#Torque Multiplication

[pddparthi]

Unveiling the Power of Epicyclic Gearboxes: From Basic Principles to Advanced Applications

Introduction: The world of machines is driven by gears, and within this realm, the epicyclic gearbox, also known as a planetary gearset, stands out as a marvel of engineering ingenuity. This intricate system of interlocking gears offers a unique ability to achieve both speed reduction and torque multiplication, making it a cornerstone of various applications. Whether you’re fascinated by the…

[5sospenguinqueen]

American Boy | Logan Sargeant x Celeb! Reader

Summary: When Logan finds out this his celebrity crush’s celebrity crush is HIM!! He freaks out. Thankfully, the internet (and Oscar) manage to do most of the work for him. 

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff

Requested: No. I just love Logan Sargeant

I put an embarrassing amount of effort into this one, especially that letter. 2024 season

F1 Masterlist

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user1 girlies, who is this logan sargeant and how is he managing to make our girl smile like that 

→ user2 he’s an f1 driver. yn grew up watching f1 and is still a huge fan of it

→ user3 a vroom vroom guy! the shame 

user4 i can’t believe these came out in the same week??? 

→ user5 the universe is aligning 

user6 okay but i don’t think any of us would recover from them dating. they’re both so hot  liked by yn_official_ln

→ user7 omg omg omg she liked the tweet

→ user8 @/logansargeant look at this!! 

user9 okay but i really hope that somebody showed yn that episode of team torque because she loves f1 and i feel she would die

→ user10 babe, if logan is her celeb crush, what makes you think she hasn’t watched it herself? liked by yn_official_ln

user11 can we all take a moment to admire how calm yn was in her interview though. she admitted she’s had a crush on a guy since she was like 17 and didn’t even blush

user12 okay but yn’s liked tweets section is going to send logan into cardiac arrest

user13 @/logansargeant shoot your shot, dude! 

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yn_official_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_official_ln vroom vroom what an exciting day. a huge thank you to mclaren for inviting me into their garage. i can’t put into words how amazing it was to be inside an f1 garage, and the whole team were warm and welcoming.  (i’m still convinced these two are dating though???)

1,778 comments

user1 someone check on logan please? is he still alive?

→ user2 no because the way he just stopped dead in the middle of the paddock when he spotted her walking with oscar and lando

landonorris right, i’ve told you like 10x now. we are NOT a couple. he just looks at me that way 

→ oscarpiastri whoa, don’t act like you’ve not been caught giving me the goo goo eyes too

→ landonorris goo goo eyes? who taught you that!

→ yn_official_ln that would’ve been me when i was showing him the photo i took of you looking at him with goo goo eyes

→ landonorris i take it back. i don’t want you to come again next weekend

→ yn_official_ln but i already booked my ticket :( 

→ user3 i fear logan may have passed away

 williamsracing perhaps we could poach you into our garage next time? 

→ user4 logan ghost wrote this

→ yn_official_ln would i get an ls2 cap to go with it?

→ logansargeant you can have mine liked by yn_official_ln

→ user5 they interacted! 

→ alex_albon i’m hoping he won’t see this because it’s hidden within comments but logan won’t stop giggling at his phone 

danielricciardo it was so great to meet you. i didn’t know it was possible for one person to do so many different voices 

→ yn_official_ln give me time to watch some interviews and i bet i can do you by silverstone

→ danielricciardo i don’t think logan would appreciate that

→ yn_official_ln omg! no! not in that way! i think i’ve made it clear that aussie drivers aren’t my type 

→ arthur_leclerc what about monegasque?

→ yn_official_ln not american, not for me liked by logansargeant

→ user6 i love how bold she is! logan, go for it! She has literally announced to the entire world on multiple occasions that she’s into you 

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yn_official_ln just posted a new story

logansargeant just posted a new story

oscarpiastri just posted a new story

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others

yn_official_ln exciting things coming soon 

1,650 comments

alex_albon i thought we were friends. you can tell me right? new movie? new album?

→ yn_official_ln as my friend, i can tell you that you already know

→ user7 new boyfriend

georgerussell63 what’s all this then

→ landonorris george admitting he’s not cool enough to be included in the inner circle 

→ yn_official_ln don’t pick on him. there’s pics of him looking like amelia airheart on the internet, he’s suffered enough

→ georgerussell63 @/logansargeant why do you like this one

charles_leclerc the news is that she’s an ambassador for lec ice cream

→ yn_official_ln deal but only if i can meet leo

user8 okay but all the f1 drivers being here makes me think something

→ user9 she’s been in the paddock and went to a few garages. i think she’s made friends with a lot of them

williamsracing just checking that we’re still on for sunday?

→ yn_official_ln like i would miss the british gp

→ lilymhe you’re going to be in silverstone? omg, i’m freaking out. alex, why didn’t you tell me! 

→ alex_albon yeah, she’s racing instead of me liked by logansargeant

user10 miss rabbit has fainted

francisca.cgomes i was not familiar with your game. i need you to kiss ME like that 

→ pierregasly pardon? you better not come anywhere near alpine on sunday 

→ alex_albon like logan would let her leave williams

user11 logan liking but not commenting? do we think he’s actually died upon seeing that yn has a boyfriend?

→ user12 hear me out. what if he’s the boyfriend

→ user13 babe, i think you’re as delusional as he was for thinking he had a chance. nobody has a shot with their celeb crush, even if you’re semi-famous yourself

→ yn_official_ln wait, so i don’t have a shot with my celeb crush either?

→ oscarpiastri i think your celeb crush would let you step on him if you asked 

→ user14 i love that the grid are exposing logan being down bad for our girl 

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logansargeant just posted

liked by jensonbutton, arthur_leclerc and others

logansargeant silverstone complete. amazing support this weekend. and an amazing effort from the team

995 comments

user1 where can i get that jumper

→ yn_official_ln etsy x

→ user2 um, ma’am are you admitting that’s your jumper?

user3 i’m sorry but did anyone else see logan kissing someone who looked an awful lot like yn after he realised he was almost in the points???

→ user4 and we all know she was in the garage that weekend 

→ user5 fans caught video footage of her hugging him, and he just folded into her in shock, his helmet was still on and everything 

alex_albon i don’t think this counts as a soft launch after you were caught on camera in front of millions

→ logansargeant i’m trying my best, okay! 

→ yn_official_ln you’re doing amazing baby 

→ user6 miss yn, are you even trying to hide it

→ user7 she kissed him on live tv, i’m gonna go with no

→ yn_official_ln have you seen his face? you would too

→ logansargeant ☺️

lilymhe thank you for bringing my new best friend to silverstone

→ logansargeant you can’t have her

→ yn_official_ln i only came for you @/lilymhe

→ lilymhe you, me, run away into the sunset together?

→ alex_albon whoa, hold on a second

oscarpiastri mate please tell me you’re not attempting to soft launch

→ logansargeant it was the plan but somebody ignored the plan

→ yn_official_ln oops? it’s not my fault you’re too cute to ignore

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing and others

yn_official_ln somehow i managed to get a date with THE logan sargeant. i think i have ultimate rizz

1,839 comments

oscarpiastri no, you both just have a really good friend. you’re welcome

→ yn_official_ln whoa, i can get bitches on my own

→ logansargeant i can’t so thank you, oscar

→ mclaren i think you mean, thank you mclaren. we sent the letter 

logansargeant babe, you got more than a date

→ yn_official_ln you’re right. i’ve had six months worth <3

→ logansargeant and i look forward to even more

landonorris and it was all too much for little logan sargeant 

→ landonorris mate, why do your legs look so long

→ logansargeant @/yn_official_ln this is why i told you not to post that one 

→ yn_official_ln but you look so baby girl 

→ landonorris ha! 

alex_albon stop trying to make him look good at sports. i kicked his ass at table tennis

→ yn_official_ln yeah and i kicked yours. and stole your girl

→ lilymhe you tell him, boo! 

→ user8 yn really said don’t insult my princess

→ logansargeant she just called me her beautiful princess so thanks for that 

user9 when they say people died, and it’s a pic of logan sargeant kissing his celeb crush. i am people

→ yn_official_ln i also died because do you see how passionate this man is

→ user10 no need to rub it in (i love you)

danielricciardo i see a gentleman who respects a good hat

→ yn_official_ln he’s letting me live out my cowboy fantasies 

→ danielricciardo you know what they say, save a horse

→ yn_official_ln yeehaw!

→ logansargeant is this why pr are calling me?

Tag list

@rosecentury @peachiicherries

[freedomfireflies]

Overdrive*

Summary: The one where it's 1969 and Harry likes to drive really, really fast.

Word Count: 5.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, exhibitionism, very brief daddy kink

Five.

The sound of revving engines echoes between the tall, city buildings. Loud enough to startle a nearby flock of birds on a telephone wire as they take off into the dark night to escape the lurid noise. 

Four.

The smell of burning rubber is everywhere. Tires screech against the pavement as the smoke dissipates into the warm summer air and the drivers prepare for that familiar white flag.

Three.

There’s a murmur amongst the crowd. The bets have been placed and the anticipation has set in. They pick their favorite driver, and they hope that somehow, they’ll be able to beat the unbeatable. 

Him.

Two.

You can see your little speed demon just up ahead as he waits patiently in front of the makeshift starting line. He seems relaxed. Confident. One hand is settled on the steering while the other is flipping the bird to the driver beside him. 

One.

The flag waves and the drivers take off. A streak of color flashes across the street as each of the five cars attempt to take their place ahead of the rest. But nobody can seem to get an edge on the black Lamborghini Miura already skidding around the first curve, effortlessly leaving them all behind.

You grin. It’s harder to see the cars now that they’re on the other side of the buildings, but you can hear them. You can hear his engine, specifically. You’d know the sound anywhere. After all, he spent weeks introducing you to the ins and outs of his favorite toy. Showing you exactly how to care for it, with those rough, practiced hands that also happen to care for you, too. 

You catch a glimpse of his vehicle just before it disappears past the drugstore. He shifts gears and accelerates, just before the blue Stingray to his right can gain on him. You hold your breath as both cars drift around the corner onto the next road and the crowd begins to cheer. 

Harry hasn’t lost a race in weeks. You don’t imagine he could lose if he tried. In fact, he could be blindfolded with no brake pedal and a faulty transmission and somehow, he’d still be miles ahead of the competition. 

It’s one of the things you love most about him. The way his eyes light up when he gets behind the wheel. The way the engine purrs in his hands and the way he can bend the road to his will. 

The Stingray veers to the right in order to get ahead of him, but Harry seems to anticipate this attempt. He cuts the other driver off just before he can speed up and your heart jumps into your throat. The only thing you don’t like about his racing is how careless he can be at times.

If you’re in the car, he takes the utmost care to make sure you’re safe. That you’re never put in harm’s way.

But when he’s alone, he’s in a whole other world of his making. He doesn’t consider the consequences or the repercussions. He doesn’t consider you. The way you’d feel if you lost him. 

And you trust his instincts, you do. But you can’t always say you enjoy the show. 

The Stingray slams on his brakes as Harry takes off and slides around the second to last corner. Tire marks are painted across the cement in his wake and the crowd cheers. 

Your stomach twists. He seems to be doing all right, although one of his fatal flaws is that it’s nearly imposable to tell how he’s feeling. He’s eerily stoic when he’s under pressure and perhaps that’s a good thing. 

But that doesn’t exactly help you now as he zigs and zags across the road before finally reaching the last turn that leads into the final stretch.

This is it. You hold your breath as you watch from the edge of the sidewalk, hands twisting in front of your chest as he races across the last few hundred feet. It’ll be close—the Stingray is gaining on him with each passing second—but Harry’s undeterred. He switches into a lower gear and the engine comes alive. Giving the car torque for those last few inches as he flies across the finish line. And the race is over.

The rest of the cars follow shortly after and the growing crowd of onlookers all swarm the street. They cheer and they holler, and they flock to the handsome driver now stepping out of his vehicle, desperate to congratulate him. But those soft green eyes only search for you. 

When he finally finds you squished between the horde of admirers, he grins, and begins to push his way through to you.

The moment you meet, he picks you up, hugs you to his chest, and spins you around. And you squeal giddily, happy to be back in his embrace as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

“My little lucky clover,” he whispers proudly. “What did I tell you, hm?”

The nickname makes your insides grow warm. He’s called you his lucky clover ever since that first race when the two of you met. He claimed he only won because he saw you standing there watching and was desperate to impress you. And that every race he’s won since has been because of you and your charming presence. 

You aren’t so sure you believe him, but you have to admit it sounds pretty on his tongue.

You laugh as he puts you back down. “I know, I know,” you finally concede. “You were right.”

“Mhm.” He smirks—cocky—before he’s surging forward to kiss you. Soft and slow and with a desire that almost feels scandalous for such a public place. “I always am.”

His tongue brushes against yours while his hand splays across your lower back to tug your body to his and the crowd cheers as you giggle. But you don’t fight the way he loves you. Instead, you cling to his shirt and allow him to take what he wants.

When he finally allows you a moment to breathe, you gaze at him curiously. “How fast were you going?”

“120 on the main stretch. 80 on the curves,” he says, then chuckles at the way you frown. “M’fine, Clover. I promise.”

“You agreed nothing over 100,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but I needed to win.”

“No, you don’t need to win. You need to stay alive.”

“Well, why can’t I do both?”

Unamused, you huff, and lightly slap at his stomach. “Not funny, H.”

However, he merely laughs aagain and pulls you back between his arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says softly. “You know I’d never die on you. I’d miss you too much.”

“Let’s hope so.” You push up onto your toes to bring your lips to his once more. “Cause if you die on me…I’ll kill you.”

His smile is smug as he kisses you hard before he leads you back to his car. The large mass follows, anxious to ask him questions or offer their praise. And he listens to dutifully, perching himself on his hood while pulling you between his legs. 

It’s the same after every race. The other drivers try to tease him while his growing group of fans are desperate to be noticed by him. He might not be inherently famous, but he is to this crowd. They love a lot of things about him. His skill, his confidence, his looks. 

And you can’t exactly blame them.

It’s impossible to tell if you want to be him or be with him. You imagine for most people, it’s both. He has a sort of relaxed assurance that seems to make everyone else around him comfortable. And there’s a mystery about him. An intrigue to know more about the man behind the wheel. About who he is outside of these races. What he’s really like. 

He slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into his chest. He talks to the driver of the Stingray and they exchange comments about the almost collision that makes your stomach turn. But when he notices, he presses a quick kiss to your temple and changes the subject. 

However, the rowdy celebration is cut rather short by the sound of sirens as two police cars come slinging around the side of a building with their lights flashing and their microphones on.

Everybody scatters, a collection of wild cheers and hollering voices as the officers step out of their vehicles in order to round up the crowd and instruct everyone to return home.

But Harry is unfazed as he pats your hip and nods his chin up. He’s rather good at his getaway now. After all, you imagine he’d have to be with all the times the police have broken up these races. 

And he’s only been caught once.

You slip inside just as he starts the engine. The radio comes alive, the sound of Jimi Hendrix enough to rival the roar of the motor as places one hand on the back of your seat in order to look behind him before he speeds away from the scene, hangs a sharp left, and takes off down the adjoining road. 

The sound of sirens follow. There’s a cop car on the next street over, attempting to chase after him as Harry weaves in and out between the scarce traffic. He’s good—incredibly good—but they haven’t given up yet. 

They cross over and skid behind him. They’re getting closer and the red and blue lights are bright in the rearview mirror. Still, Harry is calm. Simply shifting gears with ease as the car accelerates and offers a bit more distance before he takes a last-minute right in order to shake them.

The force of the turn slings you against the side of the door and you huff as Harry shoots you a cheeky grin.

“Sorry, baby,” he calls over the music. “You all right?”

With a grimace, you nod and say, “Mhm. Just great.”

He winks before he’s blowing through one red light and then another. Somehow missing the few cars currently crossing the street while the police are forced to slam on their brakes as somebody passes. And once they lose sight of him, he veers into an old, abandoned alley to hide.

Seconds pass before they finally fly by. Oblivious to his plan as they head further into town while Harry takes another right and disappears from the city.

He cheers victoriously and rolls down the windows and you laugh as you gaze at him. Entranced by the way he nods his head to the music as a gentle, summer breeze blows through his curls. 

Freedom tastes better with him. Life is better with him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing, while he sings along to Jimi Hendrix and grins at the open stretch of road ahead of him.

You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and he seems to bask in your admiration before he finally looks over.

“What do you say, Clover?” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Wanna see what a hundred feels like?”

A bit hesitant, yet wildly curious, you nod. 

He reaches for your hand in order to help you across the car, and you crawl over the console until you can settle onto his lap. Once you’re snug over his thighs, his arms slip beside your middle to keep you safe while he holds onto the steering wheel, and you scoot back into his chest for support. 

And it feels good. Comfortable. Even though the car is going faster and faster with each passing second, you feel protected. You know he’d never let anything happen to you. And there’s hardly any danger out here, along the old, backroads away from the city and traffic.  

The needle on the dash rises higher and higher. 70…80…90. Harry’s grinning against your cheek as the wind dances across your skin. The moon is bright in the sky, illuminating the road even without headlights and it’s exhilarating. Limitless.

“How’s that, hm?” he whispers. He kisses your jaw before dropping his foot against the gas. “You sure you’re ready, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly and brace yourself in his hold. “Mhm.”

The car reaches 100 and it feels like flying. You laugh, giddy, and he grins. The straight stretch of empty street might as well be a runway and the faster you go, the lighter you feel. As though the tires will simply lift off the ground and carry you into the sky. 

He shifts gears and the car jolts forward as the needle jumps to 110. You gasp and squirm excitedly over his lap before he suddenly groans. The sound is low and strained and you recognize the lustful cadence almost immediately.

Amused, you bite the inside of your cheek. “You okay, H?”

He takes one hand from the wheel and places it on your thigh. Squeezing it once. Pointedly. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You squirm again, settling into the feel of the hardening bulge beneath your ass and he makes another noise that goes straight to your cunt.

Your lashes flutter. The world blurs and your heart races. Perhaps you shouldn’t be doing this while you’re going so fast but Harry is calm. He trusts himself and you trust him.

The needle rises.

“Harry,” you whisper and his knuckles go white against the steering wheel. “Harry, please—”

“What?” His mouth rests against your cheek and you whine. “What, Clover? What do you need?”

He wants to make you say it. Wants to hear the words on your tongue and you swallow thickly as you intertwine your fingers with his. “H…”

“What, baby girl?” He nips at your skin with his teeth. “M’I making you nervous?”

You nod and he chuckles. A dark, sadistic sound.

“Do you want me to stop?”

There’s a quiet moment of hesitation before you eventually shake your head. Of course you don’t. How could you?

“No?” He squeezes your leg, touch slowly slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt. “Good girl.”

The car begins to go faster. 115…118…120. The same speed he reached during the race and even if you knew it was fast, this feels infinitely faster.  

You gasp and clutch his hand. Terrified and enthralled all in the same moment. And even if you shouldn’t be, you feel insanely aroused. Legs squeezing together as he subtly bucks up into you.

The music is loud and the wind is loud and the sound of your heart pulsing in your ears is loud. 

And then…the needle drops. The car slows. The speedometer goes from 120 to 50 in only a few seconds, and you blink curiously before glancing back at him.

He says nothing. His expression is firm but stoic and it’s not until he pulls off the road and into the dirt that you understand.

He turns the car off, then pats your hip. “Get out.”

You swallow again and swing the door open. Crawling off his lap before obediently trailing your way to the front of the vehicle while he follows.

“Bend over.”

You do. The hood is warm but not hot and it’s almost inviting as you place your hands against the covering to brace yourself in wait.

“Let me see.”

Your breath catches as you move your fingers to the delicate panties beneath your skirt. You pull them down your quivering thighs and the summer air makes you shiver. You feel nervous under his gaze. Under the way he owns you. But it’s thrilling. Addictive. And it leaves no room for questioning as you drop your underwear to your ankles in the middle of the open desert. 

You hear him step closer. Feel his hand on your hip as he pulls the fabric of your outfit up in order to get a proper look. But he’s quiet. Almost too quiet, and you feel a touch warm as you wait for his remark.

“Have you been this wet all night, Clover?” he finally asks.

You nod once. “…yes.”

“Mm.” Another pause while his other hand begins to trail up the back of your leg, slowly pulling it open. “And when were you planning to tell me?”

“I…I figured you already knew.”

He hums and you can only imagine his smirk. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you were waiting for, then? For me to do something about it?”

“…yes.”

The tip of his finger drags its way through your folds and the sudden sensation makes you whimper.

“Then why didn’t you ask, sweetheart?” His tone is soft but condescending and you make another noise as you attempt to glance back at him. “Uh-uh. Eyes down, Clove.”

With a huff, you drop your chin to your chest and anxiously wait for more.

“Why didn’t you ask?” he repeats. “Thought I taught you better than that.”

 When your only answer is a needy mewl, he lands his palm against your ass in a sharp smack.

“Speak,” he murmurs. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to use your words and answer me. Is that understood?”

“Yes…yes, I’m sorry.”

“So why didn’t you ask?”

“Was…nervous,” you admit, glancing off into the dark night to hide the shame in your expression. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He steps closer and his touch becomes gentler. “You were nervous, baby girl?”

“Mm. Knew you were busy and…and didn’t wanna be greedy.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he exhales before he’s grabbing onto the cheeks of your ass to pull you open. Allowing him an even better view of the way you drip. “Can always be greedy with me, you know that? Don’t have to be nervous. All I wanna do is take care of you. My time is yours.”

You release a stuttered breath before your eyes fall shut. You love the way he touches you. The way he cares for you. The way he humiliates you, even out here where nobody can see. 

“Look at you,” he whispers and you feel yourself clench around nothing. “Look at how pretty your little hole is when it’s so empty.”

The pad of his thumb brushes through your folds and he ignores the way you gasp his name.

“Think I should fix that?” he asks. “Think I should fill you up? Make it better?”

“Yes,” you pant. “Yes, please—”

“D’you need me to stretch you open? Hm? Play with your little cunny till you’re coming all over my cock?”

The dirty words inside his gentle voice feel criminal. Your mind turns to mush and you can do nothing more than press your chest into the hood as you excitedly wiggle our ass further into his hand.

He laughs, amused by your desperation in a way that only pushes you further toward the endless edge. “Is that a yes, Clover?”

You nod quickly. Your cheek rubbing against the car until you finally—finally—hear the sound of his belt flicking undone. 

The metal clink is music to your ears and you release a deep moan at the thought of the leather against your skin. Of his cock as it brushes against your clit, mindlessly teasing you past the point of no return.

“Easy,” he says. “Give me your hands, sweetheart.”

Slowly, you pull your arms behind you until he captures them in his hand. He wraps the length of the belt around your wrists until he can securely bind them to the small of your back, and once your mobility is gone, you simper.

“There you go,” he coos. “You okay, honey?”

Another nod. “Yes.”

“Gonna tell me if it’s too much, yeah? If I hurt you?”

“Yes…”

“Know it’s a tight fit, baby, but m’gonna make it work. Promise.”

And this vow makes your heart thumb against the inside of your chest before you feel him disappear from behind you.

And then…his tongue.

He’s dropped into a crouch in order to taste you, fingers locked around your wrists to keep you still while his lips suck on your pussy. 

“H,” you inhale, already undone by his technique. “I…”

He says nothing but the noise of wet licking echoes between your ears. His other hand pushes your leg away, creating more room for his head as he mouths at you. He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue and you steel yourself against the hood, almost as though to get away.

“Careful,” he warns again. He smacks your thigh. “M’having so much fun. Don’t ruin it.”

And you try to be good. Try to stay still so he can do with you as he pleases. But it becomes increasingly harder when he nips at your cunt like he means to feast on you. 

Your fingers wiggle about the air, desperate to grab him. To clutch onto his curls or yank on his arm. But he keeps you restrained, keeps you compliant. And you are nothing but a toy for him to play with now.

You hear the sounds of the world around you. The crickets, the owls, the flock of birds flying overhead. You’re reminded yet again that anybody could drive by, even out here in the middle of nowhere. They could find you, bent over the hood of a Lamborghini as you get tongue fucked by the handsome man on his knees.

And yet…you don’t care. In fact, you almost hope somebody does pass. Because you know Harry wouldn’t stop even if they did. He’d keep going until you were unraveling in his hands as you whimpered his name.

As if to prove this, he adds a finger in beside his devious lips. “Gotta make sure you can take me,” he says in a low grunt. “S’too tight in here, Clove. Don’t think I’ll fit.”

You whine louder and angle your ass closer. Desperate to get his finger in as far as it’ll go. “I’ll take it,” you promise. “I will. Always do.”

“Always do,” he repeats in a soft chuckle. “That’s right, you do. Treat my cock right, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Nearly purring, you allow the subtle thrust of his hand to drag you closer to that blinding pleasure. 

“Do anything I ask. Even have my babies, wouldn’t you?”

The thought nearly does you in. Your tummy all swollen and full of him. Tits leaking milk that he’d eagerly lap up. The way he’d still treat your body like a temple. A prize to behold. Because you were carrying what he gave you. He fucked you so hard and so deep that you became a vessel for him. 

And even past that, you’ve always wanted to be a mother. Always wanted to start a family with him because you know he’d be a wonderful father. He’d take them to races and hold them on his shoulders so they could watch. He’d kiss all over their little cheeks and tuck them into bed. And your kids would know nothing but love. Because they’d look up to the two of you.

It makes you smile.

“What do you say, hm?” he whispers between kitten licks to your pussy. “You wanna have my babies? Wanna make me a daddy?”

He adds a second finger and begins to scissor them almost immediately until you cry out. Loud enough to startle a bird from a nearby branch and this proves to be answer enough for him.

“Okay,” he decides. “Okay, I’ll fuck your little pussy and get it all nice and full. Give you all I’ve got. And you’ll take it, won’t you? Hold it in your little belly like a good mama.”

You cum. Suddenly and without warning as the intensity of the orgasm explodes behind your eyelids like stars in the sky. You cum and you don’t get a chance to warn him or prepare or even hold off as you feel yourself drip down his hand. 

“God, H,” you moan. You sound pitiful. Voice hoarse from the way you’ve been wailing and arms sore from the way he keeps them behind you. Still, you don’t mind. The pain is pleasure in and of itself. “I…m’so…”

“Yeah.” He stands up and tugs his pants down. “I know, baby. I am, too.”

The tip of his cock drags through your soaked and sensitive pussy before he pushes in. He’s right, it is a tight fit. Even with the way you attempt to relax your muscles and draw him in. But it’s always snug with him and truth be told, you almost prefer it this way.

“There you go,” he breathes, dipping down to kiss your shoulder before drawing back his hips. “Just like that. Fucking hell, Clove, I wish you could see. Wish you could fucking see the way you look taking me right now.”

You wish you could, too. As it is, the feeling is enough to make your eyes roll back and send sparks of electricity up the length of your spine.

He keeps your wrists in his hand as he fucks into you. Sharp thrusts that sound sloppy and uncoordinated but feel like heaven. And there’s an urgency here. A desolate need to feel you unravel. He cares for you and he uses you all with the same technique. 

He grabs your leg and forces it up onto the hood. Giving him more room and a deeper angle just to hear you moan. And you hate that you can’t see him. Because you know how pretty he looks when he’s in control. His adrenaline high and his eyes alive with the possibilities of what he could do to you.

Instead, you choose to imagine. The way a few rogue curls must be sweeping across his forehead, unable to stay constrained beneath the sticky gel he likes to put in his hair. His chest is probably heaving, offering peeks of his tattoos beneath the white shirt clinging to his sweaty torso. His thighs will be flexing with each thrust. The muscles rippling in such a way that would surely make you drool. 

You understand why every woman you pass on the street tends to fawn over him. You know they’d do anything to take him home. Cook for him, clean for him, be good for him. Anything to earn his affection.

But you also know, his affection belongs to you. You’ve seen it, time and time again. He doesn’t even glance their way. He doesn’t notice when they giggle over him or when they try to call to him with their eyes. 

Because his eyes are always on you.

“You’re beautiful,” you hear him whisper. It’s soft—restrained. Almost as though he doesn’t mean for you to hear it. But you do and you nearly sink into the car in bliss. “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”

A fervent heat rushes through your body from his praise and subsequently has you clenching around him. The feeling makes him groan and you’re proud of the way you can still care for him. Even if you can’t see him. Even if he’s the one with all the power.

“This sweet little pussy takes such good care of me,” he says and reaches around your tummy in order to press his palm against the subtle bulge there. “Every…fucking…time.”

You careen forward, cheek squished into the hood, skin dewy from the way your body shakes with pleasure. It’s always this close and somehow, he keeps you there. As though reminding you not to cum until he says so.

The hand on your stomach moves down until his fingers find your sensitive clit. He rubs and he plucks and he plays with your body with the same precision and skill he uses when he drives. Because no matter how much he loves to race, he loves you more. And winning you will always be infinitely better than winning some goddamn race.

“What do you say, hm?” he mumbles from behind you, rubbing the swollen nerves while pistoning his hips to yours. Dragging you closer and closer and closer. “You gonna cum for me? Gonna let me feel it?”

You nod and when you start to waver over that edge, he chuckles.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, baby, cum.”

You do. Again. Harder this time. Louder. It’s almost cruel how easily your body breaks beneath him but before you can indulge in the feel of the way he follows…he’s pulling out. 

He guides you away from the hood and turns you both around. He sits in the spot you once were and he lets you see him. Because this is what you needed. The intimacy, the eye-contact. The beautiful look on his face.

He guides you closer with his hold on your bound wrists before pulling you onto his lap as best he can. He helps you place one leg back on the hood while his other hand moves to guide his cock between your overstimulated folds. Then, he brushes his swollen tip through, just to tease himself, before he’s pushing in.

And you can see him now. Can see the fucked-out expression on his face. The way his vision becomes hazy and his teeth grit together in ecstasy. 

You whimper, whine, cry out. You want to hold him. Want to wrap your arms around his neck and curl yourself into his beautiful, broad chest. 

But you can’t this time. In fact, he uses his grip on the belt to help roll you over his cock. A soft smile on his face as he whispers, “Just one more, sweetheart. Give me one more.”

He’s insatiable and greedy and you love it. Because you’d fuck yourself on his cock for the rest of time if you could. Even out here in the open.

“Wanna watch,” he whispers, then slips his other hand around the back of your neck to bring you down for a kiss. “Wanna watch the way I fill you all full of my babies.”

You make a rather pitiful noise against his mouth and he smirks. 

“You want that, too, don’t you, Clove?”

You nod, although you imagine it should be obvious. You’d do anything for him. 

“This little pussy was made to have my babies, wasn’t it?” he says and kisses the corner of your lips before moving down your neck. “Just made to be fucked by me. Perfect tummy to carry my kids. You’ll be so good, mama. Know you will.”

Your lashes flutter shut. The nickname breeds something new in your chest, a blossoming sort of urgency that almost makes it hard to breathe.

“Harry,” you plead. You nudge your nose against his temple. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” His voice is soft. Still mischievous but kind. “I’ve got you. Yeah? M’right here. Just let me take care of you.”

And he does. He moves his hand from your neck to your shirt, slipping underneath until he can find your tits and give them a squeeze. 

“There you go,” he coos. “Oh, baby girl. Do anything for you, you know that? Just to keep you.”

He moves from your chest to your clit, and you know the second his fingers make contact, you’ll be gone. You squirm in anticipation, and he grins against your cheek before kissing you hard. Tongues and teeth colliding as he sucks on your lip and murmurs, “Can I cum in your pretty pussy, mama? Will you let me? Please?”

You nod so quick and so hard, your head aches. But it doesn’t matter because nothing else will ever compare to the feel of his hand on your body and his cock in your cunt. Releasing the warm, sticky offering that means infinitely more now than it did before.

He thrusts up into you a time or two, milking himself with your pussy before he drops back down and pulls you with him.

You’re both panting. Heavy, hard. Depleted of all energy as he holds you as close to his heart as he can.

Eventually, he frees you, tugging on the belt with one, easy pull as it comes loose from around your wrists. And the moment your arms are returned to you, you use them to grab onto his shoulders and bury yourself in his embrace.

He laughs. A delicate sound that makes you feel just as warm as his cock does. And you stay there for as long as you can until he finally nips at your earlobe and says, “Need to get you home, Clove. Don’t want you to get cold out here.”

“M’not cold,” you pout. “And we can’t leave until it works.”

“Until what works?”

You look down and he looks, too.

Then, he grins. A big, giddy grin that’s all teeth and dimples. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Can’t leave until you’re pregnant, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I see.” He squeezes your hips and kisses your neck. “Gonna have to hold me in there, aren’t you? Keep me all snug?”

“Mhm.”

“All right, mama,” he says and you giggle. “We’ll stay until you’re all nice and pregnant. And then I’m gonna take you home and fuck you again. Just to make sure.”

Your stomach flips.

“S’that sound good, Clover?” he asks, and you bring your eyes to his in order to see him fully.

You smile.

“That sounds perfect, Daddy.”

For a more immersive experience, feel free to play All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix during the chase hehe

Beautiful divider by @firefly-graphics 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ Disabled Characters Showdown Quarterfinals Poll 1

Vs.

Please be civil in the notes. We will block people if we feel it is necessary. A character being canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included. This is not a competition of who is better representation.

Check out the other polls in the quarterfinals here.

Edit: This is a two vs. one because they tied (by our defenition) back in round 4 and moved on together.

Harrier ‘Harry’ du Bois-Disco Elysium

Qualifications:

Bisexual. Struggles with addiction, post-polio syndrome, multiple kinds of mental illness, and whatever else he's accrued by living in a city with no accessible healthcare.

Propaganda:

You know who he is. Vote for him.

Kim Kitsuragi-Disco Elysium

Qualifications:

Visually impaired

Propaganda:

I dunno man. He's Kim Kitsuragi. There's nothing I can say about him that hasn't already been said. He's quiet and reserved and uncomfortable with emotions. He's a self-proclaimed Torque Dork who loves his car like a child. He listens to heavy metal music. He's a centrist. He's a homosexual. He's consistently given shit by everyone around him for his race, his sexuality, and his disability, and he's taught himself to respond to it with cold professionalism. He dresses in historical communist pilot cosplay. I love him with my entire heart.

Yang Xiao Long-RWBY

Qualifications:

She is canonically wlw (has been for years but specifically kissed and got together with her now girlfriend in the latest season) and uses a prosthetic arm and has been shown to struggle with PTSD due to the traumatic nature of losing it during the show.

Canonically had her right arm chopped off, uses a prosthetic. Has PTSD. Is canonically in a WLW relationship.

She has a canon girlfriend and canonically has a prosthetic arm and PTSD

She's canonically sapphic (part of a recently canonised wlw slowburn relationship) and is an amputee (due to events from the 3rd season finale) who wears a robotic prosthetic. She also suffers from PTSD which is explored in the show

Propaganda:

I will keep on submitting Yang to relevant brackets until I die. RWBY has plenty of strengths and weaknesses with writing, especially Yang's recovery arc, but instead of forcing her to push past her trauma and enter the battlefield immediately, we see her struggle with it, take time to process, and not be pushed into repression and when she chooses to wear her prosthetic, chooses to train to ready herself, and chooses to seek out her family and save lives, she isn't perfectly healed, as no one is. The show depicts her having flashbacks due to sudden loud noise, shaking hand the first few times she has to fight for her safety instead of training with her dad, and snapping at friends when they bring up Blake, the person she lost her arm trying to save (who, near immediately after ran away due to feeling she was endangering those she loved, furthering Yang's already present abandonment issues.) It isn't done perfectly but the intentions and general message sent are extremely positive and honest. She struggles less as the show progresses, and there are opportunities to consider herself less for being disabled or "become whole again" but she explicitly refutes these ideas and says that's she's better because of her failures and losses, and isn't any less whole. Her becoming disabled is also extremely tied to her being LGBT, because, as previously mentioned, she lost her arm protecting her then friend and partner, now girlfriend, directly after the villain who cut her arm off told her love interest that he would "destroy everything [she] love[s]. (Camera pans to Yang, he looks at her.) Starting with her." LIKE. He attacked her BECAUSE Blake cared for her so much and Yang ran to her defense blindly BECAUSE she loved Blake so much. When they reunite, they struggle with communication because Yang feels Blake is seeing her as weak, and through several things, mostly a climatic battle against the man who severed Yang's arm, they affirm each other as equals. I can go on but this is already too long. YANG SWEEP!!!!!

Yang lost her arm while protecting her best friend and future girlfriend from said girlfriend's abusive ex. Had a whole arc about learning to live with that loss and dealing with PTSD. Is totally devoted to and in love with Blake Belladonna and is just the sweetest but most badass character in the show.

She's one of the main characters, and just finished a 10 year slow burn romance. Plus, she has both physical and mental disabilities, but is never treated as lesser or incomplete.

Yang Xiao Long was one of the first examples of a sapphic character I ever saw in animated media with her character journey in the show being an iconic part of my teenage years and current young adulthood. The loss of her arm after a traumatic event in the show's 3rd volume was one of the big shockers of the show that nobody saw coming. Since then the show has done an amazing job in exploring both the mental and physical effects of her losing a limb, gaining a prosthetic arm and the recovery journey. Her character also has a major arc regarding handling her PTSD from both this and her past most notably in the 5th and 6th volume. Her character also has a slow-burn romance with her teammate and fellow main character Blake Belladonna which is one of my fave romances ever (it has everything: canon soulmates, friends to lovers, sunshine x grump,battle couple etc..) that has recently became CANON BABIEE!!! There are MULTIPLE characters in RWBY with various disabilities that are handled well in the narrative but i would say Yangs definitely the top FAVE!

[gothcsz]

One Of The Girls | Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x 3 F!Nameless OCs | ~1.1k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: General Acacius has three women that he keeps solely for his indulgent pleasure and control, you want to become the fourth.

Tags: voyeurism, marcus has multiple partners, dom!marcus tbh, sub!reader and sub!ocs, brief descriptions of sexual acts (riding, blowjob), probably not historically accurate we're just vibing here, era typical patriarchal bullshit, the girls kiss, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able bodied, has no defining physical descriptions except that she wears a stola, all three ocs are blank slates so imagine your favorite ladies (pls... for me 🫶🏽), any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: the general brainrot is real, sorry not sorry. this is my submission to @chaotic-mystery's WIRED 4 YOU challenge 🖤 thank you so much for hosting this, mads and i hope you have a wonderful birthday ✨ i had track ten from act i: one of the girls by the weeknd ft lily-rose depp and jennie 🕯️ the entire soundtrack of this cursed show is my guilty pleasure, so when i saw this song listed i just knew i had to snatch it on up 🙂‍↕️ hope you all enjoy, and as always let me know what you think! 🖤

The torches flickered in their sconces, casting long shadows against the marble walls of the bathhouse. Steam curled in the air, thick with the scent of myrrh and rose water, as you pressed yourself deeper into the alcove, hidden from the elite revelers who moved like phantoms through the night. Your silk stola, far too fine for this place, clung to your damp skin, but you did not care. Your eyes were on him.

General Acacius reclined against the polished stone, his greying brown curls damp with heat, a scar cutting across his nose, another on his cheek. His curved nose and full beard lent him an air of authority, a warlord draped in debauchery. Golden skin glistened with perfumed oil, emphasizing the sinew of his powerful frame as he indulged in his pleasures.

Three women surrounded him, each a jewel he had obtained from faraway lands to serve his singular desires. They were not merely whores—no, they were his playthings, dolls, hand-selected and molded to his tastes.

One knelt between his thighs, obedient lips wrapped around his thick cock, her devotion evident in every languid stroke of her tongue and lewd gag.

Another straddled his thick thigh, her body moving in slow, torturous rhythms as his large hands guided her hips with an authority that left no room for disobedience, her pussy leaking and swollen.

The third, delicate as a carved figurine, poured honeyed wine between her breasts, offering him the indulgence of licking it from her skin, lips wrapping around her nipple, her moans as sweet as the nectar that dripped from her.

They were his spoils, his prizes. Coming to him willingly, enamored by his reputation, eager to be chosen.

Each bore the mark of his ownership in some way—golden torques around their throats, inked symbols along their soft and pretty skin, the whisper of his name in their sighs.

He was their god, their tyrant, their salvation.

A sharp pang of envy curled in your belly, molten and relentless.

You wanted to be them.

Not one of the noble daughters doomed to a lifeless marriage, bartered off like a prize goat for the sake of political gain. No, you wanted to be owned—wholly, irrevocably—by him.

The first time you heard whispers of his indulgences, you had thought them scandalous. A man of bloodshed, ruthless on the battlefield, bringing that same ruthless discipline into the bedroom. But when you had seen him that night, wielding pleasure like a weapon, you had known—this was the life you were meant for.

Since then, obsession had taken root in you, winding tight around your ribs, pressing against your lungs with every thought of him. You spent your days languishing in fantasies, picturing what it would be like to be one of his girls—to be chosen, touched, tamed.

You imagined the weight of his hands—strong, calloused, pressing into your flesh, leaving evidence of his conquering. How his voice, rough and commanding, would send tremors of lust down your spine, each syllable laced with the promise of exquisite torment.

You ached for the sharp sting of his discipline, the intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure that would shatter you and sculpt you anew beneath his relentless touch. Submission. 

But your name, your bloodline, held you in its grip like iron shackles.

Until tonight.

You had risked it all, slipping away from the confines of your family's domus, following the murmured rumors of Acacius’ presence at this private revel. You had stolen past guards and chattering senators, seeking this moment, this glimpse of decadence that sent arousal slicking between your thighs.

And now, as if summoned by your silent yearning, his eyes found yours.

A sharp thrill lanced through you as he tilted his head, dark eyes dragging over you, unreadable yet knowing. The woman in his lap moaned, lost in the pleasure of his cock as she rode him passionately, but Acacius no longer seemed concerned with her. His attention was locked on you.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand and beckoned.

The breath fled your lungs, knees weakening as heat flooded your cunt. You hesitated for only a moment before stepping from the shadows, your silk-draped form illuminated by the flickering lamplight. The other women watched you with interest, lounging on the lectus with freshly picked fruit between them, naked and caressing one another—but you had no eyes for them.

Acacius leaned forward as you approached, his grip tightening around the waist of the woman in his lap. Without breaking your gaze, he lifted her from his cock with practiced ease, setting her aside like a finished feast.

She let out a breathless giggle, reclining into the embrace of another girl who kissed her with lazy indulgence. There was no jealousy here—only a shared reverence for the man who owned them all.

“On your knees,” he murmured, voice rough like a blade against leather. It's as if he knew what you were coming here to find.

You obeyed, sinking to the marble, the cool stone a sharp contrast to the heat burning inside you. Blood roared in your ears, but you did not tremble. This was what you had prayed for.

His fingers cup the back of your neck, angling your head back so you had no choice but to meet his dark brown eyes.

“You wear a noble’s silk,” he mused, running the edge of your stola between his fingers. “Yet you kneel as if you were born a whore.”

A shiver wracked your spine as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. You parted your lips instinctively, your breath warm against his skin.

“Tell me,” he murmured, “do you seek pleasure, or do you seek purpose?”

“Both,” you whispered, voice barely more than breath.

The corner of his mouth curled.

“Then prove yourself worthy.”

Your pulse thundered as he leaned back, legs spread wide in silent command. The other women looked on, not with jealousy, but with knowing approval. They had all been here before. They knew what it meant to serve him, to belong to him. And tonight, they would witness your initiation.

With steady hands, you reached for him, fingers gliding over the rigid heat of his cock, marveling at the weight of him in your palm, how he glistened with the arousal of his lover's cunt. Acacius groaned low in his throat, the sound sending another rush of arousal to your pussy. Your lips parted, eager, hungry, as you lowered your mouth to him—

Tonight, the chains of your status would shatter beneath the weight of your desire.

Tonight, you would become one of his girls.

[shitapril]

you know what time it is ! time for my completely inexpert, nonsensical race recap of melbourne gp, 2025 !

firstly, the rain was the real star of the show. she said jump and the drivers replied “how high ?” she said spin and they said "how many of us ? and how many times ?" (it was most of them, and multiple times)

through the course of the race, we lost 5 rookies. isack in the formation lap, jack in the first lap, fernando somewhere in the middle, gabriel and liam towards the end.

carlos reminded us, lest we forget, he is driving a williams at the end of the day. we lost him to an uncontrollable torque surge that saw him dnf in the first few laps under safety car. cue baroque scenes and war flashback for the mechanics.

fear not williams fans, all is not lost. despite only one car finishing, we had alex in p4, just shy of podium, outscoring both ferraris. if you hear cackling, that's me, apologies.

lewis and charles were competing for funniest-radio-of-the-race. they might have not won, or even come close to winning on track, but in radio-talk they're the clear winners.

george had a quiet, and brilliant race, finishing on podium.

lando shut everyone up. bottling the start ? nope. weak under pressure ? held up max with drs the last two laps. pole, fastest lap and race win. haters, don't try and embarrass yourself.

the aussie curse continues, oscar finished p9.

race started of with rumours of a repeat brasil 2024. nah, if we're lucky, we'll live to see another australia 2025.

[transport-methodology-101]

The 1971 Chevrolet Chevelle received a styling update, replacing the dual headlights with a single headlight setup and dual cornering lights. The base model was simply called "Chevelle" and included a two-door sport coupe and four-door sedan. The top trim was the Malibu, available in multiple body styles. The standard Chevelle SS engine was a 350-cubic-inch V8 with 245 gross horsepower. Here's a closer look at the 1971 Chevelle SS 454:

Base price: $4,000

Weight: 4,000 lbs

Wheelbase: 112.0 inches

Horsepower: 365 @ 4800 rpm

Torque: 465 @ 3200 rpm

1/4 mile: 14.35 seconds @ 97 mph

[rayslittlekitten]

I Almost Told You That I Loved You Ch. 19

Chapter 18 | IATYTILY Masterlist

A/N: I've been waiting so long (honestly like probably a year) to finally post this chapter and this GIF. 🤣

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,143

Pairing: Jax Teller x F! reader

Plot: This takes place shortly after Tara leaves Charming. You start working at Teller-Morrow and an unlikely and messy relationship forms between you and Jax.

Warnings: maybe some mild, colorful misogynistic language

These last few days have made you nostalgic about Cara Cara. Working for a porn company doesn’t seem so bad anymore. Maybe you can ask Luann for your old job back. You’re pretty sure she’ll give it back to you, no questions asked. Although TM pays better and honestly, it couldn’t possibly get any worse. Jax has been hot and cold since the incident with Will. He’s been cautiously trying to get your attention, apologizing multiple times, but you’ve been turning down his advances. And when you do, he’s no longer groveling at your feet. His soft words turn into sharp knives instead. Your favorite so far is “I hope you choke on a dick!” That sure is going to get you to run back to him. 

Fragile male egos. You know a few things about those. They don’t actually care about making things right. They just want the last word and if things are going to end, it’s going to be on their terms, no matter how much they have to try to charm you. They will say and do anything to win you back just so they can leave you. If you can just focus on work and keep your interactions with Jax to a minimum, you might be able to get through this until the end of the semester at the very least.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m stepping out for lunch and running some errands,” Gemma tells you as she gathers her things. “Will probably be gone for a few hours. You’ll be okay by yourself?”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod and throw her a smile, pulling yourself away from sending a fax for a moment.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

As Gemma walks out, the phone rings so you walk over to answer it.

“Thank you for calling Teller-Morrow, how can I help you?”

Just then Opie waltzes into the office and leaves some filled forms on the desk in front of you.

“Yes, we can do that. If you come by with your car, we can take a look at it and give you an estimate.” You look at Opie and hold a finger up at him to let him know to give you a moment. 

“We are open 7 days a week, 8 to 6.” You glance at the form on the desk and you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. “Uh, y-yes. You have a nice day.” You hang up the phone.

“You okay?” Opie asks.

“Is this customer still out there?” You ask him.

“Yeah, he’s gonna wait for his car and wants to pay for it now. Why?”

You stare at the window for a moment before walking over to it and taking a peek outside, recognizing the blue BMW.

“Shit.”

“What? You know this guy or something?” Opie asks.

“That’s my ex-boyfriend. What the hell is he doing on this side of town?”

“You want me to handle this? I can—“

“No,” you sigh. “I’ll take care of it.” 

“You sure?” Opie asks again.

“Yeah, thank you.” You force a small smile.

Opie nods and hangs around for a moment in case you change your mind before walking out the office. When he returns to the garage, Jax walks up to him while wiping his greasy hands on a rag.

“What’s up with this preppy boy’s car?” Jax asks, his chin pointing in the direction of the blue BMW.

“Just needs his headlights changed,” Opie answers. “But also, apparently, preppy boy is Y/N’s ex.”

“What?!” Jax asks with raised brows.

“Yeah, she seemed a little spooked. Do you know what the deal is?” Opie asks as they watch you walking towards the blue BMW and its owner.

Jax doesn't answer. They can see the interaction between you and your ex is awkward and Jax sees you recoiling when your ex tries to reach out to you. Jax’s jaw twitches. He picks up the nearest tool next to him and stalks over to the both of you with a torque wrench in his hand.

“Hey, I’m gonna be the one fixing your car.”

“Jax—“

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Jax puts his arm around you. “I can take it from here.”

“Wow, are… are you dating him now? Huh. And you thought I was a piece of shit? You definitely downgraded.” A smug smile plays upon his face. "Now be a good girl and wrap this up, will ya? I have actual important things to do."

“You need your headlights changed, right?” Jax asks.

“Yeah, hope you’re smart enough to figure out that simple task,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, well it looks like you got a broken mirror too.” Jax take a heavy swing with the wrench and knocks one of his side mirrors clean off.

“What the fuck, man?!” 

“Jax!”

Just then out of nowhere, Opie jumps in.

"Whoa, whoa. I'm so sorry about that, sir. We'll fix that for you, on the house." Opie tries to pull Jax away until Jax sees you walking away.  

Jax follows you back to the office, calling out for you, and leaving Opie to sort out the mess.

“Why the fuck did you do that? You could’ve just changed his headlights and let him be on his fucking way!”

"You're pissed at me? That’s your piece of shit ex, right?” Jax points towards the lot.

“Yes, I'm pissed at you! So what if he's my ex? He was just here for his goddamn headlights. He wasn't here for me.”

“He tried to put his hands on you!”

“And? I can defend myself. Besides, what the hell was that out there? You can’t keep pulling shit like that.”

“I was just trying to protect—“

“Bullshit, Teller! You need to stop acting like we’re in a relationship every time another guy talks to me when you treat me like I’m one of your MC groupies every other week.” 

Jax scrubs his beard and looks down at his feet.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” Jax says quietly.

“No, you only care when it's convenient for you. You don't get to pick and choose when you want to care about me."

"I'm really trying here," Jax tells you.

"Trying what exactly? I'd much rather you just treat me like shit because at least that's consistent. You're no better than him." You point in the general direction of the lot. 

"Don't compare me to that fucking asshole!" Jax shakes his head.

"You know what? You're right. You're not like him. At least he knows he's an asshole and owns up to it."

Just as Jax is about to say something, the phone rings and you pick up.

"Thank you for calling Teller-Morrow, how can I help you?"

You both stare each other down for a moment before Jax punches the wall on his way out of the office.

[atwhughesversion]

when petey left the rangers game, it was so similar to San Jose game. I totally don’t believe the Canucks when they act like all his injuries are unrelated. Especially now that even JR is admitting petey was dealing with multiple injuries last summer that impacted his training. (Which very funny he’s happy to say that once tocchet walked).

The rangers game injury was revealed to be an oblique injury. If he was dealing with the knee AND an oblique injury for most of this year…that’s a terrible combination for a guy of his skill set and size. I think Harman’s article at the athletic does a great job showing how difficult skating and handling the puck was for petey this year. Even in the games where he was getting points, he still was nowhere close to as smooth and comfortable in his skating or his stick handling as he has been for his career.

Anyways, gonna be rolling my eyes when he’s back to himself and the narrative gonna be like he finally started working hard. Sad so many fans are that naive.

the san jose injury was dealt with in SUCH a weird way all-around — it was never disclosed what it was, despite quinn being injured at the same time and his injury being leaked to be a hand issue long before we saw his wolverine claws in action. then, a game or two before he came back, tocchet was in his media availabilities saying that petey had been cleared and while tocchet thought he could’ve played, it was up to the player — like ??,?!; was it your (undisclosed) injury, or petey’s, rick?

not to mention that playing on injuries before they’re fully healed can easily and often lead to compensation injuries: we saw it with demko multiple times in the past year, we saw it with quinn this season. playing on an injured or painful knee may cause you to shift or torque your body in a way that, even if it’s only a marginal difference and not even noticeable to you, can impose strain in additional areas that can eventually lead to actual injury in those areas. and what did pettersson do for the second half of the 2023-2024 season, which happened right before his “disappointing” offseason? something about playing on an injured knee, if i recall…

when he has his full range of motion back and people are acting like a switch flipped, and jim rutherford himself is pleased that his “preparation improved,” it’s just gonna be so lmskdkdkdkd like okay! glad we all like petey again but can we look at the context!

[f1mike28]

Pagani Huayra Roadster „The Open Air masterpiece with my DNA“.

The Pagani Huayra Roadster project began in 2010, with the ostensibly simple idea of a Huayra Coupe with a removable roof and conventional doors, as was developed for the Zonda Roadster in 2003. In 2013, the design was scrapped and everything restarted from the beginning of the design process.

Each Pagani creation has a life of its own, every detail must have its own harmony in line with the spirit and soul of the machine car. The Pagani Huayra Roadster became a project independent of its predecessor, a machine car with its own soul.

From the very beginning, the Pagani Huayra Roadster door design followed in the tradition of the Mercedes-Benz models of the 1950’s, specifically the gullwing doors of the 300-SL, and its Roadster variant featuring conventional doors. In the end, the design closely follows in the tradition of Pagani - the vehicle best represented in the Huayra Roadster design: the Zonda Cinque Roadster.

The overall shape is smooth and immediate, where each line has a beginning and a definite end. Every last detail has been revised- every contour made more defined, every curve redrawn multiple times to arrive together in a cohesive, liquid form.

The Pagani Huayra Roadster powered by the masterpiece of an engine the Mercedes-AMG M158 V12 biturbo engine 6.0L 764HP and over 1000Nm of Torque. Exclusively Handcrafted by Michael Kübler @f1mike28 in Germany Affalterbach.

Driving Performance is our Passion! Mercedes-AMG the Performance and Sports Car Brand from Mercedes-Benz and Exclusive Partner for Pagani Automobili. Mercedes-AMG Handcrafted by Racers.

[capsreadsandrants]

Oh boy howdy Buckle up children it is time for a review of

The Kiss of the Basilisk

I'm sorry sweet little one... You do not deserve this...

Which like. There's a stunning lack of actual basilisks and a stunning lack of regular kissing. It's all described as TONGUES PASSIONATELY DANCING

Anyways this book is 18+ so this review is intended for 18+ folks so if that's not you ... Begone. Also if you are a fan of the book, or are the author, or know the author, do not read this post if you're going to get your feelings hurt or send this to the author in any way. I have the author blocked on my Instagram and do not want to drag authors into my negative reviews. This review also contains spoilers of the book so if you don't want to read spoilers, you too, should go now.

TLDR; Reading this during pride month was a hate crime against the Gay Community and I sincerely apologize for my actions.

Fuck it, it's 10PM and there's a tornado watch so I am hunched over on my bathroom floor with sirens blaring. This is the worst, longest, most dragged on, least character developed, poorly written book I have ever read in the 26 years I have the misery to call "life". This book is actually so bad that I had to pull out my laptop to write an even more scathing review of it. Just a couple points:

This book starts off with NO trigger warning (in the KU version at least). There is just a note from the author saying this book will ChAnGE UR LyFe!!! and to say GOODBYE to the person you were before you read it! Man. I do miss the Caps from before this book. So sweet. So innocent. Anyways this book has MULTIPLE content warnings that the author gleefully skipped over, including sexual assault, harassment, attempted rape, sexism, murder, fantasy racism and mentions of genocide. Whee! Changed for sure!

The characters are so weak if I blinked they would blow over from the breeze of my thin white girl eyelashes. We have SO MANY instances of Tempura (Temperance is a DUMBASS name) saying I AM BRAVE AND NOT WEAK and then being weak. She pouts when Carpet is mean to her, or lies, and then she mopes to Leo, who comforts her and flirts with her (and she flirts BACK?!?) and then she goes back to Cambry. The snake boy is also dumb as hell and he isn't even the ACTUAL Snake King. that's his dad. Who she bangs in front of Corbin and his whole family. Anyways Calender is SO GOOD AT SEX OH MAH GAWD and he has banged many women relentlessly but then he LOOKS at this twenty year old and gives her a claw buttplug telepathic dildo because just seeing her changed his life. Also Tailgate decided she loves them both and proceeds to flirt with both men, get engaged to them both, and lead them on without, you know, telling them. Coriander also knowingly is teaching Torrence to be good at sex for the prince and then gets pissy when she, you know, does it. Oh. And she has FRECKLES U GUISE. No one else does! Wow! So original! Also she's A VIRGIN WOW and thus somehow the best at sex because spoiler she's half basilisk wow shocker) and she's like WHATS THIS CALLED while pointing at her vagina. She's TWENTY. In a VERY sex/fertility based society.

Leo and Temperature's mother did not deserve this bullshit. She constantly dogs on her mother for being a SINGLE MOM and is so busy getting rammed by the telepathic dildo claw that she feigns being sick to send her mother into a town that HATES HER. Like more than they hate Teal or whatever the fuck her dumbass name is.

Okay so the stereotypes are horrible. She has a Hispanic coded gay best friend who is mean and sassy and slutty, and the village favorite and resident bully, Vera (who everyone hates but apparently is the "village favorite"?) is plus size ("curvy") and the only bully. And blonde. And there are ACTUAL villains in this book and Tem is like "WAAAH this Regina George wannabe is worse than them". Strong and independent, my ass.

There's this bad guy. Rowe. Right? He's mean and evil and yadda yadda. Anyways Torque can't figure out with her dumb dumb girl brain why he hates Cupid. Turns out. Central "crested" Rowe's dad (which is where the snakes give someone such a powerful orgasm they TAKE OVER THEIR MIND?? Unless I misread that??) and thus. Rowe hates him. And Tem by extension. His dick gets ripped off.

The world building sucks. Example:

Everyone worships the goddess of fertility, and all pray to her, and have the same depiction of her... across species over entire centuries? The one goddess?

Men are expected to be good at sex and women are too but women are shamed and harassed and called whores. Which like, isn't inaccurate from real life, but in a society built on sex...? And one that has worshiped sex? Typically don't have a regressive view on women being sexual??

Also, in a society that fears basilisk, where Roosters are the number one way of scaring them off and everyone is buying roosters and chickens from Tailspin and her mom... Why are they frowned upon? They're called "Chicken Shit" (and Tem is told her v@gina thus, tastes like Chicken Shit by Vera), they're looked down on for being farmers... They should be rolling in the dough if everyone is trying to buy roosters from them.

Little tangent on the previous: the king hates Tummy and even says, in front of Leo, "ew, chicken girl, you don't want her because she's a working class bitch" (that's paraphrasing). But he's... fine with just all the OTHER village working class girls? And like yeah, he dated her mom, but why do they not call the kingdom next door and work out a political marriage? This would strengthen them against the basilisks? But no that's called "thinking" and something that the author cannot take the courtesy to extend to her readers.

Okay, let's talk about the basilisks then. Their "form" isn't a snake. Just hot people who are naked with big pwenises and bewbs, and they get... shadowy and have scales. And they lost the war to humans centuries ago and the king at the time told them... to teach village girls how to BONE?? That's IT? Not enslave them? Not sell them to other kingdoms for higher up marriages? Not try to incorporate them into society as sex workers and warriors, which they are formidable as? Like that's ALL the king thought to do with them? When they get Horny they also HISS?? Miss ma'am. Have you MET a snake?? Ugh. Also oh tem is so hot she makes ALL the snakes horny.

The sex was awful. Every time is OH SO SPECIAL and OH THE BEST O SHE HAS EVER HAD and OH ALL THE DIQUES ARE SO LONG and OH THIS MOMENT IS SO IMPORTANT my guy it is mediocre at best. also. she has so much sex at the snake orgy (or as I have dubbed, "snorgy") that her vagina starts to bleed and her pelvis breaks. Good. Fucking. God. This is the most booktok sex I have ever seen and I mean that in the most derogatory way possible.

Anyways if I keep going, I'll just have more to say. Do yourself a favor and do not read this book unless you are high, you are dead, or both. This is 600 pages of bullshittery with no trigger warnings and this book made me go to the exotic meat store, buy snake, fry it, and eat it because that is all this book made me want to do. Eat snakes. And not in the sexy way.

Also before yall say anything yes, I love romantasy, I love romance, I love fantasy. This book has no grounds to be even half as long as it is and has a lack of romance and fantasy. World building is shite and the relationships and characters are shite.

[hirocimacruiser]

Mazda Familia GT-R review

Mazda Familia/GT-R

This is Mazda's cash cow Familia's WRC entry machine!

This Familia GT-R is also a rally model. By distributing the driving force unevenly between the front and rear, it has eliminated the disadvantage of 4WD vehicles when driving around curves. Of course, it also ensures practicality as a compact two-box vehicle at an above-average level.

Vehicle configuration

-What is the positioning of this car?

Positioned as Familia's top-of-the-line car

Familia is a popular car that has established a solid market share. The GT-R is the top-of-the-line model. The GT-R is a sports car developed from Familia with the aim of participating in rally races. It is difficult to demonstrate technical features in this class, but Mazda is asserting the uniqueness of the GT-R by equipping it with a full-time 4WD system exclusive to the GT-R.

Naturally, the GT-R is only available with one engine: the 1800cc inline 4-cylinder DOHC turbo, which produces a maximum output of 180 horsepower in the GT-X but increased to 210 in the GT-R. The body is only available as a 3-door hatchback.

Equipment & Mecha

Here are the noteworthy equipment and mechanisms!

Improved driving performance by changing torque distribution between front and rear wheels

In addition to the GT-R, the Familia also has other full-time 4WD models available, but Mazda classifies the GT-R and GT-X as sports 4WDs, and the other 4WD models as lifestyle 4WDs.

Naturally, the full-time 4WD system used in the GT-R is different from other 4WD vehicles, and mechanically it has a center differential with a viscous coupling-type LSD which distributes driving force unevenly between the front and rear wheels at 43:57.

The engine is a 1800cc inline 4-cylinder DOHC 16-valve turbocharged engine with a horsepower output of 210. The figures may seem a little ordinary, but when you use it to its full potential, it still feels thrilling to drive.

The appeal of 4WD driving!

The compact body and crisp driving are appealing

The uneven torque distribution of 45:57 between the front and rear is exactly the same as that used by Lancia, the multiple-time rally champion, in its Delta. The main advantage of this is that it makes it easier for the car to turn around curves, and this is also evident in the Familia GT-R.

In any case, the Familia GT-R shows a finish that doesn't make you feel any datedness when it first debuted when it comes to its movement around curves. There is no impression that it has any particularly advanced mechanisms, but when you turn the steering wheel, the car changes direction instantly and faithfully.

This feeling of being able to ride a bike is likely to be hard to give up for those who are still strongly sport-oriented.

The DOHC 16 valve + turbo engine also shows easy-to-handle characteristics. As expected, the feeling at low revolutions is a little inferior compared to the turbo engines that have appeared in the past few years, but the powerful feeling after the turbo starts to work is very stimulating.

The compact body, powerful engine, and full-time 4WD system, which is no longer innovative but delivers an outstanding driving experience, all of these elements come together perfectly to give the Familia GT-R a performance that still feels like it can compete at the front line.

PIC CAPTIONS

→The engine's distinctive feature is that it runs smoothly up to high speeds.

←1800 DOHC turbo that delivers a maximum output of 215 horsepower.

Check the room!

The interior design shows signs of age.

The age of the design is most evident in the interior. The design around the instrument panel, which skillfully combines straight lines and curves, certainly left a sophisticated impression when it was first released, but unfortunately it is difficult to be satisfied with it today, both in terms of design and texture.

The comfort around the rear seats is not particularly satisfactory, not only in this GT-R, but in all Familia cars.

PIC CAPTIONS

→Design aside, the instrument panel is highly practical.

↑The driver's seat is firm and comfortable, so you won't get tired easily.

rival

This is the rival car in terms of driving!!!!!

The company is losing ground to new rivals.

The Lancer and other models are the first cars that should be mentioned as rivals, but the differences in design are obvious. The Familia GT-R's driving is certainly sporty enough to stir the spirit of sport, but it can no longer compete with the Lancer in terms of ultimate punch, and it also cannot compete with the Familia in terms of quietness and vibration.

The GT-R's DOHC turbo engine is far ahead of the competition.

Even though it is a full-time 4WD system, the Familia GT-R's center differential system gives a rough driving feel when compared to the many sports 4WD cars currently on the market. The car's greatest appeal was its crisp and natural handling on curves, but the reason for this is that so many sports 4WDs that surpassed it have appeared in a short period of time. Unfortunately, when trying to enjoy serious sports driving, there are many dissatisfaction points with the body rigidity and suspension design. With the Familia itself due for a full model change soon, it seems a bit harsh to ask for such things, but it is a shame that the car's basic design was not fully developed.

PIC CAPTIONS

↑Compared to newer cars like the Lancer, the age of the design is obvious overall.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 4, Wave 1, Poll 1

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and round here.

Harrier ‘Harry’ Du Bois-Disco Elysium

Qualifications:

Bisexual. Struggles with addiction, post-polio syndrome, multiple kinds of mental illness, and whatever else he's accrued by living in a city with no accessible healthcare.

Propaganda:

You know who he is. Vote for him.

Kim Kitsuragi-Disco Elysium

Qualifications:

Visually impaired

Propaganda:

I dunno man. He's Kim Kitsuragi. There's nothing I can say about him that hasn't already been said. He's quiet and reserved and uncomfortable with emotions. He's a self-proclaimed Torque Dork who loves his car like a child. He listens to heavy metal music. He's a centrist. He's a homosexual. He's consistently given shit by everyone around him for his race, his sexuality, and his disability, and he's taught himself to respond to it with cold professionalism. He dresses in historical communist pilot cosplay. I love him with my entire heart.

[kaenbl4ze]

Hi! I just reread Read You Lima Charlie for the millionth time. It's probably one of my favorite SEAL Buck fics, and I've combed through the whole tag multiple times. I know it's a bit of an older fic, but do you have any plans on continuing the AU somehow? I'd love to read more of that AU or hear your headcanons if you have any!

Hello hello! Thank you so much, you have no idea how excited I am to hear that! Please do feel free to ask any and all questions about the AU or my headcanons and I'd be more than happy to answer <3

I know it's been a hot minute (sorry heh work and life got a bit hectic) but I do have a draft of a fun little sequel sitting in my google docs which I've been writing on and off. Alas I am a perfectionist and also a slow writer so it's been in limbo.. BUT it is definitely there and almost done and will come out at some point! I hope!!

In the meantime thank you for reading and asking about it and being so patient and i love you so here's a little sneak peak action scene from the draft:

[tw graphic depictions of violence, blood/gore, death]

“Where’ve you been?” Steve’s eyes did a quick sweep over Buck’s body, analytical, checking for injuries. Noticed Buck’s empty hands. “Where’s your rifle?”

“I was doing the laundry!” Buck replied through gritted teeth, eyes wide with exasperation.

He looked back around the corner of the building as Steve spoke behind him; soldiers dragging off the wounded away from the blast site, his teammates spread around with the other troops and suppressing the flow of insurgents, a few enemy fighters slipping through the gaps in fire, spraying bullets into the base in wide sweeping arcs before being shot down. 

“I don’t have a sidearm to give you. Head back to the armoury, grab your shit – give Command the sitrep on your way.”

Buck hummed in the affirmative, still scanning the combat zone, and was about to turn around and heed Steve’s instruction, but at the last moment caught sight of a combatant sneaking around behind a stack of crates. Slung over the man’s shoulder was a rocket launcher, and time seemed to slow as he swung the weapon around, gripped it tight, and levelled it at a cluster of infantrymen.

Buck saw red.

“Buckley!” Steve hissed, clawing at Buck’s sleeve in an attempt to stop him from sprinting towards the stray tango, but Buck slipped through his grip. He was too fast. Too focused. The last thing he heard was Steve muttering under his breath, “I swear that Kid is not right in the head.”

Planting a foot against a wall mid-run, Buck used his momentum to bound off and vault one-handed over the crates. He was airborne for half a second before colliding with his target in a spear tackle, bringing them both tumbling to the ground. The launcher clattered across the floor, and the two men engaged in a tangled mess of hand-to-hand combat.

Buck channelled his silent rage into the fight – got the large man into a grapple, caught an elbow to the mouth in the process, twisted the man’s arms as he yanked at Buck’s clothes. Buck had no gun. But he remembered, belatedly, that he did have a knife. Regrettably not one of his fixed-blades, but a folding knife that he had slipped into the pocket of his shorts a few days ago while rearranging his loadout. It would have to do.

The guy was a dirty fighter, strong, but he was sloppy. Poorly trained. More holes in his form than swiss cheese, and Buck fully intended to exploit them.

Buck ate a punch straight to his nose; didn’t let the sharp flash of pain or the momentary blur in his vision slow him down. He lunged straight for the opening in his opponent’s stance that he knew would be left undefended, torquing body mass and manipulating limbs to get the man into a one-armed chokehold against Buck’s chest. He quickly reached into his pocket with his free hand, flicked the lever to deploy the blade, and plunged it deep into the man’s neck right where Buck knew his jugular rested. 

With a jerk of his arms, simultaneously pulling the knife towards himself and twisting the man’s head away, he was met with a spray of hot blood and a wet gurgle.

Steve rounded the crates with his weapon raised right as the body dropped to the ground with a dull thump. Buck hung his head, catching his breath from the exertion and letting the blood from the blows to his face drip from his nose and dribble out of his mouth. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip to cut off the string of bloody saliva, then spat out the viscous mess into the sand. Beside him, Steve strode forward, glanced down at the body, and exhaled sharply through his nose.

In his peripherals, Buck caught a flash of movement. He whirled around instinctively, and in the same motion whipped his arm and let the blood-slick knife fly out of his hand. 

Two bullets from Steve’s rifle landed at the centre of the combatant's chest just a moment before Buck’s blade hit its mark, buried up to the hilt in the hollow of his throat. The man stumbled, eyes wide, and collapsed to the ground as his legs buckled beneath him. His weapon flew out of his hands in the fall, and his momentum carried his body a couple more feet before it finally slid to a twitching stop.

Buck straightened, scrunching his nose tentatively and sniffing. A deep buzzing sensation underscored the cacophony of battle around him, heartbeat steady and powerful in his core, fingertips thrumming with energy, vision crisp and vibrant. He blinked. Then, he turned to Steve, nonchalant.

“I had that.”

[genesisarclite]

Stalker 2 has emotionally destroyed me even more than before (I’m literally in the final mission past the point of no return) and like… I was fine until it started to rapid-fire throw things at me that broke my heart multiple times in quick succession. I had to stop playing primarily because I was so miserable that I needed to find something productive to do (and watch something funny to cheer me up).

I literally didn’t expect that from this game. I had no warning that it would do this.

I’ll finish the game, but once I do, I’m going to have to take a long break to recover and also write some stuff to process my grief. GSC didn’t have to go this hard on the emotional torque, but they did, and it’s so well done that I’m dreading finishing the story.

[blubushie]

If you feel like info dumping or if you even know.

The trucks with the crank in the front of them. How does that work? What is being cranked?

Or is that some made up movie nonsense that I fell victim too because I’ve never seen one in real life I just know of their existence.

No, they're real. Here's a video of a 1978 Land Rover S3 being cranked. Older ones (depending on how long they've been sitting) you'd have to spin the handcrank multiple times to get them started (just don't do what that fella did—only use your left hand, never your right and never both, otherwise it's a good way to shatter every bone in your hand when the engine turns over). The fella with the Land Rover was taking chances if you ask me because he could've broken his ankle if the handcrank whipped back over. They do that sometimes.

Anyway...

Basically what happens is the handcrank is pushed into the front of the vehicle below the radiator to connect to the crankshaft (that's this thing in the engine):

The crankshaft is what spins and connects to the pistons. The pistons is what causes pressurisation in the engine. Piston goes up, it pushes a petrol and air mixture upward to touch the sparkplug above it. Sparkplug ignites the petrol when it makes contact, a (contained) explosion happens, that pushes the piston back down and makes the crankshaft rotate. The pistons keep the crankshaft moving, and the crankshaft provides power (in this case rotational force—"torque") to the clutch and transmission, which then provides that power to the driveshaft, which is a spinning rod that connects to the differentials (the part that lets your wheels spin independently of each other). The differential(s) connectes to your axles, and the axles makes the wheels spin, which makes your car go forward.

Normally that first "push" of the crankshaft (the initial overturn of it—this is "turning over" an engine) is done by the starter. Some old cars didn't have starters, so you were required to manually crank the crankshaft to build pressure in the cylinder, and the magneto (a now-defunct type of ignition system) would create the spark (along with a small transformer) that would spark to combust the engine and turn the engine over.

Cranking cars is something that was very common back in old cars (especially those in extreme weather conditions). For example crank-engines were very common up until around the 80s in Slavic cars due to cars being harder to ignite in cold weather (petrol is harder to vaporise when it's cold and it needs to be vaporised to be combusted, additionally batteries don't operate well in the cold so often the car batteries couldn't output enough power to work the start and crank the engine).

Other cars, like Land Rovers for example, were designed for use in "remote" terrain. Car batteries recharge by the alternator, but what do you do if you're in the middle of nowhere with a dead battery and no way to jump it or recharge the battery? That's when a hand crank comes in handy—your car battery will probably have enough juice to provide a spark to the sparkplugs, but not enough juice to power the starter motor (which connects to the flywheel to turn the crankshaft). In that scenario you can hand-crank the engine yourself to turn it over and your car battery will charge as the engine idles.

If you ask me, I really wish that hand-crank engines were still something commonly produced, especially in cars designed to be used for off-roading. They'd be a life-saver in some of the situations I get myself into.