#f1xreader

[linnitheo]

Under the Checkered Flag

Max’s POV

The hum of engines filled the paddock, a familiar yet electrifying sound that coursed through Max Verstappen’s veins. Race day. It was a sensation he never got used to; the adrenaline, the anticipation, the pressure. He thrived on it. He was at the top of his game, the youngest world champion, leading Red Bull with precision and grit. And yet, amid all the controlled chaos of the F1 world, there was one thing — one person — who could make him feel more alive than the thrill of racing.

You.

You were unexpected in every way. A PR consultant initially, brought on board to handle the escalating media frenzy around his rising fame. You weren’t starstruck; if anything, you seemed immune to the glitz of the F1 world. No, you were sharp, quick-witted, and completely focused on your job. But Max had a way of breaking down barriers, and it didn’t take long before you were spending time together beyond just the track. He’d find reasons to hang around the media center, just to catch a glimpse of you juggling journalists and managing Red Bull’s image with effortless grace.

The morning of the Italian Grand Prix was no different. Max was already dressed in his race suit, helmet in hand, and ready to get to work, but his eyes scanned the paddock, searching. When he saw you, phone to your ear, clipboard in hand, he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. You caught his gaze and rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Focus, Verstappen,” you mouthed, a playful challenge.

“Always,” he mouthed back, though he knew his focus was already split.

Y/N’s POV

You hung up the call, trying to maintain your professional facade as you made your way through the throng of engineers, drivers, and media. Working with Max was unlike anything you’d expected. The guy was a force of nature on track, but off it, he had a way of drawing you in with that intense stare and unguarded charm.

It had started innocently enough — late-night debriefs that turned into long conversations about everything but racing. You found yourself laughing more, lingering in his motorhome even when your job was done. Max was magnetic, and resisting him felt impossible.

The paddock was bustling, everyone operating on a tight schedule as the race loomed closer. You found yourself watching Max more than you should, captivated by the way he moved with a casual confidence, like he owned the place. And maybe he did. He’d made it clear he was the one to beat this season, and his rival, Charles Leclerc, was hot on his heels.

Your heart beat a little faster as you watched him step into his car, every movement precise and deliberate. He looked up and caught your eye one last time before the helmet went on, a silent promise in his gaze.

You wanted him to win. Not just because it was your job to ensure Red Bull maintained their stellar reputation, but because you wanted it for Max. You wanted to see that victorious smile that reached his eyes, the one that was just for you when the cameras weren’t looking.

The lights went out and the race started, cars darting off the line with a deafening roar. You were on your feet in the garage, eyes glued to the screens as Max surged ahead, taking the first corner with the precision of a master. It was a tough race — Leclerc was relentless, the Ferraris faster on the straights, but Max was tenacious, finding grip where there was none, pushing his car to the absolute limit.

A collision on lap 38 had everyone holding their breath. Max and Leclerc side by side, neither willing to back down. You bit your lip, watching as Max held his ground, the two cars nearly touching at 300 km/h. Your heart pounded, fear mixing with exhilaration.

Max’s POV

Max could feel the pressure mounting. Leclerc was right on his tail, and the Ferrari was fast, too fast. But Max wasn’t about to let this one slip away. He had the inside line, and he was going to use it. They were wheel-to-wheel through the chicane, and for a moment, it felt like everything slowed down. He could hear his engineer in his ear, but it was white noise. This was it — the moment of truth.

Leclerc made a desperate lunge, but Max held firm, squeezing him just enough to make his point but not so much that they’d both end up in the gravel. It was aggressive, it was bold, but it was clean. He was through, and as he glanced in his mirrors, he saw Leclerc had backed off, finally conceding.

Max’s heart was racing as he crossed the finish line, the checkered flag waving above him. He did it. Another win. But as the adrenaline began to fade, his thoughts immediately drifted to you. He parked his car, the victory cheers filling the air, but his eyes were searching the garage, looking for you.

Y/N’s POV

The garage erupted in cheers, but you barely registered it. Max had done it. He’d held off Leclerc and crossed the line first, and you couldn’t contain the rush of emotion that surged through you. Relief, pride, something else you couldn’t quite name but felt every time you saw him.

You pushed through the throng of team members and media, making your way to where Max was climbing out of the car. He was surrounded by cameras, microphones thrust in his face as reporters fired off questions. But then his eyes found yours, and the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

He pushed past the reporters, striding toward you with purpose. Before you knew it, his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. For a moment, you didn’t care who was watching. It was just you and Max, and the unspoken connection that had been building between you.

“You did it,” you whispered against his ear, feeling the tension in his body slowly release.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied, his voice low and sincere.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. There was something there, something beyond the rush of victory. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours, the kiss hard and fast, filled with the pent-up energy of the race and something more.

It wasn’t until you pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, that you remembered where you were. The cameras were still flashing, the reporters still talking, but none of it seemed to matter. Max’s thumb brushed against your cheek, a small, intimate gesture that made your heart flutter.

“Guess the secret’s out,” he said with a chuckle, glancing at the cameras.

“Seems that way,” you replied, trying to catch your breath.

Max grinned, his hand still on your cheek, and for a moment, you saw the boyish charm that lay beneath the fierce competitor. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’m glad,” he whispered. “I’m tired of hiding how I feel about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the vulnerability in his voice something you hadn’t expected. You nodded, unable to find the right words but knowing exactly what he meant. This wasn’t just a fling, or a distraction. It was real, and for the first time, you let yourself hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding on to.

Max’s POV

Max didn’t care about the cameras or the questions that would come later. All he cared about was you, and the way you looked at him like he was more than just a driver, more than just the face of a team. With you, he felt seen — truly seen. And as he held you close, he knew one thing for certain: this was just the beginning.

With you by his side, he could take on the world, both on and off the track. And as the crowd cheered and the cameras flashed, Max Verstappen, the fierce, unrelenting racer, found something he hadn’t even realized he was missing.

Home.

With you.

END

[changetyre]

Experimenting || CL16 & MV33

SUMMARY: You’ve always thought Charles wasn’t fully straight, you could tell by the way he looked at certain men and maybe some things he liked in bed but he always seemed too shy to say anything. You decide to call for a helping hand. Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

WARNINGS: 18+ Terribly written Smut, Male oral, Fingering, Fruity behavior, A*s play, mentions of pinning Frotting, and some more stuff probably.

A/N: in honor of Pride month ig 😪 also want to make it super clear that this is not me imposing a sexuality on anyone, this is obviously a work of FICTION and nothing should be taken as real!

________________

“Fuck yeah right there” Charles whimpered as you stuck a finger in his whole while blowing him.

Ever since you first suggested trying ass play on his part to him a few weeks ago he quickly grew obsessed and you swore you’d never seen Charles cum so har before or emit the noises he did until now.

You knew having a man comfortable enough in bed to try anything didn’t have to mean anything other then them being comfortable in their own sexuality.

Except for you in your years of relationship with Charles you’d grown to notice more and more the way he behaved towards certain men, attractive in both your eyes. The way he got flustered or shy around them and how sometimes you noticed him get turned on by some.

Your suspicious only grew stronger when Charles asked you to try pinning. You could tell he was both exited and nervous watching you put on a strap on starting at a moderate size for him.

He was nervous you could tell but he fell in love with the feeling of having a cock inside of him and as much as he tried to convince himself it was simply the fact that you were doing this to him he couldn’t help but imagine what a real one would feel like.

No, he wasn’t growing bored of you or loosing attraction to you in the slightest it was only that as he grew more comfortable in your relationship, in bed, he had allowed himself to explore himself more in ways he hadn’t found the space too.

Little did he know how much you noticed this and how much it turned you on to see Charles become nothing but mush with all these things you were trying and how much you wished to continue and increase his pleasures as much as you could.

Which is why a few days ago you’d taken the liberty to invite a friend on an adventure with you hoping to get Charles to open up (quite literally).

“Fuck cherie don’t stop! Don’t stop! I’m gonna cum” Charles breath grew erratic as he came into your mouth, your fingers slowing down their pace in his whole.

“Did you enjoy that baby.” You swallowed before you left small kisses on Charles dick making him twitch and gasp from the sensitivity.

“Beaucoup trop” he chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your neck pulling you up to his lips for a kiss. It was hot, he could still partially taste himself on your tongue making his cock twitch slightly.

“I love you.” You whispered after pulling away from the kiss, both your lips swollen and sore from the hours you’d been going at it previous to Charles final release.

“Je t’aime amour.” Charles whispered placing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Charles I need to ask you something.” You propped yourself up on your elbows looking at Charles directly. Your tone was soft trying not to make him nervous.

“What’s up bebe?” Charles smiled, it comforted you.

“I want to try bringing someone else to bed…and I invited Max to come tomorrow.” You revealed.

Out of everything you could’ve said this was the last thing Charles could’ve imagined to come out of your mouth. His mouth opened in surprise trying to wrap his head around what you said also half expecting you to reveal it was a joke.

He felt like he should get angry or at least annoyed for you taking on such a big decision on your own but he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel that way because as much as it scared him to admit it the thought excited him, it aroused him more than he’d liked to admit.

You sensed his hesitation. “I can always cancel baby I don’t want you to feel pressured or do anything you’re -“

“No!” Charles sounded a little more desperate than he intended and you had to fight back the smirk that wanted to appear on your lips. “No…it’s fine I’m okay with it…let’s try it.”

This time you allowed yourself to smile. You also took note of the fact that Charles had no protests on Max being your invitee and instead you could see the twinkle in his eye at the mention of his name.

Maybe the lestappen fan base aren’t as delusional as they seem, you thought to yourself.

______________

“Are you sure you wanna do this baby?” You asked Charles one last time. Max should be arriving at any minute but you wanted to make sure Charles was 100% sure and comfortable with what was about to happen.

“Yes amour I’m sure. I promise.” Charles answered just as there was a knock at the door. His stomach fluttered but he couldn’t tell if it was nerves, excitement or both.

You rushed to answer the door, Charles taking a deep breath before following after you. It wasn’t until you opened the door and his eyes connected with Max’s did he realize he had no idea what you told Max.

Did Max know you wanted to have a threesome with him? Or were you both going to try to seduce him? Was Charles meant to play with Max or would that only be you?

He began to get caught up in his thoughts until he felt your hand on his arm. Your touch easing him significantly.

“Charles is a little nervous but I’m sure we can help with that right?” Your eyes remained on Charles even though you directed your question at Max.

“Of course, you know what Dani says this isn’t my first rodeo we can get him to loosen up in no time.” Max patted Charles's chest before letting his hand drop to Charles's waist as he walked past the doorway into your home.

Charles couldn’t ignore the way Max’s words and touch made blood travel right down to his center.

_________

Charles stood in awe watching Max's hand tightly around your bare waist as he made out with you passionately in front of him. He watched as Max's hand traveled down to your ass which was covered by nothing but your red lace before he gave it a squeeze making you let out a soft moan.

Charles wasn't jealous of Max, he was seriously turned on by the sight in front of him. In fact, he was slightly jealous of the fact that your hands were all over Max's abs and the way your hand rubbed up and down his bulge over his underwear.

He started doing the same to himself. Except his heart skipped a beat when he saw Max make eye contact with him while he kept making out with you.

He pulled away from you. "Come here, Charlie," Max called out to him nonchalantly as he carefully pushed you back towards the bed making you sit on it.

"Why don't you help him relax," Max spoke to you this time as he brought Charles in front of you, you got on your knees smirking at Max's proposition before you released Charles from his boxers.

Charles's head fell back as your mouth covered him and you bobbed your head up and down his shaft. His feelings intensified by the fact that Max was rubbing his shoulders, and chest and even letting his fingers flicker his nipples.

"Ah, I won't last long like this." Charles sighed as he grabbed your head softly pulling you off him.

"What do you want us to do then?" You asked as Charles helped you off your knees and you placed a short but deep kiss on Charles's lips.

Max walked around him joining your side as you both faced Charles. It was only then Charles realized Max had stripped completely and now all three of you stood in your full naked glory.

Max was big there was no denying it but he wasn't bigger than Charles which is something he took notice of, although Charles couldn't deny the girth Max carried which made him nervous.

"I don't think I'm ready for..." Charles stumbled on his words as his gaze remained on Max's length.

"That's okay...we can do something else for now," Max reassured him unable to contain the proud smirk on his lips at the way Charles admired him.

"I have just the thing." You couldn't hide your excitement and what you had planned, something you really had been wanting to try, and just the thought got you wet. "Baby lay down on your back for us." you instructed Charles.

He did as you told, trusted you enough not to question it.

"Max can you straddle his thighs please" you then asked Max as you climbed onto the bed kneeling beside Charles.

Max smiled quickly figuring out what you had in mind.

Charles felt tingling in his entire body as he watched Max climb on top of him and jumped slightly when he felt Max's length graze against his skin.

"Relax baby, you'll enjoy this." you leaned down whispering in his ear before leaving kisses down his neck, and chest.

"What now?" Charles breathed getting slightly impatient and frustrated at the urgent need for something to happen.

"Ready baby?" you asked as you kept trailing kisses down his body reaching his dick.

"Yes, please do something." Charles's dick twitched involuntarily as your lips neared it.

He let out a long sigh as you licked a stripe down his length before doing the same to Max. You repeated the step, blowing them a couple of times getting them slick enough for the next step.

Once you felt they were slick enough you finally did it. You had to use both your hands as you joined their dicks together rubbing them against each other slowly while you moved your hands up and down.

Charles let out a guttural moan at the new feeling, his head immediately falling back and pressing into the pillow behind him. His eyes shut tightly, he didn't have to see what you were doing the feeling was overwhelmingly pleasurable enough and he also thought that if he looked he would cum immediately.

It was embarrassing how wet you were from the pleasure you were causing both these men, watching Charles trying to hold back his release and Max's ragged breath as he watched and thrust into your hand.

You jumped when you felt two fingers inside of you not realizing Charles had reached around, of course, he was worried about your pleasure too. He moved his fingers in and out at a rapid pace curling them exactly where he knew.

You almost orgasmed when Charles pulled his fingers out of you and used your juices to coat over his and Max's dick making sure everything remained slick enough, repeating the process of wriggling his fingers inside of you and collecting your wetness multiple times.

"I'm gonna cum." Max announced after a few minutes.

"Me too." Charles and you sighed in unison.

You released first around Charles's fingers and only a fraction of a second later did Charles cum quickly followed by Max whose cum mixed with Charles on his stomach.

Charles finally allowed himself to see the mess he and Max created on him although the scene didn't last long before he watched you lick his stomach clean swallowing all the contents.

"Fuck that was so hot." Max chuckled.

As usual, Charles grabbed your neck pulling you into him and kissing you deeply tasting now not only himself but also Max in your mouth.

"That was...incredible." Charles sighed after you pulled away, he watched Max climb off him and begin to put his boxers on.

"Call me anytime, and whenever you're ready we can try more." Max winked getting dressed in such a relaxed manner like he hadn't just aided in giving Charles the most incredible orgasm of his life.

"Thank you." You sat up thanking Max, he leaned over pecking your lips quickly before doing the same to Charles and walking out the door.

You looked down at Charles watching the confusion on his face at Max's action before a small smile appeared on his lips.

Maybe next time would come sooner than you thought and you couldn't be more excited.

Part 2

[fullpenguincupcake]

Max Verstappen's Invitation

Max’s fingers brushed against yours, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. He was so close now, his body heat enveloping you like a warm blanket, making the chaotic roar of the crowd fade into the background. Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

"Maybe you’d like to get away from all this noise sometime," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, the playful edge replaced by something far more enticing.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I’d like that," you whispered, barely audible over the muffled cheers still echoing around you. The words tumbled out before you could second-guess them, but there was no taking them back now.

Max leaned in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. You could feel the tension between you crackling like static electricity, sharp and undeniable. His hand slid down to your waist, his touch firm yet tender, pulling you infinitesimally closer.

But before the moment could fully ignite, the sound of clapping and voices calling Max’s name broke the spell. He pulled back slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before it smoothed into a polite smile. You both turned to see one of his team members waving him over, clearly eager to celebrate.

"Later," Max mouthed to you, his eyes lingering on yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip. Then he was gone, disappearing into the swarm of people congratulating him, leaving you standing there, your pulse still racing.

---

The race had been nothing short of exhilarating. You’d spent most of it perched on the edge of your seat, gripping the railing as Max surged ahead of the pack, his driving almost reckless in its precision. Every time he zipped past your vantage point, you caught a glimpse of his focus—sharp, unyielding, and completely in control despite the chaos around him. It was intoxicating to watch, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through you every time he crossed the finish line.

You weren’t a regular at these races, but something about Max Verstappen drew you back each time. Maybe it was the way he exuded confidence without arrogance, or the way his raw talent seemed to defy logic. Whatever it was, you found yourself coming back, hoping to catch just a glimpse of him. And today, that glimpse had turned into something entirely unexpected.

As the celebration around you continued, you lingered near the pit lane, trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline from the race still buzzed beneath your skin, mingling with the anticipation of what had almost happened between you and Max. Your mind replayed the moment over and over, the sensation of his fingers brushing yours, the warmth of his breath so close to your lips…

"Great race out there," you’d said earlier, your voice trembling slightly as you approached him. You hadn’t planned to say anything—you’d intended to keep your distance, to avoid the awkwardness of fan-worshipping a celebrity. But when his eyes met yours, everything else fell away.

Max had grinned then, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Thanks. Glad I could keep you on the edge of your seat." His voice had been teasing, but there was something deeper there, something that made your cheeks flush.

You chuckled nervously, unsure of how to respond. But Max didn’t seem to mind your silence. Instead, he began talking about the race—his strategy, the adrenaline rush, the satisfaction of victory. You listened intently, nodding along, though your focus kept drifting to the way his hands gestured as he spoke, the way his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

Then, without warning, the conversation shifted. He asked you about yourself—what brought you to the races, why you always seemed to be watching from the same spot. You stammered out a response, half-embarrassed by your fangirl tendencies, but Max didn’t laugh or brush you off. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his attention fixed on you as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

"You know," he said after a moment, his tone thoughtful, "it’s weird. I notice you here every time. Like… you’re always just there, in the corner of my vision. It’s kind of nice, actually."

Your breath caught at his words, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you grew heavier, charged with something you couldn’t quite name but knew was significant. And then, slowly, deliberately, Max stepped closer.

His fingers brushed against yours again, this time lingering longer. You could feel the callouses on his fingertips, a reminder of the physical demands of his sport. The spark between you flared hotter, and you found yourself leaning toward him, your body betraying your logical mind.

"What are you doing?" you wanted to ask, but the question died on your lips as his gaze dropped to your mouth once more. His thumb traced the edge of your palm, a slow, deliberate movement that sent shivers up your arm.

And then came his invitation, soft and intimate, full of promise. "Maybe you’d like to get away from all this noise sometime. Just the two of us."

You could hardly believe the words were real. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not here, not now, not with someone like him. But denying the pull between you felt impossible. "I’d like that," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Max’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might kiss you right then and there. But reality intruded, as it often did, and he was called away before the moment could fully unfold. Still, the memory of his closeness lingered, burning brighter with every passing second.

As the celebration around you finally began to wind down, you found yourself wondering what would come next. What had started as a casual admiration had suddenly turned into something far more tantalizing. And as you stood there, replaying the last few moments in your mind, you realized something: the noise, the chaos, the racing—none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was what Max had said, the promise in his voice, and the possibility of what might happen next.

[pacifierbby]

* ੈ✩‧₊ PUPPY LOVE

* ੈ✩‧₊ Lando knew you were finding it hard being alone when he's away, so he went and got you a little companion until he gets back

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 none

୨ৎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 LN4 x READER

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 765

(ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)

lando knew you were finding it hard being alone while he was racing and being away for months at a time the constant Facetime calls off you looking slightly sad in your and Lando's bed the TV softly playing in the background not like you were watching it just gave you some kind off security and the background noise but it helps you a lot when he calls seeing his face again after a few days off not seeing him. Last month you and lando bought a slightly bigger house in Monaco due to fans finding your old building complex it came unsafe and unfair to your neighbours so when you and Lando moved here he was a bit sceptical of leaving you in the big house alone especially when you guys don't have security up at the moment because you have been so busy with unpacking and with lando constant meetings with McLaren and the new upcoming race both of you didn't find any time on contacting your old security people so lando always messaged you asking how you was, if you was safe. It gave you some comfort with the text after everything at the old place you always made sure that doors were locked while you were in. However, you did want a little companion while Lando was away and Lando knew it too he knew you missed him as much as he missed you

but what you didn't know was that Lando was on the plane heading home so when it came to your Facetime call and lando didn't pick up you were slightly worried but you knew he was fine and probably forgot to mention that he needed to stay back on his meeting that he mentioned to you on the last face time call grabbing your tv remote turning the sound a little louder the room lighting up with the moon shining in through the big bay windows that you instantly fell in love when viewing this home the raining hitting the window making different patterns the fireplace creating a crackling sound the only things that keep bringing you comfort in yours and Landos bedroom when you sleep at night all the sounds luring you to sleep like a lullaby

a loud crash instantly waking you up with a soft shit you knew lando wasn't due back until next week quickly got out of bed grabbing the gold club that lando stored next to your wardrobe not even bothering to get hold of your dressing gown or your slippers knowing your safety came before anything. opening your bedroom door seeing the garage light reflecting on the floor below I thought I locked the garage door? trying to remember if you even locked the stupid thing softly walking down the stairs not wanting to scare the culprit. seeing the man standing in your living room his back facing you softly walking towards him pulling the club trying to not bang it on anything "Shhhhh let's not wake mummy" they spoke to whoever they were talking to that awfully sounded like Landos putting the club down at your side "lando?" you softly spoke the man turning around showing his face that looked like guilt "what are you doing up? and was you about to hit me on the back of the head with that?" pointing towards your now new weapon quickly nodding your head finding no time automatically wrapping your arms around his neck "watch it watch it" Lando softly shouted stepping back a little giving him a slight confused look never he once refused your hug seeing the look upon your face feeling slightly awful on refusing your hug "I knew you have been feeling a little lonely while I'm away and unsure from what happened to the old place and that weapon says everything" he began saying laughing at your weapon suggestion making you giggle "so I brought you a little present" pulling out the most small cutest Labrador puppy from under his jumper understanding why he refused your hug now grabbing it from his hands pulling the puppy into your chest "thank you so much lando! I've always wanted a cute companion while you're away" looking up from the puppy giving lando a small kiss on the cheek automatically falling in love with the little fella "what you going to call him?" pulling you both into a hug softly placing his lips on top off your head "Theo" you replied "Theo i love it" he replied softly smiling down at his little family and its only just began.

© pacifierbby works

[thegayone24]

F1 imagines (x y/n) - Personal Advice II Lando & Daniel (RQ) (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1322239908-f1-imagines-x-y-n-personal-advice-ii-lando-daniel?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_originator=RT2EbtvBLfz9ry%2F99NcrtkJTVDG5hIBsAMyyjzVR54j8oIVCrkFnAM6R9CUHyQolWYXRxbitcu630ANfCHGvqgUWmiEpcQuRPXhJvQst35a46zTz%2FPN2vu5KaPrOitNE Just a couple of F1 images of different drivers... There is no specific upload time I upload as I write. If you have any suggestions or ideas do comment and I can write some parts you suggest. Please also Like the parts that are your favorite so I know what kind of storylines you guys like. *I do not own the cover image Highest Rankings #1 mclaren #f1xreader #2 Ricciardo #3 Ferrari #1 leclerc #5 mercedes #1 Charles #3 norris #8 lando #1 formula

[fortunapre]

𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 last updated: 1/4

HEY! if you feel like there’s a good story i’d like and could be added please share i love recs!!!

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nsfw! “more than friends” @f1goat

“slim pickins” @ln4swiftie

nsfw! “was it casual- lnorris“ @no-144444

“english love affair- imagine“ @jpnriikicore

“give yourself a reason” @cherry444kisses

“2 hands” @theonottsbxtch

smau! “Lando x horner!reader” @chaostudee

fic! “focal point” @lnfours

nsfw! “wrapped around my finger” @kissedsuns

wp fic! “Faking it” 🌟 liz’s personal favorite

“rule #1” @mywritersmind

“fuck with my head” @mywritersmind

christmas! “not so happy holidays” @mywritersmind

“grapes and good fortune”

“The idiot i call mine” @julietsf1

“sports car“ @theonottsbxtch

“one year prior” @mywritersmind

➤ charles lecerc fic recs

wp fic! “Lock up”

fic! “deal” @golden-cherry 🌟liz’s personal favorite

➤ max verstappen fic recs

“fixer upper” @pucksandpower

nsfw! “max verstappen x reader, enemies 2 lvrs” @justaninchident-f1xreader

smau! “please date my sister-in-law” @thewispsings

AU! “preacher’s daughter” @theonottsbxtch 🌟 liz’s personal favorite

“sweet like honey” @be4chywritez

wp fic! “Desire”

smau! “snap out of it” @diqldrunks

[justaninchident-f1xreader]

max verstappen x reader part5

(incase you missed part4- https://www.tumblr.com/justaninchident-f1xreader/740310543064317952/max-verstappen-x-reader-part4?source=share )

themes-

ferrari female driver jealousy enemies to lovers possible spice (i will put the warning accordingly)

warnings- spicy thoughts? not really tho, so don't worry lovelies

chapter 5 - elevator meetings

The elevator doors closed with a soft ding, trapping Y/N and Max in a steel and glass cage. The post-race buzz still clung to the air, but the carefree laughter had evaporated, replaced by a charged silence thicker than Monaco humidity.

Y/N felt Max's gaze burning into her back, tracing the curve of her dress, lingering on the telltale mark below her ear. She spun around, a defiant fire in her eyes. "Something you need, Verstappen?"

He took a slow step forward, his eyes narrowed. "I'm just curious about that souvenir," he drawled, his voice low and dangerous. "Is it from the 'friendly congratulations' or did tinder dates get too…exhilarating?"

Y/N's jaw clenched. She wasn't about to explain, not to him. "Maybe it's none of your damn business," she spat, but a flicker of doubt betrayed the heat in her voice.

Max smirked, a cruel twist of his lips. "Right, the rookie who wants to play with the big boys. But remember, darling, in this game, secrets have a way of burning you."

He took another step, closing the distance, his shadow swallowing her whole. Y/N's heart hammered against her ribs, a primal fear battling with the intoxicating thrill of his proximity. Her breath hitched as his hand slammed onto the emergency stop button, plunging the elevator into sudden darkness.

Panic rose in Y/N's throat, but before she could react, Max was upon her, pinning her against the cool metal wall. His eyes burned in the dim light, a mixture of possessiveness and fury.

"Play me, Y/N," he growled, his breath hot against her ear. "But choose your games wisely. Because when I win, the prize isn't a trophy. It's you."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, a delicious mix of danger and forbidden temptation. Y/N's anger evaporated, replaced by a burning curiosity. Max Verstappen, the ice prince of the grid, consumed by jealousy? It was intoxicating, a heady cocktail she couldn't seem to resist.

Their faces were inches apart, the tension so thick it crackled. Y/N could feel the heat radiating from his body, his scent of victory and adrenaline washing over her. Her lips parted, a breath escaping in a silent question.

But just as their lips were about to touch, the elevator lurched back to life, the sudden light shattering the intimate darkness. Max, caught off guard, stepped back, the storm in his eyes replaced by a mask of cool indifference.

Y/N straightened, a new fire smoldering in her gaze. "Game on, Verstappen," she whispered, her voice laced with challenge. "See you on the track."

The doors slid open, and Y/N walked out, leaving Max trapped in the elevator, the taste of unspoken desires and unclaimed victory stinging on his tongue. The battle had just begun, and the Monaco night, though silent, echoed with the promise of a much fiercer race than any they'd ever contested on the tarmac. The next lap wouldn't be about pole positions or checkered flags. It would be about claiming the elusive prize - the fiery heart of Y/N L/N. And in this dangerous game of love and rivalry, only one could emerge victorious.

[mistressemmedi]

does anyone have a way to not see self-insert fics in the main f1 tag? Do you just go through and block everyone or is there another tag to go through where they don’t show up?

I believe you can filter the F1xreader tag or whatever variation of it. On mobile it's pretty easy: go to settings

And select "content you see"

You can filter multiple tags, and even usernames as well under "filtered post contents"

[linnitheo]

Chasing forever 🏎️❤️

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You and Max Verstappen have been inseparable since childhood, best friends turned soulmates. From karting tracks to the world stage of Formula 1, you've stood by his side for fifteen years. Through victories, losses, and the pressures of fame, your love has been the one constant in his life. But with the spotlight burning brighter than ever and the weight of expectations growing heavier, can your love withstand everything that comes your way? Or will the pressures of the racing world prove too much, even for a love as strong as yours?

Max's POV

Fifteen years. That's how long Y/N and I have been together. From the moment we met at twelve years old, awkward and full of dreams, to now—still inseparable. Time has changed a lot of things: I became a Formula 1 driver, constantly traveling the world, and Y/N pursued their own dreams, yet through it all, we never let go of each other.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel of my Red Bull Racing car, heart pounding as I maneuver through the tight turns of Monaco. The race is intense, the pressure immense, but in the back of my mind, Y/N is always there. She is in the paddock, watching, supporting—just like she always have.

After crossing the finish line first, the overwhelming joy isn't just about the win—it's about who’s waiting for me. As soon as I step out of the car, peeling off my helmet, my eyes search for her. And there she is, arms open, smiling like she always do. My safe place.

I stride toward them, and before I can say a word, Y/N throws her arms around me. I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. This—this is my real victory.

"You did it!" they say breathlessly, squeezing me tight.

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. "I always do it for you."

Y/N’s POV

Fifteen years and counting. Being with Max since we were kids has been a whirlwind, but one I wouldn't trade for anything. From watching him race karts at the local track to standing in the paddock at some of the world’s most famous circuits, I’ve seen him grow, fight, and succeed.

When he crosses the finish line first, I can’t hold back my excitement. He does it again, proving why he's the best, and my heart swells with pride. The moment he steps out of the car, sweaty and exhausted, but eyes locked onto mine, I feel the same rush I did when we were teenagers.

"You did it, champ!" I exclaim, wrapping my arms around him.

He lifts me off the ground slightly, laughing into my neck. "Couldn’t have done it without you, liefje."

Later, as the celebrations wind down, we sneak away from the chaos, walking along the marina hand in hand. The lights from the yachts reflect on the water, creating a mesmerizing glow.

"How do you feel?" I ask, squeezing his hand gently.

"Happy," he says, looking down at me with that boyish grin. "Winning is great, but coming home to you? That’s everything."

Max’s POV

Later that night, we sit on the balcony of our Monaco apartment, the city lights flickering against the dark sky. Y/N is curled up against me, her head resting on my chest as I absentmindedly play with her fingers.

"Did you ever think we'd make it this far?" she asks softly.

I press a kiss to her forehead. "I never doubted it. You're the only constant in my life, Y/N. Through everything—my career, the wins, the losses—it's always been you."

She smiles, her eyes shining under the moonlight. "Fifteen years down… forever to go?"

I chuckle, pulling her closer. "Forever sounds perfect to me."

Y/N’s POV

Being with Max isn't just about the races, the fame, or the trophies. It’s about the moments like this—where it's just us, where we’re still those two kids who fell in love all those years ago.

"Do you ever miss how simple life used to be?" I ask, tracing small patterns on his arm.

He thinks for a moment before answering. "Sometimes. But then I remember that I have you, and that makes everything worth it."

I tilt my head up to kiss him softly, savoring the warmth of his lips against mine. "Here’s to chasing forever, then."

And as he holds me tighter, whispering sweet promises of forever, I know that no matter where life takes us, we’ll always find our way back to each other.

END

[changetyre]

The part 2 to experimenting was my favorite work of yours to date. I would LOVE if you continued it but i totally get if u wanna stick to 2 parts! But both parts were amazing and i would absolutely go feral for more

Hey! So so sorry for the late reply Anon ;/

I would love to write a part 3 for experimenting but I don't know what else I could add so would appreciate any ideas ;)

[onepointsixkm]

i want to start writing an F1xReader horror series bc it's october... maybe i do the thing

[feinfinfin]

so i noticed that the f1xreader fanfics are mostly towards the female readers and i haven't seen one where the reader is a man.

(just out of a pure curiosity.)(you can send me one if you found something like that.)(or if you wrote a fic with male reader/will write, just send it to me😤)

[lewsnumerounofan]

when in france (lh x reader)

summary: you bump into your ex, lewis, at a club in france. what’s the worst that could happen?

notes: nswf, ex-relationship, unprotected sex, oral (m/f receiving), little bit o’ angst, 4.6k words, not edited

+ check out other works here

+ switched the tense halfway thru again. but im too lazy to change it rn!!! sry!

---

“Lewis is here.”

You don’t hear your friend the first time she says it, the club’s music too loud in your ears. But she presses herself up against you the second time, puts her cheek alongside yours and you feel the shape of his name in her mouth as she yells.

Lewis.

You hadn’t expected him here. Sure, it was the night after a big victory -- a Mercedes two-three finish (not that you’d been watching) -- but from what you’d heard he wasn’t partying these days. He keeps to himself, were the words your mutual friend had used. You didn’t ask about him after that, didn’t want to remind yourself that you were no longer familiar with Lewis’ life, with the little things he did.

You pull your head up from the tight-packed dance floor and try to find him -- the tight braids, strong shoulders. And sure enough there is, being led up the wall-mounted staircase to the VIP area. Even from a distance you can see the heavy black cargos, the flimsy white tank top barely covering his shoulders, the dark press of his tattoos underneath.

“He’s so fine,” your friend murmurs. You turn, letting your shoulder shove into hers. Trying to slow your breathing, calm yourself. Lewis is here, in the same club as you. So close, and-

“He’s looking at you.”

“What?”

You whip back to your friend, but she’s suddenly busy dancing with a blue-haired girl, sending you a guilty kiss as the two move away. Some friend.

So it’s just you who has to turn back to where you know Lewis stands, remembering suddenly the time you surprised him by flying in for family Christmas. How his mother had grinned and shushed you at the front door, how he’d started smiling as soon as he’d seen you, how warm his hands had been wrapping under your stupid holiday sweater. You’re here, he’d said. But that had been months ago, before your promotion meant you could no longer spare weekends to watch his races, before he started calling you hammered from parties, other women's voices shrill in the background, before he stopped calling at all.

But when you look Lewis isn’t there. The stairs are empty, the glint of his jewellery nowhere to be found. Probably for the best, you think.

Probably for the best.

-

You manage to work back in with some people you’d met in line, joining them in another round of shots. By now everything is starting to feel a bit hazy, tingly, loose. A tall Frenchman presses at your back, his murmur low in your ear. You can’t hear him, laugh, continue dancing. Lewis is almost passed from your head. One more drink and you’re sure to be clear of him, one more… You part from your companions again, narrowly escaping the hands of your dance partner.

“I’m just gonna get another drink, be right back. Promise.”

Clumsily you make it to the bar, heave yourself onto the counter, admire the sea-glass collection of liquor bottles stacked along the shelves. Your head is slowing down a bit and your feet hurt. You order from the bartender and make to pull out your card when a thick British accent speaks from over your shoulder.

“Make it two. And you can add it to my tab, thanks.”

Lewis.

You let the heavy wood bar press into your back as you turned to face him. The same markings of facial hair at his jaw and above his lip, the same glittering stud in his nose. Same warm brown eyes, even the same chain at his neck -- the chain you’d given him after the horrible season end in Abu Dhabi. Still I Rise carved in small lettering on the private metal beside his neck.

“Hi. I was looking for you,” he says, easy, like the last time you saw each other wasn’t when you packed up your things and moved out of his apartment.

“You found me,” you say, because there’s nothing else to say and the club lighting is throwing soft shadows over his shoulders, his arms. He looks older than you remembered, more mature. You’re not sure how you get the words out -- your throat feels tight, your heart taking up all the room in your body.

Behind you the bartender sets down your drinks and you don’t give yourself time to think before offering one to Lewis, your outstretched arm as much a peace offering as you’re willing to make. Your hands brush as he takes it, nods. His eyes don’t leave yours. He says something to you but you’re too distracted by the shift in his throat as he swallows to hear. Or maybe it’s the music.

“What?”

He grins, flashing the tooth gap you’ve been thinking about for months, leans close enough for you to smell the alcohol on him, the cologne. Your heart is racing.

“Wanna go upstairs?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Another grin and he takes your hand. Laces your fingers together like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He leads you along the edge of the crowd, the dark skin of his shoulders shifting as he navigates alongside the wall. His rings are warm against your knuckles. You trail up the stairs behind him, know he’s going to stop in the dim landing of the alcove before he does.

He keeps both hands over yours, like he’s scared you’re going to try run away. Between the dancefloor and the speakers of the VIP lounge is quieter. You think you can hear Lewis’ heartbeat.

“I just- I wanted to say I’m sorry for how things ended. Between us,” he says, and his eyes are crinkled and you knew he really cares.

“S’okay, Lewis. It’s okay.”

Hope. That’s the little gleam in his eye as he lets his tongue push out into his cheek.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then his hand is cupping your neck, the tips of his fingers already curling through your hair and you can’t help but smile back, rub your face into the soft skin of his palm.

“Wanna get drunk with me?” he whispers, like you’re teenagers again, like this is your shared secret plan.

Yeah. Yeah, you do.

-

You promised yourself you’d call an Uber home but Lewis doesn’t let you. He pulls your phone away and you’re too inebriated and slow to get it back. Too happy and giggly to care. He dangles it just out of reach and you let yourself play, pressing your body against his, stretching until you feel the hot fan of his breath on your neck. His hands settling on your hips, his lips on your neck. Come home with me, he’s saying, and you’re nodding into the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in.

In the car he slides closed the privacy screen between the driver and the backseat. Doesn’t even let you get all the way in before he’s pulling you onto his lap, hands framing your face, teeth biting at your lower lip. When you pull away his eyes are sleepy and wholly black, his mouth quirked up at one side, red from kissing. You want him in your mouth then, want to see if he tastes the same as you remember.

You’d done this once before on the way to some fancy event. There had been no time in the hotel beforehand, and Lewis’ cropped outfit had been irresistible. Hidden between his legs, careful not to disturb the fine fabric of his pants, you’d let him hit the back of your throat every time the car went over a bump. The way he whimpered as you kitten licked him, ringed thumb feeling his own cock through the skin of your cheek. You’d barely finished swallowing and tucking him back into his pants when you’d arrived. He’d kissed you real hard hidden in the privacy of the car. Kept looking over at you during the event speeches. Smiling, looking down, shaking his head. You’d squeeze his hand or shove him. He returned the favour in one of the bathrooms, slight scuff marks on the knees of his suit the only hint as you two returned for dessert.

But this time is different. Lewis doesn’t pick up on what you’re doing at first, whining when you break away from him. His hands are grasping at your shirt but you push him off, shaking your head, grinning.

“Wanna touch you,” he says, and his voice is rough and low. You almost abandon your plans. Almost. Instead you move your legs from around his hips to between them, dropping to the floor of the car. You pull your hair up too, knowing that Lewis will pull at it anyways.

“Oh.”

You give him one more wicked smile before finding the button of his pants, tugging his zipper down. Already Lewis is impatient, muscled thigh bouncing up and down lightly in your peripheral. You slide your hand along it, soothing turning brazen as you continue your path to trace the hard shape of him through his briefs.

He curses, jerking under your featherlight touch. You can see his clenched fists pressed on either side of the seat in a desperate attempt not to grab for you. Not to upset the odd balance that somehow found you at the same club, on the same night, and now on your knees before him.

“You can touch me, Lewis,” you joke, but it comes out slow, sounds sanded down by your inebriation.

His fingers find your hair, tucking back stray strands so he can see your mouth. Quickly, hands fumbling slightly, you pull him out of his boxers. Quiet, pressing kisses to the head of him, the shaft, the sensitive skin of his pelvis. You let the short hair there scratch at your cheek before you lick an unbroken strip up. Above you, Lewis’ chest heaves, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He’s always been transfixed by this, by watching you. So you look up at him, at his sleepy hooded eyes, as you take him into the back of your throat. He makes a desperate hurting sound, his hand gripping harder at your hair. You hold him there for a moment, letting water collect at your lash line, letting your gag reflex kick in, before humming once and pulling up, spitting into your fist, stroking him.

Lewis is everywhere — his laboured breathe in your ear, the musky taste of him in your mouth, his smell.

Stupid of you to think your memories could be fonder than reality, that the velvet of his skin couldn’t be as all-consuming as you recollected. He is beautiful before you, his powerful thighs and wide, strong torso. The gentle stroke of his fingers at your scalp. You had missed this, missed him. You swipe at his precum with your tongue, savouring the hot smooth skin there, the way he moans under the small gentle touches of your mouth.

The car comes to a stop before you can take him into your throat again, and Lewis doesn’t even bother fully zipping up his pants as he leads you out of the car. His kisses on your neck, shoulder, cheek, murmuring that he’d missed your mouth, that you looked so pretty on your knees. You blush -- not minutes after sucking him off in the back of a car you’re blushing at his praise.

He takes your hand as you hurry through the hotel lobby and over to the elevators. You shush each other, both frantically pressing at the up button and laughing at the fullness of the moment. You’re drunk off Lewis.

As soon as the elevator doors open he’s on you, pressing you back to the mirrored glass wall, licking into your mouth, your teeth. His hands are all over, hiking up your dress, pushing back your hair, grasping and tilting your face to where he wants it.

“Lew-”

He hums into you, reaching between your legs to cup your core. It’s so brazen, so claiming that your legs feel weak. You let your arms fall around his neck, let yourself take everything he gives you.

The elevator pings, the doors open. Lewis pulls off your mouth, forehead pressed to yours so your breathe mingles. His brow furrows and for a second you’re terrified this has all been some misunderstanding. That the next sentence out of his mouth will be this was a mistake. That this was all some horrible attempt to cushion your feelings or not make you feel stupid. 

“It might be a little messy in my room-”

You laugh and blow right by him, ducking under his reaching arms.

“Hey,” he calls, but you’ve already made it to his door and are in the middle of an attempt to take off your heels, catching desperately at the wall for balance.

“Hey what,” you echo back, pulling your head up to find him real close now. Watching you. This is how it felt when we were first falling in love, you think. You want to hide it, keep this precious idea lingering in your subconscious for a little longer but there it is, glaring, almost, in the little smile playing across Lewis’ lips, the crinkle at his eyes.

“Just hey,” and this time he says it onto your mouth as kisses you, spins you around, lets you squeal into his cheek as the carpet and the lights twirl.

Behind you the click of his keycard and then he’s crowding you into the dark hotel suite. You feel up at his face, push your palms flat to his cheeks, stroke first his brow then his full lips with the pad of your thumb. He barely breathes as you move, only watching you from under his long, soft eyelashes.

“So beautiful, Lew.”

You don’t mean to say it, stopping your fingers when you hear your own words. So loud in the new space. But it’s dark too, and Lewis lets his head drop to kiss you again -- slow this time. First your temple, then each closed eyelid, your cheekbones, the tip of your nose. You sigh into him when he slots over your lips, when he traces his tongue over your front teeth.

“Lewis.”

“I know, I know baby,” he practically coos it into your mouth, big hands holding your face.

Then you’re scrambling to find the bed, tripping over suitcases and couches. Lewis wasn’t a messy person -- this weekend must’ve been hectic for him to be leaving his place like this. Or maybe he just doesn’t have anyone to keep it clean for anymore, a voice somewhere in the back of your mind adds. You push the thought away, focus instead on the dim shapes of the wall, the inky black patches that must be doors. You’re stumbling, but Lewis’ hands catch you, forearms banding over your middle. At your back, pressing up against you, kissing into your neck.

“I got you. I got you,” he murmurs, and the husky timbre of his voice has your thighs pressing together.

“Lewis,” you whine again, desperate for his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

Shuffling, hand out, Lewis leads you through the door and to the bed, spinning you round to face him before he’s pushing you back onto the soft sheets. With his help you lift and discard your dress and shoes. Already you’re itching to do the same to him, but Lewis only sinks to his knees and pulls you to the very edge of the bed. Such a familiar strength as he tugs at the back of your knees. Easy. Gentle. You could get used to this.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, trying to keep your head silent from now on. But the thought lingers as Lewis mouths slowly at your calf, kissing to your knee, your thigh, licks into the crease of your hip. You jump, watching him hide his smile against the soft skin of your stomach.

“Shut up.”

You let a hand fall lazily to shove at his cheek. He turns, catches your palm instantly -- fast, sometimes you forget how fast he is -- bites at your fingers. You squeak but let him hold you there, considering the flesh and bone. You catch the dangerous glint in his eye immediately.

“Lewis..”

He shushes you, his predatory focus on your fingers indivertable.

“Trust me sweetheart,” he says, and you know there’s no use fighting it. Slowly, as if still thinking the idea over, Lewis turns your hand over, pressing it towards your own core.

“Lewis, I don’t know-”

But already you can feel your pointer and ring finger pressing where you’re overheating, and Lewis is gazing between your legs like there’s something beautiful there.

“Let me do this,” and his voice is practically begging. Cheeks aflame, you can’t watch as Lewis guide your fingers in, in, in. You moan at the same time he does, squirming at the need for more, at the knowledge that Lewis is practically hypnotized watching you finger fuck yourself for him. He guides your digits out with a full tug at your wrist, and then bares them back again, letting the wet sound you make travel up to you.

“Lewis-”

No longer hesitant now, you’re needy for more, for him. But Lewis doesn’t heed any of your whining, only pushing your fingers back and forth at that same excruciating pace, practically eating you with his hungry eyes. He knows the slight humiliation of getting yourself off in front of him keeps you docile so he pushes it -- pushes you -- until you’re practically writhing beneath him. Until you surrender to him like a fever, until he is the only thing, the only shape your mouth can form. Then he relents, pulls your fingers out fully, lets you flutter in their absence, sucks the digits clean, grunts at the taste of you.

You sob his name again and then he’s locking your thighs open and licking you in one long stripe. You’re frenzied after that, breaking quickly into a white washed orgasm, bucking as he works you into you into an oversensitive mess.

“S’okay, I got you,” he’s whispering, moving up your body to handle your limp figure, letting you curl up boneless in his lap. He kisses out constellations on your shoulders, says: you did so good for me baby, so proud of you.

You don’t move for a while, eventually coming to trace the lines of the tattoos on his collar bones. The hotel heater kicks on, huffing quietly across the room.

“I always loved how you’d do that,” he says. Your orgasm has left you cold and you press further into the steady heat of him, the small patches of skin open to you through his clothes.

“Missed you, Lew. Really missed you.”

It’s all you’ll let yourself admit back to him, but he takes your face between his hands, enveloping you, hiding you from the rest of the world and kisses you so gently you think you’ll break.

“Lewis.”

The moon shines through the window and Lewis’ eyes are bright with it.

“Yeah.”

“Have sex with me.”

He sighs, slow and long because he knows this will change things. Then he’s kissing you again, lips delicate on yours, sliding over your jaw, searching out the sensitive spots on your neck. You’re gasping and Lewis is tugging off his shirt.

He goes for his pants but halts under your tracing hands. First the lion snarling, then you’re thumbing over the compass, the hard press of his solar plexus. You kiss him there once, twice, right at the center of him. Like you’re marking him, saying I was here. He shudders and shifts you off his lap to fully strip out of his cargos and briefs. He’s leaking and red, standing out from his stomach.

“Poor baby’s been so neglected,” you coo and he pushes you back into the mountain of pillows at the headboard. You’re joking, maybe. You can never tell with Lewis. He’s sizing you up too, one knee propped on the bed, hand absentmindedly stroking himself.

“Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He’s so much bigger than you, stronger than you, when he talks like this. Reminds you of him in the car, the crude way he’d sometimes talk to the other men in the garage. Your heart rate kicks up, just a bit.

“C’mere.”

He obliges, covering your body and face in shadow as he holds himself level with you. One hand on his bicep --- so solid, so heavy under your hand -- the other to the hot length of him. His mouth open and brow furrowed as he watches you notch him at your entrance. And then just you and him, watching.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

You look again at the tired warmth of his eyes, the smile lines you’d been lucky enough to frequent for years at a time. Lewis and you played around it, letting yourselves get distracted by the petty everyday stress of relationships, dating, fame, but here you were. Back in his bed, back in his arms, back in the same club. You and Lewis were just that: you and Lewis. You were destined to orbit around each other. Perhaps this time you could get away with colliding.

You kiss him, all the answer he needs to start pushing into you. You keep your lips connected until the stretch of him, the size of him, is too much, has you gasping into his shoulder. You’d forgotten the press of him between your legs, in your head, until he was shoving everything else out, only Lewis. Too tight, too big. Your breathing is ragged, tears finding their way past your clenched eyes.

“You can take it baby,” he says as he keeps baring into you, kissing at your tears. You leave red lines down his back. You feel dumb on his cock, on the way it takes up every space in your head. He kisses your temple when he bottoms out, shaking above you. Maybe you are too, but when you open your eyes Lewis is staring at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time, eyes wide. He leans down to kiss you, keeps his eyes closed as he whispers, “I love you.”

And then he’s pulling out, almost to the tip, not letting you reply before thrusting back in. The power in his hips knocks your breath away, only able to claw at his back as he hikes up one of your legs. The angle has you seeing stars with each new push of him, eyes near rolling back into your head as he pants over you. His chain -- the chain you’d given him -- dangles above you. Funny, you think dimly. Even with everything a part of you was with him always. It hurts your heart a little, but then Lewis is shifting, pining your hips down, forcing you to take even more of him and you think you’re tearing apart.

“Lewis, Lewis,” you’re crying his name, desperate as you cling to him, clench around him.

He’s murmuring something at your ear but you can hardly hear him over the growing crush in your ears, twin to the ever-tightening climax knotting in your core. Then: Lewis’ hand, coaxing at your cheek. He tips your face up ‘till you’re looking at him, eyes wide, vulnerable. For you, only for you. One arm is wrapped over his shoulders, the other coming up to hold him, to push back two braids working themselves loose. He’s mumbling it, I love you, over and over, so you kiss him to make him stop, to try slow down this beautiful spinning wheel you two have found yourselves riding.

You’re too hot below him, the heat of his body covering you, pressing at you. He slips his thumb down to circle your clit and you can’t help but buck into his calloused finger. Everything is too much -- Lewis urging you forward a frenzied peak, the stretch of him between your legs, the quiet way he moans into you.

The warm lick of his tongue through your mouth, the way he licks over your mouth like he owns it has you breaking. Finally you’re crumpling over his cock, crying out as Lewis fucks you through it. Eyes closed, you let yourself burrow into him as your senses mute, vision white. Each raw drag of him has you whimpering, keening into the over-stimulation.

“Can I-” he starts to ask and you nod, lock your legs behind him. Something pained flashes over his expression, something you want to kiss away, but then he’s cumming, so hard he stops breathing. You coax him through it. Kiss at his hairline, brow. He slumps into you, letting his whole weight bore you into the mattress. Pressed to the underside of his arm you just hold him, this beautiful creature you’ve found again. He lies there until his breathing settles and you think he's fallen asleep when he rolls enough to eye you -- one drowsy brown shape watching beneath his messy braids.

“Hi Lewis.”

He whispers back, gentle into the sheets.

“Hi.”

You’re smiling at each other softly, like this could be the start of something, like this might not be the end after all.

Slowly, like it’s the greatest effort of his life, Lewis heaves himself onto his back, rolling you with him. His cock is still inside you, but you know his cum will be leaking out soon, a dirty little reminder of what you let him do.

“Have to get up,” you tell him.

His arm tightens at your side, face suddenly closed off in a way you hadn’t seen all night.

“You gonna come back?” he asks.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, heart hurting at the question, how young he sounds saying it.

“Yeah Lew, I’ll come back.”

-

When you return from the bathroom he’s sleeping, chest rising under the thick hotel sheet.

You pad out to the kitchen, marble tiles cold against your feet. You try your best to find a glass without waking him, shuffling quietly through cupboards until you get the right one. Wincing at how loud the sink sounds in the high-ceilinged room. I love you, he’d said. Pushed the words onto your lips reverently, gifted them to you because he couldn’t keep them to himself. Oh, Lewis.

You watch out the high skyline of the apartment as the sun begins to colour the sky, sipping occasionally at your water, thinking.

Your legs are getting cold when Lewis comes out of the bedroom, eyes dark. He doesn’t notice you at first, only breathing hard in the open space of the hotel. He looks -- devastated.

“Lewis?” He starts at your voice, only staring at you for a moment before releasing a hard sigh, starting towards you and stopping abruptly at the edge of the kitchen.

“I thought-”

His voice catches and you cringe at the question in his speech, how his voice wavers.

“I thought you left.” His eyes, searching, scanning yours as you put down your water, trace around the kitchen counter to him. Stand before him, close, almost touching. You take his hand, look at the easy way your fingers connect.

“No, Lewis, I’m not leaving.”

Hope. It was what you’d seen earlier at the club and you knew if you found Lewis’ eyes you would see it again now. You’d made your decision -- made it when you first took his hand at the bar. You catch his gaze then, smile, just for him.

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

He’s smiling too, just the beginnings of it, eyes bright again. Over his shoulder the sun breaks the horizon, golden light washing the hotel.

“Couldn’t because I love you, Lew.”

[justaninchident-f1xreader]

max verstappen x reader part2

(incase you missed part one https://www.tumblr.com/justaninchident-f1xreader/740195080454930432/max-verstappen-x-readeer?source=share )

themes-

ferrari female driver jealousy enemies to lovers possible spice (i will put the warning accordingly)

warnings- none in this chapter, so don't worry lovelies

chapter 2 - his steely gaze max's pov-

Monaco's hangover clung to me like cheap champagne, sour and acidic. The sting wasn't just from the defeat, snatched away by a rookie in a crimson devil of a car. It was the fire in her eyes, the mocking tilt of her head when she passed me in the pit lane, the audacity of that damn grin stretching across her face. Y/N L/N, the first woman on the grid, the Ferrari flamethrower who'd dared to make me, Max Verstappen, the reigning lion, sweat.

The paddock buzzed with her laughter, a melody weaving through the drone of mechanics and engineers. I saw her across the way, surrounded by the usual gaggle – Lando, Norris, the McLaren goofball, Charles Leclerc, the Ferrari prince, and Carlos Sainz, ever the grinning peacemaker. She fit in effortlessly, her fiery hair catching the morning sun, a halo crowning her mischievous hazel eyes. I could almost taste the salt of the sea, the tang of adrenaline that clung to her like perfume.

But admit that? Hell would freeze over before I let anyone, least of all her, see even a flicker of appreciation in my steely gaze. So I schooled my face into a sneer, the weapon I wielded better than any titanium gearbox. Her laugh, bright and unafraid, pierced through the armor I'd built around myself.

"Still crying over lost glory, Max?" Lando's voice, as irritating as a tire screech, broke the spell. I grunted, a retort already forming on my lips, but Y/N cut me off.

"Just admiring the scenery, Lando," she said, her eyes flicking to me momentarily, the spark catching fire in their depths. "Never seen an orange storm cloud before."

The jab landed clean, a pit lane undercut straight to my ego. I forced a laugh, harsh and metallic. "Careful, rookie, the scenery might bite back."

The game was on, a constant push and pull, a verbal fencing match on every grid, every press conference. On track, we were predators circling each other, waiting for the right moment to strike. She was fearless, her overtaking moves audacious, calculated risks that somehow always seemed to pay off.

But every night, under the Monaco moon, replaying the race in my head, I'd see flashes of her in the cockpit, the fierce concentration in her eyes, the way her lips moved around the radio commands. Every victory felt hollow, tinged with the ghost of that 0.09 seconds, a constant reminder of her fire.

I hated it. Hated the way she made me think, made me push harder, made me see the cracks in my own ironclad confidence. But beneath the surface, a grudging respect began to simmer, a flicker of admiration hidden in the ashes of defeat.

Y/N L/N, the Ferrari firecracker, was more than just a rookie. She was a force of nature, a hurricane in a scarlet dress, and she'd turned my world upside down. And I, Max Verstappen, the Dutch lion, wouldn't have it any other way.

We were destined to clash, to burn like meteorites across the Formula One sky. And somewhere, deep down, in the pit lane of my pride, a part of me couldn't wait for the next race, for the next duel, for the next chance to be consumed by the inferno she called her passion.

The game had begun, and the heat was rising.

[justaninchident-f1xreader]

max verstappen x reader part8

(incase you missed part7- https://www.tumblr.com/justaninchident-f1xreader/740576279467868160/max-verstappen-x-reader-part7?source=share)

themes-

ferrari female driver jealousy enemies to lovers possible spice (i will put the warning accordingly)

warnings- none enjoy lovelies

chapter 8 - did somebody say, slay?

( enews reporting )

#VerstappenWatch just exploded! Buckle up, F1 fam, because the Ice Prince has officially gone shirtless on Instagram.

Max just dropped a carousel of gym pics, every one a sculpted masterpiece of muscle and sweat. Biceps bulging, abs like washboards, and a smirk that could melt glaciers – the man is literally radiating heat. (imagine it something like this)

@MaxVerstappen: playing fire with fire

comments (10.9K)-

@LandoNorris: brother, save some gains for the rest of us!

@CharlesLeclerc: sharing is caring, Maxie boy.

@HamiltonLewis: looking good, champ.

@YNLN: ... speechless.

@lestappenismyworld: clean up on aisle six pls. @redbullracing: golden boy Wait, what?! Y/N's speechless? Is that…a blush creeping up her cheeks? The internet is going haywire! Did Max's gym bod leave our fiery rookie tongue-tied?

But Y/N's silence doesn't last for long. Our girl just dropped her own Instagram story, and it's hotter than a July tarmac.

Stunning silky hair cascading loose, a short silk dress clinging to curves sharper than a championship corner, and a smoldering gaze that could set the screen on fire. Y/N is playing with fire, and we're living for it!

@YNLN: won this round baby

comments (12.9K)- @CharlesLeclerc: now that's how you fight fire with fire, Y/N!

@LandoNorris: ok mother is mothering

@CarlosSainz: @CharlesLeclerc our little sister is growing up

@HamiltonLewis: okay, rookie, you win this round. just don't break the internet.

@MaxVerstappen: finally found your voice, L/N?

Wait, WHAT?! Max commented?! And with a wink emoji? Did we just witness the first public acknowledgement of their "Monaco moment"? The F1 fandom is collectively losing its mind!

This spicy social media war is just getting started, folks. Max and Y/N are throwing shade like confetti, and we're catching every sparkling shard. Who will win this battle of the #InstaBangers? Who will crack first? Only time (and maybe some strategically timed shirtless selfies) will tell.

One thing's for sure: the F1 season is about to get hotter than a Brazilian Grand Prix, and the real drama isn't just on the track. It's playing out in likes, comments, and smoldering emojis, right before our very eyes. Stay tuned, F1 fam, because this is just the beginning. The battle for the championship trophy just got a whole lot more interesting.

[justaninchident-f1xreader]

max verstappen x reader part6

(incase you missed part5- https://www.tumblr.com/justaninchident-f1xreader/740324463671902208/max-verstappen-x-reader-part5?source=share )

themes-

ferrari female driver jealousy enemies to lovers possible spice (i will put the warning accordingly)

warnings- spicy thoughts? not really tho, so don't worry lovelies

chapter 6 - well shit, i want him.

The week after Monaco was a masterclass in unspoken tension. Y/N and Max existed in separate orbits, their usual bantering replaced by a glacial silence. Lunch at the paddock was as cold as the champagne in their unused flutes. Practice sessions held an undercurrent of suppressed energy, each maneuver seeming a veiled challenge.

Lando, oblivious to the storm brewing around his friends, uploaded a picture from his wild post-race celebration. Y/N, perched piggyback on his shoulders, grinned into the camera, her fiery hair cascading down his back. The caption, "ride or die" was innocent enough, yet to Max, it felt like a public declaration of ownership. (post below- purely playful, purely platonic)

He stared at his phone, the screen burning his fingertips. Jealousy, a venomous serpent, coiled in his gut, but he pushed it down, refusing to acknowledge its existence. Yet, his scowl deepened as the day wore on, the image of Y/N perched on Lando's back like a forbidden trophy etching itself into his mind.

Later that evening, at a swanky sponsor event, Max found himself surrounded by a gaggle of glamorous models. One, a statuesque blonde with eyes the color of polished sapphires, draped herself across him, her hand slithering onto his bicep. Max barely registered her touch, his gaze still haunted by the ghost of Y/N's laughter.

But across the room, Y/N saw. The spark in her eyes ignited, green flames licking at the edges. Her smile, once playful, twisted into a sardonic smirk. For the first time that week, Max saw a crack in her facade, a glimpse of the fiery spirit burning beneath her carefully constructed composure.

And suddenly, his own suppressed jealousy roared to life. He couldn't stand the thought of another man laying claim to her, even in the most superficial way. His gaze met hers, a silent challenge across the crowded room. This wasn't about Lando or the blonde model; it was about control, about the unspoken possession that simmered beneath the surface of their rivalry.

The game had shifted. No longer content with playing it cool, Max felt the need to make his stake, to ignite the fire in Y/N's eyes, even if it meant burning himself in the process. The air crackled with their unspoken emotions, a prelude to a battle far more explosive than any they'd fought on the track.

author's note - omg lovelies they are both jealous now yipee, and now things get spicy and good so stay tuned <3