#charles leclerc oneshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 2 months

Note

Charles jealous and possessive please! Smut 🔥

no mercy.

CL x fem!reader - 4k celebration ✨

in which lunch with friends turns into charles reminding you that you’re all his

first 4k request up! thank you so much for this, wrote this whole thing in like half an hour bc damn this took me back to my charlie roots. i hope u love this anon, and all my lovely readers - lemme know what you think

warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, swearing, slight breeding kink, use of “slut” (in the sexy way tho!), lando causing his usual chaos (feat. shit stirrer alex), dom!charles/sub!reader, minor hints of corruption kink, slapping like once, fluffy ending

1.4k words

interesting.

the word you’d choose to describe this lunch is interesting.

charles’ hand seems to grow tighter on your thigh with every passing minute, or, to be more precise, every time lando speaks.

“so am i, ahem, are we gonna be seeing you at any races soon?” lando teases, raising an eyebrow, gesturing to alex sat beside him to cover up his slip of the tongue.

“i’ll be there whenever charles wants me there. maybe i’ll even get to see you win a race.” you laugh. you’re enjoying the company, but the impromptu lunch with the other two drivers seems to be riling your boyfriend up to new heights.

you know the brit is teasing him, and alex is lapping up the drama, stirring the pot. you certainly don’t mind if it keeps charles’ hand wandering higher up your leg. you’re just being polite, lando knows that, charles definitely knows that, but his tight smile and clenched jaw paints a different picture.

“i think we need to get going.” charles pipes up suddenly, after what feels like an eternity of silence from the monegasque man, and he throws a few hundred euros down of the table. “see you in bahrain.” he glares at lando pointedly, and extends his hand to you.

you take it, grinning apologetically at lando and alex, who both wear the same shit-eating grins. they know exactly what they’ve done and they’re lapping up the visible irritation they’ve concocted in their friend.

charles opens your door when you reach his ferrari, silently closing it and walking around to the drivers side.

 “not a word.” he grunts.

his hand slips into your panties as he starts the car, and your head tips back against the headrest.

he throws you onto the bed, no mercy, nothing forgiving behind his rage filled eyes. you wriggle up onto your elbows, watching the way his shirt sleeves are haphazardly rolled up, the way his hands rub together. your thighs clench. his jaw is ticking, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind, ideas brewing.

there’s no warning before pounces, shoving your floral dress up your thighs. he’s met with white lace, intricately textured, gone sheer with your arousal from the way he’d toyed with you in the car, and he sighs deeply, pained.

“this is what you wear out under this slutty fucking dress?” charles glares down at you, yanking at the fabric. the band snaps back against your belly and you gulp, hard. “nothing to say?” he tuts. “you didn’t seem to have a problem talking to my friends.”

“wore it for you, promise.” you whisper, eyes wide, pupils blown. charles scoffs.

“did you really? because it seems like you’ve forgotten who you fucking belong to.”

you don’t get a chance to reply because you’re stunned into silence when a tear sounds from between your thighs. you see a flash of white when he discards your underwear, throwing them to the floor. charles forces your legs apart, settling onto his belly as if he wants to examine you.

“still soaked.” he hums, impressed. “question is, cherie, for who?” he tilts his head condescendingly and your squirm.

as if to torture you, his nimble fingers trace your folds, spreading the wetness he’s created. you buck your hips at the pressure, it’s not nearly enough, and a low whine sounds from the back of your throat.

“all for you, baby.” you promise. “please, charlie.” you beg.

“is my precious girl getting desperate? hm?” he finds your clit, circling it with the pad of his calloused thumb. you nod profusely, and he’s obsessed with your compliance. “now you know how i felt watching him want you.” he spits.

charles plunges two fingers inside of you suddenly, and you cry out, grinding your hips to his rhythm. the stretch is so delicious that you barely register the burn, not that it matters with the way he’s slicked you up already.

“baby, ‘m all yours.” you’re getting desperate now, pleading with your eyes as much as you can between squeezing them shut every time your tummy tightens.

“i’m not so sure, think you need reminding still.” charles smirks, and his pace increases tenfold.

all you can hear is the wet slap of his fingers slamming into your pussy, his other hand teasing at your clit, just barely touching it. it riles you up endlessly, and your belly aches from how tight you’re clamping down around his hand.

“wanna cum.” you slur, dizzy from the shockwaves washing over you.

“ask nicely.” charles quips sternly, slapping your thigh. it sends a jolt through you and you can’t help it, spilling around his long digits.

you expect him to stop, to punish you for disobeying him, but he fucks you through your orgasm until you’re spent. he’s grinning when you manage to open your eyes.

“so that’s how you’re gonna be, hm? you wanna act like a slut, cherie? because believe me, i’ll treat you like one.” he speaks concisely, slowly, his voice low and threatening.

he points to your dress. “off. now.”

you scramble to peel it off, throwing it off of the bed, and your bra follows suit. you lay there bare, studying him. if you didn’t know him, love him, you’d think he’s his normal self, but you can see the way he’s digging his nails into his palm, can see the way his neck is flushed red. he unclenches his hands to undo his jeans, just enough so that his cock is on display, red and aggressively hard. you wonder how long he’s been like that.

charles kneels at the end of the bed, shifting until he’s hovering over you. the head of his cock nudges your clit, spreading the remnants of your orgasm over himself and your cunt, watching the way it flutters at the pressure. and then he’s sinking in, slow, deep. he’s heavy on top of you and you revel in the weight of him, his scent.

he grins when he bottoms out, letting out a low groan. he stills for a moment, looks at you, brushes a few strands of hair away from your pink flushed face.

“apologise.” charles coos, mockingly. your eyes well with tears, so much pressure swelling in your belly.

“charles.” you whimper, attempting to thread your fingers through his hair, but he catches your hand, sweeping up the other, and pins both of your wrists above your head.

“apologise.”

and you can’t help but ramble pathetically.

“i’m sorry, charlie, love you so much, ‘m so sorry.”

the feeling of his hips hitting yours is like water in the desert: luxurious, essential. the pace he sets is brutal, utterly fantastic, a stark contrast to anything he’s ever given to you before.

this entire experience is surreal, he usually dotes, whispers lovingly into your ear as he gently coaxes orgasms out of you. this could not be anymore different.

the power he exudes, fully clothed, rocking into your quivering, naked body turns you on endlessly, unlocking a part of yourself that you’d never let anyone else see before.

“you like it better like this, don’t you, cherie? when i fuck you hard like this?” you nod frantically. “pretending to be the sweetest little angel when really, you’re nothing but a dirty fucking girl, letting him gawk at you. bet you loved it, all that attention.” charles grunts.

you arch into him, the elastic band in your core growing that bit too tight.

“maybe i need to fuck a baby into you, make sure everyone knows you’re all mine.” he whispers.

that’s all it takes. you reach your high instantly, spurred on by the filth he spouts. the tight, hot hold you have on him makes him see stars, and then he’s cumming, too, spilling warm and white into you.

it’s quiet for a moment, the air still, the smell of sex settling over the space. you relax into the bed, and gently, he pulls out of you. he smiles softly, fingers grazing your sweat dampened face. he unbuttons his shirt as he walks to the en-suite, returning to you shirtless and with a warm, damp cloth.

you smile sleepily as he cleans you up, wiping away the mess he’s made between your legs - as best as he can, anyways - and then he strips off his jeans, and clambers into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms so that your back is flush to his chest.

“was that okay?” he asks quietly. you roll over in his arms, raising your head to peck his jaw.

“more than okay.”

“i didn’t take it too far?”

“baby, it was perfect.” you giggle.

“you know i’m not mad at you, right? but i swear, if lando ever looks at you like that again, he won’t be having kids.”

first 4k request happy dance 🕺🏻✨

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scuderiahoney · 4 months

Text

After All

Charles Leclerc x bestfriend!reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, tooth rotting fluff

Charles is a lot of things. He’s determined, hardworking, a bit of a self sacrificing dumbass. He’s kind, talented, humble, confident, soft. He’s your best friend, your closest confidant, the person you would trust with your life.

And, according to everyone who’s ever seen the two of you together, he’s madly in love with you.

…..

Pierre’s the first one to say it. He’s known both of you the longest, he’s one of Charles’ best friends. He sidles up next to you on a warm afternoon. You’re both on Charles’ yacht, leaning against the railing and watching as he does a backflip off the deck and into the water.

“He’s going to hurt himself,” you point out, “and Ferrari will not be happy.”

Pierre snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “He is showing off.”

You give him a look of disbelief. “For who?”

Before he can answer, you’re drawn to look at Charles again when he calls your name. You watch and wave at him, and then he lines himself up for another stupid trick dive that makes your stomach lurch. He makes a splash when he lands, sinking deeper and deeper till you can’t see him through the bubbles. Just when you start to worry, just when you feel like he’s been under too long, he resurfaces. He kicks himself to the surface, hair plastered to his forehead, laughing raucously. He’s suddenly the boy you met at 13, big dreams and big plans and a big personality to get him there.

“You,” Pierre says, jarring you out of your staring. “He is showing off for you.”

You roll your eyes and elbow your friend. “What? He is not. Why would he be trying to impress me?”

“Because he is in love with you,” Pierre states, so matter of fact you almost don’t realize what he’s saying. “Come on, it’s obvious.”

“He is not!” You laugh, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Jesus, Pierre, the fumes from those engines must really be getting to you.”

Pierre opens his mouth to speak, probably to rebut with some insane theory he’ll present as fact. He’s interrupted by Charles calling your name again. This time he’s waving you down to the back deck, eyes sparkling. He’s going to want you to jump in. You have a fear of heights, a fear of falling, a fear of deep, open water. Despite it all, you head down to meet him anyways. Charles could talk you into anything, could make even the scariest things seem easy.

“You have to hold my hand, though,” you say, when he urges you to jump in with him. “The whole way, no letting go.”

“The whole way,” he promises, knitting your fingers together.

…..

It’s a bit of fate that you end up in Suzuka for the race. You hadn’t been planning on going, but there’d been cheap flights available when you looked the week before, and suddenly you’re off to Japan. Charles is thrilled about it, always happy to have you there, even when he’s busy and barely gets to see you. He says there’s something comforting about knowing you’re in the garage or the stands.

He takes you with him to as many things as he can, including the pre race media days. The second you meet up with him after you get to Japan, he’s talking non stop about Sebastian’s Buzzin Corner project, and your heart melts at the excitement in his eyes. He’s been missing Seb lately, having a tough go of things and searching for guidance.

You watch from behind the scenes, behind the cameras, as the entire grid arrives to make pollinator hotels and decorate canvases. You smile when Sebastian spots Charles and runs over to give him a hug, and you smile even bigger when Charles follows Sebastian around like a lost puppy. Sebastian seems just as happy to be near Charles again, stopping by to check on Ferrari’s progress frequently.

Charles turns during a lull in the event, when the cameras are on another team and Sebastian is distracted, too. He waves you over, eyes bright, smile wide. You can’t help but be drawn towards him. Any time he wants you nearby, you go willingly, eagerly.

He has paint on his fingers, speckles of it on his shirt. Charles is creative, too. He doesn’t get nearly enough chances to show it, in your opinion. He’s stifled by brand deals and the public eye and overbearing management. You stand next to him, eyeing his and Carlos’ artwork with a soft smile. The pollinator hotel is filled with supplies, the roof is decorated, and Charles tells you excitedly that they’ve already had their first “guest”. He hands you a paintbrush when nobody is paying attention.

“You should add something, chéri,” he says, nudging you lightly.

You look up at him, twist your face into an unsure smile. “Am I allowed to?”

“Of course,” Sebastian says, having made his way back around to the Ferrari team. You smile at Charles’ old teammate as he pays your shoulder lightly. “It’s not exclusive, you know.”

You laugh, reaching out with the paintbrush and adding a small heart next to the stripes and stamps the guys have painted on. “A little love for the the pollinators and bugs.”

“You weren’t saying that about that spider last week,” Charles teases.

“It was in my hair,” you say through gritted teeth, looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t slander me in front of Seb.”

Carlos is giggling, watching the two of you. Sebastian is doing the same, his eyes lit up reminding you of years ago when he and Charles had been teammates. He’d joked about the two of you exhausting him, with your boundless energy and constant flip flopping between bickering and affection. You’d insisted you were the ones keeping Sebastian young.

Someone calls Charles and Carlos over for a photo op. You peruse the bee hotel while you stand next to Sebastian. There’s a lot of people’s artwork on there, but somehow you think you know which brushstrokes belong to Charles.

“I see not much has changed,” Sebastian says, nodding his head towards Charles. “He calls you darling and then teases you in the same minute.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “He is my best friend, both of those things are his job.”

“Ah, to be young and oblivious,” Sebastian says in a lilting tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughs, tilts his head at you. “Just that my wife was my best friend, once.”

You narrow your eyes at him. The glare has no effect if the grin on his face says anything. Sebastian is older, wiser, and Charles trusts his judgement on nearly everything, but you know he’s wrong about this. There’s no way Charles sees you as anything more than a friend. You’ve come to terms with that. You can live with that. You have to live with that.

Charles makes his way back over to the two of you, hands in his pockets. You plaster a sunny smile back on your face and try to ignore the way Sebastian is watching the two of you. Charles is telling you to paint something else, pointing out the empty space left on the canvas and the bee hotel.

He takes your hand, still wrapped around the paintbrush, in his own. He dips it in the black paint, leads you over to the wooden structure, and adds another heart.

“More love,” he says, singsongy, squeezing your hand. Behind you, Sebastian barely muffles an affectionate laugh. “More love for the bugs.”

…..

“This is my favorite song!” You yell over the booming bass.

You have a drink in your hand, your… 6th? of the night? You’re not sure, you’ve lost count. Charles keeps handing them to you every time your gets low. It’s always tequila and soda, always with two limes.

Charles laughs, shaking his head. “You have said that about every song in the past hour.”

“I mean it this time,” you say, eyes wide. You’re standing up from the table, pulling on his arm. “C’mon, we should dance, Charlie!”

He groans lightheartedly. Really, all of this should be your sign to cut yourself off. You don’t like dancing, and you rarely call him Charlie. Everyone calls him Charles, so you’d let the nickname go years ago. You’d worried it made you sound childish, made you sound like you were holding onto years past. He doesn’t budge from his spot in the booth, watching you warily.

“Amour, I don’t like this song as much as you apparently do,” he says, shaking his head. “And I like dancing even less.”

“Fine,” you say with a pout. “I will find someone else, then.”

You melt into the crowd before he can pull you back into the booth and down to earth. You’re at that pleasant stage of drunk where everything is funny and fuzzy and floaty. You spot Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, at the bar, and she needs much less convincing to join you on the dance floor. She abandons Alex with George and follows you eagerly. It’s Las Vegas, you’re here to have fun. This is fun. The two of you squeeze through the swirling mass of people till you find a good spot.

You don’t know how long it’s been when Charles finds you there- you just know you’re sweaty, a few drinks deeper, and past the point of no return. The song that’s playing now is your actual favorite song, a fact that you tell Charles when he steps in front of you, his hands on your waist to steady you.

“I know,” he says, because of course he knows. Nobody knows you better than him. “I also know you are drunk.”

“M’having a good time,” you tell him, wrapping an arm around his neck. It’s just to keep you steady, you tell yourself. “Vegas, baby!”

Charles laughs, shaking his head, but he starts to sway to the music with you. One hand stays on your hip, but the other comes around to your back and pulls you closer. You like being pressed against him, like being able to feel the warmth of him even through the fabric of your clothing. You don’t think before you spin in his grip, press your back to his front, keep your arm around his neck behind your head. Tomorrow morning, or rather, later today, you can blame it on the alcohol.

Charles wraps his arm around your waist in response, and you swear you feel his lips on the back of your neck as he pulls you in again. You’ll blame that on the alcohol too.

It’s like you blink, and then you’re standing out on the sidewalk, surrounded by the lights of the Las Vegas strip. The night air is cold, and you laugh to yourself, thinking about all the talk of a night race in the desert and the temperature.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks.

You’re surprised to find him standing next to you, and you blink at him.

“S’cold,” you say, unable to explain the rest of it. You just giggle again. “Where’s Charlie?”

Max raises his brows. “He went inside to get your jacket. You left it in the booth. Remember, five minutes ago, when you said it was cold?”

Huh. You don’t remember, but Max is probably telling the truth. He and Charles are more of friendly rivals than enemies now, despite their formative years. Max is definitely not trying to kidnap you as revenge. He has nothing to get revenge for- he won the race. Maybe he’s bitter that a Grand Prix he talked about so negatively had ended up being one of the best of the season, you suppose. Though you’re not sure that would give him a reason to kidnap you-

“I called him that once,” Max says, and you tilt your head at him. “Charlie. He didn’t like it.”

You remember. It was in Brazil, when they’d all been gathered in a garage. You’d seen it in a video. You can’t admit that, though, without admitting you watch tiktoks of your best friend, so you stay quiet on that subject.

“He thinks it’s childish,” you say with a shrug, scuffing the toe of your shoe on the ground. “I… forget, sometimes.”

You forget that Charles isn’t just your thirteen year old friend, the guy you’d never expected to even tolerate you. You can’t remember how it even happened, how you went from barely saying hi in the halls at school to dinners with his family, homework at their kitchen table. You’re not sure it matters now. What matters is keeping him a part of your life.

You’ve adapted. You’ve let pieces of him go, like childhood nicknames and any hope he’ll ever look at you the same way you look at him. Charles is larger than life, now. You’re still small. You’re still thirteen sometimes, still sitting at the table, begging Charlie to help you with your math problems.

“That’s the thing,” Max says, nudging your side lightly. “He doesn’t seem to mind when it’s you that says it.”

You frown. “Oh, he definitely minds.”

Max shrugs. “He doesn’t show it, then. Probably because he loves you.”

You nod solemnly. “I am his best friend.”

“Right,” Max laughs. “Sure. Friend.”

Charles reappears shortly after that, your jacket in hand. It turns out Max isn’t even leaving- he’d just been tasked with keeping an eye on you while Charles went back inside. He says goodbye and goes back into the club, while Charles is checking his phone, telling you the car should be there any minute. The night has gone from fuzzy to blurry, and you lean heavily on Charles’ shoulder, blinking repeatedly and trying to stay awake. He pours you into the backseat of the car, drags you out of it ten minutes later when you get to the hotel.

“You are so drunk,” he says, standing in the elevator, your head against his chest.

“I know you are but whatamI?” You slur, tugging on his jacket.

Charles just laughs. Even if he could understand you, he wouldn’t get the reference. His hand is resting on your shoulder, fingers squeezing your bare skin softly. You’d taken your jacket off as soon as you got inside, complaining about being hot. Charles had just taken it from your hands with an exasperated smile.

“I think you should sleep in my room,” he suggests when the elevator dings and the doors begin to open. “So I can keep an eye on you.”

You’re not that drunk, but you’re not going to argue. “Yeah, okay.”

When you wake up in his bed in the morning, Charles is asleep on the couch. He’s stretched out, one arm hanging off the edge, one foot on the armrest. His blanket is tangled in his limbs, and you feel guilty, suddenly. It was his night to celebrate, and he’d ended up taking care of you, ended up sacrificing his hotel bed and sleeping on the sofa. You sit up, feeling sick to your stomach, and not from the hangover.

“Lay down,” Charles says, not even opening his eyes. “S’too early. You need more sleep.”

“I should go to my room,” you whisper, and he opens one eye and looks at you warily. “That couch cannot be comfortable.”

“It’s not,” he admits, and the guilt lurches in your gut again. He’s smiling, though. “You tried to insist on sharing the bed, but you were very drunk.”

That’s not surprising. Drunk you always wants Charles close. You direct your eyes to the comforter and muster up all the courage you have left.

“I’m sober now,” you tell him. “So either we share the bed, or I go to my room. You look so uncomfortable.”

Charles hesitates for only a second. You wonder if you’ve gone too far, if you’ve crossed the line. But then he’d shifting, untangling himself from the blankets and tumbling off the couch. He crawls into the bed next to you, sighing happily as he sinks into the mattress. Seemingly almost without thinking, he reaches out, slips his arm around your waist, and hauls you against his chest. You let it happen.

There’s something sacred about the time between morning and night. The sky is a purple hue outside the hotel room window. The halls are quiet. Charles’ heart thuds in your ear, steady and beating out a soothing rhythm, and nothing about this feels out of place. It’s like this is where you’re meant to be, tucked against him, slotted together like puzzle pieces. You wrap your arm around his upper arm, and he pulls the blankets over the two of you.

“G’night, Charlie,” you mumble.

He laughs, and it’s a sweet sound. There’s no hostility behind it. “Goodnight, amour.”

…..

There’s something to be said about your inability to see something as it is until it’s staring you in the face. You’re stubborn as a mule, and maybe blind as a bat, too. It’s not till the holiday break that it all clicks into place.

Charles is sitting next to you at your kitchen counter, decorating cookies. You’ve been baking all weekend. It’s your grandmother’s recipe, now your responsibility to keep up the tradition. There are batches set aside for your family to decorate later, another set for the cookie party you’re holding with some of your friends from university. But Charles had whined and begged about wanting to decorate cookies, about wanting to be a part of the tradition, and you’d given in oh so easily.

He has a heart shaped one in his hand, a knife with red frosting in the other hand. He’s being so delicate, so particular, like it means so much to him. It’s just a cookie, you want to say to him. You hold my actual heart in your hands every day without a care, but you’re so delicate with a cookie?

Except, then, you’re thinking about it, and maybe that’s not true. Charles is brash and bold and confident, but he’s never anything other than gentle with you. He cares deeply, throws himself headfirst into things, he’s all or nothing. But when he’s around you he lets his guard down, takes the time to think. He’s cautious, heartfelt, kind. He takes his time.

“Max asked me to play padel today,” he says casually. “To make up for him missing our match.”

You laugh, though it feels a bit forced. You’re watching his hands, watching as he takes the white icing and writes something on the cookie. “Oh? You didn’t go?”

Charles shakes his head. “He wasn’t free till 11:00. I told you I’d be here at 10:30.”

You frown, blinking at him. He’s so focused on the cookie he doesn’t even notice you staring. He hasn’t spent this much time on a single cookie since he got to your apartment that morning.

“You could have come over later,” you say.

He shakes his head. “This was more important. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

It shouldn’t be the moment, is the thing. Nothing spectacular happens. It’s not like he’s made some big confession, not like anything drastic has changed. Somehow, you just know. He looks up at you, a soft smile on his face, and it’s so, so obvious. You wonder if this is what he sees when you look at him. You wonder if this is what everyone else has seen and told you about. There’s so much love in his gaze that it makes your heart skip a beat, makes your skin feel hot, makes your fingertips go numb. You set your cookie down on the table.

He holds his in his own hand, peering down at it as if he’s judging it in a competition. He turns it between his fingers, leaving a red thumbprint on the underside of it. He has icing on his fingers, all the colors of the rainbow. It’ll probably stain his skin.

“You are always more important,” he breathes, and you can’t breathe at all. “The most important.”

He turns the cookie towards you, but you already know what it’ll say. His initials and yours, in white icing on a red backdrop. He’s been saying it all along, really. The whole way. More love. I know. Somehow it has still caught you off guard, stolen the air from your lungs and the words from your lips. All this time pining after him and you had never actually considered he might be feeling it, too. But it’s there, written on the cookie, and it’s written on his face, too.

You lean in to kiss him. He tastes like frosting and feels like love, and you wonder how you didn’t see it sooner.

…..

A week later, Pierre spots the matching hickeys on yours and Charles’ necks and laughs his ass off.

“I told you,” he says, through peals of laughter, shaking his head. “You are both so blind.”

Charles wraps his arm around your waist, and you shrug. You stare up at your boyfriend, happier than you’ve ever been, the weight of his hand on your hip grounding you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, dismissing Pierre even as he continues to laugh. “We figured it out. That’s all that matters.”

Charles leans close, presses his lips to your forehead. You feel it all. The years of waiting, wondering, wishing. Pierre is congratulating the two of you and saying something about calling Carlos about a bet they’d apparently had. You can’t bring yourself to care. In the end, you suppose, Pierre deserves to gloat. All your friends do.

They were right, after all.

thanks for reading! you can check out my other fics here!

#charles Leclerc #f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #charles Leclerc oneshot #f1 oneshot #charles Leclerc x reader #charles Leclerc x you #cl16 #honeywrites #first public fic on a blog with an Oscar icon and it’s about Charles?? oh well

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heyhihellosworld · 11 months

Text

𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫

Charles Leclerc x reader

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Your Charles supporter in every high and low, always there to celebrate and help him in every way possible

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (almost only smut), a little angst

Notes: First time I publish any work for Charleees and this became just smut basically. I didn't really have any plot, just started with the smut so it became a little weird but anyway. I still struggle writing smut so this is not great but I feel like it's getting better every time at least

"That was really... impressive" you smiled sarcastically, catching his annoyed face getting even more so as his eyes rolled. "Can you just not" he sighed, stopping in front of you and wiping his face off the sweat with the towel he'd received after quali.

"What, I'm just speaking facts"

Charles didn't answer that, he just narrowed his eyes before drinking big sips from his water bottle. "Seriously" you hummed, wanting to push his buttons even though you knew it wasn't the smartest seeing as he was already annoyed.

"It is impressive, crashing two days in a row. Wow, I'm just so excited to see what you will do tomorrow. Maybe crash?"

Charles let out a grunt, staring at you really unimpressed by your attitude as you gave him your famous smirk. That smirk that he hated and loved at the same time because even if it could get on his nerves in situations like these, that smirk was also the thing he loved about you.

"You know just what to say to cheer a man up huh" he spoke monotony, not even looking at you as he whipped up his phone "Oh I do" you tilled, looking at him with a teasing expression but he only shook his head.

"You know, Carlos' girlfriend hugs him or comforts him when he fails" He spoke lowly, almost accusingly as he gathered his stuff.

"Lucky Carlos" you hummed, smiling at your boyfriend who finally let out a chuckle. The frown on his beautiful face melting off and relaxing

You moved to him, erasing the meter of space between you as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You know I support you and I will listen to your rant all evening so I gotta have some fun as well. You know I love you and think you are the best driver in the world" you tutted, pecking his lips as he smiled "That sounded so sincere darling" he hummed making you laugh, kissing him again "It was"

Race weekends were a thrill. You loved them and hated them at the same time. Being at the grid was a vibe in itself, something hard to describe but being so close to the action also meant close to the danger. You loved racing but you hated the risks and seeing your boyfriend in the action left you with a never-ending anxiety. But you knew it was his dream so you had no choice but to support him and swallow your worries.

Ferrari was his dream but also his curse. The never-ending struggles and the pressure he put on himself made him overworked and twitchy but you also knew he loved all aspects of racing and he truly believed he could achieve great things with the team. You didn't doubt it but the road there was long and it took effort, not only from Charles and the team but for you too.

The day in honor Charles started at pole but there wasn't much denying that he had had a tough weekend so far, pole in both qualifying but also in the wall two times which of course took a lot of confidence.

The race was boring to say the least, nothing happening and Red bull being far top left little to no excitement in the top two. The real fight was between Charles and Alonso, Charles managing all the way to the podium.

You bubbled with joy as you watched him celebrate on the podium, spraying Champagne and laughing before he came down again. A large smile and Champaign covering his already sweaty face.

"You did it" you grinned, hugging him tightly as he entered the garage again. "I did, not the wall today eh" he grinned smugly, kissing you passionately before you pushed him off not wanting to be too much in the public eye.

You celebrated with the rest of the grid in a club that evening, not wanting to let Charles miss out on the fun just because you were there even if the Monegasque had been more tempted to stay in the hotel-room.

Charles was glued to your side the whole evening, kissing your shoulders, grabbing your ass whenever you were out of sight and always finding an excuse to touch you. Not that you were complaining but he was touchier than usual.

"What's with you today Char? Go out and party" Pierre joked, shoving his friend in the shoulder as he sat on a small couch-group with you and a couple of others. "No no, don't feel like it" Charles dismissed. "What's with him?" Pierre asked directed to you but Charles answered anyway, eyes rolling at his friend "It's nothing with me" he chuckled, shaking his head at the Frenchman who didn't let up

"He is just a bit needy" you smiled, grinning at Charles who glared at you whilst Pierre laughed out loud, raising his hands in surrender "Don't let me stand in your way mate" he chuckled, backing away winking at both of you.

"For real?" Charles sighed unimpressed, looking at you with tired eyes as you couldn't contain your laughter. "But it's true, isn't it Char?" you hummed, teasingly tracing your fingertips up over his thigh, smirking at the way his breath hitched when your fingers danced over his bulge.

"Maybe" he murmured, shoving your hand away with a warning glare.

"It's nothing wrong with it baby" you grinned, mocking him with your expression.

"Shush you" he muttered, shoving you away from him whilst you laughed.

It didn't take long for Charles to run out of patience, especially not since you seemed to find a way to tease him in every way possible so when you arrived at the hotel it didn't surprise you when he immediately attacked you with kisses, eyes asking you to help him out.

"Aww" you mocked, a pout on your lips as you jerked him off faster "you're so needy baby" you hummed. Every time your hand went to his tip your thumb slid over his tip making him release the most amazing sounds.

He looked so beautiful when he was like this. All needy and vulnerable for you. His eyes were hooded, lips parted and his brow furrowed in concentration. A thin layer of sweat covered his body as he tried to let you do your thing despite his itching muscles and need to touch you.

He was close, you could clearly tell by the way his things tensed and bucked into your hand. "Y/n, baby, please" he gasped out, only making you speed up your movements. When your other hand made its way to gently touch his balls he was gone.

He threw his head back, eyes rolling as he stuttered out moans, quickly coming undone. The thought about stopping crossed your mind but the look on his face, begging you to not, made you finish him off.

Your lips hushed the sounds coming from his lips loud enough to be heard to the rooms around you and you knew he would be teased to death the next day if they heard him.

"Yes Charlie, that's it, come for me" you whispered, his eyes closing as he came over his stomach, body trembling as he breathed hard trying to catch his breath.

He stayed in the same position for a while, trying to stabilize his breath as you observed him. Sometimes you couldn't believe that out of all the people on this earth he chose you to be with, looking at him like this made you feel like he was something extreme. So beautiful you couldn't even describe it, lips parted, eyes hooded and skin shimmering in the late evening-light.

Soon enough he started to move, breaking you out of your little bubble. He got up on his knees, wraling the small way it was to where you were sitting crossed legged just right beside him before he gently pushed you down on the soft mattress. The playful grin he had on his face made you giggle as you fell on your back, inviting him to get on top of you.

"Stop laughing" he pouted, seemingly offended but the smile he couldn't hide betrayed him. "Sorry sorry" you smiled, patting his shoulder reassuringly as he hovered over you.

His smile mirrored yours, his dreamy eyes smiling too. "Wanna take care of you too" he murmured, his breath fanning your ear.'making you shiver. "Do whatever you want" you softly hummed back, gently running your fingers through his soft hair.

The way his eyes fell shut at the sensation and his neck craned into your touch made it clear that you were the one in charge tonight, he wanted you to take charge and he'd happily obey.

You let him be for a second, his lips kissing over your shoulder and neck as his fingers teasingly traced your panties. Fingers dipping into the waistband before disappearing to gently caress the soft skin on your tummy. When you let out a grunt of annoyance he immediately threw a glance at you, smirking as he got the memo.

You couldn't help but to let out a moan as his fingers finally dipped down into your panties. His slick fingers spread your wetness around before gently playing small precise circles on your clit. He loved watching your face whenever he was touching you, relishing in pride that he made you feel that way, that he could make you cum and become fuzzy for him.

His fingers found your entrance, slowly flicking into you making your mouth fall open. Your body wriggle around, trying to get away from his skillful fingers as it felt too good. His thumb connecting to your clit made the dam break as you pushed his hand away. Challenging him with your look as he whined, wanting to make you cum.

He immediately fell quiet when he saw your look, your hand wrapping delicately around his throat as you kissed over his jaw. "What was that huh?" you hummed, feeding on the sound he let past his lips. "Nothing" he hummed quickly, eyes fleeting over you as a wicked smirk crawled over your face. You loved this power-balance you had. Having Charles dominate you was always bound to be thrilling but you also loved being the one in charge. Having him following your demands was a rare type of power, of course built on complete trust. But you also loved how you sometimes didn't need to have any power, you could just be you, together.

Today was your chance to take the reins though, feeling like it had been a while since you did last since Charles had gone through a period of wanting control, which you didn't mind at all but it did feel great to take charge now.

Your fingers tightened slightly around his throat, not hard enough to choke him for real, just to mark your dominance.

"Thought so" you smirked, flipping him around so you were on top. You gave him a cheeky smile as your mouth trailed a path of kisses down his chest and over his navel, kissing over his abs and v-line as he breathed hard. Your mouth graced over his rock-hard dick but you ignored it for the time being, wanting to tease him slightly.

"Y/n please" he pleaded, hips rutting to get close to your mouth but you just chuckled, pressing his hips down on the sheet as you licked over his abs. "What is it baby?" you hummed in a mocking tone, innocent eyes blinking up at him as you licked up his chest before hanging your face close to his.

"What do you want, Charlie?" you hummed again, breathing over his face because you knew it drove him crazy, along with calling him Charlie that you knew turned him on when in this situation. "Want you to touch me, fuck me, please" he hurried out, his hands gripping onto your hips hard.

"Aww are you needy again" you teased, kissing over his cheek as he tried to calm down his shallow breathing. "Please y/n" he whined, trying to position you over his dick with his hands but you only tutted at him "No no" you chuckled, slapping his hands away.

He looked so fragile and vulnerable in the way he laid there, trying to obey your wishes whilst fighting to not break. His eyes were glossy, body twitchy and lips swollen from biting at them. You took pity on him as he wriggled, uncomfortably hard and face contorting.

"Aw baby, look at you" you mocked, wrapping your fingers around his dick softly which made him gasp out a moan, eyes squeezing together.

"Fuck, I hate when you are bratty like this" Charles moaned out, making you chuckle at him, smirking cheekily. "You do?" you teased, jerking him off slightly quicker, relishing in the sharp breath he breathed in before letting his head fall back into the pillows

"I really do, but I love it too" he murmured, biting his lip so hard it would draw blood "Oh I know you do Charlie, the submissive part of you love to be under my mercy. But the dominant part wants to punish me, doesn't it?"

"It really does" he gritted out as your thumb rubbed over his sensitive tip "Oh but I know you love this so much right now Char, just laying here and taking what I give you, letting me control you" your voice was thick, seductive and sweet as sugar as he nodded "I do love it"

You chuckled again, slowly stroking him before stopping completely not wanting him to cum like this.

You kissed his lips sweetly, his lips melting into yours as you lined him up with you, slowly rubbing his dick over your wetness. When you started to sink down on him he broke the kiss, gasping in symphony with you as you sank down all the way, taking him to the hilt.

"Fuck baby" he moaned, blinking quickly as you stroke his cheek, breathing heavily into his neck, your hips moving in circles, letting yourself get used to him.

After a few seconds of kissing and snogging you sat up so you straddled him for real, your hands planted firmly on his strong chest as you started to move more firmly on him.

His hands on your hips simply stayed still, you not letting him control your movements as you quickened your pace before slowing down, rolling your hips to create the best pattern for both of your pleasure.

Both of your moans bounced around in the hotel-room. No longer being able to think long enough to cover either of your mouths as the sounds got stronger and louder the longer you rode him.

"Fuck fuck y/n, I'm close, please" he blabbered, blinking up at you with the most pleasure struck look you'd ever seen on him. "It's okay baby" you hummed, going faster over him, slamming your hips down on his every time he bottomed out inside of you.

"A-are you close?" he asked softly. You nodded, stilling your hips for a moment as you took a grip on his hand, leading it to your pussy and firmly placing his fingers on your clit. Charles didn't need more instructions than that as you started moving again, rubbing firm precise circles over your clit in the way he knew drove you crazy, and tonight was no different.

It got harder to move smoothly as you felt your orgasm approaching quickly, your head dropping as your moans became louder. Your eyes found his, asking him to help you and he understood, meeting your thrusts with his own making him feel even bigger and reach even deeper inside of you. You angled your hip, trying to hit the perfect spot and when you did find it, it didn't take long for your eyes to roll as your orgasm flooded over you, taking Charles with you as he moaned out loud, not caring anymore.

It took a few minutes for you both to calm down and regain your normal breath. You lead him to the shower, taking turns in gently washing each-other to get rid of the sticky feeling of sex.

You wrapped yourself in his arms, peppering his face with kisses as he chuckled, wrapping you tightly to his chest. "Love you amor" he whispered, his characteristic smile playing on his lips. "Love you to Char" you hummed, stroking beads of hair out of his tired face "Love you even if you drive in to the wall" you smiled, catching his eyes roll before chuckling in defeat "as long as you don't hurt yourself of course" you added, kissing his nose sweetly.

#f1 #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #ferrari #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc oneshot #f1 oneshot #scuderia ferrari

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 month

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Charles jealous and possessive please!

Charles wouldn't necessarily say he was a jealous or possessive boyfriend. He had no reason to be. He was very good looking, drove fast cars, owned fast cars, and if the fans were right men and woman would fuck him without thinking.

So why was he, a grown man feeling like a child whose toy just gotten taken away. Because it has been, your attention was currently on Carlos. Carlos who was in Australia ready to drive again. Carlos who had a surgery. Carlos who was showing you the scar. Carlos whose shirt was up and was letting your hand touch his lower hip.

He was never worried about Carlos, you mentioned in passing he was more hookup vibes for you than dating. Charles just laughed it off, but right now with the way Carlos was looking at you and the way you were fussing over him, he wasn't sure now how he felt about this.

That was a lie, felt vile and horrible. He wanted to wish Carlos was still home resting, actually he wanted to "accidentally" bump into Carlos and cause him pain. Charles groans and shakes his head, hard. He couldn't believe he just thought that about a teammate. Much less a teammate who is like a brother to him.

Carlos laugh has Charles head snapping and glaring at Carlos who touches your waist and gives you that panty dropping smile. You giggle and wave turning and walking towards Charles smiling. "He's okay," You sit back down in your chair taking a bite from Charles's muffin.

"I know he's okay," Charles snaps and you stop chewing eyes wide as Charles sighs and drops his head in shame. "I'm sorry, shit I'm so sorry," Charles whispers and moves pulling you into his lap. Thankfully it was early enough that no media was in yet, so he was able to do this.

"Charles, that was mean," You whisper, normally you didn't get your feelings hurt easily, but he snapped at you so hard that you felt like crying in the minute. "Kitten, baby, no I'm sorry. I'm just jetlagged." He lies with ease as he kisses your neck. You don't want to fall for it, but you can't help it. Not with his rings scorching your skin, and the way his eyes bore into yours.

"Promise me something?" You nod without even thinking about. "Anything," You reply, leaning into his chest and Charles smiles running his fingers up and down your thigh. "Stay away from Carlos, unless I'm beside you." He asks, it's such an innocent way you don't even question his reasoning. "Okay," You smile and peck his lips which has him smiling and kissing you back.

"Good," You smile and lean into him as he watches Carlos closely, you were his and no one elses.

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the-offside-rule · 2 months

Text

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - Friends?

Requested: yes

Prompt: 18) "My mom thinks we're dating."

Warnings: not really? Just fluff tbh

Charles nervously led Y/n into his family's vacation home, where his parents and siblings eagerly awaited. "You stay here every year for the summer break and you never invited me?!" Y/n exclaimed, looking all around as Charles carried her suitcase in. "I thought you didn't like the whole glamour of Monaco." He teased. "That was before I saw your holiday home." She chuckled. Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and confusion, having been invited on this family vacation without much explanation. "We're all going to have dinner at around 8 so I will leave you to unpack. I have to go help my mum with the cooking."

"Can I come? I haven't seen your mum in ages!" Charles swallowed the lump in his throat, earning a concerned look from Y/n. "What did you do?" She interrogated. "What? Nothing! I've done nothing!" Charles replied in an attempt to defend himself. "So why are you suddenly being so....unlike yourself?" He shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe you've changed since she saw you last? I-"

"Y/n!" Charles stopped his talking as he heard his mother Pascale entering the room. Y/n's bright smile returned to her face as she spotted the wonderous woman walking towards her with open arms. "Oh, I've been waiting for Charles to bring you! I haven't seen you in a while!" She grinned, kissing Y/n's cheeks. "It's good to be here. I can't believe I haven't been invited sooner." Y/n and Pascale both looked over to Charles who stood by the suitcase. "Charles, it's wonderful that you brought Y/n along." She paused, looking to Charles and switching to French. "Est-ce qu'elle sait que je sais?" Charles shook his head. "Non, maman. Elle veut toujours que cela reste privé pour le moment."

"Eh bien, privé ne veut pas dire secret." Y/n looked between the pair, slightly confused as she didn't speak the language. "Mamon, s'il vous plaît-" He began, but Pscale began to walk away, waving her hands in the air. "Non, non, Charles. Je vais partir et aller cuisiner. Je m'occuperai de mes affaires et je te laisserai aider ta copine à s'installer." She turned back to Y/n. "Bisous!" She smiled, before closing the door. Charles let out a sigh of relief. "What was that about?" Y/n asked. "Just dinner. I will- Yes. I'll let you change for dinner and I'll see you at 8."

As the Leclerc family gathered around the dinner table, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and laughter. Charles Leclerc sat beside his friend Y/n, stealing glances and sharing smiles throughout the meal. Pascale, Charles' mother, couldn't help but notice the chemistry between the two. During the delicious main course, Pascale set her fork down and looked at Y/n with a twinkle in her eye. "Y/n, dear, Charles will not stop talking about you." Charles sighs as Y/n grins, highly amused. "Oh really? Isn't he just so sweet?" She teased.

"And Charles, how long did you say you two have been together?" Pascale asked, her eyes twinkling again with curiosity. Y/n's gentle expression had turned into knotted brows, confusion clouding her mind. She stole a glance at Charles, who offered her a reassuring smile before answering. "Oh, we've been together for a while now." Charles replied smoothly, his tone tinged with amusement, before reaching for Y/n's hand beside him. Y/n's mind raced as she tried to make sense of Charles' response. She had never considered him anything more than a friend, and now she found herself unwittingly caught in a web of deception.

"So, Y/n, what made you and Charles decide to start dating all of a sudden?" Pascale inquired with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Y/n nearly choked on her wine, as Charles masked a laugh. "Oh, you know Pascale, sometimes these things just happen." Y/n replied, trying to play along. Pascale's eyes sparkled as she nodded knowingly. Charles nodde too, playing along with the story Y/n had come up with. "That's wonderful! I'm so happy to hear that. I am so happy none of the journalists have found out yet. You two must be discreet." Y/n chuckled nervously, "Yes, we like to keep things private. At one stage, we were so secretive, I didn't even know we were together." The family laughed along as Y/n kicked Charles under the table. A silent wince left his lips.

"Well, I think I should go and clean these dishes. How about-"

"Charles and I will do them, Pascale. Honest." Pascale smiled approvingly of Y/n. "If you insist." Y/n nodded, grabbing Charles quite firmly to make him follow her to the kitchen with various plates. Once the door had closed, Y/n turned to Charles, frustration evident in her eyes. "What on earth was that, Charles?" Charles placed the plates into the sink. "Oh by the way, Y/n. My mum thinks we are dating." His poor attempt of a joke didn't land too well, but the tea towel Y/n had thrown at him did. Charles sighed, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Look, I didn't know how to explain why you're suddenly here, so I may have mentioned we're together." He explained. "What the hell, Charles? You didn't tell me about this plan! I thought we were just friends!" Y/n whispered, trying not to let their ruse be overheard.

Charles had stopped thinking of the plates now and had instead turned his focus to trying to stop Y/n from telling Pascale the truth. "I know, I know. My mom can be relentless with her questions about my love life. I didn't want her prying too much, so I improvised. Sorry about that." Y/n sighed, holding the bridge of her nose. "Well, it's a bit late now. We need to figure this out before it gets more complicated."

Charles nodded, engulfing her in a hug and resting his chin on top of her head. "Agreed." They pondered for a moment, before Charles came up with a plan. "How about we make a deal?" Y/n looked up to him, almost as if to tell him to continue. "We'll keep up the charade for a while, and I promise to come clean with my mom when the time is right. In the meantime, we can use this to our advantage somehow." Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Alright, but you owe me big time for this. What's the plan?"

Charles smirked. "We can use this 'relationship' to our advantage. You get to spend the summer here, and it'll keep my mom off my back for a while. Deal?" Y/n sighed again, running her hands through her hair. "Fine, deal. But this better not turn into a soap opera. We're just friends, got it?" Charles chuckled, reaching his hand out and shaking hers. "Got it. Just friends."

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charlesslut16 · 4 months

Note

heyy!

could you write a smut where reader and charles are on vacation in greece and readers wears small bikinis to tease charles?? also charles has a breeding kink

thx love🩷🩷

-in Greece, the magic happens-

summary : Charles and you make a vacation to Greece where you torture Charles by wearing tiny bikinis, that might kill him

PAIRING : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : +18, smut, NSFW, dirty talk, daddy kink, dom/sub, p in v, degrading, sub/dom, fingering, possessive!boyfriend, rough sex, slight aftercare, spanking, fingering, p in v, public sex, jealous!charles, unprotected sex (be safe!)

note : i hope that you like this, even if you had to wait so long for it...

december masterlist ; masterlist

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The sun kissed your skin as you lounged on a private beach in Greece, the sound of waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing background score.

Your boyfriend, Charles, sat a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you. He had been ogling at you all day, his gaze lingering on the tiny black bikini you were wearing.

The fabric hugged your curves in all the right places, accentuating your perky breasts and shapely ass. His eyes were roaming over your body, you knew it, and it was almost as if he was hungry for more.

You decided to tease him a little more, sensing his growing frustration. You stretched out lazily on the lounger, arching your back to accentuate your cleavage, and watched as his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.

With a satisfied smile, you reached for the small towel draped over the side of the white lounger and casually wiped the sweat from his brow.

His skin was hot to the touch, and it only served to fuel your own desires. As if reading your mind, Charles stood up abruptly and strided over to you.

He kneeled down in front of you, his eyes intense as they met yours.

"You're driving me crazy, you know that?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "I want you so bad." His hands cupped your breasts through the fabric of your bikini, and you gasped as he rolled your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

It felt so very good, but you knew there was more. There was always more with Charles. Without waiting for your response, he stood up and pulled you to your feet.

He roughly spins you around, your back against his chest, and his hands grasp your hips. "You're mine, remember?" he growled into your ear.

"You belong to me, and I'm going to take what I want." You felt his arousal pressing against your back, and it only served to heighten your own desire.

He guided your hands to the clasp of your bikini bottoms, and with a firm tug, they came loose. The cool air brushed against your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Charles growled again, and his hands slipped beneath the fabric of your top, cupping your breasts once more. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you arched your back, wanting more.

Without warning, he picked you up and carried you over to the nearby beach bed. You giggled in surprise, your heart pounding with anticipation.

He laid you down, his body heavy and possessive on top of yours. His lips found yours, their roughness contrasting with the softness of your skin.

His hands slid down your body, tracing a path over your stomach and hips before hooking into the sides of your bikini bottoms and yanking them off.

And then he was there, naked and hard against you, pushing inside you. You gasped as he filled you, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one driving him deeper inside you, claiming you as his own. You could feel his heavy breath against your neck, his muscles tensing as he fought for control.

The sun beat down on your skin, and the salt-scented air filled your lungs as he took what he wanted, again and again. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with your own, wanting more of him.

You reached up, twining your fingers in his hair, urging him to go faster, harder. He growled in response, his hips slapping against yours in a brutal rhythm. You could feel him getting closer, the tension in his body tightening, and you knew what was coming.

"Do you want me to pump my seed into you? Give you my kids and make you a mommy? You would like that, wouldn't you?"

For an answer you could only nod, well you would have nodded at everything he said, as your brain was too foggy to understand anything he said, but you knew that you wanted him to be happy.

His breath hitches, and with a low, guttural moan, he releases himself inside you. You cling to him, feeling his hot seed spill into you, claiming you as his.

Your body quivered as you finally came too, your orgasm washing over you in a wave of pleasure and satisfaction. You could say that it was one of the best you ever had.

"If my seeds take, your breasts will swell and your belly will grow and that's all because you grow MY child in your belly, my love."

He collapsed on top of you, panting heavily, his weight pressing you into the soft mattress. After a few moments, he rolled off to the side, his skin glistening with sweat.

You laid there, catching your breath, feeling his seed slowly leaking out of you. You couldn't help but smile, content and fulfilled but it was disturbed for a moment, as Charles pushed his cum in you again.

"You're amazing," he whispered, cupping your face in his hands. "You always make me lose control." He kissed you tenderly, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

"I love how you make me feel." You wrapped your arms around him, nestling your head against his chest.

"I love you, my heart"

"I love you too," you murmured. "And I love how you make me feel." You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun and the weight of his body, knowing that this is exactly where you belong.

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #f1 fluff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc oneshot #charles lecrelc #charles lechair #scuderia ferrari

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piastriclub · 2 months

Text

੭୧ㅤnote hii im obsessed with these silly lil drivers lately so i had to make this blog!!! i will probably be semi ia tho cos my other blog is my main focus rn this is more of a side thing ㅤ( bookshelf )

ex boyfriend!charles leclerc who still calls you after every single race, asking if you had watched or not. if you didn't? well then you better prepare to be on the phone for at least an hour while he recounts everything that had happened in exaggerated detail.

ex boyfriend!charles leclerc who still buys you your favorite flowers, along with your favorite foods everytime he goes home. he completely disregards the fact that you two don't even live together anymore and that you live on the opposite side of the city now.

ex boyfriend!charles leclerc who still hypes you up under your instagram comments ("oh lord, i fainted." "you're looking gorgeous as usual.") even though it's been over a year since you've broken up. fans are slightly convinced that you're still secretly together, the whole break up being a very elaborate prank.

ex boyfriend!charles leclerc who still shows up to your apartment every saturday night for your weekly movie night, a bag of snacks and drinks in his hand. he lets you pick the movie everytime, even if he's starting to get little tired of watching romcoms.

and ex boyfriend!charles leclerc who tells you constantly that he'll wait for you for as long as it takes. he promises you that if and when you decide to give him another chance, that he'll be there more, he will never be as distant as he used to be.

#꣑୧ ─ my loves #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #f1 fluff #f1 headcanons #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc headcanons #formula one x reader #formula one x you

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lipringlrh · 2 months

Text

an: thank you for requesting, hope you like it :))

wc: 300

You were led in bed, on Charles’ side, trying to forget the previous few hour’s ventures. There had been a fight - a big fight - and worse, it was your first fight as a couple, meaning you had no idea how to approach him afterwards.

Suddenly, you heard three knocks on the bedroom door, each one quiet and gaining longer in length, almost as if they were surrounded by worry and doubt.

“Come in,” you shouted, wearily, your voice straining and not coming out strong - how you planned it too.

The door creaked open but you were facing away from it. Nevertheless, you knew exactly who it was and what he’d be doing.

You felt a dip towards the edge of the bed, right behind where your back was. Charles’ hand began to reach for your hair, twirling it or just running his fingers through it.

“I’m sorry,” Charles whispered, gently, pausing his actions briefly to watch your reaction. You took a shaky breath, about to respond before Charles beat you to it, “I didn’t mean it- any of it, I swear.”

You turned around slowly and sat up, revealing your puffy and red eyes to him. “I’m sorry too, I promise I didn’t mean to say any of it.”

Charles shushed you tenderly, not accepting your apology. “Don’t apologise, baby. It was my fault, please forgive me.”

You shook your head, shuffling so you could be closer to him. “You already were,” you mumbled, “Forgive me?”

“You already were,” he repeated, laughing softly and moving a hand to cup your face, pulling you closer, “Let’s never fight again.”

“Never,” you agreed, letting him manoeuvre you impossibly close, “kiss me.”

He wasted no time in accepting your demands and finally sealing your lips together in a much needed kiss.

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predestinatos · 4 months

Text

cinnamon taste ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙ — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader

summary: your best friend showing up at your apartment isn't the only surprise you had that day

tags: best friends to lovers, giddy and shy charles, sooo much fluff, christmas vibes, improvised and creative mistletoe confession

words: 2.6k

note: someone requested something along these lines and i had sooo much fun writing it!! my heart is full and warm... rlly hope u guys like it too and happy holidays for those who celebrate

The scent of cinnamon and apple filled your lungs as you entered your apartment door. You congratulated yourself on the good choice of incense, apparently, but also punished yourself for seemingly leaving the music on while you were out. Jazz-y Christmas songs were playing softly, your living room feeling like a daydream of warmth and coziness.

But that dream was soon shattered upon the realization that you had brought your phone with you – there was no way it was still connected to Bluetooth. Someone was in your house.

Before you had time to panic as you removed your gloves and jacket, a figure appears before you and spins you in the air, embracing you tightly. At first, you screamed, terrified. But then the figure placed you on the floor, continuously repeating “it’s me it’s me I’m sorry” while giggling.

You immediately recognized the voice – your best friend was wrapped in an apron, glasses on and remnants of flour on his messy brown locks. Immediately, your heart went from racing to galloping, fear replaced by happiness. However, before you could show the good part, you punched him slightly in the chest, the hit clearly not producing any sort of damage. “You are such an idiot, Charles! You almost killed me” you said, although a smile was creeping in your lips and eyes as he pulled you for a hug.

Despite how long you’ve known each other, the hugs always felt the same: earnest, meaningful, his heart beating next to your ear, hands wrapped around you like a warm caress. It felt like this when you were 10 and played together, when you were 15 and snuck out together, and now this. You weren’t expecting to see him, especially not this close to Christmas day.

“I thought I’d do something with the spare key you gave me when I crashed here for a few weeks,” he said, as if reading your thoughts, already jumping between wondering how he got in and when he did it. His eyes, filled with affection, seemed simultaneously nervous, registering your face as if in analyzing it carefully.

Before you had time to ask, he pulled your arm and guided you to the kitchen – your own kitchen – warmly telling you “I have a surprise.” You followed him and as you entered the small marble kitchen, the scent hit you even harder. It smelt of comfort, of a cozy campfire feeling, of sweet bakeries opened and filled with decorations, all inside your house. The kitchen itself was slightly messy, hinting at its use, and Charles stood in it proudly, grabbing some mittens to remove the delicious smelling content from the oven.

They were cookies, made in all possible shapes and sizes – some unidentifiable, as he clearly did them by hand. The image of them filled your heart, your best friend placing them on the counter as he checked if they were ready to be eaten, almost like a postcard waiting to be stilled in time. “For how long are you staying?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

That fear proved itself right as you saw his expression change suddenly, the smile leaving his eyes and remaining only on his lips, an attempt at feigning comfort where there could possibly be none. “The day after tomorrow” he said, after a small cough, acting as if it was nothing, trying to lessen the pain of not knowing when you’d see him again.

Just for that moment, you decided to shrug it off as well, to ignore the elephant in the room that were the less than 48 hours you had to enjoy each other’s company, the knowledge that the old times of friendship won’t come back. “Better eat all of those until then!” you said, in your best effort to showcase as little sadness as possible.

You opened one of your cabinets and removed two mugs from it, one of them farther away than expected. On your tiptoes, you reached for the red mug with a big C on it, with “clumsy” written underneath in small letters. It was reserved especially for Charles, a small part of him that remained untouched from the moment he left and would only be touched again when he came back – which wasn’t often. Upon seeing it, his smile lit up once again, dimples showing on his slightly flushed cheeks, his upper arm reaching to fix the glasses he was wearing as his hands were busy sprinkling cinnamon all over the biscuits.

Placing the just made hot chocolate on the small glass coffee table in your living room, you waited for Charles, who showed up holding a plate decorated with all of his creations, which he placed next to your mugs.

You wrapped around blankets as you sat on the floor, mimicking simpler times, nostalgia running through your veins as the liquid you drank ran through your throats. Charles’ eyes scanned your living room again, “did you decorate this all by yourself?” he asked, as he analyzed the matching patterns in your white Christmas tree and how well they fit with the honey tones of the decorations scattered carefully around the room.

“Depends,” you replied, smiling, “Do you like it?” He looked at you then, the same nervousness returning to his cheeks, red from something that couldn’t be the cold, given the warmth inside your apartment. For the first time since you knew him, his eyes studied your face in a way that made you look away timidly. “Yes it’s amazing” he replied, answering the question as a way to break the sudden tension, but creating an opposite effect.

“A friend helped me” you confessed to him, shrugging. “I don’t think you know him, he-” you were about to begin, but Charles’ eyes shot to you and then quickly to the content inside his mug, fidgeting as he did so. “He and his girlfriend, love decorations and had some extra stuff from their last year so they added a lot to this” you explained, emphasizing the word ‘girlfriend’ as if it needed to be, as if you owed your best friend an explanation or seal of approval that you weren’t aware of until now. You knew it was necessary, however, when you saw his shoulders relax at your words, chest rising and falling softly underneath his sweater.

You rested your head against his shoulders reassuringly, letting him know that he wouldn’t miss any detail of your life, that you’d always make sure to update him on everything. You weren’t sure that’s what he wanted but you hoped he would understand the sentiment behind it, and you were sure he did when he laid a soft kiss on the top of your head.

His body smelled of cinnamon itself, sweet and lovely, and you couldn’t help but pull him closer by the arm, feeling his warmth which you hadn’t for so long. “I missed you, Charlie” you said, smiling to yourself. “Me too, silly” he replied whilst slowly pushing you away and getting up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You looked up at your best friend, feeling the cold spot from where he previously was, as he ran hurriedly to one of your spare rooms – which could be called his room since that was all the use it had. “Why don’t you just give it to me and I’ll open on Christmas? I don’t want to jinx it!” you yelled from your sitting place, biting one of the tree-shaped biscuits he had prepared, amazed at its taste and softness.

he came back holding a small box in his hands, carefully wrapped and decorated with a red ribbon at the top. Pride was written all over his smile and gaze as he sat down in front of you, handing you the present as he grabbed one of his own biscuits. “Because,” he said, in between bites “this is very important and urgent” he continued, giggling excitedly. You could tell from his tone that his voice was overly excited, almost acting, but you didn’t want to push him, not when he stared at you anxiously, eyes big and expectant like a puppy. His giggles were quickly replaced by sudden seriousness as soon as your hands started unwrapping the present carefully, not even wanting to ruin the package.

You were faced with a box, beautiful and cushioned, its surface gorgeously reminding you of wine nights with the company of the man who seemed not to be able to sit still in front of you. “Open it” he said, swallowing hard and nervously, leaning closer and closer with your every movement. You complied, your own curiosity threatening to jump out of your mouth, hands shaking as Charles’ own breath seemed almost irregular.

Inside it, you saw a delicate crystal, green, red and clear, in the shape of a plant. Not a plant – mistletoe. It glistened beautifully and its fragility fascinated you. It was beautiful, and you remained speechless as you examined it. “Charlie it’s-” you started, though you had no words to describe what you were feeling. Of course, the gift was absolutely mesmerizing, a small token that was impossible to not notice. Yet, you didn’t exactly know what it meant.

Charles gave you no time to think about it before he moved awkwardly, getting closer to you, closer than usual even for you two. “Listen, I… Do you want to hang it somewhere?” he said, the question so sudden, like a window that opened quickly and let all the cold wind inside the room. You looked into his eyes and found yourself still unable to speak, resorting to a simple nod as you got up, the box still resting in your hands, and he followed your movements.

You decided to hang it carefully in one of the tallest branches of your Christmas tree, where the lights hit beautifully and made it the centerpiece, stealing all the attention from the star at the top. “It’s beautiful” you finally managed to say, along with an earnest thank you, and you were about to turn back to the warm blanket when his fingertips stopped you by softly resting on your wrist.

“Wait,” he started, barely moving. All movement you could witness came from his nostrils as he exhaled deeply, his gaze completely focused on you. “I need to tell you something” he continued, looking up at the gift he had just given you. Following his gaze, you realized what he meant. “Oh. Oh this was for someone else- it’s fine Charlie mistakes happen-” you began, rising to your tiptoes in order to remove the ornament, almost laughing at your own silliness.

Once again that night, Charles stopped you, laughing warmly. “God, you’re so silly sometimes,” he told you, and despite the cold toned color of his eyes, they expressed such warmth it took your breath away. “No, this gift is for you. That’s what I mean,” he said, stumbling across his every word, “I gave you this because you’re the one I want to experience this with. The whole mistletoe kissing thing. Maybe this is silly…” his hand flew to his neck awkwardly, reminding you of when he was younger and in high school, trying to impress some girl he had a crush on.

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, nor what it could mean for your friendship in general. But you were sure you wanted to experience that moment with him as well, feel him closer to you than you ever did, your every muscle begging you to act. “Do it then” you dared him, your own nervousness coming out. You thought about how silly it was, your nervousness, given how old you two were, how much you had witnessed together, the moment so out of the ordinary yet seemingly so predictable, as if it was destined to happen.

At that, Charles’ eyes widened, but his whole body went into action. His hand went to your cheek as the other pulled you by your waist, eyes falling on your lips as if everything moved in slow motion. You placed your own hands on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat as his lips fell on yours, so soft and familiar despite how unknown it all was. The sudden smell of chestnuts and ginger intensified as the room seemed to transform, how despite the warmth you almost felt snow falling on both of your bodies. Charles couldn’t get enough of you, his hand going from your cheek to the back of your neck, begging you for more, for the moment to last for as long as possible.

Like a magnet, your own hands caressed and pulled his hair incessantly, reassuring him that you weren’t going anywhere, as his heartbeat stabilized in calmness and comfort in how well your lips fit on his. His closeness was intoxicating, and you felt dizzy from how good you were feeling with his sheer presence, how right everything seemed to feel, how effortlessly he got you in your best mood.

Pulling away, you saw a smile which you had rarely seen in Charles’ face. It happened at his most happiest moments – when he won races, when he beat you at rock paper scissors when you were kids, when he got the best scores in spelling bees – it reached every muscle in his body and yours, so contagious was his cheerfulness.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, giddy and red from shyness, looking so innocent all of a sudden, despite his grip still on your waist. “I’ve been so confused, especially since the last time I stayed over. No one can make me feel like you do, and this is so hard to explain, and I don’t know how it got to this point but I have been thinking about it every day, about how good I feel when I am with you, how I just get so incredibly happy and-” you quieted his rambling by giving him a shy peck on his lips, giggling at how he stood motionless after it, eyes widened and eyebrows raised.

“I love you too” you told him, meaning every word, anxiously looking forward for the rest of your life.

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nonstoplover · 8 months

Text

sleep without you ~ charles leclerc (cl16)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

song inspiration: sleep without you ~ brett young

summary: charles struggles to function properly without her by his side, or a story of a night without his girlfriend.

words: 2.1K

warnings: nothing, just fluff and a slightly clingy charles baby <3

a/n: idk why but this song honestly screams charles to me whenever i hear it, so i just had to make it happen. also this was supposed to be posted on my one year f1-aversary as celebration (well technically it should be more if counting my childhood f1 years but anyway), but i was so caught up in another wip that i couldn't do it. so happy anniversary to me and f1 (two weeks late) with this lil ficlet <3 thankful for all that f1 gave me.

big thanks to the amazing lovely silverstonesainz for helping me make this better and to the equally awesome monzabee for making me much less anxious with her words. love you sm queens!!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Charles spends a whole afternoon trying to convince her to have a night out with her friends. Just because they're in a relationship doesn't mean they can't have fun without the other as well from time to time. There are still a couple of weeks left of winter break, plenty of opportunity to spend time just the two of them before the season starts again. So the usual point of view, the usual reasoning doesn't stand a chance – that they should spend as much time together as they can, before he's back to travelling all around the world.

"Go to a club, grab some drinks, dance and laugh the night away", he tells her. The usual bestie coffee dates or walks in the park that she usually raises as argument are not the same as a night out, and she hasn't done that for so long now. Definitely not since he's been back home, and he knows just how much she enjoys dancing her heart out.

(y/n) agrees after a short while, accepting his reasons, knowing full well that he's right, and after a few phone calls she starts getting ready, soon walking out the front door, dressed all pretty and dolled up.

Doesn't take long before Charles realises what he's done. A feeling tingles in his chest, one he recognises swiftly. He's miserable. Solely because she's not there by his side, as he makes dinner, eats it – all by himself –, before settling on the couch to occupy himself with a movie. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't pay any attention to it. He doesn't even know what's going on, he hasn't heard a single line, too busy thinking about her.

When the credits start to roll, he switches the TV off with a surprised look in his eyes – how did it already end? He doesn't even remember the first scene ending. Then he moves into the bathroom to do his night routine, from taking a shower to putting on some skincare products, all the while wondering how long she will be out for? Will she come home soon? Hope tingles in his chest that the answer to his question is yes.

Having finished with everything, Charles lies down in bed, trying to read a book, then scrolling on social media, doing anything to keep his mind from straying over and over again back to her. He knows this is stupid, he was the one telling her to go out, why is he like this now? Lying awake on his side of the bed, the fingers on his right hand tracing figures onto the sheet where her body usually rests.

This is pathetic, Charles thinks. He never thought he would be like this, so miserable and impatient just because she's not at home, with him. He's tossing around, unable to find a comfortable position for himself – it seems like he forgot how to sleep without her. No matter how many times he's had to do just that, in hotel rooms all around the world. The past few weeks erased all those nights from his mind.

The delicious scent of her shampoo fills his lungs when his face lands just a bit too close to her pillow, and all of a sudden it's like he's burying his nose in her hair. It only makes him miss her more. Sleeping is impossible, he knows it now. He's only daydreaming, not actually dreaming, of her arriving home and being in his arms again.

Charles imagines the way she dances in the middle of the floor, her hands in the air, shouting the lyrics loudly to the song currently playing – most probably something she knows and loves –, and he can't help but smile fondly. Just the thought of her having fun is enough to make him happier, even in his misery.

He pictures a scene where a random guy tries to get too close to her, as it has happened so many times, whenever he leaves her alone for a few minutes at any club they've been to. It doesn't matter where they are, doesn't matter if they spent the night so far together, all over each other, someone comes into the picture immediately when he leaves, either to grab a drink for the two of them, or to go to the restrooms.

It's not like he doesn't understand those guys. She's simply gorgeous, and radiates such a vibrant aura that everyone is drawn to her. He honestly just finds it funny at this point. Nothing makes these men back off more effectively than her. Oh, the amount of times he bit back laughter watching the scene unfold from a distance. Seeing men crumble and disappear looking all ashamed, what a sight that is. And he doesn't have to do anything.

He wonders how many times she's had to fight off guys so far tonight, with him not even in the club, and he finds he can't wait to hear all her stories of the newest victims. Pierre never understood why Charles found it so amusing, he didn't seem to get it. The trust they have in each other. Knowing that it's him she'll come home to at the end of the night is enough to make him only feel entertained by each instance, and not irritated at the slightest bit.

But thinking about (y/n) fighting off men is only good enough entertainment for a limited amount of time, and soon the smile fades back into a miserable pout on his lips, as his thoughts turn back into ones of impatience, trying to make time move faster with short little prayers falling as mumbles from his lips.

With a sigh, he eventually sits up, looking around to find something he can do. At last he decides on grabbing a drink himself, maybe it will help stop the flow of thoughts racing in his head. A little welcomed dullness.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, sipping on the liquid in his glass, enjoying the feeling of the light alcohol gently burning his throat on the way down, numbing his tongue along the way. His fingers stay restless, now drumming on the wooden surface. A few minutes later he realises they play a song, soundless except the soft thud of his fingertips with the occasional louder tap or little scratch of his nails when a finger finds a different angle to hit the table with.

A melody appears in his mind as he watches his fingers move, imagining how it would sound if it was his piano instead of the kitchen table. He would go sit at the beautiful, white instrument and try it, but he doesn't want to be so loud at such a late hour. And anyway, he's way too comfortable sitting where he is to stand up and go somewhere else.

He looks out the window, catching sight of the moon – almost full, just a tiny bit of it missing, and Charles examines the craters that are visible to the naked eye, though only as spots of a darker shade on the round shape.

Maybe he'll name this new musical piece that's being born in his head right now after her – well, if he ever finishes it. He'll keep the usual format, three letters of a city name and a date, only this time putting the time and place of when they first met. Or should it be the time and place of when he first asked her out? Or their first date? Or when she agreed to move in with him? God, there are way too many options to choose from. He decides to put this problem aside for now, he's not in a rush to name a song not even written yet.

As the clock on the oven changes all four numbers to display 2am, the action rouses his attention and makes him tear his eyes away from the moon and look at the numbers instead.

He would've never ever thought that he'd be like this.

Raising his glass he notices that there's only a small sip left in it, which he downs in a short moment. His tongue darts out to gather all the minuscule drops that might rest on his lips still, not wanting to waste even that much of the delicious drink. Then he stands up, placing the glass down into the sink, making a mental note to clean it in the morning before (y/n) wakes up.

Just as he ponders putting another movie on, maybe only as background noise if nothing else, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his pants. Taking his time, Charles pulls the device out, expecting nothing more than a useless notification from a social media app he shouldn't spend so much time on anyway.

Instead what he finds is a text. From her.

in a cab, be home soon <3

Charles lets out a relieved sigh, his lips involuntarily curving into a smile, one that you could almost call giddy. It's not just the thought that she's going to be here soon, but the fact that she remembered to text him to let him know. He's in her mind, just like she's in his, even though she's been out with friends, having fun, drinking, while he's only been at home, all alone with his misery.

Now he can move back to bed happily, knowing that shortly she will join him.

It truly doesn't take long until Charles hears the front door creak as it opens, then the familiar jingle of her keys hitting the drawer in the hall, and his heart flutters with happiness. Finally. The high heels she chose to wear hit the floor with a soft thud as she presumably removes them, and the growing anticipation in his body seems to eat him whole.

Her steps grow louder and louder as she moves closer to the bedroom, and time slows for Charles. He watches in slow motion as she appears in the doorframe, being propped up on his elbows to have a better view, a lazy smile curling onto his face, and his eyes lidded with drowsiness.

"You're still awake?" (y/n) giggles, pausing in her steps for a second as her eyes take in the view he provides lying there. His lack of reply to her text made her think he's already fallen asleep.

"Of course," he mumbles. "Come to bed."

His voice is whiny and he behaves like an actual child, he knows, but he can't help it. He wants to sleep, and he wants to sleep beside her, feeling her warmth against his skin. That's the only way he can.

"Let me get changed first," she starts towards the closet, when a grunt of pure displeasure sounds from him along with the thump of his back as he falls into a lying position once more, making her glance back at her boyfriend. "What, can't wait a single minute?"

"No," he protests, pouting . "I've been waiting for hours."

His accent comes forth stronger when he's sleepy, and she can't help but smile adoringly upon hearing it. He's just so cute.

"Okay, fine, you'll get one kiss," she gives in. Charles resembles a lost puppy and she's sure he knows that's her weakness. She can't ever say no to anything when he looks like that.

So that's how she finds herself crawling into bed, trying to get as close as possible to the boy without causing damage to her dress. He grins, as much as his tired facial muscles allow, awaiting her lips touching his own. His pout becomes even more apparent, right until the moment he finally gets what he wants. His goodnight kiss. It's soft, slow and just so full of love it makes both their hearts flutter.

Then she caresses his cheek gently, whispering a barely audible good night, sleep tight to him, before moving back off the bed to disappear in the closet, leaving Charles to think about how he'd happily convince her again of going out if it means she'll come home to him, looking so radiant, properly buzzing with energy, eyes shining, hair messy but still looking so breathtaking. It's obvious how much it meant to her that she had this night out. He made her happy with telling her to go out with her friends, and he didn't regret it, despite all the miserable hours.

By the time she finishes her night routine and walks back into the bedroom once more, he's fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the room. She bites into her bottom lip to keep in the giggle threatening to burst out, and with a heart full of adoration and a head slightly dizzy from the drinks she's had, she gets in bed beside him, snuggling up close to him, revelling in the feeling of his arms instinctively finding their way around her body even when he's sleeping.

He truly only waited for her to come home and give him a goodnight kiss to finally be able to fall asleep.

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heliads · 5 months

Note

angel boy charles leclerc with a workplace romance?? maybe r’s new on the ferrari pr team or an engineer who he keeps flirting with but she’s kinda shy so she doesn’t rly flirt back and doesn’t know why he’d want her over everyone, but then he defends her against some shitty reporters who keep making jokes abt her and she realizes oh he actually does like me and SHE asks HIM out?? obvs it’s cool if you don’t wanna write this but either way i think you’re really cool and i hope you’re day’s goin great!

'here's what i know' - charles leclerc

masterlist

It’s time for the one part of the week that Formula One teams across the grid detest most of all. No, it’s not qualifying, and not even the threat of a bad race day that can crush championship dreams for good. Today is Thursday, media day, which means that twenty drivers and many more members of staff are about to be hounded for hours until they break down and spill something they shouldn’t.

Since you’re not a driver, you had always hoped that you’d be able to get out of these sorts of things without too much difficulty. No one pays much attention to the engineers anyway– outside of Adrian Newey and the like, the guys behind the scenes tend to be ignored in favor of the ones in the cars, although you don’t know many engineers or strategists that have a problem with that.

No, the baying mass of reporters known affectionately to the paddock as Sky Sports and their affiliates are more of a difficulty than a blessing. Each and every race week, drivers and team principals alike are briefed by their PR officers on how to dodge bad questions and only stick to their strengths. For one of the first years in your career, though, you now have to deal with the same thing, and that is due to your recent promotion.

You’ve been a race engineer for a couple of years now, and you’ve loved every minute of it. Every STEM-inclined student with a hankering for racing dreams of working for Formula One, but you actually managed to turn those fantasies into a reality when you signed your first contract with the Scuderia Ferrari racing team. It wasn’t a showy job, of course, closer to tightening screws and redoing paint jobs than anything specific, but over time, you’ve managed to show your worth and quickly rise through the ranks.

As of this season, though, you’ll be out on the pitwall as Ferrari’s chief strategists instead of tucked away somewhere in the garage. It was a risky move when you decided to throw your hat into the strategy ring instead of sticking with the more technical aspects of race engineering, but you’ve had a knack for it ever since you first turned up in the paddock, and the higher-ups at Ferrari have noticed that. This promotion has been a long time coming, so they say.

Regardless, it’s still a bit stressful to be the face of Ferrari’s strategy decisions, especially given the fact that the Scuderia has struggled a bit in that department over the past few seasons. The Tifosi were definitely hesitant to show their support of the change in leadership, but after your critical advice led to some excellent showings in the first few rounds, you won them over in a landslide. No more terrible back-to-back stops, no more team orders mixups, you’ve proven your effectiveness in the strategy seat and everyone is glad to see it.

Well, almost everyone. The reporters are still as fixated as ever on getting a good story, and for some reason a couple have decided that the best headlines are centered around creating drama regarding your new job assignment. It feels like every week they’re running stories about how the Ferrari team principal wishes you weren’t there, or how Charles and Carlos are shaking their heads over each and every one of your bad calls.

This, of course, isn’t the case. Ferrari couldn’t be happier with your decisions since they’ve propelled the team up in the championship standings, and you get along quite well with the drivers. Charles especially has taken it upon himself to reassure you countless times that the rumors couldn’t be less true. Some of the reporters have a way of twisting their words from compliments into insults, but he wants to ensure that you never believe them.

Charles has been one of the greatest parts of your climb to head of strategy at Ferrari, actually. You met him when you were the lowliest of engineers, and for some reason, he’s stayed a friend of yours ever since that very first day. Truthfully, you hadn’t expected him to so much as remember your name– there are infinitely many engineers and strategists and PR workers at Ferrari, after all, and Charles is introduced to dozens of new celebrities at every race– but the very next time he saw you, he’d smiled and greeted you by name as if you were an old friend.

It had made your day. Same with the next time he’d done it. Although you may not entirely understand it, Charles Leclerc is committed to liking you, and he doesn’t seem inclined to stop any time soon. Nor are you inclined to stop him yourself– Charles is a fantastic person to be around. He’s never let his fame get to his head, and if you were to talk to him, you’d swear he was just a friend from uni or a next door neighbor or something, certainly not a world class driver. Charles doesn’t talk to you like he’s a Formula One driver and you’re a strategist. He speaks with you like he’s Charles and you’re Y/N and he couldn’t want anything more than to hear you laugh when he tells a joke.

Armed with this knowledge, you feel that you could take on any reporter, their tendency to warp simple statements into crazy arguments be damned. What’s more, you have an excellent friend in Hannah Schmitz, Principal Strategy Engineer over at Red Bull Racing. Although the two of you may technically be on rival teams, that hasn’t stopped you from becoming close friends. Hannah is one of the only people in the world capable of understanding exactly how you feel regarding work, as she’s in almost the same position as you, albeit on Red Bull instead of Ferrari. She’s older than you by a good couple of years, but that hasn’t stopped you two from quickly growing close.

For Thursday’s media frenzy, Hannah meets up with you close to the gate so you can walk in together. The Ferrari and Red Bull motorhomes are close by, and it’s nice to have a friend while you brave the storm of reporters waiting for you just inside the paddock.

The first round of them draws near. Hannah grins at your obviously forced smile. “Stay alert. They’re coming.”

“I’ll do my best,” you whisper back, and she hides a laugh.

You don’t have much time for inside jokes after that; a dozen phones and recording devices are flung in front of you, and you’re immediately greeted with several overlapping questions. You answer in quick syllables, all the while careful to keep your tone light so no one accuses you of being unnecessarily terse. You feel confident that you didn’t say anything to dull your team’s image, but you still can’t help a sigh of relief when you bid Hannah goodbye at the door of the Ferrari motorhome.

Upon entering the Ferrari center, you immediately spy Charles at one of the tables near the door. He glances up when he sees you enter, and flashes you a kind smile. “You look stressed. Don’t tell me Sky Sports has gotten to you already?”

You laugh. “They were waiting for me when I arrived. Man, I miss when they had no idea who I was.”

Charles chuckles. “I don’t. You’re more interesting to see on my screen than some of the other drivers.”

You scoff. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Charles’ eyes widen meaningfully. “It’s true! You actually have things to say. The rest of us can only talk about how we plan on winning. Everyone says that.”

You walk over to his table, leaning your hands against the open chair. “If you paid attention during strategy meetings, you’d have something to say to them, too.”

Charles rolls his eyes, but grins sheepishly nonetheless. “How about you fill me in now, then? Come on, have a seat. I’m sure my PR officer would appreciate it if I didn’t go out there sounding like a total idiot.”

You shake your head on instinct. “You’re relaxing. I don’t want to take up your time.”

“I mean it,” Charles insists. “Sit down. I even have extra coffee.”

“That’s certainly a nice coincidence,” you say with a raised brow, but take the seat he offers you.

Charles smiles satisfiedly when you join him. “Yes,” he murmurs, “A coincidence.”

You end up passing more time than you expect at Charles’ table, just the two of you and the coffees cooling in your mugs. At first, you do talk about strategy, but over time Charles starts coaxing more details out of you, like what you’ve done since the past week and if you’ve got any plans for the upcoming weekend. He sounds genuinely interested in what you have to say, and it’s easy to forget that he isn’t just your coworker but a real, true friend.

You glance down at the table when the intensity of his earnest stare becomes a little too much for you. You know how the other strategists talk and tease you about your friendship with Charles, even if it is just that, a friendship. Yes, he may bring you coffee all the time, and eagerly stay back after strategy meetings so he can walk you out to your car, but he’s just doing that to be nice. It doesn’t mean anything. You cannot allow yourself the hope of thinking that it might mean anything.

After all, despite the denials you’ll give the other strategists and even Hannah when she has the occasion to join in the teasing, you wouldn’t mind it if Charles ever acted on his flirtations. The only problem is that you have made a career out of being realistic and reasonable, and you know that this is one perfect victory that just won’t be yours. Charles is gorgeous. He goes after gorgeous girls, stunning supermodels, and amazing actresses. You are lovely in your own right, but you aren’t the kind of person that a Formula One driver would ever date. It is important to keep your heart from being crushed, even if denying this hurts you more than Charles’ rejection ever could.

That little coffee chat ends soon enough, much like every other quick lunch and early morning talk you’ve shared with him. Charles goes off to his garage, and you head out to your office to prepare some talking points for meetings later that day. The drivers will be escorted to media day press conferences, and you probably won’t run into Charles again until later into the afternoon.

You realize about halfway through the day’s work that you haven’t gotten up once since you arrived. In need of a brain break and a chance to stretch your legs, you decide to go for a quick circuit around the paddock before coming back inside again to carry on. The sun is warm on your face when you dare to duck outside, and it feels good to walk around for a little while.

Unconsciously, your legs carry you towards the building where the press conferences are being held. Not wanting to intrude, you decide to head back towards the center of the paddock. While you’re in the middle of making this decision, though, you notice Charles emerging from the building. You switch directions to aim towards him instead; you can joke about the nightmare that is a Formula One press conference, and you know Charles will be glad to let off some steam by complaining.

As you’re walking over, you notice a few reporters coming out of the building as well and groan internally. These couple of men in particular have been nothing but thorns in your side since you accepted your promotion. When the news first broke, they wrote a couple of articles apiece about how you were going to run Ferrari into the ground. When that proved false, they switched tactics and decided to use their journalism skills to disparage you whenever they got the chance. Numerous drivers and reporters alike have called them out for targeting you, but they haven’t stopped yet, which is frustrating.

Charles notices the reporters at the same time as you, you can see his head turn as he tracks their progress. You’re close enough now that you can hear what they’re saying, but it isn’t good. They never get tired of repeating the same bullshit about how you can’t make a smart call to save your life. One of them laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. That’s what you get for putting a girl in charge.

Hot anger boils through your stomach, but you force it down. They haven’t seen you yet, and you’d like to keep it that way. Challenging them on this will only provide them with more ammunition.

Charles, however, doesn’t seem to see it that way. He stops directly in front of the two reporters, arms folded coldly across his chest. “What did you say about Y/N?”

The reporter who’d just spoken eyes him confusedly. “Nothing, man. Don’t worry about it.”

“I will if you’re insulting her,” Charles fires back. “Don’t talk about her like that. Y/N is a welcome part of Ferrari and her strategy decisions have won us races, as you well know. I don’t know what you get out of taking her down but it’s stupid of you to carry on like that.”

The reporter blanches, leaning back as if Charles has struck him. “Calm down, man. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Charles’ glare doesn’t lighten for a second. “Then stop talking badly about her. It just makes you look like an asshole who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. That’s what you are, of course, but maybe you want your reputation to be better.”

You clap a hand to your mouth to stop from letting out a surprised laugh. He’s totally caught them off guard, and it’s fantastic to see. More fantastic than that, you realize slowly, is that Charles is doing this purely to defend your honor. There are no cameras around. No one is recording him. Charles could have just ignored it, but he chose to go out of his way to defend you because that matters the most to him. Because he would never be able to live with himself if he didn’t spend his every waking hour making sure you got the respect you were owed.

Charles doesn’t have to do this, but he wants to. There is a reason for this, a reason that, at last, you know. You’ve been denying it to yourself for the longest time, but the proof of his affections is right before your eyes.

You spin away before he can notice your presence, giddy with the knowledge that, of all the people in the world, Charles Leclerc wants you. You. Y/N L/N. His chief strategist.

You nearly run into Hannah when you pass by the Red Bull motorhome. She’s just emerging, and looks at you confusedly. “Is everything alright?”

“Hannah,” you say, grasping vaguely at your friend’s arm to steady yourself. “Hannah, I’m having an epiphany.”

She eyes you dubiously. “What now? You want to change your tire strategy for Sunday?”

“No,” you say, voice weak, “I realized– I think Charles likes me, Hannah. I think he likes me a lot.”

She stares at you. “Are you just now coming to this conclusion?”

You turn to her in surprise. “You knew?”

Hannah throws her hands in the air. “Y/N, we all knew. It was extremely obvious.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

“That was also obvious,” Hannah comments. “Now, come on. You’re one of the most action-oriented people I know. What are you going to do about this?”

You turn towards the Ferrari motorhome. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Great start,” Hannah says, clapping you on the shoulder. “Tell me how it goes. Tell me everything.”

You grin at her before you leave. “I won’t leave out a single moment.”

Charles has just made it back to the Ferrari center when you arrive. He beams up at you when you walk through the door, as if he hasn’t just heard some assholes insulting you and decided that every moment not spent defending you is a moment wasted.

“Charles,” you breathe. “Can I talk to you?”

He arches a brow, still wearing that same lopsided smile. “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” you laugh him off. “What if we talked later, too? Like, over dinner or something?”

His eyes go wide. “What? Do you– what do you mean?”

“Charles,” you repeat. He goes silent, like just the sound of his name from your lips is enough to compel him to you forever. “I’m asking you on a date. Will you say yes?”

“Yes,” he tells you. “Yes. What– I didn’t know you felt like that– do you really? This isn’t a joke, is it? We’re not going just as friends?”

“I think I should be asking you that,” you laugh. “No, Charles. I want to go on a date with you.”

“Well,” he says, smiling, “I think I can arrange that. Only if you promise there will be more than just one.”

“I promise,” you tell him.

How could you not? Charles is the one you want, the one you have been wanting since you first fell for the spark in his dark eyes and the light of his laughter. He is the one you will continue to want months and years from now, after countless dates and many gifted flowers and a lot of moments spent together, always together. It starts now.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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scuderiahoney · 4 months

Text

All You Got

Charles Leclerc x teammate!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You hate Charles Leclerc. The feeling is mutual. He’s made that clear from the very beginning. enemies to lovers anon I hope you’re still here and I hope I got this right!

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild swearing, mild car crash (everyone is fine), panic attacks, comments about sexual activities (but no actual sex/smut)

Everyone in the entire world seems to love Charles Leclerc. Honestly, you can’t blame them. Objectively, you get it. He’s the total package- good looks, kind, generous, rich. They fall at his his feet, and they worship the ground he walks on.

Everyone except for you.

To you, everything he does rubs you the wrong way. Charles Leclerc annoys you to no end. You can’t even pinpoint what it is, just- you can’t stand him. Which is becoming a problem, seeing as he’s your teammate, so you have to deal with him constantly.

Charles was a constant thorn in your side when you were just competing against each other from separate garages. Now he’s your paddock next door neighbor, your supposed collaborator, and the only person who you can truly be compared to. Equal machinery and all that. The truth is, he’s good at what he does, which only makes it so much worse.

You’re having a good season, a great one, even. You’re not a rookie, but it’s your first year with Ferrari, your first year with a car that isn’t a tractor. It’s just that you’re constantly being compared to and overshadowed by him. It’s awful and exhausting and you sit in the briefing before the race glaring daggers at the side of his head.

He’d slowed you down in Q3. You were on a flying lap and he got in the way, left you starting in 9th when you were on track for your best qualifying yet. He’d said it was an accident, and everyone else believed him. Including your own race engineer. You think maybe if you stare hard enough you could actually light all the product in his hair on fire. Then he has the audacity to come up to you after the meeting, to lay his hand on your upper arm softly. You wrench yourself out of his grip, turn to him with a snarl. He must take it as surprise rather than what it really is, because he has a soft smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, again, about quali,” he says, and you spot a camera over his shoulder and fight the urge to roll your eyes. “I’ll find a way to make it up to you, yes?”

“Crash out at the start,” you tell him, raising one brow. There’s a smile on your face and venom in your words. “And take Max out with you.”

“Anything but that,” he says.

He winks before he breezes past you, and if there hadn’t been so many people around, you think you may have actually slapped him this time.

…..

You collapse into a chair in a swanky restaurant that night, resting your chin on closed fists, elbows on the table. Lily, jumps when you do. Alex is sitting across from you, doing a bad job of hiding a laugh behind his hand.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you tell them, knuckles digging into your cheeks. “I’m going to pass all the cars between us tomorrow and ram him into the wall.”

“No, you’re not,” George says as he sits down, Carmen following behind. “Because when you do pass all those cars tomorrow, you’re going to want to stay in the race.”

“I was going to qualify second,” you groan. “I was, seriously-“

“I know,” George says, patting your shoulder. The waiter has appeared at the end of the table.

Alex points at you. “She’ll have a shot of tequila, please.”

“She has to drive tomorrow morning,” Lily reminds him.

“And we have to sit through dinner tonight,” George says.

You slap his shoulder, glaring daggers at him, now.

“Did he apologize?” Lily asks.

“Of course!” You snap. “Because he’s fucking Charles Leclerc, and-“

Before you can launch into one of your tirades, Lily waves her hand. “Forget I asked. Never mind. This subject is banned until the weekend is over- we’re all here, this is supposed to be a nice dinner.”

You sigh and slump into your chair. “Okay, mom.”

Once the conversation starts, though, and you have your shot of tequila, you forget about Charles. You’re here to spend time with your friends, not worry about your teammate. It’s the first time in a while that both of their girlfriends have been able to make it to the same race. You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and you refuse to let Charles sour it. Besides, they’ve all heard it before, they don’t need to hear you complain again.

The next day, when you take 5th and Charles takes first, you don’t let him see you cry. You sneak out of the celebrations as early as you possibly can and head back to the hotel.It’s just so frustrating. You’re trying so hard, giving it your all, and it’ll never be enough. You want the podiums, the trophies, the champagne spraying in your face. You want it all, everything Charles has. He takes it for granted.

When you open your hotel room door, there’s a giant bouquet of flowers on the dresser. For a moment, you think maybe it’s from your family, or maybe George and Alex, a sympathy present for a race that held so much potential. You slip your finger under the flap of the envelope and pull the card out of the white flowers.

Sorry about Quali,

You throw the flowers and the note in the trash and cry yourself to sleep.

…..

Lily tried to convince you that the flowers were actually supposed to be an apology, but you’d refused to see it as anything other than what it was- a way to get in your head. So at the next race, you leave it all on the track. You manage to qualify 4th- not the best you’ve ever done, but you feel pretty good about it. You feel even better that Charles is starting in 7th. He’ll be stuck in the midfield, in the dirty air, while you fight with the big dogs. You’re on cloud nine, floating around the garage, thanking your crew and your engineers and offering drinks on you if you get a podium on Sunday. It wouldn’t be your first, but it would be your first in a while, and it would really crush Charles, you just know it.

“Congrats,” he says, standing next to you in the media pen.

You think he waits to talk to you until there’s cameras around. It makes him look good, being nice to his teammate. You can play the PR game too. You plaster on a bright smile. Behind Charles, Alex raises his brows at you. You tone down the smile and he gives you a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” you say, shrugging slightly. “Sorry about seventh.”

He shrugs. “Could be worse.”

You head into the lion’s den just after that, hit with a barrage of questions about every aspect of the weekend. How does it feel to be starting fourth? Good. Do you feel good about your chances tomorrow? Yes. How’s the car feel? Good. Are you hoping for a podium? Always. What did you give Charles to convince him to let you qualify higher than him this weekend? What?

The reporter who asked it is sneering at you. Your media handler balks at the question, fumbles to grab your arm. She’s afraid you’re going to snap, but to be honest, you’re too dumbfounded to find the words. Maybe he doesn’t deserve a response anyways.

“She didn’t give me anything,” Charles says, grabbing the microphone from your hand, and now you’re seeing red for a different reason. “She didn’t need to. She did it all on her own.”

Which is true, and nice of him to say. Objectively. But he’s not saying it because it’s true, or because he wants to be nice. You can already picture his devoted fans, clipping the video and making TikTok edits that make him look like a saint. He is, in their eyes. In everyone’s eyes.

You leave the microphone with him and stalk back to your driver room.

You run into Charles in the hallway later, when you’re slinking your way to catering to try and find something good to eat. He’s just- there, all of the sudden, broad shoulders taking up all the space. You try to slip around him, but he moves with you.

You look up at him, raising your brows and throwing your hands up. “What, Leclerc?”

He raises his brows, too. “Just wanted to say sorry. For what he said. It’s not true, you know.”

“Yes, Charles, I know I didn’t… blow you or whatever to get you to let me qualify better,” you say, and he rears his head back. “Can you move?”

“Hey,” he says, voice soft. “Look, I just wanted to say-“

“I think you’ve said enough,” you snap. “You said it all, live on camera. The whole world heard it.”

“I was just trying to stand up for you.”

“I can stand up for myself,” you say, throat feeling tight. “I’ve been doing it my whole career. No need to step in now. And honestly, we both know you get off on being the savior, so cut the shit.”

You finally find a gap and slip around him. You walk out of the garage and all the way down to Williams. Nobody stops you when you head to Alex’s room- he’s there, and George is too.

“We were wondering when you’d show up,” George says, as Alex holds his arms out wide. “Fucking bullshit, the whole lot of it.”

You nod and collapse into Alex’s chest. Neither of them comment on your tears.

“At least Charles stood up for you,” George says brightly.

“Fuck off,” you say, and Alex slaps his shoulder for you.

…..

They call a red flag three laps in, and your team calls you into the pits before you can even figure out what’s going on. You’re in third, having moved past Lewis in the opening chaos. Your heart sinks, knowing that when the race restarts you’ll have lost the lead you’d built up. You search the big screens as you pull into the pit lane, trying to figure out what’s happened, and then your heart sinks even more.

It’s a Mercedes, crumpled against the barriers. They only show it for a second, and you can’t hear any of what the commentators are saying. You hadn’t caught the number or the helmet, and- it’s either Lewis or George.

As much as you like Lewis, you’ve been friends with George since you were little. He and Alex had taken you under their wings, accepted you when a lot of the others wouldn’t. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as they help you climb out of your car.

You flip your visor up and look to the nearest mechanic. “Who is it?”

He stares, blankly, and you already know.

“Who is it?” You ask, louder, looking around the room frantically.

“S’George,” someone finally answers.

“Is he-“

“We don’t know yet,” someone says, gently. “Just-“

The panic claws at your chest. You haven’t felt like this a long time, not since Lily called you from the hospital when Alex had appendicitis. You can’t breathe, can’t see, can feel your fingers.

There’s a ripple of noise, applause from the crowd. You look at the TV, see George, standing strong and holding up a thumbs up. It should be a relief, but the panic doesn’t fade. Suddenly someone’s hands are on your shoulders, guiding you into the hallway. Fingers brush against your jaw, unbuckling your helmet and wiggling it off your head. You gasp for air, and strong hands hold you steady.

“Breathe, breathe, it’s okay, he’s okay,” Charles says.

You should be shocked it’s him, but right now all you can feel is panic. You grab onto his wrists, looking for an anchor in the storm. He doesn’t let go, just holds onto you, squeezes your shoulders until you start breathing slower and slower. He only drops his grip when you drop yours. You wipe tears and snot and sweat from your face and sigh.

Suddenly it hits you- it’s Charles, holding onto you, witnessing your panic attack. You take a couple steps back.

“It’s okay,” he says again, reaching out. You brush him away. “Hey, how about we go sit, yes? Have some water?”

“I’m fine,” you sniffle.

“You’re not.”

“Why do you care?” You ask, tears springing to your eyes again.

“Because you’re my teammate,” he says. “Because your friend crashed and you are upset.”

You roll your eyes. Charles has the audacity to look confused. Like he doesn’t know.

“You don’t have to act like you like me, Charles. There aren’t any cameras around,” you snap.

Charles blinks once, then again. “What?”

“You can drop the act,” you say as you cross your arms over your chest. “I already know you hate me, you don’t have to pretend. You can go.”

Charles looks utterly and completely perplexed. For a moment, you falter. He hates you. Why does he seem so confused? It’s not that difficult to understand. Why had he even come back here with you in the first place? He could’ve let one of your crew members help you, or left you to deal with it alone. What the hell is going on here?

“I don’t hate you,” he says, voice soft. “Why would you think I hate you?”

“You’ve hated me since I got here,” you remind him. “Actually, since before I even signed the fucking contract.”

“What are you talking about?”

You stare at him, wide eyed. Is it possible he doesn’t even remember? Maybe he hates you that much.

“When I came to the factory for contract negotiations,” you start, “you made it very clear I was the last possible person you wanted as your teammate.”

You’d been leaving the factory. He’d stopped you in the hall. Sounds like you might be my new teammate, he’d said. Hopefully, if it all goes well, you’d replied. Any advice?

He’d looked around, checked to see that nobody was there. Then, voice low and serious, arms crossed, he’d said, this is the last place you belong. If you know what’s best for you, you will not sign that contract.

You’d left that day heartbroken and with a vendetta against him.

Charles’ eyes go wide when you repeat his words back to you. “I did not say that.”

“I think I’d remember,” you tell him, trying again to shove past him.

“No, no, I mean- I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, insistent, grabbing onto your arm gently. “I- that was before they hired Fred, yes?”

“Yes?” You answer, furrowing your brows at him.

“And before they changed the staff, before they-“ he sighs. “I had a shit year. I was worried the next was going to be the same. I was trying to warn you.”

Now it’s your turn to blink once, then again. “No, you…”

“I swear,” he says. “On my life, I swear.”

He draws a tiny cross with his finger, right over his heart. You take a step back and drag a hand down your face. Your head is spinning, tilted on an insane axis.

“You thought I hated you, all this time?” He says, brows furrowed. “I sent you flowers, after the quali thing-“

“I thought you were playing mind games!” You cry out.

He’s reaching for your arm again. This time you let him. His fingers dig into your skin pleasantly- not enough to feel bad, just enough to know he’s there. It’s like the fight has suddenly left your body. He doesn’t hate you. He sent you flowers because he really was sorry.

And you threw them in the trash.

“So when I stood up for you with that reporter, you thought…” he trails off, then laughs. “What, you thought I was- this is why you reacted so badly. This explains so much.”

“Yes!” You say, nodding. “Why are you so fucking ominous with your warnings? Why were you so cryptic?”

“English is not my first language and I had to be careful about how I said it, there could have been people listening!” He says, laughing again. “You didn’t listen, anyways.”

“No, because then I wanted to prove to you that I could handle myself, that I deserved the seat!”

“Of course you deserved the seat,” he says, wide eyed. “That was never a question.”

The two of you stare at each other for a beat. Then you double over in laughter, tears streaming down your face for a different reason. Charles joins you, his laughter mixing with yours for the first time ever. The noise of it sends a jolt through your heart.

He doesn’t hate you. How crazy is that?

…..

When you run into Alex in the paddock later, he’s staring like you’ve grown a second head. Actually, with the intensity of his stare, you think you may have grown two extra heads. Maybe even a third eye. He comes to a stop in front of you, and you cock your head at him.

“Hey, Al,” you greet him. “Have you seen Georgie? He’s not at Merc.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s at the stewards, doing a debrief,” Alex says. “He said he’d meet us at the driver briefing.”

“Oh, cool,” you say. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine,” Alex says, eyes flickering across your face.

“That’s good. I’m glad,” Charles says from his spot next to you.

His arm is slung around your shoulders, his race suit tied around his waist, just like yours. You take it in from Alex’s viewpoint- the proximity, the fact that you’re even letting him touch you, and the look on his face makes sense.

“Hey, did you know Charles doesn’t actually hate me?” You ask Alex, and next to you, your teammate laughs.

“I told you that a million times,” Alex deadpans.

“Huh. Weird.” You shrug. “We should go, the briefing starts in five minutes.”

Alex trails behind the two of you, quiet the whole way there. Charles peels off when you arrive and stops to say hi to Max. George is already sitting down in a chair near the front. You sit down next to him, eyes tracing over him like you’re looking for injuries. Alex sits on his other side.

“I’m fine,” George says, nudging your shoulder lightly.

“Excuse me if I’m worried,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Alex opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, someone sits down next to you and elbows you lightly. It’s Charles, a cold water bottle in hand, extended towards you. You take it eagerly. His knee nudges against yours, and you nudge him back. You thank him, opening the water bottle and taking a drink.

“Mate, I think I hit my head harder than I realized,” George whispers to Alex.

“Nope, you’re seeing correctly,” Alex says, holding his hands up when George turns towards him. “I don’t know either!”

…..

It turns out that when you’re not busy thinking Charles hates you, and hating him back, he’s actually pretty fun to be around. The two of you have nearly everyone else bewildered for the next few races, because you’re suddenly attached at the hip. You’ve always been civil in public, but this is a different story.

In briefings, Charles saves you a seat, and Alex and George have to fight over who gets to sit next to you. You eat lunches and dinners together in the paddock, out in the open at a patio table. Charles brings you coffee in the mornings, and you bring him pastries. During breaks, the two of you can often be found hunched over your phone, watching YouTube videos together. You have a surprising amount in common. You wonder how you never saw it before.

Charles even takes you with him to play padel one morning, brings you a half hour early to try and show you how. When George and Alex show up to play against you, they stare at you in confusion for a solid thirty seconds.

“You don’t understand,” Alex says over lunch with you and Lily later that day. “He had his hand on her waist.”

Lily is the only one who hadn’t been surprised. She shrugs.

“He was correcting my posture,” you say. “Alex is just mad that I beat him.”

“Charles beat me, you were just on his team,” Alex corrects. He’s not exactly wrong. “Come on, like, two months ago she hated his guts. Tell me this isn’t crazy, Lil. I think we need an intervention.”

“You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to talk about the intervention in front of the intervention-ee,” you say, stirring your pasta. “Intervention-ette?”

“She’s fine,” Lily says, smiling at you. “She’s just finding out that hate and love are a lot more similar than you’d think.”

You drop your fork, wincing when it clatters. “I don’t love him.”

Lily cocks her head at you. You freeze. Alex is looking back and forth between the two of you like it’s a tennis match. You can feel your face growing hot.

“I don’t,” you repeat. “We’re friends, that’s all.”

Lily blinks, feigns surprise. “I never said anything about romantic love.”

You swallow. “Yeah, but that’s what you meant-“

“That’s what you assumed I meant,” she says, and you blink.

There are butterflies in your stomach- where did those come from? You definitely don’t love Charles. Like Alex said- two months ago, you hated him. Well, you hated that he hated you. You hated the way you thought he was treating you. But now, in a different light, his actions seem a bit endearing. You’re just swept up in the new friendship, that’s all. Lily’s reading too far into it.

You tell her as much, and she drops the subject. Alex seems happy to move on, a bit unprepared to handle the whole conversation. But Lily watches you, and you can’t help but feel like maybe she knows something you don’t.

…..

It sticks in your head, is the thing. Hate and love are a lot more similar than you think. And to be honest, it sort of makes sense. Both very strong emotions, both making your chest feel tight and your cheeks feel hot. You’re not in love with Charles, though. You can’t be. He’s just- a friend. He’s a friend, and it’s new, and of course you’re going to spend time together. You’re getting to know each other! This is normal, this is teammate bonding like you were supposed to do when you joined the team.

It’s not weird that Charles introduces you to his family when they come to one of the races. It’s not weird that you’re inviting him out for drinks when you go out with George and Alex after a race. It’s not weird that you start actually playing padel and asking him to help you practice- it’s fun, and he’s good at it, that’s all.

Then you’re out at a club in Monaco one night, surrounded by other drivers. You go to leave, Lily tugging on your hand. The two of you are having a sleepover without Alex. You’re saying your goodbyes, waving and smiling and-

Charles grabs onto you, hauls you into a hug. He’s a little tipsy, you think, but not drunk. You laugh and lean into the hug, wrap your arms around him, breathe in the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent. Then he pulls away, puts his hands on your shoulders, and kisses both of your cheeks.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. Lily has to drag you away as you giggle before you make a fool of yourself. Charles waves and smiles brightly when you turn around. You burst out onto the sidewalk and cover your face in your hands. Really, it means nothing. It’s just his way of greeting people or saying goodbye, it’s a thing he does. But your chest feels warm and your head is swimming, and it’s not the alcohol.

“Oh, shit,” you say to Lily, who’s smiling at you.

“Love and hate,” she reminds you.

…..

You swear Lily to secrecy, and though she loves Alex, she would never sell you out, thank god. You’re determined to act like everything is normal. You can’t be in love with your teammate. That would be crazy. It would be awful. It would be everything that everyone has ever said about female drivers, all confirmed. You’d get torn apart on the internet.

It’s not easy, though, because it’s Charles. Because he’s sweet and kind and handsome, and he cares about you. He doesn’t hate you. He wants to spend time with you, all the time. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but you think they’ve got it backwards. Maybe there’s a second part- presence makes the heart go crazy.

When you qualify in pole position for the first time in your F1 career, you have a panic attack. It’s a massive one, one that has your legs giving out and leaves you hyperventilating. It’s bad enough that Charles almost goes and gets George or Alex, but you beg him to stay with you, so he does. Eventually, he just wraps you up tightly in his arms and holds you there until you can breathe again.

“I’m not going to be able to do it,” you sniffle, as he runs his hand over your hair and rocks you from side to side. “I’m gonna crash on the first turn and then everyone is gonna be right, and I’ll lose my seat, and then-“

“No, amour, that is not going to happen,” Charles soothes, chest rumbling against you. “It is not. You are going to do just fine.”

“But what if I don’t? What if I can’t win, what if I don’t do it-“

“Then you will try again next time,” he says, so sure of it, like he can see the future. “You are starting on pole tomorrow. It’s scary, I know. But it’s just another race. You just… go out and give it your all. The same way you do every weekend.”

“You’ll keep them away from me?” You ask. Charles is starting third.

“No,” he scoffs, a laugh bubbling up from his lips. For just a moment, your heart breaks. Then, he says, “I will not need to. You will be so far ahead you’ll forget anyone else is even there.”

You laugh, press your teary face into his chest. “Shut up.”

…..

You check your rear views before the race starts, something comforting running through your veins when you see Charles behind you. You can’t see his face, can barely see his helmet, but you see the red. Then the lights go out, and he disappears in a blur. Give it all you got, you hear, unsure if it’s your race engineer or you or a voice in your head. You hold your breath for the first few turns, maybe for the whole first lap. And then your race engineer is talking about gaps and clean air and tire management, and you’re looking ahead, trying to see what car you need to try and pass next, trying to tell if you’re in DRS range, and then-

There’s nobody in front of you. Clean air. You’re in first. You’re leading the Grand Prix.

When you come careening over the line at the end of the race, when you see the checkered flag first, when you spot your crew on the pit wall, you swear your heart is going to beat out of your chest. Your race engineer is yelling in excitement. You think you’re yelling too, but you have no idea what you’re saying. It doesn’t matter.

You pull the car into the first place slot and climb out. You have to wrack your brain to remember what you’re supposed to do- it’s been so long since you’ve won a race, back when you were still in F2. Hug the team, get weighed, shake hands, grab the hat- Someone grabs your arm. You spin around and come face to face with Ferrari red. Charles.

He pulls you into a tight hug. Your helmets knock together. He’s saying something, over and over again.

“-told you, I told you, I knew you would do it,” he says. “I’m so proud of you.”

Charles takes your helmet and balaclava for you when you finally get them off. He takes his off too, and his face is red, dimples deep as he grins at you. He’s finished 7th, he tells you. Got passed in the first lap and never recovered.

“-told you you didn’t need me defending,” he says, and you’re laughing, shoving his shoulder. “You did so fucking good-“

The butterflies are going crazy in your stomach. You want to kiss him. The helmet has left a little indent on his cheek- you want to run your finger over it. But there are so many cameras and people watching, and suddenly you’re being pulled away from him, sent to the cool down room. Then it’s shaking hands with Max and Lewis again, watching the race highlights, basking in the excitement of it all. There’s the podium, the champagne, the trophy that you don’t let go of until you get back to the Ferrari garage. The giant group photo with the trophy, more champagne dumped over your head, Charles lost in the sea of red somewhere. It’s all such a blur.

You finally stumble back to your driver’s room, in a rush to change out of your race kit and grab your stuff. Someone has rented out a bar- they apparently did it when you qualified on pole, and didn’t tell you for fear of jinxing it. You text George and Alex, tell them where to meet you. With your stuff in hand, in a pair of sweatpants and a Ferrari sweatshirt, you finally stop and look in the mirror.

F1 Grand Prix winner.

There’s a knock on the door. You open it and find Charles standing there, in a very similar outfit. The line on his face has faded, but his hair is still a mess. You step back from the door and give him room to step inside. He’s staring at you, a soft look on his face. You’re holding your breath again. It’s the first lap. You just have to make it through the turns, get out ahead into clean air. His lips are parted, eyes wide and sparkling.

His hands are shaky when they cup your face. Yours are even shakier when you fist your hands in his sweatshirt. But the kiss he pulls you into is steady and sure and true. You melt into him, shoving your hands under his sweatshirt as he pulls you close with an arm around your waist. You reach up, thread your fingers through his hair, let his tongue slip into your mouth.

When he pulls away, his eyes are wild.

“We have to go,” he says, squeezing your hip. “You have a party to be at. Also, you are so pretty.”

You can remember the way he looked at you at the start of the season. How you thought the fire in his eyes was going to burn you alive. You’d stoked your own fire to burn him up first. Now you’re blazing, and you never want the fire to go out.

“I can’t believe I thought you hated me,” you say, muffling a laugh into his chest. “You’re coming to the party, right?”

“Of course,” he says. He cups your face in his hands again and presses another kiss to your lips. “And tomorrow, you are coming on a date with me, right?”

You laugh, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “Of course.”

“Perfect,” he says, kissing your forehead and then letting you go. “Come on, winner. You have so many people waiting to buy you drinks.”

…..

When you walk into the bar hand in hand with Charles, Lily slams her hand down on the table.

“Pay up, boys,” she says, a wide grin on her face.

“Never in a million years did I see that coming,” George says.

“I’m never betting against Lily ever again,” Alex adds.

Max leans down over the table, holding his hand out, too. George and Alex groan and start pulling cash from their wallets.

“Hate and love,” Max says, a smirk on his face. “Very thin line, huh?”

woo! enemies to lovers, classic trope in the bag! come say hi and let me know what you think. send me a dm or drop me an ask to be added to the tag list!

taglist: @4-mula1

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fic #Charles Leclerc angst #enemies to lovers #cl16 #honeywrites #Charles Leclerc

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writing-about-current-obsessions · 1 year

Text

The set-up

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x reader

Words: 2962

Summary: Carlos is horrible at setting people up, but Pierre has a couple of tricks up his sleeve to help Charles get the woman he’s fallen in love with.

>Click here to check out my masterlist<

It was so obvious that it became one of the worst kept secrets of the whole paddock, which says a lot in itself. The only two people who were oblivious about it, ironically, were the two people who were the main subjects of the ill-kept secret.

Pierre and Carlos were probably the first ones who noticed it; Charles was anything but subtle. The way he would always make sure she is safe and comfortable, offering to drive her to and from the paddock and the hotel whenever she visited him during the race weekend. The way he would give her small presents under the guise of something else, like that time he bought her a sweater because apparently it was a bit chilly that day and Charles didn’t want her to catch a cold. The way his eyes were always searching for her, always sneaking longing glances and the way Charles’ face always split into a big smile whenever she would give him even an ounce of attention. Charles fell over heels for her and both Pierre and Carlos took every opportunity to remind him of it, that is, joke about it.

But after some time, it slowly became apparent to everyone who was hanging out with Charles and her. It was impossible not to see the connection they shared, how they cared for each other and it was also impossible not to notice the sparks flying between them whenever their eyes made contact, even across the whole garage.

The problem was, neither of the parties involved did anything about it. She didn’t notice Charles acting like a lovesick puppy, as Pierre would kindly put it. Even when Pierre and Carlos would joke about it in front of her, making Charles all defensive and red in the face, she would always laugh it off and take it as silly teasing between friends.

Charles believed there was no way in hell she would think of him as anything else than a friend, which meant that he suffered in silence. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship, since he would rather spend time with her only as a friend and carry this secret with him than risk losing her. Pierre is often frustrated with him because of it, trying to convince him to go for it and strongly believing that Charles has a chance.

I mean, Charles spent almost all of his winter break with her, which was a strong indication that she harboured some feelings for the Monegasque driver. Why else would she come to his races, supporting him unconditionally and cheering him on, spending all of her free time during the winter following him around? Surely that meant something. But, as much as Pierre tried to reason with Charles and persuade him to ask her out, it was useless. Charles was adamant about not wanting to admit his true feelings to her, which meant only one thing: Pierre had to take matters into his own hands and bring his two stupidly oblivious friends together. He actually decided to ask Carlos for help and the Spaniard was eager to get involved. With a mysterious smile and a glint in his eye, he assured Pierre that he will take care of it.

Pierre knew that it was very careless of him that he didn’t ask Carlos what he had on his mind. He should’ve known better.

Because, as it turns out, Carlos’ idea was a simple cliché – ask both of the lovebirds to join a couple of friends for dinner, under the guise of “hanging out together”, but reserving the table only for the two of them. Carlos also invited Pierre to the bar, which was opposite the restaurant of the hotel the Ferrari crew was staying at, so they had a clear view of the “set-up date” that Carlos carefully planned out.

As Carlos explained everything to Pierre with a proud grin on his face over a drink, they watched from the side as Charles arrived with her at the restaurant. The maître d’ showed them to their table and they both sat down, falling into easy conversation. The two Formula 1 drivers watched from afar, sitting on the barstools at the bar.

“You don’t have to say anything.”, Carlos said to Pierre with a wide smirk. “I already know that I am brilliant.”

“I can’t believe I let you do this. It’s a stupid idea.”, Pierre grumbled, shaking his head.

The Frenchman turned around on the barstool, his back now facing the restaurant. He took a big sip of his drink.

“It was not a stupid idea.”, Carlos defended with a frown. “Look at them. They’re having dinner together, alone.”

“They’re having dinner together alone all the time!” Pierre whisper-yelled, glaring at Carlos. “And Charles is still dumb enough not to actually ask her on a date or at least try to kiss her.”

Carlos glanced at their table, seeing both of them laugh. It was incredibly easy to see the affection sparkling in Charles’ eyes. And even though her back was facing them and he couldn’t see her face from the bar, Carlos could still notice that she was relaxed and having fun talking with Charles. But, that was that. There were a couple of flirty looks and smiles by Charles, but other than that, nothing. No touches, no kisses and even though they couldn’t hear what they were speaking about, Carlos was pretty sure there were no love confessions uttered over the course of the dinner either.

His phone vibrated a couple of times as the couple waited in the beginning of the evening, indicating a few incoming messages from Charles asking if he or their other friends are showing up to dinner. Carlos responded with a simple no, telling Charles to man up and turn this dinner into a date, but obviously, the Monegasque did not listen to his teammate.

Before their dinner was over, Carlos and Pierre gave up spying on them and called it a night, retreating with defeat back to their hotel rooms.

The next day, all of the drivers had media duties before the upcoming race this weekend. Usually, that meant boring interview after boring interview, but she accompanied Charles nonetheless because she loved watching behind the scenes of the team videos he and Carlos occasionally had to film together. Charles was also grateful to have her there because the boring media day was always more bearable and fun with her around. She could easily keep the smile on Charles’ face and cheer him up.

On the other hand, the one thing that Charles was not grateful for on this particular Thursday was Pierre’s nagging as they both waited for her to arrive at the paddock. They were having coffee during their small break in front of the Ferrari hospitality, because Charles wanted to wait for her there and greet her before he had to get back to work.

Pierre was being even more annoying than usual; speaking in angry French with Charles and explaining how idiotic he was being. Charles agreed, although he wouldn’t admit it at loud. He wanted to confess his feelings, but he was scared. He didn’t want to ruin the friendship with the person he cared about so much.

Just as Pierre’s words faded into the background and Charles’ thoughts drifted off to her smiling face, she appeared out of nowhere, as if he accidentally summoned her by thinking about her.

“Hello, besties!”, she joyfully greeted Charles and Pierre, making her way to their table.

It wasn’t often that she called them besties, but it was a term of endearment that both of the men kind of hated, so she used it to tease them a little. The groan that either Pierre or Charles sometimes let out after hearing the cheesy word always made her giggle.

Pierre grinned. “We were just talking about you!”

“Oh, really?” her eyebrows shot upward and she looked curiously at both of them.

“Yeah, uh…”, Charles cleared his throat, his words escaping him as he stared at her shiny hair and her bright smile. “We were just wondering if you’re coming today.”

Pierre glared at Charles, silently scolding him for lying, but she didn’t see it.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” she smiled even brighter. “I have it on good authority that Carlos and you are filming a cooking challenge today and I just have to see the chaos of that.”

Charles rolled his eyes at her, not being able to contain his smile. “I will beat him. Easy.”

That earned him a laugh both from her and Pierre.

Unfortunately, Charles was called away by the Ferrari team media manager, leaving his friends to drink their coffee without him. He instructed her to find him after this interview and then hurried away with a smile and a wave.

Pierre used this opportunity to show Carlos how it’s done by trying to set up his two friends together with a neat little trick.

Around an hour later, she was making her way to Charles’ driver’s room. Andrea told her where to find Charles, telling her that he has a little bit of time before his next obligation. After a knock on his door, he called out for her to come in and she opened the door with a heavy heart. What Pierre told her before surprised her, but she had some time to recover and gather her thoughts.

Still, it appears that she couldn’t school her facial expression into a happy one, because Charles noticed something was off as soon as he looked at her.

“Hey. Is something wrong?” Charles furrowed his eyebrows upon seeing her dejected face.

It was a complete turnaround from the way she cheerfully greeted them in front of the Ferrari hospitality and Charles wondered immediately what ruined her mood.

She shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Are you sure?” Charles got up from his bed as she closed the door behind her.

“Pierre said you need my advice.”, she said with a smile, getting straight to the point and trying to sound encouraging.

Even though her heart was breaking, she would do anything to help Charles. Even if that meant giving him love advice about someone else. She should have expected it really – Charles was smart, handsome, funny, charming and successful. No wonder women were swooning over him. And it was only a matter of time before he started dating again. She should have expected it, but she let herself daydream and imagine what it would be like if Charles asked her out. It was silly, but she couldn’t help it.

“What?” Charles seemed confused.

“He told me that you’re in love with someone and need to ask me something.”, she explained, no matter the ache in her chest. “So, I’m listening.”

Charles muttered a french curse under his breath, looking away. She concluded that maybe he was a bit embarrassed asking for love advice, judging by the faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“I… Uhm…”, he cleared his throat.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”, she grinned. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He glanced at her, a strange look in his eyes. “Yes. Of course. We’re friends.”

“Well, then, you know you can tell me anything.”, she sat down on his bed, suddenly worried.

She was not the right person to be giving Charles love advice.

Charles sighed. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“How about you start with her name?” she suggested, curiosity getting the better of her.

She wasn’t sure if knowing who it was would help her or only make her feel worse.

“I can’t tell you that.”, Charles looked away again.

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter.”, Charles shook his head thoughtfully. “She doesn’t feel the same way I do.”

Her heart ached when she stared at his eyes filled with sorrow. She wished that she could take away the pain he was feeling.

“Oh.”, she gulped, pushing her own feelings deep down inside her. “How do you know?”

Charles made his way to his bed, sitting beside her. He left sufficient space between them and she almost sighed in frustration at how closer she wished they could be.

“I’m sure.”, Charles admitted in a low voice, staring back at her in worry.

“Did you ask her?” she was tentative, wanting to know more.

“No.”, Charles replied simply.

“Then how do you know?”

Charles looked down, as if debating with himself if he should say something. It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts, before he looked back up and their eyes met again.

“She calls me her bestie. I don’t think she feels the same way I do.”, Charles admitted sadly, not tearing his eyes off her and eagerly waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, come on Charles! Who wouldn’t? She-“, her words died in her throat suddenly and she stared at him with wide eyes. “She calls you bestie?”

Charles nodded, still staring at her, almost without blinking. He was waiting for the moment she would finally get it, when the pieces will fall into place.

A sudden wave of realisation washed over her. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her mouth fell open.

“Charles-“

“You don’t have to say anything.”, he smiled with a heavy heart. “Pierre was nagging me about admitting this to you for a while and he was right. I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I’m in love with you.”

Her ears were ringing as her heart thumped fast in her chest. Was she having a heart attack? Was this the right time to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming?

“I know you don’t feel the same.”, Charles looked down. “But, I had to say it. And I just wish that we can still stay friends.”

“Charles.”, she said softly, scooting closer to him.

She gently put her hand on his cheek, making him look up at her. Despite everything he just said, he was glad to see her smiling wide. Her wonderful eyes were full of emotion; he must be seeing wrong because it appeared like her eyes were actually glistening with tears. He didn’t have time to inspect it further before she leaned in closer to him, softly brushing her lips against his. It took him by surprise. He was frozen in spot for a second as she pecked his mouth tentatively, with her eyes closed and a light smile on her face.

As she pulled slightly away, Charles reacted immediately. He pressed his lips against hers fully, kissing her with passion. He still gave her some time to pull away, even despite her initiating the kiss. When she didn’t, Charles wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly close to him and deepening the kiss.

When they pulled away, gasping a little heavily, Charles’ heart swelled when he saw her laugh in delight.

“I can’t believe this.”, she whispered, smiling wide as her eyes roamed all over his face.

“Neither can I.”, Charles was grinning, his strong arms wrapping around her and bringing her in his lap in one swift motion.

She giggled as she settled on his lap, with each of her legs resting by his side on the bed. Biting her lower lip as she gazed at him, she let herself relish in this moment of closeness and pure bliss.

“Just to be clear, I do feel the same.”, she admitted.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.”, his eyes were clear and sparkling again, all doubt and worry clouding them from before and now disappearing completely.

Charles exhaled in contentment, as if a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Her arms wrapped around him, so now there was no space at all between their bodies. Charles pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone, following it up with a few pecks and soft bites on her neck. Paired with his warm breath tickling her as he kept kissing her, tingles of pleasure erupted beneath her skin and she almost moaned. Charles took his time in exploring all inches of bare skin available to him at the moment.

“Charles.”, she called out for him breathily. “Kiss me again.”

He obeyed gladly, pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. This time, it was even hungrier and more eager than before, highlighted also by their bodies being so close. She couldn’t help but trail her fingers through his hair and feel its soft strands. She didn’t even realize when Charles’ hands slipped beneath her shirt, now caressing the skin of her waist.

They didn’t hear the knock on the door, completely distracted and unaware of the world around them. On the second knock, they both turned around in shock towards the doors, but they didn’t have time to extract themselves out of this suggestive position before Carlos peered in.

Carlos blinked in surprise, almost not believing what he was seeing as he stepped into the room. Then, his mouth stretched into an impossibly wide grin of amusement.

“Finally!�� he exclaimed, pulling the phone out of his pocket. “I can’t wait to tell Pierre about this.”

Charles and she were still frozen in their spot, not knowing how to react.

“Briefing room in 5 minutes, loverboy. Team meeting.”, Carlos pointed at Charles as he pressed something on his phone and put it to his ear.

Then he simply turned around, leaving the dumbstruck couple on Charles’ bed.

Before he was out of earshot, they could hear him speaking to someone on the phone, probably Pierre. “Mate, you will not believe what I just walked into.”

Charles looked at the woman in his arms, both of them silently looking at each other for a second, before bursting into laughter.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x y/n #Charles Leclerc x ofc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 month

Note

I absolutelly love your writing and I love your Mafia Charles!!!

I want to request more of Mafia Charles, with whatever plot you want!!

Love from Brazil!

A/N: Feeding the children @mariahcarreyyy @piastrification @leclerced even though you all turned on me

WARNING: Knife, Blood, Death, all that fun stuff in the world

If there was one thing in the world that you wanted right now, it'd be a knife. Anyone else would say a phone, their boyfriend, hell maybe even gun, but you? No you wanted a knife so you could slash the bastards throat before you.

It was supposed to be a quiet day, where you and your very gorgeous boyfriend would just lounge around. Instead, when you went downstairs to get the food you're knocked out and then dragged to god knows where in the middle of fucking nowhere. It'd be pretty hard to keep you in Monaco, you were either in fuck middle France or Italy.

Honestly you didn't care, you were just pissed that you couldn't eat your pasta and then fuck your boyfriend. You roll your eyes thinking about what he must be going through. Charles, was probably tearing apart Monaco looking for you and Max, Carlos, and Pierre maybe even Lando would have to be calming him down right now.

Your head snaps up when the large door rolls open, eyes narrowing you try not to swallow the wad of cloth in your mouth, tap covering it so you couldn't easily spit it out. Hating this sand paper feeling in your mouth you tried not to think about the wine you were drinking earlier as you were just getting far more annoyed as the time passed.

"Wake up," Your head whips to the side so hard and fast your eyes could spin in your head. Trying to gather your ground you blink quickly but nothing helps until your hair is grabbed and forces your neck backwards at an awkward angle as you face one of the men that have taken you.

"I wonder, would he pay quicker if I bloodied you up a bit? I think he would," The man groans and you flinch at the hot breath wanting to gag but clearly, you couldn't. "Mark! Leave the girl alone, he'll take out heads if we hurt her," The other man snaps, Mark, growls and shoves you, chair going toppling and you whimper hearing a sick crack from one of your wrists.

You were going to cut that one like a fish.

---------------------

You were taught at a young age that closing your eyes and deep breathing would help you sleep, and at this moment that was what you were trying to do. You slowed your breathing down impressively, almost making it look like you weren't breathing.

"Hey, I don't think she's breathing!" The other one screams, you hear the one named Mark scuff. "Who cares, we'll just dump her body to him when we get the money." "Mark!" Groaning the guy gets up, you try hard not to breath in relief when you feel your wrists get cut loose and then your feet.

"Take the gag off," You wince unable to stop it when the tape is ripped off and your mouth pried open and the cloth taken out. You try to swallow but can't still having to play dead. "Fucking bitch, she better not have died." You feel something sharp poke you.

Snapping your eyes open you swing your leg out, Mark screams and you grab the knife and move, shoving it deep into the unnamed man before you. You hate the sound of men choking on blood, they sound pathetic. Grabbing the gun you cock it and point it Mark whose glaring at you, but starts to smirk sickly at you.

"Little girl, I suggest you put the gun down before you hurt yourself." "Fuck you, pussy." You don't even blink as you shoot the gun, almost blowing the guys head off as you sigh. "How long you been there?" You ask, seeing Charles leaning against the door smiling.

"Since you arrived here, was seeing how long it'd take you to escape, but I wasn't expecting this. This," He looks around and smirks, playing with the rings on his fingers. "was much hotter." You drop the gun and step over the bodies. Some of your blood and their blood on your clothes.

Charles stares at you with such hunger and want you almost jump him right then and there. "I think they broke my wrist," You admit, finally feeling the pain as the adrenaline starts to leave your body, making you shaky and tired. His eyes narrow and his delicate fingers grab and hiss seeing the ugly purple and black surrounding it.

"Fuckers, lucky they're dead." He curses and places a soft kiss on the wrist before looking over you. "Come, let's get you home." "How far is home?" You ask, not wanting the long drive back to Monaco. "Oh, 5 minutes, they're not really bright." Charles tsks and you stop in your tracks.

Max was never going to let you live this one down.

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the-offside-rule · 2 months

Text

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - Worship

Requested: yes

Prompts: 16) "I would do anything for you."

29) "Let me take care of you."

32) "I could kiss your lips all day."

40) "Ah, ah, ah, no touching."

Warnings: smut, dom!charles, reader being HUMBLED, overestimulating, edging, kinky (???), oral (f receiveing), angst? But happy ending

Charles stood in the hallway outside Y/n's Hotel room, simply awaiting for her to open the door. The F2 driver had caught his eye when she joined Mercedes during pre-season testing in 2022, and she then joined Formula 2 in 2023. They kept glancing at one another in the paddock, neither brave enough to make the first move. And the came Monaco. Whilst Charles was out after the race on Sunday, they bumped into eachogher and let's just say there was an...entanglement when they headed back to Y/n's hote room. Since then, their meet ups had become more and more regular to the point where they didn't even need to use a race weekend as an excuse to meet up. They would meet up on a random day for no reason. While the whole situation was strictly sex at the moment, Charles felt himself falling for her.

The door opened and before he could say hello, she already had him by the collar, dragging him in the door and kicking it behind them. "You're eager today." Charles managed to say in between kisses. "Have you seen yourself in a suit?" She replied, trying not to break the contact between their lips. She pulled him back until she fell back onto her bed. Charles eagerly hopped on top of her, his chain dangling out from his shirt which had the first few buttons undone. "I could kiss your lips all day." He whispered, as Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to kiss her. As their kiss deepened and the sounds of them panting grew louder, Charles and Y/n couldn't help but roll around, twisting in the bed sheets.

"Y/n, I need to talk to you." He murmured into her skin. He looked up as her head fell backwards and her fingers tangled in his hair. "Talk between my legs." She chuckled. Charles clenched his jaw before grabbing her ankles and yanking her down towards him at the edge of the bed. "What are you-" Charles' hand covered her mouth before she could say another word. "You're going to listen to me tonight. You understand?" She arched a brow, not even giving a hum to respond. Charles licked his fingers before trailing them down her toned abs and towards her core. He teased, circling her clit. Her once knotted brows softened at the sensation. "I said, do you understand?" Y/n nodded. Charles took his hand away and pecked a gentle kiss onto her cheek. "Good girl, just relax, mon cœur." He whispered, unbuttoning his shirt agonishingly slow, before throwing it to the floor. Y/n's mouth watered upon seeing him so dominant. While she was used to leading these encounters, she didn't mind this change one bit.

Y/n sat up, looking down towards him. "Charles, I-" Charles shut her up quickly with a kiss. "Shhh mon amour. Let me take care of you." She nodded slowly, lying back down, her hands resting above her head. Charles bit her panties, gently tugging them down between his teeth. Her lips parted as a quiet sigh left her lips. Charles began peppering gentle kisses on each of her thighs, growing closer and closer to her already wet core. "Charles-" She whispered. "Please."

"Oh." She sighed as Charles licked a slick line up her slit, before circling her clit with his tongue. "You like this, mon amour?" Y/n nodded, biting her lips to hide her smile. "I can't hear you. Can you speak up?" He asked, pressing a kiss onto her clit. She hummed in response. "Yes, Charles. I love it." He chuckled. "Oh, you love it?" He smirked, looking up. "You've got such a big ego, don't you?" She giggled as the scruff of his chin scraped her skin. "That's not the only thing."

"I feel like you're just teasing me now, and I don't appreciate-" Her words were stopped as Charles pressed another gentle kiss onto her clit. He looked up, his green eyes locking with hers. He hushed her, watching as she nodded and slowly but surely found her way back lying on his bed. "Good girl." He whispered, before his tongue worked wonders on her. Her moans grew louder with each thrust of his tongue,her fingers tangled in her hair as she felt herself overcome with pleasure. "Charlie, fuck." She whimpered as his nose rubbed off her sensitive bundle of nerve endings. He hummed, sending vibrations through her and that's when it happened. She felt her core tighten, she jolted, feeling herself grow closer and closer to finishing.

Charles traced his fingers down her sides as she looked up to him with doe eyes. She knew what that did to him. It'd get him to work much quicker than just letting him tease her slowly. He looked down at her lips and back to her eyes before grinning. "Okay, new rule." Y/n's head tilted to the side, anticipating his next words. Charles leaned down, kissing her neck hungrily as he took in the scent of her perfume. Her eyebrows knotted in frustration as he teased her with his lips. "What rule could you possibly add?" She whined. "No touching." He whispered, kissing her cheek. Y/n sat up quickly. "No touching? Charles!" She was cut off by Charles taking her lips in his, humming disapprovingly, pushing her back down into the mattress. "Now, now. I said you would listen to me, didn't I?" Y/n nodded. "Yes, but-" Her hands reached for his shoulders, gripping them lightly before Charles grabbed them both with his hands, shaking his head.

"Ah, ah, ah. I said no touching. No exceptions." She groaned as Charles pinned her hands down above her head. "Now, do you want me?" He asked. Y/n nodded. "That is a stupid question." Charles' expression didn't change in the slightest. "Then answer me." Y/n gasped as he squeezed her wrists together. "Oh please, Charlie. Fuck me." Charles finally unzipped his pants and sunk into her. Her grip on his shoulders grew so tight, she felt white marks from her nails. "Oh, Ch-Charles." She managed to scream as she couldn't keep up with his thrusts. In all fairness, he wasn't going to last long either with all the teasing he had been doing. "Oui mon amour. Crie mon nom." She could barely form a sentence, she could just about scream his name and they didn't care how loud they were. This was easily some of he best sex either of them have ever had. "Harder, Charles." Not only did he go harder, he went deeper, to a place he'd never quite ventured to before with her. He lifted her legs up around his shoulders and buried himself deeper into her, watching as she came undone from beneath him.

"Charlie, you feel so good." She purred, gripping onto his biceps. He grinned, his pace becoming sloppy. He felt himself twitching inside her as he grew closer and closer before he pulled out, not wanting to finish so soon. Y/n groaned yet again. "Charlie, I haven't finished yet." She sighed as Charles pulled out. "I know, but-" Charles lay down beside her. "Sit on my face." Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Sit on your face?" He nodded. "Let me worship you." Y/n nodded, propping herself up and preparing to sit down. "Mon cœur?" She looked down to him,his face already wet from her. "Hold that headboard, and whatever you do, don't stop." She smirked and sat. She felt his warm tongue run up her pussy before her lips began to move rhytically. Her head fell back in pleasure as he felt herself having to grip onto the headboard for stability.

"I don't feel like doing all this work, Charlie." Y/n teased as she stopped. What she didn't expect, was for Charles to sit up and push her onto her back as he relentlessly fucked her with his tongue. As if that didn't feel good enough, his nose hitting off her clit, his scruff scratching her skin, all that was enough for her to feel like she was coming undone. "Oh, Charles! Oh fuck, yes!" Her moans grew louder and louder as Charles looked up to her. He himself yearned for the relief of his orgasm but he wasn't going to finish first. "Charles, I'm going to cum!" Her fingers pulled at his hair as she felt herself growing closer to her orgasm. “Could you make those little sounds a little bit louder? I want everyone on this floor to hear you. I want them to know that it's Charles fucking Leclerc who's got you like this, mon cœur.” He says before she felt herself crumbling. "Charles!" She screamed, as Charles drank her all in like liquor. He lifted himself and kissed her cheeks as she lay there shaking from the overstimulation she had just gone through. "Have you cum?" Y/n asked.

"Not yet. Are you okay?" He asked. Y/n nodded, smiling as she reached up for a kiss. "Now, let me take care of you." Charles' eyes couldn't help but stare as she climbed on top of him, holding onto the wall for support. His hands gently glided over her shorts. "Y/n?" She smiled gently, looking down through hooded eyes. "Do that thing I like." She bit her lip and nodded, before she sunk down onto him, waiting for a moment for them both to get used to the feeling before her hips began at a slow pace. Charles' eyes fluttered and his head fell back. His lips parted and Y/n took the opportunity to kiss him softly, as a small token of appreciation. "You look so pretty." Y/n whispered. "Mmh. You taste very good." Charles replied, his hands roaming up towards her breasts and cupping them. He left small kisses on them, making sure not to mark her. No one needed to know about their deeds.

He felt himself grow closer and closer to his release and Y/n could feel it as his hands fell to her hips, his grip tightened and his head nuzzled into the crook of her neck, kissing her to muffle his moans. "You close, Charlie?" She whispered in his ear. "Y-yes." He replied, speaking through a whimper. Her pace quickened and before she knew it he had finished. She helped to ride him through his orgasm, in return he kissed her gently. "You okay now, Charlie?" He nodded in response as the pair locked lips one final time and Y/n slowly raised herself off him.

"Fuck." She mumbled as she lay next to him. "That- that was different." When Charles didn't reply, she turned to him with a reassuring smile and cuddled up to him. "But, it was a good different." Charles swallowed the lump in his throat before he turned and looked into her eyes. "I don't think we should do this anymore." Charles said. Y/n arched a brow and looked at the Ferrari driver. "What do you mean?" She asked. "If this isn't leading anywhere I don't want to do it." Charles said, getting up out of bed. Y/n sat up and watched as he got dressed, opening and closing her mouth trying to find something to say. "I didn't know you wanted it to go somewhere. We said it's just sex." Y/n said.

"That was in May of last year. Since then, we have not only been having more sex, but we've also been going on trips, meeting eachother's families, and not to mention, you basically live in my apartment." Y/n just stared. "Which one?" She tried to make a joke but it didn't land well. "Both! When you head to Prema, you're in my apartment and when you're in Monaco you're there too. The only time I went to your hotel room was Monaco and Abu Dhabi and we stopped that because your mother knocked the door while I was there. And to make that worse, you tried to hide me. Like you were ashamed of me!"

"I am not ashamed of you. Why would I be ashamed of-"

"Then stop acting ashamed! Stop pushing my hand away whenever we're around people! Just stop! If it's not going anywhere, I don't want it!" Y/n's chest rose and fell quickly. "I love you. If you don't love me, I don't want to be here." Y/n watched as Charles walked out. She couldn't follow him, she physically couldn't. She instead got herself dressed and looked at herself in the mirror. She missed Charles and it had only been a matter of minutes since he left. She didn't know whether she liked him or not. She hadn't been seeing anyone other than him for a while now. She stopped going on dates with other guys, she removed them all too. The only guy she had on her phone that wasn't family or work related was Charles and looking at her call log, they called every single day.

She wasn't ashamed of him. If anything, she wanted to let everyone know that she was the one who stole the heart of Charles Leclerc. The only problem was her team had built up this image of her being a girl who doesn't need a man. Where they against her dating? No. Where they against her being in a relationship with racing drivers? For some obscure reason, yes.

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Charles sat at the breakfast table in the Ferrari hospitality, his spoon clinking against the ceramic bowl as he absentmindedly stirred his cereal. His brows were furrowed, and a frown tugged at the corners of his lips, clearly preoccupied with something that was bothering him. As he contemplated his thoughts, he didn't notice the soft footsteps approaching him until a familiar figure slid into the chair opposite him. Y/n, his secret fling, sat down with a tentative smile, but her eyes betrayed a hint of sadness.

"Morning." She murmured, her voice gentle yet tinged with regret. Charles glanced up, his expression softening slightly at the sight of her. "What are you doing here?" He asked, though his tone held no hostility, only genuine curiosity. Y/n hesitated for a moment before speaking, her gaze flickering down to her hands clasped together on the table. "I... I wanted to apologize." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "For last night. And every other night in all honesty. You were right, and I shouldn't have acted so ashamed of you." His eyebrows rose in surprise, curiosity piqued. "Ashamed?" Charles chuckled as if she'd just told him a joke, his mind replaying the events of their argument from the night before.

Y/n nodded, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I was afraid of what people might think if they found out about us." She confessed, her words coming out in a rush. "But that's not fair to you, Charles. You deserve better than that." There was a moment of silence as Charles processed her words, his mind whirling with conflicting emotions. He had been hurt by her reaction, but now seeing her vulnerability laid bare before him, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy. "I understand." He finally replied, his voice soft as he reached across the table to gently squeeze her hand. "Youre trying to be your own driver and you don't need me linked to you you make a name for yourself. All I'm saying is you don't need to be ashamed of us. I care about you, Y/n. And I'm not afraid to admit it."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat at his confession. "You still do?" She whispered, a mixture of disbelief and hope coloring her tone. Charles nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes." He affirmed, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with her. "I still do." A sense of relief washed over Y/n as she felt the weight of their unspoken feelings finally lifted from her shoulders. With a shy smile, she leaned forward, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek tenderly. "I care about you too, Charles." She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "More than you'll ever know." The couple stared at eachother for a while before Y/n sighed. "I can't. It's been too long since I last kissed you." She said, before leaning over the table and planting a gentle kiss onto Charles' lips. "I think everyone is looking." Charles whispered, slightly surprised by her actions. "Then they can look. I just want everyone to know how much I love you."

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charlesslut16 · 10 months

Note

Hi, i love your writing, could you write something about jealous and angry sex with Charles? 💋

-new guy friend-

summary : you and charles were at a beach party and a guy flirted with you...

PAIRING : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : +18, smut, NSFW, dirty talk, fingering, p in v, badly translated french, curse words, public sex, jealous!charles, unprotected sex (be safe!)

note : i hope you like it! I'm watching f1 so i hope there will be no mistakes. Love you.

masterlist

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You and charles were at a beach party, as he had some time of Formula One. Your friends were inside, while you were outside on the beach, enjoying your time alone together.

Before you went outside, charles played beer pong with his friends, while you were with Pierre, who introduced you to your new friend, René. You talked until charles came to you and you went outside.

The night air was cold and breezed through your whole body, you felt so relaxed as you sat between charles legs in the sandy wind, enjoying yourselves. He stroked your skin with his long fingers, the chill causing undeniable goosebumps.

You tried to ignore them as you nodded your head along encouragingly to your new friend's words, René's big hand came to your forearm as he spoke excitedly.

Usually this wouldn't have bothered charles, being more chill himself. But it was clear that this 'new friend of you' didn't give a single shit about your boundaries.

This new guy's hand kept finding you, grabbing you, tugging at you or making you laugh. And it drove charles mad. You were his girlfriend, you were here with him, and you would go home with him.

Charles couldn't help but glare at him. René didn't even notice, though. He only kept his eyes on you, which pushed Charles to being even more fucking bothered.

Charles' fingers grabbed at your thighs, and you brushed him off with a yelp. Your beautiful voice echoed in his mind. But you continued to give all your attention to whatever the jerk was saying.

"Ma cherie" Charles said in your ear. You knew that tone. He was warning you. But you continued trying to give your attention to René, and Charles squeezed you tight to make his warning clear.

"Ne devrions-nous pas y aller maintenant?" Shouldn't we go now?

You and charles had rented a beach house just blocks away from the beach, the place comfortable and cozy. You wondered if he wanted to head home already because of the cold, breezy beach air.

"Already?" you asked, voice smooth. "Aren't you having fun? Rene was just telling us- "

"Yes already." He said annoyed, his voice husky.

"Venir." He commanded softly, standing up. Come

"Sorry, mate, but me and y/n are heading home now." He simply stated towards the man in front of him, Rene's lip pulled down into a frown as he nodded his head.

"Okay." He cleared his throat and added. "Nice meeting you guys."

Charles guided you upwards, his hand in yours as you rose to your feet. He finally met your eyes and didn't look all too pleased. You two walk hand in hand in silence towards the beach house, the only sound that filled your ears was the crash of waves.

"So-"

"Don't" Charles cut in. He didn't say it harshly, though, but there was a slight bite in his tone. Implying that he wasn't all too happy. He took a deep breath before glancing over at you.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"What do you mean, baby?" The innocence in our eyes made charles scoff, he squeezed your hand in his and pulled you up to the porch of your rented beach house.

"Don't play dumb with me." He led you towards the front door, but didn't stop to get his keys out of his jeans pocket. Instead, he backed you into the wall, his hands going to your hips.

"I don't usually get..." he sighed out, "Jealous." He lowered his eyes, he didn't want you to see the anger and disappointment in them.

"What? You had absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Oh?" Charles eyes twinkled with amusement, "You think I was worried? No. I didn't like him touching you. It fucking pisses me off. " He admitted, his voice raspy.

"Mais je n’étais pas inquiet. Il ne pourrait jamais te toucher comme je le fais. Le seul homme qui peut te toucher, c’est moi. Droite?" He squeezed your hips. But I wasn't worried. He could never touch you the way I do. The only man who can touch you is me. Right?

"Charles..." You breathed out, his name tasted so good on your tongue. "Montre-moi comment tu me touches alors." Show me how you touch me then.

Charles's head fell down to your shoulders as he chuckled, his hands brought your hips in closer to his. You could still hear the waves in the background along with his breathing.

"Vous toucher?" charles asked, one of his fingers slid down to the waistband of your red mini skirt, he peeled is back and then let go, slapped the material against your skin. Touch you?

"Et comment devrais-je vous toucher?" He didn't lift his head, his words fell against the skin of your shoulder. "Si vous méritez même d'être touchée." And how should I touch you? If you even deserve to be touched.

You slowly closed your eyes and tilted your head back as you felt Charles's big hand dip beneath your red mini skirt, his long fingers brushed against you so lightly.

"Baby..." you breathed out, "Only you can touch me like this."

"That's right." Charles said, lifted his head to take a look at you. Your head leaned against the wall, exposing your neck to him. He surged forward and kissed the expanse of your throat, you moaned, as you felt his lips suck on you.

"Tous les miens" He said quietly. "This is mine too." His fingers slide between your wet folds. "D’accord, princesse?" All mine. Right, princess?

"Yes, Charles." you choked on your own words, as you felt his index finger play at your hole, teasing you so suddenly.

"Je détestais qu’il te touche. Je détestais la façon dont vous riez de ses blagues stupides. Et je détestais la façon dont il touchait ce qui m’appartenait." Charles's lip traveled all across your neck and collarbone. I hated that he touched you. I hated how you laughed at his stupid jokes. And I hated how he touched what is mine.

"Dis-moi que tu n’appartiens qu’à moi. Dites-moi que vous ne répondez qu’à mon contact. Et dis-moi que tu ne seras jamais que mien." He suddenly demanded. Tell me you only belong to me. Tell me that you only respond to my touch. And tell me that you will only ever be mine.

"Oh baby." You opened your eyes, but they rolled back, as he started pushing his fingers inside. "Oui...", you moan. "Qui." I do... I do.

"You will only cum around my fingers, won't you? You will only ever cum on my cock, won't you?" He said, his tongue licked a strip up to your ear.

"You'd only moan for me?"

"Qui, charles." You clenched hard around his fingers, as he started thrusting them deep into you, his long fingers, brushed against your special spot, that always got you to cum.

"Dis que tu es tout à moi, princesse." Say you're all mine, princess.

You bit back a loud moan, realized that you were outside and people were still walking around. "Je suis tout à toi." You tried to whisper. "All yours." I'm all yours. Bien à vous

"No." Charles halted his fingers, which made you groan out loudly. "Say it loudly."

You gulped, when your eyes met his, his gaze intensified, as he stared at you harshly. You moved your hips forward for some friction, but he stopped you from moving.

"Say you're mine." He repeated. You could hear the slight anger in his voice, you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Je suis tout à toi." You said with a grin. "Tous les vôtres alors s’il vous plaît" You moved your hips desperately. All yours, so please...

"Brave fille" He managed to say between a few rough breaths. A third finger got added, as he began fucking you with them again. Your knees giving out on you, as you started to feel your orgasm approaching again. Good girl.

You started to whimper, when he leaned forward and nibbled on your neck, his hands never quit. You felt the intense, wild, euphoric feeling of coming all around your jealous boyfriend's fingers.

"Only I can do this for you. I'm the only one who can make you come like this."

Then you fell into his arms, breathed out roughly, when he stroked your hair back. He then picked you up bridal style, took his keys out of his pockets, opened the door and walked into the beach house.

He then went into your shared bedroom, laid you on the bed and took off your shoes. You sat up straight, lust still in your eyes, as you waited for charles to come back, as he went out of the room.

"Ready for your second orgasm tonight?"

You only nodded as an answer, Charles came to the bed, while taking off his clothes until he stood in front of you, naked. He crawled on the bed and started taking your clothes off too.

In order not to talk about it, Charles pulled you down a little and pushed his cock in your pussy. You let out a loud moan, as you felt his big cock deep inside your pussy.

He started to ram his cock into you with a hard and steady pace. He was furious, but now he could release all his pent-up anger on you.

"Rappelez-vous que je suis la seule à pouvoir vous baiser et vous faire jouir." Charles said, with a look that told you, that he fully meant it. Remember, that I'm the only one who can fuck you and make you cum.

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you signaled it to charles, who increased his pace in fucking you. And a minute later, you came with a loud moan. Soon after, Charles came deep inside your pussy.

"This is how it is supposed to be you are under me, me fucking you. You understand? You're all mine, and if I ever see you talk to this guy, you will face the consequences."

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