Love2readd - Rheanna 🫥

𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ saw this tt about how these two toddlers shared their dad's notoriously rough bed head and this post when i opened tumblr last night and had to write smth for it! sorry, for the baby content 💀 i'll get back to writing y'alls requests now xxx

the careful messiness of brunette curls has been charles’s signature hairstyle for ages. it suits him, and when paired with his dimples and green eyes—it’s no wonder why every italian and monegasque prays for his success on sundays. well, maybe bleeding rosso corsa and winning two championships driving the famed red car are the proper reasons.

if only they knew that the artful styling of his curls is nowhere to be found after he sleeps. when he wakes, his hair is in absolute disarray—the deep brown ringlets are clumped together as they stick straight upwards and yet they manage to point in every direction possible.

when you first moved in with charles, you convinced him to buy a satin pillowcase to combat the bed head. it didn’t help, and neither did the bonnets you tried to have him wear. no matter if the ties were knotted, buttoned, or even velcro-strapped tightly, the bonnet would end up by the foot of the bed and his hair was in it’s usual disordered state by the early morning hours.

so, your morning routine begins with taming charles’s severe case of bed head. he awakens slowly as your fingertips gently untangle the deep brown ringlets, moaning lowly and nudging his head into your hand like a large cat when your nails glide along his scalp. you carefully guide each curl back into their assigned positions, tutting disapprovingly at the one strand that never seems to stay in it’s place.

charles’s chest shakes with a chuckle at your slight irritation and he shifts to meet your eyes, tenderly directing your hands away from his now orderly hair to his lips, pressing kisses to your fingertips before pulling you forward to cuddle into his chest.

you didn’t expect to have to deal with more than one head of messy hair. unfortunately, it seems like your daughter inherited her father’s bed head.

your mornings now consist of charles climbing out of bed at the first crackle of noise through the baby monitor, rushing to scoop the 9-month-old from her nursery and have her join the two of you in bed. he crosses the doorway with your daughter cradled to his bare chest and leo yipping at his feet—she stares up at at him, a perfect reflection of the sea green pools of his eyes, the absence of a bonnet, and the chaotic sprawl of his brunette curls. you’ve never been bothered with the fact that she’s an exact replica of her father, as some tried to tease that your genes didn’t do more than deepen her complexion. however, you always joke back that it means that she’s been blessed to be as beautiful as charles is.

she coos and babbles up at her father and he dutifully responds in french as if he understands her baby gibberish. he sits in bed with her on his lap and she beams, her little arms and grabby hands reaching towards you. you smile back widely, stealing her from his lap and greeting your babygirl with a flurry of kisses pressed all over her cute little face. her giggles ring through the air as you pull backwards to watch her laugh and, there’s another trait she shares with her father; deep dimples decorate her chubby cheeks and you can’t help but press your thumb into them with adoration.

charles picks up his first baby, plopping the mini dachshund in bed, and leo bounds forward to press his own kisses to your daughter’s socked feet.

addressing charles’s wild bed head will have to wait as you settle her back in his lap. you rest your head on his shoulder, apologizing for interrupting the clearly important conversation the two were having. you start fixing the jumbled ringlets on her scalp with the softest touch of your digits and she nuzzles up into your hand the same way her father does. he continues from were he left off, asking your daughter if she thinks a one-stop strategy is too ambitious for the next race and she babbles back to him in reply.

charles nods in agreement, promising her that regardless of a one-stop or two-stop, he’ll bring back his third championship trophy for her.

© httpsserene - do not repost. photos in header from pinterest.

Me whenever I see Florian Wirtz and Jamal Musiala:

good for you - rafe cameron

unedited! enjoy ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

hold up, take a minute, love

you liked dressing up, especially to go out. there was something so therapeutic about getting all dolled up to go to the club. a night out off the mainland with rafe and your shared friends, was the perfect excuse to try on your new pink lacy dress your boyfriend bought you. “how does it look?”

“as good as it did when you first tried it on,” rafe muttered from his position on your bed. he looked up from the text message he had just sent topper. his eyes were now glued to how fat your ass looked from the back. you were kneeling down, putting on your heels, and he had a perfect view of your bare pussy. “god fuckin’ dammit,” he groaned, tossing his phone off to the side.

you looked up at him, head tilted to the side as you giggled. “what is it, daddy?” you knew exactly what was happening.

“get your ass over here.”

the way you ran over to him would’ve been embarrassing to others but he loved your eagerness when it came to getting fucked.

but the way you touching on me in the club, rubbing on my miniature

everyone painted you as this innocent, bubbly, classy girl who would never speak out of turn. however—with your ass pressed against rafe’s dick as you slowly dipped forward and began shaking it to the beat of the song—they knew you were no angel. not when it came to rafe.

jackpot, hit the jackpot

topper couldn’t stop staring at you as you walked past. he would try to cover it but glancing around the room when rafe caught him, but he knew. if it was any other guy who took it too far, he would’ve had a bottle smashed against the side of their head.

yeah, rafe didn’t give a shit what you were because he was always strapped.

yes, it did make him jealous to see all the hungry, lustful gazes that would come your way. but at the end of the day, he knew that you knew who you belonged to. and he dared anyone to try him.

besides, if anyone looked closely enough, they would see the stain he left on your dress.

you look good, girl. you know you did good, don’t you?

“i’m glad you came, daddy,” you whispered in his ear as you two went off to get drinks from the bar. a corona for him and a malibu sunrise for you, of course. tonight was a rare night he let you have more drinks than your limit allowed. probably because you let him fuck you raw right before getting into the Uber full of your friends.

“I bet you are,” you didn’t catch on to his joke at first. you were giggling about it later as you rolled around your bed, drunk and high off adrenaline from a good night.

you look good, girl. I bet it feel good, don’t it?

rafe had just exited the bathroom when he noticed you were sat up, legs spread wide to show him your dripping pussy. he smirked, knowing you were ready for round two. he began unbuttoning his shirt when he grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you closer to his body.

“come show me who you belong to.”

your fic is shorter day by day, could u make an effort for it not just writing little paragraph

Hey but I don’t write fics I write blurbs from the anons requests, if you actually went on my masterlist and went through all of them they’re all kind of the same length except for a few. Maybe in the future I will start to write fics but I won’t right now.

Hope this cleared a few things up x

If you [ b l a c k ] reblog this.

don’t care what shade just reblog.

this moment >>>>>>

THEM...

quick poster for Imola with trying something new 🇮🇹✨💃🏻

helmut marko the mouthpiece of how Red Bull has always, and will always, view their brown drivers. this team has continually been racist to Checo, Yuki and now Isack and their treatment has been so overlooked and ignored by everyone it's so upsetting.

tumblr is like a psych ward except no one gets better