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orangeblossomsintheair · 2 months ago

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WRITTEN IN THE SAND | CS55

summary : He was too old for this. For you. For the way you looked at him like he wasn’t already years past the reckless abandon that seemed to define everyone else in this house. He shouldn’t have noticed the way your laughter sounded like sunlight, or how your smile seemed to tug at something deep in his chest.

wc : 8.5k

an : im a slow writer chat mb 😞 also nearly a month on this site!! tysm

“What’s the game plan for the summer?” Kika didn’t even glance up from her phone, one hand lazily stirring her drink with that tiny straw she always insisted on.

You were sprawled on a cushioned lounge chair in a swanky Monaco terrace bar, the Mediterranean sun heating your skin, but the breeze kept things just shy of unbearable.

You took a sip of your drink and smirked. “Seduce Carlos Sainz.”

Kika’s straw froze mid-stir. She blinked twice at her screen before slowly looking up, sunglasses sliding down her nose. “Sorry, could you run that by me again? Because I swear you just said you’re going to seduce Carlos Sainz, which is clearly a champagne-induced delusion.”

“Nope, you heard me loud and clear.” You leaned back, full of confidence. “Carlos Sainz. Mine. By the end of summer break.”

Kika blinked at you, deadpan. “Sweetheart, no offense, but you’ve been thirsting after this man since you were, what, 16? That’s six years of unrequited daydreaming.”

You squirmed slightly but held your ground. “Doesn’t matter."

"If he hasn’t noticed you by now, what’s your plan? Set yourself on fire in front of him?”

“Only as a last resort,” you said, deadpan.

She threw her head back, laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink. “Oh my God, you’re serious. This isn’t a joke.”

“Dead serious.” You popped the cherry from your cocktail into your mouth like it was the period at the end of your sentence. “I’m done playing it safe. This summer is about action.”

Kika raised an eyebrow. “Action? You tripped over your own feet last week trying to order coffee. What are you going to do, hit him with your car and hope he falls for you during physical therapy?”

“Of course not.” You stood abruptly, tossing your straw onto the table with a dramatic flourish. “That’s plan B. Now come on.”

“Come where?” She squinted up at you, clearly unimpressed.

“To get the tools I need.” You grabbed her hand, yanking her out of her seat.

Ten minutes later, you dragged her into a boutique that was a Monet painting of excess. Silk curtains, chandeliers dripping with crystals, and the scent of overpriced jasmine perfume floating through the air.

A sales assistant appeared out of nowhere, all smiles and perfectly coiffed hair. “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” she greeted, eyeing your Chanel tote approvingly.

“Bonjour,” you said, breezing past her.

“Why are we here?” Kika asked, dodging a rack of bikinis that looked like they’d been designed with dental floss.

“Seducing my brother's teammate? Keep up, Kika,” you groaned, holding up a red bikini that looked like it belonged in a Bond movie. “Men are simple creatures. You can’t argue with science.”

“That’s not science, that’s objectification with a catchy slogan,” she deadpanned, plucking a neon green bikini off a nearby rack. “But sure, blind him with this and see how that works.”

You recoiled, snatching it from her and tossing it back like it burned. “Please. Focus. I need chic, sexy, and unforgettable. I need to haunt his dreams.”

“What you need,” she muttered, ducking under a display. “is a therapist.”

“And yet, here you are, enabling me.” You held up another bikini, black and sleek, with delicate gold accents. “This says, ‘I’m hot and I don’t care if you notice,’ right?”

Kika folded her arms, leaning against the counter. “It says, ‘I’m hot and definitely care if you notice but will pretend I don’t.’”

“Exactly!” you said, thrusting the bikini at her. “This is step one material.”

Kika frowned. “Step one material?”

“Yes. Step one: look absolutely irresistible,” you replied. “Carlos has seen me as Charles’s little sister for years. This summer, he’s going to see me as a woman. A very hot woman.”

“And you think this is going to do the trick? He’s a man, not a magpie.”

“Every detail matters. If I look stunning, he’ll notice me. If he notices me, he’ll talk to me. If he talks to me…”

“You’ll forget how to form a sentence?” Kika offered, smirking.

“...I’ll be charming and mysterious,” you continued, ignoring her. “Carlos loves a challenge. And I? I’ll be the challenge of the summer.”

She snorted. “You’re the challenge of my summer, that’s for sure.”

You flashed her a grin, unfazed. “Collateral damage.”

Kika raised an eyebrow, surveying your choices with a mixture of disbelief and mild concern. “You do know Charles is going to kill you, right? Or worse, he’ll tell your mother.”

“Charles doesn’t need to know,” you said confidently, grabbing a cover-up that was so sheer it might as well have been a polite suggestion of fabric and tossing it onto the pile.

“He’s going to know the second you start giggling like a schoolgirl,” Kika shot back.

You paused, giving her your most serious look. “I do not giggle. I smolder.”

Kika raised an eyebrow. “You giggle. You giggle like someone told you tacos are calorie-free.”

Before you could respond, the sales assistant, who had been lurking in the background with a grin wide enough to rival the Mona Lisa’s, swooped in. “Vous avez fait un excellent choix, mademoiselle,” she said, beaming. “Très… sexy.” You made an excellent choice, miss

You flashed a smile back. “Merci, ma chère,” you said, tossing her an air kiss. “I do try.”

Kika groaned audibly. “What is that? French for, ‘Please don’t let my stupidity kill me’?”

“Not quite,” you replied breezily, adding a sheer cover-up to the pile. “But close enough.”

The assistant’s smile widened to terrifying proportions. “Peut-être vous voulez essayer ces sandales aussi?” She gestured to a pair of sky-high gold heels that looked more weapon than footwear. Maybe you want to try these sandals too?

You tilted your head, admiring the craftsmanship. “Oh, I absolutely do.”

Kika slapped a hand over her face. “I can feel my soul leaving my body.”

“Catch it,” you said, handing over your credit card. “We have work to do.”

The assistant handed you your shopping bags with reverence, her eyes glittering with admiration. “Vous êtes une inspiration, mademoiselle. Vraiment.” You are an inspiration, miss. Really.

“Merci beaucoup,” you said, winking at her. You turned to Kika, your heels clicking on the marble floor as you strutted toward the exit. “

Kika followed you out into the sun-drenched street, muttering under her breath. “Mark my words, Carlos Sainz is going to look at you and-”

“-see the one thing he can’t have,” you finished for her, sliding on your sunglasses.

“The one thing he can’t have is peace.”

You scoffed. “You’ll swallow your words when you’re sitting front row at my wedding.”

“To Carlos or Charles’s ghost?”

“Whoever makes it there first.”

—-

The next step was getting Charles to invite Carlos over the summer, which, thankfully, proved embarrassingly easy.

"Sœurette," Charles sang as he sauntered into the living room, lifting your feet off the couch with all the grace of a forklift before plopping down dramatically. Your legs ended up sprawled across his lap. "Comfortable, are we?"

“Move,” you said, giving his stomach a solid nudge with your heel.

“Ow- merde!” He rubbed his abs like you had mortally wounded him, throwing in some exaggerated groans for good measure. “You’re cruel. No respect for your poor frère.”

“What do you want?” you mumbled, not looking up from your phone.

“Wanna go to Ibiza with me?”

You finally glanced at him, raising a skeptical brow. Sure, you wanted to, but seducing Carlos was still an active operation, and time was of the essence. “Pass.”

“Wait, wait,” Charles interrupted, holding up a finger like he was about to offer you the cure for boredom. “I’m inviting some of the guys. Pierre, Carlos-”

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before you were already mentally booking your plane ticket.

“-and Lando,” he continued, oblivious to the fact you had stopped listening at “Carlos.”

You forced yourself to stay cool. No big deal. Act normal. Charles couldn’t know

“Hmm. Okay.”

His brows knitted. “That’s it? Okay? No arguing? No ‘what’s the catch’? You’re just saying yes?”

“Don’t make it weird, Charles.” You shrugged, scrolling on your phone like you were barely paying attention. “Now get off me, you oversized cat.”

“Excusez-moi, I’m the one providing the luxury vacation, and you’re kicking me?”

“I’ll kick harder if you don’t move.”

—-

Carlos almost didn’t recognize the woman chatting with Lando by the poolside when he arrived at the villa Charles had rented for their summer getaway.

He lingered by the sliding glass door, his suitcase forgotten at his side. The sun cast shimmering patterns on the pool’s surface, reflecting onto your skin in flashes that made him question whether he was still half-asleep from the flight.

You were gorgeous. Too gorgeous. Scandalously gorgeous. And suddenly, Carlos felt a flicker of betrayal. How could Charles not have warned him about your presence here?

A wave of jet lagged self-awareness hit him—rumpled T-shirt, unkempt hair, and dark circles under his eyes.

Definitely not the first impression he wanted to make, especially not in front of you.

You wore a deep red one-piece swimsuit with an open back, the kind of effortlessly elegant choice that made him wonder if you knew exactly how much attention you commanded.

Sunglasses perched delicately on your nose, you stood at ease, laughing lightly at something Lando said.

“Carlos!” His friend called out, waving lazily when he spotted him. “You made it!”

Your voice was bright and warm, carrying over the quiet splashes of water.

Lando, predictably, was soaking up your attention with his signature grin, and Carlos already felt the prickling need to intervene.

You turned at the sound, shifting your weight onto one leg. Though the sunglasses obscured your eyes, the faintly mischievous smile tugging at your lips was enough to throw Carlos off balance.

Dios mío.

Carlos straightened, brushing a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to look less like he’d been dragged off a plane.

He inhaled deeply, summoning whatever charm the flight hadn’t stripped away, and stepped forward, dragging his carry-on behind him.

Your smile widened, but you said nothing, tilting your head as if appraising him.

“Hey,” he greeted, nodding at Lando first before letting his gaze linger on you.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” His voice dipped slightly, sliding into that smooth, natural lilt he knew could win people over when needed.

“Right,” Lando cut in, either oblivious or deliberately sabotaging him. “This is-”

“Let him figure it out,” you interrupted, holding up a finger with a playful air.

Carlos blinked, momentarily thrown off, but a sly grin found its way onto his face as he leaned on the handle of his suitcase. “Is that how it is?”

“That’s how it is,” you replied smoothly, folding your arms.

Lando chuckled, glancing between the two of you as if he’d stumbled upon the first act of a drama he couldn’t wait to watch unfold. “Good luck, mate,” he said, clapping Carlos on the shoulder before wandering back toward the pool.

Carlos watched him go, then returned his attention to you. “Okay, give me a hint. Something to work with, no?”

You shrugged, adjusting your sunglasses. “You’ve got a whole week to figure it out. Make it count.”

Before he could counter, a loud, familiar voice broke through.

“Carlos!”

Carlos turned, spotting Charles striding toward him with an easy grin. His friend pulled him into a quick hug, slapping his back affectionately.

Then Charles’ gaze shifted to you. He gestured casually. “You remember my sister, right? She hasn’t been at the paddock much, but you’ve met her before.”

He turned back to you, eyes scanning for something familiar, something to anchor the dissonance in his mind. There it was: the teasing smirk, the air of quiet confidence. You were now barely suppressing laughter.

Carlos froze mid-handshake, his thoughts scrambling to process the bombshell.

Sister?

Oh, no.

Oh, god.

He just flirted with Charles’ sister.

“You’re-” he stammered, pointing at you like the gesture might piece things together faster.

“Oh,” you said lightly, dragging out the word with unmistakable glee. “I think he remembers now.”

Charles glanced between you two, clueless. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you replied too quickly, your smirk sharpening. “Carlos was just… introducing himself.”

Carlos rubbed the back of his neck, heat crawling up his face. “Right,” he muttered. “Nice to see you again.”

Your sunglasses slid down your nose just enough to reveal your eyes. Bright, amused, and entirely too focused on him. “I don’t know,” you said, voice like silk. “I feel like I’m meeting you for the first time, don’t you think?”

Lando’s loud laugh from the poolside made Carlos glance his way in exasperation.

But his real problem was standing directly in front of him.

Because now that he knew who you were, he also knew your age.

Twenty-one. And him? God, he was thirty. Nine years. Practically a decade.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

This wasn’t just an awkward misunderstanding; it was a moral minefield. He shouldn’t even be looking at you this way, not with the easy pull of your smirk still tattooed on his thoughts.

Carlos latched onto the excuse like a lifeline. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “Be right back.”

Charles, blissfully unaware, gave Carlos an out.

“Anyway,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “Go put your bags inside. Lando already claimed the biggest room, so you’re stuck with whatever’s left.”

Dragging his suitcase toward the villa, he could feel your gaze following him. Against his better judgment, he glanced back.

Carlos shook his head, muttering under his breath as he disappeared inside. He needed a cold drink, a cold shower. Anything to reset his brain.

You were still there, reclining on a lounge chair, the picture of confidence. A cocktail glass dangled from your fingers, the cherry swirling lazily in the liquid.

When your eyes caught his again, your smirk deepened, as if you knew exactly what chaos you’d caused.

This week was supposed to be about relaxing.

Instead, it was shaping up to be a survival test around you.

—-

Carlos had made his decision.

For the sake of his own sanity, and for the sake of his friendship with Charles, he was going to ignore you.

It was the only logical choice.

Because if he didn’t? If he let himself get caught up in whatever quiet game you seemed to be playing, he knew it wouldn’t end well.

You were too young, too vibrant, too untouchable. Like sunshine in a bottle.

He was too old for this. For you. For the way you looked at him like he wasn’t already years past the reckless abandon that seemed to define everyone else in this house.

He shouldn’t have noticed the way your laughter sounded like sunlight, or how your smile seemed to tug at something deep in his chest.

He’d lock it all down.

So that was it. He’d be polite, civil even.

But anything more than that? Off the table. No lingering glances. No indulging in the spark of mischief behind your eyes. No letting his thoughts drift to places they shouldn’t when you smiled his way.

It was a good plan.

Unfortunately, plans didn’t account for things like the spontaneous game of cards that had started on the patio that night. Or the dangerous way the stakes had escalated as the hours passed.

“What about strip poker?” Pierre had suggested with a mischievous grin, his words slurred just enough to suggest he’d had one drink too many.

Everyone had laughed, the idea absurd enough to feel harmless.

But somehow, after a lot of ribbing from Lando and an alarming lack of objections from anyone else, the game had actually started.

But tonight? Tonight, his carefully honed poker face was utterly useless.

Carlos had always considered himself good at poker.

Calm, calculating, unreadable. Qualities that served him well on the track and at the card table.

You were to blame.

Sitting across from him at the patio table, with your head tilted and a soft, amused smile tugging at your lips, you were impossible to ignore.

The warm glow of the overhead lights softened your features, and the lazy way you shuffled your dwindling pile of chips made it clear you weren’t taking the game half as seriously as he was.

You didn’t have anything.

Across from him, you hesitated, your lips pressing together as you studied your hand.

The chips in front of you were dangerously low, and Carlos could see the flicker of indecision in your eyes.

You sighed, reaching for your chips, but Carlos cut you off. “Raise,” he said, pushing more into the pot.

Your gaze snapped to his, your brows furrowing. “You’re raising now?”

“Got to keep it interesting,” he said lightly, masking the tightness in his chest.

You tilted your head, clearly suspicious, but you matched his bet anyway, your hand trembling slightly as you tossed the last of your chips in.

The others at the table were too busy bickering to notice the undercurrent between the two of you.

Lando, already down to his boxers, was arguing with Charles over the merits of bluffing, while Pierre leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself for someone whose pants were in the discard pile.

Carlos barely noticed them.

When the cards were revealed, his pair of eights was enough to beat your pitiful hand. A mismatched collection of low cards that hadn’t even come close to forming a straight.

“Guess that’s it for me,” you said, your tone light but resigned. You reached for the hem of your sweater, clearly ready to pull it off and join the ranks of the semi-dressed.

Carlos acted before he could think.

“Wait,” he said sharply, drawing everyone’s attention. “I fold.”

Pierre frowned. “You can’t fold. The round’s over.”

“Then I forfeit,” Carlos said, tugging his shirt over his head in one swift motion. The cool night air prickled against his skin, but he ignored it, tossing the shirt onto the growing pile in the center of the table.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured.

Carlos shrugged, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I’m just keeping things fair.”

Charles raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and the game moved on.

It kept happening.

Every time you were on the verge of losing, Carlos found a way to sacrifice himself instead. He’d bluff too hard, bet too high, or simply fold when he was holding a decent hand. It was reckless and obvious, at least to you, but no one else seemed to notice.

By the time Carlos was down to just his jeans, he realized he was playing a very dangerous game.

“Bold move, mate,” Lando said, grinning as Carlos slid his last few chips into the pot.

“Desperate,” Pierre corrected, his tone smug.

Carlos ignored them, his gaze flicking to you. Your stack of chips had grown considerably, thanks to his strategic losses, but you weren’t gloating. If anything, you looked concerned, your brow furrowing slightly as you studied him.

“Carlos,” you said softly, barely above a whisper.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

You hesitated, then glanced down at your cards. The silence stretched as you debated your next move, and Carlos could see the exact moment you decided to fold.

Not this time.

“I raise,” he said, pushing his remaining chips into the pot.

Your eyes widened. “Carlos-”

“Call it,” he said firmly, his voice low.

The others were too busy watching the pile in the center of the table to notice the exchange between you two.

You sighed, finally revealing your hand. It was better than his, but not by much. He grinned as he tossed his own cards down, leaning back in his chair with a shrug.

“Guess that’s it for me.”

Charles groaned, muttering something under his breath about bad decisions, but Carlos didn’t hear him. His focus was on you, on the way your lips parted slightly in surprise, on the way your gaze lingered as he stood and pulled his jeans off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

“Next round?” Pierre asked, shuffling the deck.

Carlos shook his head, grabbing his shirt and tossing it at Pierre’s face. “I’m out.”

He glanced at you one last time before walking inside, his pulse racing.

—

When Carlos woke up the next morning, the first thing he noticed was the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, warm and golden against the soft white of the sheets. The second thing he noticed was the blissful lack of a hangover, despite the absurd amount of wine Pierre had insisted on pouring last night. Small mercies, he supposed.

The faint sound of clinking dishes drew his attention. Throwing on a shirt, Carlos padded out of his room and into the kitchen, where he found Charles leaning against the counter, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, the other scrolling through his phone.

His hair was a mess of sleep-tousled curls, and his voice still carried the rough edges of morning as he glanced up.

“Morning,” Charles said, holding up his mug in greeting. After a beat, he added, “Thanks, by the way… for last night.”

Carlos froze mid-step, frowning as he tried to piece together what Charles meant. “Thanks for what?”

Charles finally looked up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You know,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his coffee mug. “For saving my sister a few dozen times.”

Carlos’ stomach dropped. “What?”

“You know,” Charles repeated, tilting his head slightly as if it were obvious. “During poker.”

“Oh.” Carlos shifted awkwardly, his fingers tightening on the toothbrush he was holding. He forced a casual shrug. “It’s fine. I’m just bad at poker.”

Charles snorted, setting his mug down on the counter. “Don’t give me that. I’ve seen you win against professionals before. People who actually know what they’re doing.”

Carlos busied himself with turning on the tap, wetting his toothbrush like it was the most fascinating task in the world. “I guess it just wasn’t my night,” he said lightly, though the way his pulse quickened betrayed him.

“Hmm,” Charles hummed, leaning back against the counter as he studied him. His expression was unreadable, but the weight of his gaze made Carlos’ neck prickle.

“You’re imagining things,” Carlos said, his voice a little too quick, a little too defensive.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

Charles chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re not very subtle, you know. Every time she was about to lose, you suddenly went all in on terrible hands. It was painful to watch.”

Carlos groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It wasn’t like that,” he muttered, though even to his own ears, it sounded unconvincing.

“Sure it wasn’t,” Charles said, his tone dry. He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes narrowing slightly over the rim of the mug. “You know, you’re lucky I trust you.”

Carlos froze again, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“Trust me?” he echoed carefully.

“Yes,” Charles said simply, setting his mug down and crossing his arms. “Because if it were anyone else, I’d be having a very different conversation right now.”

Carlos blinked, unsure how to respond. He could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck, and for a moment, he considered denying it outright. But Charles wasn’t stupid. And Carlos wasn’t a good enough liar to get away with it.

So instead, he sighed, setting his toothbrush down and leaning against the counter opposite Charles.

“Look,” he began, keeping his voice low. “I’m not trying to... I mean, it’s not like that.”

Charles raised an eyebrow.

Carlos rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, maybe it’s a little like that,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I wasn’t. Nothing’s happening, alright? I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Charles studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to Carlos’ surprise, his lips quirked into a small, knowing smile.

“I know,” he said simply.

Carlos blinked. “You... know?”

“Yes,” Charles said, his tone light but firm. “That’s why I’m not threatening to kill you right now.”

Carlos let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thanks for that,” he said dryly.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Charles warned, his smile fading. “I trust you, Carlos, but I also trust her. And if you do anything to make her upset, I will kill you.”

Carlos nodded quickly, swallowing hard. “Understood.”

Charles nodded once, apparently satisfied, before grabbing his mug and heading for the door.

—

“Hey, sœur- what the fuck is that?” Charles called out from where he lounged on the sofa, still half asleep. His eyes were fixed on your bikini. “Is that... dental floss?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, adjusting one of the straps. “Non, idiot. It’s a bikini. Fashion. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

He scoffed, leaning back, crossing his arms. “Fashion? Ça? Ça, c’est un crime. Who sold you that? A two-for-one deal with a pack of gum?”

“Ha ha. Très drôle,” you said dryly, walking past him toward the beach. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, monsieur modesty police.”

Charles held up his hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Okay, okay. But when the waves steal that little string you call swimwear, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Bonne chance.”

“Pfft,” you muttered, waving him off. “I’ll be fine.”

But, as you made your way down the steps to the sand, something felt odd. Charles hadn’t fought you on it.

No complaints about ‘covering up’ or embarrassing remarks about ‘respectability.’ No last-minute insistence on changing into something more “appropriate.” It was... new.

And oddly suspicious.

Wading further in, you let out a satisfied sigh, the gentle waves lapping at your legs. You dove under the water, resurfacing with a triumphant gasp.

You pushed the thought aside as you let the warm sand squish beneath your toes. The salty breeze tossed your hair, and the ocean called to you.

You dipped a toe into the water, pleased to find it perfectly cool.

For a while, you floated peacefully, content. Until one particularly aggressive swell caught you off guard.

You felt it immediately.

The tug of the water.

The loosening of straps.

Panic shot through you as you scrambled to grab the top of your bikini, but the slippery fabric slipped through your fingers and was swiftly carried away by the current.

You had two options: wade out and grab it, hoping no one was around to witness your embarrassing half-naked sprint… or stay hidden and pray it washed back on its own.

“Oh, merde! Non, non, non!” you hissed under your breath, frantically cupping your breasts as you scanned the empty beach for help.

It was still early. Too early for anyone else to be up and running and save you from this mortifying situation.

Your cheeks burned as you stood there, half-submerged in the water, desperately trying to figure out a plan.

Option one was looking more appealing until you heard the soft crunch of footsteps on sand.

Carlos.

Of course, it was Carlos.

Because fate had a sense of humor, and apparently, you were its favorite punchline.

He ambled out of the villa, a towel slung lazily over his shoulder, his dark curls sticking up like he’d just rolled out of bed. His face was adorably grumpy, the pout of someone who hadn’t had coffee yet. And then his gaze landed on you.

He froze.

You froze.

You tried to act casual. Well, as casual as one could while half-submerged, hugging their chest like they were reenacting a dramatic shipwreck scene.

Carlos’s frown deepened, concern flickering across his face as he took a hesitant step closer. “Are you… drowning?”

“Not drowning,” you chirped, your tone overly bright. “But thanks for checking!”

“Oh.” His voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at you. “Right. Uh… do you- want me to…?”

His brow furrowed. “Then why are you…?” His words trailed off as his eyes drifted to the water, where your bikini top bobbed lazily with the current.

Realization dawned like a slap, his cheeks instantly turning a satisfying shade of pink.

“Be my hero, Carlos,” you said with exaggerated sweetness, gesturing dramatically toward the water. “Save my dignity before the ocean claims it forever.”

He stared at you for a moment, his lips twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath before tossing his towel onto the sand and wading into the water.

You tried not to watch him, but… well. You were stuck here, and it’s not like there was much else to look at. The way his muscles flexed, the water slicking over his skin.

It was distracting. Infuriatingly distracting.

He resurfaced a moment later, holding up your bikini top like a trophy.

“Got it,” he called.

“Oh, congratulations, Captain of the Swim Team.” You clapped. “Now bring it here before someone else decides to take a morning stroll.”

Carlos swam back, wading into shallower water as he handed it to you. His smirked when you snatched it from his hand.

“Need help putting it back on, princess?”

You raised a brow. “Funny. Actually, yes.”

That wiped the smirk off his face.

“…What?”

You turned your back to him, holding out the tangled strings over your shoulder. “It’s all knotted. Be a gentleman, Carlos.”

He made a strangled sound. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. Chop-chop.” You wiggled the strings for emphasis.

Carlos muttered something in Spanish, but he stomped through the water toward you anyway. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him as his hands carefully took the strings.

His fingers skimmed over your bare skin, and your breath caught in your throat. Sharp and shallow.

“Stop fidgeting,” Carlos muttered, his voice rough with concentration.

“You’re taking forever.”

“It’s not exactly easy tying this thing without looking.”

“Look, then.”

Carlos froze.

The silence stretched.

You could feel his breath behind you, hot against the curve of your neck.

Slowly, deliberately, his hands tightened around the strings. Not painfully, just firm enough to make you gasp and spin around.

“Carlos!”

He didn’t flinch.

His dark eyes locked on yours, sharp and unreadable. Then, with a darkness you recognized, his gaze flicked to your lips and lingered.

Too long.

Your pulse stuttered.

“Carlos,” you warned, softer this time.

He didn’t move. Neither did you.

And then it happened.

His mouth crashed into yours, hot and demanding.

You barely had time to gasp before his arms wrapped around your waist, yanking you flush against him.

For a moment, the world dissolved. The waves, the sun, the beach. All of it disappeared beneath the heat of his kiss.

And then he pulled back, breaking the moment with a frustrated groan.

“We can’t do this,” Carlos said, his hands still gripping your waist.

“Sure we can.” You grinned, breathless, leaning closer. “We’re already doing it.”

His grip tightened as if he was trying to anchor himself. “I’m too old for this. For you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re thirty, not eighty.”

“That’s not the point,” he snapped, his voice rough. “You… You deserve someone younger. Someone who-”

“Someone who what?” you interrupted, your eyes narrowing. “Someone who’s scared of me? Who wouldn’t be able to handle me?”

“Someone who doesn’t know better,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping to your lips again.

You softened, leaning closer. “Maybe I don’t want someone who doesn’t know better.”

Carlos let out a strangled laugh, shaking his head. “You’re going to ruin me, you know that?”

“Good,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his.

For a moment, he gave in, his mouth claiming yours again, desperate and unrelenting.

But then he tore himself away, his chest heaving as he stepped back, the water lapping at his thighs.

“This is a bad idea,” he said, his voice rough.

“Carlos,” you said softly, stepping toward him.

His hands came up, stopping you. “You don’t get it. I can’t just-” He gestured between the two of you, struggling to find the words. “If this goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” you said firmly. “You’re overthinking it.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, torn between caution and temptation.

“God help me,” he muttered before pulling you back into his arms, kissing you like he’d never stop.

“Oh, please. You like it.”

That did it.

Carlos groaned, a raw, frustrated sound, and suddenly his hand was in yours, gripping tight.

“Come on.”

“Where are we-?”

“Somewhere with fewer witnesses.”

You laughed, breathless and exhilarated, stumbling after him as he dragged you toward the rocky outcropping at the edge of the beach.

“Oh, now you’re worried about witnesses?”

Carlos shot you a look over his shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m not tying your bikini back on twice.”

You snorted. “Coward.”

“Keep talking, and I’ll leave you naked out here.”

“Oh, threats!” You giggled, letting him pull you behind the rocks, the world disappearing behind towering stone and crashing waves.

And then he was on you again.

No hesitation, no teasing.

Pinned against the rough stone, your body trembling in Carlos’s firm grip, his mouth crushed against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

His hands slid over your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body searing into yours.

He kissed like he had all the time in the world. Like he was determined to take every last bit of air from your lungs.

You gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders as he backed you harder into the rock, the scrape of it barely registering against the dizzying sensations he drew from you.

His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, to the tender spot just below your ear, and you shivered as his teeth scraped lightly over your skin.

“God, Carlos-�� you whispered, but the words broke off into a gasp when his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you higher against him.

“Mm.” His lips curved against your throat, and he hummed low, a sound filled with lazy amusement. His mouth worked along your neck, deliberate and unhurried, leaving your skin flushed and tingling.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes roamed over you.

Your swollen lips, your heaving chest, your thighs trembling where they rested against his hips. He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curving up, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

“Has anyone ever made you come with their mouth before?” he asked though he looked as though he already knew the answer.

The heat in your face intensified, your breath catching as his hands wandered down your thighs, teasing the edge of your bikini bottoms.

You tried to respond, but the words stuck in your throat, and all you managed was a small shake of your head.

His smirk deepened, a low chuckle escaping him as he brushed his thumb over your flushed cheek. “Didn’t think so,” he murmured. “You’re so damn pretty when you’re flustered. Cute.”

Your hips instinctively arched toward him, but he didn’t rush. He held you steady, hands firm but gentle, guiding you with a patience that only heightened the ache between your legs.

His lips found your collarbone, kissing and nipping lightly, as though savoring every inch of you.

When he finally moved between your legs, the sight of him looking up at you from between your thighs sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

His hands spreaded you open with a careful precision that made your heart race. Carlos nudged you higher against the rock, shifting you into position, gaze sweeping over you like he was memorizing every detail.

“You’re shaking already,” he said softly, his voice edged with amusement as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

You whimpered, fingers tangling in his dark hair as his lips moved closer, teasing, never quite giving you what you wanted.

His stubble scraped lightly against your sensitive skin, making you shiver, and when his breath fanned over your core, you nearly bucked against him.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling, desperate.

Carlos’s low hum vibrated against your skin, and he pressed another kiss to your inner thigh, his smirk audible in his tone. “So needy,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Then, without warning, his mouth was on you.

The first long, deliberate swipe of his tongue over your clit drew a sharp cry from your lips, your back arching off the rock.

He didn’t falter. His tongue worked you with slow, measured precision, every flick and circle designed to draw you closer to the edge.

You tried to move, to grind against him, but his grip on your thighs tightened, holding you firmly in place.

He was relentless, alternating between soft, teasing licks and harder, more focused strokes that made your vision blur.

“Oh, f-fuck-” you gasped, your voice breaking, your fingers tugging harder at his hair.

He didn’t respond, didn’t lift his head, just let out a soft, pleased sound that sent vibrations through you, his mouth working you even harder. His fingers joined in, slipping inside you with ease, curling just right, hitting a spot that made you cry out.

The tension coiled tight in your belly, your entire body trembling as he brought you closer and closer. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic. Just steady, unshakable control, like he knew exactly what you needed before you did.

It was overwhelming.

The pressure, the heat, the way his tongue and fingers worked together. It all built into something you couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back even if you tried.

Your body tensed, and with a broken moan, the wave crashed over you, leaving you shuddering, your thighs clamping around his head as he worked you through it.

Carlos didn’t stop until you were nothing but a trembling, breathless mess, every last tremor wrung from you.

Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening, his chin wet with you.

He lifted his head, hands brushing gently over your thighs as if to ground you.

He leaned in, his mouth finding yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that left you dizzy all over again. The taste of yourself on his lips only heightened the intimacy, the rawness of it.

“First time for everything, huh?” he murmured against your mouth, his tone low and teasing, though his eyes were warm, almost soft.

Your breath came in shallow gasps, your body still trembling, and as you looked at him, at the way he gazed at you with that infuriating, knowing smirk, you knew you were ruined.

You barely recognized your own voice when you whispered, “Fuck me.”

His eyes found yours, dark and hungry, his control fraying at the edges. For a brief moment, he stayed still, as though restraining himself, the tendons in his neck taut, his jaw clenched.

Carlos had you against the rock again in seconds, his hands firm on your thighs, his body pressing into yours with a force that left no room for hesitation. He moved without teasing this time, his lips crashing into yours.

Your fingers gripped his shoulders, your nails biting into the hard muscle beneath his skin as he angled you higher against the rock.

The rough scrape of it bit into your back, but the discomfort was drowned out by the searing warmth of him, his mouth moving down your jaw to your neck.

You tried to gasp his name but he didn’t give you time to finish.

He lifted you higher, spreading your thighs wider around his hips. The strength in his hands was almost dizzying, his grip unyielding as he shifted your body to his liking. When his lips trailed down your throat, sucking hard enough to leave marks, your head fell back, exposing more of your skin to him.

His swim trunks were gone in a moment, and when you glanced down, your breath hitched at the sight of him.

Thick, hard, and impossibly big, he stood there like he was made to ruin you. The sheer size of him sent a shiver through your body, heat pooling low in your belly as your thighs clenched involuntarily.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his tone low but soft, the edge of a smile playing at his lips as he reached for you again. “Relax, baby. I’ll make it fit.”

Your breath stuttered, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance. The first push was slow, almost gentle, but the stretch was immediate, sharp, and overwhelming.

“Carlos,” you gasped, your voice breaking as your body struggled to take him.

“You can take it.” His jaw clenched as he pushed in another inch. “Just breathe, baby. Let me in.”

You did, your breaths coming in shallow pants as he fed you inch by inch. The stretch was nearly unbearable, your body clenching around him as if trying to resist.

He groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder, hands steady on your hips as he worked himself deeper.

“You’re so tight,” he muttered, his voice strained as though the effort of holding back was physically painful. “So perfect.”

The fullness was overwhelming, the sheer size of him stretching you beyond anything you thought possible. He didn’t rush, didn’t force it, but every inch was a challenge, your body trembling as it adjusted to him.

Finally, he was fully seated inside you, the press of his hips against yours sending a jolt of pleasure and relief through your body. For a moment, he stayed still, his chest heaving against yours, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly you knew you’d feel the bruises later.

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice rough, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re so perfect. Made for me.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.

Your body stretched and full in a way that left you dizzy.

The ache was sharp but fading quickly, replaced by the thrum of pleasure that sparked with every small movement.

Then he began to move.

His hips pulled back slowly, the thick length of him dragging against your walls before he thrust forward again, burying himself deep.

The sensation was electrifying, your body tightening around him as he set a steady, deliberate rhythm.

Each thrust was measured, controlled, as though he was determined to make you feel every inch of him.

The pressure was unrelenting, his cock hitting spots inside you that sent waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as his pace quickened, the strength of his thrusts leaving you gasping.

The rock behind you scraped against your skin with every movement, but the sting was nothing compared to the pleasure building inside you.

Carlos shifted, lifting you higher against him, angling his hips to drive deeper. The new position made you cry out, your head falling back as the sensations intensified, every nerve ending in your body alight.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough, his hands tightening on your hips as he moved faster, harder.

The fullness, the stretch, the relentless rhythm. It was too much and not enough all at once. Your body trembled, your thighs shaking around his waist as the tension inside you coiled tighter, threatening to snap.

“Carlos,” you gasped, your voice breaking as your hands fisted in his hair, desperate for something to hold onto.

“Come for me,” he growled, his hips slamming into yours with unrelenting force. “Come on, be a good girl and come for me.”

His words sent you spiraling. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, your entire body trembling as you shattered around him.

Your cries filled the air, your walls clenching tight around him as the release ripped through you.

Carlos groaned, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. His thrusts turned erratic, desperate, and with a final, shuddering moan, he buried himself deep, his release spilling into you in a rush of heat.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing, the crash of the waves a distant echo.

His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle now as they smoothed over your thighs, grounding you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded faintly, your lips curving into a small, breathless smile. “I’m perfect,” you whispered.

He chuckled, his arms tightening around you as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice tinged with both amusement and awe.

“Then you’ll die happy,” you teased, your fingers brushing lightly over his jaw.

He smiled, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow, tender, and unhurried.

—-

Carlos insisted on carrying you back to the villa, effortlessly lifting you into his arms and wrapping a towel around you to shield you from the cool evening air.

You tried to protest, laughing half-heartedly while squirming a little in his hold, but his arms only tightened around you, pulling you closer.

The warmth of his body against yours was a welcome contrast to the crisp early morning air, and despite your teasing resistance, you felt a pull of affection.

“Carlos, no, seriously. I’m fine,” you said, attempting to push lightly against his chest. “You don’t have to carry me like this.”

“Shh,” he murmured, adjusting his grip to make sure you were even more comfortable, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not fine. I just fucked you, and so I’m taking care of you. Aftercare, baby. So stop fussing.”

You rolled your eyes at the sentiment. “Carlos, seriously. Charles is going to murder you if he sees-”

Carlos’ grin only widened, a spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. You could feel the confidence radiating off of him as he held you effortlessly, his voice dropping lower, laced with amusement. “Charles already knows.”

Your brows shot up, a mix of surprise and confusion flooding through you. “Wait, what? He knows?”

Carlos’ grin softened slightly, the playful edge in his tone giving way to a hint of sheepishness. "Yeah… Poker night.”

You blinked, the realization dawning slowly but surely. “Poker night?” You almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “Oh my god, you told him?”

“Well, he kind of guessed. And then, the next morning, he gave me the talk.”

You stared at him for a moment, blinking as the full weight of the situation sank in. “The talk? That talk?”

“The one and only.”

You snorted. “I can't believe you let him talk to you like that.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the banter. “Trust me, I wasn’t about to argue with him.”

You nestled into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body, and smiled up at him. “You’re lucky I don’t have a talk with you myself.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “Oh? You’d have the talk with me too?”

You leaned in closer. “Maybe later,” you said softly, the affection in your voice undeniable.

Carlos’ grin softened as he held you just a little tighter. “I’ll be waiting for it, cariño.”

—-

Hours later, Lando and Pierre stumbled into the living room, bleary-eyed and still caught in the haze of sleep.

They froze in the doorway, blinking in surprise at the sight before them.

You and Carlos were both fast asleep, tangled together on the couch, your head resting comfortably against his chest. His arms were draped around you, one hand resting lightly on your waist, the other tangled in your hair as you slept soundly.

Pierre raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a grin as he cast a glance at Charles, who was sprawled across the couch like he had nowhere else to be.

Charles didn’t even look up, clearly at ease with everything happening. Pierre nudged him lightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re okay with this?” he asked, voice low but tinged with disbelief. “I mean, just like that? No big deal?”

Charles didn’t stir, stretching out lazily as if the whole situation was perfectly normal.

He met Pierre’s gaze with a smirk, the kind that only came with complete indifference to drama. “Are you seriously asking me that?” he drawled, as if the question were almost laughable. “Better than any of you, I’ll tell you that much.”

Lando, however, was having none of it.

He threw his hands up in mock exasperation, his dramatic flair coming to the surface even as he tried to stifle a yawn. “Hold up, hold up!” He pointed an accusing finger at Carlos, his voice raising slightly, though still laden with sleepiness. “I can’t even flirt with her without getting death threats, but Mr. Smooth Operator here gets to just waltz in and- what? -sweep her off her feet? No questions asked?”

Carlos stirred slightly at the noise, his arms tightening around you instinctively as he shifted to get more comfortable. His voice was low, heavy with sleep, but there was an undeniable warmth to it as he spoke, still gazing down at you with affection. “That’s pretty much it,” he muttered, the hint of a lazy chuckle rumbling in his chest as he tightened his hold on you just a little more.

Pierre shook his head slowly, blinking as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “So… this? This is serious?” he asked, voice almost whispering as though not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment.

Carlos let out a soft sigh, the sound barely audible as he pressed his cheek gently against your head, completely content in the quiet. His eyes fluttered open, and he met Pierre’s gaze with a slow, sleepy smile.

“Trust me,” he started, barely awake. “There’s more to figure out, but this?” He paused, glancing down at you, his eyes soft with affection. “This is happening.”

—-

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@papichulomacy @alilcloudy @lilorose25

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tpwk-formula1 · 27 days ago

Text

2k Special - Pornstar Carlos

AN: I'm gonna be honest I have rewrote this so many times which is why I'm posting it today but I needed to make sure it was a good start to the new series! REQUESTS NOW OPEN FOR PORNSTAR! CARLOS

NOT PROOF READ

TW: slight edging talk, first orgasm, oral (f receiving), watching porn, unrealistic expectations

WC: 5.8K

Y/N POV

It’s late at night when I finally put my book down to head to bed. When I open Twitter to find one of my new friends from university had reposted a porn video I instantly swipe out of the app not expecting to see something so vulgar on my timeline.

It’s not for another few minutes that curiosity gets the better of of me and I open the app back up to find a man I have never seen before sitting on a couch spread out jerking his hard cock off while he talks dirty.

I feel a slight throb start to grow deep in my belly making me clench my thighs for looking for something but not quite sure what.

“Touch you’re pussy for me,” the man groans through the camera in Spanish making my eyes grow wide and click onto his profile to see his name is Carlos and he is based here in Madrid. I take note that he has his own Onlyfans as well as being a partner with a porn company I had never heard of.

For the next few nights when I was heading to bed I would open his Twitter and watch a few videos while playing with my pussy but when I can never quite reach a finish I end up giving up.

It’s not for another month when another one of his videos pop up on my timeline but this time it was him buried deep into the pussy of another woman. It was almost instant that my fingers found my clit, and rubbing it trying to chase the orgasm I’ve never had. After a few minutes of nothing I finally give up.

It’s been a month since finding Carlos’s Twitter and I’ve seen ever single on of his videos he’s posted on here at least 3 times and when I still have yet to have my first orgasm even after feeling the tell tale signs. When I open the link to his Onlyfans I realize I only had to pay a little bit a month to get access to all of his content as well as private massages and live videos.

When I pay for the subscription I am stunned to find Carlos already live.

It’s clear he’s just getting started but none the less I open the live and see theres only a few other watching currently.

As I read some of the comments I’m stunned by how bold some of the other people are but as the live continues on and my desperation grows I find myself commenting along with the other watchers.

“Edge yourself for me��

Is all I comment along with five euros. When the tip comes through Carlos smirks before slowing down his thrusting.

“Just for you sweetheart”

Carlos replies back in English letting his accent shine through making me whimper at how smooth his voice is. For the next several minutes I watch as Carlos slowly edges his cock while letting a mix between Spanish and English dirty talk spill through his lips.

I can feel my pussy soaking through my flimsy panties making me rub my thighs together to gain some stimulation without undressing completely.

I watch several more minutes of Carlos’s live before he moves onto another subscribers comment which has me slightly disappointed yet I used the time to slip my hand into my sleep shorts letting my fingers lightly trace over the lips of my pussy before slipping my fingers into my folds finding myself completely soaked and ready. I lightly start playing with my clit moaning softly while still keeping an eye on the way Carlos is stroking his cock.

As the live continues on for another 20 minutes Carlos’s voice drops into a slightly deeper tone making it clear he was getting close to cumming. I can feel my orgasm approaching and when he moans for us to “cum together” I can feel hitting the brink of my first orgasm before it slowly slips away leaving me frustrated while watching Carlos cum all over himself. I moan softly watching him paint his own body while listening to the harsh moans and grunts falling past his lips making me wish I was there making him feel good. Even if I truly has no idea what I was doing.

Carlos stuck around for a few more minutes on live before he said his goodbyes and ended the live.

I quickly exited out of the app and turned over falling asleep once again sexually frustrated. I’m not sure why I can’t bring myself to finish but it’s becoming frustrating.

When I wake up in the morning I turn over to see I have a notification from onlyfans which has me slightly confused but when I see Carlos’s name I’m brought back to last night when I impulsively subscribed to Carlos. I assume it was just letting me know he had posted a new video but when my eyes adjusted and I read it properly I see that he had sent me a private message. I instantly feel my stomach drop but I still open the message all to curious to see what such a man like him had to say to someone like me.

“I sweet girl, I saw you are a new subscriber and a first time viewer of my live! I just wanted to say welcome and that I hope you enjoy the exclusive content. If you have any requests or questions you think I might be able to answer don’t be too shy, just reach out! I hope you have a beautiful day, or night depending on where you are located”

When I read the message I smile softly. He seems like a sweet guy. While I do find it a little strange that he decided to reach out I did think it was thoughtful to message each new subscribers. I quickly close out the app not replying back with anything. I get on with my day completely forgetting about my new dirty little secret.

As the week passed I continued watching all of Carlos’s content while joining lives when I had the time. I had even bought a vibrator and while it was a bit too much for me to handle most of the time there was also times where it was all I could use to feel good. I had still yet to make myself cum which at this point feels like a complete joke. I had even made an appointment with my woman doctor to see if something was wrong with me.

That appointment is what lead me to this moment. Me staring at the private messages between Carlos and I.

I stare at the now sent message asking Carlos if he possible add any advice on getting over the fear of cumming.

“Hi I’m Y/N, and I’m really sorry this is by far the silliest thing I have ever done but I fear I am shit out of luck on any options. In the sweet little message you sent me several weeks back you mentioned asking any questions we may have and I have a weird one. So I’m in my early 20s and I have yet to experience an orgasm so I assumed something was wrong with me and my doctor informed me that nothing was physically wrong with me but I have some kind of fear of ‘letting go’ so I guess my question is do you have any advice on getting over it?”

I sat and kept rereading the stupidest thing I’ve ever done over and over again.

“I’m so sorry you don’t have to answer that. I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

After the second message is sent off I completely turned my phone off too embarrassed to

even continue acknowledging this moment. I ended up completely my homework for the rest of the week before I finally walk back to my phone turning it on hoping on everything Carlos had chosen to ignore the silly message.

When I realized there was no reply I let out a soft sigh before opening the Kindle app on my phone and reading before I got too tired which had me turning over and falling asleep for the night.

When I wake up the following morning I grab my phone and when I see the notification from Carlos my stomach instantly drops knowing he had seen the silly little message I bombarded him with.

“Hi sweet girl! I’m sorry to hear about the little problem you’re struggling with. I’m happy you are healthy but I think the word of advice I have for you is, find someone you’re comfortable with. Sometimes for your first time it’s better with a person than alone. Sometimes it helps to have someone do the work so you can’t subconsciously slow down when you’re close. Also please never apologize it was not a silly question at all and I could see how you thought I would be able to help. I do have to ask and you can completely ignore if you feel I have overstepped but can you feel an orgasm approaching or does it just feel like pleasure that kind of leads nowhere?”

I sit there and I reread the message multiple times making sure this man really chose to keep the conversation going.

“Hi, yes I can feel the pleasure and I can also tell I’m approaching an orgasm but anytime I get to the edge it’s like I mentally run away from it”

I hit send not giving myself time to second guess my decision. When I got out of bed and continued getting ready for class I hear my phone ping but I ignore it assuming it was for one of my classes but 20 minutes later when I’m all showered I check to see Carlos was actually the reason my phone had ringed.

“Ya, I definitely think you need to find a partner you are comfortable with who can help talk you through it or even bring you to it themselves. I have a feeling you’re not allowing yourself to fully relax and enjoy it. Not that I think I am someone who will be able to cum but I plan to go live in roughly 12 hours, if you’re available please join and I’ll give it my best shot”

I smile at the message softly. While I knew Carlos wasn’t gonna be able to make me cum tonight I thought it was sweet he wanted to try even if it was through a stream where plenty of other people would be watching.

“I’ll be there tonight”

I reply back before getting back out of bed and finishing getting ready for class. The day felt like it continued to drag on far longer than normal. I have no idea if it’s because I had 3, 2 hour long classes or if it was because all I could think about was Carlos’s messages, leaving me slightly dampening my panties all throughout the day.

By the time I got home I needed to take another shower wanting to clean myself of the sticky feeling between my thighs. I knew I had roughly two hours before Carlos was planning to go live so I spend that time busying myself with dinner and reading my book knowing I would probably be too exhausted to try and read it later in the evening when Carlos was done.

When 9pm rolled around I get a notification letting me know Carlos has gone live. I instantly pick up my phone but slightly hesitate not wanting to feel so desperate about he situation but at this point, I/m far passed that. I mean for fucks sake I decided to privately message some random hot Spanish pronstar thinking he would be able to cure my weird issue.

When I open the live I find Carlos sitting in his usual spot which must be some kind of office setup, but unlike normal instead of Carlos already stroking his cock he was sitting there in some grey sweats and a tightly fitted white tee making me clench my thighs together just by looking at him.

“Good evening guys, or morning depending on where you are. Actually where is everyone watching from right now?” Carlos asks after a few seconds of silence. I hesitate answering the question finally I decide to just respond with Madrid.

I see a small smirk cross Carlos’s face and while I doubt it had anything to do with me I can’t help but let the delusions creep in slightly. When I start hearing keys clicking on Carlos’s computer I can’t help but watch on slightly confused before I see a small chat box pop up.

“You didn’t tell me you were so close, I would’ve offered to fix your problem this morning after my run”

I see read the message and I can’t let the wide eyed expression I make. While I know he’s just doing his job and being flirty I can’t lie and say it isn’t working.

“You never asked… but if I remember correctly I was promised an orgasm or my money back”

I reply back lightly teasing the entire situation. When I can tell Carlos’s eyes flicker to the message I can tell the moment he fully read it a small chuckle escapes his little mid sentence.

“Some of you guys have quite the sense of humor,” Carlos teases with his words making it seem like the chat itself was what had distracted him but him and I both knew the truth.

“I don’t seem to remember this promise however if I don’t make you cum tonight I will give you a year free on here”

When I read the message I smirk softly thinking about it. He is this confident he was gonna have me cumming for him that he was willing to lose money over it.

“A bit cocky no?”

“I’m just confident”

Carlos has quickly replied before turning his full attention back to the live show where he spent the next few minutes telling us about his day before someone sent in a small tip with a comment saying to “take off your shirt please.”

Carlos gave a small smirk before saying “only cause you said please” before pushing his share back and standing up letting us see how low the sweats were truly sitting, before slowly starting to lift his shirt giving up a small strip tease before discarded his shirt somewhere else in the room.

As the live continued I had eventually lost all my clothes leaving me soaked and naked with my phone in my left hand. I can feel my clit throbbing under my fingertips everytime I graze my clit. Carlos is now down to his boxers teasing his cock through the thin fabric. I can see his bulge is clearly there letting the rest of the viewers know he was just as turned on as the rest of us. Reading some of the comments I can’t help but feel a sense of jealous when I see some of the girls telling Carlos that they had already cum and he hadn’t even stroked his cock properly. I have yet to decide if I would rather have my problem or cumming too fast and missing the good parts.

Either way I see Carlos’s smirk grow at a few of the comments while he tells it was time. Which had him slowly standing up before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his black briefs before slowly pulling them down making his hard cock slowly drag down before it quickly popped up revealing his hard uncut cock. I watch as he drops his briefs the rest of the way down his legs before gripping his cock and sitting back down in the chair.

I watch as he slowly starts teasing his cock while starting to give some soft instructions for how we should be playing with our pussy.

“Slowly run your fingers through your pussy,” Carlos says while staring firectly at the camera making it feel like he was talking directly to me.

I follow each of his instructions and have even brought out the small vibe I had purchased trying to relax my body enough to allow myself to cum. I could tell Carlos was getting close to cumming by the way his breath was starting to grow faster and his stroking started to become a bit rougher but also he was needing to take more breaks trying to edge his cock as long as possible.

“You close baby”

I see Carlos send out a quick message to me making me smile softly knowing he was still thinking about me even though there was at least 100 different girls.

“Yes”

Which isn’t a lie, I can feel myself on the edge of a big orgasm. When Carlos reads my message he instantly starts speeding his stroking up while giving us his signature count down.

“5… You have been such a good girl for me tonight,” Carlos counts making my pussy clench at his words.

“4… I know you’re close baby. Keep begging for it,” Carlos continued making me whimper softly at the teasing words knowing I was right on the edge of my first orgasm. I can feel my breathing pick up while I listen to Carlos’s grunts and moan start to grow louder.

“3… Just keep holding it a little longer baby. I promise it’s gonna feel so good,” Carlos teases while letting out a loud grunt while his thighs start to shake.

“2… Almost there baby!” Carlos encourages while letting out a shaky breath.

“1… Cum for my baby,” Carlos grunts out while jerking his cock at full speed before grunting loudly and starting to shoot his cum all while I rub my clit harder trying to jump over the edge I seem to be suck on.

Watching Carlos cum was one of the hottest things I’ve seen in awhile because for once watching his live I genuinely feel like it was all for me. I can feel my pussy clenching while also trying to relax enough to allow myself to cum.

By the time Carlos was done spilling his cum all over his stomach and chest I can feel the once so intense pleasure slowly start to slowly away making me whine at the feeling.

“No! No! No!” I whisper shout to myself while rubbing my clit even harder trying to bring myself back to the edge. When I realize it’s a lost cause I turn off my vibrator and throw it across my bed in frustrations.

I must have missed Carlos logging out for the night suring my small tantrum thrown in pure frustrations, because next thing I know I hear my phone ping making me look down to see Carlos had messaged me.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’d love to say amazing but I now have a soaked pussy and nothing to show for it”

I reply back too frustrated to even care if I sounded pathetic.

“Sweet girl, you’re LYING!”

“No, I was there, I was so close I could taste it and then POOF it was gone. It slipped away so slowly it mocked me”

“I was being for real earlier, your subscription really will be on me. But also, you said Madrid? If I give you my number would you want to chat a bit? Maybe even go out sometime if you’d want.”

When I stare at his reply I can’t help but feel a hot feeling start to grow deep in my belly again.

“I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more too! X (xxx) xxx-xxxx”

I send my number before setting my alarm for tomorrow and turning over to go to sleep when I hear my phone ping with a text notification.

I grab my phone again hoping to see Carlos’s name and when I do I feel a soft smile spread across my face.

When I open the message I see Carlos had sent me a selfie clearly in his luxurious bathroom more than likely getting ready to shower.

“Hi!”

It was a simple message but with the selfie attached I can’t help but feel a small heat grow in my belly. I quickly turn on my side table lamp before getting myself all set up to send another selfie back.

Given I hadn’t gotten dressed I pull my blankets over my chest before snapping a quick selfie hoping I looked good enough.

The picture of me with a small pout on my face while my hair laid around my head making it look thicker than normal. I quickly sending it with a matching hello message.

When my phone doesn’t notify me right away I assume Carlos was either showering or now going to bed himself but after 10 minutes of tossing and turning letting my mind race about what had happened tonight when my phone pings again.

“God, you’re beautiful. I really can’t believe I wasn’t able to do it. A bit humbled in my abilities if I’m being honest.”

Carlos replies making my cheeks heat at the compliment before making a small giggle fall from my lips at the latter statement.

“Thank you, you’re quite beautiful as well and given some of the comments, you have nothing to feel bad about. I really think something is just wrong with me.”

I reply back making me sign feeling like its all a lost cause at this point.

“Nothings wrong with you. I really just think you need to find someone who is able to relax you enough for you to cum.”

“I mean probably but given that I’m in a completely new country surrounded by men I can barely communicate with due to being quite terrible with Spanish it makes it a bit difficult.”

“Let me take you out then. I can introduce you to some of my friends. Both women and men, I’m sure it can be quite lonely being somewhere you don’t know many people.”

I smile at Carlos’s reply but hesitate to take the offer not knowing if hanging out with the hot pornstar I found on Twitter a month or so ago would be such a good idea. But knowing I’m only young once I realize in order to live my life to the fullest I have to take chances.

“I’d like that, just send me where to meet you guys and I’ll be there!”

“I can’t wait to meet you! When I finalize details I’ll send them your way.”

It all felt a bit insane and like the start of an insane movie, I guess time will only tell if its some insane romcom or a terrible horror movie where the stupid naive girl gets eaten alive by the serial killer and while I have deemed Carlos nice enough you truly never know.

For the rest of the week Carlos and I continued to get to know each other and by the time Friday rolled around I felt comfortable enough to meet Carlos face to face for the first time. He had sent me the time and place to meet him at and had told me that we would then spend the next few hours bar hopping.

When 10pm rolled around I ordered myself an Uber and waited for it to arrive. I took 2 quick shots knowing I needed to loosen up a little. When I feel the Tequila hit my stomach I notice my driver was pulling up which had me grabbing my purse and heading out the door.

During the car ride I feel my nerves start to grow but I do my best to relax but my the time I see the first bar we were going to my hands were shaking slightly in nerves. I quickly hop out of the car and quickly scan my surrounding when my eyes spot Carlos talking in a small group of friends. He was wearing a fitted white tee and a pair of dark wash jeans and had yet to spot me.

I slowly make my way over to the group and when I’m a few feet away Carlos looks up and spots me and as soon as we make eye contact his face lights up in a bright smile.

“Guys, this is Y/N! This is my friend I wanted you guys to meet,” Carlos says making the small group of 5 people turn to look at me with smiles on their faces. Carlos quickly introduces me to all his friends before he pulls me in for a casual side hug.

“You look gorgeous,” Carlos mumbled softly in my ear making me smile.

“You clean up nicely,” I tease while placing a teasing hand on his chest before pulling away and walking with the group towards the entrance.

When we get inside the busy bar Carlos quickly pulls me with him and his friends towards the bar where he ordered everyone a round of shots. I knew I was moving quickly on my shots but when a hot man buys you a drink, its okay to indulge. (Use this advice with your own caution)

I quickly take my shot with the group before Carlos is asking me what I’d like to drink. I tell him to surprise me and he just smiles before ordering 2 drinks. I’m not sure what he got me but when it arrives I can tell it’s something fruity.

As the night continues the drinks keep coming and by the third bar we stopped in Carlos and I were both drunkenly stumbling over out feet. At some point we find ourselves in a dark corner of the bar staring at each other.

“Come home with me tonight,” Carlos slurs making me smile but shake my head no.

“When we’re more sober,” I reply back making Carlos groan but nod his head in agreeance.

We fall into a comfortable silence while just staring at each other for a few seconds before Carlos’s eyes flicker down to my lips making my cheeks heat.

Carlos starts coming closer before he stops himself and asks, “Can I kiss you?” I nod my head which has Carlos closing the gap almost instantly and crashing his lips on mine making me whimper into the kiss before fully kissing him back.

When Carlos pulls me closer by my waist I let out a small gasp making Carlos plunge his tongue into my mouth and tangling it with mine. I allow myself to relax into the kiss pulling Carlos even closer by his neck.

When we finally pull away both Carlos and I are gasping for air while I notice his lips are slightly glossed over from our spit as well as swollen.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Carlos states while staring me directly in the eye. I feel my cheeks heat at the compliment but it has me standing on my tippy toes to steal another soft kiss from him.

“Thank you! And thank you for tonight, I’ve been needing to get out and meet new people who aren’t in my classes,” I tell him with a soft smile making me smile back at me.

“Thank you for coming tonight! I’m glad you had a good time,” Carlos tells me while guiding us towards the exit marking it the end of our night.

“I’ll see you again soon yes?” I question hopefully.

“Yes, I’d like to take you to coffee sometime, just us,” Carlos says making me smile and nod.

“I’d like that Carlos,” I tell him letting him pull me in for a hug.

“Let me pay for your ride home,” Carlos states making me shake my head but I can see him grabbing his phone out and handing it to me to put my address in.

“It’s okay Carlos, you’ve done more than enough for the night,” I try pushing his phoen away but when he insists I grab it and quickly type in my address and ordering myself the cheapest Uber.

Carlos waits with me while the car is coming and when we see the black car pull up tot he curb Carlos quickly pulls me back in for another drunken kiss before opening the door to the car for me and letting me climb into the car.

Over the next week or so Carlos and I have been hanging out almost daily. Between coffee runs and dinners we have been able to build quite the friendship. Tonight was gonna be the first time I was going to his house for a movie night. While we haven’t explicitly agreed to do anything tonight I think there’s a mutual understanding that something could happen tonight.

After we ate the take out Carlos and I find ourselves cuddled up on the couch throwing on a movie that looked good. Midway through the movie I feel Carlos’s hand resting on my thigh slowly start moving up making my breath hitch slightly.

When I look over to Carlos he’s already staring at me.

“Is this okay?” Carlos asks softly making me blush and nod my head. I could already feel the heat in my lower belly start to build letting me know that Carlos was clearly turning me on.

Several more minutes pass when I feel Carlos’s hand slowly moving up a little higher and when I feel his hand grazing the end of my shorts I can’t help the small whimper that falls from my lips when Carlos’s pinky sneaks into my shorts grazing the edge of my already wet panties.

“More please,” I finally speak up making Carlos remove his hand entirely. Before I can protest Carlos is speaking up, “Take your shorts off.”

I waste no time standing up and pulling my shorts off and before I can sit back in my spot Carlos is pulling me into his lap so my back is resting against his chest. He grips my thighs and spreads my legs letting my legs rest on either side of his thighs exposing me to the room.

“Is this okay?” Carlos whispers in my ear.

“Yes,” I reply back while grabbing his right hand and pulling it closer to where I want him.

“Relax for me, just lay back and enjoy yourself,” Carlos tells me before he finally brings his fingers to the edge of my panties where he started teasing my pussy through the fabric of my panties. Feeling Carlos’s fingers grazing my pussy lips has me whimpering softly even just from the teasing I know I’m starting to soak through the fabric of my panties.

“Fucking soaked for me already,” Carlos says before letting his fingers find my clit and giving it a teasing rub through my panties before he’s pulling them to the side and letting his fingers explore my soaked folds.

“Fuck Carlos,” I moan loudly when he finds my clit and starts rubbing circles making my thighs start to shake slightly from the intense pleasure.

“Does it feel good baby?” Carlos questions making me moan loudly while nodding my head. When I feel Carlos slip a finger into my soaked pussy I let out a shaky moan that quickly turns into a lous gasp when he starts teasing my G-spot. A spot I had yet to be able to find myself and Carlos was able to find it so quick.

“More,” I gasp out when I feel myself starting to get closer to the edge. Carlos instantly sinks another finger deep into my pussy with using his thumb to teasing my clit.

“Carlos, so good,” I moan loudly feeling myself growing closer and closer to the edge.

Carlos speeds up his actions on my pussy making me throw my head back closing my eyes and moaning loudly.

“You got this, cum for me,” Carlos whispers in my ear making me whimper loudly feeling my orgasm fastly approaching.

“Fuck,” I start chanting while gasping for air feeling myself closer to the edge than ever before. But then all off the sudden I feel it starting to creep away and if I wanted to fake it, like normal Carlos doesn’t allow it because he senses the change making him speed up his fingers even faster making me moan loudly.

“No! No. Noooo!” I whine because I feel it slowly creeping away even with Carlos’s skilled fingers. When he realizes its a lost cause he quickly stands up with me in his arms while he pulls me down the hall and into his room where he drops me down on the bed and instantly climbs between my legs and attaching his mouth to my clit making me whimper at the feeling.

“You’re not leaving until you fall apart for me,” Carlos says while looking me directly in the eye before attaching his mouth back to my clit as well as slipping two fingers deep into my pussy. It was clear he was moving quickly knowing I was still close to cumming if he worked hard enough.

“Feels so good,” I moan when I feel him start pumping his fingers directly into my G-spot.

Carlos not only had talented fingers but he also had a talented mouth because it didn’t take long for me to be on the edge again. This time I allowed my eyes to close and my hands to tangle into his hair relaxing my body as much as possible.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” I start moaning when I feel the edge fastly approaching and instead of it running away I feel myself falling over the edge leaving me to let out a loud scream at the intense pleasure. Carlos only speeds up his fingers throwing me into a second orgasm almost instantly.

“Fuck, look at pretty you are when you cum for me,” Carlos says while detaching his mouth from my pussy but making sure to keep fucking my pussy through my second orgasm.

I’m a bit dazed and overstimulated which has Carlos slipping his fingers from my pussy and walking towards the bathroom and when he came back he had a warm rag in his hand that he used to clean me down.

“Thank you,” I whisper when he comes back into the room laying down with me.

“No, thank you for trusting me,” Carlos says while pulling me into his chest making my thigh rub against his hard cock. When I look down Carlos just shakes his head.

“Tonight is for you, next time,” Carlos tells me making me smile softly knowing he planned for this to happen again.

“Was it everything you wanted?” Carlos teases in a sweet tone.

“Yes, far more intense than I thought it would be,” I admit making Carlos smile and nod before placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“Will you stay here tonight?” Carlos questions making me nod my head and sink further into his warm hold.

-------

Send in request if you want to see more of them!

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costkappen · 1 year ago

Text

𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒔🫶🏻

Warnings: suggestive, 18+

#carlos sainz #formula 1 #f1 #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smut #formula 1 oneshot #cs55 #cs55 x reader #cs55 smut #carlos sainz x female reader #f1 texts #japanese gp 2024

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bonbonly · 2 months ago

Note

Hiiii ily so much, you feed my dark mind so well 💀

So here’s my thot…

Mask kink with Carlos? I was listening to São Paulo and I kept looking at the cover on Spotify and like…it dawned on me how HOT it’d be to have the mask and fear kink mixed together. Like SIR? hold me down 😩

𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your sweet lovely neighbor invited you to a halloween party, and you - ever the clumsy, naive girl - got tricked more than treated. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is a dark fic! you have been warned! do not read if you are not comfortable with dark fics or any of the following: noncon/dubcon, slapping, p in v, oral (f receiving), gunplay/gunfuck, choking, gaslighting, fingering 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i unashamedly enjoyed writing this bye like why'd you put this in my ask, i literally went FERALLLLL over it but i hope you enjoy it babes!!!

"good morning, carlos!" you chirped, opening the mailbox in front of your driveway. your slightly older neighbor waved at you, a charming smile that made butterflies fly in your stomach. he was wearing jeans that were snug against his thighs, a loose white t-shirt on and his cap backwards. his hair swept back under the cap, eyes all big and beautiful. you sighed, dreamily as you watched him head back into his house. your dreamy neighbor that always flirted with you when you came over to deliver his mail.

"the mailman just can't seem to differentiate our houses, hm?" you'd laugh, teetering on your toes. you caught a small glimpse of his house, hoping he'd let you in so you could "jokingly" see what your future house would look like. he'd flip through the mail, shaking his head with a chuckle,

"ay, hermosa, they must think i like planting pink roses in my free time," he'd snicker, tapping your head with his bundle of envelopes. it was just a playful gesture, really, but you'd blush to yourself and watch him close his front door. you'd sigh out loud, realizing your efforts of dropping subtle hints about your interest wasn't working and you skipped back over to your house, tending to your garden once more.

halloween was coming up around the corner and this year, the entire neighborhood was doing a competition for the spookiest house. you were determined to win it. going out of your way to buy extra decorations, you spent much of the week giving you front yard some spooky decor. a giant spider on one side, some skeletons doing some funny dances, and then of course the lights. you only ever did the lights at night so you wouldn't spoil the surprised for your neighbors. so, who else would you call to help you?

your trusty and super hot neighbor carlos of course! he was more than happy to help you, saying that you were always so clumsy, you'd be so lost without him! you climbed up the staircase, toying with the cables and tape before you smacked them into a straight line on the edge of your roof.

"fuck, i can't reach!" you cried out, "carlos, can you do this instead?"

"no, no, you have to do it, chica. you can do it," he grinned, pushing your ass up the ladder. you yelped in surprise at his hand under your skirt, and you swore you felt him squeeze your flesh. you glanced down at him, staring at this big innocent brown eyes. no, you must've imagined it! he wouldn't do such a thing! not your super sweet neighbor! you sighed, going up another step on the ladder to finish attaching the rest of the lights. you turned back to find carlos pointing his phone at you, a smirk on his lips, "for the memories. it's your first time going all out for the decor!"

you hopped off the ladder, smacking your hands with a smile, "thank you so much for the help, neighbor!" and you were going to return back to the comfort of your bed, when he was so gracious enough to finally let you in his house! you giddily accepted his offer, pushing past him towards his house. he laughed, eyes trained on the way your ass bounced under that skirt - if it even counted as one. he trailed behind you, watching you crash onto his couch.

grabbing the tv remote, he flipped through a couple channels while settling down next to you, "you like horror movies?"

"uh... not at night," you laughed, "i can handle anything in the light. just not in the dark. get a bit scared, yeah i know how embarrassing that is but it's the truth."

carlos nodded his head, landing on a horror film. he tossed the remote to the side, out of your reach. you gulped, already feeling a bit queasy at the gore on the tv and you felt bad about being in his house and demanding stuff from him. you shifted in your seat, averting your eyes to the nicely decorated walls, and then you felt his hand on your thigh. you glanced down at how big his hand was, and especially how it was inching closer to your clothed sex. you chuckled, thinking he must be a bit tired from helping you and you grabbed his hand, placing it back down on his lap. his eyes, which were originally transfixed on tv, snapped to you. a hard glare that you faced that made your skin crawl. he brought his back down on your thigh, squeezing your flesh harshly, enough for it to hurt. you cried out in pain, smacking him across his face. you grabbed your belongings, fleeing from his house. it surely didn't help that you lived right next door, but you locked your front door and ascended the staircase to your bedroom, holding back some tears. this had to be some sort of twisted nightmare. your sweet neighbor wouldn't do that to you! he'd only ever been nice! why would he think it was okay for him to touch you? you shook your head, taking off your clothes to slip into your nightwear and you buried yourself in the covers of your bed. it just had to be a dream!

and thankfully, that's exactly what your sweet neighbor told you the next morning at your door. he had a pot of petunias in his hands, that same warm smile on his face,

"morning, chica!" he greeted, "saw you had an empty spot in the garden. you know, i was going to the store and i saw this and said hmm, this looks like it belongs in (y/n)'s garden and so i bought it! no need to pay me back, i just want to make sure if anyone wins the halloween decoration contest it should be you!"

you stood there dumbfounded, wondering if the events of last night really happened. with much hesitance, you decided to test the waters, "a-aren't you mad at me?"

"mad at you for what?" carlos asked, furrowing his brows.

"i slapped you pretty hard yesterday," you replied, "because you were feeling me up, remember?"

carlos's jaw dropped, and his eyes darted around your front door. he shook his head in disbelief, "w-what? excuse me? i helped you with your decorations and then you went to sleep.."

"but it felt... it felt real, i knew that-"

"so you'd accuse me of touching you?" his shoulders fell, his lips forming into a thin line, "forgive me, hermosa. i spent 30 dollars getting these plants for you, and this is how you repay me? increíble. te esfuerzas por ayudar a una chica y ella no es más que una pequeña zorra," he muttered in spanish. you didn't understand what he was saying, but you figured it was something awful about you. you shook your head, taking the flowers from his hands,

"y-you're right. i'm so sorry. i must've just had a very vivid nightmare. i'm so sorry, carlos. how can i make it up to you? you did help me last night with all the decorations," you pouted. he licked his lips, eyes raking over your body still in your nightgown from last night and he shrugged.

"uh... déjame pensar, hmm...." he scratched his chin, fingers gliding up his jaw, "a good friend of mine down the street is hosting a halloween party. you should come over. i'll accept your apology if you sneak me extra chocolates."

you sighed in relief, extremely happy that your sweet neighbor was willing to forgive you for your foolishness. you giggled, nodding your head frantically, "yes, yes! i'll definitely do it! when's the party?"

"tomorrow and it starts at 10:00."

"that's kinda late for a halloween party," you frowned, and carlos rolled his eyes,

"are you coming or not?"

"i'm coming, i'm coming. just had to blurt out my thought, that's all. thank you very much for the flowers, carlos," you held up the pot in your hands, a sheepish smile on your lips as he walked off to his house. he looked gorgeous with that tight sweatshirt, his pecs barely contained under the fabric. how could you have ever thought of him in a bad light! he was such a sweetheart, buying you the petunias knowing that it would work well with your decorations. you pouted your lips at the thought, cooing at how pretty the petals were before heading back into your house.

you had picked out a really cute cat outfit for the night. it wasn't really meant to be revealing or sexy, just a cute outfit. a long black gown with black stockings, black cat ears and a tail to match. you had lipstick on your nose and used your eyeliner to draw whiskers. content with how your outfit turned out, you hummed to yourself as you left your house, locking your front door. the end of the street was a bit of a walk, and since it was dark outside you whipped out your phone as the flashlight to guide you. you came across a very shady house, only the front light on. no other decorations. that should've been your first warning to get back home, but you assumed it was part of the ambience for the party. you knocked on the front door, craning your neck to see if there's any light inside the house. no response. you scowled, grabbing the door knob only to find the door completely unlocked.

"hello?" you peered inside, flicking some of the switches on. when none of them seemed to be working, you glanced down at your phone and realized you were only at 20 percent. it would be pointless to waste all your phone battery trying to find people in the dark, "ok guys, come on now! jokes not funny!"

you bit your lip, your chest tightening at how dark it was around you. you really hated the dark. "i get that this must be some sort of sick joke. hello? anyone? c-carlos? someone? turn on the lights now!"

despite all your attempts at getting a response, none came. you huffed under your breath in annoyance, crossing your arms at how stupid you could be to come over to some random person's house. you only trusted the address because your sweet neighbor gave it to you. your ears perked up at the sound of metal jingling in the distance and you whipped your head around to to the kitchen. with cautious steps, you extended your arms out to feel the walls, using them as a way to guide you. in the darkness, you could make out what you assumed to be the kitchen counter, and then some cabinets above. the moonlight through the windows shone onto a small corner of the shelf, a flashlight on display for you to grab. you shook the device in your hands a couple times, turning the switch on and off before shaking it once more. a couple more harsh smacks to the side of the flashlight didn't do the trick either.

and then the front door clicked shut, the sound of a lock turning making your ears perk up.

"hello?" you called out once more, stepping out of the kitchen. the front door was a few feet away, the lock unmistakably turned on. one you heard the sound of metal chains dancing together, that's when your brain decided to gear up. you sprinted to the front door, crashing right into a pillar that helped support the structure of the house. you moaned in pain, hands clutched your forehead. clumsy little (y/n), never able to defend herself even if her life depended on it. the flashlight rolled around your frame as you rocked side to side, whispering small "ows". the door was just a feet away, and you extended your hand to crawl over when a firm boot stomped right onto your fingers.

"fuck!" you howled, the feeling of your bones being crushed coursing through your veins. you felt the boot drag down to your head, pressing your face against the wooden floor.

"shh, shhh...." a voice from above you cooed, "not a word from you. you have to be quiet."

"my fucking fingers," you hissed, curling your digits to see if anything was broken. the boot dug deeper onto your skin, almost choking you as you struggled to breathe. your voice was nothing more than strangled cries, your feet kicking around. within seconds, the mysterious man above you kicked your back, sending you rolling over into what you assumed was the living room. you coughed out loud, rubbing your sore face before feeling firm hands grip onto your ankles, dragging your body to the kitchen.

"who... who are you? let go of me!" you hollered, using your free hand to swat him away. you could barely see anything in the dark, and that only scared you more, "what's going on?" your attempts to sit up are thwarted when he brings his arm against your neck, pinning you onto the ground. his face was inches from yours, and you could smell him. he smelled familiar, a certain type of cologne that you remembered from somewhere but being so stricken by fear, your thoughts were all jumbled together. all you could think about was finding a way to escape. you took note of his white mask from the dim moonlight, a frown etched into the plastic material. with his free hand, he dragged his palm down your body, groping your lush tits. he had a rich laugh when you squirmed against him, trying to wriggle away.

"please, please let me go," you whimpered, feeling your hips being hoisted into the air as his hands snaked around to grab at your ass. he smacked the flesh of one cheek, fingers digging in to leave small crescents when he squeezed. he flipped you onto your stomach, pulling the tail tied around your waist and letting it snap against your skin. you gasped out loud, trying to process the way your skin stung afterwards. his hands slid up your back, curling into your collar before ripping apart your dress. you cried out loud, having worn nothing underneath save some black panties.

"a slut through and through," the man's accented voice whispered above your head, tearing at the fabric and bringing the rest of the material over your head. he tossed it to the side, and returned his hands to feel the rest of your body, "oh, mierda, i've dreamt about this for so long, so fucking long."

to emphasize his point, he smacked your ass a couple times before sinking his teeth in your flesh. your anguished wails did nothing to deter him, and you were sure he had bit hard enough to draw blood. your ass felt like it had been burned against a hot iron rod; your arms flailed behind your back, trying to push him off you but instead the stranger ripped your panties to pieces, spreading your ass as he spit down to the ring of muscle, watching it wink at him. his saliva trailed down to the edge of your cunt. you couldn't really tell what was going on but quite shortly, you felt your arms being guided behind your back, tightly bound before he grabbed your hips and once again pulled your ass up into the air. your legs wrapped around his, your back arched uncomfortably as you felt another wave of his saliva wash down against your cunt. you couldn't help but whine out loud when he wrapped his lips around your folds, nibbling on them as you shook your head. your bound arms thrashed into the air but it wasn't really helping you at the moment. his tongue delved into your pretty pussy, his deep moans vibrating through your core.

"please stop, i'm begging you! i don't even know who you are!" you whined, tears streaming down your face. your cries were cut short as a moan ripped through you, his thumb circling your clit as his tongue lapped at your sweet nectar. your could feel the edge of his mask hit your ass every time his tongue went deeper inside you. it swirled around in your tight walls like some festering parasite, eagerly waiting to ruin its host. his tongue traveled up to your asshole, circling the ring of muscle and that's when your screams became louder. "not there! stop it! let go of! let go or i'll scream so loud that-"

"keep screaming, no one will save you, zorra," he bit down on the globe of your ass, humming when you let out a sob. he buried his face between your cheeks, his tongue delving into your hole with a lewd sound. his tongue pushed deeper inside you, spreading your rim as his thumb went back to circling your clit.

"mmm, sabes tan bien gatito," he rasped, pulling back for a moment to admire his handiwork. your poor asshole winked in the cool air, glistening with his saliva. "i can't wait to feel this little ass squeezing my cock." he punctuated his words by spanking your ass hard, leaving more handprints on your soft flesh. you yelped, trying to wriggle away like a snake would but he gripped your hips harder, holding you in place as he dove back in, his tongue plunging into your asshole with renewed fervor.

the masked man's other hand slid around to your dripping pussy, his fingers pushing two digits knuckle-deep into your weeping cunt. he pumped them in and out, palm grinding against your clit with each thrust. the combination of his tongue on your ass, and fingers in your pussy transformed your screams into wanton moans.

"aww, is the puta enjoying what i give to her, i knew you'd come around," you could tell he was smiling as his fingers curled inside your gummy walls. the tightening coil inside your gut finally snapped as your juices gushed around him, soaking his black t-shirt. he laughed out loud, shoving you back onto the ground, "look at you, you ruined my shirt." he placed each of his feet on either side of your trembling body, gazing down at the way your face was filled with smudged make-up. your whiskers all askew, mascara streaming down your face. he grabbed you by the collar you had on, twisting it as you gasped out loud, struggling to breathe once more. you felt yours leg give away, watching him drag you back to the living room as he threw you onto the couch.

"who.... who even are you- oh!" you squealed, feeling his hand come across your face. it burned and you feel the iron tang of blood flood your mouth, you lip busted from the impact. he grabbed hold of your jaw, using his other hand to adjust his mask before slapping you once again. you were sure your face was bruised when he finished, your lip swollen almost as if to silence you for the entire duration he had you in this cursed house.

"cat got your tongue?" he chuckled, caressing your burning cheek with his thumb. when you didn't respond, he dug through his pockets for his phone, snapping a picture of you shaking on the couch with tears streaming from your face. you shielded your eyes from the flash, and through your fingers you caught sight of his hair swept back. you recognized the silkiness of it. you knew this person, but you just couldn't understand where. before you could open your mouth to ask the same question that's been bothering you all night, you heard the click of a gun, the barrel pressed against your forehead. "i think you know what to do right now, right?"

you shook your head, your bottom lip quivering and the man in front of you laughed, using the barrel to wipe away your tears, the cold metal making you hiss. you gulped when he dug the gun into your neck, your body shaking as a new wave of tears washed over you. "you're going to fuck yourself on my gun. come on spread those legs."

his request made you freeze in place and when he placed the gun right onto a prominent artery in your neck, you whimpered and nodded your head, reluctantly spreading your legs.

"there we go," he cooed, "see, puta, you can learn."

he spit on the barrel of his gun, rubbing the saliva around before crouching down to see your womanhood clenching the air, bracing yourself for what was about to happen. you rubbed the barrel of the gun along your wet slit, the cold metal sending jolts of sensation through your core. you felt your juices on the metal barrel, making it slick and shiny as your dragged it over your clit and pushed it inside you. you whimpered, throwing your head back onto the couch as you stared at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself that this was all another horrible nightmare.

"fuck, look at you, getting off on my gun," the masked man taunted, "you're even more depraved than I thought. sabía que eras una puta sucia, pero esto..." you bit your lip hard, trying to stifle a moan as you began to move, fucking yourself on the gun with very hesitant thrusts. "louder, you quiet little whore," the masked man scoffed, his other hand coming down on your inner thigh. you whined out loud, nodding your head and letting out small, forced moans. sensing that you were trying too hard to make noises, and pressed the metal deeper into you. a satisfied growl escaped his lips when you cried out loud, arching your back.

"fuck, that's too big... please, that's too big," you moaned, bucking your hips to push the barrel out of you but instead the masked man took the opportunity to drive it deeper inside you, pulling it out before slamming it right back in. you screamed out loud, feeling the gun stretch you open as the man snorted,

"scream for me, puta. i want to hear every single noise clearly."

your hips rocked back and forth, taking the gun as much as you could. you panted, tongue stuck out as the man shoved his fingers into your mouth, dragging the gun in and out of you with a much faster pace than before. you struggled to handle the girth of the gun, your eyes rolling the back of your head. he slapped your face gently so that your eyes snapped back to his masked face. the emptiness you faced scared you, it made you sob at how defiling this felt and yet you could feel your orgasm approaching once more. the smell of your arousal mixed with uncontrollable fear spread through the room, and he could feel your pussy fluttering around the barrel of the gun, your juices flowing freely as you fucked yourself into oblivion. your cunt spasmed around the barrel of the gun as you cummed, gushing your release over the cold metal. the masked man watched as your juices splattered onto the floor, forming a puddle beneath the couch.

"no puedo contenerme más, i need to feel you around my cock," the man moaned, unbuckling his belt. your still bound hands weakly thrashed once more, your eyes glossed over. your mind was spinning, still not over the last orgasm. the gun was tossed the side, and he grabbed hold of your jaw so that you faced him not the weapon that you just fucked. he fumbled with his zipper, shoving his pants down as he let his cock spring up, the sound of his member slapping against his stomach echoing in the room. you could feel the warmth of his body radiate off him; it was suffocating. you shook your head, trying to plead your way out of this. you already did everything else he asked for! you just wanted to go home and get ready for the halloween house contest tomorrow! he gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your abused flesh as he placed the swollen head of his cock against your sensitive clit. he smacked the tip against your pearl, watching you mewl out loud at oversensitivity. with one brutal thrust, he slammed his hips forward, burying his massive cock deep into your cunt. you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs, silent screams falling from your lips as he stretched you open, his thick shaft forcing its way past your gummy walls. tears streamed down your face as he began to move, fucking you hard and fast, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

"this cunt was made to be ruined, made to milk my cock, hecha para ser mia" he growled, snapping his hips faster against you. the sound of skin against skin did little to calm you down, instead your ears rang and when he began to rub your clit, you were sobbing out loud at how everything felt... felt so good. your mind a dizzy mess, not following along with what was happening.

between moans you once again asked the million dollar question on your mind, "w-who are you? who are you?"

"come on mi vida," he scoffed, almost as if he was insulted that you kept asking the same question, "use that pretty brain of yours you know exactly who i am. i've seen the way you look at me." but as he drilled into your cunt, you really didn't know. you couldn't think, your brain on overdrive, too caught up with the sensation of his thick cock filling you up like the whore that you were. your let your legs wrap around his waist, pushing him further into you on instinct and he laughed, using his hands to pull his sweat-stained shirt over his head. his mask came off, and in the dark you could barely see the outline of his hand running through his silky hair.

"t-the mask, your mask," you whimpered, narrowing your eyes to try and focus on the voice. the outline of his jaw, you recognized him. you knew who it was, the name was on the tip of your tongue. quite suddenly, he pressed the mask against your face, hardly giving you enough room to breathe.

"you wanted to know who i am with my mask off, we can work in different ways hermosa, i'm not picky," the man snickered. your head was buried into the couch's cushions, and you could see black spots clouding what was left to see in the dark. as your final orgasm of the night shot through you, the man pulled the mask away from you and let you breathe as you screamed out loud, squirting all over his cock. he groaned out loud, emptying his load as he shot ropes of his cum inside your cunt. he loved the way your cunt clamped down on him, constricting him as he watched you create a new puddle of your juices onto the ground. he pulled out of you, watching his cum leak out of you. he caught hold of his phone again, zooming in to see your cream-pie'd cunt and when the flash took hold of the dark room, the last thing you saw before passing out was your sweet neighbor carlos grinning at your fucked out body.

it was late in the afternoon the next day when you finally came back to your sense. your entire body felt sore, as if you had been roasted alive over a wood of fire. with shaky legs, you stumbled out of your bedroom, looking around the living room. you were back in your house, but you didn't know how. you still felt the feeling of your cunt being stretched out, and your head was throbbing in pain. the doorbell to your door rang and you glanced out the window to see carlos there with a bag of chocolates. you scowled, remembering how he towered over you the night before. not wanting to be too suspicious, you opened the door and stood there with a very worried expression on your face.

"carlos... how... nice to see you," you whispered, gulping.

"ah, hermosa! i'm so glad you're doing better! you know last night, the craziest thing happened! i was coming to pick you up for the halloween party but ever the eager girl, you fell from your ladder and hit your head!" he shook his head, "mi niña torpe, you can never go a day without hurting yourself!"

"i fell off a ladder?" you asked, tilting your head.

"yeah! you hit your face pretty badly," he winced, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. the warmth of his palm made you moan a bit, closing your eyes in relief. you and your vivid nightmares. your sweet neighbor would never do this to you! he was always looking out for you. you almost wanted to mention the bad dream, but then remembered how he got offended the last time you revealed what happened when you were asleep. you decided to keep your mouth shut and invited him into your house, taking the bag of chocolates.

"the halloween house contest will start soon," you grinned, limping to the couch to sit down. "you should sit down carlos, we have a few hours before the kids arrive. maybe you could help me organize the goodie bags!"

when you looked up, you saw him towering over you. he ran a hand through his hair, tossing the tv remote in his hand a couple times before dragging it down your neck,

"we have time, mi vida, we can spend time together alone until then," and he watched you furrow your brows, starting to understand what he was hinting towards, "you want to watch a horror movie?"

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velvetsainz · 10 months ago

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summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ] three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i'm not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw's/cw's & i'll be happy to share those!

a/n: it's been a hot, hot minute since i've had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children's hospital), but i've been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i'd at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i'm nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx

creampie + breeding kink — he’s a family man & lord knows how badly he wants his own. he’s possessive, too, & this sates both of those desires well for him. he’s always whispering something in your ear, hand low on your belly about how good you’d look carrying his babies. and once you’re actually pregnant? sweet jesus, he’s never taking his hands off of you.

shower sex — he’s talked a number of times about how he’ll shower multiple times a day, and something tells me he’d never object to a partner. more than once he’s had you against the tiled walls until the water ran cold and your teeth were chattering. he’d then proceed to take it upon himself to warm you up again, ever the gentleman.

post-workout sex — there’s something about the way you look, out of breath & drenched in sweat that sends all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. you’re trying to push him away, afraid that you’re just too gross, but this man does not give a single fuck. he adores you in all your sweaty, sticky glory & is on you the second you make it back from your class, peeling you out of your leggings and wrangling your too-tight sports bra over your head. and it goes the other way as well: his favorite workout cooldown is fucking you senseless; there’s something deeply primal about the exertion of a workout that clouds his head with only thoughts of you, out of breath & on the brink of orgasm.

minor kinks | hair pulling — rough sex — cockwarming — pussy worship — possessiveness — soft dom — teasing — dirty talk

praise kink — he’s a talker in bed, and that means that he’s telling you just how delicious the tight clutch of your velvet walls feels around his cock. one language is not enough to tell you all the ways you make him feel, how good you are, how badly he’s wanted you. it certainly doesn’t hurt when you reciprocate, but the sounds he’s able to work out of you are often enough for him.

vanilla sex — listen: it’s no secret that this man is a romantic, and there are few things as romantic as good ole vanilla sex. sure, some spice is nice every once in a while, but he doesn’t need it to get his rocks off. he’s too caught up in the romance of it all—the tangle of limbs, skin pressed against skin, stuttering breaths, and stammering hearts—to want anything else. all he needs is you.

kissing — similar as above, charles is a sucker for romance, and a good makeout sess is just the right thing to get him hot and bothered. he’s very talented with languages, and his mastery of his tongue doesn’t end with words. *wink wink*

minor kinks | oral sex (giving + receiving) — creampie — cowgirl — bathtub sex — breathplay

mutually drunk sex — no matter how much he loves a club scene, he’d always find himself back in your arms. happy, sloppy, messy sex. as much as he loves a g&t, he loves the taste of you more.

wax play — we’ve seen the clips. he likes dripping the wax just as much as he likes being dripped on, and every time you go to light a candle his eyes get that hungry look like he could devour you whole; you’ve learned how to use this to your advantage.

dirty talk + praise kink — as we all know, this man is a certified YAPPER. and, unsurprisingly, that extends to the bedroom, too. always groaning, grunting, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, there’s very little that leaves him truly speechless; you’ll always know exactly how he feels when you're riding his cock or taking him deep in your throat, whether that’s in dutch, english, or the french he’s been trying to practice. and, given his upbringing, he lives for the praises that fall past your lips; he aims to please, and your sweet words are all the motivation he needs.

minor kinks | restraints (giving + receiving) — spanking — threesomes — nipple play — sensory play

massage — he takes great pride in his physique, and he thinks every inch of you is perfect. he loves watching all the tension leave your body. with such limited time in his busy, busy life, he thrives on the time he gets to spend with you; few things can compete with the peace, intimacy, and pleasure that comes from the feeling of your hands working over the tight muscles of his back and legs. and if they happen to wander somewhere else? well, what a happy accident that would be!

fingering — if there’s one thing lewis knows, it’s that a man’s most important tool isn’t the one between his legs. he loves all the ways in which you unravel for him, your back pressed against his chest with your legs draped over his own to keep them open. he’ll play with you like that for hours if he could, unlacing your composure until you're boneless and melting into him with every touch. (also, dear god, have you seen his hands? female gaze bait of the highest form.)

the lingerie stays on — there’s a litany of pick-up lines about clothes, etc. looking good on you but better on their floor, and a one mr. hamilton disagrees with that sentiment; we know well how he appreciates fine garments, and he loves them even more when you’re wearing them. he’s most certainly one to spoil his partner, and if he’s going to buy you that agent provocateur set, you can bet he wants to see you in it.

minor kinks | soft dom — cowgirl — voyeurism — intimacy — dirty talk — shower sex — pillowtalk

face riding — why do you think he takes so much pride in his neck strength? and even when you’re squirming away from overstimulation, he’s more than able to hold you in place by hooking his toned biceps over your shaking thighs. he’s a menace, but he never leaves a partner wanting for more.

wearing his clothes — okay, this one isn’t original in the slightest because i simply cannot get this blurb by @folkloresthings out of my head. nando would keel over at the sight of you in his clothes, especially if there was a particular lack of certain undergarments. he’d pull you in by the excess material and have you right there if feasible.

anal sex — all the nando fuckers know that he’s a little freaky—can i get an amen? that being said, his experience goes a long way in helping his partner get the most out of it and making it a pleasurable experience for all parties. he’d take his time working you open, pairing it with leg-shaking orgasms to wash away any doubts in your mind. it’s a new sensation, but a welcome one at that.

minor kinks | swallowing / facials — teasing — spanking — rough sex — sloppy sex — aftercare

teasing — a tyrant on the track and one in the bedroom as well. or in the car. or at a dinner with a few too many pairs of eyes. regardless, being a tease is his favorite above all else despite his own inability to handle a healthy dose of his own medicine.

overstimulation — this more or less goes hand-in-hand with his teasing, but he loves the way you beg when you’re coming down from one high and coasting right into another. “just one more, liebling” or “you’ve got another one, don’t you, schatz?” or “i know you can take it, kleiner hase” before making your vision go white as he wrings another orgasm from you.

morning sex — but, above all else, sebastian is a lover, and few things are quite as intimate as slow, fumbling, half-awake morning sex where you’re mumbling praises and communicating in soft, hushed sounds of pleasure. chasing sensations and desires before your mind is even fully awake takes a strong, trusting bond, and he prides himself on this with his partner.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — mutual masturbation — toys — soft restraints (giving + receiving) — creampie / breeding — praise kink — dirty talk

cowgirl — this man & his obsession w/ texas—need i say more? how does that saying go, again? “save a horse…”

photos/sextape — daniel3.jpg would like a word. he’s obsessed with this new medium, and what’s a better way to remember a spicy moment than on film? plus, when you’re traveling 200-plus days a year, you need a way to bring a piece of home with you however you can, whether that’s watching you fall apart while arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight or taking him into the back of your throat as you look up at him through damp lashes or riding his cock or or arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight…you get the picture.

threesomes — considering the way that everyone fawns over him on the grid, this man could so easily work himself into some surprising pairings. his love language is physical touch and he’s not afraid to share it. that, combined with his competitiveness and desire to please, turns into a dangerous desire for him to see you fucked out and overwhelmed by your own need for more.

minor kinks | mirror sex — dirty talk — thigh riding — facefucking — rough sex — hair pulling

rough sex — aussie grit. there’s nothing else i need to say other than he’s a wild ride.

aftercare — any rough lover worth their prowess, though, knows the importance of aftercare, and mark is no different in that regard. he takes it very seriously and is always checking in afterward to make sure you enjoyed yourself as much as he did, peppering you in sweet kisses and warm embraces.

pussy worship — we’ve all seen the clip, right? this man knows how to eat pussy and he’s damn good at it. better yet—he loves doing it. you’d practically have to pry him off you from the overstimulation, his tongue, lips, and teeth finding alllll the right ways to make you fall apart.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — possessiveness — massage — swallowing / facials

exhibitionism + voyeurism — the grid slag. he’s confident about his body and his abilities, and he’s not afraid to share. he’s not overly possessive and an unabashed hedonist to boot, so this pairing works perfectly to get his rocks off (and hopefully yours, too). he’s a little freak, and he’s not afraid to let it show!

spanking — when you’re especially mouthy (frequently to get these exact reactions) and he’s a little bold, jenson is partial to taking you over his knee and seeing how long you can keep up the act before you’re a whimpering mess. frequently this ends with him literally kissing your ass, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping cunt while another toys with your too-sensitive clit.

brattiness — again, like above, he loves when you backtalk or drag your heels on him, making him work for your pleasure and, on some nights, your submission. (though, he’s not afraid to admit how fucking hot he finds it when you take control, using him for your pleasure and taking what you need. all that matters to him is raw, messy, dirty fun.)

minor kinks | threesomes — begging — degradation kink (giving + receiving) — nipple play — oral sex (giving + receiving) — toys

final note: that's all, folks! now what do you think? let me know! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes where i reblog inspo & recs!

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globesiem · 29 days ago

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boyfriend texts with carlos sainz jr. ⟢

crack, fluff, very suggestive & borderline smut.

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doujindungeon · 10 days ago

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Please do more of carlos sainz lactation kink!! Maybe they’ve already had their baby and the readers milk ducts are clogged and the mm baby doesn’t have the force to suck them out, so carlos happily offers his lips to do so.

follow-up to this carlos "milf milk hunter" sainz request 🤱🥛) thank you so much anon for requesting!!! 🥹❤️ it really means a lot 😭🫶 i'm still open for 3 more requests btw heheh 🙆‍♀️💌

There was a bundle of joy in your arms.

Soft snores emitted from a miniature copy of your lips, tiny hands curled into little fists, big brown eyes reminiscent of his father's currently closed in peaceful slumber. After having his fill of milk from you, it was time for your son to finally turn in for the night.

And as you gazed at him lovingly while gingerly setting him down in his crib, by contrast there was a shadow that had been haunting your every step since dinner.

Focused, infatuated, and--most of all--hungry.

This shadow was no stranger, of course. Once your son was properly tucked beneath his blanket, the affectionate look on your face turned exasperated once you turned around, your lips forming into a pout.

"I do hope he doesn't inherit your impatience, Carlos."

You were only met by a roguish grin as two big sturdy hands reached for your waist to begin guiding you out of your son's room.

"While I also hope he'll grow to be a better man than me, I'm comforted knowing he and I both share the same taste in the finer things in life, amor."

The heat of your husband’s murmured breath lingered in your ear while he led you straight to your bedroom. Already, your pillows were rearranged on top of your bed, ready to support your back.

Though Carlos was gentle and patient while having you sit and recline against the cushioned pile he prepared just for you, his hands were anything but when it came to your top.

As to be expected.

After all, you saw the way his eyes immediately zeroed in on your breasts, forgetting his dinner the very moment your son began to nurse from your chest.

The way you sucked in your teeth and winced from the lingering pressure in your sore aching nipples afterwards sealed your fate for the evening.

And now, here you were, face flushed and hot, back arched in ecstatic relief.

Compared to that one particular morning in Melbourne, where your husband was mindful to position himself to your side due to your pregnant belly, Carlos was perched on top of you, happily smothering his face in-between your breasts. While his hands kneaded and massaged the supple skin of your chest, his mouth was relentless with drinking from your nipples, the sounds of his noisy suckling and satisfied groans filling the air.

"Your taste, princessa, my god, your taste."

Dreamy, delirious, dazed--the way his words slurred together in bliss made him sound drunk.

"It makes me want to keep you pregnant from now on."

While he let out a teasing giggle at the thought, you were certain that he was serious, that he would strive to make good on his remark.

Still, as Carlos lifted his head from your breasts, familiar brown eyes gazing at you adoringly while he ground his hips down against yours, making sure you would feel the stiff prod of his erect cock, he pleaded,

"Let's get to work on providing some siblings for our boy, yeah?"

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #cs55 x you #cs55 smut #cs55 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #f1 smut #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one smut #reader insert

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cheriladycl01 · 5 months ago

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Kinktober 26/10/2024 Carlos Sainz - Titjob

Plot: Carlos loves his big titty girlfriend because all he can think about is his dick in between them.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, Titjob, dick between boobs etc 18+ Minors DNI

Carlos loved you tits.

It was ridiculous because he loved them so much that sometimes it was as if he loved them more than he loved you, which would be crazy.

And to be fair, you did have a nice set. They were larger than average but still pretty perky and sat nicely, real nice. Any top you wore gave you the best cleavage. Carlos would always leave love bites along them whenever you were something low cut, so that if anyone was staring which wasn’t uncommon, they’d know you were accounted for.

Whenever you guys had sex he was always griping them, sucking them, pinching them. Anything he could do with them and almost always was doing something to them.

For his birthday, the big 30 you decided to treat him.

You sat him on the ottoman at the end of the bed as it was a little lower down, a cushion behind him so his back didn’t graze against the metal of the foot of your bed.

“What is this hermosa?” He asks cocking his head to the side and that thoughtless, brain empty look appears on his face as he tries to work out what you are doing.

The minute you pull your tight top over your head and he sees the new pretty bra your tits are in his eyes darken a little and he catches your gaze.

“Mmmm is this for me?” He asks as his fingers runs over the strap from your shoulder down to the edging of the cup that sits flush against the pillowy part of your breast.

“Thought you deserved a treat, finally hitting the big 30” you grin up at him, knowing Carlos hated that he was getting older.

“Don’t remind me” he laughs a little, you help pull him out of his boxers, before reaching round to unclip your bra. You throw it off somewhere in the room and you can tell it’s hit the floor from the small thud.

You move your hand up and down Carlos length getting him ready so it’s easier for you to get him in between your boobs. Your mouth comes around him, licking and sucking the tip before you take in as much of him as you can.

“Oh fuck, so beautiful. Mmmmm” he moans fighting the urge to lean back and take his eyes off you. However he soon caves when you lick around his tip and his hips thrust up into your mouth. His head is thrown back as a deep groan comes out of his throat.

You keep going until he’s a moaning mess, and before you know it he’s swelling. A tell tale sign he’s about to release all those pent up feelings.

You stop as quick as you’d started making him whine out, his arm comes across his head in frustration until he feels something tight and warm and squishy either side of his dick.

His head snaps to look down at you only to see your fully up on your knees, both your hands holding either side of your boobs which are now closed around him tightly.

He resembles a fish for a few minutes as his brain tries to catch up with what’s going on. You’d both never done this before.

You moved up and down, bouncing a little here and there and he was back moaning your name over and over again like a broken record player.

He couldn’t tell if it was how worked up the blow job got him or seeing your perfect tits around his dick and you bitting your lip while you watched his reaction but he came all over your tits embarrassingly quick after you’d started your movements shocking both of you.

He looked at you, well your tits covered in his cum.

“I-” he stutters as he looks over you. Your finger swipes up collecting the cum and sucking it of your finger making him groan more and pull you in for a kiss tasting himself on you.

“Fuck were doing that again” he breaths out holding onto the edge of the ottoman.

But then came the agreement that whenever you were too tired to do that that he would be able to straddle you and use your tits.

So that’s what he was doing tonight. You were laying in bed, half asleep after a long shift at work. He starts to take your top off leaving the little grey sports bra you had on the was holding your tits in nicely.

He straddles over you, pulling his dick out of his pants and pushes it in between your cleavage. The banded edging rubbing against him making him moan.

“Mmmmmm your so pretty above me Carlos. Does that feel good baby” you ask rubbing up and down his arms.

“So good, fuck I love these” he says one hand coming up to pinch your nipples a little making you groan.

“Carlos, no this is just for you” you scold and he looks down his big brown eyes wide with guilt.

“I’m sorry, so sorry” he says thrusting in and out as if he were inside you. With the sports bra it did kind of feel like that, a little more enclosed than when he was using his hands to push them both together which was hard because he didn’t want to hurt you by putting his weight all on your chest.

“Fuck fuck, so good” he moans speeding up, his mouth hanging open slightly. You loved to watch him in moments like these because he just looked so handsome to you. The light sheen of sweat covering his head and his dampened black hair pressing on his forehead.

He was ethereal.

And he was all yours.

“Oh baby fuck I’m gonna cum” he moans out, holding a hand against your throat, not really having much control of his actions or where his hands are going.

“So gorgeous. Could fuck these tits forever, mmmmghhh” he moans thrusting in and out before he stops with a harsh shiver and he’s coming all over your chest.

It was his favourite place too.

“Ahhhhhh mi amor, these beauties do things to me” he says giving them as squeeze as he pulls himself out with a little moan.

“I’m glad I have big tits that satisfy you” you giggle.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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jungwnies · 2 months ago

Text

sfw alphabet | carlos sainz

୨ৎ : synopsis : sfw a-z alphabet for carlos sainz ୨ৎ : word count : 1311

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!

a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

very affectionate in his own way—he shows love through actions more than words.

small, consistent gestures like holding your hand, forehead kisses, or brushing your hair out of your face.

he’s affectionate daily, but it feels natural rather than overbearing.

b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

as a best friend, he’d be the funny, charming guy who always makes you laugh.

your friendship would start with banter—he’d tease you a lot but in a way that makes you feel special.

he’d invite you to casual outings, and over time, you’d become one of his closest confidants.

c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

loves to cuddle, especially after a long day or when he’s relaxed.

he’d be the type to wrap you up tightly, either spooning or with your head on his chest.

he’d stroke your back or play with your hair absentmindedly while you’re cuddling.

d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

he definitely wants to settle down eventually, but he’s not in a rush—he prefers to focus on the present.

he’s decent at cooking, with a few spanish dishes he’s mastered, but cleaning isn’t his favorite thing.

he keeps his space tidy enough but would happily let you take the lead on organizing.

e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)

he’d be honest and straightforward, sitting you down for a heartfelt conversation.

carlos would ensure you understand his reasons and would never leave you with unresolved feelings.

he’d take the blame if necessary and try to leave things on as good terms as possible.

f ⤖ fiancé (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

he’s serious about commitment and wouldn’t propose unless he was 100% sure.

carlos likes to take his time with big steps, so he wouldn’t rush into marriage, but once he’s ready, he’d be all in.

g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

very gentle both emotionally and physically.

emotionally, he listens and respects your feelings without judgment.

physically, his touches are soft and caring, always ensuring you’re comfortable.

h ⤖ hugs (does he like hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

he loves hugs, especially spontaneous ones.

he’d hug you often—quick hugs throughout the day and longer ones when he misses you or needs comfort.

his hugs are warm, firm, and reassuring, like he’s anchoring you to him.

i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)

he takes his time to say it, wanting it to feel meaningful and special.

once he’s sure of his feelings, he’d say it in a quiet, heartfelt moment—he’s not one to rush something so important.

j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

he doesn’t get jealous easily, but when he does, it’s subtle—he might get a bit quieter or extra protective.

he’d never start an argument about it but might pull you closer or ask for reassurance indirectly.

k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

his kisses are slow, intentional, and full of emotion—he doesn’t rush them.

loves kissing your forehead, cheeks, and neck, but his favorite is your lips.

he likes being kissed on his jawline or the corner of his mouth—it makes him smile every time.

l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)

he’s amazing with kids—playful and patient.

he’d joke around and play games but also knows how to be responsible when needed.

he’d love the idea of being a dad someday, but only when he feels ready.

m ⤖ morning (how are mornings spent with him?)

mornings with him are relaxed—he’s not in a rush to get out of bed.

he’d pull you closer for a cuddle before finally getting up, often sneaking in a quick kiss or two.

breakfast would either be something simple he made or an outing to his favorite café.

n ⤖ night (how are nights spent with him?)

nights with him are cozy and quiet, often spent watching a movie, sharing a glass of wine, or talking about your day.

he’d be attentive, making sure you feel loved and appreciated before bed.

o ⤖ open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

he takes time to open up, sharing pieces of himself little by little as trust builds.

he’d start with lighthearted stories but eventually share his deeper thoughts when he feels safe.

p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)

he’s incredibly patient and not easily angered.

even when frustrated, he prefers to talk things out calmly rather than letting emotions take over.

q ⤖ quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail; or is he forgetful?)

he remembers most things, especially the little quirks that make you happy or things you’ve mentioned in passing.

he’d surprise you by bringing up something you thought he’d forgotten.

r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)

his favorite moment is probably something simple yet meaningful,

like the first time you laughed at one of his silly jokes or a quiet sunset shared together.

s ⤖ security (how protective is he; how does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

he’s naturally protective, but it’s not overbearing—it’s in the way he holds your hand in a crowd or checks in on you during tough times.

he likes knowing you feel safe with him and would appreciate emotional support when he needs it, too.

t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts a lot of effort into things that matter to you—he’s thoughtful and loves planning surprises.

dates are always creative, and he remembers important anniversaries without fail.

y ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

he can be stubborn, especially when he thinks he’s right.

sometimes, he’s so focused on his career or hobbies that he might forget to check in as often as you’d like.

v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

he’s definitely mindful of his appearance—he likes looking polished and put-together.

he spends time on his hair and style but isn’t overly vain about it.

w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

he’d feel the absence deeply if you weren’t around—he values emotional connections and wouldn’t take your bond lightly.

x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon for him)

he loves sharing his culture with you—whether it’s introducing you to spanish music, cooking his favorite childhood dishes, or teaching you spanish phrases.

y ⤖ yuck (what are some things he wouldn't like; in general or in a partner?)

he dislikes dishonesty or a lack of trust in a relationship.

he’s also not a fan of overly negative attitudes or people who don’t respect his love for family.

z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

he sleeps deeply and usually sprawls out, taking up more space than he realizes.

he loves falling asleep while holding you or at least having some part of him touching you, like your hand or leg.

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bunny-jpeg · 2 months ago

Text

behaviors

carlos sainz jr

tags: smut/pwp, slutty behavior, bimbo!reader, mean!carlos, groping, teasing, rich!reader, oral sex (carlos receiving), daddy kink, chest play, hickies/bites, 1.6k words

"carlos!" you cooed as you saw him across the paddock. you gave hi a big way and he eyed you up and down. his eyes went wide when he captured the full beauty of your figure.

low cut, red t-shirt and a pleated, short skirt in the same shade. you looked like a ferrari fan, but you also looked like a total slut.

his smile grew as he said, "princess! come here!" and felt something stir in his gut with you obediently scurried towards him. like a good girl.

"come here." carlos said as he grabbed you around the waist and pulled you towards his friend. your short skirt flipped up and you felt the rough material of his jeans up against your soft ass.

"mmm, daddy." you said softly. couldn't loudly proclaim your nickname towards your lover in the middle of the paddock. they already thought you were a stupid little slut.

carlos held you by your waist and looked down at you. he kissed your soft cheek and asked, "why are you dressed like this?" he turned you to face him. his brown eyes glared into yours and you swallowed.

"i wanted to show team pride!" you chirped and carlos laughed a little. he got a quick feel of your ass and you bit back a moan.

"team pride?" he chuckled, "no, no, princess. you look like a slut this afternoon. what happened to the shirt i gave you to wear?"

you pouted, "it was so baggy! it looked like a ferrari branded potato sack!"

that was why carlos gave it to you, he didn't need his princess to walk around the track like she gave her love away for free. that was all reserved for carlos. he held his smile as he kept both strong arms around you. he kissed the top of your hear and replied, "you could've at least worn my number."

you giggled, "did you forget?" you pulled away and pushed the hem of the skirt up a little to reveal, '55' tattoo on your upper thigh. carlos' mark on you.

carlos cupped your face, "it only works if you're walking around in your panties. you need another fifty-five on your body."

the driver enabled your bratty behavior, he liked that you were so much more innocent, so soft in ways that made him yearn for you more. despite your slutty behaviors carlos was protective over you. if you were going to crave cock, it would only be is.

that night in the hotel room, carlos made sure you got your sexual fix. the wet heat of your mouth around carlos' cock was added by his groans. you were still in your slutty little outfit from the track. "mmm, pretty girl." he said, "i need to keep you locked away so you don't make men fell over each other. i don't need you to cause a crash." he pinched your cheek whule your mouth was full of him.

you wanted to say something, but your lover wouldn't let you take your mouth off of him. instead you let out a small whine and carlos' shivered.

he cooed, "all of daddy's money and he couldn't buy you a brain." he rocked against you further, his cock nudged against the back of your throat. you lost your gag reflex a long time ago. and while your mouth was great, he always yearned for something more. your alluring cunt. he could feel the hunger down to his gut as he got his cock out of your mouth and when you whined, he gave you a tap on the cheek with his painfully hard cock. "no need for that, princess. up onto me." his nickname for you was in spanish

you giggled, "you always call me that. what does it mean? you never told me." you were dumb sometimes, painfully dumb. the words were so similar, but yet it was a real head scratcher for you. carlos could be calling you a degrading name, and you'd have no clue.

carlos patted your head and said, "you're my princess." then leaned back with his hand on his cock, "and this is your throne." and gave you a smile that made you eager to get into his lap.

you got up on shaky legs and stripped quickly. you felt a rush of heat through your body while you got the skirt off. once you were naked, you got into your lover's lap. your proper throne.

"you're a good girl. just need to keep you satisfied. keep you full of me, right princess?" he remarked as you sank down onto his length. fuck you felt like heaven. pleasing your slutty cunt was a great feeling. you had the type of body that made any man addicted, and with your constant need for sex. it wouldn't hard to make any man crumble.

carlos was face to face with your pretty breasts. plush tits that made him run painfully horny. he lucked out by nabbing himself a slutty trust fund baby with zero thoughts in that little head of yours. but it was alright, carlos would always take care of you.

the ace you had was quick enough, humping against your lover like a happy little rabbit. a horny little animal. carlos bit your breasts, he bit them raw as you rode him. he left splotchy bruises all over your beautiful chest.

next time you'd wear a low-cut top. people might get an eyeful of the carlos' marks on you. "pretty slut." he groaned as he gripped your bare hips.. he met your pace, adding aggression to his movements. you bucked against his cock as your tongue stuck out a little. he kissed you tongue before he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

your brain felt malleable in a way that left you with few thoughts.

carlos groaned as he thrusted up into you. your cunt was perfect for him. you drove him crazy, made him excited all over. you were his slut, his princess.

"you need me." he groaned, "you need your daddy to keep you safe." he admired you, and was addicted to you as your soaked pussy clamped around his cock.

you nodded, "of course, daddy. i want you all the time!! especially when you're sweat from racing and when you finish inside of me." your voice sounded tight as pleasure curled through your body.

"you like when i'm all messy. you like when i'm so masculine that it makes your toes curl.'" he joked as he groped your ass once more. the amount of times he had spanked the flesh until it was bright with bruises would shock more. but not carlos. no, he knew exactly what he was doing. he knew exactly what he was doing, what he was doing to make you so turned on that it left you so needy for more, more, more! you were an insatiable creature and carlos had to make is sting for you to get your sexual fix.

you nodded like a good girl, "yes, daddy. i love it when you're all sweaty and hot. when you're running on the high of a race and bruise my pussy."

carlos groaned, "fuck, princess. you drive me crazy." his voice almost caught in his throat as he felt the strike of pleasure through him as you fucked him with a heated fever.

you panted as you bounced on his cock, "daddy, please! don't tease me like that." your noises were so pathetic and it made him hot all over. you had a way about you that drove carlos into a heated fever.

he pulled you in closer and said, "don't worry, princess. just take it all, just keep moving." then kissed you, and then the kisses got heavier and hotter.

between the kisses you moaned pathetically as you felt the pleasure control your movements. you felt like a woman possessed as you rode carlos' cock. the sight of you in his lap, your cunt taking him so well, it spurred hi to keep meeting your movements to bully his heavy cock into your sweet cunt. you felt like a dream, you looked like heaven while wrapped up in him like a dumb little slut.

he'd fuck you every chance he got, mess up your pretty body to how he liked it. he could feel the urge to climax cloud his thoughts. he kissed at your breasts once more, letting his scratchy cheek rub up against the bruises he left.

it made you moan louder as he continued to fuck you with a heated intensity. he groaned and panted heavily against your sweaty skin. both wrapped up in one another on the couch.

"daddy." you whined.

carlos gave a few more heavy thrusts as he felt the need to climax. you were panting heavily as he said, "my slutty girl." as he drilled his cock into you. he finished inside of you and left a final bite on your skin.

he kept up the pace to get you to climax as well. your noises got louder as you had it eventually wash over you. the intensity of it all made you see stars behind your eyelids as you arched your back. you clenched around him as you came. you both eventually stopped your heavy movements before the two of you made out passionately. both of you painfully sweaty and hot.

in the after glow of lush, carlos kissed your heated, sweaty face and the praise began. you may be a bit of a ditzy slut with bubblegum for a brain. but carlos adored you.

however, next time you visit the track. you'll wear something that covered a little more. <3

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orangeblossomsintheair · 3 months ago

Text

ILLICIT AFFAIRS (3/3) | CS55

summary : You shouldn’t have said anything. You really shouldn’t have. But it’s too late now. “He sent me a dildo shaped like his cock,” you mutter under your breath, so fast you almost hope she didn’t hear you.

wc : 14k

an : This might be the end of the Illicit Affairs series! Honestly I might write another part (as I intended) but I realized it could also end here. I might work it alongside a few other fics on the back burner.

The thing about Carlos is that he doesn’t tiptoe. He doesn’t hesitate.

He’s the kind of guy who walks into your life, plops down, and acts like he’s always been there.

At first, you think he’s just passing through, like one of those tumbleweeds in old Westerns. Here for a moment, gone in another, leaving only a faint memory and maybe a little dust.

But Carlos is no tumbleweed.

He’s ivy. Creeping into the corners of your life, attaching himself with relentless charm and absolutely zero warning.

At first, it had just been sex.

Carlos calls, you pick up, and the two of you dive headfirst into whatever filthy scenario he’s cooked up for the evening.

It’s hot, it’s fun, and afterwards, you both lie there catching your breath while exchanging a few words like some half-hearted attempt at aftercare.

“Good for you?” he’ll ask, panting, his voice somehow managing to sound both teasing and sincere.

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes at the ceiling. “Top ten, at least.”

He laughs. Deep, warm, addictive. “I’ll aim for top five next time.”

It’s simple. Casual. Exactly what you signed up for.

Until it’s not.

Until the minutes start to stretch.

At first, it’s just an extra five. Then ten. Then before you know it, the two of you are sitting there, chatting about absolutely nothing long after the heat of the moment has faded.

Next thing you know Carlos is reaching out for the sake of company.

It’s easy to brush it off at first.

To pretend it’s harmless.

Carlos is just a guy who’s annoyingly good at making you laugh and has a voice so smooth it could probably negotiate world peace or at least a really good discount at a used car dealership.

But then, one afternoon, as you’re scrolling through your texts, you realize something horrifying:

You talk to Carlos more than you talk to your friends.

No, scratch that. You talk to Carlos more than you talk to anyone.

And it’s not just the sheer volume. It’s the content.

It’s the way his words sneak into your day, set up camp, and throw a block party. He texts you good morning before you’ve even had coffee, which is frankly criminal.

Carlos Rise and shine, baby. Did you dream about me again?

You I dreamed I hit you with my car

Carlos Hot. Was I shirtless?

You No, but you were crying. Freaked me out

Carlos Probably because I looked so good

You should block him.

You should delete his number.

You do neither, because somewhere deep down, you’re a masochist.

He doesn’t stop at morning texts either.

He sends unsolicited opinions all day, every day.

Carlos Do you think cows ever get tired of standing?

You They sit, Carlos. They sit all the time.

Carlos Yeah, but like, emotionally? What if they’re just pretending to like grass because they’re scared of change

You What would they change to, exactly? Chicken nuggets?

Carlos Maybe. Cows could be wild carnivores waiting for their moment. We don’t know what they’re capable of.

One day, while you're halfway through a bag of chips, your phone buzzes again.

Carlos Do you think birds ever judge us for not flying?

You You need therapy

Carlos So do you, but I don’t judge

You You judge me constantly 🤨

The banter becomes relentless.

Carlos If you had to pick one food to eat for the rest of your life, what would it be?

You Pasta

Carlos Predictable. You’re so basic it physically hurts

You Pretentious words from a man whose favorite snack is probably caviar

Carlos First of all, how dare you

You You’re trash

Carlos Trash that you text back btw

Then comes the random photos.

He sends you a blurry picture of his sneakers one afternoon.

Carlos Do these make me look fast? Be honest, but also lie

You Fast to embarrass yourself

Carlos Wow. Jealousy is a disease. Get well soon

Carlos Does it change anything if I say they’re limited edition

You Limited edition ugly

He sends you a picture of his dog another day, sprawled on the couch like he pays rent.

Carlos We’ve decided to boycott walkies today.

Solidarity with my guy.

You Tell him he’s lazy

Carlos He says those are bold words from someone who hasn’t hit the gym this week

You glare at the screen. It’s 7 a.m. How does he even know that?

You Your dog is illiterate. Don’t drag him into this

Carlos Rude. He’s very smart

You He licks his own butt

He becomes a fixture in your life without you even noticing.

One morning, you’re sipping your coffee when your phone buzzes.

Carlos Did you miss me while I was asleep?

You I slept better knowing you weren’t conscious

Carlos So, you’re saying you dreamt about me

You I dreamt I moved to a remote island where Wi-Fi doesn’t exist

Carlos Romantic getaway for two. Love that for us

You groan, but your fingers are already typing a response.

And somehow, without you realizing it, Carlos isn’t just a voice on the phone or a name on your screen.

He’s everywhere, weaving himself into your days with his relentless humor and absolute refusal to leave you alone.

That’s why when a day passes by without any contact, you’re tilted off balance.

The silence is unnerving.

You tell yourself it’s just one night.

One single night where Carlos doesn’t text or call, and you should be relieved.

Grateful, even, for the reprieve from his relentless antics.

But you’re not.

You spend the evening trying not to think about it.

You scroll through Instagram, open a book, binge half a season of some random series. But every few minutes, you find yourself glancing at your phone, waiting for it to light up.

It doesn’t.

The hours crawl by, and by the time you’re lying in bed, glaring at the ceiling, you’re starting to feel… itchy. Annoyed. Frustrated. And maybe just a little bit unreasonably hurt.

Then, finally, your phone buzzes.

You grab it so fast you nearly knock it off the nightstand.

Carlos Miss me?

Your stomach does a ridiculous little flip, but you type back quickly.

You Not even a little

Carlos Liar

Another message follows: a selfie of him holding the meerkat plushie you’d sent him as a joke a week ago.

Carlos He misses you too

You groan, but your cheeks ache from smiling.

Carlos By the way

Carlos I sent you a gift

You I didn’t get a package?

Carlos Wait

Carlos Call me when you get it

You shake your head, setting your phone down.

It’s probably something stupid. Knowing Carlos, it could be anything from a ridiculous gag gift to an actual penguin.

Two days later, a package arrives.

It’s sitting on your kitchen counter, deceptively normal-looking for something that Carlos sent.

You eye it warily, debating whether you should even bother opening it.

You stare at it for a good ten minutes, arms crossed, trying to decide whether you should call him first or just dump it straight into the trash.

Eventually, curiosity (and mild fear) wins out. You grab your phone and click the topmost contact.

It rings once before he picks up.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you,” Carlos says, his voice smooth and entirely too smug.

“What the hell did you send me?” you demand without preamble.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

“Carlos.”

“Yes?”

You groan, already regretting this decision. “I swear to God, if it’s alive-”

“It’s not alive,” he interrupts.

“Then what is it?”

“Open it.”

“No,” you snap. “Because if it’s something awful, I can’t unsee it. I’m preemptively traumatized. Just tell me what it is so I can mentally prepare.”

“That’s not how surprises work,” he replies, completely unbothered.

“It’s not a surprise if I hate it,” you point out.

“You won’t hate it.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You might be pleasantly surprised,” he insists, and there’s a tone in his voice, something too smug, too amused, that makes your stomach churn with suspicion.

“Carlos,” you warn.

“Yes?”

“If this is some kind of prank-”

“It’s not a prank,” he says, cutting you off again. “It’s a gift. A thoughtful, meaningful, deeply personal gift.”

“Deeply personal?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at the box like it’s about to explode. “That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“It’s just a little something to remind you of me,” he adds, which is possibly the least reassuring thing he could have said.

You exhale sharply through your nose, setting your phone down on the counter so he can see.

His face lights up on the screen, all lazy smirks and overconfidence, and you hate the way your stomach flips at the sight of him.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, you slice through the tape with the caution of someone defusing a bomb.

Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his chin resting on his hand. “Excited?”

“I’m terrified,” you deadpan, peeling back the flaps of the box.

For a moment, you just stare.

Then, you shriek. Loudly.

“Carlos, what the fuck?!”

He leans closer to the camera, his grin widening. “You like it?”

“You sent me a dildo?!” you yell, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“Not just any dildo,” he says smugly, sitting back like he’s the king of the universe.

You stare at him, then at the object in the box, and back at him again.

It looks… normal, at first glance.

But then you notice the size. The veins. The shade.

The very specific details.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, horror dawning. “It’s your… your…”

“My cock,” he supplies helpfully. “Yep.”

“Carlos!” you screech, clutching the box like it’s cursed. “You’re a lunatic!”

“True,” he says, completely unfazed. “But admit it- you’re impressed.”

“Impressed?!” you repeat, your voice pitching even higher. “What is WRONG with you?!”

“A lot,” he admits, far too cheerfully. “But you already knew that.”

“How did you even- who does this?!”

“Visionaries,” he says smoothly. “Trendsetters. People who care deeply about customer satisfaction.”

“Customer?!”

“Well, you.”

“I am not your customer!” you yell, holding the replica aloft like it’s a cursed artifact.

Carlos is unbothered. “Technically, you are. You’ve been enjoying the original product for a while now. Or, well, the sight of it.”

You choke on air. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely thoughtful,” he corrects.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re flustered. It's very cute.”

Your jaw drops. “I am not-”

He cuts you off, grinning wider. “So, when’s the test drive?”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, setting the… thing down and burying your face in your hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“Take your time,” he says, magnanimous. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he adds, like this is a completely normal conversation.

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“I know. That’s what makes it such a great surprise,” he says, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Surprise?!” you echo. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“You’ll appreciate it later,” he says confidently.

“I will not!”

“Bet you will.”

“You need therapy,” you hiss, shoving the box away like it might explode.

“And you need lube,” he counters smoothly.

“You’re deranged!”

“Efficient,” he corrects, smirking. “In case you miss me.”

“I don’t!” you lie, your face burning.

Carlos watches you, entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re keeping it, though.”

“I am absolutely not-”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupts, his tone maddeningly smug.

“I am throwing it in the trash right now!” you declare, grabbing the box and stomping toward the trash can.

He leans closer to the camera, completely unbothered. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

You freeze, hand hovering over the trash.

“There it is,” he says smugly. “Knew you wouldn’t.”

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, stomping back to the counter and slamming the box down.

“And yet, here you are, calling me,” he points out.

“Because I needed to yell at you!”

“And now you’re smiling.”

“I am not smiling!” you yell, even as you turn away from the camera to hide the traitorous curl of your lips.

Carlos laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Admit it- you think it’s funny.”

“I think it’s horrifying!”

“You’re laughing on the inside.”

“I’m plotting your murder on the inside,” you snap.

“Sure, sure,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “So. Again. When are you trying it out?”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Liar,” he says again, his grin positively devilish.

Before you can come up with a response, he adds, “Just make sure to let me know how it compares to the real thing. For science.”

“You’re insane,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and ending the call with a vicious jab.

Seconds later, your phone buzzes with a text.

Carlos Don’t forget lube, babe. You’re gonna need it. ;)

You stare at the screen, your cheeks burning.

Carlos And batteries. Unless you want to do it the old-fashioned way. Your call.

You want to throw the phone, the box, and maybe yourself out the nearest window.

You Blocked

Carlos Bad girl.

—

Carlos has this way of getting under your skin. Not in an infuriating, "I can’t believe I’m dealing with this" kind of way, but more in the likes of "Why do I secretly enjoy this ridiculousness?"

It starts with a string of increasingly pathetic messages.

Carlos Please?

Carlos Just once?

Carlos I take that back.

Carlos Twice? Maybe even thrice

Carlos C’mon, I’ll be good

Carlos I’m literally begging here

Carlos On my knees

Carlos Pathetically btw

Carlos Do you need a photo for proof?

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of your head.

You Carlos, we are not doing this again

Carlos You say that

Carlos But I feel like deep down you want to. You’re just being stubborn

He replies instantly, because of course he’s sitting there, waiting for your response like his life depends on it.

“Stubborn,” you deadpan, fingers hovering over your phone. “Sure. That’s definitely it.”

And then he hits you with a voice note, because apparently texts alone can’t convey his desperation.

You don’t even mean to open it, but your thumb slips, and suddenly there he is, using that tone that he knows gets to you.

"Just once," he begs, words spilling out of your speakers like some lovesick fool. "I swear I’ll make it worth your time. Please. I just wanna watch you take me again."

You know you shouldn’t.

It’s ridiculous, bordering on embarrassing.

But then you picture his face, probably flushed, probably biting his lip in that way that always gets to you, and against your better judgment, you cave.

You Fine. But just this once

Carlos I love you

Carlos You’re the best

Carlos I’m naming my firstborn after you

You Just call me

Carlos Yes ma'am 🥰

When the call connects, you're met with the sight of Carlos lounging on his couch looking very much the part of a man who's won an impossible bet.

One arm is draped lazily over the backrest, laptop balanced on his thighs.

The soft glow from the screen highlights the sharp angles of his jawline and the shadow of stubble that you know feels just as delicious as it looks.

The smirk that he wears is devastating. An expression of smug satisfaction that makes your pulse race even as you curse him for it.

His shirt clings to his broad chest, the undone buttons teasing you with a glimpse of hard lines across tanned skin.

His eyes are locked onto you.

There’s heat in them, hunger.

He’s relaxed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him, the way he’s barely holding himself back.

And you?

You’re perched on your bed, knees tucked beneath you, completely bare.

The dildo lies heavy in your hand, the silicone cool against your flushed skin.

The sheer indecency of it sends a rush of heat through you, making your thighs clench.

Carlos smirks, his hand disappearing offscreen for a moment, only to return with a slow stroke along his already hard cock.

He leans forward slightly, the movement drawing your eyes to the way his length twitches in his hand.

For someone who was shamelessly begging just minutes ago, Carlos is playing it way too cool now.

“Naked on your bed, holding a mold of my dick,” he says, his voice smooth like it’s a damn sales pitch. “I mean, come on. That’s the kind of devotion poets write sonnets about.”

You snort, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks heat up. “Oh, yeah. Shakespeare totally had this in mind when he wrote, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day.’”

“Exactly. I’m a classic, baby. Timeless.”

“Delusional,” you counter, grabbing the bottle of lube with way more force than necessary.

His laugh is low and warm, the kind that annoyingly makes your stomach flip. “Call it what you want, but you didn’t say no to my ‘gift.’”

Your glare falters, just for a second, and he catches it immediately. Carlos thrives on cracks in your armor, and his smirk sharpens like a predator who just spotted its prey.

You glare at the bottle in your hand like it personally wronged you. "I hate you," you mutter, squeezing out a glob of lube.

Carlos's face lights up on the screen, all smug satisfaction and unearned charm. "Funny, because you're doing exactly what I asked. Almost like you want to."

"Don’t push your luck,”

He leans closer to his camera, his grin widening. "Oh, pushing my luck is my favorite hobby. You know this."

You level him with a deadpan stare. "And yet, here you are. Still single."

"Wow. Low blow. But fine, I'll allow it, because you're about to make my night."

"Make your night?" You scoff, dragging this out purely to annoy him. "I’m just trying to remember what this was called. A gag gift, right? Or was it just a waste of money?"

His jaw drops. "A gag gift? I can’t believe you’d say that. This is art."

"This is silicone," you reply flatly, holding up the toy with a disapproving shake of your head.

"Silicone art," he corrects, pointing at the screen like that changes anything. His grin sharpens. "And don’t pretend you weren’t curious the moment I sent it to you."

"You sent this to annoy me," you retort, spreading the lube over your fingers with dramatic flair. "And congratulations, it worked."

Carlos leans forward, his chin propped on his hand as he watches you, his dark eyes glittering with mischief.

"Oh, but look at you now. All lubed up and ready to go. Who's the real winner here, hmm?"

"Still me," you shoot back, though your fingers falter as you glance down at the toy.

Your grip tightens as if it’s a stress ball, and the obscene squelch it makes has you biting back a groan.

Carlos’s smirk grows. "Careful, sweetheart. You keep squeezing it like that, and I’ll think you’re practicing for something."

You let out a sharp breath through your nose, refusing to look at him. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

He leans in even closer. "And you’re still here. Lube in hand. Ready to-"

"Don’t finish that sentence," you interrupt, finally looking up to glare at him. "I’ll block you."

Carlos snickers, leaning back like he’s won. "You’d never block me. I’m your favorite pain in the ass."

"No," you say, grabbing the toy with more force than necessary. "You're just a pain in the ass in general. Huge difference."

His brow arches as he watches you spread the lube along the length of the toy, the slick sound louder than your ego can handle. You freeze mid-motion, hyper-aware of his gaze tracking every movement.

Carlos’s grin falters for a moment, replaced by something darker, hungrier. His voice drops an octave. "Good girl."

The unexpected praise punches the air out of your lungs, and your hands falter, nearly dropping the toy.

"Keep going," he murmurs, his tone rich with satisfaction. His eyes don’t leave yours, the heat in them curling low in your stomach. "Let me see you do it."

Your pride flares, and you straighten your spine, lifting your chin as you resume your movements with exaggerated precision.

"You’re lucky I don’t throw this thing across the room," you grumble.

Carlos hums, his gaze shamelessly lingering. "You wouldn’t dare. That thing cost more than your dignity."

"Bold words for someone whose dignity died in 2016," you snap, but the banter feels more like a lifeline now, a way to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze.

The corner of his mouth lifts, cocky and infuriating. "Touché."

You inhale sharply, your hands trembling slightly as you grip the toy.

You hate how your body reacts to him, how his voice, his laugh, his everything gets under your skin like this.

Carlos leans forward again, his smirk all-knowing. "Having fun yet?"

Your pride makes you glare at him. “Fuck you.”

His laugh is low, indulgent, the sound curling around you like smoke. "Soon, sweetheart. Very soon."

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he fires back smoothly, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent.

His voice drops to a growl. "But you won’t, will you? You’ll do exactly what I say because you love being told what to do. Makes you wet just thinking about it, doesn’t it?"

Your lips part, but the sharp retort you’re trying to form dies as his gaze drops to your hands.

His smirk fades, replaced by a hunger so fierce it leaves you breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction.

The unexpected praise sends a rush of heat straight to your core. "Keep going. Let me see you do it."

Your fingers tremble as you continue spreading lube on the length of the toy, the silicone cool against your skin.

“Fuck,” Carlos breathes, his hand tightening around his cock. “Look at you, already so obedient. Knew you’d listen.”

He shifts slightly, his voice softening. “Now, spread those legs for me. Show me how wet you are. I want to see that pretty pussy you’ve been thinking about me filling.”

Your thighs part, the cool air brushing against your slick heat as you settle back against the pillows.

His sharp inhale through the speakers sends a jolt straight to your core.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice strained.

His hand pauses on his cock as he drinks in the sight of you, dark eyes dragging over every inch of exposed skin. "You’re so fucking perfect. Do you even realize how bad I want to bury myself in you right now?"

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat spreading from your cheeks to your chest as the ache between your thighs sharpens with every passing second of his unrelenting stare.

Slowly, you drag the toy through your folds, the soft, slick sound of your arousal breaking the tense silence.

It’s obscene, the way the wetness clings, glistening on the head of the silicone.

Your arousal drips along your thighs, the skin glistening under the low light and you can feel how messy you’ve become, how utterly soaked you are.

"Oh, sweetheart," he rasps, his eyes fixed on the toy and the way it slides against your swollen folds. "That's it. Get it nice and wet for me. I want to see just how desperate you are to take it."

Your fingers tremble as you position the toy at your entrance, the blunt tip pressing against your slick heat. You hesitate, glancing up at him through the screen.

“Carlos…”

“Go on, baby,” he urges, his tone soft but insistent. “Don’t make me wait. I want to see you take it.”

You bite your lip, a soft whine escaping as you slide the tip between your folds again. His gaze darkens, his strokes faltering as he watches you hover above it.

The moment the dildo breaches the first ring of muscles, your head falls back with a moan that’s nothing short of sinful.

Carlos’s eyes burn through the screen, dark and wild, his fist sliding steadily up and down his cock as he watches you begin to move.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough and needy. “You’re so fucking tight. That little pussy is made for me, isn’t it?”

You whimper, your hips starting to bounce, your slick heat making it easier to slide up and down. The toy stretches you so perfectly, but it’s his words that send fire shooting through your veins.

“Yes,” you gasp, gripping the bed to keep your balance. “It’s yours, Carlos. Always yours.”

“Damn right it is,” he growls, stroking himself faster. “You'd rather have me inside you, stretching you out, making you scream my name, hm? Doesn't matter if it's a mold from my cock. Still can't compare, yeah?”

Your hips jerk at his filthy words, and you pick up the pace, grinding down harder until the toy presses right against that spot that makes you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice dripping with dominance. “Say how much you want my cock, baby. Tell me what you miss.”

“I miss you,” you cry out, each bounce making your voice tremble. “Miss the way you fill me up, how fucking deep you get- oh god, Carlos-”

“That’s my girl,” he groans, his jaw tightening as he watches the way your body moves, the slick sounds of the dildo sliding in and out of you driving him insane.

“You’d take me so good, wouldn’t you? Let me fuck you until you can’t even think, until you’re dripping all over my cock.”

“Please,” you whine, your fingers digging into the sheets as the pleasure builds, your body tightening around the toy with every bounce. “I need it. Need you to fuck me, Carlos. Need to feel you come inside me-”

“Shit,” he growls, his hips jerking up into his hand. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Feeling me stretch you open, filling you so full you’d still be dripping with me the next day.”

Your head is spinning, the combination of his words and the relentless drag of the dildo inside you sending you spiraling closer to the edge.

“You’d let me do whatever I want, wouldn’t you?” His voice is a low, dirty rasp now, his strokes frantic as he chases his release. “You’d let me bend you over, fuck you on every surface in the house, make you come over and over until you’re begging me to stop.”

You nod desperately.

“Go faster, baby” Carlos murmurs, his voice low and rough.

You whimper, obeying.

Each downward motion stretches you all over again, and the fullness makes your eyes flutter shut as a moan spills from your lips.

Carlos’s growl cuts through the speakers, low and rough. “You look so pretty fucking yourself on it like that.”

You lift yourself just enough for the toy to drag along your walls, the friction igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through you.

When you sink back down, the stretch feels even deeper. Your thighs tremble, your pace picking up as the need builds inside you.

“Fuck,” Carlos groans. “Your tits are bouncing so perfectly. Keep going, baby, let me see them move while you ride it.”

Your breasts sway with each bounce, the motion only adding to the heat pooling low in your belly.

The way his eyes lock onto you, dark, hungry, devouring, makes your nipples pebble, the cool air only amplifying the sensation.

“You look so fucking good,” Carlos murmurs, half mindless, his strokes on his cock quickening as he watches you. “Look at how deep it’s stretching you. Look at the way your tits bounce every time you take it. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

You can’t stop now, the pleasure too much to ignore.

Your hips grind down harder, rolling in small circles as you press yourself against the base of the toy.

Each motion sends shocks of ecstasy through you, your slick heat gripping the silicone like you never want it to leave.

“Bounce on it harder,” he says.

Your hands grip the sheets tightly as you obey, your hips lifting and dropping with more urgency.

The wet, obscene sound of the toy sliding in and out of you fills the room, mixing with your soft gasps and moans. Your breasts bounce with every movement, and you feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

“Baby,” Carlos groans, his fist tightening around his cock as he watches you ride the toy. “You’re so fucking perfect. You’d ride me just like that, wouldn’t you? Taking every inch, letting me stretch you open until you can’t handle it.”

Your breath catches, your body arching as you grind down harder, the toy hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “Carlos,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “It feels so good- so fucking full-”

“That’s it,” he growls, his strokes turning frantic as he watches you lose yourself. “Take it all, baby. Keep bouncing. I want to see you come while you’re stretched out like that.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling as you grind harder, your cries turning into broken moans. “Carlos, I’m- fuck, I’m gonna come-”

“Do it,” he growls, his eyes locked on you, his voice pure command. “Come for me, baby. I want to see it. Show me how fucking good I make you feel.”

Your body shatters at his words, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clench around the toy, your cries spilling out uncontrollably as pleasure courses through you.

“Fucking hell,” Carlos groans, his own release hitting him hard as he watches you fall apart. His hand jerks wildly as he spills over himself, his groans mixing with your whimpers through the screen.

As you both come down, the air is thick and charged, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. Carlos grins at you, looking like the devil himself, his chest still heaving.

“Pretty girl.”

—-

Carlos’s phone is propped up against his water bottle, the screen showing you on the other end of the line as the two of you talk over lunch.

He’s at a small café near the gym, picking at a plate of grilled chicken and rice while you sit on the terrace of a restaurant somewhere near the Monaco Marina.

He can’t tell which restaurant exactly, but it doesn’t matter. He’s too focused on the way the sunlight catches in your hair, how you’re picking at a croissant with absentminded precision.

“So, wait,” you say, mid-bite. “You’re telling me you thought you could just wing the French?”

Carlos grins, popping a spoonful into his mouth. “I did wing it. The waiter understood me perfectly.”

“Sure,” you deadpan. “Because pointing at the menu is such a skill.”

He chuckles, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Why complicate things? A man’s gotta eat.”

You shake your head, your exasperation half-hearted at best. “You’re hopeless.”

“Worked, didn't it?” he counters smoothly, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You roll your eyes but don’t argue, which feels like a victory.

For a moment, the conversation drifts to lighter topics.

Where you’d want to travel next, the chaos of his morning workout, and whether or not croissants count as dessert.

It’s easy, effortless, the kind of back-and-forth that feels like second nature.

But then you glance down, suddenly fidgeting with your sleeve, and Carlos picks up on the shift immediately.

“What’s that face?” he asks, leaning forward, curiosity laced in his tone.

You pause, debating, then sigh. “Can I tell my friends about this?”

Carlos blinks. “This?”

“Us,” you say, casually, but the word lands heavier than you probably realize.

He freezes for a split second, his mind stalling like a rookie stalling a car on the grid.

Us.

You don't mean it in the way that’s currently making his chest feel too tight, but it doesn’t stop the word from echoing in his head.

You take another bite of your croissant like you haven’t just derailed his entire thought process.

“Legally? No.” he says, recovering with a smirk. “You’re under NDA. You can’t even mention I exist.”

Your eyes narrow. “Carlos, no one cares that much about you.”

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

You shake your head, your expression flat. “Be serious. Is it okay or not?”

He leans back, draping an arm over his chair and studying you with an unreadable expression.

The truth is, he should say no. He should remind you how much he values his privacy, how careful he has to be.

But the thought of you talking about him, to your friends, no less, makes him feel... proud. Like he’s somehow made it onto a list of people who matter to you.

“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice casual. “Go ahead.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

You narrow your eyes, clearly suspicious. “You’re not going to show up at my door with legal threats if I say something stupid?”

“Not unless it’s really stupid,” he teases.

Your unimpressed stare makes him grin wider. “You’re annoying,” you mutter, but your tone lacks any real bite.

“You love me though,” he counters easily.

He watches as your face softens, just for a moment, and something about it makes his heart stutter in a way he’d never admit.

“You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head.

“And you like it,” he fires back, his voice light, though there’s a trace of sincerity underneath it.

The conversation shifts again, and by the time you glance at your watch, he’s already dreading the inevitable.

“I should go,” you say, reaching for your coffee cup.

“Busy?”

“Not really,” you admit, but you’re already sitting straighter, ready to leave.

Carlos hesitates, leaning forward slightly. “Hey.”

You pause, looking up at him expectantly.

“Call me again tomorrow,” he says, softer this time.

Your brow lifts, a flicker of curiosity crossing your face. “Why?”

He shrugs, fighting the grin threatening to take over. “I like hearing your voice.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, you’re about to call him out on it.

But then you roll your eyes, hiding a smile that he doesn’t miss.

“Goodbye, Carlos,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for the screen.

The call ends, and Carlos sits back in his chair, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he stares at the now-empty screen.

Us.

—-

It’s the bimonthly girlfriend meet-up, and Kika’s already locked onto you like a heat-seeking missile.

“So, there’s this guy,” you say casually, swirling your wine like this isn’t about to become the most chaotic conversation of your week.

Her brow arches, her smirk appearing like she’s just been handed premium-grade gossip.

“Oh?” she says, leaning in.

“Yes,” you reply, taking a slow sip from your glass, because wine is courage, and you need a lot of it right now.

“Tell me more,” she says, her tone deceptively sweet, like a predator coaxing its prey closer.

You hesitate. There’s no way you’re telling her the guy in question is Carlos Sainz.

That would be insane. Absolutely unhinged.

One, because it’s Carlos Sainz.

Two, because it’s Carlos fucking Sainz.

“We’ve been… hooking up,” you say vaguely, hoping to skate by with minimal detail.

Kika narrows her eyes. “Hooking up? Where? I haven’t seen you at the club scene lately, and I definitely haven’t heard from Charles about you sneaking out.”

You blink at her. “Why would Charles know- wait. Are you spying on me?”

“No,” she says breezily, waving a hand. “But Charles knows everything about you. If you were sneaking around Monaco with a guy, I’d know by now.”

Kika tilts her head, studying you. “So if it’s not a local guy…”

She pauses. Then her eyes widen. “Oh my God. Is it a long-distance thing? Is this why you’ve been all ‘mysterious vibes’ lately?”

You sigh, realizing you’re caught. “It’s phone sex, okay?”

Kika blinks. “Phone sex?”

“Yes,” you say, downing the rest of your wine in one gulp. “We’re doing… phone stuff.”

She hums, sitting back, her gaze calculating. “It’s a famous guy, isn’t it?”

“What?!” you sputter. “How did you- why would you even-”

“Ma’am, look at you.” She gestures at you like you’re an exhibit at the Louvre. “You’re gorgeous. You’re you. Why would you ever settle for phone sex unless it’s, like, some Vogue model or an A-lister who’s too busy jet-setting to see you in person?”

“That’s ridiculous,” you say, trying to laugh her off, but it sounds more like a dying animal.

Her grin turns absolutely wicked, the kind of wicked that makes you instantly regret ever letting her into your life. “Oh, so it is a famous guy. You just gave yourself away. Who is it? Spill.”

“I did not!” you protest, but it’s weak. Too weak.

Kika hums, tapping a finger on her chin as she tilts her head. “Hmm. Let me think. Is it an actor? A musician? Oh my God, is it Harry Styles? Blink once for yes.”

“Kika-”

“Wait!” She gasps, cutting you off and slapping the table. “Is it a prince? Are you pulling a Meghan Markle? Are we about to be royalty by proxy?”

“Kika!” you hiss, glaring at her as a nearby table turns to look at the commotion.

“Okay, okay, fine. I'll behave.”

“But,” she adds, holding up a finger and wagging it at you, “you can’t just stop there. I want details. Stories. Anecdotes. What have you two done other than, like, phone sex? That can’t be it, right? Kick it up a notch. Spice things up.”

Your face burns, and you take a long, slow sip of your drink, desperately trying to buy time. “We… talk.”

Kika stares at you, unimpressed. “Talk? Oh, please. You’re telling me a man calls you up just to talk?”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Sometimes.”

Her grin turns sharper. “And the other times?”

You look away, pretending to be fascinated by the texture of the tablecloth.

“Oh no,” she says, leaning in like a predator cornering its prey. “You’re not getting out of this. What does he say? What does he do? Don’t make me guess because I will make it a thousand times worse.”

You groan, your head falling into your hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I care about you,” she says sweetly, patting your hand before grinning again. “Now spill. What’s the wildest thing he’s done so far? Flown you out to a private island? Sent you a love letter written in champagne? What are we working with here?”

You hesitate. You know telling her anything will only fuel her chaos, but at this point, it feels like you don’t have a choice.

“Fine,” you mumble. “He, um… he sent me a… package.”

You take a long sip of your wine, trying to ignore Kika’s razor-sharp gaze burning into the side of your face.

You shouldn’t have said anything. You really shouldn’t have.

But it’s too late now.

“He sent me a dildo shaped like his cock,” you mutter under your breath, so fast you almost hope she didn’t hear you.

Kika chokes on her wine. Full-on chokes. She’s sputtering, clutching her chest as her eyes go wide.

Meanwhile, you calmly sip your drink, staring at some random painting on the wall like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen.

“WHAT?!” she finally manages, her voice about three octaves higher than usual.

“I’m not saying it again,” you reply coolly, refusing to meet her gaze.

“He sent you a-” she starts, and then bursts into laughter so loud half the restaurant turns to look at your table.

You shoot her a glare, shushing her. “Could you not announce it to the entire world?”

“Oh my God,” she wheezes, clutching her stomach. “Mr. Mystery sent you a dildo shaped like his cock?!”

You take another sip of wine, your cheeks burning. “It was… thoughtful.”

“THOUGHTFUL?!” she howls. “He’s out here like, ‘What’s a practical gift? Ah, yes, my dick!’”

“It’s not a big deal,” you mumble into your hands, praying the floor will swallow you whole.

“Not a big- ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” She’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe.

“Kika,” you hiss, kicking her under the table.

“That’s so romantic,” she says, ignoring you entirely. “Forget flowers. Forget jewelry. Nothing says love like, ‘Here’s my dick. In case you miss me.’”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Are you kidding? This is the best thing you’ve ever told me,” she says, still grinning like a lunatic.

She leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do you… do you keep it on your nightstand? Like, right next to your lamp? Is it displayed like a trophy? Maybe on one of those little velvet stands?”

“Kika!” you hiss, glancing around the café as if someone might overhear this absolute chaos.

Her laughter crescendos, attracting a few curious stares from nearby tables. She waves them off with a flick of her wrist, too far gone to care.

“No, seriously, I need to know. Oh God, imagine if you lose it. Like, it’s just missing one day and you’re crawling around under your couch yelling, ‘Mr. Mystery, where’s your dick?!’”

You groan, your head dropping into your hands. “Can you be serious for one second?”

She sucks in a breath, fanning herself like she’s about to faint. “Okay, okay. Serious. Totally serious. I’m done. Promise.”

You peek at her through your fingers, skeptical. “You sure?”

She nods, biting her lip to stifle another laugh. “Totally. Except… I have one more question.”

You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling like it might grant you patience. “What now?”

She leans in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is it… accurate?”

You freeze, horrified. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” she cries, grabbing your arm before you can stand. She’s laughing again, her grip on your sleeve shaking with the force of it. “Come on, I’m kidding! Mostly. But seriously. Is it accurate? Like, should we call MythBusters?”

You gape at her, flabbergasted. “Why would I answer that?”

“Because I’m dying to know!” she says, eyes gleaming.

You shake her off and reach for your bag. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” she fires back, wagging a finger at you like a smug prosecutor. “Which makes me think it’s very accurate.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown this glass of wine at you.”

“Please,” she scoffs, twirling her straw. “You’d never waste good wine. Now, answer me. Did he measure it himself, or do you think there was a mold involved? Like, did he sit there in some science lab with a team of experts, being all, ‘Make sure you get the angle right!’?”

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face again.

The two of you quiet down as a waiter approaches your little corner.

It’s quiet for a moment—mercifully quiet.

Kika is vibrating with barely restrained laughter, and you’re praying she doesn’t lose it while he’s standing there.

The waiter sets down your plates, refills your glasses, and gives Kika a quick, confused glance because she’s shaking like a malfunctioning washing machine.

You smile at him—tight, polite, please don’t ask questions, I beg you—and he wisely scurries off.

The second he’s out of earshot, Kika slams her hands on the table, rattling the cutlery. “Let me see it.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. “What?! No!”

“Why not?” she demands, like this is a perfectly reasonable request.

“Why not? Because we’re in a crowded restaurant, that’s why!” you hiss, clutching your purse like it’s a medieval chastity belt.

She leans forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you’re saying there’s a non-crowded situation where you’d show me?”

“That’s not what I said!”

She smirks. “Sure, but you didn’t not say it.”

“Kika, I swear to God-”

“Just one peek,” she pleads, like she’s asking for a bite of your dessert. “Under the table. No one will even notice!”

“Under the- what are you, a contraband dealer?” you whisper-yell. “This is not a shady back-alley dildo exchange!”

She grins, undeterred. “So, what does it look like? Is it… metallic?”

You freeze. “Why would it be metallic?!”

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s fancy. Maybe it’s, like, a collector’s item.”

“It’s not a lightsaber, Kika!”

She gasps, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God. Does it light up?!”

“No!”

“Are you sure?” she presses, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe it has LEDs. You know, for… ambiance.”

—

Kika’s obsession with the whole thing also refuses to let up. She knows, and worse, she loves knowing.

It starts small: innocent comments here and there, teasing questions she doesn’t expect you to answer.

But over time, her nosiness evolves into full-blown meddling. She’s not just curious. She’s invested.

And one day, it all comes to a head.

Kika cracks.

Or rather, her big mouth does.

“This is too good,” she hisses over the phone like she’s smuggling state secrets. “I can’t keep it to myself any longer.”

You drop your sandwich mid-bite, the mayo squelching onto the table. “What the hell do you mean you can’t keep it to yourself?”

“This secret,” she says, as if it’s physically weighing her down. “It’s eating me alive. I can’t keep it anymore.”

You groan. “Kika, we’ve talked about this. It’s not your secret to keep.”

“Which is exactly why I need to tell someone!” she snaps, like that’s a logical leap. “It’s not mine! It’s yours! I’m just... borrowing it, and now I’m returning it to the universe.”

“That’s not how secrets work,” you deadpan, rubbing your temples.

“I need to tell someone! Please, let me tell Alex,” she begs, her voice desperate, like she’s asking for kidney donation approval.

You choke. You actually choke, sputtering on your words like a broken engine. “Are you insane? Have you lost what little is left of your mind?”

“She’s so cool! She won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Kika’s tone is sunny, like she’s campaigning for Alex to win Best Confidant of the Year. “She loves secrets! She’s a vault!”

“She’s my brother’s girlfriend! My. Brother’s. Girlfriend.” You emphasize each word like you’re explaining calculus to a toddler.

“And a great secret keeper regardless of who she’s dating!” She chirps, undeterred.

“She’s dating my brother,” you hiss, as if saying it will drive the point home in her thick skull, pacing across your room like a caged animal. “Do you not see the problem here?”

“I see no problem,” she says brightly. “Alex is the Fort Knox of secrets. She’ll take this to her grave.”

“She’ll take it to my brother,” you counter, jabbing the air with your finger even though she can’t see you. “And then my brother will take it to my mom, and then my mom will take it to church, and next thing you know, I’m being exorcised for sins of the phone!”

Kika laughs, the kind of laugh that means she’s not taking you seriously at all. “Don’t be dramatic. Your mom would faint.”

“Kika!” you hiss, lowering your voice even though no one else is in the room. “If you tell her, I swear to God, I’ll... I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Call Mr. Mystery and complain about me?” Her grin is practically audible.

“Yes, and he’ll agree with me!” you snap, clutching your phone so tightly it’s a miracle it doesn’t crack. “Because this is not a group project!”

“Okay, okay!” She gasps, wheezing like she just finished a marathon. “I won’t tell her! I swear!”

You pause, narrowing your eyes even though she can’t see you. “Wait. Really?”

“No,” she says flatly, so matter-of-fact you feel your brain short-circuit. “I’m absolutely telling her. She’s going to lose her mind.”

You let out a shriek so loud your upstairs neighbor thumps on the floor in retaliation. “Kika, if you even breathe a word”

“Just picture it!” she interrupts, steamrolling over your protest. You can hear her bouncing on her bed. “I’ll text her right now. Something casual, like, ‘Hey Alex, you’re never going to believe-’”

“Fine!” you snap, throwing yourself onto the bed so hard the mattress squeaks in protest. “Fine, just tell her! But we do it in the next meet-up! I have to be present to keep your unruly mouth shut!”

Kika lets out an unholy squeal, the kind that makes dogs two blocks over start barking. You yank the phone away from your ear, grimacing.

“This is the best day of my life,” she announces, and you can practically hear her smirk.

“This is the worst day of mine,” you counter, dragging a pillow over your face and screaming into it.

“Relax,” she says breezily. You hear the telltale sound of typing. “Alex is going to eat this up. She loves a little drama.”

You lower the pillow just enough to breathe. “This isn’t drama. This is my life unraveling because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh, please. You’re being dramatic,” she says, her tone so casual you almost throw your phone across the room. “It’s not like we're sending the story to Charles. That would be a scandal.”

You sit bolt upright. “Kika, I swear to all that is holy, if this gets back to him-”

“It won’t!” she chirps. “Unless Alex tells him. But she won’t. Probably.”

“Probably?!” Your voice cracks, and you claw at your scalp like you’re trying to yank out the stress by the roots.

“She’s trustworthy! You trust her, right?” Kika says, still typing away.

“No! I don’t trust anyone!” you shout, rolling onto your stomach and pounding your fists into the mattress. “Least of all you!”

Kika laughs so hard she starts coughing. “Oh, you’ll thank me for this one day,” she chokes out between wheezes.

“Unlikely,” you mutter.

“Anyway, gotta go! I’ll let you know if Alex is available next week,” Kika says brightly, and then the call ends before you can respond.

You stare at your phone in silence, a deep sense of dread pooling in your stomach.

Mistakes were made. By you. Specifically by trusting Kika with anything.

—

The restaurant is stupidly fancy, the kind of place where the bread basket comes with a backstory and the waiters judge you if you butter too enthusiastically.

You sit on the terrace, the Mediterranean sparkling behind you like a postcard that refuses to let you forget how expensive everything is.

Your table has a perfect view of the marina, where billionaires are essentially playing a game of “whose yacht is bigger.”

Not that you’re paying attention.

Alex and Kika are too busy ruining your life for you to focus on anything else.

Alex is halfway through her sea bass when you drop the bomb.

She freezes, her knife poised mid-cut, before her hand falls to the table.

Her fork clatters onto the porcelain plate, loud enough to make a few patrons turn their heads.

You wince, sinking lower in your chair.

Across from you, Kika sips her champagne, completely unbothered. She smirks, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“You’re kidding,” Alex says, eyes wide with disbelief.

Kika doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, she’s not kidding,” she says, swirling her glass lazily. “She’s dead serious.”

You squirm under Alex’s gaze, picking at your lobster ravioli like it might swallow you whole if you wish hard enough. “It’s not a big deal,” you mumble.

Alex snorts, an uncharacteristically undignified sound for someone who normally looks like she belongs on the cover of Vogue.

“Not a big deal?” she repeats, her voice rising just enough to make you glance nervously at the tables around you.

“Shut it. People are going to hear,” you hiss.

“Oh, darling,” Kika cuts in, her grin widening. “If people heard, they’d ask for more details. Probably start taking notes.”

Alex ignores her, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table, etiquette be damned.

“You’re telling me you’ve been having phone sex with some elite celebrity and it’s ‘not a big deal?’”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Can we not call it that?”

“What would you prefer?” Kika asks, her eyes practically sparkling. “Verbal intimacy? Oral storytelling?”

“I hate you both,” you mutter.

Alex waves her off, laser-focused on you. “And the… gift?” she asks, voice dripping with disbelief. “Are we glossing over the fact that he sent you a dildo?”

“It was thoughtful,” Kika offers, deadpan, before taking another sip of champagne.

“Stop helping,” you snap at her.

“I mean, really,” Alex continues, ignoring the interruption. “The man is rich, probably gorgeous to somehow convince you to give him a chance, could maybe have anyone he wants- and he’s doing phone sex with you?”

You glare at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You know what I mean,” she says, brushing off your sarcasm. “Why would he go through all this effort unless-” She stops, her eyes narrowing slightly like she’s just cracked the Da Vinci Code.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” you ask, already dreading whatever is coming next.

“That man is in love with you,” Alex declares, her tone final, like she’s just announced a royal decree.

You choke on air, coughing so violently that Kika reaches over to thump your back, more amused than concerned. “He is not in love with me!” you wheeze.

“He absolutely is,” Alex insists, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“That’s a huge leap,” you argue, waving your hands in front of you. “How do you get ‘in love’ from… from phone sex and-” You gesture vaguely. “Other things?”

Alex doesn’t blink. “He’s a famous athlete, right?”

“Sure,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “So?”

“So,” she says, leaning forward, “he’s settling for phone sex instead of hooking up with someone in person? That doesn’t happen unless he’s in love.”

“It’s not settling!” you argue, flailing slightly. “It’s convenient! We have an NDA; it’s low effort!”

“Low effort?” Alex raises an eyebrow. “More low effort than walking into a club and taking his pick of willing women?”

“Well… yeah!”

Kika cackles, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh, babe. You really think you’re less effort? That’s adorable.”

You glare at her, but Alex presses on, relentless. “Does he do this with anyone else?”

“How would I know that?” you snap.

“Ask him,” Alex says simply, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh, come on,” Kika says, grinning. “Just casually drop it into conversation. ‘Hey, Mr. Mystery, quick question: am I your only long-distance dirty talk partner, or is this a group activity?’”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m not asking him that.”

“Why not?” Alex demands, cutting into her sea bass like this conversation isn’t actively ruining your life. “If it’s no big deal, he won’t mind. And if he does mind, well…” She trails off, her smirk infuriatingly smug.

“Then you’ll know he’s in love with you!” Kika chimes in, practically bouncing in her seat.

“Or he’ll think I’m insane,” you shoot back.

Alex shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Either way, it’s good information to have.”

You sit back in your chair, glaring at the two of them as they sip their champagne like this is the most entertaining lunch they’ve ever had.

“You two are the worst,” you mutter.

Kika raises her glass in a mock toast. “To Mr. Mystery and his poor, emotionally repressed heart.”

Alex clinks her glass against Kika’s with a soft laugh. “And to you,” she adds, “the object of his inconvenient affections.”

You consider grabbing their glasses and chucking them into the marina, but that would only prove their point.

Instead, you stab your ravioli with far more force than necessary, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.

Mistakes. So many mistakes.

—

You can’t stop thinking about it.

Carlos. In love with you.

The concept is so utterly ridiculous you actually laugh to yourself, out loud, like a complete maniac.

Because Carlos isn’t in love with you.

That’s not how this works. Carlos doesn’t do “love.” Carlos doesn’t do you.

Well, okay, he does you in certain… contexts, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Carlos is like a human golden retriever with too much charm for his own good.

He’s nice to everyone. He flirts with everyone. He probably gives everyone those stupid lingering looks that make your knees go weak.

He doesn’t fall in love. And if he did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be with you.

But the thought won’t leave your brain. It’s set up camp there, pitching a tent and roasting marshmallows over the fire of your own self-doubt.

And then the photo happens.

It’s a normal day.

Quiet. Peaceful, even.

You’re in bed scrolling through your phone, feeling pretty good about life.

You’ve got coffee on the nightstand, a blanket wrapped around you, and a vague sense of superiority because you haven’t thought about Carlos in at least six hours.

Then his face pops up on your feed.

Carlos, golden and gorgeous, lounging on a yacht like he’s auditioning for a Bond movie. He’s shirtless, of course. Because of course he is. The sun catches in his hair, and his jawline looks so sharp it could cut glass.

You don’t even blink.

You’re too used to this by now. This is just Carlos being Carlos.

But then you see her.

The girl.

She’s pressed up against him, all long legs and glossy hair and perfect teeth. She’s laughing, her hand resting casually, possessively, on his chest like it’s hers to touch.

Your stomach does something horrifying, like it’s trying to fold in on itself.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. This is normal. Carlos is always surrounded by beautiful women. This means nothing.

But the way he’s looking at her…

You throw your phone across the bed like it just personally insulted you.

Then you lie back and stare at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself you’re not spiraling.

Spoiler alert: you’re totally spiraling.

Which is how you end up calling Kika and Alex.

Because misery loves company, and also because you’re desperate for someone to tell you you’re not crazy.

“Hello?” Kika answers, far too cheerful for your current mood.

“I need help,” you blurt out.

“What kind of help?” she asks cautiously.

“Emotional help,” you say dramatically. “I’m having an existential crisis.”

“Of course you are,” she says. “Hang on, I’m adding Alex.”

“No, don’t-”

Too late. Alex’s voice cuts in, already exasperated. “What happened now?”

“He posted a photo,” you mumble, already regretting this.

“Okay…” Alex says slowly. “And?”

“And there was a girl in it,” you say, your voice climbing an octave.

“Oh my God,” Kika groans.

Alex sighs. “Let me guess. Hot girl, hand on his chest, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine?”

“Exactly!” you exclaim, sitting up. “How do you always know?”

“Because this happens every time,” he says dryly. “It’s cliche at this point. You're a walking cliche.”

You whine. “He looked… happy.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kika asks, “Are you drunk?”

“No!”

“Okay, just checking,” she says. “Because you sound drunk. Or insane. Possibly both.”

“I’m being serious!” you say, flopping back onto the bed. “What if he actually likes her?”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Alex says without hesitation.

“You don’t even know who she is!”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “No one’s better than you.”

You groan. “That’s not helpful.”

“Look,” Kika cuts in, her tone gentler now. “You’ve got two options. One, you ask him about it. Two, you do what you always do and overthink yourself into oblivion.”

“Three,” Alex adds, “you block him, move to a remote island, and live off coconuts for the rest of your life.”

“I hate both of you,” you mutter.

“No, you don’t,” Kika says sweetly. “Now, are you going to talk to him or not?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “What if I ask and he laughs at me? Or worse, what if he doesn’t care?”

“Then you’ll know,” Alex says simply.

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it?

Knowing.

Because right now, as painful as it is, not knowing still feels safer than finding out the truth.

“Thanks, guys,” you say finally.

“Anytime,” Kika says. “Now go stalk his Instagram and cry into your coffee like a normal person.”

“Bye,” you grumble, hanging up.

You stare at the ceiling for a long time after that, the ache in your chest refusing to fade.

—

So, you cut him off.

Not all at once, because that would be too obvious, and God forbid Carlos Sainz think you’re actually affected by anything he does.

No, you do it slowly, carefully, like easing out of a party you didn’t really want to attend in the first place.

At first, it’s just a delay in your replies. Not anything dramatic, just enough to make it seem like you’ve got better things to do than hang on his every word.

When he sends a text, you leave it unread for an hour. Maybe two.

(Okay, fine, sometimes you read it immediately and then stare at your phone for thirty minutes trying not to reply, but that’s beside the point.)

When you do respond, you keep it short. Curt, even. No emojis, no playful banter, just cold, functional sentences.

Carlos How’s your day going?

You Busy

Carlos Busy with what?

You Work

He doesn’t push, which is somehow worse.

You want him to notice, to ask what’s wrong, to demand answers you’re not prepared to give. But he doesn’t.

He just keeps texting you, the same way he always has, like nothing’s changed.

When he asks to call, you tell him you’re busy. Which is technically true, if “busy” includes reorganizing your spice rack and watching sad movies while eating ice cream straight out of the tub.

It’s not immediate, but it’s different.

The rhythm of your conversations shifts, the easy flow replaced by stilted exchanges that feel like wading through molasses.

The worst part is how much it hurts.

Because cutting him off isn’t supposed to hurt you. It’s supposed to make things better. Easier. Less messy.

But instead, you’re walking around like some tragic romantic hero, clutching your metaphorical wounds and waiting for someone to ask why you look so miserable.

You try to distract yourself.

You download a meditation app, but the soothing voice telling you to “release your tension” only makes you think about how Carlos used to tease you for clenching your jaw when you were stressed.

You go out with friends, laughing too loud and drinking too much, but every time your phone buzzes, you can’t stop yourself from hoping it’s him.

It usually is.

Carlos Did I do something

You Just busy

Carlos Are you mad at me

You No

You toss your phone onto the couch and stare at it like it’s personally betrayed you. He’s starting to notice, which is both validating and soul-crushing.

Because if he notices, then maybe, just maybe, he actually cares.

And if he actually cares, then maybe cutting him off isn’t the answer.

But then you remember the photo. The girl. The way he looked at her.

And you remind yourself that Carlos Sainz isn’t yours. He never was.

So you keep going.

You tell yourself it’ll get easier. That eventually, his texts will stop coming, and the ache in your chest will fade, and you’ll finally be free of whatever this is.

But for now, you’re just sad and tired and watching Pride & Prejudice for the third time this week, convincing yourself you’re Elizabeth Bennet and he’s Mr. Darcy, except there’s no grand declaration at the end.

There’s just silence.

—

It's one of those times where you answer Carlos' call so he doesn't think you're actively avoiding him.

You’re stretched out on your couch, half-listening as Carlos narrates the chaos of his day, his voice flitting between amusement and exaggerated frustration.

“…and then they tell me the setup’s wrong, again, so I had to sit there, listening to engineers argue for an hour. An hour! I’m telling you, I deserve a medal just for staying awake.”

“Tragic,” you reply, dry as ever. “Truly, you’re the unsung hero of motorsport.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, his tone shifting as if you’ve validated some grand injustice. “Finally, someone understands.”

You hear the faint rustle of fabric, the soft creak of leather, and you know he’s probably leaning back in one of those expensive chairs he likes so much, the ones you tease him about.

It’s a scene you’ve imagined a thousand times—so familiar it borders on comforting.

“So,” he says, drawing out the word like he’s gearing up for something. “Guess where I am right now?”

“Let me think,” you say. “Some glamorous location with a ridiculous view and an overpriced minibar?”

“Close,” he says, and you can hear the grin tugging at his words. “I’m in Monaco.”

Your heart stumbles, just a little, just enough to be annoying, but you keep your voice casual. “Oh, the usual playground of the rich and famous. How very you.”

“Hey, it’s practically home,” he teases, and the warmth in his tone makes your stomach twist. “And speaking of home… aren’t you supposed to be here too? Isn’t that, like, the whole point of being Monegasque?”

You hesitate, just for a beat, but it’s long enough.

“…Wait,” he says, his voice sharpening with suspicion. “You’re not here, are you?”

“I’m in Italy,” you admit, aiming for breezy and landing somewhere closer to forced.

There’s a pause, the kind of silence that feels heavier than it should. “Italy?” he repeats, his voice carefully light, like he’s trying not to make something of it. “What are you doing there?”

“Just am,” you say, shrugging even though he can’t see it.

“Right,” he says slowly, and you can feel the weight of his thoughts pressing through the line.

He doesn’t push it, though, because Carlos is a lot of things, but he’s not the kind of person who asks questions he’s not ready to hear the answers to.

He shifts the conversation after that, steering it back to safer waters.

He tells you about a restaurant he tried, about the ridiculous amount of traffic on his way to the track.

You laugh in the right places, make snarky comments when it’s expected, and for a while, it feels almost normal.

But it’s not.

The photo lingers in the back of your mind like a ghost. Her hand on his chest, his easy grin, the effortless way they fit together.

You thought you could handle it. Thought you could keep things light and easy, pretend that the photo didn’t bother you, that you hadn’t spent an embarrassing amount of time dissecting every pixel like it held some kind of secret truth.

But now, sitting here, listening to him ramble on about his day like everything’s fine, you’re not so sure.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, breaking the flow of his own story. His voice is quieter now, more thoughtful. “You’ve been kind of… off lately. Is everything okay?”

Your breath catches, just for a second.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to know he doesn’t believe you.

But he doesn’t call you on it. He just hums softly, like he’s letting you have this one.

The conversation winds down after that. He says something about an early meeting, and you use it as an excuse to end the call.

—

Carlos has a suspicion you’re avoiding him.

Or maybe, just maybe, Charles Leclerc has turned into some kind of shadowy mastermind, meticulously coordinating Carlos’s travel schedule just so he can keep you two apart.

It’s ridiculous, sure, but how else do you explain it?

When Carlos is in Monaco, you’re in Italy. When he’s in Italy, you’re in Mallorca. When he’s in Mallorca, you’ve suddenly jetted off to Switzerland, of all places.

It’s like you’ve taken on the role of “Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?” with unsettling precision, a game he didn’t even know he was playing until now.

At first, he tried to laugh it off.

Told himself it was just bad timing, a string of coincidences that would eventually break in his favor.

But now? Now it feels deliberate. Calculated. And the worst part is, he knows you. Knows you well enough to feel the subtle shift in the air between you, like a storm quietly gathering on the horizon.

He’s tried to tell himself he’s overthinking it.

That you’ve just been busy, that your life doesn’t revolve around him and his schedule.

But the excuses are starting to ring hollow, even to his own ears.

The delayed responses to his texts. The way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes when he finally does manage to catch you available for a call.

And now, sitting alone in his Monaco apartment, his phone resting on the coffee table in front of him like a lifeline you’ve left dangling just out of reach, Carlos can’t shake the weight that’s settled in his chest.

You’re pulling away.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, sudden and brutal.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands running through his hair as he stares at the floor.

His heart feels heavy, tangled up in a mess of confusion and hurt and something he doesn’t want to name.

Why? That’s the question that keeps circling back.

Why are you doing this? Why now, when he feels like he’s finally starting to understand just how much you mean to him?

His mind races, replaying every interaction, every conversation, searching for the moment he might’ve pushed you away without realizing it.

Did he say something? Did he not say enough?

“Dios,” he mutters under his breath, his voice thick with frustration.

He doesn’t want to think it, doesn’t want to believe it, but the thought won’t leave him alone: maybe you’ve finally gotten tired of him.

The idea makes his chest ache, a dull, hollow pain that spreads until it feels like it’s consuming him.

He doesn’t want to lose you, doesn’t want to let go of the quiet moments, the shared laughs, the way you make him feel like he can just be for once.

But what can he do? He can’t force you to stay, can’t make you want him if you don’t.

He picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over your name in his messages and sends a message before he chickens out.

Carlos Where are you right now?

You Still hoping for that coffee date, huh?

Carlos Always

You …Paris

Carlos frowns at his phone, and you can almost hear the mental gears grinding in his head. Paris. Of course, it’s Paris. Because why wouldn’t it be?

Carlos Okay, I’m going there.

Your phone buzzes immediately, the boldness of his response catching you off guard.

You What?

You ARE YOU SERIOUS???

Carlos Yes.

You Carlos, you can’t just drop everything and fly to Paris.

Carlos Watch me.

You stare at your phone, torn between laughing and rolling your eyes. This is insane. You text him back, unsure if you want to be mad or amused.

You This is insane.

Carlos No, it’s determination.

You It’s bordering on stalker behavior.

Carlos Then stop running from me.

You I’m not running!

Carlos You’re in a different country every time I blink. Sounds like running.

You It’s called having a life.

Carlos A life that conveniently never overlaps with mine. Carlos Got it.

You Carlos, I swear to God if you actually come here

He doesn’t reply. The silence settles in, and you think that’s the end of it. Carlos is too sensible to drop everything and fly to Paris, right? Right?

Wrong.

Three hours later, you’re in your hotel room, scrolling through your phone while you regret the third croissant you scarfed down earlier, when you hear a knock at the door.

You frown, setting your phone down. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Another knock, this time more insistent.

Curious, you peek through the peephole. And there he is.

Carlos Sainz.

Standing in the hallway, casually leaning against the doorframe, holding a bouquet of flowers like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Your jaw drops.

You swing the door open before you can think better of it. “What are you doing here?”

Carlos shrugs, flowers in hand. “You said Paris.”

“That wasn’t an invitation!” you hiss, your eyes darting up and down the hallway as if expecting paparazzi to jump out from behind the elevator.

“Seemed like one to me,” he says, unfazed, like he’s the most logical person in the universe. “Besides, I brought flowers. That makes it okay.”

You stand there, staring at him, completely caught between laughing and slamming the door in his face. “This is… I don’t even have words.”

“‘Thank you’ works,” he suggests, stepping past you as if he has every right to be there, dropping onto the armchair with the ease of someone who’s been invited to stay.

“Excuse me-” you splutter, still holding the flowers, but too stunned to do anything with them.

Carlos stretches his legs out in front of him like he’s planning to stay a while. “Nice room. Cozy.”

“You can’t just-” You gesture wildly at him, still holding the flowers like they’re some kind of shield. “Carlos, this is insane!”

“What’s insane,” Carlos says, his voice slicing through the heavy silence, “is how hard you’ve been avoiding me.”

The words hit you like a sharp slap, cutting through the thin armor you’ve been clinging to.

You wince, his accusation landing squarely on the truth you’ve been trying so desperately to bury.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you say, but even as the words leave your mouth, they feel hollow.

A poor, pathetic attempt to cover up the obvious.

His eyes narrow. “Yes, you are,” he replies, his voice edged with a kind of raw frustration you’ve never heard from him before. “You’ve been avoiding me, pulling away like I’ve done something-”

He leans forward, his knuckles white from how hard he’s clenching them. “Did I do something? Tell me, please.”

You shake your head quickly, your chest tightening. “No, Carlos, you didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice cracks, rising just enough to make you flinch. There’s a tremor in his tone, something that tells you this isn’t just frustration- it’s pain.

Your mind races, heart pounding against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape. You can’t look at him.

You can’t meet his eyes because you know what you’ll see there: vulnerability. A rawness you’re too afraid to face.

“I told you, I’m not avoiding you,” you say again, but your voice wavers. The lie cracks as it leaves your lips.

Carlos exhales sharply, a bitter, humorless laugh escaping him. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? You’re not avoiding me? Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell feels like you are.”

His voice lowers, softer now but no less piercing. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, dodging my texts. You won’t even look at me right now.”

He pauses, his voice dropping even further, his words so quiet they’re barely a whisper. “It’s like you’re disappearing right in front of me.”

“I’ve been busy,” you mumble weakly, knowing even as you say it how ridiculous it sounds.

“Busy,” he repeats, dragging the word out like it physically pains him to say it. “Right. Busy. Of course. That’s your excuse? That’s all you’ve got?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he steamrolls ahead, his voice rising in disbelief. “Do you think I’m stupid? Is that it? Like I haven’t noticed you pulling some kind of secret agent disappearing act every time I’m within a five-mile radius?”

“I’m not-”

“Oh, please!” he cuts you off, throwing his hands up dramatically. “When I was in Monaco, you were in Italy. When I was in Italy, you were in Mallorca. When I was in Mallorca, you went to Paris. I thought you cared about the planet!”

“I had a reason!” you defend weakly.

“Oh, sure. Let me guess. You were ‘busy.’” He uses air quotes this time, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Busy doing what? Hiding in the catacombs so I wouldn’t find you?”

“Carlos-”

“No, seriously! Are you Carmen Sandiego? Did you take on a secret job as an international spy and forget to tell me? Because at this point, that’s the only explanation that makes any sense!”

You can’t help it.

A small, nervous laugh escapes you, but it’s swallowed by the look he gives you, a mix of exasperation and something rawer, something vulnerable that wipes the humor from your face instantly.

“I’m serious,” he says, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Why are you doing this? What happened? Did I do something?”

“No!” you blurt out, the word rushing out of you like a reflex. “You didn’t do anything-”

“Then what?” he demands, stepping closer, his brows furrowed. “Why does it feel like every time I try to get close to you, you’re already halfway out the door? What is it? Did I say something? Did I forget something important? Did I-”

“Stop!” you snap, your voice louder than you intended, cutting him off mid-spiral. “You didn’t do anything, okay? It’s me!”

He freezes, his hands hovering in the air like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “What do you mean, it’s you?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore, Carlos. I can’t keep pretending like this, like we, don’t mean more to me than it should.”

His brows knit together, confusion flashing across his face. “What are you talking about? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them.

Your hands fly to your face, your voice shaking as you add, “Not as a joke. Not as a friend. Not in some ‘haha, Carlos is cute, what if’ kind of way. I’m in love with you, and it’s ruining me, and now I’ve said it, and- oh my God- I’m going to vomit-”

“Wait, what?” Carlos interrupts, his voice a mix of shock and something dangerously close to hope.

“You heard me!” you snap, your hands still covering your face as you pace in frantic little circles. “I’m in love with you, and now I’ve ruined everything, and you’re going to freak out and leave, and then I’ll have to fake my death and move to Antarctica and befriend a penguin colony-”

“Will you stop?” he cuts in, grabbing your arm to stop your pacing. “Just- stop for a second, okay?”

You yank your arm back instinctively, shaking your head. “No, I can’t stop! Because if I stop, I’m going to have to look at you, and if I look at you, I’m going to see the exact moment you decide this is too much, and you walk out of my life forever, and I’m not emotionally equipped for that-”

“Would you listen to me?” he shouts, his voice startling you into silence.

His hands fall to his sides, his eyes locking on yours with a desperate kind of intensity. “I’m not walking out of your life, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Jesus, do you really think so little of me?”

Your lip wobbles, your voice breaking. “You don’t get it. You’ll leave.”

He lets out a laugh. Sharp, exasperated, and a little unhinged. “I’m in love with you, you absolute idiot.”

You freeze. Your brain is refusing to process what he just said. “What?”

“I said I’m in love with you,” he repeats, louder this time, as if yelling the words will hammer them into your skull.

“Have been since the first night, I think. Do you honestly believe I’d fly halfway across the world, lose sleep, and spam you with dog pictures because I don’t love you?”

You stare at him, mouth agape. “You- what?”

“Yes!” he throws his hands up, pacing like he’s been holding this in for years and it’s physically painful to let it out. “God, how do you not see it? I thought I was being so obvious!”

Your brain is scrambling for any coherent thought, but instead, all you manage is: “Then who was that girl?”

Carlos blinks at you, mid-rant. “What girl?”

You fumble for your phone like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment to catch him red-handed.

Opening Instagram with trembling fingers, you shove the screen in his face, pointing at the offending photo. “This girl. The one on the yacht!”

He squints at the screen, then back at you, his brow furrowing.

“That’s my cousin, Marina.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

“My cousin,” he says again, slower this time, as though you might be hard of hearing. “She’s married to a guy named Tomás. I was literally holding her bag while she FaceTimed her kids.”

You gape at him, the ground beneath you threatening to swallow you whole. “Oh.”

Carlos stares at you, his mouth falling open. Then it clicks. “Oh my God. Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t-”

“You were ghosting me because you thought I was on a yacht with my cousin?” he demands, his voice climbing into incredulous territory.

“It looked bad!” you squeak, the heat in your face making it impossible to look him in the eye. “I didn’t know she was your cousin! She was all- touchy!”

“She was showing me pictures of her dog!” he cries, like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation.

You clutch your head, feeling both humiliated and mildly hysterical. “I’m an idiot. I’m the biggest idiot alive.”

“No arguments there,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, then fixing you with a look that’s somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You honestly thought I’d just…what? Post my side chick on Instagram for you to see?”

“I didn’t know what to think!” you snap, burying your face in your hands. “I panicked, okay? My brain spiraled!”

Carlos lets out a disbelieving laugh, pacing a tight circle like he’s trying to figure out how he got here. “So instead of asking me, you just…decided to ignore me? For weeks?”

“I said I panicked!” you groan, peeking at him through your fingers, mortified.

He stares at you for a beat, then pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath in Spanish. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?”

Your heart lurches, but you’re still too mortified to fully process it. “You can’t possibly still love me after this.”

“Oh, I can,” he says dryly, crossing his arms. “But I’m definitely telling Marina about this. She’s going to think it’s hilarious.”

“No!” you cry, lunging forward and grabbing his arm. “Carlos, I swear to God, if you tell your cousin-”

He grins, all smug amusement now, his earlier frustration melting away. “I’ll think about keeping it a secret. On one condition.”

“What condition?” you ask warily.

“You stop ghosting me,” he says simply, his voice softening as his eyes meet yours. “And maybe…start trusting me a little more?”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of your own stupidity pressing down on you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking at the floor. “I really messed this up.”

“Yeah, you did,” he agrees, but there’s no bite to his words. He tilts your chin up so you have no choice but to look at him. “But you can make it up to me. Dinner tomorrow?”

You nod, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. “Okay.”

“And for the record,” he adds, smirking, “if you ever ghost me again, I’m showing up with a mariachi band.”

You groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs, but you can’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. Somehow, against all odds, he’s still yours.

---

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