quali, pulling you aside and asking you to shadow him during the race. violet eyes lidded, the faintest watercolour brush of rose plastered over his cheekbones.
and. . .your headset is still on. one wrong noise, one hasty move, and everyone will probably hear exactly how you shadow the famed geto suguru. you're sure your microphone levels are low enough so they don't pick up on the constant, sloppy squelch! of geto's middle and ring finger plunging into your dripping core.
"my clever girl," geto coos, but his eyes don't shift from watching the golden boy's onboards (gojo satoru, of course). well, aside from the temporary loss in his composure when you clench the sticky walls of your inner muscles against his fingers, his ink-dark lashes briefly fluttering wide in shock. lookin' close enough to spill a thick load in his slacks.
your body must be shaking now, your thighs trembling with the herculean exertion that geto's pulling from you. every new lap, every clean turn from gojo is matched by geto sinking his fingers deeper into you, drawing slack and curling up against that sweet, rough patch until you choke on a whimper.
a wan smile twitches his lips, almost amused. fond, even. he's caught it, he knows just how close you are to spilling over his hands. that release that he's just equally desperate to chase, geto needs you to fall apart on him.
"there it is," geto's purring, and you can barely hear the excitement his tone over the ringing in your ears, "good girl." someone's leaning over from behind, and thank god they can't see exactly what's been going on beneath the table, "suguru, sector 3 delta just spiked."
geto doesn't blink, temporarily halting the wet sloshes that he's composing between your thighs. rather, focusing some much needed attention on the swollen bundle of nerves beneath your mound, "that's expected. wind change near turn fourteen."
his thumb roughly tacks beneath the glistening hood, "you're doing so well," geto breathes against your temple, "think you've earned a reward after this. . .or a punishment, what'd you say?"
it only takes three more tender, pounding hits of his long fingers against the most sensitive spots. your eyes flutter shut, mouth pressed thinly as you're determined to not cry, nor gasp and moan. but each swipe of geto's digits against your clit undos your resolve further and further, your thighs shaking from the extra stimulation.
and when gojo wins the pole, cheers breaking through your headset, the room leaping to its feat, geto doesn't even flinch. he's slowly withdrawing his hand from your waistband. fingertips pruned, sticky and warn as he slips them into your mouth. discreet, hungry.
"clean up, gorgeous," geto gruffly whispers, his mauve eyes drawn to how your lips eagerly part around his index finger, "we should celebrate tonight."
your head must be spinning, legs numb from what geto has wrought from you, that dazzling orgasm that leaves the world awash in shades of silver and white. you can taste yourself, that bittersweet tang on his fingers, and it renders you dazed.
"thaaaat's it, beautiful," geto laughs, licking the last of your moans and release from his finger, "now you're learnin' real strategy."
☁︎ RYŌMEN SUKUNA ➤ crash into me
the door of the driver's trailer slams shut behind you, like a starting light hitting green. your back hits the wall you before you can even speak, before you can even wonder at what exactly has gotten into your fiancé now.
ryomen sukuna's warm hand is wrapped around your throat, a thumb gently soothing at the lower juncture of your jaw. his other hand is still smudged with track rubber and sticky grease, gripping your waist tight enough to deliciously bruise.
"they think i'm reckless," sukuna's voice is a hot, sharp growl in your ear, "then let's give 'em a reason to blacklist me, eh, sweetheart?"
perhaps it would be wiser to interrupt him, to warn sukuna that the media is still swarming outside, and this is the last thing the fia will tolerate from him. but russet eyes are almost. . .tender as they roam over you, his grasp on the base of your neck enough to make your brain melt and your knees forget how to hold you up.
"wanna' be my podium, girl? i should have you on your knees, don't ya' agree?" sukuna's still in his fireproofs, unzipped just enough to expose the broad, tan expanse of his chest. the inky-black tattoos crawling down his skin, some sin-streaked marks that you ache to press your lips to.
maroon eyes gleam, still utterly high off the chaos of the race, from the penalty that cost him his pole for the rest of the weekend. and you? well, you're gonna' have to be his victory lap instead.
you moan, wanton and improper, as sukuna's mouth teases down your neck, pressing to your collarbones before clawed nails tear open your blouse as though it's a paper flag, yanking you forward by a sturdy, yet thin chain. bringing you closer still, eye to eye with the racer that the world calls the king of curses.
and of course, what else would be dangling from the chain but his name? sukuna, the kanji letters encrusted with small precious stones, a gift that he had surprised you with for your most recent anniversary.
"hah, you wear this for me? cute lil' trophy like you're my number one fan, orrr my good luck charm?"
sukuna pushes you against the opposite wall, jostling the numerous trophies that already litter the shelves. you gasp, certain that pools of arousal must already be glistening between your thighs. his hand slides lower, rough and greedy, impatient as he tends to be. slipping past the lace edge of your panties to paw at your sopping folds.
he's groaning, hot and heavy, feeling just how wet you are. sukuna's almost ecstatic at the thought that his girl was walkin' around with such a. . .waterpark between her legs. primed to gush over him, to soak the base of his cock with every nasty thrust that he's daydreaming about.
"you're s-soaked, sweetheart. you're likin' this, aren'tcha?"
your head lolls as you nod, succumbing to the sweet hands of pleasure throbbing below your groan. sukuna smacks your thigh, and the force is hard enough for your eyes to flutter open, his warm hand gently running over the stung skin to soothe the flesh, "eyes on me, girl. remember what i said 'bout being my podium? ya' gotta' earn it."
there's little warning before sukuna scoops you up, lifting you bridal style, only to throw you down onto the little couch in the corner of the trailer, yanking the remainder of his race suit down with a snarl, "s-see, this is what they gotta' know. i can't do. . .slow or soft. i win, heh."
you know full well that sukuna is capable of both slow and soft, and thick, heavy strokes that dig through your cunt as he often holds you down in the most delicious mating press. but you're not eager to quite rain on his ego parade, unless, of course, it's a different sort of rain from between your legs that he can eagerly lap up.
sukuna must be leaving marks on your hips, teeth on your collarbone, handprints on your thighs. each thrust of his thick, wide cock must be some punishment for the stewards, for the world, for the fact that he didn't really get to break someone out there today.
but you, his gorgeous wife-to-be? you can take it, and sukuna has to hide the rapid flush blooming over his face, opting to nip at the back of your neck.
"we're gonna' do this 'till those fuckin' stewards retract that penalty," sukuna pants into your ear, thick cock rummaging sweet patterns right up into you as the tufts of soaked blush-pink hair are pressed right against you. imprinting the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock in a way that has you seeing stars and gasping oh so prettily, "or 'till the walls fall in, whichever comes first."
☁︎ TŌJI FUSHIGURO ➤ wrenched wide open
it started with a wrench, and no, not a metaphorical tool. a literal wrench, dropped from your armful of gear, clanging far too loudly against the concrete in the empty garage. you're flinching, cursing under your breath. it's past dark, rain still slickin' the floor outside, and most of the team's already gone.
you shouldn't be here, you're just the rookie. you're supposed to be following orders, not fuckin' around with loose bolts and leftover adrenaline. which is exactly when you realise that you're not quite alone.
the metal shutter behind you slams down with a mechanical growl, loud and final. you whip around. . .toji fushiguro. beefy arms folded, sweat clinging to the curve of his neck. verdant eyes darker than engine oil, and just as dangerous.
he doesn't speak right away, just watches as you clench your thighs, almost sub-consciously (or so he thinks, little does he know that you know just how to rile him up).
"you always this sloppy, doll? or just when i'm watching?"
your skin is flushed, heat crawling up your spine as though it's chasing the storm outside. toji's eyes are deliciously dragging down your body, lingering on the curve of your hips, the way your soaked polo clings to your chest.
he knows exactly what you want.
toji's already moving, and he's on you in two steps, rough fingers curling around your wrist, grunting as he tugs you backwards. your spine hitting the warm sidepod of the car, the paint is still slick from rain and truck dust, and it makes you shiver.
"i rebuilt this v6 before breakfast," toji mutters, voice thick with gravel, and the promise of upcoming sin, "let's see if you can last longer than that."
one of toji's veined hands are braced beside your head, the other already on your thighs. teasing, slow as they drag up your soaked coveralls until —
"you ever been fucked like this, doll? no? good, first time for everything."
toji doesn't wait, he doesn't hesitate, for he lifts you as though you're just another part he's decided to torque into place. your legs wrap around his waist out of sheer instinct, and he's grinding deeply into you. a thick and heavy bulge pressed right up against you, his scarred lips grazing your ear, "look at ya', all squirmy for me in your pretty team gear. bet ya' touched yourself thinkin' about this, 'bout me."
hah, he's right. but you're not going to give him the express satisfaction of knowing just how many times you had straddled the edge of your bed back in the hotel, legs spread wide as you softly grazed your swollen clit with rough fingers, imagining it was toji picking you apart.
you stifle a lazy, drawn-out moan when toji finally shoves your coveralls down, when grease-stained fingers slide between your thighs with no patience, just raw want. you can see how toji's jaw slackens, maw wide at how soaked you already are.
"f-fuck," toji grins, pressing his forehead to yours, so his choppy raven bangs gently kiss your skin, "you're wetter than the goddamn track out there, doll."
his fingers are fast, expert and precision-tuned. two knuckles deep and curling just right, while toji's other hand fists in your shirt, dragging you against his muscled chest, "stay quiet f'me." and it's not a suggestion.
you try, but the noise still slip in tiny gasps and stuttering moans, caught against his shoulder as he works you open with practiced ease. your hands claw at his arms, at his rippling biceps as he preps you.
"that's it, gorgeous, let go. you gon' cum for me already?" toji grunts, thumbing at your clit with precise precision, "yeah? who knew you'd like being handled like a busted part? it's okay, girl, i got you."
you're shaking, barely biting back a whimper as he works you right through, feeling his lengthy cock already hard and pressing through his thick, rough pants.
it's an earth shattering orgasm that launches right at you, your back arched against the side of the car, his fingers still dipping through your glossy folds. toji's coaxing you right through the orgasm as if he's fine-tuning a prized engine.
and then, he's pulling right back. unzipping his pants with one hand, the other still planted firmly between your thighs, "hope ya' weren't planning on walking tomorrow, doll."
the wiry, fine hairs at the base of thick cock immediately brush up against your ass, such was the firm precision and speed of toji jackhammering himself into his new delightful home. heavy and deep, so you can feel the smack! of thick, weighted balls against your plush flesh.
the stretch burnin' in the best way possible honestly, and you're crying out, but his palm claps over your mouth immediately, emerald eyes narrowed and sleazy grin crooked, "ah, ah, gotta' be quiet. wouldn't want the interns hearin' what their favourite engineer gets up to after hours, eh?"
you just moan against his palm, and toji groans. hips slamming harder, rougher and relentless. his other hands grabs your jaw, thumb sliding down to press into your throat, not choking. jus' holding, reminding you who's in charge. for now, you blithely wonder, visions of milking toji dry already blooming in your mind.
but it's hard to not fall apart almost immediately, his thick tip swabbing at your most sensitive points. twitching, and pulsing, clenching around toji's cock in a way that makes him follow suit. thick, glossy ropes of heavy, strong cum spurting right out of him, the sheer volume so much that it leaks straight out of you, dribbling down your thighs.
toji's biting hard enough to leave marks, claiming and branding. and you would swear that you hear him whisper sweet nothings that he would sooo deny in the morning, praises about how you're the sweetest thing ever, and he's just gotta' have you.
and then, simply just because he's toji fushiguro, he grabs the nearest shop rag, wiping at the mess from your stomach and thighs without blinking. stuffing it into his pocket as though it's nothing, "gonna' head back and get myself off with this doll, see ya' at the briefing tomorrow." already zipping up, packing that monster-length cock (yeah, seriously) back into his pants.
and. . . did he just steal your panties? you stare dumbly after him, hearing his footsteps recede as your maw slackens, before you quickly pick up the pace, "hey! toji, wait up!"
☁︎ CHŌSŌ KAMO ➤ throttle control
you noticed choso kamo before he ever even spoke to you. everyone else at the pre-season shoot was all swagger and self-tanner, yelling over for each other and muggin' for the cameras like it was monaco already.
choso, though? off to the side in full black and mauve team gear, rain jacket zipped up despite the heat. headphones in, hazel eyes still as he seemed to be gunning for the most not like other girls title ever.
not shy, not awkward. just. . . still. like the calm before the thunder, the silence before the powerful storms that often rolled in with your fellow drivers. like gojo satoru or hajime kashimo, ugh.
he's often quiet, and never resistant. rookie drivers usually have some sorta' ego or walls. choso has neither. he just nods, your name falling from his pale lips in low and reverent symbols. moving aside so you can stand beside him for the sponsor shoot. no plastered, winning smile, just eyes that track you like the managers track the telemetry data.
you ignore the heat curlin' in your stomach, or you try to. and it's just soo much worse when you catch his eyes on you, watching again. and again, as though you're a famous painting with strokes that he wants to memorise and commit to preservation.
so, there's really no other move but to corner him after the barcelona press run, heart pounding like a misfiring clutch, "what?" you're teasing, "you only speak in throttle maps and finish times?"
choso says little and less, but his voice is as quiet as rainfall as he sniffs, cheeks flushed sakura-blossom pink, "i would touch you, if you would have me. and then, i wouldn't know how to stop."
yeah, you remembered that you stopped breathing after that, right when everyone was being rushed into their cars, the respective engineers snappin' in their ears.
but choso crashes out in a stormy qualifying. a rookie mistake, too fast on the apex, rear tires losing grip. he's not hurt, thank god, but the radio teams go dead, and when you tumble back to the garages, he's soaked, still in his fireproofs, fists clenched with eyes dark and hollow, as though he's miles away from here.
"choso –"
he grabs you, not harsh nor urgent. just sudden, desperate. right behind the stacked tire warmers like a man starving for you, and you only.
"don't leave, angel," choso pants, voice ragged against your neck, "not yet, need to feel something good, something. . . that isn't failure. i mean, c-can i –"
you nod once, a thick lump suddenly in your throat presenting an ironic whiplash to the low throb in your groin. it starts soft, it always does with him, and it doesn't surprise you.
choso's hands are wet, shaking, ghosting up underneath your compression top. one glove still one, the rough texture pinching your pert nipple, teasing over your chest. the other glove? he pulls off with his teeth, slow and silent as he tosses it away. touching you like every second of it is a prayer answered.
and then, finally, choso kisses you. not a peck, nor testing. devouring. slick mouth on yours as though it's the last lap, and you're the checkered flag. his tongue drags against your lips, fingers twisted into your waistband as though he's afraid you vanish from his grasp.
"y-you're the only thing that makes me lose control like this, angel," choso whispers, voice raspy and streaked with gravel, barely audible under the storm still hissing off the track. he's got you on the back of the wall now, kisses trailing lines down your throat, soft teeth scraping skin.
you can only arch for him, dizzy with the weight and want of him. knowing exactly what typa' width and length he must be packing in the pretty curve of his blue-veined cock.
his hips grind against yours, slow at first, as though he's restraining himself, but the second your mouth releases a soft whimper, "cho –, please," well. . . the switch flips, and he's gasping. mouth biting at your jaw, your collar, hands suddenly everywhere.
gripping, pinning, claiming. his glove slides under your panties like silk over fire, fingers moving in smooth n' practiced strokes that make your knees buckle.
"so w-wet already," choso murmurs, breath warm against your skin, "you like when i touch you like this, angel?"
you nod, or maybe, you cry out in pleasure. he swallows up the sound with his mouth on yours. fucking you with his fingers 'til you're shaking, overstimulated, clutching at his dark fireproofs with nails and moans, and fevered pleas of more, choso! more!
"been thinkin' about how you'd sound," choso groans, face buried in your neck, "when i make you cry." and you do, from the pressure, the stretch, the relentless way he owns every inch of you.
his other hand quickly pushes the band of his boxers down. revealing the prettiest cock that you'd ever laid eyes upon, glorious and standing tall, and already leaking. your mouth waters, salivating at the idea of laving over each purple vein.
so when he finally pushes into you, raw and thick, buried deep, your whole body arches into his. slotting like the most perfect puzzle pieces, as choso whispers your name as though it's holy.
"mine," choso breathes, fucking you slow and deep, and you feel almost heady on his scent (well, that and the wafting fuel). but he rummages his cock through you as though he's carving you right out, "mine, say it. p-please, say it, angel."
oh, and you do. over and over, 'til it's not even words anymore, just sounds, sobs, tremours between kisses and moans, and skin on skin. after, when your back is sticky with heat, and his mouth is still at your throat, choso doesn't let go, peppering his lips to your waiting mouth, "i'm sorry, didn't mean to be rough."
you have a faint vision of headlines tomorrow, tiktoks being posted blatantly circling the blooming love bites over your neck, and you just can't help but pull him in closer, looping your arms around his thick neck to meld your lips against his, "don't apologise, cho. just don't stop."
his smile is small, tired, but lovestruck. kissin' you again like he's already addicted.
☁︎ HAJIME KASHIMO ➤ disqualified for conduct
so. . . you had been warned. every other pr manager on the team had handed you his file like it was some cursed object. one crossed himself, another just whispered, "he's impossible to manage, good luck."
they were talking about hajime kashimo, the track's golden boy, of course. thunder on the track, a menace in the paddock. the gist of it was pretty simple: he wins, he grins, he fucks.
you figured it couldn't be that bad. you'd handled difficult drivers before, all of their inflated egos, tempers and tantrums, so why would you not be ready?
oh, how wrong you were.
he doesn't even try to pretend to be decent during interviews, flirting and batting his lashes through every question like the camera was his bedroom mirror. you did your best to pretend your breath didn't hitch, and your thighs didn't jump and clench with each 'good girl' bestowed upon you.
"tch', kashimo, zip up those fireproofs. you gotta' be on the big screen in ten."
teal eyes undoing you (truly, undressing you) with lightning-precise intensity, "you can zip 'em up now, bunny. and you can unzip them after podium too."
"go fuck yourself."
"oh, when you say it like that, maybe –"
yeah, that sums up the push and pull relationship between you and hajime kashimo. so it's not a vast surprise when it all pools over one hot afternoon in monza. practice is long over, and the team is distracted by data feedback and tire degradation, somethin' about slamming down the big hotshot, gojo satoru.
but of course, 'round the corner, it's just your luck. kashimo, half-naked, towel slung low, with cyan hair loose and damp over his toned, sculpted shoulders. you try not to trail your eyes past the beads of exertion that slick across his carved abdominals.
"keep looking at me like that, gorgeous," kashimo snickers, towel slipping just an inch in a way that answers the question of whether the carpet matches the drapes, "and i'll put you in my cockpit instead of the car."
you shove him, doing your best to fight the furious flush threatening to sink you to your aching knees, "seriously, that's the best you could come up with?"
"is that a yes, bunny?"
"only if you win tonight."
ah, but you should have known hajime kashimo is never all bark, no bite. he walks the talk, and there's nothin' that man craves more than a challenge, a fight to get his blood roaring.
it slips your mind entirely, that vow of yours, not even when the entire team is leaping up and down, pulling each other into tight embraces as kashimo scores pole position once more. his turquoise, jewel-tone eyes are bright, wild despite the late hour and the physical exertion of over an hour of supersonic speed.
a hand is already pulling you into the back of the motorhome, setting you right down over. . . the champagne crate.
"hah, knew i had to win out there, gorgeous. knew i had to win just for you."
it's hard to know who initiated it, but you're kissing kashimo, and he's kissing you, — pouring the taste of expensive liquor and mint into your mouth as you suck on his tongue, rake your nails through his scalp.
kashimo's whirling you around, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck, "let's do a lap, bunny. face down, ass up? i can show ya' my best handling."
yeah, what hajime kashimo lacks for in hefty girth, he makes up for in sheer length. kashimo's groaning into your ear, hissing as his cock finally sinks into the soft embrace of your glistening pussy, one hand on your hip and the other rattling hard enough against the plush of your ass to leave fingerprints.
smack!
"sound off for me, gorgeous."
smack!
"thaaaat's it, be loud. everyone should know that i'm the one who's got ya' so pretty, just folded over for me."
you're gnawing on your lower lip, tugging at the skin, desperate to not babble out mindless cries of his name, and kashimo notices. and he's no fan of that, elegant hands grabbing your hair and pulling you up so you can both face the truck's back mirror.
"look at yourself," kashimo pants, still thrusting so deep in you that you're certain each vein has been permanently memorised and printed in your guts, "look at how good ya' take me, like you were built for it."
" –jime, hajime, 'm close," you whine, eyes absolutely cross-eyed and hazy as you let yourself get lost in the sweet, sweet sensation. moaning his name broken and breathless, and it's enough to shatter the infallible kashimo.
kashimo's grunting, a thunderclap in your ear, as he tears the remainder of your underwear off with a sodden rrrrrip! whirling you around once more to hike your leg up onto the crate, swung around his waist to draw him closer inwards.
you know when he finishes inside you, as though he's chasing the fastest lap. hard, quick and deep enough to leave your legs boneless and quivering.
"gonna' make you c-cum again," kashimo groans against your ear, kissing your shoulder as he mouths at your tits, "one more. c'mon, bunny, give it to me, i earned that trophy. wanna' fuck you in my racing suit next."
☁︎ TSUKUMO YUKI ➤ manual override
you still remember your first interview with tsukumo yuki. she had flounced into the room with her black race suit peeled halfway down, sports bra damp with seat, sipping champagne from the bottle.
but you had barely finished your first question before the statuesque blonde had leaned forward, gaze hungry, "you wanna' talk about control systems, baby, or do you wanna' know how i make people lose theirs?"
you should have walked away, but instead, you watched her lick frothy champagne off her thumb like it was all you ever wanted. and you were. . . hooked. now yuki seeks you out in the paddock, every time, pressing too close, tugging you closer by your lanyard, murmuring in your ear, "lookin' a lil' stiff, doll. want me to loosen you up after quali?"
so, this time, she had just set p3 in the wet, slippery rain. helmet already peeled off, golden hair flipping over her face as she catches sight of you, recorder in hand.
"yuki, congrats on quali! do you think the wet weather gave you any –"
a quick hand snatches the mic, plucking it right off your collar and shoving it deep into her thick pockets, "baby, we got plenty of time later, hah, for an interview."
that adrenaline-high look in her big, brown eyes is all too recognisable, and you should have foreseen how she'd drag you right behind the trailer. pinning you to the hood of her personal car, no doubt worth millions, skin still searing from the race.
"come onnn, ya' like fast girls, don't you," yuki whispers, voice a low purr, her sun-streaked hair tickling and kissing your cheek. she's laying you flat across the hood, race suit still hanging half-on, grinding her hips down until you're gasping, biting your lip with whimpers of please, please. . . more!
"say it louderrr, sweetheart." her lips pressed to your navel as you whine for her to sweep her tongue even lower.
"c'mon, you interview champions, right? maybe in your interview, you can tell the press how good i fuck." a kiss now dotted over your hips, slowly following the juncture angle down to your throbbing mound.
"y-yuki," you mewl, unable to hold back the hungry, raw cry when she parts your thick, outermost folds to suckle at your clit, "ouuh, so sensitive. . ."
no mercy, no hesitation. she laps at your folds as though she's setting the fastest lap record, grinning as you're shaking, "that's my pretty girl. still breathing?"
if you wrench your head far back enough at an uncomfortable angle, you can see just how filthy the sight is. yuki's entirely on her knees now, golden hair splayed about her as she nips and licks at your dripping cunt, her chin all glossed up as she drags the lower half of her face through your wetness.
through the haze, you realise that yuki's murmuring something. groaning low into your pussy as though she's speaking to her. the biceps in her muscled arms rippling as she slathers a thick kiss to your cute, twitching clit, "three."
her short fingernails trailing through your cunt, teasing at your winking, glossy entrance, "two."
pink lips separating from your pussy with transparent, clear strands of tangy glossy, and yuki's smacking her mouth, clearly some form of pussydrunk that only you unlock within her, "one."
and bulls-eye, the scrape of her finger in a crooked, come-hither moition against that small, rough patch in your pussy makes you squeal, then groan. the sensation building up until it's just too much and you're gushing over her face. thin, liquid arcs splattering against yuki's beautiful, delighted features as she slaps at your sopping pussy.
"think they'll let me keep a strap in the trailer just so ya' can do that alll over again?"
☁︎ IEIRI SHOKO ➤ flatline me
who hadn't heard of shoko ieiri? the doctor for your team, the surgeon, gorgeous with cinnamon brown hair and dark eyes. you had gotten used to seeing her with a lighter in one hand, and your medical file in the other.
stitchin' bodies back together with blinking, and yet, she couldn't care less about your hotshot reputation. and frankly, you only wanted her even more. so when you ended up with your top off, sprawled on the infirmary table after some stupid spin-out, icing your thigh and nursing a bruised shoulder, you had tried to be charming.
"am i finally your favourite patient, doc?"
shoko only glances up from her scrawled notes, the barest twitch of amusement tugging at her glossy, peach lips. she was still striking a match, lighting a cigarette with practiced ease, her gaze settling on you like a blade to skin.
"hah, hardly," she huffs, "but you could scream the loudest, how 'bout that?" elegant fingers already coming to rest on the waistband of her blue slacks, and you can't help but gulp. resisting the urge to blow your cool or let out some obscene looney-tunes ass wolf whistle.
"strip," shoko murmurs, her tone cool, "i can't help you get better unless i can a proper look." she must be confident that no one would dare interrupt her, that none would walk in while you're urgently pulling your sports bra off your head — and she's discarding her pants elsewhere, revealing creamy, pale thighs that you're desperate to sink your teeth into.
you can feel her oak gaze on you, cataloguing every bruise, every scrape as though you were just another anatomy lesson. but you certainly don't miss how her pink tongue briefly laves over her lower lip, her eyes widening as they roam over your bare chest, focus on how you shimmy right out of your racing suit — till you're bare and naked, legs crossed one over the other .
chilled fingers finally touch your thigh, prodding the faint bruise you've acquired with sharp pressure. you're not ashamed to admit it, a moan escapes your trembling lips.
"you're sloppy, sweet thing," shoko mutters, voice as smooth as ill-fated poison that's honey to your ears, "crash dummy with a death wish."
you hiss as she slaps your thigh, just once. . .not gently. her eyes focused on how your flesh ripples under her touch.
"diagnostic," shoko adds, lips quirked faintly as your body tenses under her hungry gaze, "don't whine, 'cause i warned you." her hands are cold, and the soft pads of her fingertips pinch at your hips, pulling the tender flesh up as your thighs clench. you know that there must be some translucent slick seeping into the medical bedding beneath you.
"i don't think you've earned this," shoko concludes, finally pulling away from you, "but i'm tired of standing up." her fingers hook into the elastic band of her sleek, dark underwear, pulling the fine-woven fabric down until she can kick it off.
leaving your mouth slack in awe at the wondrous prospects you've landed with — the soft curl of dark hair between her thighs, and how shoko's pushing your hips down, climbing onto you so you can peek a flash of slippery pink as she settling over your groin. your pussy already pulsing and twitching at the mere brush of contact between the two of you.
shoko straddles you now, her lower half entirely bare as she pins you in place, cool hands running over your bare chest, your wrist, your jaw. she's still got her tight-knitted blue top clinging to your chest, the white coat thrown over her shoulders, and you're desperate to peel them off her.
"keep quiet, sweet thing," shoko orders, her voice a low hum against your throat, "or i'll have to find another way to shut you up." it's obscene, hearing the wet, sloppy slick of your folds kissing hers.
god, she moves like she's dissecting you, studying you. controlled, methodical and merciless. you're already shaking beneath her, every nerve burning, every sound you made swallowed by the pressure of her palm over your tongue. or the bitter taste of dark coffee on her tongue.
your body arches, hips twitching to desperately attach against hers, aching to feel the kiss of her clit against your own. flushed muscles quivering as whines of her name fall from your lips in a begging, pleading tone, but it doesn't seem to move shoko to helping you finish faster.
"don't be pathetic, pretty," shoko pants into your ear, her sleek dark hair falling over her face. and it's some satisfaction to know that she's just as affected, and that the low throb against your groin is her filthy release absolutely drenched over you, "i've barely even started."
everytime you felt as through your climax was in arm's reach, her touch would ice over, only to flood you with heat again, a cruel rhythm that left your head spinning.
"you look good like this, sweet thing," shoko murmurs, tilting her head as she straightens her spine, angling her hips so she can press herself to your sticky folders even more.
you whimper, and she laughs — even as your legs can't stop shaking and you feel too fucked-out in this bed of pleasure to even form a coherent thought. until all you can chase after is the fastening pace of her hips against yours, the sight of shoko dipping her fingers between your folds to sip at your arousal.
you're not even embarrassed at the utterly pornographic moans escaping your kiss-stung lips, sharp cries of shoko's name echoing through the infirmary as she soothes sharp circles over your clit, grinding her pussy against yours with your thighs intertwined.
"god, you taste so s-sweet," shoko bites off, dark eyes peering down at you, almost as though she's embarrassed that you've pulled these reactions from her.
wet cunts tacked to each other as she swipes a hand behind your back, pulling you up so she can hook her legs around your waist. jostling up n' down, over and over, and you catch the doctor's almost wolfish grin, she's guiding your hands beneath the fabric of her top, "c'mon, are you gonna' help me or not, baby?"
3K notes · View notes
harrysfolklore · 7 months ago
Text
max verstappen being the perfect boyfriend: a compilation
Tumblr media
summary: max verstappen can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it
folkie radio: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAXIEEE, it's been a minute since the last time i did a compilation blurb and this felt like the perfect occasion to bring them back, i hope you like this!
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
Max Verstappen, three time world champion and the best driver of his generation is known for his incredible driving skills and relentless pursuit of victory on the track.
However, behind the wheel, Max has another passion that rivals his love for racing: his girlfriend.
In every interview, press conference, and social media post, Max can't help but gush about her, seamlessly sharing stories of their life together into conversations about lap times and race strategies.
Fans quickly began doing compilation videos about all the times he mentioned his girlfriend publicly, and those gathered millions of views across social media platforms.
The most popular one was called "Max Verstappen being the perfect boyfriend: a compilation," and it began with a video of Max arriving to the paddock for media day, Red Bull's social media team filming him while he answered some rapid fire questions.
"Waffles or Pancakes? You know I used to love pancakes but I think I've had too many because my girlfriend is obsessed with making them," he said as he signed some stuff, "So I would go for Waffles at the moment, but if my girlfriend is watching this I'd say I take her pancakes every day."
The next clip was from a post qualifying interview, and of course, Max earned the pole position, the interviewer had asked him what was expecting for the race the following day.
"To win of course, that's what I'm here for," he said with so hesitation, "But I'm also looking forward to it because my girlfriend will be here, it's the first race she attends this season and I can't wait to see her in the crowd while I take on the podium."
The video moved to show Max with his teammate Sergio Perez, they were playing a game of Green Flag or Red Flag, they were asked about people who film themselves at the gym and Max immediately waved the red flag.
"I actually don't go to the gym anymore," Max added, "I get annoyed by everyone else so I just exercise at home."
"So no topless selfies, not even at home," the interviewer said.
"I don't need to impress anyone, I've got my girlfriend, so," Max shrugged.
The next clip was taken from Max's own Youtube channel, he was showing some of his preparation routine for a race, that included some neck training, checking statistics, quick meetings with his team and engineers among other things.
And of course, his girlfriend made an appearance, standing in a corner watching everything unfold. He approached her, race suit on and helmet in hand, kissed her lips gently as she caressed his arm.
"Be safe out there okay?" her voice could be faintly heard.
"Always schatje, I love you."
In the next segment, Max had just earned his second world championship and was doing a casual interview for a sports channel.
"Do you have your girlfriend now call you 'Two time world champion Max Verstappen' or just Max,"
"Definitely not the first one," Max laughed, "She'd never do that, she says she likes to keep me humble."
"Your girlfriend has a pet name for you?" the guy asked again.
"We call each other a bit different but I prefer not to say that on camera," Max laughed again, "I don't want the internet to make fun of me for being cheesy."
The next clip was from Max's streamings, he was too immersed in a game that he didn't hear his girlfriend come into the room, noticing her presence when she leaned into him.
Out of habit of keeping their privacy, he covered the camera but forgot to turn his mic off.
"Schatje I'm streaming," he said, unaware that everyone could hear him.
"Oh I'm sorry, I was going to ask if you could feed the cats but I'll do it myself," his girlfriend spoke.
"No I'll do it, just let me get off the stream,"
"Baby, there's no need," she insisted.
"I was missing you anyways, just give me a minute."
His audience couldn't see anything but they clearly heard how Max kissed his girlfriend's lips, turning his attention back to the screen, he realized that he was broadcasting their conversation to everyone.
His viewers went wild in the chat, spamming heart emojis and comments about how sweet the couple was. Max ended the stream with a laugh, addressing his fans. "Alright, you heard the boss. I gotta go feed the cats. See you all next time."
On the same note, another clip from a video for RedBull with Checo was included, they had been asked to show the most recent picture in their phones.
"Oh it's from this morning, my girlfriend with the kids," Max said, showing the picture to the camera.
"The kids?" Checo asked with a laugh.
"The cats are our kids," Max shrugged, "Jimmy and Sassy Verstappen."
A particularly touching moment was from a press conference after a difficult race. Max had finished fifth, a rare position for him given his usual dominance. When asked how he dealt with setbacks, he gave a candid response.
"It can be tough, but my girlfriend always knows how to lift my spirits. She's my biggest supporter and always finds the right words to say. Just being with her makes everything better, no matter how bad the race went."
During a clip of Max giving a tour of the Red Bull factory, he stopped at a wall covered in race-winning memorabilia. Among the trophies and champagne bottles, there was a small, framed photograph.
"This is special to me," Max pointed it out, "It's from my first win with Red Bull. But look closer..."
The camera zoomed in to show a young woman in the background of the photo, cheering in the pit lane.
"That's my girlfriend," Max said softly. "She was there for my first win, and she's been there for every one since - even if she can't always be at the track. The team knew how much that meant to me, so they made sure she was in this photo when they framed it."
In the next segment, Max was asked about his favorite off-track activity.
"I love cooking," Max grinned, "Well, more like watching my girlfriend cook. She's amazing in the kitchen, and I'm just there to taste-test everything."
The compilation included a moment during a press conference, Max addressed a question about his girlfriend facing criticism online. The question arose after she received negative comments following a public appearance with him.
"Look, it's tough sometimes," Max began, his expression turning serious. "She didn't choose this life, but she supports me through everything. It's not fair for her to get hate just because of who she's dating. If you have a problem with me that's fine but don't go after my family or my girlfriend because that is just unacceptable."
The final clip that wrapped the video us was from the FIA Prize Giving ceremony, Max received his trophy for winning the 2023 championship.
In his acceptance speech, he thanked his team, his family, and, of course, his girlfriend.
"Winning races and championships is amazing, but having someone by your side who believes in you and supports you unconditionally is truly special. To my girlfriend, thank you for being my rock and my biggest cheerleader. I love you."
The screen faded to black, showing a text that read: Max Verstappen, three time world champion and the perfect boyfriend.
5K notes · View notes
starkidmunson · 1 year ago
Text
glitter & crimson
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
“Marry.”
“What?”
“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”
“Eddie, we’re not playing FMK; you’re supposed to be telling me his name.”
“Oh. That’s…. Joe Jonas.”
“…he’s literally from Hawkins. And he’s holding a hockey stick.”
“Nobody from Hawkins is that hot, man, no way.”
~~~
Gareth posts the clip to his personal TikTok. Before he can get around to reposting it on Corroded Coffin’s band account, it has more than 100k views. Things only spiral from there, because once the band shares it, the video goes more viral and ends up on the screens of the right people.
chiblkhwks: harrington94 is social media challenged, but we’re going to make sure he sees this. Will keep you posted.
The comment is immediately overshadowed by a busy day of PR. A photoshoot to an interview to a radio show to the green room at the Fillmore in Boston, before an intimate pre-album release show for members of their fan club. Eddie has completely forgotten about the video entirely, but Gareth’s phone pings with a text notification.
“A response has been issued!” He declares to the room, still grinning down at the screen of his phone.
The rest of the band shares a collectively confused look, all seeming pleased to find they’re not alone in whatever they’ve missed.
“What?” Jeff asks for the group.
In lieu of an explanation, Gareth just flips the phone in his hand around to show a TikTok, stitched with the clip they’d made earlier that morning.
~~~
“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”
#Stitch
“Is… is that supposed to be a compliment?” Steve asks, making a pinched face as he laces up his skates.
“You watched the whole video. He compared you to Joe Jonas.” The girl behind the camera responds, but he levels her with an unimpressed look. She doesn’t respond, and after a beat, he sighs.
“Yeah, alright, I guess Joe Jonas is hot. I’ll take the compliment.” He huffs, standing to his feet and moving from the bench he’d been suiting up on toward the ice. The girl follows him, gliding toward the net once they're in the rink, never falling out of pace with him.
“Do you know who it is talking in the video?” She presses, and Steve looks unimpressed again.
“You mean the other hot guy?” He asks with a grin, then nods. “That was Eddie. I’m surprised you don’t know him, the Party listens to Corroded Coffin all the time.”
The video loops back to the stitched clip from Gareth’s initial TikTok then. Everyone in the room processes what just unfolded.
“The Party? Did… did Steve Harrington just make a reference to DnD? Or is that some sports thing I dont understand?” Jeff asks.
Freak raises his hand, indicating he’s next to speak. “Not only that, but his nerdy DnD friends listen to us all the time?”
“Did King Steve call Joe Jonas hot?” Eddie asks, visibly still trying to connect the wires in his brain that fried at Steve’s agreement. “Did he call me hot?”
All three turn toward Eddie, whose face is still reflecting the long form math equation his brain is trying to work out, and Jeff sighs.
“Well, boys. I think we’ve officially lost him.” He says, bowing his head. Freak and Gareth join him solemnly, making Eddie huff and cross his arms over his chest.
“You’re all so dramatic.”
“Gee, I wonder who encouraged us to be this way,” Freak exaggerates through a grin, before shoving a guitar into Eddie’s chest, just in time for Paige to open the door and summon them.
“We can have a meltdown over Harrington after the gig,” Gareth promises with a pat to Eddie’s back as everyone moves around him, exiting the green room and heading for the stage.
~~~
Riding his post-show high, Eddie makes a bold move in the CC band TikTok, commenting under the video Steve had stitched.
corrodedcoff!n: we’ll be in chicago 1/26 if harrington94 and ‘the party’ are free 🎫
He only gets about 20 minutes of peace before Gareth is jumping around, proclaiming himself the greatest wingman in history.
“It’s an offer for free concert tickets made over social media, and he hasn’t even answered, Gare Bear.” Eddie tries to get him to relax, but he, too, is eager to see how the other reacts to the offer.
He wakes up the next morning to the answer he’d been waiting on, and his stomach flips as he reads it over.
harrington94: only if you guys come to the home game 1/27 🏒
__________
Steve doesn’t even bat an eye when Max shoves her way into the locker room, b-lining straight for him.
“Can I help you?” He asks without looking up, unhooking the padding from his calf and letting it drop to the ground in front of his locker.
“Are you using TikTok to publicly flirt with Eddie Munson?” She asks, voice quieter than he’d typically expect from her, but he just scoffs.
“I’m just being friendly! You’re the one who started this in the first place! What, you didn’t expect me to log on and check if they’d responded?” He asks in response, freeing his foot from the skate, before placing a cover over the blade and letting the boot drop into the lower shelf beside his locker.
“I’m just confused because you’ve been super weird about coming out, and now you’re out here hitting on a rockstar all over social media, that’s all.” Max says, and Steve freezes for a moment.
“Do you…” he trails off, before closing his eyes and rubbing a thumb into his temple. “You really think I just accidentally came out?”
“You called Joe Jonas and Eddie Munson hot, encouraged this rockstar to come to your game when he’s in town and also accepted tickets to see him perform, Steve.” Max was monotone, and held her hands up defensively when he groaned. “I’m not starting anything, I’m just saying that this could get blown out of proportion now.”
They discuss a little further, deciding neither of them will publicly acknowledge anything that’s been posted to the account for now, until they actually come up with a plan.
Once he’s in his car heading home, Steve calls Robin.
“Dingus,” she greets, as always, and he lets out a grumble. “Uh oh. What happened?”
“I think I accidentally came out on the internet, and it’s Eddie Munson’s fault.” He’s met with several seconds of silence as he starts his car on the path to him and Robin’s shared apartment.
“Eddie, the drug dealer from high school?” Robin eventually asks, confused, and Steve groans again.
“Yeah. He uh, also is in a band?” He supplies, and Robin’s quiet for a moment as she processes. Then, he hears the tapping of a keyboard. “What are you doing?”
“Looking Eddie up, obviously.” Steve can practically see her eye roll, even though they’re not FaceTiming. “You’re nothing if not consistent, I guess. Doe-eyed curly brunet.”
Steve scoffs. “You say as though you’re not the one currently waking up beside Nance every morning.”
He’s met again by a short silence, before Robin lets out a little puff of air, in a small laugh. “Thank you again for being so cool about that, by the way.” She says, before he hears clicking on her end. “Apparently, Eddie is out as bi. Corroded Coffin does a charity show for the Trevor Project every year, and he’s been to a lot of Pride events.”
Steve’s stomach twists with each new bit of information she provides, because a part of him wants to be that out, wants to be like Robin or apparently Eddie, freely sharing that part of themselves with the world and having no one give a shit. But that’s not how it works on so many levels for Steve. Beside the shit he’d have to deal with on the ice from certain other players, he had no idea how it would impact the team overall. There’s no way to gauge how fans would react, when there’s never been an openly gay player in the NHL. And that didn't even begin to touch on how his parents would react.
“Hey,” Robin breaks him out of his spiral and he realizes he’s been chewing a hole into his cheek. “I can hear how loud you’re thinking right now. Do you need me to come home?” She asks, gently, and he sighs.
“Please.” He mumbles after a long pause, and is grateful when he hears the jingle of car keys from the other end of the phone.
~~~
Robin scrolls through article after article once she gets to their place, pulling Steve onto the sofa with her and laying his head in her lap. Her fingers twist through his hair, doing her best to keep him calm as she reads up on the situation playing out to try and help gauge how big of a hole he’s dug himself this time.
“I don’t think there’s really anyone who thinks you were flirting with him. Not seriously, at least.” She tries to assure him, but he’d already seen the twitter posts to contradict that before she came over. He sighs and rolls onto his back, so he’s looking up at her, and shrugs.
“I kind of don’t think there’s any avoiding it, at this point.” He mumbles. “I’m not… I’m not ready to come out, not like this. Not on this scale. I think the only thing I can do is carry on and hope it doesn’t get turned into any bigger of a deal.”
Robin hums down at him, and continues to brush his hair back out of his eyes. “Okay. So you don’t come out yet. But don’t overcompensate for it, okay?” He scrunches his face up at her, and she types something into her phone before turning it back into his face. He immediately pales, met with a photo of him out with Heidi last year. With a black eye on full display, he looks miserable behind a fake smile.
“Low blow,” he grumbles, pushing himself away from Robin to sit up beside her, and she raises her eyebrow at him, still holding the photo pointed in his direction.
“‘Maybe they won’t notice or ask why my literal teammate punched me in the face at practice if I take a fucking supermodel out to dinner.’” Robin’s imitation is a little too good, a sure sign of too much time spent together.
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it!” He asks, taking the phone off of her and closing out of the image before locking it. He drops it back into her lap with a sigh. “I just don’t know how many times I can keep getting away with hiding it.”
“Well, it helps that Billy got traded out to LA. He would be insufferable about this, and would absolutely make everything 10 times worse.” Robin muses.
Steve sighs and hesitates for a moment before dropping his head back into her lap, curling into her. “I just want it to be on my terms, when I’m ready.”
“We’ll figure it out, and it’ll all be okay, no matter what. Okay?” She assures quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.
His phone dings with a new notification; Max texted him a screenshot from TikTok.
corrodedcoff!n: you’ve got yourself a deal 🤝🏻
3K notes · View notes
wonderjanga · 5 months ago
Text
Totally Me
When Billy first joined the league, he made sure to not tell anyone about his identity. This went on for nearly five years until he eventually started feeling bad for the others. They always look so sad. Not that blames them. He knows their names, where they live, their jobs, he knows almost everything about them, yet they know nothing about Marvel. So, Billy decided to tell them some things about himself, only it’s not himself. He told them about his dad, or at least what he remembers. He can’t exactly tell them he’s a twelve year old radio show host who lives in an apartment with his sister and his friend. Can he?
Supes: *talking about Jon*
Hermes: “Alright, Batson. You can do this!” *hyping him up like a sports coach*
Marvel: “He sounds awesome. The way you talk about him reminds me of Billy.”
Supes: “Billy? Who’s that?”
Marvel: *smiles* “My son.”
Supes: *jaw drops*
Clark was so happy his friend finally opened up with something about his personal life. He was smiling the entire day. This information eventually got around to the others so they tried to see if they could find out more too.
GA: “So, Cap, are you finally gonna come one of my mixers?” (ref to a fanfic I can’t remember the name of) *bros digging for information to see if cap is in a relationship*
Achilles: “Come on, Billy, let’s go! You can do this!”
Marvel: “No, I have a wife.”
GA: “A wife? What do you mean you have a wife? I expected a girlfriend not a wife?”
Marvel: *slightly nervous because he thinks Green Arrow might not believe him* “Yeah, well, I have a wife, okay?”
GA: “How long have you guys been married?”
Marvel: “Uh…” *doesn’t even know* “Like since 19-”
GA: “19??”
Marvel: “Yeah, 1920 or 30 something.” *is pretty sure that’s correct*
GA: “You’ve been married to your wife for almost 100 years…?”
Marvel: “Uh… yeah. Now that I think about it, yeah.”
By the way, anything Billy tells these guys, goes straight into the rumor mill. Once he divulges a little piece of information it’ll take like an hour, and then everyone knows.
Bruce even got in on the action by grabbing a form and walking up to Marvel:
Batman: “Captain, on your registration papers you left your occupation blank. Could you fill it out?”
Marvel: “Ah, sure!” *fills it out*
Batman: “Thank you.” *walks away and rounds a corner, only to be met with Clark*
Supes: “So, what’s his job?” *is hoping that Marvel is a reporter because he and Marvel have yapped about reporting multiple times*
Batman: *looks at the form* “He’s an archaeologist.”
Supes: “Archaeologist?” *sounds a little dumbfounded* “Huh. That seems so Marvel-like, yet so un-Marvel-like at the same time.”
Also, Billy does actually like archaeology. It’s one of bro’s special interests. In fact, to see if Marvel was telling the truth, Bruce asked a little bit about archaeology and was met with an hour long rant about how amazing it was.
800 notes · View notes
starlightdelrey · 1 year ago
Text
the view between villages
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
platonic ! f1 grid x reader
summary: f1 is a dangerous sport - it's common knowledge. but accidents - bad accidents - aren't as common. seeing the youngest (and only female) driver crash and not immediately respond is something the boys never thought they'd have to experience, and the rest of the world is just as devestated.
cw: major accident, graphic descriptions of injury and vehicular damage, graphic descriptions of car accident, mentions of death, blood and gore, negative emotions such as sadness and regret, angst, mentions of religion,
song pairing is "the view betwen villages" by noah kahan
(not based on any particular race)
Tumblr media
today's race felt off to begin with. When y/n had attempted to leave her aging yorkie, comet, in her hotel room - like she had done for the past couple months - he began to whine.
"poor baby," she mocked, but turned the small TV on and switched it to the channel that would be broadcasting the race live. "look, com. watch me on the tv."
the dog had complied and jumped onto the un-made bed, but when she left and closed the door, he had whined once or twice before calming down.
she made a mental note to get him checked out at the vet, but got distracted when she showed up to the paddock and got a look at the track.
"the weather wasn't as shit yesterday during quali," she said off-handedly to max verstappen, who was chatting to the engineers.
"are you worried?" y/n was a good racer, it was clear - but whenever max saw how small she looked in comparison to everyone else on the team he had a small sense of dread. it wasn't new, just annoying.
"nah." she grinned at him, her hair already pulled back into a french braid for ease during the race.
---
"lights out.... and away we go!"
the lights blink out and y/n is already gunning it, attempting to bypass the boys from mclaren.
she discovered early on that locking up would be her main issue today, and she made it clear on her radio.
"i keep locking up."
her voice was calm but shook a little as she struggled to steer, and she spoke only in short sentences to prevent stuttering.
"copy."
finally, she worked out a system to braking that prevented the struggle, but in speeding up, found that she'd made her way into a mass of cars.
"watch out, y/n. keep out of trouble - wait until everybody else has moved out of each others way."
"ok. pulling back-" the radio crackled and then went silent as a car careened into the side of her.
---
the audiences at home got to watch a replay of the impact.
somewhere in australia, a family consisting of two parents, a teenaged boy and a little girl are watching the race.
the boy reacts first, jolting. "was that logan sargeant and y/n y/ln?"
"yeah... turn up the volume?"
the mother grabs the remote and obliges, terse.
"was that the girl driver?" the barely 5 year old asks, brows furrowed.
"baby, go play in the other room." her father dismisses her, and when she slowly shuffles out, eyes trained on the screen as the commentators relay the details, her dad huffs.
"now. and don't look at the screen anymore."
she squeals and runs out, and the boy starts to jiggle his knee up and down as they wait for more information.
across the world, houses go silent.
---
"and it looks like logan sargeant attempts to pull away from the crowd but misjudges the distance between himself and y/ln. we can see him here slam right into the right side of the body of her car, and she goes spinning out, right into barricades. oh! and if we slow it down, you can see that the force of her chassis hitting the barricades not only forces the car to lift fully off of the ground, but it also tips - the top of the vehicle flips up into the barricade until it falls back into place. that is a nasty hit for rookie red bull driver y/n y/ln."
the commentators keep talking, thinking nothing of the accident, until the cameras switch to the red bull team, who are trying to get into contact with the girl.
"y/n, are you okay?"
silence.
"can you respond? y/n we need a vocal response. anything, okay kid? even if you can just hold down on the radio button so we know you're there."
no response.
the commentators continue.
"and it looks like we're getting no response from red bull driver y/n, who has just crashed."
---
his whole body jerks on the impact, and he spins out off the track, coming to a shaky stop.
"shit, shit, shit!" his voice cracks.
"are you okay, mate?" the radio crackles at him as he's fighting back tears.
"yeah - was that y/n i hit?"
"yes, we can confirm the crash involved both you and y/ln. we are receiving word that it is a red flag crash."
"is she okay?" he doesn't get a response at first, so he tries again. "is y/n okay?"
"no word yet. sorry, logan."
"fuck! i'm so sorry - i really thought it was clear, i just... fuck."
"calm down, sargeant. wait for pick-up and keep yourself collected. we'll tell you as soon as we find anything out, okay mate?"
"sure."
he lifts himself from the smoking chassis and the world watches as he kicks it out of frustration before letting his head lower.
there's a sickening feeling in his stomach as he sees the girls unmoving vehicle.
he pictures her inside, and the fact that she's so much smaller than the older men cause his mind to unravel with pictures of her limp and unconscious.
---
inside the car, y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning.
her ears are ringing and her head hurts, and the body of her car is so warped that it's vacuum sealed her into the vehicle.
in the back of her mind, y/n feels the pain in her right thigh and left ankle, and her right shoulder feels dislocated.
"kid, we need an answer." the radio's muted and crackling, and when y/n tries to respond, she realizes that something on her end is fucked because they're still begging for an answer.
she goes to climb out of the car, but a sob tears out of her chest at the immense pain that suddenly blooms throughout her whole body.
she falls heavily back onto the seat and pants, closing her eyes.
she feels slight relief from the pain when she fully relaxes and closes her eyes, and nestles into her seat a little to get comfortable.
the need to sleep takes over her and she obeys, nodding off.
---
inside her hotel room, comet's ears pull back in concern as he hears his owners name being called out repeatedly from the television.
---
"red flag, max. we need to restart the race."
verstappen stills, his ears suddenly ringing. he has a bad feeling about the red flag but just can't place it.
"what's happened?"
"there was a crash between a williams and y/n. to the pit lanes, please." the voice on the other end seems calm, but there's a waver to it.
"fuck, are you joking? are they both okay?"
"the williams driver... logan sargeant, we're hearing, is up and out of his chassis. we've heard nothing from y/n yet."
he'd fight them, ask for more information, but knows that red bull would be the first to hear anything.
"tell me if you find anything out."
"copy."
as he drives to the pit lane, max replays her grin at him as she reassures the dutchman.
"nah." her nose is scrunched and hair pulled out of her face.
he thinks about how bulky the helmet looked on her, the barely 20 year old driver somehow never managing to put on any muscle, no matter how hard she tried.
he prays to jesus, zeus, allah, and even the virgin mary - surely she'd have sympathy to max's prayers, as she's lost someone dear to her before. any deity he can think of is immediately begged to ensure the safety of his partner.
---
a whining noise pulls y/n back into consciousness, and she furrows her brows.
"i'm trying to sleep, com. shut up." when she opens her eyes and sees the battered cockpit in front of her, she realizes that she's not hearing her dog cry, it's just the ringing in her ears that are back.
and then suddenly all she can see is comet waiting for her. comet, waiting in a hotel room that she'll never re-enter. what's gonna happen to the mutt if she dies? her parents are over-seas, she has no boyfriend to look after him. comet would be all alone.
and then all the guys on the grid are flashing through her head. she knows, vacantly, that logan crashed into her. he'd never forgive himself if she died. verstappens win streak would be fucked if he was grieving over his teammate. even lewis hamilton, who was the first driver to openly back her as the only woman on the grid.
she screws her eyes shut and lets out a heavy sob, steeling herself.
---
the commentators are no longer focused on the race.
"and i think i can speak for all of us when i ask, where is the goddamn safety car and ambulance? young driver y/n y/ln has been stuck in the wreck for about a minute and a half now, and there has still been no aid for her. which is a cause for concern about the overall safety of f1, as- oh my god!"
---
charles is already on his way back to the pit lanes, muttering manifestations under his breath for y/n to be okay.
he's shaking, filled with lead and a lump in his throat. he and y/n aren't super close, due to their team differences, but every time he spoke to her she had a certain gleam in her eye that one only had when they weren't afraid of death.
this worried him. racing was her life - would she succumb easily? it was a known fact that many drivers drove as if they had nothing to lose.
the idea of her choking on mortality in her chassis scared him more. maybe her body was broken, and the pain was all she could feel as the life drained from her? he worried for those that would have to witness the blood and bruises when she was pulled from her car.
"we've got an update on y/n."
he was pulled out of his mind. "tell me. please."
"she's getting herself out. the paramedics were taking too long, so she took it upon herself, apparently." a startled laugh falls out of charles' lips as he cheers back.
---
muscles screaming, y/n forces herself to lift out of the cockpit, allowing her body the only relief of rest once her upper half is slung over the halo. for about five seconds she stops, before she forces herself to continue.
the safety car and paramedics are here now, and camera crew for the live footage plus the netflix crew are close behind.
people are shouting at her to stop, but she continues to claw her way out of the wreckage.
she's crying and praying to a god she never knew she believed in as she forces her broken legs out of the car, sliding over the side to the ground.
she stands and looks around at the medical crew who are advancing towards her and tries to take her helmet off. she can't, and they're reassuring her that they'll do it for her.
y/n looks out at the audience and raises one arm to greet them. she's met with immediate raucous applause and, swaying for a few seconds, she falls.
---
"you would never believe it. this lady is pulling herself out of her car. as the camera zooms, you can really see the absolute strength this is taking her - hold on, we're getting audio now."
the world watches with bated breath as the coverage of her climbing out of the car begins to play. you can hear the agonised screams she lets out as she forces herself to exit, and just how broken some of her limbs look. her left ankle hangs limply, and she has to use both arms to force her right leg out of the cockpit.
"what a magnificent scene. y/n y/ln has kissed death, and still lives to tell the tale. we see her now, standing on the track as the medical staff come to her aid, and she falls. a very fair response to what she has just gone through. a round of applause to y/n y/ln, the girl who kissed death!"
---
"so lando, congratulations on p4. obviously, the whole crash between logan and y/n caused a damper on the overall race. how do you feel about it?" the interviewer pushed a mic at his face.
"the crash? yeah, it was terrifying not knowing if she was okay or not. i'm not surprised she ended up climbing out of the chassis herself," he laughs softly. "i've never known her for being patient."
"how do you feel about her new nickname?"
"nickname?"
"people are calling her 'the girl who kissed death'."
lando can't stop a high-pitched laugh from escaping. "girl who kissed death? that's stupid. oh god, i can't wait for her to find out about that. she'll be proper pissed off."
"right, well, thanks lando. have fun celebrating!" the interviewer bids him farewell.
---
a few months later:
over the healing process, y/n was forced to give multiple statements, post social media posts, and even a quick video from the hospital bed, but when she sees comet, her resolve finally fails.
she begins to tear up as the scruffy dog barks at her, jumping up and down.
"someone's excited to see you," lewis hamilton, the temporary guardian of the dog, grins.
roscoe stomps his feet and licks y/n, panting at her.
"awe, little babies. i was so scared of dying and leaving comet all alone, but i think he would've been fine."
lewis glances down at the kneeling girl in front of him and tsks, nudging her with his foot. "don't say that, y/n. nobody would've been fine."
"yeah?"
"yeah. have you seen all the tiktok edits of your crash? people were terrified. i was terrified."
y/n doesn't say anything, but stands to hug the british man.
he holds her back, before clearing his throat. "save that love for death. heard you've kissed it before."
"fuck off."
--- la fin ---
2K notes · View notes
maxsimagination · 7 months ago
Note
breeding kink with paige!!
𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 - 𝙥.𝙗𝙪𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙨
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: yn + babies = horny paige.
-> !! strap use, breeding kink !!
-> i’m sorry i’ve been mia for ages !
𖦹 masterlist
Tumblr media
“𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗚𝗘! 𝗛𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗨𝗣 we gotta go!”
i shout at my girlfriend from the bottom of the stairs. we had to leave if we wanted to get to my parents house in time.
“i’m coming!”
the tall blonde came hurtling down the stairs, still pulling her shirt on.
it was the family dinner/reunion, since i hadn’t seen all of them in a while. my family all knew of paige and most have met her, but my sister and her husband had been away overseas and haven’t had the chance yet.
we finally made it to the car and paige hopped in the drivers seat, she always drove us around.
when we got to my parents house there was already cars parked in the driveway. i grabbed paige’s hand and walked up to ring the doorbell. it was my mother who answered the door, grabbing me in a big hug when she saw me.
i stepped aside to reveal paige and my mother hugged paige enthusiastically.
“so nice to see you again, paige!”
“nice to see you too, mrs. yln. thank you for having me.”
she invited us in, rambling about how happy she was to have the whole family here. that’s when my sister came to see who had arrived, and in her arms was a tiny baby.
my gasp was audible as i stared at the little human.
“when were you going to tell me you had a child?”
my sister only laughed and handed the baby over to me. i cradled the thing in my arms, staring down at it lovingly.
“her name is celia. we only had her a couple months ago.”
i let out a breathy ‘aww’, turning to paige.
“paige look! it’s so tiny and cute.”
i looked up at my girl to show her the baby, which she was already doing.
“oh also paige this is my sister, charlie.”
paige reached over to shake hands with my sister and her husband who was standing behind her. my mother interrupted then, telling us all to go to the dining area.
we all moved towards the table, taking a seat as my mother and father brought out the food. i passed celia back over to my sister while we ate, not wanting to injure her.
after everyone was done eating we all sat and talked, chatting about everything. paige was asked about her basketball which she seemed to like. she had a hand resting on my thigh, edging upwards every so often.
almost an hour later and it was time for me and paige to go home. we bid farewell to everyone, waving as we exited the house.
paige took my hand as we walked to the car.
she didn’t say much on the drive home, occasionally humming along to whatever song was on the radio, but she was abnormally quiet.
even after we had gotten through the door, paige was still quiet.
“p, what’s going on?”
“you drove me insane today.”
“mmm?”
“when you had celia… it made me think. i want to have babies with you. badly.”
“ohh. y’know you should’ve said something earlier, p. we could’ve left early… had some fun.”
her eyes grew visibly darker, bordering on possessive.
“yea? care to show me what kind of fun we’re talking about?”
i threw a devilish smirk at her before walking to the closet, reaching for our secret drawer. opening it to grab the newest addition to our collection, a purple strap.
i walk it back to paige, handing her the toy and simultaneously dragging my hands up her toned arms and stomach.
“want you to put your babies in me, p.”
i speak in a low, sultry tone.
paige doesn’t miss a beat, walking me back to fall onto the bed. she strips down to her sports bra, taking her boxers off and stepping into the harness. i take the hint and remove my dress to reveal a matching lingerie set, purple to match paige.
she catches sight of it and immediately grins.
“all dressed up for me, ma?”
i nod vigorously, desperate for paige to touch me. she takes her eyes over my semi exposed body, skimming her fingers over the lace bra i had on.
“take it off.”
her voice is quiet but i still hear her. my fingers are quick to remove the piece and paige latches her mouth onto my nipple immediately after.
“mmm.”
the sensation sends shocks to my core.
paige only pulls back after she’s given ample attention to both tits. she promptly grabbed my ankles and dragged me to the edge of the bed.
running a finger through my folds, gathering the forming wetness and sucking it off her digit. the sight made me wetter.
paige lined up the strap with my entrance, holding my legs wide. when she finally pushed in i let out a sigh at the pleasure. we started with a slow pace, before paige thrusted faster. the sounds of skin slapping echoed through the room, the feeling of the strap hitting just the right spot pushing me closer to my first orgasm of the night.
paige had hooked both my legs over her shoulders, picking up the pace even further. she had incredible stamina, barely breaking a sweat.
“p-paige, i’m close.”
she kept her pace, adding her fingers to rub against my clit.
that surely sent me over the edge as i cried out paige’s name while i came.
paige slowed down and pulled out, careful not to jostle me too much. i came down off of my high to a grinning paige.
“no rest for the wicked, baby. i know you’ve got one more in you.”
i wanted to laugh at how horny paige was even after what we’d done. paige guided me onto all fours and easily slipped back inside me.
she started thrusting slowly, allowing me to adjust to the pace. soon she was quickening her pace, harsh thrusts hitting just right inside me. it was overwhelming, the pleasure rushing back in waves.
i moaned out, arching my back so my ass and pussy were up in the air and pushing back on paige’s strap.
“that’s it baby, keep fucking me like that.”
her hands grabbed my ass, guiding me back and forth through her thrusts.
“oh, paige! i’m cumming!”
her thrusts became harder, more determined.
“‘m gonna pump my babies in you. such a pretty mama.”
and with that i was spasming around her plastic cock. i moaned out in pleasure, telling paige not to stop, to fuck me through it.
she slowed down eventually and pulled out, this time discarding the strap on the bedside table. i collapsed onto my side, thoroughly fucked out.
“do you think you’ll have my babies now?”
paige grinned cheekily at me with that glint in her eye.
“if i don’t then we always have tomorrow to make up for it.”
paige took that promise literally.
491 notes · View notes
leaawrites · 1 month ago
Text
Bad Luck
Isack Hadjar x fem!reader
Summary: after his crash in Australia, she's there to console him and cheer him up again.
Warnings: mentions of Helmut Marko, angst, fluff, mentions of car crashes, swearing, friends to lovers, I feel so sorry for him
Wordcount: 2.3k
Masterlist
Tumblr media
The rain was slowly falling from the sky. Little drops were hitting the roof every now and then, but no major storm had been announced yet. It couldn’t even be classified as class 1 rain.
The track was wet though, no racing line developing yet as all twenty cars were lined up in their starting grid, waiting for the formation lap to start.
Standing in the middle of the VCARB garage, Y/n had her hands clasped together in front of her mouth, watching the screen as the lights turned on and Lando Norris began slowly driving in front, leading the field. Her eyes were focused on another car though. A white car standing in the box for P11. Inching forward, ready to start.
The camera switched, showing the front, Lando warming up his tires and Oscar following suit. Her eyes were frantically searching the screen, trying to find his car, making sure he was okay. Until he was directly in the middle of the screen. The back of the car in the pit wall.
Letting out a breathless gasp, she focused entirely on him. Isack was still sat in the car as the Marshals came running towards him, all of the other drivers slowly getting back into position.
“Shit,” she mumbled as she watched the montage of footage playing in front of her. His car on the track, doing good, then his wheels hit the white stripe and he looses control of his car, crashing into the barriers.
Different angles were shown, all indicating the same: this wasn’t all his fault. The track was slippery, this was his first race, his first time on inters. It was bound to happen, it wasn’t ideal but foreseeable. Still it made him feel miserable.
Standing at the side, surrounded by Marshals, watching his car being towed and the track being cleared, his head hung low the whole time. Hand on his helmet, his visor up enough so he could see properly. But she couldn’t see him. She saw his emotions in his posture, his shoulders slumped down, heavy breaths falling in and out of his lungs. But she couldn’t see him.
Taking the headphones from her head, she didn’t wait for more information from him over the radio or from Pierre, his race engineer before she made her way out of the garage and towards the paddock. Trying to catch a glimpse of him walking towards the motor home.
Soon enough, she caught sight of cameras focused on someone walking. Taking pictures and videos of the scene unfolding. Stalking towards him, she tried reaching his side as quickly as possible, though someone was faster. Anthony Hamilton walked by his side, patting his back, hugging him, telling him that it was alright, that he was better than that. He knew what it was like for drivers to fail, having to console his son more than once under the immense pressure of the sport.
His hand still holding onto his eyeport, shoulders sinking with every step he took further away from the track. He wasn’t alright at all.
She knew how much he loved Lewis as a driver, this was as special to him as it hurt that it happened like that. His endless talks about being able to drive with his idols over the summer break seemed unnecessary now. All his animated words tasted bitter sweet all of a sudden.
Following him suit into the motorhome, she tried stopping his fast step by calling out to him. But he was basically running away from her. Walking faster every time he could hear her voice calling out for him to slow down so she could catch up to him. She couldn’t see him like this. Not after he told her he would get points for her today.
Shutting the door to his driver room behind him, Isack leaned against it, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath in. Finally taking off his helmet and letting himself fall to the bottom of his emotions. Tears falling from his eyes with him.
“So, so stupid,” he mumbled under his breath. Squeezing his eyes to stop them from tearing up, but nothing made the tears stop falling. Especially not her voice on the other side of the door.
Softly trying to get him to open the door and let her in. Let her console him like she’d done countless times over the years after a bad race in F2 or F3. Though this was different. This was F1. This was where he was supposed to show the world that he deserved the seat he was given and not someone else. He knew how quickly it could be over, he’d seen it countless times before. This sport wasn’t easy, it wasn’t forgiving.
“Isack, please,” her voice rang through.
He could see her behind his closed eyelids, forehead leaning against the door, trying to get her own tears from staying inside, hand pressed against the door as if she could push it open, but she couldn’t.
His hand searched for the lock, fingers straying over it. He could make her understand that he didn’t want her there so easily, that he was fine on his own and didn’t need her soft tone as she held him. But he knew that wasn’t as easy, because he wanted her. Over their years of friendship, it was her who calmed him down the best. It was her who made him feel secure in himself and his abilities. It was her who got him through every set back.
Standing in front of the door for a few more seconds, she waited for the click of the lock falling on her ears. But it didn’t come, and when he didn’t try getting her to go away as well, she slowly pushed down the door handle, peeking inside to see if he was still leaning against the wall.
Her eyes found his body slumped over itself on the small seating area. He didn’t look up at her as she closed the door and sat next to him. Her hand falling on his back, rubbing slow circles over his fireproof. Laying her head on his shoulder and leaving a kiss on his back, she tried settling his breath by breathing with him.
“It was so stupid,” he broke the silence between them, finally lifting his head to look at her. His eyes were red and puffy. Rimmed with sadness and disappointment.
“It was your first time out in the rain in an F1 car, Isack. You’re not the first one it happened to. Even Stroll crashed in the formation lap and he’s been here way longer than you,” she tried reasoning with him. “Nobody blames you for anything.”
“Are you serious? Have you not seen the pictures? I was totally shit out there, I don’t even know why I’m still here,” he said, looking at her with angry eyes.
She knew how he could get, how his anger got the best of him when he was under stress and frustrated. It wasn’t meant harmful, it was a fight or flight reaction.
“C’était tellement stupide,” he muttered, standing up and pacing around the small room. “How can anyone be so stupid and crash in the formation lap? It’s the easiest part of the race.”
“I was 11th, do you understand that? I qualified the best as a Rookie and people were expecting something good from me and I completely destroy everything.”
“I couldn’t even get the points I promised you,” he mumbled, his voice growing smaller as he looked her way. Seeing her own gaze laced with tears.
“That doesn’t matter, Isack.” Standing up, she walked over to him, holding his shoulders before pulling him into a hug. “All that matters is that you’re alright.”
Feeling his arms tighten around her waist, she held him closer, letting him decide when he was ready to let go. They stood close like that for a few minutes before he lifted his head to look at her, still holding her close though.
“You’ll do better next week,” she whispered, wiping away a tear that escaped his eye. Holding his cheek, she couldn’t help the rapid beating of her heart as they were so close, neither giving a sign of wanting to move away.
“What if I won’t?” He asked in the same hushed tone.
“You will. You’re too talented not to.”
A small smile creped on his face at her words, a blush rising up his neck as her fingertips slipped into his hair, slowly brushing through it in comfort.
“What about you changed out of your race suit and we go back to the garage?” she asked, stepping back. Leaving a hollow ache in both their chest at the loss of contact.
“Alright.” Isack nodded his head as he watched her retreat from the room. Letting out a deep breath that collected itself in his lungs over the last couple minutes.
He looked better as he came out of his driver’s room, seeing her already waiting with her back leaned against the back of the wall.
“You ready to go back?” she asked, putting her phone away and standing up straight.
As they were on their way out, walking side by side, his manager stopped the two of them.
“I know it’s shit right now, but you still need to go to the media pen for interviews,” he told them, two umbrellas in his hand, making Isack nod.
“Can she come with me?” he asked as they made their way outside, the rain still falling steadily, falling down on the fabric of the umbrella. Him and her were sharing one while his manager walked beside them under his own.
“Of course,” he answered, smiling at her.
Isack wasn’t one of the big guys, so not every journalist tried getting a word out of him as they entered the media pen, but he was the main attraction for interviews at the moment, so a good amount was already waiting for him. He was answering every question as calmly as he could, glancing to his left every now and then to make sure she was still waiting for him.
‘This isn’t the time to cry again,’ he tried telling himself as he felt the emotions coming back up his chest.
Finishing up his media duties, he walked to her side again, feeling her hand taking his own in comfort. She could identify his thoughts without having to look at him. She knew him good enough that this would still haunt him as long as he didn’t do better.
The rest of the grand prix was quiet for them. Shortly after the restart, Jack and Carlos crashed and after the rain came back heavier towards the end, chaos broke lose on track. They watched it all happen from the garage, his arm draped over her shoulders to hold her close, even as he talked with his race engineer he made her stand close enough so he could hold her fingertips in his.
Yuki finished just out of the points at the end of the race, but the team was still proud of the progress they made over the off season. They were confident they were going to get a good amount of points this season.
Walking out of the paddock, on their way back to the hotel, Isack was stopped by a few fans and even a journalist or two, but one took a bit too far in her opinion with his question.
“What are your thoughts on Helmut Marko saying, that he finds it embarrassing for you to cry after the crash?” One of them asked, holding the mic directly in his face.
She could see the hesitation in his reaction as Isack took the words in.
Cutting into the space between the mic and Isack, she answered, “He’s a pussy for being afraid to cry, or saying that it’s embarrassing to cry. Also sexist in that sense, he wouldn’t say the same about a woman I bet,” before pulling him away from the crowd. Holding his hand in her own and tracking him towards a quieter part outside the paddock, away from all the prying eyes and hungry journalists.
“Thanks,” Isack mumbled, looking down at his shoes, his gaze flickering over to their hands still intertwined, not moving an inch to keep her by his side like this.
It wasn’t a secret in his close circle that he had been feeling more than friendship and with his clinginess throughout the race, everyone at VCARB was already suspecting that things would change between them sooner or later.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said, swinging their hands back and forth. “I meant what I said earlier, you’re too talented to let this get you down. It’s also not your first set back and see where you are now. A proper F1 driver.”
“A F1 driver without a proper start though,” he chuckled dryly.
“Who cares about starts anyway? Nobody will remember that by at least the end of the season.”
“You’re too nice to me,” he mumbled. “I just yelled at you two hours ago.”
“I know that you don’t mean it that way. I know you too good,” she mused.
“I’m glad you do. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Probably have a hundred breakdowns a day.”
“Probably.”
Looking at her, his voice was quieter even with the laugh escaping his mouth after her answer. Her eyes never straying far from his own gaze until they flickered lower, settling on his lips for a short second before flying up again. Swallowing hard as she saw the small smile form on his lips in the corner of her eyes. He’d caught her slipping up.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you too,” she whispered, before leaning up towards him. Connecting their lips and making him forget all about the events that took place a few hours ago.
265 notes · View notes
peariote · 16 days ago
Note
YAAAYYYY OMG TYSM!
okok so could u pls write a mari x f reader?
maybe she's best friends with jackie and shauna and they notice she'd been spending more amd more time with mari or just around her.
reader is 100% in love with mari😔🙏
THANK YOU!
mari x reader pretty gworl !!! love her. absolutely forgot this was finished and in my drafts. so sorry to my mari lovers
The lunch area was already bustling when you got there. Obviously, you’d expected Jackie and Shauna to already have a table. Who else would be there, though? That’s the question.
Sometimes Lottie and Nat filed in, giggly and absorbed in each other in a way that screamed that they had been smoking whatever pot Nat got her hands on. Others, Tai would come to talk to Shauna about English—Van following to talk to Jackie about whatever movie they’d recommended her. But the best days were—
“Mari!” You’re bounding over before you even realize, plopping down next to the familiar head of black hair instead of next to your best friends. Her resulting nose crinkle is only for show; she’s always saving face for the few seconds before she relaxes into your energy.
“Yes, yes, hi. I know, you love me.” Her response is flippant, as expected—but she also hits the nail on the head. And of course, Shauna notices your hitch of breath, subtle as it is.
Her gaze turns to you, suspicious glare firmly planted. All you can do is avoid her gaze, smiling indulgently at something Van quips. The table laughs, and the awkward moment melts away.
The next few weeks, Jackie and Shauna get noticeably more skeptical. You were already aware they were protective—no girl got through to you without their thorough scrutinization. The team, apparently, was no exception.
“So… what’s up with you and Mari?” They’d set it up perfectly—a sleepover, a few beers snuck from Mr. Taylor’s stash, and a the sound of her radio crackling softly with the mixtape’s old tape. It’s probably almost burned through with how much you’ve played it.
You were all sporting a healthy buzz—enough to make Jackie giggly and Shauna slightly sullen—and they’d relaxed you with a quiet activity. Jackie had insisted on painting your nails, pushing you down and making quick work applying the polish. The question comes completely out of left field, and it shows with how you blink owlishly.
“…what?” You’re just a bit caught off guard and a bit too tipsy for this. They grin—well, Jackie does. Shauna returns your wide-eyed gaze with something much more focused.
“You’re into Mari.” Shauna murmurs. She’s not asking you—not in the slightest.
…fuck. You’re caught now. The scrunch of your face tells them all they need to know, but they want to hear it from your lips.
“…yes.” You confirm, careful not to jostle Jackie’s work with your sudden, uncomfortable shift.
All you get, surprisingly, is a hum from the both of them. Despite their apparent acceptance, it settles in your gut like a rock. You’re uneasy—and you’re well within your right to be.
The sleepover, and its resulting uneasiness, has faded in the haze of alcohol and the slow effluxion of time. You’re unassuming when Jackie and Shauna ask you out to the drive in—another girl’s night to see some terrible slasher film. Nothing out of the ordinary.
They both leave you to “get snacks”, as they said, but with the way Jackie giggles and the slow, easy smile spreading across Shauna’s face you wouldn’t be surprised if they were scheming. Or hooking up—you should’ve considered that sooner.
It’s seems to be the first answer.
You’re treated to the sound of muffled yells and ceaseless giggles getting closer—slowly creeping towards you and around the car.
“You bitches—let me go—“
The movie’s snuck into your brain, the sudden thought of a killer swiftly dashed when your idiotic best friends shove Mari into the open trunk of Shauna’s shitty hatchback—the seats folded down for more room.
Then they’re running off, probably to stow away in Lottie’s car. Mari’s yells after them, now without a hand over her mouth.
“Fuck you two!”
It’s enough to make you laugh, her attention swiftly turning to yours. Her acute gaze, burning with anger, directed completely at you is overwhelming enough to bring heat to your cheeks.
“…did they plan this with you, or…” she huffs, settling back against the makeshift wall of pillows and spread of blankets you’d carpeted the car’s trunk with—resigned to her fate.
“No, no.” You confirm through laughter. “They just…”
You pause, lick your lips. Your gaze flickers away, so you don’t notice how she follows it.
“They just know… that I like you.” It’s uncomfortably earnest—hanging between you. In a bid to end break the tension you turn your eyes back to the movie, just in time to see the 12th terribly SFX-ed murder. You don’t get to look long, though.
Mari’s fingers push your jaw, bringing your face back into her eyeline.
“You’re not fucking with me?” She mumbles lowly, focused so intently your cheeks burn.
“No. Not fucking with you.” You respond through a shaky exhale. Your next inhale is interrupted by the press of her lips, the touch swallowing the air from your lungs.
“You should’ve told me that before your cronies kidnapped me.”
“Well, I didn’t know they’d do that.”
162 notes · View notes
morganbritton132 · 9 months ago
Note
was thinking about that wayne buying little steve cereal text post and was wondering if you still plan to write the fic its inspired? if so i am definitely looking forward to it and am cheering you on. if not that's cool too, i was just curious!
Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll ever actually write the fic. But! I will tell you what I had in mind because it wasn’t supposed to be a sad fic!
Wayne starts noticing this kid around town.
He shouldn’t. He doesn’t notice any other kid, and this boy is well-dressed. He seems polite enough and well-behaved. There’s no reason that Wayne should pay him any mind, except… the hair. It’s a mess. It’s brushed up and backwards like the person who fixed it didn’t quite know what they were doing.
He keeps seeing that hair everywhere.
It’s asking questions at the hardware store about lightbulbs. It’s distracting Bob at the Radio Shack. It’s taking up half the aisle at Melvard’s with a cart it can’t see over, and asking Wayne, ‘Mister, can you reach the floss for me, please?’
There’s nothing out of the ordinary, honestly, but Wayne feels a might uncomfortable every time he sees this head of hair (a bit more stylish than the last) doing something that a parent might do. Especially because he never sees a parent.
It comes to head when he’s three people back in line at Melvard’s and people are complaining. He sticks his head out to see what the hold up is and sees that head of hair again, counting out quarters and dimes at the counter for a box of cheerios.
Davey, in front of him, swears under his breath and bounces on his feet like he’s about to say something, but Wayne beats him to it. Wayne takes the few steps up to the counter, looks Donald in the eye and wishes that it had been Joyce Byers instead.
He sits his carton of eggs and gallon of milk down on the counter next to the kid’s cereal and tells Don to ring it all up together. Then he tells the kid, “Put your money away, boy.”
He tries to talk to him outside the store, but the boy squeaks out ‘thanks’ and is running before Wayne can get anything out. He doesn’t see him for a while after that, and he can’t stop thinking about how hungry he looked.
A month and some change later, Wayne finds himself sliding into a booth at the diner across from the kid with the hair. He’s devouring slices of toast, pennies and nickels counted out on the table next to him.
The kid startles, and Wayne cuts to the point, “You hungry?”
The kid nods in that skittish way that reminds him of his nephew and Wayne orders two plates of pancakes. He lets the boy eat before he asks where his parents are. He gets no answer. He asks if he has enough food at home. The kid’s eye flicker to him and then back down, “Usually.”
He clicks his tongue, swears internally, and asks how often he’s left alone and hungry, and the boy says, “Their flight got delayed.”
The boy shrugs his shoulders and explains the money they leave him, and how sometimes he’s runs out but he’s learning better. It crushes Wayne just a little that he seems so proud of himself. Wayne gives the kid his number and tells him that if he’s ever hungry to call him.
For a while, Steve would call sporadically. Sometimes goes weeks, sometimes months. They’d meet at the diner and eat. This eventually lead to Wayne cooking for him in his trailer, then to him teaching Steve the basics, then to them cooking together.
Steve got older. He got a credit card. He got busier with school, and sports, and his friends. He didn’t need Wayne to feed him anymore, but they still tried to have dinner at least once a month.
When Eddie came to live with Wayne, he told him that Stevie came to dinner every third Saturday of the month. Eddie assumed Stevie was Wayne’s girlfriend.
The first Saturday that passed, Steve had to cancel because he had a basketball game. The second Saturday, Steve’s parents were in town so he couldn’t come. The third, Steve no showed, called the next day delirious with flu and apologized to Wayne.
The fourth Saturday rolls around and Eddie is thinking, “Man, this chick does not like Wayne. He needs to break up with his girlfriend before it gets really sad.”
Then there is a knock at the door, and Eddie opens it to the biggest jock asshole in the school.
Eddie stares at Steve in horror, and Steve stares back in total confusion, and then they both get annoyed like, “What are you doing here?”
Then cut to Eddie calling Steve out on bullying and Steve tattling about Eddie walking on the lunch tables. They bicker and argue, and Wayne secretly loves it.
426 notes · View notes
soapcloth · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Love, and it’s teeth {prologue}
Dark au -> gourmand cannibal!Price x reader
Series CW: 18+ MDNI, cannibalism, stalking {will update as I go}
not edited - 1000 words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune
Price, for all intents and purposes had not meant to engage in Internet forums on the topic of cannibalism. He would sooner paint a bright red target on his back accompanied by the words ‘I eat people’- and yet, something about the way you defended ‘cannibalism as a metaphor for love’ with your whole chest had piqued his interest.
‘It’s a load of shite, love.’ he typed out simply in response to your post, blunt thumb jamming the send button on his touch screen. His phone buzzed almost instantly with your response.
‘lol, don’t call me love. Just say you lack whimsy and move on 😭 anyways I’m not arguing with an old British man, ‘JohnP1977’’
He scoffed, shoulder bulk shaking as he pawed at his jaw incredulously. He spent the next few minutes typing and deleting as he puffed on one of his cigars; every response coming off far too incriminating. He finally settled for tapping your icon to snoop around your profile, there was no discernible personal information at a glance aside from the fact that you were an adult, but digging into your media tab rewarded his diligence well. There you sat on your bed, oot’d? ooted? Whatever that meant. He grinned, double tapping on the photo.
Like clockwork, his phone buzzed in his hand- a direct message popping up. He smiled, languid and knowing. ‘creep 👎’ was all the message said. ‘Just showing you how whimsical I can get x.’ He responded.
Your typing bubble popped up and subsequently disappeared in a seemingly infinite loop. ‘fine’ you finally sent. ‘what do you have against cannibalism being used as a metaphor for love?’
You- all too cozy in your bed, watched your screen with your lip drawn up past your teeth. ‘Nothing, love.’ He acquiesced ‘Just not realistic, that’s all.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘ok? not exactly going for realism here, buddy’
‘Buddy? We’re friends now? What’s your name, love? Since we’re buddies and all.’
You bit out a weak laugh at his gall. ‘you sound like a serial killer’
‘Would that be okay if I was doing it as a metaphor for love? x’
-
You hadn’t thought much about that man with the blank profile since blocking him after he had spammed you with likes, notably on pictures with places you frequented as the subject. It had freaked you out enough to make you deep clean your little personal account and set to private. The right choice, evidently, seeing as a few blank profiles had requested to follow you before he had finally given up. Soon, over a month had passed since you had resolved not to visit your favourite- that fact well-documented, local bar due to the aforementioned string of incidents.
As luck would have it, this seemed to be a good choice, burnt toast theory or whatever you wanted to sum it up to. It was all over news and radio in your town, two patrons, a man and a woman, had gone missing right after leaving in an unmarked ride share. Reports had suggested that they had gotten into the wrong car and local officials spoke about the possibility of a curfew and urged towards the use of established taxi services and public transportation for those getting around.
You currently sat back at that same bar, a bleeding heart for the poor owners that had lamented in a local social media group about the winter business they relied on to pay the ever-increasing bills all but dying out, putting them out a good chunk of money since investing in higher quality security measures in hopes of instilling greater public trust. You watched the blurry, soundless released cctv footage play on the news between sports game coverage as you sipped on your drink, eyes flitting between the yellowed flatscreen and a group running a trivia night. You sighed, taking another sip as you overheard someone beside you talking about how this whole disaster had been great for his cab business, likening it to a boon.
“Christ, have some respect.” A deep voice grumbled from your other side, causing your head to rip to the new stranger being dismissively jeered at by the offending party. A bearded man had somehow silently slotted himself into the seat to your right without alerting you. Catching his gaze, his eyes appraised you for a moment before he tutted and shook his head. “Distasteful lot they are.” He hissed, “Don’t even know if they’re gone yet.” You huffed out a quiet breath and nodded in response, not too keen on being cordial. His voice carried a proper British lilt, the accent a reminder of your short-lived cyber stalker. “This town always so crass?”
You sniffed and looked back, shrugging. “Maybe, dunno.” You mumbled. Something about this guy gave you the creeps. He was handsome enough, older, well kept, and filling out his wool-lined Levi’s jacket like it had been tailored around his body specifically, but there was something in the way you caught him licking at his teeth and gums out of the corner of your vision- the smile you could make out as he watched the news pop up once more, it twisted your gut- made you feel like it was a mistake coming here.
“Can I grab my tab?” You spoke, flagging down the bartender that you had caught making eyes at the patron beside you. She smiled and nodded, and you desperately wished her face would have hinted that she had caught the same vibes from him that you had, something to make you feel like you weren’t reading into it or making things up. “Leaving?” The man asked as you grabbed your winter coat. You nodded, causing him to dive into his pocket for a well worn wallet, treated hide of some sort. “Let me, love.”
You nodded, the less you’d have to talk to him the better and something told you that he wouldn’t drop it if you had refused, anyway. “Thanks.” You breathed. “Have a nice night.” See you never, hopefully.
“Get home safe.” He replied, grinning with teeth.
Tumblr media
353 notes · View notes
saintslewis · 4 months ago
Text
forever yours: the series | 44
Tumblr media
— series.
Tumblr media
pairing: sir lewis hamilton x black oc, lindokuhle lee vilakazi
summary: work just never ends for lee, even during her down time but hey? more money and possibly more connections.
warnings for this chapter: cussing, outfit descriptions, social media.
saint’s team radio 🪽: first chapter! hope y’all enjoy 🤍
pls like, comment and reblog!
taglist down below!
dividers from @cafekitsune
Tumblr media
ATLANTA, GA
The smell of hair straighteners burning through each bundle filled Lee with some sort of comfort, knowing she was going to walk out of this salon with a fresh do and a check on her maintenance to-do list.
It wasn’t that exciting of a race that she’d have to go to in a few days time. Austria. Not always the most fun of grand prixs but it fills a gap for the ever growing f1 calendar. She looked straight ahead at the mirror watching the hairstylist work her magic in the prestigious looking salon Lee had seen on instagram.
The stylists here were nosy, trying to be all up in people’s businesses including that of customers. Lee had no time to take no bullshit but she knew the lady was still working on her head, something she knew she couldn’t afford to mess up. Her phone became boring after some time even seeing a few messages from her assistant and her niece’s babysitter/ au pair.
“Hold up, hold up!” A voice yelled out in the salon with excitement in the tone. “Don’t I know you from somewhere, girl?”
Lee hoped and prayed that they weren’t talking to her. They couldn’t be. She wasn’t all that known except in the f1/sports community. “Yeah, you look real familiar, girl!” And in the corner of her eye, she saw another hairstylist plop down on the seat next to her with the biggest grin on her face. “Kya! Remember that girl I showed you with that fine ass man two weeks ago?” The lady shouted over to someone else.
Oh God. Lee immediately knew what this was about. It’s all anyone recognised her for the past few weeks. During the week of the Canadian Grand Prix, someone compiled a bunch of vids that included Lee and the sport’s greatest, Lewis Hamilton lookin cozy. First, it was the camera pointed to Lee during the race and of course she had to admit, her makeup looked good that day.
Then it was when a couple of fans saw them walking together through the paddock to their respective cars, laughing and a hug that lasted a little longer than usual and that had the internet going ballistic.
Forcing a smile, Lee gathered the energy to speak when the lady was done speaking. “Yeah! That’s her! That nigga looked rich, girl. That’s your man or what because if not, a sister could use a little lovin.” The woman laughed, causing a ripple effect in the salon, hairstylists and patrons alike.
To be messy or to not be messy? It’s not like she’s ever going to see these people ever again.
“We’re not a thing. He’s just a close friend but if you want, I’ll put in a good word for ya.” Lee spoke, already feeling the heat of the hot comb a little too close to her scalp through the wig cap.
The woman stared at her then smiled. “You a real one! And your accent is cute as hell.” She got up and left Lee’s side to her other friends and Lee sighed in relief. She’s been asked that very question one too many times in the past few weeks.
Sitting for another 30 minutes, Lee finally got up, paid and left the salon feeling all brand new. Of course she spared smiles and laughs with the hairstylists but she’s never wanted to get out of there quicker. The noise and heat was just overstimulating her senses. She still tipped though, you don’t get champagne at every hair salon.
“Yes, Santana?” Lee answered the phone, settling into her car seat of her rental. She’ll admit it, she did splurge on the rental but it’s not like she had anything to lose. Although the Maybach did fuel some unnecessary rumours.
“Lee, oh my goodness! I’ve been trying to reach you. Anyways, Lewis’ publicist and I were speaking and he’d like for you to speak in his segment for Drive to Survive in Austria. He arranged a whole thing.” Santana spoke through the phone, sounding like she was in the city.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she thought over of it for a second. “You know what? Sure. I know there’s gonna be a bit of a schedule change though for me, right?” Lee asked, fastening her seatbelt and connecting her phone to the car speaker so she could pull out of the parking space.
“Yeah, you’d be missing that SkySports segment with Danica about Red Bull and VCARB. So it’s all up to you-”
“Absolutely cancel that shit. I’ll speak to Lewis more about the deets but thank you, Santana. See you at the airport, yeah?” She turned into a drive thru of some fast food restaurant, she was too hungry to even focus.
The two wrapped up the convo and within 10 minutes, Lee got her food. Deciding to not eat in the car, she sped through to her airbnb and hopped out. Setting her phone on the kitchen island, she facetimed Lewis rather so she could eat.
“You still in Spain? I know those clouds from anywhere.” She joked once the call connected and she could see his confused face pop up on the screen. “Matter of fact, I’m in London but I’ll let you have that one.” Lewis smiled, finding a spot to sit down so he could have her whole attention.
“Listen, I’m hearing that you wanted me to speak with Netflix?” Lee unpacked her food order and laid it out in front of her.
He furrowed his eyebrows a bit before realising what she was talking about. “Oh um, yeah. Wanted to get through to you professionally and all that. Need someone on my side, y’know?” He cleared his throat, making his voice slightly raspy.
“My whole career is based around supporting you, Lewis. So I don’t mind, you know I got it. They want me to say some shit about your move to Ferrari?” Lee looked at the screen as she drank her soda.
Lewis nodded, his eyes slightly squinted under his cap. “I know it’s been a recurring topic but I just wanted someone who’ll be positive all the way through the segment.” He scratched his beard.
“Okay, no problem. I’ll talk to those directors then because they tried to talk to me earlier. You know I was supposed to work with Danicka before I heard of your thing?” Lee chuckled in disbelief, biting into a spoonful her grilled chicken bowl.
“You look good.” He spoke, smiling when he saw her being taken aback at his compliment. “Thank you? I got my hair done today, this is what Austria will see on their screens. But did you hear what I said?” Lee raised her eyebrow at the man.
Lewis chuckled before answering. “I heard, love but I don’t want to talk about her or any of them. Tell me, how are you getting to Austria?”
Pausing her hand on the spoon, she looked at him. “No, Lewis, I will not be flying with you. We’ve already got enough rumours as it is. Plus, I don’t wanna step on nobody’s toes.” Lee went back to stabbing through her food.
“Should I ask you again? I rather like the back and forth with you.” Lewis giggled, seeing her eyes dart to the screen once again. “Whatever you say, I’ll just smile and nod.”
She rolled her eyes. He was unbelievable. “Whatever you say, Mr Hamilton. I’ll see you in Austria next week.” Lee smiled, eating another spoonful of her food. He sighed and now it was his turn to roll his eyes at her stubbornness.
The two continued speaking on the Netflix interviews and how the directors would twist their words for the sake of good television. The conversation didn’t last too long because Lewis had other things to tend to whilst Lee would appreciate eating her lunch peacefully without him teasing her about looking like a chipmunk while she had food in her mouth.
-
RED BULL RING, AUSTRIA
Her heels were surprisingly comfortable for their first wear. The small chair that Netflix provided was a bit cold but luckily she didn’t have to be there for too long before she returned to SkySports to film something within the paddock.
The film crew assistant’s hands were shaking as he tried to mic Lee up. Because of how much time it took to get the mic strapped, some people got the nerve to walk up to her in her most peaceful time in the paddock.
“You know, I’ve always thought you looked super intimidating with your heels on! Like you’re a villain or something.” A loud, agitating voice with a side of clacking sandals invaded her personal space even more than the man strapping up the mic on her back.
Sighing and rolling her eyes, Lee gave Danicka a sharp look, one that said ‘shut up or you’ll get your ass beat’, and fixed the sleeves or her blazer. It didn’t take too long for everything to be set before beginning her solo segment on something the RedBulls were doing this weekend.
Damn, I need a shot. Or more money to motivate me
So focused on her inner thoughts while watching the playback video of her segment, she got knocked out of it by a tap on her shoulder. Once she felt the tap and it awoke her senses, she also heard the cheers and murmurs surrounding her. It could only be one person.
“Good morning, Lewis.” Lee said to her dear friend, who loved to do this surprising thing lately, as she stood up straight. The man was always in awe when he locked eyes with her. “Mornin’ Lee. I’ll see you later for our thing, yeah?” He smiled, his eyes probably crinkling behind his sunglasses.
“We have a thing?” Her eyebrows furrowed, her nose scrunching up a tiny bit before letting go. A little trait of hers that Lewis loves so much. “You need to check your emails more, sweetheart.” He winked, she just knew he did, behind the designer sunnies before walking away, tucking his hands back into his pockets.
What she could not explain was why her stomach did the thing when he winked. When she smelled his delicious cologne and surprisingly loving his Adam Sandler-esque tracksuit.
“Uh Lee? Are you okay?” The cameraman, Josh, stood up straight and asked his friend in concern. Snapping out of it, she looked at Josh. “Huh? Oh, yeah I’m good. Just fine.” She reassured him, looking back at the direction Lewis went, knowing very well that he left a while ago.
Josh then had a smirk on his face. “Right. What’d your boyfriend say?” He teased, feeling a smack on his arm a second later. “Don’t start with me, Josh. Don’t even think about it, yoh.” She warned, stepping back to the front of the camera to finish up her work.
Tumblr media
saint’s notes 🧝🏽‍♀️: wellllll this is a small small introduction to the mini series and how their lil friendship goes! Lewis is a yearnerrrr in this one but that’s alright 🤭 hope you guys enjoyed!
🫧 tagslist: @mauvecherie-writes @chaneajoyyy @alika-4466 @queenshikongo3 @serpenttines @emjayewrites @exotic-iris13 @yeea-nah @vsfavs @motheroffae @h4vertzz @arshiyuh @henneseyhoe @cocobutterqwueen @gwenda-fav @httpsserene @peyiswriting @saturnville @purplelewlew @greedyjudge2 @sunfairyy @marvel-hotchner @boujiestpoet @f1-football-fiend @shhhchriss @jewel-diva44 @pickingupmymercedes @tian-monique
🫧 dividers: @cafekitsune
Tumblr media
188 notes · View notes
harrysfolklore · 3 months ago
Text
carlos sainz being hopelessly in love: a compilation
Tumblr media
GIF by sainzprix
summary: carlos sainz can't help but talk about his girlfriend all the time, fans make compilation videos about it
folkie radio: compilation blurbs are back! honestly i have so much fun doing these and i was dying to do it for carlitossss, hope you enjoy!
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
Carlos Sainz might be known as Formula 1's Smooth Operator, but there's one thing that makes him completely lose his cool: his girlfriend.
While most drivers keep their private lives under wraps, Carlos can't seem to help himself from turning into a lovesick puppy whenever she is mentioned. His teammates often tease him about how his usual composed demeanor melts away at the mere sight of her.
Fan compilations began flooding social media, showing every endearing moment of Carlos being completely smitten. The most popular one, titled "Carlos Sainz Being Hopelessly In Love: A Compilation," gained millions of views across platforms.
The video opens with Carlos walking to the Ferrari garage during media day. "Favorite meal after a race?" the social media guy asks for the team's instagram stories.
"Well, my girlfriend makes this amazing risotto," Carlos grins, adjusting his Ferrari cap, "I used to prefer paella but now… don't tell my mother, but her risotto is unbeatable."
In another clip, Carlos is doing a Ferrari team challenge, asked about his most used emoji.
"The chili emoji," Carlos laughs, "Because that's what I call my girlfriend. My little chili. She's small but spicy."
During a post-race interview after a podium finish: "This one's special because my girlfriend is here today. She couldn't come to many races this season so having her here for a podium means everything."
Another clip shows Carlos arriving at the paddock, his girlfriend walking slightly behind him. A fan calls out asking for a photo, and Carlos immediately reaches back to take her hand, pulling her into the frame with him.
"No no," he says when she tries to step away, "You're part of the photo cariño."
The fans melted, getting the entire interaction on camera.
There's a moment captured by F1TV during a rain delay. Carlos is in the garage, and the camera catches him FaceTiming with his girlfriend who couldn't make it to that race.
"See? It's properly wet," he shows her the track, "But don't worry, I'll be careful. Yes, yes, I promise."
A clip from Ferrari's social media games shows Carlos doing a "Rate or Hate" segment. When shown a picture of breakfast in bed:
"Rate, obviously. My girlfriend makes the best breakfast," he pauses, "Actually, she's going to watch this and know I'm lying. I make breakfast most mornings because she's terrible at waking up early. But she makes great coffee once she's actually awake."
"Mate, don't roast her like that," Charles laughed from beside him.
"She loves me, she doesn't mind." Carlos shrugged
There's footage from a fan in Monaco, catching Carlos and his girl walking their dogs. They don't notice they're being filmed, and Carlos is gesturing animatedly while she laughs, reaching up to wipe something from his face. The natural, unguarded moment became a fan favorite.
During another Ferrari social media video, Carlos is asked about his most played song.
"Oh no," he laughs, "My girlfriend's going to kill me but it's that Taylor Swift song she keeps playing. It's been stuck in my head for weeks. She converted me into a Swiftie, I can't believe it."
A paddock moment caught on camera shows her helping Carlos with his sunscreen before a hot race.
"I burn easily!" Carlos defends when Charles teases him, "She's is just taking care of me. Unlike some teammates…"
During a radio interview, Carlos is asked about living in Monaco.
"The best part is having my girlfriend there," he says, "She's made our house a home. Though she insists on having plants everywhere. I think we have about fifty now? She names them all too."
A casual moment caught by Sky Sports shows Carlos talking to his trainer between sessions. His girlfriend appears with his water bottle, and without interrupting his conversation, Carlos automatically lifts his arm so she can fit against his side.
During a Ferrari team challenge about "Who knows Carlos better?", Charles vs his girlfriend:
"His biggest fear?" the interviewer asks.
"Spiders," she answers immediately.
"That was supposed to be a secret!" Carlos protests.
"Mi amor, everyone knows since you made me catch that spider in the motorhome while you stood on a chair."
There's a sweet moment from Carlos' birthday celebration at a race weekend. The Ferrari team surprises him with a cake, and the camera catches his girlfriend helping him blow out the candles.
"What did you wish for?" someone asks.
"I already have everything I need," Carlos responds, his arm around her.
The compilation includes a clip where Carlos is doing simulator work, completely focused, until his girlfriend brings him coffee. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he reaches for her hand and kisses it in thanks.
One of the most shared clips shows Carlos after a difficult race where he DNF'd. He's clearly frustrated in the garage, but the camera catches his girlfriend quietly approaching him. She doesn't say anything, just takes his hand, and you can see his shoulders immediately relax.
The final clip shows Carlos at a racing podcast, responding to a question about handling public attention as a couple.
"We try to keep things private, but it's natural to want to share your happiness sometimes. She understands this world, she supports me unconditionally, and that makes everything easier. Though she does make fun of me when I take too long choosing my race day outfit."
The compilation ends with text reading: "Find someone who's hopelessly in love with you as Carlos is with his girlfriend."
2K notes · View notes
sadistic-kiss · 6 months ago
Text
Double Date~ Toji x Reader x Sukuna
Tumblr media
Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen
Characters: Toji Fushiguro and Ryoumen Sukuna (X Fem Reader)
Universe: AU
Rating: Explicit (all da goods)
Genre: Smutty
Kinks: BDSM, Spanking, Breeding and Dacryphilla 
Ingredients/Commission given by: Yorus @yorusranddie
Cover work also done by @yorusranddie ✨❤️✨
Summary: You were supposed to set up a double date for Toji Fushiguro and Sukuna Ryoumen with your mom and aunt so how did YOU end up in bed with them?
✨✨✨✨✨
You hummed to the tune playing from the car speakers, Billie Eilish Lunch singing from your lips. Your head was propped up on your hand as you sank into the back seats of the red and black sports car. Your thumb moves up and down on your phone scrolling through pictures of your friends and silly memes.
“I can eat that girl for lunch… dances on my tongue...” The words were a second thought while you double-tapped your screen liking a video. 
Within the next moment, the radio was turned down.
“So you like eating pussy huh?” 
Your eyes rolled up to the rearview mirror where Sukuna’s red ones looked at you. 
You put a lot of sass in your words as you say, “That’s not a very family-friendly question unc.”
You could see how his eyes narrowed at you, hating when you called him ‘unc’ or ‘uncle’. He was your best friend's uncle but not yours. You just like to tease him. Hear the way he gripped the steering wheel. Get under his skin. It was a fun pastime. 
“What did I say about calling me that?”
“Well if you date my aunt doesn’t that make you my uncle anyway?”
“That-“
“Watch the road Sukuna.” Yuuji elbowed his uncle from the passenger seat. The car swiveled a bit as Sukuna snatched the wheel back. 
“I got this kid.” The older man scoffed, his ego wounded twice within the same minute. 
You let out a teasing giggle, returning to your phone. That’s when a notification pops up on your screen.
Mom: Sorry sweetie but-
You couldn't see the rest of the message before it disappeared, but your stomach sunk from what you had already seen from the preview. You quickly got to your messages to see the full text from your mom.
Mom: Sorry sweetie but your aunt and I had decided to cancel. We just don't think we are ready for another commitment. Please apologize to Mr. Fushiguro and Ryoumen.
“Fuck-“
“What?”
“N-nothing…” you quickly texted back- what does she mean they aren't coming! This is so last minute! 
Me: Mom you have been divorced for like three years! And Auntie said she needed someone to get over her last relationship.
Mom: I think we are just going to have a little girl's night. You know love ourselves! You’re welcome to come over too if you want. 
You puffed your cheeks in annoyance. What the hell were you going to say to freaking Sukuna and Toji?! Just as you looked up the car rolled to a stop, parking in front of Mr. Fushiguro’s house.
Yuuji hopped out to get into the back seat and as he slid in next to you, you pointed at your phone, showing him the message. He mouthed the words as he read, head leaned to the side a bit while he slowly buckled his seat belt in. 
“Yikes.” He hissed under his breath. 
“Tell me about it…” 
“What are we talking about back there?” Sukuna questioned with a raised brow.
“Uh…” you opened your mouth but your words were interrupted as the front and back doors opened.
“Heyo .” Yuuji greeted Megumi as he slid into the seat.
“Sup.” Megumi salutes and wave.
Toji plopped in the front, you can see Sukuna sizing him up. Once Toji got situated he looked toward the tatted man. 
“Toji.” He introduced himself while reaching over to shake his hand. 
“Sukuna.” The two clapped hands with a firm shake. 
You could see their veins bulge as if they were trying to break each other's hands. Their eye contact was firm and well. Like a predator meeting another predator- taunting each other. Trying to show who is the king of the jungle. 
Yuuji coughed as he leaned forward with his phone, pointing to the address of the club. “Nobara said this place was pretty good for the price.”
You blanked at Yuuji, did he not read what your mom sent? The party was over! Well… maybe it didn’t have to be. You can pretend you've never seen it…
The interruption from Yuuji broke up the big dick contest.
Sukuna typed in the address while Toji greeted you, “Hey, you look nice.” He complimented. 
You gave him an appreciative smile, “Thank you, sir. You look nice as well.”
You could see the little glare sent your way from Sukuna in the rearview mirror but it seemed only you noticed. You knew he was pissed that you just called Toji sir while you called him unc. L-o- fucking-l. You laugh on the inside keeping your eyes on Toji.
“I hope your mother thinks so too, did you send her the address?”
“I- yup. I sure did.”
After Sukuna got the GPS started he took off on the road. Yuuji and Megumi were the main ones talking… well… it was more Yuuji talking and Megumi responding with his usual bored tone. 
The entire ride there you were planning how you were going to tell the two men in front. Staged it in your head. Played out the scene. You were going to put on your best acting performance. 
Sukuna pulled up to the colorful lighted club with a giant sign that read ‘Special Grade’ and as you were getting out you let out a little gasp while looking at your phone. Everyone looked toward you expectantly. 
“Ah~ sorry guys my mom and aunt are staying in tonight.” You smacked your lips giving everyone an apologetic look.
“Seriously?” Sukuna deadpanned.
“Yeah… that sucks… well we are already here might as well have fun!” You didn’t get dressed up for nothing. Hopping out of the car you closed the door and walked toward the building. Yuuji and Megumi by your side.
“They haven’t gotten out of the car yet.” Megumi pointed out.
“Eh, they are just in shock, nothing a few drinks can solve- NOBARA!” You squealed running up to your best friend as the two of you hopped up and down in excitement. 
“Oi I’m your boyfriend and you give her more excitement than me!” Yuuji pouted as Nobara rolled her eyes.
“Oh hush~ let’s go have some fun… uh where’s your family I thought they were coming?”
“My family decided to ditch us.”
“My dad’s in the car with Sukuna, probably contemplating life.”
“Pfft, in the wise words of Shoko everything can be solved with alcohol.”
“That’s what I said!”
“That is a terrible motto to go by.”
You laughed as the four of you walked toward the entrance. With a glance back you saw Toji and Sukuna finally getting out of the car. You felt a little bad for them but with their looks, they could pick up any girl. What was one little rejection going to do to them?
~
Okay, they were pissing you off. And by they you meant Toji and Sukuna. The two men had gotten a booth together, taking shots in their little corner. 
You’ve seen plenty of girls try to talk to them but they turned everyone away! 
Were they going to sit there all night knocking shot after shot like some sad teenage boys?!
You were dancing on the light-up floor, red sequin dress swishing side to side, catching the colorful rays of light flashing. Alcohol filled your blood while you groove to the music, but you kept glaring at Sukuna and Toji. Body on autopilot while your mind was reeling. 
“You okay?” Nobara questioned as she shimmied and swayed around with Yuuji. 
“Yeah!” You nodded your head and gave her a thumb up just in case she didn’t hear you over the music. "I'm going to go check on our sad boys!" Breaking away from the group you beelined to the table in the corner.
They were talking but once they saw you coming the conversation stopped, the two of them gave you their attention as you planted yourself before their table.
"Are you guys kidding?" You questioned with your gaze bouncing between the two.
"What?" Sukuna screamed over the loud music.
You leaned upon the table with your hands on top, getting closer to them. So close that you could smell the alcohol upon their lips mingle in the air.
"I said...are you guys kidding!?"
Toji raised a brow, "What's wrong sweetheart?"
"You two! You guys are just sitting here drinking alone, you don't want to like dance or have fun?" You question hooking your thumb behind you.
Sukuna snorted, "I don't want to dance with someone unworthy of my time."
"Besides..." Toji began with a little grin, "Whoever said we aren't having fun?"
You release a sharp laugh, "Ha! What you two BFF's now?"
"Well..." Toji drawled with a sneaky tone, "...It would appear we got a lot more in common than we thought."
It may have been the alcohol but as the two looked at you with a little snicker you had figured the joke was about them both being rejected. 
Little did you know...
"Listen..." You began with a little sigh. "I'm sorry my aunt and mom ditched you guys, I don't know what is going on with them but I hope you guys can still have fun. Let me get you a shot at least."
"On your paycheck?" Sukuna teased.
"So then you know how serious I am!"
"Nah...I'll get it but you'll take one with us." He got up gesturing for you to sit down.
"Deal." You grinned as you slid into the spot Sukuna was in, the seat warm. 
As you waited for Sukuna to come back with your drinks you looked toward Toji. You were going to say something but something about him caught you off guard. He was ruggedly handsome. The club lights flashed across his face and danced in his green eyes. His scar only adds to his appearance… you wanted to trace your finger over it. Never had you viewed him in such a way. He was your friend's dad after all and you tried to set him up with your mom. Not that they really knew much about each other but it was just kind of like a… ‘why not?’. See if they kick it off kind of thing. 
Megumi was tired of the man being lazy and broke, living off of his divorce money and his wife’s life insurance. You all thought…what if a woman could whip him into shape? 
Toji caught you staring at him but you were too slow to act as if you weren’t. 
“You stare anymore and ya gonna make me blush sweetheart.” He flashed you a grin that shouldn’t have caused your stomach to stir. 
“My bad, I was just looking at your scar.” You lie with ease. “How’d you get it?”
“Ah, this?” He rubbed the back of his fingers upon it. “Got into it with my old man when I was young. We never really saw eye to eye.“
Megumi had told you that they were not close to the Zenin family. Apparently, his grandpa was a narcissistic control freak. “That’s a horrible thing to do to a kid…I’m glad you don’t associate with them anymore and that you didn’t follow in the abuse train.”
Toji seemed pleased with your response, “Yeah…dude was a coward. I’m not a great dad but I don’t think I’m too bad.”
“Well, you lost your wife, so being a single parent for your child and your bitchy ex-wife is… ya know kinda crazy. And come on…” you grin while elbowing him, “… I wouldn’t have set up this date with my mom if I didn’t think you were a good man. You just need some… help.”
“Help huh?”
“Like~” you pop your lips, “A woman’s touch or something. Tsumiki is grown and Megumi is off to college so it’s like you are stuck. Don’t take it the wrong way or anything but you and my mom got this whole I will never love again vibe going on. I think that’s horse shit-oop! Haha, my bad. I guess I usually don’t talk so freely with you.”
“Quite the sailor aren’t you?”
You let out a little laugh as the two of you enjoyed the moment. That’s when Sukuna came back with a bottle and three shot glasses. He squeezed into the booth with you in the middle, setting down the cups.
“Fucking line took forever.” Sukuna cursed filling up the shot glasses.
“See? I get it from my unc.” You joked making Toji chuckle.
Sukuna looked at both of you in confusion, “Get what from me?”
“Cursing.” You smiled grabbing your shot. 
“The fuck you do.” The three of you clinked glasses and tapped the table before knocking back the burning liquid. Sukuna let out a frat boy kind of grunt while slamming the glass down so hard you are surprised it didn’t break. “That mouth of yours was always filthy.” He looked toward you with such an expression it gave you whiplash. “Someone atta spank your ass.”
This whole thing was always a game of chicken. Teasing and flirting with each other has just been your way since what feels like the beginning. It was harmless fun. He always talked about spanking you anytime he deemed you being naughty. So you didn’t think twice as you set your gaze, looking up at Sukuna from under your thick fake lashes. 
“What? Are you going to spank me?” 
Something flashed within his eyes before he settled you with a devilish grin, he leaned closer to you but you didn’t back down. You were never one to back down. Always ready for a challenge especially when it came to Sukuna. 
He licked his lips, red gaze bouncing between your eyes and somewhere lower. He then whispered, “You would like that…wouldn’t you?”
Woah- 
Something about this felt like it was outside of the playing field. It caught you off guard. What was even more terrifying was the tiny voice in your head that said ‘yes’. Perhaps tomorrow you will blame your stubbornness on the alcohol.
You cocked your head, getting a breath away from him, “You- would like that.”
He didn’t back down, his grin only widening, “We- would like that.”
You blanked falling backward as you disengaged from your game. You look toward Toji who was watching with intense interest. His gaze locked on to you. You had forgotten he was here. Feeling embarrassed that he witnessed such a thing. Yet the way he was staring at you had your body heating up. 
Like he enjoyed watching 
Suddenly this moment felt strange. You felt naked. Exposed. Like you were in danger… but a delicious kind of danger. 
Sukuna had said ‘we’.
“What’s…going on here?” You questioned with a suspicious glare.
Toji cleared his throat as he leaned in closer to you, “Remember…when I said we both had something in common?”
You nodded slowly.
“It’s you.”
“Me?” You asked in shock.
“Yes, you.”
“No- no way! You two were supposed to be dating my mom and aunt may I remind you!”
Sukuna rolled his eyes, “I only said yes so you’d stop nagging me.”
Toji shrugged seemingly agreeing with the statement. “In other words, it was a good thing they canceled. Made us realize after talking we should tell you the truth.”
Your brain was unable to keep up. You felt frozen as they told you their secret. You could not believe this was happening. 
You let out a gasp as you felt someone caressing your thigh gently. Looking down you watched as Sukuna smoothed his hand up and down, creating a path of warmth that set fire to other places. Toji’s hand began to play with your hair. You were mesmerized by their touch and voices. 
“What do you say…” Toji’s words tickled one ear as Sukuna did the other. “…can you handle both of us brat?”
“…”
~
You moaned in Toji’s lap, tongues slipping against each other in a lewd slop. Your dress rode up over your ass, his hands wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. 
You felt another hand glide over your cheek, fingers slipping to your cunt. Sukuna growled from the driver's seat, trying to get the three of you home as quickly as possible. “You ain’t wearing underwear?”
Toji chuckled breaking apart from your lips, “I told you she wasn’t.”
“How did you know?” You giggle grinding yourself on top of his clothed length. 
“Because you are a naughty little vixen.” Toji slapped your ass harshly making you squeak.
“Wearing this skimpy ass outfit with no underwear.” Sukuna also gave you a harsh slap making you gasp. “Slut is just begging for it.”
Your phone had dinged, having fallen onto the floor between Toji’s feet. The screen was a text from Nobara saying she hoped you feel better. 
You had made an excuse that you felt sick and Sukuna was going to take you home. Toji had said he was tired and too old to hang with the youngins and the three of you left. Megumi and Yuuji decide to catch a ride with Nobara. 
You guys kept it cool until you were in the elevator. As soon as the doors closed that’s when the lustful dance began. The two of them take turns kissing you and pressing you up against the wall. And it didn’t end from there. You could barely get into the car, Toji pulling you into the front seat with him while telling Sukuna to drive safely. 
You couldn’t get enough.
Your thirst unable to be quenched. 
Sukuna pulled into his garage as you and Toji continued making out. You were too distracted from your session to see that you were finally at your destination. The passenger door was ripped open as Sukuna grabbed a fistful of your hair.
“Hey!” You gasped as he pulled you out of the car, “I hope you are paying for me to get my hair done!”
“Yeah yeah I ruin it I’ll fix it.” Sukuna gave you a lustful kiss, moaning against your lips. 
“I guess the dress is on me huh?” Toji chuckled getting out of the car. 
You had already heard a tear from your dress, one of your earrings was missing and your heels had a little scruff to it. You made sure to let the men know that they would be replacing anything from their rough handling of you. 
Not that you minded. 
The door was slammed shut behind you as you were practically carried inside. You were in the foyer kissing Sukuna while Toji slipped your heels off. The three of you nearly tripped over each other to get into the bedroom. 
Sukuna unzipped your dress with dexterous fingers, pushing the fabric down. He slapped your tit making it bounce, glaring at you while he nipped your lip, “No bra either. Who let you out like this?”
“I’m a grown woman unc.” You teased. You giggled at the way he glared at you. 
You were spun around swiftly and then pushed against Toji as he snapped at him. 
“Hold her.”
You heard the rustling of a belt as Toji circled his arms around your waist. 
“What are you…” you looked back just as Sukuna yanked your wrist behind you, tying your wrist with the leather belt. You hissed at the slight discomfort. 
“Give me your belt.”
Toji shifted around as he took his belt off with one hand handing it to Sukuna. You looked at the exchange with wide eyes. Watching Sukuna fold the belt.
“Wait!”
*SMACK*
“Ai!” You jerked against Toji as the leather snapped against your ass like a swift viper. 
Sukuna grabbed a handful of your ass, shaking it as he hissed into your ear. “I don’t want to hear you ever call me unc again!” 
*SMACK*!
“Ow! Sukuna!” You were now trying to get away, the harsh slap of the belt had your cheeks ringing in pain. 
“Yeah, that’s more like it! You either call me Sukuna or sir, do you understand?” He hit your ass again as you screamed out.
“Yes! Yes!” You cried feeling your eyes water. You didn’t think he was that upset when you called him unc! It was just a prank damn!
“What was that?!” Sukuna growled. 
*SMACK*
“YESSSIR!” You cried, that last hit rocking the tears from your eyes. They trailed down your cheeks.
“Aw, she’s crying…” Toji grabbed your chin as he lifted your face. “Such a sweet face.” 
You thought he felt bad for you but it seemed to be the opposite. He liked to see your tears. 
“Let me see.” Sukuna pulled your head back, his phone in your face. 
Your eyes widened in surprise as the flash went off. 
“That’s fucking hot…” Sukuna groaned pulling the phone away as he licked at your tears. You didn’t have time to say anything about the picture as Toji licked at your other cheek, hand trailing down as he cupped your sore ass. 
You gasp, “Y-you guys are sick.” You glare at them as they only chuckle. 
“Another thing we have in common princess.” Toji grinned pushing you onto the bed. 
You gasped flopping on the bed, your leg was then grabbed as Toji stuck two fingers inside you. 
“Ah~!” You let out a gasp, pussy clinging around his fingers as if it had been dying for this. 
“Yet you are so wet…Who’s more sick, it seems you are getting off on this little masochist?”
Sukuna fisted himself out of his pants, grabbing your chin tightly, “You will be crying and wetting our cocks like the little slut you are.”
Toji used his other hand to pull his pants just underneath his length, a fiery gleam in his eyes as he smirked, “And we know you will enjoy it.”
You were shocked to hear Toji agree with such things- Sukuna yes this matched his character but never would you have known Toji to be a closeted sadist. 
Did you fuck up?
Who were you kidding? 
You let out a moan as the two men shoved their cocks inside you. Toji in your pussy while Sukuna took your mouth. 
Gentle? Never heard of her.
You were taken with wild abandonment. And true to their words you shed more tears and gushed upon their lengths. All while they laughed and taunted you with sinister words. Sukuna even dragged his fingers over your tears and wiped them on his cock before entering your cumdumped pussy. They didn’t even ask if they could cum in you- they just did. 
How was it possible that they could keep going? 
At one point you finally began to beg for them to release your wrists. But they wouldn’t. Like they didn’t want you to try to run away.
They used your body for their pleasure, saying dirty things like how they always wanted to do this to you. Bringing up times when you wore clothes that left nothing to the imagination. Their favorite was the red shorts that cupped your cheeks. They’d talk about masturbating to the thought of you and the pictures they snuck. 
You bet this is what they were talking about while sitting in the corner sharing drinks. Sharing their explicit thoughts and pictures of you. 
They are actually crazy. 
Yet you were still cumming and leaking like a broken faucet. You actually had no shame. No thought. Especially as you bounced up and down Sukuna’s length while sucking on Toji’s cock with greed. 
Your eye just so happens to catch the clock on the dresser as you gasp pulling back, “oh crap-“
Sukuna slapped your ass as he leaned back with his hands behind his head, “Keep bouncing.” 
“M-my birth control- I need to go take it!” You usually take it before bed but you must not have heard your alarm since your phone was in the car. 
That seemed to pause them.
“You what?” Toji questioned.
“I was supposed to take it at eight, I forgot. I was too drunk…maybe I can get a plan b tomorrow… or today seeing as it’s fucking 2 am.”
Sukuna snorted, grabbing your hips tightly, “Not a chance.” He then picked you up and dropped you making you scream. “I’m gonna fuck a baby in you now.”
“Fuck off we didn’t discuss this.” Toji growled while getting behind you. He pushed you down so you could press into Sukuna’s chest and then you felt something poke at your pussy right alongside Sukuna’s cock. 
You gasp, “No! I can’t-“
Toji and Sukuna lifted you up as they both tried to cram their cocks inside your cunt. You released a scream as one cock left and another entered, back and forth back and forth. You were stretched unbelievably- the intensity had you sweating and drooling. You were losing your mind. Their vigor turned into something more insatiable. You were lucky they didn’t try to jam both cocks inside you at the same time- you don’t think you’d be able to stretch that much. This already was too much. 
You couldn’t stop moaning and crying, begging for something. Perhaps mercy. But they didn’t know the differences, and neither did you. 
“Please-! Please-! Ah- please!”
“You want-mm- my cum baby?”
“No, -Ngh- she wants mine. Say it- ah- say you want it.”
You were drowning in it all so you did as you were told screaming, “Yes! Yes, I want it-i-I want your cum!” But you never clarify who’s. That was their own personal problem. 
“Fuck-yes baby keep begging for it-“
“I’m going to give it to you- you better take it- “
The two groaned as they came inside you again for the -who knows how many times tonight- but this time it seemed like they gave you the fattest load. The thought of you carrying their child was something that truly kicked off their lust. Your orgasm had you seeing stars and soon you felt as though you blacked out. 
You felt them finally untie your hands but your arms just hung with exhaustion. You were laid in the middle of the bed, letting out a light groan. Body exhausted. You had finally hit your limit. 
“Crazy…” you mumbled. “Crazy…” 
“You bring it out of us.”
Sukuna and Toji shared a laugh as they leaned back in bed cuddling with you, fine with lying in all of the mess and sweat. Filthy men they were. But you doubt that you were far from them. Because you more than enjoyed yourself tonight. And now you will expect to be spoiled like this from now on. 
Although you wonder if they were joking about the whole pregnancy thing…were they really trying to get you pregnant?
That was a problem for sober you. 
✨✨✨✨✨
246 notes · View notes
makwebba · 1 year ago
Text
better than a podium l LN4
Tumblr media
summary: lando could've won his first race in silverstone but he ended up not finishing. pairing: lando x gf!reader warnings: mentions of lando crashing and swearing. note: my first formula 1 fan fiction! not my first time writing fan fictions but it has been a couple of years since i wrote something and lately my love for writing is slowly coming back. the pictures are from pinterest and idk who the owners are so if you guys know the owner or if you are the owner, please lemme know :( also no hate on checo but it just kinda make sense cause he's in a red bull idk. dont come for me. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy it!
- lando was leading the race in silverstone, his home race. you could've not been more prouder for your boyfriend, you were certain he was gonna win the race but not until checo hit the rear tyre of lando's car which cause him to spun out and hit the barrier. your heart sank, everything went numb and it felt like the world just stopped. it was a bad crash, you waited for his voice to come through the mclaren headset that's snugged onto your ear. "lando, are you okay, mate?" randy asked through the radio. you can hear him grunt and groan in agony, breaking your heart even further. you hated seeing him like this every time you come and watch him race. what felt like ages, the medical car finally showed up to retrieve him back to the garage. lando didn't even bother making any eye contact with anybody once he got to the garage, not even you. he just went straight back to his driver's room, hearing the door slam behind you. you sighed as you rubbed your face with your hands in frustration. you walked over to where he locked himself in, you didn't even have to see him to feel the tension that was building in the air as you knocked on the door. "lan...?" your voice muffled against the wooden barrier between you and lando. lando's eyes closed shut when he heard your voice behind the door, he always loved how soft spoken you were to him. he hasn't responded back to you as he stayed where he was sat before deciding opening the door for you. there he is. what he once was; a ray of sunlight beaming through the morning sun to becoming the loud rumbling sound of thunder at night. you furrowed your brows as you quickly but gently swift his hand up against yours while you closed the door behind you. "hey..." you whispered as you brought your hand up to his face, searching for his eyes. lando was not the type to cry but boy, he was just on the verge of losing it. you brought him into a tight embrace, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck and his arms wrapping around your back. he held you tight as you started to hear him sniffle which ached your heart painfully. you had to fight your tears back because he hated seeing you be so empathetic for him whenever he had a bad race. "i was close... so fucking close..." he mumbled, his voice getting choked up. "i know, my love. i know." you slowly pulled away from him as he quickly wiped the tears building up in his eyes with the palm of his hand before it could stream down his face. you rubbed his arms for comfort as you stood before him, you finally managed to see his eyes. oh so beautiful but it was filled with so much anger and pain. "you did so well out there. and i know your fans wanted you to win as much as you do. we all did. but sometimes things just doesn't go our way..." you said, running your fingers through the side of his head, intertwining with his curls. "could never win a race, huh?" he muttered, moving your hand away from him. "i don't know why i got into this sport in the first place. not even good at it." it broke your heart to hear him talk so low about himself. you tilted your head slightly to the side as your brows furrowed when he moved your hand away from him, stopping you from running your fingers through his hair. you didn't let him get away from it when you placed both of your hands on his face, staring directly into his eyes. "you don't have to be a race winner to be a great driver. you are enough." lando looked back into your eyes which eased him a little. he took a deep breath in when his hand found a place down on your lower back, a soft smile appeared on his face which made you smile back at him.
it was that contagious. "in everyone's eyes you're a winner. to me you're a champion." a wave of warmth cruised all over lando's body when you said those words to him. it definitely hit a nerve in his system but in a good way. it didn't take long until lando pulled you in closer to him and placed his lips against yours, gentle and passionate. "i wouldn't know what i would've done if you weren't here..." he said. landonorris and ynusername
Tumblr media
liked by mclaren, user1, user2 and 1,233,754 others landonorris shoulda woulda coulda, right? but i’ve got something better than a podium.
the end x
753 notes · View notes
women-in-ssports · 25 days ago
Text
Sidelines and Spotlights
In this high school AU, Azzi, the star soccer player, and Paige, the standout on the basketball team, have always existed in separate worlds—until a teammate’s crush sparks an unexpected deal. If the soccer team shows up to support basketball, the favor must be returned. What starts as a simple agreement quickly turns into something more as Paige and Azzi find themselves drawn together in ways neither expected. But with growing tensions on and off the court, they’ll have to decide if their connection is just part of the game—or something worth fighting for.
Chapter 2 | Friday Night Lights
3k ish wrds
Sliding into the passenger seat of Caroline’s car, Azzi was still buzzing from everything that had just happened. What had started as a casual decision to attend a basketball game—mostly because KK and Gabe had asked—had somehow ended with not one, but two girls blatantly flirting with her. And now, on top of all that, there were going to be even more people at the soccer game tomorrow. She could hardly wrap her head around it.
Her thoughts were cut off as Caroline turned the key, and the radio blasted to life. “Sorry,” Caroline muttered, quickly reaching for the knob to turn down the volume. Azzi barely registered it before she felt Caroline’s gaze on her.
“So,” Caroline started, a teasing lilt in her voice, “how exactly did you walk out of that game with two girlfriends?”
Azzi groaned, leaning her head back against the seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Care.”
Caroline scoffed. “Az, come on. Piper was practically batting her eyelashes at you, and Paige—” she smirked, “—Paige was ready to stake her claim mid-game.”
Azzi shook her head. “They were just being nice,” she insisted. “And Paige—she’s just… well, she has school spirit. Being a good team captain, supporting our team.”
Caroline snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”
Paige had been nervous all day, second-guessing her plan for the game. The basketball team had decided to make posters for the soccer team, and naturally, she had chosen to make one for Azzi. But that wasn’t all—she had also come up with the idea to make a shirt with a giant “35” on it, something she could pull over her hoodie since it would be cold at the game. The only problem? Paige was much better at sports than arts and crafts.
That’s where Kayla came in. Since she was in art class, Paige had enlisted her help. Paige had tried to contribute, but after the third time she used too much glue and cut the “3” so poorly that it looked more like an open rectangle with a small line, Kayla had all but banned her from helping.
Kayla swatted Paige’s hand away again. “Stop it! You’re going to ruin it.”
“It just has to be visible from far away—it’s a soccer game,” Paige argued.
Kayla rolled her eyes. “I know how soccer games work, Paige. Unlike you, I’ve actually been going to them this year.”
She had a point. Kayla had made friends across different sports teams and always made an effort to support them.
Paige groaned.
“Why are you so jittery about this shirt anyway?” Kayla pressed.
“I’m not,” Paige said quickly, avoiding eye contact.
“Sure,” Kayla said, smirking. “Whatever you say.”
Paige huffed but gave in. “Fine. Just finish it and give it to KK after our math class, okay?”
“Got it.”
Paige mumbled a quick “thanks” before leaving the art room.
Finally, with Paige out of her hair, Kayla could focus on salvaging whatever mess she had made of the number 35.
Azzi was barely making it through her classes, her mind completely preoccupied with the game that night. As soon as the bell for seventh period rang, she started heading toward the exit—only to hear Caroline call out her name from down the hall.
“Azzi! Wait up!”
Azzi turned just as Caroline caught up to her. “Wanna grab some food?”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Azzi said, grateful for the distraction.
Since they had a game that night, Coach Pinoe had let the team out early during 7th period, giving them the perfect excuse to relax before the big match.
Back at Caroline’s house, Azzi, Trinity, and Mal sat around the dinner table as the smell of home-cooked food filled the air. Caroline’s mom walked over, setting plates in front of them with a warm smile.
“Thank you, Mrs. Ducharme!” the girls chimed in unison.
“Of course, girls,” she replied. “Can’t wait to see y’all win tonight!”
Azzi grinned, the pre-game nerves settling just a little. She was ready.
As the team made their way to the sideline to begin warm-ups, Casey’s eyes instinctively drifted toward the bleachers.
“What is she doing here?” Addy mumbled behind her, voice laced with suspicion.
Casey exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. “I honestly don’t know,” she admitted, throwing Addy an apologetic glance.
“Sure you don’t,” Addy muttered, rolling her eyes before turning away to join another line.
Despite herself, Casey stole another glance toward the stands. And there she was—dressed casually in athletic gear, her hair pulled back in a low, messy blonde bun that somehow still looked effortless.
Something stirred deep in Casey’s chest. Was it regret? Or something else entirely?
She wasn’t sure.
What she did know was that her ex never came to a game when they were together. So why now? Why tonight?
On the other end of the field, Azzi led her line through stretches, laser-focused on the game ahead. She was so locked in that she completely missed how packed the bleachers had become—not just with the usual crowd, or the basketball team but others.
Rose was right. Where the girls’ basketball team went, others were sure to follow.
Caroline nudged Trinity, nodding toward the stands. “Look at Aubrey,” she whispered.
Trinity followed her gaze and immediately felt heat rise to her cheeks. There, bundled up against the freezing air, was Aubrey—waving a “Trin for the Win” poster back and forth like her life depended on it.
Trinity blushed and gave a small wave in return.
“Well, that’s cute,” Azzi teased, leaning toward Caroline as they worked through their static stretches.
“If you think that’s cute,” Caroline smirked, “look what blondie did for you.”
Trying to play it cool, Azzi took a quick glance toward the crowd, searching for the blonde. She didn’t have to look far.
There, front and center, Paige stood proudly in an oversized shirt pulled over her hoodie with a bold #35 printed across the front. But what really got Azzi was the sign she held high above her head, scrawled in big, unmistakable letters:
“Fudd Around and Find Out.”
Azzi couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up.
KK sat down beside Paige, nudging her softly. “Do you see her?” she asked, her tone laced with warning.
“Yeah,” Paige murmured, her eyes locked on the field. “She looks great,” she added, almost to herself.
KK nudged her again, more insistently this time. “No—her,” she said, tilting her head toward the opposing team.
Paige followed her gaze, and when her eyes landed on Casey, she froze.
Nika, overhearing the conversation, leaned in. “I didn’t know she went to that school?”
“She moved,” Paige said flatly, still staring.
“I see why,” Nika muttered under her breath.
On the field, warm-ups were wrapping up, and the team had started their first footwork drills. As Addy jogged over to find a partner, she hesitated before turning to Casey.
“Sorry,” Addy said quietly as Casey tossed her the ball. She hit it back, watching Casey’s expression carefully.
“I really don’t know why she’s here,” Casey muttered.
“You swear you haven’t talked to her?” Addy asked.
“No, I haven’t,” Casey said quickly—though if she were being honest, she’d thought about it. More than once.
Addy sighed. “I don’t even know why you’re so upset. I’m dating you, aren’t I?” Casey shot back, a little sharper than intended.
Addy exhaled, clearly tired of the conversation. “Yeah.”
“Then?” Casey challenged, eyes narrowing.
Addy didn’t have an answer. Instead, she just mumbled, “Sorry,” and focused back on the drill, though the tension between them lingered.
“Did you know she moved to this school?” Nika asked.
“Nope,” Paige replied. “But it makes sense.”
Her gaze drifted toward Addy.
The intensity of their conversation didn’t last long as Aubrey jumped up from her seat, yelling, “Come on, let’s go, Panthers!” The entire student section behind them erupted into cheers.
As the pregame clock ticked down, the crowd settled into their seats.
The game had been a battle, just as it always was against Saint Ambrose. But tonight, something felt different to Azzi. She couldn’t quite place it, but one of the opposing players—#23—seemed determined to make her night miserable. No matter where Azzi moved, she was right there, bodying her off the ball, clipping her heels, and committing just enough fouls to frustrate her without drawing too much attention from the ref.
With fifteen minutes left in the first half, Saint Ambrose finally broke through. A missed switch from Rose left their #12 with a breakaway down the left flank. As Azzi scrambled to close the gap, #3 cut inside at the top of the 18 and, with a quick touch, sent a shot skimming just under Caroline’s outstretched arm. The ball hit the back of the net, and the away crowd erupted.
Azzi clenched her fists, biting the inside of her cheek. She hated this feeling—knowing they had been just a second too slow, just a step behind. As she jogged back to the center circle, she caught sight of Paige in the stands. Their eyes met, just for a second, and something in Paige’s expression—frustration? Determination?—sent a jolt through her.
At halftime, Coach Pinoe wasn’t subtle about her disappointment. She urged them to tighten up the midfield, move the ball quicker, and finish their chances. And when they stepped back onto the field for the second half, the shift was immediate. The team was sharper, more aggressive.
Then, after a well-placed punt from Caroline and a perfectly timed flick from Azzi, Trinity broke free of the defensive line. She took one touch past the last defender and slotted the ball just past the keeper’s right hand.
Azzi sprinted toward Trinity, leaping into her arms as pure adrenaline rushed through her. “Thank you for the assist!” she breathed, catching her with ease.
“Anything for you,” Azzi teased, adding a playful wink.
Rose jogged up beside them, smirking. “Careful, Az,” she said, tilting her head toward the stands. “Looks like you’ve got some competition.”
Following Rose’s gaze, Azzi spotted Aubrey in the crowd, practically bouncing with excitement, waving her sign in the air. The three girls burst into laughter as Trinity pointed toward the stands, just in time to see Aubrey send a heart gesture their way.
As the final minutes of regulation ticked away, the game became a war of attrition. Azzi, playing as the 8, was everywhere—breaking up plays, pushing the attack, and controlling the midfield.
And then it happened.
Azzi took her first touch into the box, heart pounding—only for #23 to come barreling in, reckless and late. Before Azzi could react, she felt her feet swept out from under her.
The whistle blew, sharp and immediate. The stadium erupted.
Paige saw everything. She didn’t yell, didn’t move—she just sat there, jaw clenched, staring at the field. Her heart pounded. What the hell was Casey doing?
Azzi lay on the ground, struggling to catch her breath. Before she could fully process what had happened, a sharp shove caught her attention.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” #3 snapped, pushing #23 back before immediately crouching down to help Azzi up.
Casey stood frozen, eyes flicking toward the stands. Paige. She saw her. She saw all of it.
The ref reached into his pocket. Red. Casey didn’t argue. She just turned and walked off the field, jaw tight.
Azzi, still dazed, accepted Caroline’s hand as she reached for her. “That was… weird.”
“What was?” Caroline asked, glancing between Azzi and the scene unfolding in front of them.
Azzi shook her head. “All of it.”
Shaking off the pain, she stepped up to the penalty spot. One deep breath, then a perfectly placed strike to the bottom right corner.
Goal.
The crowd exploded. Azzi sprinted toward her teammates, arms outstretched, her name echoing through the stands.
2-1. Game over.
And in the stands, Paige exhaled, heart still racing.
“That was great, ladies!” Coach Pinoe called out as the team gathered around for their post-game huddle. “Caroline, way to be a brick wall in goal! And Trin, Azzi—clutch goals. You two saved us tonight.”
The girls grinned, exchanging exhausted but triumphant glances as Coach continued. “Now, go celebrate with your families and friends. I’ll see you all at school on Monday. Let’s break!”
“One, two, three—Panthers!” they shouted in unison before jogging toward the benches.
Azzi shifted slightly, instinctively looking toward the stands where her family usually waited. But they were out of town for her brother’s tournament, and with her staying at Caroline’s for the weekend, she followed alongside her instead.
As they crossed the field, Azzi’s mind drifted—not just toward the game but to Paige. She caught a glimpse of her lingering near the stands, but before she could process it, Mrs. Ducharme’s warm voice pulled her back.
“You ladies did great!” Mrs. Ducharme said, wrapping both girls in a hug. She pulled back slightly, her gaze landing on Azzi. “Are you okay? That was a hard hit out there.”
Azzi shrugged, offering a small smile. “Just soccer,” she said lightly. “Took a big hit, but I’m good now.”
Mrs. Ducharme studied her for a moment before stepping back. “Alright, be home by 12:30, okay?”
Azzi and Caroline froze, exchanging a look—an entire conversation passing between them in silence. 12:30? Mrs. Ducharme never let them stay out this late.
Before she could change her mind, Caroline quickly replied, “Thanks, Mom!”
With one last quick hug, the two jogged over to the remaining crowd near the student section. Most of the stands had cleared out, only a few stragglers left—including the basketball team, still hanging around.
As they made their way closer to the crowd, Paige was the first to reach them. Her eyes, laced with concern, flickered toward Azzi. She hesitated, unsure if she should ask the question lingering on her mind— Was Azzi okay? The hit had been brutal, and worst of all, Paige knew it was her fault.
As they reached the crowd, Paige was the first to step forward, her eyes flickering with concern. She hesitated for only a second before reaching out, pulling Caroline into a quick hug before turning to Azzi.
“Hey, you good after that hit?” Paige asked, her voice careful but casual.
Azzi shrugged, offering an easy smile. “Yeah, nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m just glad we won.”
“Me too,” Trinity chimed in, appearing beside them with Aubrey’s arm draped lazily over her shoulders.
“Speaking of the game,” Aubrey said, turning her attention to Caroline, “you were incredible out there.”
Caroline laughed softly. “Thanks,” she replied.
As the conversation continued, shifting between plays and highlights from the game, KK and Nika made their way over. Without warning, KK pulled Azzi into an excited hug, practically bouncing as she congratulated her.
Just then, KK’s phone buzzed with an incoming message from Gabe. She glanced down at the screen and smirked. “Looks like there’s gonna be a party tonight.”
Paige perked up, looking over at her. “Cool, I’m down.”
Aubrey turned to Trinity. “You all coming?”
Trinity, ever the tease, responded nonchalantly, “We might go after dinner with the team.”
Rose snorted, shaking her head. They all knew Trinity was just playing hard to get.
“Cool,” KK said, nodding. “I’ll text you the address, Azzi.” With that, she spun on her heel and headed toward the parking lot.
As the soccer girls grabbed their bags and started moving toward the locker room, Paige reached out, gently catching Azzi’s hand and stopping her in her tracks.
“If you end up coming to the party—or want to—let me know. I could come get you.” Paige’s voice was steady, but there was something behind her eyes, something lingering.
Azzi tilted her head slightly, looking up through her lashes. She could have just said yes, could have given a simple answer. But where was the fun in that?
“I don’t have your number, Paige,” she said instead, letting the words hang between them. “And I’m staying with Caroline this weekend, so we have her car.”
Paige blinked, momentarily thrown off, but quickly recovered. “Well,” she said, stepping forward just enough to close the space between them, “as for you staying with Caroline, I have a big enough car for both of you. And as for the number…” She pulled out her phone, holding it out toward Azzi. “We can fix that right now. If you want to give me yours.”
Azzi hesitated for just a second, meeting Paige’s eyes—but she didn’t take the phone. Instead, she smirked, stepping back.
“I’ll see you at the party, Paige,” she said, turning on her heel toward the locker room. Then, just as she disappeared from view, she threw a teasing “Maybe” over her shoulder.
Paige let out a slow breath, bringing her phone back to her side. She should have been annoyed, maybe even frustrated. But instead, a smile crept onto her face as she watched Azzi walk away.
As Caroline reversed her packed car out of the parking lot, the conversation inside was a mix of indecision and excitement.
“We should go to the party,” Mal suggested from the backseat.
“I don’t know…” Trinity countered, her voice uncertain.
“Trin, you know you want to go,” Caroline teased, shooting her a knowing look.
Trinity sighed. “I do, but… I don’t know.”
Azzi was just about to add her opinion when something outside the window caught her eye—a familiar blonde bun standing just outside the gate. Paige.
But that wasn’t what made her pause. It was the girl standing next to Paige.
#23.
They didn’t look exactly cozy, but they definitely knew each other. Before Azzi could process it, the girl leaned in, resting her head briefly on Paige’s shoulder. Paige didn’t hesitate—she wrapped her arms around her in a hug before stepping back, her expression unreadable.
Azzi’s gaze flicked to the side, catching Nika and KK lingering nearby, watching the interaction just as she was. Paige said something to the girl before turning to walk off with them, disappearing into the night.
Azzi exhaled, her grip tightening slightly on her seatbelt. Maybe she should have taken Paige’s number after all.
115 notes · View notes