#carlos sainz poly

[afterglowsainz]

close to you | carlos sainz, alex albon

pairing: carlos sainz x gf!reader x alex albon

summary: after your boyfriend starts hanging out more with his future teammate, your start catching feelings for him, not knowing that he also seems to be interested in him

fc: different girls from pinterest

request: here

a/n: VIVA MEXICOOOO (that’s literally all i have to say)

—

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername nyc with my loveeee ❤️‍🩹

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username that picture of carlos actually killed me

username it doesn’t get more it couple than this

username the outfit ateeee

alexandrasaintmleux miss you!

yourusername miss you love, i’ll be back soon 💗

alexandrasaintmleux plssss leo misses his favorite aunt 😩

yourusername 🥺🥺🥺

francisca.cgomes excuse me??

username thank you y/n for the carlos content 🙏🏽

username sooo boyfriend coded

carlossainz55 😍😘

carlossainz55’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 🗽] [caption 2: look who i found 👀 alex_albon]

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alex_albon new york for the day 🥐

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username adorable

username ahhh with carlos and y/n

username love their new friendship

username he’s so cute i need to marry him

yourusername sooo was my bakery recommendation any good? 👀

alex_albon the best!

username actually on the verge of tears for how much i need him

carlossainz55 and the credits to the photographer?

alex_albon credits to carlossainz55 for the picture 🙄

liked alex_albon, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername in case you couldn’t tell by my outfit, i was rooting for the guy in red (who got a podium!!!)

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username CUTIES

username you’re beautiful

username neeeed that jacket

carlossainz55 te amo hermosa 😘 (love you, beautiful)

alexandrasaintmleux my fashion icon

yourusername you’re one to talk!

alex_albon 🙏🏽 (liked by yourusername)

username nahhh the parallels between her picture and his picture go crazyyy

username they’re so meant to be

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alex_albon nice time in quali, now ready for tomorrow 🏎

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username going a bit feral at the moment

yourusername congrats on p9 alex!!

alex_albon thanks y/n! ☺️

username my goat let’s goooo

username the way he’s dragging that tractor to q3 every weekend MUST be studied

carlossainz55 nice one mate 👊🏽

alex_albon thanks!

username is it just me or carlos and y/n seem a bit obsessed with alex these days? 😅

username OMG YES!! i thought i was the only one that noticed

username honestly can you blame them

yourusername’s instagram stories

[caption 1: ❤️] [caption 2: 🍸🍸 carlossainz55 alex_albon]

liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and others

carlossainz55 always playing ⛳️

tagged alex_albon

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username the way carlos and alex are joined at the hip now

username did NOT expect that type of bond but i’m sooo into it

yourusername sooo happy gilmore

alex_albon it’s funny you say that because that movie was all the prep i had before going golfing

carlossainz55 and i’m trying not to feel offended by that 😁

username they definitely kiss

username omg 😭😭

landonorris likely place for alex to be

carlossainz55 he really tap out after 1

alex_albon there was no need for that

username oh yeah they for sure did it

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alex_albon fun nights 📸

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georgerussell63 lowkey offended you left me out of it

alex_albon 😅

username backwards cap alex backwards cap alex 🚨🚨

username oh to be photographed by alex albon in the back of his car

username guys am i delusional or is that couple carlos and y/n???

username i mean at this point i wouldn’t be surprised 😩😩 they’re together 24/7 now

username no because i see it 👀 it’s for sure them

username alex casually third wheeling them 😭

carlossainz55 😊

yourusername ☺️

alex_albon 😁

username uhmmmm

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

yourusername my boyssss💙

tagged carlossainz55 and alex_albon

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username OMGGG ???? 😭

username i'm obsessed with them already

username this was not on my bingo card AT ALL

username the hard launching hard launch

alexandrasaintmleux finally omg !!!

charles_leclerc finallyyy we can stop listening to them whimpering and crying over alex

yourusername omg shut uppp 😭

alex_albon wait i’m curious what else do you know

alexandrasaintmleux oh the amount of things we know you have no idea

charles_leclerc they had biggest crush on you mate i swear

carlossainz55 if you don’t shut up i’ll kidnap leo and raise him as my own

alexandrasaintmleux charles shut up

charlesleclerc 🤐

alex_albon 😔

username when the hottest couple you know was simping for the same man 😩

username so many things make so much sense now

username i love them 💙💙💙 go williams or whatever they say

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING VICTORIOUS !!! CS55 + CL16 + LN4 X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: the podium finishers weren’t the only thing that finished that night.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), explicit language, gangbang???, mmmf smut content, dubcon, pwp, double penetration + oral sex (m receiving), mentions of sexism/misogyny (NOT APPLIED TO DRIVERS), consensual degradation, squirting, praise kink, i did not proofread this (the race just finished two hours ago duh)

note: i have returned with a short blurb eheh enjoy xx

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

there was something vile about the way celebrations occurred for the ferrari drivers.

ferrari 1-2’s are rare, sure, so this called for celebration— a massive one even.

so if anyone ever saw how carlos and charles celebrated with their sweet girl, anyone would consider this… morbid.

for some, it was filthy. sinful, even. 

but having walked into carlos sainz’s hotel room after the two scarlet drivers called it an ‘early night’, lando’s eyes couldn’t find themselves to look away when he found the woman sandwiched between the two. 

both carlos and charles were spearing through her holes and carrying her like she weighed nothing, both foreheads were sweaty after fucking her the moment they’ve stepped inside the suite. 

she couldn’t even find herself to talk, her body too busy being manipulated and moved around while both her holes were stuffed with their cocks. 

any man could call her a whore for having not only one, but two men fuck her at once. any man could degrade her for allowing men to do this to her body while she writhed and whined about how good she felt when they stuffed her.

so, it was too bad that lando wasn’t just any man. he couldn’t even stop himself from watching unless someone killed him themselves.

the british man’s mouth was practically salivating when carlos lifted her up and sunk her down their cocks, watching her cunt produce liquids that indicated her pleasure. 

lando was so busy gawking at the way her cunt throbbed around charles’ cock that he couldn’t feel anything but his own cock painfully throbbing under his trousers.

he was too busy watching that he didn’t notice the way charles and carlos glanced at him with amused smirks. 

it was only when charles spoke up did he snap out of his thoughts. 

“which one?” charles asked with a teasing smirk at the british man, making lando shake his thoughts away.

when he saw how lando got confused, charles repeated, “she expressed her interest in inviting you before but not once did we see how… interested you were.”

“now you’re here,” carlos laid her down on the king sized bed gently. “so which one?” 

“i- uh- i-“ lando stammered, his buzzed self no longer there as every rational thoughts he had were long gone. 

“hm,” charles hummed before looking at carlos who stood as well. “do you think she can handle another one?”

“yeah,” the three men looked at the woman on the bed, watching her hazy eyes glossing over the three as her mouth let out, “i want more cock in me…”

“atta girl,” lando’s eyes darkened when he saw how frail, sexy, hot and beautiful the naked woman was. he never truly saw her in a new light until lando saw how fucked out she looked.

so much for a podium celebration with the ferrari men.

anyone with two eyes could tell that this was a sight to behold: her cunt sinking down on carlos’ cock, her back hole preoccupied by charles, and her mouth full of lando. 

it could be considered a renaissance painting, for she was a masterpiece waiting to be coated full of the three men who can paint her in any way they wanted her to be. 

“oh fuck, baby,” lando groaned, growling as the tip of his cock reached the back of her throat. her muffled moans only added to his pleasure as her mouth vibrated around his length. 

“mmf-“ she hummed around lando’s cock. her eyes glimmered. was it in joy or simply in overwhelming pleasure? both things correlate to one another. 

charles thrusted inside her roughly, his hands digging to her hips. he growled lowly and nipped in her ear with a murmur of, “merde, your hole is too fucking snug, bebe. you’re so fucking good for me.”

“you like that, sì?” carlos reached up to pinch her nipples, eventually slapping her tits as she yelped around lando’s length. “hm? you like it when you have three cocks inside of you? you love being a good slut for us?” 

when she was expected to give an answer, lando grabbed her hair and pulled her away from his cock. his other hand continued to stroke himself while he murmured, “c’mon baby, he wants an answer.” 

she tried to utter a word, but it was only the light slap of lando’s palm that had her uttering, “yes- yes. i love your cocks so much.” 

“good girl,” lando’s cock slapped against her cheek before he slid it back in her mouth, now fucking her face as the ferrari drivers behind and under her picked up their paces. 

“fuck- fuck, good fucking girl,” lando praised her repeatedly, hearing her choke on him quietly as she tried to get a hold of herself. 

she couldn’t. she was so… overwhelmed.

“i’m gonna fucking cum, merde,” charles hissed behind her, not even minding that his cock had gone deep inside her as he let out a groan. 

“i can feel you— oh… fuck,” carlos groaned. “you are so fucking good and tight for me, bonita… you gonna cum, huh?”

she couldn’t respond, thus earning chuckles from the three men. regardless of whether or not she could, she was beginning to feel herself cum again. and again. and again.

never mind getting a podium or a race win, because the three men knew that she was the only one who deserved the victory and the celebration that occurred between the four of them. 

it might be morbid for most, but god… no amount of champagne sprays can top the celebration she was having with the australian grand prix’s podium finishers. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness @bigsimperika @xoscar03

[rene-spade]

miss louisiana i | c. leclerc, a. saint mleux | chase landry

poly! | fem! reader x obsessive! exes! charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux (+chase landry and f1 grid)

synopsis. your obsessive exes refuse to accept your new relationship with a man completely different from them. maybe they should move to louisiana? jk!. . . unless?

note. ok so reader is from louisiana and has cajun roots for context. chase landry is from swamp people 😭✌️ I loved that show when I was younger & I rewatched some recently and it reignited my crush on him sorry

WARNING(s); obsessive/possessive behavior, toxic/creepy exes (I make is as fluffy as I can tho trust), ooc Alex and Charles being a rich and out of touch, a spec of classism, stalking oops, (everyone Loves you)

miss.y/n📍belle river, la

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, jacoblandry, carlossainz55, and 1,006,349 others

miss.y/n back where I belong ☀️🌷🐊🐝🐍🌿🐠

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mariene.y/l/n be safe in the water my baby 🤗

miss.y/n yes maman 🤞😊 you know I’m protected

user oop who’s protecting you miss ma’am

user omgggg how did Charles n Alex fumble so baddd 😩😩🙏 I’ve needed y/n’s cajun french baddie ass since DAY ONE 🗣️

charles_leclerc so beautiful mon ange 😍 but that water is dark and might be dangerous. ta maman a raison!

see translation | your mom is right

user stopp didn’t y/n break things off with them???

user2 currently losing it my fav throuple might be back 💪🗣️

carlossainz55 hope you’re doing well mi dulce ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux yeah no this isn’t happening

user carlos sweetie delete this comment while you still have hands <3

user SHE’S BACK IN LOUISIANA RAHH

user2 how did I not know she was from the middle of nowhere 😭 what is pierre part??

user3 how didn’t you know!!! her dad literally used to hunt alligator before he died and her mom remarried and moved back to France . Her dad was cajun

user this might be a reach but y’all think she knows anybody from swamp people? Love that show 🤣🤣

liked by miss.y/n

♤ ♤ ♤

♤ ♤ ♤

Alex’s leg bounced up and down nervously as her call went to voicemail for the 7th time in a row. She’d been calling your phone nonstop since hearing the news, anxious to know if it was true or not. It was always something that ate at her; her and Charles’ inability to relate to your childhood in Louisiana. They’d grown up among a higher class than you and in foreign countries. You would just giggle and wave off her concerns, insisting that even though they couldn’t understand your upbringing, that at least you could understand theirs.

“No answer.” She muttered, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. It was a habit she’d had as a child, one that you disapproved of and had trained out of her before you left them.

“She left us for a swamp man.” Charles pathetically finished Alex’s thought as they sat in his car, waiting to meet some other drivers and wags at the high-end restaurant Carlos chose.

“Don’t say it like that!” Alexandra turned her body towards the passenger window, “She didn’t leave us— not in that way! I told you she was homesick!”

Your father was a Cajun man who definitely took his culture to heart, doing a lot of hunting and fishing before he passed away suddenly when you were 12. Your mother was from France originally, and she remarried a rich Frenchman who’d ended up funding your modeling career after your success in pageantry. You moved straight to France at age 14 and found yourself in a completely different culture from how you grew up. You’d visited France before during summers with your mother, but it wasn’t home to you like Louisiana. You’d met Alexandra when the two of you were 19, and instantly bonded. Despite only really meeting briefly, it was love at first sight on Alex’s part and she supported you all the way to when you won Miss Universe after starting out Miss Louisiana.

When Charles had come along and had the same feelings that she did for you, it felt perfect, like everything had finally come together.

“With us is her home.” Charles replied, sucking his teeth.

“I can’t even—” Alex didn’t have to finish, the two had the same thought. They can’t even fathom the idea that you were with someone else.

x

Daniel was practically cackling in joy while Carlos at least tried to hide his amusement by covering his face. It was no secret that most of the f1 grid was praying for you to leave Charles/Alex so they could get a chance— but this wasn’t what they were expecting.

Bickering around the table ensued, only a few seconds before Alex was rolling her eyes with a groan and putting her face in her hands, “He doesn’t have any recent social media so I can’t even stalk him.”

“So we will just go there!”

“And what? Become swamp people?” Daniel was laughing so hard he was tearing up.

“Cha, that’s so ridiculous.” Alex mumbled.

“It is—!” Kika agreed suspiciously fast, “I just mean the split was recent, so maybe me and Pierre should visit her before you guys?” It’d only been a few months, but that had been enough to drive Charles and Alex a bit off the rails.

They’d only ever been apart from you for just over two days in the last year, up until you ghosted them. Well— it wasn’t technically ghosting when you left a note; a very brief letter in your familiar handwriting that told them you needed some space. They didn’t take it as a break up, although they did panic. Their numbers weren’t blocked, so they naturally took that as a good sign. This was probably because you wanted their attention since all their calls and messages were going through. The finality of it didn’t hit until it reached two weeks of no-contact from you and their photos were removed from your Instagram. The public noticed and so did the rest of the grid despite Alex and Charles’ now 3-month-long denial stage.

“le lieu s'appelle Pierre Part, yeah?” Pierre grinned and Charles sneered at him. (the place is called pierre part)

“They might have a point,” Daniel winced with a wide grin, “I think you’ll just look crazy if you show up. At least, one of us would just look like a friend who misses her, ya know?”

“None of you are visiting our girlfriend!” Alex frowned.

“Ex,” Carlos gently corrected into his fist with a cough before straightening up, “She jus’ is homesick maybe so give her some space and she will come back in no time.”

“I knew this would happen.” Alex slumped with her chin in her hand, “cet endroit est sa maison.” (that place is her home)

“You’ve never heard ‘if you love something, let it go’? If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back.” Daniel tried to reassure, but his face was almost a wince.

“We just wanted her close to us is all! We travel so much, we didn’t mean to take her away from her home—”

But Daniel gave them a look, knowing about their behavior with you. As in love with you as they are, Alex and Charles are intense about it. Endearing on one hand for awhile, but then the jealousy got worse and they were pretty delusional about their tendencies. He could understand it honestly— you were lovely. He imagined he’d be in the same state as Alex and Charles if you were his and you left him. Which is why he cut them so much slack, the rest of the table too.

“I don’t understand why she ran away like that!” Charles finished with a huff, running his fingers through his hair. He was starting to sweat. This felt like a cruel joke on your part— a mean way to get their attention.

“His ears are a little big.” Alex whispered, staring into her phone with a pout.

“et cela! regarde nos oreilles!” (and that! look at our ears!)

Pierre lost it at that; Charles pulling at his ears to make a point, “Maybe he’s just a nice guy, man!”

“We are nice!”

“Let me see.” Carlos walked around the table to see Alex’s phone.

She’d googled the name of your alleged new boyfriend— Chase Landry. He had starred on some Southern US reality show ‘Swamp People’; it mainly surrounded cajun alligator hunters in Louisiana. They had known you liked the show, but had never seen it themselves.

“Eh,” Carlos shrugged, “his ears aren’t that big. He is a little old for her though, no? 34?”

“Exactly! He is a pervert! I’m calling her again, actually.”

♤ ♤ ♤

♤ ♤ ♤

miss.y/n 📍pierre part, la

liked by jacoblandry, carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, danielricciardo, and 1,014,108 others

miss.y/n me and my dirty swamp man foreva 🤞💛🌷🦆

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user STOPPP SHE SAID THAT’S MY MAN N IMMA STICK BY HIMMMM

user2 stfu 😭✋ the fact that this man most likely has no idea that this is going on

user3 his brother liking her posts and filling him in

miss.y/n jokes on y’all Jacob doesn’t know what’s going on either

bellahadid beautiful lily faery and her dirty swamp bf <3

miss.y/n <3 literally

user BELLA⁉️

arthur_leclerc beautiful view of the water, ma sœur!

see translation | my sister

user THEY SENT Y/NS FAVORITE LECLERC BROTHER IN TO PLAY DAMAGE CONTROL

user2 not “my sister” 😭😭😭 leclercs let her go challenge

user y/n’s harem coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 😭😂🤣

x

this is part 1 of perhaps 3. I plan on making part 2 much longer and more writing than social media like this one, just for some balanceee

taglist; @alliwantisadonut @splaterparty0-0 @charizznorizz

Ren

[vivwritesfics]

We need more carlando x reader smut in this world like the fic you wrote (Him) but reader turns into a brat this time…

Okay so with this throuple I genuinely love the idea that lando is the little brat but this? I can work with this (this turned out way longer than I wanted)

Warnings: smut, riding, use of good girl, use of daddy, brat reader, sub lando, dom Carlos, trusty pink handcuffs, orgasm denial, oral (male!receiving), praise, dacryphilia (sort of)

She was always Carlos's good girl

Always the one getting praised

Always the one getting impaled on his cock while Lando was sat in the corner, whimpering as he watched

Sure, sometimes she could be slightly bratty when she wanted attention

Like when she climbs into landos lap and starts pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw

But that's all to get Carlos's attention

All so he'd pull her off of Lando's lap and sit her on his cock

Because she was the good one, it worked

Most of the time

But, this time? It certainly wasn't going to

Well, for starters, she should have made sure Carlos was in the goddamn house before she started this little game

She did the usual:

Climb into landos lap

Press kissed to the underside of his jaw

Move her hips against his own until he was desperate and groaning, cock tenting the shorts he was wearing

"Quit trying to get me into trouble," he'd say and make a weak attempt to push her away

She'd throw her best pout in his direction

"Lan, please," she'd whine out, working on freeing him from his shorts

The moment she did, all bets were off

Slipping out of her own lazy day shorts, she held Lando as she slipped down onto him

There was no time for foreplay (which sucked ass)

He sucked in a breath as she clenched around him

How long had it been since something like this happened?

Far too long

Carlos was going to kill them

But, for a few blissful, uninterrupted minutes, she rode landos cock, mewing and whining above him with her hands on his chest

"What's all this?"

That familiar voice had them stopping

Lando released her hips and she stilled on top of them

They wore matching pathetic expressions as Carlos strode towards them

"Would either of you like to tell me what's going on?"

Now, if it had been all Lando's doing, Carlos would have known right away

For starters, she wouldn't have been riding him, and she would have been whimpering out apologies from the moment Carlos made his presence known

But she was still and quiet, staring down at lando and daring him to speak

Carlos knew the two of them far too well for this game

He held her cheeks and forced her to look up at him

"Mi amor, was this your doing?"

He asked it so softly, almost like he couldn't believe his good girl was being bad

But then she rolled her hips, and Carlos knew

He stepped back and ran his fingers through landos hair

"You're going to ride him until he cums," Carlos announced, tugging at landos curls in a way that had him whimpering

The way she was smirking at him, Carlos could have slapped that look off her face

But she'd probably enjoy it

"Don't you dare," he said as she began rolling her hips

But then, she rolled her eyes at him

His good girl, his princess, actually rolled her eyes at him

Once again Carlos grabbed her cheeks, but harder this time

"You fucking dare cum and you'll regret it"

"Yes daddy," she said, tone mocking

Carlos couldn't quite believe his ears

She was asking for it, begging to be punished further

It was normally lando in this situation, not her

"That's it," he said and pulled her off of Landos cunt. "You clearly can't be trusted"

The loss of contact had both her and lando whimpering

But Carlos didn't care as he pulled out the trusty pink handcuffs

"You're not cumming for a week if I have anything to say about it"

He stripped her completely naked placed the handcuffs around her wrists, holding her arms behind her back

He sat her on the floor beside lando as he moved up to kiss him

"We're gonna take care of you, good boy," he said and lando whimpered

He pressed his pillowy lips against landos, cradling the back of his head

It was more romantic than sexy

And then, as soon as Carlos pulled away he maneuvered her to kneel between Lando's legs

Eyes on his leaking cock

Carlos controlled all of her movements

He pushed her forward as she opened her mouth to wrap her lips around his cock

And then he was pushing her head done until her nose touched the curls at his base

She could taste herself on him all the way down

Carlos held her there, throat constricting around him and tears springing to her eyes

Carlos kept a hold of her as she sucked off lando

He moved her, spoke to her, telling her what to do

When her tears ran down her cheeks (she wasn't crying, it was just from how full her mouth was), Carlos wiped them away and kept going

"You're doing so good for me," he praised Lando

Lando, who bucked his hips into her mouth at those words

At last he spilled against the back of her throat, hips jumping uncontrollably

Carlos held him still and pulled her off

"Swallow," he commanded and she did just that

She held out her tongue, showing him how good she had been

All that had just happened seemed to have gotten her back under control and she whimpered as Carlos stood up, moved away from her

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said as he helped Lando stand

She whimpered from her place on the floor

When Carlos crouched in front of her she pouted at him, but he just laughed

"Oh, mi amor, you should have thought about that before you misbehaved," he said and walked away

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 & 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒

summary: have you worked every shift possible for a chance of running into carlos and lando? yes. are you mad that you have a month of summer left and you still haven’t stumbled upon them? yes.

content warning: 18+. mdni. explicit sexual content. plot with porn. summer fling/vacation romance. fluff. light angst. light angst with a happy ending. banter. attempt at humor. explicit language. for extended tags, open in ao3.

pairing: poly! carlos sainz jr x lando norris x phd-student! fem!black!reader

word count: 18k words. (new record!)

from, serene: i am extremely proud of what i created. i hope it was worth waiting for, and i can't wait for the next episode !!! my next upload might be an alex albon smau series, for those that requested it. pls pls pls, send me asks and leave comments on this if you'd like! i'd love to hear your thoughts on sip of sunshine, and how it's building so far xxx thank you so much, my loves :) (50 more followers until 3k :o)

this has also been uploaded on my AO3 for anybody who finds it easier to read a fic of this length on there (looking out for those on mobile x)

⌕ prev | join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents | sip of sunshine | next ↻

Studying for a doctorate does not directly correlate to a person’s brilliance. If you were smart, you wouldn’t have returned to the golf club for another summer with the sole hope of reuniting with the two stunningly fine men you shared a ten-minute conversation with. However, you chose to beat intelligence in a foot race, and here you are: driving the same beverage cart while sweating off your sunscreen for the fifth year in a row; furthermore, you have not crossed paths with Carlos and Lando once in the two months you’ve been working.

It’s difficult to believe that Lando had told the truth when he mentioned that they’ve been attending Club La Moraleja consistently for the past four years. You want to believe him, but the evidence against him is overwhelming. You’ve worked every possible shift this season, at every possible time, on every possible course, without a single spotting of the duo from the beginning of June. 

It’s August. If you allow yourself to think maniacally, you would infer that they’re avoiding you on purpose.

Previously, you were under the assumption that they were obviously flirting with you. The sexual innuendos, double-entendres, calling you a “sip of sunshine,” and the eighty euro tip Carlos left you (which had to be a mistake)—from which you deduced that they were making a move on you. You would even say that their instance in convincing you to return to the green was the smoking gun you needed to seal their fate in the case of you catching their interest. 

Nonetheless, they are nowhere to be found. 

You cope by entertaining the aspect of you suffering from heat stroke or heat exhaustion, and you created Carlos and Lando as a figment of your delusions during your compromised mental state. On the other hand, there’s also a chance that they took your joking threat—of never returning if you had to put up with their subpar pick-up lines—seriously. You didn’t consider that they would misunderstand your teasing banter but, you haven’t seen them a single time this summer.  

It’s unsettling. You’ve never been this disappointed about men not taking the clear hint. 

Obviously, you’d be relieved if any of the sleazy, rude, and archaic golfers stopped bothering you after their first attempt. But, Carlos and Lando? They’re the exact opposite of the men you described. They’re young, polite, funny, charming, and attractive. It’s not outlandish for you to say that there was some budding chemistry between you three.

It’s regrettably characteristic of you to develop crushes on men you haven’t shared more than one conversation with. Too bad you’re never going to see them again. And, screw them! Who do they think they are? It’s not like they’re anybody special—they probably delighted in filling your mind with false hope. 

The next time you see them, you’re running them over with the bev cart. All gas, no breaks.

The motor whirs loudly as you drive over a hill to the last hole of Course Four—and, you’ll be damned.

“Well, look at you! You stayed!”

You can’t tell if this is the universe blessing you or sending you a curse in disguise. 

Lando’s words ring in your ears as your brain fails to compute the sight of him and Carlos smiling at you from across the green, down in a bunker. 

Lando’s…matured beautifully, over the year you haven’t seen him. He was attractive before, but as you direct the cart closer, you can tell he’s grown into himself. There’s a broadness to his shoulders, a sharpness to his eyes, and a hollowness to his cheekbones that certainly makes it impossible for anybody to deny that he’s beautiful. 

Carlos is angeringly more handsome than he was before, somehow. You blame it on the backwards cap and his stupidly wide, warm, beautiful, brown eyes. You cut the engine off, scratching fiendishly at the back of your neck to dispel your thoughts about his nose and lips, how you would pay to see his brown eyes darkened between your thighs.

“Obviously,” you state dryly, roughly tucking the curls that slipped from your ponytail behind your ear, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Their grins falter at your biting tone and they glance at each other in surprise at your irritated response. They climb out of the bunker and walk to meet you at the side of the cart. You’ve turned your back to them, hearing their footsteps approach but you continue to mindlessly organize any cups that shifted out of place as you drove.

“It was just an observation,” the Brit continues, you can hear him still smiling around his words, “A conversation starter, I guess.”

You put on an impassive expression before turning around and staring at the two with your arms crossed, “Mm. Who’s the one who’s bad enough at golf to land in the bunker? Wait—don’t tell me! You’re both probably stuck in the sand trap.” 

Lando’s mouth audibly drops open with an insulted gasp and Carlos’s brow furrows in confusion.

You wave a dismissive hand through the air before they can reply, “What do you want to drink?”

“Uh…What?” Carlos fumbles, lost at your deviation.

“What, ‘what?’” You snap, annoyed at his feigned innocence, like he’s unaware that they lead you on for the entirety of a summer that they just appeared in, “What do you want to drink? As in a refreshment? ¿Una bebida? I know you’re familiar with ordering from the cart as I served you last year—and since you both have been coming here for five years!” [A drink?]

The two stare at you in blatant terror as your voice echoes in the air. Their stunned silence at your “unfounded” anger only serves to exasperate you further.

“Make it quick,” your voice trembles infuriatingly, “What would you like to drink?”

“Did we do something wrong? If we upset you, we have no idea what we did,” Carlos rambles pleadingly. You almost buy it.

“Yeah, what’s with the attitude?” Lando gracefully ruins their chances of being acquitted, “We haven’t seen you in nearly a year; What could we have done wrong?”

“Attitude—are you serious!?” You scoff, insulted at the very idea, before continuing mockingly “Whatever—it’s a beer and a lime mocktail, right? Or, would you prefer a sip of sunshine?”

The men don’t have a chance to edit their orders as you sharply throw open the beer cooler, all three of you flinching as the lid slams into the cart and the bottles and cans clamoring together worryingly. You don’t let the fear of damaged property interrupt your fury as you brandish the beer towards Carlos, snatching your hand away as soon as his closes around the neck of the bottle. 

He murmurs his thanks in his native tongue but the curl of his accent—no matter how alluring it sounds—incenses you further, and you huffily turn your back towards them as you craft Lando’s drink.

The thought of them being truthful about their confusion about your annoyance flares in your mind as you shovel ice into the plastic cup. It’s possible that there has been some miscommunication…but, that would be embarrassing for you to admit. You’ve already acted incredibly rude and like a total brat to them—to customers, at that! Ohmygod, you’ve let your personal emotions affect your work; they could report you to your manager and have you fired. 

Your breath stutters as your overcome with a chill that feels like you’ve dumped ice down your own shirt. The drink is quickly assembled, and you find yourself wishing for a painless death as you fasten an orange slice as garnish on the rim of the cup instead of a lime. A slice of sunshine, if you will.

Meekly, this time around, you offer the cup to Lando. He looks increasingly disturbed at the sudden switch of your demeanor. You watch the Brit glance at his companion, his look clearly communicating that he’s checking if Carlos agrees that you’ve lost your mind, most likely.

The Spaniard must have agreed because Lando giggles nervously, the sound glaringly revealing his discomfort, “You didn’t poison my drink, did you?”

Your brain starts to self-destruct in embarrassment. Carlos hides his face in his free hand, but the sound of pain that escapes him at the ill-timed joke is clear. To be fair, Lando looked like he regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, but the damage was done. 

Your cheeks burn furiously, you’re simultaneously angry and disappointed in yourself. How could you allow yourself to become overrun by your emotions on the clock? It’s unprofessional and uncharacteristic of you. 

You excuse yourself shakily, “I-I am so sorry. Perdóname. I was rude to you both for no reason. I apologize sincerely for my behavior. Do not worry about paying, your drinks are on me. I hope you both enjoy yourself on the green—Buenas tardes.” [Forgive me; Good afternoon.]

Carlos and Lando are silent as you scamper into the driver’s seat, tail figuratively tucked between your legs. The ride back to the clubhouse is silent as you berate yourself for your stupidity. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to forget the way you ruined your chances with them. You already know your subconscious will play this on repeat every time you try to sleep. The cart beeps as you reverse into its assigned spot. Isabel, one of the fellow cart girls—and your best friend—waves at you with a smile as she walks over towards you. She must be the next on shift.

“You look like you’ve just been fired,” Isa’s smile has transformed into a look of concern, “¿Estás bien?” [Are you okay?]

Grabbing your belongings, you slide out of the driver's seat with a haunted look in your eyes. “You remember the two guys I told you about? From last summer? I think I just scared them away.”

“No,” Isa exhales in denial, pulling you into a hug, “There’s no way. What happened?”

“I yelled at them and insulted them for being bad at golf,” you mumble, yelping sharply as she  communicates her displeasure by slapping at your arm, “I was mad at them, okay! They were pretending to be innocent, like they had no clue they avoided me for the entire summer! They’re going to complain to the Club and get me fired because I was unprofessional and rude!”

“Ay! You don’t know that! You still served them, and apologized right?” Isa brightens further when you mention you served them for free, she ignores your pout as you rub your hand against the stinging skin of your bicep, “Then, it’s probably nothing. If they do complain, this is your first complaint ever. You won’t get fired—you will just have to wash the carts for the rest of the summer.”

You fall to your knees on the hot concrete in despair and Isa snorts at your dramatics, bending to pluck the cart keys from your pocket. 

“I’m just going to quit, inmediamente!” [Immediately!]

“If you quit, I quit,” Isa reminds you, “And, out of the two of us, I need this job. I’m broke. So, you can’t quit, unless you want me to suffer.”

“I would take care of you,” you beg, “I have my office job back in the States. You could marry me and get a green card! Let me quit!”

Isa cackles at the concept, “You hate your office job. Anyway, quitting won’t save you from your colleagues here. Don’t forget we’re all going out tomorrow night! You can’t escape this time, you promised me.”

You groan in indignation, “Is it a crime to not like clubbing every night?”

“¡Sí, lo es!,” She frowns, “It’s clubbing every night in Madrid! And, I need moral support if I have to watch Lucas flirt with Sofia. I don’t know what he sees in her.” [Yes, it is!]

Grumbling fitfully, you wish her a good shift before dragging yourself into the Clubhouse. You’re still quitting. There’s not a chance in hell that you’re coming back next summer—there is nothing worth staying for anymore. Sorry, Isa.

Out of all the shifts you’ve worked, the 8 A.M. to 3 P.M. is your least favorite. You blink blearily as you hang up your belongings in the same locker you chose four years ago, fighting the urge to rub at your eyes, with the thought of not smearing your mascara. Pinning your nametag on your pressed shirt is muscle memory, and you slide on a club-branded visor to protect your face because the UV index is concerningly high today. 

You pause to stare at the photos pinned to the inside of your locker door—they date from your very first summer till now, with familiar faces and some you haven’t seen in a while. It’s heartwarming. You haven’t posted a single one of these photos in here; your friends do it on their own (the password to your locker is apparently community knowledge—you could change it, but then you’d stop collecting them), taping Polaroids from moments on the course to shenanigans off the course to nights out in the city, with captions and notes written on the back. 

The sense of belonging and community you found here is why it was so difficult to come to a decision about leaving this place and its people behind. Your lips tilt up at a photo of you and the cart team covering your boss’s car in sticky notes two summers ago—he made you all collect the stray golf balls from the putting green that night in retaliation. And, he laughed deeply as the sprinklers drenched all of you, which is another few snapshots commemorated in your locker. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to leave.

“Mami,” Lilia, the receptionist on duty this morning, calls you from the locker room door, “The two really hot Formula One drivers are asking for you?”

You shoot a look of confusion her way, “huh—why me? I don’t know them?”

“Umm, yes you do?” Lilia mirrors your bafflement, “They say you’ve served them before. And that they want to apologize for something?”

“¿Qué?”

“I don’t know! I’m just repeating what they told me—” The brunette woman cuts herself short, and her eyes narrow after a moment, “Hey, if they’re bothering you, I’ll get them banned. I didn’t tell them that you were here, I just said I’d check to see if you had come in. Did they bother you? Don’t lie to me! I’ll call security and get them gone!”

“What, no! I don’t know them, or even know what Formula One is! I haven’t had a bad interaction or served any drivers—oh.” Your stomach sinks as your eyes shut woefully, “I fucked up.”

Lilia threatens to get them banned again when she sees the bronze skin of your face lose its luster. You tell her to let them know you’ll be out in a moment and to not threaten them. You step to the full-length mirror to check your appearance and adjust your uniform. Centering yourself with a few deep breaths, you turn the door handle and make your way out to the reception desk.

The squeaking of your sneakers on the tile floor only adds to your anticipation. A small part of you hopes that Carlos and Lando aren’t the Formula One drivers asking for you, and that this is all some misunderstanding. You feel your soul die inside of you as your eyes meet theirs. Their expressions look determined and apologetic, and your palms feel sweaty as you come to terms with them preparing to file a formal complaint. 

Lilia clears her throat abruptly from where she’s pretending to organize membership files. You see a blush bloom on Carlos and Lando’s cheeks as they realize that they’ve been staring at you without saying anything for longer than what’s politely appropriate, but you beat them to the chase.

“Buenos días. U-umm,” you anxiously scratch at the nape of your neck, “…Is this about yesterday? Or the tip you left last summer? It was too generous to not be an accident. It’s past our refund period, but I can reach out to the manager on duty to see if we can work something out.” [Good morning.]

“I gave you eighty euros on purpose,” Carlos states without doubt, and you feel Lilia’s stare piercing your side profile.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to speak to you about yesterday—”

You cut in, “Yesterday was my fault! I think I misunderstood you both and I overreacted. It was nothing personal—”

Lando clasps his hands together, interrupting you with an imploring tone, “It was personal, though. Which is fine, I think we deserved it. Especially if there was a misunderstanding on our part. We would’ve communicated with you clearer if we were sure that you were on the same page as us. We would appreciate it if you would allow us to make it up to you.”

Lilia kicks your ankle underneath the desk, doing enough freaking out for the both of you as you struggle to keep your face calm.

“I feel like I’m still the one at fault for the miscommunication. But—how were you planning to…smooth things over, I guess?” You ask.

“Allow us to take you to dinner tonight, and explain,” Carlos finishes, weaponizing those eyes of his, helped by Lando softening his own at you desperately for a chance.

“Oh—um, I would love to, really, but I already have plans tonight—,” You’re getting tired of being interrupted, but Lilia is quick to clear your schedule.

“No!” The raven-haired woman jumps up from her seat, slapping her hand on the counter forcefully, causing the three of you to jump. “She’s free tonight!” She smiles scaringly wide at Carlos and Lando.

Lilia turns to you and her smile and voice quiets to something genuine, “I will explain to the others about why you could not make it. Isa will understand as long as you remember to keep us both updated, yes?”

You roll your eyes, resigned , “Yes.”

You’re surprised at the tentative happiness growing in the boys’ appearances, “I guess I can do dinner tonight. What’s the plan?”

Phone numbers are exchanged and they agree to pick you up from your house at seven. They linger through their goodbyes, clearly not wanting to end the conversation. It’s flattering that they're willingly exposing their obsession with you so soon. You shoo them away with the reminder of seeing each other tonight and the fact that you are, in fact, on the clock. Lilia slaps you on the arm repeatedly as you watch them exit through the front doors with a dreamy sigh.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Lilia lets out a scream of excitement and pulls you into a hug, the two of you jumping up and down overwhelmed with joy. You’re caught by your boss Marco, who takes one glance before he turns around to head back into his office, forcing the two of you into hysterical giggles. 

You pull back from her, and you can’t quiet the large grin dancing on your lips, “I have no idea what to wear!”

Carlos texted you twenty minutes ago alerting you that they’re on the way to pick you up. Lando added that they can’t wait to see you a minute later. You were ready thirty minutes before they started heading your way. Ten minutes ago you decided to change your entire outfit. You settled on a linen cropped tank and matching maxi skirt with a pair of sandals. You fiddle with your accessories endlessly, and you do the same with a few stray curls that refuse to sit where you want them.

Grabbing your purse and phone, you rush out of your room and down the stairs to find your parents in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to their own dinner.

“¡Mija—qué bonita!” your mom gasps, wiping her hands on a towel before she pulls you closer to look at you, “Where have you been hiding this outfit?” [My daughter, how beautiful she is!]

“Má, I’ve had it for a while,” you subject yourself to her cooing and prodding as she spins you around, looking at your dad for help, who only offers you a shrug, “—I just have not had anywhere to wear it.”

“Hm? Then, what’s so special about tonight? I thought you were clubbing with your friends, no?” You avoid meeting her prying eyes, pretending to find interest in what’s simmering on the stove.

“Eh, why is there a Ferrari outside of my house?” your dad asks, drawing your attention to the front window. The sleek black convertible is parked by the curb, and your phone buzzes in your hands. Lando has informed you of their arrival, and you quickly tell them you’ll be right out to avoid them coming to the door. You don’t know if they’re “meet the parents” caliber yet, Ferrari or not.

“Don’t worry about it, Papà. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back tonight,” you press kisses to both of your parents’ cheeks, “Save some food for me to take to work tomorrow, please?”

Your mom pinches your ear, “Ay! You are going on a date? Finally! Is he handsome on top of being rich? A Ferrari is okay as long as he is as beautiful as the car, you know?”

Your dad makes a noise of complaint as he follows you both towards the door, “A Ferrari is more than okay as long as he respects you and treats you well. And, if he buys me a Ferrari too—ask him for me.” 

You fuss at them, flustered but smug as you ignore your dad’s request, and you turn to smirk at your mom, “Papà, I plan to find outfit they treat me well tonight. Mamá. They’re both gorgeous.”

Your dad blinks in confusion as your mom crows in delight, “¡Mija! I knew I raised you properly! ¡Vas, vas! Have fun and you have to tell me everything when you get back, yes?” [My girl!; Go, go!]

“Sí, Mamá. ¡Muchos besos, te quiero!” You slip out of the door, the sound of your mother explaining that you’ve garnered the interest of two men to your father fading behind you as you walk to the car. [Yes, mom. Kisses, I love you!]

Carlos and Lando are waiting for you on the curb, the engine purring lowly behind them. Your gait slows as you near, and the Spaniard reaches out to press his lips to the back of your hand fleetingly. 

They’ve dressed well; Lando in a light gray, short-sleeved, collared, v-neck that rests untucked over white chinos and a pair of gray sneakers to match. He’s sprinkled with bracelets, a few of them decorate his toned forearms on both wrists, and there’s a singular silver chain peeking from the cut of his shirt. Carlos is dressed similarly with the white chinos, yet he’s chosen a light blue button-up with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of dress shoes. His outfit is complimented by a dazzling watch. 

You murmur a greeting to both men, unable to hold eye contact with either of them for long. It’s one thing to fantasize that you have a chance with men clearly out of your league, and it’s another thing to have to muster up the confidence to speak to them outside of your uniform. 

Lando impatiently shifts on his feet as the older man keeps hold of your hand for longer than necessary. When you’re released, Lando takes it a step further and pulls you into a hug, his body heated and solid against yours. A shiver runs down your spine when his hand rests on the exposed skin of the small of your back. You hum, pleased as you inhale the velvety scent of his cologne, missing the closeness as he pulls away from you a beat later.

You step back, your heart thudding as you quip, “I didn’t know we were on hugging terms already.”

“I’m sorry,” Lando flushes easily, and Carlos chuckles, “I should’ve asked if it was okay.”

“I liked it,” you smile at him, pretending as if your heart isn’t pounding forcefully from the brief embrace, “I-I mean, it was fine, don’t worry.”

The Brit hums at your response, his eyes drifting along your form before meeting yours again with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. His blush recedes as yours strengthens, now apparent on your darker skin. 

“Lovely house,” he withdraws, and you’re thankful he avoided commenting on the evident flush he invoked with nothing more than a hug and a pass of his eyes.

“Thank you, my parents bought it and moved here after I started university,” you explain needlessly, “They’re pretty great. They were the ones who made me apply for the position at La Moraleja. So, really, it’s them you have to credit with us meeting, I suppose.”

“We also have to thank them for having a beautiful daughter,” Carlos alleges smoothly.

You fluster, “I-I’ll pass the message along. Both of you are very handsome, but I think you guys hear that often.”.

“Don’t worry. It sounds sweeter coming from you,” Lando edits his point with an impish grin, “—and from Carlos too, sometimes.”

“Don’t be a brat, Lando,” the Spaniard’s voice is light as he entertains the younger, “Unfortunately, I think we will be late if we continue to stand here and flirt in the street,” Carlos says, and his eyes shift to look past you and at your house, “—And, I think your dad might come outside and kill us. Which would not be very pleasant, in my opinion.”

You spin around, chagrined at the sight of your dad watching the three of you with a harsh stare. 

“Yes! Let’s get going, I would hate to be late. Ignore him, please.” Lando waves at your dad anyways, endearing himself to you further, “And, you won’t have to worry about being murdered as long as you get him a Ferrari.”

The two men startle into laughter at that, and you hold your hands up candidly, “What? His words, not mine!”

You didn’t account for the oddness of one of you sitting in the backseat, but Lando assigns himself to the back, claiming that you have “passenger princess” rights. 

The wind ruffles through your curls aimlessly as Carlos drives towards your destination. The ride is filled with endless chatter and flirting. A smile is constantly on your face as the three of you speak through topics easily. There’s not a single time you feel like an outsider, even though it’s clear how familiar they are with each other. 

The restaurant you find yourself in isn’t screaming its extravagance at you, which is surprising. While it’s dimly lit, and you can hear live music thrumming through the air from somewhere deeper inside over the lively chatter—it feels like a classic restaurant, intimate and comfortable. Like somewhere you could go for a nice dinner often.

The hostess straightens upwards with recognition when she spots Carlos and she greets the three of you good naturedly before disappearing to check if your table is ready. 

The Spaniard notices the surprise on your face, “My family and I have dined here since I was young. You have never come here before? ”

You shake your head, “I’m a little jealous, if I’m being honest,” Carlos tilts his head, listening, “I’m mad I didn’t discover this place sooner. The atmosphere is amazing!”

The hostess returns, gesturing for you all to follow after her and Lando grasps your hand to catch your attention as you walk, “If you think the vibe is amazing, just wait until you try the food.”

The table is not in direct sight of anyone besides the kitchen, clearly a spot meant for privacy. Your hidden behind a half wall and a screen overgrown with plants, and the volume of the restaurant seems quieter through the barrier. You lean back in your chair as the three of you wrap up the discussion about yesterday’s conflict.

“I feel incredibly stupid now,” you chuckle, embarrassed. The brown skin of your face burns hot. You focus on the empty wine glass in front of you, avoiding their eyes plainly.

“No,” Carlos’s voice is stern, the serious tone shocking you into looking at him, “Do not be rude to yourself—you are not stupid.”

You stare, dumbfounded, reeling as you process the manner in which he shut down your negative self-talk. If his words totally dissolved your mortification over your immature reaction to seeing them again, you might have thought harder about how that was kind of hot of him to do.

“Aren’t you studying for a PhD?” Lando asks rhetorically, “I think that literally means you’re not stupid.”

You scoff lightly—feeling humored instead of humiliated—at how easily he swept away the tension with a light-hearted comment. The Brit doesn’t know how many people have enlightened you with the knowledge that common sense is, unfortunately, uncommon in post-grad. But, you’ll let his words wash away your self-deprecation lest this turns into an unsolicited therapy session instead of a date an apology dinner.

“Fine. I’m not stupid—but, you can’t deny that it wasn’t a little dumb of me to assume that you guys had lied to me about visiting the golf club every year. And, it was a little more dumb of me to make my decision about working here for another season just because there was a chance that I could see you guys—never mind.” Your teeth clack together forcefully as you slam your mouth shut.

The duo straighten up at the sudden end to your sentence, brains quickly filling in the blanks for them. Lando’s poorly attempting to hide his satisfied smile behind his hand and Carlos’s eyes are bright with understanding. You’ve learned your lesson about making hasty assumptions but you don’t think it’s foolish to deduce this means that they’re actually interested in you too, this time around.

“Ah. Well, we should not have assumed that you knew we were Formula One drivers, which maybe was obvious from how you spoke to us,” Carlos shrugs his shoulders, leveling the blame, “And, I think it’s sweet that you were hoping to run into us again.”

“Mmm,” you hum nervously, “I think it’s delusional.”

One of their shoes knocks against yours underneath the table and you jump in surprise. Carlos’s chest shakes with a silent laugh and his eyebrow raises at you pressingly.

“We should’ve asked for your number last summer,” Lando adds nonchalantly. 

You rattle at his boldness, and you’re given a moment to ponder that as the waiter stops to pour you and Carlos a glass of white wine (Lando refused). You take a brief sip, humming pleasantly at the light and easy flavor, the live music and easy conversation floating through the air providing you a reprieve from your immersion in the two men. 

Your attention is recaptured as you watch Carlos offer Lando a chance to taste from his glass. 

Earlier, the Brit had told you he dislikes the taste of most alcohols when the waiter stepped away to grab the bottle Carlos requested. Yet, Lando accepts, not without making his distaste apparent with an adorable frown. He takes the tiniest sip possible with a look of apprehension and recoils from the glass as he swallows, his nose scrunching in disgust as he shakes his head to further sell his distate. 

Carlos rolls his eyes and laughs, revealing to you how used he is to Lando’s dramatics. He raises a hand to rub at the short hair on the nape of the younger’s neck in comfort.

The look on your face must be cloyingly sweet if the light dust of pink that rises to the Brit’s cheeks when he realizes you’ve watched the entire interaction, is meaningful. Carlos’s eyes become intense when he spots how Lando curls into himself shyly under your eyes. The Spaniard whispers, his volume low enough for only Lando to hear and you wish you knew exactly what was said, because it deepens the tint of his cheeks to a furious red. 

You figure you’ll save him from his torment by bringing up the important stuff.

“So, you only have a month of summer vacation,” you start, fingers fiddling with the edge of a fan-folded napkin, “Which is in August. That’s…so short. My fall semester starts the first week of September.”

Silence falls as they digest the underlying meaning of your sentence. Is it in everyone’s best interest to start something that has to end so soon? Is it in your best interest to risk catching feelings for two athletes (celebrity-athletes, at that) during the last month of your break? 

“A month is a long time,” the younger man starts, his blue-green eyes intent, “We’ll just have to make the most out of it, right? I want to get to know you more, and I have a feeling that the three of us will have a fun time together—If you want to give it a try.”

“A ‘fun time’? Like—like a fling?” Your expression remains indifferent as you ask. You need them to clarify what they want out of this without revealing your emotions. It’s only proper for you to prevent any future miscommunication or misunderstanding about this; you learned from your earlier mistake.

Lando’s earnest gaze has lost some of its shine, and Carlos’s eyes now seem guarded.

“Calling it a fling is harsh,” the Spaniard responds, “It’s more of a summer romance, no?”

Your laugh isn’t genuine, but they don’t know you well enough to discern that, “Alright, I’ll give our ‘summer romance’ a chance. Using a synonym doesn’t change the definition, you know?” 

Lando cocks his head at you, staring deeply. It feels like he’s trying to puzzle you out, and you stare back in feigned confusion.

“It’s nothing,” He relaxes, leaning back in his chair and moving Carlos’s glass out of the way as he sees the waiter nearing the table with your appetizers, “I just find it odd that you called yourself stupid earlier.” You don’t know what to make of that, but it’s forgotten as the starters are devoured and the conversation shifts into them getting to know you and vice versa.

The older man with them at the golf course last year was Carlos’s father, who is a two-time Rally World Champion. You’re surprised to learn that they’ve only been dating for around a year. Lando says he developed a crush on Carlos when they were teammates at Mclaren, but he was afraid of ruining their relationship and potentially, his career, if he confessed–so he kept quiet. Carlos didn’t realize he was romantically interested in Lando until he signed his contract with Ferrari. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupt, “If you guys have only been together for a year, did you get together before or after you saw me at the golf course for the first time?”

“A year and three months,” the Spaniard corrects with a serene smile, “Our anniversary was in May.”

The Brit continues for him, “—Which means we started dating about three months before we saw you. Give or take a few weeks.”

You gave a low whistle of surprise—three months into their relationship and they were on the same page about chasing after you. Since then, they had several serious conversations about adding a third to their relationship but hadn’t found or looked for anybody they’d consider to try with. Besides you.

Obviously, they like playing golf; Lando is abysmal, and Carlos is not bad at it. Carlos has two sisters, Lando has a brother and two sisters. Both of them are middle children. Lando is a picky eater, and hates fish and seafood. Carlos will eat anything Lando doesn’t. Lando founded a company with his best friend. Carlos is a Real Madrid fanatic. Lando occasionally streams on Twitch. Carlos enjoys surfing and cycling.

“I’m sorry for saying that you guys sucked at golf yesterday,” you apologize sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” the Brit says, unperturbed, “I do suck at golf. I just wasn’t expecting to hear it come from you.”

“I suck less at golf,” the older man states, “But, if I was good, I would not have been in the sand pit in the first place, no?”

They visit Spain often because family is important to Carlos. Lando’s loved like another son by Carlos’s family and Carlos is loved the same by Lando’s family. Lando is needy. Carlos likes being needed. Carlos is mildly possessive. Lando is too self-critical. Carlos makes the best pancakes. Lando wants to build a beautiful vintage car collection.

They want to see you again. You enjoyed dinner more than you thought was possible. 

They defrosted your nerves and allowed your personality to shine through. It helps that they were actively listening as you complained and gushed over your studies, told anecdotes of the shenanigans you and the others got up to on the golf course, and spoke about your future outlooks. They didn’t mind your lack of knowledge about Formula One and explained the sport in detail to you. They were determined to figure out what made you mad, what made you happy, what made you laugh, what made you shy—and, what made you go pink.

It didn’t take them long to discern that staring at your lips is the trick. When they made that discovery, they weaponized it the entire night. While one of them played with the rings on your fingers or tucked a curl behind your ear, the other managed to fluster you by letting their eyes wander for a few seconds before meeting yours again with increasing intensity. You experienced heart failure several times, and had to ask them to repeat themselves more frequently thanks to their psychological warfare.

Your heart feels like it may cease to function again as they walk you to your doorstep. The lights inside the house are off, you returned later than you thought you would. Your parents left the porch light on for you and it casts an amber warmth. Carlos and Lando don’t invite themselves into your space as you dig your house keys out of your purse, ever the polite men. The sound of your keys jingling harmonizes with your triumphant hum as you pull them out. 

You face the boys, placing your hand on the doorknob behind you, waiting for them to speak. 

“Are we forgiven for unintentionally leading you to believe that we led you on and wasted your time?” Lando blurts out.

You knock your head back against the doorframe, abashed, shutting your eyes to dispel the HD playback your brain gifts you with. “If you both agree to never bring it up again, I’ll forgive you.”

“I suddenly do not know what we’re talking about,” Carlos nods seriously, and Lando echoes the sentiment.

You release the doorknob and take the few steps towards them. As you expected, their eyes simultaneously drift to stare at your mouth. You lightly place a hand on Carlos’s shoulder before leaning up and brushing your lips across his cheek in the lightest ghost of a kiss, before moving to Lando and doing the same.

You carefully backpedal to the door turning to insert your key into the lock, before you look back at them. Your heart flutters at the sight of Carlos, who’s frozen, standing all wide-eyed and pressing his fingers to his cheek like he’s unsure if he imagined the kiss. Lando however, looks hungry. His eyes are the darkest you’ve seen tonight, and they’re locked on how you teasingly flick your tongue across your bottom lip.

“While we may only have a month to spend together—it doesn’t mean I’m easy. I, at least!—need a second date before I let you do anything more than stare at my lips and hold my hand. It might take three dates before I even let you kiss my cheek,” you tease with a joking shrug of your shoulders.

“It’s a good thing that you have my phone number,” the lock clicks open, and you push the door open, “If you don’t use it to set up another date, I think I’ll have no choice but to never forgive you guys.”

“We’ll be using it,” Carlos asserts, recovered from the daze you left him in.

“Hm, good. Text me when you get home.” You step in your entryway, waving your fingers at the two of them leisurely, “Buenas noches.” [Goodnight.]

They mimic your goodbye and you shut the door, clicking the lock. You nosily peek through the peephole to spy on their reactions. Carlos tugs Lando into a bear hug, their wide smiles hidden as they press into each other and the sharpest pitch squeal you’ve heard from Lando travels through the front door. You cover your own giggle with a hand as you watch the two of them kiss and almost skip down your driveway back to the car. You press your back to the door with a deep sigh, a lovestruck smile painting your face while you lay limp to let your heartbeat slow to a normal speed.

The hallway light flicks on and you shriek as your mom stares at you with a deranged smile on her lips, “Tell me everything!”

“Mamá! What are you doing up? It’s late!” You exclaim, straightening upwards with your hands on your hips, failing at distracting her from how you were weak in the knees a couple of seconds ago. “It’s okay, mija! I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee for us and you can tell me all about your date!” She rushes forward, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen.

Ironically, the second date ends up being late night mini golf. Even better, you destroy them at it. It wasn’t an easy feat, they made plenty of attempts to sabotage and distract you; whether it was yelling, spooking, poking, or prodding at you as you readied your putt, but it wasn’t enough to give them a chance of catching up. 

You figure more of your mistakes were from being unable to stop laughing as the two performed atrociously. Carlos ended up polluting every water feature with golf balls and Lando couldn’t manage to finish a single hole in under 8 strokes—the highest par was 6. You patted Lando on the back consolingly, telling him to find comfort in the fact that they’re equally terrible at putt-putt golf.

The two seemed surprised at your finesse with a club, almost like they’d forgotten you work on a golf course. You may not be a caddy, but you’ve had plenty of time to work on perfecting your technique. You did well enough to place sixth on the leaderboard, the employees said that Carlos’ score might be the worst they’ve ever seen.

With their egos severely bruised, you convinced them to soothe the loss over with ice cream at a neighboring parlor. Lando was satisfied with plain vanilla and Carlos with a scoop of dulce de leche. You elected for cookies and cream, but found yourself being fed their flavors as well. 

The sugary treats were delicious. Watching them stare at your lips pursed around a spoonful of ice cream was far more delectable. Lando broke the fourth time you managed to dot a bit of vanilla above your upper lip. He choked on a whine before leaning into your space. He hesitated a hair’s width away from your lips, his shuddering exhales mixing with yours, his eyes searching for approval. Your eyes fluttered shut and Lando closed the gap. 

His lips were soft and chilled, a result of the ice cream. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you leaned into the kiss, the taste of vanilla lingering in the embrace. His hand raised to cradle your cheek as your lips brushed together languidly, the sound of your heart racing within your chest fading out as you become absorbed by the kiss. 

Lando pulls away, falling back into his seat with his chest heaving. You stare after him with wide eyes, jolting out of it when you notice you’ve dropped your spoon into your lap, Carlos’s dulce de leche ice cream spilling onto your thigh. 

“Do I get to lick this off your thigh since Lando got to kiss it off your lips?” Carlos asks, his tone half genuine, half facetious.

You kick at his ankle underneath the booth and he throws his hands up placatingly. 

“Wait–,” you anxiously flit your eyes around the parlor, “—you shouldn’t have kissed me here Lando. Out in public? Aren’t people going to recognize—”

“We’ve been the only people in here for the past thirty minutes or so,” Lando interrupts, gathering the near-empty dishes and balled-up napkins, “They’ve also been closed for twenty minutes. When you went to the bathroom when we came in, Carlos and I signed something for the owner who was more than happy to keep things quiet for his second favorite Spanish Formula One driver.”

“Second favorite?” Carlos furrows his eyebrows at his boyfriend, his umber eyes adorably confused.

“Mate,” the Brit scoffs, “I might be in love with you ‘n all but we're not going to act like Fernando isn’t the best thing that came out of Spain, besides churros.”

The unfavored Spaniard holds his hand to his chest in betrayal before his eyes narrow and he moves to assault Lando with a pinch to his chest. While you’d love to continue watching this disguised act of foreplay, you would rather be a participant than a voyeur.

“¡Cabrónes!” The two freeze, heads snapping to look at you as your voice cuts through the catfight.

“I think the owner would be even happier if you licked the ice cream off my thigh outside of his parlor so he could finally lock up, sí?”

How Lando kisses with a desperate hunger, Carlos kisses with a ravaging heat. Like he wants to roast your nerve endings with every brush of his lips against yours.

The fiery press of his mouth stokes the arousal building in your navel. His hand tangles in your hair as he directs the tilt of your head. A stuttered whimper slips from your mouth into his as your tongues glide together, a buzzing sensation tingling down your spine as his other hand squeezes your waist tightly.

He walks you backward towards the bed, his lips devouring yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, attempting to pull your bodies even closer than they are. You stumble, gasping when his hand palms your ass and it’s the first time your lips have separated since Carlos claimed them in the hallway.  He tumbles into you as his feet stumble around yours, the darkness of the bedroom not bettering the situation. He nearly sends you both to the floor instead of the plush mattress if not for Lando catching your body and a hand firmly pressed to Carlos’s chest to hold him upright, expletives falling from your mouths until balance is restored.

You rest your forehead on the older man’s collarbone as you abruptly giggle at being so kiss drunk you forgot how to backpedal. The two drivers have no choice but to laugh at the sound of your amusement, Lando cackling and Carlos’s chest shaking with his laughter. 

“I’m not against fucking on the floor,” Lando voices, the sound of his grin loud enough for you to visualize, “But—can we at least have our first time with you on this extremely comfortable bed?”

“First time?” You raise a brow jokingly, nonchalantly pulling your shirt over your head and letting it fall to the floor, “That implies you’re thinking there’s gonna be a second.”

The Spaniard steps away to click the nightstand lamp on, the room partially bathed in warm yellow light. Your eyes adjust seamlessly to the low lighting, allowing you to revel in the sight of him appreciating your exposed skin, even when covered with a plain black bra—you’ve never been more thankful to be wearing a matching pair of panties.

The younger man unclasps the latch of the garment, dragging the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingertips, and the bra lands atop your shirt. You feel his breath cascade heatedly along your left shoulder before his lips purse delicately against the brown skin. 

He nips closer to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I know we’ll be having you for more than a third time.”

Surely feeling left out, Carlos unzips your skirt, tugging it down your hips and offering a hand for you to hold as you step free of it, “Many more times. But for tonight,” the older man pauses, toying with the band of your panties, looking at you with a smirk, “We must settle on saving the floor for round two. After we have caused you to ruin the sheets.”

Internally, you scream in elation. Two men eager to fuck you stupid, for the rest of your summer—you pray they’re not bluffing. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had sex good enough for a repeat performance. Externally, you shimmy out of your panties and tug at the hem of Carlos’ button-up once you’re bare. 

“If you want me to ruin your sheets, I’m pretty sure that requires you both to be less clothed.”

Lando’s free of everything but his briefs in a handful of seconds while Carlos struggles to unbutton his shirt. The younger pulls you into bed, guiding you to lay on your back as he holds himself over you, dipping to kiss you messily, unafraid to let his moans knit with yours. By the time the older man has lost his clothes and joined the two of you on the bed, the Brit’s focus has traveled down the length of your neck to your chest. Reddened marks bloom on your bronzed skin, mottled across your decolletage in a pattern only known as desire. 

He laves his tongue against a pebbled nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive bud, delighting in the way your body arches upwards into his mouth. Your hand pulls tightly at brunette curls, his resulting whimper at the burn of his scalp muffled around your breast, his eyes screwing shut. You loosen your grasp, unable to determine if that was a positive reaction and you’re pleased to see his eyes fly open, his gaze demanding more. His large hand envelopes your wrist, attempting to have you further mess up his hair, but the motion is halted when Carlos cocks Lando’s head backward with an unrelenting fist. 

The younger man shudders, his eyes rolling at the rough treatment. He rises to lessen the pressure of his boyfriend’s grasp, settling into a kneel between your legs with Carlos pressed to his back. The burn of his scalp subsides when the hold weakens, the tension leaving the younger man in a breath and his head droops back on a broad shoulder.

The Spaniard captivates your attention as he presses a kiss to Lando’s jaw, moving the same hand that was in his boyfriend’s hair to splay against his abdomen, a finger dipping to poke at his bellybutton, causing Lando to jolt with a whine. Carlos coos, calming the man with a rub of hand along his torso.  

“Don’t let him fool you. He likes a bit of pain,” Carlos tweaks Lando’s nipple demonstratively, letting the sight of the younger man’s arousal jumping underneath his briefs accompanied by a strangled moan speak for itself. “He’s a brat, even if he likes to pretend otherwise. A little sting is enough to remind him how to act…most times. Right, Landito?”

The man moves to hide his face in Carlos’s neck as if it’ll hide the sight of him nodding in confirmation. It doesn’t help that the meek “yes” he breathes into the muscle isn’t muffled at all.

“And because he wants to be good,” Carlos continues, pulling at Lando’s waistband and releasing it to snap against flushed, pink skin, “He’s going to keep himself busy with you while I see if I can still taste the dulce on your thigh. Is that okay with you?”

You gulp, anticipatory. “M-more than okay.”

The younger man's eyes are all pupil, ringed with stormy-colored irises as he’s lowered by your side. You were contemplating teasing him about his brat complex—but the haze of his eyes causes you to reconsider.

The gap of his teeth remains adorable even as he bites his lips, the plush skin reddened and raw from where he’s already scraped the skin off. Prolonged eye contact from him seems impossible—his gaze flits away from yours after a handful of seconds. He struggles to decide where to look, happening upon your lips, zoning out with a yearning pout. Lando is clueless to the effect of his fixation; he reignites the redness on your cheeks and the skipping of your heartbeat.

Frightened by Carlos’s spit-slicked lips brushing along the bone of your ankle, you twitch, breaking Lando’s trance. 

The Brit’s blush deepens when he notices you’ve been watching him stare without saying a word. He muffles a mortified whimper into a pillow, smushing his face so deeply into the fabric you worry he may strangle himself. You glance at Carlos for assistance and the man only nods in the younger’s direction, continuing to drag his mouth up your legs, pausing to suckle the skin of your thighs and smirking when he feels the muscles flex underneath his lips.

“Lando, chico,” you croon, petting a hand through the curls at the crown of his head, “Look at me.”

He peeks an eye at you shyly, turning to face you fully, reassured at the enamored look you cover him with.

“Besamé,” you murmur, knowing it’s something Lando’s heard plenty of times from the man nestled between your legs. [Kiss me.] 

The younger understood, rushing to press his lips to yours filthly. The frantic energy is winsome, your chest tightening at the sounds of him whining and mewling needily into your mouth. He licks into your mouth insistently, his attention devoted to tasting the remaining sweetness of ice cream on your tongue. From below, Carlos hums as his tongue polishes off the remaining stickiness on your bronzed skin.

The sounds they rip from you are muffled by the younger man, but the grunt of annoyance Carlos makes as the lingering dulce de leche flavoring of your thigh disappears is clear. He drags his tongue against your labia in one firm stroke, your abdomen undulating at the unexpected attention to your cunt. He smacks his lips, savoring, before a moan rumbles through his chest.

“Better than the ice cream,” he announces, the brown of his iris darkened with greed. 

Lando frees your lips to look at his boyfriend pleadingly, and you take the time to breathe. He left you lightheaded as he kissed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

“ ‘wanna taste, ” Lando begs, and Carlos pulls up to meld their lips together, and you're briefly hypnotized by the muscles of his arms contracting through the movement.

The most reedy whine escapes the curly-haired man as Carlos shares the taste of your arousal with him. Your head is filled with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, buffering at the sight of the two men feasting on your essence—what were you thinking when you agreed to be a summer romance? You’re never going to be able to recover from this, and they haven’t even fucked you yet.

They separate, Lando’s chest heaving as he licks along his lips in search of any faint traces of your taste. Carlos resituates himself between your thighs, his voice carrying a firm edge, “Wait your turn, cariño. Keep being good for me—for us, yes?”

The younger man seems small as he nods, appearing a little empty-headed at the command, but he obeys. Turning back to peck your lips sweetly, Lando trails downward to leave a few marks of his own along the column of your neck.

You grab his jaw lightly, “No marks—,” the light in his eyes dulls slightly, “—that high up.” He brightens and lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nipping at your skin, energized by your nails scratching along his scalp.

Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as Carlos joins in. He laps between your folds sloppily, his nose knocking your clit with every bob pf his head. The hand that isn’t buried in brunette curls fists in Carlos’s locks of hair, holding him steady while he prods at your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Your brain buzzes, toes curling as the older man eats you out, the sounds of him enjoying his meal reverberating through the air, harmonizing with your cries and Lando’s snuffles as he toys with your nipples.

Carlos presses a finger inside, thrusting shallowly against your fluttering walls and his mouth purses around your bud, the suckle of his lips puppeteering your spine into arching and your hips into bucking. His stubble scratches your thighs, the scrape searing but adding to your gratification.

He curls upwards, dragging roughly through the clenching of your cunt, adding a second finger that your walls swallow voraciously. The ache of the stretch is calmed quickly by the ample leaking of your arousal and the constant attention of a tongue on your clit as Carlos steadfastly hunts for your sweet spot.

Your mewls are ragged, forced from your lungs with every press of his fingers. Your eyes flutter as pleasure singes your skin, you find the strength to hold them open as you lock gazes with the man between your legs. His eyes are characteristically wide, but they scream his commitment to making you scream.

There’s no fighting. Your head falls back when his fingers graze near that pleasure point and your eyes screw shut when he perfects the angle and massages your sweet spot with his fingertips. 

A shrill shriek leaves your lips as the penetration becomes unrelenting. He constantly presses on the button that has your thighs tightening around his head, but the temptation of taking his final breath between your legs has him doubling down, suckling at your clit forcefully as he prods a third finger inside of you.

Lando chokes, crying out loudly as your hand yanks at his curls, his hips jumping to grind along your hip, his briefs damp from where he’s been leaking. Carlos’s laugh as he watches his boyfriend desperately hump in search of friction, vibrates around your swollen bud, forcing out a squeal nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of your slick squelching around his fingers.

Abruptly, he pulls away. His digits slip from your walls, your entrance left to pucker hungrily around air. Carlos’s stare is loud as he fights the urge to press inside of you again.

The lack of stimulation is maddening. You free your hold on Lando, and he collapses onto you, body pinning yours to the bed—his weight steadying as you restrain your anger at the sudden halt.

You blink deliriously at the sight of Carlos tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. The slowing rhythm of your heart speeds up as you revel at the image of his hand rolling the condom down his hardened length, flushed and throbbing with arousal. 

It’s daunting. It’s been a long time since you’ve last had sex. At some point, you decided to prioritize protecting your peace rather than dealing with men who aren’t going to do anything other than ruin your PH and fail to make you cum. It doesn’t help that Carlos is well-endowed; you need to come to terms that you’re going to have a limp after this.

Lando sits upwards to watch his boyfriend drag his length through your folds, moaning in unison with you as Carlos’s tip brushes along your pulsing clit. The Spaniard grunts at the heated slide before resting at the gape of your entrance, but he looks up to you for your go ahead. 

“I-it’s been a while,” you admit tensely, covering your eyes with the back of your hand as anxiety builds in your navel.

“How long is ‘a while?’” Carlos asks, without a single hint of judgment. Lando pulls your hand off your face tenderly, revealing their compassionate expressions.

“You remember how I joked about not kissing you guys until a second date?” You toy with Lando’s fingers distractedly, and they confirm their recollection, “Well—there hasn’t been anybody that’s made it past a second date in a long time.”

“Carlos is gentle,” Lando reassures you, halting your play with his fingers to hold your hand comfortingly, “I promise. And he listens very well, and pays attention, and goes at your pace. If he doesn’t, I’ll beat his ass.”

You giggle at that, your nerves fading as Carlos yelps at the threat. This exact kind of behavior is the kind you can see yourself falling in love with.

“Ay! Yes—Lando has permission to knock some sense into me if I hurt you,” Carlos jokes, pausing momentarily before his tone becomes hopeful, “And, we would really like to be the ones who make it to a third date—I’ll follow your pace, I swear.”

The knot in your stomach tightens for another reason besides arousal.

“I believe you,” you murmur, relaxing back into the bed, raising your’s and Lando’s joined hands to press a kiss to his wrist. Lando hums sweetly at you, laying at your side again, his free hand cradling your waist, thumb brushing calmingly on your rich brown skin. 

Carlos breaches you softly—gently, as Lando said he would. The three fingers he stretched you with was a safe play. If it were only two, you would be feeling a sharp pain instead of an ache. The burn is delicious, your inhale stutters as the head of his cock pops into you.

“Joder,” Carlos curses, his jaw clenched tightly, his grip tight on your thighs, as he inches deeper. His eyes trace your complexion attentively for any sign that it’s too much. “Relax, mi corázon—let me in.”

The sweet endearment encourages you to pant through a tiny whimper. Lando’s hand pets along your navel as he sweeps a kiss across your brow bone.

“‘s big isn’t he?” He murmurs, voice breathy, “Fuck—it’s gonna be worth it when he’s all the way inside you, yeah? Stretching you out just right, touching spots you didn’t know existed. It hurts a little, I know, love. But, it hurts so good, doesn’t it? I don’t know how that fits inside me every time I take it, but it’s worth it.”

You whimper fitfully—you want to watch Carlos make him take it.

The discomfort twisting your brows lightens slightly, and Carlos pulls out before he sinks another inch in. The shallow stroke sends an appealing rush of sharp pleasure skittering up your spine and it pools at the back of your head.

A real moan is forced from your chest, and your eyes open to see Lando tucking a curl behind your ear, smiling knowingly.

“Yeah, that felt good didn’t it, baby?” You can’t solely credit the burst of pleasure behind your eyes to Carlos’s barely there thrusts as he works deeper. The praise and pet names Lando seems keen to utilize should be accounted for as well. The Brit presses down on your navel with an astoundingly large palm.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers, “Don’t you wanna feel him here? All deep inside of you?” He pauses briefly, letting your imagination work before continuing. “I feel him there when he fucks me. Like he’s making room for himself, yeah? Gonna open up for him? For me? Gonna let yourself feel good, sunshine?”

Carlos’s hips meet the backs of your thighs as he bottoms out.

Choked gasps leave you and Carlos. Your skin alight, your pores flaring raw. His calloused hands rub over your hips and thighs, one settling where Lando’s was previously holding at your waist and the other amply squeezing the curve of your ass.

Behind your closed eyes, you see the white flare of heat zinging through every nerve ending, your body overstimulated at receiving pleasure in the highest, unfiltered form. Lando was right—it feels like he made room for himself. The weight of him is searing, your walls fluttering frantically as they adjust.

Your most conscious thought is realizing why orgasms are referred to as “little deaths.” Because, if him fucking into you for the first time is this good? Cumming around him has to feel akin to ascending to heaven.

The younger man turns your head towards him with a gentle nudge of your cheek. His eyes peer into you searchingly. You don’t know what he’s trying to find. You’re more concerned with coaxing him into another kiss.

You raise up with an unsteady arm, toppling forward to press your lips to his, but you miss and land near the corner of his mouth. At your disappointed grown, Lando moves to kiss you chastely, before he looks at Carlos.

The older man’s eyes are silken as they dance between you and his boyfriend. It takes Lando tugging him forward with a hand on his bicep for him to understand that you’re pining for a kiss from him as well.

The Spaniard catches the strangled mewl you make with his lips, the change in angle as he hovers over you amplifying the pressure of him within you tenfold. Delicately, he leads the dance of tongues, using the lip lock to distract you from the barely there roll of his hips.

It works, the nervous tension that had gathered in your core unraveling completely at the sensual rock. The grinds remain tender as he gradually works you up to weightier strokes and a quicker rhythm.

Your lips uncouple when your head lulls backwards, a drawn-out purr rolling underneath your chest. With your knees bending to cradle Carlos’s hips, you cast lidded eyes to the Spaniard, bathing underneath his appreciative gaze and the blissful twist to his brows as he rolls into you.

“Carlitos, fóllame,” you murmur, watching his eyes widen in surprise, “I said it’s been a long time, not that I’m going to break.” [Fuck me.]

Lando grins beside you, quieting his laughter by pressing his face into your hair. The older man flusters, a red flush spreading across his chest, and he reminds you that he’d promised to be gentle.

His dedication to his word is attractive and you’re thankful he followed through. You tell him as such, but not without another teasing jab, “Thank you for being gentle. However, I think continuing to be gentle when I ask for more might decrease your chances at a third date.”

Lando jerks upwards to gape at the two of you, frazzled, “That’s not even funny! Babe—do better!”

The brown-eyed man doesn’t entertain either of you with a verbal response.

A bitten-off shout is punched from your chest as his hips slam into you with vigor, your vision crossing as the older man settles into a hard pace. His cock threatens to slip out of you with every stroke out and your body jolts with every ruthless thrust inside, the maddening force turning your mind syrupy with arousal and lightning-hot pleasure.

Endless praise is voiced by Carlos between every rough grunting pant he releases. Your brain is filled with seductive words; bien chica, so tight, you sound so pretty, you can take it. 

You can only hope he hears your gratitude through your repeated moans. You dig your nails into his muscled back as he grazes your sweet spot every couple of thrusts. The sharp pain only has Carlos’s hips stuttering for a moment. He growls, his grip turns bruising as he fucks into you with abandon. Your lungs burn and your legs shake. You squirm beneath him fruitlessly, attempting to buck away from the overwhelming grind, but you're pinned underneath his body weight. Your escape attempt is noticed by both men.

Lando tuts, pressing you down into the mattress with an arm around your waist to prevent any future attempt of you shifting. “Don’t run from it, sunshine.”

Carlos laughs sardonically, and you squeal as shame crawls along your synapses at the noise. He changes the angle of his thrusts to bully that spongy spot inside of you relentlessly, “It’s not too much, no? I thought you said you didn’t want me to be gentle?”

Your body curls in distress, mouth-parted wide at the excruciating attention paid to your most nirvanic point . You try to squeeze your walls tighter around him, to afflict a hint of the unbearable pleasure he’s wreaked upon you. Your shocked to discover that he’s fucked you open so well that your cunt can’t do much more than take what he gives you.

Your wetness squelches with his motions, a thin layer of sweat accumulates on your skin and steams the air around you. The scent of sex and aftertaste of ice cream permeates your mind as your orgasm peaks. 

It bursts through you, the intensity slamming through you like a train. Your body falls limp as the pleasure overrides your control, the unrestrained screams of their names are piercing as the waves brutally crash over you. 

Carlos slams his lips to yours, your teeth clacking together painfully and you can only pant into his mouth as he messily kisses you through your orgasm and steamrolls into his own with his strongest pounding thrusts.

Spanish curses are hidden by your mouth as he lays into you, like he’s not quite done molding you to his shape. He fucks you both through it, the vigor of his grinds wearing as the spurts of his spend slows within the condom. 

His arms buckle, pushing an umphf from your chest as he falls onto you. The heaviness is grounding and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Lando shifts needily at your side, but doesn’t speak. He pulls the arm on your waist from underneath his Carlos’s torso and drags a finger along the reddened scores your nails carved into his boyfriend’s back, with a look in your eyes you can’t place. Is it envy? Quietly, you contemplate the ache you feel between your legs. 

“Get naked, cariño,” you rasp, finding a second wind at the younger man doing as you asked, “It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t get a turn, too.”

Carlos nuzzles deeper into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, his lips and eyelashes tickling your cooling skin. He misses the sight of his boyfriend wildly flinging his briefs to an unknown corner of the bedroom.

Sitting on his haunches, the Brit’s reaches to grab his cock. It’s leaking and (concerningly) redder than the skin of his cheeks from the lack of attention paid to it. He yanks his hand back as if slapped, and digs his nails into the meat of his thighs.

Oh, you think, is it too much for him or is he not supposed to touch?

You reach to close your palm around his poor, dripping length, only managing a single, loose stroke when a pained hiss is ripped from Lando’s teeth. His hips jerk back, freeing himself from barely there hold of your hand. The toned muscles of his abdomen jump as his cock flares and a stream of precum dribbles from his swollen tip.

“Fu-uck,” he shakes, “— ‘can’t. Too sensitive, ‘ll cum.”

The green and blue pools of his eyes are wet with moisture, and his chest—dotted with moles and patches of flushed skin—trembles with every inhale. The man laying on your chest shifts to trail his eyes over Lando’s form. The corner of his lips tilts into a smirk as his boyfriend attempts to hide his arousal behind a hand.

“Sol,” Carlos says to you as his eyes remain piercing into the Brit, “You should ride him—if you are able to, of course.” [Sunshine/Sun]

“Uhh…” you stutter, your attention bouncing between the two as you refrain from answering. 

The numbness settling within your cunt can be ignored if it means you get to have the younger man underneath you. Except, it looks like he’s about to cry, and you don’t want to pressure him into agreeing with your answer if he honestly can’t handle it. The teary-eyed man whimpers thinly, splaying himself on his back next to you, looking past you to meet Carlos’s eyes meekly, his voice tiny as he responds, “—won’t last.”

The Spaniard pulls out of you slowly, murmuring apologies and kissing your cheekbone when your brow twinges in discomfort. He helps you straddle the younger man’s hips, careful to support you as your legs haven’t stopped quivering.

His hand drifts between your pelvises, dragging a nail along the underside of Lando’s cock and you can’t deny the buzz of electricity that sings in your gut at the younger man’s wounded cry. The tears spill over his waterline, though he’s squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop them from falling. Carlos tuts at the man patronizingly.

“Too much, Landito?” Carlos pouts at him, “It is fine if you cannot take it. If you don’t want to cum tonight that’s—“

Lando’s eyelids spring open, looking at Carlos desperately as he babbles, “No,no,no,no—‘wanna cum. Please, ‘los.”

The seconds Carlos spends rolling protection over Lando’s cock are filled with choked gasps as the younger man cries, overwhelmed at the lightest touch of fingertips. You lower around his cock smoothly, walls clenching around him greedily, vision tunneling on the soundless bliss of his expression when your ass meets his skin.

You hum at the fullness, your mind settling at how right it feels. The first circle of your hips has Lando’s hands clawing at your hips, adding his own marks on your skin to compliment his boyfriend’s. He wriggles, overwhelmed, but bucks to meet your rolling body regardless.

He’s flushed from head to waist, fresh tears painting tracks of salt down his face before they drip off his jawline to splash on the bed sheets. Your pace remains tantric, and you don’t move more than an inch upwards to avoid testing his limits. The suckling, hot, drag is more than enough for him, if the pulsing of his cock is any telling. Your own sensitivity begins to bite at the base of your spine, your brain exhausted at the feeling of Lando pressing into the rawness that Carlos carved out.

The Spaniard must notice the way the two of you are tiring of chasing euphoria. Lando’s grinds weaken as the precipice of ecstasy is dangled in front of him, hoarse sobs racking through him as he fails to reach it on his own. Carlos splays his hand across Lando’s throat. The Brit’s whimpers pleadingly, and his mouth parts roundly as his boyfriend applies a light pressure to the sides of his neck. 

Lando shakes apart underneath you with uneven thrusts, his helpless gasps echoing through the room as you continue the grind of your hips to coax him through the bliss of release. He bodily restricts your movements when you edge him towards too-much, pulling you off of him with a single hand underneath your thigh. 

Your knees buckle, pitching over to lie face down next to the British man, who mewls sharply as Carlos pulls the soiled condom off. The heat of the Spaniard disappears, the sheets ruffling as he leaves the bed, causing Lando to make a noise of confusion.

“Water, mi amor,” Carlos chuckles, and you’re happy your face is hidden as you can’t contain your expression of envy at the endearment. He maneuvers Lando’s arms to curl around you, “I am getting us water. I will be quick.”

The younger man, as fucked-out as he is, uses a surprising amount of force to pull you into his chest as he buries his nose in your frazzled nest of hair. He uses his other hand to pull your leg around his hip and hums happily when your bodies press together without an ounce of space to spare. He squeezes you tightly, your dejected frown disappearing as you bask in his embrace, uncaring of the layer of sweat pooling on your cooling skin and the stickiness of your thighs.

There’s three cups with straws in Carlos’s hands as he rejoins the two of you on the bed. He sets one on the nightstand and holds the other two while you and Lando untangle your limbs. Once Carlos is satisfied by the slow sips you two take, he slinks into the bathroom and returns with a warm, soaked cloth to wipe the grime from everyone’s bodies. 

He’s careful about the press of the rag, paying attention to every muscle that tenses in sensitivity and tries to do the job as painless as possible. He nods in content once finished, scooping his glass up to rehydrate himself as well.

Lando bites at the metal straw, the gap of his teeth ridiculously cute even as his eyes brighten with mischief, “So…five minutes and we go again?”

“¡Que te jodan!” You cast a look of disbelief at him, “Lando you just cried through an entire orgasm and you want to go again? Already?” [Fuck you!]

The Brit shrugs loftily, slurping through the last bit of water in his cup and toothily smiling as he blinks at you in feigned innocence. His softened length twitches to attention, and you rest your head in your hand, shutting your eyes briefly for strength.

“Oh, what the hell,” you mumble, before clearing your throat, speaking louder, “I need like 15 minutes—or, until I can feel my legs again. Whichever comes first.”

Carlos collects the empty cup from Lando and sets it on the nightstand with his own. “Would you like to watch him fall apart around me while you wait?”

You choke on the sip of water in your mouth, coughing desperately to clear your throat as your eyes water from the burn. The worried look in the Spaniard’s eyes has an amused tinge to it, even as he pats you on the back in aid—you have a feeling he timed his question with your swallow on purpose.

“That’s a stupid question,” you croak, strangled, “Of course, I want to watch.”

You snuffle against a warmed patch of skin annoyed. The heat of sunlight paints your face golden, and you shift to burrow further into the warmth of limbs around you to drowsily slip back into sleep. You find yourself nodding off, but your ears become alert to the sounds of birds calling and chirping outside. 

Your body reacts before your brain as you fly upwards into a seated position. Shit! You have to go to work!

A pained whimper is exhaled as your lower body aches, sore from last night’s activities. The tangle of tanned arms fall limply around your waist at your change in position, the snores of the two men beside you uninterrupted. You carefully pry their arms away, and slip from the bed, digging through the pile of clothes on the floor, grinding your teeth at the numbness of your legs underneath you.

You dress yourself quickly, closing your eyes in thanks for Carlos forcing you into the shower before you passed out. Hopping across the bedroom to tug your skirt up, you stumble into the bathroom to examine the state you're in, pulling your shirt over your head all the while. 

Your curls are a mess, but that can be fixed at work. Lando respected your wishes of keeping his marks below the collar, but you can spot a few of the bruises on your thighs that their fingertips left. 

You curse briefly, unsure if you have a skirt long enough that would hide the mottled skin before remembering that you have a pair of biker shorts that you can slide on underneath that will get the job done. Pressing a thumb into the shape of Carlos’s thumb, you shiver at the glance of pain that sparks up your spine, swallowing tightly as you recall how it was left there.

With a shake of your head to expel the unseemly thoughts, you turn the faucet on to splash water on  your face. You need to call an Uber to get to work. Rushing out of the en-suite, you frantically search for your phone, trying to remain silent to avoid waking up the boys tucked in that ridiculously plush mattress.

“¿Qué estas buscando?” You screech frightfully at the rough timber of Carlos’ voice, spinning around to look at him. [What are you looking for?]

He’s preciously ruffled; his hair sticks up wildly, the comforter draped around his waist as he leans upwards, the planes of his tanned skin sharp in the morning hours, his eyes squinted in your direction under the brightness of the room—the curtains are wide open. 

Did you have sex—illuminated with a single lamp—with the curtains wide open? That’s a problem to fixate over later, you need your phone.

“Have you seen my phone? I can’t find it,” you straighten your shirt, your volume quieting near the end of your sentence as Lando shifts in the bed with a displeased pout that softens when he settles.

“I plugged it in here for you,” Carlos whispers, rolling to take it off the charger, flashing the marks your nails etched into his back. 

He lifts himself out of bed with a rough groan, your mouth drying as you watch him walk to you, clad in a pair of boxers that leave little (it’s not little at all, actually) to the imagination. Carlos’s hand cushions your cheek as he brushes his lips on yours softly, the delicate rhythm washing away your concerns about being late. 

Your lips break apart with a soft pop and he laughs at the discontented sigh you exhale, offering a languid press of lips to your forehead in apology. You reluctantly take the phone from his hand, your eyes bugging out as you realize that you needed to leave five minutes ago to have plenty of time to fix your appearance before you clock in.

“¡Puta madre!” you exclaim, “I’m fucked. I’m going to be so late ‘cause I have to wait for an car.”

“ —Wait for a car?” Carlos’s eyebrows twist in confusion, scratching at his stubble, “Where are you going? You are not staying?”

You throw him a soft look, turning away to figure out where your socks disappeared to, “I’m late for work, Carlitos. I can’t stay—even though I really want to.”

Carlos ah’s in understanding, assisting you in the search for your socks, his voice still croaky with disuse as he talks, “I can drive you? We are only twenty minutes away if you follow the road laws.”

You huff a laugh at his insinuation, tugging your socks on and patting at his arm softly, before gesturing to Lando in the bed, “You don’t have to. I don’t want to inconvenience you, you should be in bed with him. It’s my fault for not having my alarm properly set.”

Carlos shakes his head, rooting through his dresser for a pair of sweatpants that he pulls on, “You are not inconveniencing me. It would be rude if I let you be late to work after last night. I’m not that kind of man. Neither of us are.”

You give in as you watch him pull a plain white tee over his head—he’s too sweet for a fleeting romance. He ambles over to Lando, brushing the unruly curls off his forehead and pressing a kiss to his temple. He tucks the blankets around his boyfriend and a lick of jealousy blooms in your subconscious before you pluck it. 

Carlos grabs his own phone off another charger and stands, speaking to you warmly, “Your shoes and purse are downstairs, yes? There’s some protein bars in the kitchen pantry, grab as many as you want. I should have treated you to a proper breakfast but you do not have the time. I’m going to use the bathroom quickly, if that’s okay?”

You nod, and Carlos quietly shuts the bathroom door behind him. You breathe deeply at the situation you’ve found yourself in, and you scramble to send a quick text to the group chat telling them to cover for you and promising to cover a shift for anybody who does in the future. 

Your phone buzzes almost instantly after with an influx of messages and you click the screen off. They’re probably freaking out at the uncharacteristic vagueness of your whereabouts, but you put off responding to press your own kiss to Lando’s temple before heading downstairs, tenderly stepping to minimize the unsteadiness of your walk.

You appreciate the decor you didn’t get to see last night, the vacation home vibes blatant as you walk through; a modern twist of Spanish style decor. There’s even a fireplace you spot on your way past a sitting room.

You lace up your sneakers, grabbing your purse from the console table in the entryway before searching for the kitchen to grab a protein bar to hold you over until your lunch break. The kitchen is artful, modern in the sense of the new appliances but the colors and details of the tiled walls, clutter, and cabinets gives it a soul. It feels lived in.

You dryly swallow an ibuprofen—you always carry a few in your purse—hoping it will relieve your soreness before work. You open the pantry door, finding an assortment of protein bars and taking your time to read the labels as you hear a door open which means Carlos is heading down. You grab two bars that fit your taste and softly shut the door, unwrapping one to take a bite of now.

“Ah, I knew I would see you again,” Carlos Sr. smiles at you from the kitchen entry, chuckling at the way you jump and nearly drop the bars in your hands, “I will not lie to you, I thought it would be at the golf club and not here.”

Your lips part and seal as you search for a polite answer, but he continues speaking.

“Let me tell you a secret,” he clasps his hands delightfully, “Did my son tell you that he’s been asking me about you every time I am on the course? Papá, did you see her? Papá, when are you going back to Madrid? Aye, they’re smitten over you, mija?”

“¿En serio?” you relax at his mellow tone, enlightened by the new information. [Really?]

“¡Sí!” The older man exclaims, passing by you to start a pot of coffee, “To be honest, I thought you were out of their league last summer,” you laugh, knowing it’s definitely the other way around, “—Honestly!” He insists, turning to face you as the coffee starts to drip.

“I mean, you are in university, getting a further degree,” he shakes his head in respect of your commitment, “Those two just drive in circles for a living! I couldn’t even convince my son to drive rally like I did, ese cabrón.” [That bastard.]

You laugh a little harder at the jab on his own son, muffling it behind a hand, and he continues, “—And, when they told me they did not get your number! Ay! I was so mad at them. I told them to drop everything and go after you, but by the time they made their way up there you were already gone.”

You feel like shit about your outburst on the green. Your expression shutters, and he pats at your shoulder in comfort, “Oh. I-I didn’t know—“

“How could you?” He hums in question, “It is not your fault, if that’s what you are—“

“Mi sol, have you seen my wallet—” Carlos Jr. steps into the kitchen, words cutting off as he balks at the sight of his father, and he shouts, “Papá! ¿Qué hace aquí?” [My sunshine; Dad! What are you doing here?]

“¿Qué estoy haciendo en la casa que compré?” His dad fires back, amused at his son’s stunned question. [What am I doing in the house I bought?]

Carlos blinks at his dad before turning to you, slipping his hand into yours and tugging you out of the kitchen softly, “Let’s go; you’re going to be late, no?”

Sr. chortles as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, “¡Mijo! Hiding a woman from me?! It is okay, Lando will tell me everything. That is why he’s my favorite son!”

Carlos throws his head back with an exasperated groan, but it doesn’t hide the redness of his ears from his father’s teasing.

You stifle your smile, squeezing his hand pacifyingly, “Your wallet is in the bowl at the front. Um, if it’s possible,” you tuck a curl behind your ear shyly, “Do you have another car besides the Ferrari? I love it, but I cannot show up stepping out of that.”

Carlos snorts, shoving his wallet into his pocket and leading you to the garage, “Is a Porsche fine?”

“It’ll work.”

He gets you there in thirteen minutes, slowing the car to a crawl as you direct him to the employee entrance. You grab your purse, awkwardly pausing as you pop the door open. 

You face him with a sheepish grin, “Thank you for the ride. Tell Lando I said good morning.”

Carlos drags his eyes over your form languidly, before he nods imperceptibly, “Do you have enough time to get ready?”

“You’ve made up a few extra minutes for me with your skilled driving on the way here,” Carlos huffs a laugh at that, “So, I should be okay.”

The two of you fall back into silence, unsure of what else to say. You take the leap of faith this time around, it’s the most you can do after learning the way they tried to catch you before you left last summer.

“It wouldn’t be overstepping if I kissed you, right?”

“Ven aquí,” Carlos exhales, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the console to meet you halfway. [Come here.]

His lips are swollen and textured from your’s and Lando’s combined attention, but the kiss is the sweetest and most tender one you’ve ever experienced. The soft exhale of breath from his nose stokes the butterflies in your stomach, who flutter awake as adoration pumps through your veins. The two of you part, eyes fluttering open to stare softly. He settles back into his seat, looking at your lips longingly, his line of sight broken as you exit the vehicle.

You clear your throat, “Um, I’ll text you guys when I get home later, okay? Adiós, te qu—hasta luego.” [Bye, I l—see you later.]

You shut the door and speed walk into the building before he could say anything about how you nearly exposed how down bad you are already. You hope he doesn’t bring it up, for the sake of your mental stability. The moment you step into the employee locker room, you're accosted by your friends, Isa, Lucas, and Stephanie. 

“Damn,” Lucas snaps, “I was really hoping you’d be late. I need my shift on Tuesday covered.”

You shrug, sliding past the girls to walk to your locker. “Sucks to suck.”

“¡Oye, pequeña!” Isa and Stephanie box you in at your locker as you grab your spare uniform and sport shorts, Isa stresses, “You cannot, walk in here and act like nothing happened! You show up wearing the outfit I picked out for you yesterday? Your hair is a mess! You sent the vaguest text about possibly showing up late? And, you get dropped off in a Porsche!?” [Hey, girly(i guess, idrk how to explain it)!]

Stephanie’s eyes blow wide and you rest your head into the cool metal of your locker door as she bursts, “Girl—did you get laid?!”

“Thank you for that, Steph,” you bite out, turning to look at them with the politest grimace you can muster, “Now, everyone will know exactly what I got up to last night because Lucas—,” you point behind you with a thumb, speaking loudly to drive your words in, “—Is physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut.”

He raises his hands up and backs out of the locker room with a devious smile. 

Turning to Isa, you shake your head, “I do not know why you like him. He’s such a chismosa.” [Gossip.]

She rolls her eyes at you, following you as you make your way into the bathroom, “It’s not a bad thing. He tells me all of the gossip I miss out on–why are there bruises on your thigh—holy fuck! He must have big hands. Which means he has a big—”

“Okay!” You screech, running into a stall and locking the door shut behind you, “I will tell you and the girls every single detail as soon as we finish today!”

She makes a triumphant noise, her steps fading as she exits the restroom, “You better! Or, I’ll force you to listen to me wax poetic about Lucas’s eyes for hours!”

Scoffing, you tug your shirt over your head and yell back, “You already do that anyways!”

The slicked-back ponytail you gelled your hair into, has already sprung flyaways since you didn’t have enough time to set your hair with a wrap before you had to drive out onto the course. You’re almost three hours into your shift, and the sun feels like it’s at its strongest even though you have a few more hours of it burning hotter. Only twenty minutes until lunch, you remind yourself, then you can fix your hair and cool down in the restaurant's walk-in freezer.

You’ve just finished serving a bachelor party, a group of ten men who didn’t give you a hard time. You talked loosely with them, engaging in small talk because connections are everything and you never know who you might run into on the green.

Like Carlos and Lando, case in point.

The groom-to-be actually met his fiancé here. She was a bartender in the clubhouse about seven years ago, and on complete chance she ended up being the one to serve him. He was starry-eyed as he explained to you that he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. He ordered an unbelievably expensive amount of drinks for him and his boys (the same group of men in the bachelor party), and when she slid the bill over to him, he said, “For this price, you could’ve bought me for the night.”

You called bullshit, and he looked at his friends who backed up his words; they all heard it when he said it. You watched as he took a sip from his beer bottle with a reverent shake of his head, “Now, we’re getting married next week. On August 12th, or 8/12. Which was the price of the tab that night, $812.”

You made a joke about him needing to strengthen his self-esteem if he would consider selling his body for a measly $800, and to attend an A.A. meeting because that’s a ridiculous amount of money to spend on drinks that leave your system quicker than you ingested them. 

The men crowed in laughter at your ribbing of the groom-to-be, but you did seriously congratulate him on his engagement and wished him a long, happy marriage.

And currently, you’ve parked your cart for a few minutes to get over the urge you feel to cry. You're jealous of a woman you’ve never met before because she gets to love a man who’s devoting the rest of his life to her. She gets to marry him, and you’ve agreed to be nothing more than a summer romance to the men you could see yourself falling in love with.

You thank the universe for allowing you to cross paths with the groom-to-be. It reminded you of your place with the Formula One drivers and it’s a temporary one.

Your walkie-talkie crackles with the sound of your name and you sniffle deeply, blinking your eyes quickly to rid the moisture. 

“What’s up?” You chirp cheerily into the voice box, waiting for a response.

“By chance, are you missing your earrings? Over.” It’s Ryan, he takes his radio messages seriously. You tug at your earlobes, and damn, you feel naked.

“I am. Did I leave them in the dressing room?”

“You have to say ‘over’ at the end of your messages, you know that. Over.”

“Ryan...” you hold the line open to annoy him a little bit before you give in, “Did I leave them in the dressing room? O-v-e-r, over.”

“I was going to be nice to you but you lost that chance. Over.” 

You snort, intrigued to hear how he’s going to ‘retaliate.’ The two of you started here at the same time and Ryan has become like a little brother to you, against your will. 

“I just wanted to let you know that two objectively handsome men turned in your earrings to the front desk,” you shout in surprise, firing up the golf cart and slamming the pedal down to head back to the clubhouse, “Hmm…I think they said you left them at their house last night. Overrrrr.” He draws the ‘over’ out teasingly and the walkie-talkie squeals with static and screams of surprise from the other employees on the channel.

“TWO? YOU FREAK!!!” Lucas.

Incoherent screaming. Isa.

“Nobody here can call me a slut anymore!” Rob.

“Is that why you couldn’t sit comfortably at the morning meeting?!” Sofia.

Ryan’s voice crackles through, “Oh! I forgot to mention—don’t worry about stealing food from the restaurant for lunch; they dropped off a meal for you. Over.”

The walkie-talkie explodes with noise and you turn the volume to zero. You’re reporting them all to HR.

You tune out the jeers in the break room as you devour a croquetade jamón and chase it with a spoonful of rice. You send a photo of the food with a thumbs-up in the frame, to Carlos and Lando. You type out your thanks for the jewelry return and lunch. There’s no hesitation as you press send on message inquiring about when the third date is going to happen.

The third date is private cooking lesson where you’re coached through making a few classic Spanish tapas. Lando immersed too deeply and only responded to ‘Chef Lando’ during the class. Carlos ate all of the chorizo he was supposed to use on his flatbread. You terrify the actual chef with your less than savory cutting technique. Your torn apart on their fingers that night, as they take turns coaxing you over the cliff.

You decrease the amount hours you’re able to work at the golf course. You’re only on the schedule during the middle of the week–Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday—leaving you with a four day weekend to frolic around Madrid with your boyfr—with Carlos and Lando.

The fourth date is dinner and a show. It’s your first time watching a ballet, and your lucky enough to be watching the performance at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe. It’s also the first time you get railed in a women’s bathroom stall at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe.

Lando pants raggedly as he fucks into you from behind, “Ah—shit, sunshine, you’re so tight.”

Your moan is muffled around Carlos’s cock and he hisses at the vibration, knocking his head against the stall door loudy. 

When Lando climaxes, he whimpers out a, “te quiero.” You pretend to miss it as you concentrate on sucking Carlos to completion. Carlos licks his spend from your tongue, babbling his te quiero’s into your mouth. You don’t say it back. [Te quiero means I love you, but it’s more casual, less serious in nature.]

The fifth date is pottery and you ride Carlos’s face to the image of Lando’s hands coning down his clay on the wheel. The sixth date is driving around the outskirts of Madrd’s city limits and passing the phone around to queue a song to play as you three switch between talking and enjoying the tunes. 

The seventh date is painting the mugs you made; you made two, one for Carlos and one for Lando—they each made you one as well. You’ve painted Carlos’s as a lemon and Lando’s as an orange—and homage to the sip of sunshine line they pulled on you. Lando painted a field of sunflowers for you. Carlos painted a sun with rays spilling from it, the words ‘my sunshine’ scripted into the middle of the sun.

Somewhere between the fifth and seventh date, they became comfortable with saying te quiero  to you outside of sex. 

It’s said as you serve them drinks on the course, as they drop you of at home after dates, as they cuddle with you without wanting more, as they wake you up between them in the morning. 

You give in somewhere beewen the sixth and seventh date. But, you only allow yourself to say te quiero during or after sex.

And, you stifle your sobs of anguish into your pillow at home, dreading the day you return to school and they return to racing.

Your dad enjoys the mobile car show of priceless automobiles that appear in his driveway to pick you up. Your mom eagerly awaits your renditions of your dates every night and you’re careful to edit around the explicit parts. 

The dates progress to you spending your four days off at their  Carlos Sr. 's vacation home, packing a bag with your necessities so you don’t have to risk wasting time away from them by stopping at your house. They take the time to explain to you just how much of a goat Lewis Hamilton is. Lando helps with your wash day, soaking up your tidbits of advice for his own curls. Carlos lets you soundboard ideas for your dissertation off of him without complaining, iterjecting every once in a while with a viewpoint you hadn’t considered. 

Your craving for intimacy is satiated. They twirl you around in the kitchen to Spanish ballads they sing terribly at the top of their lungs. They terrorize you on the green, choosing increasingly difficult cocktails for you to make so you have to spend more time with them instead of doing your job. You and Carlos terrorize Lando with a football games of keep away. You and Lando terrorize Carlos by hiding his shirts from him so he has to walk around topless. They don’t terrorize you in retaliation—if you don’t count their constant te quiero’s as terrorizing acts.They pick you up at some ridiculous hours when you’ve gone clubbing with your friends; making sure you chug a glass of water, helping you rinse off in the shower and moisturizing your skin before dressing you in their clothes, doing your skincare for you before putting you to bed. 

They drag their feet through helping you repack your belongings on the morning of your last day in Spain. You let Lando get away with tugging garments out of your bag every time you turn your back to him, hiding your smile as you see Carlos assist him by stuffing it at the bottom of the pile of clothes that doesn’t seem to shrink.

Eventually, they give up. Their eyes trace your form as you do your last walkaround to make sure you haven’t left anything behind. Your check ends at the front door, grabbing your keys from the bowl on the entryway table.

You sigh heavily, “Well, don’t just stand there.”

They gravitate towards you, hugging you tightly and peppering an endless amount of bittersweet kisses along any patch of skin they can reach. Lando hunches down to hide his face in your neck, and Carlos rests his forehead against yours.

“¡Chicos, calmaté!” Your giggly exclamation sounds watery, “I am coming back next year, remember?”

“That’s too longgg,” Lando complains into your neck, his voice sounding as pitiful as yours. You step backwards to cradle his face between your hands. His cheeks are ruddy and his eyes are dejected even as he smiles shakily under your touch.

“Date us.” Carlos blurts out desperately, “Ay, perdóname—May we date you, please?” [Forgive me.]

You gape at the older man, struggling to ascertain what he’s asked of you. 

Stumbling gracelessly, your hands fall from Lando’s face, who makes a hurt noise at the loss. “Date me? I thought you both said this was just a fling?”

The Brit twists his hands together at your words, his face saddening further as he corrects you, “Summer romance—fling is too harsh.”

“Too casual?” You shout, “I thought this was supposed to be casual! I felt like shit whenever I didn’t say te quiero back! I wanted more the moment we sat down at that restaurant a month ago, but I thought I couldn’t have it because that’s not what we agreed on!”

“You want more?” Carlos clarifies, his tone optimistic. 

“¡Cabrón!”  You laugh, hurtling forward to throw your arms around his neck. Relieved tears spill over your waterline, soaking into the Spaniard’s shirt. “I’m damn near in love with you guys–yes,yes,yes, I want more.”

Lando glows, blubbering incoherently with happiness and you shush him with your lips.

“I wish you had asked me days ago,” you sniffle cutely, smiling crookedly as you continue, “—’cause I really do have to leave, or I won’t have enough time to pack my things into my suitcases at home.”

You groan as you find yourself with an armful of two Formula One drivers bemoaning the unfairness of being separated from you even though they just got you.

“Mis amores, escúchame—you had me the entire time,” you coo, “We all know how phones work. We can communicate speedily with texts, and video calls, and send voice messages, and even regular calls. If we’re doing this we have to have a serious talk about it when I land in the States, yeah? Long distance is difficult, but I’m willing to put in the effort to make it work, if you two do the same.” [My loves, listen to me.]

“Phone sex isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Lando quips, smiling as he watches you and Carlos chortle at the unexpected comment.

The laughter ringing through the air fizzles out. You bite your lip, shaking your head slightly as their stares fixate on your mouth. They haven’t managed to stop ogling at your lips over the course of the month.

“Te quiero,” you state. Lando repeats it back instantly, Carlos kisses you before doing the same.

You pick up your bag from the floor, “Promise me that you’ll do your best to make this relationship work.”

Their confirmations are swift, even taking turns crossing their pinkies with yours and with themselves. Your heart sings with love. They walk you to your car. Carlos takes the bag from your hand and places it in your backseat, Lando holds your door open, making sure you don’t hit your head as you sit in the driver’s seat. 

He shuts the door smoothly, and you roll down the window to exchange your last goodbyes. 

“See you next summer.”

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[changetyre]

carlando x reader? Maybe where reader agrees to hook up with one and the other is secretly there? Keep up the great work (even tho it wasnt my request the carlos x max was GREAT)

Wild Dreams II Lando Norris x Reader x Carlos Sainz ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Maybe fulfilling one of your wildest dreams wouldn't be so difficult after all.

WARNINGS: **18+**

A/N: Two people requested a Carlando fic so here it is ;) Also not proofread ;I

"Here baby." Lando took the glass from your hand before replacing it with another one with what looked like the same clear liquid.

"What is it?" You giggled, the buzzed feeling through your body making everything a little more funny than usual.

"Just drink it baby, all in one go fo me." Lando smirked placing a hand on your waist to keep you steady.

"Hmm okay." You agreed hopping whatever drink your boyfriend had brought you now was just as good as the last how many others you had drunk during the night.

You took the glass and just like he asked downed the liquid all in one go ready to feel the burn down your throat...but it never came.

"Aww baby." Lando cooed at seeing the way your jaw dropped before you pouted at him.

"It's water," you said upset...using that baby voice that Lando loved so much. "You tricked me." You then crossed your arms trying to seem angry about it.

"Aww darling I had to, you're gonna thank me tomorrow I promise." Lando started placing small kisses across your cheek and down your jaw watching the way you were struggling not too smile.

"LANDOOOOO!" You were interrupted by someone putting their arm around Lando's neck and pulling him back, it wasn't hard to guess who.

You might have been Lando's girlfriend whom he stood alongside all night but Carlos wasn't far behind, always just a few feet away from his Lando.

You swallowed hard at watching the way Carlos held your boyfriend, stretching his neck back letting you have a good look at the veins across your boyfriend's large neck you loved so much. But then you saw the way Carlos's plump lips were so close to Lando's face as he whispered something into his ear Lando holding onto Carlos's arm for stability.

The heat that rushed between your legs was something you had to hide, you didn't want your boyfriend to see the way their closeness made you react, and luckily the heat from the drinks you'd had all night was helping hide the heat that coursed through your body at seeing the two boys in front of you being so touchy.

All these thoughts ran through your head but your heart skipped a beat when you noticed your boyfriend staring right at you as Carlos continued to whisper something to him. You watched as Carlos's eyes very slowly scanned your body from your heeled feet to your bare legs, the space between your legs, your hips, all the way up. The way he looked at you made you feel as if you were completely naked in his eyes.

You cleared your throat nervously knowing that your voice would fail you now if you tried to speak. Your boyfriend smirked which only made you more nervous.

"How about we go home, darling?" Lando asked you extending his hand out to you.

You slotted your body into his arm as you were used to nodding instead of speaking. You saw Carlos smirk behind him as his hand left Lando's hip from the space reserved exclusively for him.

"I'll see you soon." Carlos winked at you both as Lando held your waist tightly against him ready to head out.

"See you, man." Lando didn't lose his smirk. They were planning something and something told you it had to do with you.

During the ride back Lando was sweet as usual, giving you his coat as soon as he saw you shiver, offering to carry you all the way to your room in case your feet hurt from the heels, and ordering you some food before he let you head into the shower to wash yourself off.

It confused you the way you watched your boyfriend with another guy...but more specifically Carlos could make you feel like this. Washing the slick that gathered between your legs made you feel guilty, what would Lando say if he ever found out? you thought to yourself.

When you finally felt like you'd washed even the dirtiest of thoughts away you wrapped a towel around yourself and headed out the bathroom but you weren't even able to take one step before your boyfriend was in front of you.

"Hey, baby." He looked down at you with the same smirk from the club.

"Hi." Your voice was shaky as you felt Lando's hand slip through the opening of the towel and touch your bare skin underneath.

"How was your shower?" He asked as he kissed your shoulder.

You sighed as Lando began following the path from your shoulder up your neck kissing each spot more and more passionately each time. "Uh Good." you moaned.

"Yeah...you took a while...what were you thinking about huh?" Lando's voice was low, there was a tone too it you never heard before but it made you feel all kinds of things.

"No-Nothing." You stuttered before Lando slid his tongue across your lips.

"Tsk tsk tsk." Lando clicked his tongue. "No need to lie to me baby...just tell me." He placed his thumb on your chin pulling down so your mouth opened slightly before slipping his tongue in. He started making out with you which made you feel fuzzy once more.

"mmm." You moaned when you felt Lando's hand slip further under your towel cupping your ass in his hands and squeezing.

"I saw the way you looked at me...the way you looked at Carlos." Lando continued talking.

Your eyes snapped open and the realization that your boyfriend could have possibly found out what you were thinking. "What- I-" You had no idea what to say.

"Shhh, don't worry." He only whispered before he grabbed the hem of the towel where you had tucked it into your chest and released it so the towel pooled on the ground leaving you bare.

Lando loved the way your breath got shaky and the way shivers filled your body as his fingers traced around your skin. "Do you like seeing Carlos with me?" He asked you. "Don't lie." He added.

It kind of scared you, not knowing what Lando's intention was here but by the lust you could see in his eyes you could see all this talk turned him on.

"Yes." You answered honestly hoping this wouldn't ruin everything.

Lando laughed as his hand came between your legs. You whined as Lando slipped his finger through your slit moving his finger back and forth circling around your clit a few times but not actually touching it. "I can see you that," Lando commented as he brought his finger back up showing you the way it dripped with your juices.

"Let me taste it." you jumped at hearing another voice from the corner. You looked behind Lando noticing Carlos there, had he been there the whole time?

Lando walked back as Carlos walked forward and eventually Carlos chest his Lando's back coming to a halt a few feet from you.

You watched in shock as Carlos grabbed Lando's hand that had just touched you bringing it up to his face before he took Lando's fingers in his mouth licking them clean.

"mmm, I think she liked that." Lando smiled noticing the way you closed your legs tighter feeling a tingle between them.

"She tastes good." Carlos smiled too looking over at you. "Cat got your tongue princesa?" Carlos then asked you as you watched the way his hands began lifting Lando's shirt as he rubbed his hands across his abs.

Lando stripped his own shirt off as Carlos grabbed his hips, his eyes never leaving you.

"What are you-" you were only able to speak a few words, overwhelmed by the sight in front of you.

"Come here darling," Lando spoke to you.

Your legs moved faster than your mind could process and the next thing you knew you stood in front of your boyfriend and Carlos, Lando placed a hand low on your hips and Carlos's hand wrapped a little higher than his also on your body.

"Do you want to have some fun with us tonight?" Lando asked you.

You were still more than confused, should this be a question you and Lando should ask Carlos? Since when were they an us? But that didn't seem like such an issue since you quickly found yourself nodding in agreement.

"Good girl." Carlos spoke as he moved around Lando ready to take you.

"Wait." Lando stopped him by placing a hand on his chest.

"I need words, baby." Despite his eagerness, Lando still worried you might be feeling pressured into this.

"Yes...please." you whimpered a little more impatiently than you would've liked to sound which gave Lando the confirmation he needed for everyone to proceed.

"Go on." Lando then spoke to Carlos.

Carlos reached you and cupped his face in your hands before connecting your lips. Making out with Carlos felt so much different than with Lando but at the same time, there was some sense of familiarity in it.

Carlos's lips were so plump, able to cover your lips entirely each time he kissed you he was also slower with his tongue, tracing your lips slowly. On the other hand, when Lando kissed you it was evident to see his eagerness as he never waited to shove his tongue into your mouth, your kisses were often sloppy and rushed.

But with both of them you you could feel the need they had to for you, to taste you and to feel you, by simply kissing you they made you feel so wanted.

"Fuck that's hot." You heard your boyfriend whisper behind you unaware at what point he had moved around the room.

Carlos then began kissing your jaw, then down your neck where you could feel he was leaving marks but you didn't care it all felt too good.

You opened your eyes when you felt Carlos's lips leave your body momentarily, growing more excited when you saw your boyfriend stripping Carlos off his clothes before Carlos did the same to him leaving them both bare in front of you.

They seemed lost in each other for a few seconds which made you realize this wasn't the first time they had probably done this and you would be lying if you said you didn't feel a tinge of jealousy at the thought but at the same time excitement filled you with the thought they would now be doing it with you.

You watched as Carlos confidently grabbed Lando's cock in his hand pumping it a few times which made Lando groan in pleasure.

You let yourself fall back on the bed, opening your legs wide as your hand slipped between your hands and you began touching yourself to the sight of the two men in front of you.

"Fuck if you don't stop I'll cum." Lando whispered to Carlos but it was enough for you to hear.

Carlos proudly smirked before he placed a kiss on Lando's chest and finally let go of Lando's member.

"Sh*t." Carlos whispered to himself as he turned to look at you touching yourself on the bed.

"Will one of you fuck me or should I just keep going?" The confidence you suddenly mustered took everyone by surprise.

"No need to ask me twice." Carlos smirked as he hopped on the bed slotting himself between your legs.

You looked to Lando making sure he was okay with this and he gave you a nod of confirmation. As much as Lando would've like to be the first to fuck you he still felt sensitive and knew he wouldn't last long if he slotted into you now and he wanted this to last.

Carlos teased your entrance a few times coating his dick with your slick before finally entering you. "F*ck." You moaned in pleasure at feeling the new stretch. Lando was big but Carlos had so much girth it took you by surprise.

"You feel so good." Carlos said breathlessly as he began thrusting in and out of you.

Carlos kept fucking you and it almost had your eyes rolling back in pleasure, it was good, incredibly good but you also felt like you were missing something.

"Lando I want you to fuck me too." You asked your boyfriend who had laid beside you slowly stroking his cock and watching Carlos fuck you.

"I will darling, as soon as he's done." Lando kissed your temple.

"No...I want the both of you." You confidently asked. Both Carlos and Lando looked at each other in surprise, the excitement that filled their bodies at the request was evident.

"You sure?" Lando asked you despite wanting to jump into it (into you) right away.

"Yes...please." You pleaded.

Carlos momentarily pulled out of you, Lando slipped under you and you took his dick slipping it into you, moaning in pleasure at the familiar sensation, you then leaned forward, your chest resting against your boyfriend as you reached back Carlos letting you grab his cock before you placed it at your entrance right on top of Lando's dick before pushing it in with Carlos help.

The stretch was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, initially painful but the boys stayed still letting you adjust to the feeling.

"Carlos move," you asked him and Carlos slowly pushed his dick out to push it back in.

Lando could feel Carlos's cock move against him which had him roll his eyes back in pleasure at the feeling of you both against him.

"Ah fuck that feels so good." You felt so full in such a good way.

"Baby move." You then asked Lando.

Lando had to work hard to work through the dizzying pleasure to grab your hips and start thrusting into you, Lando's and Carlos's dicks rubbed against each other inside you and it was all so overwhelmingly delightful the sounds around the room seemed right out of a porno.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum." Carlos was the first to say as they simultaneously fucked you.

"Go faster!" You called out to both boys as you felt your orgasm approaching.

They both fulfilled your command as they picked up their pace fucking into you.

"Fuck I'm about to cum." Lando finally spoke.

"SHIT." You were the first to break as you trembled in between their bodies, falling flat against your boyfriend.

A few seconds after you felt one of them spill into you followed by the other. They both grunted in pleasure as their dicks pulsated inside you.

"Fuck that was amazing," Carlos spoke as he pulled out of you his dick covered in the three of you, Lando pulled out after which made you feel so empty, you immediately missed the feeling of them.

"I don't think my legs work anymore." You sighed content.

Both the boys laughed, Carlos falling onto his back beside you both, you would probably all fall asleep like this in a few minutes but it felt right.

[vroomvroommuppett]

masterlist | taglist | buy me a coffee! | pateron | still taking requests! | feedback form!! |

requested by @lost4lyrics: carlos sainz x oscar piastri x reader where everyone thinks that carlos and oscar are fully fighting for the readers attention, but it's just all fun and scripted by the three of them

likes comments and reblogs appreciated!!

©vroomvroommuppett | i do not give the right for my works to be posted, copied or translated anywhere.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

ynprivate

liked by carlospriv, oscarpriv, and others

ynprivate can you believe these two are fighting over me on track? it's as if they forget we're married and have kids.

tagged: oscarpiv, carlospriv

carlospriv He started it!

oscarpriv No you did! carlospriv LIES ynprivate children. i married children

landopriv It's so hard to not say anything

maxpriv They do it out of love

kikapriv now i see where your kids get their facial expressions

georgepriv Yeah, your daughter has a good RBF oscarpriv oh she gets that from her mom

charlespriv It's honestly funny to watch

hulkpriv I agree

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

carlossainz55

liked by ynsainzpiastri, oscarpiastri, and others

carlossainz55 When fans think you and Oscar hate each other, but really, you're married to him and an amazing girl. Te amo, mis amores [I love you, my loves]

tagged: oscarpiastri, ynsainzpiastri

comments have been limited

ynsainzpiastri my boys❤️🧡

oscarpiastri We do it to give the fans a show

scuderiaferarri Our parents

mclarenf1 No ours landonorris Do I mean nothing? ynsainzpiastri stop being a fuckboy and settle down and maybe you'll get that title landonorris CARLOS OSCAR YOUR WIFE IS MEAN carlossainz55 She's right though

fransisca.cgomes MILF

carmenmmundt MILF lilymhe MILF alexandrasaintmleux MILF pierregasly Um... alex_albon Hello? charles_leclerc Rude georgerussell63 We're right here!

maxverstappen1 About time you announced it. I was afraid Lando would blurt it out.

landonorris I'm not that bad! Right babe? logansargeant I plead the fifth ynsainzpiastri I still question to this day how the two of you got together... maxverstappen1 Same.

lewishamilton Beautiful family!

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tag list: @2pagenumb @Ale-522 @d3kstar @formulaal @lady-laura-speaks @abookmouse @anamiad00msday @barcelonaloverf1life @blushmimi @charllleclerc @dark-night-sky-99 @eugene_emt_roe @fall-bambi @formulaonebuff @gr3yhues @heavy-vettel @ietss @il0vereadingstuff @magical-spit @mypage-myfandoms @nichmeddar @nikfigueiredo @noooway555 @norstappenvibes @novelswithariana @raizelchrysanderoctavius @samantha-chicago @spencerrosewrites @stupid---person @swifthOlic @sya-skies @theforevermorereject @thescooby-gang @woozarts @yukimaniac @hinamesgigantica @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @neferaskingdom @ricciardosredbull @hiireafstuff @awritingtree

[fxrmuladaydreams]

monaco kisses (cl16 + cs55)

charles x reader x carlos (poly relationship)

request: I saw ur request were open n didn't know you did poly charlos but was wondering if you could write something where the reader is like the media person for Ferrari and both drivers like the reader but they are also secretly dating so the reader likes them both, but then realizes they are dating and gets super embarrassed for thinking they misread the situation and then starts avoiding them so one day the two drivers confront the reader only for like them all to confess 👀 idk. Change the idea however you like I just want some charlos fics to read ngl.

word count: 2705

notes: this took longer than i thought it was going to to write 😅 but i loved writing it. i hope the ending is okay, i was struggling with it

“You have to be devilishly handsome to drive for Ferrari.” Truer words have never been spoken. You thought to yourself.

Sure, you were attracted to both men. Who wasn’t? There was Charles Leclerc, possibly the biggest heartthrob in Formula One, he had hordes of girls wrapped around his finger. Then there was Carlos Sainz, equally as handsome, and possibly twice as charming.

Working as a part of Ferrari’s social media team meant that you were going to work closely with both men. You were around them not only while they were working, trying to get some good content of them in their cars over the season, but also with them to film Ferrari’s silly little challenge videos and vlogs.

You hadn’t expected much of a relationship to grow between you and either of them, knowing that you absolutely had to keep things 100% professional. It was already hard enough being a woman working in motorsport, you didn’t need anyone from the media claiming you were chasing after the boys as well.

While you were content to just do your job and go home every weekend, both boys seemed to have made it their mission to get you to open up to them. What had begun as a completely professional working relationship had quickly become a close friendship.

It started off with carpools to the track. One of the boys would drive while you sat in the passenger seat, the other seated in the center seat in the back, so they could still be a part of the conversation. They’d walk through the paddock with you between them, practically shoulder to shoulder. Your little line of Ferrari red was hard to miss by fans and other media personnel. Then you ended up sharing meals together, not only at work, but also in your hotel rooms. You’d sit huddled up on the floor, takeout boxes in front of you as they giggled, making you promise not to tell their dieticians and trainers.

Life was good with the Ferrari boys, with your boys. So good, that they both made faces at the prospect of spending time away from each other during the short break of the season. You’re not sure who suggested it, it was probably just a passing comment, but that didn’t stop them from deciding you would all stay in Monaco, in Charles’ home over the break. He complained that he wanted to see his family, and his pouting only intensified when you told him he should go back to Monaco alone.

You flew back to your own home alone to pack some things to bring to Monaco, then flew back to meet the boys there. Carlos met you at the airport, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest.

“You just saw me a few days ago!” You tell him, speaking into the fabric of his sweater.

“A few days too long mi amor.” He says grinning.

You flush at his words, as you always did. Carlos always tended to be affectionate, you assumed that was just who he was.

He drives you back to Charles’ apartment, through the winding Monaco streets. You keep the windows down, letting the cool breeze flow through the car. You glance over at the Spanish Ferrari driver. Even with windswept hair he still looks perfect.

He insists on taking your things inside the apartment, even if he struggles to carry your suitcases and bag all in one go, resulting in laughter from you and a sweet smile from him.

Charles is quick to greet the both of you when you come in. He briefly hugs Carlos, then wraps you up in a tight hug. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. He takes your hand and pulls you through the apartment, naming off different rooms as you pass them. He brings you to a guest room, letting you know this is where you’ll stay. You thank him, then turn to see Carlos with your bags, resembling a sort of pack mule. You laugh as you take them from him, thanking him as well.

The boys leave you alone to unpack. You sit down on the bed and take in the quiet around you. Sunlight streams in through the sheer curtains on the window. If you look outside you can see the sea and the boats at the dock. You can hear Charles and Carlos talking, their voices muffled by the door between you. You smile to yourself, excited to spend this time with the boys.

The break is a dream. Your days are spent exploring Monaco and your nights are spent on the couch, a Ferrari driver on each side of you, watching whatever movie one of them had suggested.

Things had started to become a little more than platonic somewhere around the middle of the break. Charles, the energetic of the two, had convinced you to go out shopping with him after a long night at a club he’d dragged the both of you to. Carlos waved him off, opting to sleep off the headache he could feel from the previous night.

You walked down various streets with him, his hand brushing up against yours occasionally. He pulled you into any store he caught you looking in the window of, and grabbed any items you showed an ounce of interest in, holding his card out to the cashiers.

You told him not to every time he did it, to which he simply laughed and shook his head.

He brought you to a small cafe he claimed served the best coffee and tea. You sat down together at a small outdoor table. He looked so perfect, so put together. His white linen shirt had a few buttons undone at the top. His dark hair was a bit messy, but in an “it looks like this on purpose” way. His dark sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose, hiding those green eyes anyone could drown in.

You sat next to him, chatting about everything and nothing. You try to keep your breaths even when his hand softly rests over yours.

“This has been fun mon chéri. I’m glad you came to Monaco.” He says softly.

You can’t tell where he’s looking, but the small tilt of his chin suggests he’s leaning in. You follow his lead, slowly leaning closer towards him. You close your eyes, ready to feel his lips press against yours. Instead you feel a sudden splash on your lap.

You gasp and look down, your drinks now cover your lap, their cups lay empty on the ground.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, are you alright?” Charles pulls the sunglasses off his face, tossing them on the table and grabs handfuls of napkins. His hands hover, as if he’s afraid to make things worse.

You can see the worry fill his eyes as his mouth moves but no words come out.

“It’s okay, I’m alright.” You laugh softly, taking the napkins from his hands.

“I knocked them off the table when I…” he gestures with his hands. Then he glances down at the sundress you’d decided to wear, the soft baby blue fabric now stained brown. “I’ll buy you a new dress-”

“No you will not! You’ve already spent too much money on me. I can live without one dress, Charles.”

He gives you an unconvincing nod, turning away from you and sighing. He runs a hand down his face, still clearly beating himself up about it. You take his hand in yours, pulling his attention back to you.

“I’m fine, seriously Charles, everything is okay.”

The almost-kiss isn’t brought up again. Charles acts as if it never happened, as if nothing’s changed between the two of you. You let yourself forget that it happened one night while cooking with Carlos. The two of you stand in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the three of you, Charles having gone out to pick a few things up from the store after receiving a strict ban from being in his own kitchen from Carlos.

You attempt to reach for something Carlos asked you to get for him, staring up at where it sits on the top shelf. You stand on your tiptoes, stretching your arm up to reach it to no avail. You huff when you let your arm fall back to your side. You’re ready to try again when you feel him behind you.

His hand presses against your waist as you feel his chest against your back. You can see his other arm reaching up for what you were trying to grab. You can’t tear your eyes away from his arm above you, the muscle flexing as he stretches it.

He pulls away as soon as he’s got what he needed in his hand, stepping away from you, chuckling to himself.

“Couldn’t quite reach it?”

You scoff and lightly push on his chest. “Oh please, it’s not like you’re that tall.”

“Taller than you mi amor.” He smirks.

You roll your eyes and move to step away from him, but don’t get too far before he pulls you back to him. His hands rest on your hips, holding you between him and the cabinets behind you.

You look up into his big brown eyes, and realize just how close you are. His hair falls down over his forehead as he looks down at you. You swear you catch his eyes glance down at your lips for a millisecond.

You rest your hands against his chest, feeling the firm muscles under your palms. He tilts his head towards yours, but hesitates, as if he’s giving you the chance to pull away from him.

You want to kiss him, you know you do. You tilt your head up, letting your arms travel up to wrap around him. You can feel his breath fan over your face, his lips nearly grazing yours, when his phone starts ringing.

The sudden noise tears you apart from each other, both of you jumping a little, then rushing to pull away. You keep your eyes locked on the ground as Carlos reaches for his phone.

“Hello?” He gives you an apologetic look, then leaves to a separate room, closing the door behind him.

You spend the next few days trying to avoid both men, clearly being alone with them was dangerous, and you felt terrible knowing you had almost kissed them both in the span of a few days. You knew it was completely unprofessional and unfair to both of them. You could lose your job if anyone found out, and you couldn’t possibly even begin to think about what would become of you.

They both clocked your attempts at distancing yourself from them almost immediately. They left you alone for a few days, giving you time to yourself, hoping that you would open back up to them with some time.

While they had wanted to let you take as much time as you needed, their patience was wearing thin. They were starting to become ansty, nervous that their actions made you uncomfortable. They decided that the best way to fix things would be to just talk. They stood outside the door to the room you’d been staying in. Carlos gave Charles a small nod, then the Monégasque softly knocked on your door.

The door cracked open, your head peeking out to see both men standing there.

“Can we talk?” Charles asks, then his eyes travel behind you. You’ve got your suitcases sitting on the bed, open, with your clothes haphazardly shoved inside them. “What’s going on? You’re leaving?” He asks, gently pushing past you into the room.

Carlos follows him, looking back and forth between your bags and you. “Y/n, please, let’s talk.” He says, reaching out for your hand.

You cross your arms over your chest. “We should talk, yes.” You take a deep breath, then sit down on the edge of the bed. “I… I think it’s best if I go back home.”

“No.” Charles shakes his head.

Carlos puts a hand on his shoulder, then asks “Why?”

You can’t seem to look at either when you answer. “I almost kissed you. Both of you. And I’m sorry. I know that was wrong, on so many levels.” You feel your eyes begin to water. “I love working for Ferrari, and I love working in Formula One, and I love-” you stop and shake your head. “I don’t want to do anything to risk that.”

“That is complete bullshit!” Charles exclaims.

“Charles-” Carlos tries to stop him from continuing but Charles ignores him.

“No! She doesn’t get to decide what happens between us on her own!” He says to Carlos, then he looks back at you. “I will not allow you to just leave us and pretend nothing happened.”

“It has to be that way.” You shake your head. “There is no way to make this work.”

“Be with us.” The words come tumbling out of Charles’ mouth. Carlos closes his eyes and sighs, turning away.

“What?”

“Be with us!” Charles drops to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“I don’t understand…”

“This isn’t exactly how we wanted to do this.” Carlos says, giving a pointed look to Charles, a look that goes completely ignored. “Yes, you almost kissed both of us, and yes we knew about it.”

“And you weren’t mad?” You ask, looking between both men.

“Of course not mon ange.” Charles shakes his head. “We wanted to kiss you.”

You give him a confused look.

“What Charles is poorly trying to tell you is that we both have feelings for you.” He waits for your response but continues when you give him none. He takes a deep breath, then explains. “Charles and I have been dating for a while now, in secret. No one knows, not anyone from the team, not even our friends and family.”

“So you two are-”

“Boyfriends.” Charles finishes for you. “But then we met you. And it was a bit rocky at first. We both liked you but didn’t want to tell the other. We got in a fight about it, then realized maybe our relationship was missing something, or someone…”

“Oh…” You let the information sink into your mind. “So this whole time you were both interested in me?”

“Yes.” Charles nods.

Carlos sits down next to you, making sure to leave a little bit of space between you. “Look, we know it’s a lot. And you don’t need to make any decisions right now. We don’t want you to be uncomfortable or scared.”

Charles gets up off the floor, taking a seat on the other side of you. “We care very much about you, and we’ll respect whatever you decide to do.”

You know this is a big decision, that jumping into a relationship with two men, two men that you work with is something that should take some thought. But even just sitting here trying to think about it, all you see in your mind is the time you’ve already spent together. The race weekends where you crowd into one of their driver’s rooms. This break where you’re practically in paradise, spending time with the two of them. Your life has been filled with light and joy ever since you joined Ferrari, and you’re starting to doubt it was being a part of the team that’s made it so.

You take one of their hands in yours, and look back and forth between the two of them. “I don’t need any time to make my decision. I want to stay here with both of you, I want to be with you.”

They both grin. Charles wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, while Carlos squeezes your hand.

“Can I kiss you mon chéri?” He asks.

“Hey! Why do you get to kiss her first?” Carlos exclaims before you can answer.

“Because I was going to kiss her first anyway!”

“You spilled tea all over her lap!”

“Well I wouldn’t have let a phone call interrupt us!”

You smile as you let the boys bicker, already excited to be a part of this relationship.

[vroomvroommuppettrecs]

charlos x reader

carlando x reader

dando x reader

lestappen x reader

galex x reader

landoscar x reader

loscar x reader

maxiel x reader

norstappen x reader

piarles x reader

alex x lily x reader

george x carmen x reader

charles x alex x reader

pierre x kika x reader

[complementaryhalves]

just noticed that carlos pets leo sort of in the same spot and way he holds charles' hair after his wins. which could mean nothing.

[jadeiteee]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚Masterlist⋆˚⋆୨୧˚

Sweet Nothings

 ˚⋆୨୧˚ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ CLOSED˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 

˚୨୧˚ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚Cheesy˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚The Best⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

There is only you in my heart |dr3

Comfort! mv33 dr3

Fate! ln4

Behind the closed doors! cs55

Lemons | Mv1, Dr3

Medicine and cuddles | Mv1, Dr3

[bimyeongie]

smooth operatoooor..

[ayrtonswnna]

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna's 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ʚïɞ 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐗 𝐎𝐂/𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

↳ requests are open!⠀⠀↳ check my AO3!⠀⠀↳ main content's table

↳ 💬 - texts au ↳ 📱- smau ↳ 📕 - regular oneshot ↳ 📚 - series ↳ 🏷️ - requested

ʚïɞ GEORGE RUSSELL x ALEX ALBON x OC/READER

✧₊⁺ "car crash!" ↳ (crack/fluff) 💬

✧₊⁺ AND MORE TO COME!

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. requests are open (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

[theemporium]

welcome to cece's smutober!

for the whole month of october, i am going to be posting smutty blurbs. i just wanted to post this to give people the chance to request certain prompts for certain boys! please choose a prompt from this list and send in a name/names you'd like to see the prompt with!

boys i will be writing for are the following:

stranger things—steve harrington, eddie munson

marauders—james potter, sirius black, remus lupin

teen wolf—stiles stilinski, void stiles, isaac lahey

formula one—daniel ricciardo, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris, mick schumacher, max verstappen

thank you!🫶🏽

.

[vivwritesfics]

Charles/ Carlos/ Reader poly blurb 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

"boys," she said, holding open the door to her apartment.

carlos carried the drinks and charles had the food. it was their appointed cheat day (one the three of them wouldn't tell their trainers about).

as carlos walked past, she kissed him. she did the same for charles and they took a seat on her couch. Charles placed the takeout on the coffee table and Carlos pulled out three drinks for them.

she grabbed glasses and plates, taking them back to the boys.

"do we wanna judge drive to survive while we eat?" she asked as she turned on the television.

"whatever you want, chérie," charles said and kissed her head.

while she searched for it on her netflix, charles divided out the food and carlos poured their drinks into their glasses.

they got through the food quickly. as soon as they were done and their plates were stacked on the coffee table, they were laying together. she was on top of carlos and charles was on top of her.

they didn't get to spend much time together on race weekends. when their relationship started, charles and carlos were teammates and she was the reserve driver. but then carlos moved to audi and she began her rookie season with apline.

(as much as they wanted something better than alpine for her, charles was happy she had pierre as a teammate. pierre was one of the one people that knew about their relationship, and they already got along very well).

their relationship was still incredibly private. well, secret was more like it. pierre and the teams knew (found out when they caught the three of them in charles's driver room), and they were kept apart on race weekend.

so things like this were rare but needed for the three of them. Carlos wrapped his arms around his two loves, holding them close as they laughed about the fake rivalry that drive to survive pushed between charles and carlos.

"you guys should get into a fight next time the cameras are you on you," she said with a giggle.

"or we could pretend to make out," said carlos.

charles raised his head and looked down at the two of them. "all three of us? and then the teams can't be assholes to us."

she and carlos both let out a gasp. "did you just call ferrari an asshole?" she asked, staring up at him.

"we couldn't have heard that right," said carlos.

he glared and leaned down to kiss the both of them.

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 & 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒

summary: as a cart girl, you’ve never been intrigued by any of the men you serve on the green. by complete chance, you meet carlos and lando—they monopolize your summers for the unforeseeable future. pairing: poly! carlos sainz jr x lando norris x phd-student! fem!black!reader content warning: 18+ mdni. explicit sexual content. fluff angst and smut. plot with porn. summer romance. long distance relationships. explicit language. status: ongoing. posts will be tagged under #httpss :// sip of sunshine.

from, serene: "serene i thought you were releasing this as your 3k celly?" "serene is this why u disappeared for a week?" babes, the answer is yes ! i decided to do this series separate from the event because i wanted to give myself enough time to write this well so it's not a rushed product. super excited for this and i hope you all enjoy reading it xxx

⌕ join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

☀️prologue: SEE YOU NEXT SUMMER

you can't complain about being paid to soak up the heat of the spanish sun and serve drinks— if you can ignore the flirting middle-aged men. however, this summer could be your last. you need to decide by the end of the day if you're returning next year. if only there were a sign to help you make up your mind.

☀️ chapter one: SUMMER 'TWENTY-TWO

have you worked every shift possible for a chance of running into carlos and lando? yes. are you mad that you have a month of summer left and you still haven’t stumbled upon them? yes. (18+)

☀️ chapter two: SUMMER 'TWENTY-THREE

you thought what you had with carlos and lando was exclusive. the way the were photographed with another woman multiple times has you thinking differently. whatever—you'll cut them off and try to have some fun of your own on the green this summer. (18+)

☀️ chapter three: SUMMER 'TWENTY-FOUR

finishing your phd feels less and less important. this summer brings surprise promotions, changes of scenery, introductions to family, and plans for the future. (18+)

❄️ chapter four: WINTER 'TWENTY-FOUR

this december, you explore domestic bliss in monaco and experience your first white christmas in england with lando’s family. you’ll enjoy all future winters if they resemble anything near this. (18+)

☀️ chapter five: SUMMER 'TWENTY-SIX

the golf course treated you well the entire time you worked there. you make the most out of your final day on the green before you appreciate life with carlos and lando beyond it.

© httpsserene2024 — photos used are from pinterest (edited by me). borders by @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune.

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