hi, i'm kee! 30s, they/them, 🍁. please be 18+ to follow 💕
i follow/interact from @boonmeams
this is a motorsport sideblog, heavy on the rpf. mainly motogp, f1, and extremely occasionally some indycar. i am a multishipper and a nuisance
⋆.˚ ao3
⋆.˚ writing tag
⋆.˚ art tag
⋆.˚ rec tag
ask box is always open for pretty much anything and fic prompts/reqs are always welcome!! i can't guarantee i'll get to them super quickly but more often than not it'll spark something
if you're looking for fic of a specific ship, my formatting is my fic tag + the driver numbers from highest to lowest! for example if you're looking for permin, it'll be under kee.fic.5437. if you're looking for galex, it'll be under kee.fic.6323. and so on and so forth 💕
if you're not interested in me talking or liveblogging races you can block the #kee.txt and #kee.lb tags!
Announcement: f1 pussy curse fest is coming NEXT MONTH
What is it?
An f1 fest focused on one of our most beautiful tropes, the pussy curse and its close sister, turned into a girl. It will be a chill promt based fest that also allows you to do your own thing and there will be no minimum wordcount.
Wait what's a pussy curse?
Pussy curse or 'woke up with a pussy' is a trope where a character who previously didn't have a pussy suddenly gets one. It's a flexible trope that allows for any cause of a sudden pussy and any method of getting their dick back, though orgasm or getting fucked are common ones. Sometimes the curse is known to characters and sometimes it's a surprise new pussy and they have to figure out what to do. This trope encompasses any sudden magical genital change.
When will it happen?
Promting and sign-ups open: July 15
Prompting closes: August 15
Reveals: October 15
Who is behind this?
@the-odds-are-there and @forcederror
Please spread the word!! Reblog and tell all your friends and discord servers!!
"This is crazy," Bez is saying, won't stop saying, clammy palms everywhere. Cele would like it better, maybe, if he were putting his mouth to work elsewhere. On Celestino's body instead spouting off about how crazy this is over and over and over.
Cele says, "Sure," for about the fifth time. Because sure, yes, it's pretty crazy, tucked into a dark corner at a dark house party with Bez's dark, dark eyes just barely shining out from behind his mask. Cele had laughed at first, when he'd seen it. Lacy and sparkling to match the bralette, the panties, the garters. Laughed, because as Bez had been visibly having a heart attack, Cele had had to say, "Well one of us is going to have to change."
A coincidence, mostly, that Celestino's in a nearly identical outfit. Different patterns in the lace, more coverage across the ass because as much as Bez seems to like flossing with his underwear Cele's not that kind of experienced just yet. A coincidence and a joke, because Cele had known—always knows—what Marco is going to wear to a masquerade if he's given the opportunity.
"Celin," Bez says. His face is pressed into Celestino's neck, both hands clutching at Cele's waist. The mask is prickly against the underside of Cele's jaw. "This—you—"
"If you say this is crazy again," Cele pants, finally, "I'm going to go home."
Bez makes a noise against Cele's skin that could be a moan or a groan or maybe a laugh, because—yeah, Celestino doesn't just leave parties, not until he has to. But he's looking to mess around tonight. If Marco's version of messing around is descending into madness while he palms vaguely at all of the least interesting parts of Cele's body then Celestino is happy to look elsewhere.
"Fuck," Bez says, gasps. He finds Cele's chest with both hands, runs both thumbs over his nipples. Celestino reaches between them to pinch Bez's nipple, retaliatory, tugging on the piercing until Bez makes a noise so shrill that it's a miracle no one comes looking for them. At this point they'd deserve it, Cele thinks, if they were found.
"Go," Cele says abruptly, winding a hand into the back of Bez's hair to pull him away from where he'd just about been tonguing at Cele's collarbone. He likes licking him there, mapping out the topography of scarring.
Bez makes a noise that is not confused; he knows exactly what Celestino means, and he follows easily under the pressure of Cele's hand when he's pushed down. In kneeling, Marco's cock has made itself visible. The head pops out of the waistband of his panties—Celin has seen these ones before, a scrap of lace and ribbon definitely not made to contain a dick-and-balls—shiny and pink and rubbing against the flatness of his belly before he lurches forward, open-mouthed, to groan against the outline of Celestino's dick through a layer of lace. Cele went all in on his underwear. He hasn't told Marco yet, but he will, after. Show him the site of lingerie that looks like it's for women but is designed for exactly this. For holding Celestino's cock all the way in even as he thickens up, fully-hard under Bez's mouth.
Bez makes another noise. Frustrated, maybe, that he's only got a mouthful of silky fabric instead of Cele's dick. Cele laughs, fisting his hand in Bez's hair again to haul him away—Marco's tongue lolls out mournfully—and then fishes his dick out of his underwear.
Marco sits still enough to let Celestino rub the tip of his dick over his lips. Sits, quivering on his knees when Celestino slaps his cock against Marco's cheek and then his outstretched tongue.
"Good boy," Cele says dimly, because that seems like the right thing to say.
Bez makes a noise that sounds a little like he's just creamed himself. Cele is too busy shoving his dick down his throat to pay all that much attention.
2 hours of bad sleep will have you thinking things like 'i am a stranded whale and i need to be covered in dynamite in an ill-advised attempt to clear the beach'
"This is crazy," Bez is saying, won't stop saying, clammy palms everywhere. Cele would like it better, maybe, if he were putting his mouth to work elsewhere. On Celestino's body instead spouting off about how crazy this is over and over and over.
Cele says, "Sure," for about the fifth time. Because sure, yes, it's pretty crazy, tucked into a dark corner at a dark house party with Bez's dark, dark eyes just barely shining out from behind his mask. Cele had laughed at first, when he'd seen it. Lacy and sparkling to match the bralette, the panties, the garters. Laughed, because as Bez had been visibly having a heart attack, Cele had had to say, "Well one of us is going to have to change."
A coincidence, mostly, that Celestino's in a nearly identical outfit. Different patterns in the lace, more coverage across the ass because as much as Bez seems to like flossing with his underwear Cele's not that kind of experienced just yet. A coincidence and a joke, because Cele had known—always knows—what Marco is going to wear to a masquerade if he's given the opportunity.
"Celin," Bez says. His face is pressed into Celestino's neck, both hands clutching at Cele's waist. The mask is prickly against the underside of Cele's jaw. "This—you—"
"If you say this is crazy again," Cele pants, finally, "I'm going to go home."
Bez makes a noise against Cele's skin that could be a moan or a groan or maybe a laugh, because—yeah, Celestino doesn't just leave parties, not until he has to. But he's looking to mess around tonight. If Marco's version of messing around is descending into madness while he palms vaguely at all of the least interesting parts of Cele's body then Celestino is happy to look elsewhere.
"Fuck," Bez says, gasps. He finds Cele's chest with both hands, runs both thumbs over his nipples. Celestino reaches between them to pinch Bez's nipple, retaliatory, tugging on the piercing until Bez makes a noise so shrill that it's a miracle no one comes looking for them. At this point they'd deserve it, Cele thinks, if they were found.
"Go," Cele says abruptly, winding a hand into the back of Bez's hair to pull him away from where he'd just about been tonguing at Cele's collarbone. He likes licking him there, mapping out the topography of scarring.
Bez makes a noise that is not confused; he knows exactly what Celestino means, and he follows easily under the pressure of Cele's hand when he's pushed down. In kneeling, Marco's cock has made itself visible. The head pops out of the waistband of his panties—Celin has seen these ones before, a scrap of lace and ribbon definitely not made to contain a dick-and-balls—shiny and pink and rubbing against the flatness of his belly before he lurches forward, open-mouthed, to groan against the outline of Celestino's dick through a layer of lace. Cele went all in on his underwear. He hasn't told Marco yet, but he will, after. Show him the site of lingerie that looks like it's for women but is designed for exactly this. For holding Celestino's cock all the way in even as he thickens up, fully-hard under Bez's mouth.
Bez makes another noise. Frustrated, maybe, that he's only got a mouthful of silky fabric instead of Cele's dick. Cele laughs, fisting his hand in Bez's hair again to haul him away—Marco's tongue lolls out mournfully—and then fishes his dick out of his underwear.
Marco sits still enough to let Celestino rub the tip of his dick over his lips. Sits, quivering on his knees when Celestino slaps his cock against Marco's cheek and then his outstretched tongue.
"Good boy," Cele says dimly, because that seems like the right thing to say.
Bez makes a noise that sounds a little like he's just creamed himself. Cele is too busy shoving his dick down his throat to pay all that much attention.
