#max verstappen drabble

[cherry-leclerc]

lolita ☆ cs55

genre: age gap (10 years), porn with plot, affairs, forbidden romance, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature

word count: 14.9k

You were young, alluring, floating through a disastrous life with the touch of a thousand angels. Carlos was successful, irresistible and someone who often kept a distance from catastrophe. Never in a million years did he think he would have a complete moment of weakness. Especially the week of his wedding. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, riding, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), semi - public sex, deepthroating, praise, fingering, handjobs, lots of dirty foreplay, slapping (like once AH), a bit of edging, overstimulation, a bit of crying, sucking on fingers, squirting - i should stop now, oh god.  

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

This by no means - in any shape or form - is something that should be admired or looked up to. It does deal with serious topics such as: grooming, suicide, and drugs. While the reader is of age (19), this is not my way of impulsing my own readers - especially younger ones, if by any chance they come across this - to follow this mindset. Dark themes will take place and if that is not something you are comfortable with, then that is okay, I definitely have more light hearted fics in my masterlist. “Love stories” aren’t always filled with flowers and rainbows, they can also be hurtful and confusing, often misunderstood. This is fictional. Given, this is inspired by Lolita and Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey (*everyone cheers*) – what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. Verses of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov are also mentioned (extremely controversial book - as it should be).

cherry here!…hi, guys! i hope you all enjoy and i’m gonna do it now: I’M SORRY. 

She was as dangerous as poison could ever be - with no good intentions. She was malicious, sweet laughter that would make anyone fall in love. An Angel walking on Earth, curiously making it her playground. 

He was intelligent. A man of few words, but also simply so, the seven deadly sins all wrapped up in one. Keeping a distance from things he knew would bring him no good.

But in order to understand, we would have to take you back to where it all began. 

Where Paradise met Hell.

-

Growing up in Italy for some odd reason made you out to be the girl you were. Men there would throw themselves at any opportunity if they saw a single daisy looking girl in eyesight. At first it felt as if you were walking a tightrope; you knew it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to fall straight into their traps. Except, slowly, it made sense.

They knew how to sweet talk someone so young and naive - you’ll give them that. It only took one taste and that was the moment you knew. 

You liked them older.

Men fucked in a way boys never would. Every single one would always put your needs first - but there was this one man that had you realizing how fucked up you could be in order to get what you want. That’s one prize you’d cheat to win.

And that’s a story for later.

-

Moving away for college was the best decision you felt you would ever make in your entire life. Given, Italy was home, but the people in it weren’t. Often, you find yourself missing your rendezvous but studying abroad in Spain wasn’t much different.

Note; you didn’t grow up with a tight knit family. Your mother was a drug addict with half of her days knocked out on the couch, your father was someone who was occasionally in the picture. He tried his best.

And your older sister, Ollie? 

Well, you’d honestly forgotten you even had one. 

Some may say that you’re a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, or any other Spanish slur that spits Madrid, but you never cared. You were having fun and why were you the one always being blamed? Perhaps, men, too, should think with their heads rather than their dicks.

Which is how you find yourself still repeating the familiar pattern you had started a long time ago. Riding your professor shouldn’t feel this good. Mierda, he would groan as you bounce up and down like a bunny. Mewling, you shake the feeling of remorse. Not when he felt this good. 

Your phone ringing is what makes you stop, him still inside of you, twitching. Ciao? His calloused fingers would slide up to pinch your nipples as you lightly gasped. 

“Tesoro! Haven’t heard your voice in so long.”

Your father’s tone makes you wince at the reminder. Occasionally, he would check up on you in a way you would assume other fathers did for their daughters. You could never hate him, though. In his own way, deep down, he still cared.

“Papi, how are you?”

Sliding off of his lap, you zip your dress back on as you pace the lecture room. Bored, he takes out his secret whiskey from under his desk. Your sister is getting married in a few weeks! I was thinking you could fly back home so you could join us. The thought alone made your stomach churn as you bit down onto your thumb. Signaling at the older man, you click your fingers, hinting for a glass of your own. He obliges, handing it to you.

“I’m busy with summer courses. Maybe I can send a gift?”

You try everything in the book in order to get out of what seems like a crappy, dull, Italian wedding. It had been ages since you last stepped foot there. In no right mind would Ollie’s wedding be the one to change that. But he says things that get to you. I haven’t seen you in years. Neither has your sister. She misses you, you know?

You bite down on a snarky remark as you down the rest of the gold liquid. Last time you spoke, she promised that you were dead to her. That she never wanted to hear from you again. In the moment, it hurt, but you grew used to the idea. And what younger sister doesn’t pick up on what older sister says? Now, you despised her as much as she did you.

“Ovviamente. I’ll be there.”

-

It’s hot as soon as you land. That you didn’t miss. Ale, your fathers chauffeur, picks you up with a bright smile. Saddened, it dawns on you that you hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He’s nice. Let's you sit in the passenger's seat as he introduces himself. He mentions he has 5 granddaughters and has been married for almost 50 years. It’s sweet. Makes you feel human.

Pulling into the driveway, you almost want to correct him. This isn’t my fathers house. You must be mistaken. Only, he says he isn’t. That he had recently moved into his Italian mansion a year ago. You’re skeptical for a minute, but realize you can’t be one to tell. Years have passed; things change.

Still, that didn’t stop you from gawking at the ginormous house that sits on a hill; overlooking all of Tuscany. It even had a beautiful view of the ocean. Why couldn’t you grow up with this?

“I’ll inform your father that you have arrived safely.”

Taking it all in, you slowly pace the entrance, analyzing everything in sight. The crystals hanging from the chandelier, large - expensive - portraits, shiny mirrors. Quirking your head to the side, you glide over to the golden trophy sitting in the middle of the spacious entry.

Carlos Sainz Sr. : Rally Driver of-

“That belonged to my father. He passed away a year ago.”

Startled, you grip onto the trophy tighter as you slightly jump in panic. You curse yourself for being caught as you delicately place it back down before turning your attention to the booming voice.

Instantly, you’re hit with lust. Standing in front of you is a tall man - around his 20’s, perhaps - dark brown eyes narrowed down on you like knives. Messy, untamed, brown hair. Large nose, plump lips, dark brows. His figure is something you can’t wrap your head around that even exists. Richard Mille's watch clung onto his wrist. Giorgio Armani pressed up against his chest, it almost looked as if it didn’t fit due to his rippling muscles. Woody, rich, scent filling up the room. 

He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. 

“I am so, so, sorry.”

Your voice is so soft, it has him intrigued. You wore a short pastel yellow dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination; paired with converse and tube socks. Rosy tint on your cheekbones from the humidity. Berry lips. Wide, innocent eyes. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t take his own breath away. Even though you stood far enough away, he could still smell your vanilla perfume. 

Inching closer, he waves you off. “I was kidding. My father is well and alive.” You tippy toe nervously before planting your feet back down. 

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

And he’s surprised with your response. Yet, he finds himself extending his tan hand out to you. “I’m Carlos.”

Carlos. His name sounds as attractive as his appearance. Strong and sure. But also…dark. You shake his hand, legs quivering at his warm touch. Deep down, he knew how much he affected you - it’s something he’s grown quite accustomed to, having people admire his looks, but it took a lot to not show that you had the same effect on him.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Do you work for my father?”

Amused, he lets out a deep chuckle. Even a simple sound like that had you pressing your legs together, arousal dripping in between. 

“You don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, confused. Should you? He smiles. “That’s okay. We haven’t met before…Though you should get to know me since you’re already here…”

Wait.

“You know,” he leans his head a bit, floppy hair following, “Ollie.”

No, no, no.

“It’s so nice to finally meet my fiancée’s sister.”

Foolishly, you try your best to hide your surprise. How does a man like him end up with a bratty, narcissist, like your sister?

What was so fucking special about her?

Envy fills your veins as you try to show that this hasn’t phased you. Excited cheers echo down the hallway as your father runs over, embracing you into a warm hug. You’re here! Wincing, you lean into his touch, eyes still trained on the magnetic man. 

Only then, did Ollie fly down the stairs, immediately running into Carlos’ arms. Making a big deal out of it, she kisses him as she runs her hands against his chest. 

“Come here, tesoro. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The entire time; Carlos kept his eyes trained on you. 

-

It didn’t make sense. Part of you knows it never will. You’ve only just met him, but you can tell he must’ve been fucked in the head to willingly choose someone like Ollie. Sure, she seemed sweet and kind, but she was anything but that. 

Dinner that night is carbonara. Carlos is extremely talented. He cooked this just for you. Tight lipped, you thank him, looking down at your plate to avoid his burning gaze. 

“How’s school?”

Turning to your father, you remind yourself that you were here for him; because he wanted you there. That’s all that should matter. “Very good. Thank you for asking, papi.”

The sound of glass hitting the table erupts as Carlos hurriedly goes to pick it up, quickly murmuring a strong apology. His dark gaze shortly flickers past you. It leaves you squirming. 

Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his wine. “Where do you study?” Spain, you tell him as he beams. “No way. I was born and raised in Madrid. Moved to Italy a few years ago for work.” Letting out a laugh, you find the coincidence funny. He moved from Spain to Italy and you moved from Italy to Spain. 

“What do you do for work?”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver. Drives for Scuderia Ferrari,” Ollie weasels in as she smirks down on you. Anger bubbles inside of her when your attention remains on the Spaniard. Drumming your fingers against the table, you lick your lips. Formula 1? He’s about to explain it all up until Ollie butts in once again. She rubs his hand, a glistening ring shining right in front of you. You physically have to force yourself to look away. “Oh, amor, she doesn’t know what that is. She’s too…young.” 

You know she’s trying to make a weak point: you’re only a baby, therefore, you don’t compare to her. And yes, you are young, 19, but it was stupid of her to think that it bothered you. You tsk before leaning back against your chair. 

“Of course, my mistake. I forgot I was still a pure flower instead of a wilting one.”

Ollie’s face switches to bright red as she grips onto his hand. An entertained smile slips onto his lips before flattening back out. He rubs her hand, trying to calm her down. You can’t stop the jealousy burning from within.

“I didn’t mean you, Mr. Sainz.”

The 29 year old brushed you as if nothing, a smile displayed. Eyeing you both, Ollie suddenly stands up, chair screeching. Why don’t you help me bring out the cookies I baked? Ever so gracefully, you nod. Following after her, you stop suddenly as she spins, hair slapping her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Are you here to ruin my life with your existence?”

“I might.”

Her left eye twitches as she growls angrily. If she didn’t make it this easy to tick her off, then you’d be bored, but luckily for you, it was unchallenging to get under her skin. “This is my wedding; my future husband - so don’t fuck that up like everything else you’ve ever done.”

You try to pretend as if her words didn’t affect you as you stare back blankly. Marching over to the counter, she opens up a box of cookies before sliding them onto a polished dish, leaving you standing there alone.

-

You thank the higher Gods for not letting you cross roads with Ollie for the next few days. Though, you’re a bit bummed out that you haven’t seen Carlos much either. Peeking out the window, you could see the way a group of workers hurried to set up for the joint bachelorette taking place later that night, right on the beach. The waves look magnificent, so without a second thought, you slip on a bikini before rushing out the door with your necessities. 

Lathering a goop of coconut sunscreen, you hum softly to yourself. Weren’t you going out with your sister? Looking up, you see Carlos standing in front of you with his face slightly scrunched up from the bright sun. His cheeks looked as if they’d just been pinched. “Where to?”

He takes a seat next to you. “She said she was going out to go buy a few flowers for later. Said she would invite you.” You shake your head, already bored with the idea.

“You know her,” you tap your head, “Forgetful.”

He cocks his head to the side as he shuts his right eye for a moment. “You two don’t get along, do you?” You try making up a silly excuse. Of course we do. We’re sisters. But he’s looking right into your orbs as if he sees right past your weak attempts. “You’re right. I could be wrong.”

It stays quiet for a while - only the soft breeze being heard. You can see him from your peripheral vision; eyes shut as he takes in the moment of peace he hasn’t had since dawn. Long lashes fan his face, freckles scattered all over. 

“Aren’t you too busy to be talking to me?”

“No. Plus, I should take time to get to know my future sister-in-law. Especially since I don't know anything about her even after dating her sister for 7 years.”

7 years.

Squinting at the waves, you slide your sunglasses on. “There’s not much to know, but I can try. I’m 19 years old, studying abroad in Spain, and grew up in Italy. I love the ocean, love a nice cup of hot chocolate - even though I’m allergic - so I only allow myself small sips during the winter. I like to pretend I know how to dance and I kill it in karaoke.” He laughs. You can’t dance? “Unfortunately, I can’t. Once, during my friend's wedding reception, I twirled right into her cake. I spent the entire day on supervision.”

“Dios mío…Remind me to watch out for you on our wedding day.”

Our wedding day. His words slightly sting as you pinch your nose swiftly. Standing up, you brush beads of sand off your legs. Your eyes roam the area before you find your father waving you over. “I should go,” you say as you look down at him. His brown eyes scan you before nodding and standing up. He, too, looks over to where your father waits to introduce you to a group of businessmen. He frowns and that's when you realize just how revealing your bikini might have been, only it's too late now.

“Papi always taught us to greet our elders.”

He clenches his jaw, eyes closing for a second. When his gaze meets yours, you almost choke with how dark and twisted it’s become. “Aren’t you too old to be calling him that?” Confused, you tilt your head.

“Calling him wh- Papi?”

He grinds his teeth together - and then just like that - he’s smiling again. 

“Forget it. How would I know?”

-

Standing next to an empty table, you watch as Carlos and your sister dance along with everyone else. This party has allowed you to pick up on the fact that they seemed to be a much more important couple than you had anticipated. Everyone looked at the Spaniard as if he were a God himself - and being quite truthful - you would agree. There was nothing about him that wasn’t flawless. 

Then, Ollie, just looked like any other person. Her eyes were bright, but any time anyone would walk up to him, her stare would become threatening. As if she was his owner and no one else could get close enough to breathe the same air.

Everyone here was older; that much you could tell. Attendees were accompanied by girlfriends or fiancée’s of their own. It made you feel a bit childish, since you clearly were the youngest one there. Reaching out for your margarita, you twirl the straw.

“Not having fun?”

Your attention directs itself to a dirty, blondish, brunette. He looks a bit tipsy, face flushed as he smiles sweetly. He’s tall, handsome. But not as much as Carlos.

“Max,” he introduces himself. Politely, you shake his hand. He points to the large group that dances on the sand. He lets out a croaky laugh. “They could get a bit much sometimes.” You laugh, nodding along with him. He continues talking to you. Brings up how he knows Carlos from driving with him; except he’s signed to Red Bull.

“Everyone here is invited only if they're a driver, huh?” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs and throws his head back as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s heard all night. 

“It’s a small circle, but I promise, they're all nice lads.” Discreetly, he takes in your appearance. The way your black dress dances with the wind. Painted red nails glistening under the golden lights. 

You were beautiful. Tragically, beautiful.

“You know the groom or the bride?”

“Bride.”

He nods, taking a sip of the beer bottle he had been nursing. You both continue your conversation for a while longer. He’s Dutch. Recently 26. You mention your headache before he brushes his fingers against your hand. Looking down, he pulls away before clearing his throat. He apologizes and asks if you would like to dance. A soft melody now plays and you find yourself taking his hand. It's big as yours disappears into it.

Almost as if he’s shy, he carefully slides his hands down to your waist. You giggle as you throw yours over his shoulders. “I hope slowing down helps get rid of your migraine. Sucks. I get lots of those during race weekends.” 

“It is. Thank you for caring.”

He’s sweet. You can tell with the way he blushes when you mention the way you like his dimples. Slowly, you find yourself enjoying his company. You’re in the middle of laughing at some stupid joke he just told, when someone rudely clears their throat. Carlos’ smile appears bitter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry - I’ve probably killed the mood.”

“No problem, mate. We were just talking.”

He clicks his tongue before turning to you. Under his scrutiny, you feel as if you’ve just been caught smoking weed for the first time. Dazed, you hum, waiting for him to say something. You know it’s not your place to feel as if he owes you an apology, but you can’t help it. 

“Ollie said it’s best if you went to bed.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. Since when does she care if I get a good night's rest? He huffs before running a hand through his hair. “She - she…Just do as you’re told, please.”

Now you’re bothered. Up until that point, you were actually having a good time. Dumbfounded, you turn to Max as he smiles understandingly. Pursing your lips, you apologize. Tippy toeing, you lean up to press a kiss against his stubble. He smiles.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Maxie.”

Walking into the lonely house, you let out a sigh as you pour yourself a cup of water. The summer heat had completely dehydrated you. You could still hear the soft beat playing from outside as you sway in the kitchen. You were upset - angry - that your sister had cut your night short. And any other time you would have put up a good fight, but thought it’d be best to not make a fool out of yourself. Especially in front of people you barely knew.

The door sliding open has you alert as you look up. Carlos silently makes his way in as he groans with exhaustion. Loopy eyes match yours as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So��What were you talking about with Max?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

His jaw clenches, a large hand running along it. Stepping closer, he takes your cup of water before chugging it down. It leaves you hot and bothered just how close he is. It’s a mixture of salt and musk, his scent. It makes your head spin. Lazily, he takes a step back before nodding.

“Right. Have a good night.”

-

Carlos knew he had messed up. He had no right lying and saying Ollie had ordered for you to go to bed. That was completely him. It’s just that - seeing you with Max, laughing, smiling, made him seethe - when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend, after all. 

So, he was embarrassed. He kept his distance. In his head it made sense. If you weren’t near then he wouldn’t feel the need to keep his eyes on you all the time. The house felt lonelier, colder without you sliding down the hallways. Rightfully so, you had spent your days locked up in your room. The only person that made happy was Ollie.

Either way, maybe it was for the best. He had a ton of shit to do. Starting with changing their honeymoon destination for what seemed like the millionth time that month. First, it was the Maldives, then Cancún - God - he knew that in a few hours his fiancée would come up with a new place. 

“I know, I know we said that, but it’s changed.” He paces the office, stressed. “Can you please just make it fucking happen?”

“Ouch.”

Turning his attention, he sees you peeking at the entrance, phone still pressed up against his ear. Pouting, you enter, sweet aroma filling the room. Excusing himself, he ends the call. “Need anything?” He honestly cared for your response. It had been days without seeing you and he was afraid he blew it before he even had a chance to marry your sister. He told himself it was only because he cared for your relationship with Ollie. But fuck that - he knew not even you both cared that much about each other.

Shaking your head, you walk closer. “You sounded mean. Not a nice look on you, Mr. Sainz.” You’re teasing. You had to be. 

“That wasn’t mean. It's called being straight forward.”

Ignoring him, you curiously eye the dark office. Books, trophies, helmets. Letting out a snort, you pick up the nearest picture frame. In it, it’s Carlos and Ollie, smiling wide. Tears brim her eyes as he looks down at her. The sight makes you want to puke. 

“When was this taken?”

“The day of our engagement.”

You hum, already setting it back down. You can’t help but picture the impossible. That in the picture it was you instead of her, that you wore that diamond ring, that he looked at you. 

Fuck her, honestly. 

“Why’d you propose?”

He’s thrown off by your question. He’s expecting you to bring up the fact that it was a joke, but when you looked back for a response, he found himself with a dry mouth. Because I love her?

“Jesus,” you shudder, taking a seat on top of his desk. His eyes wander down your tan legs as you rest them on top of his chair. You're playing mind games - he’s well aware -  and still he found himself following them. You were the worst temptation out there. It’s as if you knew the power you held. “I bet fucking her is a chore.”

Shocked at your words, he finds himself dumbstruck. He knew you two didn’t get along, but what the fuck happened for you to aim such insults? 

He knows Ollie. Sure, she was a bit much at times, but she was nice. She was pretty. There was no need for your vile words. 

You can tell he’s about to get defensive about her and that makes you shrink. Willing, you had handed him a reason to choose her over you. 

Looking back at the picture, you purse your lips. “Sorry. That wasn't the right thing to say.”

“You should leave.”

You’re embarrassed over him kicking you out, but you knew you had crossed the line. So much for a peaceful afternoon. You comply, jumping off the desk. Not before making your way over, pressing your soft lips against his neck, which was the only place you could reach, even after tippy toeing. You felt him get stiff. 

“Excuse my manners, Carlos.”

Skipping out the door, he’s left with a single thought. 

He’s fucked. 

-

The next morning, you’re forced to spend the day with your sister. Whether it was for running errands, fighting; it didn’t matter. As long as you made your father happy. All he wanted was for his girls to get along. 

“Go,” Ollie growls as she hands you your bridesmaid dress. Snatching it from her, you slowly climb up the stairs to your room. 

It’s a beautiful dress. Strong, dark, cherry red. Just like blood. It hugs your curves the way you’ve always thought all dresses should. For that reason, too, it made you look…older. Trying your best to get rid of the wrinkles, you smooth it down before making your way back. 

Papi loves it as he starts throwing out compliments. You look beautiful, tesoro! You are a true gem. His eyes are bright and proud as you stand there with a shy smile. And though you thanked him, nothing else mattered but the man right in front of you. 

The Spaniard had just gotten back from a meeting. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep the rest of the day, but as soon as he saw a balsé Ollie and an eager father-in-law, he was interested. She had told him to go relax; practically pushing him away. But as soon as you walked down those stairs, he swore his heart had never melted with such a sight. 

His eyes became fixated to the point of no return. You stand there like a divine temptress. A siren who was mixed with innocence. Enough to drool over, but also, to adore from afar. Someone he could worship. If God decided this were his last day on Earth, then he would happily follow, since he finally felt as if his life were complete. 

His big brown eyes are glued onto you as your father spins you. Ollie’s attention flickers between her younger sister and her fiancé. Tears fill up her eyes as she springs off the couch. You’re not bothered by it; don’t even bat an eye. That is until Carlos quickly runs off after her. That was a slap to the face as you show off a wounded smile to your father who stands there lost at the sudden commotion. 

Later on that day, you find yourself trying to forget it all with watered down tequila. That’s really all you could find in such short notice. Leaning against the balcony, you study the soft waves, cold wind causing your skin to flash small goosebumps. 

“Disgusting,” you mumble as you finish the rest of the alcoholic drink. Who knew a simple encounter would set you off?

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

Max cautiously steps closer as you shrug with a sigh. What was there to say? I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible sister. And yes, we might not get along, but never in a million years did I think I would be falling in love with my future brother-in-law. 

“What are you doing up so late?”

Sheepishly, he raises his cigarette. Letting out a low hum, you raise a brow. “Can I have one?” He knows he shouldn't be the one to give a teenager a form of drug, but you looked so upset, so drained, that he felt as if you needed it. Lighting it up, you bring it up to your lips as you squint at him. He laughs. 

“First time?”

“No. It’s just been a while.”

You’re still not looking at him, but he notices the way you let out shaky breaths. The way you softly pinch your forearm. He frowns. 

“I know we only just met, but do you want to talk about it?”

And maybe it was the gist of the moment. Or that he was being sweet - showing that he cared, but it worked because next thing you knew, you were kissing. He lets out an erotic moan with the taste of your lips. All a mix of cigarettes and tequila. This is wrong. He was friends with Carlos and you were only doing this in a moment of weakness, but you just couldn’t stop. Neither could he. Not when you tasted like a thousand crimes. 

His large hands grab your ass as you gasp, brushing against his cock. He hissed as he pressed his lips much harder. Surely, you will have bruises tomorrow. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you grind against him. Clumsily, you both make your way to the couch that’s nearby. Straddling him, you continue to dry humping. Slowly, but surely, the warm sensation between your legs starts to form. Panting, you pull away as he tries to angle his face closer to yours. You smile tauntingly. 

“You know what you remind me of?”

You hum, leisurely picking up your filthy actions. He bites back a smile as he grips harder onto your hips. 

“A Lolita.”

A menacing smile looks down at him before you kiss down his thick neck, soft bites being left behind. You can’t recall the moment you start bouncing on his cock, or when he sprawls you open like a map, kneeling down in front of you. It’s all a haze; a delicious one, too. You’re falling like a feather from your climax when you hear a thud. Did you hear that? No, he would mumble as he peppers kisses onto your soft skin. 

The tides are crashing harder now, signaling that the night was growing older. Timidly, you share a goodbye as you start to skip your way back into your room, but one last thing caught your attention.

A broken flower pot on its side and dirt trailing into the Italian home. 

-

More days had passed since your last encounter with the devilish Spaniard. If you were ever in the same room, he wouldn’t even glance at you. He would simply just walk past by. He was mad. Upset about something. You tried to think of what it might’ve been, but when he walked into his office with an infuriated expression, you decided it was time to call a truce. 

Knocking, you flinch at his sharp tone when he commands you away. Ignoring it, you still step in. Head thrown against his chair, man spreading, he has his eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?”

Your tone is sticky like honey. It annoys him the way it strings him in. Drumming his finger against the large chair, he angles his head to look at you. You’re almost scared to ask again, so you decide to stand still until he speaks up. 

“Why’d you do it?”

Puzzled, you purse your lips, waiting for further explanation. What was he talking about? Did you do something to make him upset? The thought alone made you feel queasy. When he notices you still don’t understand, he clicks his tongue. 

“Why would you fuck a friend of mine?”

Oh. Was it possible that this was something he was jealous of? Bewildered, you know you can’t deny it so you start to word-vomit. I am so sorry, Carlos. He came onto me that night - he kissed me first. I was confused. I was lured in by his words. I didn’t know what I was doing-

His eyes soften up as you try your best to break it down. But you were a liar; a good one. You knew damn well it was all you. You had kissed him first. You threw him under the bus and you knew that. Did he deserve it? No. Of course not. But you couldn't handle the Spaniard being mad at you.

He signals for you to get closer. Securely, he grasps your hand and hauls you onto his lap. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve suddenly become; how your mind replicates a plate of jello. 

“I’m sorry he made you feel like that.”

His rough fingers slide up and down your arms and even that leaves you buzzing. Suddenly, you feel feeble. You assure him that you were fine - that it was no big deal. The way he looks at you is what gives you the confidence to lean in closer. A trace of panic slashes his face for a second. He should probably stop this before anything else happens. There was nothing okay about your ass pressed up against him. Or him craving to taste your plump lips. 

“He didn’t make me feel anything I haven't before.”

Your implication irks him far too much, he starts to consider this all an unhealthy encounter. He can’t stop the images of you being with other men. Someone else kissing you, pleasuring you. Whilst your words were suggestive, your features were anything but that. Wide eyes stare back at him, slightly crinkled. Moving your body, you scoot closer as if you weren't already. He growls as he pinches your hip. Then, you're kissing his neck, and he should be pushing you off, but he’s too far gone to pick up on how wrong this all was. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Mr. Sainz. I didn’t think you would care who fucked me or not.

“I-I don’t. It’s just that you shouldn't be doing stuff like that. You’re too young for all that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m wiser than one might think. I’m mature enough to know who can and can’t fuck me the way I like.” Your gaze focuses extra hard with your confession. As if it were meant for him.

Pressing your ass one last time against his tight pants, you leap off, giggling. 

“Take care, Carlos.”

-

It's a business dinner, your father fills you in as you sit nearby, enjoying a bowl of ice cream, hairollers dangling around your head. Pouting, you reach up to clip one back into place. He smiles.

“You know, lots of young, talented guys are going to be here. It could be a great opportunity to meet someone.”

You make a face at his idea. “Yeah. No, thank you.” Marching over to him, you gently pat his cheek. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”

Signhing, he grabs your hands. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Are you and Carlos…” Choking on your own saliva, you push away. What? No. Of course not! Why would you even think that? He lets out a breath of relief. “It’s nothing. Ollie just brought it up, but I told her you would never actually do something like that. I know my precious girl.”

The door creaks open as Satan herself walks in, followed by an Angel. First thing you noticed are their intertwined hands. Ollie tries to be coy as she flashes the action right in front of you. She mainly greets your father as she sticks by Carlos like a piece of gum. Hello, he would say to you as you bite back a smile.

“What are we talking about?”

“Your sister might have a boyfriend by the end of the night, that's what,” your father jokes as you slap his shoulder. Boyfriend? The Spaniard’s eyes burn you, subtle threat evident. Ollie fakes a smile as she tugs him back a bit.

“Wow. You know what? That might actually be a good idea. Could help with how uptight you are. But I’m confused, boyfriend as in Max?”

Fury fills you as you shoot daggers right at her. Ollie’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. You’re dating Max? “Of course not, papi! Ollie is just being a bitch.”

“No, no, no - I don’t think telling the truth is being a bitch. You should be happy, baby sister! You sure sounded like it when you let him fuck you out in the balcony.”

Shocked at her words, you can’t bring yourself to look at your father who stands disappointed. Ollie, that's enough, Carlos warns as he squeezes her hand. She yanks it away, jewelry clinging against each other. 

“My bad. Shit, I forgot. I forgot no one knew what a slut you are. Opening your legs for any man around you. We’re lucky you’re not attracted to your own father.” She lets out a sour laugh. “Now, that would be fucked up.”

“That’s low, Ollie,” you spit, skin feeling as if it's on fire. You know where all this pent up anger is coming from, but she had no right to make up shit for fun. What kind of sister does that? Embarrassed, your eyes flicker to where Carlos stands with a hopeless expression. Licking your lips, you force yourself to walk away.

Slamming the door shut, you let out a loud scream. Why? Why was she always like this to you? A hard knock is what makes you wipe your tears away. Ollie slithers her way in. It hurt you how proud she looked. As if she had achieved something spectacular. 

“The fuck - Are you crying?”

“What do you want?”

She takes a seat on your desk as she dusts off imaginary lint. “I just want to talk. The way sisters do.”

Ricocheting off the bed, you march over to her as you glare. “Sisters? No. You’re nothing of mine.” Ollie yawns as she rubs her eyes. Then, she clears her throat.

“Do you want to know why I hate you? You’re so stupid you probably don’t even know, but don’t worry - that’s what older sisters are for. I’ll explain it to you. Do you remember, Romeo?”

You do. It hits you all at once; the memories of the first man you ever slept with. He was nice - kind enough to teach you what a man likes. He had jet black hair, a smirk always lingering on his lips. He was tall and a local from where you grew up. He was the perfect experience. 

But that still didn’t make any sense. What did he have to do with Ollie?

She lets out a wet laugh. Already, you can see her own tears as she tries to quickly wipe them away. 

“I loved you; I did. You were my sister before my enemy. But I also loved him. He was my first love. Promised me a home high up in the hills. But do you know what it feels like to see someone you love fuck your little sister against a wall?”

We probably shouldn’t-

Don’t worry. I’ve got you. No ones going to see us. Men love a good thrill.

“You and him…”

She licks her chapped lips. “We had barely started dating.” 

“I didn’t know - I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

If you had, you never would’ve looked his way. Ollie was everything to you growing up. You admired her. Loved her. That’s why it broke you when she started pushing you away as if you were some disease. Later, when your parents got a divorce, she didn’t second guess it when she made the decision to stay behind; causing you to leave with your mother. She never cared for you after that and you never knew why.

But now you did.

“I was young…Younger than I am now, how was I supposed to know?”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something. You truly don’t know anything.” Strolling over to you, she smiles at your desperate state. “Which is why I’m not making the same mistake twice. Stay away from my husband.”

-

Ollie’s words felt as if they had opened up past scars. You meant what you said. Romeo would have been someone you would have disregarded if you had known the truth. But like always, you were the one with the entire blame and that you didn’t like.

Despite wearing a pretty dress - one that everyone gawked at you for - you felt ugly. Has it always been this way? Maybe it did make sense as to why she despised you. Playing with your bracelets, you try to pretend you’re interested in meeting your fathers investors. You feel completely exposed when they all stare straight at your chest area.

“How are we all doing?”

They all look up at the Spanirad as they start spitting out their congratulations for his upcoming wedding. He thanks them before checking up on you. His eyes connect with yours. Butterflies swirl inside your stomach as you smile weakly. He’s the first one to truly talk to you that night. To show he cares about your wellbeing rather than the way your dress fits you. Though, you looked stunning as always. Excusing yourself, you make your way into the kitchen, looking for something stronger.

Serving yourself a shot of vodka, you throw your head back, burning sensation sliding down your throat. Coughing, you grip onto the counter. Soft moans whisper in between the walls. You stop breathing for a minute as you try your best to identify where it might be coming from. Striding closer, you press your ear against the closet door. Fuck, a mans voice groans. This is not something you should intervene with, it's not your right, but that all changes when you hear a name that makes you burn all over again. So fucking tight, Ollie.

Pushing the door open, you see your sister banging one of your fathers investors. Ben, you think his name is. Honestly, you could care less. Briskly, she pushes her gown back down as he zips his pants. You let out a cold laugh as you clap in amusement.

“Oh, God. This is great. Amazing. You really outdid yourself, Ol.”

Stepping forwards, she grabs your arm harshly as she tugs you out. “How much did you see?”

You purse your lips as you theatrically scrunch your face up in pleasure. “Oh, Ben! Fuck me! Oh, oh, yes, baby, right there!” You bow. “That much.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?” The brunette says as he scans your body. Ollie glares at him as he steps back.

“Not a word of this to Carlos.”

“Why would I keep this a secret? He deserves to know. What do you think, Benny?”

Panicked, the older man shakes his head as his eyes plead for mercy. That’s enough. Raising your hands up in defense, you grin back at Ollie. “You’re not mentioning anything if you know what's good for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tilt your head back. “And what’s good for me?”

“If you tell him anything of what you just heard - saw - then I’ll just tell him how you’ve been bending over for every man in this house. Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre…you name it.”

“He won’t believe you…”

She laughs sinisterly. “No, I think he will. I mean…You’ve already done it before.”

“Hey,” his soft voice enters the room as you turn to look at him. The Spaniard’s eyes dance between you and your sister and Ben. “Is something wrong?”

Ollie shakes her head with a bright smile as she walks up and kisses him. You flinch. “Nothing, amor. We were just talking.” She runs her hands through his hair as his eyes remain on you. 

“Are you okay?” 

Nodding, you grind your teeth together. “Yes. Ollie was just introducing me to Ben.” Awkwardly, the man waves from behind you. Slowly, Carlos nods.

“Papi asked me to introduce them. You know - with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing!”

“He was serious about tha- Oh. Okay.” He reaches down to take your sister's hand as he eyes you and Ben. “We should probably leave you two alone then.”

Hastily, you nod. “Sure.”

-

If you were willing to try and fix your relationship with Ollie before, then that was long gone. This is what you knew her for. A pretender. She wistfully makes everyone believe she’s some sort of saint, when really, she’s a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s a hypocrite. She has a man that everyone desires and she does this? 

You hated her.

You hated seeing the way she beams when Carlos’ mother gives her a necklace that belonged to her own mother. She didn’t deserve it. Or the way his sisters helped her slip in and out of her dress, making sure it's perfect for the big day.

Still, you try your best to be a supportive sister. Especially around the woman who raised a man like Carlos. Biting down on your lip, you take a sip of your champagne as Ollie disappears behind the curtains with the lady who is taking some last minute measurements. Reyes smiles warmly.

“We didn’t know Ollie had a younger sister.”

You smile. “Best well kept secret, right?” The older lady laughs. Your heart warms up as you notice it's the same way Carlos does. Ana and Blanca grin.

“Well, we’re glad to finally get to know you. Might I add, you’re beautiful. Those eyes!”

“Thank you,” you blush.

Ana takes a sip of her drink before clicking her fingers. “That’s what you remind me of! You - Carlos - almost have the same puppy eyes!” She turns to her mother. “Mamá! What’s that saying? Soulmates look alike…Something like that, no?”

“Be quiet, Ani,” Blanca hisses before smiling apologetically. “Excuse her - she can be a bit invasive.”

“No problem,” you reassure as you bite back a smile. Ana frowns.

“Lo siento, I don’t mean to come off as overbearing. It’s just that you do…”

Reyes clears her throat as she winks over at her daughter. “Don’t misunderstand us, please. We love Ollie, we do! It’s just…you’re different.” She examines you. “I like you.”

Their words stick with you like a post it. Do soulmates look alike? Playing with the sand, you circle your finger agonizingly slow. Why did their words matter so much to you?

“I always find you alone.”

You stick your tongue out at Carlos as he chuckles at your childish behavior. You pat the sand, inviting him to join you. What are you doing out here? You point at the ocean. “I told you it was my favorite place.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

You sneak in a quick look before looking straight ahead. “Nervous?”

“About?”

“Marrying a monster.”

He gives you a deadpan look, bumping his shoulder to yours. “She’s not that bad, you know.” He glances at you. “Ollie has been there for me through so much. Through my failures. Through my accomplishments. She’s the one who convinced me not to quit racing.”

“You were thinking of quitting?”

He nods. “It’s not as easy as it looks. It fucks you up mentally. But she…” He smiles. “She helped me overcome that. I thank her everyday for it.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling hearing him talk about her like that. On one hand, you’re thankful that she had made him realize that he should carry on doing what he loved. On the other, you knew her true reasons. She loved having a famous fiancé; someone she can brag out to the rest of the world.

Somewhere, far away, you hear a melody. It’s low enough that if you didn’t pay close attention, you wouldn’t catch on to it, but you did. You grab his hand, leading him to stand up. He quirks a full brow. 

“Want to dance?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to.”

“Nice memory, old man.” You gently kick some sand towards him. “But I feel like dancing. Plus, you should be practicing.”

Tugging you closer, he hums. “Alright. Only because that's true.”

His hands feel warm against you - so much so - it feels as if he’s on fire. An ease comes to it, too, as you both sway under the moonlight. You giggle when he spins you, dress flying around you like petals. The way you grin makes his heart speed up in a way he’s never felt before. It’s alarming. He pinches your hip as you yelp.

“Mentirosa.”

“Wha- No, I’m not! Can’t dance to save my life.” Clumsily, you dig your toes into the sand. He winces playfully. 

The air grows heavy the moment he brushes your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean against his warm hand. One look, and he’s hooked. It’s meant to be something lighthearted, but the way he wishes to feel your soft lips against his indicates that it’s not. He’s tried his best to see you for what you are; his fiancée’s little sister. Someone he shouldn’t find himself caring if they slept well, ate their three meals a day, or that they didn’t talk to any other man that wasn’t him or your father. This was sick and twisted and yet…

His lips meet yours as your eyes spring open for a nanosecond before letting yourself go under. It feels as if you’re exploding like firecrackers on a Fourth of July. Something about the way he cradles your face endearingly has your head spinning. Knees become weak, but his grip is secure. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. His tongue fights for dominance and when you don’t give it to him, he squeezes your ass. Moaning, you open your mouth and that's all it took. He kisses you the way you’ve seen in movies - only better. He’s hungry - desperate - for you as you smile against him. Biting down on his bottom lip, he groans as he kisses you harder than before. You were beginning to think your lips were about to snap. 

Letting go, he stands there, staggered. He’s ashamed when he realizes that he regrets nothing. You both stay quiet; only waves crashing and heavy pants being heard. At first you think he’s going to apologize, and maybe that might have been the case, but no words would come out. Pressing a peck against his swollen lips, you smile.

“Goodnight, Carlos.”

-

Carlos rues the day that he kissed you because that only made things more complicated. He couldn’t find a way to not look for you when he walks into the garden, full of family and friends. Or the way he would want to punch Max when he made you laugh. But there is also something sweet. Like the way you would gossip with his sisters and share stories with his parents. He had never seen them laugh and smile so much, not even with Ollie. 

He flinches at the cold hand that wraps around his own. Faking a smile, he presses a soft kiss on top of his fiancée’s head. Continuing the clicking against her glass, she smiles widely. 

“Grazie a tutti per esservi uniti a noi!”

Everyone claps and a few of the drivers whistle. Rolling your eyes, you lean your head against your father’s shoulder. His heart skips a beat. Ollie continued her speech filled with thank you’s, thank you’s and more thank you’s. Your father kissed your cheek before making his way up to his eldest. Taking the microphone from Ollie, he starts to share warm felt memories about her. You have to admit, you’re jealous about their bond. Somewhere in the past, that had been viciously stolen from you. He notices the way you shrink with sadness and he finds himself about to walk over to you when Ollie laughs awkwardly. Amor. It’s your turn.

“Right.” Fixing his rolled up sleeves, he smiles at the crowd of guests. “Uh…Well like my fiancée said, we’re extremely happy to have you all here. It takes a lot to get this many people out here all at once.” A few laughs echo as he continues. “This means a lot to me, too, to have my friends and family. To have met new faces.” His gaze flickers past you as your breath hitches. “Many ask me what about Ollie made me fall in love with her…And I’m here to be as brutally honest as I could get. I love the way she makes me feel as crazy as the ocean. I could spend calm days with her and not worry about getting bored. Or I could find myself getting into trouble. Ollie has made me a better man. Because of her I know what true love is…” His loopy eyes meet yours. “True love are the waves that meet the shore.” 

He lets out a sheepish smile. I want love like that, Lando yells out as he downs his glass of milk. Everyone claps and cheers and that’s where your nightmare begins. 

Let’s give it up for the happy couple! Kiss, kiss, kiss!

The chants continue as Carlos let out a nervous laugh. That’s something private between me and her, he tries but finds himself being booed. Leaning down, he pulls Ollie in for a peck before pulling away with a tight lipped smile. He hates himself for his sudden realization.

Kissing her suddenly did feel like a chore.

With all the whoops and whistles being thrown out by friends, he finds himself trying to find you. It doesn’t take long as he notices you had picked up on your conversation with the Dutchman. His jaw clenches. 

“Maybe Ollie’s younger sister would like to share a few words.”

Why would he say that? Frozen, you choke mid sip. Me? Your father beams as he nods excitedly. Oh! That’s such a great idea! Unfamiliar faces turn to look at you as they wait. Taking in a deep breath, you nod as you make your way over.

As he hands you the microphone, he can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers against your hand. Coughing, you yank it fast. 

“Ciao a tutti.” Everyone greets you back as you lick your lips. You take a moment to figure out what to say, but there’s not much. Cringing, you try to come up with anything. “As some may know, I’m Ollie’s sister…And I could go on forever about how great she is-” You suppress a sarcastic laugh as Carlos knowingly winks. Your nerves ease up. “But I think I should talk about the man who makes my sister the happiest. Carlos Sainz…When I first met you, you seemed uptight - more than the Grinch - but slowly I got to know the man that even my papi swoons over.” 

True, your father laughs. “You’re kind, respectful, and charming…Ollie is one very lucky girl. But there’s something also sensitive inside of you…Despite the permanent frown on your face, you still seem to like days by the ocean. Maybe it's a reminder that peace still exists or maybe it's the way…” Looking up, you see everyone staring deeply. Suddenly, you feel like this might be oversharing as you twirl your dress. “...Or maybe it's the way your face lights up when you take my sister dancing on the sand. Uh…Thank you for making her happy.” Handing the mic back to Carlos, you smile weakly at the strong claps. 

“That was quite sentimental,” Max points out as you bite down on your finger. Was it too much? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It looks like you and Carlos get along well enough. I, for sure, thought he hated you with the way he looks at you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You pause. “I thought so, too.”

-

Aside from the fact that the wedding was approaching quickly, the mansion was quiet. The silence can almost be heard; it's scary. Carefully, you fix your dress as you skip down the stairs barefoot, lollipop painting your lips red. 

Peeking around the corner, giddiness fills your body as you snatch a handful of pre-washed cherries. Earlier that day, your father had scolded you for finishing the new batch. Popping them into your mouth, you hum a song as you kick your legs against the kitchen counter. It creeps you out the moment a chill runs down your spine. As if someone were watching.

“Boo!”

“Santa mierda,” you yelp as you clutch your heart. Laughing loudly, the Spaniard bends over as he gasps for air. You pout and kick his knee. “Cabrón, you scared me! Warn a girl!”

“Fuck - I’m sorry.” His lips form a thin line as he stands firm. Slowly, the corners lift up, wobbly at his poor attempt to not burst out laughing. You frown.

“You’re fucked up.”

Again, his laughs echo the dimly lit kitchen. “Can I have some?”

“No. They’re mine. Grab your own.”

He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on cherry prohibition or something like that?” You gasp as you look around before flipping him off.

“Keep your voice low or papi will disown me!”

He zips his lips as he whispers. “I won’t tell a soul. But I want one of those in exchange.”

Tapping your finger against your lip, you pretend to think about it before nodding. You extend your hand out, a single red cherry for him. You’re waiting for him to take it and leave to where he came from, but what he does instead has you swallowing a lump down your throat.

Crouching down, he opens his mouth as he picks up the cherry, lips slightly wrapping around your fingers. This was triggering you as you tried your best to keep sane. But there was no way of going about that when he looked up at you with deep, brown eyes. Licking the red juice sliding down your hands, he steps back. He licks his lips before swallowing. It amazes you the way his Adam’s Apple jumps up and down; thick neck begging to be sucked on.

“Fucking delicious.”

Blinking, you look down at the rest of the cherries in hand. All of a sudden they seemed like a sultry fruit rather than a drupe. 

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of cours-s-e.”

Stupefied, you throw the leftovers straight into the trash bin. You had no clue what made you do that. A small chuckle escapes past his lips as you shut your eyes in embarrassment. Maybe they weren’t as sweet as you made them seem. Too mortified to speak, you keep your eyes focused on the way your feet hit the wood as a distraction. It takes all of you to not run away as he steps closer once again.

“Is there something in that dirty little mind of yours?”

The room feels hot all of a sudden as you shake your head. There’s no words in your vocabulary when he stands this close. You can smell his cologne mixed with shampoo. If richness were a scent then this would definitely be it. His hands cage you in like a butterfly behind glass. Clicking his tongue, he steps aside as you let out a shaky breath. Taking the opportunity, you jump off the edge, bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Cuidado, he mutters when you almost slip from the sudden action. 

“If you need anything I’ll be upstairs.”

Not sure why you said that, but it seemed like a rationalized excuse. Por supuesto. And that would have been the end of your night. That would have been another successful day of not falling for the forbidden apple. You had held out for so long; the kiss didn’t count. But it only takes a few steps for him to clear his throat. Almost as if this were your secret language, you spin and you find him staring after you; dazzling eyes following your every movement as if he’s trying his best to decipher anything you do.

Smiling wide enough for your eyes to look as if they had a smile of their own, you think - fuck the consequences - as you clumsily run up to him; jumping like a kid onto a tree. Legs wrap around his torso and his hands hold you close to him.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Since the first day you walked through those doors: yes.”

If you had thought you were obsessed with his kisses before, you were wrong. So very wrong. Because now you were addicted. He kisses you with urgency as you run your hands through his locks, so soft against your fingers. He grunts when you tug on it. 

His kisses were stimulating enough for you to plead for something. Anything. Smirking, he pecks your nose before leading you both upstairs. It amazed you how he could continue kissing you as he hurried to get to the bedroom. Noticing him making his way into his and Ollie’s, you pull away. There’s no way you would let him do that. You spin your finger lazily through his hair.

“How about mine?”

He doesn't care if he fucked you against the floor, he needed you. Kicking the door shut, he throws you onto your bed as you squeal. He smiles fondly as you brush your hair out of your face. He’s had his fair share of girls. Models, nepo-babies, Ollie, but none of them compare to you. 

He was almost scared of touching you again, even though that’s exactly what he wanted. Doe eyes stare back at him as his cock gets harder at the sight. Ollie had always tried her best to look at him that way, but you didn’t even have to try. It naturally happened. Nothing about this felt forced.

You look untouchable. Like a complete goddess waiting to be ruined. Carlos, you would say as you squeeze your tits, eyes struggling to stay open. Carlos, please. Don’t be mean. Towering over you, he shakes his head.

“Linda, I could never be mean to you.”

Slipping your dress off, he groans when he sees you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He shuts his eyes as he tries to not finish inside his pants, which by the way, were starting to hurt. He pinches your nipple before slapping your tits. You hiss. 

“Please tell me you did this for me and no one else…”

“You know it’s always been for you.”

With that, he stands up as he yanks his shirt off; jeans and boxers following right after. A bit worried, you find yourself staring at his rock hard dick. You had never been with some as big as him; it kind of looked as if it would split you right open. That didn’t stop you from wanting it, though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you nice and good, cariño.”

His lustful tone snaps you out of it as you nod. His fingers rub your wet folds as you cling onto his bicep. C-Carlos. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he focuses on the way your face pinches. He slowly starts slipping his finger in as you gasp at the thickness. So big and long. He chuckles. “Oh, come on now. It’s not even fully inside of you yet.”

Stunned, you look down and sure enough, it isn’t. You almost cry out when you notice it’s barely even the tip. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He kisses your temple as he slips his finger back out. 

“Let’s start off with something else then.”

You almost pass out when he angles himself in front of your pussy. Glistening clit stares back at him as he moans. So pretty, he thinks as he touches you slowly. He stops himself, though, as he goes in for kitten licks instead. You squirm. His large hands pushed you down against the bed, to keep you in place. 

“Do you want me to make the ache in between your legs go away?”

“Yes.”

His pink tongue teases you as he hums. You bite down sharply. “You’re going to have to stay still. Relax, bonita.” Following instructions, you close your eyes, trying your best to not think of the handsome Spaniard. As if that were possible. Impressed, he leans in again as he licks you, picking up your pre-cum. Oh, fuck. 

Then it’s almost as if Carlos is taken over by something as he dives in like some animal. His stubble burns your legs, but you’re too fucked out to even care. You’re sure you're being loud, but how can you not be when he licks and sticks his tongue inside of you, exploring places you never knew existed. You choke back a moan when he rubs his nose against your clit, only adding to the euphoria. 

“Yes. Oh. Fuck, yes.” Looking down at the brunette, you find him taking in your appearance as he rubs himself against the sheets; a way to try and pleasure himself. And that’s enough for you to cum all over his face. He smiles as he greedily tries to drink up everything you give him. He knows he lost control, but he loves the way you were able to keep up. To take everything he gave you.

And that was only going to multiply.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in between your legs, picking up the white nectar. Crying out, you push his face away as you gasp for air. He sucks your tits as you take a break. His tongue swirls around your bud as you wiggle against him like a fish that jumped out onto land. He laughs. “Can you handle my fingers, now?”

No, you whisper as you push him away. But he knows you’re giving up too soon. He knows there’s an animal inside of you and he’s just waiting for it to decide to join him. He ignores you as he slides his fingers down to your center. You mewl against him. “Hey, hey, I got you, cariño. I’m right here.” 

His voice makes you clench harder against his fingers as he grins like a kid at a candy store. Slowly, you start dripping more than before, making it easier for his fingers to slide in and out of your hole. Can you handle a third? “Yes,” you respond, eyes still screwed shut. Hot air hits your ear.

“There she is…Good girl. Justo asi.”

Picking up speed, his fingers reach the gummy part inside of you as you scratch his arms in an attempt to remind yourself to not black out. His long fingers cross, doing figure 8’s as he touches your g-spot as if he knows your entire body better than any map. Leaning up, he bites down onto your nipple before sucking hard. You should be embarrassed with the way you squeal and shake against his actions, but he just made it so hard not to. Much to your surprise, if you dare believe it, he does the thing you last expected.

He adds a fourth digit.

“No, no, no,” you pathetically chant as your eyes fly open. He cocks his head to he side as he clicks in tongue as if seeing you struggle filled him with pride. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Just trust me; do you trust me?”

He didn’t need to ask because he knew you did. I do, you whimper out as you start grinding against his fingers. Amazement fills his dark eyes as he looks down to where you clench around him, juices sliding down his arm. It only takes a couple of more swirls before your shriek, velvety walls clenching around him as you reach your climax. 

Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks your cum as if it were a meal he’s dreamed of having his entire life. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him lick them clean. You’re sure he’s going to fuck you now, but that flies out the window as he lays down as he drags you onto his face.

This man had stamina. Lots of it. You're trying to beg for a break of some sort. I can suck your dick. Give you a handjob. Just please let me rest. But he wasn’t even listening. 

Maybe somewhere deep down, he knew this would be the only night he would have you to himself and if that meant no pauses, then he would push all your buttons.

Like a starved man, he starts licking you all over as you grind against his face. The way he sucks on your clit and adds his fingers make you squeal as you push down harder. His nose rubs against you in such a way, it has you seeing stars. He seems to be enjoying that though, as his moans vibrate against you. Biting hard onto your lip, you try to distract yourself as you reach behind you for his rock hard cock. The moment your small hand wraps around him, he growls like a lion.

Smug over his reaction, your hand slowly starts jerking him off as he eats you out with more urgency. It takes all of you to control your actions as he shakes his face in between your legs. S-slow down, Carlos. He grunts as his actions speed up, but so does your hand. Gripping onto his erection much harder, you furrow your brows as you twist your wrist. Choking on your juices, he opens his eyes wide, whimpers flying past his lips.

Smiling down like the devil, you nod as your hand picks up its pace. Now it's his turn to be groaning with pleasure. He seems to have forgotten what he was doing as he takes in strong whiffs of your aroma. You shudder when his warm breaths escape to warm up your dripping pussy.

His cock twitches and he seems to snap right back into it; already diving back into your hole. Lurching forward, you grip onto his hair as the other remains wrapped around him. It’s a game to see who can make the other cum first, and you were not about to be the loser. 

Lively, you circle your thumb around his pink tip as he groans and finishes all around your hand. Sucking hard, he bites gently onto your clit as you screech and trap his head between your thighs. Shaking, you twitch against him as you reach your third orgasm that night. Huffing, you roll off him as he laps his tongue.

The way he looks at you makes you want to ride his face all over again, but you know you needed a break if you didn’t want the night to end so soon. Kneeling in front of him, you raise your ass up high as you lean down to wrap your lips around his cock. He flinches, slightly sensitive, but doesn’t dare push you away. Instead, he rubs your face with his calloused thumb; encouraging you. There's something so hot about the way your lips stretch around his fat cock. The way drool exits your mouth, messy blots of mascaras on the corners of your eyes.

Light of my life. Fire of my loins.

Gagging around him, you squeeze your eyes shut, feet curling up along the way. For sure, your throat would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you wanted that. Deepthroating him as best as you can, your small hands wrap around the rest of his length. He was huge. Dirty slurps bounce off the walls. You try your best to not pull away when you feel his sticky pre-cum connect inside your throat. Not when he looked so good with his head thrown back. His thick neck is a clear display. With his large hands wrapped around your hair as he fucks your face like theres no tomorrow. Spanish curses flowing past his lips. 

“Que linda. Arrodillada como una santa.”

When you giggle around his erection, he groans, head thudding against the headboard. His mind quickly slips over to Ollie - but not in the way one might expect. It hits him like a truck when he compares her to you. With Ollie, she would last at least 20 minutes before calling it a night. He pretended not to mind - he would never force her to do something she doesn’t want to, of course - but once she would knock out, his large hand would slide down past his boxers, looking for a new release. 

Then there’s you, ever so pretty. It seems like with everything you do, you want more. You sucking him off as if you’ve done this for him a lifetime ago. Sure, you’re struggling, but that only makes him harder. You’re trying to keep up with him and it’s working. Now, it’s like he’s the one trying to keep up. Swallowing, your throat closes around him as he flies forward, voice cracking as he presses for more. 

Glossy eyes look back up at him as you repeat your action. With one last blow, he pulls out as he cums all over your face. His dick immediately gets hard again when you smile wide, fingers going to pick up his mess. Greedily, you pout as you wrap your lips around your finger like the lollipop you had been sucking on a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, abs contracting together as he tries his best to even out his breaths. 

“Will you fuck me now?” 

You’re moving at a snail's pace as you lick his sweaty neck. A chill runs down his spine with the feeling of your warm tongue. Grinding slowly against his thigh, you throw your head back with pleasure, wet lips rubbing against him. He smiles.

“You’re a dirty girl, you know that?”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me, papi.”

In a flash, he flips you onto your back as he hovers over you like a giant. A beautiful, beautiful, giant. His large muscles he works so hard for stare back at you as you admire with an open mouth. It looks as if he could carry mountains on his shoulders. Dilated pupils admire you as you let out a pathetic whimper. Long gone were his brown eyes as they now appear completely black. Sensual.

“Then you should be fucked as such.”

With that, he swings your tan legs over his broad shoulders, practically bending you like a pretzel. You pat yourself on the back for all those pilate classes. Jerking himself off a bit, he looks straight at you, making sure this was something you wanted. The way you bat your cartoon eyes is all he needs to slip inside of you.

First thing he notices is how tight you are despite him already stretching you out to perfection. Raw moans leave both your lips as you try your best to adjust to his size. You had been with men before - that’s all you really knew - but no one’s cock had ever made you burn with such satisfaction. More than satisfaction. He’s reassuring you with his words in order for you to relax.

I’ve got you, preciosa. Just let go for me. I’m right here.

Still, you can’t help but squirm underneath him. His fingers make their way to your mouth as you stare back confused. Suck, he commands before forcing them in. Caught off guard, you gag around them for a bit before your tongue begins to twirl around them. Your cheeks burn up as you hear your low mewls. Ah- ah- ah, you cry out against his digits as he grins down at you. Retracting them, he slides them down to your clit as he starts rubbing small circles.

“Oh God.”

Instantly, you open up against his tired cock as he hums. There you go, he praises as you make it easier for him to thrust into you. You should both be ashamed of the way gushy sounds bloom from your mixed cum. Or the way he pounds into you so hard and fast that it has you sliding further back against the bed, hair tangling along the way. His fingers dig into your calves as he holds them in place.

“Mierda,” he wheezes as he throws his head back, ripping his eyes away from the way your puffy clit envelopes around him. Pants and whimpers escape you as you arch your back from the fulfillment. 

Carlos is a man - you know that - but in this moment; right now: he’s proving it the way a scientist would their hypothesis. His cock brushes against your g-spot as you gasp at the sensation. He’s looking at you as if you held the key to all secrets. 

The keys for the gate to Heaven.

Though he knows that this all feels like Heaven, he deserves nothing but Hell for cheating on Ollie. But that’s the least of his worries.

“Does that feel good, bonita?” 

Wide eyes look up at him desperately as you nod to the point where your neck starts to ache. Yes - Oh God, yes. So good, Carlitos. Yeah, baby - right there. Snapping his hips harder against you, your mind goes foggy with the way his hair flops around him. Sweat causing long strands to stick to his face. Beads of sweat drip down your legs as he presses sloppy kisses. His cheeks look as if he’s been out in the sun for hours. 

In this moment; he looked immortal.

“Carlos, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.”

Like a doll, you flop back against the bed as you start to leak acid. No - please. Don’t ask me to do that. Feeling a sharp sting, you gasp. His hands dives back in to massage your cheek after slapping you. He cocks his head with fake sympathy. “I know you can do it,” - thrust - “Wait for me, yeah?”

You have no word as you wail - tits bouncing with every assault from his hip. Your stomach burns with the way his abs glisten, with the way his bottom lip juts out, or the way his muscles shine with a layer of sweat as they hug your legs like a teddy bear. 

He was yours. In this moment, he was yours.

“Alright, linda-” He brushes your hair out of your face as he wipes your sweat with his hand. “Cum for me?”

It’s an out of body experience the moment you squirt around his dick - the way your tummy feels like it's on fire. Sore groans leave his lips as he finishes inside of you, brown eyes trained on the way you gush around him. He freezes in place at the feeling. You squirm for a few seconds below falling limp against the bed. The room smells like nothing but filthy sex. 

Pulling out of you, he carefully places your legs back down before kissing your ribs. Then your bruised tits. Then your cheeks, forehead, and lastly, your lips that taste like home. Sighing against him, you try your best to remember the way he kisses you as if you're the only form of oxygen that exists. As if this were a dystopian world and you were the only source of survival.

He pecks your lips once more before brushing his fingers against your temple. “Get some sleep.” Yawning, you nod as your eyes flutter like a butterfly's wings. Will you stay? And he doesn’t know what takes over him when he says-

“I will.”

-

When you wake up you notice it’s still dark out. The moon shines, eyes flickering around, looking for the Spaniard. You let out a low breath of relief when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Ollie,” he whispers into the phone as he runs a hand against his jaw. “...I made a mistake.”

Your heart stops with his words. He makes sure to speak low, thinking you're sound asleep. She - I - it was a mistake. She’s just a kid…Fuck. She’s just a child. Your heart shatters with the evident blame in his voice. You weren’t a kid. Sniffling, you stop breathing when you realize you’re crying. He pauses for a moment before standing up and making sure you’re okay. Bringing the phone up against his ear, he shakes, already walking out the door.

“Where are you? Let me just see you, amor. I’ll explain it all.”

-

There’s a saying that goes: You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.

You would personally like to punch that person in the face. It’s not true. It doesn’t beat the same - because then why does it hurt everytime it pounds against your chest? Why is it hard to breath when the priest says-

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Everyone’s faces are blurry; cheers sound far away. You can’t be too sure you're standing upright as your father beams at the sight of Ollie pressing her lips up against Carlos. The way his hands slide down to her waist as shows her off proudly like some champion ring is what hurts the most. You feel flames all over your skin, letting out a flinch when your fathers signals for you to clap, too.

You don’t know what happened after that night. Whether Ollie forgave him or not - though clearly she had. Maybe she didn’t know about you the same way he didn’t know about Ben. This was all starting to feel like some nightmare. But it’s very much real life with the way the newlyweds hold hands, smiling brightly as guests throw a mixture of confetti and baby breath.

“Nice ceremony.”

“What? Oh.” You shrug towards Max as he points over at the couple. “Y-yeah. It was…”

He goes over his next words for a moment because Lord knows that if he has it all wrong then he would appear to be the biggest jerk to ever exist. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

“I-I-I’m not sure I understand,” you trample over your words as your cheeks burn the same color of your red dress. He shares a small smile.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Walking away, you’re left alone, second guessing everything. The violin seemed too happy. The guests seemed too bright. All of this was fake, couldn’t they see? Pursing your lips, you try your best to hide your broken heart as you catch up with old friends. How is college? How does it feel like having a brother-in-law who drives for Formula 1? Must feel pretty great, right? 

The night is boring. Half of it you spend faking smiles and the other you spend trying to avoid the Spaniard. Life was better back in Spain, where ironically, he was never around despite it being his home country. You’re in the middle of conversing with the Dutchman - who quite frankly is an honest listener - when Ollie walks up looking like a ball of whipped cream. Can I talk to my sister alone, please? Max’s concerned eyes ask if you’re okay with that as you nod. Slumping away, he squeezes your knee one last time.

Blue Velvet plays as she fixes herself onto the stool right next to you. “Have you tried the cocktails? They have cherry flavored; your favorite.” Something about her sweet voice makes you unsteady as you raise a brow. She shows off her veneers. “This is weird. Sorry. I’m just so…happy.” 

“Good to know.”

“But enough about me!” She places her left hand over yours, shiny rock sitting perfectly. You wince. “I want to talk about you! How’s school?”

“Like you care.”

She pouts. “I do now…” You furrow your brows. What do you mean now? She gasps. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t know I know!” Your stomach drops. “Well, you know, as your older sister, I’m also your guardian since our mother is too fucked up to look after you…And a little birdie filled me in on your reputation back in Spain.” She giggles as she takes a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t surprise me, though. It only makes sense that you keep messing around with men old enough to be your father. You always had a thing for those.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

Ollie grins ear to ear when she notices how annoyed you’ve become. “Carlos told you he was born in Madrid, right? Okay, well, he also has a whole bloodline there. And let’s just say, a cousin of his - my goodness, his daughters are beautiful - is a professor at your Uni.”

No.

“And well this birdie also told me how you’ve been sneaking in and out of his lecture room, late at night. And I wonder…What have you and him been doing behind closed doors?”

It can’t be. 

Professor Vázquez de Castro, he says as he extends his hand out, eyes roaming every inch of your body.

Suddenly, the name sounds familiar. The surname is Carlos’ extended one. Ollie’s eyes shine. “I see it’s clicking.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me and my husband alone. I want you to grab your things and leave. Don’t look back; just leave. Don’t contact papi ever again. I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. It’s bad enough you’ve already fucked my spouse.”

She knows. He told her. And they still got married. 

“Ollie, don’t…”

Tugging your hand harshly, she slaps her phone on it. And you don’t know how, but in it, it’s a video of you riding your Professor - Carlos’ cousin.

“Leave or I’ll show this to him. Your choice.”

Wet sobs leave your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief. How did this happen? Who took this video?

“Ollie, please…I love him.”

Her gaze sharpens as she takes the phone back and stands up. “You know what to do.”

Bringing your shaky hand up to your lips, you stare in shock. Wobbly legs walk past Max as he asks if you’re okay. One last smile looks back at him before you brush past by. 

Carlos is craning his neck, looking for you. He had confessed that night, but so had Ollie. He was breaking off the engagement. Spilling apologies as she cried against his chest. Despite it all, he still cared for your sister. But he knew it wasn’t going to work out. He was ready to leave when she brought up the tape of you and a cousin he didn’t even know he had. I’ll get her expelled. Don’t do this, Carlos. And so he stayed. He knew how much you loved school, regardless of what others might think. I just want to help others, you swooned one day by the pool. It’s what I wish someone had done for me.

You get to him before he spots you as you tap on his shoulder. He fills up with worry when he sees your red brimmed eyes. Sheepishly, you take his handkerchief as you wipe your rosy nose. What happened? Who made you cry? You shrug.

“Carlos…I love you.” He blinks. You let out a wet laugh as you lean up to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw anymore. This was it. He doesn’t seem to care either as his hands wrap around your waist. Holding you close, as if you might vanish into thin air. He was the waves, you were the shore. Pulling away, you wink. “Save me a dance, yeah?” 

Then, you’re walking away. Becoming smaller as you stroll over to the Italian house. Clutching his chest, he chokes: I-I…I.

“Carlos!”

Turning to face Ollie, he sees her waving him over to the giant cake. 

“Coming.”

-

Running into the quiet house, he calls your name. He looks behind every door, hoping to find the girl in red. Stumbling up the stairs, he swings your door open. He breathes heavily when he doesn’t find you, even here. Panicked, he grips his hair in despair. Only then, does it occur to him to open the restroom door, hoping to not scare you.

“¿Bonita?”

Silence. He still pushes it open as he carefully walks in, finding no harm in checking. And why? Why couldn’t he be as truthful like you were? Risk it the way you would have willingly done. Why did he let you walk into the house alone?

Falling to his knees, he desperately crawls over to your lifeless body, dark blood flowing from your wrists. 

As red as your dress.

He must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Surely, it can’t.

“No, no, no.” He drags your limp body into his arms. He can’t even pinpoint the moment his tears flow down his face. “Bonita, no. No. No. No.” The Spaniard cradles your colorless face into his hands. He gently taps your face a few times, but almost stops breathing himself when it only rolls back. Blood stains his white shirt. “Hey, hey.  C’mon, please. You want me to say it?” Hurriedly, he picks up your head as he kisses your lips over and over. He winces when he feels how chapped they’ve become.

“It doesn’t feel forced. I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear - I love you. I do. I love you as infinite as the ocean. I love the way you laugh, the way you trip over anything in your way, the way you say my name…I love you.” 

But he knew you weren’t listening. Not anymore. 

A piece of him died that day along with you. After that, life was a sickening blur. He’s out of it the moment he hears your father yelling out in agony or when Ollie screams at the gruesome scene. 

None of it mattered anymore.

[pucksandpower]

Crazy Cravings

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: pregnancy cravings can make you (and your husband) do crazy things … neither of you particularly minds

Warnings: 18+ content and pregnancy

You sit in the Red Bull Racing garage, feeling the warm Spanish sun on your face through the open door. The roar of engines and whirring of power tools surrounds you as the mechanics prepare for the race.

Your eyes are drawn to the iconic blue and silver cans scattered around the garage. Those tantalizing cans of Red Bull that everyone else seems to be drinking so casually.

Everyone except you and Max, that is.

You rub your rounded belly, feeling your precious cargo kick and squirm inside you. At six months pregnant, your cravings have been … intense, to say the least. But none more powerful than your longing for the crisp, fizzy taste of Red Bull.

The caffeine is off limits, of course. You would never dream of jeopardizing your baby’s health. But oh, how you crave that sweet, energizing flavor that used to be such a routine part of your life.

Max emerges from the back room, his bright grey eyes instantly finding you. He strides over, that effortless confidence and raw athleticism making your heart flutter, even after all these years. His gaze drifts to the Red Bull can in a mechanic’s hand and a grimace crosses his face.

“Liefje, are you alright?” He murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I know how much those are torturing you lately.”

You force a smile, not wanting him to worry. “I’m fine, Maxie. Just … ignoring the siren call of carbonated temptation.”

His thumb strokes your cheek as he studies you, clearly not convinced. Max has been so incredibly supportive during this pregnancy, abstaining from Red Bull himself in solidarity. Cutting out his biggest vice, just so you don’t have to be tormented by the sight and scent of it everywhere.

“We should get you out of here,” he says, looping an arm around your waist to help leverage your bulk out of the chair. “The smells can’t be helping those crazy cravings.”

You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to pull him away from his work, but a fresh wave of dizzying desire hits you as a mechanic cracks open another can. The fizzing hiss and unmistakable scent make your mouth water uncontrollably.

“Max ...” you whisper, feeling your throat tighten with barely restrained craving and hormonal tears prickling your eyes.

He follows your yearning gaze to the Red Bull can and understanding dawns. “Oh, liefje ...” Scooping you into his arms, he strides from the garage, shooting an apologetic look at his crew.

Once outside in the fresh air, you bury your face against Max’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar, comforting cologne as he carries you to the motorhome. He eases you onto the couch, brushing kisses along your forehead and temple.

“I’m so sorry, schatje,” he murmurs, anguish lining his handsome features. “I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there was any way I could make the cravings stop ...”

You catch his hand, lacing your fingers through his calloused ones. “Max, you know I would never actually ask you to give up Red Bull, right?”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Not being able to have it for nine months is nothing compared to your sacrifice, carrying our baby. I don’t deserve you.”

Pulling him down beside you, you cup the chiseled line of his jaw, making him meet your gaze. “I happen to think you deserve the very best, Mr. Verstappen. And right now, the very best for both of us would be ...” Your voice cracks with fresh longing. “A damn Red Bull.”

Max’s eyes blaze with sudden determination, that iron willpower that has made him a champion coming to life. “Then that’s what I’ll get you. If those tossers at Red Bull Company won’t make a safe, caffeine-free version for pregnant women, I’ll personally make them regret it.”

You laugh shakily. “Max, you can’t just bully a corporation into creating a new product line for one person’s weird craving!”

“You’re not just one person,” he growls, tangling his fingers in your hair and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re my everything. And our baby deserves for its mother to be happy and have her cravings satisfied.”

Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he adds, “I’m calling them right now. And then straight to the CEO, if I have to. I’ll get you that Red Bull if it’s the last thing I do.”

True to his word, the indomitable Max Verstappen spends the next several days working every possible connection and calling in every favor. You catch bits of conversations, his clipped tones making it clear just how serious he is about this bizarre quest.

“No, I don’t care if it’s not ‘cost-effective’. This is for my very pregnant wife ...”

“She’s risking her health to grow an entire person! The least your company can do is make a freaking caffeine-free energy drink ...”

The crew quickly learns not to open any Red Bull around you, lest they face the wrath of an overprotective Max. Which is slightly embarrassing … but also incredibly sweet.

Your hormones most definitely approve.

Finally, there’s a break in the stalemate. Helmut Marko himself shows up at the motor home, those bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrowed.

“Max, this is ridiculous. They will not reconfigure an entire product line just because Y/N is having a little … craving.”

You brace yourself for the explosion, but Max just levels Helmut with that intense stare. “If you could experience these cravings yourself, you would be singing a different tune. Y/N is sacrificing everything to have our baby. The least Red Bull can do is give her a safe option to have the flavor she misses so much.”

Helmut’s expression softens slightly at the obvious devotion in Max’s voice. “You know that corporate will never go for it. Not for just one person ...”

“Then make it for all the other pregnant women dealing with the same issues,” Max returns, unruffled. “Or is a company that plasters ‘Gives You Wings’ on every can really too cowardly to follow through on empowering people?”

You suck in a shocked breath at his daring play. But the flicker of anger and resigned capitulation in Helmut’s eyes shows that it worked.

“Fine, you little shit,” the older man growls. “I’ll talk to product development. But I’m not making any promises!”

Except somehow … Max’s sheer bullheaded tenacity eventually batters through all the corporate resistance and red tape. Three weeks later, an unmistakable bright blue can appears on the counter, the iconic Red Bull logo stamped across it.

“What’s this?” You ask in confusion.

Max slides an arm around your waist, beaming proudly. “Open it and see.”

You crack the seal, sniffing cautiously … and almost melt at the nostalgic, beloved scent of Red Bull. But just as you start to panic about caffeine, you notice the slightly different flavor.

“Max, is this ...”

He nods, grinning. “Zero caffeine but all the taste you’ve been craving. No more tears over those damn energy drink cans, okay?”

Throwing your arms around him, you yank his head down to capture his mouth in a grateful kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?”

“Once or twice,” he jokes, then sobers, cupping your belly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you and our baby happy.”

“You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” You take a long pull of the perfectly flavored liquid, sighing in blissful satisfaction. “We hit the jackpot with you, Max Verstappen.”

He kisses you again, reveling in your obvious enjoyment. “The only jackpot I need is right here.”

***

Your baby bump has popped out to truly impressive proportions now at eight months along. What started as an innocent craving for Red Bull has escalated into an all-out physiological war.

Nothing seems to satisfy you for long — you’re a walking bundle of hormones and insatiable desires.

From the plush solitude of the Red Bull hospitality suite, you try not to gaze wistfully toward the Ferrari encampment. But you can’t resist fixating on the tantalizing cones of rich gelato constantly streaming from their hospitality tent.

Watching a couple of Ferrari mechanics stroll by, licking at scoops of pistachio and stracciatella, is enough to kickstart a powerful new yearning. Your mouth waters shamelessly as they pass, the creamy dessert leaving you weak in the knees. Before you can overthink it, you’re shuffling toward the entrance, one hand cradling your belly.

“Scusi,” you call out hesitantly as you peek inside. “Mi dispiace … is it possible to get some gelato?”

You half expect to be waved away — it’s well known that the Ferrari team is notoriously insular and protective of their spoils. But the cheerful greeting you receive is instantaneous and overwhelming.

“Madonna mia! Look at this beautiful piccina!”

Suddenly you’re engulfed by a whirlwind of chattering Italian voices, greeted by smiling faces from the team of elderly signoras who comprise the Ferrari hospitality staff. Weathered hands pat your belly and cheeks, clucking sympathetically at your swollen state.

“You poor bambina, absolutely enorme! Of course we’ll get you some gelato to refresh you. And biscotti too! You need to keep up your energy, si?”

You’re ushered toward a plush sofa, various grandmotherly types fussing over you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing. It’s … surprisingly wonderful. They clearly adore babies and pregnant women. You get the sense that indulging a mother-to-be is hardwired into their very beings.

A tray of gelato cups appears, the rainbow of flavors almost dazzling in their variety — chocolate, pistachio, prickly pear, lemon, stracciatella. Before you can reach for one, it’s plucked from your grasp.

“No no no! Leave it to Nonna Maria.” A stout signora with a green paisley dress and frosted silver curls shakes her head sternly. “I’ll start you with the lemon to whet your appetite. Then a nice creamy stracciatella as a proper treat for the bambino.”

The tangy flavor of the lemon gelato hits your craving exquisitely. As soon as you’ve polished off that cup, Nonna Maria presents another brimming with the creamy chocolate chip perfection of stracciatella. You moan in appreciation, unbothered by the chorus of approving noises from your doting new entourage.

Before you know it, you’ve been plied with cups of hazelnut, strawberry, and caramel flavors as well. These hospitable Italian ladies simply won’t be deterred from pampering a future mamma. As you scrape the last smears of gelato from a ramekin, a new grandmother settles on the sofa beside you.

“Now ... tell Nonna Gina what this little maschietto or bambina has been craving, eh?” She pats your belly affectionately. “We have chefs who can whip up anything your heart desires!”

Is it a pregnancy thing, this sudden wave of tears that blurs your vision? Or just being so insanely touched by the kindness and maternal care of these lovely strangers? You blink rapidly, swallowing hard.

“Honestly … gelato has been my biggest craving these past couple days. I don’t know if I can eat another bite.”

A chorus of disapproving gasps and tuts rises from the assembled grandmothers. “Bah! This pregnancy has ruined your appetite, piccina,” one crows, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll soon get it back to rights, don’t you worry.”

For the next hour, you’re lavished with attention, fussed over and coddled like the most precious jewel. Cold drinks and chilled towels appear to keep you comfortable as the nonnas take turns sitting with you, petting your belly and swapping outrageous birth stories.

Their colorful Italian voices swell and ebb as they bicker over whose recipe for pasta al ragu is most authentic, who has the most grandchildren, and whose first-born grandson is most handsome.

It’s chaos and noise and overwhelming affection … and you’ve never felt so utterly content.

As the afternoon light slants golden through the awning, a familiar figure appears in the entrance, haloed by the fiery rays.

“Liefje? I’ve been looking everywhere ...” Max’s disbelieving gaze sweeps over the scene in front of him — you, surrounded by a veritable coven of grandmotherly Italians who seem entirely absorbed with you. “What in the world ...”

A chubby signora with a bright orange shawl wrapped around her ample form hops up, beaming widely. “Ahh! We have been absolutely spoiling your beautiful wife, of course. Did you know she had a craving for gelato? Well, no problem for us — we have taken her like one of our own bambinas!”

The others cluck and murmur in outraged agreement at his shocked expression.

“We absolutely will not let a piccina in such a state go hungry or uncomfortable! Now you sit down so we can get you a plate of some proper food too!”

Max gapes at you, utterly nonplussed as you grin back at him with unabashed glee, utterly stuffed with Italian desserts and reveling in the indulgent babying. You pat the space beside you invitingly.

“You’ve got to try Nonna Gina’s tiramisu, Maxie. It’ll knock your socks off.”

He settles beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and still looking rather dazed. But the instant the first warm smile and pat lands on his arm or knee, Max’s expression melts. This team of fussing Italian grandmothers has clearly adopted you both as their own.

Nonna Maria reappears, shoving a plate stacked with crispy arancini, indulgent risotto alla Milanese, and a creamy slice of tiramisu into your husband’s hands. “Eat up! You need to keep your strength up too, caring for this sweet cosa bella.” She plants bristly kisses on both your cheeks before scurrying off again.

Max watches her go, then turns to you with a bemused chuckle, squeezing you close. “Well, schatje. I have to hand it to you — at least your pregnancy cravings bring you to some … interesting places.”

You hum in agreement, perfectly content as you snuggle against his side. “Can you really think of a better place for me to nest?” You grin as another nonna appears to pat his cheek, welcoming him into the chaotic fold. “I think I may have just found my second family.”

He tilts your chin up, eyes sparkling with warmth. “Anything that makes you happy and keeps our baby healthy.”

As he kisses you tenderly, surrounded by clucking encouragement and rapturous croons of “bello, bellisimo” from your new Italian grandmothers, you know you’ve never felt so blissfully cherished.

You and Max make your way slowly back to the Red Bull motorhome, stuffed to the gills with gelato and trailed by a gaggle of besotted well-wishers calling out farewells and advice.

“I still can’t believe you managed to befriend the entirety of Ferrari hospitality,” Max laughs, helping ease you onto the couch in his driver’s room. He nudges your belly playfully. “This little one is shaping up to be quite the international charmer!”

“Says the man who single-handedly compelled Red Bull to create an entirely new product line,” you point out, patting your swollen middle contentedly. “I have a feeling this baby is going to be the most spoiled child on earth.”

Max settled beside you, gathering you close with a tender smile. “Can you blame all our people for wanting to give the world to you two?” His thumb traced your jawline reverently. “You’re carrying a little miracle, liefje.”

Your breath catches, as it so often did when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his entire universe. With so much pure adoration and love shining in those grey eyes.

“Our miracle,” you correct softly, cradling his calloused hand over your belly. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just supporting me … but giving me everything I could ever dream of.”

He opens his mouth like he wanted to protest, but you press on, needing him to understand how treasured he makes you feel.

“You don’t stop until I’m happy. Even when I get these raging, random cravings that probably seem crazy, you move heaven and earth to give me whatever I need. Most people would never ...”

“Neither of us is most people,” Max interrupts fiercely. He presses a searing kiss to your lips, then the swell of your abdomen. “You and our little one are my entire world. I’ll spend every day showing you how much I love you both, how grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Hormones raging, you pull his mouth back to yours, savoring the taste and feel of him surrounding you. When you finally part, you rest your forehead against his.

“In that case, you better rest up for tonight,” you tease. “I have a feeling that someone’s going to get a craving for sardines and waffles right around midnight.”

***

At nine months pregnant, you feel like a blissfully beached whale.

Your belly protrudes so massively that you can barely see your feet anymore. Simple tasks like tying your shoes or rolling over in bed have become awkward geometric obstacles. Max has to help you up from every chair or couch, his strong arms levering your frame into a vertical position.

Lingering in the paddock is no longer an option either. You’ve been gently but firmly ordered back home to Monaco to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

Thank goodness your nesting instincts are going full tilt — otherwise you might go stir crazy waiting for this little one to make their grand debut. You’ve rearranged and re-organized the nursery a dozen times, washed and rewashed all the tiny onesies and miniature accessories, and baked enough lactation cookies to feed an army of nursing mothers.

Really, there’s only one craving occupying your mind now …

The thump of shoes in the hall makes you look up eagerly. Max appears in the doorway of the sunlit nursery, loose waves of brown hair framing his face. The plain white tee stretches enticingly across his chest and shoulders, making your mouth water for an entirely different reason than food.

“Hey schatje,” he greets, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in your flushed cheeks. A knowing smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. “Were you just ... thinking about me?”

You shake your head adamantly, wincing as the motion makes your whole body ache in protest. “Maybe just a little. This particular craving is getting out of control.”

Crossing to you in two strides, Max cups your jaw and brings your lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps demanding and possessive into your mouth, making you whimper faintly. That intoxicating masculine scent of fresh sweat, motor oil, and sandalwood surrounds you in an alluring cloud.

After all these years, just the taste and smell of your husband is enough to drench you in molten wanting. Baby or no baby, Max Verstappen is still the sexiest goddamn thing on two legs.

“Mmm, I know exactly what you need,” he rumbles against your neck, nipping a tingling path along your sensitive skin. “Luckily for you, I’ve got a free schedule all afternoon to help take care of this craving ...”

He scoops you into his arms effortlessly, cradling your heavy weight against his chest to carry you to the bedroom. You twine your arms shamelessly around his neck, luxuriating in the hard strength of his body against yours.

“Aren’t you worried about ... squashing the baby?”

“Not at all,” he deposits you carefully on the bed. Those bright grey eyes darken with blazing lust. “I’m going to take such good care of you and our little one.”

His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once — caressing, nibbling, and stroking every sensitive inch he can lavish adoring attention on. You keen softly when he dips his tongue into your navel, rubbing reverent circles over the tight swell of your belly.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Max murmurs, lips brushing the crease where your torso and bump meet. “So ripe and round and radiant with our child. My beautiful, strong girl ...”

All you can do is lie there gasping, overwhelmed in the best possible way. He strips you methodically, leaving a trail of scorching, openmouthed kisses over every newly exposed inch.

“My sexy little pregnant wife,” he husks, tongue dragging up the slick crease at the apex of your thighs. “Can’t resist this craving can you, liefje?”

His fingers plunge inside you, curling expertly as his mouth closes over your throbbing bud. You throw your head back shamelessly, mindless with pleasure as Max devours you.

So good, so unbearably good …

He ravishes you thoroughly, sending gushing waves of release crashing through your body over and over again until you’re gasping and quivering. Atoms of blissful satisfaction hum in your bloodstream as you float back into sweet oblivion.

An insistent nudge against your belly slowly rouses you. Max looms over you, hair deliciously rumpled and eyes glittering wickedly. “Did I satisfy that craving sufficiently? Or should I keep going?”

Your mouth curves in a greedy smile, hands gliding over his flexing shoulders and chest. “Again, please ...”

It had long since become a running gag around the paddock and team — before you were advised to stop flying. When you couldn’t be located, someone would joke that you must be off ravaging your utterly besotten husband yet again.

Max took the ribbing with surprising grace, grinning unrepentantly whenever his shirt collar revealed another blossom of lovebites discoloring the skin of his throat.

You really didn’t care about the teasing. You’re indulging an entirely healthy and normal craving — just a wife thoroughly appreciating her man.

“Can you believe people used to call this a punishment?” You giggle breathlessly one afternoon.

Max nips a stinging path along the soft skin of your inner thighs, tracing tantalizingly close to your heated center. He laves his tongue soothingly over the reddened marks, leering up at you from between your parted legs.

“Let them call it whatever they want. I’m just taking advantage of your hormones making you insatiable for me.”

“Mmm, well I can’t seem to resist your obscenely perfect body either,” you admit with a lazy stretch. “Maybe we really are being punished.”

One dark brow wings up eloquently as Max drags his eyes over you in a deliberately insolent perusal. Taking your leg in hand, he licks an achingly slow, filthy stripe up the crease where thigh meets hip.

You choke on a whimper, whole body jolting as he sucks a blossom of wet kisses into the satiny expanse of your inner thigh. Those bright grey eyes hold yours in wicked challenge as his clever tongue massages and swirls over your sensitized flesh.

“This certainly doesn’t seem like punishment to me,” he husks darkly. “Does it feel like punishment when I do this ...” His mouth moves higher. “Or this ...”

By the time he finishes torturing you into a quivering, needy wreck, you’re more than ready to beg.

“Please, Max!” You sob, bucking helplessly against the maddening sensations. “I need you, oh god I need you so bad ...”

He settles heavily over you, nuzzling your hair aside to trail searing kisses along your damp throat. “Then you shall have me. My needy wife can have whatever she craves ...”

It’s midway through one such shattering round of lovemaking that Max’s phone begins to ring shrilly. You try to disentangle, burning embarrassment tinting your cheeks, but he simply growls and clutches you tighter.

“Leave it!” He bites out, surging forward to recapture your mouth in a bruising clash of teeth and tongue between thrusts. “I’m busy ... satisfying … my wife ...”

After, as you lie tangled in a sweaty heap of satiation, you can’t resist asking with a wry smile, “Was that another craving I just demanded you satisfy?”

Max props himself up on one elbow, thumb stroking idly along your abdomen as his piercing gaze roams over your flushed, disheveled form.

“Whatever my wife needs,” he responds huskily. Those burning eyes promise infinite carnal delights to come as they caress your body. “I’ll always crave giving her everything she desires.”

He stretches beside you, a blissful smile curving his lips as you snuggle up against his side to exchange lazy kisses.

You’ve got a sneaking suspicion this is one craving that might outlast the pregnancy ...

[struggling-with-drivers]

Under the Opulence - Max Verstappen

⋗ Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader

⋗ Summary - Your family isn't kind to you, and in fact, they all think Max would be a much better fit for your sister. Max likes to differ.

⋗ Word count - 3.4k words, hurt/comfort

⋗ Masterlist - This has been finished for some time, but I've only gotten around to given it a name Feedback and reblogs are appreciated

The grandeur of your family's foyer, adorned with polished marble and intricate chandeliers, set the stage for Max’s introduction to the world you came from. As you and Max entered, the echoes of your footsteps reverberated through the opulent space, the air charged with excitement and anxiety, but most noticeably on your side, dread. 

Gabriella, your sister, emerged from an adjoining room, her presence demanding attention. With her radiant smile and effortless poise, she seemed to glide into the scene like a queen entering her court. She was the star of the family, the golden child who effortlessly commanded attention and adoration. With her striking looks and sharp intellect, she had always been the one to effortlessly charm anyone who crossed her path. Even your past romantic interests had succumbed to her allure, leaving you with the bitter taste of never good enough.

"It's okay, we're sisters," Gabriella would nonchalantly reassure you. "They weren't good enough for you if they wanted me more."

Her eyes, adorned with an air of confidence, locked onto Max, acknowledging his presence with a subtle yet unmistakable hint of curiosity. Bluntly scrutinising Max, she drank him up with her eyes, then she battered her long eyelashes a few times before slotting into the role of the perfect twin sister.

Max, a bit taken aback by the unexpected encounter, met Gabriella's gaze with a polite smile. That was all your sister needed before stepping forward, presenting her hand gracefully, a subtle gesture that belied the underlying power dynamics at play. Max, being the gentleman he was, reciprocated the greeting with a warm shake. However, as the customary exchange lingered for a moment longer than expected, you felt an unspoken tension building. 

“Gabriella, but you – my dear – can call me Gabbie.” Her voice sang in the foyer, bouncing so wonderfully off the walls. You wanted nothing more than to leave. Their hands were still intertwined. 

Instinctively, you began to withdraw your hand from his left, realising that you were caught in an awkward silence. Gabriella's grip on Max's hand tightened imperceptibly, and you hesitated for a split second, torn between asserting yourself and avoiding a confrontation. Finally, you reluctantly released Max's hand, a subtle concession that felt like surrender.

However, your parents made their grand entrance, drawn by the commotion in the foyer.

Gabriella finally let go of Max. She stepped back, allowing a brief respite from the charged exchange. 

Your mother, an elegant woman with an air of sophistication, approached with a warm smile. "Oh, there you all are! We were starting to wonder when you'd make it to the heart of the festivities."

As she spoke, her eyes lingered on Gabriella and Max, a subtle but knowing gleam in her eyes. It was as if she sensed the unspoken currents beneath the surface. Your father, a more reserved figure, stood beside her, observing the scene with a discerning gaze.

"Mom, Dad, this is Max," you introduced, trying to steer the conversation away from the palpable tension that lingered.

With an air of practised nonchalance, Gabriella returned her attention to Max, a playful smile gracing her lips. "Well, Max, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you," she purred, her words leaving an ambiguous trail of intentions.

She tried to grasp his hand once again, but instead, he started helping you out of your coat to keep his hands busy.

Max, still wanting to leave a good impression, responded with a friendly smile. "Likewise, Gabriella. Your sister here has spoken highly of you too," he said, casting a glance in your direction, before he extended a polite hand toward your parents, exchanging pleasantries as he tried to steer the conversation towards the two newcomers in the foyer. 

Gabriella subtly positioned herself beside him, a silent claim reaffirmed. The atmosphere remained charged, your parents seemingly ignorant of the intricate dynamics playing out before them. The dreadful feeling returned to you as your mom made eye contact with you once more. You averted your eyes.

Gabriella, seizing the opportunity, looped her arm through Max's, as if marking her territory. "Max, let me give you a tour of this magnificent place. There are so many things you haven't seen yet," she exclaimed, her tone holding a mixture of innocence and mischief.

Your heart sank as you watched them disappear into the lavish corridors of your family home.

“Let them go, honey. I’m sure he will be quite interested in our family’s history.” Your mother commented, foregoing the formality of any other type of recognition or greeting to you as she and your dad disappeared after Gabriella and Max.

Leaving you on your own in the opulent foyer, you wished to leave once more.

Determined to regain some semblance of composure, you wandered into the adjacent parlour, a room adorned with plush furniture and rich tapestries. The soft glow of antique lamps cast a warm ambience, but even the comforting setting couldn't dispel the growing unease. You settled into a chair, the plush upholstery offering little solace for the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. The room seemed to close in on you as you anxiously waited for Max and Gabriella to return. The dreadful feeling intensified with every passing moment, and your mind raced with unsettling thoughts.

Finally, the door swung open, and they entered the parlour. Gabriella's laughter echoed through the room. Max wore a polite smile, seemingly having enjoyed the tour, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Gabriella was orchestrating an elaborate performance.

"This place is quite… something," Max said, casting a glance in your direction as if seeking reassurance or acknowledgement. You tried to smile at him. Gabriella, however, continued to dominate the spotlight.

"We have quite the family history," she replied with a sly smile, her eyes flickering between Max and you. "It's a shame you won't be able to hear all the juicy details."

You forced another smile in response, but the unease gnawed at you. As they settled into the room, Gabriella strategically took the seat next to Max, her gestures and expressions aimed at enchanting him right before your eyes.

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, a dance of words that excluded you from its rhythm. You felt like a mere observer in your own home, watching as Gabriella captivated Max with tales of the family's past, her laughter ringing like an enchanting melody.

Your attempts to engage in the conversation were met with fleeting glances as if your presence were an afterthought. Gabriella was ever so quick to recapture Max’s attention, despite your valiant efforts to seek a way into the discussion.

Desperate for a reprieve, you finally excused yourself under the pretence of attending to something in the kitchen. As you escaped the room, the weight of the evening bore down on you, and you couldn't shake the sinking feeling that this family gathering had become a stage for a performance in which you had no choice but to play a reluctant supporting role.

In the kitchen, you busied yourself with trivial tasks, the rhythmic clinking of dishes providing a brief respite from the orchestrated drama in the parlour. The tension that had followed you from the foyer to the parlour lingered like an unwelcome guest, and you desperately sought a moment of solitude to collect your thoughts.

As you absentmindedly stacked plates from the dishwasher, your mother entered the kitchen, her gaze lingering on you with a knowing expression. It was as if she could sense the turbulence beneath the composed facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?" she inquired, her tone carrying a hint of concern.

You forced a smile, attempting to deflect the obvious discomfort. "I'm fine, just needed a moment away from the chatter in there."

Your mother's eyes softened, but there was a glint of curiosity. "Well, I must say, Gabriella and Max make quite the pair. They look so good together, don't you think?"

The question hung in the air, a subtle prod at the heart of the matter. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you processed the implications of your mother's words. It was a commentary that cut through the facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

"Oh, Mom, they're just chatting. It doesn't mean anything," you responded, attempting to downplay the situation.

Your mother, however, seemed undeterred. "I don't know, dear. They do seem to have a certain chemistry, don't you think? They'd make a handsome couple."

The weight of her words settled on you like an anvil, and you struggled to find a suitable response. The kitchen, for a brief moment, had been a sanctuary, but now felt like a confessional where you were forced to confront the complexities of your feelings.

"I...I don't know, Mom. It's just an introduction," you stammered, your attempts to maintain composure faltering.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment, and then she sighed, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You know, sometimes we find unexpected connections in the most peculiar places. And if they happen to find something special tonight, well, we should be happy for them, shouldn't we?"

You felt a surge of frustration and helplessness.

“It’s such a shame his looks just aren’t quite there, but he certainly has other features to make up for it. Wouldn’t you say so as well? Yes, a shame, but Gabriella has always been so kind-hearted. I’m sure she doesn’t mind either.” Your mother continued, before finally smiling at you. 

Her message was loud and clear, as she had expressed her approval of Max as a suitable match for Gabriella. 

Your mother wanted you to break up with Max and hand him over.

It was as though Max was a commodity to be exchanged, a possession for your sister to play with until she grew tired and moved on. It made you feel sick to the stomach. 

“Dinner is all ready, your father just put down the roast on the table.”

You followed your mother into the dining room, the scent of the roast filling the air. The grand table, adorned with fine china and polished silverware, became the stage for the next act in this familial drama.

As you took your seat, Max seated next to you, your parents strategically positioned Gabriella opposite Max. The tension in the room was palpable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that every word and gesture would be scrutinised.

"So, Max," your mother began, her eyes flickering between Max and Gabriella, "how did you find our home? Quite exquisite, isn't it?"

Max, thankfully pr-trained, nodded appreciatively. "It's a stunning place with so much history."

Gabriella's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and you braced yourself for what would come next. Your mother, however, wasn't finished.

"And speaking of history," she continued, casting a pointed look at Gabriella, "our family has quite a rich one. Gabriella, why don't you share some of the highlights? Max might find it fascinating."

“It’s alright, I think I heard enough earlier,” Max told your mom, “I would much rather hear childhood stories about her.” He turned his head, making himself able to look into your eyes, and you felt the dread spread. Despite the way he looked at you, it did nothing to calm you down, knowing your parents would not deliver what Max was expecting to be told about.

Max's genuine interest in hearing about your childhood seemed to momentarily disrupt the carefully choreographed performance. Your mother, however, skilfully manoeuvred to maintain the narrative she had meticulously constructed.

"Oh, Max, you're sweet," your mother said, offering a polite smile, "but Gabriella's achievements are the true highlights. She's always been the shining star of our family."

Your sister, seizing the opportunity, began to regale Max with tales of her academic triumphs, artistic pursuits, and social accomplishments. As she spoke, you felt the distance between you and Max widen, a chasm fuelled by your parents' insistence on casting Gabriella as the focal point of the conversation.

Max, sensing the discomfort, tried to redirect the conversation toward a more inclusive narrative. "I'm sure there are some other stories you could tell, perhaps some that aren’t about Gabriell-?"

“Please Max, do call me Gabby.” Gabriella interrupted Max.

Your mother exchanged a knowing glance with your father before responding, "Oh, there are plenty of stories, but I think Gabriella's achievements are what make our family truly special. Don't you agree, Max?"

Max hesitated for a moment, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. However, not wanting to create a scene, he nodded uncomfortably, "Yes, I guess Gabriella is quite accomplished."

Gabriella shot you a coy smile, her triumph was evident in the subtle control she exerted over the narrative. As the conversation continued to revolve around her, Max's attempts to steer it in a different direction seemed to hit an invisible wall.

Your parents, seemingly oblivious to Max's growing discomfort, continued to extol Gabriella's virtues. The room buzzed with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of praise, all while you sat there, a silent observer of your own family dinner.

As dessert was served, Max couldn't hide the subtle tenseness in his shoulders. He glanced at you, a mix of empathy and frustration in his eyes. Despite the challenging circumstances, you appreciated his efforts to bridge the gap.

When Max tried to ask about your childhood again, your mother skilfully redirected the conversation. "Oh, Max, we can talk about that another time. Let's focus on the present moment and enjoy the evening."

Your sister, seizing every opportunity to keep the spotlight, interjected, "You know, Max, I've always been curious about your interests and aspirations. Tell us more about yourself."

The shift in attention to Max was noticeable, but it wasn't the genuine interest he had hoped for. Instead, it felt like another tactic to steer the conversation away from you. Max, his patience waning, briefly shared short anecdotes about his work, nothing he hadn’t already told to the media. However, his eyes kept returning to you, his fingers intertwined with you. As though you were oblivious to the way your sister's feet – under the table – were trying to urge Max to look at her. 

The night wore on, and Max's frustration continued to build, a silent storm brewing within him. The genuine smile he had worn upon arrival had now transformed into a tight-lipped expression, betraying his growing discontent.

Your dad had taken it upon himself to serve a glass of whiskey to him and Max, while your mother brought forth an array of finger foods and other light and savoury snacks. Your family settled around the nice fireplace in the big sitting room, it’s even more extravagant and opulent than the smaller parlour room you had tried to take refuge in earlier in the day. 

When your sister, seemingly oblivious to the tension, leaned closer to Max, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "You know, Max, we're so thrilled to have you here. It's not often we get such distinguished company." 

Max, no longer willing to play along, shifted uncomfortably on the beige couch. "Thank you for having me. It's been... quite an experience," he replied, his tone carrying a subtle edge.

Your father, still under the illusion that the evening had gone splendidly, raised his glass. "A toast! To family and new beginnings."

Max's frustration reached its peak as his eyes locked on your dad’s raised glass. Max abruptly stood up, the sound of him slamming his glass down echoing in the sudden silence. The tension in the room was palpable as he looked directly at your parents.

"I appreciate your hospitality, but I can't ignore the blatant disregard for your own daughter," he said, his voice measured but firm. "I came here hoping to learn more about her, but it seems the spotlight is reserved for someone else."

Gabriella's eyes widened in feigned innocence, a practised mask that Max wasn't buying. Your parents exchanged uneasy glances, finally sensing the budding cracks in their carefully constructed facade.

"I won't be a part of a charade that dismisses her existence," Max continued, his frustration now laid bare. "If you can't appreciate the amazing person she is, then I want no part in this. Goodnight."

Without waiting for a response, Max pulled you from the couch. As you both retreated from the sitting room, leaving behind the echoes of tension and shattered illusions, you felt a strange mixture of relief and sorrow.

Max led you through the ornate hallways of your family home, the grandeur of the surroundings now feeling suffocating. The air outside was cool and crisp as you stepped onto the front porch, the distant sounds of the night providing a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere within.

He turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and concern. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect it to be like this."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his genuine intentions. "It's not your fault. Thank you for trying."

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Your family... it's not what I expected."

You nodded, feeling a lump forming in your throat. "It's never been easy."

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but you deserve better than this," Max said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

As Max navigated the darkened streets, a palpable tension and heavy silence filled the car ride home between you and him. The glow of streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his determined expression, the lines of worry etched into his brow.

You sat beside him, lost in your thoughts, the events of the evening replaying in your mind like a broken record. The weight of the strained interactions with your family weighed heavily on your shoulders, a burden you couldn't shake.

Max glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, breaking the silence that had enveloped the car.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "I don't know, Max. Tonight was… a lot. I’m sorry for Gabriella."

“They shouldn’t have said any of that.” Max ignored your comment, “that’s not- even I know that’s now how you treat family.”

“I’m sorry for Gabriella.” You tried to tell him once again, instead finding his hand reaching out to tangle it into yours. 

As Max's hand intertwined with yours, a comforting warmth spread through your fingertips, grounding you in the present moment. His touch was a lifeline, offering solace amidst the turmoil that had consumed your family gathering. You squeezed his hand gently, appreciating the silent support he offered.

Max pulled the car over, letting him turn to you and gaze into your eyes.

"I know you're sorry, love," Max whispered, his voice laced with understanding. "But you can't take responsibility for someone else's idiotic words. Gabriella's actions were uncalled for, and it's not your parents should have stopped it, not… Encouraged it."

His words resonated deep within you, reminding you that you were not solely accountable for the strained relationship with your parents. The weight on your shoulders began to lighten as if Max's presence alone could alleviate the burden.

You turned to him, finally meeting his concerned gaze. "Thank you, Max. Your support means the world to me."

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. We'll get through this together, alright?"

A surge of gratitude washed over you, grateful for the unwavering love and understanding Max consistently provided. You squeezed his hand once more, as he pulled out of the ditch. 

The car continued to glide through the darkened streets, but the heavy silence had transformed into a comforting embrace of shared vulnerability.

As the glow of streetlights continued to cast fleeting shadows, you realised that it was in the darkest moments that the strength of your relationship with Max shone the brightest. And with his hand clasped firmly in yours, you knew that together, you could weather any storm or awful family dinner.

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, sorry that it took so long to post this one

[18ls]

MAX VERSTAPPEN / REQUEST — hard-launching you’re married to him.

you can tell max is onto something when you walk into the paddock, he's been your boyfriend for several years now. and yeah, the relationship is a secret but you have a job in the paddock so it’s not like you don’t look his way longingly when he’s racing.

you’re a journalist for sky sports, so your name it’s quite known on the sport. always so cunning, asking the right questions, the drivers couldn’t even hate you, you were always a step ahead.

so walking down the paddock talking to your coworker, you see max walking the opposite direction of you, you lock gazes and he grins at you, a cat-like grin, and it downs on you when he passes next to you.

“hi.” he extend his hand to shake yours, your coworker looks at you funny because why max verstappen it’s trying to shake your hand in the middle of the paddock? you take his hand, giving him a confused look when you feel what’s in his hand.

your eyes widened, giving him a alarmed look as you take the ring he bought for you a year ago when you two got engaged. he grins at you again, giving you a look, you shake your head. “now? really?” he nods and walks away, talking to his pr.

your coworker stares at you, confused. “what was that?”

you look at the ring in your hand, and you hear your coworker gasp as you put it in your finger. “y/n? what’s going on?”

you can’t believe max, sneaking your wedding ring into the paddock just to jumpscare you with it in the middle of it.

“is that what i think it is.” she says, you give her an amused look, nodding.

“little shit he is.”

you see him after the quali session, he’s on the media circle talking to another journalist when he makes eye contact with you. he raises an eyebrow and looks back at the journalist who’s asking him about the ring in his hand. he unashamedly raises his hand to the camera and shows off the ring on his finger.

“yeah, married, you didn’t noticed?” he taunts the journalist, a playful grin on his face.

little shit.

[chrisevansonly]

Playing With Fire

Max Verstappen x Female Reader

summary: you and stella are max’s world, and he’d be damned if he let his father speak ill of either of you.

warnings: angst, jos (ew), angry max, slight mentions of crying, fluff at end

a/n: this is a re-upload to see if it shows up in the tags 🥲

When Stella was born, it was one of the best days ever for Max, seeing his baby girl come into the world, and the way she practically latched onto him from the minute she was welcomed into the family. He knew right then and there he would be the absolute best father to his daughter, just as he was the best husband to you, and always had been.

If there was one thing Max nor you completely enjoyed it was family events when everyone got together, including Jos. Max’s father.Max and his father have a complicated relationship, in a way they seem close but there’s always that edge to his dad that keeps all of you on the edge of your seat. You in particular seemed to still be an issue to him, and every once in a while, you’d become the punching bag at the dinner table.

Stella was sleeping in your arms as you sat next to Max at the dinner table, Jos across from you both and his mother on the other end with the rest of his family and some friends that had joined for the monthly get together.

“So when is the next Verstappen coming?” His father asked looking at you. Stella was only 6 months old so you and Max were happy to just enjoy the time you have with her now, not even thinking about another baby.

“Oh, well i’m sure someday we’ll have another…”

“We’re in no rush” Max butted in, assuming it would stop his father’s line of questioning.

“Yes well, it’s just you had a baby girl…there has to be a boy in the equation…”

You furrowed your brows, fixing Stella’s blanket as she continued to sleep, oblivious to the rising tensions in the room.

“I don’t think so? There’s nothing wrong with having girls..”

“Who’s supposed to carry on the name?”

Max sat up straighter, his hand squeezing your knee gently

“Stella will just as our next baby will eventually, regardless of their gender.”

Jos shook his head taking a sip of his water as he sighed, before looking back at you.

“All i’m saying is you should be trying for a boy.”

“Well it doesn’t work that way.”

The table was getting quieter as the father and son squared off, Jos not backing down and Max not about to let his father attack you in anyway. Not on his watch.

“I knew the second you had a daughter it would make you weak, let alone marrying her and having that baby! She’s useless if she can’t have a boy! You’re wasting your time Max, I knew from the second I met her it would ruin our family.”

Used to his harassment you didn’t cry, but it didn’t stop tears from welling up in your eyes as you almost deflated in a way, hugging Stella closer to your chest. The minute your eyes looked to Max, long gone was his soft stare and gentle smile, replaced was a look almost predatory as he looked to his father.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking about the mother of my child.”

“Max-”

“No, get out.”

“Excuse me?” Jos’s eyes widened and he shook his head

“GET THE HELL OUT!”

Max yelled, slamming his hands down on the table, seconds later Stella stirring before whimpering in your arms. The dutchman froze and looked apologetically at you as you excused yourself to go up to the nursery, only then turning back to look at his father.

“If you ever so much as think about speaking about my wife and daughter again, it’ll be me coming after you. Now get the fuck out.”

Jos didn’t even offer to say anything else, pushing back his chair and storming out, effectively cutting the dinner to an end as everyone left, Max’s mother sticking around to help clean up and of course comfort you afterwards. She had always been close to you and Max and in a way she was like a mother to you too.

“Baby?”

Turning at the sound of your husbands voice you smiled, still holding Stella in your arms, only this time she was much calmer, her eyes lighting up as she spots her dad.

“Hi, everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that…”

Shrugging you let him take Stella from you, his demeanour much more relaxed with his baby girl in his arms as he placed a few kisses to her cheeks.

“I know what your father is like, yes it hurts but I love you and you love me and that’s all that matters…we have a beautiful baby girl, and that man will never be able to change what we have.”

Max nods, bringing you into his side and leaning down to kiss you softly

“You’re right, he can’t. I’ll never let him ever disrespect you like that ever again. No matter what I have to do.”

“I know you won’t Maxie…and I love you very much for it, Stella too, huh baby?”

Stroking her cheek gently she babbled happily, leaning on Max’s shoulder, her hand patting his chest gently

“My girls…I love you both so much, i’ll always protect you both, with my everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said in the moment, all Max needed was his girls and he felt whole. Nothing else mattered because to him he had everything he’d ever wanted in his life. Despite what he went through growing up, Jos had never made his heart turn cold, he made it big enough to hold the love he had for you two, and would always hold, no matter what happened.

Besides, everyone knew messing with the Verstappen girls, was playing with fire.

[cutielando]

celebrations are in order ~ max verstappen

instagram au

synopsis: You and Max celebrate his third World Championship in style.

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

liked by maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes and 3,291,483 others

yourusername feels so good being back at the paddock tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 857,313 comments

maxverstappen1 out of all the pictures you took of me...

yourusername i love these

maxverstappen1 of course you do

redbullracing Glad to have you back, Y/N!

francisca.cgomes MY WIFE BACK IN THE PADDOCK ❤️❤️

yourusername i missed you sooooooo much !!! ❤️❤️

lilymhe GIRL LUNCH !!!!!!

user1 THE PEOPLE'S WAG IS BACK IN THE PADDOCK

user2 all is well when Y/N is in the garage😩😩

alex_albon max will finally be in a good mood

maxverstappen1 i can read these, you know

yourusername that's why i'm here. we're all tired of moody max😔

maxverstappen1 I CAN READ THESE

user3 our good luck charm has arrived ❤️❤️

user4 like he needs a good luck charm to dominate the entire grid🥲

landonorris what took you so long?

yourusername some people have a life, you know?

landonorris not when you're involved in f1 they don't

yourusername you're lucky i like you, otherwise you would have received a rant 😠

maxverstappen1 i've received one. trust me mate, you don't want to be on the receiving end

yourbff still sad you didn't take me with you 😔

yourusername you are literally on the other side of the globe⁉️

yourbff i don't see your point

yourusername maxverstappen1 help me out here

maxverstappen1 i'm not getting between you two again

user5 Y/N, do you think Max will win the championship after this race?

yourusername i am keeping my fingers crossed, he has had an incredible season and i think he's going to do everything in his power to end it on a high🫶🏻

user4 so well said

user6 Y/N being there for his Championship title win >>>>

user7 i want a relationship like theirs:(((((

user8 if they ever break up, i'm going to stop believing in love😭

charles_leclerc it's nice to have you back, y/n. haven't seen you in a while

yourusername it feels so good to be back. life has been kicking my ass but I'M BACK BITCHES

carlossainz55 FORZA FERRARI

yourusername wow, too much dude...

charles_leclerc ...

maxverstappen1 ...

carlossainz55 ...sorry...

victoriaverstappen i've missed you so much!!!! so glad to have you back, the boys are excited to see auntie Y/N!!❤️❤️❤️

yourusername i can't wait to see my favorite little munchkins ❤️❤️❤️

maxverstappen1 what about me?

yourusername i’m sorry, babe. you can’t compete with lio and luka for this one

victoriaverstappen you could never compete with them

maxverstappen1 wow, betrayed by my own blood..

liked by yourusername, victoriaverstappen and 5,391,584 others

maxverstappen1 I cannot thank everyone enough. Being on this journey, achieving what we have achieved together this season has been incredible. A massive thank you to the team and for everything they do for us, a shoutout to my family for always supporting me and a special thanks to my Y/N. I couldn't have done any of this without you, I love you.❤️ tagged: redbullracing and yourusername

view all 958,251 comments

yourusername watching you race and do what you love is my favorite thing. i'm proud of you beyond words and i can't wait to see what you do in the future. i love you so much❤️🫶🏻

maxverstappen1 thank you for being you🩵

redbullracing You are one of a kind, Max. Seeing you go down in history books right before our eyes is the biggest privilege. Let's finish the season on a high together and look forward to next year!💙 liked by maxverstappen1 and yourusername

landonorris well done, mate. the y/n effect was obvious

maxverstappen1 thanks mate

yourusername you're just jealous i didn't cheer you on as loudly

landonorris i'm deeply hurt, actually

maxverstappen1 dude, get your own cheerleader and stop trying to steal mine

yourusername boys, don’t worry, you know i support everyone almost equally

landonorris almost?

yourusername i’ll always be a redbull girlie at heart

schecoperez let's go!!! liked by maxverstappen1

user1 he did it for Y/N i'm sobbing😭😭😭

user2 UNSTOPPABLE MAX STRIKES ONCE AGAIN🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻👏👏👏👏🩵

user3 the tribute to Y/N had me in tears >>>>>>>>>>>

user4 they are such a power couple😩😩😩💙

user5 the season was boring, max is taking all the fun out of the sport by winning all the damn time💀

yourusername he deserves every single win that he gets, he's good. if you believe the sport is boring, don't watch it. stop hating on drivers just because they are successful, you have no idea what it's like to be in their shoes

user2 PERIOD👏👏👏

user1 QUEEN ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS👸🫶🏻

user3 YOU TELL THEM Y/N

victoriaverstappen we're so proud of you, Max. you're truly one of a kind🩵

maxverstappen1 i love you guys❤️

yourusername you guys are making me cry😭😭

maxverstappen1 baby, you literally just stopped crying a minute ago

yourusername I CAN’T HELP IT OKAY⁉️⁉️

alex_albon max once again making all of us look bad

maxverstappen1 i’m sorry man

yourusername you don’t need his help for that

alex_albon ouch

user9 BABABAHAHQHQHQHQ Y/N WAS SUCH A SAVAGE FOR THIS HAHAHAHA

georgerussell63 party tonight?

maxverstappen1 you know it

yourusername brave yourselves

christianhorner always a pleasure watching you work your magic, Max 👏

maxverstappen1 thank you, christian. your support means very much to me

yourusername awww, you’re like father and son🥹🥹

christianhorner we might as well just adopt him

gerihalliwellhorner 2 kids isn’t enough for you?

christianhorner no

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 3,194,853 others

yourusername words cannot begin to describe the pride i feel when i look at this man. Max, the things you have achieved have completely made me fall in love with you all over again. your dedication, your talent and your craft are a delight to experience and i can't be more grateful to be the one you share life with. i'm looking forward to seeing what the future has in store for you, and know that i'll be with you every single step of the way. i love you, my world champion❤️ tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 763,192 comments

maxverstappen1 forever grateful that you exist in my life❤️i don’t know what i did to deserve you

yourusername you’re gonna make me cry again😭❤️

maxverstappen1 please don’t

yourusername too late

francisca.cgomes i have never seen you cry so much, it made me cry with you 😭😭😭❤️

yourusername i love you ❤️❤️😭😭

pierregasly what..?

maxverstappen1 don’t even ask

yourusername YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND 😭

francisca.cgomes DON’T JUDGE US 😭😭😭😭

yoursister the entire family is sending Max the biggest congratulations !!! we can’t wait to see both of you to celebrate properly ❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️we miss you guys

maxverstappen1 thank you very much !!! looking forward to celebrating with the in-laws ❤️

landonorris when did you become the simp in the relationship?

yourusername don’t you have better things to do?

landonorris not really

maxverstappen1 you should get a hobby

landonorris annoying your girlfriend is my favorite hobby🤭🤭

oscarpiastri do i have to come to the party? 🫣

yourusername yes

maxverstappen1 only if you want to, we’re getting shitfaced either way

oscarpiastri so i can not come? 🥹

yourusername you’re coming, end of story.

user1 Y/N dragging Oscar to Max’s party is the most Y/N thing ever 😂😂

user2 poor Oscar must be regretting his life choices right about now 💀

oscarpiastri i am (please send help)

user1 BABAHQHQH OSCAH😭😭

user3 you can tell how much she loves him 😭❤️❤️

user4 i’m 100% positive Max couldn’t have achieved all of this without Y/N

user5 why? she didn’t do anything to help him at all

user4 it’s not all about performance on the track, a lot of factors go into it. she’s been supporting him for a very long time and that means a lot for someone with a lifestyle like his

user3 exactly, every driver needs someone to help them disconnect from the chaos that follows them all year round during the season

alex_albon you’re such a simp

georgerussell63 simp

charles_leclerc simp

landonorris simp

oacarpiastri simp

maxfewtrell simp

yourusername MAX????

maxverstappen1 …

yourbff your boyfriend is a beast

yourusername i know 🤭 that he is, in more ways than one

maxverstappen1 you know it 😏😋

yourbff HORNY ASSES

lilymhe can’t wait to get drunk and celebrate tonight!!

yourusername you and me both girl 😅

maxverstappen1 me three

liked by yourusername, victoriaverstappen and 3,201,835 others

maxverstappen1 safe to say i remember nothing from last night tagged: yourusername and 9 others

view all 854,281 comments

yourusername it might be for the best

maxverstappen1 was i that bad?

yourusername no... 🤐

landonorris damn right you don't

maxverstappen1 what is that supposed to mean?

landonorris you downed a whole bottle of tequila in less than half an hour. by yourself.

yourusername while taking sips from my drink as well

maxverstappen1 i was thirsty, ok?

oscarpiastri i am never drinking with you again😩

maxverstappen1 what did i do?

yourusername you wanted to undress him in front of the whole club and have him play limbo with you naked

oscarpiastri you didn't have to give the details...

maxverstappen1 i would've loved to see it either way

yourusername MAX!! LEAVE OSCAR ALONE

maxverstappen1 fine...😔

oscarpiastri thank you Y/N😅

georgerussell63 my liver hates you right now

maxverstappen1 don't blame me, it's not like i poured alcohol down your throat

yourusername you did

maxverstappen1 oh..

user1 these comments are just confirming what a party animal Max is and i'm here for it 🤣🤣

user2 y/n sounds so done hahahah😭😭

alex_albon i have no words left

maxverstappen1 i'm sorry for whatever i have done to you

alex_albon we vowed never to speak of it

yourusername this discussion is over

redbullracing sigh... giving us a run for our money, aren't you? 😆

maxverstappen1 i like keeping you guys entertained

redbullracing very kind of you. don't do it again 😐

user3 did y/n not drink?

yourusername i did, but i was relatively sober so i could keep an eye on everyone haha

yourusername i love you <3 even when you're drunk and unhinged

maxverstappen1 i love you too, thank you for taking care of me ❤️

user4 y/n taking care of max >>>>>>>>

user5 i love them. 😭😭😭❤️

charles_leclerc great singing on your part

yourusername i thought we agreed we weren't gonna mention the singing...

maxverstappen1 I SANG????????????

charles_leclerc oh yes, very loudly so

maxverstappen1 yourusername never let me drink again

yourusername i couldn't stop you if i wanted to

maxverstappen1 damn.. wild night, hehe

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[f1version]

33 MAX’S BIRTHDAY ★ MV1

pairing: max verstappen x teammate! reader ( she/her )

summary: It’s Max’s birthday but, even more important, they changed his song. A couple of posts later, you are accidentally soft launching.

notes: here’s another f1 birthday special!!!! (i know i’m a bit late but just go with it pls) fun fact: we are 17 days away from mine’s!! enjoy <3

yourusername’s insta story

yourusername’s insta story

maxverstappen1’s insta story

yourusername’s insta story

yourusername’s insta story

yourusername and maxverstappen1

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 5,525,446 others

yourusername And they were teammates ❤️ Happy birthday to my love!

comments are limited

maxverstappen1 😂❤️

[lipringlrh]

race for your heart | mv1

summary: you’re not meant to be there, but you can’t stay away, especially not from the racer who can’t stop winning.

pairing: illegal street racer!max x fem!reader

an: might be my fave thing i’ve ever written. thinking of making this a mini series, thoughts? i’m also not an illegal street racer and have never seen one so might not be accurate x

word count: 3.7k

warnings: illegal, police chase, speeding, mentions of drugs and dodgy men

feedback appreciated and requests open!!

…

You'd been here a few times before, not regularly, never more than twice a month, but enough times to know how everything goes. You weren't meant to be here the first time, you found it by a complete accident but you were grateful now. It filled you with both excitement and dread to be here. It was illegal and wrong, nevermind the fact someone could die.

The place was crawling with creeps and criminals everywhere, one wrong move or one wrong sentence could get you on the wrong side of some dangerous people, but you lived for the thrill. The danger of the drive, and watching the drivers do it. In brand new sports cars you could only dream of affording. You didn't really know much about the drivers, except one.

Max.

He caught your eye instantly when you'd first shown. He was stood there, head to toe in black, his arm placed carefully on his car, showing off all the right bits. He was the reason you kept coming back. He was fast, quicker than all the other drivers, and everyone knew it. He was the one people wanted to challenge, to beat, but they never seemed to.

You'd seen the bets. The money people were giving to the winner after every race. More money than you knew what to do with. You craved it, the luxury and the lifestyle, but it seemed impossible. You weren't a fast driver, and you weren't a criminal by any means yet you still found yourself drawn here every time. And drawn to the driver everyone deemed untouchable.

He was the same today: a winner. You never expected any different, no one did. All the prizes were handed to him on a gold platter. Crowds cheered for him, men patting him on the back as he got out of his car to grab a beer. He met your eye again as he sat at the bar. He was left alone now, the crowds already moving on to the next big thing to talk about. He didn't look away, and for the second time, he found himself walking over to you.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here alone, again?" He grumbled, taking a sip of his beer. He changed his clothes after the race, now dressed in a white button-down and jeans.

He was weary of you the first time you met. You looked lost, you were, and you were not the kind of person to be here. You looked too pure and good to be surrounded by lousy criminals with more money than they knew what to do with. He wondered if you were with the police, trying to scope out the area and shut it down, but he learned quickly he was wrong.

You explained you were lost and he blindly believed you. He was worried once you figured out what you were doing that you would go to the police but he made you promise you wouldn't, and after he watched how your knees went weak after he called you a "good girl," he knew you wouldn't.

He saw you the next few times you went, looking less and less lost every time, but he never caught your eye long enough to feel confident in walking over. "Can you imagine that?" He thought to himself, "I'm treated as though I'm a fucking god around here and I still can't talk to a girl." He beat himself down over it, watching you interact with people he never wanted you to talk to, in fear they'd ruin the pure image he'd created of you in his head. So he watched from afar, giving creeps the eye long enough to scare them off. Of course, you didn't know it was him sending these men away, but sometimes you were grateful and other times you weren't. He felt bad for a moment before not caring again. "It's to keep her safe," he promised to himself every time.

You didn't reply to him immediately, instead drinking in his appearance: the way his face looked under the moonlight, the way his jaw locked when you didn't reply, and the way his shirt stretched over his muscles perfectly, letting you see everything.

"So?" he replied, smirking, watching you look him up and down more times than he could count, "are you going to answer me?"

You're eyes flew to his face again, watching as he became more confident the longer he saw you looking.

"What did you ask?" you mumbled, holding eye contact.

"I said: "What's a pretty girl like you doing here alone, again?" Think you can answer that?" he challenged, taking a step closer. He saw what he did to other girls, how he made them crumble, but nothing compared to you, and how he loved watching his effect on you.

"I- well, I just came for a beer?" you answered, sounding more unconfident the more you went on. You knew why you were here: because you liked it, but you didn't want to. It was criminal yet here you were, enjoying the thrill and the danger. And watching Max, racing or not.

"And the last time? And the time before that? You don't seem like the type of girl to go out drinking alone, especially to the type of place so dirty and illegal." He asked, teasing, stepping closer once again. His voice was growing louder even as he got closer until he was touching you and leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I think you like it, don't you?"

Your body shuddered at the closeness, your hand flying straight to his arm to keep balance. Instead, you made it worse for yourself, grabbing straight onto his muscles, and turning your face the slightest shade of red. You hoped Max wouldn't be able to see - you were too close and there wasn't much light, but you were very wrong. Crowds moved everywhere around you, but all of Max's focus was on you. It was impossible for him not to notice, he was trying to pick up on every detail that he could about you.

His head lifted back up so you could see him fully like he could see you. Your faces were barely apart, a few centimetres at best, but it still messed with your head, a million thoughts flying everywhere at once until there were none. None other than Max and what his lips would feel like pressed against yours.

You let out the slightest nod as a response to his question. You didn't want to admit you liked it but with Max so close to you it was the only reaction you could even fathom of giving. He was messing with your head and he hasn't even done anything yet.

"Are you going to answer me like a good girl or just stand there?" he says, with the cockiest attitude you'd ever seen. He knew what he did to you, and what else those two little words would do, and he loved it.

Before you got the chance to reply, you felt pressure on your back and you were pushed into Max. He grabbed you and kept you upright, but he couldn't miss the sudden uproar of the crowd and the fact they were all running in the same direction.

He gave you a once over to make sure you were alright before looking forward to try to see what was happening. People were screaming and running and he couldn't tell why. His arms wrapped around you in a protective manner, pulling you closer in an attempt to keep you safe.

So many people were shouting at him and he couldn't make out what anyone was saying. He was trying to figure it out but it seemed impossible. You were almost pushed again but the person managed to stop themselves. Max didn't care, he was almost starting to shout at them for their recklessness until he finally found out what was happening.

"Police! Run!" the man screamed at him before carrying on running himself. It was like his fight or flight mode kicked in and he wasn't going to get caught.

"My car," he said as he realised an escape plane, telling you at the same time. He found your hand and took off running, dragging you with him. He led you both to the side of the crowd so that you wouldn't get lost and led you quickly to his car.

Police were everywhere, especially near the cars. They were parked on the road but out of the way of the runners. Many of them were unregistered or stolen, and others held bags upon bags of drugs. Police were stood by his car, trying to look inside the windows for anything immediately suspicious. They were covering the drivers side and he knew he would have to be fast.

"When I jump across to the drivers side, get into the passenger seat and shut the door," he called back to you. You processed the information, barely, and nodded, but Max was already focused on using his free hand to find his keys.

He got them, twisting them around, and unlocking the car just as he was about to reach it. The police were looking in the backseat, but were too slow to process the flashing orange lights and the doors at the opposite side opening.

Max leaped in and switched sides like a machine, doing it with so much ease it seemed impossible. He grabbed the driver's side door, holding it close as officers tried to open it.

"Get in," he screamed, watching as you paused for a moment. You made eye contact with an officer whilst quickly overthinking your whole life up until this moment. How did this happen?

You couldn't think much longer and you got inside, shutting the door shut with a slam. You let out a sigh of relief much too quickly as your breath hitched with the speed the car had just started.

Max locked the doors and took off in a flash. The car sped up in an instant, going to speeds you never dreamed of. Max was absorbed into the roads, dodging people and officers as he tried to escape.

Your hand gripped the seats until your knuckles were white; this was not a situation you ever wanted to be in. Max noticed, taking his eyes off of the road every few seconds to double-check you were okay.

"I do this every day and I've never got hurt," his eyes flicked back to your face after trying to reassure you, which was obviously failing.

"You won't get into trouble with the police either." he tried again. After looking at you again, he realised how badly he was failing. He didn't know what to do. He was fine in situations like these and had never had to comfort anyone. Every solution was running through his mind, not only to get out of here safe and alive but to make sure you knew that.

"Hold my hand," he ordered softly, holding out his hand for you to grab.

"Don't you need to focus on driving?" you questioned, worried. He laughed and lifted his other hand off of the wheel too. When he saw your face he immediately put it back on but kept the other outstretched for you to grab.

You looked at it for a second before grabbing it, interlacing your fingers together, and bringing your hands to rest on top of your thighs. His thumb immediately started traveling back and forth along the back of your hand as you decided to focus on that rather than the road in front of you.

"I promise you I will keep you safe. Nothing bad will happen," he spoke gently. He smiled at you, not that you were looking, but he thought that it might lift the mood anyway. "Trust me," he added, in the softest tone he thought he'd ever spoken with. He shook his head - he was going soft for a girl he's only ever spoken to twice.

You nodded gently, genuinely trusting him for a moment. That all faded when you started hearing sirens in the distance, getting closer and closer.

Max looked through the wing mirrors before speeding up the car even more. You subconsciously squeezed his hand more, gripping it like a vice.

"Okay, pretty girl, I'm going to need my hand back but it's only to keep you safe. I promise I'm going to keep you safe." You didn't believe him but you tried anyway.

You let go of his hand reluctantly, going back to squeezing the seats. You let out a shaky breath and tried to see what was going on behind you. You were on a motorway, going much higher than the speed limit. You could see three police cars in your view, all trying to catch you up.

Max hit the pedal again, speeding up impossibly faster. His eyes were on the road, occasionally on the police behind him and occasionally on you. If he had it his way, they'd be always on you, but he promised to keep you safe and was doing his damn best to keep it.

"We're going faster than their cars can physically go. We'll lose them in no time." He did another once over of you, taking in how petrified you looked once again. "Sitting so tense is going to make you more tense. I don't want you to worry yourself sick."

"Sorry," you mumbled, taking a quick look in the mirrors to see the police much further in the distance than you thought they would be.

"Don't apologise, pretty girl." he spoke, moving the car to the first lane.

He went round a sharp turn, almost heading onto a junction exit but only just missing it. He sped up again, heading around the next corner with flying speed.

"The police will think we just turned off, we'll turn off at the next one." You just nodded, going along with everything. You barely knew the man yet you were on a literal police chase with him.

He slowed the car down to a normal speed, placing his hand back into yours, "see, we're okay."

"We're okay," you repeated, trying to reassure yourself. His thumb was back to tracing lines on the back of your hand and it was helping you more than you'd like to admit.

It wasn't long until you turned off, traveling at a normal speed down some city suburb roads. You headed into an area you'd never seen, full of some of the biggest houses you imagined the city had to offer. You didn't even know where you were going yet you trusted Max blindly.

He parked in front of a huge residence, with all sorts of fancy cars parked in front. You imagined multiple massive families could live there with tonnes of spare space due to the sheer size of the front alone. It was truly extraordinanry.

"Where are we?" You questioned. Max had turned off the car and leaned back in his seat. His hand never left yours, and his thumb never stopped brushing back and forth.

"My home," he spoke, watching your face convey more emotions than he thought was possible. Your mind was racing a mile a minute: what did he want from you? was he kidnapping you? did he want something in return for saving you? You didn't like the thought of what was happening at all but Max read you easily.

"I can drive you back home if you'd prefer. Or take you somewhere, get you a hotel, anything," he spoke sincerely. He fully believed anything you'd want him to do, he would do for you, and he would go to the ends of the world to do it.

"I don't think I can be alone right now." You said, training your eyes onto yours and Max's hand.

"I can take you to a friend's? I can stay with you? I can take you somewhere crowded? Whatever you want me to do, I will do." He said, promising himself he would do whatever you wanted.

It was stupid - so stupid - the way Max had made you feel safe and the fact you wanted to stay by him. Not one thing led to the conclusion that he was a good man yet you still wanted to stay.

"My house is probably over an hour away." You knew Max could drive fast, you knew he could get you there much quicker but you didn't want to leave him. You looked out the window, at his house.

Max saw the way you looked at it, longingly yet worriedly. He didn't want to push you to make a decision, he wanted you to say it himself. He gave you hand a few reassuring squeezes, urging you to say what you felt.

"I want to stay with you," you whispered. You still stared at his house in horror and amusement. Max could see you in the reflection and could feel the worry radiating off you - he wanted nothing more than to make you feel safe.

"Let's go to a hotel." he said, your head immediately flicking back to look at his, "We can get different rooms if you'd like, but if you'd feel more comfortable there, we can go. It's no problem at all."

"Yes please," you nodded, grateful for Max's thinking. The more he was talking, the more comfortable and safe you felt around him. Past you would probably be calling yourself stupid in every way you knew how, but you felt like it'd be okay this time.

He drove off carefully, sticking to all the speed limits, something he rarely did when he was alone. He took you to a nearby hotel, only a ten-minute drive away. It was a lovely-looking hotel, something you'd never check yourself into though when you could just get the classic cheap ones that always worked fine.

"You okay?" Max asked carefully as you peered outside.

"This looks expensive, Max."

God, he loved when you said his name. You hadn't said it a lot but he felt like he could get addicted every time.

He chuckled in amusement, "I've got more money than I could use if I tried, it's on me."

You nodded and opened the car door, unfortunately dropping Max's hand in the process. Not for long though, as Max whipped around the side of the car to grab it again after muttering a small, "let me open it for you next time," to you.

He ordered two separate rooms but made sure they were next to each other and handed you both keys to your room and the spare keys to his, making you promise to let yourself in of you needed anything.

You felt yourself drawn to him, becoming disappointed as he left you to your own room, longing for more. You led in bed, in the same clothes you'd been wearing all day, wanting nothing more than to just be with him again.

You also couldn't stop thinking about the night that passed and how it could've ended much differently. You were reckless and a complete disaster of a person but you didn't think you would change it if you could.

So you left. You got all your belongings and you knocked on Max's room. He opened the door rather quickly, with a sudden look of confusion on his face when he realised it was you.

His hair was messy and stuck up in every direction but he still looked flawless. He had no shirt or pants on, just boxers, and you couldn't help but admire his whole body.

"Are you okay? Just let yourself in next time. What happened?" he asked frantically, worry laced all over his voice.

"Can I stay with you?" You asked nervously, refusing to look at his face.

"Of course, pretty girl," he replied with no hesitation, he would do anything to have you nearby. He stepped aside and welcomed you in, taking everything out of your hands and placing it on a table.

"You take the bed. I can either join you, take the sofa out here or take the chair in the bed room. And here," he said, picking up the shirt he'd changed into after racing, "take this, you can't be comfortable sleeping in that."

You took the shirt with a "thank you," and got changed in the bedroom. The shirt was long enough that you couldn't see anything if you tried, and it was incredibly comfy.

You poked your head out of the bedroom to see Max half asleep with his head in his hands. You gently called his name, his head jolting suddenly towards you.

"Will you stay with me?" you asked, a lot more confidently than before, but still a little shaky.

Max got up with a nod and headed inside the bedroom. He watched you get comfortable in bed and snuggled into the side you hadn't chosen.

You immediately moved towards him, throwing a leg over his, and your head on top of his chest. His arms moved instinctively around you, pulling you impossibly closer. He was so tired but wasn't going to waste an opportunity of staring at you a little longer.

"Sorry the night didn't turn out how you planned," he mumbled, wanting so badly to kiss your forehead but didn't want to overstep boundaries, "and sorry for scaring you."

"It's okay Max," you whispered, turning your head to kiss his chest ever so delicately. He decided to kiss your head in retaliation, smiling all the way through it.

"Tell me if you want to go again and I'll be there," he chuckled against your head, "goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight, Max."

…

this might be my favourite thing i’ve ever written so reblogs and feedback would be really appreciated !! :) also thinking of making this a mini series, thoughts?

[strawberrysainz]

i can see you. max verstappen (18+)

“ you brush past me in the hallway / and you don't think i, i, i can see ya, do ya? ”

max verstappen x fem!wolff!reader

smut. don’t interact if you’re under 18. alcohol consumption, profanity.

Your eyes follow the box of gum being passed around in the car. You sit in the left backseat; the blacked out car is filled with four Mercedes employees that are painful strangers.

The girl next to you offers you a stick of the gum, which you accept gratefully. It’s Saturday morning, and your elbows bump against hers as you try to adjust your earphones.

The Fleetwood Mac album floats through your ears, bringing forward memories of being a little kid dancing in someone’s room to the CD. You must’ve been in between your mom and dad then. You tense slightly at the memory, and the rapid German that fills the car from the other four makes you feel soothed.

Entering the paddock, some summery song is floating through your AirPods, and the tune is hitting different today so you smile.

The photographers obviously take the opportunity that your smile brings to snap pictures (you’re usually grumpy) and you’re standing in front of Red Bull’s garage talking to some girls who work there that you clubbed with a while back when he walks out, brushing past, his fingers accidentally grazing your forearm.

You feel full of fire as you look away from the group to look at him and his eyes meet yours, looking back. The moment is interrupted by your mother calling on the phone, and you excuse yourself to go back to Mercedes’ motorhome.

🎱☕️🏎️💌

You two meet again in Austria.

This time you nod back when he walks past, nodding, and Christian Horner shouts something to Susie that has her fake laughing.

He wins the sprint race, and you catch a glimpse of him after, holding the trophy up in celebration in the paddock. He’s smiling widely, eyes full of laughter, and you’re not. You’re a blur of dark hair and dark eyes and a dismissive look across the pathway and he’s staring and you’re turning away, feeling burned.

That Sunday night (he wins the race) you find each other for a split second in the club; you’re talking to some guy and he yaps your ear off while you stare at him across the dance floor.

Then Max turns around and finds your face amongst the masses, indifferent before turning back.

You nod to the empty air.

🎱☕️🏎️💌

At Silverstone you’re much happier below the podium, and Lando pours champagne directly on your head from above as you screech.

Max watches.

You’re hugging Lewis afterwards when those icy eyes are on you again, and a feeling races through you as you turn around to shake his hand amicably. A bolt of energy rushes through you as his hand grasps yours, and you’re not sure what he says above the noise but you smile and say ‘well done’ like your father raised you.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

Budapest is warm. You see him on Wednesday night on the river.

You’re donning a short skirt and a strappy top, eager to curb the discomfort of the heat.

Lando had organised a boat trip down the Danube and invited you, some other drivers and his friends and all of their partners.

You don’t expect to see Max there; but you’re silly for doing so, because they’re close, aren’t they.

You’ve got an Aperol Spritz when he taps your upper thigh when you walk past and you look down, eyes wide, and he gestures for you to sit next to him.

You sit down on the cushion, legs folding beneath you gracefully as you have this urge to shift the skirt a little bit up your thighs innocently.

His gaze is heavy and intense as he trails it from your exposed thighs to your face, and you look at him neutrally, chatting about some paddock gossip, and to your surprise he acts as if nothing had happened, and indulges in your stupid small talk.

The Aperol disappears and you’re a bit buzzed.

“Your dad spoke to me about you the other day,” he says bluntly, and your lips quirk.

“Really? About what?”

He smirks.

You laugh.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

You’ve convinced him to get a beer in his system an hour later, and your head is resting on your hand, hair falling down as you listen to him talk about his cats.

Carlos comes to join then, and whatever he had going on with you disappears as he talks with the two of you.

You flirt with Carlos anyway, annoyed with the lack of action on his part.

Carlos gladly reciprocates, hand gliding up a thigh after you ask dumb questions and you bite a lip, eyes dark, and Max looks furious.

You lean in to whisper something in Carlos’ ear, red lipstick leaving a mark on his cheek when Max excuses himself and you move closer to the Spaniard, waving goodbye with a smirk on your face.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

You don’t kiss Carlos when the night ends, and you wave him a goodbye, turning to go, when you feel Max’s hand around your wrist.

You turn around and roll your eyes, beginning to walk to the Uber. Max doesn’t say anything, just gets in with you. You choose the middle seat, childishly brushing your bare thigh against his jeans.

You notice he’s screwing his eyes shut, physically refraining from something.

You feel like a teenager trying to seduce a guy and it’s working, you suppose, when you tuck your hair behind your ear, exposing your neck, and he stiffens.

Ten minutes later, at the back entrance of the hotel, you slide out, thanking the driver, and turn to look at Max with your eyebrows raised. He huffs and walks to you, shoving you against the wall.

His lips go to your neck, and you’re still, and he’s kissing you then, hard and intense, and your legs are weak when he slides a hand up your thigh.

You break away, pulling him away inside.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

Stumbling into the hotel room clumsily, he’s pushing you against the bathroom door, and you’re staring at his body against yours in the mirror, and he’s murmuring what a dirty girl you are and you’re shivering with excitement.

“Fuck you,” you whisper when he’s pulling off your top and bra, and he’s laughing incredulously when he’s leaning down and you’re moaning when he starts to brush his thumb against your nipple, and you’re all wriggly when you pull off his shirt and trace his stomach, eyes lidded.

Your eyes go down to his boxers where the outline of his cock is clear and you pull it out, thick and firm, the tip weeping as you brush it and he moans loudly, and he’s kissing you desperately and you’re so wet.

His fingers slide under your skirt and pull down your panties, and he glides his fingertips over your pussy quickly before you’re whining when he nudges your clit, and he’s kissing you again. Your back arches against the door.

He pushes into you and you’re both a mix of curses and delicious moans, and after a moment he begins to move, fast, and after a minute or so you’re screaming his name as he slams into you again and again.

He comes quickly; you smirk as his hips stutter, and his fingers find your clit before you’re begging him for things you can’t explain, and with a minute of his fingers circling your clit roughly, the thickness of his fingertips nudging you over and over with some kind of horrible preciseness, you come, hard. All over his hand. He’s kissing your neck again and again, and you’re staring at him for the first time clearly, this man you know nothing about, and his hand grips your hair as he kisses you again, and you feel alive.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

He’s waiting for you in a passage the next day, and you smile with a spring in your step as you walk straight past, hand touching his for a moment, watching him walk away in your peripheral.

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yourinstagram Bye bye Budapest x

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🎱☕️🏎️💋

part 2? thoughts? let me knooowww xxxx

[redclercs]

does he take care of you? ✩ max verstappen

— or, the one where max could easily fill your boyfriend's shoes.

✐ max verstappen x fem reader, charles leclerc x fem reader.

✐ inspired by the 1975's song 'sex'.

✐ warnings: cheating, toxic behaviors, alcohol consumption, charles is a jerk ngl, angst, mdni! explicit smut!! nipple play, fingering, piv, protected sex, riding, no after-care. while the actions portrayed in this writing are consensual and safe, do not take this as an example and be smart about having sex. 2k words.

HIS eyes are on you, even from across the room. You know it from the way your skin prickles and burns, the way goosebumps lift on your arms and legs, covered by the black dress your boyfriend picked out for you. Your boyfriend, who doesn’t notice—or doesn’t care—about the man who can’t keep his off you. Has never been able to keep his eyes off you.

“Are you cold?” Charles asks as you walk away from the man he was holding a conversation with, one you were not invited to participate in.

“No,” you rub your arms with your palms, making the goosebumps disappear. “Just an air current.”

Charles eyes you up and down, something he’s done several times now. While you changed in your shared hotel room, before you got into his Pista, and before you posed at the Black Carpet for this sponsor event. And he seems unsatisfied every time his eyes leave your figure.

"What?" you taunt, eyebrows arched. He picked this dress, he cannot possibly complain about anything now. He's not even going to care about it when it ends up on the floor of the hotel room along with his perfectly ironed suit.

"Nothing, chérie," he kisses your temple softly, a flutter that makes your skin itch, but you keep your hand stuck to your side, accepting the gesture like you're supposed to. "Give me a minute?"

"Sure," you stay planted in your place as he walks away, your boyfriend. The same person you hate the most every time you are dragged to these events. "I'll be waiting right here," you add, although he's out of earshot and anyway, he won't be looking for you, not for a while.

It's always the same.

"Having fun?" Max is by your side the moment Charles disappears, this too, is always the same.

"I'm thrilled," you reply, mouth in a thin line when you turn to face him. Max has a few drinks on him already, the red in his cheeks, the tell-tale sign. "What about you?"

"It's always fun seeing you with your boyfriend," his inflection doesn't change, he's not even being sarcastic. He's bored. "Where did he go, by the way?"

There are many answers to that question and each one could be the right one. He's holding a boring conversation with another sponsor representative, he's taking pictures with his team, he's pretending to be single and talking to a floozy.

"How would I know?" you retort.

Max's expression finally shifts to an arrogant smile that has you clenching your teeth. You hate him too, sometimes.

"Want to get out of here?" Max downs the last of the drink you didn't notice him holding. His cheeks flush again, eyes brightening.

"You can't drive, Max Emilian," you shake your head and roll your eyes.

Max laughs, taking a black card from the inside pocket of his black suit. "Who said anything about driving?"

You take the elevator first, the card Max gave you is inside your purse and you have the room number memorized. It’s always this easy to slip away from Charles and the rest of the crowd, it’s not as simple for Max but he always manages to.

Your shoes are off and your hair is down by the time Max gets to the hotel room. You’ve had enough time to think your next steps through, whether you want to stay or take the lift back to the party, back to Charles and your hatred. You suspect Max does this on purpose every time—give you time to regret your choices and walk away.

You never walk away.

“He picked this dress out, you know?”

Max has sobered up by the time he crosses the door. His gaze is clearer and his cheeks have lost a shade or two of pink.

“I figured,” the corner of his mouth goes up, taunting again. “It’s ugliest fucking thing.”

“That’s a very mean thing to say,” but it’s true, you hate the dress. It should be you giving Charles fashion advice and not the other way around, but he never takes you seriously. Not about clothes and not about anything else.

Max shrugs, his suit jacket is already resting in the loveseat by the window. “Truth hurts.”

You have no more time to waste. Charles won’t miss you, but it doesn’t mean your absence won’t go unnoticed. People often wonder where your boyfriend’s prettiest accessory is when you’re not around. Most of the time all Charles does is smile and say you’ll come back in a minute.

Not another word before his hands are on you. The calluses on his fingers are so familiar now they somewhat feel like home. How can you hate someone who makes you feel like this, too?

“You’re going to break the zipper,” you breathe against Max’s neck. He’s so impatient, always. These stolen moments are brief and apart from each other, although less every time.

“Wouldn’t that be a problem?” He scoffs, although there’s humor in his voice. Yet he is more gentle trying to undo the zipper of your dress, his knuckles graze the skin on your back and you’re covered in goosebumps again.

It’s your turn to fumble with the zipper of his pants. You’re as impatient as he is but he doesn’t hold it against you the way you do. It’s a very Max thing to do in these situations.

“Why were you staring at me, then?” You ask, breathless. Max’s hands are separating your thighs, and you’re throbbing with anticipation, yet you can’t let go of the thought that’s running through your mind. “If the dress is so horrendous.”

“Seriously?” Max rolls his eyes, but his hand slides to your inner right thigh, fingers ghosting up and down, close to where you want them to be and gone the following second. Your hips buck and it’s Max’s chance to prolong your torture, still holding back his answer.

One of his hands runs up on your side, caressing your hips and the curve of your rib cage before getting to your breast. Your nipples are already perked in excitement, and the sensation that runs through you when he pinches one is nothing short of delicious. But his other hand is still resting on your inner thigh, tracing lazy circles that are running your patience dry.

“I liked the view,” Max grunts as he leans down to kiss your neck and the hollow behind your ear. “But I think, I prefer seeing you like this.”

Your hands are on his hair, pulling softly as he continues to play with your nipples. Adding his mouth now and then, twirling his tongue and grazing with his teeth. The room fills with your moaning and his panting, as you reach your hand down to his dick.

Your thumb swipes the pre-cum down his length, and Max’s breath hitches. It does every time you touch him. You pump him up and down, and this finally motivates him enough to put his fingers inside you, one by one.

This thumb presses down on your clit, and your back arches, making you let go of him momentarily, to hold on to his bicep, your nails sink into his skin.

That’s another imbalance you present to him every time. You mark him, and he can’t ever do the same.

“Fuck me, please,” you whine, his fingers aren’t enough no matter how well he knows how to use them as he pumps them in and out of you and rubs the bud of nerves that demands so much attention. “Please Max.”

He’s made you beg more before, but not tonight. You’re in the middle of another thing, you need to hurry. He can’t have you just the way he wants to, squirming and begging, whining and clenching around nothing as he burns the image in his brain. A memory to hold on to until your next meeting.

Max wastes time, albeit necessarily, looking for the condom he kept on the nightstand, while you rub your thighs together, trying your best to create friction. You sit up only after you see him open the little package, taking the condom from his hands to put it on him yourself. Your fingers are skilled as they run down his length, and Max can’t help but think not only about the many times you’ve done this with him, but with your boyfriend too.

Max watches your movements with lust-filled eyes, his breath fanning your neck, before leaving a wet trace of kisses down to your shoulder. You're desperate to have him inside you, you can't waste more time.

This is the image Max is going to cherish when he's apart from you. The way you look on top of him, how you push him down to the mattress with both palms on his chest, half-moons adorn his skin by the time his shoulders are completely down. He's going to remember the way you moaned and threw your head back as you finally, finally inserted his cock in your pussy.

There aren't many occasions in which Max is willing to waive control to anyone. But he lets you set the pace as you ride him, using his chest as support while moving your hips to hit the spots where you want him most. His hands grip your skin tightly, and there is that fear in the back of your mind that he might finally leave a bruise or a scratch that reveals your little affair.

"N–not so hard," you say, through a high pitched sound that comes right from your throat. "It's going to bruise."

And Max thinks maybe it should. He wants to squeeze you harder, to mark you and bruise you and really, really make you his. To leave evidence behind that he was with you, in you.

But he relents, he always does.

His hand goes back to between your legs, rubbing your clit harshly, quickly. The way he knows will push you through the edge and will make you scream his name.

"Pl–please keep doing that," you gasp, as your pace stutters. "I'm so close."

So is Max, the way you move on top of him, the sight of your breasts bouncing, the salt on your skin due the sweat and the way you glow have him so close to a release, he wonders how he's been able to hold it back.

He thrusts up, hitting you deeper than you had managed yourself. A surprised squeal leaves your mouth and you sink your nails on his shoulder.

"Again," you demand.

Surprisingly, you reach your climax before Max does. Throwing your head back, you let the wave of pleasure run through you, your throat aches when you produce more sounds, turning into nothing other than sensitive nerves and shaky body parts.

Max follows you soon, with a loud groan, he pulls you deeper down into him, squeezing your ass with both hands.

You feel him go soft, still inside you, and you move your hips front and back creating some friction that makes your insides pulse, ready again. Max sighs, he knows he will be hard again even before taking his cock out of you, but tonight you're on limited time.

"We have to go," he says, raspy. "Your boyfriend must be waiting," he adds, bitterly.

And you hate him again, for ruining the perfect interaction you just had. Always bringing up Charles by the end of your nights together.

"Fine," you reply, pushing yourself off him, annoyed. "Let's go."

Silence falls heavy in the room, so contrariant to the sounds that filled it just minutes ago. You fix your hair in the bathroom and Max cleans himself up, tying the used condom before tossing it to the trash.

You give him the room's keycard as he's buttoning his shirt back up. You manage to zip your dress back up without his help, and feel smug about it. Max only rolls his eyes.

"See you down there," you place a hand on his shoulder, and though he's already looking at you, you finally make eye-contact.

Max always finds himself wanting more than what you can offer to him, and tonight isn't the exception. The words 'leave him' get stuck in his throat in a knot he swallows forcefully.

"See you down there," he echoes, and doesn't turn around to watch you leave.

He's never ready to see you with another man's arm around you, much less right after being with you in this way just minutes before. But he has to settle for this, always.

You've got a boyfriend, anyway.

[thatsdemko]

maybe I’m crazy - m.verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x ricciardo!reader

warnings: slightly unedited

he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. it’s too tacky and Hallmark-y to ever happen to him. but he believes in something at first sight, because the way he feels right now might not be love, but it pierces it’s way into his head and all the way down his heart.

your smile is warm and inviting, similar to the one of your older brother, Daniel. he had a way with the people, and you seemed to be just about the same. you’d looped max in at first sight, and he felt safe under your gaze. it was something he was so unfamiliar with.

the way he was able to talk for hours and you were there to listen and piece his puzzle together, he’ll never forget that. especially years later, when he’s won three world championships and the only thing he cares about is making you proud.

the world championships didn’t matter to you, in fact, formula one didn’t even really exist much in your little bubble with max, but you couldn’t turn down his invitation. he had his own ways of pulling you in as well.

it was his bright lost eyes. the ones that you could swim oceans deep in and still be able to find your way home. max verstappen was complicated to many, but he was never more clear with you.

his arms fling around his team. it’s first instinct, after all these years he knows who he has to acknowledge first, and while his father waits beside you for his moment, he skips right past him.

“proud of you.” the whisper is so soft you’re sure you’re hallucinating, but it’s max. anything that falls from his lips tunes your ears in. you’re dialed into his station, you’re his number one listener.

“me?”

taken by surprise, you point your finger into your chest, he nods. it’s all he gets out before being whisked away by Red Bull team members.

there was nothing you did to contribute to this race. but your presence makes max fight for your attention. with Daniel out, and Liam in, it was much easier to win.

not that he ever felt the need to fight his brother-in-law, but max verstappen never got the better end of the stick with childhood validation. even just a glance his way, he’s struck by gold.

“you’re crazy.” you whisper into his chest. the silence fills the room, but his heartbeat is all your ears can hear.

“me?” he asks. lifting his head up, he has a view of your curly hair fluffed over your face, “you’re crazy for me.”

“yeah, maybe I am.”

a soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. your ears heat, and your heart flutters in a way it always does when you make him happy.

“you make me crazy, ricciardo.”

“we agreed on verstappen. I’m your family now.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix @leclerc13 @goldenalbon

[cherry-leclerc]

can’t you see ☆ mv1

genre: redbull!driver, enemies to lovers, smut, lando and danny playing cupid lol, protective!max (although he won’t admit it), mean!max, sub!max, dom!reader

word count: 3.2k

In between your mutual dislike with your teammate, Lando and Daniel try their best to make you and Max uncover some hidden feelings.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, riding, sucking on fingers

req!...quick one, but ahh first maxie drabble. eekk :)

“What a fucking asshole.”

Daniel’s eyes bulge out as he hands you a cup of coffee. It had been an extremely long day. Perhaps not the best idea to keep it going, but it seemed like the FIA didn’t give a shit about that. You were past being upset. You were seething. 

“Uh…Yeah. I mean I get it. I’m tired, too. This red flag came at the worst time-”

Briskly, you take the cup from him, cutting him off. “It’s not the red flag, it’s Max.” Ever since you joined Formula 1 as the first female to drive for Red Bull, you had felt welcomed by everyone. Everyone but your actual teammate. You had thought maybe it was because he had small balls and couldn’t handle the fact that you were driving alongside him, but when you confronted him about it, he only growled. 

As if you would ever cross my fucking mind.

Squinting, you point accusingly at the Australian. “You ought to stop being his friend.” He loudly laughs as he throws his head back. 

“You say that every time.”

Making a face, you shoot back. “And you never choose!”

“You’re both my friends. No one is winning custody.” 

“You’re older than both of us combined.”

“Hey!”

Hey, a low voice replies. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A shiver runs down your spine. Max leans up against the nearest wall as he ignores you and keeps his eyes on his friend. You wave your hand up in front of him a couple of times for good measure before your mouth drops open when he acts as if you were Casper the Friendly Ghost. 

“We were just talking abou- Ouch!” Daniel shrieks in pain when you pinch him. Faking a smile, you turn to the Dutchman. We were actually in the middle of something here. Nothing. He just keeps looking past you. Running a hand through his hair, he starts talking about how this all ‘ruined my flow’ and how he was going to have to ‘try to fix the FIA’s mistakes’. You have to laugh.

“Is something funny to you?”

You look around the room as you theatrically shudder. Sipping on the hot beverage, you hum and close your eyes. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he crosses his arms in frustration. Cold weather, Danny. Do you think there’s a place nearby that sells homemade chicken soup?

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“If we find one, then maybe we can invite Lando and-” Suddenly, he reaches out for your cup and hot drops hit your hand. You hiss in pain. “What’s your problem, dickhead?”

Now, a normal reaction would be to be a decent human being and apologize. Offer up their own cup of coffee, perhaps. Not Max. Throwing it into the nearest trash bin, he turns to you. And he actually has the audacity to look upset.

“Why didn’t you let me overtake you? I don’t know if you don’t know this because you’re new or something like that, but here, when we are instructed to do something - we do it.”

Narrowing your eyes, you step closer. “So what? I don’t let you by one time and suddenly I’m the bad guy? Let me remind you that that’s all I’ve done for you this season.”

“Maybe when you’re someone’s number one driver then you won’t have to do shit like this, but until then,” he angles himself lower to you, “...It kinda looks like you have to.”

“Oh. No.” Daniel winces as he sips quietly on his hot drink. He can physically see your wheels turning as you glare back at the Dutchman. Your cheeks have turned light pink as you refrain yourself from yelling in front of all the Alpha Tauri engineers. Max scrunches his nose.

“Cute.”

You’re about to explode and let all hell loose, but just then, the red flag is over. Huffing, you grab your helmet as you walk away without sparing a single goodbye. Daniel frowns. “You need to stop treating her like that.” Max scoffs. Treating her how? The Australian inches closer as he lays a large hand on his friend's shoulder. “Like you don’t care.”

As soon as the race picks back up, you’re in the zone. You have to work twice as hard to overtake anyone in your way, considering most drivers were on new tires, but eventually you worked your way through. Drops of rain hit your visor as you slow down in sector 2. 

“Should I be worried about the rain?”

“Nothing to be worried about, just keep it up.”

You nod, even though Christian can’t see you. As you get closer, you can see Max’s rear wing. He’s fast - zooming, almost - but that only made you want it even more. Defend. I repeat, defend for a 1-2 finish. “Yeah. No.” Entering the DRS zone, you press down on the throttle as you try all tactics to catch up with the 3x World Champion. Fat drops of water hit the Red Bull as you squint in order to not get lost with the commotion. What are you doing? Defend. “I am defending.” You press harder. “Except I’m defending my spot. Not his.”

It’s almost as if he knows what you’re about to do. Quickly, he scans his sideview mirror as he curses when he sees  that you weren’t slowing down. It looks like the two Red Bulls are going head-to-head! Probably not the best idea at the moment considering the tough weather, Crofty announces. Passing Max by, you can’t help but cheer as you try to imagine his reaction. 

“Not what we were picturing, but very well executed. He will be defending now.”

It wasn’t planned to get stung by a boiling hot coffee, of course it wasn’t, despite the bickering between you two. It wasn’t planned to take time to scratch your burnt hand. And it most definitely was not planned to crash.

Plunging into the wall, you groan, curses flowing past your lips. Are you okay? “Yes. I’m okay.” Lifting your visor, you shyly wave at the grandstands. Would you mind going over to check on Max? He’s currently not responding. Your heart stops. Jumping off your seat, you climb out of your car as you turn and sure enough, Max’s Red Bull is ruined. 

“Are you alright?”

Throwing a thumbs up, he lifts himself out of his car to wave at the fans. He turns to you, dark blue helmet still over his head. “What the fuck was that all about?” You narrow your eyes.

“What do you mean? I got an itch.” And though he wears his helmet, you can’t help but notice the crinkles by his eyes. Your stomach flips. It's because of the crash. That’s all it is. You clear your throat. “What happened to you? You were driving well.” Professionally, he slides his gloves off as he waves over at the safety car.

“I had to check on you one way or another, right?”

Dumbfounded, you're faced with his back as he walks away.

-

“He’s into you, can’t you see it!”

“No. Jesus, don’t even say that.” Lando raises his brows as he throws his legs on top of your bed. Daniel hums from underneath the covers. He’s right, though. Pulling the sheets off, you scowl. “Don’t give me reasons to kick you both out.” Throwing yourself onto the mattress, you smile widely. “Soooo, what’s new?”

It’s all you three are ever good for. Pure gossip. Chewing hard on a piece of pizza, you gag. Daniel cackles as he reaches for the last slice. Hey! What if I wanted that? He cocks his head. Fine, you mumble.

“All I wanted was a warm soup.”

A gentle knock echoes through the room as you all turn to face it. Go and open it, Daniel hisses. Wha- No! You go open it, Lando whispers back. Bunch of babies, you murmur as you untangle yourself from your blanket. Swinging the door open, you freeze. Standing tall is Max with a paper bag at  hand.

“Hey.”

Peeking out into the hallway, you stare back confused. “Hey?”

Almost timidly, he kicks his feet up against the wall with a small smile. He extends his arm out, signaling for you to take the mysterious bag. I don’t want any problems, you choke out, feeling skeptical. His blue eyes grow wide.

“Oh. No, don’t worry!” He opens the bag and takes out a small container. Leaning forward, you feel blood rising up to your cheeks. “It’s just soup.”

After an awkward exchange, he leaves. Inhaling the delicious scent, you let out a dreamy sigh.

“He so likes her.”

-

“We might have been wrong.”

Lando tilts his head, curly strands bouncing at the motion. Daniel hurriedly takes a seat next to the Brit as he smacks his large hands on the table. “What do you mean, mate?”

Daniel scans the room quickly before shaking his head. “I mean, that I just heard them two. They were going at it.” Lando blushes as he lets out an awkward laugh. I don’t even want to know. The Australian bites back a smile as he continues. “Not like that. Yet. What I mean is that they’re back to square one. He’s being a complete dick.”

“Alright. Looks like we have to knock some sense into him.”

-

Go, Daniel mouths once Max enters the debrief room, eyes entertained on his phone screen. Pushing past the Dutch, Charles jogs over to where you sit next to George. “Hey!” Greeting him back with a warm smile, you pat to the open seat. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite after this. Maybe some chicken soup?” You beam.

“I love a good soup!”

Rapidly, Max’s ears perk up as he hears your conversation with the Monegasque. He was well over the rivalry, but with this? He would not second guess bringing it back. He clenches his jaw as he notices you nodding along with Charles. Strolling over to the small group, he shoots a bitter grin.

“Did you see Christian’s message about our last minute meeting?”

“Hello to you, too.” Checking your phone, you look back confused with a pout. “No. I haven't received anything.”

“Yeah, well, there’s one-”

“No, there's not.” Flickering your eyes behind your teammate, you’re even more lost. With hands on his hips, Christian taps his shoe as his eyes flicker between his two Red Bull drivers. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. There’s no meeting.” He sends a small wink at Charles before walking off to the rest of the team principles. Max slumps.

“Ha. Guess it got canceled or something like that…”

Rushing over Lando and Daniel, Charles hunches over as he starts blabbering. “Did it work? Please tell me it worked - God - I think I almost shit myself. Tell me it fucking wo-”

The Brit points discreetly to where Max paces the room, orbs trained on you like a guard dog.

“It’s definitely working.”

He smacks a one hundred dollar bill onto a large hand. 

“And thank you for the help, too, Mr. Horner.”

-

Despite the attempts to get you and Max together, nothing seemed to work. The blue eyed boy would appear to start registering his feelings, and at the last minute, would completely chicken out. It would be an outright lie to say that this didn’t entertain the Alpha Tauri and McLaren boys, but they also knew that they had to continue their fairy godparent duties.

“Watch it!”

Crashing onto the couch inside of the Red Bull Hospitality, Max’s face bounces against it. He groans in pain before throwing a harsh stare at his friends. Lando stiffles a giggle as Daniel raises his arms up in defense. Getting seated, the Dutch looks back with a sour expression. 

“What’s this hostile situation about?”

Lando panics as he turns to his mate. The Aussie licks his lips, patting his lap. “Look, we’ve noticed a few things-” What things? He huffs. “Maybe if you would just let me finish-” That’s what she said! He glares at Lando who slaps a hand over his mouth, tears from unreleased laughter painting his blue eyes. “As I was saying…We’ve noticed your behavior towards a special little someone…”

“Towards Heidi? Shit. I didn’t think it’d be that noticeable.”

Lando clicks his fingers rapidly before pointing at the Red Bull driver. “He’s trying to not talk about it because he knows where this is going!” No, I’m not, Max shrieks as his voice cracks. Blushing, he pushes his hat lower to his face.

“You like her!”

“You know I like Heidi! She’s good for you-”

“You know that’s not who we’re talking about.”

It’s silent for a while. Standing up, Daniel goes to sit next to the 26 year old. Running a hand over his face, Max’s sighs as he looks up. “I’m not…used to feeling this way, okay?” 

“That’s totally fine, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like a piece of gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. She’s amazing. Could have anyone - and I mean anyone - but she likes you. I don’t know why or how, but she likes you.” Daniel scoots away when Max narrows his eyes.

“She doesn’t like me.”

Jumping over the coffee table, Lando plops down. “Yes! She does. Ask me how I know.” A bored expression slashes Max’s face as he asks anyway. How, Lando? How do you know? “Because she’s always fighting with you.”

Daniel clicks his tongue as he slowly squints his brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re making the point you think you’re making, mate.” The Brit waves him off.

“I’m dead serious. When she gets upset, she always walks away because she claims to not want to waste her time on stupid arguments. But with you,” he pushes his index finger against the Red Bull polo, “With you she never - ever - walks away. Sure, you’re both at each others throats, but that only means one thing.” He leans against the sofa as he takes a sip of the open energy drink. 

“She doesn’t mind wasting time on you.”

-

After some more convincing, the duo had managed to raise the 26 year olds confidence. They could be wrong. Embarrassingly wrong, but how would he ever know if he never tried? Taking in a deep breath, he finds himself knocking on your door.

“More soup?”

Sheepishly, he shakes his head. His heart skips a beat as he notices how laid back you seem. How relaxed you were. He was going to ruin all that. He was going to say something that would change everything and things might never be the sa-

“Wanna come in?”

Handing him a plate of cut up watermelon, you take a seat in front of him, legs tucked beneath your butt. What are you doing out so late at night, Mr. Max Verstappen? He sets the plate down as he forces himself to mold into his chair. 

“I’ve never hated you.”

You blink. Clearing his throat, he looks down to his lap as he fiddles his fingers. “I know I’ve been such a bad teammate - I know - but I promise that it never had to do with you.”

“Okay. So…then what did it have to do with?”

He lets out a croaky laugh as he shuts his eyes. “That’s the tough part…” Opening his blue eyes, he finds you staring back, waiting for an answer. “I feel the opposite of hate…towards you.” He hates the way your face doesn’t change and you remain still. He hates when you shrink back and chew on your lip.

But he could never find himself hating the moment you climb onto his lap.

“T-that’s not what I came here for-”

“I know.” You slide your hands against his stubble. “Your confession was…adorable. Had trouble saying those words out loud, right? Because you,” you strum your finger against his chest, “...You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.”

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. A giggle bubbles up your throat, eyes crinkling shut. His breath hitches. “I feel things…” Your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. Sure you do, Maxie- 

Grabbing your face with his left hand, he kisses you. It’s hot, feverish, and impatient.

It’s him.

Whimpering, you grind against him as he groans underneath you. Forcing himself to pull away from your warm lips, he cocks his head to the side. “Was that enough proof?”

“I might need more.”

It’s such a moment of pure adrenaline, that you can’t even pinpoint the moment your hatred towards him had turned into lust. All you know is that it felt so good to be riding him. Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up as he lets out a strained moan. The sound itself makes you drip even more. 

You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him moaning your name like a prayer. Oh, fuck. Holy shit. Pushing his hands down, he opens his eyes as he looks back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again. But he’s already kissed you. He’s already been inside of you. 

He would beg you to stay in order to make you keep it that way.

“B-baby.” He whimpers with the way you dig yourself against him before circling your hips. Slow. “It’s okay if you want to stop-” You slide his fingers into your mouth. He swears he could finish with such a pretty sight.

“I don’t want to. I just want you to say sorry for everything you’ve ever done to me.”

“I already said I never meant any of it! You’re absolutely everything to me.”

Your core grows tighter with his affirmations. Holding onto his broad shoulders, you continue your sinister rhythm. “Maybe. But I still want one.”

“I’m so-”

Rubbing your bare tits against his chest, he shudders as he harshly pinches your thigh. Try again. “I said I’m so-” Pulling all the way out, you slide back down onto his cock. “Oh - don’t fucking do that.”

“Try again.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry.”

A satisfied smile slides onto your plump lips as you nod before kissing him and riding him the way you know he deserves. With one last hop, you both finish as he moans into your neck. Your fingers push his sweaty, blondish strands away before pressing your lips against his cheek. He smiles weakly.

“I like you, too.” You look down before returning your attention. “But I can’t be with you.”

“Wh-”

“Max. Let’s be realistic here. I’m a girl in Formula 1. You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to get here. I’ve had to do twice the work simply because I’m not a man.” You roll your eyes. “People are going to hate me. Call me names - God, I can already hear them.”

He never thought his heart could actually hurt for someone. You were really messing him up. He gingerly rubs small circles against your cheek.

“I’ll ruin whoever says anything bad about you, but please give this a chance. I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I do you. Please.”

And yes, there will be nasty comments. Hateful interpretations about your relationship. But that never really mattered as long as you had him. 

[pucksandpower]

It’s Only Natural

Max Verstappen x innocent!Reader

Summary: in which Max shows you that it’s okay to want

Warnings: 18+ content

You sit on the edge of the bed, your hands folded primly in your lap. You watch as Max moves about, discarding his shirt and stepping out of his jeans until he’s down to just his boxers. There’s an easy grace to his movements, like a predatory animal comfortable in its skin.

Your eyes trace over the curves and lines of his body appreciatively before you catch yourself and quickly look away, heat flooding your cheeks. You hear him chuckle.

“See something you like?”

You keep your gaze fixed firmly on the floor. “I wasn’t looking.”

The mattress dips as Max sits beside you. He tilts your chin up. Reluctantly you meet his stare, the grey of his eyes as vivid as the stormy sky.

“It’s okay, you know. To want me.” His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. “We’ve been together for months now. It’s only natural.”

You swallow hard, torn between embarrassment and yearning. “Wanting is … improper. Before marriage.” The words sound weak even to your own ears.

Max smirks. “Who told you that? Your parents? The church?” He leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “They don’t own your body or your desires. Only you do.”

You shiver at his proximity, inhaling the scent of his skin. Like walking past a bakery first thing in the morning, the aroma of fresh bread wafting out onto the street. Your mouth waters.

“I know you feel it too,” Max murmurs. “This hunger. This heat between us.” His fingers trail down your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Don’t be ashamed of it.”

Your breaths come faster. You’re trembling, but not from the cold. “Max ...”

He silences you with a kiss. His lips are firm yet soft, coaxing rather than demanding. The kiss deepens slowly, each brush of his mouth unraveling you further until you’re clinging to him, dizzy with want.

When you finally break for air, Max gazes at you tenderly. “How do you feel?”

You lick your tingling lips. “I-I don’t know. Confused. Like my body is doing things without my permission.” You press a hand to your heaving chest. “My heart is racing so fast.”

“That’s desire, liefje.” Max strokes your hair soothingly. “It’s new and frightening now, but you’ll get used to it.” He kisses your forehead. “There’s no need to be scared.”

You nod hesitantly. He’s right, this feeling is terrifying in its intensity. But it’s also tantalizing, a thirst you never knew needed quenching.

You take a deep breath. “What happens next?”

Max smiles encouragingly. “That’s up to you. We can take this as slow or as fast as you want. It’s your journey — I’m just your guide.” He lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

Reassured, you lean into him. “Kiss me again?”

“With pleasure.”

This time when Max’s lips find yours, you let your instincts take over. Your mouth moves shyly against his at first but grows bolder, mimicking the way he teases your bottom lip, coaxes your tongue. The tender exploration sends pulses of heat coursing through you. You’re lit up from the inside, like a lantern glowing in the dark.

You come up for air again, dizzy and breathless. Max’s eyes are hooded, his own breathing uneven. “How was that?”

You press closer, craving the hardness of his body. “I want more.”

Max grins. “Do you now?”

Before you can respond, he captures your mouth again, kissing you with a passionate urgency that steals your thoughts away. You cling to him as the last of your inhibitions burns up like paper held to a flame.

There is only feeling now — exquisite, terrifying, blissful feeling.

When Max finally releases you, you’re shaking all over. He brushes the hair back from your face tenderly. “Talk to me. How are you?”

You wet your parched lips. “I feel … alive. Awake.” You glance up at him almost shyly. “Thank you for waking me up.”

Max’s expression softens. “You’re welcome.” He lies back on the bed, opening his arms to you. “Come here.”

You curl into him without hesitation, resting your head on his chest. His steady heartbeat grounds you as his fingers trail up and down your back idly. You trace random patterns on his skin, marveling at the way it prickles under your touch.

“Can I ask you something?” You murmur.

“Of course.”

You chew your lip thoughtfully. “How did you know? That I wanted this?”

Max considers the question. “I saw how your body responded to mine, even when you tried to hide it.” His hand slides to your hip, rubbing gentle circles. “I heard how your breathing changed when I got close to you.”

You flush at the knowing tone in his voice.

“Most of all though, I recognized the longing in your eyes.” Max tilts your chin up so you have to meet his earnest gaze. “You and I are the same. Our bodies have needs we can’t ignore.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Is it always this … intense?”

Max laughs. “No, it gets easier. The more you open yourself to pleasure, the less it will overwhelm you.” He plays with a lock of your hair idly. “Think of your desire like a wild horse. Right now it’s bucking and straining at the reins. But with time and training, you’ll be able to ride it smoothly.”

You consider this. “Have you trained your horse well?”

“Very well,” Max says wryly. “We understand each other perfectly.”

You bite your lip. “Will you teach me?”

Max’s eyes darken. For a long moment he just looks at you, desire written plainly across his face. Your own excitement builds under that molten stare.

Finally he nods. “If that’s what you want.” His voice is slightly hoarse now. “We’ll take it slow. One step at a time.”

Your heart flutters wildly. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

Max clears his throat. “For now, just try to get comfortable being so close to me. Explore a bit.” His hand trails down your side. “Learn what feels good.”

You arch into his touch instinctively, craving more contact. Your mouths find each other again, hot and seeking. You let your hands wander across the warm planes of his chest, tracing each ridge and valley. When your fingers brush one of his nipples, Max makes a low sound that shoots desire through you like lightning.

You tear your mouth from his, eyes wide. “Did I hurt you?”

“God, no.” Max’s pupils are blown wide, fixed on you intently. “That felt good. Do it again.”

Emboldened, you experiment with touching him the way he touched you, learning which caresses make his breath hitch and muscles tighten. Before long Max is shaking under your hands, his control fraying at the edges.

“Enough,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the bed. “Any more and this lesson will be over far too soon.”

You grin up at him impishly. “Maybe next time then.”

Max groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.” But he’s smiling as he dips his head to kiss you lazily.

When he finally releases your wrists, you wrap your arms around him, enjoying the warmth and solidness of his body. You feel different now — more awake, more alive. Like you’ve stepped through a doorway into a bigger and brighter world.

“Thank you for today,” you whisper, meaning it with your whole heart. “I feel … free.”

Max kisses the top of your head tenderly. “You’ve always been free, schatje. I’m just helping you see it.” He lifts your chin so your eyes meet. “We’ve only just started. There are so many wonders still to show you.”

A thrill races through you at the promise in his voice. You settle against his chest again, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart as you fall asleep in his arms, unafraid of wanting anymore.

Your body and heart are finally coming home to each other.

***

Morning sun spills through the curtains, rousing you slowly from sleep. The other half of the bed is empty but still warm, and the faint clatter of dishes downstairs means Max is already up and making breakfast.

You stretch languidly, yesterday’s explorations still fresh in your mind. A newfound heat simmers in your veins, sending a flush across your skin.

You find Max in the kitchen, hair charmingly mussed, wearing only pajama bottoms that ride low on his hips. He grins when he sees you.

“Good morning, liefje. Sleep well?”

You come up behind him, sliding your arms around his trim waist. “Mmm I did,” you nuzzle into his bare shoulder. He smells warm and masculine. You press a kiss to his skin, eliciting a pleased hum.

“Keep that up and I’ll burn breakfast,” Max says wryly. He turns in your embrace, fingers tilting your chin up for a slow, simmering kiss. By the time he pulls back you’re breathless and tingling.

“What’s gotten into you today?” He looks delighted.

You bite your lip coyly. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.” You flatten your palms against his chest, feeling his heart pick up speed. “I want to keep learning.”

Max’s eyes darken. For a long moment he just looks at you, desire pooling in his heated gaze. “Finish eating first,” he says finally. “Then meet me upstairs.”

Excitement bubbles through you. You eat breakfast quicker than you ever have before, then hurry to the bedroom where Max awaits, sitting on the edge of the bed. He beckons you over with a crooked smile.

“Eager today, are we?”

You nod, leaning down to initiate a kiss. Max obliges, his mouth warm and seeking against yours. When you move to deepen it further, he gently grasps your shoulders and eases you back.

“Slow down, schatje. We’ve got all the time in the world.” His tone is kind but firm. “Let’s take this lesson nice and easy.”

You duck your head, chastened. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rush.”

Max tips your chin back up, eyes tender. “It’s okay. I know everything feels new and exciting.” His thumb brushes your bottom lip softly. “But the best pleasures are the ones we savor.”

Heart swelling, you turn your head to press a kiss to his palm. “Teach me?”

Max nods. “Come sit with me.”

You settle beside him on the bed, pulse skipping when he draws you close. His hands glide up your arms, raising goosebumps, before coming to rest lightly around your neck. His touch is reverent, worshipful.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “I could spend hours exploring you.”

He kisses behind your ear, along your jawline, each press of his lips languid and unhurried. By the time he reaches your mouth you’re trembling, hyper-aware of everywhere your bodies touch.

Max takes his time kissing you deeply, thumbs sweeping over your throat and down to your collarbones. You lean into him, chasing more of that exquisite friction, but he doesn’t allow you to rush. He pulls back again and again until you relax, surrendering to his pace.

“There you go, just like that,” he praises. “Nice and slow.”

You keen softly when his fingers trail down to trace along the neckline of your shirt, back and forth. He toys with the top button, watching your face attentively.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” you breathe.

Max smiles and pops the first button open. Then he pauses, bending to kiss the new inch of exposed skin. Goosebumps prickle across your chest as he continues his unhurried path downward, kissing each new glimpse of flesh laid bare.

By the time he reaches the last button you’re trembling violently, head tipped back in bliss. Max’s strong hands sweep up your sides and around to unclasp your bra. You gasp as the garment falls away, leaving you bare before him.

Reverently he cups your breasts, thumbs sweeping over your tightened peaks. The sensation wrings a desperate moan from you.

“You’re exquisite,” Max marvels. He bends to take one nipple into his mouth and your vision goes white, senses overwhelmed by slick heat. He suckles you gently, littering kisses across your fevered skin until you’re writhing mindlessly against him.

“Max, please ...”

He kisses his way back up to your mouth, face alight with tenderness and desire. “What do you need?”

You clutch his shoulders, nearly sobbing. “You. I need you.”

Max groans, deepening the kiss until you’re drunk on him, on this feeling. His body shifts, pressing you down into the mattress, and you go willingly, eagerly.

“Not yet, liefje.” With monumental effort he stills, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are dark, lips kiss-swollen. “Is this too much?”

You shake your head desperately. “Don’t stop. Show me everything.”

Max hesitates, muscles corded with restraint. “Next time,” he grits out. “I want our first to be perfect.”

He rolls off you and you whimper at the loss of contact. Max gathers you close, stroking your hair as you slowly come down from your near-high.

“You were incredible,” he murmurs. “So receptive. So passionate.”

You cling to him, heart still pounding. “I want you so much it hurts.”

Max tips your chin up, gazing at you solemnly. “I know. And you’ll have me, I promise.” He kisses you sweetly. “But forcing things too soon will only dull the pleasure later.”

You know he’s right. With great effort you tamp down the fever in your blood, focusing on the warmth and strength of his embrace.

“Thank you for stopping,” you whisper. “I know it wasn’t easy.”

Max smiles wryly. “You have no idea.” He caresses your face tenderly. “But your pleasure means more to me than my own.”

You lick your suddenly parched lips. “I’m ready,” you say simply. “Whenever you think the time is right.”

Max’s eyes darken. For a long moment he just looks at you, stripped bare by yearning. Then he nods slowly. “Soon.”

***

The next few days pass in a haze of stolen kisses and wandering hands. Each touch stokes the fire between you higher, until you’re dizzy with anticipation.

When Max finally whispers that you’re ready, that tonight will be the night, you can scarcely breathe for excitement. He takes you upstairs after dinner, kissing you deeply before leaving to run you a bath.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”

You change into the lacy lingerie set you bought just for this occasion, hands trembling. The ivory silk and lace hugs your curves perfectly, making you feel delicate and desired.

Max returns to find you sitting primly on the bed, heart in your throat. His eyes widen, traveling appreciatively over you.

“You’re a vision,” he murmurs. He sits beside you, hand coming up to caress the line of your throat, tantalizingly close to the swells of your barely concealed breasts. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

He kisses you, slow and deep, until you’re breathing hard. With gentle hands he undresses you, lips following the path of revealed skin. By the time the lingerie slips to the floor, you’re trembling and ready.

Max rises gracefully from the bed, shedding his own clothes. The hunger in his eyes steals your breath away. He’s beautiful like this, powerful muscle and taut sinew under smooth skin. Your apprehension melts into awed desire.

“Come,” he says simply, holding out a hand.

He leads you into the bathroom where rose petals float across steaming water. Candles line the counter, filling the air with a soft glow.

Max helps you into the tub before sliding in behind you. You sigh, relaxing back against his chest. For a while he just holds you, lips grazing your temple, your cheek, the curve of your shoulder.

“Are you nervous?” He asks eventually. His breath tickles your ear.

“A little,” you admit. “Mostly just excited.” You cover his hands with your own, drawing them around to span your stomach. “I’m ready for you to have all of me.”

Max nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “You honor me.” His palms glide higher, cupping your breasts as his thumbs tease your nipples. You arch into the caress, lips parting in bliss. He kisses down the slope of your neck until you’re mindless, head falling back onto his shoulder.

“Max ...” His name catches on a moan.

He kisses just beneath your ear. “Tell me what you need, schatje.”

You take one of his hands, guiding it lower beneath the water. Max exhales harshly when you press his fingers between your legs.

“Please,” you beg softly.

Max complies, caressing you in unhurried circles. The slick glide of his fingers has you shaking, pulsing against his hand. He works you higher with gentle expertise until your climax crashes over you like a wave. You cry out, collapsing limply back against him.

Max holds you through the aftershocks, murmuring praise and adoration. As you float back down he washes you tenderly, hands worshipping every inch of your spent body. By the time he helps you from the bath your nerves have melted away, replaced only by bliss.

Max dries you off before scooping you up and carrying you to bed. He lays you down reverently and you reach for him, needing to feel him against you.

He goes willingly, covering your body with his, all heated skin and taut muscle. You revel in the delicious weight of him, the intimacy of full-body contact. Max kisses you deeply, one hand trailing down to lift your knee, opening you up to him.

He pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?” His voice resonates with restraint.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please, Max.”

He kisses you sweetly as he finally, carefully, joins your bodies. You gasp into his mouth at the feeling of him filling you so exquisitely. For a moment you’re frozen, overwhelmed by the intensity.

Max stills, letting you adjust. “Talk to me, liefje.” His voice is tight. “Does it hurt?”

You run your hands up his back, grounding yourself in the solidness of him. “No. It just feels … big.” You shift your hips experimentally and have to stifle a moan. “But so good.”

Max relaxes slightly, some of the tension leaving his frame. “We’ll take this slow.” He kisses across your cheekbones, your fluttering eyelids, soothing you as your body adjusts to accommodate him. “Just breathe. There’s no rush.”

When you finally nod for him to move, he rocks into you in achingly gradual strokes. Each glide lights you up from within, pleasure swelling inexorably. Your legs come up to wrap around his waist, taking him deeper.

Max groans. “You feel incredible.” He quickens just slightly, just enough to wring gasps from you both. “So perfect for me.”

You cling to him, this man you love beyond reason, beyond promise. He fills you in every way, heart, body and soul. “Max,” you breathe against his lips like a prayer, and his pace stutters.

“Say it again.” His eyes are molten, searing into yours.

“Max.” You pour every ounce of love and devotion you feel into his name.

With a ragged moan he claims your mouth, kissing you fiercely even as his hips snap against yours. You cry out, senses flooded by him, by the feeling of your bodies joining so exquisitely. The pleasure crests unbearably high before you shatter, clenching and shuddering around him.

Max follows you over with a harsh groan, chest heaving against yours. For an eternity all you know is each other, breathing as one.

Max rolls to the side so he doesn’t crush you, pulling you along so you stay cradled against him. You cling tightly, still joined, overwhelmed by what you’ve just shared.

Max tilts your chin up, eyes tender but concerned. “Are you alright?”

You smile shakily, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair. “I’m perfect.” You press soft kisses across his face. “That was … everything.”

Relief breaks across his face. He wraps you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin. “I love you,” he whispers into your hair. “Beyond anything.”

You snuggle closer, basking in the warmth of his embrace, the steadiness of his heart. “I love you too. Forever.”

Eventually Max slips from your body and you mourn the loss, even as exhaustion tugs at you. He cleans you gently with a warm cloth before pulling you against him once more.

You drift toward sleep, lulled by the soothing strokes of his fingers through your hair. Just before slumber takes you, Max presses his lips to your temple.

“Thank you for your gift tonight,” he breathes. “I’ll spend my whole life trying to be worthy of it.”

[lovings4turn]

Okay, I promised you some cute F1 thoughts, and Mama’s here to deliver!!

What about Max having an S/O who’s always really sweet to him and showering him with compliments and is always there to pick him up when he’s down, and he just kind of… doesn’t know how to deal with it? (Because that boy is SO starved for unconditional affection, you cannot convince me otherwise.)

my dearest dolly i have been WAITING for these and i'm so ready to provide,, especially for a touch starved n slightly awkward max!! thanks for sending it in,, your ideas always make my mind go wild🖤

it's not that he doesn't appreciate it, no. in fact, max would trade most of his worldly possessions if it meant that you would keep treating him the way you currently do. the 'problem' - if you can even really call it that - lies in the fact that he doesn't really understand why. he's never really been on the receiving end of so much praise and love, or general kindness and patience, even, so he doesn't quite know how he's supposed to respond.

you've heard the stories of his father, of the things he's said and done to max, and your blood boils every time you have to be in the same room as the man.

post-race congratulations are met with a deep hug, max resting his head in the crook of your neck and letting your words wash over him like treacle, coating him in a thick, saccharine feeling. he has no idea how to respond, whether to thank you or refute your claims, so instead he says nothing and hopes you don't notice the pale dusting of pink across his face as he gives his post-race interviews in the media pen.

even in his worst moments, when he's furiously raving about a strategy that could have gone horribly wrong, you're there for him. a gentle kiss between his eyebrows is enough for him to relax his face and look at you, inquisitive. he doesn't quite know what he did to deserve this, or how he can ever repay you for it, but he's thankful, and he'll do everything in his power to show you that.

[18ls]

# MAX VERSTAPPEN / THE HARD-LAUNCHING AFTERMATH

summary: following this request, what happened between the driver and the sky sports journalist, are they married? contains: toxic fans and community. note: first smau BE KIND, enjoy!

TWITTER.

INSTAGRAM.

Liked by gwenstacy, user1 and 73,444 others

paddockexposed BREAKING NEWS !! Just after confirming he's married, Max Verstappen is seen with Y/N Y/L/N after the qualifying session, leaving together. Some say this is the happiest they have seen then the dutchman. What do you think?

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user1 me and the girlies on twt know. she's using him and they're not truly married.

user2 she's ugly x2 lol

user3 wait.. they seem so happy?

user4 WHATS SO FUNNY.

user5 I love them! Let them be happy!

user6 when are they confirming they're married to each other? max just said he was married, he said no names.

user7 okay delusional, do you have eyes? are you seeing the pictures?

Liked by lilymhe, userwentz and 23,332 others

yourusername such a good weekend! nothing weird happened, nothing at all :-)

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user8 okay criptic, we don't know at all then

user9 yeah try lying

lilymhe love you!!!

yourusername i love you more lils!

user10 ugly ass. max deserves better.

user11 you're so beautiful! I love your job lol

user12 CONFIRM IT.

userwentz OKAY BABEEE HIT IT YEAHH

Liked by redbullracing, schecoperez, yourusername and 650,234 others

maxverstappen1 Pole in Bahrain ☝️

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user13 not surprised.

user14 yeah tell me something new lol

redbullracing LET'S GOOOOOOOOOO

yourusername boring! let checo win!

liked by author

user15 WHAT DID SHE SAID user16 WHAT THE FUCK user17 delete this comment.

user18 you're so pretty!

Liked by carmenmmundt, landonorris and 82,324 others

paddockexposed Another sighting of Max Verstappen and the journalist Y/N Y/L/N.

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user19 okay... not pg...

user20 why are you invading their privacy liked this!

user21 wait i want to see another pov

user22 kinda hot

user23 I HATE HER THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEE

Liked by lilymhe, heidiberger_, maxverstappen1 and 33,532 others

yourusername bro thinks he can cook lmao

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user24 he's such a gentleman... oh my...

user25 max in casual clothes, didn't knew I was craving that

user26 THAT LOOKS SO GOOD and the food too

heidiberger_ cuties!

liked by author

user27 YOU TWO LOOK SO GOOD!!!! IM SO HAPPY!!!!

user28 she's using him! look! like a servant.

maxverstappen1 :/

liked by author

landonorris MAKE HIM WORK

TWITTER.

INSTAGRAM.

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, skysportsf1 and 23,332 others

yourusername YES OKAY VERY MUCH MARRIED OKAY YES MARRIED I AM MARRIED WE ARE MARRIED HE'S MARRIED TO ME AND I AM MARRIED TO HIM OKAY?

View all 574 comments

user29 NO WAY

user30 FUCKING FINALLY

redbullracing YAY! CONGRATS!

maxverstappen1 schatje, don't.

yourusername bro thinks he has control over me LOL

skysportsf1 we are loving this!

lilymhe MY LOVES!!!!! dropping alex rn for both of you

liked by author and maxverstappen1

danielricciardo EWWWWWWWWW (I love you both)

fernandoalo_oficial :)

liked by author

landonorris BREAK UP

user31 worst day of my life

user32 meh bound to happen tbh

Liked by charles_leclerc, redbullracing and 163,425 others

yourusername someone tell him to stop asking me to take pictures of him while exercising lol

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maxverstappen1 i was told this was not gonna be posted.

liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc 😂😂😂

liked by author

[chrisevansonly]

hi love ! i saw you were asking for sweet fluffy requests :) i was thinking maybe max v being just soft and like clingy with reader whenever they’re together ? in the paddock/garage, at dinner, partying with friends/other drivers - no matter where they are max just needs to have his hand on his girl 🫶

Cuddle Bug🐞

max verstappen x female reader

summary: wherever you are, max is sure to follow

warnings: tooth rotting fluff

a/n: soft max just 😖 thank you to everyone sending me in cute ideas im gonna work at them slowly and turn them into little blurbs.

If anyone knew you and Max as a couple, they’d say you’re like koalas, clinging to one another no matter where you were or where you went. It could be in the nightclub celebrating a win, Max would have his arms around you as he kissed your neck gently, keeping your back to his chest so he wouldn’t lose you in the crowd.

Or at a dinner with family, his hand finding solace on your knee or thigh, bringing your chair as close to his as possible allowing him to lean into you or vice versa. Max wanted to be as physically close to you as he possibly could.

You loved every second of it.

So it was no surprise when Christian walked into the garage to find his star driver, cuddled up with you along the back wall, no doubt whispering stupid jokes into your ear to make you laugh. It was a common occurrence, and half the time he didn’t have the heart to pull you two apart. If there was anyone perfect for the dutchman it was you, no doubt about it.

“Max, meeting in five alright?”

Keeping his arms wrapped around you he turned to nod, letting the team principle know he’d be there, even if it meant letting you go for the next hour and a bit.

“Stupid meetings….”

“Maxie…they’re part of your job..”

He groaned tucking his face into your neck

“Why can’t this be my job”

“What cuddling me?”

“Mhm”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped your lips, your hands rubbing his back gently to cheer up your now displeased boyfriend.

“I’m afraid this job doesn’t pay nearly enough my love…”

Max was quiet as he pulled back, taking your face in his hands as he looked at you as if you were the entire universe, and truth be told you were his.

“Getting to love you and hold you, is worth more than any amount of money in the world.”

He didn’t let you say anything back as he leaned down to capture your lips with his, effectively knocking you off his feet, before sending you a wink and walking off for the next little while, leaving you to entertain yourself.

Max was a man of many words, but the words he shared with you, would always be special…especially since they came from your cuddle bug of a boyfriend.