#charles leclerc smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherry-leclerc · 1 day

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star-crossed ☆ mv1

genre: angst, fluff, humor, lots of back and forth, smut

word count: 9.1k

Fixated, you and Max struggle to stay away from one another. All the while, everyone tries to convince you that it won't ever work out.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, fingering

inspired by this !

cherry here!...as a wise person once told me: footnotes = crumbs. hope that helps!! enjoy :)

The table was long, practically going for miles, but not really—it was just your closest friends. They all converse with one another, talking about the upcoming season, the upcoming season, and oh, what’s that? The upcoming season. And you’ve had enough of it, he can tell, so he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, easing your nervous tick.

White florals lay neatly on the wooden top, fairy lights hang up above your heads, and Frank Sinatra plays from your fiancé’s phone, connected to the Bluetooth.

Pierre stands up firmly, clinking his glass with a spoon. When it doesn’t seem to get anyones attention, Alex lets out a loud whistle. Everyone’s heads turn. “Merde—finally. Well, first of all, welcome on behalf of the groom's best man!” Crickets. His smile drops. “I-Its me. I’m the best man.”

“More like Best Party Killer. Sit down,” Daniel yells, aiming a peony at his friend's head.

The Frenchman swats it away, to which Kika glares as it hits her. He nervously chuckles, pecking her cheek, swiftly. “Comme je le disais…we’re here to celebrate two very important people. Can ya take a guess?”

“Why did you choose Pierre as your best man again?” you whisper to the twenty-six year old. He shrugs, hushing you once before his watercolor eyes flicker back to his friend.

“Any more guesses?”

“Okay, thank you!” you yelp, standing up and motioning him down. “Thank you, Pierre, for saying a whole lot of nothing, really.”

The blue eyed boy silently pleads, hands pressed together in prayer. “Oui, oui, I’m done, I’m done.” A warm hand snakes to wrap around your wrist and you sigh, sitting back down onto his lap. He clears his throat. “I thought we could go around and…share some stories about the soon-to-be husband and wife. I’ll start.”

“Great,” Kika groans, massaging her temples.

“September 4, 2022.”

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“You said it would be warm!”

Lissie squeals when you reach out to pinch her forearm. “I said slightly warm. More so cool.” A harsh glare. She winces. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Despite the evident goosebumps, you march your way over to the pen, awaiting your first interview. Lissie stands besides you, raising two thumbs up and a toothy grin. You got this! Your stomach churns as you fix your set up. She’s right, you’ve worked for this moment, day and night. You weren't going to mess up for any reas—

“Should I just come back later or…”

Blinking, your heart stops beating as your mouth runs completely dry. He looks around for his publicist who just sighs and starts tugging him away.

And we’re here with Max Verstappen, Lissie hisses—assisists. Coughing loudly, you bring up the microphone to your lips. “Max Verstappen!” The RedBull driver turns back to face you, clearly puzzled. You cringe at your sudden outburst, but continue. “So nice to see you. Saw you had a magnificent drive.”

Blue eyes pierce basically through your soul. He smiles, shoulders relaxing, hands leaning against the barrier. “Yeah. We did have a lot of luck on our side today. Plenty.”

It wasn’t that hard to pick up from there, question after question being basically given to you, to which he answers with professional ease. His dimples even pop out with every punctuation, it makes your chest swell. You clear your throat, eyes flickering to your list that now narrows down to one last inquiry.

“Everyone nowadays fears you, it seems like.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “But I do have one question—how does it feel to be the villain in all of Formula One?”

His smile slips away. “Sorry?”

“Uh-oh,” Lissie mutters.

But you don’t catch onto it, his sudden defensive tone, his dark glare. Beaming like the sun on the earth, you nod. “Well you aren’t the most liked, per se. Often hated by others. Do you think your dominance has affected your relationship with the drivers on the grid?”

When you finally look up, you clearly notice his change in demeanor, and that makes you flinch. We should get going, his publicist squeaks, already pushing him away. Let’s not air that last question, thank you.

Fiercely, you turn to face your friend. “I still had a minute left!”

“Why would you say that?” she screeches. “Why, why, why?”

You blink. “I’m lost. What did I do wrong?”

The brunette sighs, brown orbs analyzing the short clip. “You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what.”

“Their relationship had started rather…rocky,” Pierre announces, swaying his hands back and forth for emphasis. “But don’t you worry! I. Fixed. Everything.”

“She really said that?”

Max whips his head to Checo, then to Yuki, then to Pierre. Each wears a loopy smile. He scowls. “She’s new here, she must be—I’ve never seen her before. Who does she think she is?”

“A legend, that’s who,” the Frenchman retorts, almost high and mighty.

Max takes a long sip of his energy drink before scoffing. “I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

A few hours have now rolled by and you’ve finally realized—you messed up. Here you go, basically painting him out to be the bad guy, when really, he’s just a strong driver. No one thinks he’s a villain, you think he’s a villain.

“You think he’s going to protest against me? Get me fired? Boycott? Hates me?”

Lissie giggles, tidying up the equipment from the last round. “No. No. No. Maybe?”

Groaning, you hit your forehead over and over again with your clipboard before a sharp accent makes you stop. “Hello.”

“Oh! Hi!”

His lips stretch, then steps closer to you. “I’m Pierre—”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m—”

“New?”

Your cheeks burn up at his accuracy. “Yes?”

“I thought so,” he pronounced with a goofy grin. Annoyance builds up inside of you but hold back and bite your tongue. The Frenchman fixes his sunglasses that lay on the bridge of his nose. “So…I’m going to take the chance and say that what you asked wasn’t meant to hurt his feelings?”

You soften up quickly. “I hurt his feelings?”

A nose scrunch. “Let me backtrack; Max doesn’t have feelings, therefore there’s nothing to hurt, but he does hold killer grudges, so yeah.” He lifts the frames. “He doesn’t like you.”

“Lovely,” Lissie mumbles from her spot besides you. “Is there a way…we…can fix all this misunderstanding? Because that’s what this is! A misunderstanding!”

The Alpha Tauri driver clicks his tongue in deep thought. “There’s not much to do other than apologize. Explain yourselves, maybe? He’s very Old-Fashioned.”

“Okay, yes.” You scurry down the paddock. “I could do that! I could so do that.”

“Other way!” he yells. Turning around, you see him pointing you down to the right. You giggle, nervously, and continue your sprint.

You catch him quite fast; his tall stature and blond hair are pretty easy to spot. “Hey—hi!” Gasping for air, you clutch onto your side. “H-hello. Again.”

His jaw ticks once, and in an eerie motion, a warm smile forms. You shudder. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize about before. That was not the right thing to say, I am so sorry…please don’t demand for my release.”

A dark brow quirks up, looks around, then back down to you. “I’m not here to ruin your life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You sigh in relief. “God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Crouching down to you, he tilts his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re very welcome, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”

Your breath hitches, shivers spreading like a wildfire. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He steps away. “You already said that.”

“He was a bit guarded. Definitely guarded.”

“Isn’t this supposed to make me look good?” your fiancé grunts, dark eyes narrowing down on the Frenchman. “You know what? Just sit down.”

Pierre smirks. “See? Guarded.”

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“I’m not a quitter.”

“There we go!”

“But he makes me want to quit.” “Oh, well now we’re back to square one,” Pierre groans. “He’s being hard headed, that’s all. I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry.”

And he does.

It happens during one of the worst moments in your life; you weren’t wearing makeup.

“You look—”

“Hideous?” You blush. “Yeah, don’t even mention it.”

He swallows, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I wanted to apologize… for the way I reacted. It was immature.”

“N-no, you had every right to be upset. I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”

Max nods, Adam’s Apple dancing up, then down. “Truce?”

Staring down at his large hand, you smile and slip yours past it. “Truce.”

And as a rare occasion, his smile meets his eyes, crinkles and all. The RedBull driver disconnects first, then rubs his jaw once before signaling down to your wet hair. “Pool day, I see? Enjoying the benefits?”

With a cheesy look, you shrug. “It’s one way to relieve stress.”

“Yeah—and what’s another?”

His tone is sultry and irresistible, you can’t help but rip your gaze away. “Anything that brings thrill, I suppose.” A tick. “Whatever that may be.”

“And what if it’s something bad? Does that still count?”

You laugh, throwing your head back. The Dutchman’s lips wobble as a weak attempt to not smile. “You’re not a bad person, so yes.”

His tongue clicks. “Uh, I don't know. As I recall, you called me a villain?”

Groaning, you gently smack his chest. “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

Just as you’re about to respond, your phone rings and you smile. “L-Lissie.”

The blue eyed boy nods. “Are you going to be interviewing me from now on?”

“Ah—is my ban lifted?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. “Then yes.” Strolling past him, you wave. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

“Where are you even going with any of this?” Lewis hollers from the end of the table, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve just been talking about yourself, not them.”

Pierre scowls. “I’m getting there!” He returns his attention to the couple, gleaming. “So, as you can imagine, once I weaseled my way in and fixed their problems—your welcome, by the way—a certain spark came through. It was clearly evident.”

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“Nepo-Baby?”

You hum. “They all are.”

Lissie groans. “So how will I know which one?”

“Oh, you’ll know.” Squinting accusingly, the British girl sticks her tongue out before standing up, hands on her hips. She yawns. “I have to go find Will. Something about—whatever, you probably don’t even care.”

You giggle. “Nope. Have fun.”

Silence engulfs you as you close your eyes momentarily, pulling your coat over your chest.

“Don’t you have to watch the race in order to report back on it? Ask questions?”

“Dude, I was just falling asleep…” You peek an eye open. “And yes. But it hasn’t started, so I'm clear.”

Max whistles, unimpressed. Falling down next to you on the fluffy couch, he places his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes, too. You try not to laugh and instead do the same.

“Haven’t seen you around much.”

“Been hiding from you.”

“Seems like. Don’t do that.”

“Fine.” You grin, sitting up straight. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Probably.”

You snicker, pink tongue poking from in between your teeth. The cold air makes you snuggle deeper into your wannabe-blanket and he can’t help but take occasional glances. Teeth chatter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you.”

“...and I turned and said, isn’t that Celine Dion?” Lissie waves her hands back and forth, swaying like a Fly Guy. She pouts, stopping her movements. “Turns out I was just really freaking high.” Will laughs, jotting down God knows what onto a piece of paper as she continues cluttering herself with an obnoxious amount of wires. The British girl huffs. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was—” A sharp gasp. “Him? Oh my—it’s him!”

“Don’t you mean her?” Will hums from his spot, still not looking up.

But wide-eyed Lissie stares with her jaw on the floor as you and Max cross by, laughing and pushing each other as you make your way down the paddock. As soon as you blush when he winks, it becomes all the more real. The young reporter nods, curled hair bobbing up and down.

“R-right—her.”

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“Is he cute? Yeah, maybe.” A finger pinches her top lip before releasing. “In a weird way.”

“Hey,” you warn.

“Is he your type? Don’t know why, but yes. I could see why you’re into him.”

“Great…”

“But is he the right choice? No. Not at all.”

“...and fantastic.” Flopping down onto your towel, you groan. Suddenly the blazing sun wasn’t the worst feeling because Lissie was right. It’s unbearable, almost. You prop up, facing her with a scrunched nose and squinted eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?”

“Oh no.” A sip of coconut water. She purses her lips. “God no.” You sigh, slowly, then sprawl back down with a sour snarl. You can hear her debate; muttering, mumbling. Still, that doesn’t get rid of your bad mood. The brunette pokes your thigh gently, nibbling her bottom lip. “He’s just so—and you’re just so—” A beat. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” Waves crash harder. Sun beams brighter. You open up the bottle of sunscreen, spurting some onto your burnt legs. You rub briskly; up, down. She flinches. “Yeah, I know.”

“And for a while, that was that,” Pierre announces, feigning indifference. “No more love birds.”

“Oh,” George blurts. Dark brows pinch up, teasing smile playing out. “Then why are we here?”

“Oh God,” you groan, digging your face into the nape of the twenty-six year old. You can faintly sniff out his musk scent, clean and so him. It makes you smile like a teen. “What if we just elope?”

He chuckles, vibrating and sending you on your own personal rollercoaster. “We always can. Is that what you want?” And he asks because he knows—no. That’s not what you want. Separating yourself to peck his cheek, you shake your head with a playful pout. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Good.” Watercolor eyes flicker to where Pierre finally gets yanked down and Lissie takes over with a proud smile. “Because I think this is actually going somewhere.”

Bahrain International Circuit—-March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

So you kept your distance, and oddly enough, he did too. For plenty of reasons. And it wasn’t even that hard, really. He spent his summer break traveling and you spent yours as a homebody. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

“Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

A sly grin. The silver coins flips a couple rounds before jumping up and down, clapping. “Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

“You’re going to get a sugar high and not be able to sleep later.”

“Until I can feel my teeth rot,” you retort, slipping your tongue over your pearly whites.

Answering a few emails, you perch onto a chair. It’s too stiff, so you twist and turn until you ultimately decide to just stand. A gust of wind salutes you as your orbs flicker up to the sudden shadow. A breath catches.

Max tilts his head in greeting. “Working hard already?” Your lips part. “The season’s barely begun.”

And just like that, your world tilts on its axis, but this time with more to lose.

“As your best friend—” Lissie points clumsily at Carmen who giggles while the British girl furrows her thick brows. She glances around before spotting you dying with laughter on your fiancé’s lap. She claps. “I knew straight away—he was the one for you.”

Miami International Autodrome—-May 7, 2023 (Miami Grand Prix)

“How long has this been going on for?” she hisses, disappointed eyes challenging both you and Max. She gags at the hickeys on your neck and his tousled hair.

With wobbly legs, you take her hands into yours. “A week—”

“No.”

“Well, two—”

Green paints her face. “No.”

“One month,” he murmurs from his corner in the elevator. Watercolor eyes flicker up, loopy. “It’s been a month. Ever since—”

“Azerbaijan.” Shamefully, you look down at your shoes and nearly scream bloody murder when you spot your thong just a few steps behind her. “Ew, gross,” Lissie gasps, shutting her eyes in despair. Taking in the opportunity, you scatter down and retrieve the thin fabric. The Dutchman releases a laugh, but bites down when the British girl glares hard. She curls a brow at your breathless state. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Giggling nervously from your place on the floor, you keep your hands behind your back; out of sight, out of mind. “Begging for forgiveness?”

“Oh stop it, a piece of land is what I need in order to forgive you for being dumb as shit.”

You frown, but quickly stand up when she exits the elevator. You can hear him follow with a bored expression. “Lissie, wait!”

Like a spinning top, she turns back, long layers slapping her pink face. “You two know this isn’t a good idea, right?”

“Yes—”

“For a million different reasons—”

“I-I’m aware,” you stutter.

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers.

And the truth is, you don’t know. All you know is that nothing else matters when you're with him. It’s sickening how blindsighted you get. Anxious eyes twirl over to the blue eyed boy who shared the same expression despite being unbothered a few seconds ago.

Licking your lips, you play with the fabric. “That’s it. We’re done.” You turn to the RedBull driver. “Tell her.”

“Done.”

For a moment, you almost let yourself flinch from how fast and easy he’s able to say that one word. Lissie’s judgmental eyes look at you, then him, then sighs, reluctantly nodding. An awkward moment ticks by and then she’s focused, appalled.

“Are those your panties?”

“You were like a dog who couldn’t bear the idea of leaving its bone.” Everyone snickers while you throw the same peony Daniel had aimed at Pierre to shut him up. She laughs, raising her arms up in defense. “And I know—I know—I came in like a monster, warning you off of all the drivers because like it or not, they’re scumbags—”

“Ey. Watch it,” Carlos deadpans from the corner, brown eyes playfully glaring.

She shrugs. “But I no longer liked playing the role of an evil step-sister so…” Tears brim and you choke on a wet sob. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.” A pause. “That you're both happy.”

Leaping off his thick lap, you rush over, embracing her. She laughs, returning the gesture. “I love you,” you start. I know. “And I’m so happy that you never—”

A knowing smile. “I’d do anything for you.”

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

Sneaking into his motorhome, you moan as soon as he gets his hands on your; sliding up and down your body with urgency. Heat radiates off of him and onto you. All of this— the cramped room, his lips attacking your neck—makes you dizzy. Clutching onto his sweaty hair, you arch, completely to him and for him.

“We s-shouldn’t.” You gasp. Long fingers tease your aching pussy as you whine. He instantly slaps a large hand over your mouth as he continues his movements. The stretch burns, but it's fairly familiar that you don’t even cry out, just stare back with knitted brows and an open mouth that he can’t see, but can feel expand beneath his palm.

“You’re probably right.” A steady stroke. “You should be out there.” His knuckles curl as he reaches your g-spot. “Preparing those foolish questions.” A muffled moan. “But you’re here, because you know that this excites you as much as it does me.”

Calloused pads push down before drawing figure eights deep inside. “You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be—”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t even try and blame it on—”

“Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”

Feeling your orgasm rolling in is one thing, but your snarkiness is another. Gritting your teeth, you force him down to kiss you, teeth and all, and then rip away with a sultry smile. “Maybe, but who cares?”

You’re not completely off. At that moment in time, neither of you cared about the consequences. It’s just that as soon as a room of watchful eyes flicker to you two, you swallow a low wince.

Grabbing your microphone, you fix your disheveled hair. Lissie’s eyes flicker between you and him, slow and scary. Like she’s reading right through you and your lies.

Beaming at the awaiting grid, you raise your chin up. “Who’s ready?”

“Finally,” Daniel yells, rolling his cuffed sleeves. “Someone with an actual story to tell.” A wide smile has never made you more nervous than at this very instant, so reasonably so, you swallow the entire glass of—

“Vodka, baby! That was my vodka—your champagne is right there.”

Blinking, you giggle, wiping your plump lips with the back of your hand. “What yours is mine, no? Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

He chuckles. Lean arms wrap around your waist like a harness. “Keep this up and you’re not going to be able to sleep later.”

“The opposite, actually,” you state as a matter-of-fact. “Just need to get blackout drunk.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That’s not like you.” “...should have seen her! She was wasted as shit!” the Australian yelps, buzzing with excitement. You nip at the air all while he raises his voice an additional octave. “I found her there, at the bar, close to getting alcohol poisoning, but you know what they say—only drunks and children tell the truth.”

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Oui, the beer! Fucking amazing,” Pierre declares with a mouthful.

“Say it, don’t spray it,” someone screeches, and is quickly identified to be Alex when he wipes his shimmery forehead. You laugh, taking baby sips from your drink. Shirley Temple, because contrary to belief, you weren’t a nasty drunk.

The Frenchman pouts, tapping his fingers against the brown glass. He turns to you with a sheepish grin. “I read your article.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Have to admit, it's kind of boring. It’s not your fault though. Max Verstappen's domination has made the sport sort of…” He pretends to wilt, to which you toss your head back with laughter.

“Your time will come, Pierre, your time will come.”

“Shit, shit, shit! Bathroom!” Lissie’s long legs wobble like a plate of jello as you hurry over to catch her.

“Crap—you smell like shit.”

The British girl squeals, yanking her hair, dancing from side to side. “I smoked a fat blunt, but never mind that, if I don’t find a loo in approximately five seconds, then I will smell like actual shit.”

A nose scrunch. “That’s not very lady-like.” She paces some more. “Let’s go.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the crowded room, Max watches as the two journalists slip away. He keeps a close eye for a while until a certain brunette swoops in right next to him with a loopy grin and crinkly eyes.

“You should talk to her. Seems like you really like her.”

“What? What makes you say that? What makes you think that?”

Daniel shrugs, rotating his blunt back into his mouth. “Dilation.”

The Dutchman gags. “What…like when a woman gives birth?”

A sore laugh. “As in your eyes.” Another hit. “Y’know…they just look—different. When you look at her, I mean.”

And he hopes it is not apparent that these words make him swallow. For the past year, he’s tried his best to hide his feelings for the sake of not making a fool out of himself, and later for a whole other, but…

He licks his sudden dry lips. “Hm. Doesn’t matter if my eyes fucking shine or not, she’s not my type.”

The Australian frowns. “Sucks. Lissie’s really cool.” His eyes flicker over to the RedBull driver in a nonchalant manner, but when he blinks back with rose tinted cheeks, despite not having a sip of alcohol, he chokes on his puff. “Oh shit, no…”

In a flash, Max yanks the blunt away, dipping it into an anonymous drink. “You’re right, she is so cool—”

Brown eyes narrow down in accusation, brows knitted sharply. “Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie…” A wince. “Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.”

And just like that, Daniel notices the blown out pupils revert back to its original shape. Small and empty. “Yeah. Of course.” He plops back down onto his stiff seat, rubs his eyes, then smiles. “I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.”

“He—” Daniel points over to the broad twenty-six year old who sits with a timid smile. “...didn't have a single sip of beer that night because he was too focused looking after her.” A whistle. “And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

“Wow, congrats,” George says to your fiancé. “For not being an alcoholic, really, that's impressive.” You can hear the humor that coats his voice and you can’t help but giggle. Calloused fingers slip up to pinch your thigh as you laugh harder.

“That’s why I drank twice as much that day,” Pierre announces with a firm voice. “Because he was missing out on some fantastic beer.”

“Drunkard,” Alex whispers to Lily who stifles a snicker.

The tall Australian clicks his tongue. “So who was the wasted one who confessed their little white lies?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to face you as you burn up with mortification.

“What the fuck, I barely even drink!”

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“You.”

“Me?”

You snarl, stomping over. “She's a lightweight, dumbass. Why would you get her high? Jesus, we have a flight in eight hours.”

Daniel cackles, clapping as if delighted at the fact. “She kept insisting! I felt bad.”

An eye roll. “Douche.”

He tries to make it up to you with a drink. “Pierre says they’re good.” You eye the bottle hesitantly. He sighs. “Come on, trust me.” He eventually sneaks off for a minute, but returns with a new blunt.

“Did you pull another one out of your ass or where did you get that from?”

“Oh no. How many did you drink?”

Squinting, you motion him to take a seat. He does, but he can’t even smoke in peace now that you sway from side to side, despite being seated. “I don’t know. Too many.” He groans, large hands tugging his hair. You take a long sip, then raise your glass like some wannabe. “He told me he loves me. Tonight. Right when you left. And you know what I told him?” Another sip. “I told him I love him too.”

The Australian chuckles. “I didn’t expect you to fall for someone like him.”

“Me either. But I fell—tumbled.” You frown. “I’m just not sure this is the right thing to feel, y’know?”

His orbs flicker to the twenty-six year old who huddles with a bunch of the other drivers. He smiles, tilting his head. “Why not?”

“Because everytime I look at him, I fear the way my heart beats. He laughs, I laugh, and it feels wrong. He smiles, I smile, and it feels wrong. He makes one of our inside jokes, I understand, and it feels wrong.” A shaky laugh. “And something that should feel fucking right, doesn’t.” Glossy eyes switch over to him. “Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

“Great,” you let out, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Daniel smiles, fondly, like an older brother. “It doesn’t, and you want to know why?”

“Why?”

A second passes by before he leans back against his chair. “Because it looks like you really—really—like him, so why should any of that matter? Just let yourself be happy, fuck everything else.”

You scoff, furrowing your brows. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” Almost robotically, he drops his blunt into your beer bottle. “You can’t…”

“Yeah. I know.” A pause. “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

Daniel taps his fingers against his chin, comedically. His orbs flicker between you two who stare up at him in deep focus, awaiting for his next words. He grins. “You two, it works. It always has.”

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into you harder as you cling onto his arm, eyes screwed shut. “H-holy fucking—hell.”

You moan, mouth hung wide open. “Feel so good, Maxie, so, so good.”

Blue eyes admire the way you arch towards him like some sort of warm invitation. The way your legs lazily drape over his sweaty waist, how your scent hugs him like no one else. It’s all so familiar, and nice, and right. Your soft palm grazing his jaw makes him alert in an instant, desperate to not miss a single thing that lives inside this moment.

He furrows his dark brows. “We-We’re not made for one another.”

“I know.” He grunts, animalistically. “They warned me about you.”

“They told me to stay away from you.” His tip brushes against your g-spot and your head lolls back, a loud sound. “But God, it’s been impossible.”

“Max, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m close.”

He grins, rubs your clit, and whimpers when he feels you reach your orgasm. You shudder when he follows soon after, face digging into the nape of your neck. Your heart pounds like a ticking time bomb, but still, you run your fingers through his dirty blond waves.

“Lissie…Daniel…they’re—”

“Right?” You choke up. “Yeah, you don’t know how much I hate that they are.”

He pulls away, and somehow, his watercolor eyes appear more blue than ever before. Black, almost—nearly. And you’re sure yours do too.

Max plays with your hair, tracing it like a map. He gulps. “So do I.” A tug. “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

A wet laugh. “I love you, too.” Wobbly smile. “And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

He hums. “What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

“I know many of you guys are wondering why I’m best man—”

“Not wondering, more like questioning,” Carlos quips with a sly smirk.

Pierre flips him off and you laugh at the immature interaction between the drivers. “Because it really could have easily been anyone else. Ha! Even you Carlos.” The Spaniard mocks him with a shady, playful, look.

“Then again, who would have thrown a better rehearsal dinner for Charles and his bride-to-be?”

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

"You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what."

“It’s probably nothing or he’s just a sensitive little pussy,” you shoot back defensively.

Lissie snickers, hushing you, orbs scanning the pen. “You can’t say shit like that! Any of it, actually,” she adds. “Just…think before saying anything.”

You huff, arms crossed, stubbornly. “Fine.”

As the open area starts filling up more and more, by some miracle, your nerves start dying down.

Or so you thought.

“Before I let you go, I do have one more question.” Charles smiles down at you, shy dimples poking through. You return the gesture. “Would you consider yourself Ferrari’s savior or their scapegoat?”

“Jesus,” the British girl groans, covering her eyes with second-hand embarrassment.

The Monegasque lets out a nervous laugh, turning to face his publicist who simply tippy toes and whispers something into his ear. He nods. “I-I-I actually have another interview set up, but thank you for your…questions.” Pink tints his ears as he looks at you one more time before strolling away.

“Alrighty then,” Lissie hollers. She sneaks the microphone away. “Jitters, totally normal, but yeah, you’re done for today.”

“I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

“Would you look at that?” Pierre gloats with a wicked grin. “Max Verstappen got butthurt.”

The Dutchman scoffs. “No, I did not. I just don’t like stupid questions, and she made one.”

Yuki snickers at his wary response. Pierre rolls his eyes. “I could talk to her, if you want me to. I love shit like this.”

“I don’t.”

“Well too bad, I’m going to.”

“Yeah. You already said that.”

Dumbfounded, you blink as he walks away, wet towel draped over his head. If you had known he was this much of a shithead, then you wouldn’t have bothered to try and apologize. Clicking your tongue, you burn with fury as you glare, but as soon as the Ferrari driver brushes past you, you fall back from your trance.

“Hey!”

He turns, green eyes furrowed with confusion. “Hey.”

A wince. “I’m sorry about my ignorant question from earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Charles blushes. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No, but Pierre let me know.” You awkwardly kick your shoe against the pavement and his eyes follow. You stop. “I sort of pissed off two of the most important drivers on the grid today. You, uh, just happen to be one of them.”

He softens like ice cream on a hot summer day. “I’m not pissed.” You almost let out a giggle from how foreign his accent makes the curse sound. He stammers. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Plus, I can’t answer questions like those. It would make all of us look bad.”

“Oh. Duh. Of course.” Now you burn up. “I should have known. And it’s no excuse, but I’m new and I’m just…figuring it out.”

His eyes crinkle as he nods. “Who was the other driver?”

You groan. “Max.”

He winces, shaking his hands, theatrically. “Yikes. Yeah, now he’s probably pissed.”

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

As soon as your phone dings, vibrating against your palm, he curls a brow. “L-Lissie,” you fill in with a subtle smile. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

Rushing back to the pool with a new bottle of SPF, you grin as he aims a deadpan expression. “A little Vitamin D is always necessary.”

“Don’t care, I don’t want to look like a peanut in two years.” You plop some onto his hand as he childishly swipes it over his face. You squirm with the way droplets slither down his toned chest.

Charles extends his hands. “Can I have some more?”

You laugh, wet hair tossing back like a curtain. “Hypocrite.”

Green eyes glare down, playfully.

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“I can’t believe someone’s rocking your boat,” Lissie yelps, clutching onto your hand desperately. “This is monumental.” A teasing giggle. “We should definitely document this.”

As soon as she pulls out her phone, you flip her off. “And this, my dear, dear friend, is why I’ve been keeping this a secret.” She zooms in as you laugh, brushing her away. “Quit!”

The British girl groans, slipping it into her back pocket, then wiggles her thick brows. “Can I guess who it is?”

“No.”

“It’ll be fun!”

You spin around. “No, Lissie—no.”

“Nepo-Baby?”

Flustered, you twirl your necklace and hum. “They all are.”

“Fucking hell. So how will I know which one?”

A mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll know.”

The brunette stays wondering despite being in the middle of telling her story from last week at the pub. She traces back to every possible driver, but they’re all natural flirts, so fuck that, how would she ever even be able to guess that—

“Oh my—it’s him!” She gasps with hawk eyes as she watches you two keep a careful distance from one another, as if temptation burns within the gap. Lissie lets out a delirious laugh as she turns to Will, who is still rather focused on his task. “I, um, will be right back!”

Wearing a goofy smile, you make your way back to the pen, but squeal when a firm grip wraps around your waist, tugging you into a cramped bathroom. You cringe at the suffocated smell. On the other hand, Lissie jumps from corner to corner. “How did I not notice? I mean, shit, you’re eyes—they’re huge!”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a toothy grin, she pokes your ribs. “It means I know who it is.”

Your heart stops, then bite the inside of your cheek, feigning indifference. “We’re just getting to know each other, but he’s really kind, and I…I really like him.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” she whispers in a seductive manner, jeweled hands slapping your ass. You chuckle, opening the door, and turning back. “You get lost in his eyes, don’t you? Heard that could happen.” A swoon. “So what? Are they like the ocean? Like a blueberry Laffy Taffy?”

“Hm. No. More like green apple.”

She halts, mid-shimmy. “What do you mean green? His eyes are blue. And I would know—they scare me half of the time.”

“What are you talking about? Charles’ eyes are green.” The brunette gapes, mouth hung wide open as she pushes herself to speak, but can’t find the strength. You knit your brows, neat and high. “I told you not to scroll through your phone at three a.m. anymore. See? Jet lag is catching up to you.”

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tired eyes squint over at the blue waves, then at the kids who build sandcastles.

She sighs, propping herself to face you with a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay to be confused about your feelings.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I know its as bad as it sounds.” You raise your straw onto your plump lips, sucking. “But they’re just so different from one another. I mean, Charles makes me feel giddy. Like really giddy. It’s nauseating. He’s sweet, and caring, and he's snappy but it’s endearing.” A soft smile and dreamy eyes. “He even helps with my notes.”

“But Max…he’s hot tempered. It drives me nuts. He never asks for help and always hides behind some brick wall. It isn’t like him to show me that he’s interested in getting to know me, but…” Cries ring through the hot air as a wave washes the sandcastle. “I want to get to know him. The real him.”

Lissie’s lips turn downwards at your broken tone. You act uninterested, but she knows it just for show, and that might be the worst torture of all.

She bumps your head with her shoulder, softly, and you instantly pout. “You’ll know what to do, babe. But if we’re being realistic here, Charles won’t wait forever.” Pause. “And Max isn’t the kind to grovel for anything other than podiums.”

Bahrain International Circuit—March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

“Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

Charles lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as he strolls away. You pick and choose emails to respond to before leaning against one leg, typing away fiercely. You even have time to get back to your sister who begs for a souvenir. Any, she adds with a thousand smiley faces.

“Working hard already? The season’s barely begun.” Your breath catches so sharply that it hurts your throat for a second. His voice is somehow deeper, but it could be because you haven’t seen or heard from him in about forever. Max steps closer. “H-how was your summer break?”

Your berry lips open, then close, then repeat. It’s embarrassing. “Never bad to get ahead, and I—had a good one. Much needed.” He nods attentively. “You look—” You stop before admitting. “Healthy. You look really healthy”

A booming chuckle. “Thanks. You look really healthy, too.”

Blue eyes linger for a second too long and that fills you up with unwanted adrenaline. “Why are you here?” Pink expands through your cheekbones as you grimace. “I mean—here.” You point at the tiny tent as if it weren’t obvious what you were referring to. “Here, here.”

The Dutchman’s lips dance, fondly. “Well I was walking by, saw you, and wanted to say hi.” He looks around with a subtle frown. “Is now a bad time?”

“Well—”

“Mate,” a sweet accent rings through the air as you screw your eyes shut. Max turns to face Charles with a slow grin. The Monegasque tilts his head in greeting, hands occupied with your beverage and his. “How have you been?”

“So, so. Yourself?”

“Good. Refreshed.”

“For me?” he jokes. The brunette chuckles, raising the coffee cups with bright orbs. “Lazy Carlos, always sending you, right?”

The Ferrari driver shakes his head, curls following, then hands it to you. You hesitantly take it from him as you avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Charles.”

His smile widens, pecking your lips. “Still don’t think you should drink it on a daily basis, but hey, you’re welcome.”

Max blinks. “W-when did this happen?”

The green eyed boy hums, lips twisting against his straw. “Over break.”

“Oh.” Gaze slips over to where you bite your cheek. “You spent it in Monaco?”

A harsh tick. “Yes.” With an open mouth, he nods, like a muppet. You purse your lips, facing your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Do you want to start making your way over? I don’t want Carlos to say anything about being late. You know how he is.”

Charles snickers, then intertwines his fingers through yours. “See you on track?”

The RedBull driver released a low breath, cracking a smile that looked more like a snarl. And while Charles doesn’t notice it, you do. Of course you do.

“See you on track.”

Miami International Autodrome—May 7, 2023

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. The judgment and confusion that radiates off of Lissie is enough for you to grow gray. She rolls her tongue. “You can’t be doing stuff like this anymore, you have a boyfriend.” Her eyes screw shut, then snap open. “He adores the ground you walk on, are you insane?”

Tears well up at her truthful words. They sting all at once, and you carelessly crumble as your numb lips start to wobble. “Lissie—”

“No. Just—stop. Stop talking.” Max raises his eyebrows at the journalist and her sternness, but feels bad as you inch back, heels clicking. She huffs, pacing the hall. When she comes to a stop, she glares at the Dutchman. “How could you do this, too?”

“I never meant any harm—”

“Bullshit! Both of you are so stupid, it’s worrisome.” Shame fills your veins as you look down, pinching your undergarment as some coping mechanism. The British girl sighs. “You have to tell him.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He deserves to know.”

Decreasing the gap between you two, you sniffle, shaky hands clutching harder. “It’s going to kill him, Lissie. I can’t do that.”

And you can tell she’s running through her options because she’s your best friend. And above all, you were hers. With hesitance, she nods. “This has to end.”

You nod, desperately. “That’s it. We’re done.”

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

“You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be Charles that’s making you feel that way?”

“No. Don’t even try and blame it on him.”

He pinches your nipple, then licks your humid skin. You whine at the sensation. “You’re not getting anything in return for lying. It’s pathetic.”

You hiss when your climax tempts to fall. “What's the lie?”

“That you love him.”

“I do love him—”

He groans into your neck. “You sound so pretty.” A sloppy thrust. “When you choke around my cock, my spit, my cum.” Your eyes roll back when he pushes against your g-spot at a different angle. “Admit it, you’ve always enjoyed it.”

“You’re sick."

“Maybe, but you’re well worth it.”

You clench around his length and he hisses like a snake. In pain. In lust. Doesn’t matter. “You’re a shitty friend—”

Jaw clenches. “You’re a shitty girlfriend.” When you cry out in pleasure, he smirks. “Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”

“Maybe, but who cares?”

And there's nothing left for him to do, simply smiling down at you like the Cheshire Cat, somehow scarier than The Joker. If not more.

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie. Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.” Daniel grimaces. “She’s taken.”

“I know,” Max stutters. “Who do you take me for?”

The Australian is easy to tell when he laughs genuinely, but even the RedBull driver can spot the difference to the one exiting his mouth right now. “You think she’s pretty—that’s all.”

“That’s all,” he confirms.

“And that’s not a weird thing to admit because she is a pretty girl,” the brunette tries to help as Max nods happily.

“Exactly.” A pause. “You get it.”

Daniel brings the blunt up to his mouth, taking a hit, then blows out. “Y-yeah…because it’d be bad if you liked her, liked her.”

“I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” His heart pounds fast against his ribs when you giggle, pecking Charles’s neck, all while conversing with Lissie, Kika, and Pierre. He directs his attention back to the Australian and lets out a raw laugh.

“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” In an instant, his brown eyes follow yours, and it makes his heart drop. Because it’s not Charles that you’ve suddenly realized that you love, but Max. “You can’t…” Somewhere close by, Pierre yells, cheering with a group of older ladies as Kika glares, shaking her head. He inches closer. “You can’t do that to Charles. He loves you.”

“And I love him,” you announce, brushing your hair back. Timidly, you peek over at him. “I’m not a saint, I know that, but I would appreciate it if we kept this between us.” A sore chuckle. “W-what matters is that I choose Charles. He’s the love of my life.”

And Daniel knows he probably shouldn’t agree to any of this, and yet, he finds himself nodding, curls bouncing. “Just between us.”

You smile gently, going in for another sip before laughing at the blunt that sticks inside.

“Beer’s ass, by the way.”

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

“I love you, too. And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

“What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

He flinches. “I-it doesn’t have to be that way. You could lea—”

You sigh, pulling your dress up as he zip his race suit. “I can’t leave him, Max. It’s not that easy.”

He pants, blue eyes tracing your face anxiously. “A-and why not? Why can’t it be that easy?”

A cruel laugh wiggles up your throat as you dig your nails into your palm. “Because I’m engaged!”

He ricochets with a scoff. “Oh, what? Now you suddenly care about not being called a cheater?” You look away and he chuckles. “Because that’s what you are—a fucking cheater.”

Your face patches into a shade of pink as you breathe heavily, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what does that make you?”

“I am not a cheater.”

You snarl. “No, but you’re a God awful friend.”

He steps back, large hand running against his lips, drying them out, getting rid of your saliva. “You’re just—you know what? Fuck you.”

You gasp. “No. Fuck you.”

Max rolls his blue eyes, finally reaching his breaking point as he pushes you against the wall to his motorhome. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of realizing what we actually are.”

Heavy pants. Orbs flicker down to his rosy lips. He almost smiles. “What are we? A cheater and a bad friend?”

“No. A villain and their accomplice.” That seems to do it. A strong tide takes over as you sob against his grip. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not tight. It’s only secure. He continues with a dark look swirling his orbs. “You know, you were always the first one to point out someone as a bad person, when in reality, it's you.”

“Okay, stop—”

“And I’m not innocent either—I’m well aware—but I’m not the one with a ring around their finger.”

“Stop!” you yell, pushing him away harshly. It should feel foreign, the fury and the shame, but that’s all you seem to know these days. Or ever since you met him. “You’re right. We’re two rotten apples, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but can you blame me? You’re fucking with my head, Max!”

He softens, and for a moment, its pure silence, other than your tiny cries. Licking his lips, he pats his thigh. “You already know I’m wrongfully in love with you. I just actually thought I stood a chance. That it would be me.”

“Max…”

He winces in pain with how sweet your voice sounds pronouncing his name. It’s always been that way. When you first interviewed him a year ago, to when you first kissed him back and gasped his name. But it only got dirtier and dirtier throughout the course of time.

“Be honest with me, please.” Bloodshot eyes look up at him. “Is he your safest option? Is that what this is?”

And with one final, tormented look, you open your lips to breathe out.

“He’s someone I could envision a future with, Max.” A beat. “And you’re just a footnote.”

“Voilá!” Charles cheers as he claps loudly against your ear. You yelp at the sudden sound all while trying to reach for his hands to stop his movements. He grins, deep dimples imprinting like feet on sand. “That was beautiful, really, it really was.”

Rubbing your ass against his bulge is the only way you think you can get him to shut up, and he does, immediately letting out a strained chuckle. Smiling sweetly at your friends, you shrug. “I had my doubts, Pierre, but this was pretty cute. Thank you.”

The Frenchman gloats, clicking his fingers. I told you, I told you they’d like it! Your fiancé kisses your cheek. “That’s why I chose him.” A playful frown. “You see, mon amour? You never hold any faith in my decisions.”

Rolling your eyes, you stick your pink tongue out at him. “I still think you should have chosen one of your brothers.” A stern look. “Like Lorenzo—wasn’t he the one that helped you buy the ring?”

“Yes, but that would have been unfair to Arthur. He would’ve felt left out.”

“Arthur’s too distracted trying to figure out the difference between left and right!” The Monegasque tosses his head back and you admire with a soft glow. “I lo—”

“Wait,” Carlos hollers, deep accent ringing. You and Charles turn, bubble bursting. “We all went around sharing but Max.”

“Yeah,” Lily ponders, fingers tracing her lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pierre hums. “Mate?”

Max blinks, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s alright. We’ve heard enough, don’t you think?” His joke is meant to be easy going, but it comes out dry, and even to this day, you can notice it. Licking your already glossed lips, you flip your gaze to Lissie and Daniel who share the same worried expression.

Because Lissie was your best friend. She would carry your secret to the grave.

Because Daniel was Max’s best friend. He would carry his secret to the grave.

But the Dutchman himself didn't care. He honestly felt like he had nothing else to lose.

“Okay then,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. He slightly tilts his head to the open sky, as if wondering when it would swallow him whole. He was secretly hoping it would. Beady, excited, and petrified eyes stare back at him as he smiles awkwardly. “I…”

“He doesn’t want to,” you declare, twisting to signal the Frenchman. “If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”

“No.” Blue eyes darken as he places his drink down onto the wooden table. “I want y—” He bites his tongue, immediately tasting metallic. “I want to.”

“Let him,” Charles says, chuckling softly. “Don’t kill his stride.”

So, with neat brown drawn together, clammy fingers playing with your silver band, you sit back down. Like a force of nature, the Monegasque hugs you from behind. You gulp, leaning the back of your head against his shoulder.

“I think it’s crazy how one minor decision can change absolutely fucking everything.”

“Oh shit,” Lissie and Daniel mutter next to each other, exchanging the blunt back and forth.

Your face twists up like a wrinkled shirt. “If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he instantly shoots back, but feverishly deflates when Charles furrows his dark brows like some Doberman. Astonished at his cold tone, you blink, lashes fluttering like a notebook. He almost swoons at the sight, but amazingly holds back.

“If you hadn’t taken Pierre’s advice and apologized to Charles, then we wouldn't be here. If you hadn’t spent summer break with him, then we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn't fallen in love, then we wouldn’t be here.” He swallows. “It’s the little things.”

“And, um...what makes a relationship work out is the commitment. If one person commits and the other doesn’t then it won’t ever work out, but you two…” You nibble on your bottom lip harshly, holding your breath as he looks into your bright eyes. He releases a forced chuckle, as if it would help get rid of his splintered heart. “You two chose each other, so…cheers to that.”

“Wow,” Charles hums, blankly. “That was surprisingly heartfelt…” A sheepish grin. “Thank you, mate.”

It’s as if he’s suddenly admitting defeat to someone who didn’t know they had him as an opponent to begin with; the way he throws the peony at the Monegasque, who catches it with ease. “Don’t mention it.”

So, as Max sits alone, with no date, he begins to wonder that maybe—just maybe—you were right all along.

He gave his speech last.

He was the footnote.

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golden-cherry · 12 hours

Text

deal - cl16 (30/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The Leclerc family dinner is something else.

Warnings: this is just cute, mentions of injuries (due to Monopoly), alcohol consumption, Arthur Leclerc

Word Count: 3.8k

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A/N: happy birthday to the lovely anon from yesterday! this is not smutty, but I hope you'll still like it! feedback is appreciated!

When Charles brings the rickety Renault to a halt and pulls the handbrake, you can hardly believe your eyes.

The car is parked in front of a large, white house that is surrounded by green ivy on one corner. The black roof perfectly matches the black shutters leaning against the wall of the house, giving you a glimpse of the interior. Above the double doors of the entrance is a small balcony with a black metal fence and small flower boxes in which beautiful, colorful flowers are sure to bloom in summer.

It looks like a painting.

You stare open-mouthed through the windshield. "It's gorgeous."

Your friend smiles. "My mother had it renovated last year. The façade was crumbling a bit and the windows were no longer in good shape." He shrugs his shoulders. "But otherwise it's stayed the same. I grew up here."

You can hardly take your eyes off it as you get out of the car. "It's beautiful. It must have been great growing up here."

"It was." He rounds the hood and stands next to you. "Unfortunately, I was always on the road because of karting and the older I got, the less time I spent here. But this house holds so many memories." He exhales deeply. "This is my home."

You turn your head in his direction before reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "Thank you for taking me with you."

Charles smiles gently at you and pulls you a little closer so that you can feel his warm breath on your face. "Don't get too excited. You haven't met my brothers yet."

You tilt your head a little. "Are they that bad?"

"The worst," he whispers and leans forward a little. His gaze flickers briefly from your eyes to your lips. Your heart leaps a little. "But I'm the worst."

"Shouldn't I stay away from you then?" you ask him. He's so close to you that you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "Good girls should keep their distance from bad boys, shouldn't they?"

Charles releases his hand from yours and gently places it on your neck, leaving you no choice but to look at him. His other arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you all the way against him. Chest to chest, he looks down at you before licking his lips. You can feel the arousal pooling in your panties. "Are you a good girl, mon amour?"

As one of the front doors opens, he disengages from you with a smooth movement, as if nothing had ever happened and as if it wasn't running through your mind how you would have loved to get down on your knees for him right there. As he walks towards the house, you can see his back muscles dancing under his shirt. How you wish you could scratch him with your fingernails and -

"Maman. It's so good to see you," he greets his mother, who kisses him left and right on the cheek, snapping you out of your super non-platonic daydream. Which maybe isn't the worst thing, Charles is your friend after all.

"Yes yes, it's nice to see you too," she replies, before pushing past him and coming towards you. "Chérie, I'm so glad you're here!" The woman hugs you tightly before also kissing you left and right.

"It's nice to see you again too, Pascale," you smile. "Thank you so much for inviting me. The house is gorgeous."

"Thank you, chérie," she replies and reaches for your hands. "Come on, come on. Let me show you the house." Before you can say anything back, she pulls you towards the house, past Charles and through the door. "Charles! Your brothers will be here soon. You can set the table," she calls to him over her shoulder.

"Of course, Maman," he replies and when you look back at him, he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

"And please take the good china! We want to make a good impression."

"Of course, Maman." Charles, who has followed you into the house, closes the front door behind him.

The inside of the house looks like it's from another world. Large, white tiles adorn the floor, the furniture is kept simple, but still looks luxurious and so expensive that you'd be worried about scratching the surfaces with your car keys if you put them down. The lower floor is open plan, with a large kitchen with a kitchen island, a glass dining table and the living room. There's a soft-looking sofa in front of the fireplace, where you can definitely warm up on cold days. There are countless pictures on the walls - a mixture of art and personal photos.

"Would you like something to drink, chérie?" asks Pascale as you stop in the kitchen and she lets go of your hand. She opens the fridge and starts rummaging around in it. "We have water, orange juice, spritz, wine and cola."

"I don't need anything, thank you," you reply with a smile. You're a little overwhelmed that she's being so nice to you. You're not used to parents being so sweet and kind. Yours certainly weren't when you lived with them.

"All right, then. If you need anything, just take it. Make yourself at home." She squeezes your shoulder briefly before scurrying past you. "Charles! The table!"

"I'm on it," his voice comes from another corner of the room before he steps back into your field of vision. He is holding expensive-looking tableware in his hands, which he carefully spreads out on various coasters on the glass table. "Could you please take the cutlery from the top drawer there? There must be six of us. Enzo wanted to bring his wife Charlotte."

You take the cutlery from the drawer and count it off before joining him at the table and distributing the items. "I'm a bit nervous," you confess quietly. As you place a fork next to one of the plates, Charles grabs your hand.

"We can leave if that's too much for you," he suggests. " I'm sorry. My brothers aren't that bad. They're nice and funny and I think you'll get along fine." He strokes the inside of his wrist lovingly with his thumb. "You really don't need to worry. But if you want to leave, I can understand that."

You shake your head slightly. "It's all good. Your mother cooked dinner especially for me and it would be rude to leave now." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I just want to make a good impression."

Charles takes the rest of the cutlery from your hand before interlacing his fingers with yours. "You really don't have to worry about that, mon amour. She already loves you."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "And how do you know that? Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't need to," he replies with a smile. "When I introduced her to Annika back then, she reacted differently. No kisses, no dinner to get to know each other better. And she definitely didn't ask her to feel at home here," he explains, placing his free hand on your cheek. "She has good intuition and the fact that she took you to her heart within minutes just shows me that I made a good catch with you."

"Excuse me! There are children here!" a male voice shouts across the room. You would have liked to take three steps back to put some distance between you and Charles, but he keeps you in place.

"I don't see any children," replies the man in front of you, glancing over your head towards the kitchen. When you turn around, a young man is standing there, grinning and leaning against the kitchen island. "All I see is an annoying little brother who doesn't know when to hold back."

Playfully hurt, the stranger puts his hand on his chest. "Ouch. I'm not the one who can't seem to just pull through ." Before you can say anything back, he takes the few steps towards you and stops in front of Charles. The two stare at each other for a moment before a wide smile spreads across the shorter man's face. "Good to see you, big brother."

Charles releases his hand from yours so that he can embrace his baby brother. "You too." With a smile, he hugs him before gently pushing him away. He turns to you. "This is my little brother Arthur."

"It's nice to meet you," he replies and - in true Pascale style - gives you a little kiss on each cheek before winking at you. "Maman has already told me about you, but she didn't tell me how beautiful you are."

"'Keep your hands off, Arthur,' your roommate warns his brother, but he just waves it off.

"Don't worry, Charles. I'm not here to take your girlfriend away." You raise your hand and open your mouth to correct him, but he turns on his heel and walks back towards the fridge. "I'm here because I was promised good food. And maybe a game of Monopoly?" He waggles his eyebrows in anticipation.

Charles shakes his head vigorously. "Absolutely not. Last time Enzo nearly lost a finger because you thought he was cheating the bank."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "The whole thing would be unfunny without a bit of violence." His gaze shifts from his big brother to you. "What about you? Do you like Monopoly?"

"Monopoly? Maybe we should look for the first aid kit first," laughs the young woman who has just joined you. With her long blonde hair and wide, pearly-white smile, she looks so beautiful that it almost takes your breath away. Without giving the guys in the room a glance, she walks straight up to you and hugs you tightly. "Hi, I'm Charlotte. Enzo's wife." She gives you a quick hug before pulling away from you. "I like your top."

You introduce yourself to her as well before thanking her for the compliment. "Is Monopoly really that crazy in this family?" you ask quietly, watching Charles and Arthur tease each other in the kitchen.

"When it comes to winning, the men behave like animals," she explains, putting her slender arm around your shoulder. "That's why it's all the better that you're here now. Maybe they're acting a bit more grown-up this time then."

"Everyone here is an adult," another person defends themselves. The black-haired man tries to get Arthur out of Charles' headlock. "My little brothers might be a bit wild, but we're all old enough to behave reasonably." As he separates the two bickering men, he stands between them with his arms outstretched.

Arthur points his finger at the eldest of the three brothers. "You once knocked over the whole board because you had no more money to pay Charles."

Charles briefly runs his fingers through his tousled hair to get it into style. "And you once kicked us out of your apartment because you didn't have a hotel to take out a mortgage."

Before you know it, Enzo grabs his little brothers and tucks them under his arms, but Charles is quicker. With an elegant twist, he wriggles out of his brother's tight grip and twists his arm a little so that he can't get hold of him again, while Arthur tries with all his might to free himself.

"I told you," Charlotte whispers to you. "Like animals."

"Are you out of your minds?" Pascale's voice drowns out the boys, who abruptly move away from each other and blink at their mother. Arthur's face is red, while Enzo tugs his shirt right. Charles throws you a grin and a wink. "I'm cooking for everyone here and you're acting like children! Come on now! You know what you have to do!" she nags her sons, who quietly apologize to her and then scurry back and forth to put the rest of the things on the table.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" you ask the young woman next to you, but before she can answer you, Pascale is standing in front of you.

"Please take a seat. You're our special guest today and if I even see you lift a finger…" She gives you a stern, loving look before pulling one of the chairs from the table. With a nod, she tells you to sit down. Her look leaves no room for discussion.

"Would you like a glass of wine? I've brought a lovely sweet Riesling," Charlotte asks as she takes two wine glasses from one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

"Yes, please."

As she sets your glass down in front of you, the men also sit down at the table while Pascale places various bowls in front of you. When Charles tries to sit on the chair opposite you, his mother promptly stops him.

"The chair is broken, chéri. I'm afraid you'll have to use that stool there," she says, pointing to the small stool in the corner of the room.

Without hesitation, Charles swaps the pieces of furniture, but when he sits down, he grimaces. "My goodness, that's uncomfortable. It's sure to give me a backache."

"Maybe your lovely girlfriend can give you a back massage later," Arthur suggests, wiggling his eyebrows. Before he can react, your friend has reached into one of the bowls in front of you and thrown a piece of bread at his little brother. "Ouch, what the hell? I didn't say anything! It only becomes ambiguous when you make it ambiguous."

"Boys, pull yourselves together, otherwise it'll be the last time I invite you all here for dinner," Pascale scolds her sons, but you can tell she's not serious. She sits down at the table in front of them. "Now eat before the food gets cold."

"How did you two meet?" asks Enzo, popping a spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth.

The pasta that Pascale cooked especially for you tasted absolutely fantastic. While you ate together, you talked about all sorts of things. About Enzo's work, Charlotte's recent seminar, new recipes that Pascale really wants to try out and your photography. At the beginning you were worried that you wouldn't be able to join in as you didn't know anyone from this family, but there was never a moment when you felt left out. It feels nice to be part of a family again - even if it's not your own.

Charles, who stretches his back briefly, looks at you across the table. "That's a funny story. Would you like to tell it?"

As all eyes turn to you, you have to swallow. You weren't expecting the attention. But Charles looks at you so gently and his smile is so warm. He makes you feel like you're not in the wrong place.

"He surprised me when I came out of the shower half-naked," you grin back. All you hear from the corner where Arthur is sitting is a whistle.

"Hey, that's not quite true," your roommate defends himself. "You were living in my second apartment without me knowing! Joris rented you the apartment and didn't tell me. And when I turned up there, you came out of the shower. It's not my fault." He raises his hands. "And you wanted to beat me up with a magazine!"

You reach for your wine glass and take a sip. "You were a stranger who suddenly appeared in my apartment. How else could I have reacted? You were so close to calling the police."

"You were standing half-naked in my apartment. It could have been that you were a crazy fan and somehow found out the address."

Charlotte looks up from her bowl of ice cream at you. "Didn't you know who he was?" As you shake your head, she claps her hands several times in delight. "Oh how cute! Just like in the fanfictions you can read on the internet! That's awesome!"

Her husband gives her a puzzled look. "You read fanfictions about my brother?"

Charlotte rolls her eyes. "Are you crazy? Of course not! But every now and then I just hear about it."

"And you've just decided to share the apartment," says Arthur as he scrapes two more scoops of ice cream out of the ice cream container.

"Yep. Just like that," Charles explains, and you smile gratefully at him. You're glad you don't have to explain that you're unemployed. Especially since everyone at this table is pursuing promising careers. Your friend smiles back affectionately before arching his back. "And it would also be the best decision I've ever made if I didn't have to sit on this stupid stool all evening. My spine feels like pebbles."

"Don't be like that," his mother grumbles at him. "You're still young. Your back pain can't be that bad."

"Arthur is younger than me. Shouldn't he be sitting in this chair then?" Charles tries to get out of it, but he falls silent when Pascale gives him a dirty look.

"But I don't have a girlfriend who can rub my back later," grins the youngest Leclerc. "I'm sure she won't mind."

"Arthur!" Pascale reprimands him. Her gaze shifts to you. "I'm so sorry. I thought I'd brought her up better." She puts her head in her hands.

"Oh, Maman." Charles gets up from his uncomfortable stool and you can tell by the way he looks that his back is actually hurting. He stands behind his mother and puts his hands on her shoulders. "We know you did your best. And we actually turned out well." He can barely suppress his grin. "Except for Arthur."

"Hey!" Arthur jumps up from his chair so quickly that you fear he's going to fall over backwards, but Charlotte just manages to catch it. Arthur chases his big brother around the room while Enzo stacks up the ice cream bowls to take them to the kitchen.

"Wait, I'll help you," you offer, reaching for the cutlery that has been left behind, but Pascale's hand on yours stops you in your tracks.

"If you lift a finger, the same thing will happen to it as with Enzo's fingers at Monopoly," she threatens lovingly and gets up to clear away the rest of the things herself.

You look at Charlotte uncertainly and she waves you off. "Don't worry about it. She doesn't mean any harm. She just wants you to feel comfortable here and make sure you have everything you need. You'll get used to it over time."

"Thank you," you reply with a smile. "I think if you weren't so nice to me, I'd be really scared of you."

The blonde has to laugh. "Unfortunately, I hear that a lot. But I know what it's like to be new to this family. It can be quite nerve-wracking and overwhelming. But they're all lovely people. You don't need to worry about that." She puts her hand on yours briefly before rising and joining her husband in the kitchen.

A short time later, you feel two large hands on your shoulders. "Are you all right?" Charles asks as you lean your head back to look at him. "My family didn't scare you off, did they? Or are you sick of it and don't want anything to do with me anymore?"

"A terrible family," you reply and feel his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin. You feel warm.

"I can understand," he nods and leans down towards you so that the tips of your noses touch. "So that's the last time we'll see everyone. I definitely prefer your company to that of the others."

You have to stifle a giggle. "You're only saying that because you're hoping to get a back massage from me as soon as we get home." Your mouth goes dry at the thought of running your hands over his muscular back and feeling the soft skin under your fingertips.

"You're right about that," he admits. "Shall we go? I've had to share you with my family long enough."

"You want to leave already?" asks Pascale, who has rejoined you at the table. You didn't even realize she was back until she started talking.

"Yes, maman. My back really hurts and we have a lot to do tomorrow," he apologizes. It's news to you that you have plans. But maybe it's just an excuse so that you can be alone again more quickly. And you definitely have no objections to that.

Friends, sure.

"All right." She puts her hands on her hips. "But I'll expect you both back here at Christmas. I'll prepare your old room so you can spend the night here." Her smile is warm and heartfelt. As you get up from your chair to say goodbye to her, she wraps you tightly in her arms. "It's so nice that you're part of our family now. I'm already looking forward to having you back here at Christmas. It's only a few more days until then."

"Thank you for your invitation." You return her hug. "I haven't felt like part of a family for a long time."

Apparently she sees something in your gaze, something sad, because she has to swallow before she starts speaking again. "We've been through a lot as a family - and I think you have too. You're always welcome here. No matter what happens. Even if you need someone to be there for you in the middle of the night. The doors of this house are always open to you." She blinks away a few tears and you briefly consider hugging her again.

Which you finally do. "Your family is wonderful. You've raised three great sons. If your husband was anywhere near as kind-hearted as they turned out to be, then he must have been the most lovable person in the world," you whisper to her.

"He would have loved you. I'm sure of it." As she breaks away from you, she wipes her eyes once. "Thank you for looking after my son. There's no denying how good you are for him."

As if on cue, Charles stands next to you and puts his arm around your waist to pull you close. You feel his body heat, the pressure of his fingers on your skin.

After this morning, you had been unsure whether you would ever be so close again despite the misstep, or whether you would keep your distance because the situation would be awkward for people who are actually just friends. But Charles' smile is genuine, his gaze gentle and his lips soft as he presses them lovingly to your forehead.

"She's the absolute best thing that could have happened to me."

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 smut #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x female reader

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forzaferraris · 3 days

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I CAN HEAR THE BELLS — cl16

MASTERLIST ! you are not to publish, recreate or translate this on tumblr or other platforms without my explicit permission.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: when charles received the wedding invitation from a close friend address to him and company the embarrassment he feels knowing it would just be him after his recent breakup. now he's dateless and desperate with the wedding in two weeks he's gotta find someone, and who better than you.

warnings: fluff, minor angst because god do i love a good miscommunication trope, poorly translated french, every romance book cliche ever, charles leclerc has the worse possible game ever and yet somehow always pulls, arthur leclerc you chronic shit-stirrer (/pos), if my dream wedding pinterest board was a fanfic, always the bridesmaid never the bride, unless, best friends brother trope.

word count: this is a potentially big fic, multi-part series so i can't give a baseline for the word count but definitely more than 5k. style: written series with smau elements

authors note: welcome to my newest series, this is one i've been workshopping for a while now, characters are made up in terms of charles friends geting married and the ex-girlfriend, as i don't want any alex hate on my account. this is set during the 2024 season, races are altered to fit the timeline of this universe so consider this an alternate universe as well, if you want the nitty gritty details of the series itself.

add yourself to my taglist !

" With Great Pleasure, Amelie Windsor &&. Henri De Santa Invite you to celebrate their love on August 15th 2024 "

PART ONE / a deal is a deal. — written fic, warnings on the chapter. ( coming may 25th )

PART TWO / 27 dresses is wedding prep. — smau, small written blurbs, warnings on the chapter. ( coming soon . . . ) PART THREE / the italian rivera with the lust of your life — written fic, warnings on chapter. ( coming soon . . . ) PART FOUR / i found my love in portofino — written fic, smau elements, smut mention, other warnings on the chapter. ( coming soon . . . ) PART FIVE / i do. do i? — written fic, warnings on the chapter. ( coming soon . . . )

authors note: romance is in the air and because im desperately lonely and adore the early 2000's romance films, they just don't make them like they used to anymore, enjoy please be excited for this

#𐙚 paige’s works #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc smau #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagines #formula one imagine

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lvndosnorris · 20 hours

Note

Hiiii I love ur writing! And I wanted to ask if could you please write riding Charles and him being an absolute mess

thank you for this anon — sending you love 🫂

you hadn't seen charles in weeks, your longing evident in the way you had him pinned beneath you. arms sprawled next to him as you pushed down on his biceps, a pouted frown as he tried to protest your actions. but of course he wasn't going to stop you — his cock ached beneath you, desperate to find some sort of relief as your fingers dipped and traced over every crevice on his torso.

his lips were still sore from the way you'd been kissing, suckling and nipping in a way that implied you were never going to see each other again. your breath had left your lungs the second he was pulling you on top of him, your clothed cunt pressed against where he'd been missing you most.

"mon amour, please—" was all he managed to whine as you bent down, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth with a sharp tug. all he wanted to do was touch you, to hold you against him, but he couldn't; the sheets fisted between his fingers as he pleaded with you, words incoherent and whiney.

you weren't sure how you managed to get your bottoms off without moving, his eyes trained on you, a single groan tickling his throat as he watched the way you dragged the material down your calves before discarding them on the carpeted floor. there was a part of him that wanted to just marvel at you for a little longer, to drink in the appearance of you when you were at your most vulnerable — almost like a predator that was eyeing his prey.

wrapping a hand around the base of his shaft you pumped him a few times, languid movements that turned him into putty. a small bead of pre-cum was spread around his tip with your thumb, charles' eyes screwing shut at the feeling of you on him. he would have cum right there and then if you'd let him, thighs tense as you continued to drag your palm up and down, fingers squeezing him in a way that had him babbling in muddled french.

you'd always struggled to accommodate him fully, your breathing a little erratic as you let his tip slip inside of you. it was all that you could manage before you whimpered, the noise so melodic to charles as he mentally argued with himself about touching you or letting you have your way with him. instead he threw his head back against the mattress, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he dwelled in the way you rocked yourself against nothing more than his tip.

"i've got you— it's okay baby—" you cooed, one hand pressed on his abdomen as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. the stretch was enough to make you stop, chin resting on your chest as you peered at the way your cunt enveloped him. the noise of him pushing further into you erotic, your stomach knotting in a way that you'd missed. the ache between your legs dulled slightly, taking him fully inside of you with a moan of content.

charles' couldn't speak — simply nodding his head as his knuckles turned white from the way he clasped the sheets. there had only been a handful of time where you'd seen him like this, a mess of a man beneath you as you rocked to your own rhythm. you could have sworn he was already twitching inside of you, your walls clenching him like you never wanted him to leave you empty again.

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elia-the-bibliophile · 2 days

Text

Tangled Love (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)

Genre: Angst, Smut Word count: 6,5k

Picture this: Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc. The Main Driver for Scuderia Ferrari. Il Predestinato (The Predestined). Probably one of the hottest dudes on this spinning sphere we call Earth.

But here's the kicker: the only woman he's got eyes for? Yeah, she's got a ring on it. And not just any ring, mind you – it's a rock big enough to make even the Pope do a double take. Like a neon sign flashing “off-limits” in bright, blazing letters. Charles, the man who's used to getting what he wants with the flick of a wrist and the bat of an eye, finds himself at a loss. Irony, thy name is Charles Leclerc.

The atmosphere in the Scuderia Ferrari briefing room crackled with tension, like the air before a lightning storm. Y/N, the PR powerhouse, stood at the front of the room, her aura radiating authority.

“Alright, team, listen up!” Y/N's voice sliced through the tension like a hot knife through butter. “We're in a pickle, folks. The whole world's losing its marbles over Lewis Hamilton joining us, and poor Carlos is feeling more tossed aside than a soggy pizza crust.”

But as Y/N laid out the game plan, Charles found himself in his own world – a world where Y/N was the main attraction. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, his mind drifting into a fantasy where they rode off into the sunset in his Daytona.

Y/N's voice snapped him back to reality, and he quickly tried to focus on what she was saying. “Charles!” she exclaimed, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Charles! We're counting on you to deliver the right story here.”

Charles blinked, realizing he'd been caught red-handed – or rather, red-faced – ogling over Y/N instead of paying attention. “Uh, right, sorry!” he stammered, cheeks burning.

But try as he might, Charles just couldn't shake the image of Y/N from his mind. Every word she spoke seemed to dance around him, his brain too busy composing love sonnets to focus on the task at hand.

As Y/N outlined the key points for the press conference, Charles tries nodding along. On one hand, he knew he had a job to do, a role to play in shaping the team's narrative. On the other hand, there was Y/N, with her captivating smile and her hair that seemed to shimmer like the sunlight bouncing off a Ferrari's hood.

It was like a battle between his head and his heart, with Y/N emerging as the clear winner every time. But as the briefing came to an end and the team began to disperse, Charles couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He knew he had let his feelings get the best of him, but somehow, in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

After all, who could blame him for being distracted by the most beautiful woman in the room?

Just as Charles was lost in his Y/N-induced daydream, a sudden rush of hot breath against his cheek snapped him back to reality. He blinked in surprise, finding Y/N standing inches from his face, her eyes boring into his with laser-like intensity.

“You have no idea what you're supposed to say, do you?” Y/N's voice was a mixture of amusement and exasperation, like a teacher addressing a particularly clueless student.

Charles felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. It was like being caught playing with his mother’s professional scissor back when he was just a little boy.

“Um, well, you see...” Charles began, his words stumbling over each other.

But Y/N cut him off with a wave of her hand, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Save it, Charles. We both know you've been distracted this whole time.”

Charles felt like shrinking into his seat, wishing he could disappear into the plush upholstery. It was bad enough to be caught ogling over Y/N like a lovesick teenager, but to be called out by that very same person? It was enough to make him want to bury his head in his helmet and never come out.

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh. “Alright, Charles,” she said, “if you can't get it together, you're going to have to redo media training with me. And trust me, you do not want that.”

Charles felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of spending more time with Y/N, but in a different context – one where he was the one on the hot seat, being grilled like a sausage at a barbecue. It was enough to make him contemplate deliberately messing up just for the chance to have some one-on-one time with her.

But as Y/N shot him a warning glance, he quickly pushed the thought aside. He couldn't risk sabotaging the team's efforts just to satisfy his own selfish desires – no matter how tempting the prospect might be.

“Got it,” Charles replied, his voice a tad too eager as he tried to shake off the distracting thoughts swirling around in his head. “I'll make sure to keep it together.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow skeptically, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “You better,” she said, her lips quirking up into a half-smile. “Or else you'll be stuck in media training purgatory with me.”

_________________________________________

In the midst of the chaotic press conference, with journalists firing questions like they were in line of fire, Charles found himself sitting front and center, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. Thankfully, Fred was beside him, fielding most of the questions like a pro.

Charles let his gaze wander to the back of the room, where Y/N sat perched like a hawk, her eyes darting back and forth as she made notes here and there.

As if sensing his gaze, Y/N looked up and their eyes locked. Charles felt a surge of warmth spread through him as he watched her expression soften, her lips curving into a supportive smile. She mouthed “You're doing great” to him, accompanied by a thumbs up, and suddenly, Charles felt like he was on cloud nine.

Her simple gesture was like a shot of adrenaline straight to his ego, making him preen like a peacock and sit up straighter in his seat. If Y/N thought he was doing great, then by golly, he was going to knock this press conference out of the park – or at least, avoid striking out like a rookie at bat.

With renewed confidence, Charles turned his attention back to the journalists, ready to face whatever curveballs they threw his way. After all, with Y/N's encouragement spurring him on, there was nothing he couldn't handle – not even a room full of nosy reporters with more questions than a toddler on a road trip.

Just as Charles was basking in the glow of Y/N's encouragement, a journalist launched a question at him. “Charles, how do you feel about Lewis joining Ferrari? Are you excited to have him as a teammate, or are you secretly relieved to see Carlos go?”

Charles felt a nervous chuckle bubble up inside him, threatening to escape. He quickly clamped down on it, plastering on his best poker face as he searched for the perfect diplomatic response.

“Well, you know,” Charles began, his voice smooth as silk but his mind secretly racing, "I think having Lewis join the team is a fantastic opportunity for all of us at Ferrari. He's a proven champion, and I'm sure we'll all benefit from his experience and expertise.”

Beside him, Fred shot him a surprised glance, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. Charles couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his own performance – who knew he had it in him to spin a diplomatic answer faster than his pit crew when changing his tires?

“But,” Charles continued, his tone carefully neutral, “I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge Carlos's contributions to the team. He's been a formidable teammate, and I wish him all the best in his future endeavors.”

The journalists nodded along, seemingly satisfied with his response, and Charles felt a wave of relief wash over him like a cold drink on a hot day.

But of course luck would try him again.

Another journalist decided to put him on the spot once more, “Charles, in your opinion, how would Lewis fit into Ferrari since he has been with Mercedes for so long?”

Charles blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. It was like being thrown a curveball when he was expecting a straight shot down the middle – unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.

“I think Lewis will bring a fresh perspective to the team, having been with Mercedes for so long. His experience and expertise will undoubtedly be valuable assets as we work to push Ferrari to new heights.”

He paused, trying to gather his thoughts before continuing. “But,” he added, his tone becoming more animated, “I also think it's important to remember that Ferrari has its own unique culture and traditions. Lewis will need to adapt to our way of doing things, just as we will need to adapt to having him as part of the team.”

Beside him, Fred nodded approvingly. He may not have all the answers, but he was determined to make the most of this opportunity – for himself, for the team, and maybe even for Y/N, who was watching him with pride.

_________________________________________

Y/N sat at her desk, scrolling through the social media updates about the press conference. Just as she was about to dive into the latest Twitter thread, she heard a knock at her office door.

“Come in,” Y/N called, her attention shifting from her screen to the doorway.

In shuffled Charles. “Hey, Y/N,” he said timidly.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking up into a wry smile. “What can I do for you, Charles?” she asked, gesturing for him to take a seat.

Charles hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he took a seat opposite Y/N, his gaze drifting once again to the glinting diamond ring on her finger.

He cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I just, you know, hang out here for a bit?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Hang out here? Why?” she asked.

Charles shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, uh, I'm just trying to avoid... well, everyone, really. With this whole Lewis-Carlos fiasco, it feels like everyone's out to get me.”

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at his candid admission, the sound echoing through the office. “You're not wrong there,” she said, her smile warm and reassuring. “But don't worry, Charles. You're safe here. No one's going to hunt you down in my office.”

Charles let out a sigh of relief, sinking back into his seat. “Thanks, Y/N,” he said, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You're a lifesaver.”

Y/N waved him off with a casual flick of her hand. “No problem, Charles,” she said, her tone light and breezy.

Charles found his gaze drawn to the framed pictures adorning her office walls. Among them, a picture caught his eye – Y/N and her husband, captured in a moment of bliss. It’s a holiday picture taken during winter break. Courchevel, if Charles has to guess.

Jealousy seized his heart like no one’s business. He scoffed, mind racing to find a way to ease his own insecurities. “Pfft,” he muttered to himself, “what does he have that I don't?”

Charles began to mentally compare himself to Y/N's husband. “Sure, he's a good looking man with an excellent career in Finance," he mused, “but has he ever won a Grand Prix? I don't think so.”

As he continued his self-evaluation, Charles couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of his own thoughts. Who was he to compare himself to Y/N's husband? After all, they were two entirely different people – one a world-class racer, the other a... well, a guy with nice hair and green eyes.

With a final shake of his head and a rueful grin, Charles turned his attention back to Y/N. After all, he may not be perfect, but he was Charles Leclerc – and that was pretty fucking close.

He mustered up the courage to break the silence with a seemingly innocent question. “So, how's the husband?” he asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Y/N's head snapped up. “Pardon?” she exclaimed, confused by the sudden interest.

Charles scrambled to play it off with a nervous chuckle. “Nathaniel, right? I was looking at your holiday picture, you know, the one with the... snow. Was that in Courchevel?”

Y/N wasn't buying it but she answered anyway. A small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “You have a good eye,” she said. “That one was in Courchevel. Nate's family has a chalet there – we try to go skiing whenever we can.”

Charles continue the conversation, his curiosity getting the better of him. “So, how did you two meet?” he asked.

Y/N's eyes took on a nostalgic gleam as she reminisced. “We actually met back in university.”

Charles felt a wave of relief wash over him – at least it wasn't some epic romance straight out of a Hollywood movie. But his relief was short-lived as Y/N continued her story.

“We both attended King's College,” Y/N explained, her voice tinged with fondness. “I was majoring in Digital Media & Culture, and Nate was studying Economics.”

Charles felt his stomach churn uncomfortably, a sour taste rising in the back of his throat. Digital Media & Culture? Economics? It was like the universe was conspiring against him.

As Y/N continued to recall about her university days, Charles struggled to maintain his composure. “That's, uh, fascinating,” he managed to choke out. “He is a proper smart dude, isn’t he?”

He fought to suppress the urge to vomit – both figuratively and, unfortunately, literally – Charles couldn't help but wonder whether he could do something to make Nate disappear of the face of the earth so that he could take his place.

“Why have I never seen him coming to any of the races?” he asked again.

Y/N shrugged, “His job keeps him pretty busy. And truthfully, Nate's not really into motorsport. He's more of a... horse guy.”

“Horse guy?” Charles echoed.

Y/N nodded, “Yeah,” she confirmed, “he much rather attend the Royal Ascot. You know, where he can watch horse racing and hobnob with royalty.”

He felt a surge of disbelief wash over him – Nate was more interested in horse racing than Formula 1 races? It was like finding out that the Pope preferred pizza to communion wafers.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle at the image of Nate, decked out in his finest attire, sipping champagne and placing bets on which horse had the fastest trot.

“But hey,” Y/N continued, her voice light-hearted, “to each their own, right? As long as he's happy, that's all that matters.”

Charles nodded in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “Fair enough.”

_________________________________________

Charles had just wrapped up a strategy training session. His mind buzzed with new tactics and race scenarios as he made his way down the dimly lit hallway toward the exit. He was eager to get home, unwind, and perhaps indulge in a quiet evening of solitude.

As he neared the fire exit, Charles noticed a lone figure standing against the wall. The dim lighting cast soft shadows on her face, but he recognized her immediately. It was Y/N. Her eyes were closed, and the tension in her mouth was detectable, even from a distance.

He hesitated, debating whether to make his presence known. He didn't want to intrude on what seemed like a rare private moment for her. But just as he was about to turn away, Y/N's eyes fluttered open and found his. For a moment, neither of them moved

Charles took a tentative step forward. “Y/N?” he called softly.

She straightened up, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Hey, Charles. Done for the day?”

He nodded, studying her face. “Yeah. Just about to head home. Are you okay?”

Y/N let out a small, humorless laugh. “Fine, just… decompressing a bit.”

Charles walked closer, his concern growing. “You look like you could use a break.”

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “It's been a long day. The whole Lewis and Carlos situation is more complicated than I expected. And handling all the PR fallout… it's exhausting.”

He leaned against the wall next to her, their shoulders almost touching. “I can imagine. You’ve been doing an incredible job, though.”

Y/N turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face for sincerity. Finding it, she offered a genuine, albeit weary, smile. “Thanks, Charles. That means a lot.”

There was a comfortable silence between them for a moment before Y/N suddenly spoke up, her voice bitter. “You know, I was actually supposed to grab a bite with Nate tonight. We had reservations and everything.”

Charles looked at her, concern etching his features. “What happened?”

“He cancelled. Sent me a text saying he has a new project that requires overtime. Typical, right?”

Charles frowned. “That sounds frustrating. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

She laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Yeah, well, I should be used to it by now. Nate’s job always comes first. Guess I’m just second place in that race.”

Charles felt anger on her behalf. He hated seeing her like this, feeling so undervalued. He saw an opening to comfort her, to let her know she wasn’t alone.

“Y/N,” he began softly, “you deserve better than that. You’re an incredible person, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a fool.”

YN's eyes glistened with sadness, something that Charles does not see often because of how good she is at doing her job. “Thanks, Charles. But it’s hard not to feel… I don’t know, insignificant sometimes.”

Charles took a step closer, he position himself a good distance beside her. “You are anything but insignificant. You hold this team together, and you make a difference every single day. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise. Even your own husband.”

Y/N looked down. “I'm so sorry, I don't know why I am burdening you with all this.”

He offered her a reassuring smile. “Please, don't worry about that. I am just happy that you trust me enough to tell me this.”

Charles wanted to do more for her, to show her how she is supposed to be treated. “Well, since Nate’s busy, why don’t we make the most of that reservation? I promise you’ll have a great time.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then a genuine smile spread across her face. “Are you really offering?” and Charles gives her a confident nod before offering his arm.

Charles could see the tension in her shoulders easing, and it made him happy to know he had helped. His heart doing somersault as she slowly latched her hand onto his arm.

_________________________________________

As the evening progressed, Charles couldn’t help but notice how her smile became more genuine, her laughter more frequent. He reveled in the sound, determined to keep it going.

“Thank you, Charles,” she said, her voice soft as they finished their meal. “I really needed this.”

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Anytime, Y/N. You deserve to be happy. Don’t forget that.”

She squeezed his hand in return. “I won’t. And thank you for reminding me.”

When dinner is done, Charles and Y/N stepped out of the restaurant, the night air cool against their skin. They walked towards his Pista, laughing about the evening's conversation and enjoying the light-heartedness that had replaced the earlier tension.

Of course Charles has also offered to drive her home.

When they arrived at her building, Charles parked the car and turned to her. “Home sweet home,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks again for tonight, Charles. It was really… wonderful,” she replied, her voice soft.

He felt a surge of warmth at her words. “Anytime, Y/N. Seriously.”

They both got out of the car, and as Y/N reached for her keys, Charles decided to take a sip from his water bottle. In his typical smooth style, he attempted to do it with one hand while holding the car door with the other. Unfortunately, his coordination failed him spectacularly.

Water splashed all over his face, drenching his shirt and even a good part of his pants. He stood there, dripping wet, his mouth open in surprise.

Y/N turned around at the sound of his splutter. Her eyes widened, and then she burst into laughter. “Oh my God, Charles! What did you do?”

Charles, now looking like a drowned cat, tried to laugh it off. “Just thought I'd cool off a bit,” he said, attempting to wring out his shirt with little success.

Y/N walked over, still giggling. “You look like you’ve been caught in a rainstorm.” She took in his soaked appearance, biting her lip to suppress more laughter. “You can’t drive home like that. Come on, I’ll lend you something of Nate’s.”

Charles hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude…”

“Nonsense. I’m not letting you go home looking like this,” she insisted, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the building.

Inside her apartment, Y/N led him to the living room and handed him a towel. “Stay here, I’ll find you something dry to wear,” she said, disappearing down the hallway.

Charles toweled off as best he could, chuckling at the absurdity of the situation. When Y/N returned, she was holding a pair of Nate’s sweatpants and a T-shirt. “Here, these should fit you.”

He took the clothes gratefully. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

She waved off his thanks. “No problem. The bathroom’s right there if you want to change.”

Charles made his way to the bathroom, taking a moment to appreciate the decor of Y/N’s apartment. He quickly changed into the dry clothes, which were a bit too big but infinitely more comfortable than his drenched attire.

When he returned to the living room, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him in Nate’s oversized clothes. “You look… comfortable.”

Charles struck a pose, attempting to look suave despite the baggy clothes. “I make anything look good, don’t I?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Sure, if you say so.”

They both sat down on the couch, and Y/N handed him a cup of tea. “Figured you might want something warm after your little… mishap.”

Charles accepted the tea with a grin. “You’re too good to me, Y/N.”

They sipped their tea in companionable silence for a few moments. “You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “this turned out to be one of the best nights I’ve had in a while. Even with the water incident.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Me too, Charles. Me too.”

As they hold each other's gaze, the room seemed to heat up. Y/N watched as Charles's gaze dropped to her lips, sending an electrifying thrill through her. They both hesitated, caught in a moment of uncertainty, as if waiting for the other to make the first move.

Charles saw Y/N start to pull back, and he couldn't let the moment slip away. He put his cup down and gently took hers from her hand, placing it on the table. He moved closer, watching for any sign of rejection, but found none. Her body language spoke volumes—she was gravitating towards him, drawn in by the same irresistible force.

“Y/N,” Charles whispered, his voice a seductive murmur. He traced gentle circles on the inside of her hand, deliberately avoiding her wedding ring, as if weaving a spell around her. He was so close to fulfilling the dreams that had haunted him for so long. Just a few more steps and she would be his.

Y/N's breath hitched as Charles's warm breath fanned across her face. The intimacy of the moment was intoxicating, the world outside fading into oblivion. Charles leaned in, his lips a mere whisper away from hers.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and filled with longing.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "Charles, I'm married. We shouldn't be doing this."

Charles, ever the confident bastard, smirked. “Then where is your husband, Y/N? I don’t see him anywhere.”

She hesitated, the bitterness from earlier returning. “He’s not here.”

“Exactly,” Charles murmured, his thumb tracing her jawline. “He’s not here, but I am. He’s the one who’s missing out on you, not me.”

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine at his words. The way he looked at her, the intensity in his eyes, it was hard to resist. “Charles…”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. Peppering her with butterfly kisses that makes her toes curl.

His words were like a drug, intoxicating and hard to resist. Her resolve wavered, her heart and mind at war. “This is wrong,” she whispered, but even as she said it, she found herself leaning closer to him.

Charles’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. “It doesn’t feel wrong, does it? It feels right. Like this is where we’re supposed to be.”

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his voice overwhelming her senses. “Charles…”

“Let me make you feel good, Y/N,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over hers. “Let me remind you what it’s like to be wanted. Just give me one night, that's all I ask for.”

The last of her resistance crumbling. She leaned in, her lips finally meeting his in a kiss. Charles moaned and deepened the kiss, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with adoration. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Charles chuckled softly. “Believe it, Y/N. Tonight, you’re mine.”

They kissed again, this time with more urgency, their bodies pressing against each other. Charles's hands greedily roamed her back, pulling her even closer. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, matching the frantic rhythm of his own.

Charles pulled back just enough to whisper breathily, "Ask me to stay, Y/N. Tell me how much you want this."

Y/N moaned deliciously between kisses, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "I'm going to hell for this," she murmured, her voice a mix of guilt and desire. "But God, I want this so bad. I want you so bad, Charles."

Her words were like a spark to dry kindling, igniting a fierce blaze within him. He kissed her again, more fervently, his hands tangling in her hair. “Then let me give you what you want,” he whispered against her lips. “Let me leave my marks on you.”

Y/N's breath rattled, her body arching towards him. She felt his lips trail down her neck, nipping and sucking, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Her fingers digging into his shoulders as she surrendered to the heavenly sensation.

Charles’s hands moved to the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly as his lips continued their descent. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire.

Y/N shivered at his words, her skin tingling wherever he touched. “Charles,” she breathed, her voice a plea. “Please.”

He pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it aside before capturing her lips again. He is a starved man, and her the forbidden apple. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her skin. Y/N’s head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips as he kissed down her collarbone. Leaving behind a few love marks that she would discover the next morning.

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. Charles helped her, shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it aside. Bodies now pressed together.

Charles' hands slide down to her hips, pulling her closer. “Tell me how much you want this,” he demanded against her lips, his voice rough with desire.

“I want this, Charles. I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “Leave your marks on me. Make me yours.”

His eyes darkened, a predatory gleam in them. “How sweet of you to beg, chérie. Such music to my ears.”

The bedroom was dimly lit, casting a soft glow over the tangled sheets and the entwined figures upon them. Y/N’s moans filled the room, mingling with his breathy groans, their need for each other driving them to the brink.

The realization of where they were flashed through Charles's mind briefly, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming need pulsing through his veins. He wanted her, needed her, and nothing else mattered in that moment. Nate be damned.

Charles descended with a trail of kisses along her body. Using only his teeth, he playfully removed her panties, drawing a gasp of delight from her. With a devilish grin, he looked up at her before tracing a long, tantalizing lick along her pussy.

Y/N's body twitched as Charles's tongue sent jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. "Fuck, Charles," she gasped, her voice desperate, "please that feels so good…"

"Please what, mon ange?" he teased, his voice a low murmur against her skin. "Tell me what you want."

Her fingers tightened on the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as she arched her back, seeking more of his touch. "I want… I need…"

With each flick of his tongue, each teasing nip of his teeth, she grew more desperate, her body humming with anticipation. "I want to come, please," she screamed out, her voice a breathless plea. "I need you to make me come."

Driven by her urgent plea, he zeroed in on the spot that elicited the most delicious responses from her, his touch deliberate and calculated to push her to the brink. He slipped a finger inside her, the sensation sending her into a frenzy and got her seeing stars. He whispered words of encouragement, his breath hot against her skin, promising to take her higher, to make her lose herself completely in the pleasure he offered.

Each thrust of his finger pushed her closer to the edge, her world narrowing down to the delicious ache of desire burning within her.

As Charles felt her climax building, he intensified his movements. And then, with a shuddering cry, she shattered, her release washing over her in a powerful wave of sensation that left her gasping for air.

Charles watched in awe as she squirt, her body trembling as she released a torrent of fluid, coating his hand in her essence. The sight only fueled his desire further, igniting a primal hunger within him.

He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting her with a hunger that bordered on reverence. Savoring the sweet taste of her on his tongue. He can feel his own cock twitching.

Y/N's eyes remained closed in a state of bliss, her senses overwhelmed by the lingering waves of pleasure still coursing through her. But suddenly, the sound of Charles unzipping his pants and discarding them carelessly snapped her back to earth. With a sense of urgency, she forced her eyes open, her gaze fixing on him.

The sight before her sent another jolt of desire coursing through her veins. Charles stood before her, his cock on full display, his skin flushed with arousal. With each pulse, each throb, his desire seemed to ooze from him. Pre cum dripping down, taunting her to have a taste.

With wide eyes reminiscent of a doe's, she crawled towards him, determination shining through her gaze. "Let me return the favor now," she murmured.

Charles's pupil widened in anticipation as she took him slowly into her mouth. She circled the tip with her tongue, each touch drawing out guttural moans of pleasure from deep within him.

"Merde," he cursed under his breath, the words spilling out in a fervent stream of French expletives as ecstasy washed over him in waves.

"Yeah, chérie, right there." Charles encourages, his voice strained as he thrust into her mouth. Forcing her to take more and more of him.

Her hands explored every inch of him, fingers trailing along the firmness of his cock before delicately cupping his balls. With a gentle yet firm grip, she massaged him, reveling in the way his breath hitched and his hips arched in response to her touch.

Charles's head fell back, his eyes closed in blissful surrender, as waves of pleasure surged through him. The intensity of her ministrations was intoxicating. He has never felt anything like it. And Charles knew that he is doomed from this moment on. Nothing would ever compare.

"God, how did Nate ever pry himself from this bed?" Charles muttered with disbelief. "You're like a dream, Y/N. A damn heavenly dream."

Y/N's laughter reverberated on his cock, drawing yet another loud moan from him. He is putty in her hands, or in this case, in her mouth.

As the tension built within him, Charles's fingers instinctively tangled in Y/N's hair, gently guiding her away from his throbbing length. Y/N's puzzled gaze met his, confusion evident in the furrow of her brow as she searched his eyes for answers.

"Why… why did you stop?" she queried, her voice a soft whisper laced with uncertainty, her lips still tingling.

With a tender smile, Charles shifted his position, maneuvering Y/N until she lay beneath him, her body flush against the sheets, awaiting his touch.

"I want to feel you," he confessed, his voice husky with desire as he positioned himself above her, aligning his cock with her pussy. "I want to come inside you."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words.

With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Charles teased the slick folds of Y/N's aching center with the swollen head of his cock, relishing in the way her breath hitched with each teasing stroke.

"You want me to fill you up, mon ange?" His voice, thick with desire, dripped like molten honey as he toyed with her, his grin wolfish.

Y/N's body writhed beneath him, her hips arching in desperate need to meet his.

"Fuck, Charles, please," she gasped, her voice raw as she pleaded for him to take her.

With a low growl, Charles surged forward, burying himself deep inside her with a harsh thrust that stole her breath away. Not even giving her time to adjust to his size because he knows that she is already a dripping mess. Her pussy would accommodate his cock just fine.

Slick with sweat, Charles's muscles flexed with each powerful thrust. The intoxicating scent of sex filled the air as he relentlessly pounded into her, his cock hitting all the right spots with unerring accuracy.

Tears of ecstasy welled in her eyes as she surrendered herself to him. Desperate for more, Y/N's trembling hand found its way between her thighs, her fingers slick with her own arousal. With a gasp, she circled her swollen clit, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her already overstimulated body.

"Fucking hell, chérie, you like that? You like it when I fuck you like this?". With each thrust, he drove her closer to the edge, relishing in the way her body quivered beneath him.

"Yes, Charles, God, fuck me harder," she moaned, her voice fueled his desire even further.

With a madman grin, Charles's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her close as he whispered into her ear, his words dripping with sinful intent. "You want it rough? You want me to ravage you until you're begging for mercy?"

Y/N whimpered in response. "Yes, Charles, please, fill me up with your cum." she begged. She rubbed her clit furiously, desperate for a release.

Charles's hands suddenly gripped Y/N's hips, lifting her effortlessly and spinning her around to face a mirror. Their eyes locked in the reflection as he continued to pound into her with unrelenting force. Y/N moaned loudly as she watched his cock going in and out of her.

"You like watching yourself get fucked, huh, princess?"

Y/N can only vigorously nod in reply, her capacity for coherent speech vanished. Her mind consumed by sex.

Charles senses her pussy tightening, a telltale sign that she's teetering on the brink of cumming. Gazing into her eyes, he murmurs, "Come for me, beautiful," he commanded. Swiftly, he replaces her hands with his own, his touch assertive yet tender as he relentlessly stimulates her clit. With each skillful stroke, he sends her closer to the precipice of pleasure until finally, she shatters into a powerful climax, her body trembling with the intensity of her release.

A satisfied grin dances across Charles' lips as another squirt cascades out of her, dampening the sheets beneath them. Charles persists in his ministrations on her clit, his touch unwavering, even as she keeps on squirting uncontrollably.

"Please," she gasps between ragged breaths, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure, "stop, Charles."

He pauses, his fingers lingering tantalizingly close to her clit. "You sure, mon ange? I was rather enjoying the show," he teases.

"Please," she repeats, her tone more desperate this time, "I can't take it anymore."

Chuckling softly, he relents, withdrawing his hand with a playful smirk. "As you wish, darling."

Charles continues his rhythmic thrusts, as Y/N leans against him, her body limp and spent. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent as he feels himself nearing the edge. As he nears the peak of his own pleasure, Charles releases a loud groan, his movements becoming more frantic. With a final thrust, he empties himself inside her, feeling the hot spurts of his cum shooting deep into her. He lets out a string of curse words in French, the words escaping him in a fervent rush of ecstasy.

As they come down from the peak of pleasure together, Charles holds her close, their bodies intertwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

When their breathing has slowed down and their bodies relax, Y/N softly murmurs, "Stay with me tonight, Charles. Just sleep here."

A tender smile graces Charles' lips as he brushes a lock of hair away from her face. "Of course, mon amour," he replies, his voice filled with affection. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

They adjust their bodies, finding a comfortable position to rest in each other's arms. Charles presses a lingering kiss to Y/N's forehead before closing his eyes, contentment spreading through him like a warm embrace.

Y/N nestles closer, feeling safe and cherished in Charles' embrace. "I don't regret this," she whispers, the words a gentle caress against his chest.

Charles' heart swells with happiness as he tightens his hold around her. "I'm glad that you don't," he murmurs, his voice laced with sincerity. "More than anything."

In the tranquil stillness of the night, they drift off to sleep. The fall out far from their minds.

325 notes · View notes

verstappen-cult · 8 hours

Note

Following today’s Imola observations, can we get a charles praise kink👀👀

Charles is high on adrenaline as he climbs out of the car. And then on the podium and even on the press conference. He’s exhausted and not so happy with the result he had this weekend, but can’t deny how thrilling it is to see all the tifosi shouting and cheering for him and Ferrari.

He still can hear the “Ole, Ole, Ole, Leclerc, Leclerc” from his driver’s room.

And it’s not until Charles is, finally, in the comfort of his home that he feels all the emotions of the day coming back full force.

“Charlie?” You ask at hearing the door being closed, standing from the couch and walking to greet him.

“Hey, baby.” He smiles tiredly at you.

“I wanted to wait for you but thought it was better if I just came back home.” You shrug, shortening the distance. Charles arms immediately find your waist, pulling you flush against his body. “You did so great today, Char.”

Charles cheeks heat up, eyes glazing over. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

“What are you talking about? You did an amazing job all weekend.” You tangle your fingers in his hair and he willingly lets you pull his head back. “First Ferrari driver to be on the podium since 2006, uh?”

Charles face is impossibly hot, his cheeks so red that you can’t help but find it cute. All the blood on his body going to very different places. “Since Michael.” He whispers, flustered.

“That’s huge, Charlie.” You say with a proud smile on your lips while massaging his scalp. You lean forward and attach your lips to his jaw, kissing your way down to his neck. Charles closes his eyes, letting out soft sighs and feeling like putty in your hands. “And second in the championship too.”

Charles can’t help himself, all the praises doing weird things to his brain, and so he moans. He would feel embarrassed in any other situation but not today.

“Your home race is next,” Your left hand slowly makes its way downwards, the pad of your fingers stroking his cock through his pants. “Nobody can beat you there, you know Monaco like the palm of your hand. Don’t you, Charlie?” You wait for him to reply but he is silent for a whole minute, too lost in the pleasure, so you bite his earlobe to pull him out of it. “I asked you something, Charles. Don’t you think it is rude to ignore when someone asks you a question?”

“Yes, sorry. Sorry—” He finishes with a groan when you pull hard on his hair, exposing more of his neck.

“You will win in Monaco, Charles.” You pull away just enough to look him in those green, sparkling eyes. “And everyone will cheer for you as you stand on the top step of that podium.” Charles thrust into your hand and you place your leg between his, so he can rub against your thigh. “All the fans shouting your name—just like they did today. Can you imagine it already? How will that feel?”

Charles should feel embarrassed about how little it takes for him to come in his pants. But not today.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x you #f1 drabble

323 notes · View notes

tommydarlings · 3 days

Text

fucktoy part 3 | f1 grid

pairing: dom!carlos sainz ; dom!charles leclerc ; mean!dom!max verstappen ; dom!daniel ricciardo x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: blowjob, mention of gagging, hair pulling, pussy eating, dacryphilia, brief mention of spanking, brief mention of face slapping, brief mention of marking somebody up, humiliation

w/c: 1k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

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

How Carlos would not hesitate to force you onto your knees.

“f-fucking hell, cariño,” were the words you were able to here from your spot on your knees in front of the intimidating Spaniard as his big hand led your head, giving you close to no work. “Esa boca puede chupar pollas, mierda,” that mouth can suck cock, carlos threw his head back and groaned deeply.

You briefly tried your best to looked up at him with your with tears-filled Bambi eyes, batting your eyelashes as good as you could up at him before you gagged on his cock, making him chuckled and looked down at you,

“Too much? No… it’s not too much for that little mouth of yours, estoy en lo cierto?” Am I right?

With pleading eyes and hallowed cheeks, you shook your head and hummed, knowing that you won’t be able to get any words out.

He nodded confidently, “I know I’m right, my angel… I know,” Carlos whispered while his other hand caressed your hallowed cheek, smirk still very visible on his face.

Or how Charles wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to eat you out in his small changing room.

“Every time I eat that pretty pussy of yours it just tastes better and better, mon amour,” he mumbled before you spread your legs further apart and buried his head between your thighs again, messily licking and lightly sucking on your clit while you fisted his hair.

You threw your head back, as always, “Charles! Oh g-god, don’t stop… please!” You whined almost pathetically.

Your heard and felt him giggle into your soaked cunt, “wasn’t planning on stopping, my love.”

He suddenly put his entire mouth around your clit and passionately sucked on his before he flicked it a couple of times with the tip of his tongue, making you cover your mouth.

Charles noticed how your screamed into your palm and quickly raised his hand to remove your hand from your panting mouth,

“oh no, no baby, we don’t do that here… when you’re with me, then I want to hear how I make you feel, you understand? So let me hear you… all of you,” he whispered as he looked up at you from his place on his knees, fingers squeezing your skin as tears blurred your vision.

And then you shook with pleasure as moans and whines escaped your mouth like never before, Charles only smiling into your wet pussy as he continued devouring your most sensitive area with his mouth and tongue.

And how max wouldn’t let you talk to the other drivers in the paddock without leaving his mark on your behind.

He watched you closely, almost like a hunter its prey as you talked to Charles, giggling about something, making his blood boil.

The second Charles left you alone, max walked over to you, his dark gaze not leaving your body.

“What did the two of you talk about, hmm?”

You furrowed your brows but before you could even get a word out, he already grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards the nearest bathroom, harshly throwing you into it and locking the door behind him.

“You want something? Money? Attention? Some spanks or some slaps across your pretty face? You come to me… I can give you all of that and you know it,” he mumbled into your ear from behind, his big hands already lifting your dress up and pulling your panties to the side.

“M-Max, what are y-you-” but your sentence was stopped by your own loud and whiny moan, hand slapping against the wall he pressed you to before you squeezed your eyes shut.

His big hand cradled your chin from behind, thumb caressing your skin as he entered you, roughly fucking you in a fast and almost painful but still pleasurable pace.

He chuckled, his lips kissing your temple, “you feel that? You feel me inside of you? That’s the only thing that should be filling your tight cunt up, okay?” He whispered, making you nod.

“Good girl,” he kissed your cheek, comfortingly kissing your tears away, “and those beautiful tears, god baby… you know how to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He smiled.

Daniel would use you to fulfill his needs all the time, giving you close to no break.

After a good qualifying or a race win, you would be in his driver’s room already, pathetically bend over the arm of the couch while Daniel is grinning like a devil behind you, your clothes long gone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t beg for that all day long, saw you looking at me with those big, teary eyes, almost couldn’t resist myself to fuck that pretty hole in front of everybody,” he whispered into your ear from behind before moving his head down to kiss your shoulder and neck.

You whined, fingers gripping the soft material of the couch so roughly that your knuckles turned white, “N-Not true-” you gasped as his thrusts into your pussy got harsher, one hand pressing your body down by your waist while the other one got a merciless grip of your hair, swiftly pulling your head upwards.

You gasped while he chuckled, dark pupils starring down at you, “not true you say?” He bit his lip, thrusts getting slower but harder, making you choke on your breath each time,

“Not true she’s says,” he quickly pecked the top of your head while listening to your cries, smile not fading, “how funny.”

Your head fell forward but daniel didn’t like that, in a matter of seconds, he tangled his long fingers in your hair and pulled your head back up, his other hand pressing more down onto your waist, forcing you to arch your back for him even more,

“Oh no no no, baby… you stay here, okay? Right here,” you squeezed your eyes shut, tears covering your cheeks as your hands trembled with each thrust, “look at me… c'mon look up at me, baby,” he mumbled, smirking as you obeyed and opened your eyes again.

“Just like that,” daniel grinned down at you, praising you quietly before he kissed the top of your head again.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #carlos sainz smut #Carlos sainz #Charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x reader smut #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader

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norizz-nation · 3 days

Note

Make up sex with charles

Pain & Pleasure | C.L16

Summary: You left him without any explanation and he came back for an explanation.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Spanking, Dacryphilia, Hair Pulling, Breeding Kink

You got frustrated when you heard the doorbell ring again, yelling, "Coming!"

Your facial expression changed from frustration to shock instantly. Charles was standing in front of you with a rose bouquet in his hand. His hair was damp from the drizzly rain. His eyes were apologetic and quite tired. It looked like he couldn't sleep properly last night. The concern on his face could tell that he just wants you back.

You were about the slam the door closed but he stopped you, holding the door open. You tried to push it close but he was too strong, "Y/N, I just want an explanation,"

You stopped fighting back and let him open the door, "Please?"

You just nodded.

He then entered your house, scanning everything. You couldn't figure out what exactly was he trying to find.

His eyes roamed around the whole living area and then finally sat on the couch. You looked at him from a distance, your arms crossed, not really being able to decide if you should be happy or just kick him out.

Read the whole 1.7k fic on my Patreon!

A/N: Join my Patreon and read some of my exclusive fics. And, as always, requests are open. So, feel free to ask what you want me to write. I love you.

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hookhausenschips · 3 days

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Whispering To The Stars

A Charles Leclerc Journal Entry

500 Follower Special!!!

Navigation

WC: 650

Taglist

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Ever since I first saw you at the Monaco Grand Prix, leaning against the pit wall with that eager glint in your eyes, I knew there was something ineffably special about you. You wore excitement like a second skin, draped over your shoulders more naturally than the azure Mediterranean hugged the shores of Monte Carlo. I was drawn to you; inexplicably, irrevocably. In that crowd, amidst the roar of engines and the fervor of the fans, there was a tranquil certainty in your eyes that spoke directly to me.

We flourished in an ephemeral world of speed where every second counted double, both on track and in life. Time was always chasing us, and yet, it seemed we outran it often, stealing moments that were as vivid as the principality's night lights. Our love, much like racing, was intense, passionate, and invariably edged with inherent risks. You understood the stakes, the late nights, the constant travel, but you never complained. Instead, you became my solace, turning our fleeting moments into eternities.

But time, as much as it was our ally in those stolen moments, became our foe. Your dreams didn't merely dance around the peripheries of racetracks; they soared far beyond, into realms where I couldn't always follow. I watched you struggle with choices, torn between your ambitions and what we had. It pained me to see you wrestle with possibilities, and I wished then that time would be kinder to you, would slow down and allow you the breath you so desperately needed.

The season I clinched the championship, the very pinnacle of my career, was ironically when our worlds began to drift apart. My obligations increased, your studies took you to distant shores, and the time zones between us stretched wider than the Atlantic. Calls became sporadic; texts went unanswered. The silence was louder than any engine I had ever tuned.

The last time we were together was under the stars in Barcelona. You had flown in to surprise me, and the night was ours. We talked about the constellations, about your research in astrophysics, and somewhat hesitantly, about us. There was so much I wanted to tell you then, about how I envisioned our future, about how every victory was hollow if not shared with you. But I held back, shackled by an inexplicable fear that voicing these thoughts might jinx what little we were clinging to.

Weeks later, when the call came, I was testing at Fiorano. It was a crisp morning, and I could still taste the remnants of victory from the previous race. My phone rang, an unknown number, and I almost didn’t answer. But I did. The voice on the other end, somber and heavy, told me about the accident. A sudden, cruel twist of fate and just like that, you were gone.

I wish time had been kinder to you, Y/N.

Now, I find myself at many a finish line, but the thrill of victory is muted, the champagne less sweet. The podium no longer a peak, but a plateau. Every star I gaze upon, I hope you're there, watching, perhaps proud. The words I never said now slip quietly into the cool night air, hoping they find you amongst the stars. "I love you," I whisper, "and I miss you."

Every race I win, every trophy I lift, I dedicate to you. For in those fleeting moments of triumph, I am closest to you, suspended in the ephemeral joy we once shared. And as I stand there, amidst the confetti and applause, I tell the stars about my day, about the race, about the world without you. I hope, in some celestial way, they carry my words to you.

I wish I had told you all this when I had the chance. Now, all I have is the hope that wherever you are, time is finally being kind to you.

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Charles Leclerc Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @asparklysoul, @dhanihamidi

F1 Taglist: @hiireadstuff, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 day

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4k celebration 5k celebration!!!!

oh i just love you all so much! thank you for being here, for being the loveliest, and for being so so super duper supportive. i know i still have requests to work on but i’m opening them back up for you guys!

i'll be taking requests based on:

• prompts (from anywhere, i don't have a specific list, just send the prompt and i'll get to work)

• songs (can be a line, the full song, whatever you fancy)

• random ideas that you have!

• tropes

rules!

• requests are open for lando, oscar, lewis, charles and maybe a few others (i do not write for max, carlos, nando so please don't ask)

• taking requests for smut, angst and fluff

• pls head your request with 5k celebration - just for organisational purposes <3

• infidelity is not cool - not writing that so please don't request anything where x driver cheats!

#writing things #f1 fic #f1 smut #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri #lando norris #oscar piastri smut #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic #f1 requests #jas’s 5k celebration

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themultifanshipper · 2 days

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Here's my masterlist of posted fics, if you want to see what I'm working on and my other ideas, they are here

They were all supposed to be blurbs then some of them spiralled a bit...

Warning: these are all smut unless otherwise specified, see bottom of post for notes.

Lando Norris

Pegging Lando ft. Oscar ~0.25k

The Bet (Lando's first win) ~ 2.2k

Max Verstappen

Car sex ~ 1.8k pt2 ft. Charles

Charles Leclerc

Post Race sex (with a twist) ~0.3k

What happened in Monaco? (pt2 of Car sex with Max) ~1.5k

Logan Sargeant

What are friends for? ~1.5k

George Russell

Love at first fuck ~0.6k

Notes:

Although my reader characters usually have vaginas, I do my best to not gender them so anyone can read them (I also never talk about weight, height or skin colour).

I also have a few actual gender neutral wips that will be clearly marked so you can look for them in the tag # gnreader once I've started it :)

Also I don't use names or Y/N or anything bc i hate writing with that even though i don't mind reading it (idk i'm weird like that)

#masterlist #my thots #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris smut #charles leclerc smut #max verstappen smut #george russell smut #logan sargeant smut

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leclerc-hs · 2 months

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73 Questions with Mrs. Leclerc - cl16

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you do a 73 questions interview with Vogue OR charles can't help but third wheel your interview warnings: none??? just cute fluff basically, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 2.1k author's note: I actually got a request by someone to do this and thought it was such a CUTE idea and concept. I obviously didn't do ALL 73 questions cause that would've taken forever. But thought this was a cute little piece to do. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think don't be shy !! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE DELICATE FOLDS of the pale pink sundress fluttered like petals in a gentle breeze, framing your figure with a soft, ethereal elegance. As the front door yielded to the push, the fabric danced around your legs, caressing the tender skin of your thighs with a whisper of touch. Your radiant smile illuminated the scene, a beacon of joy amidst the fluttering fabric and nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey!” The male voice chimed brightly, his tone cheerful as a songbird greeting the dawn, echoing through the air with an infectious energy that mirrored your own bright smile.

“Hey!” You respond with effervescent warmth, your smile stretching across your face like a sunbeam breaking through clouds. With a graceful gesture, you swing the door open wider, revealing the inviting warmth of your home’s foyer. The soft light spills in, casting a golden glow over the polished floors and elegant furnishing. The first thing to notice is the giant painting of a Ferrari Formula One car, hung high above the entry way table.

“Look who we have here! It’s Mrs. Leclerc!” A delicate blush warms your cheeks, a subtle reminder of the tender affection that tingles within you whenever you’re addressed as such. Though you and Charles have been together for many years, your marriage has infused your relationship with a fresh sense of intimacy and closeness. And despite that it’s been almost five years, the title of “wife” feels forever new and unfamiliar.

“On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“I would say 8, so I’m super excited!” With a gentle click, you shut the front door behind you, enveloping the foyer in a tranquility as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen. Along the way, you stooped to pick up a scattering of children’s toys that lay scattered like confetti on the polished wooden floors, offering a quick apology for the perceived “mess.” However, you couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the orchestrated chaos around you. While the house was meticulously maintained by the cleaning company before the video shoot, every detail was carefully curated to strike the perfect balance between lived-in warmth and elegance, ensuring a setting that felt both inviting and authentic to you and the viewers.

“Any reason for that?”

In the heart of the home lies a kitchen adorned with a stunning green cabinet motif. The cabinets, painted in a rich emerald hue, exude an air of sophistication and charm, perfectly complemented by gleaming brass hardware. Sunlight filters through the vast array of windows, casting a warm glow over the polished marble countertops.

“You mean other than the fact that the kids go back to school soon?” You and the interviewer let out a soft laugh as you made your way behind the kitchen island, opening the fridge in a smooth motion to pull out a water bottle. “Want one?”

“No, but thanks though!” His voice is light-hearted.

As the fridge door remains open, a tantalizing glimpse is offered to the audience of its well-stocked interior. A colorful array of fresh produce fills the shelves, showing an abundance of vibrant fruits and crisp vegetables. Among the healthy offerings, assortment of juice boxes catches the eye, adding a playful touch to the wholesome scene.

“That’s a lot of juice boxes you have in there.” He makes a comment, it’s not a question, but you take it as one.

“Two kids and a husband,” You start, your tone light and casual before lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper for the camera, “who practically is also a kid, results in a lot of juice boxes.” With a playful wink directed at the lens, you punctuate the statement, adding a touch of humor to the scene. Setting the water bottle down on the expansive kitchen counter, you resume your easy demeanor, effortlessly blending candor and charm for your audience.

“Hey!” Your head shoots over, the camera seamlessly following your gaze to where Charles, your husband,sits on the floor of the living room, two of your kids, aged two and three, beside him with an abundance of toys strewn about. “I heard that!” Charles retorts with mock offense, a playful grin lighting up his face as he joins in the banter.

The living room exudes a chic sophistication with a distinct Formula One flair. Charcoal-gray walls provide a sleek backdrop, accentuating the mounted flat-screen television. A striking statement piece dominates one corner—a display of artwork showcasing all of the racetracks Charles has conquered – infusing the room with a sense of triumph and energy. A plush white sofa, adorned with an array of vibrant red pillows, invites relaxation and style. Across the room, a sizable shelf proudly showcases a collection of racing helmets, some belonging to Charles and others gathered over time, adding a personal touch to the space. Below the television, was a long console table that was adorned in various plants and photos of your family. You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced at them.

With a casual wave of your hand, you dismiss Charles’s playful interruption, maintaining your position at the kitchen island as the camera refocuses on you. The gesture carries an air of affectionate familiarity, a gentle reminder of the dynamic energy that permeates your bustling household.

“If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?”

“Definitely Austin Butler.” You answer almost immediately, no hesitance in your voice.

“Hey!” Charles’s playful yelp echoes through the room once more, accompanied by the joyful laughter of your children. One nestled in his lap, the other engrossed in a picture book, their presence adding warmth and vitality to the room. You share a knowing smile with Charles, the affectionate banter a familiar melody to your family life.

The laughter of the interviewer joins the playful exchange. The camera effortlessly captures the dynamic interaction between all of you with ease.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Restez en dehors de ça.” Stay out of this!

“Arrête de faire semblant de vouloir faire l’amour avec quelqu’un d’autre que moi!” Stop pretending you want to make love with anybody but me!

With a mischievous gleam in your eye, you turn back to the camera, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I change my answer?” You inquire, injecting a hint of playful anticipation into your tone.

“Sure,” the interviewer replies.

“You’re supposed to say no,” You quip with a chuckle.

“Oh, um no?”

With a playful pout, you glance over at Charles who is already staring at the interaction. A smile adorned on his face like he is in complete awe of you, regardless of what you are saying. “Sorry honey!” You wave your hand around. “Answers are final!”

Leaving the kitchen behind, you make your way towards the backyard, where the promise of relaxation and leisure awaits. Stepping through the door, you’re greeted by the sight of a large pool shimmering under the sunlight, its crystal-clear waters beckoning for a refreshing dip. Surrounding the pool, lounge chairs are strategically place, some on the pool’s ledge, inciting you to bask in the sun while enjoying the cool water. A wide arrangement of pool floaties from unicorns to racecars litter the pool as well.

It’s a breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of bright blue skies stretching overhead, adorned with barely a wisp of cloud in sight. The warm rays of sun dance upon your skin. With a stylish flourish, you slip on a pair of your favorite Ray-Bans, a subtle nod to your husband’s sunglass collection.

“Vintage or new?”

You ponder for a moment as you stand in the backyard, a breeze blowing your hair behind your shoulders. “Depends, but definitely vintage.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Aisle, although Charles likes to take the aisle more.”

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“Wait, do my children count as two of the three?”

“Up to you.”

“Okay, so my two children. And my lip gloss.” You laugh, pausing for effect. “Kidding! My two kids, and my lip gloss…” You pause, jokingly. “And my husband of course.” The light-hearted remark reflects the joyful chaos of humor and love in your life. “He’s really the sweetest man. I’m so lucky.”

The glass door slides open with a whisper, and into the frame steps Charles, his presence incessant. With a carefree demeanor, he approaches you clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretched at the seams from his muscles. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks, the stubble of his own rubbing against your smooth skin, his love evident in each tender kiss.

“Désolé,” Sorry. He apologizes before pecking another kiss to your cheek. “Tellement ambrassable.” Just so kissable. He places one more on your cheek, your face bright red from the camera’s catching all of this.

“Looks like he can’t be far from you for very long.”

Charles looks at the camera, a glint in his eye with a large smile, like he was the happiest man on earth, and nothing could dampen his spirits. Especially with you nearby. “Est-ce que tu la vois?” Do you see her?

The interviewer, unaware of Charles’s words, simply nods in response behind the camera lens, acknowledging the affection in his tone. Later translations will reveal the depth of Charles’s words no doubt. Elle est tellement belle. Bien sûr, je ne peux pas rester loin longtemps.” She’s so beautiful. Of course, I can’t stay far long.

Your face is bright red as Charles remains at your side.

“Where are the kids?”

“Put them down for a nap!” Charles answers, his arm slung over your shoulder as he leans on you comfortably.

As the interviewer continues the questionnaire, Charles can’t resist interjecting with playful remarks and comments on almost every question. His spontaneous interruptions add an element of humor and spontaneity to the video, turning what could have been a standard interview into an entertaining and engaging exchange.

“How do you define beauty?” “My wife.” “Charles, the questions are for me!”

"What do you love most about your body?" "That's an easy one...I think her--" Charles begins, but you swat his chest and cut him off. "I love my arms. Not because they're that nice but they give me the ability to hold my children." Charles clicks his tongue, hating that you even implied something about yourself as 'not that nice'.

"Least favorite color?" "Red." Charles lets out a large gasp with a string of phrases in French, clearly hurt by your response. "It's a joke, mon amour!" "How did you know you were in love?" You look at Charles then, his eyes already on you, a soft smile pulling on both of your lips. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with him. Probably when I realized I would rather be awake in the middle of the night, since he was traveling so much, just to talk to him for even a few minutes, instead of going to sleep." Charles plays with the ends of your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers as he chimes in. "We've known each other for so long. But, when I first met her, it was like meeting someone I've known my entire life. There was no awkward silences between us. We just clicked."

“Diamonds or pearls?” “Pearls.” “Mon chou, don’t lie.” “I’m not!” “The diamond on your finger says otherwise!”

“If you made a documentary, what would it be about?” “Charles’ brain. I seriously question what goes on in there sometimes.” “Hey! It’s only you…” You raise your eyebrows at him, like he’s a liar. “And racing.” “Definitely racing.”

“If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Charles smirks deeply, like he knows something the world doesn’t, the interviewer picks up on it. “Wait, you have a tattoo? Can we see it?”

“No! It’s for me only.”

You playfully swat at Charles’ chest, a playful blush coloring your cheeks as you both wander throughout the house, showcasing its beautiful décor. Despite your embarrassment at Charles’ antics, you can’t help but be thankful for him easing your nerves. You weren’t one for the public eye, normally. So, when you agreed to this interview it came out as quite a surprise.

“Okay final question of the day.”

You both stand by the front door, the interviewer on the front step outside of the home.

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Definitely ki—” You don’t get to finish your answer as Charles’ fingers grasp onto your neck, his fingers sprawled along your jawline as well, and tugs your face into his. He shuts the door as soon as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It’s a few seconds before you push him off you. “You’re unbelievable!”

A giant smile spreads across his face as he looks down at you. “Only for you, mon chou!”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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cherry-leclerc · 6 months

Text

can’t you see ☆ mv1

genre: redbull!driver, enemies to lovers, smut, lando and danny playing cupid lol, protective!max (although he won’t admit it), mean!max, sub!max, dom!reader

word count: 3.2k

In between your mutual dislike with your teammate, Lando and Daniel try their best to make you and Max uncover some hidden feelings.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, riding, sucking on fingers

req!...quick one, but ahh first maxie drabble. eekk :)

“What a fucking asshole.”

Daniel’s eyes bulge out as he hands you a cup of coffee. It had been an extremely long day. Perhaps not the best idea to keep it going, but it seemed like the FIA didn’t give a shit about that. You were past being upset. You were seething.

“Uh…Yeah. I mean I get it. I’m tired, too. This red flag came at the worst time-”

Briskly, you take the cup from him, cutting him off. “It’s not the red flag, it’s Max.” Ever since you joined Formula 1 as the first female to drive for Red Bull, you had felt welcomed by everyone. Everyone but your actual teammate. You had thought maybe it was because he had small balls and couldn’t handle the fact that you were driving alongside him, but when you confronted him about it, he only growled.

As if you would ever cross my fucking mind.

Squinting, you point accusingly at the Australian. “You ought to stop being his friend.” He loudly laughs as he throws his head back.

“You say that every time.”

Making a face, you shoot back. “And you never choose!”

“You’re both my friends. No one is winning custody.”

“You’re older than both of us combined.”

“Hey!”

Hey, a low voice replies. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A shiver runs down your spine. Max leans up against the nearest wall as he ignores you and keeps his eyes on his friend. You wave your hand up in front of him a couple of times for good measure before your mouth drops open when he acts as if you were Casper the Friendly Ghost.

“We were just talking abou- Ouch!” Daniel shrieks in pain when you pinch him. Faking a smile, you turn to the Dutchman. We were actually in the middle of something here. Nothing. He just keeps looking past you. Running a hand through his hair, he starts talking about how this all ‘ruined my flow’ and how he was going to have to ‘try to fix the FIA’s mistakes’. You have to laugh.

“Is something funny to you?”

You look around the room as you theatrically shudder. Sipping on the hot beverage, you hum and close your eyes. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he crosses his arms in frustration. Cold weather, Danny. Do you think there’s a place nearby that sells homemade chicken soup?

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“If we find one, then maybe we can invite Lando and-” Suddenly, he reaches out for your cup and hot drops hit your hand. You hiss in pain. “What’s your problem, dickhead?”

Now, a normal reaction would be to be a decent human being and apologize. Offer up their own cup of coffee, perhaps. Not Max. Throwing it into the nearest trash bin, he turns to you. And he actually has the audacity to look upset.

“Why didn’t you let me overtake you? I don’t know if you don’t know this because you’re new or something like that, but here, when we are instructed to do something - we do it.”

Narrowing your eyes, you step closer. “So what? I don’t let you by one time and suddenly I’m the bad guy? Let me remind you that that’s all I’ve done for you this season.”

“Maybe when you’re someone’s number one driver then you won’t have to do shit like this, but until then,” he angles himself lower to you, “...It kinda looks like you have to.”

“Oh. No.” Daniel winces as he sips quietly on his hot drink. He can physically see your wheels turning as you glare back at the Dutchman. Your cheeks have turned light pink as you refrain yourself from yelling in front of all the Alpha Tauri engineers. Max scrunches his nose.

“Cute.”

You’re about to explode and let all hell loose, but just then, the red flag is over. Huffing, you grab your helmet as you walk away without sparing a single goodbye. Daniel frowns. “You need to stop treating her like that.” Max scoffs. Treating her how? The Australian inches closer as he lays a large hand on his friend's shoulder. “Like you don’t care.”

As soon as the race picks back up, you’re in the zone. You have to work twice as hard to overtake anyone in your way, considering most drivers were on new tires, but eventually you worked your way through. Drops of rain hit your visor as you slow down in sector 2.

“Should I be worried about the rain?”

“Nothing to be worried about, just keep it up.”

You nod, even though Christian can’t see you. As you get closer, you can see Max’s rear wing. He’s fast - zooming, almost - but that only made you want it even more. Defend. I repeat, defend for a 1-2 finish. “Yeah. No.” Entering the DRS zone, you press down on the throttle as you try all tactics to catch up with the 3x World Champion. Fat drops of water hit the Red Bull as you squint in order to not get lost with the commotion. What are you doing? Defend. “I am defending.” You press harder. “Except I’m defending my spot. Not his.”

It’s almost as if he knows what you’re about to do. Quickly, he scans his sideview mirror as he curses when he sees that you weren’t slowing down. It looks like the two Red Bulls are going head-to-head! Probably not the best idea at the moment considering the tough weather, Crofty announces. Passing Max by, you can’t help but cheer as you try to imagine his reaction.

“Not what we were picturing, but very well executed. He will be defending now.”

It wasn’t planned to get stung by a boiling hot coffee, of course it wasn’t, despite the bickering between you two. It wasn’t planned to take time to scratch your burnt hand. And it most definitely was not planned to crash.

Plunging into the wall, you groan, curses flowing past your lips. Are you okay? “Yes. I’m okay.” Lifting your visor, you shyly wave at the grandstands. Would you mind going over to check on Max? He’s currently not responding. Your heart stops. Jumping off your seat, you climb out of your car as you turn and sure enough, Max’s Red Bull is ruined.

“Are you alright?”

Throwing a thumbs up, he lifts himself out of his car to wave at the fans. He turns to you, dark blue helmet still over his head. “What the fuck was that all about?” You narrow your eyes.

“What do you mean? I got an itch.” And though he wears his helmet, you can’t help but notice the crinkles by his eyes. Your stomach flips. It's because of the crash. That’s all it is. You clear your throat. “What happened to you? You were driving well.” Professionally, he slides his gloves off as he waves over at the safety car.

“I had to check on you one way or another, right?”

Dumbfounded, you're faced with his back as he walks away.

“He’s into you, can’t you see it!”

“No. Jesus, don’t even say that.” Lando raises his brows as he throws his legs on top of your bed. Daniel hums from underneath the covers. He’s right, though. Pulling the sheets off, you scowl. “Don’t give me reasons to kick you both out.” Throwing yourself onto the mattress, you smile widely. “Soooo, what’s new?”

It’s all you three are ever good for. Pure gossip. Chewing hard on a piece of pizza, you gag. Daniel cackles as he reaches for the last slice. Hey! What if I wanted that? He cocks his head. Fine, you mumble.

“All I wanted was a warm soup.”

A gentle knock echoes through the room as you all turn to face it. Go and open it, Daniel hisses. Wha- No! You go open it, Lando whispers back. Bunch of babies, you murmur as you untangle yourself from your blanket. Swinging the door open, you freeze. Standing tall is Max with a paper bag at hand.

“Hey.”

Peeking out into the hallway, you stare back confused. “Hey?”

Almost timidly, he kicks his feet up against the wall with a small smile. He extends his arm out, signaling for you to take the mysterious bag. I don’t want any problems, you choke out, feeling skeptical. His blue eyes grow wide.

“Oh. No, don’t worry!” He opens the bag and takes out a small container. Leaning forward, you feel blood rising up to your cheeks. “It’s just soup.”

After an awkward exchange, he leaves. Inhaling the delicious scent, you let out a dreamy sigh.

“He so likes her.”

“We might have been wrong.”

Lando tilts his head, curly strands bouncing at the motion. Daniel hurriedly takes a seat next to the Brit as he smacks his large hands on the table. “What do you mean, mate?”

Daniel scans the room quickly before shaking his head. “I mean, that I just heard them two. They were going at it.” Lando blushes as he lets out an awkward laugh. I don’t even want to know. The Australian bites back a smile as he continues. “Not like that. Yet. What I mean is that they’re back to square one. He’s being a complete dick.”

“Alright. Looks like we have to knock some sense into him.”

Go, Daniel mouths once Max enters the debrief room, eyes entertained on his phone screen. Pushing past the Dutch, Charles jogs over to where you sit next to George. “Hey!” Greeting him back with a warm smile, you pat to the open seat. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite after this. Maybe some chicken soup?” You beam.

“I love a good soup!”

Rapidly, Max’s ears perk up as he hears your conversation with the Monegasque. He was well over the rivalry, but with this? He would not second guess bringing it back. He clenches his jaw as he notices you nodding along with Charles. Strolling over to the small group, he shoots a bitter grin.

“Did you see Christian’s message about our last minute meeting?”

“Hello to you, too.” Checking your phone, you look back confused with a pout. “No. I haven't received anything.”

“Yeah, well, there’s one-”

“No, there's not.” Flickering your eyes behind your teammate, you’re even more lost. With hands on his hips, Christian taps his shoe as his eyes flicker between his two Red Bull drivers. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. There’s no meeting.” He sends a small wink at Charles before walking off to the rest of the team principles. Max slumps.

“Ha. Guess it got canceled or something like that…”

Rushing over Lando and Daniel, Charles hunches over as he starts blabbering. “Did it work? Please tell me it worked - God - I think I almost shit myself. Tell me it fucking wo-”

The Brit points discreetly to where Max paces the room, orbs trained on you like a guard dog.

“It’s definitely working.”

He smacks a one hundred dollar bill onto a large hand.

“And thank you for the help, too, Mr. Horner.”

Despite the attempts to get you and Max together, nothing seemed to work. The blue eyed boy would appear to start registering his feelings, and at the last minute, would completely chicken out. It would be an outright lie to say that this didn’t entertain the Alpha Tauri and McLaren boys, but they also knew that they had to continue their fairy godparent duties.

“Watch it!”

Crashing onto the couch inside of the Red Bull Hospitality, Max’s face bounces against it. He groans in pain before throwing a harsh stare at his friends. Lando stiffles a giggle as Daniel raises his arms up in defense. Getting seated, the Dutch looks back with a sour expression.

“What’s this hostile situation about?”

Lando panics as he turns to his mate. The Aussie licks his lips, patting his lap. “Look, we’ve noticed a few things-” What things? He huffs. “Maybe if you would just let me finish-” That’s what she said! He glares at Lando who slaps a hand over his mouth, tears from unreleased laughter painting his blue eyes. “As I was saying…We’ve noticed your behavior towards a special little someone…”

“Towards Heidi? Shit. I didn’t think it’d be that noticeable.”

Lando clicks his fingers rapidly before pointing at the Red Bull driver. “He’s trying to not talk about it because he knows where this is going!” No, I’m not, Max shrieks as his voice cracks. Blushing, he pushes his hat lower to his face.

“You like her!”

“You know I like Heidi! She’s good for you-”

“You know that’s not who we’re talking about.”

It’s silent for a while. Standing up, Daniel goes to sit next to the 26 year old. Running a hand over his face, Max’s sighs as he looks up. “I’m not…used to feeling this way, okay?”

“That’s totally fine, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like a piece of gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. She’s amazing. Could have anyone - and I mean anyone - but she likes you. I don’t know why or how, but she likes you.” Daniel scoots away when Max narrows his eyes.

“She doesn’t like me.”

Jumping over the coffee table, Lando plops down. “Yes! She does. Ask me how I know.” A bored expression slashes Max’s face as he asks anyway. How, Lando? How do you know? “Because she’s always fighting with you.”

Daniel clicks his tongue as he slowly squints his brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re making the point you think you’re making, mate.” The Brit waves him off.

“I’m dead serious. When she gets upset, she always walks away because she claims to not want to waste her time on stupid arguments. But with you,” he pushes his index finger against the Red Bull polo, “With you she never - ever - walks away. Sure, you’re both at each others throats, but that only means one thing.” He leans against the sofa as he takes a sip of the open energy drink.

“She doesn’t mind wasting time on you.”

After some more convincing, the duo had managed to raise the 26 year olds confidence. They could be wrong. Embarrassingly wrong, but how would he ever know if he never tried? Taking in a deep breath, he finds himself knocking on your door.

“More soup?”

Sheepishly, he shakes his head. His heart skips a beat as he notices how laid back you seem. How relaxed you were. He was going to ruin all that. He was going to say something that would change everything and things might never be the sa-

“Wanna come in?”

Handing him a plate of cut up watermelon, you take a seat in front of him, legs tucked beneath your butt. What are you doing out so late at night, Mr. Max Verstappen? He sets the plate down as he forces himself to mold into his chair.

“I’ve never hated you.”

You blink. Clearing his throat, he looks down to his lap as he fiddles his fingers. “I know I’ve been such a bad teammate - I know - but I promise that it never had to do with you.”

“Okay. So…then what did it have to do with?”

He lets out a croaky laugh as he shuts his eyes. “That’s the tough part…” Opening his blue eyes, he finds you staring back, waiting for an answer. “I feel the opposite of hate…towards you.” He hates the way your face doesn’t change and you remain still. He hates when you shrink back and chew on your lip.

But he could never find himself hating the moment you climb onto his lap.

“T-that’s not what I came here for-”

“I know.” You slide your hands against his stubble. “Your confession was…adorable. Had trouble saying those words out loud, right? Because you,” you strum your finger against his chest, “...You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.”

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. A giggle bubbles up your throat, eyes crinkling shut. His breath hitches. “I feel things…” Your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. Sure you do, Maxie-

Grabbing your face with his left hand, he kisses you. It’s hot, feverish, and impatient.

It’s him.

Whimpering, you grind against him as he groans underneath you. Forcing himself to pull away from your warm lips, he cocks his head to the side. “Was that enough proof?”

“I might need more.”

It’s such a moment of pure adrenaline, that you can’t even pinpoint the moment your hatred towards him had turned into lust. All you know is that it felt so good to be riding him. Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up as he lets out a strained moan. The sound itself makes you drip even more.

You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him moaning your name like a prayer. Oh, fuck. Holy shit. Pushing his hands down, he opens his eyes as he looks back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again. But he’s already kissed you. He’s already been inside of you.

He would beg you to stay in order to make you keep it that way.

“B-baby.” He whimpers with the way you dig yourself against him before circling your hips. Slow. “It’s okay if you want to stop-” You slide his fingers into your mouth. He swears he could finish with such a pretty sight.

“I don’t want to. I just want you to say sorry for everything you’ve ever done to me.”

“I already said I never meant any of it! You’re absolutely everything to me.”

Your core grows tighter with his affirmations. Holding onto his broad shoulders, you continue your sinister rhythm. “Maybe. But I still want one.”

“I’m so-”

Rubbing your bare tits against his chest, he shudders as he harshly pinches your thigh. Try again. “I said I’m so-” Pulling all the way out, you slide back down onto his cock. “Oh - don’t fucking do that.”

“Try again.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry.”

A satisfied smile slides onto your plump lips as you nod before kissing him and riding him the way you know he deserves. With one last hop, you both finish as he moans into your neck. Your fingers push his sweaty, blondish strands away before pressing your lips against his cheek. He smiles weakly.

“I like you, too.” You look down before returning your attention. “But I can’t be with you.”

“Wh-”

“Max. Let’s be realistic here. I’m a girl in Formula 1. You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to get here. I’ve had to do twice the work simply because I’m not a man.” You roll your eyes. “People are going to hate me. Call me names - God, I can already hear them.”

He never thought his heart could actually hurt for someone. You were really messing him up. He gingerly rubs small circles against your cheek.

“I’ll ruin whoever says anything bad about you, but please give this a chance. I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I do you. Please.”

And yes, there will be nasty comments. Hateful interpretations about your relationship. But that never really mattered as long as you had him.

5K notes · View notes

mickyschumacher · 5 months

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after seeing you with play with some young fans you and charles meet on the streets of monaco, charles can't get his mind off having his own. or in which, charles has got a case of the baby fever. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: established relationship, fluff, 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it if u don't want babies), breeding kink (obvi), charles meeting the bare minimum requirement to be a good human (lmao), slight lactation kink, mutual orgasms, handjob, pussy rubbing(?), reader is sensitive as shit, google translated french (my bad to the french speakers), a questionable perversion of having children that always comes with this context, also questionable whether this qualifies as baby fever but yeh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: wrote this one when i first started if you can't tell by the mention of pedro and tlou! my absence explained in another post! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

Charles loved his fans, especially Tifosi. After you, his family and friends, they were the most important people in his lives and constantly motivated him. Most of them were kind and sweet to him and loved and cherished you more than they loved him.

That's why whenever fans asked for photos with you, the both of you or autographs, Charles always accepted. He rarely refused them unless the fans gave off a certain vibe that rubbed him the wrong way; crazed fans or fans who liked you a little bit too much for his liking.

His favourite fans normally, however, were children. It was definitely pressurising to have that many children look up to him but Charles found it rewarding. They were so young and full of dreams that he could help fulfil. They always looked at him wide-eyed with their jaws open as if they had just seen an angel walk by, similarly to how Charles reacted when he had first seen you in the streets of Monaco.

Today was no exception. It was currently the mid-season break and you two were roaming the partially empty streets after having breakfast out, relishing in the privacy of Monaco. Halfway through your walk, you and Charles had bumped into some small fans, literally.

A set of 3-year old twin sisters and a boy who only seemed a year or two older had run to Charles and you yelling 'Charles!' and 'It's Ferrari!'.

Charles instantly was smiling at them, crouching down to talk to them and entertain all their bombarding questions that flew one after the other.

"Is the car really that fast?"

"Can I go in the car?!"

"I hope you win!"

You chuckled softly as Charles answered them with ease. You looked at the parents who also seemed to be equally as excited as their children. "Do you want me to take a photo for you guys?" You inquired softly.

The parents looked at you with wide eyes. "Can you? If it's no bother!" The father fretted, sharing a slightly alarmed expression with his wife.

You shook your head and smiled. "It's not a problem." They held out their phone and you took it into your hands, opening the camera. You hummed as you looked at the group. "Let's do three photos. One with the three angels, one with the parents and one family one?" You asked.

The parents were about to nod when the kids suddenly refused. "Four! We want one with a pretty girl!" One of the sisters yelled out, pointing at you.

Your mouth fell open while your body flushed with slight embarrassment. Charles grinned at you, agreeing with the children profusely. You gave a playful sigh and nodded. The children and parents began to poise for the camera several times and left the last one for you to take a selfie with them.

The parents turned to Charles, inviting him into a conversation as they apologised for the kids running to him all of a sudden.

You could hear Charles say it was fine when you felt a tug at the bottom your dress. You crouched down to the children who now crowded you.

The boy looked at you wide-eyed while the two girls poked your arm and asked "Are you a princess?"

You smiled softly. "I am!" You implored, "How did you know?" You asked in a hushed tone.

The children giggled. "Princesses are always pretty, that's why!" The boy said with red cheeks.

You hummed, pondering over the statement. You brought your hand out to pat the girls' heads and pinch the little boy's chubby cheeks. "That must mean all of you are also princesses and princes, hmm?"

The children cheered in agreement, giggling to themselves before discussing who was the best prince or princesses out of them all.

"I'm the best prince!" One sister said, putting her hands on her hips in determination. Her older brother looked at her almost offended. "How can that be? I'm the best. I'm older."

The other sister looked at her siblings dumbfounded. "Why can't we all be the best?" She sighed.

You grinned at her answer. "You're right! You are all the best. Equally. You know why?" You asked.

Three pair of big eyes looked at you with curiosity swirling within them as they shook their small heads 'no'.

You brought their hands together and held them in your palm. "Because you're siblings. You're family. That's the best."

The kids stared at you blankly, probably trying digest your words as much as they could at that age. The previous sister smiled widely, letting out a deafening yell, running to her mother. "Did you hear that, maman? We're all the best!" She screamed with joy.

You stood from the ground slowly, grinning at all the kids. "I did. We all heard that, ma cherié. It's true!" The mother chorused, giving you a thankful smile.

You smiled in response, shaking your head as if it was nothing. The parents and kids began to say goodbye to you and Charles, although the latter did so rather reluctantly as you walked over to your boyfriend.

You raised a brow at the dazed expression on Charles' face. "Cha? Mon amour, what's going on in that head of yours?" You hooked your arm with his, resting your head on his shoulder.

Charles blinked. "Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking about those kids. Cute, right?" He breathed out, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You smiled. "Very," You agreed as the two of you began to walk to Charles' car.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Arriving home, the two of you decided to lounge in your living room, not bothered to do anything else for the day. You had managed to put on the newest episode of 'The Last of Us', eager to find out what was happening next.

You and Charles laid on the couch; your head resting on his chest while he cuddled you from behind. You were intently watching Pedro Pascal after being besieged with edit after edit of him on TikTok. Charles on the other hand wasn't focusing at all.

All he could think about what those kids you and him had met earlier that morning. Specifically, you conversing with them. You hadn't realised since you were so caught up with them, but at one point him and the parents had stopped talking and tuned into your conversation with the kids.

Charles had talked to you about kids before. You both wanted them and although Charles always talked about having three kids specifically, just like him and his brothers, he would leave it up to whatever you wanted because at the end of the day, it was you giving birth, not him. He would prefer to have children when he was slightly a bit more older, you both had more control over his life, and obviously with at least one championship under his belt.

But after today, Charles was prepared to throw that plan away. As lewd as it was, the idea of you getting you pregnant and having a family not only touched his heart, but immorally touched his cock.

Knowing that he would have to ensure that his cum was entirely within you, stuffed into your cervix, and not letting a single drop come out made him feel feral. To make matters worse, you would look like a goddess when pregnant because hell, you were so beautiful now. Round and full with his child because he made sure to fuck you till you were overflowing with his cum. Or when your breasts became heavy and sensitive to his touch, leaking sporadically, giving him the opportunity to clean you up with his mouth.

God, he was an animal. The worst.

"Charles, what are you doing?" Your voice erupted into the air, breaking him out of his deep train of thought.

Charles blinked at your question in confusion before he looked down, seeing his hand traversing under your dress and up your inner thigh. He looked over to your amused eyes peering at him.

"Sorry," He let out with a sigh, rubbing the warm flesh of your thigh softly. "I just... I can't stop thinking about children."

You raised a brow, not seeing the correlation to Charles' wondering hand. "Children?" You iterated, running a hand through his hair.

Charles shut his eyes at your actions, feeling at ease. "Those kids today... make me want our own children. Now. I want to have children now."

Charles peeked his eyes open, looking at your astounded expression with a bit of fear. "What about our plans? What was it? Thirty-three, a championship, lives under control, and then children?" You queried. "I-I'm not mad or anything, Cha. Just curious. Why the change of heart all of sudden?

You had now turned to face Charles, knees on either side of him, straddling his lap as you became fully attentive to him.

Charles played with the tresses of your hair that had fallen past your face before tucking them gently behind your ear. "You would just make such a good mother, mon ange. You're so sweet and kind. You now how to talk to them. God, pregnancy would look so good on you. I can't stop thinking about you pregnant," Charles let out a small moan a thought. "You all round with our child, hormonal, sensitive at my touch."

Charles' fingers brushed over your neck, making you shudder involuntarily. You melted at his words. Charles thought a great deal of you. You weren't opposed to the idea either, in fact all of his words were making you hornier by the minute.

"You know what?" You queried, "I also want to have children. You would make an amazing father, Cha. I know you would," You softly said, pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

Charles pulled away, boring his gaze into you. "Yeah?" He whispered, eyes soft and full of lust and love.

"Yeah," You repeated. "A father of all three," You teased, giving him a small knowing smile.

Charles' eyes darkened slightly at your words. His hands rested on your hips, his half-hard on in his pants turned harder, pressing into your clothed pussy. "Mon amour," He whispered into your ear, making the hairs on your body stand straight. "Should I fuck a baby into you?" He pulled his face back, waiting for your answer.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, relishing in his words. "If you're going to fuck a baby in me, Charles, you better do it right the first time."

Charles groaned, grinning at your words. Staring at you with a fiery gaze, he quickly brought you down into a hungry kiss. His grip on your hips tightened while your hands became entangled in his hair. Another groan fell against your lips when you tugged at his locks.

Your heart slammed against your chest, beating loudly in your ears. Your skin was heated with Charles' touch ravaging all over you; grazing your arms, squeezing your ass only for you to press further into him. Your stomach surged with desire, feeling his clothed cock grind into you. "Fuck," Your swollen lips uttered out, high with an intoxicating buzz circulating your veins.

"Charles, I need–" You began only to be cut off by your own whimper as Charles bucked his hips up into you, setting a pace of stimulation with the tent of his pants and the gritty material of his shorts.

Charles smiled at the sight of your head thrown back and your back arching. "What do you need, ma cherié? Hmm? Tell me and I'll give it to you, my love," He sighed out, feeling his cock ache in its restraints.

"Fuck, j'ai besoin de ta bite, Charles," You murmured, feeling the temperature of your body rise with every passing second. Fuck, I need your cock, Charles.

Charles grinned at your use of French so early on. Normally when you were nearing your climax, you would lose yourself to all the French you knew. "As you wish, princesse," He stated. "Let's get this off, hmm?" He began to slid down the straps of your dress, pressing warm kisses on your shoulder. The sight of your bare breasts made him sigh in content, licking a strip from the base of your neck and down the valley of your breasts.

You felt a shiver crawl up your spine, feeling Charles' hands wander down your back while he pushed the fabric past your ass, hooking his fingers under your the waistband of your panties. You lifted your body up, aiding him in getting rid of your dress and underwear.

You settled back down on Charles' lap, pushing your wet core against his clothed cock. Charles nipped at your neck, dazed at the feeling of your pussy on him. Your hands reached out, rushing to get those shorts and shirt off of him. Pulling his shirt of him, you placed a trail of kisses down his chest. You could feel his lower stomach tense as you neared his waistband. With a grin, impatiently, you took off his shorts and the boxers underneath.

Your stomach churned and pussy throbbed at Charles' red, aching cock springing up, begging to be touched. You flickered your sultry gaze to your boyfriend, reaching over to put your fingers in his mouth.

Charles maintained eye-contact, lubing your fingers generously with his spit before he felt a shudder rip through him when you teasingly pushed your pussy to graze the angry tip of his cock.

"Vous taquinez," Charles uttered out almost with a whine after you removed your fingers. You tease.

"Don't be too sad, mon amour," You breathed out, trailing your wet fingers over his v-line before wrapping them around his cock. Charles sucked in a sharp breath as your hand began move up and down his shaft, mixing his spit and his pre-cum together, giving him a new, unique shine of his own.

"You wanted to see me pregnant, right? Full of your cum. So pregnant that everyone will know in a few months that you fucked me that good," You started, eyes trained on him while you pumped his cock with a tantalising grip. "We need a lot of your cum today. I'm just getting you prepared," You purred.

Charles let out a series of high moans, letting your words wash all over him and mix with his euphoria. His fingers reached out to your wet folds, stroking your heated slip with need. You trembled at his touch, bucking your hip against his fingers, increasing the pace of your hand on his cock.

Both of you moaned loudly while you jerked each other off, breathy sounds bouncing off the walls of your apartment. "Merde," Charles swore, pressing his head further into the couch, hips sensitively bucking into your hand as you brushed the slit of his cock.

He pushed himself, refusing to slack at your pleasure. He rubbed your pussy, groaning at the wet, glistening folds that were coating his fingers. You moaned, feeling a familiar buzzing pool in your stomach. "I need to," Charles panted out, covering your hand with his to stop you, "I need to..." He trailed off once again, pulling you closer to him.

Charles could barely think straight. He didn't know what he was saying or what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed to feel your pussy against his cock.

A guttural whimper escaped your mouth when Charles rubbed his cock against your folds. God, the both of you could get off just like this. He sighed out, eyes clouded with pleasure while he bathed in the warmth of your pussy. He could feel you jerk time to time against him, sensitive from nearing your climax.

You were was a sight to behold. You couldn't control your hips or yourself. You were just so receptive, automatically rubbing your pussy and clit up and down the head of cock. Your head falling back, supported by air while your back arched with lust. Sweat clung to your warmed body and your dry hair was now coated in a light sheen of grease. Face contorted with pleasure and flushed with heat.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck," Charles hissed out, partially angry that he already was about to climax but how could he not at such a view and feeling?

You blinked through your pleasure, remembering how you had gotten into this situation in the first place. You pushed your hips to him, hovering over his cock and sliding down onto him. You whimpered, feeling full with his throbbing cock in you.

Charles groaned, feeling your warm walls clench around him as you began to move your hips up and down. He watched your breasts bounce, making him flicker to that thought of them being full with milk once he got you pregnant. He would be selfish and have a taste of them himself.

Your pussy was a siphon, drawing and pulling his cock even further into you. Charles placed his hands on your hips, pushing you down on his cock to ensure he was balls-deep within you, fully sheathed. The breathy air was now replaced with both of your lewd moans and the sound of your skin slapping and sticking against one another.

"Merde, merde," Charles began to chant, increasing the pace of his hips snapping and rutting into your folds. Your hands fell to his own hands, tightening around them as pleasure bubbled at the pits of your stomach.

"Fuck, Charles. Cum in me, mon amour. Fais de moi une mère. Hmm? Imagine it. I'll be even more sensitive, my tits will be heavy and sore with milk and I'll ask you to massage them... everyone will know what we did," You moaned loudly. Make me a mother.

Charles's hips came to a halt, shaking with pleasure while he poured ropes and ropes of his hot cum deep into your walls. He let out staggered moans, feeling you clench around him and take even more of his load. Charles pressed his swollen lips onto your, kissing you dizzy while he thrusted out his high, ensuring his cum was staying within you.

Charles sighed out, pressing his forehead against yours. Realising you were once again on the brink of cumming, with his cock still in you, he brought his fingers to your engorged clit, rubbing the sensitive nub gently yet harshly.

He felt your walls grip him even tighter if possible as you began to convulse in his arms. "Jesus fucking Christ," You sobbed out, waves of your euphoric climax hitting you.

Christ, you were so sensitive, hips jerking up against his fingers, grinding to maximise your stimulation. He couldn't even stop you if he wanted to.

"Merde, ma cherié, cum for me. Yes, just like that," Charles coaxed, groaning as you somehow managed to get more cum out of him.

You let out a final whimper before collapsing onto him, feeling Charles' softening cock drive and push the cum deeper into you. You let out a low moan against his chest.

Charles pushed your chin up with his finger, looking into your eyes. He smiled, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your lips. "You did so well, mon amour," He praised, running a hand through your sweaty hair, getting a better glance of your face.

You gave him a weak smile, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "You think we did a good job?" You queried, voice quiet and tired. "You think we'll have a child soon?"

Charles grinned at you, planting another kiss on the side of your head. "If I didn't, I'll fuck you again and make sure that test has two lines."

𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

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