#jo's the one driver

[livetogether--diealone]

~ the one surprise rookie (4)

[watcher0033]

"He took the malevolent shrine in the divorce" is the fucking funniest concept I've heard today

Let Yuji have the house or the fucking shadow dogs, 2k23. 😭🙏🏼 Honestly, it’s the least that Sukuna could do to pay for all the damages.

[f1tfballetc]

THIRST TRAP PHOTOS ARE BACK!

Check another batch of hot photos from some F1 drivers, tennis players and football players if you can....😉❤️🔥

PHOTO CREDITS: Pinterest, Google Images

[ferrarihamilton]

STORMCHASER?? 👀

this fic has been ruminating in my head for almost a year..... it's a chalex au where charles stopped racing after winning gp3, and alex's family moved to the US when he was young and he visits every summer break just before storm season starts.

Charles texts him at 3:18AM on a Saturday in the middle of July: Alex! I hope you are dreaming sweet dreams. I will be in Dogwood in a week! Can I stay with you?

Alex smiles when he sees it in the morning. Charles asks the same question every summer, and he’s always so polite about it. Like Alex hasn’t seen him throw up on himself after drinking a box of wine, and hasn’t been opening his house to Charles for four years now. Like he doesn’t know how the first thing Alex does upon waking is check the forecast. He might not have the fancy equipment that Charles has, but he can see the cartoon of a little raincloud with lightning as well as anybody else. They’re promised high winds at the beginning of August. Alex had already prepared the spare room.

He replies, Hey charlie. What day would you be arriving?

The typing bubbles appear immediately, and a second later a string of kissy faces come through, followed by Hmmm thursday I think

Alex thumbs up the message, and then sends a photo of his view of the sunrise for good measure. In the foreground, there’s his windowsill, littered with various trinkets that Charles has brought before, and then below, the cafe's porch awning, and the sprawling fields for miles to see. Even without opening the window, the air feels fractious, hot.

Alex knows Charles understands, because he sends back four emojis: a battery, an electric plug, a thermometer, and a satellite. Alex smiles again, helplessly, before tucking his phone into his back pocket and heading out start his day.

Chloe is already starting to make breakfast. She turns as she hears him come down the stairs, and smirks when she sees his face. “Charles due soon?”

“Shut it,” he says. Chloe just smirks wider as she hands him a bowl and a carton of eggs.

+++++

Dogwood, Oklahoma, population 300, sits on State Highway 39, and the township’s economy is mostly fuelled by the tourists heading north to Kansas. It’s completely unremarkable, utterly boring, and the perfect place to spend three weeks of summer when your day job normally consists of multiple timezones a week.

His mum had bought the house and the attached cafe soon after they moved to the US: Albon's, a classic tourist trap place with cheap sandwiches and coffee, morphed into half a farm slash petting zoo when Luca wouldn’t stop rescuing animals and plunking them firmly in their backyard. The tourists kept asking about the donkeys wandering around the picnic tables, and Zoe had said eventually, “Well if they’re not going away, we might as well make some money.” They’re proudly advertised as family-owned and operated, which is supposed to make the people feel good about spending their money there, but mostly gets brought up through gritted teeth whenever Zoe and their mum argue about finances.

Alex tries not to get involved. Even though he makes more than enough money now for them to not need the cafe, he thinks it keeps his mum happy, to be reminded of the first life they'd had that was completely theirs.

And the cafe is how him and Charles are still friends. Alex had been furious when Charles told him he wasn't continuing with racing after winning GP3. Alex would have given everything to have beaten him, and here Charles was, acting like it didn't mean anything.

But Charles had followed him to Oklahoma that winter, instead of going home. He'd helped out at the cafe, and the night before his flight back to Monaco, he'd told Alex that he'd enrolled at Oklahoma State, tentative major in mech-E. Later, Alex will think that he probably had wanted to be an astronaut. Instead, when Charles' prof in sophomore year had taken his class out in the middle of a thunderstorm, and Charles had dragged Alex along with him, Alex had had the almost religious experience of watching Charles’ face as the sky crackled with lightning.

They’re still good friends; they text fairly frequently, but it’s been a year since they’ve seen each other. Charles is a proper stormchaser now, galivanting around the country on grant money from the college. He looks happy in every photo he posts on Instagram, writes long blog posts using words like isobars and Doppler effect and mobile broadband MNVO. And without fail, he stays at Alex's family home for a week before the storm season begins in earnest, and Alex sends him off to run after tornadoes, like a wife watching her husband leave for war.

+++++

Charles arrives in a flurry, bringing with him a battered Jeep fitted with mods Alex isn’t entirely sure are legal. As she does every year, his mother comes out to stand next to him on the porch as they pull up, and her eyebrows are thoroughly unimpressed until Charles’ smiling face hops out.

“Oh Charles!” she coos. “He was always such a good boy,” and then Charles is kissing her on both cheeks, saying hello and how she looks as beautiful ever, before he turns his attention on Alex, and even though Alex is twenty-six, he feels himself flush.

“Alexander,” Charles singsongs, and then mushes his face into Alex’s collarbone as he hugs him. Alex huffs out a laugh, wraps his own arms around Charles.

“It’s good to see you too,” he tells him. Charles beams at him, and Alex hasn’t followed Charles on one of his tornado chases since he was twenty, but under his gaze, he feels supercharged, electric.

Charles insists on helping out around the farm, because Alex absolutely puts his foot down when Charles offers to pay them for his week stay. This would be useful, because it’s the busiest part of the tourist season, if Charles were not completely useless. He takes nervous steps away when the animals approach him, clumsy with the dirty plates when clearing tables, and even though Alex knows that Charles can operate software with GIS overlay and the college’s ham radios that tune into Skywarn frequencies, he stares at their cash register with the same trepidation most people approach large spiders. And despite all of that— he charms all the little old ladies that come though the café doors, even when he messes up the orders. He makes Melina laugh, which in turn, lets Zoe get on with the bookkeeping undisturbed. He also brings in a shitload of tips. Alex hides a smile, watching Charles flit around and somehow be totally out of place and completely at home all at once.

It’s hard not to be charmed by Charles, his quick hands and the way he looks when he’s concentrating. Alex was a lost cause when he was eighteen; he sees no reason why that might have changed now.

+++++

Alex is always worried that Charles will get bored when he stays. Usually, he’s a doer, not a worrier, but he still has a training regime to keep up, so it's not like Alex can skive off to entertain Charles.

But they do have one tradition, and there’s nothing else to do on a Saturday night. So Alex takes the pickup truck they usually use for moving animals, cleans the hay and muck out, and drives Charles out to the fields. It’s a clear night, and they can see the stars, and he spreads out the blanket over the truckbed, throws down a couple of pillows, and leans back to look up at the night sky.  

“Tell me about your year,” Charles demands, once they've settled in.

Alex shrugs. Anybody can find out how his year is going from every sports website under the sun. He nudges Charles. “Tell me about your year.”

But Charles shrugs too, even though he’s smiling, and starts telling him about clouds instead. “Cumulonimbus,” he says. “Cumulus means ‘heap’ in Latin and ‘nimbus’ means storm cloud. They mean a storm is coming— air currents care carrying the water vapour up. When they develop, they have this dome.” He cups his hands into shape. “And then they can become supercells.”

Alex knows about the team that Charles is going with this year: Lewis, who used to work for the National Weather Service but now he’s a storm spotter for fun; Seb, a professor of climatology and technically their team lead; Daniel, who looks like he’s only there because he’s an adrenaline junkie and a good driver.

Alex knows from reading the captions on Charles’ Instagram posts that storm season starts in August, and the café is the first stop. For the next two months, he’ll follows the weather patterns as they shift and morph on radar displays, driving into fields, into wide-open terrains of grass and dirt and lakes with no roads and a cloudless sky, and waiting for the winds to pick up before they go.

He knows their time is limited, so Alex drinks in the sight of Charles and all the ways he’s changed in the time they’ve been apart. He tries not to wish for anything more.

At the end of the week, two more Jeeps roll into the driveway, Seb, Lewis, and Daniel all get introduced in quick fashion, and then Charles kisses Alex high on his cheek, and waves at him the whole time they’re driving away. Alex watches him go, waving, sore.

+++++

August turns into September, and the season picks up again. Williams has a solid midfield car now, and it's good, seeing the fruits of his hard work, having a team around him that listens to him, takes him seriously. Him and Charles continue to text, infrequently, as they always have. Charles tells him about amazing tornadoes, sends photos of himself at the World’s Largest Ball of Twine in nowhere towns on the side of highways, miles and miles of cornfields.

In return, Alex sends photos of the track, some terrible coffee they make him try for a marketing challenge, Luca screwing his face up at his maths homework, the crowd of fans at Singapore.

This is why it’s particularly insulting, that Alex finds out from fucking Lando of all people, that Charles got struck by lightning.

“What,” he says. His hands are clammy where he’s clutching his phone.

“Yeah, Max mentioned it to me. Guess Daniel told him. They’re having one of their weird on again things again.”

Alex couldn’t care less about whatever drama Lando has embroiled himself in. He’d known, logically, the risks of storm chasing. Except it was Charles, who has always seemed bigger than it all, exempt from the rules of physics and karma and everything else that made the rest of them mortal.

He checks Charles’ Instagram after Lando hangs up. The last post is still there, from a few hours ago. Alex had already seen it, liked it, thought nothing of it. A photo of a long stretch of highway, Daniel’s exaggeratedly frown. Location tagged Humboldt, Tennessee: stuck here for a few days with an upside down smiley face.

There’s a shiver running up his spine, a tense, live wire. If he touched anybody right now, he’s be unsurprised if the venom of it ran straight through them.

That feeling only intensifies in the twenty-four hours between Landos call and him pulling up outside the only motel in Humboldt. He stands outside the car feeling angry and frightened as he figures out what to say to Charles. This is greatly ruined by how Charles stumbles out ten minutes later in socks and slides, and stops dead.

“Alex?” He blinks. "You're supposed to be in Austin."

Alex is; it's Wednesday, race week. He has media duties in the paddock tomorrow.

“Did you get taller?” Charles asks, when Alex still doesn't say anything.

“I don’t think so,” Alex manages to get out. He's still feeling that sickly furious feeling, and Charles must see it on his face, because he huffs.

 “Fucking— I’m fine, the car is ruined but it had to happen at some point.”

“Does it?”

Charles squints at him. “Is this a trick question?”

"Charles," Alex says, but he's stopped by movement in the motel. harles glances back. A door is open, and Seb is lounging casually against the door frame in sweats. Alex didn’t know it was possible for a man wearing a headband to look so frightening.

 “Let’s go for a drive,” Charles says.

+++++

Charles directs them back onto the highway. He riddles with the radio, turning the dials until it crackles into a frequency that’s giving a weather report. Alex has to keep his eyes on the road to drive, but he knows what Charles looks like even without turning his head: lips pursed, hands twitching like he’s looking for a notebook before his thoughts fly away.

"Here," Charles finally says. It’s a dirt road turn off that looks like it leads nowhere, but Alex turns off all the same.

“You’re here,” Charles says wonderingly, even before he's killed the engine. Alex takes a deep breath, turns to face Charles. Seeing his face, whole, open, looking at Alex in that way lets the last of Alex’s worry melt away.

“Okay,” Charles says, and Alex leans forward and fists his hand in the collar of Charles’ shirt, and kisses him.

[whatarethe0ddsac]

Bigger Person- Chestappen One Shot💙✨

AFTER LITERALLY ONE MONTH AND A BIT- I FINALLY finished my most dramatic and longer one short!

This is a story that touches many delicate matters, so pls read the tags first so you are warned

I really really hope you guys enjoy this! LOVE Y’ALL! Happy October! 🧡✨✨✨

[formulatrash]

I can't find the tweet now but one of f1twt (a barren land)'s greatest early hits was a screengrab of Lewis and Fernando gossiping captioned "gassing with your frenemy about the two new frenemies forming in front of you" and I think about it like 5 times a week to this day

Fernando and Lewis messing around in the infamous 2016 Daniil/Max mid season driver swap press conference because they were barely getting asked questions.

Everyone was serious in the front and then you got these two in the back just simply not caring. 💀

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us

In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.

Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts

TheYappingHour posted:

349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.

There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. You’ve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and you’re losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you weren’t really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team. 

“Everything ready?” Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for. 

You’d been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public don’t get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it. 

“I think so!” You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle. 

“Good, because he just pulled in the parking lot.” Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting it’s because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasn’t true. At all. “And he’s driving this matte black Aston Martin.” She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider. 

“Okay, let’s cool it on the hero worship.” You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building. 

 Outside, it’s a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop. 

Peering out into the parking lot, you’re surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors. 

“Hello!” Max’s voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself. 

“Hi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?” Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand. 

Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Water is fine, thanks.” 

“Max, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutain’s clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time. 

“Pleasure is mine.” He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty. 

“Are we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?” You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot. 

“Why? Will I be needing my body guard today?” He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio.  

You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way you’ve gone pink. “Of course not! It’s just that normally the people I have on the show travel with an…entourage.” 

“I don’t like people.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe. “I prefer to travel solo. Besides, I’m no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I don’t really need an entourage.” 

He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like it’s nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. “You’ve listened to the show then?” 

He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes you’ve made even though you’ve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer. 

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career. 

“And yet you still came.” You tease.

“I did.” He says simply and you can’t help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. It’s so quick that if you weren’t in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Max’s are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him. 

“Well, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.” 

You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how you’ll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. You’ve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years you’ve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think it’s because you’re good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with. 

Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you. 

“Thank you again for joining me today, Max. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said you’d agreed to come on the show. You don’t do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?” 

Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. You’ve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview. 

“I like your style.” His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. “GP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical ‘what’s your favorite race track.’” 

“Well, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.” For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right. 

Your eyes flicker above Max’s shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that you’re not imagining him flirting with you. 

“I have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, I’ve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-…”

“You went karting as research?” He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief. 

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Of course, I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. “My dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.” 

“Karting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?” 

“You know my dad?” Your brows nearly hit your hairline, you’re so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasn’t a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR. 

Max nods, “He was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after he’d led for the entire race.” 

You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck that’s suddenly exposed. “Oh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.” 

“Have either of you been to an F1 race yet?” A plan begins to form in Max’s head. 

“No!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. I’ve tried a few times but it’s always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes it’s easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, it’s easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.”

The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you. 

“Tell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?" 

You can’t help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “You know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.” You tease, giving him a wink. “You keep asking me questions, I’m going to be out of a job, Verstappen.” 

“I can’t help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.” He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.

The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcast’s history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesn’t mind one bit, finding that he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be with how easy he finds it talking to you. 

You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Max’s press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up. 

“I’m so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know you’re not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.” 

Max just shrugs, “If all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.” 

You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone. 

You look up at him and nod earnestly, “Of course!” 

“Why didn’t you ask me about my childhood? Usually it’s one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.” 

You shrug, face heating at being found out. “Like you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topics…” 

Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Max’s chest aches at the simple kindness you’ve extended him. It’s true, he doesn’t like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when it’s recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about.  

“Thats…wow. Thank you.” Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion. 

“Of course.” You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture. 

Max’s eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. “I know it’s kind of last minute but you were saying earlier you’d never been to a race. We’re in Miami next weekend and I’d love it if you were my guest…” 

You can’t help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. “I would love to, Max.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly. 

“Yeah.” You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice. 

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.” 

“Why Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.” 

TheYappingHour posted

987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.

yourpersonalinsta posted

234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed

tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)

@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

[imaginaryf1shots]

Starved | Max Verstappen

WC: 1.9K

Max x gf!reader

Summery: Max is touch starved and your love language is physical touch.

Warning: Jos and Christain horner, ilusion to a tough childhood

AN: I just saw a ticktok and I had to write this.

Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Max never knew how good physical touch is as a love language, he didn't grow up with hugs and gentle touches, none of his past girlfriends were overly touchy with him. That all changed when you came into his life. You grew up smothered in love and affection, and it's how you function, how you show your love. 

Max remembers the moment he realised you're not like his other girlfriends in that aspect.

It was after your first date, and you were having a walk around, neither of you wanting the night to end. Max was telling you a story about something that happened that week, your hands brushing, and he kept thinking if he should take your hand or not. You didn't leave him with a choice.

“-and he ran straight at me, bit I saw him-” Max stops talking when he feels your hand move around his and you lace your fingers through his, he looks at you, and you just smile up at him, leaning closer to his side. Max couldn't help but smile just as bright as yours. “So I dodged and he still bled and fell down, everyone was…”

He kept on talking, you were listening attentively, adding things when needed, and squeezing his hand when you wanted him to look at you. 

Max felt like holding hands with you is the best thing ever. 

But boy was he wrong, because every new tech became his favourite. 

Max never knew he was the cuddling type, until you wrapped yourself around him.

“Oh god.” You whined as Max flipped himself onto the bed beside you, the room filled with your heavy breathing. “That was…”

“Amazing.” Max finishes for you, he turns his head to look at you, even the Formula 1 driver is out of breath but he's smiling nonetheless. You grin at him and turn around placing your head on his shoulder and your arm on his stomach. Max freezes for a second, you press your lips to his skin in a few pecks, making him relax instantly. Max moves you a bit so you're closer with his arms around you. You're both naked with your kin touching his everywhere. You can hear his heart beating fast in his chest and try to not show him your smile. You know why he is the way he is. Without him having to tell you, you picked up on his reactions whenever you touch him affectionately. 

“You don't want to shower, or get dressed?” Max asked you after a moment of silence.

“In a bit, I just want to hold you for a few minutes.” You mumble feeling overly relaxed. Max kisses the top of your head, and lets you hold him while he holds you as long as you want.

Max always thought it's his job as the man in the relationship to have his hand on you in public, show his dominance and all that nonsense. And as much as he just likes having his hands on you, he loves you having your hands all over him. Makes him feel wanted, loved and needed. 

Max is driving you both to a new restaurant that you wanted to try. One hand on the wheel the other on the gear stick. You were looking out the window when you suddenly got the feeling that you want Max closer, want to touch him. So you just move your hand to his thigh.

“Schatje.” Max says and you hum, turning to look at him. “What are you doing?” 

“Just suddenly wanted to be closer to you.” You tell him with a smile.

“I'm right here.” Max glances at you.

“Not close enough.” You say and stay silent for a moment. “Do you not like it?”

You start to move your hand when he stops you with the hand on the gear stick. “I didn't say that, you can touch me whenever you want.”

There are many pictures of you and Max in the paddock or out and about, but more in the paddock. They're all of you lacing your hands with Max, hugging his arms, someone commented once how you're always the first to touch Max, but he never lets go of you. So, to those that tried to hate on you and call you clingy, could never really find anything to hate you for. It’s clear that you’re the instigator but Max’s smile is always undeniable.

“Max, what do you love most about y/n?” Max was signing hats on his way into the paddock, when a fan suddenly asked.

“Her hugs.” The crowd all awed, Max didn’t even realise what he said, it just came out naturally, he loves everything about you, but if there’s one thing that he misses the most and looks forward to when he’s away, it’s your hugs. They feel like home, as cheesy as that may seem.

And hugging you do. You take every chance to pull Max in for hugs.

You’d be eating with the other WAGs or maybe Victoria, and Max would be walking through the paddock and seeing you, he’d walk up to you, and you’d stop everything and give the man a hug as if you didn’t see each other yet that day.

“How’s your day so far?” You ask him, still in his arms.

“Good, how’s yours?”

“Good.” You’d be the first to let go, knowing that if you don’t he’ll never let you go. As much as you want to stay in his arms, he had work to do.

Max would be away on a triple header out of Europe, and you wouldn’t be able to join him for the first race, but no one is surprised when Air Max flies back to Europe and then to the race destination and there’s pictures of you exiting. Max will be damned before he sees you flying in anything but his plane, only the best for you.

You’d get there later than expected, so Max is already on track. His team meets you to give you your passes and get you in. They lead you to where Max is, he’s having a moment break before he has to go to a Red Bull club event thingy in the Red Bull hospitality. Max is on his phone with a Red Bull in his other hand, he looks up when he hears you walk in, he doesn’t see his smiling team behind you, once you’re here everything else ceases to exist.

Max just folds himself around you, he never cares who’s around. Your hand runs up and down his back. Your head in the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in. 

“Hey, my love.” You greet him and kiss his neck softly.

“I missed you schatje.” Max responds to your words and you smile.

“Missed you too, like crazy.” You stand there for a few minutes, everyone knows to just let you have your moments, a much calmer Max is always there thanks to your presence.

There’s a hug that all the fans remember, it went down in the history book for being loving and sad at the same time.

Max has been having a bad time this season, struggling with the car, and not winning, even though he’s leading the points, it’s a very close call. And after 2021 he never hoped to go through such a tough battle again.

Alas here he is, doing the best he could with what he has. Max and Jos have been butting heads lately, mainly because Jos thinks that Max should leave Red Bull and go to Mercedes, while Max wants to stay with Red Bull. The dynamic between the two has always had its highs and lows, and they’re going through a tough low now. So, when Max finally won a race and thus winning the championship, after struggling the majority of the season, and he saw his dad standing in the crowd he was happy. But Jos being the a-hole he is, he wasn’t happy. He didn’t want this race to give Max hope for any future with the team.

Max noticed the look on his father’s face when he was just about to go and hug him, he knew that look, he knew what it meant. And it upsets Max to see it when he’s just won and should be celebrating.

“MAX!” You shout and gain his attention, you’re behind the barrier. Everyone in the team knew what was going on between Max and Jos, and they knew how much having your support no matter what meant for him. So they did not hesitate to raise you over the barrier, you squeal in surprise. The moment your feet touch the ground, Max’s arms are around you, his helmet still on and everything. It’s a much needed hug, it wasn’t you who wrapped your arms around him, it wasn't you that instigated this, this was all Max, he needed this. He’s clutching you, having you flush against him, letting himself feel your presence.

Once he has his arms around you, he's clutching you, holding you close. Your arms wrap tightly around him, the force of the hug, has you staggering slightly back, Max's legs move with yours, until you're stable. 

“Congratulations, my love.” You say, and Max can barely hear you over the noise surrounding the both of you. “I'm so proud of you Max, so incredibly and completely proud of you.”

Max holds you tighter and if it becomes painful he doesn't say. The hug seems to last forever, and everyone just lets you have this moment. You're barely visible from Max's back. Your hand moves over his back slightly trying to give him all the love and comfort he needed. 

“I love you.” The words come out choked up, but you hear them and it breaks you. You force yourself out of his arms and meet his eyes through the slightly opened visor. His eyes are slightly wet. Max doesn't cry, his life was too tough for him to find a reason big enough to cry.

“I love you too Max, more than anything, more than anyone.” You tell him earnestly and full heartedly. 

“Fucking hell, I'll marry you one day.” Max says and his eyes crinkle slightly as he smiles. 

“Well go get your trophy first before we see about the whole marriage thing.” You patt him and Max then goes to his team, they're all shouting and cheering for him.

“You're good for him.” You look to see Christian now standing next to you.

“He's good for me.” You reply and watch your boyfriend with loving eyes.

“I have a feeling that by next season you'll have a ring on your finger.” Christsin whispers in your ear, and he slinks away, you can't help the smile on your face.

You watch as the top 3 do their interviews, Max's face is flushed red, hair messy, and his eyes are a bit misty. Your eyes well up seeing him, Max catches your eyes as he's finishing his interview, the smile on his face widens, he’s looking to the side when the interview ends. And Max races back towards you, your eyes go wide, not expecting him to come back to you. Max pulls you closer and crashes his lips against yours, before you could even place your hands on him, he pulls away, smiles and runs off to the cool down room.

“I take it back, give it a couple of weeks.” Christian amused says, the cameras flashing around you catch your insanely blushing face.

Christian was right, because arriving at the last race of the season, there’s a big rock on your finger.

Main Taglist: @gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat .

[livetogether--diealone]

~ the one who defeated the odds (2)

[mv1simp]

Dark Paradise ♥️

Max Verstappen x Best Friend’s Lil Sister!Reader

everytime I close my eyes, it’s like a dark paradise, no one compares to you...

in which your pining for your older brother’s handsome best friend, Max Verstappen, results in him finally giving you his affections after you hatch a diabolical plan. too bad you had no idea max was far more diabolical than you!! (he can match your freak) 🥺

content includes: PURE SMUT LOL, Dubcon, dark!max, drunk reader, innocent virgin reader, manipulation, daddy kink, spit kink, size kink, dom/sub vibes. 18+ MDNI. this is embarrassing i was bored and horny and ended up writing 5.5k??

your older brother’s best friend!max has always ignored you even though you’ve had a crush on him since you were little. it didn’t matter that your families had grown up together and you had attended all his karting races since you were a kid, cheering him and your brother on from the sidelines, or that you were always there with your cute smile and pigtails to say you did so good, maxie, next time for sure when he had his rare losses, or when he was 21 and fighting for his first championship and his father’s expectations were heavier than ever and he didn’t have to explain anything to you, who grew up in a household with a father very much like jos and would rub his arm in a comforting way, an understanding look in your eyes everytime he and his dad fought. it all didn’t matter cause despite your constant affections, max still acted like he couldn’t care less about you whenever you saw him, the only thing seemingly on his mind being racing.

except tonight -

tonight, he’s forced to take little innocent virgin!you home after you get too drunk at a party. you’re whining in defeat, cheeks puffed out against your pink lipglossed lips, pouting and all, cuz you had worn the perfect lil outfit in all his favourite colors, your sexy curves on display and makeup done to perfection, just how you knew he liked it from the one time he had complimented it. and you had a plan - to show him that you were all grown up, to make max go crazy over you for once instead - and you were just in the middle of flirting with Cha, innocently fluttering your lashes at the handsome Monegasque driver who had none of max’s coldness and was all to happy to amuse your attentions on him - when your stupid older brother had shown up on the dance floor and demanded max drop you home on his way back to his, putting an early end to your plan to finally make out with the Dutch champion tonight!!

instead of making out with you in a steamy session in a dark club corner that you had imagined, he’s guiding you into his sleek expensive Aston Martin, large hands coming into contact with your perky lil tits and soft waist as he buckles you in, making you moan and giggle sloppily, all the alcohol loosening all your inhibitions and making your deepest fantasies spill out as he settles into the drivers seat, sorryy maxie this just reminds me of a naughty dream i had once with you inside the cockpit of your red bull car

the tall Dutch man is silent as he levels an intense stare at you and reaches his hand up to your face and you gasp, thinking your dream is coming true - only for him to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before turning away and starting the car. you pout, embarrassed, thinking that your plan failed, and are silent for the rest of the ride, your only solace being his warm palm resting on top of your thick thigh, easily wrapping around the width of it.

he helps you out of the car without any prompts, bending down to pick you up and place you over his big shoulder when you stumble in your strappy gold high heels, one hand gently on your ass to secure you. You giggle again as he crossed the threshold into the apartment, giddy from the attention and physical touch you’re getting from him, and you reach down to smack his bum with a drunken laugh.

you feel the front of his chest rumble at your slap and it sends a shiver right in between your legs, to your little pussy which had already started becoming soaked to moment you had seen him across the club that night, in a plain muscle tee which stretched across his broad shoulders and an expression even stormier than usual as his eyes met yours across the club, narrowing as he watched you rub your pretty pink manicured fingers up and down Charles’ biceps.

he sets you down and you blink cuz this isn’t your house, omg maxie is this your penthouse? you’re looking around in awe cause you’ve never been allowed over before. you’re so distracted that you don’t notice the smirk on his face as his ice blue eyes darken looking at you twirling around his living room. he palms his aching cock and thanks whatever fucked up god let him get lucky tonight - just you and him, finally alone - and he knows just how eager you’ve always been to please him. he hasn’t missed the pining, lovesick looks you always shoot him, the jealous stares at his latest model girlfriend of the month. He admits that he never took it seriously at first, seeing you just as a little sister-

but fuck you had come back last summer after finishing college - with your mechanical engineering degree and first class honours to make your father proud - looking like his own personal wet dream. Cute lil perky tits and a juicy ass squeezed into the tightest dresses in pastel florals, highlighting your sun kissed tan skin, with your eyelined wide doe eyes as you gazed up at him completing your innocent look. But he knew firsthand you were anything but innocent when he walked past you sunbathing in your new string bikinis, tits pushed up fully on display with your nose buried in one of your romance novels. He caught a glimpse of a sentence on his way past - he shoved his hot, aching member into her warm heat as she moaned in pleasure and begged him for more, more - making his eyes widen before he smirked, this is the garbage you had always been reading? He knew you weren’t innocent when he was sleeping over in the guest room neighbouring your bedroom and heard your cute little voice moan for him in the dead of the night, maxie please please please i want you, I need it, please maxie make me come accompanied by the quiet buzz of your tiny baby pink bullet vibrator. Fuck, that had been hot. That had been the start of max’s own twisted fantasies about fucking you, owning you, completely corrupting you - that he hadn’t acted on out of loyalty to your brother, out of the expectation that the drivers should only be with models and not with innocent childhood friends who now worked at the Ferrari engineering team. After all, there were plenty of hot girls throwing themselves at his feet and it was easy enough to pick one, fuck them from the back, and pretending it was your sweet innocent face instead that looked up at him, begging for more.

and oh, did he miss your face, because you had made a point this year to avoid acting like his stupid, lovesick fangirl and move on after catching wind through the Monaco rumour mill of his weekly hookups. You’re a grown woman now, with a job and a new glow up, and you don’t need him!! - or so you keep having to tell yourself.

then, a few months ago, he’s took out his fourth world championship and everyone, including you who had been invited to tag along with your brother, had been sending it in an absolute rager of a yacht party that red bull had thrown when he stumbled upon a whispered conversation you were having with your girlfriends. how can you still be a virgin?? you went through college without a single one night stand? Girl, you need to get dicked down immediately! your best friend’s voice had been slightly raised in shock, making it all to easy for max to overhear and stop outside the secluded room, out of your view. You giggled, drunk, at the scandalized look on your friends face, I know, i know!! I just can’t do it, it all goes too fast for me and i can’t get turned on everytime i try to hook up with guy, ya know? So I’m just going to save myself for when i meet the guy I’m in love with.

your friend gave you a knowing look, a guy you love -meaning max, right? you flushed at her words, adamantly denying it. No! No, I’m so over him. He’s such a player, and always so arrogant just cause he can drive a car fast. Besides, my big bro said max only won the championship by being a dirty driver, he has no class at all. I support Charles now!

your words had instantly made max hard, cause no fucking way, on top of this perfect girl who seemed to always know everything about him, always knew what to say, understood him in a way none of his previous girlfriends ever had - this girl was still a virgin because the only one she was in love with was him? there was no more resolve left in max, he was going to absolutely ruin you. he’d made things difficult for himself by ignoring your attention for so long, to the point you were clearly angry with him and were calling him stupid names like dirty driver. but that didn’t matter. Whatever max wanted, he always got - and right now, with you dancing around his luxurious living room, he was going to take what he wanted - your sweet, virgin pussy - even if you weren’t ready to give it to him so easily. you’d understand later, he was sure. After all, you were always going to be his anyways - claiming your virginity was just his way of marking his territory.

Schat, he calls, drawing your attention back to him and you giddily run back into his arms, laughing in delight as he runs his hands up your waist, to your cute face and tilting your chin up before finally, finally meeting your lips in a sweet kiss. you sigh breathily into it, he feels so good and so warm and so big against you, and you push yourself closer to his muscular chest, your tits flush against him, pulling at his tshirt in an effort to get it off and he breaks free for a second to easily pull it off himself for you. Good girl, my sweet girl, mihn liefje, always so beautiful for me, aren’t you? Your head spins from all the praise max bestows on you, the mixed dutch and english words that you’d only ever dreamt of hearing from him. his palm unexpectedly drops down from your waist then to your juicy ass, squeezing aggressively and you can’t help the gasp that comes out of you. Max immediately slides his tongue into your open mouth, turning the innocent romantic kiss into a dirty, steamy make out - just what you always wanted!! you’re internally squealing in your success, patting yourself on the back for your clever plan. too bad you could never have predicted just how little control you had over the situation and that you were instead exactly where max wanted you ❤️

you trust max soooo much and he’s sooo dreamy and you’re so caught up in him that you can’t keep track of what happens next. you can’t figure out how you suddenly ending up in his lap with his large hand up your miniskirt, pumping a thick finger in and out of your tight little pussy, making loud obscene shlick shlick shlick noises with each movement as he buries it right until you can feel the cool kiss of the metal ring he wears. his other hand is locked around your throat, replacing the sparkly choker you were wearing earlier, and your skimpy white lacey g-string is stuffed in your mouth, already drenched in your drool. but you don’t want to annoy him by asking dumb questions when he’s finally paying attention to you, instead saying please maxie please I’ll be so good as you lean against him and continue to grind your thick ass back against his - phone? you ask dumbly.

he throws his head back and laughs and you get starry eyed hearing it, so entranced that you dont even notice as he unzips himself and takes his thick veiny cock out until he starts filthily slapping it against your little clit, making you squeal and jump away from it with little success as his strong arms cage you from behind against his broad chest.

!! its so big maxie, im scared, it wont fit, please maxie, its all too fast- you start whining frantically when he ever so gently removes your ruined panties from your mouth, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your wet lips, mentally making a note to abuse this hole of yours on the next round.

but schatje, you did this to me, my pretty girl, this is all cuz of you, because you’re always wearin those cute lil’ dresses and bending over and shaking ur ass when I come visit, cuz you were trying to make me jealous tonight by grinding on Charles, and now you have to fix it, right liefdje? Don’t act like this isn’t what you planned, you secretly wanted to be a dirty slut for me all along, didn’t you?

his rough accented voice whispering filthy things in your ear, switching between praise and pure filth, makes you even more whiny and desperate for him, writhing around on his thick thighs and he slaps your plump ass to punish you for teasing him again. His roughness making you squeal, eyes rolling and tongue slipping out of your mouth when one of his thighs, still covered by his denim jeans, part your legs wide open and push up against your sopping wet pussy.

seeing your expression, max doesn’t waste a second in pulling your throat back against his shoulder and dropping a ball of his spit right into your open mouth. he grins when your eyes practically develop hearts in them from the filthy treatment and your pussy flutters around his thick fingers as he renters you with two fingers this time - he always knew you were gonna be such a good, obedient cockdrunk whore for him.

here, don’t worry schat, I’ll be nice for you, jus’, just the tip, okay? He soothes, pressing gentle wet kisses along your exposed neck, lulling you into a false sense of safety so you furiously nod and drool some more when he tells you to be a good girl, his stupid lil slut, and glides the pink, leaking tip of his cock into your folds. Guides it back and forth, up and down, coating himself in your juices until he feels you go completely lax in his arms, overwhelmed by how good he makes you feel. it’s already soo wet and soo sticky but it doesn’t matter cause maxie promised he was wearing a condom…right? Right?

shhh yes schatje, yes, it’s just so wet cuz I - he easily leans forward over your petite, half undressed frame and spits again, this time his saliva landing right on your exposed clit- I’m just making your sweet pussy nice and wet for me, yeah? the pounding in your head gets even worse because ohmygod maxie, it feels soo good, ah, ah, ahh!

you’re in cloud 9, living out your wildest fantasies in max’s lap, so clouded in lust you don’t even look down again when you start to feel an aching stretch between your legs. if you’d looked you would’ve seen that max had already broken his promise and had bullied a good third of his big, aching cock into your pussy. by the time you collect yourself enough to notice how far inside he was and open your mouth to protest, he manoeuvres you off him easily, making you cry out at the loss of him, and lifts you with no struggle and carries you into his bedroom, where the Monaco full moon streams in through open French doors, discarding his pants and boxers on the way. You tightly wrap your legs around his rock hard waist, grinding your desperate pussy against his abs while leaning up to join in another filthy open mouthed kiss, drool leaking out the sides of your mouth.

he tosses you onto his king size bed - you cant believe you’re finally in his bed!! - and holds both your wrists down above your head with one hand, the other snaking down your body, squeezing your tits and pinching your swollen areolas that peeked at him over the edge of your top. Gods, liefje, he groans into your mouth, unable to control himself from saying all the dark things he’d been thinking. how’d i get so lucky, to have the perfect little slut below me, under me like this, desperate to get a taste of my cock, huh? Practically beggin’ me to fuck you. How are you going to explain yourself to your brother, when he asks why you can’t walk tomorrow? Maybe I should just take a photo of you right now and send it to him to save you the trouble. So he knows next time he pisses me off it’ll be his fucking filthy slut of a baby sister who pays the price with her sweet - his fingers travel down, find their way to your clit again, toying with it in well practised circular motions - little - he dips his head downwards, licking a single stripe straight up your pussy to collect your juices before spitting it out all over where his fingers now entered you - needy, pussy?

you can’t stop crying now from how overstimulated you feel from the blinding pleasure, from max’s fingers and tongue knowing exactly how to make you reach your peak and to his toxic words that should shock and scare you but instead just make you more turned on. i’m not- you whine - mmmfph, im not slutty, im a good girl, i- ah! You can’t tell big bro about this, please maxie, I didn’t mean to do this, I - ahh!

your pathetic cockdrunk attempts at denying his claims get cut off as max smirks down at you while speeding up the pace of his fingers which slide in and out easily given how soaked you are. go on, liefje, go on and come on my fingers like a good little girl. show my fingers what it’ll feel like when my cock gets to have your sweet pussy cumming around me instead. Your eyes start to roll back as you approach your first ever orgasm, powerless to stop his other hand which releases your wrists and moves to rip your pathetic excuse of a crop top completely off, flinging it the side, with your cute miniskirt that was bunched up around your waist joining shortly after. max’s dark gaze greedily roams upon your fully exposed form, his cock hardening again at the sight of your tits that heave with every breath you take and your cute, soft little tummy that he now presses down on to while he slides in another thick finger, tipping you over the edge. ah! Ah! Max! Ohmygod, im cumming, ahh! You scream out incoherent noises in pure pleasure, trying to move away from the intense new sensation but max’s large palm, splayed around your waist, easily holds you fixed in place.

good girl, you did so good f’me, sweetheart, max cooes as you start to ride yourself out on the final waves of orgasm on his fingers, now finally adjusted to the stretch. He smirks darkly down at the fucked out, blissful expression on your face as you gaze up at him adoringly with loving eyes. He has you right where he wants you - obedient, eager to please him, ready to say yes to whatever nasty, depraved things he wants to do next to your tight little holes.

withdrawing his fingers from you, eliciting a whine, he brings them up to his mouth and licks away the taste of your cum. You’re immediately breathless by how fucking hot he looks, unable to look away from his eyes as he speaks. Mmm, so sweet schat, you taste so fuckin’ sweet - just how I imagined. Next time I’ll make you cum on my tongue.

omg!! Your pussy flutters around nothing and your heart starts beating rapidly at this revelation from max, he had imagined what eating you out would feel like? max uses your distracted thoughts to grab your hands in his, laying them outstretched by your sides as he intertwines your fingers together. He’s so romantic, you think dreamily, naively unaware that this was the perfect position for him to hold you down while hungrily eyeing your delectable kissable tits and wet pussy as he lowered himself on top of you. You welcome the warm, heavy feeling of his built chest against your soft one as he leans down to recapture your lips in another slow, open mouthed wet kiss, obscene loud slurping noises filling the summer air as you lovingly make out and moan against each others lips.

Too bad max had much darker thoughts on his mind - first of which involved getting his painfully rock hard cock wet inside your virgin pussy!!

Liefje, you trust me right? Trust that I won’t hurt you, I’ll always do what’s best for you? Even if it’s not what you want right now? He asks, pulling back and looking into your innocent large doe eyes. You nod quickly, yes maxie, of course maxie, I trust you, whatever you want, whatever you say is right - you quickly slur, still drunk from the shots you had downed earlier. he was so sweet to make sure you were comfortable making out while naked!! You eagerly chased his lips, making him smugly smirk again at how desperate he’d already made you to feel his tongue again, so eager that you had completely missed the sinister undertone max’s words had had.

those were all the words max needed to fully defile you tonight. Well - if he’s being honest, which he rarely was - he would have taken it all the way even if you hadn’t said so, even if you’d become so overwhelmed by your first orgasm that you had passed out right there on his fingers!! regardless, this worked in his favour to use against you tomorrow morning when you woke up realizing that you couldn’t blame max for anything, only yourself, cuz you had begged and begged him to do whatever he wanted after all. He was just giving you what he knew you secretly desired but were too innocent to ask for ❤️

Recapturing your lips with his, max slowly slides his cocktip into your creamy folds, this time not pausing to stop even once. He drowns out your cute squeals of suprise and discomfort with his large tongue that he shoves down your drooling throat, your fingers weakly trying to push against his but unable to move from where he has locked them into position.

Fuckin’ finally, he moans against your lips as he slides in over halfway, impressed with the way you were managing to keep fairly still against the intrusion for your first time. Max knew he was considering big, especially for your short frame, but here you were taking his dick like a champ. With one last - and this time innocent, kiss, max now tilts his head slightly so he could see your expression. you blink up at him, feeling so stuffed, stupidly voicing that you don’t remember his tip feeling so big earlier, enquiring why he had stopped kissin-

want to see your pretty lil’ face, shatjze, he explains. Want to see what you’ll look like when you see everything I’m going to do you, all the ways I’m going to ruin you for anyone else but me.

you’re looking so delightfully confused now, unsure what he is going to go, and max feels blood rushing to his hard cock with the twisted desire he’s filled with at the fact that you’re so innocent, so naive, so dumb for him that you haven’t realized what he’s planning on claiming from you tonight! You open your mouth to ask but before you can say anything he’s bottomed out completely, his huge cock stretching out your tight little virgin hole. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open from the impossible stretch, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes - his huge fingers were nothing compared to the size of his cock. max’s head roars in pleasure from seeing the look on your face when he basically splits you in half on him, and he can’t resist spitting another large glob into your open mouth again, smirking as it successfully quietens down the confused, high pitched moans you’d started to make - Max, ah! maxie, you said just the tip, mmfh, you promised, ah! Oh! What about the condo-

Giving you a few minutes to adjust to his size - he wanted to make you addicting to the pleasure of his cock after all, not be scared of it - he idly traces the shape of your swollen, red lips with his broad thumb. shhhh, shhh, snoepje, just relax for me,yeah? Let it happen, this is what you wanted, yeah? To get fucked on my thick cock? That’s what dirty little sluts like you want, isn’t it? It feels sooo much better doing it raw, trust me, you’ll be begging for my cum inside you soon enough…but I’ll pull out, okay schat? I promise.

He smirks when he feels you go weak at his authoritative words, obeying his commands and relaxing as your mind turns gooey from pleasure and you begin moaning obscenely. He allows you to gently remove your hands from his grip and wrap them around his broad shoulders, handing all your power over to him as you go completely blank, ready to be his submissive pet. So- you’re so m-mean, maxie you whine out pathetically with your eyes screwed shut from the feeling of him, tears dripping down your chubby cheeks, making him laugh again. You can take it, schatje. You and your perfect little pussy were made for me. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Letting yourself get completely stuffed my cock?

Still circling your lips gently with his thumb as you nod at his dirty words, Max now slowly pulls his aching cock out of your tight core, making your dazed eyes open at him in confusion a second time. Was that- was that it? Is it done? Your innocent look just drove max wilder. He keeps going under just his tip is left inside you, and then with a sick, twisted smile he slams balls deep back home inside you while shoving his thumb inside your wet mouth. Your scream of pleasure and pain is drowned out by the obscene smack smack smack sounds of his cock fucking into you with a brutal pace, and you choke around his thumb that’s deep in your mouth, gagging on it with more of your shared saliva spilling around your mouth, unable to protest max’s complete betrayal of his earlier promise. Fuck yeah, that’s right babygirl, I’m going to fucking ruin your filthy little pussy, gonna mold it to the shape of my cock so you can only every come around my cock, no one else’s.

max’s mean mean words were just so hot!! He had been holding back, sweet talking you earlier just to trick you into letting him fuck his fat cock into you and you had totally let him. It felt soooo good, you couldn’t even be mad at him for it, your nails digging into his back muscles from the intensity of pleasure as he shifted his hands to your waist, fuckin you dumb up and down on his massive cock, the wet obscene sounds of your shared juices as he slammed into you, shlick shlick shlick, big balls against your juicy ass only making it hotter for you both. thank god he’s gonna pull out, you thought!! If there was so much precum already you couldn’t imagine how much there would be if he came inside, you would have been getting pregnant for sure!

the thought sends you into another dizzying wave of pleasure, and you start babbling all the filthy filthy thoughts that had been buried inside you, just for maxie, as he thrusts into you with that wicked smirk on his face. Mmfhhh, fuck yes maxie, daddy, please please please, it feels soooo good! Ahh! max’s rhythm stutters for a second, caught off guard at the word that you had accidentally slipped out - none of his past gf’s had been quite as dirty mouthed as you - before deciding that it was fucking hot and leaning down to claim your bruised lips in a searing kiss and squeezing a large hand around your throat. Fuck yes, say that again, you dirty fucking slut, say my name-

you has no qualms following Max’s orders, begging daddy please please make me come, mmmdh’make me cum ar-aroun’ your cock, ahh!

max groaned at the vision of you underneath him, looking positively debauched. Your eyeliner was smudged, lipgloss long worn out and lips swollen and bitten, your neck bruised from his hickies and and your perfect tits bouncing with every hard thrust. lifting your legs up around his waist, he fucked into you at a deeper angle, making you scream again in pleasure from his cock and his voice, that got deeper and stronger in his Dutch accent as he got more turned on. Yeah, you like this, huh? You like when daddy fucks you like that, don’t you? Neuken, een vuile slet. Fuck! So good for me, begging for my cock, cause I’m the only one who can do it for you, huh? You like calling me a dirty driver and then screaming my name as I take your virginity, huh? Your eyes widen as his words pierce through your lust addled brain. Maxie, ah, how did you know-ahh!

You’re interrupted by a rough smack on your ass, so strong it renders you speechless - after all, your maxie is the fastest driver on the grid, his grip strength is unparrallelled! answer me, slut he growls, answer me, tell me, does it feel good being my perfect little fuckdoll? When I treat you like the worthless cocksleeve you are? Tell me how much you want my cock in you, beg me for it

your second orgasm starts to rapidly approach you from the positively filthy dirty talk - he knows just how to make your inner whore come out for him. ohmygod yes maxie, yes, it f-feels so so good, please, I need your cock, I need it so bad, I can’t live without it, please maxie- your eyes start to roll back again, tongue drooling and dripping spit down your chin.

Max grins wickedly down at you. Fuck yes, this is exactly what he wanted, so cockdrunk for him there isn’t a single sane thought left within you - and especially not to remember his promise of pulling out. Sensing his own impending finish, he manoeuvres you again, this time by pulling out and flipping you around onto your side, settling down behind you with your legs spread wide, tossed open across his. He bullies his cock into you again, and you throw your head back against his shoulder, moaning and begging again for more more more, yes maxie, only you can do this to me, I saved my virginity just for you, ah! Please please please maxie I need to cum, I need it now!!

Neuken. Max slips into Dutch as you both approach your orgasm, the new position giving him easy access to fondle your tits and circle your clit, his sweaty forehead and matted hair falling onto your neck to place wet kisses along your collarbone. Fuck, this pussy will be the death of me, if only I knew your pussy would be so good t’me, you would’ve been mine a long long time ago.

His fingers drift from your clit and go lower, past his dick sliding in and out of your pussy and circle your hole - your other tight little hole, and you moan wantonly, thrusting back against him - which is an effort considering how he’s controlling the pace, bouncing you like a ragdoll on his cock. He chuckles darkly, next time I’ll take your virginity here too, huh? My lil slut saved all her sweet holes for daddy, right? Fuck! Come all over my fat cock for me, come for me now liefje, let me feel your sweet pussy tightening around me again, fuck yes-

this final promise send you over the edge and you cum together with one final thrust from max, reaching up to pull him forward by his hair and slot your lips together in a sweet kiss as he cums and cums and cums in you. he doesn’t move for a while as you both come down from your high, panting heavily, wanting to plugging your cute lil pussy up, before eventually pulling out when sleep starts to creep in. the wet sound of his copious amount of cum spilling out around your pussy makes you moan tiredly again and max can’t help himself from lightly fingering your pussy again, pushing the cum inside.

You whine, too overstimulated and he chuckles, conceding that you’d had enough for one night. Another time, he promises himself. And next time he’d take a photo to look back at later - a photo with you passed out from exhaustion, with his cum dripping down from your fucked out pussy to your twitching back hole - to jerk off too when he’s away on a race or to send to your brother or Charles if they need a reminder just who you belong too. Who’s he kidding - he doesn’t need a photo, he’ll just keep you by his side at all times, with a big diamond on your finger so it’s clear you’re his.

Pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder, he looks down at you as you tiredly smile at him, starting to doze off. Love you maxie, you whisper easily before passing out, hearing his gentle love you too, mein schat. He wraps you comfortably in his arms after wiping you off with a clean towel.

He should’ve done this a long long time ago. Doesn’t matter now, you were his now, always, and now that he’d marked you he was never, ever letting you go ❤️

—————————————————————————

A/N: yeah so this is just pure smut, idk I have no explanation or defence for this being my first literal post, my apologies to everyone who might need to be doused in holy water after reading this. Hope you enjoyed!

[monzabee]

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

[katsukikitten]

Togame Jo has always been in the back of your mind and maybe that's why you accidentally text him instead of your best friend, otherwise why else would he show up to your house so late in the evening? inspired by @kingkatsuki adding onto a general "diary entry" to my blog .

A good finger fucking until I cry would fix me

A random thought you text to your friend before you toss your phone on your nightstand, groaning into your pillow with disgust over how horny you were over nothing at all.

It was just ovulation week of course, leaving you weepy and wet at your lashes and between your thighs. Dolphin shorts riding up as you reach for a shirt on the ground that you've stolen from your crush. The last time you'd seen him you'd gotten caught in the rain coincidentally near his apartment and so he invited you in until the storm passed, your clothes dried and neatly folded placed into a bag as he walked you to the train stop while you wore his shirt and sweats. You promised you'd return it nice and clean.

You both knew that was a lie.

Dressing quickly so you could finish cleaning up your apartment before dinner, take out on its way in about a half an hour and you needed to find your cash stash to tip the poor man when he got here.

Washing dishes, taking out trash, sweeping and even picking up your living room that was neglected through the week all before the doorbell rings.

Smiling as you go to open the door, ten in your hand, as you hum happily thinking about your favorite oversized meal. Except when you swing the door open the delivery man isn't there.

It's Togame, your crush.

He stands tall even as he hunches a little. Plastic bag of your delivery on the wrist of the hand in his pocket while the other idly scrolls his phone. Yours pings, the delivery driver sending a picture of the hand off, to Togame, and kind message thanking you for the large tip.

He looks up at you, just over the rim of his circular glasses that sit on the edge of his nose.

"Ya always answer the door like that, sweetheart?" He asks locking his phone as he looks you up and down, deep emerald gaze noticing his old band shirt that swallows your body. He isn't sure you're wearing anything underneath, he smiles and runs his hand through his hair to his undercut before he's pushing his way past you. Entering your apartment as if it were second nature and not his first time here.

Stopping in the genkan to shove off his geta that match his dark cotton samue paired with his flashy Shishitoren letterman jacket. Walking to the living room to set down the takeout on the kotatsu before the rummages through your cabinets for plates.

"Togame?"

"Yea?"

"What are you doing here?" With how comfortable he makes himself in your home, you almost forgot you barely know him and that you're dressed in a shirt you never returned, pulling down the hem a bit more since your shorts hardly cover your ass.

"M here to 'fix ya.'" He tilts his head at you, wondering why you're lingering by your entry way, "Like ya asked."

"Like I asked?" A cold sweat breaks out over your skin, prickling at the nape of your neck.

"Yea, wouldn't want you texting anyone else your problems sweetheart. Least not ones like that." He sets the two plates and two sets of utensils down on the counter while he opens the fridge. Delighted to find a beer bottle that he opens with his teeth, before bringing one of the glass bottles to his lips for a sip. Grabbing for the plates and returning to the living room to settle in. Tossing his glasses and jacket onto your bed that lies a few feet from the kotatsu looking over his shoulder while he makes your plate.

"Ya coming?"

"Togame...I-" You let out a shaky breath, there's no way you texted the wrong person. You texted your friend your born again virgin woes, right?

Right??!!!

"Shy now?" He chuckles, pulling out his phone, holding it up so you can see the message that he received and sure enough it reads, a good finger fucking would fix me.

"THAT-" You bap at his phone knocking it from his hands as if that could make him unsee it, make him forget all about your lewd request, "That was NOT meant for you."

"Oh?" His jade eyes are cat like, narrowing for a moment in an emotion you can't place, "Who was it meant for? Surely not someone from Bofurin."

He takes another swig from his bottle, long fingers around the neck that he tightens over the thought. He knew no one from Bofurin could please you the way Togame knew he could, especially not that one with headphones and suckers.

Togame would much rather you be sweet on Sako, least then he was a Shishitoren.

"It was meant for a friend! It was like- like a joke between girls." Your confession shouldn't make his cock twitch in his pants, he palms at it and doesn't bother to be subtle.

"Girls always talk so lewdly to each other?" Silence stretches on between you two before he cracks a devilish smile, patting at the spot next to him, "Come on, gotta get some food in ya."

With your heart beating on your ribcage you slowly sink down next to Togame, who puts on a movie the two of you would enjoy while you eat your meal. Splitting with him what was supposed to be your dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow.

It's comfortable, the silence and occasional comments on the flick takes some odd plot twist and for a moment you forget why exactly he showed up at your door.

Right up until the credits, where you try to rise with a "welp" as if to show him away.

But Togame wasn't going anywhere, crowding your space with little effort and it's only now you realize you practically sat on top of him. He didn't let you get up and there's no way you can escape now as his mouth hovers so closely to yours.

"Now," he purrs, hand moving to cup your mouth, long fingers digging into the fabric to touch your already wet hole, "lemme help you with your problem."

Roughly pressing his fingers into your cunt and swiping up to your clit in slow strokes and it makes you gasp. Fisting the navy blue fabric of his samue when he presses his mouth to yours. Kissing you with a mixture of rough and soft that leaves you a little dizzy. Domineering in a way you'd forgotten you liked, gasping against his mouth giving him entrance for his tongue to slip in. Slow swipes as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss even more all while he keeps that slow rough drag of his finger tips. Until he hears the squelch of your cunt and feels your arousal soaking through your shorts only then does he pull away as you whine.

Hooking his fingers into the waist band of your shorts and yanking them down and off of your ankles, pushing you to lean back against your bed frame as he crowds further. Palm on your pretty mound as his fingers repeat the same action, catching on your entrance that starts to flutter with each circle of your clit back down to your perineum. He watches your face, watches your hips twitch as you arch your back for him, your hands fisting the hem of the fabric at your waist.

Togame brings his free hand to shove his shirt over the mounds of your breasts, exposing your already hard nipples to the cool air of your apartment. Leaning over to lick a broad stripe making you clench around nothing as a shiver runs down your spine. He does it a few more times before he's pulling your nipple into his mouth. Shoving his two thick fingers into your tight cunt with enough force it makes your tits bounce and you moan loudly.

Swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before flicking it in time with his thumb that now circles your clit. Adjusting his hands so that his fingers can touch that sweet spot and his thumb can rock against your clit with each thrust of his hand.

In just a few short strokes you're starting to see stars.

"Oh fuck oh fuck. Togame, fuck ahh." You sound better than what he's imagined when he fisted his cock to the thought of you. Your name on his tongue makes his cock ache painfully in his boxer briefs, begging to be touched but that could wait.

Biting at the soft tops of your tits, leaving hickies that you'll be finding for weeks as your head jerks back. Coil in your stomach so tight you think you might snap in half.

"Togame, don't stop, fuck, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum!" You sound whiny like you always do and Togame loves the sound. Lives for it and it's why he's always teasing you when you stop by Shishitoren to give the gang a lecture about not trashing the bar you work out.

It always fell on deaf ears that is until Togame made his men listen but he didn't want to think about all that right now.

He just wanted to burn the way you look creaming his fingers into his memory. Moving off your nipple with a lewd pop and silvery string that connects the two of you that he breaks with a swirl of his tongue. Looking down to see how you soak the floor and his fingers making him press into you a little harder.

"Then cum sweetheart. It's why I'm here remember?" With that you reach ecstasy, bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers with a loud moan of his name and tears collecting in your eyes, holding his gaze and if Togame wasn't in love with you before he sure as hell was now.

Watching you pant as he slows his pace just enough for you to catch your breath but let you ride out your high, loving how your cunt flutters around his fingers, trying to pull his digits back in that he steadily rocks into you.

Your manicured hands reach for his waist band, eyes trained on the outline of his long, fat cock.

"Please, 'gami." You whine, pulling at the fabric as his free hand gently pushes yours away. Green eyes tracking over pretty skin he's littered with bruises, kind replaying the way you cried out his name as he feels drool collect at the back of his throat. Pulling his fingers out until just the tips were hidden within your velveteen walls before he pushes the saliva to the tip of his tongue. Pulling his lips away from his teeth to push the spit from the wet muscle right onto your clit, not that you needed the extra lube. Messily rubbing it against the sensitive bud making you cum again with a cry and a biting grip on his forearm.

"No, no sweetheart. This is about you right now." He hums, eyes dark and trained on your face before he sets another relentless pace. Until you're slumping over and jerking back. Crying out his name over and over as fat tears fall past those pretty lashes Togame loves seeing you bat up at him when you want your way.

So into what he's doing to you he doesn't realize his boxers have become sticky until he shifts closer to you. Clinging to his skin too much for it to be only pre, turned on even more that you made him cum his fuckin pants from just your sights and sounds. Even your smell, sweet and sticking in the back of his throat making him insatiable.

"Fuck, lissen to how your cunt soundsssss." He growls, making emphases by pushing you beyond your limit so he can hear the clicking slick and cry of your cunt sucking his fingers back in when he pulls them out.

He doesn't stop until his fingers are pruned and cramping in your cunt that has been spasming non stop for the past five minutes, your throat sounds dry from your moaning and selfishly he thinks he could spit onto your tongue to help you alleviate your pain.

Looking up to see your debauched face, brows furrowed, lip pouting and tears of beyond overstimulation that makes him ease you down into slow ruts til his fingers are just in you. Half smothering you as he crowds your space, slowly pulling out his fingers and lightly tapping your clit as he leaves your glistening folds making you yelp.

Lips at your throat, leaving soft nips and nosing at your racing pulse, "Deep breath."

His voice is soft and it makes you dizzy, slowly pulling in breath until you feel a little more clear headed. Clinging to him slightly and he pulls you closer halfway on his lap so you can curl into his throat. Breathe in his cologne and hopefully think about him as much as he thinks about you.

Little does he know...

"Hmm, but you didn't get to have any fun." You pout, now real tears collecting in your eyes that have him chuckling again. Pressing his lips gently to yours before pulling himself away from you reluctantly.

"Oh I did." He presses his sensitive spent cock roughly through his pants until you can hear a muted squelch.

Suddenly there are hearts in your eyes, looking up at him and pushing him onto his back. Pulling his pants down until they sit midway on his hairy thighs, leaning over to lick the spent cum from his soft cock and if you weren't careful would quickly get hard. Your hand placed firmly on his sternum to keep him from getting up as your tongue travels to his heavy sac.

Togame just lies back, staring up at your ceiling, hand coming to circle yours until he's "clean" wishing you had texted him by accident months ago.

[bunnys-kisses]

how can i take your order? all you have to do is pick a dessert, drink and driver/character of your choosing! are you in the mood for a mille-feuille or a big slice of chocolate cake! please, please, please indicate who you want me to write about!!

the servers are from the following: formula one, call of duty, baldur's gate 3, haikyuu, one piece, jujustu kaisen, detective comics (dc), marvel comics (but i am open to any other fandoms you might have in mind! please do not hesitate to ask!!)

i do also accept polyam relationships! (pairing + reader), up to about four people! just to make it manageable on my end!

all orders can be made to the inbox for @bunnys-kisses and i'll get your order together asap! also let me know if you want it extra sweet or a little more spicy !

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

butter tart: "let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

sugar pie: “gonna let daddy hear ya?”

zebra cake: "well, what do we have here?"

carrot cake: "swallow it. all of it."

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family."

pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo."

oat flapjacks: "i'm not scared of you."

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat."

spice pie: "i didn't know it was possible to be a liar and a slut."

mushroom pie: "if you don't shut up. i'm going to shut you up."

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making."

swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

pumpkin pie: "i've met strays who were more obedient."

pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work."

sausage roll: "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt."

pithivier: "if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you."

tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.”

sponge toffee: "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?"

pull-apart bread: "i love you"

powered sugar donuts: "marry me."

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”

pudding chomeur: "i don't share."

ice cream bars: “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine."

chocolate cake: "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

soufflé: "i'll be gentle."

fried dough: "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours."

apple pie: "now be good and beg. thank you."

vanilla cheesecake: "where are your manners?"

berry trifle: "wrong. try again."

maple cream pie: "either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck."

s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night."

pancakes: "if you bite me. i'll bite you back."

loaf of whole wheat bread: "you're going to shut that mouth and take me."

jos louis: "does someone need a daddy?"

maple taffy: "oh my god you're stupid."

snowballs: "don't worry, drug tests aren't till next week."

shortbread cookies: "and who does this belong to?"

flan: "i'm not possessive... i'm obsessive."

peach cake: "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

angel food cake: "if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you."

red velvet cupcake: "if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one."

mince pie: "i'm not jealous."

banana bread: "i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

crumb cake: "if you just listened, all of this could've been avoided."

chocolate chip cookies: "you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat"

nanaimo bars: "who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."

coffee cake: "knees. now."

sourdough bread: "i'm going to breed you."

blueberry muffins: "i don't think it'll fit."

pound cake with strawberries: "you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

crepe: "pretty girl."

french toast: "you're trying to make me jealous!"

churros: "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?"

shortbread squares: "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

savory pastry: "let your brother find out."

sweet pastry: "i'll make it all better."

eclairs: "the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut."

boston cream pie: "yeah, i'll use protection."

bagel: “gonna paint you with my teeth.”

crostata: “stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”

tres leches: "i wonder if your brother know i cum in you."

peanut butter bars: “scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.”

eton mess: "be careful. your breath smells like cum."

scones: "but what if they see us!"

english muffin: "aw, is someone crying?"

honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes."

banana split: "don't look at me like that."

beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog."

fudge: "your father is pissing me off."

sticky toffee pudding: "the only way this is ending is you getting pregnant."

hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up."

brownies: "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours."

chocolate mousse: "the only necklace you need is my hand around your throat"

tim bits: "stupid little thing."

fruitcake: "i'll make tonight special."

cornmeal muffin: "i need you most."

devil's food cake: "you're my most unhealthy obsession."

crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?"

banana & chocolate muffins: "i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them."

custard tart: "i've never done this before."

cinnamon rolls: "no one needs to know."

mango sorbet: "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?"

date squares: "you look better with my marks on you."

figgy duff: "if i buy it, will you stop pouting?"

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught."

cream puffs: "let me finish inside."

profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

with a side of:

coffee: rivals

tea: semi-public/public sex

juice: cockwarming

mocha coffee: breeding kink

bubble tea: daddy kink

a vodka shot: rough sex

sparkling water: gentle sex

coconut water: alternate universe

energy drink: doggy style

champagne: sugar daddy situation

hard lemonade: possessive behaviour

espresso shot: dirty talking

a glass of wine: cowgirl position

ice capp coffee: werewolf au

bloody mary: vampire au

martini: mafia au

frozen latte: dumbification

frozen lemonade: consensual non-consent

cranberry juice: mean!character

glass of water: aftercare

chocolate milk: tenderness

milkshake: size kink

pina colada: pregnancy

cider: body worship

mai tai: loss of virginity

margarita: unprotected sex

mint julep: punishments

chai: biting/hickies

earl grey: big cock

fishbowl cocktail: protected sex

tonic water: age gap

matcha latte: collars/bondage

root beer: filming/recording

soda: jealousy

americano: oral sex

whisky: degrading language

vitamin water: dom/sub dynamic

irish coffee: high sex

sangria: drunk sex

dark roast coffee: sub!character

dark hot chocolate: sub!reader

iced tea: accidentally launching relationship

lemon water: university/college au

naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader

on the house: author's choice!

ORDER UP!

[sinofwriting]

Raised to Love - Max Verstappen (Dark Fic)

Words: 6,992 Summary: Drivers are shocked to find out that pretty much rookie Max Verstappen is married. Note(s)/Warnings: This fic is DARK! Taking place between 2002-2017. There's child abduction, mentions/talks of death, mentions/talks of underage sex, mentions/talks of sex, mentions/talks of periods, dubious consent. Jos is both somehow a better and worse person in this. Sophie and Jos are still married, Victoria and all of Max’s other siblings don’t exist. Inspired by Season 4 Episode 13 of Criminal Minds.

Masterlist | Support Me! 

2002

Tears are slipping down her face and she keeps rubbing at her eyes, small whines leaving her, but they won’t stop and her mom isn’t rubbing her back, trying to get her to calm down, her dad isn’t holding her and she cries harder. She wants her mom and dad, she wants them. But they aren’t here. She’s alone and in this room that’s cold and blank and she wants them.

She hiccups, eyes hurting and her hands can’t keep rubbing, tired of doing it. Sniffling, she turns on the small bed, burying her face in the pillow, even though her mom always tells her not to do it before turning her over. The tears fall faster now. She wants her mom. She wants her dad.

And now all she can think about is them sitting in the front of the car, completely still, not responding no matter how much she shouted or kicked at the back of her dads seat. How she was pulled out of the car through the window by a firefighter and how another one was talking about how her parents were dead.

They couldn’t be dead though, because her grandparents were dead, in heaven, her dad had told her. And they had been talking to each other just a minute ago. They were going to get dinner and candy because she had been a good girl. That thought had made her curl up in the firefighter's arms, lip trembling, because she had been shouting and kicking the seat, she had been naughty.

And then when she got to the hospital, a nice nurse had given her candy despite her being bad and held her hand as another one cleaned her up. She even let her pick out a stuffed animal to have. It was okay, even though she kept asking where her parents were until another lady had come in. She had crouched down in front of and told her that her parents were dead.

She shakes her head at the memory of the lady's face and her words. She didn’t want to believe that her mom and dad were dead. But they weren’t here, they should be here. They wouldn’t ever leave her by herself, alone, and in this room.

Lifting her head slightly, she sucks in a large breath of air, the pillow soaked in her tears and warm. As she takes another breath, she doesn’t hear the sound of the door opening and shutting.

She wants to bury her face in the pillow again, but her nose hurts from it and it’s gross and wet. Turning over, sits up, her small legs going up to her chest as she presses her back against the wall. It’s then that she notices the man in the room with her.

She stiffens at the sight, eyes going wide, and the blank expression that had been on his face softens.

“Hello.” “Hi.” She greets, voice quiet as she wraps her arms around her legs. “You were crying. Is everything okay?” Her bottom lip trembles and she shakes her head. “My mom and dad,” Her voice breaks. “The lady told me they're dead.” “I’m sorry. Are you waiting for your grandparents or an aunt?” She shakes her head. He frowns and then he moves, sitting on the bed with her, though he is at the foot.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is a little louder as she says it. ‘My name is Jos.” “Hi Jos.” He smiles. “How old are you?” “Four.” “I have a son that turned five recently.” Her arms loosen around her legs. “What’s his name?” “Max. He’s at home right now, I think, trying to convince my wife to get a puppy.” Her eyes widen and her arms drop, legs falling away from her chest. “Do you have a puppy? I’ve always wanted one.” “No.” He laughs and she frowns. “But I want dogs, so does my wife and Max. We just have been waiting.” “For what?’ She asks, head cocked to the side. Jos laughs again. “Special occasion, I suppose.”

She frowns as one of the things the lady said to her as they were in the car on the way over pops into her head. “Jos. Do you think whoever I stay with will have dogs?” “I don’t know.” Her frown grows. “Do you think they’d let me get a dog?” He shakes his head, “I don’t think so.” “Oh.” Her voice is quiet. “But, I’m sure I could talk to Anna about you coming home with me. That would be a special occasion. You and Max could both get your own dog.” “Really?” He nods. “Really.” She scrambles towards him, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, Jos!” “Of course. Now let's get you to your new home.”

—

“Do you know who's coming today?” Max nods, small brows furrowed together, looking so much like his father, she wants to take a picture. “My wife.” She’s proud of the way his nose doesn’t wrinkle, no disgust clinging to his words. Max thinking girls were gross wouldn’t do. “Papa never said, but is it the one I choose?” Sophie smiles, remembering how Jos had shown him a bunch of girls and the way Max had seen the one and just kept looking, had easily chosen her. “Yes. Papa was able to get the one you chose.” He smiles and she runs a hand through his hair. “Will they be here soon?” She spares a look at the clock. “Yes. Papa had to drive a bit away, but he should be here soon. Why don’t you come and help me set up her room.”

It was pretty much already set up, but Max could rearrange some of the toys and books, place them how he’d like. She expects him to nod, eager, but he looks confused.

“But mama, if she’s my wife, why isn’t sleeping in my room?” She coughs to hide a laugh. “You two are much too young for that, Max. And you don’t know each other yet. Maybe in a few years you two can share a room.” In ten years, maybe, she privately thinks. “But what if I want to share a room now?” Her eyes narrow. “Max.” His eyes drop to the floor and she sighs. “You two could have sleepovers in your room, not every night, but some nights if you’d like.” He nods, but still doesn’t look at her. “Can I go help set up her room?” “Of course.”

She watches fondly as Max clumsily copies things he’s seen her do when making his bed, adjusting the blankets, fluffing the pillows before he moves onto the small amount of toys she bought, not wanting to buy too many without knowing what the girl did and didn’t like.

He frowns at them before he’s darting out of the room, she thinks of calling after him, but she can hear him moving down the hallway and then into what she thinks is his room. Only a minute passes before he’s back, a stuffed animal in his grasp. Walking towards the bed, he carefully places the toy so it’s resting against the pillows and she nearly gasps seeing what it is.

“Max, that’s Leo.” “I know.” “Sweetheart, you don’t have to give her Leo. Leo’s yours.” He shakes his head. “We’ll share. I want her to have it right now.” Her heart melts at the answer. “Are you sure?” She double-checks. “I’m sure.” “Alright.”

2008

Crawling out of bed, she shivers as the cold air of her room hits her skin. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tiptoes away from her bed and to her door. One of her arms leaves her to slowly twist the knob, making sure it slowly opens. As soon as it’s open enough for her body to slip through, she does. Her feet taking an all too familiar path.

Opening the next door, she does the same as she did with hers, slipping through the tiniest gap possible before shutting it behind her. The words of the maid ring in her head now that she stands in the room. How wrong this is, how inappropriate it is, how wanton she is. She doesn’t know what wanton means, but the way she said it had made her flush, bottom lip trembling as she made herself smaller.

The reminder makes her hunch, teeth finding her lip and she wants to go back to her room, she doesn’t want to be wanton. But her room is cold and the nightmare she had is lurking in the back of her mind. And sure this room is cold too, but Max is here. And she knows if she slips under the covers with him that it will be warm and he’ll even at least wrap an arm around her if not his whole body.

A shiver hits her and she darts over to the bed, slipping under the covers.

“Flower?” Max mumbles. “It’s me.” She says, feeling warm on the inside at the nickname he gave her six years ago when she met him. He makes a small noise and then his whole body is curling around hers and she can’t help but sink into it, sink into him.

She tries to fall asleep, but the word wanton just rings in her mind.

“Max.” She whispers. “Hmm.” She twists in his arms, making them face to face. “What does wanton mean?” “What?” His voice is full of sleep and his eyes are starting to open. “What does wanton mean?” His nose wrinkles, “I don't know. Why?” “Mrs. Loeh told me I was wanton.” “I,” he’s squinting as he looks at her. “I don’t know. I’ll ask my mom at breakfast, okay?” She nods before pressing closer to him. “Okay. Thank you, Max.” “Of course, Flower.”

2012

She stares in shock at the blood on the toilet paper. “Sophie!” She calls, voice nearly a shriek. She knew what this was, Sophie had told her about her body changing, getting a period, but this. This couldn’t be normal. There was so much. It was nearly bleeding through the toilet paper before she let it go.

She hears two different voices say her name, one far louder and closer than the other and she starts to see the door knob turn. “Max, no!” The doorknob stops. “What’s wrong?” “I need Sophie.” “Flower, what’s going on?” The knob started to turn again. “Please, no!” She begs and tears are starting to form in her eyes. “I’ll tell you later, I just need Sophie.” She watches as the door knob stays paused and then hears a sigh from Max before the doorknob is released.

“Max, go to the living room.” She breathes a sigh of relief at Sophie’s voice. “But mama.” “Go.” She can hear him stomping away and can imagine the frown on his face as he curses in his mind.

A small knock sounds on the door. “Can I come in, darling?” “Please.” Sophie easily slips inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind her quickly. “Oh, darling. What happened?” She looks down at where her legs are pressed together. “I,” she hiccups. “I started my period.” “Oh darling.” And Sophie is right beside her, giving her an affection tap of the fingertip to her temple. “It’s alright. I know, it’s a bit scary, huh?” She nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood.” “Well, it’s probably that heavy because this is your first cycle. Mine was like that as well, but it lightened up after a few months, and birth control helps as well with that.” Blood rushes to her cheeks at the mention of birth control. “I’m a late bloomer, aren’t I?” “A bit.” Sophie allows. “I told you about this two years ago for a reason. I didn’t think you’d be nearly fifteen.” “Am I okay?” “Of course. Everyone is a bit different. If you want though, we can talk about it with the doctor. Make sure that everything is okay.” “Please?” She asks and Sophie smiles. “I’ll schedule it right after this. Now, let me show you again everything you're gonna need.”

She watches and listens intently as Sophie shows her everything. It’s overwhelming and she wants to cry, just lay in bed, bury her head in Max’s pillow and cry. She’s thankful when Sophie slips out of the bathroom as she still sits on the toilet. Is ever more thankful when as she begins to stand, pulling up her underwear and shorts and it’s like she can feel it wanting to drip out.

The pad in her underwear is weird, but nothing compared to the new weird sensation of feeling like she’s leaking. It makes her want to sit back on the toilet and never leave. What if she didn’t change her pad in time and bled through? The thought leaves her mortified and as she leaves the bathroom after washing her hands thoroughly, she darts into her bedroom, forgetting her promise to Max.

Laying on her bed, she makes a face, trying to find a comfortable position, everything feeling weird. Maybe she’d buy a pad or a mattress protector, maybe both with how weird this felt. It would help any mess that might happen as well if she leaked.

Rolling onto her side, she smiles at Moos. The ten-year-old dog looks back at her, head resting on her front paws. “Where’s Freckles?” “The backyard.” She turns, Max stands at the entrance of her room, a look she doesn’t think she’s ever seen on his face before. “It’s later.”

Blood rushes to her face at the words, at the reminder that she promised she’d tell him what’s going on, and she has to tell him. She tells Max everything, always has. And he does the same to her. It’s why she found out when she was six that Max and her were going to get married, that he picked her. That and he was confused about her wanting to play house and how he had to play the husband because they were already husband and wife in his six-year-old mind.

She nearly smiles at the reminder that Max picked her. He’s told her a few times over the years about it. The memory is still so strong in his mind, despite it now being a decade ago. The way he had looked at a bunch of girls in an array of photos, but she immediately caught his eye, was drawn to her and the flower behind her ear.

He snaps his fingers and she can feel Moos stand up before she gets off the bed, no longer leaping in her old age. Max moves into the room, leaving the door open as Moos slips out before shutting it behind the dog.

“What happened?” He asks, approaching the bed and she cranes her neck to fully see his face. Her face feels like it’s burning. It feels embarrassing telling Max this, about this, even though they’ve talked about far weirder and gross things. Maybe, and her eyes drop staring at the hollow of his throat as she thinks, it’s because this means they can finally have sex.

The thought alone makes her swallow, breaths turning a little shallow as she imagines it. Max and her have done a lot of fooling around since his birthday last year. He knows how to speed her heart up with just a brush of his fingers. She knows how much he loves the feeling of her boobs pressed against his chest, bare or covered. Their breaths intertwined with soft pants as they move together, at least one piece of clothing still separating them.

She’s broken away from the thoughts by a hand under her chin, drawing her face up. “Flower.” “I,” she pauses, eyes darting around before settling on his face when she feels his thumb and forefinger gently apply a little pressure to her chin. “I started my period.” His brows are furrowed for a moment then his face smoothes out, mouth dropping into a ‘O’ shape, the fingers and hand under her chin disappearing.

“Are you hurting? Cramps?” “No.” She shakes her head. “It just,” and her voice is quieter than before. “It feels gross, like leaking.” His head cocks to the right. “Even with the pad thing? Is it not working?” “It is. I think it’s just how it can feel.” “I’m sorry. Can I do anything?” She glances at the empty space in the bed next to her. “Lay with me?” He smiles, a laugh shaking his body. “Of course, flower.”

2014

“I have an F1 seat.” “You have an F1 seat.” The shock is so clear on his face it makes her giggle and he immediately smiles, but that shock still lingers behind it.

“Max Verstappen,” She begins, watching as his eyebrows draw together, fingers twitching before his hands settle on her hips. “Youngest F1 driver ever, youngest to score points, youngest on the podium, youngest to win a grand prix.” She doesn’t know if the last three will be true, but she hopes they will be, thinks they will be. “You think so? I mean, it’s just a seat in Toro Russo.” “It’s not just a seat at Toro Russo.” She laughs, feeling flushed as his hands sneak beneath her top. “It’s an F1 seat, an F1 seat that you will do amazing in. I mean, Max. There’s never been an F1 driver younger than eighteen before.” She smoothes the slight furrow between his brows with her thumb before kissing that spot. “You are going to do amazing and achieve so much.” She pecks his lips. “I’m proud of you.” His cheeks are pink at her words, her flutters a little at him blushing because of her, like she hasn’t seen it thousands of times before.

Brushing her fingers over the apples of his cheeks, she frowns. “Maxy.” “Hmm?” Her fingertips trail down to his jaw. “Let me get you a skin care routine? Please.” She adds, sticking her lip out a little. “Flower.” He sighs, his left hand moving to span across the small of her back, pressing her closer. “Please? You know I don’t care about the acne, but you’ll be the youngest on the grid, still in the thick of it. This will help. It won’t be anything complicated, either.” He sighs, a small smile on his face. “Okay. But promise me nothing complicated. You won’t be there to remind me how to do it.” “Nothing complicated.” She promises, beaming. “I’ll even write up a little instruction thing for you and you can call me every time you're doing it, so we can do it together if you like.” “Yeah? Even when I’m like eight hours behind or ahead and you're sleeping.” “Even then.”

“Oh.” She presses up on her toes in excitement and Max’s smile widens seeing it. “I got us new sheets.” “New ones?” She nods. “Can I see them?” Voice going a little low and he’s thankful that his voice doesn’t crack. She never laughed when it did, but it was still embarrassing. Her teeth find purchase in her bottom lip for a second, before she nods. “You can see my new underwear too.” A giggle leaves her at the way he groans, hands pressing her body closer and against his bulge.

2016

Max stares at the ceiling as his dad talks to someone on the phone. This is what they wanted. They wanted him here in the Red Bull seat. Getting here this early was amazing, proving how good he was in an F1 car. And escaping the nightmare that was Carlos and his father was also a plus, even if both of them had taken to glaring at Max every time they saw him.

Max was pretty sure they were betting on him crashing out this race, costing Red Bull money, and then he’d get booted back down and Carlos would get called up. He shook his head at the thought. That wouldn’t happen. He was good, he’d prove he should be in this seat, should be here this early. Because he did. Max was talented no matter what the other drivers said, or the journalists or the legends who told him he had no business in their sport. His jaw clenches, holding back a scoff. Their sport.

It makes him more grateful to his dad and mom. They had told him, prepared him for not being liked. He was aggressive on track, abrasive off to people he didn’t know well. They knew it would make things harder and they had made sure he knew that too. He’s grateful for his wife as well and he wishes she was here now with him for his first F1 race in the big leagues.

He had wanted her there for his first race at Toro Russo, but that hadn’t been an option. But now? Now that he got promoted up, maybe, he looks at his dad considering asking him before shaking his head. His dad would never go for it. Not because she’d be too much of a distraction but because they didn’t need to deal with more media attention, Max was more than sure of that. He nearly shudders thinking of when he had arrived at the track yesterday and today.

“Max.” He sits up, spine straight. “Is everything okay?” His dad smiles and Max’s shoulders loosen. “Yes. I have to go and meet a friend quickly. You will stay by Christian or Helmut if you leave the garage, understood?” “Yes sir.” “Good.” He nods. “Look over the data. We don’t need you crashing out in free practice of all things.”

He dives into the data as soon as his dad leaves. A thread of curiosity is in the back of Max’s mind as he looks it over. Talking to all the mechanics and engineers, getting a feel for them, just like he knows they are getting a feel for him.

When Helmut calls him over he wonders if by friend his dad really meant a friend of Helmut's. His dad didn’t have many friends after all.

“How are you feeling?” “Good.” Max nods. “I haven’t gotten into the car yet though.” The older man nods, frowning like he nearly always is on race weekends. “You’ll do fine.” “I will do my best.” Helmut nods and Max takes the silent dismissal.

Standing towards the back of the garage, he looks at the track data displayed on one of the bigger screens. Seeing it displayed so large and clearly makes him breathe a little easier as he looks at it all. He doesn’t get to look at it long, however. The sound of his dad asking where he is breaking him away from the data and he steps out from where he had been tucked away.

His mouth opens, ready to greet his dad, but it clicks shut at the sight of her.

She smiles at him, but it’s just a bit wrong, too tight at the corners. It makes his chest ache, makes him want to snap and tell people to stop looking at her, makes him want to whisk her away so he can see his smile. “Hi Max.” The quiet sound of her voice makes him move, striding towards her. “Flower.” He breathes just a step away from her before he brings her into his arms and she melts into him as he hides her face away from everyone else. “What are you doing here?” He asks, lips pressing to the side of her head. “Jos got me a flight here. I couldn’t miss this race.” His eyes flicker to his dad who's standing behind her, looking at them, easily ignoring all the eyes of the Red Bull garage on them and the whispers that are starting. “Thank you.” He murmurs and his dad nods.

He pulls away just enough to look at her, his hands now framing her waist, hers resting on his chest. He feels breathless looking at her. Dressed in some pants, a shirt that he remembers his mom buying her last year for her birthday, the shoes that match his, she’s gorgeous and he can’t help but quickly kiss her. Their lips connect for just a second, but it’s long enough for her hand to land on his cheek, for him to feel the warm metal of her wedding ring and band.

“I missed you. Missed you so much.” He tells her as soon as they are in his driver's room, alone. She smiles at him, hands cupping his face, and he can’t help but lean into the touch, into her. Happy to see her smile, his smile. “I missed you too. How are you feeling?” “Nervous.” He admits. “But I’m ready. I can do this. I’m ready for this.” Her smile seems to grow. “You’ve got this.” “Will you watch from the garage for me?” “Will Jos be watching from there?” He nods. “Always does.” “Then yeah, I’ll watch from there.”

—

Daniel looks at the slip of a girl standing next to Jos, intrigued. She was young, as young as Max if not a bit younger, but more importantly she was hot. Nudging his new teammate, he tilts his head in her direction. “You never said you had a sister.” The eighteen-year-old just looks at him and Daniel hates the way it’s somewhat unsettling. He was twenty-six, there shouldn’t be any reason for it to unsettle him. But as Daniel looks back over, he supposes most eighteen-year-olds don’t have dickhead near abusive dads that are Jos Verstappen. “I don’t have a sister.” “Really? Hot cousin then?” “Not my cousin either.” And before Daniel can say anything else Max is walking away from him over to his trainer. “Alright then.” Daniel mutters to himself, eyes lingering on the girl before he goes to his own trainer.

—

“Daniel thinks you're hot.” Blood rushes to her cheeks and the shirt in her hands falls onto the floor. “What?” “Daniel, before we got into the car for FP1, he was asking me about you.” His face is burning with anger. “Thought you were my sister or my hot cousin.” Max scoffs. “Oh.” Her voice sounds lost and her arms wrap around herself. The anger softens on his face at the reaction and he wraps his arms around her from behind, exhaling when her arms loosen, hands resting on his arms, fingers stroking his skin. “You're mine.” He breathes, dipping his head to press his lips against her neck, barely resisting the urge to leave a mark. Her breathing comes out shaky and in her next breath, his pinky finger starts to dip below the waistband of her sleep shorts. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Max.”

—

Max is shell shocked. He’s celebrating, screaming, throwing himself into the arms of his team, but behind his helmet, he’s shocked. He had hoped for points, dreamed of a podium, but a win? A win? That had never been in his wildest dreams for this weekend.

He’s guided over to the weighing station and then the first spot, a member of the team talking to him. His hands don’t shake as he removes his helmet and gloves. They don’t shake as he removes his balaclava either. Not when he clasps a few drivers' hands. They shake as soon as he sees his flower.

She’s standing next to his dad, crying, nearly sobbing. He can tell from the pattern of her chest moving up and down. And he knows that he should be going over to get interviewed, but he ignores the team member trying to guide him, darting over to her. The people surrounding her, all wearing Red Bull shirts, cheer, patting him wherever they can reach, but he’s only focused on her. His hands enveloping her face as he kisses her.

She gasps into the kiss, her hands settling on his biceps before moving down to his wrists, fingers wrapping around them as she returns the kiss.

“You won, Max.” She’s breathless when they break apart. “You won.” He grins at her, enjoying the shine to her eyes, the width of her smile. “I won.” It’s breathless as well, and a laugh follows it. “I won.” “You won.” She laughs, quickly pressing another kiss to her lips before pushing him away. “Now go.” He nods, but leans in for one more kiss before leaving her to go to the post race interviews.

The questions are a blur to him and so are his answers. Except for the final one.

“Is there anyone you want to thank?” “The team of course. I mean really without them this wouldn’t have been possible, we hoped for a podium, for points, a seemed out of reach with how the Mercedes have been performing though. My dad and mom as well. And my girl.” As he continues he fails to see the reactions from people with those two words, my girl.

The person interviewing him’s eyes are wide, almost having stumbled back. Nearly everyone from Red Bull has their jaw on the floor. Daniel though already feeling pissed from Max winning and not him has more anger coursing through him. Because seriously? He had been eyeing her up since Friday and she was with Max apparently? Max of all people? He scowls as his eyes land on her, she is far too pretty to be with Max.

Sebastian at the weighing station let out a disbelieving laugh, adrenaline was a hell of a thing and he hoped for Verstappen’s sake that the girl he kissed didn’t take his words to heart of him calling her his girl. He’d cool down later and most likely get embarrassed by the slip. Perhaps even angry, he was the type, after all.

A few of the other drivers share looks, shaking their heads and murmuring to each other that it wasn’t going to end well. It was a hell of a thing to say after getting a win, your first win, but PR was going to be all over him after and they all winced at the thought of what statement he’d have to make and put out in the next few hours or days.

His former teammate scoffs, “bullshit.” he spits. It should have been him in that Red Bull seat if anyone was going to replace Kyvat. He and his father had banked on Max doing something stupid, crashing the car, finishing out of the points, so he could get the seat like he should, but Max just couldn’t do that. Had to have a one-off fluke of a race. And now he was claiming he had a girlfriend. Probably some sort of PR stunt to make him look better, more stable, like an adult and not a kid squeezing his way into where he shouldn’t be.

Kimi lets out a small chuckle, one that Sebastian hears but doesn’t question him on. Of course, the kid would let it slip that he had a girlfriend. He had been hoping that Max would have made it until the end of the season or even next season, but it was fine. Kimi would just have to make sure to not make another bet with Minttu, it was getting a little embarrassing how much he kept losing to her. At least Kimi considers, he didn’t let it slip that they were married.

“Well, she’s pretty, I’ll give him that.” Jenson comments, looking at the girl Max had kissed, the one that must be his girl. Fernando chuckles. “She is jail bait.” “And taken.” He eyes her. “I’m a bit surprised he hasn’t mentioned her at all. I didn’t even know he was seeing someone. Did you?” The Spanish driver shrugs. “We talk about racing not personal. And yes.” He adds. “I am shocked. Mainly because of that.” He nods his head in the direction of Jos, still stern faced, though Fernando had caught a smile on his face earlier. Jenson lets out a sharp whistle. “Yeah, that is the surprising part. Wonder what Max had to do to get his dad to agree to that.” He shudders, “I don’t want to know.” “Yeah, best not to think about it.”

Max lets the podium celebrations wash over him, laughing when Kimi claps him on the shoulder as they leave, murmuring his congrats. Walking back towards the cool down room, out of sight from fans and cameras, Max takes a deep breath, heart still racing inside his chest. This was unbelievable.

He follows the FIA official as they direct them through another room, this one filled with some team personnel and such and his grin widens, feet picking up their pace as he scoops her into a hug, ignoring her squeal of protest.

“Max! You’re dripping in champagne.” He holds her tight to him, face buried in her neck. “Good. Means you can shower with me.” She doesn’t say anything to that, but he knows that he’s flustered her with his whispered words. It makes him chuckle and he puts her on her feet, keeping her close, though. “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”

He makes them keep standing there, his face still in her neck, at least a dozen eyes on them, but he needs this. Needs to hold her, needs to breathe her in, needs to feel her against him, needs her to calm him down. He wants to stay there forever, but before anyone can interrupt them, he pulls away. Pressing a kiss to her forehead before he lets her go.

“Go wait in my driver's room, while I finish up.” She nods, flashing him a small smile, before walking over to his trainer, who nods at him before guiding her out of the building and he knows to the Red Bull garage.

—

“Max, during your post race interview, you thanked quite a few people including and to quote you, my girl. Was that the girl you kissed today?” Max is happy he’s already flushed from winning that they can’t see the way more blood rushes to his cheeks at the question. Red Bull had told him to expect at least one question that was personal during the conference because of the kiss, but he hadn’t been thinking it’d be so early. “I think we have to remember,” Max’s eyebrows furrow at Sebastian speaking and he glances at the older driver. “That adrenaline is a hell of a thing. And we can’t hold something the kid says in the rush of a moment or does really against him.” Sebastian finishes before giving Max a wink, making his brows furrow more.

Was Sebastian trying to say that he didn’t mean to thank her, didn’t mean to kiss her? He can hear a few reporters mumbling, the scratch of pens against paper.

“To answer your question,” Max starts. “Yes, the girl I kissed was the one I thanked, that I called my girl. We’ve been together a while, she’s seen my whole career in karting now single-seater. She deserved thanks.” Kimi lets out a small chuckle, leaning forward a bit to look around Max and see the puzzled expression on Sebastian's face. Served the German right for thinking that Max misspoke and acted while high on his win.

—

“No girlfriend?” Daniel asks Max as they head into debrief. “What?” “No girlfriend?” Daniel repeats himself. “I haven’t seen her yet. She not here?” Max sends him an odd look, “If you mean Y/N, no. She isn’t.” He scoffs. “Of course, I mean, Y/N. Unless you’ve got more than one girlfriend. And if that’s the case, I call dibs on Y/N.” The younger stops in his tracks, grabbing a fistful of Daniel’s shirt and yanking, making him stop as well.

“What?” Daniel laughs. “She’s hot, pretty, whatever you want to call it.” His laughter dies when he catches sight of Max’s face.

It was the face that everyone loved to talk about. The first thing that had been brought up when it was announced that Max had gotten an F1 seat. It wasn’t his age, though that was a close second. It was the look he’d get if something didn’t go his way on track, if someone smashed into him, made a risky move. It was the face that had to have been born from all the near fucking abusive shit that Jos was rumored to have done to Max.

It was narrowed eyes, glare sitting heavy and Daniel could feel sweat gathering on the back of his neck at the sight of it. Nostrils flared, lips in a thin line, but somehow Daniel just knew that as soon as Max spoke his mouth would look like it was gathered into a snarl.

Seeing it and seeing it directed at him, reminds Daniel how all of them had joked in 2014 about how Max was going to be so scary, just scare them shitless. It had been jokes because despite the rumors they had heard, the stories they had been told, none of them really believed it. It wasn’t because Max couldn’t have been some hotshot on the track with an aggressive style, refusing to back down and winning because of it. No, it was the fact that people thought anyone of them would be scared of it, would be wary of him, that made them all laugh. And then they’d seen him in an F1 car and suddenly all those rumors and stories came rushing back to them, because fuck they have might merit in them when it came to Formula 1 after all.

Daniel has the urge to reach for his phone and call Jules’ godson, Charles, and ask how the fuck he managed to race against Max for so long and never get terrified of him, on or off track. But before his fingers can even twitch to reach for it, Max is speaking and god, he does look like he’s snarling.

“Daniel, if you mention how my wife,” The Australian driver's eyes widen and the word fuck starts bouncing around his head. “Looks hot one more time, I will crash into you, and I will take the fine, the penalty points, the promotion down, or the loss of my seat.” “Okay.” Daniel clears his throat, the word coming out high-pitched. “Got it. I’ll stop talking.” Max releases his shirt, fingers flexing, jaw shifting before the murderous look he had disappeared. “Good. Now let’s go, we are probably late for debrief.” Daniel nods, silently following his teammate while the words what the fuck echo in his mind.

—

“So, Max is married.” Daniel says, as he sits with a bunch of drivers, downing a shot. “Yeah, Y/N, not his fucking girlfriend.” “Daniel,” Jenson looks at the younger, eyebrow raised. “What exactly did you do?” He winces, throwing another shot back and fuck he should’ve grabbed more than two. “Called her hot in front of him, again.” The last word comes out as a whisper, but the whole table hears it and they all shake their heads. “Dude.” “I know! But like the first time I didn’t know, alright? It was Spain, before free practice, I thought she was like his little sister or cousin. This time, I shouldn’t have done it, there happy?” Kimi shakes his head. “I think the kerbs are going to your brain.” Daniel scowls at the Finnish driver, but Sebastian thankfully steps in before he can tell him where to stick it.

“What happened this time? When you called her hot? Which to be fair she is.” At Seb’s agreement, Daniel can’t help but shoot a look around, despite knowing that Max was in his hotel room and probably talking to his wife. The thought makes Daniel frown. “He, uh, he told me he’d crash into me and happily lose his seat if it came to it for crashing into me.” The other four drivers look at him, Sebastian and Fernando looking with disbelief, while Kimi looks unsurprised, same with Jenson. “Are you sure you just called her hot?” Fernando checks. He nods. “And pretty. I think it was pretty, hot, whatever you want to call it.” “I don’t even want to know the context.” Kimi murmurs. Daniel opens his mouth ready to say but gets a tap to the back of the head, making his mouth shut. “Let’s not do that tonight, alright.” It’s near instinct to fight the words, because why not tonight, but he slumps in his seat, nodding at Jenson’s words. He didn’t have the energy for it anyway.

2017

“Max, put up a hell of a fight.” Max’s eyebrows raise, “I didn’t know you knew my name.” He murmurs, the microphone still catching it, however. Lewis lets out a laugh. “It’s your second win, right? Lots of pretty girls here to celebrate with tonight.” The slight smile on his face from Daniel trying to poke at his ribs vanishes at Lewis’ words and he can hear Daniel’s sharp intake of breath, the journalists coming to life a bit. “Well, I don’t think my wife would appreciate that.” It’s deadpan, or at least he tries to make it deadpan, he didn’t actually want to make his PR officer’s life hell, but he knew there was a bit too much steel in it. “Your what?” Daniel leans forward, peering around Max. “Dude, where were you last year? It was all anyone was talking about at COTA.” “You got married at COTA?” “I got married in February 2016.” “Aren’t you like twenty?” Daniel peers even more around Max. “Once again, where have you been for the last year, two years?”

“Well,” a voice interrupts. “I think we can call this press conference to an end. Let Max celebrate his win and let Lewis come to terms with things.” “Come to terms is putting it lightly.”

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

No Words *ೃ༄

Summary: max defends his girlfriend and gets into trouble

𖤓 mv x reader ⋆｡°✩

𖤓 fluff + slight humour (iykyk) ⋆｡°✩

masterlist ☾☼

y/n had been a fan of formula one since she was a child. every parental figure in her life had been a fan of the sport, so it was natural and she got into it too. thankfully, it also made her realise very quickly in life that she wanted to work in the field of motorsports. she wasn't sure yet, and she was still working her way to getting into the sport, but it was a sure, clear path for her.

after meeting max, and falling in love with him, everything had changed. her family approved of the two of them, obviously, and so had his, though she hadn't cared much about jos' opinion. y/n made it clear in the beginning that she wanted to work in motorsports and she wanted to earn her place. she refused to let max talk her up or anything, because he was the kind of guy who would do just that for his girlfriend. max agreed, and promised to keep their relationship private for as long as she wanted.

it had taken her a few years. she bounced from indycar to motorgp to nascar and eventually made her way to f1 as a journalist. she had gained far more experience than she would've gotten if she had only focused on formula one, and she was confident in her abilities to finally be formula one.

max and her had stayed strong throughout, even if they kept their relationship private. she had met and become friends with daniel, lando, carlos, and all of max's friends. they often played padel together as well. mix the competitive spirits that max and she possessed, it was always fun.

after a year of being in formula one as a journalist, max and y/n had decided that it was time to stop hiding. they skipped the soft launch part, and jumped directly into the hard launch phase that left a lot of fans shook.

unfortunately, it also got her a lot of hate. y/n went from being one of the best journalists in f1 to one of the most hated ones for the same reasons that she was loved. the fans adored her because she was a woman of colour making a name for herself in such a sport, and that her parents had sacrificed a lot for her and she was making them proud. now, she was hated because her success became max's story and how he put in good words for her and how she was only with him for the money.

it broke her heart, but max was someone who had received a lot of hate before in his life, so he taught her all the ways to ignore the comments and focus on what she did best. it helped a great deal, but it also made her determined to prove that her career had nothing to do with max.

it was getting better, slowly and over time. max and y/n promised to never lose their temper on the comments. a lot of interviewers and fans had also asked the other drivers on the grid to comment on their relationship, asking if it was ethical for a journalist and a driver to date. but the other drivers always responded with the same thing, always saying how they've known max and y/n for a long time, and their relationship was no one else's business.

unfortunately, after a particularly hard race, max finally lost his cool.

"well, max, it's safe to say that this particular race of yours wasn't the best that you've performed. what do you have to say about that?"

"uh, nothing, really. we just didn't have the pace, and with some mistakes on my side, i lost a lot of points. but, i'm sure we can cover it up next race." max replied.

"you don't have to worry about us writing a bad article about you. your girlfriend and we will only be writing praises, don't you worry. the only difference would be that we won't take your hard earned money like she does," the interviewer laughed, nudging y/n.

the cameras were all focused on them, there were fans nearby, and other drivers. everyone was watching. it was live tv. the entire world was watching. the thick crowd of an audience had their gaze fixed on y/n, and all she could do in that moment was hang her head and try not to cry.

that's the moment max lost his cool. y/n was standing right there, and the interviewer had disrespected her on a very public platform.

"actually, my girlfriend will always tell me what i need to hear, whether it's good or bad. y/n y/l/n, a well known journalist, who is also standing right there with you, will write exactly what happened on track, because that's the part that she reports on. she made her own career, so fuck you for dismissing all of it." max bursted, before he stormed off.

the interviewer was spluttering, not sure how to react, but completely outraged as he forced the fia to take actions on max's outburst. y/n slipped away silently, needing to go back to max.

later on, the fia decided to punish max for using "language during the fia sunday press conference". their decision: obligation to accomplish some work of public interest.

later, an interviewer asked him if he regretted his decision of defending his girlfriend and getting a punishment, max responded, “no.”

“so, what do you think of the punishment given to you? do you think it’s fair?”

“no words.”

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

i hope you guys enjoyed this! i had a lot of fun writing this, mostly because i had no idea what my brain wanted me to write, but somehow i kept on typing. anyways, this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)