emilyroxy

[emilyroxy]

there's something so hot about tying trophy partner!charles leclerc naked to a chair, with you towering over him fully clothed as he whines and whimpers below you like a pathetic bitch in heat.

listening to him blubber and complain about the fact that "it's too much" as his throbbing cock is stuck snugly inside a fleshlight, just begging for you to jerk him off and relieve him of his troubles there and then.

but no! instead you hold a vibrator against it inside, adding to charles's torment even more, as you just listen to the pathetic little noises that escape his pretty, swollen lips that he's been stupidly chewing and ruining by trying to muffle his moans and gasps whilst the vibrations from the vibrator cause his cock to throb even more, whilst becoming all too much for his stupid little brain :(

soon enough he'll be crying, pleading "please, please, please chéri! it's all too much!" whilst being at your mercy, shaking uncontrollably as you watch the sweat drip from his forehead, causing his normally beautiful brown hair to stick to his skin. his pupils will also be blown wide as his cheeks are painted with a burning crimson flush, his stomach tightening into knots as he tries to not orgasm there and then without being given permission to do so.

tears are now streaming down his face pathetically as he tries to muffle his pained whines again, dragging his plump bottom lip through his bottom teeth. he tries to avert his gaze from your piercing one as he just knows you're laughing at him, indulging happily in his turmoil, but fails as you grab his jaw, causing him to look at you with glassy eyes, mind hazy as the vibrations cause him to go stupid.

"come on charles," you coax sweetly as his body shakes and convulses uncontrollably with pleasure as he teeters on the brink of his release, "let me hear every single little thing that comes out of that dirty mouth of yours. don't hold back now, you're doing so well for me." and he's too far gone to even protest at that command!

as soon as those sultry words are mumbled, guttural moans start to escape his lips between gasps and whimpers, before he breathlessly begs, "please can i come? i'm so close, let me come, please!" and you just smirk, looking down at him through your lashes, answering with a simple and firm "no." that leaves him even more tense.

an annoyed whimper escapes his lips as he fights his awaiting orgasm like the good little puppy he is, despite it taking all of his might! it's enough to make your heart flutter at his compliance, as you know that his tip now being an angry shade of red and his salty pre-cum dripping out of the fleshlight down his shaft, making his inner thighs sticky like a messy little pup.

his head then tilts back as his jaw clenches, obviously not able to hold back any longer as his chiselled abs start to spasm and flex from how tense his body is, like a tightened coil ready to snap. you hum contently at his struggles, before pressing a little kiss of encouragement to his slick temple, brushing the hair out of his forehead as he basically gasps for air, with even those turning to breathless moans.

your lips then hover dangerously close to his ear as your clothed breasts press slightly into his face, one hand still holding the vibe onto the fleshlight as you then murmur into his ear, "you can come now, charles. you've been so good for me, holding on for so long. and good boys deserve to come, don't they?" and charles breathlessly replies with, "thank you, thank you, thank you, amour!" as he comes into the fleshlight almost instantly.

spurts of hot cum paint the inside of the toy, the sheer amount dripping down his twitching and throbbing shaft due to the intensity of his orgasm as he gutturally moans, riding out his high. after he calms down, you flick the vibrator off, putting it to the side as you then proceed to climb onto his lap, uncaring about the cum on his tip that'll ruin your own clothes, ready to smother your favourite subby boy in praises for being so compliant for you. <3

[emilyroxy]

I continue to run into people that are confused as to why Americans have screens on our windows and it’s really quite simple.

Bugs

Diseases carried by bugs

Other assorted wildlife such as dogs and teenagers

[emilyroxy]

Sometimes people use “respect” to mean “treating someone like a person” and sometimes they use “respect” to mean “treating someone like an authority”

and sometimes people who are used to being treated like an authority say “if you won’t respect me I won’t respect you” and they mean “if you won’t treat me like an authority I won’t treat you like a person”

and they think they’re being fair but they aren’t, and it’s not okay.

[emilyroxy]

good news i'm the most fuckable person at this vehicular manslaughter

[emilyroxy]

Get these ai writing assistants out of my face!!!! I don't care if my writing is bad at least it is mine!!!!

[emilyroxy]

He Loves You Like I Do

Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader

It was subtle at first.

Little signs that your son, barely past his first birthday, had already chosen you as his favorite person in the entire universe.

Not that Charles minded. Okay, maybe he did. A little.

Because this morning, for the fourth time in a row, your baby reached for you and only you — refusing his papa’s open arms with a frown and a pitiful whimper that said How dare you not be holding me, Mama?

Charles stood there in his Ferrari hoodie, hair messy from sleep, watching his mini-me bury his face in your neck like he’d been gone from you for years — when you’d literally just gone to the bathroom.

You looked up and gave Charles a knowing look, whispering behind the baby’s ear, “He missed me.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “He saw you three minutes ago, amour.”

“I know,” you smiled, running a gentle hand over your son’s curls. “But that’s like… a decade in baby time.”

Your son turned to glance at Charles, wide green eyes blinking, cheeks squished against your shoulder.

“Papa,” Charles said softly, trying again, holding out his arms. “Come here, mon petit. Papa missed you.”

The baby didn’t even move.

He looked back at Charles. Considered it. Then shook his head with all the sass of a toddler who knew his power.

Charles pressed a hand to his heart. “Oof. That one hurt.”

You were laughing now, rocking your son side to side. “Maybe he just needs some mama time.”

“You said that yesterday,” Charles mumbled, though his eyes were full of love as he stepped closer, brushing his fingers along your arm. “And the day before.”

“I think he’s a mama’s boy,” you whispered proudly, kissing the top of your son's head.

Charles leaned down and kissed you.

“I don’t blame him,” he said, voice low. “I fell for you the same way.”

Your son giggled — a real belly laugh — and Charles’ eyes softened. He could be jealous all he wanted, but nothing, nothing, beat the sound of his family like this.

Charles wrapped an arm around both of you, whispering in mock seriousness, “I’ll win him back. I’ll bribe him with chocolate when you’re not looking.”

“You’ll be the reason he needs a dentist by two.”

“Then I’ll pay for the dentist.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, but your son suddenly reached one chubby hand toward Charles’ face, patting his cheek softly — the smallest of apologies. Then, with no warning, he leaned out of your arms… and into Charles’.

Charles caught him mid-air, stunned but thrilled, holding him tightly.

“Well,” he grinned, looking at you. “That only took a week of rejection.”

Your son snuggled into his chest this time, blinking up at him, one tiny thumb in his mouth.

And Charles, swaying both of you gently, whispered like a secret:

“He loves you just like I do.”

This was Requested.🫶🏼

[emilyroxy]

The little lamb and the big bad wolf | m.v

pairing: dom!max verstappen x sub!virgin!reader

warnings: smut, taking virginity, size kink, brief mention of a blowjob

w/c: 1.1k

summary: you always thought that you would stay an innocent virgin forever, but as soon as the big bad wolf — max verstappen — got his hands on your so far untouched skin, he couldn’t resist his desire to destroy the little innocent lamb. (based off of this request)

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

As you looked up at max from your place on your knees, he could have came right away, messily decorating your face with the white liquid.

“Is that right, maxie?“ you bit your lip as your small hand continued pumping his big and slick erection, glassy eyes briefly glancing at his cock before you looked back up at him.

Your boyfriend groaned deeply as he caught your gaze, “That’s perfect baby, you’re doing so so so good for me,“ his big palm caressed your cheek.

For a quick second, you proudly smiled, trying your best to bite back a little giggle while your hand continued pumping him.

Slowly, you leaned forward and collected some spit in your mouth before you opened your mouth, sticked your tongue out and let it drop down onto his already wet tip,

Max threw his head back, hand now leaving your heated cheek and tightly gripping your hair, fingers tangling themselves painfully into your roots, “Oh fucking hell, baby… just like that… where have you got that from? Fuck,“ he moaned, eyes squeezed shut as you felt his hand trembling on the top of your head.

You smirked before you gave his leaking tip a tiny kitten lick, eyes closely watching him, “was it okay? Did it feel good?“ you asked in a shy manner.

Max immediately nodded, “Everything you do feels good,“ he mumbled in a raspy tone while you kissed his tip, your lips only softly grazing his leaking tip before he suddenly pulled your head away, making you nervously look up at him.

He caressed your cheek again, brushing some hair out of your face with his other hand, “don’t worry baby… everything‘s fine,” he reassured you before he continued, “just get on the bed for me, okay?“

You slowly nodded and stood up, quickly catching max smirking as he noticed how red your knees were before you laid down onto your back on the bed you two share, but max shook his head,

“Hands and knees baby… and turn around, face into the direction of the headboard, yeah?“

You gulped but quickly nodded before you got on your hands and knees, jumping a bit as you felt him behind you, his big palms caressing your hips and waist before one of his hands ran over your back before it reached the back of your neck.

Very slowly, his hand forced your head down by the back of your neck, giving you no other chance than to bury your head in the bedsheets as your hands already fisted the soft material next to your head.

Max positioned himself behind you, his leaking tip already touching your entrance,

“Shh, baby…“ his fingers ran along your neck and shoulders before he pressed your further down into the pillow by the back of your neck,

“Relax, it’s okay… everything's okay because I’m here and I won’t hurt you, okay? You understand that?“

You gulped before you nodded, “y-yes.“

He nodded as well, “good girl,“ he whispered to you before he slowly entered you from behind, making you grip the sheets harder and gasp in a high pitched tone into the pillow as you felt his slick cock filling you up.

You hissed, tears shooting into your eyes, “Oh god…max-” you gasped in a high pitched tone as you felt his long member filling you up, one hand holding you down by the back of your neck while his other big hand was fisting the pillow right next to you.

Max chuckled before he groaned, “How does it feel, baby? Tell me how it feels,“ he whispered.

You gulped, hands fisting the sheets harder, breathing picking up as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, “I-I feel so full, you f-fill me up so much, g-god!“

Max's hand caressed the back of your neck in a gentle manner, taking you by suprise before he slid it forward to your chin, slowly lifting your head up,

“You’re feeling it, huh? You feel me filling that tiny hole of yours, hmm?“ he looked down at you, his thumb stroking your jaw, “I can feel it too… and god you’re tight,“ he let his head drop forward, his forehead now gently laying on top of your head as he groaned deeply.

Max noticed how you squeezed your eyes shut and whined in a high pitched tone, “You always thought that you’re gonna be a virgin forever, huh? That you’re gonna be the pretty little innocent angel, hmm?“ he nudged the back of your head with his nose.

You bit your lip as his hip movements sped up, hitting your walls harder with each thrust as his words made you glare up at him, your hands shaking as they fisted the sheets harder,

“But then you met me… the big bad wolf,“ he chuckled, his thumb caressing your jaw in an almost gentle manner, “the big bad wolf who picked the poor little lamb up and showed her that she can’t be a perfect saint forever,“ he let his hand slide down to your throat, lightly choking you as you felt a foreign feeling creeping up,

“M-Max… I don’t k-know…“ you squeezed your eyes shut again, tears running down your red cheeks, “I think I’m-” you took deep breaths, feeling how your stomach tightened itself, almost like an uncomfortable knot that simply wanted to be released.

Max nodded along your words, “You’re gonna cum for me, I know… I can fucking feel it,“ he groaned, also squeezing his eyes shut, his hip movements not as quick anymore but way harsher, forcing little whines out of you.

“Can I-I?“ you gasped, “should I?“ you bit your lip, almost making it bleed.

Max immediately nodded, his lips grazing your ear as he put his other hand onto your waist, bending your body a bit more so he could hit the perfect spot.

“Oh my g-god, max!“ you screamed, breaking down and falling face forward into the bedsheets as you felt yourself letting go all over his cock, making you see stars.

Max continued fucking you in a rough manner, not stopping until he notices that you’re probably already so far gone that you’re barely even feeling anything by now.

He brushed some strands of hair out of your sweaty face, “There you go baby, now you’re not that pretty little virgin anymore,“ he kissed the top of your head, “now you’re a dirty, broken lamb that handed her sweet innocence to the big bad wolf on a pretty silver platter,“ he whispered from behind your laying figure.

Max leaned down and kissed your shoulder and you could have sworn that you felt him smirking,

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,“ he mumbled deeply.

[emilyroxy]

father’s day with him as your baby daddy ── .✦

content: dad fluff, soft chaos, baby giggles

lando norris ── .✦

“they got me a bib that says 'daddy’s fastest lap' and I’m gonna cry.” he wakes up to your baby in a helmet-themed onesie and your sleepy kiss. tries to act cool but chokes up when they hand him a crayon drawing that says “i luv you dada” you tell him he’s doing great and he immediately makes a TikTok about it while holding the baby upside down (giggling, not in danger).

oscar piastri ── .✦

you and your toddler bring him pancakes in bed. he looks like he’s holding it together but he absolutely tears up when the baby hugs him and says “papa.”

“I didn’t know I could love anything this much.” takes a hundred quiet photos of you two. won’t stop smiling the rest of the day. takes them to a bookstore and calls it “dad time.”

charles leclerc ─ .✦

cries. literally cries. his baby gives him a squished flower and he holds it like it’s a trophy.

“Mon coeur, did you help mama pick this for me?” walks around with the baby strapped to his chest all day. takes 40 photos of you and the baby together and captions them “my heart” in every group chat he’s ever been in.

lewis hamilton ─ .✦

it’s giving gentle king energy. homemade breakfast. jazz in the background. your baby in a bucket hat and oversized shades just like him. he thanks you 50 times throughout the day for “giving me the greatest gift I’ve ever had.” writes a caption so long on IG about fatherhood it makes everyone cry.

carlos sainz ─ .✦

pretends it’s just another day. but then your baby gives him a card with scribbles and he looks like he’s been punched in the soul.

“They made this… for me?” yes, king. lets them crawl all over him during the day. accidentally falls asleep holding both of you on the couch.

daniel ricciardo ─ .✦

full clown dad. matching outfits. he puts the baby in a cowboy hat.

“they’re baby yee and I’m haw.” gets emotional over a handmade card with glitter. turns to you: “you made me a dad. that’s, like, top tier sexy.” definitely ends the night with cake… and cuddles.

gabriel bortoleto ─ .✦

he is the softest, calmest dad. wakes up to the baby snuggled between you two, babbling nonsense. holds your hand over breakfast like

“this is my dream, sabia?” tells you that you’re the best mama in the world. takes your baby on a little walk around the block so you can nap. comes back with flowers for you.

franco colapinto ─ .✦

your baby says “papa” while holding a soft toy and he just. shuts down.

“that’s it. i’m done. take my whole soul.” you made a handmade Father’s Day card “from the baby” and he carries it in his wallet like a relic. refuses to let go of your waist all day. “we’re a little family. do you realize how cool that is?”

max verstappen ─ .✦

he’s weirdly nervous about his first Father’s Day

“do I get gifts? am I supposed to do something?” you surprise him with a matching race suit onesie for your baby. he melts. “they’re gonna be faster than me one day.” doesn’t say much — but holds your baby like they’re glass. kisses you goodnight and whispers “thank you for them.”

©p1girlfriend | requested | requests open!

[emilyroxy]

Sunshine and Nerves

Synopsis. How would they act if they were in the delivery room with you giving birth to your first child?.

Fernando Alonso —

Fernando holds your hand as you go through labor with your first child, his protective and quiet strength by your side.

The room smelled like antiseptic and warm linen. Monitors beeped steadily beside you, but all you could focus on was Fernando’s hand wrapped firmly around yours.

"You're doing so well, mi amor," he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours between contractions. His other hand gently brushed sweaty strands of hair from your face. "Breathe. Like I showed you."

You squeezed his fingers hard when the next wave hit, gasping, feeling tears prick your eyes. He didn't flinch. His eyes—deep, patient, unwavering—held yours.

"You’ve fought harder things than this," Fernando murmured with a soft smile. "I’ve seen you. You’re the strongest person I know. And after this... our little one will be here. Finally."

A tear rolled down your cheek—not from pain, but from the calm certainty in his voice. Fernando Alonso, who raced at impossible speeds and feared no corner, was here beside you, immovable, for the most important race of your life.

"I love you," you gasped.

"And I love you. Always." His thumb traced gentle circles on your hand. "Now bring our baby home."

Max Verstappen —

Max is completely out of his depth watching you in labor, fighting his instinct to control everything, realizing this is something he can only witness—and love you through.

Max paced like a trapped animal by the hospital window. His cap was backwards, his eyes wild and restless as you moaned softly from the bed.

"Do you need anything? Water? More pillows? Should I call the nurse again?" He asked for the third time.

"Max... just sit with me," you panted.

He was there in an instant, crouched by your side, his hand gripping yours tightly. You saw it in his eyes—fear. Not of the track, or crashes, or pressure. But fear of seeing you in pain.

"You're so strong, schatje," he said softly, kissing your temple. "I hate this. I hate that I can’t take this pain for you."

You gave him a tired smile. "You being here is enough."

When another contraction hit, your body tensing, Max held your hand tighter, forehead pressed to your shoulder, whispering reassurances against your skin.

“I love you. And I’ll love this baby. But I love you most. Always you.”

When you gasped his name after the pain passed, he kissed your cheek and smiled softly—his fierceness tamed only by you.

Lewis Hamilton —

Lewis is all softness and reassurance, breathing with you, calming you with gentle words as you bring your first child into the world.

Lewis sat by your side, holding your hand between both of his, his thumb stroking your palm in slow circles. His voice was the only thing grounding you in the blinding storm of contractions.

"Deep breaths, babe. Come on. Like we practiced. In, out. I’m right here."

You squeezed his hand so hard he winced—but smiled. You could barely focus on the room, but Lewis stayed close, brushing his lips against your temple, whispering calm into the air.

"You’re doing amazing. So brave. I’ve never been prouder of you than I am right now."

His words settled into you, warming the panic away, replacing it with quiet strength.

Between waves of pain, you opened your eyes. Lewis was smiling, mist in his gaze. "We’re gonna meet our baby soon. You and me. Like we dreamed."

Your chest tightened—not from fear, but love. His calm was your anchor, his voice your lifeline. The man who faced the world with iron will was now entirely, fully yours.

"You’re my hero," you whispered.

"No, love," he kissed your hand, "you’re mine."

Carlos Sainz —

Carlos is nervous but excited, babbling softly to calm both himself and you while waiting for the arrival of your baby.

"Okay, okay... breathe, cariño. You’re doing so good. So, so good."

Carlos stood by the bed, holding your hand, practically vibrating with nervous energy. His dark eyes darted between you and the monitors, his thumb stroking your wrist anxiously.

"It’s almost time, sí? They said it’s close. Very close. Our little one is so stubborn. Like you. Or maybe like me. Probably me." His voice was soft and rambling, his nerves pouring out in quiet chatter to keep you calm.

You gave him a tired smile. "Carlos... you’re the one panicking."

He grinned sheepishly, brushing your hair off your forehead. "I know, mi amor. I’m just... excited. Scared. Happy. Everything at once."

Another contraction gripped you and Carlos instantly grew serious, holding you steady, whispering encouragement in Spanish—words warm and familiar as the summer sun.

"You are strong. So strong. I can’t wait to see you hold our baby... our family."

When the wave passed, he kissed your knuckles gently, smiling down at you with the softest eyes. "Soon, mi vida. Soon, our greatest adventure begins."

[emilyroxy]

The Flu

Synopsis. When a strong, confident men reduced to needy, grumbling softies when they’re sick and desperate for your attention.

Carlos Sainz —

Carlos insists "he's fine" — until he isn’t. When the fever hits, he turns into a clingy, needy mess who refuses to let you leave his side.

You barely made it two steps away from the bed when Carlos whimpered pathetically behind you.

“Where are you going…? Don’t leave me,” he muttered, voice raspy and pitiful, grabbing blindly at the blanket like a lost child.

You turned with a sigh, holding the thermometer up. “I’m going to get you water, Carlos. You need fluids.”

“But I need you,” he croaked, dramatically flopping onto the pillow, sweat sticking to his messy hair. “I think I’m dying. Stay... please…”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, crawling back onto the bed. Instantly, he latched onto you like a koala, burying his burning face in your neck.

“So clingy,” you muttered, smoothing his hair back.

“Only when I’m sick. You promised to take care of me... forever…” His voice faded into a sleepy sigh.

God help you. Carlos Sainz — A race winner — reduced to your giant, needy, sniffling baby.

Max Verstappen —

You found him curled in a miserable ball on the couch, hoodie pulled up, blanket over his head, surrounded by a ridiculous pile of tissues.

“I think this is it,” he groaned, voice thick and pitiful. “Tell Yuki to find a new teammate. I won’t make it to the next race.”

You snorted. “You have a cold, Max. Not the plague.”

His head peeked out from the blanket, blue eyes glassy and sad. “Will you rub my back? My throat hurts. And bring me soup. And maybe ice cream…”

“You’re such a baby when you’re sick.”

“I am your baby,” he pouted, reaching for your hand. “And you said in sickness and health, right? Well. I’m sick. So nurse me, vrouw.”

You kissed his fever-warm forehead, laughing as he smiled weakly.

“Champion of the flu,” you teased.

“Still the world champ, baby,” he whispered dramatically, snuggling into your lap.

Lewis Hamilton —

Lewis is usually calm and in control — but with a cold, he’s all cuddles, whines, and desperate for your affection (and tea).

“Babe... can you make me tea? Please... with honey... and lemon... and that ginger stuff you do...” Lewis’s voice trailed off, soft and pathetic as he peeked over the duvet like a sad puppy.

You bit back a smile. “You’ve had tea four times today already, Lewis.”

“But I feel awful,” he mumbled, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, hair all messy against the pillow. “And I want you to make it. Your tea makes me feel better.”

You sat on the bed beside him, brushing his curls back. His big brown eyes shone at you, so wide and pitiful you melted on the spot.

“I hate being sick,” he pouted, pulling you down until you lay beside him. “Stay with me... Just for a bit. Tea can wait.”

"Needy baby," you teased.

He grinned sleepily. "Only for you."

Ollie Bearman —

Ollie tries to act tough, but a fever turns him into a whiny, clingy mess who won’t let you leave the bed for more than a minute.

“Y/N…” Ollie’s hoarse voice whined from the bed. “Where’d you go...?”

You sighed, holding the box of tissues. “I went to get this. You literally begged for more.”

He blinked up at you from the mountain of blankets, hair sticking out at odd angles, cheeks flushed. “Don’t leave me again. I feel... awful.”

“You have the flu, baby. You’ll live.”

“Barely.” He sniffled, scooting over to pat the space beside him like a needy golden retriever. “Come here. I need you. Right now.”

You shook your head with a small smile and crawled beside him. He immediately pulled you into a blanket cocoon, pressing his burning face to your shoulder.

“M’sorry I’m gross,” he mumbled.

“You’re not. You’re just pathetic when you’re sick.”

He grinned weakly. “Your pathetic little bear…”

[emilyroxy]

your kid treats them like their dad – f1 grid reactions ── .✦

lando norris ── .✦

he was nervous at first — “what if your kid hates me?” kind of nervous but they warm up to him fast, especially after he teaches them how to use a camera the first time they call him “dad” by accident he FREEZES mid-sentence you’re like 😳 but he just kneels down and goes

“hey, is that okay with you? ‘cause that’s really okay with me.” tears up in the car later. won't admit it.

oscar piastri ── .✦

treats your kid with so much quiet respect not overbearing, never forces anything just shows up. every time. one day, the kid runs up to him at the park like

“dad, look!” he stares, stunned, softest smile ever “…that’s me?” he doesn’t say a word after — just holds their hand tighter walking back to the car

charles leclerc ── .✦

he’s such a natural with them it almost hurts does little voices. fake races in the hallway. bedtime stories in French your kid makes a Father’s Day card and gives it to him — no hesitation he sees “to Charles (my second favorite Ferrari)” on it laughs. then absolutely sobs later that night

“i didn’t think i’d be someone’s papa so soon… but i love this.”

lewis hamilton ── .✦

he’s so soft and gentle with your child it makes everyone cry always down on their level when he talks to them makes them playlists and lets them sit in the front seat during errands the first time they fall asleep on his chest, he’s just… quiet

“they trust me. that means everything.” frames a photo of the three of you for the living room without saying a word

carlos sainz ── .✦

acts super casual but is secretly OBSESSED with being called dad your kid asks him to come to a school event and he says yes instantly draws a picture of “me and daddy carlos” and gives it to him he keeps it in his wallet teaches them Spanish and pretends to be strict but lets them braid his hair and call him “papi” like it’s nothing

daniel ricciardo ── .✦

IMMEDIATELY turns into fun stepdad of the year makes weird songs for brushing teeth teaches them dumb Aussie slang like “budgie smuggler” they call him “dad” during a game of Uno and he pauses

“you mean… ME?” acts like it’s casual but buys matching shirts the next day tells people “these are my people” with the proudest grin ever

gabriel bortoleto ── .✦

treats your kid like royalty reads every bedtime story with voices the first time the kid draws a crayon family of three, he almost loses it

“sou eu? tipo... de verdade?” (that's me? like... really?) takes them out for Saturday bakery runs and calls it “our little tradition” you find him asleep on the couch with the kid on his chest every other Sunday

franco colapinto ── .✦

awkward at first but tries so hard the first time they hold his hand on their own, he nearly cries starts drawing cartoons for them, custom little stories they shout “papa look!” during a video call he literally MUTES HIMSELF and has a breakdown of joy

“they called me papa. i didn’t even ask for that. that’s insane.”

max verstappen ── .✦

very lowkey, very protective acts like it’s no big deal until your kid gets hurt at the park and yells

“I want Max!!” max RUNS. drops everything. from then on, it’s over — he’s fully in calls them “kiddo,” teaches them to play video games lets them nap on him during F1 races and whispers “you’re safe. always.”

©p1girlfriend | requested | requests open!

[emilyroxy]

"I know chatgpt is bad but you just don't really have any choice" you literally do. Don't use it. Have some moral backbone.

[emilyroxy]

I need every American to understand that what's happening in the U.S. right now is exactly what happened in Nazi Germany.

Hitler's political enemies, those in a different political party and those who spoke out against him, were some of his first victims. They were arrested and thrown into concentration camps, often for no other reason except that they didn't kiss Hitler's boots. There were enough of them that they had their own triangle color in the camps.

The Jews were treated like a race. You did not have to practice Judaism. You were identified as a Jew if anyone in your known family was Jewish. It didn't matter if it was just your great grandpa. It didn't matter if you had converted to Catholicism. In the eyes of the Nazi's, you were a Jew. And as a Jew, you had no rights.

Those taken by the Nazi's had no rights. The political enemies, the Jews, the non-whites, the queer - they could be arrested at any time, for any reason, without being told anything, and taken anywhere where anything could be done to them.

It's time to wake up and open our eyes as a country. It's happening here, in the land of the free, in the home of democracy, under the American flag. All that's left is to start a war, make some ghettos, and throw people into a gas chamber. And were one wrong move away from one of those.

People fought back then too. At least some did. They tried to stop it, but there weren't enough of them. They weren't loud enough. We have to be louder.

[emilyroxy]

"My Girlfriend Made It"

Its simple, really. Lando is wearing something his girlfriend made for him. (more of a blurb, rly)

In recent times, Lando Norris had become somewhat of a fashion guy on the grid. He dressed well, at the very least (looked absolutely smashing at the most).

But today was different.

Lando normally pulled off nice jeans and some kind of sweater-y type thing. But not today. The nice jeans were still there, he wore his usual necklace and sunglasses.

But his jumper.

What the fuck was his jumper?

Well, everybody knew what his jumper was. It was his helmet design on another medium. On a wooly, fuzzy medium.

It stayed on his body just long enough to end up on the F1 Instagram account (he had a mental note to ask the admin to tag the brand that had created it, he just hadn't gotten around to it yet), before he changed into his team kit. As nice as his jumper was, he was roasting.

But he laid it on the little sofa in his drivers room with so much care, like he thought it was going to unravel in his hands.

As soon as his new jumper was safely put away, he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked it.

my love 💖

YOU WORE IT!

Lando grinned as he typed out his reply. For the first time in a while, the woman he loved couldn't come to the grand prix with him. She was busy, her career was taking off, just as his was.

He was so damn proud of her.

It had taken so long, so many years of hard work. So many nights of her working through her tiredness until her work came sloppy and she started over again after a couple hours nap. Lando was beside her through it all, watching as she grew her brand, grew her business.

lan 🎀💕🎀💕

gonna get the instagram tagged

my love 💖

better talk about the brand in interviews 😤

Before this, Lando had nothing to do with promoting her brand. He did help, taking pictures of her work (the boyfriend on photographer duty, of course), moral support while she posted it. He helped her pick the colours of her work sometimes, and it either ended up gorgeous or fucking hideous.

The Lando jumper (not for sale, just something special she had made for the man she loved), was a labour of love. It took so much time, so much trial and error, but she was so proud of it.

Lando didn't have to wear it. She wasn't forcing him to wear it with the goal of promoting her brand; he was simply wearing it because he loved her, because he loved it.

He knew her text wasn't serious. Her serious texts never had emojis, were more than one sentence, and had punctuation. He didn't have to talk about her crochet and knit brand, but he was going to.

(It was inevitable that he was going to get asked about the jumper. It was bright and loud and it looked fantastic. He was going to get asked about it).

Five words. Five simple words. He'd been talking about the race weekend ahead, about their chances on track. But then those five little words were uttered.

"Tell us about the jumper."

There was a glint in his eye as he leaned in close to the microphone. "My girlfriend made it for me."

But that wasn't it. He kept talking, kept telling the world about her brand. Y/Nknitcro. The brand of Y/Ndoesart. He promoted the shit out of it, promoted the shit out of the little shop she'd had since they met, promoted the shit out of her social medias, promoted the shit for the brand she had ready to drop.

He was so damn proud of her, and he wanted the world to know it.

[emilyroxy]

— i don’t want the championship if i can’t have you too ౨ৎ✧˚

warnings: angst, feelings vs career, hotel room confessions pairing: charles leclerc x ferrarri driver reader a/n: why did this hurt me too 😭

the hotel room is too quiet for a night like this.

you sit on the edge of the bed, still in your race suit, hands stiff from gripping the wheel like your life depended on it. it almost did. not physically — not today — but everything else inside you feels bruised. like you’ve been driving through the inside of your own chest for weeks now, dodging the things you can’t say out loud.

your boots are kicked to the corner, one half-zipped, one sideways. your helmet’s on the desk. and your championship hopes are currently dangling by a thread that looks an awful lot like charles leclerc.

he’s somewhere in the next room. maybe the bathroom. maybe pacing the hallway barefoot, the way he does when he’s restless. which is always. you could call his name, and he’d answer in that voice that makes your stomach knot. but you don’t. because you don’t know what you’d say once he did.

you close your eyes, lean forward, press your elbows to your knees.

you can still feel the tension in the paddock. the press buzz, the engineers’ whispers, the drivers’ room gone sharp and wordless after the race. he didn’t speak to you then. you didn’t speak to him either.

it was too close. everything is too close. the points. the cameras. your mouths, every time you lean in too far and don’t finish what you almost start.

you know what the headlines say. what the whispers are. ferrari’s two golden stars going head to head for the title, no team orders, no favoritism. just raw, open fire. what they don’t know is how much it hurts.

a door creaks. footsteps move across the carpet, soft but certain.

you don’t have to look. you know it’s him.

charles sits on the bed behind you. not too close. not yet.

you wait for him to say something. he doesn’t. maybe he’s waiting too.

outside, someone honks. a car pulls out. the city hums, unaware that your heart is breaking from the inside out.

you speak first.

“you were faster in sector three.”

his voice is quiet. “you’ll fix that.”

it’s what he always says. like it’s a fact. like you can do anything. he always has more faith in you than you do.

your fingers pull at the velcro strap on your sleeve, undoing it slowly, again and again. you feel his eyes on your hands.

“do you want it?” he asks. “the championship.”

you let out a long breath. “yeah. more than anything.”

he nods once. you feel it more than see it.

“but not more than you,” you add.

the room stops breathing.

he exhales. it sounds like surrender. it sounds like grief.

“i’ve tried so hard not to fall in love with you.”

the words settle into your chest like a weight you’ve been carrying for months, finally put down. they don’t make anything easier. but they make everything make sense.

you turn to him. his eyes are tired. his jaw is tense. and yet, he still looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted, even if having you means losing everything else.

you say, “if i win, i’ll feel like i took it from you.”

he shakes his head. “if you win, i’ll be the proudest second place the world’s ever seen.”

your throat tightens.

“and if you win?” you ask.

charles smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “then i’ll wish i could give the trophy to you.”

you laugh. soft, breathless, painful. your hands are trembling.

“this is so fucked,” you whisper.

he nods. “yeah. it is.”

you lean in, forehead resting against his. you both smell like sweat and the aftershock of adrenaline. his hand finds yours, and your fingers lace together like they always do — instinctive, practiced, holy.

neither of you kiss.

not yet.

you don’t know if sunday will break you. if standing on that podium will feel like glory or heartbreak, depending on who gets there first. but right now, in this quiet, golden, exhausted moment. he’s yours. and that’s enough.

at least for tonight.

[emilyroxy]

bro last night was totally redacted! last night was fully expunged from the record. bro, do you... can you remember last night? what did we do...? what did... did we hurt someone? bro? why won't you look at me? what did I do...? whose blood is this...? bro...?

[emilyroxy]

"tumblr humor is only funny to tumblr users" NOT true. those bitches on pinterest love us.