whatfor
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“Don’t come,” Max warns, mouth hot against his back. “You’re not allowed until my cock’s inside you.”
Charles whimpers, desperate. “I—I’ll try—”
“You’ll do better than try,” Max says, tone sharp now, fingers fucking in deep and slow. “You’ll obey. Won’t you?”
A pause then a choked, pleading, “Yes, Max.”
Max kisses his spine, almost sweetly.
“That’s my good boy.”
Or
Max is needy after a flight to a new track
Bookmarked by whatfor
14 Feb 2026
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Hadjar：“你俩用的同一款沐浴露吗？”
Bookmarked by whatfor
29 Jan 2026
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Charles stared at the Discord popup like it had cursed at him randomly.
He clicked, and answered the call.
“Hey.”
The voice came through clear, rich, and far too smooth for someone who had just LMFAO in a casual conversation. It was low, slightly raspy, and tinged with an accent that Charles couldn’t immediately place but sounded… Dutch? Belgian? European chaos?
“Can you hear me?” SuperMax asked again.
Charles forgot how to breathe for half a second. He made a strange sound in the back of his throat. Something between a cough and a nervous bonjour .
“Yes,” he managed, voice cracking like a haunted violin. “Yes. Loud and clear.”
“Cool,” SuperMax replied. “Screen share when you’re ready, Lecloof.”
OR:
Charles hired a Valorant coach to fix his aim. Not develop a crush on the Dutch guy roasting his mouse grip.
Now he's flustered by hand cams, ignoring his situationship, and maybe falling for the voice in his headset.
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“Ow, what the fuck!” Charles exclaimed, his hands flying to the back of his head as he lay on the floor
“Oh shit, mate, I’m so sorry,” called an unknown voice at his feet. Sitting up, Charles rubbed the back of his head in confusion, finally looking up to put a face to the unknown figure that had just barged through the door.
“Hey, you’re Max-” Charles couldn’t finish, Max’s hand clasping over his mouth as he shushed him quietly.
“Yeah, and I’ll give you front row tickets to my next show if you do not scream my name.”
“I don’t even want to see your stupid concert,” muttered Charles, holding his forehead where the metal door had made contact with his face. “Ow”.
“Oh, we most definitely need to get you to the hospital,
OR: Max is a singer, and Charles is the opposite of a fan, until the night Max hits him with a door...
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Now it's Max's turn to grin, wide and teasing and maybe a little too earnest.
"Well, somebody just told me that I’m going to be a world champion one day, and there's only one driver around here good enough to beat me, so I'd like to think he'll be there too."
It's silly, and hopeful, but Charles is beaming at him and it feels like a promise.
"Preferably in second place, of course."
Or: There are lots of ways to love Charles Leclerc, Max maybe learns all of them through the years.
Featuring: puddles, stargazing, unsolicited driving lessons, and the overwhelming fear of growing up.