Latest Posts by hannibeeblog - Page 2

early mclaren lando 🥺

The whole squad stupid

A Gewis press conference on the 1st of May, 2025 at the Miami GP

My LN4 recommendations💕

(updated May 11th, 2025)

General Lando x Reader

Practice Makes Perfect by @haniette

Love In the Air by @oikarma

Matchmaker by @uglyducklingofthe2000s

You’re Dating Him? by @landoughnut

For Her by @julietsf1

Drive to Survive Moments by @jungwnies

Loud and Clear by @f1lovr

You‘re My Baby Too by @ccsainzleclerc5516

Through Their Eyes by @revolutionsingingintherainnn

To Be Loved Loudly by @sharlsworld

Tipsy and Clingy by @lqvesoph

Curly maintenance by @kikas-cafe

Passenger princess by @fairene

Blueprints by @jungwnies

Looks better like this by @leaawrites

Midnight Rivalry by @wondergirlsthings

Pillow Problems by @throttleheart

Lando x Reader (including the whole Grid)

Serving Yourself Less by @jungwnies

Love Languages by @fallingforyouforeverr

Meeting the Family by @jungwnies

all text posts by @dannyriccsystem

all text posts by @babygirlewis

How I be looking at 3am on tumblr and Ao3 when I gotta be up at 6am for lectures

are you guys ever reading a good fic and then the author just adds a random terrible line and you just stare at it like this:

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

It‘s funny that whenever Lewis does something that shocks people he’s always in a different time zone and I‘m peacefully asleep. Then I wake up and see soooo many posts that make no sense.

My LH44 recommendations 💕

(updated May 14th, 2025)

General Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Focus by @pankowcrumbs

Lucky Charm by @pankowcrumbs

Crimson and Smoke by @pankowcrumbs

Shoelace obsessed bulldog by @pankowcrumbs

Mystery Man by @kakashiislut

Crawling Back to You by @dannyriccsystem

More Than A Number by @new-author3

Colour Me Yours by @better-setterv2

So long London by @f1amour

I‘m scared of losing you by @f1amour

Soft Hands, Brave Heart by @f1daydreamer

Between the sheets by @bangtanxmegan

5 senses by @dreamauri

With You by @maritinelli

Practice Day by @letsseewherethisis-going

Just One Hug by @uglyducklingofthe2000s

Against the Odds by @better-setterv2

The Heart of Home by @better-setterv2

Let Them Talk by @lazysoulwriter

With Met Gala Focus

More Than Just a Need by @better-setterv2

Met Gala Cinderella Moment by @doujindungeon

Tailored for Two by @better-setterv2

Velvet Voltage by @better-setterv2

Lewis x Reader (including the whole grid)

Love Languages by @fallingforyouforeverr

Meeting the Family by @jungwnies

basically all text posts by @dannyriccsystem

and all text posts by @babygirlewis

!!!

so. is anyone gonna write about meeting lewis hamilton at the met gala orrrrr

perfection✨ you all need to read this!!!!

𝒯𝒶𝒾𝓁𝑜𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒯𝓌𝑜

Authors Note: Hi All! Wow. Lewis Hamilton absolutely slayed this look! I should be studying for an exam right now but I couldn’t help but write something for the Met Gala 2025. I hope you all enjoy! Lots of love xx

Summary: Lewis Hamilton and his girlfriend share an intimate reveal of their outfits before making a stunning entrance at the Met Gala, capturing the spotlight with their love and style.

Warnings: mentions of sexual content

Taglist: @hannibeeblog

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The morning sun filtered through sheer curtains, casting warm golden streaks across the hotel room. The air was still quiet, humming softly with the calm before chaos.

You stirred awake to the steady rhythm of Lewis’s breathing, his body curled behind yours, arm slung over your waist, holding you like something he couldn’t afford to lose.

You didn’t move for a long time. Just laying there, pressed against him, listening to the world spin slowly outside while his presence grounded you. In these rare hushed moments, Lewis wasn’t the 7x Formula 1 World Champion, the activist, the fashion icon. He was just yours. And you were his.

A sleepy kiss pressed to your bare shoulder made you smile.

“You’re awake,” you whispered.

“Mhm,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. “Been awake. Just didn’t want to let go.”

You rolled over gently to face him, fingers sliding between his multiple braids that framed his face. His eyes blinked open, warm and full of something deeper than just affection. Something heavier, quieter.

"Big day," you said, brushing a thumb across his cheekbone caressing it.

"Biggest," he replied. “But not because of the carpet. It’s because I get to walk in with you.”

He said it so casually, but the words hit you like a warm wave. You kissed him, soft and unhurried. Your hand sliding to rest on his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. He rolled over you delicately, pinning you beneath him with a smile that was both teasing and reverent.

“Do we have time for” he trailed off, nuzzling into your neck, “just a little more?”

You laughed, pulling him down into another kiss, slow and languid. Time stretched and folded into itself. Even if the world outside demanded perfectly tailored tuxedos and curated appearances.

This moment was gloriously undone, just the two of you tangled up in sheets and skin. Whispering promises and breathless giggles between kisses that lasted too long.

When the knock at the suite door finally broke the spell, it was with an audible sigh that Lewis rolled away, mumbling, “Why can’t the Met Gala be tomorrow?”

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The room buzzed with an intensity that almost felt electric. Stylists, assistants, and fashion press worked tirelessly to prepare the final touches for the Gala.

A mix of anticipation and excitement filled the air, but amid the controlled chaos, there was a quiet understanding between you and Lewis.

Both of you had decided to get ready separately, not out of superstition but because you wanted to preserve the sacredness of the moment when you saw each other for the first time. Fully dressed, in your Gala attire. No cameras, no flashes just the two of you. In a private world of your own. It would be a reveal just for you.

Your dressing room was a sanctuary of elegance. Soft, golden light filtered through the windows. Bathing the room in a warm, almost ethereal glow. The air was thick with the scent of perfume, freshly pressed fabric, and the soft sound of music playing in the background - classical, yet full of emotion.

You stood in front of a full-length mirror, a whirlwind of stylists and assistants working around you, their hands moving in rhythm as they made their final adjustments.

Your gown was custom, of course. It was everything you had imagined and more. The color was a stunning shade of bronze silk, so rich it almost seemed to glow under the lights. The fabric shimmered with every subtle movement, as though it had a life of its own. The corseted bodice fit your frame perfectly, hugging your figure with a sculpted precision that felt like second skin. The waist was cinched in just enough to create an hourglass silhouette, while the skirt billowed outward, its shape reminiscent of the regal gowns worn by queens of centuries past. The way it moved, catching the light and swaying ever so slightly made you feel like royalty.

But what truly set the gown apart were the intricate details. Geometric embroidery, inspired by African diasporic design, was woven into the fabric in rich metallic threads, glistening with every angle. The embroidery wasn’t just a decorative touch.

It was a bold statement, a celebration of culture, history, and tradition. It felt like the very embodiment of power and beauty, as if you were wearing not just a piece of art though a piece of your own heritage.

You caught sight of yourself in the mirror and for a moment, you almost didn’t recognise the woman staring back. There was something about the attire that transformed you. It wasn’t just the design or the craftsmanship, it was the way it made you feel. Empowered. Strong. Confident.

Lewis had introduced you to the designer and you could see now why he had been so adamant about this specific choice. He wanted you to feel more than beautiful. He wanted you to wear something that spoke to your strength, to your identity and to who you were at your core. The designer had crafted a piece that was a perfect blend of tradition and rebellion, history and modernity, just like you.

"He's going to lose it when he sees you," your stylist whispered, her voice filled with admiration as she pinned the final piece of fabric into place. "You’re going to take his breath away."

You felt a warmth spread through you, a flutter of nerves mixed with excitement. The idea of revealing yourself to Lewis, of showing him what he had helped create felt almost surreal.

You could already picture his reaction. The way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the soft intake of breath, the way he always looked at you like you were the only person in the room. But most of all, how everything else fell away when he focused on you.

For just a moment, the world outside your dressing room seemed to disappear. The buzz of the fashion press, the voices of assistants in the hallway and the chaotic energy of the event. Everything was muted. It was just you, this gown, and the promise of a moment that would belong only to the two of you.

You ran your fingers over the delicate fabric one last time, feeling the weight of its significance. It was the culmination of your journey with Lewis, of the moments you had shared, of the power and love you had found together.

And in that quiet sacred moment, as you prepared to step into the world of the Met Gala. You couldn’t help but think that this moment would be one you’d carry with you forever.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The moment finally arrived.

You knocked softly on the adjoining door between your suites. “Ready?”

There was a brief pause, then Lewis’s voice, warm yet playful, “Only if you are.”

You smiled to yourself and pushed open your door just as he opened his, and time seemed to stop.

There he stood, every inch the vision of class and style. He was dressed in a bespoke cream suit designed by Wales Bonner, tailored to perfection. The suit clung to his form with a sharpness that seemed almost sculpted, its rich texture telling stories of past generations while pointing toward the future. His accessories - gold pins gleaming against the cream fabric, stacked rings that caught the light, delicate chain links that added an elegant rebellion to the whole ensemble came together like a quiet revolution in fashion. It was a bold statement, one that demanded attention without shouting.

He looked like the future, wrapped in the finest memories of the past.

And there you were, standing before him in your custom bronze silk dress, glowing with an ethereal radiance. The gown hugged your figure and billowed elegantly, the intricate embroidery shimmering with a life of its own. The light caught your skin and for a fleeting moment, you were both in a world of your own an artwork brought to life.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath blinking rapidly, as though he’d forgotten how to breathe in the face of such beauty.

You couldn’t help but smile, your steps slow and deliberate as you walked toward him, savoring the moment. “Good wow, or too much?”

He laughed, his voice full of disbelief, still unable to tear his eyes away from you. “There’s not enough language in the world for what kind of wow this is.”

Your arms slid gently around his neck, drawing him closer as you leaned into him, your body fitting seamlessly against his. “You clean up pretty well too, Mr. Hamilton,” you teased softly, your lips brushing against his ear.

He grinned, his hands finding their way to your waist as he tilted his forehead against yours. The quiet intimacy of the moment hung between you two like a secret, just the two of you in this space. “You make me wanna skip the carpet, you know that?”

Your heart swelled at his words, a rush of warmth and affection flooding through you. You kissed him softly, lips lingering as if savoring the moment. The taste of him lingering on your tongue. “Let’s give them something to talk about first,” you whispered against his mouth.

And with that, you pulled back the connection lingering between you even as you straightened. The anticipation of what was to come humming in the air. Together, hand in hand you stepped into the world awaiting you - ready to turn heads and ready to be unforgettable.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The limo ride was a soft, velvet pocket of quiet between the chaos. You sat beside him hand resting on his thigh, your fingers intertwined.

He watched you from the corner of his eye, unable to stop himself. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You turned to face him, blushing. “You say that now.”

“No, I’ve seen podiums, wins, thousand camera flashes. But this?” He lifted your hand to his lips. “This is everything.”

Your gaze softened. “I know tonight is huge for you. I just want you to be proud.”

He leaned in and kissed you. Deep, grounding. “I already am.”

Loud yells and cameras clicking could be heard outside the limo. The slick black car rolled up to the Met Gala before stopping.

When you stepped out of the car, the world erupted.

Flashes exploded like fireworks. Reporters screamed your names. The red carpet was transformed into a living runway, but you two walked it like you owned it.

Lewis kept you close, one hand on the small of your back with an expression proud and protective.

Everywhere you looked, people stared. Some with admiration while some with envy. You weren’t just guests. You were the couple. The moment.

@NYCFashionWatch: “Lewis Hamilton and his stunning girlfriend are the blueprint tonight. Tailored excellence and bronze royalty. #MetGala2025”

@F1InsiderBuzz: “They said power couple, and they meant it. Lewis Hamilton serving cream couture, his partner redefining grace.”

@BlackStyleArchives: “Lewis and his partner pay homage to Black elegance through tailoring and textile. This is more than fashion. This is narrative.”

@VogueOfficial: “We have to talk about the chemistry. The styling. The hands never letting go. The looks exchanged. The whispering smiles. It’s romance, but it’s also power.”

Backstage, stylists and other guests approached the two of you with warm smiles and hushed compliments.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” one editor whispered to you as Lewis stepped away to speak to a designer. “He’s softer. Brighter.”

You glanced toward him, watching as he laughed warmly with one hand still subtly reaching for you.

“He’s just himself,” you said. “All of him.”

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The theme Lewis had co-chaired “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style”, was alive in every curated corner of the Met.

Lewis walked you through the exhibition with the quiet awe of someone who had helped build it from concept to creation. His hand rarely left yours, his voice dipping to a near whisper when he leaned in to share details about specific pieces.

“That one’s inspired by Dapper Dan’s original Harlem cuts,” he said, nodding toward a sharply shouldered double breasted jacket displayed in a glass case. “No label. No runway. But it turned the world upside down.”

He paused at a minimalist charcoal suit designed by Bianca Saunders. “She’s the future,” he said. “Structure, soul and softness too. I love how it folds, almost like origami.”

You looked at him then, not just at his words but the way he stood. Shoulders straight, fingers gently brushing the edge of a plinth like he was touching memory itself. His passion for what this night meant was written in the way he held space for each garment, each stitch.

Every few moments, he turned to you, eyes warm. “This one,” he murmured once, standing before a velvet frock coat hand embroidered with ancestral symbols, “this one I want to show my mum. She’d cry.”

People floated by, murmuring greetings and admiration. Journalists, designers, museum curators. But you and Lewis moved like the eye of the storm still, centred and deeply connected in the whirl of celebration.

And then came the cameras again.

Not the frenzied clicks of paparazzi, but the poised intentional elegance of Vogue, Getty and Vanity Fair. Followed by the host of other publications capturing the official portraits inside the Met.

“May we get the two of you here?” someone from the Cut asked politely, gesturing toward a marbled archway beneath soft amber light.

Lewis glanced at you with a subtle nod. “Let’s give them a show.”

He pulled you gently to him, one hand settling on your waist, the other holding yours just so elegant and firm. You tilted your head slightly toward him, the curve of your lips soft but confident. As the camera clicked, your eyes found his.

And that’s when it happened, the moment.

A brief flicker of something unspoken passed between you. Love, pride, history, maybe even a quiet rebellion. And the photographers caught it.

Lewis with his jaw slightly clenched, standing tall in his cream suit. You regal and glowing in bronze beside him, your hands perfectly clasped between you.

The next shot was a little more relaxed. You turned to him with a smirk as he dipped his head to whisper something only you could hear. You laughed softly, leaning into him.

Click. Flash.

You posed for more, shifting from classic to casual. One photo had you seated beside each other on a velvet ottoman. His hand resting on your thigh, your fingers loosely laced with his, your gown cascading in a pool of silk. Another showed Lewis fixing the single curl that had fallen near your eye while you watched him with visible affection.

@VogueRunway: “Tailored storytelling. Hamilton and his partner exemplify everything the 2025 Met Gala aimed to celebrate: legacy, craftsmanship, and unmistakable connection.”

@Essence: “The intimacy. The elegance. The statement. Lewis Hamilton and his partner didn’t just arrive. THEY embodied.”

As the Met wore on, the gala unfolded in waves of live performances, curated cocktails and speeches about representation in fashion. But no matter where you moved, Lewis always found you in the crowd.

Between poses, he kissed your knuckles. Between conversations, he leaned close to ask if you were okay. During the speeches, his fingers remained gently curled around yours.

At one point, a photographer caught you two standing alone in front of a towering black and gold tapestry that mirrored the patterns embroidered into your gown. The lighting framed you like royalty with Lewis whispering something in your ear, your eyes crinkled in laughter, the champagne in your hand forgotten.

That image would later go viral, dubbed by Twitter as - “The Met’s most iconic candid. Not just a look. A love story in motion.”

The rest of the evening blurred in art and elegance, but the thread never snapped between you. You were each other's constant, each other's mirror, muse and memory.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Back at the hotel room, the atmosphere shifted. The bustling energy of the Gala had given way to a soft, intimate quiet moment of just the two of you in a world of your own. The luxury of the night was still present, but now it felt like a backdrop. Almost like a memory waiting to be tucked away as you peeled away the layers of opulence.

You started with your dress, slowly unzipping it. The fabric, once fitted perfectly to your body now slipped from your skin with a soft sigh. Pooling onto the floor in a heap of bronze silk and intricate lace.

The contrast between the elegant exterior and the warmth of your bare skin was almost poetic. You felt an overwhelming sense of freedom. No cameras, no lights, just you and him, as raw as it could get.

Lewis stood behind you, watching every movement. His eyes filled with a quiet admiration that made your chest tighten. As your gown fell, you turned to him, your gaze locking for a moment. His hands moved toward you, fingers grazing the curve of your waist.

He stepped closer, eyes never leaving you. Delicate lingerie covered you and that felt like the only real thing in the room, Lewis’s gaze never wavered. His breath caught in his throat as he took you in, your bare skin and every curve. He looked at you like he was seeing the most breathtaking masterpiece, yet with so much admiration and tenderness that it made your heart flutter.

You reached for him, gently slipping his tuxedo jacket from his shoulders, fingers grazing the smoothness of his suit. The material felt cool beneath your fingertips as you undid his cufflinks one by one before finally removing the shirt that clung to his body like a second skin. When it fell to the floor, revealing the taut muscles beneath, you couldn’t help but admire the quiet strength in him. Everyone about him so sculpted, yet so unassuming.

With a soft gasp, you leaned forward your lips brushing against the smoothness of his collarbone, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His hands cupped your face, guiding you back to meet his gaze. His eyes were darker now, focused only on you, though softness was there, an affection so deep it made you melt inside.

He kissed you then, slow and deep. Lips moving against yours like they had all the time in the world. The kiss was full of everything you had shared tonight, the glamour, the adrenaline and the electric energy of the world watching. But it was also full of something so personal, something between the two of you that no one else could touch.

“I know we were dressed for the cameras tonight,” Lewis whispered between kisses, his voice rough with his lips trailing across your jaw and down your neck. “But every time I looked at you, I forgot the world was watching.”

His words sent a shiver through you, making your heart race. You pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together now. Fingers threading through his braided hair. You didn’t need to say it, but you felt the truth of it in every inch of your skin. Here, in this moment it was just you and him. No one else.

You smiled against his lips, your fingers trailing down his tattooed chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “That’s okay,” you murmured softly. “I only saw you too.”

He paused for a heartbeat, his forehead resting against yours as if absorbing the weight of your words. The quiet tenderness in the space between you was so palpable. But Lewis’s hands began to roam over your back gently guiding you toward the bed, where the sheets awaited soft and inviting.

As you lay down together, everything in the room felt suspended. Like time had decided to slow down just for the two of you. Lewis’s lips found yours again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t rushed or eager, it was a slow lingering kiss, as though he was savoring every moment.

Your hands roamed over him, tracing the familiar yet always thrilling planes of his body. Feeling the heat radiating from his skin as if he was a flame that you couldn’t stay away from. The air around you was thick with the electricity of desire, but it wasn’t just physical it was the culmination of every glance, every smile, every word you’d shared. It was the connection, the intimacy that no spotlight or flashing camera could capture.

His lips trailed down your neck, pausing over your pulse point, kissing softly before moving lower, drawing delicate patterns on your skin. Your breath caught as his hands caressed your sides, pulling you even closer as his body hovered above yours. His warmth enveloping you completely.

In this space, there were no barriers. There were no cameras flashing. Just the two of you, skin and heart tangled in a dance that was yours alone.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Lewis whispered against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. His forehead resting against yours as his hand caressed your cheek. “No matter what the world thinks, it’s just us.”

The words felt like a promise, a quiet vow. And in that intimate silence as his hands traced the lines of your body with so much care and love. You knew this was real. This moment, this connection, nothing else mattered.

Your hands tugged at his waist, pulling him closer, feeling the warmth of his skin and steady rhythm of his breath. The space between you didn’t exist anymore. It was only love.

if the great british bake off had lewis, ollie, lando, george and alex in their celebrity season (all the brits and yes im counting alex):

Lewis: Tries his best, but ultimately underestimates how difficult baking vegan goods is and adds like 5x more xantham gum than needed - somehow, it's still passable as a baked good and it looks quite nice so he gets some points for that, but god, who knew cake could bounce?

Ollie: Acts like he knows what he's doing, tries to copy what he's seen on the show, but somehow uses only forks, breaks a stand-mixer, and winds up with a burnt crisp of a lump that might have gained sentience that the judges can't even stand to be around - they have a hard time telling him he's made poison bc he just looks SO proud of himself

Lando: Starts off pretty well, trying to make something simple but (hopefully) fool-proof, but doesn't know how to work any kitchen appliances and sets the oven to like 200 degrees celsius and forgets to set a timer - almost the same outcome as Ollie but the judges do recognise the baked good as a cake so!!

George: Aggressively over-plans his idea, coming up with a complicated mix of flavours and design, which would be awesome if he were good at baking - unfortunately, he winds up making a beautiful, but shockingly disturbing-tasting cake - george admits that he probably isn't a good enough baker to be able to add ginger, spinach and chia seeds into a sweet cake and make it work. The judges appreciate his effort but ask him to never bake again

Alex: Somehow does the best out of the group, not by skill but by pure vibes - understands he's not a great baker and like Lando, goes with something simple. Unfortunately, his downfall comes when he makes one crucial mistake like mixing up sugar and salt which brings the whole jenga tower of cake crashing down - he tries to make some bullshit up about how it's a "savoury cake" but it doesn't land with the judges

A barrage of flashing lights. A mix of stifled and open laughter. A sea of blue velvet and yellow petals.

Some distance away, a lone heeled shoe that had accidentally slipped off amidst a bumbled step beneath a gown of Dior linen.

The blush on your cheeks masked the embarrassed heat that bloomed beneath your skin, your mind in a frenzy as you wondered what your literal next step would be. Of course this would happen at your first ever Met Gala--

"May I?"

Two words freed you from your mania. Warm brown eyes and a gentle smile requested for your attention. Tattooed hands that cradled your misplaced heel brought peace to your mind.

Were you truly about to have this moment with your celebrity crush while having the elites of the celebrity world as your spectators?

There was no room for hestitation.

You smiled with bashful grace and gently reached for the skirt of your gown, gingerly tugging up at the linen before you presented your bare foot towards him. Your gaze met his as you remarked, "If you would be so kind."

How fitting that your fairytale romance with him began with a Cinderella moment like this.

𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒜 𝒩𝑒𝑒𝒹

Authors Note: Hi everyone! I hope you’re all well. Really appreciate the support. In honour of the Met Gala coming up here's something quick I wrote. Feel free to comment suggestion or advice below. Lots of love xx

Summary: After a glamorous night at the Met Gala. Lewis and his assistant share a quiet, intimate car ride back to the hotel, where the chemistry between them becomes undeniable and the line between professionalism and something more starts to blur.

Warnings: slight sexual content (first time properly writing something like this - I’m sorry if it’s bad)

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You never intended to work in Formula 1. You weren’t into racing, didn’t know the drivers, and couldn’t tell you the difference between a Mercedes and a Ferrari.

But when a job offer landed in your inbox, personal assistant to Lewis Hamilton it felt too surreal to turn down.

The position was meant to be temporary. A few months. Media scheduling, flights and hotel bookings, the occasional errand. You were organized, unshakably calm, and not remotely dazzled by the celebrity.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But working with Lewis meant entering his world, not the public one that flashed across headlines and magazine covers but the real one.

You saw him in the quiet hours before dawn, phone pressed to his ear as he strategised with engineers.

You watched him before race weekends, quiet and closed-off, the nerves settling deep in his shoulders.

You learned the rhythm of his silences, the way he’d absently scratch Roscoe behind the ears when things got overwhelming. You memorised how he took his tea with no sugar but with oat milk or sometimes chamomile when he couldn’t sleep.

You were there when he didn’t speak for hours after a tough qualifying. You were the one who quietly rerouted his flight after a brutal media day, booked the spa that helped him breathe again. You didn’t just work for Lewis, you started to understand him in and out.

And that scared you.

Because somewhere between early morning debriefs and late-night planning sessions, something shifted.

He noticed too.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It was the night of the Met Gala that things really began to change. The grand event was nothing like you had ever imagined.

The glamor, the flashing cameras, the laughter, and the chatter. Lewis stood out effortlessly in his custom Valentino suit, the kind of outfit that commanded attention.

You on the other hand, were supposed to blend into the background, as you had so many times before. Clipboard in hand, headset clipped to your ear, double-checking logistics while the world’s eyes focused on him. You were just the assistant, the one who made sure everything ran smoothly behind the scenes.

But that night was different. The clock was ticking down to the event, the last-minute adjustments were being made and then, of course, the dreaded moment you’d hoped to avoid.

His stylist, the one person who was supposed to make sure everything was perfect, had suddenly bailed. And there you were, standing outside the dressing room, catching your breath as the final piece of the puzzle unraveled.

Lewis was standing there, suit jacket half-buttoned, frustration evident on his face. He wasn’t in a panic, but the nerves were starting to show. His sharp eyes flicked to you, but it was more of a passing glance than anything.

“Hey, um, cou - could you - ?” He gestured awkwardly at the final button on his shirt. “It’s just this one. The stylist isn’t here and she usually does it for me.”

The request caught you off guard, but you nodded without thinking moving toward him. You weren’t sure why you were the one chosen for this, but it felt like something beyond mere convenience. You grabbed the button of his shirt, adjusting it carefully your fingers brushing the fabric, the sensation strange but familiar in the most unspoken of ways.

As your hands moved, his eyes followed you in the mirror. There was a weight in the room that you couldn’t quite place.

His eyes flickered to meet yours, and for a moment the world outside the room felt muted. The bustling Met Gala, the celebrities and the flashing lights. It all faded as you met his gaze in that reflection.

“You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like a brand,” he said softly, voice quiet but meaningful. “Like I’m just a thing to be managed.”

You froze for a moment, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. The weight of his words, the vulnerability laced in them, had you questioning everything you thought you knew about him. You had seen him at his best and at his worst. But this side of him which was raw, honest, and real was something you hadn’t expected.

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, your voice steady, but it didn’t feel like a proper answer. Not to him. Not to you.

He smiled, but it wasn’t one of those bright, confident smiles you saw in the press. It was softer, as if he trusted you just a little bit. “I think you’re doing more than that,” he said quietly, more to himself.

You finished buttoning his shirt, but the air between you was different now. You could feel it in your bones the electric charge, the soft pull that existed just beneath the surface. There was an understanding between the two of you now, one that transcended your official roles. He wasn’t just the superstar you worked for. In that moment he was a person. And so were you.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Later that evening, after the cameras had moved on and the guests began to trickle out the night took another turn.

The Met Gala was winding down, the last few drinks were being poured and the air was thick with glitz and glamour. But Lewis, ever the enigma seemed content to slip out of the spotlight for a while.

You caught him in a quieter corner of the venue, away from the crowds with his gaze lost in the distance. He wasn’t checking his phone, nor was he concerned with anything happening around him. He seemed to be peaceful, a stark contrast to the image the world often had of him.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, the sounds of the city night and the hum of the engine the only things filling the space.

The lights illuminating outside the window blurred as you sat in the backseat, a space across from him. But it felt much farther. The weight of the evening had settled in, and despite the extravagant event you both seemed to want the silence. The peace, of some kind, after the madness of the Met Gala.

Lewis leaned back in his seat, his hand resting lightly on the leather armrest. His tie had been loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, his usually impeccable appearance now slightly disheveled and somehow that made him seem more human. More real. The shift in his demeanor from the confident, public figure to this softer quieter version of himself was disarming.

You had expected him to be a little more distant on the ride back, maybe pulling back into that headspace he often retreated into before a race or a big media moment. But he didn’t. He didn’t close off. Instead, he turned his head slightly, catching your eyes.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, thoughtful, with an edge of concern.

You blinked, unsure of what to say, but the honesty in his voice made it easy. “Yeah. It’s just been a long day I guess.”

He nodded slowly, a slight frown tugging at his lips. His gaze shifted back to the window, staring out at the streetlights passing by.

There was something unspoken between you two now. Something that wasn’t in the official brief of your job description. It was more than professional. It was now personal.

And somehow, it wasn’t as easy to pretend anymore that it didn’t affect you.

The car slowed as it approached the hotel entrance, the driver signaling for the valet. The movement broke the fragile silence between you, but it didn’t entirely end it. When the car stopped and the door opened, you both stepped out. The cool night breeze hit your skin like a jolt of reality.

You waited for him, your heels clicking against the pavement as you followed him into the hotel lobby.

His usual confidence was there but there was something else, something more grounded and more real about him tonight. The public face was gone, and in its place, there was the man behind it. The man you had been getting to know more and more in the past few months.

Once you reached the elevator, the ride up was equally silent. You pressed the button to his floor, and as the doors closed there was a tension in the air that neither of you could ignore. His hand rested against the railing, fingers tapping lightly and you couldn’t help but glance at him. Wondering to yourself what he was thinking.

When the doors opened, the silence was almost deafening as the two of you stepped out walking down the hallway. His room was just a few doors down and you both made your way toward it, the quiet hanging between you.

And then, in a split second something shifted again. Lewis stopped in front of his door, his back to the frame. His eyes locked with yours, and for the first time that night there was no rush. No distractions. No outside noise. Just the two of you.

It was subtle at first, just the way he turned his body slightly toward you with the slight tilt of his head. But then it happened, as if some invisible force was drawing you together. You took a step closer, and your breath caught in your throat.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. His eyes were searching yours, asking without words if it was okay. If this was okay.

And somehow, you knew. You knew it was. That small, quiet space between you both where the walls you had built up around your professional roles fell away, revealed a rawness neither of you had expected. It felt like you were meeting him for the first time all over again this time, in a way that was far more vulnerable.

Before you could second-guess it, before the noise of the world could creep back in. You closed the gap between you, leaning forward slowly. His lips met yours tentative at first, like you were both testing the waters. But there was no hesitation after that. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as you melted into the kiss. The soft pressure of his lips giving way to something deeper as he let out a small groan.

There was no rush. No expectation. Just the quiet understanding that this moment belonged to the two of you.

When the kiss finally broke with a string of saliva connected, you were both breathless, your forehead resting gently against his. His hands stayed on your back, warm and grounding. Keeping you close.

Neither of you moved for a moment, just savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The Met Gala, the bright lights, the hustle it all seemed miles away now. In that small, dimly lit hallway there was only him and only you.

Lewis’s voice broke the silence, his words barely above a whisper. “I’m not sure how to do this,” he confessed, his hand gently brushing the hair from your face, his touch almost reverent.

“You don’t have to know,” you whispered back. “We’ll figure it out.”

The words hung in the air, a promise of something unknown but worth exploring. You were no longer just his assistant. And he was no longer the 7x formula 1 champion you worked for.

For the first time, you were just two people. Two people who had been orbiting each other for so long, without really seeing it. Until now.

Without saying anything more, he gently guided you to his room, the door clicking softly behind you.

The world outside, with all its expectations and roles, faded into the background. And all that remained was the quiet understanding that this was a beginning.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The golden lamplight painted the space in warm hues, casting soft shadows that danced along the walls. But you weren’t looking at the room. You were only looking at him.

Lewis stood in front of you, holding your hand like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. His eyes searched yours, as if needing to be sure you were really there. Not as his assistant, not as a part of the job but as you.

You stepped closer until there was barely any space left. Your other hand came up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm.

Your lips found each other again, but this time slower, deeper. Not rushed. Not frantic. Just full of everything you couldn’t say. His hands came up to cradle your face as if he was memorising every inch of it, like he was afraid this would all disappear if he blinked.

He pulled you closer until you were pressed against him. The kiss turning softer, more reverent. A shared inhale. A shared exhale. Like he was breathing for you and you for him.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t say a word just looked at you like you were the most delicate and important thing in the world. And then, with a quiet gentleness that undid you completely he guided you toward the bed, never breaking eye contact.

Lewis’s chest rise and fell rapidly as he laid you down, his usual confident composure crumbling in a second. His fingers traced your jawline starring into your eyes softly as if asking if you wanted this. With a slightly nod his fingers trembled undressing you, revealing your skin.

His body pressed against yours, every muscle tense with restrained passion as he fights the urge to take you completely.

I hope you understand that after Monday I need all your Lewis Met Gala fics, so please tag me if you write one (if you don’t I‘ll be massively disappointed lol)💕

Any Bald Spots? - Lewis Hamilton

@bunnisplayground prompt request #18 - "How are you not bald?" "Well hello to you too. Context please?"

Summary: Lewis and y/n are newly living together and Lewis is shocked about how much his girlfriend sheds.

Word count: 420 (just a little one)

Y/n had agreed to move in with Lewis with some hesitation. They'd done a trail run to make sure y/n was going to be happy and to make sure Lewis was comfortable sharing his space.

What Lewis didn't expect was something he didn't even consider to be an issue arising. Especially as a man with hair that is of quite a decent length.

But y/n sheds.

Like a lot.

He finds hair in bed when she's not there, it even wraps around his feet, her hair is all over the floor, and while he doesn't hoover because he pays for a cleaner to come in and clean the place, she did ask to buy a new hoover better for handling hair. Her brush seems constantly thick with hair.

He hasn't addressed it yet and he wasn't going to incase she got offended. But then he went in the shower and it practically flooded before he realised that the drain was clogged with a large clump of hair.

He can't help but finally question it. Though his wording might be more wisely chosen.

"How are you not bald?" Lewis questions making y/n look up from her breakfast that she'd made for herself.

"Well hello to you too. Context please? Maybe a good morning and a kiss before you tell me that I'm going bald" Y/n laughs while looking at him very much confused and as he smiles at her moving towards her and placing a soft kiss on her lips.

"Good morning beautiful." Lewis greets before he sits down beside her. "Just...you seem to lose a lot of hair and it doesn't make sense how you have a head full of hair and seem to lose enough to collect it all and make a wig."

"Oh...I don't know. I just...lose all that hair naturally." Y/n shrugs shooting him a dopey smile. "I never really thought about it, it's just how it's always been."

Lewis hums as he gets back up and moves around shifting her hair around as y/n just lets him get on with whatever he's doing.

"You checking for any bald spots?"

"Yes. You're good, but I just had to check." Lewis laughs before moving her hair over her shoulder and placing a kiss on her exposed neck. "You have the most beautiful hair, and I think your hair just likes to leave a trail of it everywhere so you're marking your territory."

"Ooh maybe." Y/n laughs quite liking that theory.

hold up why are there suddenly so many blogs in the f1 fandom with these teofilo (?) links that use stories other people have posted? is this scam? Where do the links lead to?

(I accidentally clicked on read more, do I have to worry about viruses or hackers now?)

Sir Lewis Hamilton with Niki Lauda and Toto Wolff after winning his 4th championship (2017)

"I love you like all-fire"

actually i love the reveal that the only reason effie got involved with the hunger games at all was because her little sister needed her.

here’s a little meme I made

[1/3]

Haymitch and his ducklings

"you're so sweet. you're always so sweet. i love to see you in red. it looks perfect."

can you please do f1 drivers where the reader is usually shy and she texts them drunk and she’s really bold

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER TEXTS

Summary: A shy reader drunk texting the drivers!

Warnings: Suggestive, 18+, alcohol mention, Y/N usage

Featuring: MV1, DR3, LN4, CL16, LH44, CS55, OP81

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

—

DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

—

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

—

CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

—

LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

—

CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

—

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

Who’s doing it like Sir Lewis Hamilton ??? Nobody.

Going Public - Lewis Hamilton

Summary : after date night, Lewis is trying to convince Y/N to go public and to stop keeping their relationship a secret

“It could be simpler, you know,” Lewis put his seatbelt on and started the car. “What do you mean, babe?” Frowning, you put your purse on your lap and looked at him as he immediately lowered the volume of the radio. You and Lewis had just spent the evening at a restaurant and as usual when you two went together in public, you had to be quick whenever you went outside and everything was pretty rushed and stressful for the both of you.

“We’ve been together for months now.. I think that maybe now would be the time to stop being so secretive about our relationship. What do you think?” He looked at you quickly before focusing his eyes back on the road. It was pretty late in the evening, the inside of the car was dark and the only kind of light you got were from the street lights. Lewis was wearing all black, the street lights reflecting in his golden jewelry - earrings, rings and bracelets. He knew how much you loved golden jewelry on him

You two had been together for at least 8 months at that point and your relationship was strong. Despite the fact that you were both living two opposite lives when you first met, you two had a connection that always felt natural and easy. The thing was that you also loved the life that you had built for yourself before you even met him. Despite the love that you had for him, you knew you had worked hard to make your own money and to have your own place and your independence, and you didn’t feel ready yet to let go of everything that you had built for yourself. That side of your personality was one of the reasons why Lewis fell so hard for you when he really didn’t expect it to happen... but then, a few months later, even though he had never explicitly told you about it up until that point, he was starting to feel like it was time to make some adjustments so that your relationship could be more enjoyable for you both.

“I’m just saying, babe - it could be simpler,” he insisted when he stopped at a red light. “Do you mean.. it could be simpler if our relationship was public?” “Yes, that’s what I mean,” he checked the rear view mirror, looking more tense than he usually did, as usual when he was the one driving. You drove on the way to the restaurant and he insisted on driving the way back even though you offered to drive again. He always felt competitive on the road and drove recklessly in your opinion, which always made you nervous even though you knew he never would’ve deliberately put you in danger. “I mean, why not? I never really thought about it in depth, hun,” he wheezed, shaking his head, surprised by your answer, and started driving again, “you’ve ‘never really thought about it?’” “I didn’t mean it like that, Lew. And I thought you were okay with us not being public,” “I was -I mean, I’m okay with it I guess-“ you thought he was going to continue but he didn’t, and he turned his gaze to the road again, clearly searching for the right words. “It’s just that I don’t mind staying in the shadows at all, I don’t need attention from the media or the fans. I’m good if all the attention is just on you; you and your career are the priority anyway,”. You were aware that saying that while talking about any other relationship would be a huge red flag, but your relationship with Lewis was completely different. You knew his priority was his career and you respected that, and treated it as your priority as well. He stayed focused on it too, though a lot of things changed his perspective on things when he fell in love with you - and he made sure you knew you were also one of his priorities. There were a few seconds of silence until the light turned green and he started driving again. “I know that; I know you don’t want attention from the public and the media. You know, I know that maybe I’m being selfish.. but it would be easier for me, that’s all,” he cleared his throat and continued, “Think about it; you fly multiple times a month to see me anyway. When I’m not working, I’m with you when you’re here or I’m just constantly on my phone, talking to you whenever possible,” you were quite surprised by what he was saying, as he never expressed any real desire for going public before. Plus, it was rare for him to talk in length about his feelings, even with you. “When I see the other guys with their girlfriends and wives, I just wish you were there too sometimes. I could do the same and have you there with me too, and not be in love in secret like we’re hiding something bad or something. I truly don’t give a shit about what people might think, in case you’re wondering. I haven’t been linked to any other women since I’ve met you, and things have changed a lot in my life these past few months anyway.. I don’t see why me being in a relationship publicly would be a problem,” he stopped at another red light and looked at you again, waiting for you to react. “Honey, I had no idea you were feeling that way,” you said sincerely. “Well I do, I’d love to have you with me just on race days for example. That would change a lot of things for me - positively. And date nights like this one could be so much nicer. Not having to be in a rush and hide, and having to find a place where we won’t be seen. It could happen more often too. I’d feel much more comfortable in general, you know,” his hand went on your thigh and you laced your fingers with his instinctively. You were wearing a dress that night, and the feeling of his warm, soft hand on your thigh made you shiver. You had a thing for his hands and his soft touch - that, he knew as well. “I hear you. You’re right, we’ve been together for a while now, and maybe it’s time to take things to the next level,”

To you he was just Lew, not Lewis Hamilton, the Legend everyone knew him to be. He was the man who left tender kisses on your bare back the mornings when you were still sleeping and he had to go workout, the man that cuddled with you for hours while watching movies, the man that made you cry from laughter sometimes multiple times a day, the man with whom you had pillow fights in the middle of the night sometimes. He was always so tender, protective and loving to you; he showed you a completely different side of him and you cherished that. He planned romantic dates, surprised you, took care of you in every way a woman would love to be taken care of. He was also the person that taught you how to surf - and that became one of your favorite activities to do together. You loved how close he was with his parents, and you got on really well with them. You felt so lucky every day for the life that you had in that moment of your life, and you truly cherished your relationship with Lewis. The only downside to your relationship with him was the fame and all the pressure that came with it, especially for him. Other than that, he was the perfect boyfriend - despite his reputation with women and the bachelor lifestyle he had before meeting you.

He leaned in for a kiss, and you gently put your hand on his jawline to kiss him. Him being that close, you could smell his cologne (which has become such a comforting smell to you) more strongly. You felt his soft skin under your fingers, as well as his beard. He broke the kiss and quickly said “will you please come with me to the next race?”, and then pecked your lips again quickly. “Please?” he pulled away and you couldn’t help but melt inside. You thought he was just too cute for words sometimes. “The next race - already?” He focused back on the road and started driving again “why not?” “I wasn’t even supposed to join you that weekend, Lew,” “… But I’d like you to,” you didn’t say anything, thinking about it. You loved spending time with him, but sometimes balancing your normal life, including your average full time job, and Lewis’ lifestyle was difficult for you. You told yourself you’d bring it up soon, since Lewis wanted to take things to the next level anyway. “You know what - I’m in. If you want me there, then I’ll be there,” you smiled.

“If you want me there then I’ll be there” was something you told him every time he invited you somewhere. No matter what, he knew that you’d show up for him when he wanted/needed you to. He turned to you again with sparkling eyes, not being able to keep himself from smiling like a kid, “Alright then, I’ll make all the arrangements. Does Friday evening to Sunday evening sound good?” “Yes, Sir,”. He kept his focus on the road, unable to keep himself from smiling “I’m happy, baby. I can’t wait”

scuderiaferrari: Now it’s lewishamilton’s turn to tell us the essentials he takes to every race 🔉

♡ runnin' with my dress unbuttoned ♡

or: the driver's aren't so calm, cool, and collected when you show up to the paddock wearing a pretty little dress. emphasis on little. featuring: lewis hamilton, max verstappen, lando norris, kimi räikkönen ♡

warnings: sexual innuendo!

♡

f1 grid | juno positions

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : every driver and which juno position from sabrina carpenter's tour suits them >.>

୨ৎ : genre : suggestive... kinda smutty idk (i don't really write smut anymore so this is a rare one...) obv some are the same positions.. i couldn't sit through an 8 minute video of all the juno positions LMFAO ୨ৎ : tws : suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 597

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i couldn't help but post this so soon LMFAO it was such a fun request i couldn't leave it sitting there waiting to be queued ... too good ty anon <3

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen - standing doggy no time for nonsense, just efficient execution. aggressive, locked-in, and somehow still makes you feel completely taken care of. terrifyingly good at everything, including this.

yuki tsunoda - cowgirl tiny menace. gives full chaos and control. jokes around, then ruins you. he’s in charge, not you. don’t be fooled by the baby face.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell - legs up missionary textbook performance, but with precision and tenderness. prepped for this moment like it was a championship strategy. probably asks if you’re comfortable mid-way through.

kimi antonelli - bridge young but scarily talented. pulls it off like it’s nothing and casually shrugs after. doesn’t even realize how hot he looks doing it.

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc - reverse cowgirl quiet in interviews, dramatic on the radio. gives you “hopeless romantic who pretends not to care” energy. lets you take the lead but still makes it cinematic somehow.

lewis hamilton - spooning luxury. candles. playlist curated to the vibe. everything is intentional, soft, and meaningful. says “i got you” and means it.

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris - ballet dancer starts off laughing, then surprises you with full performance energy. twirls you around like it’s a rom-com, then bites your neck for fun.

oscar piastri - tucked missionary he’s calm, quiet, and absolutely calculated. very into the technical details. doesn’t make a fuss but has you clutching the sheets like ??? how???

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso - squatting cowgirl age is just a number. balances like a yoga master, keeps eye contact, and somehow turns it into a motivational speech halfway through.

lance stroll - one-leg-up missionary chill, not flashy, but shockingly good at this exact position. leans into it casually. acts like it’s nothing but has you seeing stars.

ʚ・williams

alex albon - kneeling oral sweetest boy alive. loves making you happy more than anything. says “tell me what you like” with the softest voice. gold star giver.

carlos sainz - doggy classic. passionate. in control. the man thrives under pressure and it shows. focused, intense, and somehow turns this into a performance worthy of applause. probably whispers something in spanish that short-circuits your brain. makes you feel like it was your idea the whole time.

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman - one-leg spoon baby boy energy. tries his best. a little shy but committed. accidentally makes it romantic. 10/10 would comfort you with snacks after.

esteban ocon - missionary starts off shy, but the moment kicks in and suddenly it’s like he’s been rehearsing this in the mirror. soft-spoken, maybe even a little awkward beforehand, but he’s determined to prove himself. will absolutely debrief the whole experience afterward like it's a post-race interview.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson - splits unsuspecting menace. looks like he’d hesitate, then surprises you with flexibility and full commitment. asks afterward if he did good. he did.

isack hadjar - the arch absolutely shows off. confident, slightly cocky, but backs it up. makes eye contact while doing it and smirks when you blush.

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly - reverse cowgirl he’s not doing the work — you are. but he’s there for the view, hands behind his head, sunglasses still on indoors. makes smug comments the entire time like, “yeah, just like that.” fully vibing while somehow still running the show. would wink at you mid-movement and say something unhinged in french.

jack doohan - cowgirl confident in theory, flustered in practice. lets you take the lead but lowkey panics when you actually do. tries to act chill but you can literally feel his heart pounding through his chest. afterward, he’s all pink-cheeked and smiley, like “that was great… did I do okay?” you reassure him. he did amazing.

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Lewis ignoring Ben Sulayem- as he should