#mi jente latino

[hungriestheidi]

“Charles and Max met, began to push each other and almost hit each other, with the risk of being left out. Jos Verstappen and I were glued to the fence to look at them and he turned around and said to me: 'These two will fight forever. They will fight even in F1′. A prophecy” — Armando Filini, Maranello Kart manager.

(for @piastriachios)

[hansnica23-blog]

...... Hola A Todos Mi #Jente #Amig@s #Amistades #Conocid@s Y #Familia #Instagram #ParaTi #Miami #305 #Nica #LaTinos #Viral #Mensaje 🥺 D Jando Un #Poco D #Mi https://www.instagram.com/p/CK1nQtshQUYo09YPNM7MxH6SgyNS5zrKIpHsqY0/?igshid=dab44n3lfzj8

[hungriestheidi]

3/4/7 landoscar, ur pick 🥳

hope you like this, you filthy baby. (landoscar x “Why did you do that?)

Somewhere in Japan, Lando lost the shame for calling Oscar a puppy. 

My puppy, yeah? yeah, he says, with his hands buried on Oscar’s body, sinking into the flesh of him until he feels the marrow of his bones twisting like play-doh between his fingertips. Oscar twists and turns and looks away and his nose, the nose that he wrinkles so delicately, rosy cheeks and glassy eyes. Lando wishes nothing more than to twist him into a nice pastry (haha, easy joke) and delight himself in the pitfalls of wanting something so sweet, so desperately glorious. He wonders if sunshine tastes like him, like the sweat pooling on his collarbones when he sits on him, ankles crossing at his lower back, letting Oscar take the impact, letting Oscar fuck into him with his nose buried on the hollow of Lando’s neck. He thinks of biting, lips around his earlobe, but he is not built for maliciousness, at least not with Oscar who goes into his schemes so easily, so pliant and sweet and earnest and hot like a fucking furnace. Oscar, fuck, Osc, Oscar, I’m going to cum–

“You are such a puppy,”

The absentminded caressing is something like a game, how far can he take it before Oscar says something. And if Oscar says nothing, Lando does, makes casual conversation with fingers on the back of his neck, skimming up and down the thread of his hair. It’s gotten longer lately, the hair, the time in silence after sex. He’s been careless about it, both the hair and the afterglow, the good luck it came with must have been Oscar’s reasoning to keep it unruly. Maybe his mom likes it this way, maybe Lando likes it this way too.

“Why did you do that?” Oscar asks, twists and turns to look him in the eye, a hand on Lando’s chest, the other on the pillow by his head. Lando frowns and Oscar sighs, long, deep. “Forget it, it’s nothing.”

“No, no," Lando turns now, straddles Oscar's lap, puts his hands on his wrists. Oscar goes, lets him rearrange them like dolls. It's honestly sexy. "Talk, mate,” he says. Oscar sighs.

“I just–” Oscar rolls his eyes, shimmies on the bed until Lando dips the bed with the weight of his knees, presses their hips flush. Oscar lets out a deep breathy sigh. “I like it when you…” Oscar takes a deep breath, those that are meant to suck in bravery from the upper atmosphere, soak it straight from the stars. Does he act like this for Mark Webber too? Lando has never asked. “I like it when you call me puppy. But I don’t know why you do it?”

“You are a puppy, that's it, mate,” Lando says, shrugging with a slight frown on his face. “You are smart, you are eager, charismatic, everyone adores you, I have to keep you interested so you come back to this bed.”

“That’s not true,” the rebuttal is almost immediate, almost offended the tone of his voice. “I would never go to anyone else. No one could give me this.”

Lando quips an eyebrow. “This?”

“You.” He tells him, the gentle adoration in his eyes makes Lando's insides turn to jello. “Kiss me,” he means it like a demand, Lando can tell, but it comes out like a plea. He does it anyway.

[hungriestheidi]

9, 11, 13 or 23 for oscarmark or lando/jenson 🫶😙

i blame you and our lengthy oscarmark conversations for whatever the hell i just wrote, muak tkm (used everything minus 9 i think idk)

The collusion of the blinding lights and a flight ungodly long makes him want to crawl into a cave and never come out. 

The airport is too bright, too big, too noisy. Oscar is in Melbourne to rest, to meet back with his family, with his friends. But he’s in a frenzy of people, caught between people with phones in hand asking for a selfie, who don’t deserve to be treated meanly just because he had a shitty day, and the regular crowd waltzing in and out of planes like ants walking in and out of their colony. 

He meets Mark right outside of the airport, his black car parked in the shade. It’s a cold winter in Australia, not that unusual but Oscar preferred it to be a bit less busy. He wanted Mark to pick him up because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to handle his family fussing over him first thing out of the plane. He’ll text his sisters later, now he just calls his mom. 

“Are you ok, Osc?” She asks, first thing she tells him after he explains he landed safely. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” He tells her, shrugging even when she can’t see. “I’m going to Mark’s house”

His mother hums. “Tell him to take good care of you.” 

“I will.”

“How’s the boss?” Mark asks, his eyes on the road. The city is busy, the sky is clear.

“Good, she says you have to take good care of me,” he tells him, giving him a cheeky grin. “Oh, she doesn’t need to say that twice” Mark lets out a bark of a laugh.  ”You are so in for it when we get home,” he says with a smile carrying the words across the space between the driver’s and passenger’s seat. His hand squeezes Oscar’s thigh, grip vice tight and a bit mean, a bit like power, a bit like love. Oscar blushes, casts his eyes away from the road, to the sun shining bright and then lets the world melt into nothingness as the house nears. 

Suburbia is often quiet, or at least quieter than the city, the big buildings and the mean noises of crowded streets. Suburbia sounds a bit like Troye Sivan’s Blue Neighbourhood, like old indie songs his sister used to listen to in the CD player their father gave her because she likes vintage stuff. 

Mark’s suburbia paradise has got tall fencing and a nice yard and Oscar watches through half open windows the leaves of the evergreen trees at the back of the property, the deep shadows they cast. Saxon runs upstairs when he turns back but Sammy stays still on the couch, curled up like a kitten. Mark’s dogs have always been a bit too hyperactive, but Sammy likes Oscar too much to run away when he’s near. He likes Sammy too. 

Oscar’s head is a bit weird, not physically really, but something inside feels like cotton, like his brain has been wrapped in silk or tulle, something soft and easy to get lost in. He drank chocolate milk and ate tim tams, recreated a childhood afternoon down to eating in front of the tv watching old tv shows. Mark had put in him the peace of quiet days with just a silly little routine. 

Now he’s staying put, quiet and nice, on his knees at the edge of the couch, hands on his thighs. It’s a bit cold to be wearing just underwear, but the big loose hoodie makes up for it, just a bit. It swallows his arms down to his fingers, the tips of them peeking under the hems, it’s cozy and soft, does nothing to take his mind away from the tender warmth crawling inside his mind.

But it’s good, the feeling of floating in a bubble in a safe and quiet space, only the faintest sound of music coming from another room, like being a child and falling asleep in a couch after a party, hearing your parents’ voices asking if they should carry you to your bedroom and let you stay here a bit longer. 

Mark walks into the room just as Oscar looks back at the wall, the pale blue wallpaper looks to be patterned with the faintest of light blue flowers. The place is warm, his legs are a bit numb, Mark’s fingers thread through his hair and Oscar looks up. 

“Be a good boy for daddy,” he says, holding a coffee on his other hand, watching him with a gentle smile on his lips. He looks beautiful, in a button up shirt and dress pants. He dressed up for him, Oscar knows it, knows that Mark knows he loves it when he goes the extra mile, makes him feel like nothing that happened outside this house matters, just them, their quiet afternoons and stick-together nights.

Tomorrow he’ll think about his mother and his sisters, about training and eating meals approved by his dietician. For now, he is Mark’s good boy and he nods and preens when Mark kisses his forehead, comes crawling when Mark beckons him closer, sitting on the couch with his legs parted, rests his cheek on Mark’s thigh and watches him change the channel on the tv and mess with Oscar’s hair for half an hour or two. 

[hungriestheidi]

@piastriachios opening her dms and finding my brainrot

[hungriestheidi]

Cow emoji (I’m too lazy to find it)

heart emoji, heart emoji, heart emoji. hiiiiiii!

THE LAST ONE?????? JAJAJA

[hungriestheidi]

i have spammed sarah so much i have no idea what she'll respond to if she ever opens her tumblr dms

[hungriestheidi]

me waiting for @piastriachios to be done with her girlboss stuff so we can do our weekly debrief of insane thoughts about f1 drivers

[hungriestheidi]

7, 18, and 1 for dead dove (forgive me for forgetting the title, it will always be dead dove in my heart <3)

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

Too many and by God you know it. Top of my head right now is the next part of the galex royal au, the dead dove prequel and some form of oscarmax college au. Yay.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Sharing my fav dead dove lines because I've been thinking about that fic today, yay.

He’s got that haunting look in his eyes he’d always attribute to a difficult childhood, his father’s abandonment, his mother’s premature death and living with a grandmother who’d recently gone blind and almost entirely deaf. Today he sees the sadness in his eyes for what it is, the weight of the world he has sunk in, boring deep into his bones. The cold seeps in, the place smells like rotten work, like humidity. Mark wonders if the rot is inside himself, as he steps closer to the bed, one foot after the other. 

1. Share a song that makes you think of dead dove

Put a pillow on my face Watch me scream and suffocate You're getting pleasure from my pain Satisfaction is all you gain Put the flowers on my grave Kissed my casket and walk away I was such a pretty girl And it was such a shame

thank u for asking, xoxoxo, ily!

[hungriestheidi]

Wait nvm u already answered the heart so 📄👻!!

hello, yes, heart is answered let me tackle this and then headbutt a bullet!

📄What’s a WIP you never finished that you would like to go back and revisit?

Jokes on you, I delete everything I don't finish! But talking fr, I haven't finished my foursome fic and I'm seriously considering rewriting some of it, if not just pulling myself by the hair and force me to continue it, you know.

👻Is there a scene that you find intimidating that you have yet to write?

Literally anything concerning my bb fic falls under this category. She needs to be perfect or I die. Also the last chapter of my current on going fic on ao3. And the next scene of -that- oscarmark fic we talk about... *vague hand gestures* yeah

[hansnica23-blog]

……Hola A Todos Mi #Jente #Amistades #Conocid@s Y #Familia #Instagram #ParaTi #Miami #305 #Nica #LaTinos #Viral D Jando Un #Poco D #Humor Hoy Es Juevesss Y El Cuerpo Lo Sabe 🙃 Con Mi Tía Karla 💃🏻🍻 🕺🏻 https://www.instagram.com/p/CPGw4AXBcpQ8aUHEn5l18UWz6wjmLPMpd7g9jA0/?utm_medium=tumblr

[hansnica23-blog]

...... Hola A Todos Mi #Jente #Amig@s #Amistades #Conocid@s Y #Familia #Tiktok #ParaTi #Miami #305 #Nica #LaTinos #Viral #Mensaje 🥺 D Jando Un #Poco D #Humor A Cuantos #Mas Les #Pasa? 🤔 #Si Luego #Siquir 🙃 #Adelante https://www.instagram.com/p/CJ2dUWMBkVRyE7PzFLQl9nv4EJEwdscYIKE7Wk0/?igshid=1uay97i35ox6n

[hansnica23-blog]

......Hola Mi Jente Un Poco D Humor Mi Meta Es 🤣 Tenerte A Mi Lado 🌶 🔥 Mi Bebecita Lol 🤩 Miami Nica LaTino ParaTi Viral Mundial https://www.instagram.com/p/CGNMRktBTW88TvtoNCcT0XV68NkOuC3Bpe3wN00/?igshid=118lsig975h9z