#LET IT ALL OUT CHARLES :D | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherry-leclerc · 3 months

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needy ☆ cl16

genre: humor, fluff, jealous/possessive!charles, smut, established relationship

word count: 2.3k

A certain dislike bubbles deep inside of the Monegasque when you attend your first race and continue praising his teammate.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, doggy position, m!receiving, blowjob, elevator sexxxx, choking

req!...aghhh i wish men existedddd

You’re smiling wide, face flustered with genuine happiness as you beam up at the podium from afar. The lights, fireworks, music, and environment fill you with pure adrenaline, and suddenly, you get it. Why a lot of people enjoy the sport, you mean. It was an exciting thing to witness.

But from the garage, where your boyfriend is getting weighed after a tiring race, Charles glares at you and then at Carlos who he can’t quite see but can hear the applause for as they announce his name. He can see the way you clap, the way your eyes crinkle up at his teammate.

It should’ve been him.

“You were amazing, baby!” you cheer as you skip towards him, arms flying over his broad shoulders. He grimaces. I’m sweaty, he protests as he lightly nudges you away. “Oh.” You take a wary step back at his odd behavior that had never taken place before. “I- um…Carlos and Rebecca invited us out for dinner to celebrate. Do you want to go?”

He could tell you wanted to and he hates how much it bothered him. The way it tugged at his heart like a painful needle. “I’m sweaty,” he simply states again.

“You can shower first, I’m sure they won’t mind if we’re a bit late-”

“Or you can go without me.”

You frown, shoulders drooping. “But I don’t want to go without you…”

He blinks. Just as he’s able to speak again, Carlos proudly makes his way over with a shiteating grin. “Charles! Great race, man, I’ve missed driving like that.” They share a fierce hug before the Monegasque sheepishly smiles.

“Yeah, I did too.” A beat. “We’ll probably be a bit late to your dinner.”

The Spaniard waves him off. “That’s alright, as long as you make it. I want to celebrate something like this with my team. Especially since this is our last season together.”

Charles can feel a wave of annoyance towards himself for envying the 29 year old. He did enjoy the race, he was extremely happy for his friend, but it didn’t quite click why it nicked him how you wore a bright smile. He nods, a lazy arm pulling you in towards him. Your brows pinch with confusion. “We’ll be there.”

“I’m glad I was able to make it,” you ponder as you reapply with a fresh coat of lipstick. Charles dries his brown locks with a white towel as he stands close by. Me too. You hum, eyes trained on your reflection. “It didn’t seem like it.”

His stomach churns at your sad tone. “I swear I am. Why would you say that?”

A tint of red colors your cheeks as you purse your lips. “For starters, you wouldn’t even let me get close to you. You pushed me away, remember?” He winces at the reminder.

“I d-didn’t want to cover you with my gross sweat,” he tries as you shake your head.

“Like that’s ever been an issue. You’ve played soccer and kissed me. You’ve had a round of basketball and hugged me after an hour of attempting to make a hoop. Or when you played golf under the blazing sun and kept me close no matter what.” You grab your purse as you make your way towards the door. “Don’t make up some stupid excuse, Charles.”

Guilt slithers all around the green eyed boy as he watches you converse with the Scottish model. He feels like an old grump around the most colorful flower, and he’s ruining it. He was determined to make it up to you. “I’m glad you were here to witness my first podium of the season considering it’s your first time attending a race. That way you remember me as your boyfriend's best teammate,” Carlos gloats as you laugh.

“Oh, for sure.”

Jealousy pangs Charles once again as you continue. “I don’t know how you did it…it was a close one. But definitely a great race, you live up to your last name,” you salute as he winks as a thank you. Rebecca agrees besides her boyfriend. “You got me though because - no offense - I thought Charles had it in the bag.”

You’re getting back at him now. He can hear it in your voice as his eye slightly twitches. The Spaniard chuckles. I thought so too. Placing a warm hand over the Monegasque, you swiftly kiss his stubble. “But you were great nonetheless, Cha. My favorite driver without a doubt. My number one…Ooops. Four.”

“Ah, shit,” Lando hisses from down the table as he nibbles on a piece of cake.

Charles fumes. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing, amour? Thank you, thank you very much.”

You giggle. “No problem.”

Coughing awkwardly, Carlos diverts the conversation from the sudden tension as a new topic comes up. You simply jump in with ease as the Monegasque keeps to himself.

He could’ve gotten a podium if it weren’t for his front brake locking. He could’ve been the one celebrating right now with all his friends. He was simply better.

“I’m really going to miss this,” a deep voice rips him away from his thoughts. Carlos sighs. “It’s a struggle, but I will miss it when I’m gone. Especially you,” he says as he points to his teammate. “A sore loser, but you gotta love him.”

Charles scoffs. “I am not a sore loser.”

“He’s right,” you muse. “But trust me, it's incurable. For God's sake, he pouted when I beat his time on the stimulator.”

Pierre gapes. “She beat you? As in her?” Kika laughs, pulling him back by his linen shirt. “That’s actually pretty impressive.”

The Monegasque blushes. “It happened one time. It was probably broken that day.”

“Ahh,” Daniel says as he clicks his tongue. “I totally see it.”

“Would you stop it?” Charles deadpans as the table laughs at his defensive behavior. “I’m honestly happy for Carlos. I am.”

The Spaniard wiggles his dark brows in a teasing manner. “You hate me a little bit though, no?”

He squints his eyes before aiming a napkin at the brown haired driver. “In the very moment, yeah. Maybe a little.” Carlos raises his hands up before smiling. As the night grows older, the more you lean into your boyfriend's touch, eyes fluttering tiredly. “Wanna leave?”

“Not yet,” you murmur against his chest. “One more round of drinks.”

He snickers. “I think you’ve had enough. Here.” He hands you a glass of water. “Drink it all.” Rolling your eyes, you oblige before it actually sobers you up enough to call it a night.

“Congrats again, Carlos!” you chirp as your boyfriend drags you away, swinging Charles’ hand like a glass of champagne. “Here’s to more podiums!”

“More podiums, my ass,” he growls as tugs you out. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only with you,” you hum as you sloppily kiss his lips. “You look so pretty, Cha, you know? Your eyes, your lips, your hair.” You lean in closer to his ear, whispering. “Your cock.”

“Pretty?” he retorts, trying his best to hide his hard on. You giggle. You’re also so fucking hot when you get territorial. It’s sickening, but I love it. His breath hitches.

“Oh, that was fast,” you cutely muse when his car rolls in by the valet. “Ready?”

“Y-yeah.”

As soon as you step foot inside the wide room, you jump onto him, lips clinging onto his neck, hands rushing through his hair frantically. I’m sorry for all I said. I love you, you’re my favorite driver, my number one. You’re-

“Oh,” you sigh as he kneels down in front of you, kissing your legs all the way from bottom to top, worshiping you until his head is beneath your dress, nose brushing against your panties. You shudder. He nips as you leap up in surprise. His teeth wrap around the thin material before sliding down and looking up at you like a dog.

“Go to the bed. On all fours. Your favorite number, isn’t that right?”

It’s a lame joke, but it still strikes you with shock as you carefully make your way over, following his clear instruction. And you think he’s going to fuck you, the way you were waiting for, but instead unzips his jeans and takes his boxers off, and stands in front of you. Open. “I thought we were-”

“Well you thought wrong, now open,” he grunts, hands grabbing your chin as he forces your mouth wide. Following along, you stick your tongue out eagerly. Like a dog. You should be ashamed, but can’t find the strength when he slips down your throat. You gag as he groans. “That's it, baby. Work your jaw f’me.”

Deepthroating him, you hum around his length as you take him all. He growls when your teeth graze his skin for a second, harshly pushing you back. “And you’re still being mean to me?” He tsks. “What did I do to you today for you to ignore me?”

Your brows arch. “I wasn’t ignoring you. You were ignoring me.” Fixing your dress, you climb off the bed, but not before he grabs your hand, dark eyes staring back at you. Where are you going? “Far away from you.” He fixes himself before marching after you. Just as the elevator is about to close, he manages to slip in. “I’m not talking to you,” you promise, arms crossed.

“Great.” The elevator comes to a halt. “Because this doesn’t require talking.”

Pushing you against the glass, he kisses you hungrily, greedy hands squeezing your ass as you squeal, attempting to push him off. This only makes him take a step back, rubbing his jaw. Seriously? You debate with yourself for a while before biting down on your lip and pulling him back towards you.

There’s no sound other than moans and groans as he fucks your against the elevator. The angle causes his tip to hit your g-spot at a mindblowing pace as your head rolls back with pleasure. He’s the first to break the silence as he places a hand next to your head and the other secure around your waist as he pounds into you, loopy eyes admiring the way your breasts bounce.

“I want you to know that despite my attitude, I’m happy for him, I am.” You don’t need to ask to know who he’s referring to as you hastily nod. I know, Charles. Leaning down to kiss him, you pout when he turns his head, leaving you to peck his jawline. “But you’re mine, all mine.” He sucks on your breasts that spill out in front of him as you whimper. “Repeat it back to me.”

“I’m all y-yours, you doofus,” you grin, tangled hair flying into your mouth as you squirm. “I didn’t even think I’d have to say it.” Squealing in shock, you hurry to grab the metal bar as he places you down and spins you around, leaving you mushed up against the tinted glass. “Oh shit.”

“Pretty view, no?” he quietly questions behind you, lustful eyes laser focused on the way you take him like no other. He grunts, head rolling back, messy hair following along. There’s no room to worry about the possibility that there could be a camera in the tiny space, or that help may be on the way despite the red button being pushed on purpose. And then he wraps his large hand around your throat and your breath hitches, tiny hole enveloping around him even harder. “S-so good, chérie.” He kisses you shoulder sloppily, mouth hanging a tad bit open as he tries to push back his fierce sense to come inside of you.

I think it’s stuck, a familiar voice clarifies from outside.

It is, you dimwit, another retorts as a group of mumbles follow with agreement.

“Oh shit,” Charles whispers as he rapidly pulls out of you, fixing you dress and hair to the best of his ability before focusing on his equally fucked out appearance. A soft wail escapes your lips at the sensitivity that remains in between your legs as Charles apologetically pecks your temple and the door finally slides open.

“Charles?” Pierre squeaks as soon as he spots his friend. “Holy shit, are you guys okay?”

“Completely fine!”

“It was so scary,” you add, shivering with theatrical fear to emphasize your words. “Thank God they were able to help us,” you say as you signal to the hotel staff members who stand by with a skeptical smile. “I don’t know what we would have done.”

“I have a theory,” Lando whispers to Carlos as they snicker, taking in your sweaty state. The way your zipper isn’t all the way up, showing off a bit of humid skin. The way the Mongasque keeps his hands adamantly in front of his hard on. It’d be stupid not to know what had been taking place prior seconds.

“Well thank God you guys are okay,” Pierre breathes, already making his way to hug you and the 26 year old. Kika grimaces while you two cringe at the fact that the Frenchman was getting a good look and feel of the forbidden afterglow. Patting his shoulder away awkwardly, Charles hums enthusiastically.

“It’s been quite an eventful day... Charles?”

Dark brows fly up before nodding hastily. “Yeah! We should go to sleep…Take care guys! Au revoir!”

Pierre smiles happily as he watches you two scurry away, Charles almost tripping as you grab onto his shoulder to level him up. “That’s actually really scary, I think I would cry if I were in their situation,” he admits, wide eyes blinking towards his friend group.

“Oh, honey,” Kika sighs, leaning up to pat her boyfriend's chest with empathy for his naiveness. What? Wouldn’t you?

Lando can’t help but let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands with amusement.

“Open up your eyes, Pierre. Those two totally fucked.”

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

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coco-loco-nut · 2 months

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Book Club

Pairing: The grid x driver!reader, Lance Stroll x reader

Summary: A wild goose chase ensues when you are at a meeting with your book club

requests are open (plz send some, i can’t keep only getting ideas while driving 🥺) masterlist

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“Guys, have you seen y/n?” Lance panics, rushing into the McLaren garage. It’s not the first time his girlfriend had disappeared from her garage but he’s always been able to find you a few steps away.

“She’s missing?” Lando leaped out of his chair. “Come on, Oscar, we gotta find her,” Lando drags his teammate out of the garage, following Lance to the Mercedes garage to find George.

“Any y/n sightings?” a very stressed out Lance asks.

“No, but now I am invested,” the Brit tags along in the search, hopping over to the Ferrari garage.

“Mes amis, you seem stressed,” Charles says, looking up from his book.

“Y/n is missing, Lance can’t find his girlfriend,” Oscar sighs, not sure why he isn’t leaving the group.

“No, we must join the quest, Charles,” Carlos says, clapping his teammate on the shoulder.

“Alright, only for y/n,” Charles, like oscar, begrudgingly agrees to join the ‘noble quest’.

Meanwhile, y/n is sitting on the couch, wearing a chunky cardigan and a pair of fashion glasses, sipping tea.

“No, Lizzy was clearly in love with Darcy even then,” Fernando waves his hands. This month’s book was Pride and Prejudice.

“Sure, Fernando,” Valtteri rolls his eyes.

The book club, affectionately called ‘The Old Drivers Club’ started when y/n barged into the Haas garage, claiming she needed their opinions and that she was tired of all the young drivers. Despite her being only 21, she found a home with some of the older drivers in the Paddock. The club consisted of her, Fernando, Valtteri, Kevin, and Nico. Lewis wanted to hold on to his youth, as he claimed, and Checo didn’t quite care for their gossip sessions.

“I still don’t understand how you can go from a 20 year old party animal to a 80 year old grandma overnight,” Kevin teases the young girl, bringing up a common point of conversation (usually her complaining about the younger drivers).

“And I don’t understand how you all don’t find Nico attractive? If I was ten years older, I would be all over him. God damn, what a fine man,” you swoon, causing the German to blush fiercely.

“Yes, yes, someone who could outshine Charles Leclerc in his prime,” Fernando dismisses it with the wave of his hand. You giggle and refocus on the book discussion.

“Nando,” you prompt him, silently asking him to go to the next topic.

“Alright, alright, let’s discuss what was probably y/n’s favorite scene, the confession scene. The second one, not in the rain,” Fernando says, and you shyly look down, the older drivers knowing you too well.

“Max, Checo, have you seen y/n?” Lance asks, even more flustered, half the grid behind him.

“Y/n? Why do you ask?” Max says, looking at his teammate.

“She’s missing!” Lando exclaims causing Checo to laugh.

“No, no. She’s with her book club, in the Haas motor home. I sometimes join them, interesting gossip, but not quite for me, no,” Checo says, looking oddly at the group.

“Her- her book club?” Lance asks, utterly confused.

“Si. Lewis has been invited too, but he claims he is too young,” Checo laughs to himself.

“Sorry mate, a book club?” George asks, a little offended he was never invited.

“And gossip? I’m a little offended I’ve never been invited,” Pierre gasps.

“Well? Is that all,” Max asks, wanting the group to leave his garage.

“Right, well I guess we go to Haas,” Carlos says, quickly thanking the Red Bull drivers.

“VALTTERI!” Your astonished gasp is heard from outside. Your group had moved on to what some think is the more enjoyable part of the evening, the gossip.

“Y/n! Oh thank god, we were worried sick,” Lando dramatically says at the doorway, having opened the door, revealing your group. The five of you look at the other group wildly confused.

“Worried sick?” You ask, looking at them.

“You were missing, I couldn’t find you,” Lance scratches the back of his neck, a little confused.

“I,” you pause before laughing. “Lancelot, you could’ve texted me,” you tell him.

“Why weren’t Pierre and I invited?” George asks, looking accusingly at your group.

“You don’t fit the criteria,” Kevin says, dismissing the question.

“And y/n does?” Pierre asks.

“Yes. When she sits upside down on your couch to gossip and complain about you all, and ask for life advice, then we might consider it,” Nico shakes his head.

“She is the founder of our group,” Valtteri points out.

“You also have to find young Nico attractive, more than current Charles,” Fernando teases, causing the young girl to blush.

“He was!” You defend yourself, and Carlos nods in agreement.

“Your girlfriend, mate. I’m surprisingly glad I tagged along,” Oscar says to Lance, pretty amused at the chaos.

“Out of curiosity, what is your next book?” George asks, your face lighting up.

“We are on a classics kick right now, so we are reading the No Fear version of Romeo and Juliet,” you say excitedly causing George and Charles to groan.

“We can’t join?” Charles asks again.

“Sorry, Leclerc, only room for one hot driver here,” Nico winks at you, causing your cheeks to redden.

“HEY!” most of the drivers in the room take offense to it, Lance mainly because the wink was directed at his girlfriend.

“Alas, if only you didn’t have a wife and kid, and I was ten years older,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“In another life, Mein Liebchen,” Nico sighs as well.

“Alright, I’m stealing back my girlfriend,” Lance pulls you away.

“Lancelot,” you giggle, waving goodbye to your book club.

“It is in these moments that I remember how young she is and how old we are,” Fernando sighs, Lewis taking your seat.

“My bones ache more and more each day, mate,” Lewis shakes his head.

“Welcome to our club, have the first act read by the next race,”

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its44intheehouse · 3 months

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CHARLES LECLERC-NSFW alphabet

this is very. spicy. enjoy🍒

A - Aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

Charles is sweet. After destroying your guts or making love passionately to you, he’ll always make sure you get the proper aftercare. He’ll offer to clean you up, run you a relaxing bath, get you water, whatever you need. He is a very attentive boyfriend.

B - Bodypart (their favorite body part of his and his partner’s)

He is very proud of his physique. Especially his abs and hands. He spends a lot of his time training and making sure he stays fit, not only for the sake of his career but also for him. One time he asked you to ride his abs, and it turned him on so bad that he almost came in his pants just watching you get off like that. And he loves it when you stare at his hands. You do it unconsciously sometimes and he likes to pretend he doesn’t notice it until later on when he’s making you come with them until you can’t take it anymore.

On you, he loves LOVES your boobs and your legs. He can’t get enough of the sight of your boobs when you’re riding him and they just bounce in his face. He has to have his mouth or at least his hands on them everyday. It’s a must. Whether he’s coming up behind you for a hug or he’s spooning you while sleeping, his hand is always underneath your shirt, touching them. And it’s not always sexual, he just loves them so much it becomes a reflex. It’s comforting for him.

And your legs. He loses his mind everytime he sees you wear one of your short skirts or dresses and he can see your long, soft legs. He loves it when you put them in his lap while you’re reading your book, when they’re propped on his shoulders while he’s fucking you raw or eating your pussy. It adds an extra spice when he just fucked you dumb in his car before an event and you just have to walk around the whole night talking to people while his cum is slowly dripping down your legs.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

He’s versatile. But always respects your wishes, so he’ll come wherever you want him to. But if he had to admit, he is obsessed with the idea of coming inside of you. He is very sensitive to touch. So if fucking you with a condom made him feral, imagine letting him feel you without one. Once you got on birth control and gave him the green light, he went nuts about it, fucking you anytime and everywhere he could and making sure to pump his cum deep enough so you would feel it slip out of you even hours after.

Also, he thinks its very hot when you blow him and swallow right after, smiling at him as you stick your tongue out to show him how good you are for him. And even though most men find it disgusting to kiss their girl after they suck their dick, Charles is definitely an exception. He’ll grab your chin and press his lips to yours everytime, then he’ll smirk and tell you “You did so well, baby. Good girl, made me feel sooo good.”

D - Dirty secret

He wants to make a sextape. He is absolutely, head over heels in love with you, and although he’s always enjoying the moment when you two fuck, he’d love to have a video of you doing it so everytime he’s away from you for racing he has a visual reminder of how wet you get for him, how good you’re taking him, how destroyed and unreal you look when your eyes are tearing up and your mouth is swollen from his kisses and how pornographic your moans and whimpers sound everytime he’s thrusting inside of you.

E - Experience (how experienced he is in bed)

He is a relationship type of man. He’s had some girlfriends in the past, not a crazy amount of them though, but he knows what he’s doing. He always goes all in when it comes to sex, because he loves to be able to feel good and make his partners feel good also. He’s kind of cocky and wants to do a good job so that he can see the results of it afterwards. How your legs are still shaking, how you’re having trouble walking or sitting just because of how good he got you.

F - Favorite position

As I said, he’s versatile. He’ll have you in every position he can think of, as long as he knows it’s gonna benefit the both of you, especially you. Charles loves challenges, so you two tried a bit of everything almost. But his favorite positions have to be the good ol’ missionary, because he gets to see you in all your beauty underneath him, cowgirl, because it does something to him when you’re the one in charge, and doggy, so he can slap and grab your ass anytime he feels like it. He also likes to wrap your hair in his fist and pull on it so he can have your back pressed against his chest while one of his hands is busy rubbing your clit.

G - Goofy (how serious is he in the moment?)

It depends. Usually Charles appreciates a light energy, and enjoys being his playful goofy self. He’ll crack a joke in bed sometimes, but most of the time he takes things seriously because he wants to show you a good time.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? how do they prefer their partners?)

He doesn’t like to be messy, personally. Also, due to his racing and excessive sweat that always results from it, he prefers to keep things clean and shaved. He’s always trimmed nicely and fresh.

On you, he doesn’t really care, as long as things don’t get too much out of control and you take good care of your hygiene.

I - Intimacy (how is he during sex)

He’s always making sure to put you first. He isn’t afraid to slow things down or stop if he sees you’re not particularly enjoying something, and will always ask you if you’re okay or if you need something. He’s also very romantic. During foreplay, during sex, all the time really. Will have you swooning after his sweet words and affectionate touches and he always looks at you as if you are the most beautiful woman to set a foot on this earth. Because he believes you are.

J - Jack off (does he masturbate?)

He rarely has the time to do that and he doesn’t have to think about it too much because most of the time you’re with him, so it isn’t hard for him to find a way to get off. But when you’re away and he’s lonely in one of the hotel rooms on race weekends, he’s always facetiming you. And no matter what you do, that man will get an erection. You can always tell he’s needy when his breathing gets uneven and his voice is slightly shaky, so you offer to talk him through it. Dirty talk was something that never came to you naturally even though you craved it secretly, but since dating Charles, you’ve both experimented with it and now it became a habit for you when you’re on the phone masturbating with him or helping him come.

K - Kink (what kink/s does he have?)

He gets feral when you’re bossing him around. Especially in bed, he loves to see you comfortable enough to seek control and have him do whatever you want. If you’re on top, he’s a dead man. He thinks it’s so sexy.

Also, Charles is a family man. He wants to have a family and kids at some point, because he absolutely ADORES them. We been knowing. He can’t help the smile on his face or the glint in his eyes when he sees you with kids. He knows you’re going to be the mother of his children and that thought never fails to make his heart flutter. But it also makes his dick throb violently. He can’t stop imagining it. Your tits swollen and full of sweet milk and your stomach big, carrying his babies with so much love. God, he can’t wait for the moment you’ll both be ready so you can start trying. But that doesn’t stop him from fucking you multiple times and pushing his cum back inside of your abused cunt. Even though he knows you’re on birth control, he’ll still fuck you stupid and imagine he’s getting you pregnant right then and there, while groaning and whispering to you “You’re so full of me, ma belle. Fuck. One day I’m gonna get you pregnant. You’re gonna let me put a baby in you and I’ll make you my beautiful little wife, yeah?”

Anyway 😏

L - Location (favorite places to have sex)

It doesn’t really matter to Charles. If he’s horny, he’s gonna want to take you anywhere. Not a corner of his or your home was left untouched, you fucked everywhere. The bed, the couch, on the table, on the kitchen counter, the floor, in the shower, the wall… You’ve even done it in his drivers room a few times. He also has a thing for car sex. Charles loves his cars and he loves you, so fucking you there gets him pretty enthusiastic.

M - Motivation (what gets him going)

So easy to make him want you. Like I said, he is very much in love with you so he’s always down. But he has a thing for teasing. He’s a big flirt and a very successful one, he never fails to make you blush or make you wet. But when you turn the tables and flirt with him back, teasing him and batting your eyelashes at him, he thinks he’s going to pass out. Your whole energy makes you irresistible to him.

N - No (turn offs, things he wouldn’t do)

He believes sex is for pleasure and exploration. So with that being said, he would never hurt you. He’s down to try almost anything sexually, but he can’t stand the thought of being too rough to the point of inflicting real pain on you.

O - Oral (how good they are at it, preferences on receiving/receiving)

Charles is a both a big giver and receiver. He’s got quite the ego so making you feel good also feeds his confidence. This man’s purpose is to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your legs shaking. He gets off on the sweet taste of your pussy, on the sounds you’re making, your scent, the way you grip his hair and roll your hips on his face. God, he could stay between your legs for hours. He’d never get tired of it. He even asked you to sit on his face a few times, even though you were a bit unsure at first and needed a bit of convincing. But once you got to see how hot it was and how amazing it felt, you were the one starting to ask for it.

Going back to the ego thing, sucking his cock does inexplicable things to him. He thinks it’s so cute when you try and take more and more of him everytime just because you want him to feel good. Seeing you struggle to fit all of him in your mouth gives him a big confidence boost. He likes to throw some praises here and there to encourage you when you look up at him with teary eyes.

P - Pace.

Usually depends on the mood. He’s always sweet, romantic and considerate. You’re his princess, the love of his life, and he’ll make love to you just the way you deserve it. But he can switch up real fast and become more rough and fast if you ask for it or if something is really bothering him and making him mad. One time after a DNF and a nasty fight with his team, he just made his way to you, grabbed you without a word and rushed you to his drivers room to take out all his frustrations. He was so mad he couldn’t even care about someone hearing you. You rarely see Charles mad, but you couldn’t lie and say something about him fuming wasn’t making your knees go weak.

Q - Quickie

You two had mastered the art of quickies. It isn’t unusual for you to have one before or after a race, between interviews, before events, even in the private jet’s bathroom. Although he loves to take his time with you. But everything will do, as long as he has you.

R - Risk (how risky he is)

If it wasn’t for his career, he’d be more unhinged. For now, he has only tried making you cum with his fingers under the table while you were out with some of the drivers. He loves his job and he knows he can’t afford to act too reckless if he wants to keep it.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can he go for?)

He’s more of a one looooong round typa guy. It can last up to two hours or more, and he’s going to drain all the energy out of you.

T - Toys (how does he feel about toys? does he own some?)

Charles is a grown man and knows that toys are his teammates, not his enemies. He doesn’t own any and neither do you, but he has thought a lot about buying some for you, just to switch things up a bit or for you to use them when he’s away. He’ll definitely facetime you and ask you to use them on camera so he can see.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s going to tease THE SHIT OUT OF U. He’s always playful and loves to make you frustrated. He always enjoys watching you slowly crack from his teasing.

V - Volume (how loud he is in bed)

He prefers to hear you more, and sometimes he is just too focused on what he’s doing so he doesn’t make a lot of noises. A few moans, groans and whimpers here and there. But oh boy, when he’s close? He turns it up a notch.

W - Wild card

He kind of loves it when you deny him pleasure. One day when he was streaming you decided to make things a bit spicy and crawl under the desk to give him head. To say he was surprised was an understatement, since he was used to you being more on the shy side. He wanted to end the stream right then but you made it very clear that if he did that, you’d stop. And even though it was the hardest thing he had to do, especially with the risk of people catching up on what was actually going on, he has to admit it was hot as fuck. He came so much then.

X - X-Ray (what’s under)

Charles is above average, thick and veiny. It’s a delicious stretch and hits the spot every.single.time.

Y - Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Very high. This man is almost always bricked up. He could go for it anytime.

Z - Zzz (how fast they fall asleep after)

After making sure you’re both comfortable and you’re in his arms, he’s dead asleep.

1K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 10 months

Text

Grid Kids

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your adopted family may be chaotic but you wouldn’t change it for the world

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Jailhouse Rock

It’s an ungodly hour of the morning when your phone rings. You groan, fumbling blindly on the nightstand to silence the offender. The name glowing on the screen gives you pause: Max Verstappen.

“Seb,” you mumble, nudging your husband awake. “Max is calling. It’s 3 am.”

Sebastian grumbles something unintelligible, face squished into the pillow next to you.

“You take it,” you insist, poking him again, “I spent three hours on the phone with Lewis last night promising him that Roscoe doesn’t hate him for being left at home this weekend.”

Reluctantly, Sebastian sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swipes to answer, his groggy voice filling the silent room. “Max, do you know what time it is?”

You hear a hurried explanation from Max’s end, something about a go-kart race, a party, and a tiny misunderstanding with local law enforcement. Your husband’s face becomes more incredulous with every word.

“Wait, you’re where?”

***

Ten minutes later, you find yourselves at the police station, bleary-eyed but amused. Max is sat behind bars, a sheepish look on his face.

“I promise, it wasn’t my fault,” he insists, blue eyes pleading.

You both manage to suppress your laughter. After signing a few papers, Max is free but the smug grin on Sebastian’s face tells you that he’s not going to let him off that easy.

“So, this is our life now?” you whisper to Sebastian, wrapping your arm around his. “Running a day care for unruly F1 drivers.”

He chuckles, giving you a light kiss on the forehead. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

Charles Leclerc: Open the Floodgates

It’s a stormy evening when your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a text message from Charles Leclerc: Hey, can I crash at yours? My flat’s kind of … flooded.

Sebastian, reading over your shoulder, raises an eyebrow. “Flooded?”

Before you can respond, a photo arrives — Charles’ living room, a sea of murky water with floating furniture: Okay, maybe more than just kind of.

You look at each other, suppressing laughter. “Guess we’re running a bed & breakfast now too,” you comment, already texting Charles back: Come over. Bring a mop.

***

Not an hour later, there’s a knock at your door. Charles, drenched from head to toe, stands at your doorstep, carrying what appears to be a plant pot with a small, equally wet cactus.

“I saved the cactus,” he says, looking as pitiful as a drowned rat, albeit a very cute one. He offers a half-hearted shrug, “I didn’t want it to drown.”

Sebastian bursts out laughing, his contagious mirth echoing around the hall. You can’t help but join in, hugging your sides in an attempt to remain composed.

“Well, come in. We can’t have you and the cactus catching a cold.”

***

Over the next few days, you quickly adapt to the unexpected housemate situation. Charles proves to be a surprisingly tidy guest, always washing his dishes and even cooking dinner one night (although you had to discreetly order pizza after trying his special lasagna).

In the evenings, the three of you curl up on the sofa with Sebastian’s old race replays, laughing and teasing each other. And every night, before he goes to his bed in the guest room, Charles says goodnight to his cactus — the newest member of your eccentric family.

Lance Stroll: The Cat-astrophe

A week later, you get a frantic call from Lance Stroll. “Guys, I found this cat,” he says, panting heavily, “It was all alone in the alley and I couldn't just leave it there.”

The line goes silent for a moment before Lance coughs then sneezes loudly. “Uh, guys, I think I might be allergic ...”

***

When Lance arrives, the culprit — a tiny, scruffy looking kitten — is perched on his shoulder while Lance himself is a picture of misery: puffy eyes, runny nose, and all.

Between his sneezes, Lance pleads, “Can you please keep her until I figure out what to do? I can’t just abandon her.”

You glance at Sebastian, who looks at the tiny furball with a mixture of amusement and concern. He’s been a dog person all his life but how can you say no to those pleading green eyes?

And so, your home expands to accommodate another kid — this time, a four-legged one.

***

The next few days are full of chaos. The kitten — whom Lance named Speedy — turns out to be an agent of destruction, knocking over everything in her path and giving Charles’ cactus a few worrying near misses.

You try to give Lance advice on finding a new home for Speedy while dealing with cat-proofing your own. But, during the ensuing pandemonium, you can’t help but laugh.

George Russell: The Shrunken Sweater Saga

One sunny afternoon, George Russell bursts through the door, a panicked expression on his face. “Guys, something terrible happened!”

Sebastian and you exchange a concerned look, jumping up from where you were cuddled on the couch. “What is it, George?”

He holds up a shrunken cashmere sweater, once a luxurious wardrobe piece, now resembling something only a toy poodle could wear. “I accidentally put all my sweaters in the washing machine! They’ve shrunk!”

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you can’t help but chuckle. “George, you do know cashmere isn’t machine-washable, right?”

“I thought they were!” he laments, looking at his miniature sweater in disbelief.

Sebastian claps a hand on George’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ll figure this out.”

***

Over the next few days, you and Sebastian embark on a quest to save George’s beloved cashmere sweaters. Armed with online tutorials and gallons of fabric softener, you attempt various rescue techniques.

Some of the sweaters regain a semblance of their former glory while others are beyond saving. You present George with a colorful assortment of shrunken clothing which he accepts with an embarrassed grin.

***

A sudden thought strikes you and you can’t help but giggle. Holding up a particularly tiny sweater, you call out to Speedy.

“Look, Speedy! It’s your size!” you exclaim as you gently dress her in the shrunken garment. It fits her perfectly, making her look like the most stylish cat on the block.

The sight of Speedy strutting around in a cashmere sweater breaks all of you into laughter. Even George can’t help but chuckle, despite his heartbreaking loss.

***

In the following days, Speedy parades around the house, flaunting her new wardrobe. George’s shrunken sweaters have found a new purpose, and despite the initial panic, everything worked out in the end.

“This is the most high-fashion cat I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian comments one day, watching Speedy strut her stuff on the living room rug. “She should be on a runway.”

George, watching his beloved sweaters being put to good use, grins. “I think they look better on her than they did on me.”

Speedy watches you with a lazy stare, now comfortably nestled in her new family’s hearts (and cashmere sweaters).

Lando Norris: Call the Milk Man

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon when the doorbell rings, jolting you out of your peaceful nap. Groggily, you stumble towards the door, pulling it open to reveal a sheepish-looking Lando Norris.

“Hi, I was just wondering,” he starts, shifting nervously from foot to foot, “Do you have some milk I could borrow? I ran out and the shops are closed.”

Suppressing a smile, you nod, motioning for him to wait while you go fetch the milk.

***

When you hand Lando the milk, he seems relieved. But then, he looks at the container quizzically. “Why is it in a glass bottle? Don’t you use cartons?”

Your laughter fills the hallway as you explain your household’s eco-friendly policy. Lando listens attentively, his previous discomfort replaced with genuine curiosity. You can tell he’s taking mental notes.

***

Over the next few weeks, Lando pops by more frequently. Sometimes he borrows more milk, other times he just wants to chat about sustainability, an interest sparked during his first milk visit.

One day, he arrives at your doorstep with a broad grin and a glass bottle in hand. “Look, I’ve switched to glass milk bottles too!”

Sebastian will be proud.

Mick Schumacher: Comfort in Company

One evening, you find Mick Schumacher sitting alone in your backyard, gazing at the stars. His usually cheerful face is thoughtful, his eyes a little glossy.

“Mick, everything alright?” you ask, settling down next to him on the grass.

He looks at you then at the stars again. “I just ... I miss my dad, you know?”

The silence hangs in the air, thick with emotions. You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to miss him. You don’t have to hide it. Especially not here with us.”

He nods, wiping his eyes. “I know. It’s just some days it hits harder than others.”

You stay with him, listening as he talks about his dad, his memories both sweet and poignant. You realize that while you’ve adopted your grid kids into your chaotic family, they each come with their own sets of joys and sorrows.

***

Sebastian joins you two after a while and the three of you sit under the stars, sharing stories and remembrances. Mick smiles as Sebastian tells him stories about racing with Michael, the camaraderie they shared, and the respect they had for each other.

By the end of the night, Mick seems lighter, the earlier sadness replaced with a soft smile of remembrance. He thanks both of you for listening and understanding. “You guys really are like a second family to me.”

The Big Announcement

One sunny afternoon, you gather all your grid kids in the living room. The chatter is lively, the room buzzing with energy as they try to figure out why they’ve been summoned.

Sebastian gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you both stand in front of your unconventional family.

“We’ve called you all here because we have some news,” you begin, heart pounding in your chest.

***

When you finally tell them you're pregnant, the room falls into a stunned silence, their wide-eyed expressions making you chuckle. But then, as the news sinks in, the silence is broken by whoops of joy and congratulations.

“Wow, so we’re going to be big brothers?” Max exclaims, while Lando jokes about teaching the baby to prank Sebastian, Mick looks almost teary-eyed with happiness, and George immediately volunteers for babysitting duties.

***

With your pregnancy announcement, your grid kids go into overdrive. They begin to dote on you in a way that’s both touching and a little overwhelming. From Charles insisting on cooking you healthy meals (despite his previous lasagna disaster) to Max bringing you comfortable pregnancy pillows, everyone tries to make you as comfortable as possible.

Lance even makes Speedy wear a bell around her neck in case she inadvertently startles you. The cat isn’t pleased but the sight of her jingling around the house keeps everyone entertained.

***

As the weeks go by, their concern borders on overprotectiveness. They fuss over you at the smallest things, like Max insisting on driving you to your doctor’s appointments because he’s “the fastest driver” or Lando continually adjusting the house temperature to ensure you’re never too hot or cold.

While their actions are well-intended, they often become hilariously excessive. One day, you find Mick baby-proofing the house even though the baby isn’t due for months. He sheepishly shrugs, “Just trying to be prepared.”

***

Despite the chaos, their actions stem from love and concern, which warms your heart. One evening, you find yourself surrounded by your grid kids as you sit in the living room, their laughter filling the air.

As you watch them, your hand gently resting on your growing belly, you can’t help but feel grateful. These young drivers, your grid kids, have become such a vital part of your life. Their genuine care and, at times, overzealous concern during your pregnancy only emphasize the strong bond you share.

Your family may not be traditional and your daily life may be filled with mayhem but it’s your life with Sebastian and the grid kids. It’s chaotic, hilarious, and unpredictable — and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

The Big Day

The day finally arrives when you’re rushed to the hospital. Sebastian is by your side, holding your hand through every contraction, while your grid kids anxiously wait in the waiting room, pacing and biting their nails.

A few hours later, when your newborn daughter makes her entrance into the world, Sebastian walks out to the young drivers, his eyes sparkling with joy and exhaustion. “You can meet her now.”

The joy and anticipation in the room is palpable as they rush in, crowding around the hospital room door in their eagerness.

The sight that greets them is nothing short of heartwarming. You’re in bed, looking tired but blissful, a tiny bundle nestled in your arms.

As they take turns holding the little one, their faces light up in awe. From Max’s gentle cooing to Lando’s finger being gripped by tiny hands to Mick’s unashamed happy tears to Charles’ whispered lullaby in French and George’s soft-spoken promise to be the “coolest brother,” the room is filled with a warm sense of family.

Even Speedy, smuggled into the hospital in Lance’s jacket, gets to sniff the newest human member of the family, much to the nurses’ chagrin.

A Baby in the Paddock

Several months later, the paddock welcomes an unexpected visitor — your baby daughter, wrapped snugly in a cute onesie with a tiny racing helmet print. As you push her stroller through the crowd, your grid kids and their fellow drivers are visibly smitten by the adorable sight.

Your grid kids instantly surround your daughter, their faces lighting up as they coo and make silly faces to elicit giggles. They take turns pushing her stroller and you can’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm in their newfound roles as big brothers.

Sebastian, ever the proud father, looks on with warm amusement as he watches your daughter bond with her extended family.

***

Amid the hustle and bustle of the paddock, your daughter experiences her first pit stop as Charles and Lando try to change her diaper. Even Mick, the baby-proofing master, hovers nearby to ensure everything goes smoothly.

You can’t help but admire their dedication and the way they’ve embraced their roles as her protectors and playmates.

***

At the end of the day, you gather the whole group for a family photo. Your daughter, held by Max and Mick on either side, steals the show with her toothless grin.

As you look at the photo later, you realize that this quirky, chaotic family has grown and changed in the most beautiful ways. Your daughter has been embraced by these young drivers, who have become her brothers and protectors, just as they’ve become sons to you.

A New Racer on the Track

Years pass in the blink of an eye and soon your little girl is no longer a baby. She’s grown into a lively child with a love for speed, much like her father. Today, she’s ready to participate in her first karting race, and the whole gang — your grid kids now with seven World Championships between them — are here to support her.

As they gather around the track, an old joke resurfaces. Max points at a particular bend in the track, nudging Charles with a smirk. “Remember the inchident?”

Charles groans, rolling his eyes, “Not this again. It was years ago!”

Laughter breaks out among the group, their bond echoing through the years.

***

Before the race, each of your grid kids offers your daughter their sage advice. From Lando’s “always keep your cool” to George’s “remember to enjoy the ride,” her brothers are keen to impart their wisdom. Mick even attempts to show her how to properly do a pit stop, using a toy car and tiny plastic cones.

Your daughter, with a sparkling helmet almost too big for her head, listens earnestly, her wide eyes moving from one brother to the next.

When the race finally starts, your grid kids cheer on loudly, their voices carrying over the vroom of the karts. The sight of your daughter, determined behind the wheel of her tiny kart, brings a surge of pride and a few tears to your eyes.

As the race ends, your daughter crosses the finish line in third place, a beaming smile on her face. She’s welcomed back to the pit by a roaring cheer from her family, her brothers lifting her onto their shoulders.

***

That night, the celebration is filled with laughter, teasing, and an impromptu re-enactment of the inchident by Charles and Max, much to your daughter’s amusement.

Sebastian lifts his glass for a toast, “To our little racer, may you always find joy on the track. And remember, an inchident is only funny if it doesn’t happen to you.”

Laughter fills the room once again, and you can’t help but marvel at the love and joy surrounding you. These are the moments you cherish the most, moments of laughter and unity shared with this extraordinary, unconventional family.

As you watch your daughter being coddled and celebrated by her brothers, you realize that this legacy of love and support will always continue, and for that, you couldn’t be happier.

4K notes · View notes

xxblairexxss · 10 months

Text

Belief

Pairing : dad!Charles Leclerc x mom!reader

Theme : Angst, fluff

Still felt like something’s missing with this one 😩

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Y/N, listen–“

“No, Charles, I’m done.” You brushed past him with your duffel bag that you had prepared days before because you knew he would still keep on denying everything.

“What do you mean you’re done? Y/N, please listen to me.”

“Let’s go, baby.” Taking your baby girl’s hand, you pulled her up to her feet as she threw her toys on the floor.

“Where are you going? Y/N, you can’t do this to me.

“I’m going home. I’m not coming back until you set your priority straight.” You took little steps while your daughter trailed after you, constantly checking back, wondering why her daddy is not coming along.

“I told you she’s a new physiotherapist ! Please, don’t do this.”

“Physiotherapist won’t be in your room all cuddled up like that! You think I’m a fool?” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, eyes still looking at your husband in disbelief as you felt every trust you had for him far gone.

“I don’t know what the news said but those didn’t happen, baby–“

“Don’t call me that.”

He breathed in, hand on his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut and took a step back. “Y/N, none of the things happened. Yes, she was in my room but nothing happened. You need to trust me!”

“Dada not come?” Your daughter asked as she stood up after you put on her shoes. Her little hand goes back into yours.

“Dada’s not coming, sweetheart. Dada has work.” You tugged on her little hands and turned around to leave but she refused to follow, pulling you back the the little force she had.

“But I want dada.” She yanked her hand from your grip and ran back to hug Charles’s legs. “Dada follow?”

Charles then crouched down and gave his little girl a kiss on her forehead. “Dada can’t come, princess. Take care of mommy for dada, alright?” His arm went around her little frame when the circled her arms around his neck, hugging him.

“See you later, dada!”

“Y/N.” The soft tone of his voice nearly knocked down the wall that you were trying to build in your heart. When you turned around, you saw he took few steps closer to plant a kiss on your forehead, mumbling the words “I love you” as he pulled away. Both you and Charles had made a promise on the early stage of your dating life that both of you would never go a day without an I love you because tomorrow wasn’t confirmed, regardless of how bad the arguments would be. “And I’m sorry…”

You didn’t look at him when you pulled away to make your way to your car. You didn’t want to ignore the words, but you also didn’t want to say it back so you just mumbled the words back under your breath. Your little girl had her half body turned sideways jusy so she could kept on waving to her dad, unconcerned with the problems going on.

If it wasn’t for the constant tagging, you would have been left in the dark. Checking your social media had always been apart of your wind down activity but you weren’t expecting to have over 100+ notifications one night, people tagging you on a screenshot of news article about your husband exposed to be having a short “intimate break” with a new woman. The articles were supported heavily with a blurry picture of your husband and the woman walking out of the driver’s room after which was what they assumed as a quickie before the race in Hungary. People started making fun of your marriage, saying that you tricked Charles into one by getting pregnant on purpose or you got pregnant as soon after the wedding because you wanted to secure the bag and some of them even assume Charles was forced to stay in the marriage not because of love but because of the child and his image.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Though you had been living separately for nearly a month, Charles would always came by. Sometimes it would a short 5 minutes where he just dropped by to give his little daughter a new toy or just a short cuddling session. You felt guilty of course, because your daughter had always been daddy’s girl but you couldn’t be in the same house with him without thinking about the pictures so you had to continuously tell her that Charles was busy with his fast car.

“Don’t go!” Your daughter cried out and tugged on her dad’s hand, dragging him back into the living room. “Dada can’t go!”

“I need to go, princess.” He drew his lips back, squatting down to level his face with hers. “We spent half a day together, didn’t we?” His arm was stretched out again as she kept on trying to pull him back.

“Can dada stay?”

He looked up and caught your eyes on him with your arms folded. “I’m not sure mommy wants that. Why don’t you go and ask mommy?”

“Can dada stay tonight, mommy? Please please!” She ran to hug your legs and pulled on your shirt to get your attention.

“Sleep on the couch. I’ll get a blanket for you.” You left those two together shrieking with laughters and came back with blanket to find both of them cuddling on the couch. “Are you gonna sleep with dada on the couch tonight?”

“Yes! Mommy too?” She scooted aside and pat on the empty space. “Mommy too!”

“Mommy will sleep in the room, okay?” You bended down to peck on her forehead and looked at Charles who has been staring at you. “Make sure she sleeps by 9.”

“Thank you.” He took your hand and you snatched it back before matching to your room.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Baby, what are you doing with my phone?”

You had just done putting on your skincare and walked out of the bathroom to see your little girl looking sullen as she was holding your phone. “No answer?” She raised the phone up as it shook a little from the unbalanced weight between the phone and her little grip.

“Answer? Who are you calling?”

“Y/N, is there–“

“Hi dada!”

“oh, hi, princess!”

You froze when you heard Charles’s voice. When did she even learn how to call someone or more specifically, her own dad.

“Dada! Hello!”

“Hi, I miss you so much.”

Your daughter squealed and clapped her hands, bringing the phone that was larger than her hand closer to her mouth. “Miss you too!”

“Where’s mommy? Is mommy okay?”

Your lips were pressed into a thin line. Sure, you can still acted all fine in front of your daughter but that doesn’t mean you could play pretend with your feelings. I miss you, Charles.

“Mommy is okay. Mommy was putting cream on face.”

“Oh, yeah? Mommy always takes a long time in front of the mirror, right princess?”

“Yeah, very long time! Mommy always goes dab dab.”

You heard him chuckle and continued the conversations until he had to end the call. “Princess, dada has to go. Listen to mommy and be a good girl. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Bye, dada! I love you.”

“Bye, princess. Tell mommy I said I love you.”

She stood up and ran to you, handing you back the phone with the brightest smile, which had everything to do with the little time with her dad.

“Dada said I love you mommy!”

“I love you too.” She giggled in your arms as you poked on her waist. “Who taught you how to call dada, hm?”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You were sitting at the living room, leaving Charles and your daughter having their own time. Faint giggles and maffles could be heard filling the silence.

“Girl secured the bag but still got cheated on.”

“Proof that a child is not enough to make a man loyal. Good try, girl.”

Though it had been more than a month since what happened, your social media was still full of unpleasant comments. Your life had been in a downward spiral, even more when Ferrari’s official account had posted a few photos from the weekend and you saw the woman who was in the picture with Charles months ago in the background of the photos. The comments were quick to jump into their own assumptions and speculations, making you felt more oppressed within every minute you spent on your phone.

“Where’s she?” You asked when you saw Charles in the living room, no longer hearing her squeals and laughters. Your phone was no longer in your hand as you turned it off. Charles had took a seat on the couch, afar from you since you kept on shutting him out so he just knew you wouldn’t want him close to you this time as well.

“She’s asleep.” He grabbed your hand as you were walking trying to walk pass him to get yourself a drink. “Bab– Y/N, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Charles.”

“You can’t keep on doing this.” He was now standing only a step away. “I miss you. I don’t want to come home to an empty house. Please, tell me what you want me to do.” His fingers softly traced your cheek, making your heart beat faster, yearning for more of his touch. “I’ll fix the mess. I’ll speak up about this, let the news clear out my name, your name. I need you, Y/N, please.”

You wanted to give in. You were so close to give into his wishes, his plead but you couldn’t. Never once in your life would you imagine yourself to be in a situation where your husband got tangled up with another woman that people started making fun of your innocent child.

“You need to leave.” You paced back, feeling his touch leaving an imprint on your skin.

“Y/N,”

“Leave, please. I’m not doing this tonight.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

The scream of your daughter took up the house as she saw Charles walked through the door. You had told Charles you wanted to do a small birthday for her and he had set everything up that you didn’t have to lift a finger. A day before a group of people came by to start putting on balloons and ribbons in your house. The food and drinks started ti arrive a few hours ago so you were only left with a few task when you had to dress her up and prepare a few starter and dessert. The guests were not a lot. You had invited your friends, their kids, family members and of course, Charles.

“Hey, princess! Happy birthday!”

Charles immediately picked her up and attacked her chubby cheeks with kisses, causing her to squirm while giggling. “You are so pretty, princess. Did you wear mommy’s lipstick?” He laughed and wiped the smudge at the ends of her lips.

“I stole mommy’s lipstick!”

“Knew it! You should have asked mommy to help put it on you. Where’s mommy?” She had ran to join her friends back to the small backyard garden, leaving Charles’s question left unanswered as he ambled to the kitchen to see you were preparing a cheese board for the guests.

“Do you need help?

“Oh, yeah. Can you help me open the pack of crackers and just plate it nicely on this serving board? You handed him the board to which he took it and started opening crackers that you had placed on the kitchen counter while you went back to cutting the cheese.

Both of you were doing things in silence so you didn’t bother to check up on him as you only asked his help for the simplest task ever. One that even your daughter could do.

You had realised it wasn’t as simple as you thought it was when you looked at the board which was supposed to be filled with crackers, were only filled with a few ones while the rest went into his mouth.

“Charles!” Charles’s hand stop moving as he looked at you. “I asked you to put them on the board, not eat them!”

“It’s addictive. Give it a try.” He offered you one and you took it, chuckling as you chew. “Right? I told you! It’s tasteless but it’s good. Do you want more?”

He moved closer to put the cracker to your mouth when you declined, making you laugh as you tried to move your face away. “It’s not that good. I don’t want it!”

He cackled along, arm finding its way on your waist as he pulled you close. “God, I missed you so much.”

“Hello?”

“Yeah–” The smile on your face ceased as your eyes landed on the owner of the voice, the same woman who was caught in a gossip with the guy standing in front of you. “Oh, hi.”

“Y/N, this is Leah. She’s–“ Charles tried to grab your arm as you tried to walk out of the kitchen. “Baby, wait–“

“I need to check on my daughter.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Isn’t that the girl that was in the picture? Did you invite her?”

The drink in your hand tasted somewhat bitter. “No, she came with Charles.” You replied, eyes locked on your daughter as she played with her dad and Leah in the backyard.

“Is he trying to introduce you to his new girlfriend?”

“I don’t know.” You stretched out your arms as your little girl came running to you. “Did you have fun with dada?”

“Yes! Can mommy play too?” She jumped and tugged on your finger to get you off the couch. “Please please!”

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” You patted her head, giving your friends a glance as you trailed after her to the backyard where Charles was on the grass, joining by your daughter after.

“Dada, let mommy be the tagged!”

“You asked me to join you only for you to gang up with dada? Come here!” You gasped dramatically and chased after her while she waddled to the end of the backyard. “Oh, tag.” Charles had just stood on his feet and stopped by your side as he saw you focusing on the little girl when you tapped on his arm.

“Oh, come on! Really? I thought you were chasing after her.” Charles groaned. He barely had a 5 minutes break and thought you were chasing after the little one instead of him, which was why he wasn’t running away.

“I can’t catch her!”

“Okay, then I’ll just tag you back.” He poked on your cheek, laughing when you clicked on your tongue, thing that you always do when you get annoyed.

“Charles, can I borrow you for a second?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He left your side when Leah called out for him, both of them seemed to be engrossed in a discussion. Leaving you alone while your daughter had found her way back into her group of friends. You saw your friends’ sympathetic eyes on you as they called you out to join them back.

You felt pathetic.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

For the rest of the birthday party, you tried to ignore Charles and his partner though you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Every time you caught a glance of both of them, exchanging conversations and smiles while she kept on showing something on her phone, tears would welled up in your eyes and you couldn’t cry, not today. Today isn’t about you.

“Baby, can you please stop ignoring me?”

You bumped into Charles as you tried to head to to kitchen and he had gripped on your arm, forcing you to stay as you were trying to get away from Charles again when the front door opened as you saw a man with 2 kids around your daughter’s age walked in with a birthday present nicely wrapped in his hand.

“Happy birthday!” The kids shrieked and handed the birthday present to your daughter as they ran to join the kids outside.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Leah exclaimed as she pulled the man into a hug. “Y/N, this is my husband and my kids. I hope you don’t mind three extra guests?”

“No, not at all.” A soft smiled creeped in as a mask to hide your true feelings before you made your way into your room with Charles chasing after you.

You felt so dumb. First you had to see your husband’s new “girlfriend” then having to constantly see your husband played with your kid while his new girl a step away as she laughed and smiled along, one when your husband left your side in a blink the second Leah called out for him, only to find out that all of that was just an act and that she actually had a husband and kids. You felt your throat tighten up as you breathed in a short intake. “Did you try to make me look like a fool because you aced it.”

“No, that’s– no, not at all. Y/N–“

“I feel so woeful and pathetic. If this– if this is your payback because I took your daughter away, I’m sorry.” You sobbed into the palm of your hands.

“Baby, no. No, that– that’s not it. You got the wrong idea. I brought her along because I had a scheduled medical checkup and she had to tag along. I thought she could be the one to explain to you what actually happened since you refused to listen to my explanation.” Your trembling hand in now in his while he cupped his free hand on your left cheek, thumb wiped off the fresh tears that rolled down you cheeks. It had been a week since the last time he touched you, month since he hugged you and there was a hole in his heart from your absence. You didn’t reject him, not this time so he continued. “Yes, she was in the room with me but I was asleep and she was looking for my stuff. Something that she wanted to borrow. We didn’t cuddle or do anything at all. Not like how the news portrayed. She came in with Joris because he had the access to my room but they didn’t catch that moment so it just seemed like there was only both of us.”

Your tongue was tied, your head was in a shamble. You didn’t know know what to do, what to react, what to respond. If what he was saying was true, then why did he seemed so close with her. Why would he go to his daughter’s birthday party with her. Why would he left you just because she called out for him.

“You know how much I love you, Y/N. I would never do anything that would break your trust on me. I was asleep. I would have asked Joris to not allow her inside my room if I was awake. I didn’t know there were pictures taken.”

“I don’t know, Charles. I’m just– “ You tilted you head away as you felt your throat closing up. “Everything I saw earlier didn’t make it seemed as if nothing happened between you guys.”

“What did you see?” He leaned in, tugging on your hand in his just so you would look back at him. “Tell me, baby, what did you see?”

“You came to the birthday party with her looking like a happy couple as if you tried to shove that in my face.”

“We didn’t. We didn’t come together, Y/N. She drove her own car but we came from the same place, remember? Her husband wanted to buy a last minute birthday gift, just before they came here so she had to ask for my opinion since they didn’t know what they should give.” You felt his thumb kept on stroking the back of your hand, he wanted to pull you in his embrace but he couldn’t afford getting rejected again. He didn’t know if you wanted him to touch you but grateful enough that you didn’t retract your hand away so he wouldn’t ask for more if your weren’t comfortable just yet.

“I am such a fool…” Your voice trailed off with tears streaming down your face.

“No, you are not a fool. You needed reassurance which I failed to give.” Charles then surrendered to his own wish and eventually engulfed you in his arms. “Is this okay? Can I hug you?” He didn’t get your response but he felt your arms on his back, returning the hug.

“I’m sorry…” You tilted your head to look at him with swollen eyes.

“We are both at fault here.” He drew in his arms tighter around your frame. “Will you come back to me? Come back home?”

“Do you still want me back?”

“I will always want you back, baby. Always.” He pulled away and pecked on your cheek, chuckling when you started having hiccups from crying too much.

“Dada?”

He pulled away and turned to look at his little girl walked in with a lollipop in her hand. You stayed behind Charles so you could pat your eyes dry before she noticed.

“Is mommy okay?” She slanted her body to peek on you as Charles continued to cover you with his back.

“Mommy’s fine, princess. Mommy’s eyes just hurt a little.”

“Give mommy this!” She offered Charles her lollipop, making both of you laughed.

“Charles took the lollipop and extended it to you. “Would you like a lollipop, baby?”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj

if your usernames were crossed meaning I can’t tag you 😭 let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist! or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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lecl3rcw · 1 month

Text

KEEPING UP WITH THE LECLERCS | leclerc brothers x reader

_______________________

part 1

“Y/N, it’s the middle of the fucking night in Monaco? You better have a good ass reason too wake me up” Arthur groaned at his twin as he groggily.

“You won’t believe it.” She says

“What?”

“THE BENGALS INVITED ME TO THEIR GAME” she says, a sudden burst of excitement ran through her

“Who are the bengals again?” He sighs

“….”

“Oh wait, it’s that one dude you like, what was his name again Joe Burrow?”

“YEAH AND GET THIS, I can bring up to 5 people, so you’re coming and so are Charles, Alex, Lorenzo and Maman” she says excitedly.

“Who says I’m going?” He says, earning himself a scowl.

“You don’t want to come?” She says, “well I mean not really”

“Ofcourse you don’t! I always show up for your events and you never show up for mine” she says, maliciousness lacing her tone.

“Y/N please, this isn’t your event, you’re not walking the runway or attending a premiere” he says, his tone now matching hers.

“Well even if I was, not like you’d show up anyways” she mutters.

“What are you yapping about? You’re being so dramatic, I mean not everything revolves around you okay? Some of us have actual problems” he says giving the final blow.

The girl takes a deep breath to collect her self. All her life she had spent living in the shadows of her siblings. She just wanted someone to show up for her, she remembers her first runway show, she had 4 seats reserved for her family yet when she walked out, all 4 of those chairs were empty, why? Because Charles had a last minute deals with a brand. They called and apologized and Ofcourse she put a brave face on, but only the walls of her room heard the way she cried herself to sleep that night.

“You know what? I’m going to let that slide, I don’t know what’s going on with you but I hope you make peace with yourself, and you don’t have to come, I’ll just ask Charles and Enzo. But anyways goodnight” she says

“Y/N-” Arthur tries to interrupt but she hangs up before he can say anything.

Had she overreacted? She felt a sudden rush of guilt overcome her. She couldn’t help but overthink. Her train of thoughts were interrupted by a FaceTime call from her brother's girlfriend.

"Hey babygirl" Alexandra says, "Hey bae, what's up?" she says propping her phone up on the table.

“Just checking in with you and your man situation” Alex says, her and Charles were in the Maldives, “oh it’s good, I got invited to the bengals game so” she replies, “WAIT THATS SO GOOD” Alex says excitedly, Y/N smiles.

“Do you and Charles want to come with me?” She asks hopeful, “well Charles will be preparing for his race but I can definitely come!! When is it?” She asks, “next week!”

“Oh yeah I can definitely make it!” She says,

“Ok we can fly together!! But I I’ll see you next week love ya!” She says hanging up.

The week came even before she could blink.

“So Y/N you excited?” Alexandra says, and Y/N nods.

When they arrive at the stadium, Y/N is immediately greeted by the bengals team.

“Thankyou so much for being our guest, I’m the head coach Zac Taylor” a man says reaching his hand to which she smiles and accepts.

“This is my friend Alexandra!” She says as Alex also shakes his hand, from the corner of her eye, Y/N could feel a certain pair of blue eyes stare at her, and her cheek flushed more.

She waves to the rest of the team, however the man with blue eyes seems to approach her first. “Hey, my name is Joe, I’m the quarterback” he says extending his hand, “I’m going to be honest, I have no idea what that it” Y/N chuckles shaking his hand which caused him to smile.

“Well if you umm give me your number maybe some time could teach you about football” he says very smoothly, which causes her to get flustered.

“Oh yeah, d-definitely! Here” she says giving him her number as he smiles, “you have such a beautiful smile” Joe says bringing up her hand to his lips before letting it go, “I’ll talk to you later” he says waving before going to get ready for his game. She just stands there in shock wondering what happened.

Alexandra squeals, “I saw that!! Y/N he so likes you” she says hugging the girl.

Y/N laughs and shakes her head, but the whole time she couldn’t take her eyes of him.

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y/n.leclerc

y/n.leclerc modeling for Dior has always been a dream of mine, so thankful to take this huge step into my career with the most amazing photographers, stylists, and makeup artists🫶🏻

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alexandrasaintmleux mami😍

^ y/n.leclerc kiss me rn😍

charles_leclerc alex has been staring at the phone for the past 15 minutes….

^ y/n.leclerc sounds like a you problem bud😪

fan1 NOT JOE BURROW LIKING?!!?!

^ fan2 IK HE NEVER LIKES

joeburrowswife idk I don’t see the hype

^ y/n2fine yet she’s pulling your “man”

rachelzegler welcome to the squad Y/N❤️

^ y/n.leclerc Thankyou rach💕🥹

bellahadid weird way to propose but yes😍

^ y/n.leclerc SHE SAID YES YALL💍👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc #joe burrow x reader #nfl imagine #arthur leclerc x reader

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jo-com · 6 days

Text

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡° ➛ Recital

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Ballet reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: They show the whole world how proud they are for you by attending your recital, along with them was your cutesy little angel.

Genre: throuple and Wholesome moment with them

Note: This is not proofread and they contain grammatical errors also google translated french and dutch but i hope you enjoy

───── ─ ୧⋆｡🩰✧ ─ ───────

“Maman?” Your two year old daughter babbled, her hands moving up and down and fingers balled up to a fist—creating a grabby hand like gesture.

Motioning for Charles to carry her to which he gladly obliges.

“Yes, mon bébé, we are going to see maman” Charles said in a toddler like voice and then proceeds to twirl her in the air earning a cutesy giggle from their daughter.

“Stop, papa” she laughed, gripping tightly onto charles’ shirt to avoid slipping off his embrace. “Okay, okay, i’ll stop in one condition.”

Charlotte cocked her head to the side curiously; waiting for her dad to continue.

“With a kiss” Charles added, grinning mischievously as he stared at their daughter’s expression. Her once curious gaze turned into happy ones after hearing his “condition.”

“No papa, kisses are only for maman” she shook her head a ‘no’ and rested both her hands on her tiny hips.

She was trying to look intimidating but with her doey face she just looked like a bunny trying to act tough.

With that Charles erupted into a fit of laughter at their daughter’s movements. Making charlotte lean her head to the side and looked at her dad confusingly— thinking what made him laugh like that.

“What are you guys doing? Have you even finished getting ready?”

Charles freezes, hearing a familiar voice that came from the corner of the room to where the door was— and let me tell you; that voice does not sound happy. At all.

“Ah mon amour, yes we’ve finished” he chucked dryly.

“But papa, we haven’t put in my bows” she whispered, well she was trying to at least.

“I heard that” Max said, his brows knitted to a frown and hands rested in his hip. Wow like father like daughter.

Charles widened his eyes and scratched the back of his neck, mumbling a low ‘oh hehe’.

Max rolled his eyes, not in a mean way though more like a ‘i am going to kick your ass later’ kind of way. “We’re going to be late” he muttered and carefully took charlotte out of charles’ arms.

“Come on Mijn liefste (my sweet), let’s get you ready”

“Do you need any help, Mon cœur?.” Charles asked, wanting to ease his lover’s anger. He smiled from ear to ear showing of his dimples and of course max can’t resist that look.

He shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes this time, “sure darling”— Charles’ heart then swelled with love at the nickname.

Without a moment to spear the two of them started to fix Charlotte’s bow.

…

Finally, after what felt like forever they had arrive at the theater to where your recital was happening.

They walked along the crowded floor; looking for their reserved seat, and once they spotted their names they soon sat down and waited patiently for the show to start.

…

“Curtains up in five people,” the assistant director yelled, loud enough for only the people in backstage can hear.

You sighed nervously— shaking off the nerves with a few practice Battement tendu. You do that every performance you do, just to let out some of the pre show jitters. It somehow calms your nerves down.

After five minutes was up, the spoke person started to announce the performance and tiny little information about the recital; along with it was the curtains being pulled up to reveal all the ballet dancers including yourself.

The First song was then played and all of you started dance gracefully to the beat of the sound— who ever watched it, will be amazed on how Synchronized you guys were. As if you all were one person that’s playing tricks on their mind making them think that you’re plenty.

Amidst the crowd, there charlotte was. Her eyes fixated on your dancing figure; she was at awe on how beautiful and elegant you look just by dancing alone.

She mindlessly tugged Max’s tux without breaking her eyes off yours.

“Maman is so pretty papa” she mumbled.

Her heart full of adoration for her mom. She wishes she could be there at stage with you and hug you like crazy.

Max smiled, looking at their daughter as she gazed at you; eyes filled with proudness and love. He then tapped Charles on the shoulder and whispered what charlotte said to him.

Now the three of them were smiling brightly.

…

After the show ended, the three of them made their way backstage to your dressing room.

Charles was holding charlotte in his arm but she was quick to go down as soon, as you guys stepped in-front of your door.

She knocked frantically, waiting for you to open the door, when you did she ran as fast as she can and hugged you tightly down your waist.

“Maman, you looked so amazing back there” she yelled, her hug only getting tighter with excitement.

“Merci mon bébé” you smiled, stroking the roof of her head soothingly.

Both Charles and Max went towards you two and kissed the both sides of your cheeks.

“If you were there, you could see how adorable she looked” charles chuckled, making charlotte pout.

“You’re not supposed to say that papa” she grumbled and broke from your embrace and softly hit Charles’ leg.

Max and you giggled at the two; seeing them ‘fight’ was the cutest thing ever. At that moment you were so happy to have them, if you were to choose to replay one memory it would be this— the laughter from both your husbands and the pouty face of your daughter. Everything was just so perfect.

…

Miss.y/n just posted!

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Miss.yn Merci to my number 1 supporters!🩰

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…

Sorry I couldn’t write for a while because of my writes block😭😭 but i js finished this and there are more in my draft so i hope you enjoyed!!

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thisismeracing · 2 months

Text

A real goal getter | CL16

―Pairing: Charles Leclerc x footballer!reader ―Warnings: curse words and typos; ―Summary: When fans see Charles at one of your soccer matches, they start speculating what he is doing at a stadium he's never been to, talking to a guy he never talked with (who happens to be your best friend). When they discover you're together, they agree you're the best player, but Charles is the goal scorer for landing someone as amazing as you. (based on this request).

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yourusername had the reddest week ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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arsenalarson london's fav girl 🤍

alessia luv you guys!

charles_leclerc 👏👏👏

⤷ redleclerc I- ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE 😂😂😂😂

⤷ sainzsins he's feeding into the rumors (I would too if I were him, maybe she would notice me and we would fr be together)

⤷ williamsalbono some of y'all don't know reality and it's showing lol

ynfan 🩷🩷

masonmountgirlie not an arsenal fan, but I will never stop defending the fact that yn is one of the best out there

ynsgoal patiently waiting for the next match

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc Happy third anniversary, couldn't have a better celebration than finally sharing our love with the world ❤️❤️

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pia-nor481 · 2 months

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Charles Leclerc NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)

He's very passionate and so will want to just lay there and cuddle for a while before picking her up and carrying her towards the bath, where they continue to bask in each other.

B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)

I'm lead to believe he doesn't have a specific favourite. But he likes ass and tits equally, I think he's one of those men who would slap your ass when you stand up. He also loves to hold her waist, no matter the situation.

On himself he really likes his arms. He loves seeing them around her body.

C-Cum (anything to do with cum)

Charles cums a lot, and pretty often. He definitely likes to cum inside of her, it doesn't matter whether it's a cunt or her mouth. He just loves it.

D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s not a big fan of deep throating when getting a blow job. He’s not too sure why, but he never understood the appeal. He does however a little bit of pain when getting head.

E- Experience (how experienced are they)

Have you seen him? Very experienced. He's not a big fan of hookups but he doesn't need to be guided too much as he's able to read her body language easily.

F- Favourite position

He actually loves missionary, especially when her legs are wrapped around him. He also loves bath sex so much, it's also so soft and comforting, she's usually on top of him, but he's thrusting up.

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

from time to time sex can be filled with giggles and jokes. But usually he's pretty serious as his focus is pleasure and how much he loves her.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

He definitely shaves pretty often, or at least in neatly trimmed. It makes the clean up easier, and he thinks it just looks better.

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

He's SO intimate, he loves to watch her come undone and just wants to show her all of his love. He's very romantic and he loves to fill the bedroom with candles or take her on a lovely date and once they get home he makes love to her.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't masturbate very often as he like to wait for her. But if that's not possible, she would definitely be receiving a call. He doesn't like to masturbate while just thinking, he wants to hear or see her.

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Mommy kink- but he is too scared to say so. He wants it's so bad, and he's been planning on how to tell her for months. Maybe it just slips out while she’s on top and he’s very shocked at what he’s said, but it’s very happy when he realised she liked it

Mirrors- he knows he’s hot, let’s be honest Charles is a little vain and wants to watch himself fucking her

Recording- is this a kink? Anyway, he likes to watch so his favourite thing is recording them and watching it a few weeks later on race weekends

Food play- even just the concept of licking syrup off of her body gets him going. That’s not to say he doesn’t like it on himself. Feeling her touch makes him lose his mind.

L- Location (their favourite place)

He likes hotel rooms because it can get pretty mess a lot of the time. He likes his yacht, it can be quite risky, but nothing he'd shy away from.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

Post race sex, that high he gets. Her wearing any of his clothes, it turns him on so much that he just can't resist.

N- No (what turns them off)

Anything usually considered gross. Or extreme pain.

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)

He LOVES giving, he could spend hours between her legs, lapping up her cunt. He just loves it so much, so he is very skilled. He does like getting head, but he much prefers to go down on her. He knows all the techniques and is prepared to learn more.

P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

Definitely more slow and sensual, he is NOT a lazy lover. He wants her to feel his passion and love, and that is the best way to do it. He definitely likes to be rough, but not particularly fast., this is usually after a bad race, or sometimes even after a win.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)

He has a very neutral opinion and so is not opposed, I think if they were short on time he'd prefer to just wait, or if he was that desperate, he'd happily have a blow job. Overall he prefers to take his time.

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He probably really dislikes taking risks, but that does not mean he's completely vanilla. He just doesn't want anything to end badly in any way, so this is kind of his way of preventing it. But don't worry he does switch things up quite often.

S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)

He's very fit!!! So can go for quite a few rounds most days. Other days he's cumming almost immediately and has a pretty short refractory period. But that's partly why he's so good at oral, he just doesn't want the sex to end

T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)

Mostly likely some form of vibrator, he did use it on himself and few times, then he asked her for some help with it ;) but he does like to use them on her, just no very often, he sees it as a good way to tease or build up an orgasm. He probably owns some form of couples sex toy that he was too scared to talk to her about until she found it. They definitely had a good night.

U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)

He likes to tease a little bit, but he knows eventually he's going to get teased back. He likes teasing physically, using the lightest of touches or suddenly stopping all movement in one area and moving his hand somewhere else.

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

He like to be loud, whether he's a sub or not. Usually groans or even a bit of panting in a hot way. If he's subbing then definitely the most beautiful whines and moans you've ever heard. Don't get me wrong, he loves to hear her voice, it lets him know he's doing a good job

W-Wild card (a random headcanon)

Charles wants a baby so bad, so he's developed a massive breeding kink. He's constantly trying to fill her up, wanting to see her carry his child.

X-X-ray (how big are they?)

Have you seen the images? He's big and he's thick. Based on my terrible estimates probably 7 inches.

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Not too high that it could be annoying, but still very high, especially if he's not seen her for a while, then they're fucking like rabbits. He just needs her so desperately.

Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Very quickly, he loves cuddles and so that can just put him to sleep. Don't worry, he keeps her on his chest while they sleep, big arms wrapped around her.

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #charles lechair #charles leclerc x reader smut #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #Ferrari #ferrari f1

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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

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Chapter 24.5 - You Can Throw A Party

Ok, so this is shorter, but I really didn't know what else to put. But I hope it satisfies everyone's wants and needs! This got super sappy, but I loved the ending and I hope you do too!

Like always comments, questions, concerns, asks, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Love you all and enjoy :D

The grid didn’t know what to expect when they finally arrived at the address that you had sent. Sure, they were expecting a house, but a plain and simple one. Not the giant ass mansion that their Ubers pulled up to.

Charles looked at Pierre.

“Is this the right house?”

The Frenchman just shrugged his shoulders. Lando and Oscar had ridden with Alex, Lily, and Logan, who arrived at pretty much the same time as everyone else. Max and Arthur had apparently arrived early, since they weren’t staying in an extra hotel.

Why the rest didn’t just accept your offer to stay there was your guess. But as the group of 17 guys gazed at the giant estate, they were rethinking their options.

The rest didn’t really know what to say.

“I volunteer Lando to knock first!” Oscar called out before pushing the Briton toward the door.

“Hey! Why me? I vote for Logan?”

“Excuse you? I’m not the party animal Mr. Worldwide.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult, Mr. Eagle screech?”

“Well, if the boot fits.”

“What did you just say?”

“If the boot fits.”

“Can you two please calm down?” the familiar voice of Lewis asked as he got out of his car with George and Carmen. Both were wearing similar outfits to everyone else. Light button ups with shorts. He was about to say something, but the front door opened.

Arthur just stood there, looking weirdly once everyone didn’t move.

“Are you all going to stand there arguing or come in?” he called out. Once the group got the go ahead, they all walked swiftly to the door.

They thought the outside was huge, but the inside seemed to be even bigger. At the giant bar in the corner, the drivers found you siting and talking to Max, who already had a gin tonic in his hand. Arthur came over, putting a hand on your waist and a kiss on your head. Max spotted the group first and left you alone with your boyfriend.

Logan’s jaw dropped as he witnessed the move.

“When did that happen?”

He pointed at the two of you, causing the rest of the drivers to look. Charles smirked at the sight of his brother and you being cozy.

Max leaned over, “He asked her out after her crash at Suzuka.”

Charles shivered at the memory of that day.

He also added, “He’s been in love with her since their first season of Formula 2. I remember him coming home after he met her. ‘Charles, I think I just found the love of my life’.”

The grid let out a bunch of “awes” at the new information and laughed at Charles’s impression of his brother (even though he could have just talked normally and sounded the exact same). They watched as the younger Monegasque place another gentle kiss on your forehead as you looked up at him, love evident in your eyes. The two of you were so soft as Arthur was gently rubbing your leg as you animatedly talked to Vito.

You finally laid eyes on the rest of the drivers, smile widening as you slid off the stool you were sitting on.

“Anyone want a drink?” you questioned, motioning to the bar.

They were silent for a moment, before Fernando said, “Yes please.”

That was the start of a wild night. It wasn’t too long before the drinks were being poured and refilled. Since you had started drinking here and there, you stayed safe with little fruity drinks. The grid was shocked at what your house had to offer.

They were the first few to show up, but multiple personelle started coming after a while. It looked like the party was truly open to whoever wanted to come (except to one certain 6-foot baguette driver). Your entire team was talking the workers from other teams as well. It was a full house, and everyone was getting along – even Toto and Christian. That duo made your eyes bulge as you saw them getting along as they played pool.

You took the group on a house tour. Charles wanted to cry at the sight of your car collection in the garage. Logan and Alex definitely took turns taking pictures inside the Evo. The next place you took them was the track.

The drivers whined as they looked at the shiny karts.

“Where did you get these? I don’t recognize the model,” Carlos mentioned, while crouching down to look closer.

Your smile grew as you brushed one off. “My manager has his own line. I bought some off of him once I found out about the karting track.”

The next few things went quickly. The girls really loved the giant bedrooms that the house had to offer. You had a smirk on your face as Carmen was complaining to George.

She huffed. “Why would you want to stay at a hotel when we could have stayed here?”

George gawked at her, trying to come up with an excuse.

You took this as a sign to pipe up.

“Actually, I had my people bring your stuff over. I think after the party, everyone won’t want to leave.”

Carmen, Lily, and Alex all squealed at the announcement. You could see George, Alex, and Charles all visible relax once their girlfriends were satiated. You knew that they would want to get into the pool at some point.

They were speechless at the sight of your paddle court as well as the laser tag room. Once the tour was over, you let everyone just free. After a few rounds of paddle and karting, you made your way back into the main living room.

You quickly found yourself cuddled up to your boyfriend. Your head was nicely tucked into his neck as your legs were draped over his legs. He was currently talking to Christian and Geri about how endurance training. You definitely saw the outcomes of the extra gym time as you glanced at his more defined muscles.

After everyone had their share of the house, Lando got his hands on the DJ set that you installed just for the party.

“Who’s fucking ready for this?” he yelled out, starting up the first song. That was cue for you and Arthur to get up and start moving. You’re pretty sure you saw Toto getting it down to Right Round.

Logan of course had to ask for Free Bird and completely ripped his shirt during the guitar solo. Oscar just stayed in a corner, shaking his head with a hand over his face. If his Lily was here, he’d probably not be the American’s babysitter, but tonight he was girlfriendless and babysitting duty was placed on him.

Once a few more songs had played, Arthur suddenly left your grasp. The night was winding down as it neared 3 a.m., so you thought he was going to get ready for bed. Yet, he walked over to Lando, showed the Briton a song on his phone, and walked back to you.

A soft melody filled the air. The partiers (Logan, Daniel, Fernando, George, Carlos, and Charles) were all passed out somewhere.

Your eyes widened at the familiar guitar plucking. You smiled up at Arthur.

“You didn’t.”

He rolled his eyes.

“It’s your song Cheri. Of course I did.”

You placed your head on his chest as the two of you penguin danced. Max was on the side with Christian and Vito, watching the whole thing.

“Nothing ‘bout the way that you were treated ever seemed alarming till now

“So you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal”

You sighed as you listened to the lyrics of the song Arthur picked out for you. Tears wanted to fall, but you wanted to bask in the moment. Arthur gently placed his head on yours, holding you ever so tighter.

“You can let it go

“You can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, ‘cause they never showed you love. You don’t have to be sorry for leaving and growing up.”

The drivers who were left on the floor all watched as the crowd slowly broke up, letting you and Arthur just be together.

Geri leaned her head on Christian as she watched the two of you just hold each other. Max was videoing for Kelly as she couldn’t make it.

Alex had nudged Charles very hard so that he could wake up and possibly film it for his mother. The Monegasque might have also let out a few tears at the sight.

Lando, who had been at the DJ booth, turned the sound up a bit higher, really letting the song echo throughout the whole house.

Everyone was now watching as Arthur was now slightly spinning you. Your giggles could be heard by those around the two of you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned back in.

The warmth and love around you was everything that you asked for.

Vito, who was off to the side, looked out the window to a bright star in the sky. He smiled softly as the one star twinkled, almost winking at the Italian. He chuckled as he if he was going to tell a funny joke.

He softly whispered, “She finally found the family she needed. You’d be so proud of her.”

The star twinkled once again, almost in response.

Vito looked back at the dance floor, just you and Arthur together, surrounded by everyone who loved you.

Your family.

“You can let it go. You can throw a party full of everyone you know

“You can start a family who will always show you love

“You don’t have to be sorry, no.”

y/n.jpg has posted (imagine insta can post 12 pics lol)

y/n.jpg did someone say party?

tagged: arthur_leclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen1, vito_official, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, georgerussell63, fernandoalo_official, carmenmmundt, yukitusoda0511, pierregasley, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, alex_albon, and lilymhe

liked by christianhorner, y/n.nation, lestappenlove, maxiel4ever, and 357,295 others

rookie_on_top I just wanna know how big her house is

formulafan1 I know the guest list must have been INSANE

logan2sargeant I heard that pretty much everyone on the grid was there ouioui_bagette there were other pictures from the drivers and it seemed like the team principals were enjoying the time as well

ozzydown_under81 so this is where the catering money went to?

madmax33 how did max get on Vito's shoulders and what even is that shirt????????

maxverstappen1 it's a mindset vito_official your thighs are amazing man maxiel4ever HOLD UP

logansargeant I swear I'm not as think as you drunk I am

y/n.jpg he's gone...Oscar?? oscarpiastri on it

y/n.nation we have lando back on dj duty, Charles is acting carefree, Nando and George are back together partying, Yuki and pierre got into the karaoke room?, and apparently Logan ripped his shirt open during Free Bird

logansargeant hell yeaahhhhhh! EAGLE SCREECH RAWWRRR oscarpiastri get back here

y/nxarthur did anyone else see that video lando posted and then took down?

y/n&co I did! looked like Arthur and y/n were slow dancing together rookie_baby this and then Arthur's post?? they aren't as secret as they think lol

lilymhe never drinking that much again, but thanks babe for the fun night!

alex_albon no problem y/n.jpg she wasn't talking to you

gridkid everyone is probably wasted

y/n.jpg you'd be correct

sebvettelfan aahhh this reminds me of the good days when they could just party

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dilemmaontwolegs · 3 months

Text

Irresistible {7} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: After everything, you get a happy healthy ending. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, smut, fluff. WC: 4.5k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Your Playlist:

Big Girls Don’t Cry - Fergie

Pretend - Secondhand Serenade

No Right To Love You - Rhys Lewis

You Broke Me First - Tate McRae

Lose You To Love Me - Selena Gomez

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Wicked Game - Violet Orlandi

Charles’ Playlist:

Your Call - Secondhand Serenade

The Loneliest - Mäneskin

Roses And Butterflies - Making April

Amnesia - 5sos

Miserable At Best - Mayday Parade

Love Is Gone - Slander

The Man Who Can’t Be Moved - The Script

Charles was spiralling with every mile that grew between where he was and where you were. The only updates he had from you were in the form of photos on Instagram and his concentration went into waiting for your next post instead of the preparation for the final free practice of the day. He had sent you enough unanswered messages to know you were ignoring him and it hurt more than he dared let on.

“She’s not home yet,” he said as he caught up to Max in the paddock. It was half a question and half a statement, but he needed some sort of confirmation.

“I know.” Of course Max knew. You kept in touch with him, sending him sporadic messages when you stopped to take in the beautiful countryside on the quiet roads. It should have been a four hour drive but you were content to make it last the day so you didn’t have to think about what you had left behind.

Max looked like he was going to say something else but he closed his lips as an arm curled around Charles’ waist. Whatever information he was going to offer was replaced with a simple, “I’ll see you later.”

Charles turned to Charlotte and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I thought you left.”

“Because we had one little fight?”

“I would hardly call it little.”

“Whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, now that Y/N’s gone things will be so much easier between us. We can get back to how we used to be. We are good for each other, Charles.”

Charles briefly entertained the idea of pushing her away but then he remembered how lonely it was sleeping by himself. It was completely stupid to even think the relationship could go back to how it was but he was selfish, if he couldn’t have you then settling for her was going to be the next best thing.

“How about we talk after practice?” His voice was full of defeat and Charlotte knew she had already won as she kissed his cheek and let him go.

“I’ll wait in your garage.”

He faked a smile and headed after Max.

The air was stale when you stepped into the apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as you dragged yourself down the hall and into your room. Charles’ bedroom door was still half open, the bed unmade and clothes spilling out of his drawers, sending a pang of hurt to your chest before you pulled it shut. You collapsed face first on your bed and just managed to send a message to Max letting him know you arrived safely before you let your emotional exhaustion take you under. You didn't bother to text Charles, he was probably busy anyway.

Dawn came with all the same enthusiasm that you woke with. The skyline was a watery grey and even the birds failed to raise any sort of trill with their woeful calls down on the mariner. Dew clung in the air and on your cheeks as you opened the balcony door and chased away the stale air from being closed up for weeks since the last visit.

Your memory here before the lockdown began didn’t hold a lot of details but you did remember the aroma of coffee drifting up from the cafe below the building. Unfortunately there was only the tang of salt and storm on the air as you inhaled deeply before making the call that was long overdue.

As expected your father answered straight away, the confusion clear in his voice as he realised that his little night owl was up at dawn. “Hey kiddo, is everything okay?”

“Can we have a donut day?”

You could already hear him moving around the house and he must have covered the microphone as he said a muffled goodbye to a sleepy Pascale. “On my way.”

Donut day was created the day you got your first period. As a panicking solo dad he had rushed to the supermarket for supplies, but he left with mostly donuts and other treats. Thankfully Betty was better prepared and soon arrived with everything you needed, along with calm instructions on how to use them. After that, any day that was absolutely terrible was called a donut day. You and your father would sit on the couch and scoff down a box of donuts until the comfort food worked its magic.

You paced the living room until the doorbell rang and practically tore it off the hinges in your haste. You really hadn’t noticed just how lacklustre months of video calls were until you threw your arms around your dad and buried your face in his shirt. Video calls couldn’t capture the smell of his aftershave or the feel of his beard when he kissed your forehead like you were still a little kid.

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He pulled back to look at your face and his brows pinched together. “Rough night?”

You snorted a laugh but it cracked in your chest and your head fell down. “The last time you asked me that was in Monaco too.”

“I remember. Is this about a boy?”

You nodded and took a seat on the couch while he pensively watched from where he stood. “Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

He huffed and went to the kitchen instead, grabbing a plate and emptying a bag of pastries onto it. “This is the closest to donuts I could find, sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not about the donuts.” You picked at a pain au chocolat while he took a seat and grabbed a pain au raisin. “I…”

You didn’t know where to begin or what to say, you just knew you had to get the truth off your chest so you could try to move on. Maybe by admitting the mistake you made, it might somehow ease the guilt you were carrying.

“A boy, right?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “The same one actually.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead.“From when we visited?”

“The very same.” You swallowed but the pastry seemed to coat your throat and you nearly choked before you abandoned it. “It was Charles.”

“Oh,” he said with a nod before it seemed to connect and his eyes widened. “Oh…well…shit..”

“I should have said something sooner but I didn’t want to make things awkward for you and Pascale but I…I really fucked up, dad.”

You could practically see his thoughts crossing his face as he remembered how you had called him the first day, asking to stay anywhere else. A heavy sigh fell and he seemed to deflate into the couch cushions. “I thought you were with Max?”

Your eyes narrowed but you didn’t deny it. “How do you know that?”

“Charlotte posted a picture of you and him the other night.”

“That bitch is a-”

“Uh-uh, no,” he tutted. “Correct me if I am wrong but I am going to assume you and Charles have been more than just friends…”

Your silence was damning.

“I don’t think you have the moral high ground to go around calling her a bitch then. I raised you better than that. Does Max know about Charles?”

“Max knows everything,” you admitted quietly, still feeling the sting of the reprimand. “He’s good for me.”

“Okay, so then what’s the problem?”

“I just really thought it was a chance - with Charles. We made plans, a future, I could see it.” Now all you saw was the note on the table and how he chased after Charlotte. “It was stupid and naive and I feel so embarrassed.”

“Love makes everyone stupid at some point.” Your father sighed again before wrapping his arm around you. “So Max huh? You know he’s got a bit of a reputation. Bit of a hot head.”

You wiped away the tears that had been building and scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see in the media. They portray Charles as this wholesome boy next door and Max as an angry man child. Both are wrong.”

You grabbed the pastry and ate it, this time able to stomach the idea of food, before grabbing another. It wasn’t as sweet as a donut but the sugar from the chocolate was starting to hit your blood and perk you up.

“I can’t live here anymore. Not Monaco,” you corrected when you saw his eyes widen. “Just here, with Charles. I need somewhere away from him.”

You didn’t know the exact reason why your mother left but you thought maybe she felt like this, maybe it was healthier to leave than to stay.

“The house isn’t finished but the kitchen and your bathroom are done, so it’s livable. You’ll need some moving boxes. A lot by the looks,” your father said as he stood up and looked around the room to see your belongings strewn across the place. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re not going to give me a lecture?” you asked as he made his way to the door.

He scanned your features that reminded him so much of your mother. “You look like you’ve learned your lesson to me. Do you need one?”

You shook your head meekly and he nodded to himself. “I’ll be back with some boxes soon.”

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted Max as soon as the video connected. He had just returned to his hotel after qualifying and securing the 5th starting place on the grid. “I’ve found a new hobby, painting.”

His smile brightened at your mood that had dramatically lifted in the past 24 hours and you showed him around your new bedroom. Paint bottles lined a sheet-covered table and dirty brushes sat in a murky jar of water, but you panned across the wall to show him the artwork you had made.

“What is it?” he asked with a forehead crumpled in confusion. He tilted his head trying to see from a different angle but he still couldn’t process the splatterings - it reminded him of a Rorschach test, one he was doing badly at.

“I didn’t say I was good,” you clarified with a laugh as you also tried to interpret the design that was no longer just on the walls. It was a good thing the carpet hadn’t been laid yet. You had tried to push the hair out of your face and smeared paint across your cheek and it had ended up everywhere by the time you were finished. “It is a mess just like me.”

“You're not a mess, schat,” Max said as he sat at the end of his bed and fell back to watch the tour of the rest of the house. “Are you okay there on your own?”

“It’s certainly quieter than the paddock, that will take a bit of getting used to, but I don’t mind it too much.” You did miss the other friends you had made at Ferrari, but felt it was best to give everyone in red a wide berth for a while. You had seen how poorly Charles qualified and knew he wasn’t at his best partly because of you. You still hadn’t been able to answer his calls or texts.

“Well, you could come back, if you want, you’ll always be welcome at Red Bull.”

“If you miss me, you can just say that,” you teased and he sat up.

He combed a hand through his damp hair and you bit your lip remembering how it felt to be the one doing that. “I do miss you,” he admitted seriously. “That’s why I’m coming back first thing Monday morning - I owe you breakfast.”

“You know there are no cafes open?”

Max smirked and the sight made your heart skip a beat. “Who said anything about a cafe?”

You wanted to know what his plans were but there was a knock at his door and Daniel’s voice reached you through the phone. Max was tempted to let Daniel continue pounding on the door but you both knew he wouldn’t leave quietly and Max groaned at that truth. “Go answer that, I’ll call you in the morning.”

Max dragged his feet as he padded across the room. “I would rather talk to you.”

“Me too.”

“Finish the phone sex already, you pervs,” Daniel shouted through the door before Max ripped it open.

“Oh, oh, yes, Max, don’t stop,” you called out, turning Max’s ears pink as he rushed to turn the phone around and show Daniel the screen and just how fully clothed you were. “Sorry to disappoint you, Danny, no phone sex - this time.”

It was only when Daniel bent over laughing that you saw he wasn’t alone. Charles was out in the hallway with Carlos and Lando, his eyes falling to the carpet when you noticed him.

“We’re getting dinner, you wanna come?” Daniel asked, and thankfully the phone rotated back to Max who looked a little torn at the offer.

“He does,” you answered for him before he could decline just to talk with you a little while longer.

“I’ll call you in the morning, schat.”

“Okay, have fun.”

Charles found nothing to celebrate when the race ended so he made his way home before the rest of the crew even realised it. He thought his weekend couldn’t get any worse after he DNF’d. The only silver lining was that despite his better qualifying, Max had also failed to finish the race. But he still won where it really mattered when it came to you.

Charles pulled into the apartment complex and saw a new sleek black Mercedes AMG parked in one of his many reserved spaces and hope fluttered in his chest. He grabbed his suitcase and darted up the stairwell to his apartment, nearly snapping the key in his haste to unlock the door. That hope turned to ash when he found it eerily silent and every inch of the place perfectly tidy. It was unlived.

The artwork you had purchased still hung on the walls and the shaggy rug he had made love to you on still covered the floor, but the spirit of it all was gone. The colours of the paintings were drained and the temperature controlled air was no longer comfortable. He didn’t even need to go to your room and check, he knew you were gone.

He knew you were gone the moment he saw you on the video call to Max. He had gone with his mother to her new house enough times to know what it looked like, even if it appeared that a rainbow vomited all over the walls. The truth just hadn’t really settled in until he stepped across the threshold and into the house that was once a home.

You had tidied the place as if you were cleaning a crime scene and needed to scrub away all evidence of being there except you couldn’t get it all. You still remained in the pantry cupboards where everything was labelled in your handwriting. You still remained in the linen closet where you folded the sheets and the towels into perfect rectangles. You still remained in the scented candles that sat on the centrepiece of the table.

Charles’ eyes stung as they lingered on the table where the keys to the apartment and the Mercedes sat, right next to his credit card and the picture you kept in your wallet.

Kicking the door closed, he abandoned his suitcase and rushed down the hall. His heart hammered knowing what he would find but he had to check as he pushed open your bedroom door. No, it wasn’t your bedroom anymore, it was a guest room.

The feminine floral duvet his mother had chosen was gone, replaced with a plain white coverlet, and the windows were latched slightly open so whatever scent of yours he may have been able to save had already been cast away to the breeze.

“Fuck!” he screamed as he punched his fist into the mattress. “Fuuuuucckk!!!”

Max must have left before Pierre had finished partying after his shock win. It wasn’t even morning really as the sun was still cresting over the hills, and it was far earlier than you were expecting him. You thought perhaps you were dreaming when you woke to a knock and opened the door to find Max on your front steps.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you asked as you pulled him inside and inspected the bags under his eyes.

“I’m better now,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair. “I told you I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you murmured into his chest before pulling away so you could look into his eyes. “You need to sleep.”

“I’ll be fine, I have plans first.”

“Your plans can wait.” You took his hand and led him through the house to your room that overlooked the mariner. Your blankets were still warm as you nestled under the covers and patted the empty space beside you. “You’re not going to be comfortable in jeans.”

“Five minutes and you’re already trying to get me naked,” he teased as he pulled his shirt over his head before he unbuttoned his jeans.

“I never said naked,” you pointed out. The air froze in your lungs as he pushed them down his muscular thighs and you swallowed at the sight before.

“I’m not wearing boxers.”

“No, you certainly are not.” Your tongue rolled across your lips as you drank in every inch of him, the idea of sleep quickly departing your mind. Almost everything departed your mind, except want. “I think I am overdressed.”

“You make a habit of that.”

“I do, don’t I. Maybe you should come help me fix that.”

Max didn’t need to be told twice, he had been waiting for this moment since he had the memory of how your body felt against his. He pulled the covers back and knelt between your legs, his hands roaming up your body and under the baggy shirt of a band he didn’t know. The morning air was cool on your skin as you lifted your arms and he discarded the shirt over the side of the bed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he traced his lips over your racing pulse. A fiery trail of goosebumps remained where his kiss had been and he made his way to your lips before stealing the very breath from your lungs.

Your own hands went roaming, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch until you reached his proud erection. He shuddered above you and moaned into your mouth before he pulled back. “I need you,” you begged, unabashedly. “Please, Max.”

His hands reached for your panties and the lace tickled as he dragged them down your legs. Even with your begging, he didn’t immediately bury himself in you. He took his time, settling back between your legs. He gently massaged your inner thighs with his strong hands, his thumbs dancing teasingly close to your core until a strangled whine escaped you.

“Relax, schat,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

He shifted onto his stomach and dipped his head to your core. You lost the ability to think as he gripped your hips and tugged you right onto his open mouth. A wordless cry filled the room and it took a second to understand it was coming from you as you lost yourself in the pleasure Max was giving you. You knew Max had an internal drive to succeed at everything he did and this was no different. He was determined to taste you completely and drive you into oblivion with his tongue and his fingers before he thoroughly fucked you.

Max looked wild and untamed as you came undone around his fingers and he savoured the taste of you on his tongue as he rose above you. His eyes were dark and his lips swollen, his chin was damp and his smile satisfied.

“Hi,” he chuckled with amusement. “Feeling alright?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, because correlating a conscious thought into words seemed impossible as your body still trembled with aftershocks.

“Would you like a break?”

You reached between your bodies and wrapped your hand around his cock, guiding him closer to your entrance. “No, I want you, Max.”

“Completely sober, right?” he confirmed as the head pressed to your wet core.

“Not quite,” you teased, his brows pinching together at the words, “I’m drunk on you.”

The relief in his eyes was palpable and you cradled his face in your palm as you wrapped your legs around his hips. Your bodies united torturously slowly and your eyes fluttered at the fullness when every delicious inch was seated inside, your lips parting with a heady sigh.

“Open your eyes, schat.”

You obeyed in an instant, watching him watch you before his eyes drifted down your bodies. His lip was pinched between his teeth and he groaned at the sight of your pussy taking him so well, something he made sure to tell you.

“Fuck,” you choked as his words made your cunt clench in response, each thrust burying him deep in your cunt until stars dotted your vision and you were tipped over the edge into another orgasm. “Fuuuckk…”

Six months later. “Babe, have you seen my shoes?” Your voice carried throughout the large penthouse apartment you had moved into with Max when the season ended.

“Here, with your dress,” he called out from the living room.

You followed his voice and found the luggage being neatly stacked by the door. He pointed to the two garment bags hanging from the coat rack and at the bottom of the longer one were your heels, next to his polished dress shoes.

“I packed your coat too,” Max said, kissing your temple as he passed to get the car keys.

With the COVID restrictions being lifted Pascale hadn’t wanted to wait a minute longer for the wedding, so winter nuptials in February was the go. At least they were taking place in Sicily so it would be a little warmer, but of course Max would think to pack a coat for when the temperatures dropped at night. He was always thoughtful like that.

“Did you want a coffee?” you asked as you turned on the machine and put your travel mug under it. It was only a three hour flight on Max’s private jet, but you hadn’t slept well with the knowledge you would see Charles for the first time since Christmas.

Cordial is how you would describe that relationship. The familiarity and intimacy was gone, replaced with standoffish politeness. You were both trying to find where the line could be drawn on a platonic friendship that had the history of more and it was slow going. You didn’t want anything you said or did around him to be misconstrued.

Max made you happy, and just as importantly, Max was healthy for you. You did sometimes wonder if he tried harder to be better because he had witnessed toxic relationships growing up. He knew how that toxicity could poison and break someone so there was a conscious effort in the way he spoke and acted to everyone around him. Even Charles.

That was why he had offered his plane for everyone to use, including Charles and Charlotte. For better or for worse, Charles was going to be a part of your family in less than 24 hours and Max respected that. Like he said, he didn’t care about your past and your future was one with him.

“Schatje,” Max called, one hand on your waist, the other reaching past you to the overflowing mug in the coffee machine. “Everything alright?”

You came back to the present with a few blinks and turned in his arms, surprising him with a deep kiss as you fisted his shirt and pulled him closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulled back to see your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shake of your head but he saw right through it. “Everything you’ve done for me…a simple ‘I love you’ just doesn’t seem enough. I can never say it enough.”

Max’s hands cradled your jaw and he dipped his head to indulge in a slow but thorough kiss that had your stomach clenching with a fresh wave of desire. When he pulled back this time he smiled as he found the clear want and need for him written on your face. “It’s enough for me.”

He turned the machine off and poured the ruined coffee down the sink. “I’ll get you a proper coffee on the way to the airport. We should get going, can’t have the best woman be late for the rehearsal.”

“I think dad settled on the term groomsmaid,” you corrected with a laugh. You had nearly cried when he asked you to be his best man, before accepting the honour. It was fitting considering the bridesmaids were Pascale’s sons. “It’s not too late if you want to be a flower girl?”

He grinned and his eyes flicked to the door where the dress you had paraded for him last night hung. “I’m quite happy to sit back and watch.”

“If I recall, you didn’t sit still for long. I hope you have more self restraint for the ceremony.”

“For the ceremony, yes. But as soon as we hit the hotel room you’re mine and that dress will be on the floor, I promise you.”

You bit your lip at the promise, knowing he would keep it just like every other one he had made.

“We should probably go before I do something that makes us very late,” Max groaned, stepping away from your tempting body.

“Ugh, fine.”

The ceremony was more than just a wedding and it represented the joining of the Leclerc’s and the Y/LN’s, something that had surprised you and also made you grateful for having waterproof mascara. You didn’t dare look at Charles when the celebrant spoke about the union of the two families, but Arthur grinned and Enzo winked, your father narrowed his eyes and you laughed.

The celebrant, thankfully, didn’t understand.

The cashmere coat Max had packed hung over the bag of your chair as night fell and you danced with him under the open stars. The only light came from the fairy lights strung around the stone pillars that had survived centuries on the island. His arms kept you warm as you swayed to the music and you spoke quietly to each other in a world of your own.

“Hey, can I, uh, can I cut in?” Charles asked hesitantly.

You took a deep breath as you debated the question, your eyes glancing around and quickly finding Charlotte at a table with Arthur and his girlfriend. You looked at Max to see if it was okay. He just smiled and kissed your cheek, whispering, “I’ll get us a drink.”

Charles waited until Max had made it off the dance floor before offering his hand, the other coming to rest on your waist. The first step was tentative, like he wasn’t sure you were actually going to follow his lead. “You look happy,” he said after a few more steps.

“I am.”

He nodded to himself, looking at Charlotte. “Good. That’s good.”

He looked miserable. “I hope you find real happiness one day.” You were being honest.

“I had it.” And he was being honest too. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever really apologised, not properly.”

“It’s fine, if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have met Max.”

“It was meant to be us, though, right?” His eyes were begging you to agree with him but you had spent sleepless nights poring over the very same question.

“I think our paths crossed to make sure our parents met,” you admitted, smiling at the newlyweds as they danced too. You had never seen your dad happier.

“You really believe that?”

The song came to an end and you found Max returning from the bar with two drinks in his hand. “I have to,” you said as you slipped out of Charles’ arms. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step away from him.

“Why?” He took a step closer, only stopping when you took another step back and held up your hand. “Why?”

You took a calming breath and steadied your voice. “Because the alternative would only break my heart again.”

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #max verstappen smut #f1 smut

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formulaforza · 10 months

Text

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. spring and the lovely silence of growing things. minors dni. nsfw warnings under the cut. 7.6k part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: oral (m receiving, rough), spit, hair pulling, drunk drunk drunk get crunk

“Goodnight Arthur,” you said, lingering behind as your family started off down the road in the opposite direction that he and his were.

Your dress, long and linen, blows in the evening breeze and draws goosebumps to your skin. Your hands clutch your phone and a small purse, the cross body strap wrapped around your hand three times. Your ponytail sways with your hips when you walk. Turning to Charles, you nod, purse a smile. “Charles.”

“Goodnight,” he replies curtly, perfectly polite.

“The two of you are still talking after a whole day together? Did Hell freeze over while we were out there?” Arthur laughs.

A strange silence, one that only you and Charles are aware of, swallows the lull of the cicadas in the streetlights. It’s early in the year for them, typically holding out on their spring song until a bit further into the season. Charles drags his feet on the concrete, drawing out every step to be a beat too slow. “Stranger things have happened,” he remarks under his breath, his middle finger picking at the cuticle of his thumb before shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

“Have they?” Arthur continues to poke fun at the two of you, at the unlikeliness of a quareless evening. You’re surprised, too. Never would have guessed a few hours earlier that the evening would end up the way it had.

(Five hours earlier)

He’s sulking and it's becoming pathetic. Every single thing about his body moves around the yacht like a kicked puppy, all sullen and blue and hosting another private-pity party. His sighs grow more and more dramatic, less and less patient with each moment that passes without someone feeling as bad for him as he feels for himself.

You knew, maybe better than anyone, how fiercely competitive he is, how much pressure he carries on his shoulders. You'd seen the highs and the lows of it all, and despite the underlying annoyance that was Charles, you still wanted what was best for him. It’s just human nature to hope.

This season has been beating him up, you knew, even if you didn’t follow it the way some of your friends did. Strategy has been shit, you’ve heard, luck somehow shitter. He’d talked such a big game before the start of the season, quietly confident and subtly cocky in a way that almost makes you believe he can predict the future.

Usually, you would relish in his annoyance, but today you’ve found yourself feeling oddly concerned. You refused to let him ruin the beautiful day, ruin the moods of your siblings and his. It’s the determination to save the day that leads you to the yacht railing, feet away from his brooding, lost in thought expression.

“You seem a bit off today,” you remarked, voice lades with a teasing tone, a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

He glances up at you, a hint of a smile tugging on his lips. “You always have such a way of pointing out the obvious, don’t you?” He retorted, but his annoyance is all bark, no bite, softened entirely by the playful glint in his eyes.

“Well,” you shoot back, minorly annoyed, massively amused. “It’s not everyday you look like a sulking child.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And always full of delightful compliments,” he replied, gaze lingering on your lips for a moment too long before he tears them away.

You smirk, lean in a bit closer. “You love it,” you taunt.

He raises an eyebrow, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. “Oh, do I now?” He quips, leaning in just enough to make your stomach sink. You feign indifference to his words, but your body betrays you, leaning in a fraction closer.

“I know you better than you think,” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

He chuckled again, the sound of it sending shivers down your spine. There’s something so deflated about him. “Is that so?” He muses, breath grazing against your ear, making your pulse quicken.

You take a step back, attempt to find some sort of composure. “Maybe,” you replied with a playful shrug, not daring to meet his gaze.

He leans in, fills the space you’d just created, mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re always under my skin,” he admits, a hue of vulnerability in his voice leaving you unsettled.

You finally meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his. “You love the challenge, though, don’t you?” You countered, tone serious now, hinting at something more, something deeper.

He hesitates, a flicker of emotion crossing his features before he masks it with a smirk. “Maybe I do,” he replied, voice low and suggestive.

The conversation drolls on, seconds between your words filled with charged silence. The subtle dance of glances and touches only adds to the tension, and you found yourself unable to break away, to return to the rest of the family on the upper deck. No, no, you have a feeling you’ll be going lower, even, farther away from them and closer to some private silence.

“Do you ever wonder?” he asks, voice soft and full of curiosity. You have no interest in entertaining his words.

“I don’t,” you reply, trying to keep your tone guarded.

His brows furrow, challenging you. “Really?” Charles questions, his skepticism evident.

You shrug. “It’s just easier this way, isn’t it?” you retort, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. Bitter that he feels entitled to ruin something that’s working just fine.

“Easier?” He echoes, curiosity evident as he leans in even closer.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you meet his intense gaze. “Yeah, easier,” you say, the words spewing out with a touch of frustration. “It’s just a game.”

He studies you for a moment, eyes searching for any sign of vulnerability. You hope you’re talented enough to conceal them, that your secondary school drama class teacher taught you well. “You think it’s that simple?” he challenges, voice just painfully soft.

“It’s not simple at all,” you admit, guard slipping for only a moment. “But it’s just what we do. It’s comfortable, in its own way.”

He nods, seeming to understand your reluctance. “So, what?” He asks, a trace of bitterness in his tone. “We just keep using each other whenever we feel like it?”

A mess of emotions swirls inside you as you meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “Maybe,” you remark, defiant. “But it’s better than facing the alternative.”

He seems to consider your words, the wright of your unspoken history. “You’re afraid,” he observes. Charles has called you afraid a million and one times in your life; from a ponytailed scaredy-cat to a selfish coward, he’s checked the box on every synonym. This time, though, his voice isn’t teasing or raging red. No, it’s surprisingly gentle.

Your ears burn red hot. “I’m not afraid of anything,” you snap, try to push down everything just begging to boil over inside of you.

He reaches out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. You ignore the jolt of electricity, the fact that a simple touch holds more meaning than any words the two of you could exchange. You’re annoyed, now. Annoyed with him and the longing you refuse to acknowledge. It’s a powerful cocktail that you don’t want to begin to comprehend.

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Not with me.”

You heart pounds in your chest as you resist the urge to lean into him, to seek some fucked up sort of comfort in his arms. Instead, you push him away, maintain a safe distance. “I’m not afraid of you,” you say, voice horribly hushed. “I’m afraid of what this could become.”

He looks at you, some indistinguishable mix of emotions, of understanding and frustration and something else. “And what do you think this could become?” he asks, voice tinged with an edge of desire.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to his proximity. “I don’t know,” you admit, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed. “But I don’t want to find out.”

He smiles like he knows something you don’t. It makes you crazy. “You’re always so stubborn,” he remarks, fingers moving from your hand to your jaw, brushing against your cheek. “Part of what drives me crazy about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, unable to tear your eyes away. The tension is palpable, unspoken words hanging in the heavy air.

“I could help take your mind off things,” you suggest, voice low and suggestive. “Just for a little while.”

He raises a brow, surprise evident in his expression. “Oh?” he replies, voice a mix of intrigue and amusement. You give him a playful smirk, leaning in a bit closer. You can play games, too.

“I can be pretty distracting,” you tease, fingers moving to his arm, tracing circles on the linen covering his arm.

He hesitates, you’ve got him torn. He says your name, attempts to steer the conversation back to the emotions you’re so clearly dancing around.

But you cut him off, not willing to back down. “Please,” you sigh, your voice full of longing and playfulness. “Let me take your stress.”

He puts his foot down. Protests weakly. “We can’t just ignore this.”

For a moment, you consider pushing the issue further. Deep down, somewhere unexplored, you know that this isn’t the right time. So, you take a step back, move to walk away. Before you can take another step, his hand is on your wrist, pulling you back to him.

His lips crash against yours in a fierce and desperate kiss, and you lose yourself in the intensity of the moments. The motions that have been building under the surface finally finds an outlet, and you can’t resist the pull any longer.

You both give in to the passion, into the physical connection and the muddled emotions. It’s a moment of surrender, of letting go. For now, it’s enough. For now, you can avoid the conversation.

You’re no more than a few steps away from the stairs, make quick work of them, of the lock on the door to the master suite. You didn’t even know the doors had locks on them. You hope they’re half as soundproof as they are expensive, but you doubt it.

You’re already pawing for his cock, palming the chilly, half-damp material of his swim trunks before slipping your hand under the waistband, taking the fabric out of the equation entirely.

You look up at him, look for his reaction, check to make sure that his eyes aren’t harboring some sick softness to them. The whole point of this is to get the softy shit off his mind, to leave him so satisfied that he doesn’t remember wanting to have that conversation with you, that he doesn’t remember how shitty his season’s going and how he’s latched onto something that doesn’t exist.

“Tell me what you want,” you whisper into his mouth. “Anything.”

He whinges at your words, mumbles something to himself, cupping your jaw with his hands. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you roll your eyes, but then his thumb is on your bottom lip, firm and heavy. “This fucking mouth,” he grumbles.

Your fingers wrap around his cock, big and thick and warm. You run your thumb over his head, smile at the precum pooling there, spreading it around and watching the way his face twitches. You play coy, look at him with your biggest, most innocent doe eyes. “What about it?”

He rocks on his feet, moves himself ever so slightly through your hand. He either thinks you’re oblivious to it, or he’s completely clueless to his own actions. Either way, it’s hot, and you stroke him that little bit faster. “Wanna feel it,” he says, thumb still on your lip, sinking into your mouth, onto your tongue, pushing you down, down, down onto your knees.

The floor is cold, but you don’t care, so are his swim trunks. It’s hard, though, like most floors would be, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises by nightfall. You pull his shorts down, dick bouncing out of the waistband, twitching while he steps out of the fabric, kicks it to the side somewhere in the tiny room.

As you look up at him, a myriad of emotions wash over you. This dance is becoming so familiar, and yet, you’re surprised each time by the intensity of it. Even though you’d offered yourself, you find a way to be annoyed at how he uses you like this, turns you into a vessel to vent his stress and frustration. The other part of you, though, is so fucking turned on. Completely and utterly satisfied by the fact that you have this effect on him, that you can make him forget about his troubles, even if just temporarily.

His eyes meet yours, that same vulnerability still there. It’s a regular sight for other people, to be looked at like this by him. It’s not your normal, though. It’s rare, something that tugs on you, makes you wonder what he’s thinking, desire a level of understanding that goes beyond the physical.

You push those thoughts aside as quickly as you can, remind yourself that this is all casual. That you and he, this is nothing.

You spit into your hand, stroke it over his cock until it’s hard and wet and just crying for you. Your tongue trails a long stripe, from the base of his shaft to the head, swirling around his most sensitive spot. You’ve found yourself growing annoyingly fond of the noises you can pull from him. It’s a game within a game, pushing the limits to find just how pained you can make him sound.

His hands run through your hair, slow and smooth, gathering your hair into a soft ponytail. You move a hand to his, push it against your head as if to tell him–fuck me, Charles. Use me.

“Wait,” he says, and you pull off him with a pop.

“What?” You probe, irritated that he’s already got something to say.

“You have to tell me if I hurt you.”

You smirk, bite the inside of your cheek like you’re working through a real head-scratcher, putting on your best sarcastic tone. “And how do you suppose I do that?”

“I’m serious.”

Your shoulders recoil into a shrug, a laugh helplessly falling from your lips. “So am I.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, visibly apprehensive. This never would have been an issue in January, back when the only thing he did was be openly annoyed by you. No, it’s all different now. He’s got feelings, now, wants to fucking worry about you and care about you. It makes your stomach twist and turn and knot.

You roll your eyes. This is ridiculous, how many guys out here are stopping a woman from letting them do whatever they fucking want. It can’t be more than him, it can’t. “For fucks… you’ll know if you’re hurting me.”

He nods. “But how… will I know?”

“I don’t know… I’ll punch you in the dick or something.”

He laughs, a direct juxtaposition to his words. “You are not funny.”

You shrug, scowl. “I think I’m pretty funny.”

“I don’t know why you would think this.”

You purse your lips, puff a breath of air out of them, and hold up a single finger, pointing to him. “Fuck you,” you laugh. “I’ll tap the back of your leg,” you explain, demonstrating the gesture. “Is that good enough?”

His hands move through your hair again, fix his carefully crafted ponytail you’d messed up. “Yes. Thank you.”

You roll your eyes, take his dick in your hand again and start stroking. “Can I…?”

He nods. “I’m not stopping you.”

“I mean… “ you mumble against his skin, “you just did but…” and then you take him again, hollowed cheeks and flat tongue.

“Jesus, you are insufferable,” he remarks, and you laugh around his dick. It makes him shudder.

You try to focus on the moment, on his fingers gently grazing over your skin, hands guiding your head with a mixture of need and urgency. You gag around his dick, choking on the thick shaft as it fills your mouth so perfectly. “Putain, fuck, so good,” he groans. You’d smile up at him if you could.

The ponytail he’d been so proud of was nothing but a knotted mess now, his fingers tangling in search of grip. You hope he forgets it’s you, that it’s anyone. That he fucks into your throat until your couching and gagging and spit drips down your face, tears prick at your eyes. You hope your throat hurts tomorrow, that you lose your voice and gargle salt water and he’s the only person in the world who knows why. You hope you have to tap out on the back of his thigh.

You come pretty close, the way he uses you like a filthy toy. Everytime you think you’re about to break, he pulls off your mouth, leaves you heaving for air, wiping spit off your face with the back of your hand. He leans down to kiss you once, hand under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his lips. You hope he tastes himself, knows just how good it is, how content you are with your life’s purpose.

“Pretty girl,” he says, and you hum against his dick. It’s not often you’re on the receiving end of praise from him. “Take me so good.”

You’ve learned to know when he’s close, exactly how his body reacts when it’s lost all sight of anything but finishing. His pace gets silly, all kinds of unsynchronized and messy. He gets really quiet for a minute, spends all of it fighting with himself before he finally accepts it, and then he’s loud. A mix of nonsensical languages and curses, of groans and hums and remnants of what sounds like it wants to be your name.

He’s a mess, and then he’s holding your head as close as he can, your nose pressed against the muscles of his abdomen as he bottoms out, drains himself into the back of your throat with a breathy, pained groan.

You swallow around him greedily, want everything he has to give, all his cum and all his whimpers. He thrusts in and out of your mouth a few more times, and then he’s pulling out completely, hands cupping your face, pulling you up to stand. He kisses you, hard, and you still haven’t caught your breath–neither of you have–but you kiss until you can’t anymore, until your lungs burn to be filled with something that isn’t him.

His thumbs wipe your face, the spit from your lips and the tears from the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, back arching to lower himself to your height.

You want to swat his hands away. Clearly, though, this is something he feels he needs to do. “Why?” you chuckle. “That was hot.”

He matches your laugh, but his is laced with uneasy concern as he continues to try to clean up your face, fixing your hair and kissing you again, this time all soft and sure. “You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” you pant. “You’re into it, though.”

You wonder if he regrets this, if he’s known all along the same way you have that this won’t end well, that it never would. His face mirrors yours, open mouth breathing and heaving chests and a mix of half a dozen emotions. You both know this is how it has to be, that anything more would be too complicated to manage. It stops you from the wonder. You hope it stops him.

He sticks his head out of the door a few minutes later, after you’d ducked into the stall-sized bathroom and properly fixed yourself, untangled your hair and tied it back securely into a ponytail with the tie from your wrist.

You laugh at him for it, push him out from behind and tell him to drop the high-schooler act. “Wait here,” he tells you, tries to close the door on you. He doesn’t hear you catch it, doesn’t turn back to see you following him up the stairs from a few steps behind.

You’d wonder why he doesn’t hear your feet, but, if he’d just done to you what you did to him, your ears would probably still be ringing, all full and overwhelmed.

“Charles!” Your Mom’s voice carries down the stairs just as his head appears on the second level. “You haven’t seen–” his ears blush bright red, head snapping back to you. Jesus, can we have some subtlety? “Oh,” your Mom laughs when she spots you a couple steps behind him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. Charles can’t look at you, he stares right past. “We were fighting, isn’t that right, Charles?”

“Oh?” She chuckles.

Charles’ eyes snap to you. He nods. “First rule of fight club, you know.”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you look back to your Mom. “What did you need, Mama?”

“Just wondering if you want a drink,” she says.

“Only if you mix it strong,” you say, and your Mom is already setting off back towards the rest of the group on the top level. With silent understanding, you and he both fall back into your respective roles; the arrogant, fearless prick and the spoiled, bratty princess. It’s better this way. It’s better this way.

“Well,” you chuckle, pat him on the shoulder as you move past him on the stairs. “Aren’t you just a blushing bride?”

The anticipation in the air is palpable, all of you here in Ricky’s parents’ apartment–an added guest this year in sweet little Chiara. You’ve all watched the race here since before Charles could imagine this being his reality, the balcony providing a perfect overlook onto the iconic circuit. The sun bathes the track in golden rays, like even Mother Nature knows that it’s going to be a historic day.

Excitement crackles like electricity, sparking from person to person, igniting contagious grins and animated chattering. Your heart flutters with a unique blend of nerves and exhilaration, Charles’ undying Monaco optimism seeking into even your most pessimistic veins.

Antoine sets up his camera on the balcony, is interviewing half of you for Charles’ next YouTube video. You steal glances of your friends the entire time, feeling strangely sentimental about all the love in the room. On the sofa, Marta bounces Chiara on her knee, absentmindedly shakes a rattle in front of the infant, eyes watching the pre-race coverage on the television. Ricky, on the balcony, the first interviewee, beams with pride watching them. The guys all buzz with excitement, half of them glued to the TV, the other half carefully pulling tight the zip-ties on the now infamous banner, anxiously awaiting the start of the race.

You watch from beside Marta as the national anthem plays. She tickles Chiara’s feet, pulls little giggles from the baby’s lips. Your focus remains on Charles, though, his face on the screen. You don’t know how many laps you’ve seen him drive around this country, how many ups and downs he navigated in this sport, but you know that today feels different. You can see it etched into his features, the fire in his eyes and the resurgence in his confidence since Baku. It’s like he knows today is his day, that nothing can stand in the way, that the sun will shine on him and the champagne will spray.

The engines roar to life, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You move to the balcony, can’t bear to watch the start from a screen, knowing that it’s one of the most crucial parts of the next seventy-eight laps. Your heart pounds in sync with the rhythmic revving of the cars, and the world around you falls away as you focus on the starting grid. The lights illuminate, they're out, and the race is on.

Charles makes a picture perfect start, no. It’s better than that, better, because the crowd roars louder than you think you’ve ever heard as he catapults himself past Max and into the lead, and your breath catches in your throat.

He’s in control, navigating every corner and chicane with precision, never once giving into the pressure of the bullet behind him. Max tries, he tries and tries, to close in on Charles, but he holds him, defends his position with skill and tenacity that makes you attracted to a helmet, to the mind it protects.

With each passing lap, you expect the crowd to die down, but they don’t. You find yourself rallying with your friends, joining into the country-wide chorus of voices and cheers. Every maneuver, ever inch he gains on Max, fills you with excitement and awe. He’s like a force of nature, a breathtaking sight.

The laps wind down, and his lead over Max grows. You can’t help but let out a joyful whoop. He’s doing it. This is the day he shuts everyone up about the curse. Yesterday is the last day you get to tease him about it. The realization washes over you that he’s going to win at home, and your heart swells with pride.

The final lap approaches, and you hold your breath, moving inside, to watch the screen, to stare like your glare could will him to find an extra tenth. As he takes the checkered flag, a deafening roar erupts, reverberating through the streets.

Your friends join in a celebration, hugging and cheering as if you’re the ones standing on the podium. Antoine is giddy behind his camera, and you’re sure half the footage will be unusable with shaky hands.

You found pause in the celebrations to watch him get out of the car, all arms swinging and firsts clenched. He stands on the halo of his car, pointing to the Ferrar emblem on his chest, over his heart. He jumps off and moves to congratulate Esteban, only to be met with a hug from the other driver. Max joins them quickly, strong handshakes and hard pats on the back before any of them are taking their helmets off.

David Coulthard is waiting for him. Charles makes him wait, gets his bracelets and his watch from Andrea before picking up his microphone. “Charles, congratulations on your stunning victory! How are you feeling right now?” Your fingers find your lips, cover your smile and laugh. Charles has no idea how he feels.

“Thank you!” He grins, all young and dimpled, purely pure. If you didn’t know better, you’d think a giddy first-grader had just won the biggest race in the world. “I don’t know,” he laughs. “It’s just… wow. I’m on top of the world right now, to be honest.”

He looks so tired and yet so, so full of life. Like the adrenaline is the only thing keeping him up, all sweaty hair and balaclava lines. You want to kiss him, to trail your fingers along every indent in his skin. “You led the race from start to finish, and it was quite a battle with Max. Tell us about your strategy and how you managed to hold that lead.”

“It was definitely not an easy race,” he says, still smiling. You’re shocked he hasn’t lost his English yet, he always does when he gets over excited. “Max is a great driver and I knew he would not make it easy for me. Our strategy was to be aggressive from the start. I tried to manage my tyres. I think it all paid off in the end.”

“Your victory today makes you the first Monegasque driver to win the Monaco Grand Prix since Louis Chiron in 1931. How does it feel to be a part of this historic moment?”

“It’s a tremendous honor. Louis is an inspiration to all Monegasque drivers, to follow his footsteps is truly special.”

“Fantastic, thank you, Charles. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, thank you!” He says, holds up a thumbs up as he walks away and winks. Well, he tried to wink. The inability to do so might be the least suave thing about him.

The screen transitions to the cool-down room, to Max talking Esteban’s ear off, lighting up with a smile when Charles enters. The camera focuses on Charles in the corner, setting his helmet and his towel down on the table in front of his name, drinking an entire water bottle in two gulps, opening another and taking up a conversation with the others.

Joris snaps a finger in front of your face. “Sorry, what?” You ask, eyes snapping to him.

“I asked if you want champagne?” he chuckles.

“Oh,” you smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

When you look back, they’ve already cut to the empty podium, announcing Esteban’s third place finish to a loud applause. He celebrates like he won the thing, which you admire. Next is Max, who is met with applause, but it's noticeably less than the roar that follows when Charles’ name is announced.

The room around you is half as loud as the rest of the country, laughing and screaming wild for Charles. Jo and Ricky pop open Champagne bottles on the balcony, send the corks flying to God only knows where, hastily filling up the glasses beside them and passing them out.

Even from blocks away, where he is just a red dot, where your friends arms are over your shoulder sipping champagne and humming along with the national anthem, you feel a strange connection to him, something beyond the bickering and annoyance. Something beyond the sex, maybe. Something just… something happy, or proud, or just plain soft, maybe. Soft like his smile while he gets drenched in Champagne by the two others on the podium.

(six hours later)

Joris’ knowing glances didn’t escape your notice, and it made you uneasy. You wondered if Charles was crass enough, if he has been sharing secrets about your little arrangement. The thought of it sends a shiver down your spin. The idea of anyone glimpsing into the tangled web that is you and Charles now made you feel vulnerable and exposed.

You sipped your drink, trying to focus on the chatter around you, but your mind just keeps looping back to him. His laughter, his smile. His very presence seems to pull on you, and it doesn’t help that you know he feels the same way, that he has for weeks now. You quickly brush away the thought each time, unwilling to entertain the idea of anything beyond the surface of your friendship.

“You seem a bit distant tonight,” Jo remarked, voice pulling you back to the present.

You force a smile, hope he won’t detect the unease that drenches your demeanor. “Just a bit tired, I suppose,” you replied casually, averting his gaze, staring into the bottom of your glass as you spun the clear liquor around.

He didn’t push further, but the look on his face tells you he sees right through you, makes you feel that much more exposed. You take a deep breath, attempt to steady yourself, but the questions linger like shadows in the back of your mind.

The night wears on, and Charles wears your eyes, a near constant sightline from you to him. It was easy to steal glances when he looks like that, when his easy charm and infectious laughter draws everyone in.

You don’t dare confront the truth, not here, not now. It was easier to stay in the safe confines of what you knew, what you’d established, emotions locked away in a heart-shaped locket hung round your neck.

The party shows no signs of winding down, and you need air. You slip away from the group, out the back door to the curb where all the smokers hide. You found yourself drawn to the quiet of it, where it was just you, your thoughts, and the smell of tobacco.

With the distant laughter and celebrations faded into the night, you allow yourself to be candid, to admit the truth, if only to yourself. There was a part of you that yearned for something more, a part of you that longed to explore what might be with him.

But he was right. You are afraid, you are. Afraid of what it means to let your guard down, to open up to the unknown. The vulnerability that comes with the admission is daunting, shit straight from a horror movie, like a trap. You were standing on a cliff, a dangerous precipice that threatened to unravel everything you’d sloppily built. This life is held together with bubblegum and toothpicks, it can’t stand the shake.

So, as you stood there on the back step, you made a silent promise to yourself. A promise to stay safe, to guard your heart and keep your feelings hidden from him, from everyone.

You returned to the party, unable to fully shake the weight of what gnawed on you. The cocktail of emotions was overwhelming, and you found solace in the bottom of a glass. Joris egged you on, kept the shots coming, and Marta made it more fun.

However, as the alcohol flowed freely, your tipsiness quickly spiraled into something more intense. With each drink, your inhibitions crumbled into a reckless pursuit of distraction. Each shot pushed the turmoil down further.

Marta slowed down first, opting to be cautious on her first “big night out” since having the baby. She could focus on the company and the laughter you feared. Joris started sober, too, tried to keep an eye on you the best he could, but you were determined to lose yourself to the moment.

The music thumped loudly, and the energy of the party was infectious. You danced with wild abandon, uncaring of the curious glances and amused whispers that followed. The alcohol had stripped back any reservations, leaving behind a version of yourself you barely recognize, all carefree and daring and reckless.

Jo tried to reason with you, to suggest you call it an early night, but you were having none of it. “I’m fine, really,” you insisted, slurring your words slightly. “Let’s do another shot!”

He reluctantly agreed, but the more you drank, the more erratic your behavior became. You danced with strangers, laughed loud and flirted shamelessly, trying to fill the void with temporary connections. Amidst the sea of bodies, you caught the eye of a handsome stranger. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eye that instantly intrigued you. He moved with confident grace, and you were like a moth to a flame.

He made his way toward you, playful smirk on his lips. “I couldn’t help but notice you across the room,” he said, voice low and alluring.

You laughed, feeling the effects of alcohol emboldening you. “Oh, really? And what is it that caught your attention?”

He leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he mumbled, “Your smile. It’s as captivating as the stars.”

You blushed at his compliment, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. “Smooth talker, huh?” you teased, trying to keep up the playful banter.

He chuckled, his finger lightly grazing the small of your back. “Only when I’m in the presence of someone this beautiful.”

You grinned, enjoying the flirtatious exchange. “You know how to flatter a girl,” you replied, heart racing at his touch.

He leaned in even closer, the proximity between you sending sparks flying. “I can be even more convincing,” he said, voice low and seductive.

You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Is that so?”

He smirked, gaze never leaving yours. “Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “But you’ll have to let me prove it.”

A thrill coursed through you as the chemistry between the two of you intensified. You were well aware it was just a fleeting moment, a casual flirtation in the middle of a wild night out. But something about this stranger has ignited a spark in you, and you found yourself tempted to play along.

The two of you danced together, the electric energy between you creating an intoxicating allure. His hands traced patterns along your waist. You get lost in the moment, in the music, in the touch of a stranger.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asked, and you laughed.

“No,” you replied, and abandoned your spot with him before he could protest any further.

At some point, you stumbled outside for fresh air, feeling the world spin around you. The cool night air did little to sober you up, and instead, it only dueled your recklessness. You leaned against the railing, teetering on the edge between exhilaration and oblivion.

Joris found you there, concern etched on his face. He calls your name, “Maybe we should call it a night. You’ve had enough.”

But you shook your head defiantly, a stubborn gleam in your eyes. “I’m not done yet,” you slurred. “I want more.”

He sighed like he knew it was pointless to attempt to reason with you like this, made you promise to stay put, told you he was off to get you another drink and he would be right back.

As he left for your promised drink, you found yourself swaying in your shoes, the world around you still spinning. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to gain some composure, but the liquor is taking it’s toll. When the door opened, you opened your eyes again, met with Joris–no drink, but with Charles in tow.

You laughed. “Hey, Charles,” you slurred, grabbing onto his arm for support.

He looked down at you, a mix of surprise and annoyance crossing his features. “Are you alright?” he asked, glancing around as if someone would magically appear to care for you.

You ignored his question. “I want you to dance with me,” you demanded, tugging on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

He frowned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. “You’re drunk. Maybe you should sit down and take it easy,” he suggested, trying to lead you back inside, no doubt in the direction of a chair.

“No,” you pouted. “I want to dance.” You didn’t care that you looked like a mess, or that your coordination was shot. All you wanted was to forget, to lose yourself in the music and the movement.

Charles sighed, clearly exasperated, but let you tug him all the way back inside to dance. He keeps a cautious distance, as if he was worried you might fall over at any moment, which, granted. You very well might. You swayed and you twirled, laughing without regard for how ridiculous you looked.

As the music pulsed through you, you were suddenly stuck with severe guilt. You were angry at yourself for getting so drunk, for losing control like this. You were mad at him, too, annoyed by his incessant need to attempt to care for you, for never just letting you be. And yet, at the same time, you were so drawn to him and his soft eyes, to the concern and frustration and the way he cared about you even when you pushed him away.

The song changed. Something slower, more sensual. You dance closer to him and he hesitates, clearly unsure of what to do. You laugh, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You could feel his heart racing, his body tense with restraint.

“We shouldn’t…” he started to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. It was messy and desperate, per usual, fueled by alcohol and unspoken emotions. He hesitates for just a moment before giving in, his hands finding their way to your waist.

You pulled away breathless, looked up at him all defiant and bratty. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you whisper, and it comes out far more vulnerable than you intended, all squeaky and cracked. “I can handle myself.”

He looked torn, his usual composure slipping momentarily, before reverting to his usual ways. “Someone fucking has to,” he finally spoke.

You wanted to protest, to push him away, but the words all get stuck in your throat. Instead, you lean in to kiss him again, fingers tanging into his hair. In this moment, you wanted nothing more than to forget it all, to lose yourself in him and the way he made you feel. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“Can’t believe I got your sloppy seconds,” he quips.

“What?”

“The guy who tried to take you home earlier,” he laughed. “Looked like a prick.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Him.”

“Yeah, you really hit it off with him, didn’t you?” Charles said with a hint of sarcasm. You struggled to read if he was joking or if he was just barely keeping his irritation in check.

You grinned, words still slurring. “Oh, you’re just jealous.” you shot back at him, leaning closer.

“Please,” he scoffed. “Like I could ever be jealous of that guy.”

“You’re right,” you laughed, your body pressing against his as you stumbled slightly. “You just won the Monaco Grand Prix.”

The rest of the evening continues in much of the same way, with Charles having to play babysitter to a very drunk–and very handsy–you. He tried to keep his distance, to maintain some semblance of composure, but you made it hard constantly pulling him into your orbit.

At some point, you find yourselves alone on a sofa, the noise around you fading somewhere far off. You were giggling about something, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you said, “this is all your fault.”

He quirked a brow. “My fault? How do you figure?”

You Smirked, reaching up to play with a strand of his hair. “You’re the one who got me all worked up with that kiss earlier,” you said, voice low and teasing.

His cheeks burnt bright pink. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, a poor attempt at sounding casual.

“Oh please, Charles. You know exactly what you’re doing,” you said, voice taking on a more serious tone. “You’re always doing this, pulling me in and then pushing me away.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?” He scoffs, turning his head to face you, knocking your head off his shoulder in the process. “You’re the one doing that.”

You feel a pang of guilt at his words. You know he’s right, that tonight is just the next night of you sending him mixed signals. It’s been going on like this for months, but you don’t know how to stop, how to untangle the mess. “I don’t mean to,” you say softly, defenses dropping for a moment. “It’s just… complicated.”

He nodded. “I know,” he speaks quietly. “It’s just hard. Trying to figure out where we stand.”

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. “I know. I do.” You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging in the air. You wished you could say something, anything, to tell him how you feel, but all the words are stuck. Instead, you reach for his hand, intertwine your fingers and look up at him, big pupils in the dimly lit room. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you said softly, voice hardly above a whisper.

“I don’t either,” he said, his thumb stoking your hand gently.

The moment is interrupted by Joris, who appears from around the corner out of nowhere, looking half as annoyed as the two of you must. “There you two are,” he said, relief and irritation clouding his words. “It’s time to go,” he says, pointing directly to you. “You’ve had enough.”

You groaned, but you didn’t protest. You lean on Charles the whole walk to Joris’ car.

As you arrived back at your apartment, he helped you inside and settled you into bed. He tucked you in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Sleep well,” he whispered, voice soft and tender.

You smile sleepily, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You too,” you murmured. He turns to leave, but before he could go, you grab his wrist, holding it tightly. “Stay,” you said, voice barely audible.

He hesitates for a moment, you can feel it in the air even with your eyes closed, can feel his heart beating in his wrist. Eventually, though, he gives in, slides into bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you nuzzle into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

“You’re so warm,” you mumbled, words still pathetically sloshed.

He chuckles softly, the annoyance in his eyes starting to fade. “Well, I am always warm,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood, to ease the awkwardness.

You giggled, snuggling even closer to him. “You’re my human heater,” you said, voice filled with affection.

As the minutes passed, you started to drift off to sleep, your breathing becoming slow and steady. You could see the struggle in his eyes as your lids grew heavier, the depth of care for you he tried so hard to hide.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, hints of a sunrise beginning to push through the curtains, you find him still awake. He looked lost in thought, afraid, almost. Desperately, you wanted to reach out, to ask him what was wrong, but feared pushing him away more than anything.

You settle against his chest, listen to the sound of his heart beating against your ear, feel yours match it. Finally, exhaustion catches up to him, his body relaxing as he drifts off to sleep. As you lay there, you can’t help your tired mind and it’s delusions of a future where you don’t have to hide your feelings, where you can be together openly and honestly, and then you’re falling back asleep yourself.