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Guess I got what I wanted, maybe Lando can take the lead and Max can keep Oscar behind him

Is it bad I lowkey don't want Lando on pole?

Just saying I feel like P2 could be a better place to start...better overtaking opportunity to take the lead rather than being overtaken and someone else getting the lead...I mean it might not work out like that anyway but idk...just feel like there is something that would be better about it.

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Is it bad I lowkey don't want Lando on pole?

Just saying I feel like P2 could be a better place to start...better overtaking opportunity to take the lead rather than being overtaken and someone else getting the lead...I mean it might not work out like that anyway but idk...just feel like there is something that would be better about it.

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uh oh he broke the trophy 😭😭

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Hadjar in the cool down room has my heart

When they showed the clip of Lando's car pulling over he immediately tried to redirect so conversation didn't even have to touch on it. Bless this young man, he is precious

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Jolyon is about to get my fist down his throat

Why am I seeing him say "once Oscar is in front he controls the race" yeah bitch, so does Lando. Why are we saying this shit like it doesn't apply to both?

I have a seething rage for Jolyon and Karun, and if they don't stop with these nonsense comments then I'm truly going to like directly contact Sky *and F1tv like a karen. This is what they're doing to me.

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Brb I'm going to fight the McLaren car

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F1tv fuck me off sooooo bad

Literally writing this on still lap 1 of the Dutch GP.

But they said Lando had a poor start. NO HE DIDN'T. Max is on softs. It was fucking strategy. Being on softer tyres was always going to give Max a better start. That does not mean Lando has a poor start, it means he's on the SLOWER TYRES WITH LESS GRIP.

ahhhhh don't fucking piss me off

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Hear me out now! Riding Luke’s hand

(I’ll be sitting with my thots from now on)

Nooo nonnie!! I love hearing thots!! I wasn’t entirely sure how to visualise this, so I hope this makes sense!

Luke’s so awkward at times. Especially the times when you need him desperately. You asked politely, you pouted, batted your eyelashes, peppered him in kisses but all he gave you was his hand. Nothing more, nothing less. He took your ‘I need your fingers, Lu’ to a literal sense - annoyingly - and held out his hand. And refusing to let him win, you had complied. Pulling your panties off, you drop them on his chest, watching him sink back into the sheets he’s lying on, putting his other hand behind his head as if he’s settling in to watch his favourite show. 

“Go on, angel, use me. You needed me, right? Fuck yourself on my hand.” He eggs on with a slight smirk, whirling excitement in his stomach at where you’ll take this, thinking of all the possible faces you’ll make when he hits the right spots.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist and slowly bring his hand under your cunt, his palm facing up and you almost want to cringe at how awkward this is, but you want to wipe the smirk off his pretty face. Placing his fingers over your pussy, your hips rock back and forth slowly, testing the waters in seeing how this will work (or if it won’t) but he’s slicker than this, Luke angles his fingers up, enough that you feel them slip past your folds and slide through your arousal. A small and sharp gasp escapes your throat, the familiar yet rapturous sensation wrapping you in a blanket of sheer pleasure having his long fingers, once again, meet your cunt. He spreads his fingers, ultimately spreading your lips apart and delving more fingers between your folds, and instead of him moving his hand to play and satisfy the throbbing, your hips rock into a rhythm, arousal leaking the faster your pace gets when the pads of his fingers meet your clit. 

“You’re so- fuck- fucking awkward, Luke.” You complain between moans, your head lolling back, “Just wanted you- you to finger me.”

He applies a gentle pressure, watching through eyes fixed on your hips moving to his fingertips, focusing on the stimulation on your clit. He had planned to properly obey your wishes, but when you took his hand for yourself, who was he to deny where this was going, he really hadn’t expected to be watching you ride his hand like a toy. But his cock twitches at the site, his lip tucked between his teeth as your whines bless his ears. He’s spiralling, his head in a tizzy and it takes everything in him to not take over yet, he’s enjoying watching and feeling his fingers disappear and glide through the slick at your pace, and your hunger, your jaw falling slack and eyes fluttering shut.

“I don’t see the problem, baby. You look and sound like you’re having a great time.” He only teases, moving the hand from behind his head to his dick and palming himself. “Do you want me to finger you? Because I’m gonna need you to use your words.” 

“Y-yes…yes…” you breathe out in a whimper, heat rising through your body the faster your hips rock, the faster his fingers massage over your clit in small and quick rubs. 

“Can’t hear you, angel face. I know you can be louder than that.” He chuckles, as if to tease you further. 

You loll your head forward again, eyes immediately catching the way he’s aching in his shorts. He thinks you’re a beautiful sight; you’re sweating, desperate and fucking yourself faster on his hand like your life depends on it and there’s a glint of irritation in your eyes. Irritated that he’s playing you up like this. 

“Finger me, fuck, use your fingers, Luke.” You say, more commanding than before. 

And you hate the way he grins at you, eyebrows raised. 

“Well, why didn’t you ask, babygirl. I’m right here.” 

You almost push his hand away but before you even get the chance to grab his wrist, his hand moves on its own and two, long fingers plunge inside your cunt, the euphoria surging through every part of you and straight to your head and lower stomach, warm and winding while you’re wrangled into a haze. Your movement comes to a slow halt, too enticed by his fingers pulling out and sinking back in the furthest he can get them, the carnal frenzy that’s erupting with every thrust brings you closer to the edge, just as you’d wanted from the start. There’s nothing more pleasing than Luke satisfying your every need perfectly, and with the way his fingers bury inside you, you’re going all night long, even if you have to beg him for it.

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Been getting itches to start writing fics again but…idk, I kind of stopped bc it was feeling like the F1 community was getting so toxic. Especially between Lando and Oscar fans, and it contributed to me losing motivation.

Hate that other fans behaviour affected me like that but it did.

Still undecided but there may be a come back. Time will tell for sure.

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well… since u touched the subject i might need to see some naked napping with lukey because the skin to skin contact brings him oh so much comfort, thats just so cutie of him

You push up onto your elbow, Luke’s arm slipping further down your waist and the mattress dips slightly. Sitting up briefly, you exhale deeply, eyes barely a crack open and reminding you that you’re still in Luke’s bed, bare of clothes in the early afternoon with his arm now slung around your hips. You peer down at him, his curls unruly, face soft and free of strain as his chest rises and falls with a soundness to it, but he’s pretty. He’s pretty with his long eyelashes, his pinchable cheeks and strong nose speckled with little moles. He’s at peace until his lips part and arm curls tight around you, his quiet message telling you what he wants.

 “Don’t go…” he mumbles, voice husky and thick with sleep, croaky like it’s balled at the back of his throat. 

 Gently, you pat his hair, like a puppy, watching the curls bounce with a short giggle at his sleepy whine. He doesn’t open his eyes, just pouts and burrows his face into the pillow, trying to pull your body closer.

 “Not, I’m turning over.” You say, turning to face him and laying back down, your arm winding around his waist as his hand glides up your spine, sending goosebumps rising over your neck and waking up a small, tingly feeling - but not on an arousing level, on a level where he knows you find backrubs soothing.

 Now face to face with him, he doesn’t hesitate to hold you tighter, his hand slipping onto your thigh and hooking it over his hip before wrapping back around your waist. His exhale’s deep, like he’s sinking into the mattress now he’s comfortable again, now he’s got enough skin contact to feel safe.

 “Good…you’re warm.”

 You lay in silence, listening to his breathing pattern, to the outside noise, to Jack shutting the front door and you admire his features for the millionth time. But your hand runs along his waist, slowly, following his shape and down his stomach, fingers tracing over the ridges where his abs dip, up his chest where your palm lays flat over his pectorals, making his heart swell with a fuzzy feeling to it. He loves when you make a fuss of him, his muscles relax under your palm as you pull your hand back down his chest and to his stomach, rounding over his waist again and gliding up and down his figure, lovingly, comfortingly. It’s not to wake him, or to rile him up, his skin’s just so smooth and he’s lying still for once, embracing your touch and the different textures in his physique feels satisfying on your skin and truth be told, you’re both magnets with each other, handsy in different ways but at your most calm when you’re pressed together with skins melting into each other.

 Luke’s hand lowers down your back, his voice quiet and lips attempting to stifle his smile. “Don’t do that, baby.”

 “Why not?” you tease him, drawing patterns over his side with your fingertip and feeling him twitch and grip onto your hip tight, “Thought you liked when I touched you?”

 His eyebrows pull together, sleep disturbed. “Do, but you tickle me ‘n’ that’s not fair. M’sleepy.”

 The way you giggle sounds like a lullaby to him, and he takes your hand and places it to his cheek, kissing your palm. He’s adorable, as much as he’ll deny it, but you wiggle your hand free, sliding to his nape and threading your fingers into his hair, leaning into him and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Nothing over the top, just a long kiss where the hairs on your arms stand on end as his arm winds around you again, his palm flat between your shoulder blades and pressing you against him, the heat from your skin tangling. He slips out a small moan, kissing you back before you depart.

 “You’re right, sorry, pup.” You coo to him.

 “C’mere,” he rolls onto his back, taking you with him until your cheek lays on his pectoral, your body tucked against him and his hand running, admiring, along your bare skin - warm and smooth to the touch - until he continues, “love you, angel.”

 You keep your leg hooked over his hips; arm wound around his torso with a small smile across your lips. “Love you too, Lu.”

 And you lie there, drifting into slumber while moulding into each other’s bodies again, your body heats circulating beneath the covers comfortably with clothes scattered on the floor, awaiting you when you wake back up. It’s not long until Luke’s gentle snoring fills the room again, but he’s honest when he says he sleeps better naked with you and sometimes you think it’s because his mind thinks you’ve just had sex - which isn’t the case this time. The case is simply his body pressed with yours is home to him, the oxytocin he needs. 

 You snuggle into him, and his arms tighten around you. This is one of the rare, quiet moments in your lives that you value the most.

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ANAAAAA hi. i’m in such a lukey mood tonight it’s not even funny. and you’re the Lukey Girl so like,,,

sigh. imagine waking luke up from a nap by gently stroking your finger over his cheek, murmuring to him “hi pretty boy, time to wake up. can i see your pretty eyes?” and just being so soft and gentle with him. babying him bc he’s just a big ol baby. :)

giggling and kicking my feet- finally getting to this !! thank you for the ask bby !!

the sun came through the curtains, luke sprawled out on the couch with his limbs folded awkwardly, and his messy hair sticking out in every direction.

you leaned over, brushing a stray lock from his forehead and letting your finger trail gently down his cheek. "hi, pretty boy," you murmured softly, "time to wake up...can i see your pretty eyes?"

he stirred awake, his lashes fluttering as his eyes blinked open slowly. sleepy and confused, he frowned a little. "....mmm, five more minutes"

you giggled softly, continuing to stroke his cheek until, finally, his eyes fully focused on you as his pout turned into a small smile.

then, without warning, his arms slid around your waist, tugging you down onto the couch with him. he buried his face in your chest, letting out a calm sigh. "if you’re gonna wake me up," he mumbled, "you gotta stay with me..."

and really, how could you say no to him when he looked like this?...especially now, because now you both were warm and content.

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Note to self: Men still suck even when they share your sense of humour.

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Franco: Why is Pierre crying on the floor?

Charles: He took one of those 'what F1 driver are you?' quizzes.

Franco: And?

Charles: He got Esteban.

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damn that song slaps. Siri? play it four hundred and seventy three times

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JEALOUS IN THE STANDS-LUKE HUGHES

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 During a game, the camera catches Luke glancing into the stands between plays, straight at you. What the crowd doesn’t see is that he’s glaring at the guy who’s been talking to you all night.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Hockey games with Luke usually mean two things: freezing fingers from holding your drink too long, and your boyfriend sneaking glances at you between plays like he’s got some kind of sixth sense for where you are in the arena.

Tonight feels no different, at least at first. You’re bundled in your oversized Devils hoodie (Luke’s, of course), halfway through a bucket of popcorn, when the guy next to you laughs again, leaning just a little too close. You can smell his cologne, sharp and expensive and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the camera sweeping past your section.

"Isn’t that your boyfriend down there?" the guy asks, nodding toward the ice. "Number 43?"

You bite back a smile, keeping your eyes on the game. "Yeah. He’s mine."

The guy grins, like he’s uncovered some fun fact. “Cool. Didn’t think I’d be sitting next to a player’s girlfriend.”

You hum quietly, eyes flicking back to the rink. You don’t want to be rude, but you also don’t want to give him the wrong idea. You think maybe that’s the end of it until the Jumbotron camera sweeps past your section and you catch a familiar stare.

Luke’s eyes are locked on you. Not just glancing, locked.

From the bench, Luke spots Y/N before the puck even drops. Her hair catching in the arena lights, laughing at something the guy next to her just said. The sound doesn’t reach him, but it doesn’t have to. He can picture it perfectly.

He tells himself it’s fine. You’re here for him. You’re wearing his number. But when that guy leans in again, Luke’s jaw tightens beneath his mouthguard. His stick taps restlessly against the ice, impatience radiating in every movement.

"Focus, brother," Jack mutters, smirking. "Or at least try to hide the death glare."

Luke rolls his eyes, mutters something about shutting up, and pushes off toward the faceoff circle. Still, his gaze flickers back, once, twice before he forces himself into position.

This is stupid. You’re not his property. You can talk to whoever you want. But does the guy have to stand so close?

Luke can’t read lips perfectly, but he sees the way you tilt your head, the soft crease of your smile. It’s the real one. The one he’s spent months trying to earn every single day.

The ref drops the puck and Luke’s instincts take over, skating hard, intercepting a pass, charging toward the offensive zone. It’s a clean play, muscle memory more than thought, but there’s an extra edge to it tonight.

You’re midsentence with the guy when the arena erupts. Luke’s stick has just met the puck, sending it rocketing past the goalie into the back of the net. Your section jumps to its feet, voices echoing in cheers, and you’re swept up in the noise.

You barely notice the guy clapping beside you, you’re too focused on Luke. He’s grinning now, breathless, gliding toward the bench. And then, right before the camera cuts away, he looks straight at you.

It’s a look that says, That one was for you.

The guy next to you chuckles. “You’re smiling again.”

“Yeah,” you say simply, still watching Luke. “I am.”

You don’t explain that it’s not because of the conversation, it’s because Luke Hughes just scored like a man on a mission, and made sure you knew exactly why.

Post game, Luke’s hair is damp and curling, his cheeks still flushed from the cold. He shrugs out of his gear with practiced movements, ignoring Jack’s chirping about how he’s “never seen someone skate like that over a girl.”

When you appear in the hallway, that knowing little smile on your face, Luke moves toward you instantly.

“You cold?” he asks, already shrugging his jacket over your shoulders before you can answer.

“A little,” you admit. “Nice goal, by the way.”

He smirks faintly. “Guess I just needed some motivation.”

The car is warm, the city lights blurring past the window. You glance at Luke’s hands on the wheel, knuckles pale from gripping it a little tighter than usual.

“You gonna tell me what that look was for?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He glances at you, feigning confusion. “What look?”

“The one you gave me after you scored. The ‘I just proved a point’ look.”

Luke exhales, eyes back on the road. “That guy next to you, he was leaning in. A lot.”

You bite back a smile. “You jealous, Hughes?”

His ears go pink. “No. I just..didn’t like it.” A pause. “And maybe I wanted to remind him why you’re wearing my hoodie.”

You laugh softly, leaning over to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Message received.”

Luke leans back just enough to meet your eyes, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Good. Because I plan on making sure you remember it all night long.”

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