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predestinatos · 7 months

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outside, baby | CL16 ☆𖦹°‧★

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

pairing: charles leclerc × fem!reader [+ tiny bit of oscar piastri x fem!reader]

summary: charles was not expecting to see you this time. especially not with someone else. chapter 2 of an ongoing series.

tags: enemies to lovers, jealous!charles, sweet cute giddy moments with oscar, i promise he won't get hurt in this, smut (details in warnings)

word count: 3.6k

♡₊˚ 🦢₊✧ minors dni !! warnings & note underneath ♡₊˚ 🦢₊✧

warnings: smut, car sex, thigh riding, dirty talk, sort of possessive talk.

author's note: thank you so much for all the lovely comments and support on part 1!! it made me really happy to continue this and make it a series!! hope you like this chapter with some twists and turns <3

You were nervous.

Not because this was your first time at a race - it wasn't - but because it was the first time you went to one not invited by friends but by someone else.

You weren't sure when it had started, but meeting Oscar Piastri had been one of the best things that could've happened to you recently. He was intensely calm and collected, respectful of your space but also caring. Although things haven't developed much past a couple of dates and more than a couple of texts, you enjoyed how it was progressing.

You watched him get ready, his scent of fresh fruit now becoming familiar to you, his shy smile a comfortable view.

Sitting in his driver's room, you admired him and how direct he was.

"Thank you for being here" he interrupted your thoughts softly, cheeks slightly red.

"Thank you for inviting me" you replied, giving him a small smile yourself. You felt 15 again, shy and slightly awkward, but oh so giddy.

So much so that you had almost forgotten the burning Read that still haunted your phone.

It didn't matter - at least not anymore. It was who he was, cold, distant and arrogant. You both had your fun for a night and that was all there was to it.

And although you avoided crossing your path with his as much as he did with you - you noticed how rarely Charles was in dinners and parties where you were, but his presence was assured as soon as you informed the group chat you couldn't make it that day - you also hoped to see him.

not to speak to him, or confront him, but rather to have some sort of confirmation, that something had happened that night. To see his reaction upon noticing your presence where he did not expect you to be, to catch his unprepared gaze, to decipher it somehow.

Oscar's hand suddenly appeared in your vision, inviting you to hold it as he guided you towards the upper part of the paddock, where you'd be watching the race. Holding it, his hand felt familiar, a sense of closeness you had with this boy that provided you with the friendship you needed in moments such as those.

"Are you nervous?" you asked him. He seemed so calm, confident in a non arrogant way, just aware that he was doing his best and that was the best anyone could do. His shoulders relaxing, he kept guiding you towards your spot as he replied, "over the race? not really. over you being here? yes."

There it was, his bluntness and openness about his own feelings which captivated you so much and made you feel so secure. There were no games with him, he was transparent and collected, and you felt like you were near a beach, listening to the waves but never afraid they'd consume you.

Upon walking, your eyes brush over a familiar figure - recognizable everywhere, dark party lights or not. Before your brain could process everything to take another look, he was already on the move towards the ferrari garage, leaving your heart pounding in your chest with ache. Reaching the most comfortable spot where you could sit and see the race perfectly, Oscar left a small kiss on your cheek as you wished him good luck.

"You're already here" he replied, with a timid wink, as he turned away from you and towards the garage.

Reporter: Charles, that was quite an aggressive approach out there on the track today! Charles: Well, yeah, I fight hard for what I want… and I wanted a place on that podium-

You were sitting on the hotel room floor, eating some takeout sushi, drinking coke and watching the Saw films with Oscar, his own special way of celebrating a P4 – which is to say, it’s a great spot for him as he is proving himself, so he feels happy enough to just hang.

“This is gross” he said, frowning and flinching his whole body as he took a sip of his drink. “I mean, it isn’t even scary, it’s just disgusting” he continued, despite clearly wanting to keep watching.

“It’s just someone chopping their own arm off, could be worse” you joked back, smiling at him. “Besides, being so gross that you can’t stop watching is what makes it so good.”

It felt easy, being with him. Like being with a friend you’ve known since you were little, where you could breathe and be yourself without overthinking.

“Thank you again. For being there today, I mean” he said, his eyes not leaving the television screen. “No need. You did great out there, and you were so close to that podium were it not for Charles’ ridiculous move,” you replied, rolling your eyes. You tried not to think about it, or what it could mean, at least not now, while you were with Oscar. Your anger was ready to burst out of you at any moment, but you held it down with him around.

“Yeah, I mean… It was fucked, but completely legal. I guess I just wasn’t expecting it as much since Leclerc is not the type to do that” he shrugged it off, while also flinching at the sudden limb being ripped out on screen. As much as you tried to brush it off as a new attempt at strategy, you knew Charles wasn’t the type to do that at all. He was arrogant, rude and overconfident but not on track, not the driver who takes such an offensive approach. You hated the fact that your mind found itself considering the fact that this was because of you, that the sheer image of you with someone else could turn Charle’s behavior into one of sheer petty jealousy. Besides, it made no sense. He had left you on read, he had constantly made it clear how much he disliked you, and accidents such as that night happen but that’s all they are – accidents.

As the credits of the 3rd film rolled, your phone vibrated and its screen lit up in the darkness of the hotel room. You took a quick glance at it, almost instinctively, not thinking much about it. However, the name on the screen caused you to freeze as you watched the screen turn to black again. You double tapped again, and read what it said:

Charles (Asshole): let me know once you’re done comforting your little friend. (2:04am)

Before, you would have chuckled at this, knowing it sprang out of amusement over getting on your nerves, but this time you knew it wasn’t like that. He was gloating, not only over winning, but over winning against Oscar. He also knew Oscar wasn’t necessarily upset over his P4, given the fact that it was a really good position for a rookie. But what he did know, was that if he had taken his usual approach, maybe things would be different. He confirmed your suspicions and this only angered you more. You knew you shouldn’t, you should turn the phone down, screen facing the floor, and enjoy the 4th film with its gore and blood, maybe even imagining it was Charles in there. But you couldn’t. So you typed back.

You: why would i give you that satisfaction (2:06am)

You barely had time to put your phone down before its screen lit up again, this time twice in a row.

Charles (Asshole): i think i deserve it tbh, princess (2:06am) Charles (Asshole): send me your location (2:07am)

In a way he did deserve it. He deserved for you to scream at him, to hear how horrible of a person he was, how absolutely exhausted you were of this despite the fact it had just started. You looked at the boy sitting next to you, who noticed your stare and looked back, replying only with a tired smile. You pressed the ‘share location’ button on your phone and locked its screen.

“Seems like the films aren’t gory enough to keep you awake” you softly tell Oscar. He let out a breath that indicated a humored reaction at what you said. Instinctively, you ran a hair through his hair as you spoke “you should sleep. And I should go.”

He seemed both sad that you were leaving and happy that you were able to see past his attempt at staying awake. This was confirmed by his nod and yawn as he got up in order to walk you to the hotel room door. “How are you getting there?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. With this, you realized you really didn’t have any way to leave, and were counting on Charles to provide a lift. “Oh uh… a friend is taking me, don’t worry” you grinned as you said goodbye to him. His hand remained on yours for a second too long but was quickly removed awkwardly as he tried shaking it off as a symptom of sleepiness. “Right, well… goodnight” he whispered warmly as he closed the door.

You awaited as the elevator descended, and time seemed to have slowed down massively. Hours seemed to pass inside that cubicle, although they still didn’t give you enough time to plan what you were going to say. Suddenly, this whole ordeal seemed too complex, too stupid and too dramatic for you to feed into it. You desperately wanted it to be over despite the fact that it hadn’t really started, and as the doors opened you glanced at the text on your phone which said “Here.”

You stood at the entrance of the hotel, looking around for any sign of Charles or his car. Far away, barely parked in a small, almost hidden corner, you saw his pitch black Ferrari, impossible to ignore but still trying its best to remain unnoticeable. You walked anxiously towards him, his figure becoming more and more clear as you got closer. He was wearing a dark hoodie and his glasses, making him look softer and even friendlier. It was ridiculous how much it contrasted with his actual attitude and egotism. You realized then there was nothing you could say to him, nothing to argue about whatsoever, because that was just who Charles was, and he wasn’t worth it.

You took a deep breath as you opened the car door and hopped in, the air conditioner hitting your skin and giving you goosebumps.

At first, you were surprised at how aware of your anger he seemed to be – he was driving carefully and silently for a few minutes before he broke the tension rising between you two. “So for how long have you known your little friend?” he asked. Despite the ironic, mocking tone in his voice, his jaw was tense and his hands gripped the wheel a bit tighter, his veins becoming more and more visible. Upon realizing this, you had reached an even better conclusion: the only way to handle Charles was to play by the same rules that he played, even if it required a little bit of bluffing.

“And why would that be of your concern?” you asked, bringing one leg on top of the other, while leaning down more comfortably on the car seat. You tried looking ahead, relying on the corner of your eye for any subtle movements coming from him – in this case, his head going left and right, in a negative movement.

“None. It’s just that you seemed upset that I was better than him” he answered, clearly pleased with the fact that your back and forth had just restarted. “Fuck you, Leclerc” you spat at him, now looking through the window, your back turned. Even then, you could feel his every movement as the car seemed to get smaller and smaller all around you.

“I’m not sure your little friend would like that, princess” his giggle was so innocent against the unexpected affirmation, that your whole body tensed up. “Are we back on a last name basis as well?” he continued, unapologetically striking every single one of your nerves at once. You felt the car slow down on a secluded area, mostly forest, but which revealed a small lake with the moonlight reflected on its surface. It was as quiet as it could get, as you heard the car stopping and then turning fully off. You realized you hadn’t told him where to take you, so even if he wanted to just mess with you while driving you home, there was no way for him to do so.

Part of you wanted to stay and not go, so you wouldn’t be alone with your own thoughts. The only thing worse than being with Charles in a car at night was being alone in your room. The same couldn’t be said for him. He had gotten P2, which was pretty good, and surely would be a good enough excuse for a celebration involving drinking and partying and not sleeping.

“Why are you here? No girl wanted to fuck you tonight?” you asked him, more aggressively than you hoped to be. He didn’t seem to take offense to this, in fact, he looked pleased with your question, his eyebrows raised and his head cocked to one side, playfully. “Oh no, plenty of them wanted to. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you though.” You scoffed at him, and how he could ever think something like that would work on you after what he had done. Feeling more and more brave as seconds passed, maybe because of how hot you were feeling, maybe because he just made you feel that way, you took your seatbelt off and turned yourself fully to him, your legs crossed on top of the seat. Charles’ eyes travelled up and down your body, examining every inch of it as his mouth twisted in a small, almost unnoticeable grin. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either, Charles. And how much of a fucking idiot you are,” you replied, crossing your arms across your chest, trying to hide as much of yourself as you could, for in this moment you were sure he could read your every movement as well as you could read his.

“Thought about you during the whole race, too” he continued, and you would have assumed he ignored you were it not clear that he was lost in his own thoughts, busy examining not your words but your actions. “About how good you looked” he got closer as he spoke, his hands sliding across your seat as his eyes looked absolutely dazed. “About why you were there with some guy” he finished, his hand caressing your face, his thumb soft on your lips. He pulled your lower lip as if to call for your attention, then quickly distanced himself from you in a purposefully fake stretching motion. “So, if you want me to apologize for winning, I won’t.”

You didn’t know if he was referring to the race, or to this exact moment, where he surely realized he still had impact on you with a single look and a slight touch. You didn’t know if he thought he had won against your or Oscar, but it did not matter. It didn’t matter that you and Oscar were barely more than friends, and that the two of you were clearly just enjoying each other’s company – mostly because Charles didn’t know that, and he didn’t need to know it as long as it got him on his nerves.

“Funny because, last time I checked I went to his room, not yours” you snapped back. It was your turn now, to back him into a corner. You said this with such confidence you were sure that it sounded like “it was him I fucked” in Charles’ head. Taking your chance to make it even better, you leaned across him, your hand on his thigh, so close to his face, only to pretend to take something from his door. Gloating at your own success at making him completely helpless, you barely had time to register his hands on your neck, pulling you harshly towards him as his lips met yours.

If your kiss had previously been messy and hungry, this one was aggressive and assertive, both of you letting out your frustrations and desires through lip bites and pulling fistfuls of each other’s hair.

At that point, all you could feel were his hands on your waist, lifting you towards his lap. Wrapping your hands around his neck, you complied and sat easily almost never breaking the kiss.

Suddenly, he pulled away, a grin splattered across his swollen lips. “You look so beautiful like that” he whispered dizzily, as you grew more and more frustrated at his sudden pauses. He laughed to himself proudly as he looked at you, and before you could process it – in fact, you couldn’t, your mind was filled with tortuous lust – you realized what the source of his amusement lay. He was looking at your erratic movements on his thigh, how your arousal seemed to have possessed you so immensely that you couldn’t help yourself any longer. You blushed and buried your hands on your face with sheer embarrassment over how quickly your façade faded away.

Carefully, yet with unmistakable darkness, almost as if a totally different person now, Charles pulled your hands away and leaned towards you. “Don’t stop” was all he said, but it caused a small cry to escape your lips as you felt his hand on your hip, guiding your movements. His other hand grabbed your chin gently, making you face him.

It was both embarrassing and mesmerizing, how he seemed so composed and collected, and how you were falling apart completely. You never realized how much you needed him, how badly you craved his touch and the particular way his lips travelled across your skin. From your face, his hand lowered itself to your neck, grabbing it with just enough strength to make you more lightheaded than you already were. You sobbed with pleasure as you looked at him, holding his gaze as your hips moved frantically against his leg, a dizzy smile spreading across your lips.

You would speak if you could, but nothing left your lips apart from Charles’ name accompanied by breathy moans. He, however, seemed to love that, how you lost all of your composure for him exclusively, while he tried his best to keep his own. He could feel how wet you were through your underwear and his own sweatpants, your skirt allowing for less fabric to be in the way of your own pleasure. “Si jolie… et tout à moi” he whispered, taking advantage of your not so extensive knowledge of French to say things he wasn’t capable of saying in English despite his usual comfortability with himself. He wanted you for himself, in such a way that just you pleasuring yourself on him was enough for him to feel utterly drunk with ecstasy and lust, knowing that as soon as he was alone he would jerk himself off desperately to the sight of your open mouth, half closed eyes and flushed cheeks, to the sound of your voice crying out his name in moans of ecstasy, and to the feeling of your wet cunt on his thigh.

This was both your prize and punishment: your presence had given him more drive to win, to show you how he would always be better than anyone you might try to have, but it had also bothered him in ways he never knew he could be irritated. He tried so hard to ignore you, to not break the promise once again, but you always had a way to show up and ruin all of his plans and mess with his head, especially by being oh so close to Oscar.

You couldn’t stop. His skin caressed yours with satin textured touches, so characteristically his in their intensity. And although he seemed a bit more aggressive, possessive even, as he clearly insisted on your full focus on him, mental and physical, you have never felt so aroused. You were all his, both still dressed but both feeling as intimate as if you were bare naked before each other. His sweatpants left little to the imagination, and his throbbing erection filled you with fervor. Your movements against his thigh intensified, less rhythmic and more desperate. He looked hypnotized by you, consumed by something deeper than lust, more intense than sheer desire, and the view you had before you combined with how good you were feeling caused your hands to fly to his shoulders, your face buried in his neck as your whole body erupted in pleasure and melted into his.

You couldn’t deny the fact that you were still angry at him, but you were also too tired, too confused and overall too incoherent to start a fight. With him, you always were, and this is how he won. With the foggy windows of the Ferrari and the feeling of his hands on your hair lulling you to sleep.

He won because when you opened your eyes next morning, you were in a bed which wasn’t yours, wearing only an oversized t-shirt. You looked around, confused as to where you were, flashbacks of the previous night clouding your vision.

On the bedside table, a note read “You’re at mine’s. I slept on the sofa. Text me when you wake up – C.” You look at your phone to check the time – 12:13pm. You also see a notification on your screen.

Oscar: u got home safe? (10:34am)