Escapismlourve - El

I could get over anything as long as I have something new to be obsessed with

if you’re like me and you only watch f1 for free, here are some free sites you can watch it live at:

sportshub.stream - this is my personal favorite

totalsportek.pro

sportsurge.club

thehomesport.net

weakstream.org

there are also free apps you can watch it in:

Live player

strym tv - you need a code to watch in this app so you just press the + sign on the upper left corner, choose “Import playlist from URL” and paste this url http: //movitv. pro just remove the spaces

all of these have ads and if you have access to VPN, you might want to use it but i’ve tried all these links and app last season and hadn’t gotten a virus.

Hate To Love You - Synopsis & Masterlist

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader, Charles Leclerc x OFC, Charles Leclerc x Lily Wilson 

Warnings: enemies to lovers

Author’s Note: You don’t need to have read Man’s World to enjoy this spin off! 

Tag List: Want to join the tag list for this story? Fill out this little form or drop me a comment below! 

Synopsis

Keep reading

Can you write something in which Charles has a dream in which his father and Jules are alive? Perhaps Arthur, Carla, Pascale, Herve, Charles, and the reader (and Jules, if you will) gathered for a dinner party to celebrate Charles' world championship. (Charles stated in an interview prior to his father's illness that his greatest wish was for Charles to become a world champion.) As the evening progresses, Charles awakens and believes it will never come true. The reader then consoles him. Thanks❤

What if…?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: mentions of charles’ dad and of Jules.

a/n: yayy i finally posted something! I don’t feel too comfortable writing about the personal losses that Charles has been through but the anon that requested this sent the request in 12 times🥲 but i don’t think i will write something like this again…

It was gloomy and dark when you and Charles first touched down at the airport and headed to Monte Carlo, back home, both of you eager for a shower and a good night's sleep after the exhausting weekend, and past few months as a whole. The route back to your apartment in Monaco was silent and dull, Charles' hand clasping onto yours in the car while you faced a struggle to try to stay awake.

Fast forward a few hours, you could safely say that the situation hasn't differed much in terms of the aura and mood. Showers have been taken, clothes have been emptied out of suitcases and hung back in the closet. Dinner was eaten and now, there you sat on the couch with Charles right by your side.

The television was on, playing some French talkshow that was being used merely as background noise to kill the silence of the apartment. Charles was sprawled out on the length of the sofa, a cushion tucked behind his head, his phone in his hand, his thumb swiping up the screen every few seconds while tiktok sounds played and changed. You were curled up on the opposite end to him, finishing up a book you'd started a few days ago, on the plane to Abu Dhabi.

You were a few pages away from the end, but from the corner of your eye, you were seeing Charles getting sleepier by the second, yawning repeatedly and dozing off momentarily every once in a while, his phone leaning backwards in his hand every time his eyes drooped shut for a few seconds.

You sighed and closed your book, dropping it onto the couch and redirecting your attention towards your sleepy boyfriend. He was clearly exhausted, yearning to slip between the soft and warm bedsheets and just doze off but just like always, he refused to leave you alone in the evening, even when it was getting pretty late. Time and time again, he would tell you that he'd rather spend more time in your presence, even when each of you was preoccupied with something else.

With a tap onto your phone screen, you realized it wasn't that early in the evening anymore, so you might as well go to bed and get some much needed rest.

"Bébé..." you called for Charles who immediately gave you his attention, turning his head to face you with red, sleepy and tired eyes.

"C'mon, let's go to sleep." You suggested with a soft smile, "T'as l'air si ensommeillé." You seem to be very sleepy.

He nodded, a soft smile showing on his face, but he didn't make any effort to get up. Instead, he gestured for you to come closer, "Viens ici un peu." Come here a little. He asked you.

Like always, you couldn't help the way your heart beat faster and your eyes shone. You scooted closer to him and allowed him to pull you to lay on his chest. While his hands brushed your hair back, you nuzzled your face into his neck and allowed your eyes to shut for a second, the soft and comforting scent of himwrapping you in a bubble of love and safety, the warmth of his arms wrapping around you and resting on your back feeling like home.

"I know i was difficult to deal with during the season, so thank you for always supporting me, even when i was annoying about racing." He said to you, punctuating the heartfelt sentence and sealing it with a kiss on your temples.

At a loss of what to respond, you found yourself softly pecking his neck. Finishing second in the championship's drivers standings was amazing when taking into consideration the way the second half of the season played out but if someone had told you after the first few races that he'd have to battle for P2, you would've been in disbelief. Therefore, all in all, it had been a season of mixed emotions, of focusing mainly on the bright side of things and a lot of gentle whispered, comforting words that at some point started sounding like a replaying tape.

"Don't say that. It was the least I could do, and you weren't annoying or difficult; you were rightfully upset most times." You reassured, lifting your head to give him a haste kiss on the lips as he sighed, letting go of a heavy breath.

"Je t'aime." I love yous were exchanged were quietly exchanged before the two of you pulled yourselves up and headed to the bedroom, quickly slipping under the sheets and cuddling each other until sleep reigned over the room.

--

Cuddling Charles through the night was nothing new to neither of you. You loved the feeling of his arm around your back as you slept and he loved waking up with your head on his chest, therefore that had become your usual sleeping position, especially since his busy lifestyle often left the night as the only time you could connect with him without any disturbances getting in the way. Most times, it was amazing, getting to feel the other person's movements and breaths as they slept soundly, the simple interaction coming off as grounding and the ultimate human way to connect. You actually had a bit more to notice since Charles was someone who mumbled all sorts on nonsense when he's asleep. He wasn't a full on sleep talker but if you're listening, you would definitely be able to figure out what he was dreaming of at the time.

That night, you fell asleep with Charles brushing his fingers through your hair and woke up only a couple of hours later to soft mumbling leaving his mouth.

Groggily, you rolled onto your back, your hands instinctively rubbing your eyes as you tried to fully wake up and comprehend what had interrupted your sleep but silence had returned to the room and soon enough, it started lulling you back to sleep, the exhaustion from the past few days being a significant factor in how fast your eyes shut again.

However, it took only a few more seconds to wake up fully to the sound of barely coherent french.

"J'ai essayé tout..." I tried everything... That was all you could make out for a few seconds, the sounds quickly going back to quiet groans.

Confused, you sat up and turned the bedside lamp on, allowing the dim light to partially illuminate Charles' features. You could see a frown on his sleeping face as he moved slightly around the bed, as if in discomfort.

"Désolé." Sorry. He whispered again, his hand now rubbing at his face while he turned onto his side.

"Baby..." You softly spoke, cupping his face with a gentle hand, only to find it coated in a sheer layer of sweat.

With no response from Charles, you went for your second best option there. Your arms wrapped tightly around his body and even in his sleep, he hid his face in your neck.

For a second, you thought he was good, that it was just a quick bad dream but it was a moment later when you realized it wasn't just that.

"...la prochaine." ...the next one. He groaned, "Promis." Promise.

By then, you had caught onto the fact that he was dreaming of something related to racing and if the tension in his body and the expression of his face said anything, it was that he wasn't dreaming of something pleasant.

You let go of him and brushed back his hair while calling for him as he seemed to be mumbling his family's names barely coherently.

"Charles..." You called for him, sitting up and pushing away the blanket since he was sweating and breathing heavily. Repeatedly, you tried to wake him up, calling for him not too loudly as not to startle him all while your hands brushed through his hair and caressed his cheek.

"Non..." he was still groaning with an upset tone and at that point, it was sad and painful to have to hear him suffer through whatever he was dreaming of.

"Baby, c'mon wake up." You tried again, kissing his forehead.

Your patience was thinning since all your tries were failing but it wasn't until he let out a faint scream of an incoherent words that his name loudly left your lips and he quickly sat up, panting with his eyes shooting wide open.

"Are you okay?" Those words were the first thing to leave your mouth as you moved to kneel by his side.

For a second there, he still seemed confused, his face blank and his eyes lost, but through all of that obvious distortion, he nodded and fell back against the pillows, his hand covering his face.

"Reste ici," Stay here, you said even though he clearly wasn't going anywhere, "je t'apporte une tasse d'eau et je reviens." I will bring you a cup of water then i'll come back. You let him know and rushed off the bed to the kitchen, quickly filling up a cup with some cold water and joining him back in bed with just as much speed.

As soon as you were back beside him, he took the water and chugged it down quickly, disposed of it onto the bedside commode then pulled you closer to him.

The role were reversed and instead of you sleeping on his chest, you laid back on the bed and hugged him close until his body was partially on top of yours, his arm wrapped around your middle and his face hidden in the crook of your neck while you comforted him with slow rubs on his back and occasionally softly massaging his scalp. Short intervals separated deep sighs that Charles was letting out, showing that he was clearly still disturbed from the dream, rather nightmare.

"Bébé," you started, "ce n'était qu'un cauchemar." It was only a nightmare. You soothed, knowing that this was a safe ground to start from because it he wanted to talk about it, he now could and if he wasn't comfortable with that, shrugging this off was still on the table.

"I hated it." He whispered against the skin of your neck, "Tous le monde étaient là - ma famille et même la tienne - et ils parlaient tous du championnat." Everyone was here - my family and even yours - and they were all talking about the championship. Charles started explaining and you stayed quiet, hoping he would continue.

"Papa et Jules étaient déçus en moi." My dad and Jules were disappointed. He let that last part slip in a low, hesitant voice and went silent after it.

That's when you knew that was the nightmare part of the dream, the reason he was so shook and upset. It became clear that there wasn't anything else he was gonna say because that was the worst part of it all, every other detail becomes mostly irrelevant.

"Charles, baby... Do you actually believe they're disappointed in you? And don't answer this on impulse. Think about it for a second and tell me."

You heard a hesitant breath that he took, his mind clearly in conflict about the question, so you gave him the time to think.

Personally, you were proud of him. Everyone was more than proud of him and if he believed his dad and Jules wouldn't be, you would have to gladly show him all the reasons the truth was far from his personal beliefs about this. You would still hate it that he was disregarding all those reasons himself but you would make sure he saw them and weighed them out in comparison to all the negatives.

It was no secret to anyone how mentally draining this particular season was for him. You had been there for it all, the rage, the disbelief, the silence, the tears as well as the podiums, the celebrations and the wins. Therefore, it wouldn't be realistic to say you expected him to bounce back just like that, with no reminiscence or wondering about what could've been. He was human after all and people's expectations from him shouldn't be beyond that. The problem was that Charles' expectations from himself surpassed all the logical ones, what ultimately set him up with imminent disappointment when he realizes how he was sabotaging his mind.

"I don't think they're disappointed but i don't think they're that proud. When i become world champion, they will be." Charles broke the silence with those few words.

"Um..." you hummed, not exactly agreeing. "Sit up a little." With that, the two of you were sat in bed, him against the headboard while you sat with crossed legs by his side, facing him while he looked into the distance.

"I've seen you do this self destruction routine too many times these few months and i think it's about time someone told you this, Charles." You took his hand in yours, "You measure yourself as a whole on the racing scale when racing is just a part of you. Charles, you are way more than your career, way more that your racing results. You are a massively supportive brother, a caring and loving son, a lovable and trustworthy friend and an amazing, fairytale-like boyfriend. Wouldn't they be proud of that? Of you being such a good person?"

He turned to look at you, his lower lip tucked between his teeth as he bit onto it roughly, his eyes guarded while his grip on your hand tightened.

"And no, that doesn't mean your results for the season weren't good enough. You did amazing and you and me and most of your fans know that you're not the reason you didn't end up being a world champion this year. Being second in the driver's standings... Charles, that was all you! It was your own, personal effort and everyone knows it. You did your absolute fucking best, baby... and i don't know if it means much right now, but i really am so, so proud of you and, just like i know everyone else is feeling the same, i believe your dad and Jules would also feel proud." You tried to reassure him, and every word you said, you completely believed and hoped he would too.

Your eyes searched his face for any emotions and for a while, it looked like he was resisting them but then, under the dim lights of the room, his eyes glistened with a few tears that you barely caught a glimpse of because Charles pulled you to his chest, something in him urging to have you closer. His lips met yours in a quick kiss because he cuddled you close.

"Ça me signifie le monde que tu sois fière de moi." It means the world that you’re proud of me. He sniffled and said but from the restricted tone of his voice, you could tell that there was something else bugging him.

From your position between his arms, you noticed him gulp just before he leaned his head back against the headboard and heavily sighed.

"Charles," you sighed yourself, "what is it, bébé?" You asked and moved so his head was on your chest instead, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your hands tracing soothing patterns onto his back. Charles found comfort in the way you were hugging him close, the beat of your heart audible to him as it synced with the beat of his. His legs tangled with yours and he finally found himself partially relaxing, enough to talk comfortably about everything at least.

"It's just small questions - that i have - that are annoying, like what if i never become champion?" He spoke in a low tone, "Tu sais, il n'y a rien qui me garantit que je serra jamais champion." You know, there's nothing that makes it certain that i will ever be champion.

For a minute after that, you thought deeply about his words. There was nothing you wanted to do more than tell him that his dream will inevitably come true one day, but as he said, where is the guaranty? You'd spent the whole past year reassuring him that the championship was his to clinch, that it was only a matter of time before the biggest trophy is his but there was no denying that all of that was just wishful thinking. He definitely has the talent and skills for it but there was several other things that needed to be aligned in order for the dream to manifest itself.

You held him closer then, your lips pursed as you attempted to formulate a decent reply. He deserved the world, not only being it's formula one racing champion and if any of that was ever yours to offer and gift, you would've presented him everything, wrapped in golden ribbons and a few words that it was his to keep.

"I think you will be champion one day but if nothing goes right and that, god forbid, doesn't happen, i want you to remember the person you are outside of racing. You're already a hero - a champion - to so many. You're an inspiration and a motivation to so many of your fans and supporters. They value you as a person as well as a driver, they admire your talent and strength and will support you through anything. Everyone, including me, would love to see you lift the championship trophy and we all know you're capable of doing just that but even without that happening, we will always love you just the same and we will still be sure that you're a brilliant driver, just one with the worst luck. I believe your dad and Jules would be telling you the same thing as well, baby.” You spoke softly, your fingers brushing through his hair carefully as you ended your sentence with a kiss to his forehead.

Charles nodded and tightened his grip on you, “Mais je veux vraiment être un champion…” But i really wanna be a champion… He replied, the words muffled.

“Et je crois bien que tu le sera. Your time to shine will come, honey.” And i believe you will be.

With a heavy sigh and a tight hold, Charles quietly whispered to you that he love you, thanking you for you words as well, “Merci, bébé. Je t’aime fort.”

“Je t’aime même plus, Charles.” You kissed the top of his head lightly before relaxing and feeling Charles relax his body too.

You cuddled him until he fell back asleep, then allowed your eyes to shut.

You hated it so much when he had these doubts but not once will you ever let him go to sleep with his self esteem shaky. You would always be there to pull him back onto his feet and support and reassure him. You promised him that a long time ago and to this day, you were still happy to keep up the promise.

Love Language

Pairing: Boyfriend!Tom Holland x reader

Summary: Even though Tom tells you that he loves you all the time, he has several other ways to show you that he loves you—really just Tom being a very loving, caring boyfriend.

Warnings/tags: mention of the pandemic, mention of a surgery, pure fluff, boyfriend!Tom

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: This photo is the whole reason that this fanfic now exists because Tom is giving off strong boyfriend vibes, enjoy🥺

You stared out of the huge window as you stood in the cold kitchen, swirling the spoon in the cup as your pretty little boyfriend, Tom, walked in the kitchen.

“Baby” he said, “I woke up alone” he complained.

You looked back at him to answer, “I had to use the washroom and then I couldn’t fall asleep so I just got up”

Tom nodded as he walked to where you were standing and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Why are you swirling the spoon in your milk?”

You let out a soft giggle, “I’m mixing sugar in my milk”

“Oh,” he frowned his eyebrows as he rested his chin on your shoulder, “don’t have too much sugar”

You walked to the kitchen sink to keep the spoon down as you turned around to take a look at Tom, “I’m 23”

“Sugar can affect anyone” he shrugged his shoulders as he opened the refrigerator to take out the ingredients to make pancakes.

“Touché” you said, sitting down on the kitchen counter.

“Did you take your vitamins?” Tom asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I forgot” you said and before Tom could scold you, you quickly said, “I’ll take them right now”

You scurried across the kitchen to open the small cupboard to take out your vitamins and gulped them down with the milk.

“I don’t mind reminding you to take them but what if I’m not here some day” Tom shook his head as he waited for you to answer.

“What do you mean by if you’re not here some day?” You stared at him stunned.

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that!” Tom hurried to you as he almost laughed, “I didn’t mean I won’t be here like that, I meant what if I’m at work”

“Oh”

“Yeah, like that,” Tom chuckled.

“You scared me” you frowned, gently hitting his shoulder.

“I worry about your health” Tom whispered as he gave you a small peck, “so don’t forget to take your vitamins, please”

“I promise, I won’t” you mumbled against his lips.

Tom taking care of your health and keeping a check on if you’re taking your vitamins is his way of showing you that he loves you.

•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•

Even though you consider yourself a huge introvert, the lockdown was kind of killing you. It has been a whole year in this lockdown and it was finally getting to you. The tragedies that were happening around the world because of the pandemic was breaking your heart and you thanked the heavens for keeping you and your family safe every time you watched the news.

Tom and you both had work from home now and even though you were thankful for being in the comfort of your home, the chair in your home office was starting to kill you and you desperately wanted to leave the house, even if it was just for a little while.

As you sat in your home office, typing away on your laptop, you huffed. It was so late and you were so tired, your back was killing you and you were pretty sure that your lip was bleeding by now because of biting on it too much.

You heard a knock on the door and then it was slowly pushed open, revealing Tom. He peeked inside of the room, his eyes landing on you as his lips stretched in a small smile.

“Can I come in?” He whispered.

“Yeah” you softly said, you twisted on your chair to face Tom as he approached you with a tea cup.

“I got you tea” he said, carefully putting down the cup on your table so as to not spill any liquid on your work stuff.

Your heart melted as you stared at his tired face. He bent down to give you a quick peck but you cupped his face in your hands before he could pull away. You gave him a chaste kiss, moving to his cheeks, you littered small kisses on his cheekbones.

“You just had a meeting, right?” You asked.

“Yes, I did” Tom nodded, his hands coming up to your shoulders to massage them.

“And instead of relaxing after it, you made me tea?”

Tom smiled against your lips, “I know you’ve been tired, just wanted to take care of ya”

You smiled as you pulled him down further, he was half sitting on your chair now, “if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to leave,” Tom laughed.

“I love you, thank you” you said as you nudged your nose to his, he softly giggled.

“Anything for you, I’ll do anything for you” Tom said sincerely.

You bit your lips as you stared at him lovingly, “stop biting your lip and come to bed when you get over with work” Tom said as he softly pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb.

“I’ll be waiting for you” he said as he got up, slipping out of the room and shutting the door behind.

Tom making you tea even though he’s just as tired as you is his way of showing you that he loves you.

•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•

“Hi baby” Tom gushed when you slipped under the covers.

“Hi” you whispered, laying down on the bed and opening your arms for Tom.

He moved closer to you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and softly kissing your neck.

“You smell good” you hummed, your face pressed to his soft brown curls.

“I used your shampoo today” he whipped his face up to look into your eyes.

“And also my conditioner,” you said, taking another sniff of his hair.

Tom laughed as he agreed with you. He pressed his face into your chest as his hand snaked under your camisole.

“Tom” you muttered, pulling at his arm to stop him.

You had a kidney stone surgery months ago and that surgery left a pretty big scar on the side of your stomach. Even though it’s been 5 months to it, you still didn’t like how it scarred your body and Tom knew that very well.

You didn’t change your clothes with the lights on anymore and sometimes you wouldn’t even take off your night dress when Tom made love to you.

“What?” Tom huffed.

“Don’t do that” you said as you pulled down your camisole.

“Y/N, I told you, the scar is nothing to be worried about” Tom pulled his body up as he looked up at you.

“It’s ugly” you whispered.

“It’s not-” Tom sat up straight as he held your hand in his huge ones.

“Listen to me, you struggled with something and fought it, the scar shows that you’re brave. You were so strong to go through a wholeass surgery and you didn’t even cry, not even once”

You smiled as you heard Tom ramble, he went on, “hell, do you know I was crying in the waiting room and Harry was laughing at me. He said that if I’m crying about a normal surgery then I’d probably pass out when we’ll have a baby”

“We’ll have a baby?” You asked with your hand on your heart, he was just so cute.

“What- I mean- yeah in the future” you raised your eyebrows at him and Tom’s cheeks flushed red, “but that’s not the point, the point is that-”

Tom sighed as he lifted your camisole and you let him, he gently traced your scar as he bent down to give your scar a soft kiss.

“This scar isn’t ugly, it’s beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful” he praised.

“Okay, please stop” you said as you covered your face with your hands, “I’m gonna start crying”

Tom laughed as he moved up to your face and pressed a kiss to your lips. You hummed in the kiss, content with how the conversation ended up.

Tom kissing your scar and telling you how beautiful you are is his way of showing you that he loves you.

•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•

Tom always had this strong urge to cuddle you in the middle of his sleep so even when he would be in a deep slumber, he would always always always want to hold you as you both slept.

And that was what he was trying to do right now, he switched from his left side to his right side and stretched out his arm to find your body to grab and pull in.

But as he mindlessly felt your side of the bed with his hand, your body was nowhere to be found. He barely opened his eyes to peek, only to see your body almost hanging off at the side of the bed.

You must have moved on the further right side and now you were close to falling off the bed. As Tom realised that you were going to fall, he quickly sat up and scooped your body in his strong arms, pulling you away from the side of the bed.

“Tom” you mumbled in your sleep.

“You were gonna fall off the bed, baby” he mumbled back as he settled you in the middle of the bed.

He pulled the covers over both of your bodies as he wrapped his arms around you to cuddle.

You gently smiled in your half asleep state, “oh”

Tom sighed in happiness as he kissed your shoulder, his body relaxing as sleep took over him again.

Tom saving you from falling off the bed and on your ass in the middle of the night is his way of showing you that he loves you.

© loveaffaire

To be fair to your boyfriend, you should have warned him that the brownies lying on the kitchen counter weren’t normal brownies. 

It had been a mix of wine-fuelled decisions and morbid curiosity that led you to ordering the brownie mix. What started off as a normal girls’ night ended with you and a few of your closest friends scrolling through a section of an adult store website you had never looked into before. And amongst it all, you saw the advertisement for aphrodisiac-laced brownies.

You called bullshit until you read the reviews, each one more convincing than the last. With little to lose other than maybe just having a batch of completely normal brownies, you didn’t see any harm in ordering the brownie mix. And when they arrived, you couldn’t wait to bake them. 

However, you had failed to mention the purchase or the plan to your boyfriend who arrived back home after a long run, seeing a plate of brownies on the kitchen counter and thinking nothing of indulging in a little treat (even if it didn’t fit his diet).

You walked back out to the kitchen when Charles was in the bathroom, not even noticing the missing brownie as you began to get to work on lunch for the two of you. Just as you were oblivious to the struggle your boyfriend was having in the shower, his cock hard and desperate and yet nothing able to sedate him as he stroked himself over and over again until he had came at least twice. 

Charles was frustrated and needy when he exited the shower, his shoulders tense and his cock still painfully hard as he pulled on some grey sweatpants before seeking you out. 

You leaned into his embrace when he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you into his body. You hadn’t even started making dinner yet, a cookbook and your phone laid in front of you as you flipped through different recipes to try out. 

“Good run?” You asked casually, your attention still mostly focused on the cookbook. 

“Mhmm,” Charles hummed, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You opened your mouth to reply, only to let out a small ‘oh’ when you felt his hips press against your ass. Your cheeks flushed as he slowly began to rock his hips, letting out a pained whimper as he held you closer.

“Someone’s eager,” you joked playfully, but Charles didn’t seem to share the same amusement as he let out a huff of frustration as your shorts that were in his way. 

“Bend over.”

You blinked, turning your head to look at your boyfriend. “What?”

“Bend over,” he stated again, just as commanding and blunt as the first time as he gently pushed your back until you were leaning over the kitchen counter, your ass pressing back into him. 

“Charles, what has gotten into you?” You breathed out, though you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. If you didn’t enjoy the way his hands practically tore your shorts and panties off you until you were left in just your tank top and the apron you put on before. 

“Need you, cherie,” he murmured as his hands squeezed your ass cheeks, keeping you pressed back against him with your cheek squished against the cool counter. “Need to come inside you so fucking bad.”

“What—” You lifted your head, ready to continue when you noticed the plate of brownies. It took a few seconds for everything to click before you let a low groan, trying to grasp your words as his tongue swiped along your cunt from behind. “Fuck, you ate the brownies.”

“Mhm,” Charles groaned, keeping you spread and accessible for him. “M’gonna eat you now, cherie.”

“Shit,” you breathed out, your forehead pressed against the marble counter as Charles feasted on you. 

You were so sure it would have been a load of bullshit. You were so sure it was just a scam for some extra money, that the brownies would be like the box kind you could buy from the store, that this would be a funny thing to laugh back at in a few years. 

You were very, very wrong. 

“Charles!” You cried out, your hands desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything. Only for your boyfriend to swoop in and grip both wrists behind your back as he kept his hold on you, vigorously fucking you from behind. 

“Please, baby, please,” Charles whined, his cheeks flushed and his hair dishevelled but he wasn’t done with you. He couldn’t be done with you. Most of your clothes were now on the floor around you, including your tank top and his sweatpants but he had demanded to leave the apron on.

“I can’t,” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as your legs shook with pleasure. “Too much, baby, too much—”

“Just one more,” he practically begged, as though he hadn’t said the same word the last three times. “Just need to feel you squeeze around me, just…one more.”

A mix of both your arousals was leaking down your legs, the lunch long abandoned and the time lost on you both. He showed no signs of stopping or slowing down as he pounded into you from behind, his stamina on an all-time high as bounced you on his cock like you were just a toy for him to use. 

You could feel him so deep inside you. Every thrust made him feel like he was in your throat, every caress made your nerves spark tenfold and every single filthy word uttered past his lips made the coil in your stomach tighten further.

You were a fucking mess. A sobbing, moaning, leaking mess as your boyfriend fucked you over and over again, as he kept you clenching around his cock until you milked him from everything he was worth. 

“That’s it, cherie,” Charles groaned as you whimpered, another orgasm washing over you as your knees buckled and your face and tits were pressed against the marble counter. “So fucking pretty f’me. So ready for one more, huh?”

“Charles—”

“Shhh, cherie, I know you can do it for me. Ma bonne fille.”

“Shit,” you breathed out, completely spent as he squeezed your ass as he slowly thrusted his cock back inside you.

“That’s it, cherie. My pretty girl, fucking perfect for me.”

.

you are a disgusting little whore for objectifying and sexualising hardworking athletic men like you do, go to hell

daily affirmations

need any f1 writers to write a challengers inspired fic im so serious preferably for charles🧐

Hello!! May I request a charles leclerc fluff drable where he's like always staring at y/n (in a non-creepy way hehe) and like just has a big crush on her even when they're dating already type of thing? or something? tysm!

something – cl16

Looking can be so similar to loving—just ask Charles.

auds here... title from this. also i feel it is the one of the best ‘so enamored ur moving in slow mo’ songs...

A blue dress. Deep blue, satin, wrapped around your figure like you’re a dream that’s his.

There are moments where Charles’ world slows when he sees you, and this is one of them, a year into dating. Suddenly he feels like he’s a teen seeing his first racing car, or a kid seeing Star Wars all over again. Nothing else matters but this—but you, in this deep blue dress, your arms swinging around as you dance to the upbeat music that plays at this dinner party.

Someone’s clutched your hand and twirled you around, so quick your hair falls over your face. He wants to pick you up, let his hands wring around your waist and hug you close, close, closer. He wants to wipe the hair from your face, press a kiss to your cheek, then your nose, then your lips, taste the martini there, smell the sea and the two spritzes of perfume on your jaw.

You move in slow motion, every ripple of your dress, every tendril of hair over your eyelashes. You’re laughing, tipsy, when your friend hugs you close, moving the both of you into a shitty waltz. Jesus, you’re so pretty. 

“Charles!” You’re saying. He blinks, and your eyes are meeting his, smiling with the rest of your face. The French summer has tinged your cheeks with the heat, your left shoulder peeling with a sunburn. Even now in the evening, when it hides, it’s managed to follow you still, blinding and beautiful. An arm stretches out, a hand, then a finger. Come on, you’re saying, dance with me!

It’s your favorite song that’s playing, some disco tune that has you hopping excitedly, hips swaying in the kind of way he can’t ever get his eyes off of. He knows this because it’s one of the ones at the top of his Spotify statistics, what with how often you’re using his phone to launch impromptu dance parties while cooking or cleaning or driving. 

So he does, gets up from where he’s been sitting while everyone else dances. He’d been undoing his tie, then two buttons on his polo, nursing Scotch (between you both, you like to say, he’s the boring drinker and you’re the fun one.) You shimmy your shoulders when his hand locks with yours, a smile stretching onto your face when he pulls you close and wraps the same arm around your waist. The song hasn’t yet reached its crescendo, so you sway softly, smiling like idiots.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes lidded from the alcohol and the feeling of being this near you.

“Hey there, handsome. Here often?”

“Just passing by, actually.” He pauses. “I saw a beautiful girl from the entrance and couldn’t help myself.”

You laugh, letting him twirl you as the chorus begins, both of you moving to the ever-familiar beat of this song and using the same moves you use at home, when it’s just the two of you. That’s exactly how it feels, though: like it’s just you both, dancing and laughing. When he finally moves your hair aside and presses a kiss to your lips, the world slows all over again. 

—

His world whirs into slow motion when Pascale is laughing at one of your jokes.

“I’m funnier than your son,” you say when she’s wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. Across the brunch table, finger tapping against the white linen tablecloth, Charles’ eyes are stuck on you. Nobody notices his stare of adoration, because it’s so usual, so ordinary, for him to be looking at you so intently, and with so much love.

You’re wearing a white dress that you’d been wiping your palms over nervously in the car, asking him to repeat a crash course of his family over and over until it was the only thing your mind was capable of retaining. Yet for all your nerves, you’d blended in exceptionally well with everyone at the table, over salmon and pasta and tea and biscuits.

Pascale had ushered you in with the urgency of every mother, a hand around your shoulder, pointing out members of the family, fixtures on the wall. There’s a story behind everything. Behind stains, scratches, pictures, peeled-off labels. You’d let her tell you everything. 

A smile makes its way onto your face when you see Pascale fail to stop laughing over your joke, her hand clenching yours. Your eyes meet his, and he can see the excitement in them—the joy of having this happen. He hopes you can read him equally well, hopes you can see how excited he is, too, for this to be happening, for you to be so loved by the people that matter most to him.

A hand comes up to tuck hair behind your ear, lips pursing to prevent your smile from widening. No, he wants to say, I want to see you smile. Everything. Show me everything. You’re beautiful.

“You really are,” says Pascale, and the two of you turn to smile softly at him. This is love, he thinks, and he wishes time never quickens ever again.

—

The book this week is Love in the time of Cholera. You try to read one book every two weeks, but lately you’ve been forgetting—last night you’d firmly resolved to start again, and you’re hooked on the words already.

The thin blanket of your bed is the only thing shielding you from the cold, your bare back turned to him as you continue to read the chapter. Charles sees you and wishes he was half as good as you. You’re stupid, you’d said with genuine concern when he told you this once. Have you even seen yourself? And you praised him, listed every last amazing thing about him.

Still, he wasn’t convinced. There may have been awards and videos and celebrations for him, but he wishes he was good enough for you sometimes. Your intelligence, your wit, your beauty. Your ability to get up and read a book in the morning. Your capacity to love. He can’t believe you’re his, all his, this beautiful girl is truly all his.

His world slows again, time ticking into slow motion as he watches you passively. Every few moments there’s the sound of the page turning, and your slow breathing makes up the rest. He wants to paint a picture on your back, make you his canvas, so he can think of another way to convey his immense, all-encompassing love for you.

Genuinely, he thinks he’d be incomplete without you. He conveys this in the way he stares, the way he admires, like you’re a sculpture in the Louvre and he’s at the front of the line. But he’s the only one in line, and he’ll be damned if somebody shows up behind him. 

You pause; the noise of the blanket rustling and your book shutting snaps Charles back to reality. Without turning, your voice penetrates the silence. “What are you doing?” With sleep and unuse, your voice is raspy.

“Looking at you.” He answers slowly.

Your eyes meet his, eyebrow raising as you turn slightly. “Why?”

“Just…” he pauses. It’s impossible to articulate why. So he says instead, “Just looking.”

—

When a race is won, reaches its climax and its end all at once, it’s a noisy affair.

Tonight, there are fireworks, music, the pulse of excitement in the crowd that celebrates Leclerc’s P1. Everything moves fast, fast, fast—interviews, cheers, arms wrapped around him, worshipping him, fans screaming. Then it’s the media pen, questions over and over, then he’s packing up, tallying points, having debriefs.

He tugs off his helmet. Everything is fast, even in his moment of winning. Fast and quick and heavy. But he seeks something, something to make time slow—

And finds her, wearing a too-big Ferrari shirt (courtesy of Joris getting the sizing all wrong) in the crowd by the pit lane, beautiful as ever. You’re waving, your enthusiasm in your whoops of encouragement. You blow a kiss, and time is slow again. He watches you grip the front of the shirt and present it proudly, the big 1-6 embedded on it. He’s yours, yes, he is.

I love you, you mouth slowly. He nods back—it’s more than enough. Then you’re making a shoo motion with your hand, decorated with bracelets that match his. Go, you’re saying, go and be the winner, be the best driver. Later, you’ll be mine, just mine, just Charles.

He’s whisked away to do an interview, but his eyes are stuck on yours, excited and proud. You never usually like watching races, out of fear, but Charles insists you do, presses a kiss to your forehead and promises everything will be okay. You end up digressing almost every time.

“I’d imagine this win is the highlight of the week,” says the journalist smugly, then extends the mic to Charles’ lips.

He shakes his head a little. “Just one of them,” he responds, smiling. 

—

A necklace with an initial on it, a thin silver ring across your middle finger, a matching bracelet on your wrist.

“Who is that?” Charles asks dazedly, shoulder bumping Carlos’. An explanation is fed into his ear, someone who knows someone knows her and invited her to attend this dinner. It’s getting late in London, and he’d been prepared to get to his car and go to his hotel, but suddenly he’s distracted, stopped in his tracks.

It almost feels weird to have time slow so much like this.

Even when he’s in a racing car, or winning, or when a car careens off track and time seems to hang in the balance—nothing has made him feel this way before. He watches you laugh, play with the neckline of your black top and listens to your ring clink against your glass of champagne.

Your hair is tied into a loose bun, framing your face, your lips making animated conversation with someobody else. He wants to hear your voice, make you smile, see how you react to his own jokes. Time crawls when he thinks of you, moves like a turtle walking through honey.

So later, when he’s almost abandoned the idea of introducing himself, he finds you clicking your car keys on the sidewalk. He clicks his, watches the lights of his Ferrari blink open, and you turn to him, smiling coyly.

You open your mouth, and say: “So you’re the cute dickhead who can’t park?”

Again, time moves in slow motion, your bun coming undone as you turn, hair falling over your back, arms crossing over your torso. Your high heels click softly against the pavement as you listen to him stutter out an introduction, an apology for the shit parking. This is it, he thinks, the start of something absolutely beautiful.

If he’s looked at you now, he thinks, he can’t ever look away. He hopes he doesn’t ever have to.

𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚!𝐚𝐮 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (fc: pasabist on ig)

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yourusername filling up my vitamin d tank in portugal ❦

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user1 someone explain to me how this girl is dating charles ⤷ user2 she's way out of his league

charles_leclerc mon bijou (my jewel), no one compares to your beauty! ⤷ yourusername charles stop i'm already turning red

charles_leclerc i cannot believe how blessed i've been with you in my life, i'm going crazy over you ⤷ yourusername you're so overdramatic...

user3 y/n being absolutely flustered because of charles' comments is so real of her ⤷ user4 even i'm blushing because of his compliments ⤷ user5 idk if i should be jealous because she's dating charles or because he keeps being the sweetest boyfriend

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yourusername bye bye vacation ☀️

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user6 i want what they have ⤷ user7 every night i manifest this exact life

charles_leclerc mon soleil (my sun), your smile brightens up my day ⤷ yourusername careful or you'll get a sunburn ⤷ charles_leclerc i'd gratefully accept every sunburn if it means seeing your smile every day

user8 i hate charles for raising the bar so high with every comment he leaves under her posts ⤷ user9 god has his favourites and she's one of them fr

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voguesingapore Let the elegance of #Y/N enchant us all. A rising star on various social media platforms, Y/N Y/L/N has enjoyed a big following, especially on Instagram. She's currently dating Formula One driver Charles Leclerc and opens up about the life as an F1 WAG and her life in the spotlight in our September Issue 2022.

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yourusername it feels like a dream come true! i'm still speechless this is really happening... ⤷ charles_leclerc you deserve for all your dreams to come true mon amour (my love)

user10 so we're celebrating people who have achieved nothing on their own now? ⤷ user11 she had a pretty big following even before she started dating charles ⤷ user12 yeah but like.... why? just because she's pretty? ⤷ user13 that's literally how most people became influencers on social media

user14 she's so otherwordly pretty

user15 she looks so ethereal. elegance perfectly describes her

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yourusername charles loves to spoil me on my birthday even if he cannot be here right now

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user16 i need to call my therapist because i cannot anymore ⤷ user17 charles spoiling y/n and her friends because of her birthday really confirms the "if he wanted to he would" saying

charles_leclerc the pink hair is going to be the death of me mon coeur (my heart) ⤷ yourusername my face is as pink as my hair right now

user18 wow and my boyfriend couldn't even text me a "happy birthday" on my birthday morning... ⤷ user19 not everyone can be as sweet as charles leclerc

user20 she's so spoiled oml

user21 you're telling me she rather celebrates her birthday with her friends than support charles in zandvoort? ⤷ user22 some people love to hate on every little thing...

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charles_leclerc mon ange rose me rend fou... bon anniversaire ma chère (my pink angel is driving me insane... happy birthday my dear)

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user23 oh he whipped whipped

user24 charles being absolutely head over heels for y/n is what i aspire in my future relationship

yourusername you're too adorable charles, je t'aime (i love you) ⤷ charles_leclerc je t'aime davantage (i love you more) ⤷ yourusername impossible! ⤷ charles_leclerc yes possible!

user25 i need to take a break from charles' and y/n's profiles because their comments keep destoying me

user26 they made me believe in love again ⤷ user27 if they ever break up, i'll be a two times child of divorce