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pucksandpower · 5 days

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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 ...

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struggling-with-drivers · 1 month

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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

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

Text

Sweat, Baby, Sweat - MV1

Singapore is hot, incredibly hot. So, what do you do when you sweat through your shirt? You borrow your simp of a teammates shirt.

Max Verstappen x RB Driver!Reader

1.6K

Masterlist

Singapore was Y/Ns favourite track. It was taxing, but it was her favourite. High adrenaline and incredible heat. Anything could happen out there on the track.

If anywhere was going to end Red Bulls reign of dominance, it was Singapore. Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen had worked together, teammates in harmony, to keep the winning streak going.

On the rare instance Max wasn't on the podium, Y/N was in his place. More often than not they shared the podium, spraying the champagne with the biggest grins on their faces.

Only twice that year Y/N had gone out in Q2, not making it to Q3. When that happened, she couldn't face Christian, couldn't look at Max. Nobody was a bigger critic of Y/N than Y/N herself.

Singapore was hot, hot, hot.

As Max and Y/N did those little press videos (for the life of me I can't remember what they're called SOMEONE HELP PLS) Y/N was sweating. Several times while they filmed, she was pulling her shirt away from her neck, trying to get at least a little bit of air.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She had long since taken off her Red Bull hat, too hot for that extra fabric on her head.

The press video was hard to get through. Y/N had gotten through at least three bottles of water before they finally finished. While they filmed, Max kept looking at her, frown on his face. Clearly, he was concerned.

Actually, all of the Red Bull team was concerned, but none more than him.

As soon as they'd finished filming, Y/N ran off to the bathroom. She did her business, splashed some water on her face and smelt the inside of her shirt.

It wasn't pleasant. The Red Bull shirt was such dark colours, no wonder Y/N was having trouble. She'd have to change before she and Max got on with the next round of press.

Y/N rushed off away from the press and the cameras. She ran by a concerned Max, who tried to grab her by the arm, and past the Red Bull team. "I'll be back in ten minutes," she said to Christian as she ran past.

Y/N made her way back to her hotel room. It wasn't too far away from the track, and she had almost all of her friends (aka, the other drivers) on the same floor as her.

When Y/N first started in F1, driving for Toro Rosso, there was a mixed response from fans. At that point, the fans were mostly older men and their sons. Their reactions were a mix of sexualising her and slut shaming her. Most had fears that she'd distract the rest of the grid by sleeping with them all before every race.

But the F1 Fans had grown used to her. And they loved her. They loved her as much as they loved Carlos and Pierre and Magnussen. They loved her as much as they loved every other driver on the grid.

Once in her hotel room, Y/N got changed into another Red Bull shirt. She didn't have many left, certainly not enough for the next three days of the grand prix (if things were keeping up the way they were).

After getting changed Y/N quickly checked her phone. Messages from Max and Christian, her manager reminding her of the next bit of press she had to do and her parents wishing her luck on the qualifying.

By the time Y/N got down to complete the press interview, she was already sweating. Anxiety bubbled up in side of her. What if she smelt bad? What if the cameras picked up on her pit stains?

Before the interview started, Max nudged her with his elbow. "Is everything okay?" He asked her, keeping his eyes trained forward.

Max had always been considerate when it came to Y/N. He knew what she had been through at the start of her career, the things she had to deal with from the fans. He was more aware than anybody that it was still going on. If Y/N was caught having fun with any of the drivers, they'd ridicule her online.

"Yeah, Max, I'm fine."

Y/N made it through the day in that shirt. She went to bed that night in only her underwear to try and keep cool.

By breakfast that morning she had already begun to sweat. Not through her shirt, not yet. She made it to lunch before she had to get changed.

Before the qualifying, Max pulled her to one side. Out of the prying eyes of any camera, Max grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Once again, she wasn't wearing her hat, making it easier for him.

"Something is going on with you. You keep disappearing," he said to her, not loosening his grip. And he wouldn't until she told him what was going on.

Y/N shook her head. "I'm okay, Max, really."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Just tell me!"

Letting out a sigh, Y/N looked up at him and pulled his hat from his head. She placed it on her own and smiled. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"It's just you."

Max's flirting had been really subtle since Y/N became his teammate. He hadn't wanted to toe the line, didn't want to receive the repercussions of trying to date his teammate.

Qualifying was horrible. Y/N swore in all the years before it had never been this bad. The heat was distracting and she was out in Q2, taken out by Lance fucking Stroll.

Y/N was fuming. There was only one person who could comfort her. And he was currently driving around the circuit with the fastest lap.

Y/N's post qualifying interview was short. She answered every question with one word answers, her face like a slapped ass. As soon as the interview was over she was off to her drivers room to sulk.

She was only granted two minutes to herself before there was a knock on the door. Christian didn't wait for an answer before he walked in. "How are you doing?" He asked her, leaning against the door.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. It was far too hot to think.

"Well, whatever it is, have it sorted by tomorrow," he continued. "And, come and celebrate with your teammate."

The next day went much the same. Y/N sweated through breakfast and, by the time she got to lunch, she was having to change her shirt.

But there was one problem. She didn't have any shirts she hadn't already sweated through.

With nothing else to do, Y/N tucked her hands into her armpits and walked towards her boss. "Christian," she muttered almost timidly. It wasn't like Y/N to be timid. There wasn't room for it, with her being a woman in the sport.

She took him into her drivers room and made an embarrassing confession. She couldn't look Christian in the face as she told him how much she had been struggling in the heat and that she had no more shirts left.

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Well, I know for a fact Max has another shirt. I'll go and grab it for you," he said, sparing her the embarrassment of telling somebody else.

When Christian returned with a shirt for Y/N she was quick to change. She put on some more deodorant and pulled Max's shirt over her head. Lifting the collar to her nose she breathed in. Max. It smelled of Max. It smelled amazing.

When she walked out of her drivers room, there were stares. She wasn't much aware of the stares she was getting, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Max didn't know what to do when he saw her. The shirt was slightly too big, hanging down to her thighs. It was oversized on her, the short sleeves almost at her elbows. Wow. That was all Max could think. Just wow.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He watched as she lifted the collar of the shirt to her nose and smelt it yet again. His heart fluttered. Wow. Just wow.

Y/N turned around and spotted Max hidden behind a team of engineers. She wove her way around the engineers, approaching him. "Thanks for the shirt," she said with a smile.

Max didn't know how to respond. He kept staring at herm unable to take his eyes off of her. It was struggle before she was wearing his clothes, but now Max didn't stand a chance.

When Y/N took his hat from her head, he finally looked at her face. "It suits you," he managed to say. She was irresistible. It was almost too much for him.

No, it was too much for him.

"Fuck it," Max whispered under his breath. He placed his hands on her hip, catching Y/N off guard. Max wasted in time in leaning in. He pressed is lips to hers in a somewhat awkward kiss.

But it didn't take Y/N long to get with the programme. She pulled the hat from her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. Closing her eyes she deepened things, leaning into him.

When she finally pulled away, Max couldn't stop staring at her.

"I've wanted to do that since we became teammates," he whispered, taking the hat from Y/N and placing it on his head.

"What stopped you?"

3K notes · View notes

leclercings · 3 days

Text

My Stroopwafel | Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Blurb

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

A/N: a bit late but did this for a request♪

“Mate, you're too slow.”

Max sits inside his room, in front of the simulator, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Oh come on,” Charles replies.

“He won again!” Alex says, with disappointment in his voice.

Max laughs. It's not his fault that he's the fastest on the grid- both online and offline.

The comments are pouring in. His livestream with George, Lando, Charles, and Alex has gotten a little intense.

“At this rate, you're going to start flying in the car.” Lando pipes in, making everyone laugh and diffusing the tension.

All of them are having fun. It's nice to be able to play together without worrying about the dynamics of it.

“Guys, which circuit should we-”

“Mon ange!” Max is interrupted by a Monegasque accent, similar to the one he's playing the simulator with.

You enter the room, unaware that he's live. You kiss him on the cheek, making him blush.

“Schat,” he says, smiling at you. “What happened?”

“What do you want to have for dessert?”

“Stroopwafel,” Max replies, without missing a beat.

You hear a groan.

“Get a room!” George says.

“Wait, you're live?” Heat rises up to your cheeks.

“Yes, my love.”

“Ugh,” you hear a familiar voice.

“Is that Charles?”

Max nods.

You give Max another peck on the cheek to annoy your elder brother even more.

“You got this, my stroopwafel.” You smile at Max, before leaving the room.

Max is still blushing.

“My Stroopwafel.” Alex repeats and everyone starts laughing except Charles.

“Can we concentrate on the game, please?” Charles says.

Max chuckles.

You're his Stroopwafel, and he loves you for your simplicity and innocence.

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #mv1 leclercings #leclercings #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1blr #f1 imagine #f1 blurb

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lovecanyon · 3 months

Text

DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA ft. jealous fans

dad!max x horner!y/n

MASTERLIST | PATREON

liked by user112, user55 and 102,273 others

f1gossip In light of recent cheating rumors surrounding Y/N Horner, the alleged infidelity has become a subject of intense speculation. Speculations indicate that Y/N Horner had cheated on Max Verstappen with another F1 driver, causing a stir among fans and media. While no concrete evidence has been provided, these rumors have cast a cloud of doubt over the couple's relationship, leaving many curious about the truth behind the allegations.

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user99 MAX DESERVES BETTER

user74 anytime y/n is seen with a man that isn’t max you all freak out…she’s probably just friends with whoever

user46 right! she is friends with most of the grid, including carlos, lewis and checo…and is she dating them…no!

user51 you guys are shit stirrers 🤨

user67 i’m sorry but i used to like y/n but she’s been acting out lately

user101 she thinks being the daughter of christian horner makes her superior

user97 get help. please.

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 2,730,124 others

yourinstagram mom’s night out 💋🍸

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user44 MY FAVORITE WAG

user70 max won at life

maxverstappen ❤️❤️❤️

yourinstagram i love you so much

user96 MAX AND Y/N BREAK UP CHALLENGE

heidiberger_ You are the love of my life

user91 we get it you left your daughter with max to go out 🙄

user52 why are you acting like max is not the literal father…

liked by user115, user71 and 226,374 others

verstappendaily Max with Elodie on his Twitch livestream tonight!

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user53 max being a girl dad makes so much sense

user80 THIS IS SO ADORABLE 😭😭😭

user103 while y/n is out partying with her friends…

user37 WE GET IT. YOU ARE JEALOUS OF HER

user54 elodie and max are the cutest ever

user107 imagine world champion max verstappen being your father

user96 CUTIESSS

user110 the pillow 🥹

liked by user66, user14 and 99,263 others

wagsf1 Y/N Horner has recently blocked accounts on Twitter that have accused her of cheating on Max Verstappen.

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user89 i would do way worse than block, she’s better than me

user107 AND SHE ATE

user110 y/n is so childish

user51 how??? 😭

user49 the y/n hate is getting so old at this point

user123 and what if i tell you i love her for this

user50 she seems so guilty

user92 Y/N DEFINITELY CHEATED ON MAX

liked by user25, user107 and 104,724 others

ynmaxdaily Y/N, Elodie and Max in Monaco yesterday!

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user133 and you guys thought they hated each other…lol

user57 I LOVE THE VERSTAPPEN FAMILY

user201 my love for y/n will never go away sorry 🤭

user45 max will never leave y/n…you guys are delusional

user88 right!!! that man is so in love with her

user13 after going on a blocking spree i guess she needed a vacation

user95 the y/n hate is just pure jealousy ‼️

liked by user102, user64 and 246,920 others

maxynupdates Y/N Horner claps back at trolls on Twitter!

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user11 SHE IS SO SICK OF YOU GUYS

user57 y/n is that girl ‼️

user190 i literally love her for this

user74 the way max liked y/n’s tweet too 🙌

user231 HE IS SO REAL FOR THAT

user38 this is my roman empire

user112 i get her being fed up with max’s fans…they all hate her for nothing

user22 Y/N FANS RISE

liked by yourinstagram, danielricciardo and 3,771,452 others

maxverstappen1 Family ❤️

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user55 THIS IS SO CUTE

user72 free max

yourinstagram i love youuu

maxverstappen1 I love you more!

user112 my parents 😭😭😭

victoriaverstappen Such cuties

user84 y/n haters were found crying in the corner

landonorris Invite your second child next time 🙋‍♂️

user145 LANDO YOU ARE SO

liked by user10, user203 and 118,294 others

f1wags Y/N Horner via Twitter! She shared photos of her in Max’s race suit, along with her purse and Max’s shoes!

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user117 hate on her all you want but y/n is so iconic for this

user22 max is so loved 😭

user63 “his and her’s” I AM CRYING, THEY ARE SO CUTE

user201 y/n in max’s suit…she ate

user146 her distracting us by tweeting stupid shit

user70 you are so delusional…get a grip

user113 max and y/n were truly meant for each other

user27 our red bull princess!!!

liked by user247, user38 and 203,721 others

formula1news Christian Horner with Y/N’s mother on the paddock today!

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user66 OMG OUR PARENTS

user98 even though they are not together i still love them 🤷‍♀️

user108 y/n’s mother is so iconic

user127 they were the best couple in formula one history!!!

user33 MY ROMAN EMPIRE

user52 i love y/n’s parents omfg 🫶

user60 they just made history again

user111 AHHHH

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 3,012,721 others

yourinstagram NUMBER 1

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user113 y/n, elodie and max 🥹

user55 SHE IS TRULY THE BEST WAG IN HISTORY

maxverstappen1 ❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourinstagram ILY

user78 can they get married already

christianhorner Love you darling

(liked by yourinstagram!)

user25 DAD MAX 😭

lilyhme Stunningggg <3

liked by user67, user213 and 78,013 others

f1teaa Many F1 fans think this deuxmoi story is about Y/N Horner and Max Verstappen.

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user184 JUST LEAVE THEM ALONE OH MY GODDD

user122 and people came for me when i said y/n was a terrible person

user67 i think you are just jealous

user98 you can tell all these max fans are jealous of her…

user21 the parasocial relationships are going crazy

user202 “she constantly leaves her daughter” you all saw y/n go out ONE TIME and ran with her being a bad mother ‼️

user130 THEY ARE INSANE

liked by user20, user217 and 101,278 others

newsverstappen Max and Y/N having lunch at Red Bull’s hospitality!

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user57 and people were trying to convince me that max hates her…you know damn well

user193 she never leaves max’s side ugh

user66 LMAO WHAT 😭

user201 to all the people that want them to break up…they are never gonna break up

user65 the best couple ever

user173 you can hate them all you want but

user92 PARENTS

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 980,173 others

christianhorner Lovebirds!!

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user112 christian being max and y/n’s #1 supporter 😭

user62 MOM & DAD

maxverstappen1 ❤️

(liked by christianhorner)

user98 HIS DAD IN LAW

josverstappen7 Partners in crime!

user194 CHRISTIAN IS SO REAL FOR THIS GOODBYE LMAO

redbullracing Our favorite people

user11 awwww

liked by user206, user116 and 190,837 others

wags4f1 Y/N has recently liked some tweets about the hate she’s getting! 👀

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user56 AND I AGREE WITH HER

user109 love the way she does not give a fuck too 😭

user144 she is truly the best

user268 wait until you all find out she dated charles and then dumped him for max…lol

user70 hate the way people mom shame y/n

user213 LOVE HER FOR THIS ��

user88 anyways max and charles deserve better!!!

user209 still baffled at the way she dated charles omg…

liked by maxverstappen1, heidiberger_ and 3,710,923 others

yourinstagram maxie & i ❤️♾️

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user203 she said this is my man and my man only!

user16 WAIT SO HER AND CHARLES DATED? IS THIS WHY THEY NEVER TALK?!!!

maxverstappen1 I love you forever

yourinstagram ❤️

user117 I WILL PROTECT THEM

carmenmmundt Love you two!!

user68 I’m about to go jump off a bridge

alexandrasaintmleux 🤍

user129 girl she dated your man…what are you doing here

liked by user116, user37 and 113,405 others

womeninf1 Y/N in the paddock today!

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user223 MOTHERRR

user107 she is keeping the f1 world alive ‼️

user96 so what she dated charles…that was like in 2019

user45 future mrs. verstappen

user110 nobody will ever make me hate y/n…sorry

user66 max vs charles (y/n edition)

user202 her wearing max’s sweater 💅

liked by user12, user217 and 99,820 others

wags_news Max declined photos with fans today while he was with Y/N!

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user82 yeah he’s getting sick of people too 😭

user117 I LOVE THEM LMFAOO

user79 can everyone just leave y/n and max alone…if you are gonna hate on them…ignore them

user156 they looked so fed up today omg

user203 he also declined photos because he was practicing btw!!!

user25 WHAT IS GOING ONNNN

user93 it’s called protecting his relationship 🤷‍♀️

liked user66, user217 and 145,813 others

formula1tea It was revealed that Y/N and Charles briefly dated back in 2019 right before she got with Max! The reason of their breakup remains unknown!

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user78 well…what happens now

user139 they dated 4 years ago…get over it

user107 THE WAY CHARLES AND ALEXANDRA JUST BROKE UP BYE

user93 this is one for the history books

user136 ngl…they look good together but i love her with max

user44 Y/N AND MAX SUPREMACY SORRY 🤭

user99 i don’t know how to handle this

liked by user118, user29 and 78,273 others

wags4f1 Charles Leclerc has just followed Y/N Horner amid his and Alexandra’s breakup!

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user64 THISSS IS CRAZY

user199 you guys jumping into conclusions…they can be friends if they want to

user76 LITERALLY 😭

user12 she’s with max. chill everyone

user217 charles and alex breaking up when…yeah okayyy 👀

user105 anyways i will support y/n no matter what

user45 overreacting for what???

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 month

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Ooooo how about Mafia norstappen and reader with kids where there’s intruders that come into the home and max goes protective mode

Love all your recent blurbs🫶🏼

Movie nights were your favorite. The your two kiddos and your third on the way would quiet down and just lay still and watch the movie. Max and Lando would forget about work and hold the three of you, but you could tell they were still on edge watching everything around them.

"Daddy, tight." You turn seeing how Lando's arm was tight around your baby girl Violetta's waist. Lando's arm relaxes and you see the instant regret in his eyes as he leans down placing a soft kiss on top of her head. At 4 she was every bit of her father. Looking at Lando and her now people would think she was his, but really she was every bit of Max's. Her wild curls were blonde with those sparkling blues everyone fell in love with. She had his fiery attitude as well.

"Sorry, princess." Lando whispers and readjusts them to lie down and she giggles, lying on his chest which has him smiling. Max's hand starts to move again, as you laid against his chest. Your little boy, Michael was the spitting image of Lando. It freaked Max out sometimes just how Michael was the carbon copy of Lando.

You still remember playing a game of baby pictures and asking him which was Lando and Michael. Max felt like crying from that game honestly. Little Michael all 2 years old of him was conked out, drooling a little on Max's shirt who didn't even seem to care. "You're thinking to hard," Max whispers, giving you a soft kiss that has you sighing. "Not that hard, just thinking how much I love our family." Max hums and nods in agreement.

You settle back down, your mind and eyes drifting off to sleep when you hear something shatter from upstairs. Sitting up quickly you almost scream when a hand covers your mouth but you notice it's your husband. "Shhh, someone is in the house, come on." Lando whispers, grabbing your hand. You look around, noticing your babies are gone. "Lan," You almost sob but he turns, "Max got them, they're okay, I promise." You nod as he leads you through the house.

"In," Lando opens a small bookcase and you move and sigh seeing your babies asleep and cuddled together. Lando follows and cocks his gun slowly, not to scare the kids as he closes the bookshelf. "How'd they get in? Where are the guards?" You ask, shaking as Lando puts the gun down and pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. "I don't know, but it's going to be okay." You shake your head no. Not believing him.

"Where's Max?" You twist around trying to find out where your other husband is, as Lando's hands tighten on you, refusing to let you go. "Stop, please, he's going.....he'll be okay." Lando's voice wavers and you start to move around more but he stops you.

"Dammit, no," Lando moves covering your mouth and you hear footsteps outside the bookshelf you both freeze, Lando grabbing the gun and holds it up. You try to hold your breathing as the bookshelf cracks open. "Lan? Schat?" You both let out a sigh of breath as Max comes into view.

You balk, shocked to see Max covered in blood but Lando doesn't as he crushes him in a hug. Max sighs and runs his still wet hands through Lando's hair. "How many?" "Don't worry about it," Max whispers and notices your hesitancy to move. You knew their life, what it held, the violence, but they never brought it before you.

"I'll shower, when I can. The others are here, um, cleaning." You just nod and Max looks at his babies and sigh Lando whispers something that has Max nodding. "Are you and the baby okay?" He asks, and you hold your stomach nodding, the little one had been kicking the entire time.

"We're okay," Max nods and Lando looks over him making sure he wasn't injured. You knew Max was ruthless, but you never truly know the lengths someone will go for their children, tonight you saw just a small glimpse of that length, you hope to god you never see the end of it.

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earlgreyflowers · 5 months

Note

max + 31

You were staring, you knew you were, but honestly who could blame you. Max was sat there, legs spread, shorts riding up to expose his thighs. His beautiful, thick thighs. The book in your hand long forgotten the moment Max came back from training.

“You’ve been reading the same page for 10 minutes schatje.” Max says, not glancing up from his phone. That man’s awareness will be the death of you one day, it’s decided.

“Got bored,” You hum, “Better things to look at.”

Max smirks, “What? My legs? You’re looking at me like a piece of meat, is this getting you going?” He chuckles, placing his phone down and beckoning for you to come join him on the couch.

“Don’t kink shame me.” You murmur, straddling his lap, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. “I would never beautiful,” He murmurs against your lips, giving you a gentle kiss. You hum against his lips, sliding your hand to the back of his neck.

“In fact, I think you should utilise your newfound ‘kink’.” Max explains. You pull your head back, quirking an eyebrow in curiosity. “Straddle my thigh schatje.”

Your jaw drops, eyes wide and chest tight. “What?” You whisper.

“You heard me. Get on my thigh.” He tells you, pulling your shorts down, leaving you in just your underwear and his Red Bull polo. He groans at the glistening wetness staining your thighs before placing his thigh in between your legs.

“Sit.”

The moment your pussy makes contact with his bare thigh he can’t help but groan. “Soaking my thigh already, who knew you were this desperate?” He mutters, your head falling into his neck as your hips begin to move.

The drag of your clit against his muscular thigh causes you to whimper, pressing yourself harder. His large calloused hands guide your hips, moving you up and down his thigh.

“That’s it schatje, doesn’t it feel good?” He questions, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You can’t seem to find the words to respond, overwhelmed by pleasure. You nod dumbly, moaning out his name as he tenses his thigh.

“Who would’ve thought I could fuck you dumb without putting my cock in you? Just so needy for me.” Max brushes some hair behind your hair, holding your face to look at him whilst he smiles sarcastically. His eyes scan your face, admiring the light flush smattered over your cheeks and the way your eyelids flutter shut with every grind against him.

“Want you to cum, can you do that? Cum on my thigh and then I’ll fuck you senseless right here schatje.” He groans, your arousal audible now with each drag. Your legs begin to shake with exertion, Max taking over and continuing to grind you into his thigh, muscles tensing sporadically.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise despite the build up, head thrown back with a moan and eyes rolled back. “Oh god, Max, please.” You moan out, not sure if you’re begging him to stop or keep going.

“There we go, good girl.” Max groans, his thigh absolutely covered in you. He holds you still, allowing you to catch your breath. Max places a soft kiss on your cheek, leading you to look into his eyes, pupils clouded with lust. He smirks.

“Clean up your mess then schatje, I haven’t got all day.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 x female reader #formula one smut #max verstappen #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv33 smut #mv33 imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen imagine #red bull racing #thigh riding

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tayytayy12 · 1 day

Text

Secrets | MV1 x Reader

Summary - Reader and Max have been in a secret relationship since the beginning of readers rookie season with McLaren, but all the pairs efforts to keep their relationship private almost go out the window when readers involved in a bad crash

Warnings - Mentions of car crash, injuries, swearing

Type - Written / small Smau at the end

Requested - No - Yes

Not been proofread

You didn’t remember exactly how your relationship with Max came around, you just kind of remembered it beginning and loving every second of it. You was halfway through your rookie season with McLaren, finally scoring some points and even a couple of podiums when Max made the first move and asked you out on a date, you was nervous obviously, but you said yes of course, and it was one of the best decisions you’d ever made.

The decision to keep the relationship a secret was a mutual one between the two of you, you because it was hard enough being a woman in a sport like Formula one without people saying you was only getting where you was because of your relationship with the reigning champion, and Max’s reasons were because he wanted you to make you happy and the PR would be a nightmare, every media outlet would be claiming he was the reason for your improvement over the summer brake, they’d even give him credit for your win in the Qatar sprint, and you wouldn’t let that happen.

It was now the weekend of the Las Vegas Grand Prix, and you were incredibly excited, you’d been on a high the last few weekends, and nothing could bring you down, especially because of Max’s dominance on the track, you knew most if not all of the other drivers were sick and tired of it, but you enjoyed to see how happy he got when he won, after every win when you would sneak into his hotel room (his were always bigger) and he’d have a huge grin in his face, he was achieving his dream, and it made you happy too.

“You’re going to do amazing, Schat, I can feel it.” Max whispered into your shoulder as the two of you were hiding in a corner of the paddock where no prying cameras or eyes could see you, the pair of you getting in a moment alone together before the race, you laughed into his chest as you tighten the hug the pair of you were wrapped in, “A p19 qualifying result isn’t a position for me to do amazing in, love.”

Max shrugged as he smoothed your hair down, “I think you’re capable of anything out on the track. You’ve got more talent than practically all of these guys combined,” he paused for a moment before grinning and saying, “well apart from me, of course.”

“You’re a wanker.” You laughed as you leaned up and kissed him gently, him returning it instantly without a second of hesitation, “I love you Schat, I’ll see you after the race, do great for me.” He whispered.

You smiled, “I love you more, win for me, yeah?”

“I’ll do anything for you.” He whispered before placing one last kiss on the crown of your head and leaving to go and finish prepping for the race.

——————

It all happened in a blur, it didn’t even register in your mind that you had crashed until you started fading in and out of consciousness from how hard you had hit your head from the impact of the crash, all you remember was making you way up to p16 and a car coming too close behind you, and then you was here, your head feeling light and fuzzy as you heard your teams voices practically screaming at you from over the radio, urging you to respond so they could know you was okay. The crash looked horrible and brutal, they didn’t know if you was okay, but by the looks of the car, it didn’t seem like you would be.

You tried to reach for the radio button, but you couldn’t respond, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t talk, all you could do was sit there as black surrounded your vision and you slowly faded into a world of the unconscious.

——————

“Red flag Max, box box.” Max sighed when he hewed those words over his radio, he already had a clear lead on the race, working his way up from his qualifying position of third back up to first place where he belonged.

“What happened?” He asked as he slowed down the car and drove into the pit lane and into his garage, as he heard a voice sound form over his radio again, “A pretty bad crash, not sure who it is yet.”

“The team?” He asked, making sure it wasn’t some like Daniel or Charles, or most importantly, you.

“McLaren, unsure if it’s Norris or Y/l/n.” His blood ran cold when he heard that, it couldn’t be you, you did t crash, you was stop good to crash, he knew it was wrong but he was silently praying over and over in his head that it was Lando in that car and he exited his own, but that hope came crashing down when he glanced down and saw Lando pacing up and down his garage, hands running through his hair, tugging at the short curly stands as he waited for word if you was okay.

Throughout your time at McLaren, you and Lando had become friends, incredibly close friends, he was the only person you had trusted enough to tell about yours and Max’s relationship, and he hadn’t told a soul, and in this moment he looked petrified.

Max’s eyes quickly darted over to the large screen, trying to see if you were okay, but when he saw how mangled and contorted your car was, he grew ten times more panicked instantly, you needed to be okay, he needed you to be okay.

They called the race to an early end, no one knowing if you was okay or if your injury’s were as severe as they looked, and Max took that as his opportunity to go tell Christian how he needed to see you, and when the older man heard Maxs erratic tone and his glassy eyes he dismissed him without a moment of hesitation, promising to cover for him if he had to attend any interviews or anything.

That’s how he got here, in a white hospital room, your hand wrapped up in his and he pressed constant tiny kisses against the knuckles of you as you lay unconscious, Lando on your other side, a stray tear in his cheek as he remembered how the doctor said that you hit your head hard and you had some internal bleeding in your stomach, the man looked unbearably sorrowful as he said that if you didn’t wake up within the next day or two, you might not at all.

“Max,” Lando whispered, shattering the silence that the room was coated in, Max just hummed in acknowledgment his stare not wavering from your body as Lando continued, “she um, she got you this. For when you won,” he said handing Max a small box that looked like it had some kind of jewellery in it, “she’d want you to have it.

Max slowly disconnected your hand from his as his shaky hands opened the lid of the box, and his breath stopped in his throat when he saw a silver necklace with a ring on the end, but what really got him was the inscription inside the ring, in small words it read, ‘my champion’, his eyes instantly became glassy and Lando cleared his throat and stood, “I’ll give you a minute with her.” Before leaving the room as max fastened the chain around his neck as he re-connected your hands.

“Please wake up, Schat,” he said his voice cracking and he whispered against your knuckles, “I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do anything without you by my side. I want you with me every step of the way, when I win, when you win, I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to show people how much you mean to me, I love you so so much. So please, for me, wake up, don’t leave me.” He said as tears now flew down his face without even attempting to stop or slow them as he prayed that you’d open your eyes.

——————

Everything was so bright and loud around you when you woke up, your eyes adjusting to the white light as you come around to notice the extreme pounding in your head and the fact that you was in a hospital room and everything hurt.

Your eyes drifted down to the weight you felt around your waist where you saw Max sleeping, tear tracks on his face and the chain you’d bought for him around his neck, yous smiled, Lando must’ve given it to him.

Your finger slowly traced over his cheek, his jumping awake instantly at the touch and his eyes growing ten times wider at the sight of you awake, he yelled for a doctor as he stood a pressed tens of gentle kissed to the top of your head, “My god, Schat, never do that to me again, you hear me? I don’t want to know what anything would be like without you in my life. Don’t ever try and leave me again.”

You gently reached and pulled his head down so his forehead rested against your own, “I wouldn’t dream of it, My Champion.”

“You’re okay.” He said, his voice unbelieving as he placed his hands on your cheeks, you placed yours over his as you’re whispered back, “I’m okay, pretty boy. I’m okay.”

——————

Yourusername

Liked by - Yourusername, LandoNorris and 2,972,197 others

Tagged | @/MaxVerstappen

Yourusername - IM ALIVE !!!! In a shit ton of pain but I’m going to be okay after a lonnngggg recovery, I’ll be out for Abu Dhabi but I’ll be right back in Bahrain 😙 oh yeah and here’s my bf Max, do you know him?

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User1 - EXCUSE ME?

User2 - WHAT WHEN AND HOW

User3 - HOW ARE YOU SO CASUAL ABOUT IT?!?!?

User4 - okay but the third picture? The bear hug? Y/n can I have him?

Yourusername - No sorry bby, I kinda like this one

LandoNorris - FINALLY. BEING THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW WAS EXHAUSTING.

Yourusername - You’re a solider, Lan

User5 - Lando knowing is so them core.

MaxVerstappen - I love you so much, schat

Yourusername - I love you so so so so so much more my champion

User6 - BRB, raking a nap on the highway 💕💕

——————

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elia-the-bibliophile · 3 days

Text

Flavors of Fate (Max Verstappen x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 3,1k

Recently laid-off chef, Y/N, unexpectedly meets F1 racer Max Verstappen during a late night beer run. As Heinekens flow and culinary tales are exchanged, sparks ignite in the most unexpected of places. But just when Y/N thinks life can't get any more surprising, Max presents her with a proposition of a lifetime.

In the bustling heart of Monte Carlo, the rich aroma of sizzling spices and savory meats permeated the air, mingling with the lively chatter of diners and the rhythmic clinking of silverware. Y/N, a spirited chef, commanded the kitchen of “Casa del Sazón,” one of the city's trendiest Mexican restaurants. However, her world was about to be turned upside down.

It was supposed to be like any other night, certainly a pretty average day at first. Y/N navigates the controlled chaos with finesse, her apron adorned with the vibrant colors of her culinary creations. Suddenly, her boss strides into the kitchen with a grave expression etched upon his face. “Y/N, can I have a word?”

Y/N pauses mid-stir, concerned at the serious tone in her boss's voice. “Sure, what's up?”

She saw him taking a deep breath before continuing, “I'm afraid I have some bad news. Due to financial constraints, we have to make some cutbacks, and unfortunately, your position is one of them.”

Y/N's heart sinks as the weight of his words settle upon her. This kitchen had been her sanctuary, her canvas, where she painted with flavors and spices, infusing each dish with her passion for Mexican cuisine.

Her lips curl into a disbelieving scoff. “You must be joking,” she mutters, her voice tinged with a mixture of bewilderment and frustration. “I mean, seriously? I'm the backbone of this kitchen!”

With a swift motion, she reaches out to turn off the stove, the flames extinguishing under her command as if echoing her simmering anger.

Her boss's demeanor softens with empathy, his expression reflecting the weight of the situation. “I know this is hard to hear, Y/N,” he begins, his voice carrying the burden of the decision he's been forced to make. “But in times like these, tough decisions have to be made for the survival of the business.”

Y/N's eyes narrow in response, she meets his gaze with a steely resolve. “Survival of the business, huh?” she retorts, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Well, good luck surviving without me, then.”

She folds her arms across her chest, a defiant stance against the unfairness of it all. “Just remember,” she adds, her voice dripping with sass, “when this place goes down in flames without me, don't come crawling back asking for my recipes. You'll have to figure out how to make your own mediocre tacos.”

Y/N's hands move with purpose as she swiftly gathers her belongings, her apron discarded with a frustrated toss onto the nearest countertop. The once vibrant kitchen now hums with tension, the air thick with the weight of impending change as the other kitchen staffs glance nervously at each other.

As Y/N moves to leave, her boss, panic evident in his voice, steps forward in a desperate attempt to salvage what remains of the evening's service. “Y/N, can't you just finish your shift tonight? It's just one last night,” he pleads, his eyes beseeching her to reconsider.

Y/N halts in her tracks, her gaze locking onto his. “Oh, hell no,” she replies, her voice dripping with venom. “I've had enough of this circus. I'm out.��

With a dismissive wave, she brushes past him, her footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as she makes her exit. The boss's pleas fall on deaf ears as she strides out of the kitchen, leaving behind a wake of uncertainty and a boss grappling with the consequences of his decisions.

__________________________________________

Y/N storms out of the restaurant, her frustration visible with each brisk step she takes. Swearing a colorful string of curses under her breath, she heads straight for her regular liquor store. She definitely wants to forget what just happened. And nothing makes her happier than some good beers.

As she enters, the familiar jingle of the bell announces her arrival, chiming merrily in contrast to her sour mood. She’s met with the welcoming smile of Shay, the cashier she's come to know all too well from her frequent beer runs.

“Gimme all the beer you got,” Y/N grumbles, her tone laced with frustration.

Shay chuckles knowingly, leaning against the counter with a sympathetic look. “Rough day, huh? Sorry, hon, but we're fresh out of Heineken.”

Y/N's shoulders slump in disappointment, but Shay's next words lifted her spirit immediately. “But hey, there's another store just down the road that might have what you're looking for. They always keep a good stock of imported beers.”

Y/N's face lights up, relief washing over her. “You're a lifesaver, Shay!” She then blew her a kiss before looking for that store that Shay mentioned.

__________________________________________

Max reaches for the last pack of Heineken, his fingers closing around the cool, familiar shape of the bottles. It's been a long day at the Energy Station, and he's been looking forward to a quiet night in, just him and a cold beer.

As he makes his way towards the cashier, his thoughts already drifting to the comfort of his couch, a woman bursts into the store, her hurried steps echoing through the quiet aisles. She makes a beeline for the cashier, her urgency unmistakable. Max pauses, his curiosity piqued by the sudden commotion. He watches as the woman and the cashier exchange words, their conversation animated and lively, a stark contrast to the tranquility he had anticipated for his evening.

“Apologies, ma'am,” the cashier offers with a sympathetic smile, “—but it appears the last pack has already found a home with that gentleman over there,” he explains, gesturing discreetly towards Max.

He watched her groans in frustration, running a hand through her hair as she tries to come to terms with her string of bad luck. “Seriously? Is there nowhere in this city that has what I'm looking for?” she laments, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Observing the woman's defeated demeanor, Max pieces together her quest for Heinekens. He watches as she wearily settles into an empty chair in the seating area, He can't help but feel a pang of empathy for her obvious disappointment.

After paying for his beers, Max makes a spontaneous decision. With a determined stride, he approaches the woman, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

__________________________________________

The soft glow of overhead lights casts a warm ambiance over the store, lending an air of intimacy to the otherwise mundane surroundings. Y/N sits slumped in her seat, her shoulders sagging, gaze fixed on the floor as she tries to shake off the frustration of her failed beer hunt.

Just as she resigns herself to her fate, a voice breaks through the silence, pulling her from her thoughts. Startled, she looks up to find none other than Max Verstappen standing before her, a friendly smile gracing his features.

“Hey there,” Max greets her, his tone warm and inviting. “I couldn't help but overheard you were in need of some Heinekens. Mind if I share mine with you?” He says, motioning to his pack.

Y/N blinks in surprise, her eyes widening as she recognizes the famous Formula 1 driver standing before her. She can hardly believe her luck as she nods eagerly, a grateful smile spreading across her face.

“Wow, I-I mean, sure! That would be amazing,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing with a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Are you positive? I don’t want to impose.”

Max waves off any notion of inconvenience with a casual shrug, his easygoing demeanor putting Y/N at ease. “Nah, it's no trouble at all. I know how it feels to crave a nice beer,” he reassures her with another grin, genuinely happy to lend a hand.

Taking a seat across from her, Max settles in comfortably, his posture relaxed as he leans back in his chair. The atmosphere around them seems to shift.

With a smooth motion, Max reaches into the pack, retrieving a cold bottle of Heineken and sliding it across the table to Y/N. Her eyes follow his every movement.

As they both crack open their drinks, the sound fills the air with a satisfying echo. Y/N takes a long sip, relishing the refreshing taste of the beer as she savors the moment.

Max then fixed his gaze on Y/N with interest. “So, what's the deal with you?” he asks casually. As if speaking to an old friend.

Y/N chuckles softly, a playful glint dancing in her eyes as she considers his question. “Well, where do I even begin?” she replies, her voice tinged with amusement. “Let's just say today has been a shitshow for me.”

Max's laughter fills the air, a genuine expression of amusement at Y/N's blunt response. Slapping his knees with a grin, he nods in appreciation, recognizing a kindred spirit in her straightforwardness. “I like your style,” he remarks with a chuckle. “I'm a straightforward person myself.”

As he twirls the bottle in his hand, Max leans in with fresh interest, his eyes glued on Y/N as he beckons her to share more about her day. “Yeah, tell me more about it,” he encourages, his tone inviting. “I'm all ears.”

Y/N takes a long, satisfying sip of her beer before launching into her tale. With a sassy tilt of her head, she re-meets Max's gaze head-on. “I'm a chef, you see. Or, well, I was a chef before my boss decided to give me the boot a few hours ago," she explains.

“No way," Max exclaims, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You? Fired? I can't believe it!”

Max point his bottle at you, “I mean, look at you! You've got 'chef' written all over you! I'll admit I myself can barely cook a decent omelette without setting off the smoke alarm. My kitchen skills are sadly nonexistent.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow, her expression playful yet pointed, “Are you one of those dudes who thinks that cooking is just for women?”

Max feigns offense, clutching his heart dramatically. “No, no, no! It's not like that at all,” he protests, his tone exaggeratedly wounded. “I just... I've always been more of an expert in the fine art of ordering takeout,” he admits with a sheepish grin.

Y/N can't help but tease, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Ah, so the kitchen gossip about the Dutch thinking of eating as a chore because their food is sadly unseasoned is true then, huh?”

Max's eyes widen in mock indignation, his hands flying up in protest. “Hey now, that's not fair!” he exclaims, his defense genuine but laced with humor. “We have some amazing dishes back home! It's just... a different flavor profile,” he insists, though the twinkle in his eye betrays his amusement.

Y/N chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she playfully reassures him, “Oh, don't take it to heart. I'm just teasing.”

Max grins back before noticing that they’ve both finished their drinks. With a practiced motion, he reaches for another bottle, popping it open with practiced ease and sliding it across the table to Y/N. She tilted her head, signaling her thanks.

They enjoyed a minute of comfortable silence before he speaks again, “So, where did you work as a chef?”

Her expression thoughtful as she considers his question. “I used to work at Casa del Sazón,” she replied. “I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

Max nearly sputters out his drink, his eyes widening in a manner that is almost comical. “Ain't no way!” he exclaims, genuinely surprised by the coincidence. “I'm a regular there! The food is crazy good!”.

Y/N's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, her lips curling into a pleased smile at Max's enthusiastic endorsement. “Well, fancy meeting one of my regulars here.” she exclaims as she throw him a wink.

Max can't help but sing praises for the food, mentioning several of his favorite dishes with childlike enthusiasm. “Seriously, your enchiladas are out of this world,” he declares, his eyes lighting up. “And don't even get me started on the carne asada tacos–it’s like sex on the mouth.”

Y/N's smile grew with each glowing review that Max threw her way, her pride in her culinary creations evident in every word he speaks. “I'm thrilled to hear that you enjoy my cooking that much,” she replies.

As Max raises his hand in a playful salute, Y/N can't help but chuckle at the gesture. “Well, it's an honor to meet the person behind it all,” he says, his tone sincere as he acknowledges Y/N's talent.

Max's keen observation doesn't miss the subtle shift in Y/N's demeanor, despite her attempts to mask her sadness. He notices the flicker of melancholy that crosses her face, a shadow cast over her previously lively demeanor.

Concern creases Max's brow as he watches Y/N's mood darken, his own heart going out to her. With a gentle touch, he reaches out to lay a reassuring hand on her arm, silently offering his support.

Surprised by Max's comforting gesture, Y/N hesitates before tentatively laying her hand on top of his, half expecting him to pull away. Instead, he surprises her by squeezing her hand back gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

Feeling a sense of comfort wash over her, Y/N opens up. “Sorry for souring the mood—“, but before she can finish her sentence, Max cuts her off with a gentle shake of his head.

“There's no need to apologize,” he reassures her, his voice soft but firm. “Your reaction is completely normal, Y/N. It's not healthy to ignore what you're feeling.”

Y/N offers a grateful smile, touched by Max's kindness. “Thank you for being here with me, Max,” she says sincerely. “I'm sure you had other plans before I came crashing in.”

Max's response is immediate, his smile bright. “Ahh no worries at all. Honestly, this unexpected turn of events has been a pleasant surprise,” he replies.

Y/N's eyes flick to the clock on the wall, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise as she realizes the lateness of the hour. “Wow, it's already 2 am,” she remarks.

She then turns to Max, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think it's probably time for us to call it a night,” she says, her tone apologetic. “We've been here longer than I realized.”

Max's own surprise mirrors Y/N's, his eyes widening in realization as he takes in the late hour. A smile tugs at his lips as he considers the passing of time, a testament to the genuine enjoyment he's found in your company.

“Shit, you're right,” he agrees, his tone filled with slight amazement. “I can't believe how quickly the time flew by. I guess that just goes to show how much I've enjoyed talking to you.”

Y/N's cheeks flush with embarrassment at Max's admission, but she can't hide the glee in her smile. “I, uh, I enjoyed talking to you too,” she admits.

As Max and Y/N stand up, a sense of reluctance hangs in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitable end to their impromptu evening together. With a shared sigh, they make their way towards the door, their steps in sync as they exit the store together.

Once outside, the cool night air envelops them, a gentle reminder of the world waiting beyond the confines of their shared moment. Max offers a small smile as he turns to Y/N, his gesture a silent offer of assistance.

“Can I help you find a cab?” he asks, his tone gentle. “I want to make sure you get home safely.”

Y/N shot him a grateful smile as she accepts his offer. “That would be great, thank you.”

As Max reaches for his phone, ready to call a cab, his movements falter as his gaze meets Y/N's once more. There's a flicker of determination in his eyes as he speaks, his voice steady despite the sudden shift in the conversation.

“I must ask you this,” he begins, his words measured. With a deep breath, he takes the plunge, offering Y/N an unexpected proposition.

“I know it's a bit different from your previous job, but... would you consider being my private chef?” he asks, his tone earnest as he lays his cards on the table. “I want to test the waters and see if we can make it work.”

The air around them crackles with anticipation as Max waits for Y/N's response, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and hope. He knows it's a bold move, but something about Y/N's presence fills him with a sense of certainty. The fact that her specialty happens to be his favorite cuisine is also a huge bonus.

Y/N's eyes widen in surprise at Max's unexpected offer, her heart skipping a beat as she takes in the magnitude of his gesture.

“Max, thank you,” she breathes out. Without hesitation, she wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace, her heart overflowing with emotions.

Caught off guard by Y/N's sudden hug, Max feels his cheeks flush a deep shade of maroon. He tries his best to hide it, but the pounding of his heart is so loud, he's certain that even Y/N could feel it reverberating against his chest.

As Max feels Y/N's embrace, a sense of contentment washes over him, enveloping him whole. Lost in the moment, he finds himself unconsciously pulling her even closer, savoring the feeling of her in his arms. In that fleeting instant, Max realizes just how nice it feels to be hugged by her and how he would very much like to repeat this over and over.

When Y/N pulls away, Max can't help but feel a pang of loss at the sudden absence of her warmth. He finds himself craving more of the contact, a yearning stirring within him as he reluctantly lets her go.

Max's heart skips a beat when she asks him to put his number on her phone, his lips curling into a loopy smile. “Sure,” he replies eagerly, his fingers dancing over her phone as he quickly adds his contact information and hands it back to her.

As their fingers brush against each other in the exchange, Max can't shake the electric thrill that courses through him, a silent promise of the possibilities that lie ahead.

“I’ll ring you up tomorrow.” She said, bringing another shit-eating grin to Max's face.

“I'll hold you to that,” his tone mock threatening as he pretends to wag his finger at her. “And don't forget, I have a particular set of skills. I will track you down if I have to. Monaco is not a big country.”

Y/N lets out a laugh as she playfully rolls her eyes at Max's faux threat. “Your wish is my command,” she replies, her voice filled with mock obedience. “As long as there's another session of beers with a side of Max Verstappen, of course.”

“Deal,” he shots back, eyes dancing with mischief. “You can have it however you want, so long as you keep feeding me with good food. I am a man of simple pleasure, Y/N.”

“That I can do Max, that I can do.”

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norizz-nation · 3 days

Note

Hi there! Could I request a Dominant Max smut with a virgin fem reader? They've been friends for a while and then one slightly tipsy night leads to something more? Thanks!

Cherry Sundress | M.V1

Summary: Can friends really be something more? Well only if it’s dark desire.

Warnings: nsfw, 18+

You’ve been friends with Max for a few years now. You must admit that he’s the most sweetest person you’ve ever met. He somehow makes you feel safe. He’s the reason why you’re not insecure anymore, about anything. He’s like this ray of light that changed your whole life.

You love him. Of course you love him. You love the way his eyes smile even when he’s trying to hide it. You love the way he bites his lips when you crack flirty jokes with him. You love the way his eyes scream ‘I love you’ to you.

Those eyes.

Those ocean blue eyes.

You love them.

You love the way he’s so effortlessly funny. You love the way he’s so graceful. You love the way his body looks when he’s wearing nothing but shorts. You love thinking about him when you get yourself off. You love this lustful desire you have for him.

But you’re not sure if you’re loving your current situation.

His big hands softly brushing your waist. Looking down at your body so fondly as if you’re the most prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

“Your waist looks so small when I have my hands wrapped around it.” His words were a bit louder than a whisper yet not enough for you to hear it properly.

His hands found their way up, lifting your sundress and revealing your red panties. “So, red because you have cherries all over your little dress?” He asked smirking like a devil as he tugged on your panties.

Your thighs rubbed together as you stopped his hands from pulling it down. “Nervous, huh?” He asked, pushing your hand away.

You nodded your head as you looked down. Too shy to make eye contact. Max smiled lightly and whispered in your ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. You’ll never want another guy’s touch after I’m done with you.”

He then kissed your cheek and went lower down to kiss your neck. You couldn’t help but tug on his hair and pull his head closer to you. You were dying to feel his lips on yours.

“Please…” You pleaded, not even knowing what you’re pleading for. Maybe because you want to kiss him so bad. You’re too drunk to even think about it right now. So is he.

His lips brushed against your neck then went up to your jaw. You gasped softly when he finally kissed you.

It felt like you’re melting for him. You could taste the wine on his tongue which made you squirm a little. Your hands uncontrollably traveled their way through his body. Feeling every little muscle tense for you.

You whined when he pulled away from kissing you. “You can take it, right schatz?” He breathlessly asked as he pulled your panties down. You nodded desperately, wanting him to touch you already. However he wants to touch you.

You bit on your lower lip, trying your best to hold back your moan when you felt him slowly rub his fingertip on your clit. “You like that, huh?” He teasingly asked and you nodded, not being able to speak.

“I can tell, because you’re so wet right now. Did I make you this wet, schatz?” He asked while rubbing on your clit lightly. “Y-yes, you did. It’s only for you.” You replied to him.

“Okay schatz this might hurt a little but I promise it’ll feel good later. Can you do this for me?” He asked, making sure that you’re okay with it. You nodded, assuring him that you can take it.

He murmured a ‘good’ while he slowly pushed his middle finger inside of you. His curled finger inside you made you grip on the bedsheets. “Oh fuck.” You moaned out as he smirked at you.

“Fuck, more please Max.” You pleaded and Max raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you sure sweetheart?” He asked and you desperately nodded again.

“Please, I wanna feel you inside of me.” You said as you whined out. Max suddenly grabbed your wrist and made you feel his bulge through his jeans. Your mouth hung open when you felt his hard bulge almost ripping his jeans. “You sure your little pussy can take all of this, schatz?” He asked teasingly.

“Yes, I can.” You said, not being sure if you actually can or not. But it doesn’t matter. All you want is his touch.

A/N: I’m sorry if it’s not that much of dominant Max. But still, hope yall like it. As always, requests are open so feel free to ask what you want me to write. I love you. ❤️

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harianaswhore · 2 months

Text

⟡ max verstappen 2 ⟡

NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ

— ᶠᴸᵁᶠᶠ ⟡

cuddle bug - @chrisevansonly

playing cupid - @pucksandpower

that pretty head of yours (^)

getting jealous over him - @theemporium

gift giving (^)

he must be lucky! - @adventuringblind

passenger princess - @uglyducklingofthe2000s

beach read - @monzabee

too cold - @predestinadora

you mean everything (^)

made for each other - @sinofwriting

even kiss begins with tabs (^)

"i might have had a few shots" - @forzalando

the ways in which max shows you he loves you - @thatsdemko

purrfect christmas tree - @gentlyweeps-world

protective - @verstappen-cult

5 times max refuses to acknowledge he’s sick + 1 time he does (^)

reuniting (^)

father's day - @hemmingsleclerc

flowers are a language of their own - @lightsoutletsgo

little verstappen - @lxclerc

— ᴬᴺᴳˢᵀ⟡

you're my forever- @talkdutchtome

protective max (tw: jos verstappen) - @formulaa-1

the grudge (sibling!reader) (tw: jos verstappen) - @hockeyshmockey

solace (tw: mentions of jos verstappen) - @adventuringblind

— ˢᴹᵁᵀ⟡

whiplash - @pucksandpower

burn for you (^)

it's only natural (^)

thighs (suggestive) - @vivwritesfics

use me - @fxrmuladaydreams

size kink - @baby-dr1ver

neck kisses (VERY suggestive) - @verstappen-cult

— ˢᴼᶜᴵᴬᴸ ᴹᴱᴰᴵᴬ ⟡

someone like you - @ekteee

straight home to me - @redclercs

manifestation boo - @lorarri

horner!reader - @pucksandpower

ramsay!reader (^)

hamilton!reader (^)

can i call you rose? - @f1version

slay intensifies - @vivwritesfics

daniel is a man's bestfriend - @marlenesluv

princess treatment - @natailiatulls07

paint him red ! - @agendabymooner

full of fan behavior - @nouvellevqgue

new desire - @formulafics

love story - @verstappen-cult

big brothers - @theyluvkarolina

— ˢᴱᴿᴵᴱˢ ⟡

lucky red bull driver make it work - @fxrmuladaydreams

my love mine all mine - @dreamauri

i do not two three four imagine - @imnameimswrld

all his two three four (smut) - @pinkswaet

little big fan - @thef1diary

little traitor - @norrisleclercf1

let me be the lighter - @nostappen

the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess his eyes it's just us (smut) - @delulujuls

start of season drama two - @twirlyleafs

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pucksandpower · 1 month

Text

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.”

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minkyungseokie · 14 days

Text

Private, But Not Secret | Max Verstappen

synopsis; max is in a relationship with a pilot who, despite being popular on the internet, likes to keep their relationship as private as she could

warnings; none

note; requested

note2; I don't think I'm as funny as anyone else who make smaus. I have the sense of humor as a bag of dirt. I tried and I hope you all enjoy this enough to keep requesting. I also did not know how to do a private, but secret romance, so take whatever tf this is

fc; any random woman I find on pintrest

Come Talk to Me

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Max Masterlist

pilotynv posted a photo!

pilotynv

liked by maxverstappen1, nyckdevries, landnorris, and 2,786,231 others

pilotynv A day in the life

tagged: pilotfriend1, pilotfriend2, pilotfriend3, maxverstappen1

dadlicker MAX CRUMBS!! I REPEAT, MAX CRUMBS!! ⤷ubertomywip First of all, your name 💀 second of all, what ⤷dadlicker Y/n doesn't really post Max ⤷Userdd Because they want to keep the relationship as private as possible

maxverstappen1 ❤️ ♥ by author ⤷pilotynv ❤️

danielriccardo I'm so glad you got that picture ⤷pilotynv You were there and you sent me the picture, dumbass ⤷danielriccardo I did? I must've been so drunk

Duign-23r Why is this bitch so fucking rude? ⤷pilotynv Rude how? I'm interacting with a friend. You would know friendly banter if you had friends ⤷User4 GAGGED

landonorris I didn’t know those windows opened

maxverstappen1 posted a photo!

maxverstappen1

liked by pilotynv and 129,420 others

maxverstappen1 Simply lovely. Thank you to our orange army in Bahrain for coming out and supporting us. Next stop Saudi Arabia ➡️ 🇸🇦

drillarkillar Simply lovely, my ass. When are you going to stop winning? You're ruining the sport 😒 ⤷ alliseearesainz @drillarkillar Fr, like, let other people win ⤷ hj219 @drillarkillar You DTS crybabies are what's ruining the sport

tututtutmaxverstappen My 2023 world champion!

masterbaiter give us Y/n content 🗣️🗣️🗣️

meirfyct See you in Saudi!

hamburgerler The 2023, 2024, and 2025 world champ

pilotynv You did amazing, my love. It was amazing seeing you in your element ❤️ ♥ by author ⤷maxverstappen1 @pilotynv ❤️

pilotynv posted a photo!

pilotynv

liked by maxverstappen1, pilotfriend2, landonorris, and 5,552,757

pilotynv Flew us to a remote getaway in Greece

tagged: maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 ❤️ ♥ by author

gaggingballa she😭 flew 😭 them 😭 there 😭

lalalalisa_m that pizza looks so good! We should visit togther sometime ♥ by author ⤷pilotynv @lalalalisa_m Girl, I'd probably ne flying the plane you take here 😭 ⤷8bobbit0 @lalalalisa_m ariana, what are you doing here?

ariangrande Those pizzas look amazing ⤷arialandomis @arianagrande ARIANA?! ⤷greenblattbanner @arianagrande I knew Y/n was popular, but not that popular

pilotynv added to their story

replies

username omg max! He looks so good

Jossleftpinkietoe More Max pls!

Ynsimp His smile is so cute

landonorris Tell Max his face looks weird

Fuck off- Max

danielricciardo next time, take me and Heidi with you

Bet. I'll fly us all there again

pilotynv posted a photo

pilotynv

liked by maxverstappen1 and 4,663,781

pilotynv decided to watch a race for once since I'm off

tagged: maxverstappen1

urethka here before Max

lugunam The hand holding in the car is so cute

Taggedidj We stan a supportive queen

Fashionicosn She looks so good

Bootlicker GOOD LUCK, MAXIE

pilotynv added to their story

Honestly, I as struggling a bit with this one. I don't know how to make a smau about a private, but not secret relationship lol. Anyway, feel free to request more smaus or written fics

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

Text

Mini Me

With how shitty my life is rn, I keep having these depressive episodes. Turns out my depressive episodes breed fluff

Max's six year old son has just started karting and his wife has to take him. Boy oh boy, does he miss his wife and son.

"So, Max, can we expect to see your little one around the paddock today?"

Ever since the day he was born, Fabian Verstappen had been seen with his parents around the Formula One paddock. He was always smiling and waving at those he knew and those he didn't. Fabian Verstappen was the happiest boy around.

Max was very proud of his boy. He showed him off to whoever he could. When he was young, he sat on Max's hip while he completed interviews and such.

Fabian was Max's number one supporter (Tied only by Max's wife and Fabians mother, Y/N. She followed him around the world three times before agreeing to marry him. It was a year long engagement, and in that time Y/N found out she was pregnant. They managed to keep it hidden until after their wedding, although Y/N did have to get a dress that better fit her bump).

There was a year between Fabian being born and him being able to attend his first race. Christian was happy to get him fitted out in Red bull Racing merchandise. He got his own little hat and a too large Red bull shirt with a thirty three on it (Max had lost that years championship. Red bull had won the constructors but Max had just missed out on the WDC. Red bull had worked out the kinks in the car and Max was bound to win this year, just as he had the previous year).

This year was the first year Fabian and Y/N weren't there to cheer Max on. And interviewers certainly picked up on it.

"Uh, no," Max answered when they asked about Fabian. "He and my wife are at a karting event right now."

The interviewer gave him a nod. "Following in your footsteps perhaps?"

Letting out a laugh, Max nodded his head. "We can only hope," he said.

"Do you think we'll be seeing him in a Red bull Racing suit in the next fifteen years?"

Again, Max nodded his head. "If he's anything like his dad, he'll be in a Red bull Racing suit before that," he said and adjusted the cap on his head.

Max left the interview and checked his phone. As much as he wanted Fabian and Y/N at his race, he knew how important karting was to his son.

Max has always been Fabian's hero. His first full sentence was 'I wanna be like daddy'. Max and Y/N did whatever they could to make Fabian's dream come true.

The one thing Fabian wanted but he couldn't have was to have his daddy at his karting races, watching him. There had been a lot of screaming and crying while Max and Y/N tried to explain to him why his father couldn't be there.

But Fabian had made friends at his Karting matches. He and the other kids he had raced against got along like peas in a pod. Fabian's first ever play date was with his karting friends. Some of them had been sat with their eyes and mouths wide open while Max brought them juice. They couldn't believe he, their hero and favourite driver, was Fabian's dad.

Max pulled out his phone and checked his messages. Nothing from his wife yet, but Fabian's race should have been done, he realised when he checked the time.

Dialling her number, Max pressed his phone to his ear.

It took Y/N a moment to pick up. "Hey handsome," she said in a chipper voice when she picked up the phone. Her voice was distant and slightly distorted, and Max realised she was in the car.

"Hello, Liefje. How's our little racer?" He asked her.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Came Fabian's voice. "I won! I won! I won!" He shouted.

Well, that answered Max's question. His cheeks were warm as he smiled, listening to his son. "Ik ben zo trots op je, mijn jongen. Ik kan niet wachten om jullie twee weer te zien!" (I'm so proud of you, my boy. I can't wait to see you too again!)

There was a moment before Fabian responded. He was fluent in English and French, but he was only good at Dutch. It still took him some time before he could work out what Max was saying and respond.

"Papa, ik... heb een... trofee." (Daddy, I got a trophy.)

There was a certain sense of joy that filled Max whenever Fabian answered him in Dutch. "Fabi, make sure mommy sends me a picture of your trophy," he said.

"I will do, Maxy," Y/N responded for the little boy. "Fabi, what do we say to papa?"

Again, Fabian was quiet for a moment. "Oh!" He suddenly cried from the back of the car. "Good luck with your race, Papa! Maybe you can win like me!"

The Verstappens laughed.

"Good luck, Max. Call me after you've won."

"I will, Liefje. I love you."

"I love you too."

Max hung up the phone after that. He his qualifying to get ready for. As he got ready, though, he spent the entire time thinking about his wife and son. He checked his phone constantly, waiting for Y/N to send over the picture of Fabian and his trophy.

No father had ever been prouder of his little boy than Max. Fabian was his everything and he couldn't wait to see him in the big leagues. Who knows, maybe Max would still be racing alongside him. Maybe he'd have Horner's job, team principle of Red bull Racing while his son raced as their number one driver.

No matter what, Max would always be Fabian's number one supporter.

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