#for plot purposes

He pulled his eyes away to scan the halls. People were starting to drift into classrooms, nobody had gone in or out of the bathroom in several long minutes… there probably wasn’t even anyone in there anyway. Homeroom would be starting soon, it was now or never.

Danny took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and shut his eyes before phasing through the door.

He did it! He was in!

He paused for a moment, listening, and when he didn’t hear anything, he cracked one eye open.

It was… underwhelming, to say the least.

As he had suspected, it was empty. Very empty. No extravagantly embroidered settees, no floor length mirrors, no coat racks, not even any fancy soaps. It looked the same as the boy’s room, but without the urinals.

It didn’t even smell that much better, just a different kind of stink. Instead of citrus and pine, artificially recreated and dialed up to eleven that somehow still did nothing to mask the stench of teenage B.O. blending with old urinal cake; in here it smelled vaguely like the dumpster in the alley behind the 6th Street Bakery and Sal’s Florist Shop. Not that Danny knew what the inside of that specific dumpster smelled like, of course, and he certainly hadn’t been thrown into it more than once.

He floated over to the sinks, no fancy makeup lighting, but somebody had graffitied a heart and pair of initials on the mirror with a neon pink lipstick. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out whose initials they could be, gaze unfocusing as he mentally ran through the names of his classmates.

A movement in the mirror caught his eye and the room slammed back into sharp detail, his heart lurching in his chest.

There was a pair of shoes in the very last stall, just barely visible under the door. Someone was in there. A girl was in there.

He couldn’t do this. Nope, nope, nope. He was getting out of here right now.

He tried to leave, but in a stroke of his notorious bad luck, his powers fizzled at the door. Intangibility gone, invisibility gone. He tried to open it quietly, but the hinges squeaked as if just to spite him. He knew he shouldn’t have done this, now the universe was going to punish him for his bad decision. He was never going to live this down. He—

“Thank goodness!” a voice called out, “I thought I was going to be stuck in here until after homeroom! Hey, do me a favor and get me a tampon from the machine? There should be some change in the front pocket of my backpack.”

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming black backpack leaned up against the wall underneath a small vending machine. How had he missed that? Maybe the girls’ bathroom wasn’t as magical as he’d been expecting, but this was certainly something that they didn’t have in the boys’ bathroom.

There were only two options on this strange little vending machine “tampon” and “napkin.” Not even the regular snack machines had napkins, why would you buy that when you could just grab a paper towel from the bathroom for free? He looked at the prices, only a few cents, but he still thought it wasn’t worth it.

It felt weird digging in a strange girl’s backpack, so he was glad to find the change right where she said it would be. He placed the coins in the machine and turned the knob. He was rewarded for his efforts when a small package fell into his waiting hand. It was oddly lightweight, and there were no words on the wrapper to give him any clues as to what kind of strange snack this might be.

He didn’t understand why the girl didn’t wait until she was done on the toilet to get it herself, but he passed it under the stall door anyway, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling.

“Thanks hun, you’re a lifesaver!”

Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal, but a pleased hum settled in his chest at the girl’s praise nonetheless.

The warning bell chose that moment to ring and Danny sprinted for the door, grinning when he successfully phased through it this time.

He found a place to transform and made it to his homeroom, slumping into his seat just as the last bell rang.

He glanced at the empty desk in front of him.

Sam was at the dentist this morning. He wouldn’t have been able to attempt his little stunt had she been here; she would have seen the gears turning before he’d realized it himself and put a stop to it immediately.

Tucker leaned over from his own desk and whispered, “So? Did you do it?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I did it.”

“Well… How was it?”

His best friend was way too excited about the whole thing. It was just a bathroom, just a regular old place for people to do their business. The only thing remotely interesting was the weird little vending machine and his strange interaction with the girl in the stall. What could be so important that it couldn’t have waited a few minutes?

“Hey Tuck, what’s a tampon?” Danny asked distractedly.

Tucker just shrugged as the teacher called for quiet and began taking roll.

***

Between his algebra test and the Box Ghost, Danny had managed to not think too much about the bathroom incident at school. However, now that he was walking home, alone with his thoughts, it was a different story.

What was a tampon? Why did it have a dedicated vending machine, and in the girls’ bathroom of all places? Why was it sold with napkins? From the brief time he held it, it didn’t seem like it would be a messy snack. Why hadn’t the girl bought it herself? Nothing about it made sense.

Did it affect him? Not really. He could probably pretend he’d never found out anything and things would be the exact same for him as they had been yesterday. Except… he couldn’t seem to let it go. His brain had latched onto the mystery like a dog with a bone and the not-knowing was eating him half-alive. Maybe he could ask someone.

As he neared his house, a pair of orange-clad legs sticking out from under the GAV caught his attention.

His dad was someone.

“Hey, Dad? Can I ask you a question?”

There was a shout and a metallic clang and the rest of his dad rolled into view, rubbing at his temple.

“What’s up, Danno! How was school?”

On the other hand, his dad was a guy, and this was some sort of weird, girl secret. He probably didn’t know any more than Danny did.

“School was fine. Uh, have you seen Mom?”

“Last I checked she was working on something down in the lab.”

“Great! Thanks!”

He made a hasty exit, taking the front steps two at a time before his dad could ask him what his question had been, or remind him to do his chores, or something.

He dropped his backpack inside the front door and headed for the lab. The telltale ratcheting of a socket wrench letting him know that his mom was indeed there. As he descended into the basement, the noises tapered off; hopefully a sign that she was taking a break from her project and would be able to talk to him.

At the foot of the stairs he called out, “Hey, Mom, can I ask y—“

He instinctively ducked when a glowing green blast singed the wall beside him.

He peeked his head back into the lab from where he had retreated into the stairwell. A device in the middle of the room was firing lasers in all directions, it looked like his mom had altered one of those disco globe lights into an ecto-powered weapon. Great.

“Careful, sweetie!” she shouted from behind a blast shield opposite the machine. “I’ve already initiated the testing sequence, go back upstairs and I’ll find you when it’s finished!”

“Uh, that’s okay!” Danny replied. “Just wanted to let you know I’m home from school!”

His mom waved, smiling from behind her tinted goggles, he waved back before heading upstairs. There was still one person left that he could ask.

“Hey, Jazz? What’s a tampon?”

She blinked at him from her desk chair for several seconds. “You don’t know?”

“No,” he groused, folding his arms. “Why else would I be asking you?”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just- Mom and Dad never told you? Like, when they gave you The Talk?”

“No?” he repeated, unsure what The Talk had to do with something you bought from a vending machine in the girls’ bathroom.

“And you didn’t learn about it in health class?”

He shook his head. If they’d learned about this in health class, he must’ve missed that day.

“Okay,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Hold on, let me pull up my PowerPoint.”

It ended up being way worse than the time Dad had given him The Talk.

***

The next day he brought Sam a bar of her favorite sustainable, cruelty-free, vegan chocolate.

He lingered by her locker surveying the students milling in the halls. Half of them went through—would continue to go through—something he could only imagine, something Jazz had thoroughly impressed on him was an absolutely miserable experience. Blood and pain and a whole host of other symptoms, not to mention the looming threat of toxic shock syndrome, and they were just expected to go about their days like nothing was different.

He hid injuries all the time, scrapes and bruises and sometimes worse, but none of that was normal. If Skulker showed up every month like clockwork to punch his kidney in, leaving him bruised and bleeding for a week… he didn’t think he could do it, and certainly not for the next forty-ish years of his life.

Sam and Tucker arrived, breaking him out of his musings.

“Morning, Danny. You’re here early.”

“Hey, uh, hi! Sam! I, um, brought you something.” He shoved the chocolate bar into her hands.

She inspected it, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! Nothing! What? A guy can’t get his best friend a gift just because?”

He was beginning to sweat under her calculating glare when two upperclassmen walked by and the trio overheard a snippet of their conversation.

“I’m telling you, the first floor bathroom is haunted!”

“Uh-huh. A ghost just… bought you a tampon. Because that doesn’t sound crazy at all.”

“Then who bought me the tampon?”

“Uh, maybe a normal, alive girl.”

“Then how did they leave without opening the door, hmm? You know that door squeaks if you even look at it wrong.”

“I’m going to ask you again, and I want you to think very carefully before you answer…” Sam smiled, but her eyes glinted dangerously. “What did you do?”

Danny turned to Tucker, “Run?”

You were so angry, you ripped your helmet off and threw it when you got back to the garage. 

You had to retire, for the second weekend in a row. 

This time wasn’t your mistake either! It was all Pierre’s fault, again. He had taken a risky cut turn and basically launched himself into you. You had cursed the second he’d shunted you and knew your race was over as his car pushed yours in the wall. 

You were the first woman in F1 on your level and these boys couldn’t keep to their own fucking lanes, and it was frustrating. You had fought hard to get to this level, fought with the best boys coming up and still shined amongst all the seas of men you had to swim through. Never once did you settle, never once did you have sex or anything. You earned your spot fair and square, fuck those gossip sites that said anything different. 

And up until two weeks ago, you had been having a stellar rookie season, absolutely soaking up the points as you made every motherfucker that doubted your ability as a woman eat their ugly words and sexist ideals. You had learned early on in your racing career to not pay them any mind until you could laugh at them while proving them all wrong. 

But here you were, two thirds of a way through a harsh triple header. You knew hard weekends were inevitable, but it didn't make you any less pissed. 

You were in your drivers room, stripping off your fireproofs until you stayed in your thin shirt and leggings. You paced the room, trying to even out your breathing as the adrenaline left over from the race didn’t help your rage. 

An unexpected knock at your door had you groaning, loud and dramatic. “Go away!” You yelled. You’d worry about who you had to apologize to later.

They knocked again, and you turned back towards the door, feeling your irritation rise. You ripped the door open, yelling what at whoever was standing there.

Pierre.

Pierre stood there, wide eyed and looking every bit the little sweetheart you’d heard he was, but for some reason his big baby eyed look was just making you more irritated. You didn’t want to forgive him, you wanted to punch him.

“Hey, I-”

“You want to apologize?” You cut him off.  “You want to tell me you’re sorry for fucking my race?” 

Pierre looked both ways before he gently crowded you and pushed you back into your room, he turned and shut the door behind him. 

“What the fuck?”

“There are reporters wandering around your garage, I really didn’t want them to see you angry. You don’t want them to too, no?

“Oh, so now you’re helping me out?” You narrowed your eyes at him and walked towards him, your shorter stature way more aggressive as you backed Pierre into the corner. 

“I’m trying to! You need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” 

He looked down at you, his eyes roaming past your face. 

“Unbelievable. I’m ready to rip your head off and you’re still looking at my tits.” You growled. “Tell me, do you like forcing me off the track? You get some sort of fucking rush at fucking my race?” 

“No,” Pierre mumbled. “I didn’t mean to.”

“What?” You yelled. “I can’t fucking hear you, if you’re gonna apologize, fucking do it!” 

The room spun around you as Pierre grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the door, switching places with you. Before you could yell at him his lips crashed into yours. It took you exactly 3 seconds to mentally say ‘fuck it’, molding your lips to his and biting him hard. 

Pierre cursed in French and pulled back, before he lifted you against the back of the door. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your mouths meeting in a frantic kiss, tongues rolling against each other. You licked up each other’s moans as he ravished your mouth. When he squeezed your ass, you couldn’t help but roll your hips against those solid abs you’d thirsted over before joining F1. 

You gripped Pierre’s neck, keeping his mouth against yours as you felt his hand sneaking around your hip, pulling your shirt up against your tummy before the top of your leggings was pulled. You whimpered when he shoved his hand down your pants, moaning into your mouth as his thumb brushed against your pussy. 

You pulled back to arch your back and whimper as one of his fingers slid inside you. He worked his finger in and out of you, testing your tightness while rubbing on your clit with his thumb. You looked down at how he was leaning against your chest, your nipples poking out through the thin material of your sports bra and shirt. You moaned when Pierre bit down on the perky nubs through your clothes.

“Fuck,” You moaned.

“You’re so wet.” Pierre whispered. You almost couldn’t hear him over the sound of your pussy being fingered.

You cried out as he curled his finger, hitting a new spot as he pressed down on your clit with his thumb, keeping the pressure on it. Your own shaking and hip jolts rubbed your clit across his digit and tightened you around his finger. 

“Another?” He breathlessly asked you before he licked your sticky neck.

You shook your head yes as you struggled to open your thighs around his narrow hips a bit more. Pierre got the message and lowered you to your feet, pulling up one of your thighs to hold it against his hip as he slipped another finger in alongside the one already in you. 

You whimpered and gasped at the feeling of the second finger joining the first inside you. You definitely hadn’t been expecting to be fingered in your drivers room, so your pussy was far from ready, but from how quickly it’d started gushing for his finger, it was catching up. 

You leaned your back against the door, your hips up with your one leg around his waist as he worked his fingers in and out of you. You looked down to watch how his palm rubbed against your mound down your pants. You arched your back, closing your eyes as you stuck your hands under your shirt and sports bra, playing with your tits under the material, out of Pierre’s sight. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Pierre mumbled, leaning forward to kiss you.

You kissed him back and stood up straight, finally getting his fingers hitting the right spot. You held him to you as you rode his hand, giving him your pussy in the palm of his hand, literally.

You cried out as you came. 

Pierre gently pulled out, and teasingly rubbed your clit until you pushed him away, both of your feet on the floor and his hand gone from your pants.

“Wow,” he had a dopey smile on his face, and you could see a bit of a bulge in his fireproofs. He walked back towards you, but was stopped by your hand on your chest.

You smirked up at him. “Apology accepted.”

You pushed him back so you weren’t leaning against the door, and opened it. You dramatically waved your hand, gesturing down and out the door. Pierre’s face was priceless. He was speechless until he was giggling and shaking his head. 

“I’ll find you later.” He said to you as he passed you and walked out the door you held for him. 

-

You weren’t exactly sure how you managed to start fucking around with Esteban, but moments like this where you needed some stress relief, you really appreciated the tall Frenchman. 

And really, you could barely call it fucking around when you were always on the receiving end. You’d roll around and make out until Esteban would shoot his shot, you’d get your pussy eaten and then you’d shake your head and let him lead himself out. 

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t fuck any drivers until you were at least a year in. You didn’t need your first year defined by dicks, you wanted it defined by points. 

Getting back to your room after your run in with Pierre had left you smug but with a simmer bubbling under your skin. You needed more than a fast finger fuck, and you’d already jogged when you got back to the hotel. Yeah, you needed some more relief between your legs. 

You showered and sent the text. Luckily, Esteban never took more than a few minutes to answer your texts, and took the hint instantly when your texts were just your room number, no formalities. 

You moaned, the soft plush mattress underneath you contrasting with the long, lean body on top of you. You let Esteban press his hard on into your cunt, and rubbed yourself against it. You didn’t feel bad, he knew what he was there for. 

“Thought you might call after what happened.” He mumbled against your lips, the first time either one of you had talked since you’d pulled him into your room.

You groaned. “Look who’s trained.” You teased. 

Esteban kissed your jaw, licking at your neck before biting harshly into your skin, making you jump. “He’s such a piece of shit.” He muttered near your ear. “He shunted you like an amateur.” 

Flashes of Pierre fingering you crossed your mind and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on which Frenchman was really there with you now. “It’s not a big deal, he’s fine.”

“He’s an asshole.” Esteban growled, leaning up to peel your yoga pants off in a less than gentle way. “He’s always been an asshole, trust me.”

You lifted your head and watched him pull your panties off, still looking annoyed. You held your legs bent together, making him look at you.

“Do you guys have issues?” Esteban nodded. “Like, personal issues?” You couldn’t recall any kind of race incident between the two. 

Esteban nodded, placing his hands on your knees. “Yeah, I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I’d rather do this than talk.” 

You let your legs fall open, shivering when you felt Esteban kiss your lips. You bit your lip, trying not to giggle at the predicament your mind was in. Esteban was licking on the pussy that Pierre had been fingering less than a few hours ago. 

You covered your mouth with your hand, not wanting any sort of smile or anything to be noticed by Esteban. You weren’t a complete asshole, you just found it funny and honestly, both of them had proven to be good with your kitty, so what did it really matter?

Pierre was completely wiped from your mind a moment later.

Esteban traced your entrance with his tongue before licking the whole length of your pussy, sucking on your clit and slurping on the nub as you thighs flexed around his head. 

You pulled your sweatshirt over your head so you laid nude on your bed. You grabbed the hands on your hips and pulled Esteban’s long arms up so you could cover your tits with his hands. When he got the hint and he began squeezing on the tender skin, you threw your hands over your head and let yourself lay there, spread and served. 

Esteban hummed against your pussy. “So yummy.” 

You grinned and moaned as he slurped on your wetness and pulled one hand from one of your breasts to play with your clit. His finger pulled back your hood while his thumb, or other finger (you didn’t fucking know), gently rolled the flesh around. You gasped as you felt your nerves short circuit between your legs. 

You pressed your hand to your mouth while your thighs trembled. Esteban was so good at not letting up, his tongue had stamina. He stayed licking your pussy up and rubbing on your clit. You thanked every God that F1 drivers were trained to be so highly focused, with high performance dexterity and quick thinking that kept him going and kept you climbing to your release. 

You moaned as the first tendrils of your orgasm tickled your spine and you let your body curl up as Esteban licked your orgasm right out of you.

-

You sighed after you heard your door shut. Three orgasms. Esteban’s mouth was magic. Honestly, you almost felt like you owed him your pussy until you remembered your promise to yourself, and that you really didn’t owe any man anything ever. 

You giggled at the floating feeling pulsing between your legs. Your room smelled like sex and you felt like sex. You still felt soaked between your legs, a mix of your juices and Esteban’s saliva soaking you.  

You wondered what he thought as he left your room, whether he believed you’d give in one day or not. He must think you would since he kept coming back, or maybe he really did enjoy eating pussy as much as it seemed. He was very enthusiastic and the realization made you teasingly rub your fingers across your sensitive hips. 

Your post head bliss was broken by a knocking at your door. You sighed and hoped it wasn’t Esteban. What a day for him to come back and ask to fuck. You really didn’t want to lose your best head when you had just unwind from your stressful day. 

You pulled your large sweatshirt over your head, and ignored the way it just covered your pussy. It had been a cropped sweatshirt that you’d ordered like 4-5 sizes up, so it was more wide than long. It wasn’t anything Esteban hadn’t seen already. He could probably draw your pussy at this point.

You opened the door. “Hey-” You took a big breath and a small step behind your door, “Pierre!”

Pierre stood against your doorway, looking at your legs, maybe your pussy, you were hoping not since you felt like you were hidden behind the door. Pierre licked his lips. 

“Can I come in?”

You looked at him for a moment before your mouth beat your brain. 

“Yeah, come on in.”

Whatever was going on between Esteban and Pierre was between them, not you. 

I should own a bakery way mans bring the cake to me And if that boy a baller, I bet I can make him play for me