piastrification

[piastrification]

romantic chocolates? - mv1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader summary: in which you don't read the label on the chocolates OR you and max accidentally eat aphrodisiac chocolates and get too horny on vacation. warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. all smut. degradation, spitting, fingering, dirty talk, filthy filthy, slight breeding kink, mean!max, edging, language...NOT PROOFREAD (might be some typos or things that don't make sense lol), cute ending word count: ~3.9k author's note: SURPRISE!!!! ITS A DAY EARLY ;) this is a continuation to an anon request!!! i wrote a cl16 AND ln4 version of this. UP NEXT: OP81

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You should’ve read the label before eating them.

Some little box tucked in the corner of the welcome basket, tucked beneath bottles of wine and a note from one of Max’s sponsors. You didn’t think about it twice. Why would you? 

Just ripped it open with sun-warm fingers and let a piece melt on your tongue. Then fed Max some. Let his lips wrap around your fingers. Slow, tongue brushing against your knuckle. Eyes locked on you.

Humming at how good it was.

You laughed. And neither of you thought twice about it.

You were both stretched out on the daybed, high up in the cliffs, where no one could see you but the ocean. Linen cushions under you, a light breeze, and the ocean humming.

Your body is still damp from the pool. Bikini clinging to your skin tightly. And Max is lying next to you in nothing but a dark pair of swim trunks. Waistband pushed dangerously low on his hips. One leg bent. One arm behind his head. Comfy. Happy.

The way he always is when its just the two of you.

You’d been talking about something. Nothing important. Just a lazy conversation that happens between the stretches of silence.

He’s half-laughing, fingers ghosting down your arm every once in a while.

About thirty minutes go by, and something in you shifts.

It’s not all at once. Slow. A subtle ache in your belly. Your bikini bottoms sticky. A wetness you hadn’t noticed before. Thighs clenching automatically.

Max lets out a breath next to you. Like something in him changed too.

You don’t look over right away. Because the ache doesn’t stop.

It spreads like a fucking wildfire.

Low and deep and pulsing between your legs. As if your body decided to speed past the arousal and straight into desperation. 

You try to cross your legs, needing some sort of pressure. But it doesn’t even help in the slightest bit. If anything, it makes it worse.

Then you heard him.

A quiet, “Fuck.” 

You turn your head.

He was still laying on his back. But no longer relaxed. In fact he was ramrod straight. Jaw tight. Eyes shut. A hand still behind his head, but the other now fisting the edge of the cushion.

Swim trunks tight over his hips.

And lower….

You swallowed hard. 

He turns to look at you, slowly opening his eyes. 

“What the fuck was in that chocolate?” He asks, voice rough. Low. 

You blink. “I don’t…Uh,…I didn’t read the…”

His gaze drops to your legs. The way your thighs were pressed together like you could stop it. Like you weren’t fucking dripping.

You try to play it cool. Try to make it seem like your cunt isn’t clenching on nothing. Again and again. Begging to be filled.

He feels his cock twitch at the sight of it. Your thighs pressed together like some common whore.

“You’re squirming.”

You breathe in. Swallow.

“I’m just…I’m just hot.”

He hums. But it’s not kind.

And he watches the little shift in your breathing. The twitch of your muscles.

His cock twitches in his swim suit.

And he smirks.

“Just a bit of chocolate and what?” He laughs. “Now you’re lying here thighs pressed together like a fucking slut.”

You flinch. Eyes widening. And he grins even bigger.

“This what gets you wet now?” His voice teasing. “Candy?”

“Max…”

“No. Go on. Tell me.” His eyes trail down your chest, landing on your hips. “Is your pussy this wet because of the candy? Or is it because you let me suck it off your fingers like a good little whore.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Hips jerking. 

He laughs. Mean.

“Oh, you liked that, yeah?”

You nod. Whimpering.

He moves closer. Fingers reaching for your skin, pulling your legs apart just a little bit, trailing up your thigh, stopping right near your core.

“Bet if I pulled your bottoms to the side, you’d be fucking leaking onto the daybed.”

And its not a question. It’s a statement.

He’s on his side now. Watching you, propped on his elbow, cock visibly straining against the thin fabric.

“Poor, liefje.” He coos. Mockingly. “Trying so hard to act normal. Bet your pussy’s fucking pulsing.”

You moan, barely. Head falling back. Chest rising.

“Go on, pretty. Rub your thighs together all you want. Let that needy little cunt grind against nothing. See if that makes you feel any better.”

“You’re being mean.”

His smile twists. Darker. Meaner.

“You should’ve read the fucking label.”

You don’t speak. You can’t.

“I trusted you, you know?” He mutters. “Handed me that chocolate like it was a fucking game.”

His jaw clenches.

“And now I’m sitting here with my cock fuckin’ aching…and you’re…” He glances at your thighs again for a quick second. “Dripping on the cushions like a fucking whore.”

He shifts, kneeling beside you now. “And the worst part?” He leans toward you. Noses almost touching. “It’s your fault.”

His fingers still rest on your thigh. Squeezing it. Trailing to the fabric of your bikini with two fingers, dragging it. Slow.

Until you’re exposed.

“Oh, fuck me.” He groans. “You’re soaked. Fuckin’ soaked, schatje.”

And he laughs. It’s almost cruel. 

“Dripping. All from what? A piece of chocolate and some dirty talk?”

You whimper, hips twitching as the cool air breezes against your hot core.

“You look like you’d let me fuck you right here.”

And you whimper. Pushing your head deeper against the cushion behind you. Sunglasses pushed up on your head.

“Not even trying to hide it, huh?” He spits. “Too fucking dumb from being so horny, yeah? Can’t even keep your hips still.”

You nod. A lot. Fast. It’s almost pathetic.

“You gonna admit it?”

You blink at him. “Admit what?”

“That you’re clenching around nothing. Aching for my fingers. For my cock.”

He leans in closer.

“Say it.” He demands. “Or I won’t touch you.”

Your voice quivers, “Max, please…I’m so wet.”

He raises a brow, smirk growing. “Sorry…what was that?”

You feel your cheeks redden. “I’m wet,” your voice is louder. “Fuck. Max…I’m fucking aching for you.” You sound frustrated. Annoyed almost.

And his smile is wicked. “There’s my liefje.”

“I should make you fuckin’ beg. Keep you like this for hours…because this…” He slips two fingers between your folds. “Is what I have to deal with.”

You jolt from his touch. Whimpering.

“Sensitive already, hm?” He grunts. “Fuck, I could probably make you cum just by spitting on you. Needy little cunt.”

And you try to close your legs. Clench them.

But he grips your thighs and forces them to stay open. Rough.

“Keep them open, schatje.”

His voice is so mean, but it only makes you ache more. “I’m so fucking hard that it’s making me fucking sweat. Can feel my cock leaking.”

Your breath hitches as he sinks his fingers into you.

“You know,” he says, like its a normal conversation. Like his fingers aren’t curling in your cunt. “We’re supposed to be relaxing.”

And his one arm gestures to the view. The pool. The cute villa. The ocean.

“Summer break. No work. No races.” His fingers curl just a bit more. And your mouth falls slack. “Was supposed to be quiet. Easy. Nap in the sun, maybe fuck you slow after dinner.”

He clicks his tongue, eyes dragging over you. The way your tits rise. The way your thighs are twitching. You’re a mess. And he looks fucking furious about it.

“And instead I’ve got this.” And pushes in another finger just to prove a point. It has you jolting.

“Squirming on this cushion like a needy little bitch who can’t sit still.” He huffs. “Legs twitching and pussy leaking in the middle of the day.”

You whimper. Lip quivering.

“My dick’s been leaking since you moaned the first time.”

And you whimper. Quietly. But he hears it. His jaw clenches.

“Max…”

“No. Don’t ‘Max’ me.” He cuts you off. “You did this.”

He leans in closer. Fingers moving with a more hurried pace.

“You fed me that chocolate.” His voice drops. “Now I’ve got my cock pulsing in my suit, you’re cunt’s crying for me, and you expect me to be fucking calm?”

His voice is shaking. Fingers twitching.

Your walls squeeze against his fingers. And he hisses in a sharp breath of air.

“Have to spend my afternoon with a fuckin’ brat whining for my cock.” He places a soft bite on your shoulder. “Like shoving my cock in you is the only thing that will help your poor cunt calm down.”

He can feel your cunt squeezing him. See the rapid rise and fall of your chest. Your cheeks redden. All the tell tale signs. 

And he pulls his fingers away. And you cry out from the loss of his touch. 

“You don’t get to come yet.” His voice is fucking flat. “Not until I say so. Not until you earn it.”

He presses his fingers back to your cunt, slow. Teasing. “Should rub this needy cunt for hours. Edge you over and over until you’re sobbing for it.”

You let out a small sob, hips grinding against his finger tips.

And he pulls his fingers away almost instantly.

“No.” He grunts.

Presses his soaked fingers to your lips. “Open.”

And you do. 

He groans as you suck his fingers. His hips twitching just slightly. Eyes not leaving from his fingers in your mouth.

“That’s it, pretty.”

He palms himself with his other hand, groaning. His eyes darkening. Almost feral looking.

He leans toward your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

Presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. 

Lips hovering over you ear. Soft.

“Now say thank you.”

Your narrow your eyes. Fucked out of your mind. Glaring at him.

“Let me hear it. You’re gonna lie here like a good girl, and thank me for taking care of your soaking needy pussy while I’m leaking into my fucking suit."

“Th…thank you, Max.” You whimper. “For taking care of my needy pussy while you’re supposed to be relaxing.” You manage to get out. Sarcastically. Frustrated.

And his cock twitches.

He leans over you now, on his knees, jaw tight. Slipping his hand back down between your thighs. Dragging his fingers between your folds again. Not pushing in. Like he’s testing you.

“Ohhh, liefje.” He clicks his tongue. “you’re lucky I haven’t fucked the attitude out of you yet.”

The air is hot against your skin. 

“Messy little thing,” He grunts. Watching his fingers move. Pressing the pads of his fingers against you. Still not pushing in.

Your hips twitch. 

“You want it?” He tilts his head. “Want my fingers inside?”

You nod. Begging. Eyes pleading.

And he laughs. But it sounds like he’s struggling. Like he’s using every ounce of control to not push his suit down and fuck you into the cushion.

“My cock’s fucking throbbing, schatje. Feels so heavy.” He mutters. “You have no idea how bad I want to be inside you.”

And he pushes two fingers in. You moan. Back arching. Loud. 

And he’s locked the fuck in.

Watching your pussy clench around him. Groaning.

“Fuckin’ squeezing me.”

He moves them, slow. Dragging. 

“Y’hear that?” He grunts. “Pussy’s fucking crying for me.”

And you’re gripping the cushion. Gasping. The heat in your stomach building fast.

And he leans over you. Mouth at your ear again. One hand putting his weight onto your thigh.

“Don’t you fucking come.”

Your hips move. You’re so close. Right there.

He drags his thumb to your clit. Circles it a few times. Slow. Fucking brutal.

“You wanna?” He huffs. “Wanna come on my fingers? Soak me like a fucking slut?”

You’re panting. “Please….Max…”

“I know.” He slows his fingers. “I know you need it.”

And he speeds his fingers up. Pushing in and out of you deeper. Curling his fingers.

And right as your body seizes up. Your orgasm about to rip through you. 

He pulls his fucking hand away.

And you scream.

Twitching. Clit pulsing.

“Fuckin’ hell…Look what you’re doing to me.” He palms his cock, the fabric stained with a wet spot. And he’s so hard.

His head is cocked. Eyes blown. Fingers covered in your slick. 

He grabs your bikini top. Fisting the fabric and shoves it up. Nipples so hard from how worked up you’re feeling. And they bounce free. 

He groans.

He palms himself again. Once.

Then reaches greedily, pinches your nipples between two fingers. And you whimper.

“So fucking pretty…look at you…” He whispers, before leaning down and bites.

Not a hard bite. Just enough to make your back arch when his mouth closes around your nipple. Sucking. Tongue swirling. Teeth grazing.

And his other hand returns to your folds. Pushing into your cunt with two fingers. Deep.

He sucks harder on your nipple, groaning against you. 

Curling his fingers just right.

And you’re squirming. 

“You like this, huh?” He hisses. “Like when I shove your top up and suck your tits like they’re mine?”

“Ye…yeah,” You are gasping.

He groans, pressing kisses to your breasts. “You sound fucking wrecked.”

And he looks kind of calm. His brows are focused like he’s studying. Smirking. Licking his lips.

“Y’gonna come already?” 

You nod. And he slows down his movements instantly.

“You think you deserve it?” He pulls his fingers out, slow. Holding them up. “Look at this fuckin mess.”

His fingers are glistening. Covered in you.

He brings them to his mouth. Sucks them fuckin’ clean. Moaning at the taste.

“Fuck, schatje.” He pulls his fingers out with a ‘pop’. “Tastes so good.”

Max moves lower onto the day bed, almost laying down on the day bed.

And then his fingers are back. Pressing into you so filthy that you’re arching. Shoving them deep. Hard. Still slow.

“You wanna come?” He picks up the pace. “Say it.”

You gasp. “Max…please.”

“Not good enough.” And he’s pressing his thumb to your clit. Rough. “Tell me what you want.”

You’re grinding into his hand. Begging for more. Aching.

“I…plea…Max. I need….” You’re breathless. His fingers not giving up. Curling inside of you. “I need to..”

And he laughs.

“Need?” He repeats. “No. You fucking want it. You want to come all over my fingers like a pathetic whore, yeah?”

And the heat in your stomach hurts. 

And he leans in. Breath on your cheek. “Don’t.”

Your body jerks against his, about to come.

He pulls his fingers out again.

And you fucking scream.

“Y’gonna come if I put my mouth on you?”

And your breath hitches at the bare thought of it. Eyes glassy. A whimper pushing past your lips.

“Too fucking bad.”

But then he drops between your thighs. And licks.

One heavy drag of his tongue against you. And you careen forward with a sharp cry before falling back down to the cushion. 

He groans against you. Hands digging into the skin of your thighs as he opens you wider. As he buries his face into your cunt. Tongue lapping you greedily.

And Max?

He’s grinding himself against the cushion of the day bed. Rutting himself against the bed. Cock dripping against the fabric.

And he’s fucking panting.

“Fuck, baby… fuck. Fuck. I can’t…” His hips are jerking into the cushion. Rutting into it. Desperately. Messy. 

Nose nudging your clit. Burying his face into you like he’s feasting.

His hips jerk harder against the cushion, and then he’s fucking coming. His body shuttering as he watches you suck his fingers win. 

“Fucking fuck…” His voice is wrecked. “Go on. Come for me…you deserve it. Fuck.”

His thumb drags against your clit again. And your back arches. Thighs clamping around him.

“Oh fuck..fuck…Max.” 

“Yeah,” he’s groaning. “That’s it.”

His mouth sucks over your clit. Hard. 

And you crash. Pussy clamping down against his fingers. Pulsing. And body trembling.

But he doesn’t give you any time to recover.

He’s breathing hard and his cock is still hard in his soaked suit. 

He grabs your hips. Voice cracked. “Get on top of me.”

And you blink. Dazed. “What?”

But he’s already pulling you against him as he sits down. Dragging you over him. 

“I need to be inside you,” voice dark. 

And when he see’s you hesitate, not because you don’t want to, but because your head is spinning. His voice comes out harsh. “Now, schatje.”

You snap back. Don’t hesitate. 

“You’re gonna ride me…pull my fucking cock out and sit on me.”

Your fingers push the waistband of his swimsuit lower…and fucking christ. His cock smacks his stomach. Flushed. Red. Leaking.

You wrap your hand around it, and he groans. Head tilted back.

And you sink down on him. Slowly. Trying to take him inch by inch. Tease him a little. 

And it isn’t until he’s fully bottomed out in you that he lets out a laugh.

And you feel everything. 

You rock your hips only once and Max fucking loses it.

Snaps.

Hands digging into your hips as his rises off the cushions, just a little bit. His grip is bruising. 

“Move.” He spits. “Ride me. I don’t fucking care how…just do it.” He’s demanding. Mean. Feral.

And you start to move. Circling your hips. As you pant. Head leaning against his shoulder.

“Fuck…fuckin’ look at you,” He huffs. 

You moan. Too loud.

“Shut the fuck up.”

And he slaps your butt. Hard. The sound echoing.

He slams up into you, and you cry out. Eyes rolling.

“Pathetic,” he grunts. “Feel how deep I am, huh? Like my personal fuck toy.”

Your thighs are shaking. Clit dragging against his pelvis as you start bouncing on him. 

It’s messy and soooo desperate.

And Max just laughs at you. His neck flushed red.

“I can’t…fuck. I can’t hold…” He bucks up into you. “Too fucking tight, so wet…ride me harder. Please, baby.”

And you do.

You fuck yourself on him harder. Faster. Slamming down on his cock with every single bounce. And you can barely breathe.

You’re babbling. Moaning. Panting. Cursing his name into his shoulder.

“Come with me,” He begs. “Fuckin’ come with me, baby…please…C’mon..”

And you break.

You snap around him.  Orgasm ripping through you. Clamping down on his cock so hard that Max shouts. And he spills inside of you.

And its so much.

Hot, sticky spurts pushing deep as he jerks his hips. Your name falling out of his mouth with pleas.

You collapse on to his chest. Trembling.

And Max?

He’s still inside you. 

Doesn’t soften. Not even the slightest amount.

Somehow still fucking hard.

And your legs are shaking as he flips you over. Hands gripping your hips like he’s about to destroy you.

You barely manage a breath before he’s shoving your knees into your chest, folding you. One hand pressing into the back of your thigh, holding them there. Your soaked cunt spilling his come down onto the cushion beneath you.

The other wraps around your throat. Pressing.

And he looks like he wants to eat you the fuck alive.

Controlling.

His cock twitches as he presses it back to your entrance. Slamming into you.

And you sob. Back arching. So full and wet.

“Still so tight.” His fingers squeeze your throat just a little bit harder.

And your mouth falls open with a loud moan. 

And he spits right into it. Hitting your tongue, dribbling down your lip. And you don’t even have to think about it…you swallow. Lick your lips for more.

And Max moans as if he just came again.

“My god, you’re fucking mine.”

And he fucks into you harder. Relentless. Like he needs to chase this feeling. 

“Fuckin’ look at this mess. Hear how wet you are?” Your hands fist the sheets.

“You’re so loud baby. It’s disgusting. This isn’t how a good girl fucks.”

And he slaps your thigh.

You’re panting. Gasping against the grip of his hand. And he feels every breath through his hand.

He leans in close. Voice fucking filthy.

“This is how you wanted it, huh?” Wanted to get me all fucked up.”

He’s cruel. Pounding into you with such urgency as you nod. Lips still parted.

He rubs the pad of his thumb against your jaw. “My filthy fuckin’ slut. Letting me choke you. Spit on you. Pounding you like I’m trying to fuck a baby into you.”

And your walls clench down on him. Hard.

And he snarls. “Ohhh, you like that?” He tilts his head a little. “Want me to fill you up? Stuff you so full. Get you swollen with my baby.”

And you’re twitching now. Moaning. Head tilted back deep into the cushions.

And his hand leaves your throat. Only for a second. Only to slap your cheek. Once. It’s light, but its enough to make your eyes snap back open.

“Eyes on me, schatje.”

You’re dazed. Cheeks flushed red.

“C’mon give it to me.” Max urges you. 

And you instantly do. 

Your orgasm ripping through you again. Spasming around him. Squeezing him so tight that Max loses it.

He slams in three times. Then groans like he’s been punched. Spilling into you. 

You’re leaking. Can barely breathe. And he’s panting above you. Shoulders shaking. 

And then he brushes your jaw again. Leaning forward and kisses you.

Soft.

So soft. You whimper against his lips.

And he kisses you slow. Messy. Breathing in your whimpers.

And then he’s kissing you deeper. Like he’s hungry.

Slipping a hand into your hair, the other still at your jaw. His tongue licks into you. And you sigh into him. Melting.

He groans into you.

“Can’t believe how fucking good you feel.” He mutters. “Unreal, baby.”

You whimper. Too sensitive. And he kisses you again. Quick. Soft.

“You okay?” He brushes his noses against you. Kissing the corner of your mouth. Then your cheek. Jaw. And then under your ear.

You nod. Slowly.

“Good,” He grins. “Because I’m not pulling out yet.”

Then he quiets. Smiles. A real smile. Like something has settled in his bones.

His fingers trace your cheek. Caring.

“You’re gonna marry me.”

You gasp. But you’re not surprised

He kisses your cheek. The crinkled skin by your eyes. Your forehead. Still inside you. Holding you tight.

“You’re gonna wear my ring,” he mutters. “Take my name. And be my fucking wife.”

Your hear pounds in your chest.

“Would you want that?” His voice is low. Hushed against your lips. “Want to belong to me? Forever?”

You nod. A small whimper. “Yes.”

“Say it.” Its a little demanding. But then his eyes soften. “Please?”

“I want to be yours…” Your voice is soft. “Forever, Max.”

He groans, pushing himself in closer to you. His full weight pressing against you now. 

“You are.” He pecks your lips. “Every fuckin’ inch of you. It’s all mine.”

He flexes his hips just once. Just enough to make you gasp.

“My wife.”

And he means it.

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[piastrification]

yeah Kimi’s the third youngest podium sitter but more importantly he’s the ONLY podium sitter that’s openly admitted on a podcast to committing credit card fraud on his friend’s trainer

[piastrification]

Sugar, Sugar

Max accidentally becomes your sugar daddy. He doesn't mean to, you don't mean for him to. It just sort of happens.

Warnings: 18+, smut, creampie, sugar baby x sugar daddy dynamics (accidentally), oral

The Bag

He tightened his grip on you, fingers bruising your hips as he came inside of you. "Fuck," he choked out, slumping forward. His body rested over you as you tried to stop yourself from collapsing.

But Max wrapped his arms around you, holding you up. "You okay?" He asked, still trying to catch his breath.

When you nodded, he slipped out of you. "Yeah," you managed, settling yourself against the cushions. "Yeah, I'm okay." You needed to get into his shower, needed to clean yourself up.

As Max stood from the bed, he looked at you. You were obviously tired, worn out. Sweat clung to your skin and your hair was a mussed up mess.

He loved having you like this. He loved having you on his bed, worn out because of him. "I'll get the shower running," he mumbled and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom.

It was casual sex, nothing more. Neither of you were in the position for anything more than carnal desires.

But he had something for you. A present, something he had found just for you. All because you sent him a text, complaining about how your trusty work bag had broken.

He started the shower, held his hand under the steady stream of water as he waited for it to heat up. When it did, he called you into the bathroom.

You kissed his cheek as you walked past him. When you weren't having sex, it never went further than that. Just a passing kiss on the cheek, nothing more.

When you stepped beneath the water, Max left the room. He heard you humming to yourself as you scrubbed your skin and washed your hair. (Max knew how much more you preferred his shower. Every time you came to his apartment, after every time he had you on your back, knees, whatever, you used his shower. Took your sweet, sweet time and came out smelling like him).

You both had the option to sleep with other people. You could sleep with all of Monaco, if you so desired, and Max didn't have the right to get angry. Just like he could sleep with other people when away at Grand Prix.

But the both of you chose not to. You were each others only sexual partners, and that worked for you.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around yourself. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend the night in his bed. Each time, the two of you kept the entire bed between you. But, through the night, you migrated closer and closer, until you were touching.

You dried your hair as best you could and walked out of the bathroom. Still humming as you went, not paying attention to anything. Not paying attention to Max on the bed as you grabbed your hairbrush. "My mum is convinced we're dating," you mumbled as you brushed through your wet hair.

Max cleared his throat.

You were still talking when you tired towards him. But you stopped when you saw what was on the bed in front of him. "What's this?" You asked, your voice pitching slightly.

Max raised his shoulders in a shrug. "You said your work bag was broken."

Your work bag was broken, he was right. As pretty, as expensive as the bag in front of him was, it wouldn't do as a replacement. Not big enough for all of the things you lugged to your office.

But you sat in front of him on the bed and took the bag from him. "It's gorgeous," you said, your eyes lighting up. Because you really did like it.

"It's for you."

You put the bag down as you looked at him. "Seriously, Max, thank you," you whispered and threw your arms around him.

There wasn't much better than the feeling of his large hands against your back.

The Instagram Likes

Your likes kept appearing on his Instagram feed. It was his fault for not following more people on his private account, for not filling his feed with things that weren't you.

But it was all you. Your posts. Your tags. Your likes. Things you wanted, things you had liked. Things that were now in his shopping cart or on its way to his apartment.

He was just being friendly, right? Because you were friends. At the end of the day, you were friends. You had been friends before you started sleeping together and you were still friends now. It wasn't weird he was buying you things.

At least, that was what Max kept telling himself.

He had it all stashed in his Monaco apartment, waiting for you to come over. But it had been a triple header and you had been busy during the week.

All the things Max had bought for you (clothes, bags, shoes, jewellery) were piling up in his apartment. It was becoming a little embarrassing.

After the triple header (which had at least one win for him), Max invited you over. Just for some casual sex, nothing more. He definitely didn't have good food and good drink in the fridge, and a good movie queued up on the television.

He hated that he missed you. But, the second you walked through the door, he was upon you. No words were exchanged as he pinned you to the door and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, hooked your leg around his waist.

"Fuck," he grunted. You grinned as you tugged at his hair. Your favourite sound in the world was his groans of 'fuck' while he was deep inside of you.

I missed you.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he kept them in his mouth. But he had missed you, every part of you. He just wanted you on your back, your thighs squeezing his head as he ate you out.

He dragged you away from the door. Dragged, but you went willingly. You were happy to let him pull you into his room, to undress you.

Your clothes were discarded on the floor as Max climbed on top of you. He pressed his hips against your as you whined and moaned. Max knew how to fuck like like nobody else. There was a reason you kept going back to him. He made you see stars.

"I got something for you," Max mumbled as you both laid there.

Turned on your side, your eyebrows rose at him. "You got something for me?" You echoed.

"A couple things."

He stood from the bed and walked over to the cupboard. Several bags fell out and Max picked them all up. He brought them over and dumped them in front of you. "Saw your likes on Instagram, thought I'd buy you some of the stuff."

Tipping the first bag upside down, a bracelet fell into your hands. "Fuck," you whispered as you let it dangle from between your fingers. It was simply gorgeous. "Thank you Max, seriously. You didn't have to do this."

"I didn't," he replied as he laid back beside you. "But I wanted to."

You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

The Car

It had been three days since your car last started. You'd called the garage, but there was no way for you to be able to afford the repairs.

You didn't tell Max with the aim of getting him to buy you a car. The thought didn't cross your mind. You were just ranting to a friend as you walked the distance to work instead of driving.

The next time you went to Max's house, you immediately went to kiss him. Frustration and anger welled up inside of you, and you just wanted some release. That release was supposed to be Max.

Instead of pinning you against the wall and snogging you, Max took your hands. "What're you doing?" You asked as he brought you over to the sofa.

"I know your car is busted, so I got you something," Max said. He pressed something into your palm and closed your fist around it.

You frowned at him and opened your fist.

"You didn't."

Max kept grinning as he looked at you. "I did," he said.

"I can't accept this from you."

"Yeah you can."

You opened your fist.

A set of car keys sat in your hands. Brand new keys to a brand new BMW. "Max," you began. "Seriously, I..."

"At least until you get your car working. Forever, if you want."

You sucked his dick extra good that night. He held the back of your head as you moved, as you took him down your throat.

He came three times in your mouth alone that night. It was an all night affair, the both of you losing track of time.

There was a few days before you used the car for the first time. Just to meet your friends. It didn't exactly feel wrong, but you didn't feel right about it either.

They looked at you with raised eyebrows. "Where the hell did this come from?" One asked as you walked towards the group.

"Gift," you mumbled as you locked it and dropped the keys into your bag. "From Max."

The raised eyebrows became knowing grins. "Ah," somebody said and the group started giggling.

"Girl, you've got yourself a sugar daddy."

[piastrification]

oh i miss my writerist era

[Patreon Exclusive] Eternal Sunshine (OP81 x Sargeant!Singer!Reader)

Preview - 1.3k words

Oscar wins his first World Driver's Championship in Qatar- but it comes at the price of your spotless mind.

So I was working on a fic, and I jumped through several ideas and ended up writing something entirely new??? This is probably shit lmao I wrote it in the span of an hour. I just wanted to get something out. I may or may not do a remake of this if I feel like it, but for now here we go.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind has always been one of my favorite movies. I also just loved Ariana Grande's song inspired by that movie. Recently I was also informed that people didn't know this was a movie??? Goddamn, am I old???

Anyway, I ended up just writing this angsty Oscar piece, enjoy this preview.

The full fic is available on Patreon for paid subscribers!

For once, Oscar’s emotionless exterior matches how he feels on the inside. 

The Aussie’s first World Drivers’ Championship trophy hangs loosely from his pale fingers, the gold shining in the light of the fireworks that illuminate the Qatar skyline. The metal’s weight in his hands feels like Sisyphius’ boulder, the P1 a punishment. 

Oscar won. He’s finally a World Champion- and it feels like torture. 

This moment, this victory- it is everything that Oscar has worked towards for his entire life. As soon as he had heard the radio message that he’d locked the championship in with one more Grand Prix to go though, the realization that you would not be there to throw your arms around him hits him like a bulldozer. 

Whose fault is that? 

There is no one else to blame but himself for your absence. 

If he could, he’d be the first to say I’m sorry. 

“I love you, it’s ruining my life.” You’d said flatly, your eyes dead when they meet Oscar’s. “It’s true, but it’s also a great lyric for my next album.”

Even when you’re ripping Oscar apart, you are still on an otherworldly level of beauty. He can’t comprehend how that’s even possible. All Oscar knows is that you’re heartbreakingly beautiful. Your words, though, are simply heartbreaking. Life-ruining. 

There is no light behind your eyes. Brown irises, glossy with unshed tears, make contact with your own.

Oscar wants to beg you to stay. He’d crawl to your feet on his knees if it would change your mind, but he’s a realist- he knows that doing so would mean nothing. 

You let out a bitter laugh, but there is no humor in it. Your dainty hands reach into your purse, pulling out a small, velvet box. “You might want to return this.”

With gentle motions, as if you are handling the finest China, you set the box down in front of Oscar, unopened. 

Pale skin turns even paler. Tears finally spill from the brown eyes in front of you. 

Oscar hadn’t even known that you had found the ring. The ring had been purchased several months ago, when he had first started leading the Drivers’ Championship. All he’d asked of you was to put up with one more season- one more year of dealing with the woes of being a Formula 1 WAG. 

One more year of dealing with your family telling you Oscar loved racing more than he loved you. 

One more year of running yourself into the ground just to keep up with the race calendar. 

One more year of privacy- his PR team hadn’t wanted your relationship to be public. After Lily and Oscar’s breakup, they had concluded that the public would just view Oscar pursuing another romantic relationship as a distraction from racing. 

So they had touted the narrative that Oscar was this eligible bachelor, making sure that he was regularly spotted with supermodels and Olympic gold medalists on his arm. You had long grown tired of being treated like a dirty little secret. A dirty little secret who had given up the past two years to be by Oscar’s side as he chased his dreams. 

Quite frankly, the secrecy that Oscar’s PR manager had insisted on with regards to your relationship had been insulting. You had initially been the more famous Sargeant sibling- Victoria’s Secret had been begging you to participate in the VS fashion show for years. You had dropped several albums that had hit triple platinum. Unfortunately, none of that mattered. The PR team had said Oscar had to be marketable. Single. Easier for fans to fantasize about. 

At first, Oscar had protested violently against this course of action, but he eventually tired of the constant yelling matches he’d have with his PR manager. It had started to affect his on-track performance. 

You had been understanding at first. You tried. You really did. 

Unfortunately, Oscar wasn’t the only one who had reached the point of tiredly throwing his hands in the air and giving up, and he knew it. 

Which is why instead of groveling in front of you, as he wanted to, Oscar takes this opportunity to drink in the sight of you for the last time. He’d get you tattooed on the inside of his eyelids if he could, but he can’t. Just like he can’t have you. 

“I won’t make you choose between me and racing, love.” You tell Oscar almost gently, accompanying your statement with a slight shake of your head, a few locks of hair falling out of your messy bun. You know it’s the last time that you’ll call him “love”. The word tastes bittersweet on your tongue. “I couldn’t do that to you- and I don’t want to wonder what you’d choose. The best I can do for the both of us is to make the decision for you.”

Dear Mr. Logan Sargeant,

Your sister has had Oscar Jack Piastri erased from her memory. Please never mention him to her ever again. 

Thank you.

Lacuna INC.

“I love you, Oscar.” You tell him after he wins his first Formula 1 race in Qatar, your entire being glowing with pride. You’re smiling so hard that it hurts your cheeks, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you come hurtling into his arms as soon as he’s out of the public line of sight- almost knocking him over. He’s dead tired from the heat and the exertion, but he could never complain about holding you close. 

Oscar is sweaty and haggard, breathing hard, and his entire body feels like jell-o, but none of that matters. It’s the first time that you’ve said those three words to him, and he feels like he could fight off a thousand men. He feels recharged, like he could win another Sprint and a Grand Prix back to back. 

As you pull off his helmet and balaclava to give him a celebratory kiss, Oscar thinks to himself that he’d go a thousand laps in Qatar just to experience this moment with you again and again.

The moment is quickly interrupted by the sound of Oscar’s PR manager’s shoe tapping on the floor impatiently. 

The two of you break away from each other, giving her matching sheepish smiles, your cheeks now as red as Oscar’s. “Keep it private, Oscar. You know you need to be marketable to get more sponsors, right?” Oscar’s PR manager comments with narrowed eyes, lips curled in displeasure. “Now get out there, you can flirt with her later. In private.”

A few weeks after you walk out of Oscar’s apartment and out of his life, a package arrives on his doorstep. It’s the season break, and the arrival of the thin parcel feels almost as if it was meticulously scheduled. There is a note which is attached to the envelope inside the package in your pristine handwriting. 

Oscar, my love, my eternal sunshine- this is for you. 

The vinyl record is otherwise unlabelled.

He has to ask his mom to help him find a record player, but when the tonearm meets the vinyl, your melodious voice floods his ears. 

You’re my eternal sunshine

So I try to wipe my mind

Just so I feel less insane

Rather feel painless

I’d rather forget than know for sure

Oscar’s fist meets the wall before the track finishes a single playthrough.

The rest of Oscar’s day is spent blankly staring at a wall, tears silently streaming down his face. There are so many questions racing through his mind. Thousands of doubts torment him. Did you think there had been someone else? Could this story have been rewritten? Did you already find someone else? 

He could rearrange your lyrics in a thousand different ways with all the time he spends overthinking. 

The song never gets released publicly.

Read more- get access to the full fic on Patreon!

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Tag lists

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[piastrification]

"please ask charles questions cause he needs to leave in 5 minutes to see the stewards"

oscar and charles faces:

[piastrification]

Max: actually teaches baby Oscar how to swim, holds him in the water and reassures that he won’t let go of him

Charles: threw him off his yacht into the sea with “He has my monegasque genes, he will survive”

[piastrification]

Ok so which one do you think is smiley mcsmileypants and which one is cheese von cheesington?

[piastrification]

romantic chocolates? - op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader summary: in which you and your best friends brother accidentally eat aphrodisiac chocolate OR you and oscar get so fucking horny while on a yacht in the Maldives. warnings: smut smut smut, all smut basically. oral, p in v, dirty talk, language, marking kink, slight voyeruism, exhibitionism??, not sure what else...NOT PROOFREAD! (might be some typos) word count: ~3.9k author's note: SURPRISEEEE ITS OUT EARLY (I worked hard over the weekend lol) hope you guys enjoy!! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR OSCAR EVERRRR (aside from a one shot i've had sitting in my drafts for months lol) comment and let me know what you think!!! xoxo

ln4 cl16 mv1 op81

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

You’ve always had a sweet tooth.

Everyone knew it. Oscar especially. He used to tease you over it when you were younger. Would point out when your fingers were sticky with something sugary.

He never said it unkindly. Just amused. Soft. Something like you’ve got chocolate on your face and then passed you a napkin you didn’t ask for.

He’s always been like that. Gentle. Kind. The boy who was never loud. More of a listener than a speaker.

And he never made you feel silly. Not when you cried after falling off your bike and scraped your knee. Not when your towel slipped. Not even when you accidentally spilled juice all over your shirt on a long flight. He just handed you a new one from his backpack like he knew it’d happen. 

You’d grown up like that. 

And now here you were, years later. Sunburned and salty on a private yacht in the Maldives, still with a sweet tooth and one of his old McLaren shirts he gave you when he first got signed. Pulled over your bikini.

His sister, your best friend, left on in the morning for a tour with the rest of the group. Something about history and snorkeling. You’d both waved your hands declining. Something about being too burned and too sleepy for it. 

“She’s going to get bored halfway through,” You sip on your drink. “Probably will call us in two hours.”

Oscar gives you a shrug. “I give her one.”

“She said it was a once in a lifetime experience.” You throw up your hands while repeating her words. Mocking her almost. Smiling.

“So is sitting here.”

And you laugh.

He’s sitting across from you, towel slung around the back of his neck, sun catching his shoulders. His hair is damp. Skin flushed from the sun. No shirt. Just a pair of swim shorts and bare feet.

You shift slightly where you are. Curled up in the shade. Bare legs stretched out. The oversized shirt clinging to you just a little too much where your bikini top was wet.

He glances at you when you move. Doesn’t speak. Just tracks it with his eyes. And looks away again.

His hand reaches for the table. “What’s this?”

You look over. 

A little box. Dark. Red ribbon wrapped around it.

“Some welcome thing, I think.” You shrug. “Dropped it off yesterday.”

Oscar pulls the lid open, brows lifting. He picks up a wrapped square, amused.

“Well, well.” He says, looking at you. “Your kryptonite.”

You grin. “Shut up.”

“You gonna pretend you didn’t spot this the second we sat down?”

“I did not.”

He tilts his head, giving you a look.

“Mm, you’ve got that look.” He says.

“What look?”

“The one you used to get before stealing cupcakes at birthday parties.”

You roll your eyes, but blush. Cheeks reddening. “I did not steal…”

“You did.” He cuts you off. Already unwrapping one of the chocolates. “Always had sugar on your hands. Icing on the corner of your lips.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he tosses a piece toward you.

You catch it.

You watch him bring the chocolate to his mouth, tongue darting over his lip without thinking.

Peel open your piece and press it to your tongue. It melts fast. Rich. 

You hum, licking a smear of it off your finger. “That’s actually really good.”

He doesn’t respond right away.

You glance up and catch him mid-swipe across his bottom lip. Looking dazed. Distracted.

Then he blinks, clears his throat. And nods. “Yeah, pretty good.”

He closes the lid of the box, slides it to the side. Then leans back, looking at the water.

And you sit there with him. Across from him on the cushioned benches. Chewing slowly. Feeling that heat bloom beneath your skin.

It’s soft at first.

Then deeper.

A warmth in your chest. A pulse between your thighs.

The wind sweeps your skin. And the fabric of your bikini suddenly feels too damp. Too thin. Too tight.

You swallow. Trying not to fidget.

Oscar hasn’t moved much. His gaze is still on the ocean, but it isn’t really. And you watch the way his jaw flexes. The way his foot shifts on the deck. Like he was grounding himself.

He doesn’t look at you.

And he always looks at you. 

You shift again. Cross your ankles. Press your thighs together.

You glance at Oscar again.

And his lips are parted. Just a little bit. And his brow is slightly furrowed.

You sit up slightly. “You okay?”

He shifts. Then clears his throat, blinking. “Yeah. Just…hot.”

You nod slowly. “Same.”

He leans forward, breathes out. But his fingers twitch. And you notice as his back muscles roll slightly as he drops his head down, towel slipping down.

He stays like that for a few seconds. Then rubs a hand over the back of his neck.

His voice is quiet. Flat. “What was in that chocolate?”

You don’t answer right away. Because you’re fucking throbbing now. And your bikini is definitely soaked.

“Do you feel…” He swallows, throat bobbing. “Strange?”

You nod. And then remember he isn’t even looking at you. “Yeah.”

His jaw clenches.

He shifts again. Still not looking at you. And that’s how you know something is wrong.

Because he never acts like this. 

You’ve seen him flustered, sure. After a race, dealing with the media, around too many people. But never like this. Not this tense. As if he’s afraid.

“I didn’t think chocolate could….fuck.” His voice cracks. And he laughs under his breath. 

He grips the bench. Looking like he’s in pain.

“I think I need to go inside.”

And he stands too fast. Towel falling down. Hands clenched at his sides as he turns on bare feet and walks toward the main cabin.

You stare at his back. His shoulders. And he disappears down the stairs.

You’re so hot that you could cry. Unbearable.

You press your palm flat to your stomach. Like it’ll help.

But it doesn’t.

Because it’s not just the chocolate. 

It’s him. Oscar.

Gone for less than a minute and his voice is the only thing in your head. The way his mouth looked when he licked the chocolate off his thumb. His hands. The muscles of his back straining as he leaned forward

The silence stretches heavy.

You make a quiet sound in your throat. Barely audible. And you can’t sit still. Can barely think. Can’t stop seeing him.

Your hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt. You’re hesitant at first. But then trail your fingers to the center of your ache.

And your hips lift off the cushion. A heavy breath escaping.

Your other hand grips the bench as you rock slowly against your own fingers. Over the bikini. Slow circles. Each one, pressing harder.

You let your head fall back. And the sky above is almost blinding.

“Oscar…”

You don’t even realize you said it out loud. It just slips. 

And a few moments later, you don’t even hear him come back. Your fingers still at your bikini. Rubbing.

You lift your head. He’s there.

Flushed. Hair ruffled like he ran his fingers through it a million times. Eyes fixed between your legs like he’s in some sort of trance.

He just stares. Doesn’t even speak.

“I can’t stop,” You whisper. Honest.

“You’re…” He blinks. Voice low. Stunned. Like he just walked into his favorite fantasy and doesn’t know what to do. “You’re fucking touching yourself?”

You nod. And he groans.

“To me?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” You whisper.

“Jesus.” His hands twitch at his sides.

You shift, spreading your legs a little wider without meaning to. Unable to stop rubbing the tight circles.

“You look so pretty like that,” He mutters.

You tremble. “I need help.”

And his eyes widen.

“Please,” you whisper. “I can’t…Osc, please.”

He groans. Hands dropping to the front of his swim shorts, palming the hard line of his cock through the fabric.

“Come closer.” You plead.

And he stares at you with wide eyes. Flushed. He doesn’t move. At least, he doesn’t at first.

But then his gaze drops back down to your legs. Spread open. Your fingers rubbing slow, desperate circles. And his hands twitch.

“I…” He says, but he’s already squeezing himself. “I shouldn’t.”

“Oscar…”

“I shouldn’t be seeing this,” his mutters. “And I shouldn’t be this fucking hard.”

Your eyes fall to where his hand squeezes against his cock. Like he’s trying to fight the ache between his legs.

And you whimper. Hips jerking. “I can’t. I need….I need help.”

His hand squeezes himself tighter.

“Fuck.” A pause. A few silent moments of heated stares. “Do you know how many times I used to think about this?”

His voice has gone rough. And you blink at him. Heart stuttering.

“I used to jerk off in my room and feel sick after,” He whispers. “Because it was you. My sister’s best friend. Always walking around in those tiny shorts. That blue bikini. Always so fucking sweet.”

Your fingers slow. Jaw falls slack.

“I’ve thought about it,” His voice shakes. “Fuck. I’ve thought about this. When we were younger.”

Your breath hitches.

“Thought about your pussy more than I should’ve.” He mutters. “Wondered how soft you’d feel. How tight. If you’d let me take my time or if you’d beg me to fuck you rough.”

Your back arches.

“Wondered what you’d sound like when you come.” He continues. “If it’s all breathy. Or if you’d cry. If you’d say my name.”

“I’d press the pillow over my face after so no one would hear me,” He admits. “Every time.”

You gasp.

“I would.” You gasp.

His hand pushes harder into his cock. Groaning. “I’ve thought about fucking you with my tongue. Holding your legs and licking you for hours.”

You press your fingers even harder.

You whimper, other hand reading for a pillow or something to grab onto. “Osc, please.”

“You want my fingers?” He whispers. “Right here? Want me to fuck you with my hand?”

You nod. Repeatedly. Fast. Almost pathetic.

Oscar lets out a whimper. And then he’s kneeling in front of you before you can blink. Hand still pressing into his cock. The other trembling as his fingers brush your thigh.

“You’re so warm.”

Your hand falls away and he replaces it instantly. Pressing two fingers against the soaked fabric. Groans loudly when he feels it.

“Fuck, pretty…” He groans. “You’re soaked. Fuckin’ dripping.”

And then he pushes the fabric aside, stares. Pupils blown. “God, look at you…"

You shake your head. “Please.”

“I’ve thought about sliding my fingers into you since I was seventeen,” He pushes them in. Half-laughing. “Thought about curling them deep and slow….hearing you moan just like that.”

Oscar swears under his breath, leaning closer. Jaw locked tight. “I’d keep you like this for hours if I could. Legs spread and needy….mine to play with.”

You cry out. Rocking your hips.

And he curls his fingers. Watching your face.

“Yeah?” His thumb circles your clit now. Slow. “Right there? Knew I’d find it.”

And you careen forward. Hands flying to grab his shoulders.

“Come for me,” He mutters. “Right here. In my fucking shirt. On my yacht. On my fingers.”

And you do.

Hard.

And he watches every second. His lips parted. Cock throbbing.

And then he drags his fingers out of you slow.

Brings them to his mouth. 

Licks them clean. Eyes locked on yours.

“Taste better than I ever dreamed,” He says softly.

And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck. Pulling your lips to his. Kissing you like he’s starving.

His tongue licks your mouth like its his. Like he already knows how to pull those sounds out of you and wants to hear every single one. 

And his hands slip down your body. Down your shoulders, over your ribs. Brushing the dip of your waist. Until he’s gripping your thighs.

“Wanna see bruises here,” He says. “Want people to see bruises and know.”

He stays kneeling between you, chest heaving.

“You’re soaking, baby.” His voice cracks.

He leans forward. Kissing your inner thigh. And then opens his mouth, sucking hard. Pulling a moan from you.

You feel the bruise forming as he licks over it. Sucks it again. Fingers pressing into your skin, gripping it.

“That’s one,” He mutters. 

He leaves another one. Higher. 

Then a third on the other leg. Right by your cunt. So close that it makes your hips jerk into his mouth.

And then he’s standing. Grabbing you under your thighs. And lifts you. 

Laying you down on the table. The welcome basket crashes onto the deck with a thud, but neither of you acknowledge it. The box of chocolates dangling on the edge.

He grabs it.

“What are you doing?” You ask. Breathless.

He doesn’t answer. Opens the box, takes out a single piece and holds it up. Gaze dropping down to your cunt spread open for him.

“Need to taste you with this,” He mutters.

He leans over you. Pressing the chocolate between your lips. “Bite.”

You do.

The sun’s hot against your skin.

And then he kisses you hard. Tongue lapping against yours, sharing the chocolate. You both moan and groan into each other before he’s dropping back to his knees.

“Look at you,” He breathes. “All messy. Want my mouth, baby?”

You nod.

And he leans in. Licks you.

One long drag up your slit.

You cry out. And he groans into your cunt. Licking you. Tasting you.

“Fuckin heaven.” He drags a hand to your leg. “Can’t believe I waited this long.”

“Oscar…”

He doesn’t stop. Just hooks his arm under your thigh, and pulls you closer to the edge. Legs over his shoulder.

And buries his face in your pussy.

You grind into him instantly. Chasing every flick of his tongue.

Your hands fist into his hair, dragging his face closer against you. And he moans. Wrecked.

“Fuck,” you yell. “Oscar…oh my…fuck.”

He drags his tongue through you. Flicking your clit over and over.

“Keep fucking my face,” his voice is hot.

“You sound…my God..Oscar, you sound obsessed..”

“I am.” He grunts. Fingers curling in you as he nudges your clit with his nose.

And then he pulls one arm away. You barely notice it. Until you hear it and look down.

He’s got his hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it fast. Leaking.

He jerks his cock faster. Hips twitching into his own fist as his mouth works harder against you. 

“Gonna come,” he confesses. “Gonna come from tasting you.”

You cry out.

“C’mon…” He urges. “Let me taste it, yeah?” 

And it breaks you.

You moan into the open sky. Grinding against his face. Jaw slack. Eyes squeezed shut.

And then he groans, standing up and comes hard onto your cunt. 

Hot, messy ropes of it. Spilling over you. 

And then he’s dragging you off the table without a word. Not giving you time to even breathe. Panting. 

His hands tight around you, and then he’s spinning you. Forcing you to face the ocean. Chest hitting the metal railing. 

And he’s behind you. Silent.

You start to turn your head, “Oscar…?”

“No.” He says. Voice rough. “Stay just like that.”

His hands drag your shirt up. Slow.

His name in bold letters stretched across your back.

He groans. Violently.

“I should’ve fucked you in this years ago.”

Your breath falters.

“Fucking knew it,” He grabs a fistful of the shirt, twisting his hand in it. “Knew one day you’d bend over in this and I’d lose my fucking mind.”

You feel the heat of his body behind you, shoving your bottoms down with one swift flick of his hand. Cock thick and heavy. Dragging through your folds, collecting his come and your wetness.

He groans. You shake.

He presses forward, hips rocking against you. Grinding into your thighs.

“You’ve no idea what you look like.” His breath is heavy behind you. “Bent over. My name on your back. Come still dropping down your cunt.”

And you bite your lip. Arching into him harder.

One hand grips your hip, the other fisted around the shirt.

“You wore this shirt for years like it meant nothing,” His voice quieter. Mean. “Didn’t think about what it did to me every time you wore it.”

“Osc…” You attempt to say his name, but he shifts his hips into you harder and your voice cracks.

He laughs.

“Now look at you. Dripping all over me. Wearing my name like you belong to me.”

He sinks in slow. So slow that you feel every pulse. Every ridge. 

And you whimper. He groans behind you. Like he’s in pain. Like he’s trying so hard to not ravish you.

But when his hips meet you, and he’s bottomed out. He just….stops.

Breathes in heavily.

“Fuck.” He says soft. “You’re so fucking tight around me.”

His fingers dig into your hip even harder. Bruising. Marking.

“You’ve ruined me,” He laughs. “Y’know that?”

And you don’t even get a chance to answer.

Because he pulls back and slams into you. Hard.

You cry out, hands gripping the railing that your knuckles turn white.

His pace isn’t gentle at all. It’s feral.

“Fucking ruined me,” He says again. “You in this shirt….you in my fucking name..do you even know what that does to me?”

You moan. So loud. And his hips smack into you. Over and over.

“You’ve been walkin’ around in it for years.” He spits. “Like it’s nothing.”

He thrusts deep, angling his hips at a better angle. “Like I haven’t been dreaming of fucking you in it since I gave it to you all those years ago.”

You’re babbling now. Unable to breathe properly. Your entire body trembling.

His hand slips from your hip and slides up your spine. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes you down. Just a little bit harder. Forces you to arch even more.

And fuck, he nearly collapses when he feels you clench tighter around him.

“You should see yourself,” He grunts. “Squeezing around me like you’re desperate to never let me go.”

And he’s lost all rhythm. He’s just slamming into you. Cock so deep. 

“Can’t believe this is real.” He’s panting. “Can’t believe I get to fuck you in my shirt. Pussy covered in me.”

Your orgasm is close. And you’re shouting. Moaning. 

"Bet she'd lose her mind if she knew what a slut you were f'me..."

You cry out. He feels you teetering on the edge. 

“Don’t.” He snaps.

And you cry, “Oscar…please.”

“You’re gonna wait.” He demands, fucking into you more rapidly. 

And he’s losing his mind. It’s sooo good. 

“Say who’s inside you.” His hands squeeze the back of your neck. “Say it.”

You gasp. Jaw falling slack. Chest pressed harsh into the metal railing. “You…Osc..fuck, it’s  so good..”

You sob out his name and Oscar fucking snaps.

“That’s it, baby.” 

His hips hit you faster. Deeper. The filthy sound of it heard over the waves lapping the hull. 

You sob into the railing. 

He leans into you, head falling forward.

“Gonna come,” He chokes out. “Gonna come right inside you. Stuff you full. Let it leak out.”

And you break.

Orgasm ripping through you. Violent and hot. Back arching so hard into him. You sob out his name. Your walls clenching around him in a tight grip.

And he crashes with you. Body shuddering. Cock throbbing. Spilling into you.

He’s still panting against you when he pulls out. And it’s a fucking mess in between your thighs.

But before you can say anything, he’s dragging you upright. And you’re stumbling as he drags you across the hot deck. Hand across your stomach. Keeping you close.

And then he’s shoving you into the rinse off shower.

He reaches up. Turns the handle. And the water is so cold that you gasp from it.

Oscar laughs behind you. “Too cold?”

Your head falls onto his shoulder. “Asshole.”

And then he turns the temperature warmer, and then it’s all steam and heat again. 

You expect him to rinse you off gently.

Instead, he grabs the shower head. Detaches it from the hook. And pulls your back against his chest.

“Gonna clean you up.”

You’re about to ask what exactly he means. But then he;;s nudging your legs apart. Brings the shower head straight to your cunt. 

And you jolt forward with a sharp cry.

The heat. The pressure.

“Oh my god…Osc,” You’re mumbling.

And he watches you. Holding one leg to keep them apart.

“Stay open,” his voice is soft. “Wanna see you come again.”

And you whimper. Begging. “Too much…fuck.”

But he doesn’t stop. Just tilts the shower head just right. Hitting your clit.

“Thought I’d have to work harder for this,” He mutters. “But you’re soaking already.”

“Fuck…fuck.”

"Y'like this, hm?" He whispers into your ear. "Being used like some filthy secret?"

Your hands reach behind you and slip their way into his hair. Pulling it. He groans. Rutting his hips into your backside for some friction.

“C’mon, pretty.” He grunts. 

And the water just keeps hitting you. 

You sob. And then crash again.

Your legs shake. Cunt clenching around nothing.  But he holds you up, turning you to face him. Pressing your back against the wall.

He finally sets the shower head down. Lets it spray onto the deck. 

And then his hands are back on you. One at your lower back, one gripping your thigh, pulling it up to wrap at his waist. You balance on one leg.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Y’okay?” His voice gentle. Caring.

And you nod, pressing your head into his neck. And his heart stutters when you lean into him. Like he can finally breathe.

“I’ve got you,” He whispers.

And then, he sinks back into you.

Slow. Gentle.

Your mouth falls open. The stretch still almost unbearable after everything. But the way he slides in, feels too fucking good.

You gasp. Digging your nails into his skin. And he cradles you against the wall.

He moves slow. Rocking. No rhythm. And he feels massive. Thick. 

“Oscar,” You hush into his skin. “You feel…Y’feel so good.”

He nods. “I know, baby. I know.” And his voice is a whisper. 

He grinds deeper. Barely moving but pressing into you. “Can’t believe you’re still this wet…” He grunts. “Still want more? Want me to stuff you full again, hm? Fuck you til it leaks down?”

You nod. Mouth open. Moaning.

“C’mon,” He pants. Hips jerking. Cock throbbing. 

It’s quick. The feel of you wrapped around his cock. The overstimulation of the stretch.

You both come quick. Crying out into each other’s skin. Soft kisses in between the moans.

And then you’re both laughing. Smiling at one another.

-

“Holy shit…I’m dying.” Your best friend announces. “Never let me go on another tour ever ever again.” 

Oscar snorts from beside you on the bench, looking at his phone. “Told you you’d hate it.”

“You didn’t say I’d almost drown.”

You keep your face still. Sipping your drink.

And she plops down on the lounger across the deck, sighing.

And for a moment…it’s quiet.

Until Oscar leans in slightly, elbow brushing your arm.

His voice low. “Y’think she noticed?”

You glance at him. Shake your head.

“She’s never been less observant,” You whisper back.

And he grins. One of those fuck-you grins that makes you stutter.

And you hold back a smile.

Your best friend groans across the deck. “God, I feel disgusting. Should we order dinner in an hour?”

Oscar clears his throat. “Sure.”

“Yeah,” You say.

And then you lean, just slightly, into his side. Just enough that his thigh is touching yours again. 

He doesn’t move. And he doesn’t stop smiling.

"Hey, what happened to the welcome basket?"

Oops? taglist (holy shit SO MANY OF YOU ILY): @landoscarinthefastlane @dudenhaaa27 @330bpm-whiplash @xoln04f1xo @sainzluvrr @minjiahyung @madicecream123 @star73807-blog @simpfortoomanymen @art-h1ve @annaswrites00 @forumlabee @butterfly-daisies07 @nothereneverherever @widow-cevans @suns3treading @fmejenson @megatrilss1885 @10iceicebaby @sh1nedreamsm1le7 @ptrickbateman @chasingosc @uuoozzii @idkwtdwml123 @pinkdeadtopia @chiara8104 @ellie-bellie-29 @piastri-my-boy @1-of-my-many-obsessions @8junejpg1 @jaydensluv @astrlape @idontknow0704 @whistlef0rthechoir @op814kitty @asmoothoperator @illicit-affcirs @lilith-123321 @teddybearbeth @saudianna @skylyn-vais @fleurdangz @angxedxtz @marekmybeloved @liafics @dxrlxb @gabyasworld @treebranch23 @drysdalesv @morganalatina21 @bigcatharmony @ilovemuppets @acina27 @angelabunbun @megatrilss1885 @ilikecarsalotsometimes @roxanne-ragnvindr @euphoriapillz @luminouskalopsia @trinity2058 @livsturnioloo @wdsara48 @ini3103 @shimmermotorsport @marslovesran4eva @wherethezoes-at @monsterdesandia @mythicalmaven @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @ella284-3 @landossainz @redcrescentmoons @jaeger-chan @altaccount283927 @ericasdumbworld @aerie717 @the0twst0shrimp0mc @ysavelelelel @phillza-my-beloved @thenalovescars @zicosbitch @scaroscar8115 @wertyuizxcvbnm @needy02 @dessashippr @quill-vy @o6hellnah @enchantedwaspwhisper @awesome-fandom-panda @biancathecool @lilorose25 @wowzees (not sure if all these worked but I took them straight from my comments on the sneak peak)

[piastrification]

Wdym Mick Doohan commissioned a mural of him and Jack racing together bc he was so proud of his son. And he was there at the Miami gp consoling Jack after the dnf. He was there for what might be his son's last race as an f1 driver

[piastrification]

"i don't comment on ao3 because i don't wanna be annoying or weird" skill issue + you greatly underestimate the power dynamic here, writing multi paragraph comments is like feeding a bunch of deeply insane and possibly starved ducks at the park and watch them go completely mad over having received a piece of bread

[piastrification]

Obsessed ♥️

Max Verstappen x Reader

got the tensions so high, you can’t sleep through the night, know you try to fight it, but it’s on your mind (got you obsessin now, counting your blessings now)

After having had his eye on you - the paddock's it girl, viral influencer and now Lewis Hamilton's new fling - for months, Max decided to finally make you his after you snap his self control with your teasing. And everyone knows he’s not one to do things half heartedly - even if that means claiming you until you realises he’s the perfect boyfriend for you instead.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, dark! Max Verstappen, naive! Bratty! Reader, dubcon, kidnapping (but just for like a couple of weeks), LOL I KNOW I SAID I WOULD NEVER WRITE KIDNAPPING BUT I GOT HORNY, size kink, cheating, BDSM, bimbofication, aphrodisiacs, this is the nastiest piece of filth I’ve produced I hope the dark max girlies rejoice

With his muscled arms crossed and a clenched jaw, a certain blonde Dutchman watches you confidently walk around the paddock, your hips moving sensually underneath the frilly miniskirt you’ve decided to wear. There’s no way you didn’t notice the many eyes on you, guys from all different garages checking you out with interest, Max thinks with annoyance clear on his face. He’d heard about you a long time ago, as a rising content creator and viral Insta model beginning to dabble in sports reporting, but it wasn't until just a few months ago that he had first seen you. Max always rolled his eyes as he walked past reporters interviewing you, eagerly asking about your perfect makeup and gorgeous outfits. F1 was meant to be about racing, about bloodthirsty competition, not about pandering to internet celebrities. Especially ones who were only there because of fake fame made from social media. Honestly, Max hated attention seekers like you, and hated how you were in the Redbull garage more and more often to give your audience a closer look.

Yeah, he hated you, but somehow he couldn’t stop thinking about you all the fucking time. Before races, after races, back home in Monaco on an evening out, at night in his bed unable to fall asleep, in the morning as he zipped up his training fit. He hated how much attention you would draw with your pretty face and curvy body on display beneath the tight outfits you wore. He hated how all your interviews and posts went viral as the online audience flocked to your natural confidence and outgoing personality as you charm your way through the paddock. He hated how sexy you looked with your thick lashes and long curls, hated how his engineers would become distracted when you’d walk past mid conversation. He hated how you smelt like sweet vanilla perfume and how you’d stare at him with pouting full lips and hurt puppy dog eyes everytime he ignored you when you sweetly talk to him. Your stupid sweetheart pink minidress was so fucking tiny, pushing your cute tits up until they were practically in his face, how was his cock not meant to get hard at the sight?

Then he’d always have to storm off to his cool off room, closing his eyes and angrily jerking off and only cumming when he thought about finishing all over those lush tits of yours as you pull down your dress, looking up at him on your knees with those wide doe eyes. You disinhibited Max just by being in the same room, somehow made him spin out of control. And Max Verstappen was always in control.

You’re far too much of a potential headache for him to pursue you, attracting so much media attention that there's no way he could speak to you in the paddock without it ending up in 10 different headlines. So he decided to regain control another way - getting multiple other girls underneath him instead to blow off the steam, get his mind off you. But no matter how many he slept with, in however many positions or risk situations, he just couldn't fully unleash himself. It was almost funny how the universe taunted him by making him think about you even more. Mid thrust inside another random model he'd met at a club, he's far from focused on her and instead imagining how much prettier you'd look beneath him. It was almost too easy to start fucking the girl who's name he'd already forgotten from the back, so he could picture that it was your lush ass he was squeezing and slapping instead, your pretty hair he was pulling as you made cute ah, ah, ahs! Max came within seconds at the thought, releasing a low moan as he breathed your name. He wasn't surprised when the girl stormed out of his apartment angrily afterwards. Putting on some sweats, he made his way out to his balcony with a glass of gin, sipping slowly as he stared out to the glimmering Monaco nightlife. He should’ve known that replicas could never compare to the original, to what he really craved - you. You were the real deal, a true natural beauty with an aura that exuded confidence. He was done trying to ignore his instincts, and what Max wanted, Max always got. And what he wanted now was you.

There’s no more wasting time for Max, because he immediately calls his private jet and flies to your city, showing up at your door with an absurdly large bouquet of dark red roses. But to his surprise and frustration, you turn his offer for dinner down, saying that you’ve started seeing someone else. Apparently in the past month while Max had been suppressing his desire for you, you had somehow gotten tangled in a sensationalised media fling with Lewis Hamilton. Seeing you laugh as you cling onto his rival’s arms, dressed in your usual pretty pastel pink minidresses made Max’s jaw tense. But he doesn’t miss the way your doe eyes curiously drift over to him when you think no one’s looking, hastily turning back to Lewis when you find Max’s intense blue gaze looking back at you. He doesn’t miss the way you bite your glossed lips as Max unzips his suit mid interviews with you that he’s started doing, revealing his tight fireproofs stretched across his muscled pecs and broad shoulders. He makes sure to lean in, looking at you with full attention and letting you smell his husky cologne mixed with post race sweat. He smirks when he sees how you subconsciously take a deep breath, how your pupils dilate with attraction. Max is so much bigger, stronger, powerful compared to you, and your current boyfriend, and you guiltily squeeze your thighs together to control yourself. When he sees the way you cross your legs, miniskirt rising up to reveal chubby thighs that you clench so hard that your knuckles turn white, he knows that he has you right where he wants you. He corners you in an empty storage closet post debrief, large hands gripping your full hips as he leans down and murmurs that you two would make such a good couple, he’d spoil you so much, are you sure you didn’t want to join him for dinner tonight?

To his extreme annoyance, you hold your ground even more firmly than before, pushing him away and telling him in a condescending tone No thank you, like I said, I’m seeing Lewis now…it’s rude of you to ask again! You flash him a glare with those cute doe eyes of yours - an expression that doesn’t suit your pretty face at all - before strutting off in your kitten heels. You turn to look at him before you leave the garage, catching his icy blue eyes on your swaying hips, and can’t hide the small pleased smile at having caught the interest of the F1 champion. Max’s eyes darken as you slip out of his grasp for the second time, because now he was certain you knew exactly what effect you had on the Dutchman and were using it to your full advantage. Oh, and did you use it - bending over suddenly to grab something you “dropped” just as Max would appear behind you, giving him a hint of juicy ass, leaning in to grab something next to him and letting your soft cleavage press against his biceps. The real cherry on top would be the way you glared at him haughtily when his eyes would inevitably drift down to your neckline, where he caught the perfect view of your cleavage, before hearing you scoff at him and stride away with the ever present sway of your plush hips. And Max’s heated gaze would be fixated on you, watching you make yourself comfortable on Lewis’s lap with a giggle - but your oh so innocent eyes would meet ice blue ones with a fiery defiance. It was like you were taunting him, seeing how far you could take it before he snapped.

Max hadn’t planned on finally losing control when he did. After the Monaco race, when everyone found themselves dancing and drinking to the pounding bass in exclusive nightclubs, you had joined Lewis in celebrating his P2 with Ferrari. You still weren’t officially his girlfriend, with Lewis’ laser focus on an 8th WDC meaning he didn’t want to be distracted with a serious relationship. Still, you had hope you could be the one to convince him otherwise - even if shivers ran down your spine and heat pooled in your lower stomach not from Lewis’ warm, comforting eyes but from his arch rival’s intense, dark gaze. Even now you couldn’t help catching Max’s eyes across the neon club. You knew you shouldn’t think it, but seeing him lean against a railing and talk animatedly to Lando with a gorgeous smile on his face, you admired him secretly. He looked so good dressed in a white shirt that highlighted those broad shoulders and his infamous tight jeans, showing off his muscular thighs.

And then a girl approached Max, looking the very picture of a French model, flirting and batting her lashes up at him. You roll your eyes as you see the Dutchman entertain her flirting, because of course a guy as arrogant and cocky as him just loved women who threw themselves at him. Not you though, and as you wander off from Lewis and find your girlfriends you’re determined to put Max Verstappen far out of your mind and only focus on twirling and grinding your curves on the dancefloor. You do such a good job of drinking tequila shot after shot that it’s a little hard to remember much after that.

You remember giggling with your girlfriends, reapplying your makeup, saying goodbye to Lewis who wanted to go home early but you wanted to stay out and have more fun! You go from one club, to another, but the whole time you can’t stop imagining Max’s intense gaze locked into yours. You think you went for fresh air at some point, almost stumbling in your sparkly heels but then strong hands are holding you by the waist, bringing you in against a warm chest. And you’re staring into those ice blue eyes again, tipsily babbling that you’re sooo sorry Maxie, can he pleaseee help you find your friends?

Max looks handsome even in this dim street lighting and it makes your heart race. You feel your entire body weight being held up against him, as he’s whispering soft nothings in your ear that you’re okay, schatje, he’s got you, shhhh, here just give him your phone and he’ll tell your friends where you are. You nod sleepily, suddenly feeling so tired all of a sudden, grateful that you’d run into someone kind who was helping you out.

Really, Max hadn’t been planning on taking you back to his. But you’d fallen into his arms, begging him to help you, practically just asking him to look after you and make you his. You’re such a sweet girl, after all, dressed in her gold sparkly minidress and kitten heels, oblivious to the stares of the many hungry men around her who shamelessly checked out your bouncing tits and ass with ever cute jump on the dancefloor. And Lewis had left you all alone, all defenseless. So really, Max had no choice but to protect you and take you home with him. To unlock your phone and text your friends that you were going back to the hotel before your early morning flight so they didn’t look for you. To lay you down in his soft sheets, unable to resist pressing a kiss to your delicate neck as you slept comfortably, licking a line up the column of your exposed throat as he inhaled your vanilla honey perfume. It’s hard to resist the temptation to ruin the sleeping beauty beneath him, to spread your soft thighs with one of his muscular ones and grind his painfully hard erection against your heat, but he holds himself back - for now. He knew you’d have some difficulty seeing eye to eye with his method of protecting you, so he took some precautions…by locking you in his room as he headed out the next morning as you continued sleeping.

When he came back at lunch, he finds you anxiously pacing, your curls a disarray from pulling on them and streaks of mascara running down your face in tears at the unfamiliar situation. Your jaw drops in shock as you finally come face to face with your captor. Max?! You gasp, relieved it was someone you knew and not a random serial killer. You’re running up to him, confused, asking him to let you go home because why had he locked you in, you didn’t understand, was the door jammed or something-

Max cuts you off with a grin darker than you’ve seen before, confirming that you’re exactly where he wanted you to be. He tells you about how he planned on keeping you safe, keeping you protected, even if it means making you stay inside his apartment for the next few days. You don’t understand, schatje, he murmurs in a frustrated Dutch accent. You’re far too precious to be left all alone. Do you know how many bad men are out there who want to do bad things to you? Or who want to use you like a fling and never commit to you fully the way you deserve, like Lewis is doing.

Your eyes widen in shock as he slowly stalks towards you, backing you into a corner as he confesses what he’s done. You know you should feel scared, should be in hysterics, but for some reason you don’t actually think he would harm you…physically, at least. Mentally he was doing everything to break you down and accept his offer of becoming his. You’re crazy, you say, outraged. This is just kidnapping, it’s illegal, everyone will be looking for me, do you know how famous I am-

Oh, you had no idea just how far Max was willing to go when it comes to you. He smirks, shows you the multiple texts sent from your phone to friends and family that you’re going on some wellness retreat, you would be out of cellphone range. You look in horror at the replies telling you to enjoy, and then at your Insta post telling your thousands of followers you would be taking a break, and finally at your text to Lewis saying you think you two should take a break…and his reply agreeing, that you could catch up with him in a couple of months. It was too perfectly laid out, because you had been planning on flying out for a holiday that day - just to a fancy Greek resort with a suprise ticket for Lewis, and not some secluded retreat without wifi access. You’d even had your baby pink suitcase all packed full of cute outfits, ready to go - that Max had somehow collected from your hotel room and now deposited to you smugly. See, schatje? He purrs. I’ve thought about everything. Just relax, I’ll take good care of you.

You don’t believe him at all at first. You’re scared now that no one knows where you are, an unusual feeling for you around Max with whom you feel like you have the upper hand. But after a couple days pass and he makes no physical move to touch you, instead just telling you to shower because you smelt like a nightclub and making sure you ate three times a day, you start to relax when you realise he’s not planning on selling you off to the black market or force himself on you. And to be fair, the apartment is hardly a jail cell. No, the huge Monaco penthouse Max owns can only be described as luxurious, with his own terrace pool and gym, decorated with displays of his endless trophies that remind you just how successful your captor is.

You’re still skittish until he starts letting his cats inside the room to keep you company. Seeing his cute bengals who curl up in the bed to keep you company and then comfortably migrate over to Max, who treats them with such care and adoration, chips away at the last pieces of fear that fling onto you. Then you’re just annoyed, pissed off that Max thinks he can just make you his. You start fights with him, telling him he’s delusional if he thinks you’d ever want to get with him, just because he couldn’t charm you normally he decided to force you to spend time with him?

Max is unphased with your verbal insults, finding you similar to when his cats are in a hissy mood. It’s not until you level up that you really start to test Max’s patience. He regretted bringing your suitcase to make you feel more at home, because instead of wearing the same old hoodie and sweats of his for the past week you decide to put on things that are a little more…revealing. He comes home from padel to find you lounging on the plush couch, greeting him with a smirk as he walks over to you, oh so innocently stretching your neck and accentuate the low neckline of the white summery minidress you’ve chosen. Max had liked the sight of you looking so soft and cozy in his clothes, but seeing you get dolled up again, seeing how you bat your thick lashes up at him, giving him the perfect view down your plush cleavage from your seated position filled him with pure raw desire again.

He knows what game you’re playing though, and he’s not letting you take the upper hand. Instead, he teases you by leaving heat pooling in your tummy with his dark, intense gaze before asking what you wanted for dinner. You don’t stop there, of course, wearing skimpier outfits every day, endless halter neck crop tops and skin tight baby tees with tiny skirts, having him come home to find you sunbathing on the balcony in a pathetic excuse of a bikini, fat ass and lush tits practically out on full display.

You thought he’d finally snap when he catches you almost escaping from his apartment, when he’d let his guard down a couple of weeks in and left you alone in the living room to answer his phone. He’d never left you alone in any part of the apartment before where you could access the front door, and you didn’t even think for another second before scrambling towards the door, getting as far as stepping out into the hallway-

Before you’re yanked back inside with a strong arm around your waist, easily manhandling your full weight as you try to yell and fight him off. He locks you into your room again, like he’d done on the very first day, ignoring your angry bangs and pleas to let you out. So by day two you’ve switched tactics, remembering the most effective way at getting under his skin. You smirk to yourself as you rustle through your suitcase, pulling out the baby pink bullet vibrator you always packed.

Sitting in the next room over, a scowling Max spins his rig wheel around, the annoyance in the way he aggressively clicked his steering buttons evident. He thought you’d know better by now than to try something as silly as trying to escape. Clearly, he needed to make you understand your new position by his side. You needed to be disciplined, to be punished for testing Max to his limits. He’d let you get away with far too much, and now you were under the illusion that you had the upper hand. His dark thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a low buzzing, before he hears your sweet moaning, making his eyes widen in surprise. You sound like an OnlyFans star, putting on an absolute show with high pitched whines and moans he can hear through the wall. He smirks in approval - until he hears you breathily gasp Lewis, please…

Oh, sweet little you had no idea what she’d just awoken inside the possessive Dutch Lion. You were playing with fire, dramatically letting out sinful noises and moaning Max’s rival’s name. You don’t get to say it for long, because within seconds Max is entering your room, blue eyes icy cold as he glares at your arched form on the bed. You jump, startled, not having expected him to actually come inside and there’s an embarrassed flush on your face as you withdraw your hand and quickly snap your thighs shut, mindful that he could see between your legs. You’re stammering, asking him what the hell he’s doing here, can he get out-

You squeak as Max wraps a single large hand around your ankles and yanks you forward, easily bringing your whole body in front of him. You don’t get to say much more because you’re suddenly dangling in mid air as he tosses you over his shoulder, shutting up your indignant yelps with a firm slap to your bare ass that’s barely covered in the tiny red nightie. You can’t help the butterflies swirling in your tummy at seeing how strong Max is, how he carries you like you weigh nothing over to his bedroom, tossing you on his soft mattress with a bounce. You swallow nervously as you see the look on his face, his sharp eyes taking in your heaving chest and exposed cleavage where your nightie had started slipping off. Maybe you had taken it too far this time, so you sweetly try to apologise but are met with a dark chuckle from Max. Oh, it’s way too late for that, schatje he croons, tilting your delicate neck up to meet his intense eyes as he stands in front of you at the foot of the bed. A shiver runs down your spine at his possessive tone, but with it you feel your aching pussy throb, already stimulated earlier from your games. I think it’s time to teach you who you really belong too, no matter how much you keep trying to deny it, hmm?

And like always, Max proves his words weren’t a threat but a promise with his actions. He’d tied you to his headboard, your arms resting above you comfortably but without any chance of getting free. He knew that he’d have to break you in, leave you craving his touch so desperately that in the end you begged for him and never wanted to leave his side. So he teased you mercilessly now, large palms exploring your shivering form ever so gently, making you tense as you wonder where he’ll go next. Making you part your lips and sliding a finger in for you to suck on, over your peaked nipples through your lace nightie, and then down, down-

You whimper as Max fingers your hypersensitive pussy, your puffy folds eagerly dripping as he smoothly fucks you on his large fingers. So fucking tight and warm for me, Max groans lowly in your ear, licking the shell of it. Can’t wait to see how well you take my cock.

Your doe eyes widen at this, and you adamantly shake your head, whining that there’s no way you’d ever let him inside you-

Max smirks as your cunny gushes fresh slick all over his hand as you practically ride his fingers, despite your best efforts to act like you don’t want him. He decides to give you a little extra push in the right direction, grabbing a bottle of oil from his bedside table. Uncapping it, he lazily lets it hang downwards and drip all over your inner thighs, before trailing it up over your peaked nipples. You arch against the bed at the strangely pleasant sensation, the chill making you gasp. But soon the chill was replaced by a burning need, as your soft skin went into overdrive, desperate to feel Max’s strong, warm hands again. What the fuck did you just do to me, you demand brattily, refusing to admit the raw lust throbbing in between your legs right now was your own.

Instead of moving closer, Max grins as he gets up off the bed, still fully dressed despite the state you’re in - hands and thighs tied up, silk nightie bunched around your waist and lace cups pulled down so your pretty tits are on display. Oh schatje, he croons, stroking your cheek almost lovingly and making you glare at him. It’s just a little…stimulant. Makes things very fun in bed. But it only works to heighten emotions you’re already feeling…so if you really don’t want this at all, then it should just fade away, yeah?

And with a goodbye kiss to your forehead, he strides out the room, telling you he’d be back in a few hours. Of course, the oil he’d poured all over your body was nothing more than a particularly potent aphrodisiac, making you more sensitive and turned on. But telling you that it would only affect you if you felt attracted to him was a rather devilish move by Max to make you question your boundaries, second guess the line between hate and love towards the Dutchman.

It proves to be a very successful strategy, because that evening when he asks you if you’re ready for him to fuck you, you’re watching him in anticipation, biting your lip to try and hold in the desperate pleas. You so terribly want to just ask him to have his way with you but cling onto the last shred of self control you have. Max sees this, and responds by slowly undressing down to his boxers, enjoying the way your breath hitches as you stare wide eyed at this broad shoulders, his tense abs, and down to his muscular big thighs that you’d love to rub your pussy against. And when he settles in next to you, still carefully avoiding laying a hand on you but instead pulling his own large cock out of his boxers, he can’t resist darkly chuckling as he sees you practically swallow back drool. He jerks himself off slowly, and you lick your lips as your gaze remained fixated on the beads of precum rolling down his tip. He’s so well endowed that you can appreciate his size even with one of his large palms wrapped around it. More wetness slides down your cunny, mixing with the oil as it travels down in between your sensitive asscheeks. You whine, suddenly feeling boiling hot despite the chill from the aircon. You’re so thirsty, feeling so warm, so desperate with your need to feel Max that maybe taking him inside your mouth would help. You reassure yourself that it wouldn’t go any further than that, and breathily ask Max if you could go down on him. Hmm, what was that, schat? the handsome blonde next to you teases. Couldn’t hear you.

You huff, knowing he was giving you attention hard time for your bratty attitude earlier, but swallow your pride as you ask could you please suck him off, you’d do a really good job, you promise! You just needed a little taste, a brief relief from the sweltering torture consuming your body right now.

Max smirks in approval, rewarding you by releasing your ropes. You breathe in relief, sitting up to relax your muscles, but instead find the ropes replaces with a collar fastened around your neck, attached to a lead resting comfortably in Max’s large palms. You flush at the possessive gesture, but don’t resist as he playfully tugs on your collar to bring your face level with his cock. Up close, it’s even bigger, swollen and angry and red, making you swallow nervously before poking your tongue out to flick his tip. Don’t tease, Max growls above you, his hand territorially tangling in your curls. Or I’ll have to leave you alone again with some more of that oil all over your ass this time, hmm?

Your eyes widen at the threat of more torture, over your sensitive back hole this time, and you quickly start bobbing your head up and down his fat length. Hearing his low groan of approval, you enthusiastically deepthroat and choke on his pulsating shaft, head down and your ass up in the air as more and more slick drips down your thighs. You can't believe how horny you’re getting sucking Max off! You don’t normally enjoy giving blowjobs, preferring to have guys go down on you like the pillow princess you are, but something about the heady taste of Max's precum, the comforting warmth in your mouth is so addictive that you can't help but eagerly worship his cock with your plush lips. And the way he's murmuring filthy praises above you, calling you his good girl, take it all the way in, just like that, helping you take his sizeable length with a helpful hand applying pressure to the back of your neck, just adds to the heat pooling in your belly. And when he cums, his hand holds you down in place as you do your best to swallow the generous load he pumps down your throat. When he lets you up, you sit back, slivers of his cum dripping down the sides of your mouth that you lick up as you meet his heated gaze. Max got his release - finally, after all your relentless teasing - but you've become even more frustrated and desperate.

Max gives you a knowing smirk, taking in your heaving tits and dazed eyes. Training you would be much more effective if he drags your punishment out, and he does exactly that by telling you to go shower before he makes you both some dinner. The change in pace to sweet domesticity messes with you even more, and even though the warm shower water washes away the sticky oil coating your body, you can't stop thinking about how good it had felt letting Max handle you like that.

So a few days later, when Max is back from a race weekend and you've been secretly playing with your vibrator while picturing his cock instead, you sweetly ask if you could please sleep in his bed tonight? Just because you were feeling so lonely, of course, you weren't going to have sex with him or anything!

Max obliges, coming to bed in a tempting display of sweats slung low across his waist so you can admire his muscular chest. To your dismay, he pays no attention to the baby pink negligee you've put on, the fabric practically see through and showing off your tanned nipples. Instead of bullying his way inside of your clenching cunt like you hoped, he contentedly games away with his TV in the bedroom. Asking him to use his fingers again would be fine, right? He'd already done it before, without you asking...so really, it didn't count as anything more. You still weren't giving into him, you reason with yourself naively, before leaning up to press your tits against Max's large biceps and sweetly ask Maxie to pretty please help you out, you hadn’t been able to make yourself orgasm, just this once could he use his hand again?

He sighs, putting down his controller, murmuring that you were so needy, he’d only do it if you put that special necklace on again, okay?

You bite your lip anxiously for a moment, looking at the bedside drawer where you know the collar and leash rest, before giving in and nodding your head obediently, making Max smile and your heart flutter from making him happy. It was just this once, you were certain you’d calm down from this despite once you got your release! And so with the collar securely tightened around your delicate neck, you excitedly part your legs as Max lifts you and sits you in his lap, your back to his chest. He teases you for ages, only lightly rubbing circles through your thong, and you can’t even complain because he’s messily making out with you, his tongue exploring your willing mouth. You’re so caught up you don’t even realise he pulled out the oil until you feel it suddenly drip all over your spread inner thighs. H-hey! you protest, managing to weakly protest against Max’s distracting lips. No fair, that oil was so intense last time, and you were being so good for him now, why was he punishing you again?

Max hums as he litters your neck with gentle bites and hickeys, murmuring that he was using it as lube so he didn’t hurt your tight cunt with his big, thick fingers, making your heart race in confusion from his apparent thoughtful actions. Besides, he reminds you, you won’t feel anything different as long as you don’t actually have feelings for me, remember?

His gaslighting works its magic again, because he teases you right on the edge with gentle thrusts of his two fingers, not quite giving you enough to send you over the edge as your cunny flutters around his digits. You tell yourself that it’s just the oil heightening everything, including the tiny little part of you that wants Max back, as you as him for more, harder, please-

And then, when he’s already worked you through two orgasms with his hand you’re asking for even more, screwing your eyes shut and burying your face in his muscular neck. Would you please use your tongue Maxie? I need more!

Laughter rumbles through the Dutchman’s broad chest as he runs a soothing hand down your back, cooing how you really were just a sweet little thing that needed him to take care of you, hmm? But he’d already finger fucked you twice, and now you wanted him to eat your pussy, too…how were you possibly going to make it upto him?

Your dazed eyes try to focus as you run through all the possibilities, offering to cook his favourite pasta dish for him, or wash the cats, or reorganise his trophy display - but Max shakes his head. And then, just like he’d hoped, you blush and shyly whisper into his ear that you could make him feel good too, and let him fuck your mouth again if he wanted?

Max had to control himself from all but thrusting his cock into your divine warm throat right there. Oh, did he want. You had no idea how much he wanted, but he plays it cool as he shrugs and says you’d have to do a better job than last time, then.

You nod eagerly, ready to prove yourself, and willingly meet his lips in a deep kiss as you part your legs, expecting him to move his talented mouth downwards. He was such a good kisser that it already made you wet with slick, you couldn’t wait to see how good he teased your clit! But to your surprise Max repositions you, easily tossing you around so your thighs are snugly thrown over his broad shoulders and your face - your face heats up as it comes right in front of his erect cock. M-Max! you whine, embarrassed at the filthy manoeuvre into sixty-nine position he’s somehow manipulated you into. You’d never done something so dirty before! But when a familiar hand possessively tangles in your curls, pushing your neck down firmly, you have no choice but to part your plush lips and welcome his throbbing member down your throat. As you gag and choke on him in this unfamiliar position, drool and lipgloss leaking from your lips and dripping down your chin, Max starts lazily lapping at your dripping cunt through your soaked thong. He works you up into an ever more frustrated state, before yanking the flimsy lace to one side and swiping his nose through your folds to deeply inhale. Fuck, you smelt amazing, even better than anything he’d been dreaming about, and he’d certainly been having his fair share of dirty fantasies about having you split open on his tongue. Your responsive moan vertebrates around his cock, making pleasure course through him and he rewards you by dragging his wide tongue through your soft, puffy folds. You’re absolutely debauched for Max now, head completely empty and only one thing on your mind - which you make clear as you let out high pitched moans and shake your ass back against him, desperate for more. Max has to keep you disciplined, of course, keeping your head down like a good girl so you obediently continue kissing his cockhead and slurping on his large balls that were close to bursting. If he let you run free he’d have no doubt you’d start riding his face like a cowgirl, desperate for your own pleasure like the pillow princess you are. But you were learning your place, learning how to obey Max and make him feel good first, and you use your bouncing tits to rub against his warm cock as you keep suckling on his sensitive tip. He cums with a pleased growl at your submissiveness, thrusting his hips into your waiting lips so you could drink the entire creamy load greedily.

Only then does Max properly fuck you with his tongue, placing you on your back with his huge hands pinning your thighs against your soft tits, exposing your glistening pussy. You scream his name as his wicked tongue glides into your cunny, tears gathering in your eyes from the sheer intensity before you end up squirting all over his chin, making a mess of the sheets. He tsk’s at you playfully, blue eyes glinting as he takes in the beautiful sight of you completely wrecked and gulping deep breaths of air as you come down from your high. He can’t resist grabbing his phone to capture the moment, the flash capturing your glowing skin and swollen lips, the hickeys littered over your arched neck and soft inner thighs, your pink negligee still bunched up around your waist. Maybe it’s too soon, but he can’t resist-

Schatje, he murmurs, low and deep, making you cutely blink open your eyes from the content sleep you were heading towards. His phone light remains on, the blinking red light indicating that he’s recording as he asks you how did you like the taste of his cock?

A smile slowly spreads across your face, giving you the very picture of post orgasmic bliss as you lick your lips and say it was soo yummy, Maxie, you’d happily blow him anytime he wanted!

The handsome blonde lets out a slow exhale at your sinful confession, deciding to test how far he could push you. Oh really? He murmurs. Was it better that your ex’s dick?

Recognition flickers in your eyes at the mention of your ex, and you bite your lip again, thinking but Max plays unfair again when he comes in against you, letting his now hard length rest against your lower belly. You’re immediately distracted by the pulsating warmth deliciously stimulating your clit, practically getting heart eyes as your eyes darken sultrily. Oh, so much bigger and better than my ex, you say unashamedly, looking right at the camera because you know what Max wants. I never let him finish in my mouth, he’d always have to wear a condom. But you, Maxie…I’d drink your cum everyday and still want more! You finish with a playful giggle, wiggling your hips to get more friction on your clit.

And Max knows he’s got you exactly where he wants, ready to make him feel good however he orders it. He snaps away more steamy photos first, wanting to add to his personal collection while you look so delicious in his bed. Videos of you squealing happily as he slaps his heavy cock against your clit, the weight of it dizzying, and then of you jiggling your ass against him he turns you onto your side to slide himself in between your thighs. Feeling Max’s strong muscular arms holding you close against him, his lips tracing your ear as he murmurs dirty things in your ear, and most of all feeling his cockhead rub against your slit as he slowly fucks your thighs from the back breaks you down even more. Please, Max you beg, the sound music to his ears. I need it…just the tip, please?

You feel his lips smirk against your ear as he teases you for being so desperate for him again, see, he told you you’d feel so good by his side, right?

And when his fat cock stretches your pussy open you can’t help but gasp, because if this was just the tip you couldn’t even imagine how amazing the rest of him would feel. You both moan together as your wet cunny clenched and drools around his length, and then you’re reaching back and gripping his hip to guide him further into you. More, please Maxie, I need you- oh!

There’s only one way this ends once you’ve both gotten a taste of each other, and are addicted. With him fully thrusting his length in and out of you, making you scream his name as you cum around him, messily squirting. You’re so far gone that you don’t even say anything except moan sluttily when he finishes inside you, leaving you stuffed full of his creamy cum. There’s no going back after that, and in the morning - after he’s had another round in the sheets with you - he finally takes you out of the apartment, making your debut at a expensive cafe as Monaco’s new it couple. And with your manicured hand wrapped around his bicep, walking into brunch in cute kitten heels and feeling dozens of admiring and envious gazes on you both, you can’t help but feel like you’re finally where you’re meant to be.

—————————————————————————

A/N: goddamn this took so long to write hope you enjoyed! Sorry for the delay in posting Ik I’ve really slowed down, work has been getting me tired af lately but should be easing up soon!! Have lots of drafts half done hehe keep sending me inspo I love all your messages!!!

[piastrification]

babe i loved your last work about lando 😍😍😍

it was soooo good‼️

so can you write something with lando and dry humping? where it's late at night and they're just friends and they come back from the club and he comes in his pants because it's all too much?

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader word count: less than 600 warning: dirty talk, dry humping, smut! author's note: just a lil smutty blurb for y'all since I had some spare time today. smut under the cut!

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He shouldn’t be doing this. Not with you. Not with his best fucking friend.

But the minute you tugged him closer, fingertips fisting the material of his shirt like you needed him, he was done for.

His hips snapped into you with a rhythm he could no longer control. Too rough, too needy, too far gone. The sound of it...that filthy drag of cotton panties over your soaked core against him, was like music to his ears.

You were soaked for him. He could feel it through his own boxers, every grind slicker, messier than the last.

“God. Fuckin look at you,” He panted, his pupils blown wide. “So fuckin’ wet for me, yeah?”

Your fingers trailed to his head, fisting his messy curls and pulling just enough to make him groan. It was deep and guttural, and he was absolutely fucked. 

His hips rutting up into you was nothing but instinctual at this point. He had no control or thoughts, just the overwhelming need to feel you. To make you feel him.

His cock throbbed against the damp fabric of his boxers, pushing against your heated core with an unrelenting friction. He angled his hips just right, hitting that oh so perfect spot over and over, again and again.

“Tell me you’ve thought about this. About me.” He growled, his mouth brushing the crevice of your ear. “About me fucking you like this.”

You couldn’t find the words to answer. The way you rocked against him, head thrown back with a soft moan was enough.

His hand reached for the nape of your neck, pulling you into him, his lips finally catching yours. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t even sweet. It was frantic, messy, a clash of teeth and tangled tongues.

Every single thrust ripped a strangled moan out of his throat, a low groan that said he was so fucking close.

“Fuck, baby.” He rasped, his hands finding solace on the dip of your hips, grabbing hard as he thrust upwards into you again. “Look at us.”

The sounds you made. Little whimpers, and those soft gasps when it hit that spot in you just right. It had him throbbing. “Y’gonna come like this, yeah?” He struggles to get the words out.

“Humping my cock like it’s yours. All fuckin’ desperate.”

He ground his hips in a tight circle, and your entire body arched into him. “Yeah, just like that. Rub that pretty little pussy on me.”

“Shit, I’m gon—“ He couldn’t finish the sentence, his forehead falling against the crevice of your neck. “I can’t…fuck.”

You came with a sharp cry, hips jerking against his as your body convulsed over him. And the second he felt that little gush of heat, through your panties, he lost it.

He came hard. Grinding into you so hotly that it made your toes curl. His whole body shook with it. Not just from his orgasm, but from everything that led to it. The years of tension, years of friendship. All of it. 

After a few moments of silence, you both stay there, your forehead pressed to the skin of his shoulder, heart hammering in your chest.

And when Lando finally broke the silence. It wasn’t to say sorry.

It was, “Yeah, we’re not going back after this.”

[piastrification]

[piastrification]

[piastrification]

not second best

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, redbull driver!reader, teammates au, jealousy, possessiveness, missionary, dirty talk, rough sex

"if you could be teammates with anyone else, who would it be?"

you stood in front of the camera and thought on it for a moment before you answered, "oh, easy! i'd choose charles! i'd say we're pretty close and i'm hopeful this year is the year we wins... but he'd have to beat me first!" then winked at the camera with your hands on your hips.

your teammate, max, was behind the camera and his ears were burning. he knew the question was a joke, but he didn't want to see his favourite teammate be on the same team with his most loathed rival.

in the hotel room, max's hand lingered across your back a little more as he guided you away from your hotel room and towards his. his nose brushed against your neck, taking in your scent before he went to open the door.

when he got the door closed behind you two, his hands were on you once more. his lips at your neck and between kisses he asked, "you'd pick, charles, huh?"

you squeaked, "they said pick someone else." you looked into max's eyes, "we're already teammates." and your eyes went a little wide as he pressed himself further against you. you two have had sex before, it was no secret - with the amount of time you spent together it was inevitable.

"could have picked anyone else." he said lowly as he rubbed up against you further and touched your chest, "you know how i feel about him. how he gets under my skin. i wouldn't want anyone to be on the same team as you. you're mine."

you knew his reaction was overbearing, but you knew that max deeply cared for you. he yearned for you deeply. the thump of his heart was in time with how much he adored you, needed you. so the idea of charles taking you away from him only poked at something in his brain.

you gasped when he bit into the skin of your neck, you knew it would bruise. but something curled in your gut as you felt the a certain lust wash over you.

"you're red bull or nothing." he said lowly, "by my side, or off the track." he said as he started to play with the front of your jeans, "i don't want charles to get the wrong idea, so tonight. i'm going to make sure you firmly remember who you belong to." he placed another kiss on your neck before you ended up in the bedroom and on the bed.

you could have said no, you could have stood your ground and had him slink away with his tail between his legs. but there was something about the domineering max that just made you wet. the looked in his eye, cold, commanding. he looked like the villain that everyone thought of him as.

you took off your branded t-shirt and you felt his gaze linger on your breasts. he licked his lips and you got your bra off, slowly your jeans came off too along with the rest of your under garments. socks throw in two different directions and your panties on the other side of the bed. max was quicker to get undressed before he got on top of you in bed. he pushed you up against the pillows and gazed down at you.

his cock was fully erect. you knew he got off to submitting you under him. he told you once that he liked when you posed a challenge on the track because that meant he could fuck you harder. a real champion can take anything, he told you once when he had you in a headlock and bullied your poor pussy.

"look at you." he said as he hiked your hips up closer to him, "see, this is what no other driver can have. you're just so sweet on the track, you're their little star. but you need someone to actually keep you safe. and charles would never do that." max said lowly and rubbed the tip of his cock up against you, "too trusting. you should only be trusting me."

you swallowed, "please, max." you held onto the pillows under your head and you lifted your hips a little to give him better access to your cunt. you were wet and max knew it. he loved that he carried that bit of control over you, easily making you soaked between your legs.

he remembered after a rough practice he spent what felt like half an hour rubbing your cunt through your driver's suit and he knew that you raced the next round with stickiness between your legs. risky move, but max had to plant those seeds early.

that after formula one, you wouldn't become an engineer or a reporter, or whatever else ex-drivers seemed to do. no, you'd be max's wife. and hopefully married after after that season ended.

he looked at you and licked his lips. you met his gaze as he sank his cock into you. you arched your back a little and he relaxed against you. and so did you. he planted his hands on either side of you, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips as you wrapped your legs around him.

"look at you." he said.

you shifted yourself on the bed a little and reached for him. your arms wrapped around his neck. you held on while he moved against you. pleasure moved through both of you. you loved the feeling, even with max's harsh words, you still felt affection for him. both as a teammate and a lover.

"i'm always looking out for you." he said, he drank in the sight of your face, "i want you well, i want you safe. and i want you as mine." his strokes started to move faster, he felt a slight fire in his gut from the feeling of his cock buried inside of you slick pussy.

you were on birth control, but still it was a risk to take you this way. to have him bare inside of you. but, it eased his jealousy just a little bit to know that he was the only man to ever take you this bare. to take you as his, all his.

"please, max. it feels so good." you encouraged him as you held on tighter, the pleasure was growing in your core as he rutted against you. there was something about how his cock moved inside of you that hit all the right areas that made your eyes roll a little out of pleasure.

"you don't know what you do to me." he said lowly, "i don't want you to ever think about having another teammate ever again. i want you to only need me by your side. matching cars, matching uniforms." matching last names.

he continued to thrust into you, he held onto the bedding a little tighter and felt the sweat at his brow. it was hot between you two. the movements of him against you only had you holding onto you tighter.

"max. fuck."

"i know, it feels good. you love how you feel under me. do you like being my teammate?"

you nodded and your nails nipped at the back of his neck as you held on, you swallowed before you said, "i love being your teammate, max. you know that!"

"do you want another teammate? want another man to fuck you the way i do?"

you shook your head, "never. never in a million years. i want us to win the constructor's this year!" you arched your back a little when his cock nudged against just the right spot that made you feel tingly all over. he laid another heated kiss on your lips and continued to fuck you quickly and roughly.

the headboard slammed against the wall from the force that he was fucking with you. you whined into the kiss and he held onto your hips tightly, you were pinned under him while he fucked you. he felt your body quake under him, the feeling of heat under your skin. you were the sparks in his brain and the fuel in his blood.

fucking you was the same intensity as driving. except he could let his mind grow hazy with each powerful thrust. to know you'd never want another meant the world to him, to know that you were all his. you moaned against his lips and clawed down his strong back.

you didn't last much longer. you broke the kiss and made a strong yet whiny noise as you came around his cock. you arched your back and squeezed your eyes shut as you climaxed. it only spurred him on, it made his heart hammer along with yours. the pleasure flooded your head and after you reached your peak, you let go of him and let him have his wicked way with you.

"beautiful." max said as he continued to fuck you strong thrusts. he left himself feel all of you, every inch of you felt warm under him. you were sweaty and hot. he licked his lips and the pleasure throbbed in his body.

"please, max. i'm sorry that i made that comment. i knew i couldn't pick you." you whined.

max kissed at your neck, "next time, pick someone else. alex, george, even carlos. just not charles, i won't let that sweet talker take you from me." you could feel the possessiveness in his tone.

he knew he was close, with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. he groaned under his breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. your cunt fluttered around him and he drank in the feeling. you felt amazing, warm all over and so soft. he knew he had to have you always.

"perfect." he cooed before he pulled out and laid out next to you in bed. he cupped your face with his large hand. those large hands on your soft skin. he leaned in, "tell me again."

you opened your eyes and asked, "tell you what?"

"that you don't want charles."

you shook your head, "i don't want charles. only you, max." and you curled up closer to him. his touches were more gentle, the jealous beast in him calmed down. for now.

-

"if you could be teammates with anyone else, who would it be?"

you thought about it for a moment, the reminder of last time tickled in your gut. but quickly you looked back to the camera and said, "i'd have to pick, lando! he got really close to the wdc last year, but if we were teammates he'd have a little more competition."

and you knew behind the camera, max verstappen was seething. <3

[piastrification]

Miffy (Nijntje) x Max Verstappen

little rabbit 🐰 and little lion 🦁

[piastrification]

Testing Patience - Max Verstappen

@brekkers-whore prompt request #2 - "Good boy." "Get in that fucking bedroom."

Summary:With Max being busy with the start of the season, his girlfriend has been a little neglected and with a weekend off, she decides to give him the cold shoulder and test his patience. The only problem is, Max doesn't have any.

Themes/warnings: Smut 18+, dom!Max, brat!reader, punishment, use of toys, multiple orgasms, degradation (briefly)

Word count: 1.6k

Y/n should've known that testing Max's patience was unwise really, the whole disaster that is his team has been one bad thing after another and now he's forced to endure another teammate change that he's vocally been against and even fought the team on.

Not that he doesn't like or rate Yuki but a driver change just messes up the whole dynamic and means square one for a driver who isn't used the car which is already impossible to drive for anyone but Max.

Y/n isn't impressed with him though and while she acknowledges it's bratty and he has priorities. She should at least fall somewhere in the mix.

The problem is that sex is a pillar of their relationship and it's a neglected pillar at the moment from Max's side primarily.

"Are you ignoring me?" Max questions as y/n once again leaves the room he's followed her into mid-rant about the team and the mess that is unraveling.

As if the start of last season wasn't bad enough. Now this season is also off to a terrible start with few other to blame than Christian himself and even Helmut has gained himself a page in Max's bad books for supporting this decision.

"Oh you noticed? First time for everything I suppose." Y/n comments sarcastically earning a frown.

"What? What does that mean?" Max questions not really in the mood for an argument with his girlfriend but he's also not in any mood for her attitude either. Clearly he won't be avoiding either of those things today.

"It means I'm waiting for you to use all this anger to have sex and instead I'm here listening to you rant-which is fine it there was any indicator that you'd finally fucking touch me." Y/n snaps with a huff, knowing she's pouting like a child and being a bitch but christ she just want to feel that man inside her.

Max grumbles knowing that it's been a month since they last had sex. For them that's practically decades. For them it's not unusual for sex to be enjoyed multiple times a day when they're together. But it has been such a long time.

"Just go on your sim or work out and get your anger out. I don't even want to have sex anymore." Y/n states with a huff making Max sigh but he knows y/n is in a mood and she just need to be left alone. But then she pulls the trigger when he turns around doing as she told him. "Yeah, good boy."

Max spins around so aggressively she actually feels the air move in a wave and hit her. Her gaze landing on him like she just realised a line was absolutely crossed. He's pretty dominant in general in their relationship and she's a bit of a brat anyway, but that was definitely a moment she'll come to regret quickly.

"Get in that fucking bedroom." Max instructs coldly making a chill actually run down her spine. "Now, y/n."

And that's all she needs rushing to the bedroom. Provoking his temper was definitely an unwise choice in the current climate at work.

She fucked around and she's about to find out the consequences of her actions.

"Fuck." Y/n whispers to herself as she sits on the bed after undressing since she knows better than to even attempt to waste time by forcing him to wait for her to undress or for him to undress her himself.

Max comes in not saying a word but grabbing as few things then pushing her up to the headboard and managing to very easily tie her to the head body with her legs hooked back leading her pussy spread and fully exposed.

"You can tell you have been fucked, you're dripping like a slut." Max states almost spitting at her as he tries to withhold his anger. "I'll make sure you feel too good, baby. Want to make up for lost time."

Now that might sound like a great promise but y/n knows Max better than that, especially when he gags her and seems to pay no attention to her pussy. Then he adds a blindfold and she realises her senses are dwindling.

"Shake your head if you want out of this." Max instructs waiting for her to hake her head but instead she remains silent waiting for him.

She know she earned this by condescending him with the "good boy". It was practically a trigger word for him. Though in a way, it's got her what she wants; and maybe a little more.

Max doesn't bother saying anything after that but she feels the familiar stretch of a dildo slide into her, the vibrations from it making her moan around the gag. But he has made sure it's lodged in her as she feels him manage to stick tape over her pussy.

"Ok, baby. Enjoy." Max states making her chest rise and fall with an increased pace.

He really is leaving her there and he didn't even add in a "I'll be back soon". Knowing him, he's made sure that the dildo has fresh batteries meaning that she'll be set for a good few hours without him needing to come in.

Max has only "left" the room in y/n's knowledge, he's still watching her from the door frame. The whimpering and writhing as she tries to pull at her retrains, hands hooked to the headboard over her head.

He intends to let her cum and squirm for hours. Is it an extreme punishment for something so small? Yes. But he's giving her what she wanted and he's going to watch her, just in case she does tap out. She knows that if it really does get to that point he'd not leave her there.

It doesn't take long for her first orgasm to start building up, he can recognise her body language from a mile away, but admittedly it's more obvious from her restricted movement. When it strikes her, she is moaning around the gag, squirming as it rips through her.

Then he watches it happen again a few minutes later and he watches it happen again and again, for the next hour. Each time drains more from her and he can see she's past the point of control over herself. She tried to fight them when she got 3 in but even Max lost count of what number she's at and the vibrator is on the highest setting with no sign of stopping in sight.

If he wasn't so hard, he'd leave her for longer, but selfishly he is feeling the month long dry streak and seeing her whine and struggle.

Y/n is too out of it to even notice Max walking over before he pulls the gag off of her along with the blindfold. The gag coming away with a string of saliva and the blindfold wet to touch.

"How you feeling baby?" Max asks seeing the bloodshot eyes while he gently peels the half soaked tape that was only hanging on by a couple spots before following with pulling the dildo from inside her and turning it off as he tosses it onto the floor off of the bed to deal with later. "Can you take one more for me?"

Y/n licks her lips, wetting them before panting a little and nodding.

"Good girl." Max smirks, his use of the praise clearly intended to make his point before he gets a couple tugs and her limbs are released. "You sure you're good?"

"Mhmm." Y/n assures him knowing he's pushing for her to verbally confirm but her voice is failing her.

Max manages to turn her onto her her stomach pulling her up onto her knees before finally releasing his dick that is already begging to do back shots just from the view of her in this position.

As soon as he slides into her he's fighting his eyes from rolling back, she's clamped down on the new intrusion with puffy walls uncertain of handling his dick which is stretching them much more than the dildo did.

"Max." Y/n moans weakly as he begins thrusting in and out of her, his finger managing to find her neglected clit that has not had the pleasure that the rest of her pussy was getting for the past hour.

That's enough to trigger another orgasm from her oversensitivity and that sends Max spiralling shooting his load into her with a groan. He'd have liked to last longer than 5 minutes but she's milking him too perfectly for him to fight it.

"Feel better?" Max asks as he pulls out and she slides herself forward to lie flat with a huff. "I'll make sure to never ignore you that long again. But remember today next time you get an attitude."

"Felt a little extreme just because I called you a-"

"You really want to say it again?" Max questions while she sighs.

"No. I can't handle that." Y/n mumbles shaking her head while Max smirks a little before sitting up from where he'd laid himself down to keep looking at her.

"Don't move, I'm gonna run us a bath to get you cleaned up." Max states as he stands leaning over to kiss her for a moment before gently slapping her ass catching her small smile over his action before he walks into the bathroom sighing to himself and shaking his head at the fact this girl really takes it all and she'll wake up tomorrow with another attitude that he'll want to fuck out of her.