Obsession
Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!reader
Synopsis: Charles and his girlfriend discovering she can squirt for the first time, and his subsequent obsession with making it happen again.
Warning: smut, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, obsessed!charles, squirting, fingering, dirty talk
Moonlight Radio: I went a lil overboard on this one, I definitely need holy water 🥵
PATREON: Exclusive Content
ʙᴇ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴇᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ɪꜱ ʙɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ♡
ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ
The Monaco apartment was quiet except for the sound of rain pattering against the floor-to-ceiling windows. Charles had just returned from a grueling triple header, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes—but also something else. Hunger. Need.
"I missed you," he said, his accent thicker when he was tired, dropping his bag by the door and crossing to where you stood in the kitchen.
"I missed you too," you replied, melting into his embrace. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you flush against him.
"Three weeks is too long," Charles murmured against your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your skin. "I've been thinking about you every night. About touching you. Tasting you."
Heat pooled in your belly at his words. Your relationship with Charles was passionate, intense—the sex always incredible. But there was something different in his touch tonight, something almost desperate.
"Charles," you breathed as his hands slid under your shirt, finding bare skin.
"Mmm?" He was already working your shirt up and over your head, his green eyes dark with desire as they roamed over your body. "Dio, you're so beautiful. I need you. Now."
He lifted you onto the kitchen counter, stepping between your legs. His mouth found yours in a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and barely restrained passion. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his hardness press against you through his jeans.
"Bedroom," you managed between kisses.
"Too far," Charles growled, already working at the button of your shorts. "I need to taste you. I've been dreaming about it."
He pulled your shorts and underwear off in one smooth motion, spreading your thighs wide. The cool air hit your heated skin, making you gasp.
Charles dropped to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs, and looked up at you with those intense green eyes.
"So pretty," he murmured in Italian, before diving in.
His tongue was everywhere—licking, sucking, exploring. He ate you out like a man starved, groaning against your flesh. Your hands found his hair, gripping tight as pleasure built rapidly.
"Charles, oh god—"
He slid two fingers inside you, curling them upward while his mouth focused on your clit.
The dual sensation was overwhelming. His fingers moved with purpose, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur.
"That's it, mon amour," he encouraged, his voice muffled. "Let go for me."
The pressure was building differently than usual—more intense, almost uncomfortable. You tried to pull away slightly, but Charles held you firm, his fingers never stopping their relentless rhythm against that spot inside you.
"Charles, wait, I feel—something's—"
"Don't fight it," he commanded, looking up at you. "Give it to me."
His mouth returned to your clit, sucking hard, and suddenly the pressure released in a way you'd never experienced. Liquid gushed from you as you came, harder than you ever had before, your whole body convulsing with the intensity of it.
Charles pulled back slightly, his face and shirt soaked, his eyes wide with shock and unmistakable excitement.
"Cazzo," he breathed, staring at you in wonder. "Did you just—you just squirted."
Embarrassment flooded through you, mixing with the aftershocks of pleasure. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't know I could—I've never—"
"Sorry?" Charles stood, a wild grin spreading across his face. "Bella, that was the hottest thing I've ever seen." He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You have no idea how sexy that was."
"Really?" you asked, still mortified but also intrigued by the hunger in his eyes.
"Really." He picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. "And now I'm going to make you do it again."
He carried you to the bedroom, laying you on the bed with surprising gentleness given the intensity in his expression. He stripped off his wet shirt, revealing the toned physique you loved, then his jeans and boxer briefs.
"I can't believe you've been hiding this from me," Charles said, crawling over you. "How long have you been able to do that?"
"I didn't know I could," you admitted. "That's never happened before."
His eyes darkened further. "Never? I'm your first?" The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill through you. "Dio, that makes it even better. I'm the only one who's made you squirt. The only one who knows how to make your body do that."
He kissed down your body, taking his time now, building anticipation. When he reached your thighs, he spread them wide, studying you with an intensity that made you squirm.
"I want to understand exactly what makes you do it," he said, almost to himself. "What angle, what pressure, what speed."
"Charles—"
"Shh, let me experiment, amore." His fingers slid inside you again, and you were so sensitive from your previous orgasm that you gasped. He moved them slowly, carefully, watching your face for reactions. When he found that spot again, your hips jerked involuntarily.
"There," he said with satisfaction. "Right there. Your body tells me everything."
He began to work that spot with focused precision, his other hand pressing down on your lower belly. The pressure built again, faster this time, and you felt that same overwhelming sensation.
"I can't—it's too much—"
"Yes, you can," Charles insisted, his voice firm. "You're going to come for me again. You're going to squirt all over my hand."
The combination of his fingers and his words pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry, liquid gushing again, soaking the sheets beneath you. Charles watched with rapt attention, his cock visibly throbbing.
"Perfetto," he breathed. "So fucking perfect. I love watching you lose control like that."
Before you could recover, he was positioning himself at your entrance. "I need to be inside you when you do it again," he said, sliding in with one smooth thrust.
You were so wet, so sensitive, that the stretch was almost too much. Charles groaned, his head falling forward. "You feel incredible. So wet for me."
He started moving, his thrusts deep and purposeful. One hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit, while he angled his hips to hit that spot inside you with every thrust.
"I can feel it building in you already," he said, his accent thicker with arousal. "Your body is so responsive to me now that I know what you need."
"Charles, please—"
"Please what, bella? Please make you squirt again?" He thrust harder, his fingers circling your clit with practiced precision. "I'm going to. I'm going to make you come so hard you soak us both."
The dirty talk combined with the physical sensations was overwhelming. You felt the pressure building again, even more intense with him inside you.
"That's it," Charles encouraged, feeling your body tense. "Don't hold back. Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."
You came with a scream, your body convulsing around him as you squirted again. The sensation of it happening while he was inside you was indescribable—intense and intimate and almost too much.
"Fuck, yes," Charles groaned, his rhythm faltering. "I can feel it, feel you gushing around my cock. So fucking hot—"
He came with a shout, buried deep inside you, his whole body shaking with the intensity of it. He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing hard, covered in sweat and your release.
"That was..." you started, unable to find words.
"Incredible," Charles finished, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes were still dark with satisfaction and something else—a new hunger. "I want to make you do that every time we have sex."
You laughed breathlessly. "I don't know if my body can handle that."
"We'll build up your stamina," he said with a grin, rolling to the side and pulling you against him. "This is just the beginning, amore. I'm going to learn everything about your body. Every way to make you squirt for me."
—
Two days later, you were in the Ferrari motorhome at the track. Charles had qualified P2, and the adrenaline was still pumping through him when he pulled you into his driver's room and locked the door.
"We only have twenty minutes before the debrief," you protested weakly as he backed you against the wall.
"Then we'll have to be quick," Charles said, already working your jeans open. "I've been thinking about making you squirt all through qualifying. It was very distracting."
"Charles, someone might hear—"
"Then you'll have to be quiet," he said with a wicked grin, dropping to his knees. "Think you can do that, bella?"
He didn't wait for an answer, pulling your jeans and underwear down and lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. His mouth found you immediately, tongue working with focused intensity.
You bit your lip to keep from crying out, one hand braced against the wall, the other tangled in his hair. Charles knew exactly what he was doing now—he'd spent the past two days studying your body, learning what made you squirt, and he applied that knowledge ruthlessly.
His fingers slid inside you, finding that spot, while his mouth sucked on your clit. The pressure built rapidly, and you knew you were going to come embarrassingly fast.
"Charles," you whispered urgently. "I'm going to—the mess—"
He pulled back just enough to say, "I don't care. Come for me. Now."
His mouth returned to you, and you came hard, squirting into his eager mouth. He groaned against you, drinking you down, his fingers never stopping their movement to prolong your orgasm.
When you finally came down, legs shaking, Charles stood and kissed you deeply. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it sent another wave of arousal through you despite having just come.
"I love that I can do that to you," he murmured against your mouth. "Love that I can make you lose control in twenty minutes in my driver's room where anyone could hear."
"You're insatiable," you said, but you were smiling.
"Only for you," Charles replied, helping you back into your clothes. "And tonight, when we get back to the hotel, I'm going to take my time. I'm going to make you squirt so many times you lose count."
—
He kept his promise. That night in the hotel, he spent hours working your body, learning new ways to make you squirt. With his fingers. With his tongue. With his cock. He tried different positions, different angles, different combinations of stimulation.
By the time he finally let you rest, the sheets were soaked, you were boneless with exhaustion, and Charles looked like he'd won the championship.
"I think I'm addicted," he admitted, pulling you against his chest. "To making you do that. To watching you lose control. To knowing I'm the only one who can make your body respond like that."
"I've created a monster," you said, but there was no real complaint in your voice. The sex had always been good with Charles, but this new dynamic—his obsession with your pleasure, his determination to master your body—had taken things to another level.
"A monster who loves you," Charles corrected, kissing your forehead. "And who is going to spend the rest of his life finding new ways to make you squirt."
—
A week later, you were in his car—the road car, not the Ferrari, though the way Charles drove sometimes made you question the difference. He'd picked you up from dinner with friends, and his hand had been on your thigh the entire drive, slowly creeping higher.
"Charles, you're driving," you said as his fingers brushed against your center through your dress.
"I'm an excellent driver," he replied, his eyes still on the road but a smirk on his lips. "I can multitask."
He pulled into an empty parking garage, driving to the top level where there were no other cars. He parked in a dark corner and immediately reclined your seat back.
"Charles, what are you—"
"I've been thinking about this all through dinner," he said, already pushing your dress up.
"Watching you laugh and talk, knowing what I can do to your body. Knowing that under that pretty dress, you're already wet thinking about it too."
He wasn't wrong. His obsession with making you squirt had awakened something in you too—a confidence in your body's responses, an anticipation of the pleasure he could give you.
Charles pulled your underwear aside, his fingers sliding through your wetness. "So ready for me already," he murmured appreciatively. "My good girl, always ready to squirt for me."
The dirty talk still made you blush, but it also made you wetter. Charles had discovered he could make you squirt faster when he talked like this, and he used it shamelessly.
His fingers slid inside you, immediately finding that spot, while his thumb circled your clit. The angle was different in the car, but Charles adjusted quickly, always learning, always adapting.
"I want to see if I can make you squirt in under five minutes," he said conversationally, as if he wasn't currently finger-fucking you in a parking garage. "My record is seven. Think we can beat it?"
"Charles—"
"That's not an answer, bella." His fingers moved faster, more purposefully. "Come on, amore. Show me how well I've trained your body."
The combination of his skilled fingers and his words pushed you rapidly toward orgasm. You gripped the door handle, your other hand clutching his arm, as the pressure built.
"Three minutes," Charles said, glancing at the car's clock. "You're going to beat the record. I can feel it. Your body is so responsive to me now. You're going to squirt all over my leather seats, and every time we drive somewhere, you'll remember this."
You came with a muffled cry, squirting hard, the liquid splashing against the seat and Charles's hand. He groaned in satisfaction, working you through it.
"Two minutes and forty-five seconds," he announced proudly when you finally stopped shaking. "New record. I think that deserves a reward, don't you?"
Before you could answer, he was pulling you into his lap, somehow maneuvering in the confined space to free his cock from his jeans. He lifted you easily, positioning you over him, and pulled you down onto his length in one smooth motion.
You gasped at the sudden fullness, your sensitive body clenching around him. Charles groaned, his hands gripping your hips.
"Ride me," he commanded. "And when you're close, I'm going to make you squirt again with my cock inside you. I love feeling it, feeling you gush around me."
You started moving, the angle making him hit deep inside you. Charles's hands guided your movements, one sliding between your bodies to find your clit.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, watching your face. "Taking my cock so well. So wet for me. I can feel how close you are already. Your body knows what's coming."
"Charles, I can't—not again so soon—"
"Yes, you can," he insisted, his fingers moving faster on your clit. "You can and you will. Because I know your body better than you do now. I know exactly what it needs."
His confidence was intoxicating. The way he'd learned your body, mastered it, made you feel desired in a way you'd never experienced. You felt the pressure building again, impossibly.
"That's it," Charles encouraged, thrusting up to meet your movements. "I can feel it. You're going to squirt all over my cock again. Going to make a mess of both of us. Do it, bella. Come for me."
You came with a cry, squirting around his cock, the sensation intense and overwhelming.
Charles groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust up hard, chasing his own release.
"Fuck, yes, just like that—" He came with a shout, buried deep inside you, his whole body tensing.
You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing hard in the steamed-up car. Charles's hands stroked your back soothingly, a contrast to the intensity of moments before.
"I love you," he murmured into your hair. "And I love what we've discovered together. What your body can do. What I can make you feel."
"I love you too," you replied, lifting your head to kiss him softly. "Even if you've become obsessed."
"Obsessed is such a strong word," Charles said with a grin. "I prefer 'dedicated to your pleasure.'"
"Is there a difference?"
"Not really," he admitted cheerfully. "But can you blame me? Watching you squirt, feeling it, knowing I'm the one making it happen—it's addictive. You're addictive."
—
Back at his apartment that night, Charles ran you a bath, joining you in the large tub. The warm water soothed your well-used body, and you leaned back against his chest with a contented sigh.
"I've been thinking," Charles said, his hands idly stroking your arms.
"That's dangerous," you teased.
He pinched your side gently. "I've been thinking about how lucky I am. That I get to be the one who discovered this about you. That I get to be the one who makes you feel this good."
You turned in his arms to face him. "I'm the lucky one. You could have been weird about it, or made me feel embarrassed. Instead, you made me feel sexy and confident."
"Because you are sexy," Charles said seriously. "The way you respond to me, the way you trust me with your body—it's the biggest turn-on of my life. I know I've been a bit... intense about it."
"A bit?" you laughed.
"Okay, very intense," he conceded. "But it's because I love making you feel good. I love that I can do something to you that no one else has. It makes me feel..." he searched for the word, "possessive. In a good way. You're mine, and I'm the only one who knows how to make your body do that."
"I am yours," you confirmed, kissing him softly. "And yes, you're the only one. My first and my only."
Charles groaned, pulling you closer. "Don't say things like that unless you want me to make you squirt in this bathtub right now."
"We just had sex in your car an hour ago," you pointed out. "Aren't you tired?"
"Never too tired for you," Charles said, but he didn't push. Instead, he just held you, the water lapping gently around you both.
Later, in bed, Charles spooned behind you, his hand resting possessively on your hip. "Thank you," he murmured sleepily.
"For what?"
"For trusting me. For letting me explore this with you. For not being embarrassed or ashamed of what your body can do."
You laced your fingers with his. "Thank you for making me feel safe enough to let go. For being so enthusiastic about it that I couldn't help but embrace it too."
"Oh, I'm very enthusiastic," Charles said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. "In fact, I'm already planning what I want to try tomorrow."
"Of course you are," you said fondly.
"I was thinking," he continued, his hand sliding from your hip to your stomach, "maybe we could try it with you on top, but facing away from me. The angle might be interesting."
"You've really thought about this."
"Bella, I think about it constantly," Charles admitted without shame. "About all the ways I can make you squirt. All the places. All the positions. It's become my favorite hobby."
"Your favorite hobby is making me squirt?"
"My favorite hobby is making you come so hard you lose control," he corrected. "The squirting is just the most visible, most satisfying evidence of that."
You turned in his arms to face him. "You really are obsessed."
"Completely," Charles agreed, kissing you. "And I have no intention of stopping. I'm going to spend the rest of our lives finding new ways to make you squirt. New places. New techniques. I'm going to become an expert in your pleasure."
"You already are an expert," you said, touched by his dedication even as you teased him.
"Then I'll become a master," Charles said with determination. "A PhD in making you squirt. Professor Leclerc, specializing in his girlfriend's orgasms."
You laughed, the sound turning into a moan as his hand slid between your legs. "Charles, I thought we were sleeping."
"We will," he promised, his fingers already finding that spot inside you with unerring accuracy. "Right after I make you squirt one more time. For science."
"For science?" you gasped as pleasure built rapidly.
"For science," Charles confirmed solemnly, though his eyes were dancing with mischief. "I need to test my hypothesis that I can make you squirt in under two minutes when you're already relaxed and satisfied."
"You're ridiculous," you managed, even as your hips started moving against his hand.
"I'm dedicated," he corrected, his thumb finding your clit. "There's a difference. Now stop talking and come for me, amore. Show me how well your body knows mine now."
And you did, because he was right—your body did know his now. Knew his touch, his rhythm, exactly what he could make you feel. You came with a cry, squirting over his hand, and Charles watched with that same look of wonder and satisfaction he'd had the first time.
"One minute and thirty-eight seconds," he announced proudly. "New record again. I think we should celebrate."
"Charles, I can't—"
"Tomorrow," he agreed, pulling you close and kissing your forehead. "Tomorrow I'll make you squirt at least five times. But tonight, we sleep."
"At least five times?" you asked weakly.
"At least," Charles confirmed cheerfully. "I'm thinking morning sex, shower sex, maybe afternoon sex if I can get away from the simulator early, and definitely multiple rounds before bed. I have plans, bella. So many plans."
You should have been exhausted by the prospect. Instead, you felt a thrill of anticipation.
Because as obsessed as Charles was with making you squirt, you'd become equally addicted to the pleasure he gave you, to the way he made you feel desired and worshipped.
"I love you," you said, snuggling into his chest.
"I love you too," Charles replied, his hand stroking your hair. "My beautiful, responsive, perfect girl who squirts so prettily for me."
"You're never going to get tired of this, are you?"
"Never," Charles said with absolute certainty. "This is my new favorite thing in the world. Well, second favorite. You're still first. But making you squirt is a very close second."
You fell asleep in his arms, already knowing that tomorrow would bring exactly what he'd promised—multiple orgasms, multiple times squirting, and Charles's continued obsession with mastering every aspect of your pleasure.
And honestly? You wouldn't have it any other way.
ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ - ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.
ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ, ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛɪɴɢ.
