summary : Charles dates a baddie and the internet takes it as him being the bottom in the relationship. If only they could see his reaction to those jokes... based on this anon !
wc : 3k
warnings : smau + written plot, heavy SMUT !! p in v, degrading language, dom!charles, unprotected sex, a loooot of dirty talk, rough sex, fingering, some choking, +18 [minors dni]
Just in the last five minutes, he had already seen like ten tweets calling him a bottom with thousands of likes. Thousands. Were they kidding?
He rolled his eyes at the thought, taking a bite of his sandwich. They were having a light lunch when his girlfriend started laughing at the first post she saw when entering Twitter.
You shook your head, sitting on the kitchen isle, still chuckling about the whole thing. Because, God, you had to admit they were hilarious.
He huffed out a small, affectionate sigh, both annoyed and amused by your inability to stop laughing about the inside joke on the internet. While a part of him was irritated at being perceived as the submissive one in the relationship, he couldn't help but find your laughter endearing.
"It's not funny." He grumbled, his gaze narrow as he watched you giggle uncontrollably.
You took your phone, going back to read the first tweet you had found. "Dating that BADDIE??? Most bottom to ever bottom."
He facepalmed, groaning aloud as you pulled out your phone again, scrolling through the endless memes and jokes about him supposedly being a "total bottom".
"I'm not-" He started, his voice starting to rise in protest, his ego slightly bruised. "Fuck it, stop reading those."
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Seriously, how the hell did I get stuck with that label?" He muttered half to himself, half to you, a slight blush rising to his cheeks.
"This is why." You replied, showing him your phone screen.
It was a picture of him in his car, looking up at some Ferrari mechanic with what could honestly be perceived as pretty sub eyes.
He groaned aloud again, his jaw clenching as he saw the picture on your phone screen. He could immediately recognize it, a snapshot from a race weekend, captured in the garage.
And shit, you were right. In the picture, he was looking up at the mechanic... and he looked pretty damn submissive. He let out a frustrated huff as a blush of embarrassment crept up his cheeks.
"That's... not what it looks like." He protested weakly.
"Well I have like twenty pictures just like it." You replied. "But whatever you say buddy."
He groaned, the realization that you had not just one, but twenty similar pictures of him, looking submissive and... well, pretty damn bottom-y, nearly drove him mad.
He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching at the thought of the fans having so much material to use against him.
He leaned forward, giving you a half-hearted glare. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He accused, his voice laced with slight annoyance and embarrassment.
"Why would I? That would be cruel." You mocked him.
His eyes narrowed at your reply, the playful challenge in your tone sparking a familiar fire within him. He recognized that glint in your eyes, the little gleam that always appeared when you were being cheeky and challenging him.
Charles chuckled darkly, a smirk slowly forming on his face as his ego took over.
"Cruel, huh?" He repeated, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous tone. He pushed away his empty plate, his eyes not leaving you. "Come here."
You smiled, not moving from your place, still sitting on the kitchen isle. "Oh, they got to you, didn't they? You're upset."
His eyes darkened as you remained seated, refusing to move. You were being deliberately obtuse, and it both annoyed and excited him at the same time.
He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his composure, his hands balling into fists on the table as he replied, his voice low and firm.
"Upset? Not really. But I definitely have something to prove now." He pushed himself away from the table, slowly standing up. "And I said get that pretty ass over here."
"Or what?"
His smirk widened at your challenging tone.
He liked this... the way you were defying him, pushing his buttons, testing him. So he took a step towards you, his eyes burning with a mixture of irritation and desire.
His voice was deep and authoritative, laced with a hint of warning. "Or I'm going to bend you over this counter and show you exactly who the bottom is here."
You finally got off the kitchen isle, walking slowly towards him.
"I was hoping you'd do that anyway." You whispered.
And that's when Charles snapped.
He captured your lips in a heated, almost possessive kiss the moment you were within reach. His hands immediately went to your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he poured all his frustration, ego, and dominance into that one passionate embrace.
"You think it's funny?" He murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your lips. "Making your boyfriend an internet joke?"
He didn't let you pull away to answer, one hand tangling into your hair to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss as he backed you up against the kitchen counter. His other hand gripped your waist tightly, pinning you to the marble edge.
"You're hilarious, vraiment." He muttered sarcastically against your mouth, his teeth grazing your lower lip. "Laughing at my expense."
He took your silence as an opportunity to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, marking your skin with hickies and love bites. His hands moved to your thighs, lifting you up and placing you onto the counter.
You let him move you, and he stepped between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs possessively as he kissed you again, this time with a punishing intensity. His tongue dominated yours, asserting his control and dominance over the situation.
One hand slid up to grab a handful of your hair while the other reached down to unbuckle his belt.
Within seconds, he had freed himself from his pants. Without warning or asking for permission, because fuck that, he was proving a point, he grabbed onto your panties and yanked them aside brutally, making you gasp.
He entered you in one swift, deep thrust that had you crying out. There was no gentle build-up, no teasing, just raw, dominant need. He set a brutal pace from the start, his hips snapping against yours with force that had you sliding back on the counter.
"You like making fun of me?" His hand on your hair tightened slightly, pulling your head back to expose your neck further. "Let's see how funny you find this."
Charles pounded into you relentlessly, each thrust deeper than the last, almost as if he was trying to fuck you into submission.
He didn't slow down for a second; instead, he drove into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing loudly through the kitchen.
You moaned, and he captured your cries with his mouth, kissing you roughly as he continued to fuck you as aggressively. His hand left your hair to grip your thigh, lifting it higher and spreading you wider for deeper access. The angle allowed him to hit that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back.
"Is it funny now?" He grunted out between thrusts.
"N-no.." You gasped.
A smug, dominant smirk tugged at the corner of his lips at your breathy denial. He slowed his pace slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts to target your g-spot with every snap of his hips. His grip on your thigh tightened enough to leave bruises.
"Charles..." You whined, moving your hips to get it faster.
"There it is." He hissed, picking up speed again to give you what you wanted. His thumb found your clit and rubbed circles around it aggressively, applying just the right amount of pressure. "Need it faster, baby?" He asked mockingly, his voice dripping with sweat and arrogance.
"Please... Charles."
"That's it." He smirked at the desperation in your voice, at the way you were practically begging him now.
His thumb continued working your clit while he stayed buried deep inside you, stretching you out and watching your face with dark, satisfied eyes.
"You wanted to joke?" He gritted out, his breathing heavy. "Doesn't seem like such a joke when you're falling apart on my cock, does it?"
His smirk turned wicked, his eyes gleaming with mischief and dominance. He pulled out completely, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could protest, he spun you around, pressing your face down onto the cold kitchen counter.
Then, his hands gripped your breasts, squeezing them roughly as he lined himself back up with your entrance. But instead of pushing in, he teased you, rubbing his tip against your wet opening, sliding up to your clit and back down without giving you what you needed.
"You were so funny earlier, non?" He murmured mockingly against your ear, giving your tits another rough squeeze.
"No." You shook your head, whining and trying to get more friction. "N-no... I'm sorry."
"Mmm, you're not sounding so confident now." He whispered mockingly, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're just a moaning, needy mess on my counter, begging for my dick." He pushed his tip in slightly, just enough to tease you before pulling back out.
The sheer desperation in your whimpers made his cock throb, but he maintained control. He slapped your ass hard enough to sting, the sound echoing through the kitchen, and then immediately gave your breasts another rough squeeze.
"Say it, baby. 'I'm sorry, Charles, for making fun of you, please fuck me properly.'"
"I-I'm sorry..." You cried out, holding tightly onto the counter.
"Say the rest." He prompted cruelly, his hand delivering another sharp smack to your ass. He stayed pressed against your entrance, teasing you with just the tip while his hands continued to roughly grope your breasts.
"Admit you were wrong. Beg me to fuck you properly." He was torturing you on purpose, keeping only his tip inside you, refusing to give you the satisfaction you were crying out for.
"I was wrong, I was." You whined, nodding. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Charles, please..."
"Please what?" He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he stayed buried just at your entrance.
His hands pinched your nipples hard between his fingers, giving them a rough twist that made you cry out. "Tell me exactly what you want, baby. What you need. Use those pretty little words."
"Please fuck me, Charles."
"Good girl." He purred, finally pushing all the way back inside you in one savage, unforgiving thrust that had you screaming into the furniture. "That's it. That's my girl. Apologizing and begging so prettily."
You gasped loudly as he began to fuck you aggressively against the counter, the punishing strokes that made the dishes rattle and your breasts bounce heavily in his hands.
"Is this what you wanted? Me filling you up and fucking you like this?" He slammed into you hard enough to make the wood creak, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force. "Answer me, mon coeur. Is this what you needed to shut the fuck up?"
You whined again as he pushed your head against the counter.
"So fucking loud," he growled, pushing your face down harder against the cool marble. "No talking back now, huh? Too busy taking my dick to joke around now."
You held onto the furniture, rolling your eyes while letting out a loud moan.
"There it is." He smirked, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure despite his rough handling. He pounded into you even harder, making the counter shake. "You like it when I fuck you like a whore, don't you?"
You nodded, moaning again. You let him use you however he wanted, not refusing the rough treatment.
"Such a good girl when my dick is inside you, aren't you?" He grunted, his rhythm turning brutal and punishing. One hand left your hip to wrap around your throat, pulling your head up slightly while choking you just enough to make your vision blur. "No more smart mouth. Just screaming and taking my cock like a nice little girlfriend."
He drove into you deep, hitting that spot that made your legs shake violently, getting another yell out of you.
"Look at you." He rasped, his grip tightening on your throat just enough to restrict your airflow, sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins.
"That's it." He praised, finally releasing your throat and letting your head drop back down to the cool counter. His hands moved back to your breasts, giving them a possessive squeeze as he continued to mercilessly fuck you. "No backtalk when I'm using this pretty pussy."
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the kitchen, echoing off the marble furniture, obscenely loud. He watched your hands scrambling uselessly against the stone for purchase, your body jerking forward with every brutal thrust.
"Look at this mess." He growled, leaning over your back, biting down hard on your shoulder blade. "So fucking wet for me."
You tightened, getting a hiss out of your boyfriend.
"Fuck!" His hips stuttering as your pussy clenched tightly around him. "That's it, do that again." He demanded, his voice low and commanding. He wrapped a hand around your hip, pulling you back roughly onto his cock as he snapped his hips forward. "Milk my dick, baby. Show me how sorry you are."
He could tell you were about to cum, and he definitely didn't want that so soon.
"Please." You whined. "I'm so close, please Charles..."
"Mmm, I know you are." He whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You're practically dripping down my balls. So fucking greedy." He began to move inside you again, short, sharp thrusts designed to drive you wild. "Tell me what you need."
"Faster..." You begged him, already breathless. "Just like that."
"Like this?" He growled, picking up the brutal pace again, pounding into that sweet spot without mercy. His hand snaked between your legs, two fingers pressing firmly against your clit in time with his thrusts. "Come on then, baby. Give me what I want."
It didn't take you more that five seconds after that to come, and so did Charles.
"Fuck!" He roared, his orgasm slamming into him like a freight train.
He came hard, his vision whiting out as he filled you with hot, thick ropes of cum, as his fingers kept circling your clit, drawing out your orgasm. His hips continued to jerk forward in spasms, emptying himself inside you completely.
You closed your eyes, resting against the counter, and he collapsed forward, his chest pressing against your back as he panted heavily.
His fingers gentled on your clit, slowing to soft circles as he caught his breath. After a moment, he carefully pulled out, watching as his cum began to drip down your thighs.
Charles pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder blade, contrasting sharply with the rough treatment from moments before. Then, he turned you around gently and leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing still ragged.
You gave him a soft kiss, and he hummed softly, parting his lips to deepen it gently. His hands moved to your hips, pulling them close as he pressed more kisses to your lips, your jaw, your neck... a stark contrast to the rough handling from earlier.
"Shh... baby... I got you..."
He noticed the way you winced slightly, his cum falling down between your thighs, and the red marks his hands had left on your hips. A small smirk played on his lips as he realized the extent of his rough treatment. "Looks like I made a mess of you, mon coeur."
"Shut up." You lazily smiled, pushing him away.
He chuckled softly, stepping back to give you some space. "I'm serious though." He said, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "You need a bath. Preferably with me."
You smiled when he picked you up. "You really are pathetic for me huh."
"Absolutely." He confirmed immediately, carrying you towards the bathroom. "I'm totally pathetic for you. Can't even go ten minutes without touching you or throwing you over my shoulder like a caveman." He set you down gently in the side of the bathtub and began to run the water.
"Good." You nodded, one hand moving to try the temperature of the water. "I like you pathetic."
"Oh, you do?" He raised an eyebrow, wrapping his arms around your waist as the tub filled. "You like that your hotshot F1 champion turns into a desperate needy mess every time you look at him?"
Drivers Included: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Carlos Sainz and Franco Colapinto.
Lando Norris:
He didnât believe you.
âSwear down,â he laughed, turning the heart-shaped piece of chocolate over in his fingers. âItâs just a stupid TikTok sex trend.â
You raised an eyebrow. âFine. Donât take it. But I hope you can handle being edged for three hours when Iâm the one who takes it and begs for more.â
That did it.
He popped it in his mouth with a smug little chew. âTastes like a Cadbury. Bit of mint. Not bad.â
It hit twelve minutes later.
One second he was giggling through a movie with his legs draped over yours on the couch.
The next?
He was straddling your thighs on the living room rug, shirt off, pupils huge, hips grinding down against your clothed core as he moanedâactually moanedâinto your neck.
âI feel,â he breathed, pulling his mouth away from your collarbone, âso fucking horny I could die.â
You were still laughing when he ripped your top clean in half.
âLandoâ!â
âNo, no, no,â he whined. âNeed it. Right now. I donât care. Gimme.â
He dragged your panties down with his teeth.
This Lando? This was feral.
He didnât even prep you. Just spit, aligned himself, and pushed in with a desperate grunt.
He set a pace like he was possessed. Messy, frantic, hips slapping, hands everywhereâyour wrists pinned, your thighs shaking, his forehead pressed against yours with insane eye contact the whole time.
Kink unlocked:Â Overstimulation and begging.
Because once you came the first time, it was like a switch flipped.
âNo, no, donât stopâdonât stop, baby, come on, be good for me, again, againâplease again, I swear Iâll dieââ*
When he came, it was with a whimper, his whole body shaking like heâd never felt it before. But the worst part?
He stayed hard.
âWhat the fuck was in that?â he gasped, laughing while flipping you onto your stomach. âRound two, yeah?â
âŠYou didnât walk for two days.
Charles Leclerc:
You left it on the kitchen counter.
Just a silly little heart-shaped chocolate in pink foil with a note next to it that read:
ââ ïžÂ DO NOT TOUCH â SEX CHOCOLATE. For later. Iâm serious.â
You figured heâd laugh.
Heâs always teasing you for getting things off TikTok.
You never in a million years thought Charles âMr. Controlâ Leclerc would eat it without asking.
So when you come home and find him shirtless, sweat beading at his temples, sprawled across your bed like a painting in distress, hand fisting the sheets while his boxers tent aggressivelyâŠ
You drop your fucking keys.
âCharles?!â
His head lifts slowly, neck flushed red, pupils dilated to hell.
âI thought you were joking!â he groans, grabbing his cock through his boxers with a desperate, strangled sound. âYou left a snack! On the counter! What was I supposed to do?!â
You laugh. You shouldnât laugh.
But your boyfriendâthe stoic, calm, always-in-control Charlesâis quite literally bent in half by horniness.
And then he moves.
He gets up slowly, like his own body is too much to handle.
And he stalks toward youâhungry, trembling, growling.
Eyes locked on yours. Lips parted. Breathing like heâs run a marathon.
âYou did this,â he rasps, trapping you against the wall. âYou put that in the house. Youâ*fuckâ*you knew I wouldnât resist chocolate. You did this on purpose.â
He grabs your jaw. Tilts your face to his. Licks into your mouth like he wants to taste the sin before he sinks into it.
âTu vas me laisser te baiser comme jâen ai besoin, nâest-ce pas?â
(Youâre going to let me fuck you the way I need to, arenât you?)
You nod. You whimper.
Itâs all he needs.
He rips your leggings down, slides your panties off, then lifts you like nothing.
Holds you up against the wall with one hand on your ass, the other wrapped around your neckâgently, but firmlyâand sinks in raw.
You scream.
He growls.
âTais-toiâŠÂ Donât speak. Just feel me. Just take it.â
KINK UNLOCKED:
âą Breath play
âą French degradation/praise
âą Wall sex + size kink
âą Delayed orgasm control + possessive dom energy
His thrusts are hard, preciseâa rhythm sent from the gods and delivered through Monacoâs most beloved slut.
Heâs cursing in French, biting your shoulder, saying things like:
He bent you over the counter, dragged your panties to the side, and shoved himself in with a desperate groan that vibrated down your spine.
He started poundingâdeep and filthyâhis chest pressed to your back, his hand tangled in your hair, his voice shaky and low.
âYou gonna take it? Huh? Take it like my good girl?â
You choked. His pace got rougher.
âYouâre gonna let me fuck you like thisâuse you, ruin youââ
KINK UNLOCKED:
âą Corruption kink + degradation
âą Choking + hair pulling + public risk (open blinds)
âą Silent edging/overstimulation
âą Possessive virginity-core flipped
He manhandled you like he couldnât stop.
Thrusting so hard your hands were slipping on the counter, and when you whimpered, he let go of your hairâjust to slap your ass so hard your knees buckled.
âDonât go weak on me now, baby. Not until I say weâre done.â
You came once. Then again. And again.
He refused to stop. Didnât even slow down.
He came inside you, moaning low and gutturalâbut stayed rock hard.
Oscar Piastri after sex chocolate is not quiet.
Heâs sweaty. Messy. Loud. Obsessed.
When he finally collapsed on top of you, breathless and shaky, he murmured:
âYouâre not going anywhere. Weâre doing that again. And again. And again.â
Lewis Hamilton:
Lewis knew what he was doing.
He lit candles. Put on a playlist. Set out satin sheets and massage oil like it was a full ceremony.
You placed the little chocolate on his tongue and kissed him slow.
âThink itâs gonna hit hard?â you teased.
Lewis just gave you that smug little smirk. âI donât need the chocolate to ruin you, baby. But Iâll let it enhance the experience.â
Ten minutes in, he was already kissing down your stomach.
Fifteen minutes in, he was eating you out so slowly you were shaking from restraint.
But at the twenty minute mark?
He flipped.
His calm, sensual energy turned into dirty spiritual chaos.
He was fucking you with two fingers, mouth on your clit, grinding his hips into the mattress like he was the one being touched.
âFeel that?â he rasped. âThatâs me inside you alreadyâand I havenât even started.â
When he finally pushed his cock into you, he did it with a slow, intentional roll of his hips that made you see stars.
âLet me make you transcend, love. I wanna fuck you into another plane.â
KINK UNLOCKED:
âą Tantric edging + praise kink
âą Mirror sex + nipple play + temperature play (warm oils, cool fingers)
âą Throat fucking (gentle but deep)
âą Long, slow, multiple orgasms
âą High-intensity eye contact and spiritual daddy energy
He had you in positions youâve never even seen before.
He lifted your legs, curved your back, laid you out with a vibe pressed to your clit while he drilled into you at a luxurious paceâstretching you out until your brain short-circuited.
You came hard. Then again. Then again with his tongue between your thighs and his fingers inside you.
He licked every drop of his own come off your stomach with deep reverence.
And just when you thought he was done?
He rolled you onto your side. Bit your shoulder. And whispered:
âYouâre not going to sleep tonight, sweetheart. Iâve got plans.â
Max Verstappen:
You were warned.
Max took the chocolate without even asking what it was. Just bit into it, eyes still on the sim rig screen, and said:
âTastes kinda bitter. What is it?â
You froze.
ââŠMax. That was sex chocolate.â
He blinked once. âLike Viagra?â
âWorse.â
He smirked. Shrugged. âGood.â
**Fifteen minutes laterâ**he was already twitching with tension.
He stalked into the bedroom shirtless, flushed, jaw tight, arms flexing as he stared you down.
âTake your fucking clothes off.â
âMaxââ
âNow.â
You did. You didnât question it.
Because whatever was in that chocolate had turned Max into a full-blown, primal predator.
He shoved you onto the bed, yanked your thighs apart, and stared at your pussy like it was his next podium finish.
âYouâre wet already?â he scoffed. âDidnât even touch you yet. Thatâs pathetic.â
Then he spit on it. And ate you out like a punishment.
Fast. Rough. Zero mercy.
You came screaming. He didnât stop.
When he finally slid in, it was brutalâdeep thrusts, rough grip on your hips, his voice ragged in your ear as he pounded into you like he was trying to break the bed.
âYou wanted to fuck a world champion? You better act like it.â
KINK UNLOCKED:
âą Degradation + primal dom + forced overstimulation
âą Spit play + spanking + rough grip marks
âą Breath play and crying kink (because he wants you to sob)
âą Edging + fearplay light (you like the threat of him, even when heâs gentle afterward)
He flipped you face down. Pressed his palm between your shoulder blades. Fucked you so hard your arms gave out.
And when you whimpered?
âNo. Take it. Iâm not done yet.â
He came with a low growlâthen slapped your ass so hard it echoed.
But he didnât go soft. Not even close.
âYouâre not leaving this bed tonight.â
You came six times.
He didnât even kiss you until round three.
Just whispered: âMine.â
Carlos Sainz:
You dared him.
âI bet you couldnât handle the chocolate. Youâre all talk.â
Carlos looked offended. Deeply.
He snatched the foil heart, unwrapped it slowly, and popped it in his mouthâwith eye contact.
âYouâll regret saying that.â
And you absolutely did.
Because twenty minutes later?
Carlos dragged you back to bed with fire in his eyes and a hard-on that looked medically dangerous.
He didnât even give you time to catch your breath.
Shoved your panties aside. Sucked your clit into his mouth and held your hips down while you screamed.
You begged him to stop.
He laughed. âWeâre just getting started, mi vida.â
He threw you onto all fours, gripped your ass like a vice, and fucked you from behind deep and controlledâone hand tangled in your hair, the other smacking your thigh.
âThatâs it. Thatâs how I like it. Let them hear you.â
KINK UNLOCKED:
âą Praise in Spanish + breeding kink energy + DDLG softness layered under filth
âą Hair pulling + spanking + body worship (he still calls you beautiful while railing you)
âą Choking + mirror play (he makes you watch)
âą âYouâre mineâ possessiveness in both languages
He bit your shoulder. Told you to keep your hands flat on the mattress.
If you moved? He started over.
You came once? He wanted two more.
âNo lloriquees ahora. TĂș querĂas esto.â
(Donât whine now. You wanted this.)
He came inside you, held it there, then started rubbing your clit again while still inside.
âOtra vez, baby. DĂĄmelo otra vez.â
(Again, baby. Give it to me again.)
You were crying and shaking by the end.
He kissed your forehead.
âGood girl. Now flip overâIâm not done loving you.â
George Russell:
George didnât rush into the sex chocolate.
He researched it. Read the label. Looked up the reviews.
âI just want to know what Iâm putting in my body,â he said with a perfectly reasonable smile. âDonât want to lose control.â
âŠAnd then he took it anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, he had you lying back on silk sheets, completely naked and trembling, your wrists tied to the headboard with his Hermes tie.
George Russell was gone.
All that British elegance? Now poured into filthy, dominating, perfectionist-level sex.
âLook at me,â he said, voice low and firm. âYou do not come until I say so.â
You nodded quickly. He smiled and kissed your foreheadâthen spread your legs and slipped two fingers inside you while keeping eye contact.
Slow. Deep. Precise.
He worked your body like a symphony, fingers curling just right, while his other hand trailed up to your throat.
âYouâre dripping. Can you feel how desperate you are? Pathetic, darling.â
You whimpered.
He laughed softly.
Then the chocolate hit full force.
His expression shifted.
Suddenly he was flipping you over, arching your back with one strong arm under your waist, and sliding his cock into you with a grunt so deep it vibrated your spine.
KINK UNLOCKED:
âą Bondage (tie kink) + obedient praise kink
âą Degradation mixed with gentle dominance (âYouâre my good girl, arenât you?â)
âą Precision edgingâhe makes you beg like youâre praying
âą Mirror play. âWatch how I ruin you.â
Heâd go so slow, youâd think he was being softâuntil he gripped your jaw and whispered:
âYou move without permission, Iâll start over. Are we clear?â
When you finally cameâshaking, screaming, gaspingâhe didnât even stop.
He gave you a look and said, âCount how many you can give me. Letâs make it a personal best.â
Then he came on your stomach, wiped it up with a towel, and kissed your hand like a gentleman.
You were tied up for two hours.
Aftercare included feeding you chocolate strawberries⊠and then round two.
Franco Colapinto:
You left it on his pillow. Wrapped in red foil. A silly little heart.
âOne piece = one hour of nasty.â
Franco held it up, smirked, and raised an eyebrow.
He didnât even ask. Just ripped the foil open with his teeth and ate the whole thing.
âOjalĂĄ no llores luego, mi amor.â
(Hope you donât cry later, baby.)
You thought he was being dramatic.
But fifteen minutes later, Franco was shirtless. Eyes blown wide. Breath shaky. Hands trembling.
He was standing at the edge of the bed, staring at you like you were dessertânaked, sprawled out for him, waiting.
His voice was low. Like a growl, but prettier.
âDonât say a word. I want to see you cry before you say a single fucking word.â
And then he pounced.
Mouth on your neck. Teeth. Tongue. Fingers in your hair.
He yanked you up by the throatânot hard, just enough for your head to tilt backâand kissed you like he was starving.
He fucked you like that, from behindâdeep and steady, one hand around your throat, the other rubbing your clit just to watch your face as you sobbed through another orgasm.
âYou love it. Admit it. Say it.â
You choked.
He slapped your ass, hard. âSay it.â
âIâI love it.â
âMĂrame cuando lo digas.â
(Look at me when you say it.)
You came so hard your knees gave out.
He held you up. Kept fucking.
You sobbed. He moaned. Bit your shoulder and whispered every nasty word youâd ever wanted to hear.
Then he pulled out. Came on your back.
âThatâs not the last one.â
Dragged you to the bed. Cleaned you with his shirt.
Then pushed your legs up and went back in.
Still hard.
Still filthy.
Still hungry.
âGive me one more. I want to see you lose your fucking mind.â
And when he was finally doneâcovered in sweat, glowing with prideâhe curled up behind you, kissed your jaw, and whispered,
âYouâre mine now, ÂżsĂ? No hay nadie mĂĄs. Just me.â
charles_leclerc my instagram feed when iâm hungry
‷ lando what the fuck
‷ carlossainz55 He isnât even trying to be subtle anymore
‷ charles_leclerc where has being subtle ever gotten me?
sharls_lerklerk something good to come out of this whole thing is the fact that charles crushing on y/n has practically made him and lando best friends
‷ carlossainz55 No cause why is Charles at Landoâs more then me? đ
kikagomes body tea đđ
kikagomes wow who took this amazing picture?
‷ charles_leclerc I bet I could take better pictures of her
‷ lando leave my baby sister alone charles
‷ charles_leclerc NEVER i WILL be your brother in law one day little lando
‷ yn stop
‷ charles_leclerc okay đ
alex_albon who allowed charles to be this down bad for a girl 6 years younger than him
‷ georgerussell63 We did actuallyâŠ
‷ alex_albon oh yeahâŠ
‷ kimi.antonelli I guess us constantly sending ship edits to the drivers gc didnât helpâŠ
danielricciardo y/n stronger then me cause if charles leclerc was openly crushing on me i would not shut up about it
‷ yn ???
‷ danielricciardo what?
đź
charles_leclerc
đ” sienna âą the marĂas
liked by georgerussell63 and 1,617,324 others
charles_leclerc đ
lando what are you doing with my baby sister in the middle of the night charles leclerc
‷ charles_leclerc enjoying life
‷ yn weâre with kika and pierre
‷ lando thatâs not easing my nerves those two are the biggest shit stirrers other than george and alex
ihatemymiserablelife sheâs obviously playing with his feelings like bro take the hint she doesnât like you
‷ charles_leclerc goodness forbid a guy likes a girl who makes a man work for her love
kikagomes i guess your photography skills arenât the worst
lilymhe this is giving mysterious baddieeee
olliebearman heâs in loooveeee
lando i donât like you hanging out with my little sister without my supervision
‷ charles_leclerc lando i would never do anything inappropriate to your sister
‷ charles_leclerc without her consent đđ đ
‷ lando CHARLES YOU BETTER NOT TOUCH MY SWEET LITTLE INNOCENT BABY SISTER
‷ kikagomes innocent?
‷ lando NOT NOW KIKA
‷ yn iâm in bed lando you donât need to worry
‷ lando whoâs bed
‷ yn mine
‷ lando with who
‷ yn me, myself, and i
‷ charles_leclerc i can fix that mon amour
‷ lando charles donât make me come sit with you all night to make sure you donât sneak out to see my baby sister
‷ charles_leclerc i wouldnât mind some cuddles đ„°
‷ lando oh iâm omw baby boy
‷ charles_leclerc doors unlocked ;)
‷ yn what đ
đź
yn
đ” forrest gump âą frank ocean
liked by serenaapagee and 1,294,055 others
yn soaking up the sun
lando silverstone babyyyy đŹđ§
‷ yn manifesting that lando lewis max podium
oscarpiastri Forrest Gump? Sure
‷ yn whatchu out here being messy for đ€š
charles_leclerc absolutely beautiful
lilyzneimer Cutie girl đ„°
â„ïž by author
charles_leclerc My feed is just obsessed with you
‷ arthur_leclerc Is it or did you just mute everyoneâs posts except hers?
‷ charles_leclerc shut up arthur no one asked you
olliebearman sheâs in loooveeee
‷ yn what i canât listen to good music anymore?
‷ arthur_leclerc she said she will not stand for everyone thinking sheâs in love with charles đ
‷ charles_leclerc fuck you
‷ arthur_leclerc oops touched a nerve there
‷ lando he in fact does not play about her. i said she was acting like a brat once and he gave me a wedgie. it was extremely humbling
‷ charles_leclerc ah good times good times
charles_leclerc drop the haircare routine đŁïžđŁïž
đ„ HANDING MY BOYFRIEND MY PANTIES AT DINNER AND GET HIS REACTION
carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, lando norris, max verstappen, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, george russell Ă reader!
warn: 18+, smut, minor dni
insp by this trend
Carlos Sainz
Carlos Sainz was a patient man.
But not when it came to you.
He had spent the entire evening watching you, his dark brown eyes tracking your every move. The way your lips wrapped around the rim of your wine glass, the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs under the table, the way you leaned forward just enough to tease him with the barest hint of cleavage.
Carlos had been holding himself back. Barely.
And you? You were about to push him past his limit.
The restaurant was elegantâlow lights, soft music, the hum of quiet conversations surrounding you. Carlos sat across from you, dressed in a perfectly tailored black button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, veins prominent as he lazily toyed with his glass. He looked so effortlessly sexy, so unfairly attractive, and you couldnât help but wonder how far you could push him.
You shifted in your seat, heart pounding, as you subtly reached under the table. You hooked your fingers into your panties, slowly, discreetly, slipping them down your legs, the cool air against your bare skin making you shiver.
Carlos was oblivious, swirling his wine, licking his lips as he studied the menu.
And thenâcasually, with a small smirkâyou reached across the table and placed your panties in his hand.
Carlos froze.
His fingers curled around the fabric instinctively before he even realized what he was holding. He blinked, looking down at his palm.
A beat of silence.
Then another.
And thenâoh, fuck.
His entire body tensed. His jaw clenched so hard you thought it might crack. His nostrils flared as he exhaled a sharp breath, his grip tightening around the delicate lace like he was resisting the urge to crush it in his fist.
Slowlyâso slowlyâCarlos lifted his eyes to meet yours.
Dark. Heavy. Predatory.
He didnât say anything at first. Just stared at you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths.
And thenâhis voice, deep, low, almost a growlâ
âDime que no hiciste lo que creo que hiciste.â (Tell me you didnât just do what I think you did.)
You tilted your head, pretending to be innocent. âWhat do you think I did, cariño?â
Carlos inhaled sharply, his fingers flexing around the lace before he shoved it into the pocket of his trousers. His knee bounced under the table, his entire body buzzing with tension. He dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head with a dark chuckle.
âYouâre testing me,â he muttered, more to himself than to you.
You sipped your drink, biting back a smirk. âMaybe.â
Carlos exhaled a slow, measured breath. His fingers tapped against the table, his eyes flickering down to your lap, realization sinking in.
âNo panties,â he murmured. His voice was rough, thick with something dangerously close to desperation. He swallowed hard, shifting in his seat like he was physically struggling to stay put.
You crossed your legs slowly, watching the way his jaw ticked. âMmm.â
Carlos let out a quiet, bitter laugh. âEres un problema, Âżlo sabes?â (Youâre a fucking problem, you know that?)
He adjusted in his seat, exhaling harshly. âNow I have to sit here. In this restaurant. Acting normal. While I know youâre sitting thereâŠâ His voice dropped, dark, his accent thickening. âAll wet. All needy.â He licked his lips, eyes burning with heat. âFor me.â
Your breath hitched.
Carlos saw. And smirked.
His knee suddenly pressed against your thigh under the table, firm and possessive, making your pulse skyrocket.
âI should drag you to the bathroom right now,â he muttered, voice thick with frustration. âMake you sit on my lap. Make you ride me slow. Until you canât stay quiet anymore.â
Your stomach dropped.
Your entire body burned.
Carlos chuckled darkly at your reaction. âOh, you like that idea?â He tilted his head, his fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to reach for you. âWould you like it, hmm? Biting your lip, trying not to moan? Knowing that if you make one sound, everyone in this restaurant will know what Iâm doing to you?â
You clenched your thighs together instinctively, and Carlos noticed.
His smirk widened, his knee pressing even firmer against you.
He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.
âYou started this game, amor.â His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. âNow you have to deal with the consequences.â
Your stomach flipped.
Carlos sat back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair, looking like the picture of relaxationâexcept for the way
his hands curled into fists, like he was using every ounce of self-control to stop himself from grabbing you.
âYou better eat fast,â he muttered, his leg still pressed against yours, his eyes still devouring you.
âBecause the second we leave this restaurant?â His voice was gravelly, dripping with hunger.
âIâm going to fucking ruin you.â
â
Lewis Hamilton
Dinner with Lewis was always an experience. He had impeccable tasteâwhether it was in fashion, cars, or five-star restaurants with private dining rooms that catered to the elite. Tonight was no different. The restaurant was dimly lit, with an intimate atmosphere and a view of the Monaco harbor glistening under the night sky.
Lewis sat across from you, wearing a tailored suit with no tie, the top few buttons of his crisp shirt undone to reveal just a hint of his tattoos. He looked like a damn dreamâeffortlessly cool, his jewelry catching the soft candlelight, his full lips curving into a smirk as he listened to you talk.
And you? You were about to make things very, very interesting.
The idea had been teasing you all night. The way Lewis had kept his hand on your thigh during the car ride here, the way his deep, smooth voice sent shivers down your spine, the way he knew he was irresistible and used it against you. It was time to turn the tables.
You shifted in your seat, pretending to adjust your dress while slipping your panties down your thighs, letting the lace pool at your ankles before discreetly stepping out of them. You balled them in your hand, heart racing with anticipation.
Lewis was mid-sentence, swirling his wine glass lazily, when you reached across the table and placed the delicate fabric in his palm.
His fingers closed around it instinctively before realization set in.
He blinked, lifting his hand slightly under the table, his expression unreadable at first. And thenâoh, thenâthat signature smirk spread across his lips, slow and devastatingly sexy. His tongue flicked out to wet them, eyes dragging from the panties to your face, amusement flickering behind the heat in his gaze.
âYouâre bold tonight, love.â His voice was low, almost a purr.
You took a sip of your champagne, feigning innocence. âI have no idea what you mean.â
Lewis exhaled a slow breath, shaking his head. âOh, you know exactly what I mean.â
His fingers tightened around the lace before slipping them discreetly into the pocket of his blazer.
He leaned forward, his gaze dark and smoldering. âSo, whatâs the plan, then? You expect me to just sit here, act normal, knowing youâre sitting across from me with nothing underneath that little dress?â
Your lips curled. âThat was the idea.â
Lewis chuckled, the deep sound sending a shiver down your spine. He adjusted in his seat, exhaling sharply. âYouâre playinâ dangerous, babe.â
âAnd what are you gonna do about it?â You batted your lashes at him, knowing full well you were poking the bear.
Lewisâs jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to your lips before flicking back up. He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip of wine, his demeanor calmâtoo calm. That was the most dangerous sign of all.
Lewis picked up his fork, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts were running through his mind.
But thenâoh, fuck.
You felt the softest brush against your thigh.
Your breath hitched.
Lewis smirked, casually cutting into his steak like he wasnât dragging his fingers up the inside of your leg beneath the table, like he wasnât making his way higher and higher with every passing second.
You shot him a glare, shifting in your seat, but that only made him chuckle. âSomething wrong?â he asked, voice innocent.
Bastard.
His fingers brushed the apex of your thighs, barely teasing the sensitive skin, and you had to fight the urge to clamp your legs shut.
You inhaled sharply, gripping your fork a little tighter. âYouâre really gonna do this here?â
Lewis tilted his head, lips curving. âYou started it.â
His touch disappeared just as quickly as it came, leaving you throbbing, your skin hot, your body desperate for more.
And thatâs when you knew you were in trouble.
Lewis sat back, stretching out his legs, the picture of relaxed confidence. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then leaned in slightly.
âWhen we get back to the hotelâŠâ His voice was a dark promise, smooth as silk. âYou better be ready for me, baby.â
Your stomach flipped, heat coiling low in your belly.
Oh, you were so screwed.
Dinner suddenly felt like a countdown to something far more delicious. And by the way Lewis kept stealing glances at youâlike he was barely holding himself backâyou had a feeling he wouldnât be ordering dessert.
At least, not at the restaurant.
â
Lando Norris
Dinner with Lando was never boring.
He had a way of making everything funâwhether it was cracking jokes, teasing you, or finding little ways to touch you every chance he got. Tonight was no different. You were at a high-end restaurant in Monaco, overlooking the water, Lando sipping on his cocktail as he playfully nudged your foot under the table.
He looked goodâhair slightly tousled, wearing a fitted black suit with no tie, the crisp white of his shirt accentuating his tan skin. The top two buttons were undone, just enough to tease you with a glimpse of his collarbone.
And right now? He had no idea what was coming.
So, you decided it was time to turn the tables.
The restaurant was buzzing with quiet conversations, the candlelight casting a soft glow over the table, and Lando? He was completely oblivious, sipping his drink, scrolling through the menu, looking criminally good in his tailored black suit.
You took a slow breath, pretending to shift in your seat, your hands disappearing beneath the table. Your pulse thrummed as you hooked your fingers into your panties, dragging them down your legs, over your heels, and slipping them into your palm.
And thenâcasually, innocentlyâyou reached across the table and pressed them into his hand.
Lando took them instinctively, still half-distracted, his thumb brushing over the fabricâsoft, lacy, unmistakably not something that belonged in a restaurant.
He froze.
His blue eyes flicked down at his hand, then up at you.
His breath hitched. âNo.â His voice was a strangled whisper. He blinked, like his brain couldnât quite process what just happened. He looked back down at the lace, gripping it between his fingers, and then back at youâeyes wide, pupils blown.
âNo fucking way.â
You just took a sip of your drink, acting
completely unfazed. âSomething wrong?â
Lando let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his curls. âAre youââ He exhaled sharply. âYou didnât justââ His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. âTell me youâre fucking with me right now.â
You bit your lip, shaking your head.
Landoâs jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap. His grip on the panties tightened before he hastily shoved them into the pocket of his blazer, his fingers twitching like he was fighting every single urge running through his body.
His leg bounced under the table. He dragged his hands down his face. âYouââ He let out a low, breathy laugh, but it was strained, like he was hanging on by a thread.
âYou littleââ His voice cut off, his head tilting back slightly as he inhaled through his nose.
You could see it. The shift. The way his entire demeanor darkened. The way his hands clenched into fists like he didnât trust himself to keep them to himself.
And then, he leaned forward, eyes locked onto you, his voice barely above a whisper.
âYouâre gonna fucking regret that.â
A shiver ran down your spine.
The waiter arrived at that exact moment, asking if you needed more wine, completely oblivious to the absolute meltdown Lando was having in real-time.
Lando barely glanced at him, his jaw clenched so tight his words were almost clipped. âNo. Weâre good.â
The moment the waiter left, Lando shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. âI hope you realize,â he muttered, âthat I now have to sit through this entire dinner with a fucking hard-on.â
You smirked. âPoor baby.â
His eye twitched.
His knee suddenly pressed against the inside of your thigh under the table, firm, possessive, making you inhale sharply.
Lando smirked at your reaction, his fingers twitching as if debating whether or not to reach for you. âNo panties. Just sitting there. All pretty. Knowing what you just did to me.â His voice was dark. Husky. âYouâre playing a dangerous fucking game.â
You swallowed, shifting slightly, pressing your thighs together, and Lando noticed. His smirk widened.
âOhhh,â he murmured, tilting his head. âYou think youâre in control here?â
He leaned in, voice dropping even lower, lips barely an inch from your ear.
âJust wait till we get back to the hotel, baby,â he whispered. âIâm gonna make sure you feel what you just did to me.â
Heat coiled in your stomach.
Lando sat back, stretching his legs out, exhaling slowly. His fingers drummed against the table, his eyes flickering over your body, taking his time, like he was memorizing you.
âEat your dinner, baby.â he muttered, shifting in his seat again, adjusting himself. âAfter we done this. Youâre mine.â
Your entire body burned.
And suddenly, dinner felt like the longest fucking event of your life.
â
Charles Leclerc
You knew exactly what you were doing.
Charles Leclerc was the perfect mix of sweet and sinfulâsoft when he loved you, but intense when he wanted you. He could melt you with just a smile, but when he needed you? When you pushed him too far? That was when he became dangerous.
Tonight, you were playing with fire.
The restaurant was romanticâlow lights, soft music, a flickering candle between you. Charles looked breathtaking across the table, his white button-down slightly unbuttoned, his hair tousled in that effortless way that made your fingers itch to run through it. His green eyes sparkled in the dim light, his lips curling in a small, amused smile as he sipped his wine.
You wanted to see how far you could push him.
So, while Charles was distracted, you reached under the table. Your fingers brushed the hem of your dress, heart racing as you slowlyâso slowlyâslid your panties down your legs. The soft lace glided over your thighs, your knees, pooling at your ankles before you kicked them off.
Charles was still flipping through the menu, completely oblivious.
You swallowed a smirk, reached across the table, andâwithout a wordâplaced the fabric in his open palm.
Charles didnât react at first.
Thenâ
His fingers froze.
His eyes flickered down, scanning the lace in his palm, his lips parting slightly.
Thenâvery slowlyâhe lifted his gaze to yours.
His breath hitched.
His jaw tensed.
His entire body went rigid.
âMon amourâŠâ His voice was a whisper, but there was something different about it. Something deep, something dark.
You tilted your head innocently. âYes, baby?â
Charles exhaled sharply, his hand disappearing under the table as he shoved the panties into his pocket. His fingers twitched against the fabric, his entire body suddenly filled with nervous energy.
âNo.â He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. âNo, youââ His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat, leaning forward.
âYou are telling meâŠâ His accent was thicker now, deeper, as he swallowed hard. âThat you are sitting here. With nothing under your dress.â
You nodded, biting back a smirk.
Charles groaned. His head fell back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as he muttered something very fast in French under his breath.
Then he looked back at youâhis pupils blown, his breath uneven.
âBaby,â he whispered. His voice was soft, but there was a raw edge to it. His hand found your knee under the table, his thumb brushing slow circles against your skin. The touch was gentle, but his grip was firm.
Possessive.
His fingers inched higher.
You gasped softly.
Charles inhaled sharply, his hand freezing before it could go any higher. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white.
âNo,â he muttered. âNo, I canâtââ He cut himself off, exhaling harshly.
His eyes were burning.
âYouâre making this very difficult for me, mon amour.â
You smirked. âThatâs the idea.â
Charles let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head. âIncroyable.â (Unbelievable.)
Thenâso suddenlyâhe grabbed his napkin and dropped it on the floor.
âOh,â he muttered, completely unconvincing. âHow clumsy of me.â
Your eyes widened. âCharles, donâtââ
Too late.
He dipped under the table.
Your heart stopped.
âCharlesââ Your breath hitched as you felt the ghost of his lips brush against the inside of your knee.
Then higher.
And higher.
Your entire body tensed.
His hands rested on your thighs, warm and steady, his breath hot against your bare skin.
Your hands gripped the tablecloth, panic and desire swirling together in your chest. âYou need to come up.â
He hummed. âDo I?â
His lips skimmed the inside of your thigh.
Your breathing stuttered. âCharlesââ
Thenâ
A loud noise from the kitchen made him jolt.
His head smacked against the underside of the table.
âMerde!â (Fuck!)
He shot up so fast he nearly knocked over his wine glass, his cheeks flushed, his hair messy, his lips red.
You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh.
Charles groaned, rubbing the back of his head. âI hate you.â
You giggled. âYou love me.â
His eyes darkened.
âOh, mon amour,â he murmured, leaning forward, his voice dripping with promise.
âYou will regret this when we get home.â
Your stomach flipped.
Charles smirked.
Then he picked up his menu, casually flipping through it like he hadnât just been under the table.
Like he wasnât still rock hard.
Like he wasnât about to absolutely destroy you the second you were alone.
You swallowed hard.
You were so screwed.
â
Max Verstappen
Max Verstappen was competitive in everything.
On the track, he was ruthless. In life, he always wanted to win. But in the bedroom?
He didnât just competeâhe owned.
And tonight, you were playing with fire.
The restaurant was high-end, filled with soft chatter and the occasional clink of wine glasses. Max sat across from you, looking effortlessly sexy in a black dress shirt with the top few buttons undone, his strong forearms resting on the table. His blue eyes flickered up from his menu, locking onto yours with that signature intensity.
âWhy are you smirking?â he asked, voice laced with suspicion.
You didnât answer. Instead, you reached under the table, heart pounding as you hooked your fingers into the sides of your panties. Slowlyâso slowlyâyou slid them down, feeling the lace brush against your bare skin.
Max had no idea what was coming.
Once the fabric was off, you balled it up in your hand and reached across the table. âHere,â you said casually, dropping the delicate lace into his palm.
Maxâs brows furrowed. His fingers curled around the fabric, and thenâ
His entire body went still.
His grip tightened.
His jaw locked.
You saw the exact moment realization hit. His ocean-blue eyes darkened, flickering between the panties in his hand and you, sitting there, completely bare under your dress.
Max inhaled sharply. âAre you fucking kidding me?â His voice was lowâdangerously low.
You leaned forward, eyes playful. âSomething wrong, baby?â
Maxâs Adamâs apple bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers disappearing under the table. He shoved the panties into his pocket so fast you almost laughed. His
other hand gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.
âTell me,â he murmured, tilting his head slightly. âAre you sitting here, at this table, with nothing under that dress?â
You nodded.
His nostrils flared.
âJesus Christ.â
You smirked. âCat got your tongue, Max?â
His gaze snapped to yours, and suddenly, the air between you changed.
The playful energy shifted into something heavier.
Something dangerous.
Max leaned forward, his voice low and sharp. âYou think this is funny?â
You shrugged, enjoying the way his grip tightened on the table, his breath growing uneven. âA little.â
He exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching so tight it looked painful.
Thenâso suddenlyâhe sat back, a slow, wicked smirk curling his lips.
âAlright,â he murmured. âGame on, liefje.â (Sweetheart.)
Your stomach flipped.
Max shifted in his seat, stretching his legs
out under the tableâuntil his knee pressed firmly between your thighs. Your breath hitched, your body going rigid as he applied the lightest pressure.
Your eyes widened. âMaxââ
He tilted his head, feigning innocence. âWhat? Something wrong?â
His knee pressed harder.
You swallowed hard, your breath stuttering as heat flooded your body. âYouâre evil.â
He grinned, completely unbothered. âAnd youâre an idiot if you think Iâm letting you get away with this.â
His fingers drummed casually against the table as he continued, voice slow and taunting. âYou know, I was going to take my time with you tonight.â He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. âBut now?â
His voice dropped even lower.
âNow, I have no choice but to ruin you.â
Your entire body shivered.
Max smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing.
His knee pressed higher, his strong thigh now between your legs, keeping you right where he wanted you. âLook at you,â he mused, his accent thick, teasing. âSo quiet all of a sudden. Whereâs that bratty attitude now, huh?â
You glared at him, but the effect was lost
when your breath hitched at the way he was touching you.
Max chuckled darkly. âOh, baby,â he murmured. âYou just made the biggest mistake of your life.â
Your mouth went dry.
Max picked up his menu, pretending to study it, but his knee stayed right where it was.
The worst part?
He acted like nothing was happening.
Like he wasnât pressing you against the chair.
Like he wasnât completely hard under the table.
Like he wasnât planning a thousand ways to make you pay for this
the second you were alone.
You shifted in your seat, desperate for some relief.
Max caught it immediately. His grip on the table tightened, his breathing sharp.
Thenâso quietly only you could hearâhe whispered, âDo that again, and I swear to God, Iâll drag you into the bathroom right now.â
You froze.
Maxâs smirk was lazy, but his eyes?
His eyes were pure fire.
â
Oscar Piastri
Oscar Piastri was a problem.
No, Oscar was a problem because he was impossible to read.
When he was mad, he didnât explodeâhe got quiet. When he was turned on, he didnât stumble over his words or blushâhe became dangerous.
And tonight?
You had just challenged him.
The restaurant was sleek and modern, the
kind of place that matched Oscarâs cool, composed energy. He sat across from you, dressed simply in a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the veins on his forearms. His fingers tapped against the table absentmindedly as he scrolled through the wine menu, completely unaware of what was coming.
You shifted in your seat, heart pounding as you reached beneath the table. With slow, deliberate movements, you slid your panties down, feeling the soft lace brush over your thighs, your kneesâuntil they were off completely.
Then, with a calm smile, you reached across the table.
âHere,â you murmured, dropping the delicate fabric into his open palm.
Oscar didnât react immediately.
His fingers curled around the lace, his grip firm but unreadable. His eyes flickered down, scanning the fabric like it was nothing more than a business card someone had handed him.
Then, finally, he looked at you.
And fuck.
His brown eyes were steady, calculatingâsharp.
His expression didnât change. He didnât smirk, didnât blush, didnât flinch.
He just⊠stared.
Long enough that you shifted in your seat, suddenly less sure about what youâd just done.
Thenâslowlyâhe leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.
His voice was quiet. Calm.
âYouâre not wearing anything under that dress.â
It wasnât a question.
You swallowed. âNo.â
He hummed, nodding slightly as he tucked the panties into his pocket like they were nothing. Then he picked up his menu, flipping through it as if this was just another casual dinner.
Your stomach flipped.
That was it? No teasing? No reaction?
Oscar glanced up, catching your slight frown. His lips curled into the smallest smirk.
âYou expected me to crack, didnât you?â
You hesitated. âMaybe.â
He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. âYou have no idea what youâve done, do you?â
You blinked. âIââ
Oscar shut his menu, setting it aside. Thenâso suddenlyâhe reached across the
table, gripping your wrist. Not rough. Not forceful.
But firm.
His thumb brushed against your pulse.
You knew he could feel how fast it was racing.
His voice dropped, calm and cold.
âYou think you can just hand me your panties and expect me to lose control?â
You swallowed.
His grip tightened.
âNo, baby.â His voice was deadly soft. âThatâs not how this works.â
Your breath caught in your throat.
Oscar exhaled through his nose, sitting back like he wasnât currently ruining your entire life with just his voice.
Thenâjust to be cruelâhe leaned in slightly, dropping his voice so only you could hear.
âIâm going to finish my drink.â
Your stomach dropped.
âThen weâre going to leave.â
Your thighs clenched together.
Oscar smirked. He noticed.
âAnd when we get home,â he murmured, âyouâre going to get on your knees and apologize.â
Your breath hitched.
Oscar leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered, picking up his glass and taking a slow sip.
Then, just for fun, he tilted his head and smirked.
âStill think this was a good idea?â
You were so screwed.
â
George Russell
George Russell was a gentleman.
Polite. Well-mannered. The kind of man who held doors open, pulled out your chair, and kissed the back of your hand just to see you blush.
But there was a danger in that charm.
Because underneath all that posh, British elegance?
George was ruthless.
And tonight?
You were about to learn just how much.
The restaurant was candlelit, expensive, and filled with the quiet hum of conversation. George sat across from you, impossibly handsome in a tailored navy
suit, the top two buttons of his shirt undone just enough to tease. His Rolex gleamed under the soft light as he picked up his wine glass, fingers wrapping around the stem with effortless grace.
You watched him, heart pounding, as you slowlyâdeliberatelyâslid your hands under the table.
George didnât notice at first. He was reading the menu, his brows slightly furrowed, completely unaware that you were currently slipping off your panties in the middle of a five-star restaurant.
Your breath hitched as you finally pulled them free, the delicate lace pooling in your hand.
âGeorge.â
Then, with a coy smile, you reached across the table.
He looked up, eyes warm. âYes, darling?â
You placed your panties in his open palm.
George blinked.
His fingers curled around the lace, and for a moment, he just stared at you, completely unreadable.
Thenâso slowlyâhis lips parted, his tongue briefly darting out to wet them.
His jaw ticked.
You smirked. âSomething wrong?â
You saw the exact second realization hitâthe way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his grip tightening just slightly around the fabric.
George exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. âYou are unbelievable.â
You leaned in, tilting your head. âWhy? Is Mr. Russell flustered?â
His eyes darkened.
âNo,â he murmured, voice low. âIâm just debating whether I should take you home right now or make you suffer first.â
Your stomach dropped.
You watched him, heart pounding.
George sighed dramatically, slipping the lace into his suit pocket like it was just another accessory. Then, as if nothing happened, he picked up his wine glass and took a slow, deliberate sip.
The way his jaw clenched as he swallowed. The way his fingers tapped against the tableâcontrolled, measured. The way he refused to break eye contact.
Thenâso suddenly you almost gaspedâhe leaned forward, his voice silky smooth.
âTell me something, darling,â he murmured, tilting his head. âAre you currently sitting there, at this table, with nothing under that pretty little dress?â
You swallowed. âYes.â
George grinned.
Not his usual, charming smile.
This was something else.
Something dangerous.
âGood girl.â
Your breath hitched.
George hummed, pleased with your reaction. He reached for his drink again, bringing it to his lips before pausingâhis smirk deepening.
Thenâso casually it ruined youâhe whispered, âSpread your legs.â
Your eyes widened. âGeorgeââ
âShh.â He took a slow sip of wine, eyes twinkling with pure amusement. âYou wanted to play, love. Now be a good girl and listen.â
Heat flooded your body.
You hesitated for half a second too long.
George raised a brow. âIâm waiting.â
Your breath came in short, uneven bursts as you obeyed, shifting slightly in your seat, thighs parting under the table.
Georgeâs smirk turned positively wicked.
âSuch a good girl.â
Your entire body shuddered.
He leaned back, completely unbothered, pretending to scan the menu.
Meanwhile, you were a mess. Your skin burned. Your pulse raced. Your thighs trembled because holy shitâhe wasnât even touching you, and yet, you were completely at his mercy.
Thenâjust to ruin youâGeorge tilted his head, voice smooth as silk.
âYou know,â he mused, âI was planning on taking my time with you tonight.â
You clenched your fists in your lap.
He grinned. âBut now?â
He placed his menu down.
âNow, I think Iâll take you home and remind you exactly whoâs in charge.â
Your breath hitched.
George chuckled, reaching for his drink once more.
Then, with a wink, he murmured,
âFinish your wine, darling. Youâre going to need it.â
END
hshshshsh idk why but my drafts keep posting themselves?? Like, Iâm literally just editing them then it suddenly posted?!? And if not that, sometimes my drafts just disappear :( like wtf?? hshshshs its soooo annoying.
Ë àŁȘ đ„ navigation. | requests â open | main masterlist (coming soon)
drivers included | max verstappen, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris, oscar piastri, daniel ricciardo, franco colapinto, lewis hamilton
description | drivers and their favorite kinks
content warnings | mature content ahead â 18+ only, minors do not interact
authors note | hope everyone enjoys reading this one! if you have any requests for drabbles or blurbs involving those i write for please send it in and i will try to get it out as soon as possible <3 *not spelled checked*
â whether he praised you or you praised him; max verstappen was an absolute whore for praising
â both in public and behind closed doors he would take the praises only from you. being a three time world champion as many reminded him of his accomplishments heâd down play it. but you? oh he loved when youâd sing his praises
â âyou did so great out there, maxie. no one does it like you.â praising him in public after a great race would look like that. behind closed doors was another story; âright there, max. fuck youâre doing so well keep going.â âonly you know my body, no one comparesâ
â on the other hand max loved praising you and he was an absolute menace for it when heâd have you bent over the bed fucking you with his hands gripping your hair; âcome on, baby. squeezing me so tight you love being handled like this, hmm?â âyouâre doing so well for me, baby.â âsuch a good girl for me.â
Ò QUICKIES !
â max loved taking his time with you but with his busy schedule especially on race weekends he couldnât give you enough time. however, he always made the most of the 10-20 minutes you had together on any occasion.
â whether it be 10 minutes before heâs gotta go out for the national anthem or 15 minutes before he is due to attend the press conference he would grab you and take you in any room that had a lock. âfuck thatâs it, youâre doing so good for me baby.â âgonna have you cum three times before i gotta be out there in ten minutes. you like that?â
â the man has beautiful hairâŠhow can he not have a hair pulling kink?
â carlos loved pulling your hair whether it was while you rode his cock or he was taking you from behind; he loved having his hands in your hair
â but it was when you pull his hair that really gets him going both intimately but whenever youâd be watching a movie or out with friends your hand would go to the nape of his neck and travel up to his hair giving it a soft tug
â between your legs carlos is eating you out both sloppily and hungrily, tongue against your aching core his fingers now at your entrance giving you extra pleasure when theyâre stretching you out, âfuck. just like that carlos,â you tangle your fingers in his hair giving it a rough tug when he rubs his thumb on your clit
â every thrust his fingers would give your cunt and tongue giving your folds so much attention youâd tug his hair closer to your pussy if that was possible; âfuck, baby, do that again. harder.â âgod, hermosa, gonna make me cum in my pants if you keep pulling my hair like that.â âright there, keep doing that princesa. wanna suffocate in your pussy.â
Ò DIRTY TALK !
â his native language being spanish played a role in his love for dirty talking he loved the reaction heâd get out of you when youâd hear him speaking to you in spanish
â morning, noon, night; carlos fucked you any moment he had some free time which was rare but on those occasions he did he make sure to speak his dirty thoughts of you: and to you
â âfuck, my good girl, chokinâ on my cockâ âthatâs it, hermosa. let them all hear whose fucking your tight pussyâŠthe only man who makes you cum.â âte ves tan perfecta para mĂ de rodillas llena de mĂ. mi bella princesa.â
â charles loved having you on your knees mouth stuffed with his cock. your lips showing his tip some extra love with a few kisses after finishing in your mouth and youâd take him once again pulling him in your mouth again for another round.
â what he loved the most though? spending hours in between your thighs giving you multiple orgasms until you are begging him to stop (very rare to want him to stop)
Ò ROUGH SEX !
â despite seemingly carrying a calm demeanor around friends & family behind closed doors charles loved being rough with you in bed. especially after yet another week where ferrari fucks up his race he feels the best place to let out his stress and anger is on you. which you gladly took.
â rough and sloppy kisses you share entering his hotel room to his rough hands pushing you onto the bed and fucking you with his fingers until youâre squirting all over him and the bedsheets.
â your face pressed down on the mattress while he takes you from behind arching your back and yanking on your hair pulling you close to his chest heâd give you another rough thrush while whispering the most vulgar sentences to come out of his mouth.
â sometimes being weeks apart from each other you wanted to feel as close as possible while catching up on what youâd miss. youâd get settled on his lap moaning at the feeling of him stretching you after being gone for so long. youâd get comfortable and you would both talk about what you had been up to the last few weeks
â streaming with max youâd make sure his camera was off before you climbed on his lap. he would be confused as to what you were doing but the moment you take his cock out of his briefs and sinking down on him heâd hold his moans in and grab your waist pulling you closer.
- turning his mic off he lets out a whine when you rock your hips against him, âfuck, baby, canât do this right now iâm so close to winning.â youâd agree with him and tell him to finish the game youâll just wait for him; still sitting on him with his cock deep inside you. safe to say he lost the game just to play again, enjoying the feeling of his cock resting inside you
Ò SHOWER SEX !
â lando loved it when heâd be showering and youâd join him halfway through giving him some extra attention that he desperately wanted. he loved the intimacy about it when youâd help rinse of the shampoo in his hair or how heâd glide the body gel all over your body
â you loved it when it was a post race win or podium and heâd drag you to the small bathroom in his drivers room and shove you against the shower wall giving your pussy some extra love while you pull on his hair before he would have his cock shoved deep in your aching cunt, getting some loud moans out of you which heâd cover up with a kiss
â being a formula 1 driver was a demanding job which required lewis to travel almost all year long and you couldnât always go along with him due to your job. you missed him all the time when he was gone but especially on the days when you were extra needy were the worst
â thatâs why heâd stay on the phone with you all day despite his busy schedule. heâd have one airpod in while having to be in a meeting not listening to the less important subjects so heâd listen to you and what you were doing for the day
â but then on days where your vibrator wasnât enough youâd call or facetime your boyfriend begging him to help you through your orgasm, it also helped that he had the most soothing voice that constantly brought you to tears when heâd have your face shoved on the mattress, ass pressed against him as he fucked you
â âohâŠâm so close, lewâ youâd whimper through the facetime call, your phone propped against your nightstand while you grind your aching cunt against a pillow. desperately needing more release your reach to rub your clit when lewisâ voice fills the phone, âi didnât say you could do that, did i?â he questions, he was due to be in the media pen in 10 minutes but he wouldnât let you take the easy way out to cum before he left
â âplease, baby, need to cum please,â you beg lewis as your movements speed up. âdonât use your hand. keep fucking youself on my pillow, iâll be home in a few days and take such good care of you. thatâs it baby, be a good girl and cum for me.â his encouragement is more than enough to have you squeezing your breasts and nipples as your release spills all over the pillow
Ò MIRROR SEX !ă
â you werenât sure if it was you or lewis who decided adding a mirror to the ceiling of your bedroom was the best option for your sex life but either way you were two happy people
â you enjoyed watching lewis fucking you his eyes meeting your through the mirror; he loved having you bounce on his cock watching the way you threw your head back moans filling the room. he loved it so much he requested his drivers room to have a mirror on the ceiling as well. after many warnings not to they finally gave in and gave him what he (and you) wanted
â his hand around your throat with two fingers deep inside your pussy heâd whisper dirty thoughts into your ear, âyou look so pretty for me like this. wanna see you cum for me, sweet girl. thatâs it youâre squeezing my fingers so good,â youâd bite your lip trying to suppress your moans in the small room knowing anyone walking by could easily hear you
â again, being a formula one driver was a demanding sport. a demanding sport that kept your sex life with oscar very low many, many, many times. so when you had the chance to feel a little bit closer to your boyfriend you took the chance.
â whether against the wall of his drivers room with your clothed pussy rubbing against his race suit or in bed on his lap before ha has to catch a flight to the next race; you were both absolutely infatuated with each other and dry humping
â drivers room; oscar would be leaned up against the wall while your hips grind against his thigh, âosc,â you whine as he moves your panties to the side rubbing your clit while you con the to fuck yourself on him, âshh, be a good girl for me and stay quiet. then after the race iâll stuff you full of my cock all night.â his words have you biting down on his shoulder as you cum all over his thigh
Ò SQUIRTING !ă
â he had discovered this one night while you both watched a movie, laying between his thighs your head pressed against his chest his hand trailed down to your shorts pulling them off with nothing else underneath he worked his fingers inside you. soon enough you had squirted all over his hand and bedsheets; a first for both of you
â that just started something inside oscar which was wanting to make you squirt any chance he got. you could be exhausted from work or a long flight but youâd let him have his way with you. at the end youâd be filling the room with sounds of pleasure as his fingers or cock fucked your tight cunt until he reached the exact spot that had you squirting all over him
â "so wet for me, and so fuckin' tight." "i can feel how close you are baby, gonna make a mess all over our sheets, hmm?" he praises you, his fingers curling deep inside you. his groans and your moans fill the room as you squirt all over his hand and sheets making a mess like he had said. pulling away from you he now plays between your thighs and smiles up at you, âtime to clean this mess up.â
â youâve seen franco in interviews he was a talker so it wasnât a surprised he was a talker behind closed doors as well. he had a filthy mouth on him when it came to you and he never stopped praising you
â âeso es amor, apretĂĄndome tan bien. let me hear your pretty moans.â âcum all over my cock, amor. fuck, fuckâlook so perfect for me.â âgonna let me fuck you against the door? gonna make sir everyone hears what a filthy whore you are.â youâd think by now youâd get tired of his constant yapping (sometimes you did) but when he fucked you? you loved hearing his voice the entire time
Ò ORAL !ă
â the man was good with his tongue what more could you say? he was infatuated with having his tongue on your pussy for hours on end tasting how sweet you were. buried between your thighs as your hand stung on his hair, whines and moans escape your mouth begging him for more
â the man had a tattooed thighâŠhow could you not want to ride it? it first started on a night out with friends enjoying the sunset at the beach when daniel placed you on his lap your hand traced circles on the tattoos that littered his thigh; one thing led to another and you snuck off to the car and he let your imaginations come to life
â at a club filled with loud music and dark lights youâd take advantage of the moment and grind yourself on his thigh enjoying the feeling, at home while he works on sending out some emails youâd keep him company with your core pressing against his thigh, anyplace and anywhere you were a menace for his thighs
â he loved it too, so much heâd started adding some more tattoos to his collection on his thighs which made you even more excited to ride him only to wait until he was healed to do so. you could ride his other thigh but something about fucking yourself on his tattooed thigh felt so so much more enthralling
â âyou look so pretty like this, ridin' my thigh...makin' yourself cum.â âmake yourself cum on my thigh right now, good girl. feels good, doesn't it?â his encouraging words bringing you to your third orgasm of the night just form riding his thigh, âcome on, honey, gonna give me one more then iâll fuck you for however long you wantâ
Ò FILMING !
â daniel loved having videos or pictures of the activities you got up to in the bedroom with each other. he loved watching the videos while he was away from you weeks on end. however, he loved it more whenever you got the chance to film each other especially for fun not because heâll be gone for a few weeks and needed someone to fill the void
â daniel comfortably laying down between your thighs lapping at you like thereâs no tomorrow, âdanny, feel so goodâŠoh,â you whine trying to hold the camera that was pointed at him steadily but you were so close. âthatâs it baby, cum all over me you taste so fucking sweet. could never get enough of this,â he says only getting a second to breathe before heâs diving back between your thighs to bring you to your second orgasm of the night
â you loved the risk of having an album on your phones that were filled of videos and pictures of the two of you or sometimes of just one of you. youâd created a small album curated for daniel filled of pictures of you in lingerie or fully nude; the videos were another story. filled with you fucking yourself with your fingers, vibrator, a pillow; you made sure daniel was fulfilled for the weeks he wouldnât have you
â daniel made a small photo album for you as well more so filled of the two of you, he knew how much you loved rewatching the videos of you two fucking. you loved the way he propped the camera against the nightstand and had you riding his cock until you begged him to let you cum or the time he fucked you in his drivers room facing the mirror on his door his hands on your breasts squeezing them while you rode him back against his chest holding onto the camera shakily and almost dropping it when heâd thrust up into your cunt
pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader
summary: in which every summer, at the villa your families rent together every year, gives you a version of charles OR you and charles are childhood best friends with a complicated history.
warnings: angst, language, childhood friends with complicated history, smut, angst, yearning, etc... idk what I'm missing, NOT PROOFREAD (prob typos or things that might not make sense), lots of back and forth, messy messy messy, also cute, jealousy jealousy, seriously lots of YEARNING, them being stupid also
word count: ~8k
author's note: this idea came to me a few days ago and i've spent as much time as possible working on it since (in between carlos version). y'know when the creativity just hits right and the words pour out of you?? that was me with this. i hope you guys like it!!!! xoxo
âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€âąâ€
Age 7.
âIâm gonna marry you one day.â
The villa smells of sun lotion and salty air.
Your dadâs playing music through some tiny old speaker he brought. And the adults are laughing too loud over their drinks.
The sun is beginning to sink, but itâs still hot.Â
Youâre sticky with juice, hair tangled, and bathing suit clinging awkwardly.
Charles is chasing you. A water balloon in his hands.
You shriek, running against the hot stones. Smiling so hard that it hurts.
âYâalready got me twice!â You shout in between giggles. âSânot fair!â
Charles appears closer. Face sunburnt. A smile tugged on his lips. âYou cheated at Candy Land!â
âYou cheated first!âÂ
âBecause you always win!â
And he raises the balloon over his head.
âIf you throw that, Iâm telling maman you said a bad word the other day.â
His smile drops. âI did not!â
You cross your arms over your chest. âUh huhâŠyou said âshitâ when you hit your funny bone.â
âIt hurt!â He argues.
You stick your tongue out.Â
And then he hesitates. Looking at the balloon. Then at you.
Throws the balloon anyway.
It explodes against your stomach. Cold water soaking you.
And you gasp.Â
Then lunge for him. Chase him all the way into the back yard, shrieking. Laughing so hard that you both struggle to breathe properly.Â
And eventually you both collapse into the grass. Side by side. Near the lemon tree.Â
Thereâs a few moments of silence. Both of you panting from trying to catch your breath.Â
âIâm gonna marry you one day.â
You blink. âWhy?â
âBecause youâre funny. And you like ice pops. And you beat me at Mario Kart once.â
You look at him. And heâs staring at the leaves above your heads. Arms touching.
âI donât think thatâs how marriage works,â your voice soft.
âDonât care.â He shrugs.Â
You roll your eyes. âOkay. But I donât want to wear a dress.â
âFine. But you have to split the cake with me.â
âOnly if itâs chocolate.â
âWell duh.â
And you both fall asleep like that. In the grass. Smelling like chlorine. Sticky with sugar.
-
Age 12
âWhy are you being weird?â
The summer heat is burning.
Heat clings to you like a second skin. And youâre still dripping from the pool. The stone tiles are too hot to stand on for too long, so everyone moves around them quickly. Your hair is wet. Trying to read a book, but canât focus.
Because Charles wonât stop staring at you.
Well, heâs technically not staring. But heâs in the pool in your direct eyesight. Hands behind his head as he sits on a float. Sunglasses almost too big for his face. Smirking.
And every so often, he splashes water your way.
âWould you stop?â You snap. Wiping the water off your ankles.
âDonât know what youâre talking about,â he says. Blinking. Innocent.
You groan, falling back on the lounger. Trying to ignore him.
He floats closer. âYou havenât turned the page in almost twenty minutes.â
âThatâs because youâre distracting me.â
And he grins. A full sheepish grin. âYou think Iâm cute.â
You donât answer. Keep your eyes on your book.
âYâgonna tell your friends I have a six pack now?â He calls out.
You raise your eyebrows, âSix pack of what?â
âMuscles.â He says. Dead serious.
And your mouth twitches. âYour voice still cracks.â
Charles slips off the floatie. Swims to the edge and rests his arms on the ledge. Chin on his forearm as he looks at you.
âYeah? And what does it do to you when I say your name?â
Your breath hitches.
âYouâre blushing.â
âItâs the sun.â
He laughs. And you throw your book at him.Â
He ducks under the water. And when he resurfaces, grinningâŠyouâre trying so hard to not smile. And he knows it.
âWhy are you being so weird?â you ask.
He shrugs.Â
âYouâre just starting to notice me now.â
And you donât answer.
And later that night, when youâre brushing your teeth. Still burnt from the sun. You wonder what he meant.
You donât ask.
But you do start to.
-
Age 15
âThat didnât count.â
âSo kiss me again.â
The villa is quiet.Â
Your parents and his mom stay up talking. Your siblings long asleep. Arthur passed out on the couch.Â
A few candles flicker near the steps, but most of the light is coming from the moonlight.
Youâre barefoot. The grass cool and soft beneath your toes as you walk to the lemon tree. The one where you and Charles always meet when its too late and youâre supposed to be asleep.
Heâs already there. Leaning against it.Â
He looks different this year. Taller. A little bit sharper. More grown into his body.
He glances at you. âTook you long enough.â
âHad to sneak past my sister.â
He grins, holding up a bag of chips.Â
And you sit beside him. Your shoulder brushing his.Â
Talking about nothing for a while. Catching up on the weeks you arenât together. How he kissed a girl in Monaco and it was fine but also kind of awkward. And you pretend you donât hate hearing it.
You tell him about the boy from school who tried to hold your hand during a movie when you went with your group of friends.
Charles almost immediately demands his full name. And address.
And you laugh.
He tosses a lemon up and catches it. Again and again.
âI heard you tell Joris that I was in love with you.â You say.
And he glances at you. âI did not.â
You narrow your eyes. A smile on your lips.
And he shrugs. âI said you were obsessed with me. Sânot the same.â
And you laugh. Then scoff. âYou wish.â
You shove his arm. And he grabs your wrist before you can pull it back. Fingers wrapping around you. Warm. Familiar. But somehow different.
Neither of you speak for a few moments. Just take in the sound of the cicadas, the faint chatter of the adults on the terrace.
âYâever kissed anyone?â
And your stomach twists. Look away. âNo.â
He nods. âMe eitherâŠat least, not really.â
Silence.
And then he says, âWanna try?â
You look at him. But heâs already looking at you. And he looks nervous. Hopeful. Like heâs been thinking about this for a long time. Nothing like the boy who used to throw water balloons and stick paint in your hair.
You nod.
And itâs awkward. Your noses bump. One of you breathes too loudly. His hands tremble at your cheek.Â
But itâs sweet. Slow.
And his lips are soft.
And when you pull apart, you both stare at each other. Lips a little rosier than before.
âThat didnât count.â You whisper.
And he blinks. âWhy not?â
âThere was no tongue.â
And he grins. Slowly.
And then pulls you back into him.
And this timeâŠ.itâs real.
-
Age 17
âThis doesnât have to mean anything.â
The villaâs light glow behind you. Laughter echoing from the kitchen where your parents and his maman are finishing a bottle of wine.
You and Charles are on the terrace. Barefoot. A shared bottle of win between you. Practically empty. And his leg brushes against yours every time he fidgets.
Itâs the first summer where youâve both been allowed to really drink. Not just a stolen sip of a half-empty bottle found on the kitchen counter. Or a watered down spritz. Real drinks. Poured and given to you like adults.
And youâre a little tipsy. Cheeks warm and rosy. Limbs loose.Â
âYouâre quiet tonight,â you glance at him.
He nods. âJusâ thinking.â
âYou do that?â
And he laughs. âShut up.â
You smile. Taking a small sip straight from the bottle before placing it back down. âWhat are you thinking about?â
He hesitates for a little. âUhâŠthat night last year.â
You donât have to ask which night. You already know.
The night behind the lemon tree. His mouth on yours. And you think about it often.
âMe too,â You admit. Soft.
And he looks at you. Watch as his gaze dips to your mouth.
And then heâs leaning in.
The kiss is soft. Deeper. Not rushed. And his lips are warm. Tastes of wine and something sweet. Like the fruit you guys were picking at earlier.
When he pulls back, his voice cracks a little bit. âI want you.â
You donât answer. Just smile soft. Pulling his hand into yours as you drag him into the villa. Into the bedroom.Â
Your clothes peel off slowly. Clumsy. And heâs careful. Like heâs afraid if he moves too fast, itâll ruin the moment.Â
âYâsure about this?â He whispers.
You nod. âYeahâŠwant it to be you.â
And he closes his eyes for a second. Like his heart is in his throat.
And then it happens.
Itâs slow. Messy. You both laugh when your arms bump. And he curses softly when he cant get the condom wrapper open. But then heâs inside you, and your laughter becomes hushed gasps. Fingers digging into each other.
âYâokay?â He mutters. His forehead pressed to yours.
And your nails dig into his back. âYeah.â
And then he kisses you again. Harder. Holds you closer.
Later, when youâre both lying tangled in the darkâŠyou feel his fingers tracing your skin. Both of you enjoying the silence.
Then a good few moments later.
âThis doesnât have to mean anything.â
You swallow hard.
âYeah.â
-
Age 19
âYâgonna dance with him again?â
âHe asked.â
âYou let him kiss your cheek.â
âYou fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night.â
âThatâs different.â
Youâre barefoot in the sand. Music loud. And LucaâŠor maybe it was Leo? You werenât sure. Had his hands lightly on your hips. Flirty.
Youâre laughing at something dumb he said into your ear. And then you feel it.
The heat. The stare.
Glance over your shoulder andâŠ
Charles. Leaning against the beach bar. Beer in hand.
Eyes on you with a glint in his eye like youâve offended him.
You try not to react. But the next time Luca spins you, you pull away with a smile and a Iâll be right back.
You only make it a few steps before Charles intercepts your path.
âHaving fun?â He says. Trying to be casual. But his voice is too tight. Too bitter.
âYes.â You brush past him. And he falls right into step with you.
âYouâve got weird taste in music.â
âThatâs not my music taste. Itâs called dancing.â
And he scoffs.
You walk to the side of the bar. To a more private area. Grabbing his shoulder to face you.
âAre you okay?â Voice sweet. Gentle. Caring.
âIâm fine.â
âYouâre glaring too much.â
And looks at you. âI just think itâs funny.â
âOh, here we go.â
âI mean, you donât even like that song.â
You cross your arms against your chest. And he steps closer.
âYou let him put his hands on you.â
You raise a brow. âSo?â
âSoâŠyou let him touch you. Kiss your cheekâ
And you laugh. Soft. âYou fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night, Charles.â
His jaw clenches. Hands twitch. âThatâs different.â
âIs it?â
You take a step closer. Testing him, And he doesnât budge.
âItâs not the same.â
You stare at him. His cheeks are sunburned. And his eyes are so green it makes your heart rate spike. So handsome.
âSo Iâm not allowed to dance with a guy Iâll never see again?â
He runs a hand over his face. Grazing the slight stubble on his jaw. âYouâre not just dancing.â
âNo,â You admit. âBut youâre not just fucking me either.â
His eyes widen. Slightly stunned.
And you donât back down. Step even closer until your chests are touching.. âYou donât wanna talk about what this is? Thatâs fine. But you donât get to act jealous then.â
âIâm not jealous.â
And you grin. Snort. Just a tiny bit.
âOkay,â he says. Throwing his hands up. âMaybe I am.â
Your stomach twists.
âI justâŠI donât like seeing you with other guys.â His voice is low.Â
âWellâŠitâs not like you donât talk to other girls, Charles.â
And then you leave him standing there. Alone.
-
âWanna go out for a bit?â He asks. âJust us?â
And you say yes without even thinking.
Youâre on a light blue towel, sunglasses over your face, pretending to read a book. Charles is stretched out next to you. An arm tucked under his head. Throwing grapes in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth.
You glance over just as a grape hits his forehead and falls into the sand.
âImpressive.â
He laughs. âThe wind interfered!â
He tosses another grape. Misses again.Â
And you burst into laughter.
âIâm warming up.â
He laughs with you. Giving up and rolling onto his side to face you.
He squints his eyes at you. âDo you have sunscreen on?â
âYes.â
âAre you positive?â
Your brows furrow. âWhy?â
âI think thatâŠ.â His hand reaches for the bottle of sun lotion, flicking it open. âThat you missed a spot.â
He squirts some into his hand, a smirk on his lips.
âBack off.â
And he reaches for you, smearing it all over your chest. You shriek, tossing your book into the sand beside you.
And somewhere between this sun lotion assault, youâre both breathless and laughing so hard.
He pins you down, dropping heaps of sun lotion onto your skin.
âTruce,â You laugh. Stomach burning from laughter.Â
He nods. Smiling. Rubbing the sunscreen into your skin.
âDonât want you to burn.â
You throw a pile of sand at him. And he doesnât even flinch.
-
His cock is already buried inside you. Deep. Thick. Fucking aching.
âGod, youâre fuckin soaked.â He groans into your neck. Hand pressed into your stomach.Â
You claw at his back. Back arched. Legs spread. Shaking every time he hits that spot in your tummy just right.
He looks down at you like heâs overwhelmed. Like he doesnât understand how you can feel this fucking good.
âSwear to God,â He grunts. Pulling back slow, then snapping his hips forward. âSâlike your pussy jus gets tighter every time.â
Your mouth falls open. Gasping.
His hands slip under your thigh, pushing your knee into your chest. Fucking you deeper.
And then he moans.
âJesusâŠ.fuck.â He chokes out. âYâfeel that?â
You sob out.Â
âIâve been inside you like a hundred times this summer and it still feels like fuckin heaven.â
His forehead drops and presses into yours. Voice rough.Â
âMânot gonna last.â He huffs. âYouâre too wet. Too fuckin tight.â
You grip his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. âDonât stopâŠâ
âYouâre fuckin milking me.â He cuts you off. âYâgonna come? Please come on me. Câmon babyâŠplease, yeah? Please let me have it.â
And you fall apart. Gasping. Shaking. Coming so hard around his cock it makes his head fall back.
And he swears. Filthily. French tumbling out go his mouth.
And then heâs spilling inside of you. Chest pressed to yours. Hips jerking.
He buries his face in your beck. Collapsing on you.Â
And neither of you speak for a bit.
Just catch your breath. Comfortable silence. Holding each other.
Eventually, he reaches up. Tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
Then whispers into the dark.
âI like it here.â
And he doesnât elaborate.
You donât ask him to.
-
Age 21
âHe seems tense.â
âHeâs fine.â
âHe didnât even blink when I mentioned that guy from Madrid.â
âI told you not to bring it up.â
Your best friendâs been here for five days and already the villa feels different.
She means well. But she talks fast, drinks fast, and has no filter.Â
She also loves to talk about your love life.
The one that youâre apparently âthriving inâ.
âSo wait,â she says over breakfast, digging her fork into her food. âYou never texted that guy from Madrid back? Yâknow the one with the sexy voice?â
Across the table, Charles is picking at his plate. Fork pausing. Just for a little bit. Enough for you to notice.
You look at her, âNo.â
âWhy not? He was so hot.â
âDidnât feel like it.â
âBut he was so into youâŠâ She takes a sip of her drink. âWhat about the Italian one? The one you really liked.â
Charles cuts into his eggs. A little bit harder. Knife scraping the plate.
âHe ghosted.â
âUgh, yeah total loser.â She laughs. âOh my god, rememberâŠwhat was his name? From the bar crawl.â
âLiam.â You choke out.
âYes! Liam!â She snaps her fingers. âDidnât he pick you up at the bar? Like just threw you over his shoulder?â
You laugh, slightly embarrassed. Nodding.
Charles sets his mug down a little too hard.
And then he stands. Takes his plate to the sink.Â
And walks out.
âWas it something I said?â Your best friend asks.
-
You find him in the kitchen later. Your best friend is lounging out by the pool and you slipped inside to grab a water.
Heâs rinsing the plates. Back to you. But his jaw is clenched tight.
You lean against the counter by him. âHey.â
He doesnât look at you. Just keeps scrubbing the dishes. A little harder than before.
âYou okay?â
âYeah,â He says. âJust didnât realize breakfast started with a running list of every guy youâve fucked.â
You wince.
And he breathes deeply. Dropping the dish in the sink. âSorryâŠthat was, uh harsh.â
You give a tiny nod.
âI justâŠâ He turns off the water. Looks at you. âDidnât know it was like that?â
âLike what?â
He shrugs.Â
âIs it a problem?â
He stares at you. Sucks his bottom lip in for a moment. Like heâs deep in thought. Before finally sayingâŠ
âNo. Itâs not my place.â
And there it is.Â
You step back. âRight.â
And then youâre turning around, reaching in the cabinet for a glass. âStill going to the bonfire later?â
He shrugs. âYeah, if you still want to.â
âCool,â Your voice is light.Â
-
Age 22
âYouâve been quiet lately.â
âIâm just tired.â
The long table on the terrace is full.
Extra chairs from inside scattered around it, one of your younger cousins crawling underneath it.
Your dad is asking your mom if thereâs more grilled vegetables. Meanwhile your sister insists on telling the story about the jellyfish sting again.
âAnd she was crying so hard, she had actual snot bubbles on her face,â She says. Laughing.
You lift your hand, âI was six!â
Charles laughs. âYou thought you were dying.â
âI thought it was venom!â You laugh. âAnd no one even helped me.â
âWe were too busy laughing at the snot,â He says. Looking at you. That familiar grin pulled on his face, eyes crinkled. Like it was just you two.
And then Alex leans into him. Whispers into his ear. And whatever she says makes him smile wider. Makes him shift toward her without even thinking.
You chug your wine.
âI love that photo,â Alex says softly. And you glance at her to find her already looking at you. âThe one of you and everyone in the inflatable pool. Youâre the only one not smiling.â
You curl your lips. âWe were sinking.â
âItâs so funny though,â She says. âYou look so unimpressed by them.â
âShe always looks like that,â Charles chimes in. âProbably came out of the womb judging people.â
You narrow your eyes, but the smile pulling on your lips gives you away.
Alex laughs. And your momâs already popping open the next bottle of wine.Â
And it would be perfect.
If it werenât for Charles sitting across from you, arms wrapped around another person. Like heâs not yours anymore.Â
You ask Alex about her job, and you mean it. She answers so soft and kind that it almost makes you hate her. Almost.
But you canât. Because sheâs nice.
âSheâs good for him,â Your sister whispers under her breath, leaning toward you. âYouâve been quiet lately.â
You nod. âIâm just tired.â
Eventually, dinner ends. Alex excuses herself to help your mom bring out dessert. And Charles follows.
And when they come back, head thrown back laughing.Â
He sets a slice of cake in front of you without a word.
And you thank him like its normal.
-
Someone suggest drinks at the beach bar. Something to do. The one with the bulbs on string down the street.Â
You come barefoot, some sweet drink already in hand. Alex walks beside you, her wedges hooked in her fingers, hem of her dress brushing her knees.
Sheâs pretty in a way that doesnât feel threatening. Not showy. Just perfect.
Inside the bar, you spot Charles leaned against the bar with a beer, grinning at something Arthurâs saying. And heâs wearing that linen button up that you used to tell him he looks like a recently divorced rich guy in.Â
You find yourself smiling.
Alex touches your arm. âHeyâŠyou want a new drink?â
You shake your head. âIâm good for now.â
She nods. A small smile on her lips.
âI was really nervous to meet you.â
You blink. Eyes slightly wider. âMe?â
She nods. âCharles talks about you all the time.â
You freeze for a moment.
âYeah,â she smiles. âNot like in a weird way. Just like youâre part of the picture. In his life. Almost every story he tells involves you.â
You donât know how to respond.
âIâm just glad youâre not..uh, like intimidating.â She laughs.
And you laugh back. âI save the intimidation after a few weeks.â
She smiles. âSo Iâve still got time?â
You nod. âYeah.â
And for this moment, you like her. Even if it hurts.
Because sheâs kind.
Because she doesnât know that you and Charles shared a bed when thunderstorms were scary.
Because she wasnât there the summer he kissed you against the sand and told you heâd never want anyone else.
You chug your drink.
Later, youâre all gathered near the back of the deck, huddled around a wooden table and wobbly stools. Someone ordered a side of fries. Someone else ordered a round of shots no one really wanted but drank anyways.
Youâre pressed between Charles and your sister. Youâre laughing. Tipsy. Warm.
Charles is teasing your sister about something but youâre not really listening.Â
And thatâs when another guy slides in.
Not dramatically. Just casual. Confident.
Heâs tall. Tanned. Cute.Â
He talks to the guy beside him, someone youâve definitely seen before, and then turns to you.Â
âDid I hear something about you getting stung by a jellyfish?â
You smile. âUnfortunately.â
He nods. A grin. âSurvival stories always get me.â
âTragic,â you say.
He laughs. âIâm Nick.â
You take a sip of your drink, tilting your head. âDo you open with tragedy stories for flirting a lot? Or is it just me?â
âOnly for girls who look like they bite back.â
You grin. Slow. âYou say that like its a challenge.â
âDepends,â He shrugs, gaze dropping to your bare legs, then back to your face.
âOn?â
âDepends how hard you bite.â
And you laugh. Like really laugh. Hard. Head falling back. And then you feel it. The way Charles stills beside you. The way his fingers grip his cup just a little bit tighter.
And Nick leans in closer. More private. âSoâŠwhat other tragedies should I know about you?â
âThat depends.â
âOn?â
âIf you want facts or warnings.â
He raises a brow. âAny preference?â
You place your cup down on the table. âI like a little risk.â
And Charles says something to your sister now. A little louder. Like heâs trying to distract you.
You donât bother to look at him.
Nick grins. âAnd just how dangerous are you exactly?â
You grin back. âPretty dangerous.â
He laughs. âGood.â
You both just stare at each other for a little. Grinning.
âYou dancing?â He asks, nodding his head in direction of the dance floor.
âAre you asking or telling?â
âIâm hoping.â
You slide off the stool.
âLetâs go tragedy boy.â
And as he takes your hand. Leads you into the crowd. You catch Charlesâs eyes.
Watching.
Burning.
-
The musicâs slowed a little. Just swaying to the music, instead of the rapid jumping you were doing earlier.Â
Nickâs hand rests at your hip. His other is holding your drink while you talk with your hands.
âYou canât seriously think pineapple belongs on pizza,â You yell over the music.
Nick grins. âItâs good.â
âYouâre weird.â
âIâve been told that before.â
And you laugh, bumping your shoulder into his. He leans in, speaking into your ear.
âYou know your friendâs been staring at us for like ten minutes, right?â
You blink. âHuh?â
He tips his head. Over your shoulder. And you turn just a little bit. Just enough to see Charles still sitting at the table.
Drink in hand. Not talking. Not even blinking. Just looking.
You breathe out, turning back. âThat Charles.â
Nick raises a brow, nodding. âAhh.â
âDonât read into it.â
He watches you.
âHe has a girlfriend.â
Nick hums, a teasing grin. âHe doesnât look like he remembers that right now.â
âWeâre just friends.â
âCool.â
You shrug. âYou donât believe me?â
He smiles. âDoesnât matter what I believe. Just means if I kiss you, he might kill me.â
You laugh. âYouâre awful.â
âYouâre still here.â
And you look at each other. Smiling.
You kiss him. Not because youâre falling for him. But because youâre single. Because Charles brought someone else. Because he gets to have her. Because youâre tired of thinking about him.
So you kiss him to feel good. To forget. To remind yourself that youâre free.
Hands in his shirt. Hands on your waist.
And you let yourself lean into it.
Enjoy the uncomplicated.
And for a few momentsâŠit almost works.
-
Age 23
âYou brought him here.â
âYeah. Remember you said he wouldnât last.â
Youâre late this year.
Flight was delayed. Rental car place was too busy. And by the time your feet hit the familiar stone of the villaâs terrace, the sun is already low in the sky.
Theoâs beside you. Rolling your suitcase like a pure gentleman. Heâs good. Kind. Gets along with your parents. Laughs at your sisterâs jokes.Â
And still, your heart flutters when you hear his voice.
Charles.
Laughing louder than necessary. As if he wants you to hear it.
You follow the sound. Trying not to think about the last time you saw him. A few months ago in Monaco. A hotel room you both swore you wouldnât end up in. Both seeing other people. Both pretending it didnât count.
And it wasnât even the first time.
Since last summer, itâs happened a few times too many. Whenever him and Alex called it off. On and off. On and off. You slipped between the cracks. A quiet fuck in your apartment. A drunken make out at a birthday party. You pressed against the shower tiles. Bent over his kitchen counter.
Always followed by soft smiles and easy goodbyes. A promise to act normal.Â
Best friends first.
And the moment you step further into the terrace, you see him.
Charles standing against the bar, shirt unbuttoned. Tanned. Holding a drink with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how hot he looks.
And worseâŠAlex is next to him.
Beautiful of course. Sundress swaying. Hand on his chest like it belongs there.
He notices you before you can even speak. Smile faltering for a fraction of a second. Just enough for you to really feel it. And then itâs back.
And he lifts his glass in a salute. âYouâre late.â
Alex smiles. âWe thought you werenât coming tilâ tomorrow!â
You smile back. She was always so nice. âSurprise!â
Theo steps forward. Hand extended with that charm that always made it hard to hate him. âHeyâŠCharles, right?â
And Charles doesnât hesitate. Shakes his hand. But its the same one he uses with driverâs he never liked. âYeah. Weâve met.â
And it hits you like a knife to the ribs.
You remember that night clear as day. Theo was still new. Only a few dates in. And you invited him to a party.Â
Charles showed up late. And barely looked at Theo. Offered him a lazy smile before finding you later into the night. Pulling you into his car thirty minutes later and fucking you in the back seat.
And Theoâs smiling. âNice to see you again.â
Charles smiles. But his eyes stay on you. Never leave your face.
Alex swings her arm into his. âSo glad you made it. Saved you the good room too.â
You smile at her. âThatâs sweet of you.â
Charles lifts a brow. âDidnât know you needed a good room to enjoy yourself here.â
And you hum. âGuess Iâve gotten a little pickier.â
He takes a sip of his drink. âSince when?â
And you shrug your shoulders. âSince I started dating someone who doesnât forget my birthday.â
And it hits him like a bullet. You see the way his jaw shifts. Swallow.
Theoâs hand slips onto your lower back. Whispering softly into your ear. Nothing specific. Just something that makes you smile.
And Charles swearâs he might just vomit.
-
The ocean is calm. Waves hitting the rocks. A few birds chirping. Air cool before the sun is fully up.
You slip out of bed, letting Theo sleep. Making your way down the stony path that you walked hundreds of times. Towel slung over your shoulder. Hair twisted up in a clip.
And youâre halfway across the sand when you see him.
Already waist deep in the water. Back facing you.Â
You freeze. Debating if you should turn around.Â
But itâs too late. He seeâs you. And his face shifts into something. Longing? Guilt? Youâre not sure.
âYouâre always here early,â He calls out.
You drop your towel, walking into the water without glancing at him. âNot always.â
He watches you. You can feel the burn of his eyes on your skin. âYou do when youâre avoiding me.â
You glance up. The water cool against your skin. âWho said Iâm avoiding you?â
He shrugs. âHistory.â
You reach him in the water. You both stand there, not touching. Not moving.
EventuallyâŠhe speaks.
âHeâs staying the entire time?â
You raise a brow. âAre you asking as my best friend or something else?â
He doesnât answer.Â
You move a little closer. âYou said he wouldnât last.â
âI was wrong.â His voice is low. âClearly.â
He swallows. Looks away from you. âDoes he know?â
And your stomach twists. âKnow what?â
He doesnât say anything. Lets the silence tell you.
You feel your throat tightening. âHe knowâs weâre close.â
âClose.â He repeats. Half snort, half laugh.
âBest friends.â
He turns to fully face you now. Jaw clenched.Â
âRight. Just best friends.â
You donât respond. Because what else are you supposed to say? That you still feel his fingers dig into your skin. That no matter how many nights pass, you still wonder what this couldâve been if you both spoke up all those years ago.
And you blink. Trying not to smile. âYouâre not funny.â
âNot trying to be.â
His fingers brush against your shoulder.Â
âYou have a girlfriend.â
And his eyes look sad. He breathes loudly. âAnd you have him.â
-
The villa is loud tonight. Music is blasting. Too many drinks are being poured. Bowls of snacks turning stale.
All of you are packed into the living room. Sunburn. Sprawled into chairs or the floor. Hoodies thrown on.Â
Your families are here. Everyone laughing and shouting. Bickering. Like its still 15 years ago.
Theo sits behind you on the rug, legs wrapped around you. Hand resting on your hip. And heâs been sweet all evening. He fits.
Yet every time you crack a joke. Or win a game. Itâs Charles who looks at you first. Like heâs your person.
His leg bounces restlessly.Â
âAlright,â Arthur announces. âWeâre playing that game again. The one with the acting.â He holds up a deck of cards.
âYâmean charades?â Alex asks. Soft.
âNo.â Charles says. âThe one I always win.â
And itâs you rolling your eyes now. âYâmean the one you always cheat during?â
He leans forward. âI win.â
Theo laughs behind you.
Your sister tries to act out like Snow White. Falling over and laughing when Arthur misreads a motion. Theo keeps guessing too many times. And Alexâs impressions are almost too good.
And laterâŠwhen the gameâs over. You find yourself in the kitchen, stacking freshly cleaned glass and bowls onto the drying towel.
Humming to yourself.
And Charles leans against the doorway, arms crossed. Watching you with a lazy grin.Â
âYou two are cute,â He says.
You roll your eyes. âDonât be weird.â
âMânot.â He shrugs. Pushing off the archway and stepping closer. âItâs justâŠuh.â He scratches the back of his neck. âYou let him touch you a lot.â
You pause with a glass in your hand. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
And he smiles. Tight. Not genuine. âNothing.â
âYouâre being weird.â
He raises his hands. Says something mocking of Theo.
And it has you gasp lightly. âYouâre such an asshole.â You try not to smile.
He steps even closer.
âYeah.â He whispers. âBut Iâm still your favorite.â
And then heâs stepping beside you, taking the glass from your hand and dries it.
Finishes washing the dishes with you in silence.
-
âYouâre staring again.â
âYeah. Looks like youâre having fun.â
âJealous?â
âOf him? Never.â
Silence.
âBut of you? Maybe.â
The bar is tucked into the cliffs. A grand view of the sea. Well lit by bulbs on strings.
Everyoneâs dressed for the night. Sun-kissed. Hair soft and flows. Laughter echoing.Â
Youâre on your second drink. Lightly buzzed. Your dress clinging to you just right. And you feel good. Happy.
Theoâs spinning you around. His hands warm on your waist as you move slowly in the corner of the makeshift dance floor. Heâs not much of a dancer. But heâs trying. And in the endâŠthatâs all that really matters.
He leans in close. âYâlook so beautiful.â
You smile. âYeah?â
âI meanâŠyâalways do.â He grins. âBut-â
You donât let him finish. Kiss him. Easy. Soft.
And when you pull back, you catch him in the corner of your eye.
Charles. At the bar.
Sitting with Arthur and Alex. Drink in front of him. Head tilted.
And heâs watching you. Not listening to either of them.
And when youâre eyes meet, he lifts his drink.
A challenge.
And later when you slip away from the loud music. Heâs there. Leaning casually against the table. Shirt undone just enough to make your throat dry.Â
âYouâre having fun.â He says. A statement. Not a question.
âIsnât that the point?â
He nods. âTheoâs a big fan of spinning you around like youâre some prize.â
You roll your eyes. âItâs called dancing.â
âMore like claiming.â He huffs under his breath.
And you look at him.
Hard.Â
Trying to read him.Â
âWhatâs your problem?â
He doesnât answer right away. Eyes dropping to the floor. Then to his half empty drink.Â
âYou kissed him.â He still isnât looking at you.
You squint your eyes a little. âYeah. I did.â
He swallows. Harsh. âCool.â
You laugh. Dry. âYouâre being ridiculous.â
âIâm the ridiculous one?â He finally looks at you. âYouâre out here making heart eyes at a guy you know wonât last more than another year.â
Your mouth falls open. âYou donât even know him.â
âI donât need to know him. I know you.â
And he steps forward. Voice dropping.
âAnd I know thatâs the same dress you wore the night IâŠâ
âCharles.â
You both go quiet.Â
Alexâs frame flickers by. Laughter erupts. People keep dancing.
âWhatever. Youâre right. Have fun with your fling.â
You narrow your eyes. âJealous?â
He smiles. Sad. âOf him? Never.â
A moment of silence. And his gaze drops to your mouth. Stays there.
âBut you? Maybe.â
-
The trip is winding down. Bags are beginning to be packed. Towels still damp. Nights slower. Everyone pretending that theyâre not ready to be home.
The skyâs dark. Everyoneâs inside finishing up packing. Winding down.
You slipped out.
Without thinking, ended up here. The lemon tree.
The same as always.Â
You hear footsteps. Uneven. Dragging.
And you turn. Charles.
Heâs drunk. Swearing under his breath as he loses his footing. A bottle dangling from his hand. Shirtless. Barefoot.
His eyes meet yours and thereâs something bitter in them. âOf course youâre here.â
You breathe. âYouâre drunk.â
âA lilâ bit,â His words slur. âCelebrating your last night as someone elseâs girl.â
You cross your arms. âWeâre not doing this.â
But heâs already walking closer.Â
âYâknowâŠ.sâkinda funny.â
You donât speak.
âHow he holds your hand like its somethinâ delicate. Like youâre some untouchable thing.â He takes another step closer. Voice shaking.
âIâve had you on your knees on the kitchen floor.â He says, bitter.
Your heart pounds. âStop.â
âIn the pool too,â He slurs. âBegged me to not pull out. Said you wanted to feel it. Feel me.â
He doesnât even let you speak. Just rambles on. Slurring. Drunk. Angry.
âHad you in every room in that house,â He grunts. âFingers shoved in you while our parents set the dinner table. Bent you over the bathroom sink. Panties still halfway up your thighs because you were too desperate to wait.â
âCharlesâŠâ
âThe pantryâŠremember that one?â His voice drops lower. âYou were so wet it dripped onto the floor. Had to stuff my fingers in your mouth so no one would hear you cryin while you came.â
âDonât do this.â
âI fucking have to.â He snaps. âBecause I canât fucking sleep this entire trip knowing he gets to touch you.â
You swallow. âIâm not some prize.â
âNo. Youâre worse.â He spits. Stepping close enough that his chest is close enough and you have to crane your neck to look at him. âYouâre everything Iâve ever wanted, and you handed it to someone else like I never fucking existed.â
âStop it.â
âHe doesnât know what its like to hear you lose control. How you cry when you come. Shaking and begging.â
And your breathing hard now.
He leans in. Bending down to be eye to eye.
âHe gets to hold you in public.â His eyes are glaring. âAnd I got your thighs shaking around my face while you said my name like a fuckinâ prayer.â
You donât speak. Canât.
Silence for a few moments.
And thenâŠ
âTell me.â He slurs, small grin tugged on the corner of his lips. âTell me which of us you think about when you touch yourself.â
You slap him.
Hard.
And his face whips to the side. He breathes heavily. Like heâs trying not to cry. Or scream. Or grab your face and kiss you.
He swallows.
âHe gets you in the daylight.â
You donât speak.
âHe gets the sunlight.âÂ
And you whisper back. Soft. Heart breaking. âYou only met me in the dark.â
You walk away barefoot. Tears forming in your eyes.
And Charles?
He stays at the lemon tree until sunrise. Alone.
-
You donât talk for three months.
Which is considered a lifetime for you and Charles.
And then on a random weekday at nearly three in the morning, he sends a photo of the lemon tree in the winter.
No message beneath it.
You donât answer.
Not for a day. Not even for three.
But then, on a random day the following week, you send a photo back.
A shot of your bedroom wall. A blurry photo of your hand holding a book in the corner.
Canât sleep.
And the three dots appear before you can overthink it.
Me either.
And thatâs how it begins.
You donât FaceTime each other. At least, not at first.Â
You fall back into a rhythm neither of you thought would come back. Almost normal. The funny kind of banter you guys always had.
Charles broke up with Alex. You broke it off with Theo.
Neither of you really said why.
-
Age 25
âDonât sit in my chair.â
âThis isnât your chair?â
âI licked it.â
âYou havenât changed.â
âYou havenât either.â
The sun is long gone. Youâre curled up in one of the cushioned chairs on the front patio. A half finished glass of wine on the stone table beside you.
The front door swings open.
âDonât sit in my chairâ
He doesnât even hesitate. Charles drops into the cushion next to you. Barefoot. Hoodie swallowing him.
âThis isnât your chair?â
âI licked it.â
He makes a funny face. âYou havenât changed.â
And you smile. âYou havenât either.â
And its easy. The way he stretches out, folding his arms behind his head. Like nothing ever happened.Â
You sip your wine.
His knee bumps into yours. Gaze on you.
âThought itâd feel weird.â
âIt didâŠfor like,â You pause. Whisper. âFor like a day.â
He holds your gaze. Doesnt look away. Smiles.
You break the tension first. âMaman said you still havenât unpacked.â
He shrugs. âIâll get there.â
âItâs been almost a whole week. Thatâs psychotic.â
âYouâre just mad I havenât asked to borrow your good smelling shampoo yet.â
âYou are so not borrowing that.â
âI already did.â
You elbow him in the side. Laughing. Body shaking. He laughs with you. Head falling back.
He clears his throat. âI missed this.â
And you bump your knee back into his. âRematch tomorrow?â
âCandy Land?â
âDonât cheat.â
âI didnât cheat.â
You narrow your eyes, smiling so hard. âYouâre the worst.â
-
Monaco, Age 26
Your back hits the wall of his apartment.Â
Urgent. Focused.Â
Like heâs waited for forever to get you alone again. And doesnât want to waste a single second of it.
His mouth is hot on yours. Hands at your hips. Your thighs. Slipped under your dress. And youâre clinging onto him like heâs a lifeline.
You can still taste the champagne on his skin. Skin warm from the race. But his mouth is desperate against you.Â
He groans against your lips. âThought about this almost every night.â
You gasp when his fingers curl around your thigh. âStop thinking.â
And heâs about to take you right there. Dress bunched at your waist. Pants halfway down. But then you press your hand to his chest.
He stills. Panting. Flushed.
âI need to say something first,â You breathe.
He waits. Hands still gripping you.
And you look up at him. The man who just won Monaco. The boy youâve known whoâs been chasing that dream since you can remember. The one you loved. Hated. Missed.
âYour dad would be so proud of you.â You whisper.
And you feel his chest rise. Jaw clench. Fingers curl harder into your skin.
âIâm serious.â Your voice is soft. âNot just because you won. But because of how youâve carried him with you.â
And his eyes are glassy.
He swallows hard. âI heard him.â His voice soft. âRight after I saw that checkered flag.â
You bring your hand to his check, pressing your palm. And he leans into you.
And then heâs kissing you again. But its different.
Still hungry. But more grateful. More claiming.
He whispers I love you into your mouth. Again and again.Â
He whispers it when you tug his shirt over his head. When you lift your hips to pull your panties off.
Whispers it into your skin when he touches your bare skin. Like heâs seeing it all for the first time again.
And when he sinks in, he groans. Leaning over you, gripping you like you might just slip through his fingers.
âYâfeel like fuckin heaven.â He mutters against your lips. âYou are heaven.â
And then he starts moving. Not fast.
Slow. Deep.
âSqueezing me like you missed it,â He huffs. âDid you, hm? Did you miss me?â
âYesâŠâ You pant. âFuckâŠyes.â
He kisses your throat. Hot open mouthed kisses at the corner of your jaw. Hips rolling into you. Each thrust making you cry out.
âI love you.âÂ
He thrusts.
âI love you.â
Another.
âNot just tonight. Not just now. Always.â He cries out.
And you clench around him. Yelling out as your orgasm builds too fast.
âCâmon thatâs it..â He breathes. âCome for me. Let me feel it, yeah? Let me have itâŠplease baby.â
âI love you,â You gasp. âI love youâŠI love you..â
And then youâre coming. Body shaking, mouth falling slack as he fucks you through it.
Following seconds later, spilling into you.
He collapses over you. âFuck. Youâre it for me.â
You hold him close.
-
âYou still take it with milk?â He asks, voice soft.Â
You nod.
He hands you a mug. His fingers brushing against yours.
You sit on the couch together. Close.
âI keep thinking about the lemon tree,â You say. Cradling the mug in your hands.
He looks at you. âYeah?â
You nod. âHow many summers we sat there pretending everything was normal.â
He huffs a soft laugh. âWe were idiots.â
You smile. âStill are.â
âIâve loved you since we were kids.â He says quietly. âSince you made me sleep outside by the lemon tree because you said it wasnât fair that only the birds got to live outside.â
You laugh, heart clenching.
âIâve loved every version of you.â He continues. âThe snot version. The barefoot version. The one who laughs too loud after a few drinks. The one who tried to date other people. The one whoâŠthe one who kissed other people in front of me because I waited too fucking long.â
You pause. Placing the mug down on the side table.
âI was scared that loving you would ruin everything.â
He pushes you hair behind your ear.Â
âI love you too.â You whisper. âYou idiot.â
He laughs.
Leans in.
Kisses you.
-
Age 28
âThis is where I almost lost you.â
âAnd now itâs where youâre asking to keep me?â
âNo. Not asking.â
âOh.â
Its late.Â
Youâve changed into one of Charlesâs old shirts. Barefoot. As usual.Â
He finds you standing at the edge of the yard.Â
Where the broken stone path curves. Where the grass bends. Where the lemon tree leans.
You hear him before you see him. His footsteps always so loud.
Neither of you speak. He wraps his arms over your shoulders from behind. Your back to his chest as he nudges his head into the space between your shoulder and neck.
You hold his arms. Swaying to the light breeze. Staring at the lemon tree together.
âThis is where I almost lost you.â He says.
And you glance at your side to him.Â
âAnd now itâs where youâre gonna ask to keep me?â You say, laughing. Teasing. Soft.
He smiles. Small. Shaky.
âNo.â He says. Unwrapping his arms from you. âNot asking.â
And then youâre turning towards him.Â
And he drops to one knee.
Just like that.
Just him in the grass. Kneeling by the lemon tree. Choosing it to be the place where he does the most important thing heâll ever do.
Your breath catches. And his hands tremble as he pulls a ring from his pocket.
âI wanted to do this right.â He says. âI want to choose you the way I shouldâve all those years ago. Not just when itâs easy..or when weâre alone. But in front of every version of us we used to be.â
Your throat burns.
âI want every summer.â He whispers. Eyes glued to you. âEvery winter. Every fight. Every make up. I want to kiss you goodnight when weâre tired. Want to raise mini versions of us.â
You laugh. You cry. And youâre nodding before he even finishes.
âI want you forever.â
And then finally, âWill you marry me?â
You fall to your knees right there in the grass. In front of the lemon tree. And kiss him hard enough that you both fall into it. Laughing. Like little kids again.
âYes.â You whisper against his lips. âAlways. In every lifetimeâŠyes.â
taglist: @softtdaisy @zicosbitch @esmeextraa @evie-119 @teamnovalak @leclercmylove @skylyn-vais @tabisswag @annaswrites00 @chaconadine @sassy-persona @im-an-overthinker @ptrickbateman @angelique-rose-valentine @agmoon03 @whistlef0rthechoir @bvbyacid-666 @jenxjar @crazynyctophilia @theoriginalsfan124
xoxo love u all :)
pairing: fem!reader x clingy!charles leclerc
genre: fluff, light humor/banter, soft angst (long-distance feels), slice-of-life texting, needy boyfriend
warnings: a bit NSFW towards the end, brief shower/FaceTime innuendo, excessive texting/clinginess (affectionate),Â
note: requested! i got a lil carried away at the end but who can blame me⊠its charles freaking leclerc man. also tried a new header thing, it was inspire by @/tsunodaradio, their headers for their writings are so beautiful, and they have such amazing imagines!
