Tumgik
#okay i cant stop edit them
Text
Hot take but I just read a long post about someone being so upset and angry about the way the other people on empires treat Jimmy Solidarity (pranks, making fun of him, ect) and people in the replies were agreeing and talking about how distraught it makes them and all I can say is you should really stop watching his/others' Empires videos if its making you that upset because I can guarantee that its all in good fun and the man is having a perfectly okay time. He's having fun with his friends, they just like to rag on him. My friends like to rag on me too and it's totally fine, I enjoy it. You're projecting and you're, like, WAY too invested if it's upsetting you like that. You're turning him having fun with his friends into something it's not.
Stop using his videos to make yourself miserable :| Go watch something else instead of being self destructive and then whining about it online when there's not even anything wrong or mean really happening :| I'm so serious when I say that this is chronically online behavior and you need to go talk to a professional because that is Not Normal.
#not to tumblr subtweet or whatever but what the fuck guys#get offline. genuinely#he is having fun with his friends. he is having a good time.#they were like “its giving me flashbacks to middle school” DUDE. STOP WATCHING. HIS VIDEOS GO AS HE WANTS THEM TOO. HE EDITS AND CHOOSES WH#AT TO POST. YOU ARE PROJECTING AND YOU'RE BEING A DICK. HE AND HIS FRIENDS ARE GOOFY IN A WAY THAT WOULD PERSONALLY MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.#LIKE OKAY SURE!!! IF YOU DONT LIKE IT THEN THATS OKAY AND YOU DONT HAVE TO BE IN THAT SITUATION. BUT YOURE BEING A DICK BY COMPLAINING ABOU#T IT AND WHINING ONLINE ABOUT HOW HE INTERACTS WITH HIS FRIENDS. IT IS PLAYFUL AND ENJOYABLE FOR HIM BECAUSE IF IT WASNT HE'D NOT BE DOING#IT BECAUSE HES AN ADULT AND HE WOULD TELL HIS FRIENDS (IN PRIVATE WHERE YOU CANT SEE IT) THAT WHAT THEYRE DOING IS UPSETTING HIM#you are being parasocial my guy#also stop using his videos to hurt yourself dude what??? that is not healthy???#sorry for ranting. im sure ill get upset people in asks again. thats fine#idrc because im a fucking adult and i recognize that a grown ass man wouldnt be behaving like this and having a villain arc in minecraft#because he was genuinely mad at his friends :| and that you need to do something if seeing it is upsetting you and that its unhealthy that#people agree with you and theyre basically enabling you/encouraging you by acting like its normal to be so upset over something innocuous#rant over#aim.rant#aim.txt#jimmy solidarity#solidarity gaming#solidaritygaming#mcyt
33 notes · View notes
spacecrows · 2 months
Text
hello fellow 'oh this food isn't supposed to be spicy/tingly/numbing?!?' people!!!
6 notes · View notes
lesbiangiratina · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
Invested in a display case for my ggx tcg box cuz testament is on 1 side of it therefor it is a testament object so i want to put it with my testament stuff. But i dont want it to like fucking turn to dust. The reload boxes i have are on their own idgaf (as much) (i will still store them somewhere safe) (eventually)
9 notes · View notes
slashingdisneypasta · 4 months
Text
F/O Imagine/Question
Thinking about Adult Online Shopping with your F/O(s). Like, not even searching for toys to use together- you were just casually looking for something new for yourself, your alone time, and your F/O(s) just happen to walk by and get curious. Did they know before you that you masturbate? If not, how do they feel about it? Are they shy about looking at this stuff with you? Do they try to initiate funky time because of this? Are they cool an casual?
Now imagine actually going to the adult store with them XD
7 notes · View notes
lunaaaylin · 5 months
Text
I love utsukushii kare so much I’m gonna be SICK
11 notes · View notes
yoodokjas · 9 months
Note
kdj is so bisexual coded it's insane
fork found in the kitchen, anon
11 notes · View notes
kellystar321 · 2 years
Text
.
#periodical life updates#is that spelled right;;; bluhhhh :') okay anyway#im too tired to draw but too awake to sleep; cursed to be stagnantly unproductive :pensive:#cant even draw an eca; much less my artfight attacks. ALSO everytime i finish a revenge TWO OTHER PEOPLE ATTACK ME#and i am thankful for art but also STOP MY REVENGES WILL NEVER GO DOWN and i still need to do friend arts!!!#ough cursed with my trivial little problems u-u i may be overwhelmed (''oh you think?!'' <- brain balancing 36+ different artfight pieces)#animating for a few hopefully; multiple characters for several; i dont want to do backgrounds anymore but i should :'>#one of my notes for one is ''jegus chrimst jace are you going to draw a whole -ss car?!'' hfhgfg#it was a mistake trying to name them all flowers but im committed to it now#also mom wants me to go back to school and i literally have no more gen-eds to cover for me and i still dont know what major i want#i feel stuck in that regard so i just try not to think about it. but the semester is approaching :'/#guhhh im too tired to go on my laptop but i physically cant nap :'/ cursed forever /lh#body please either stop being tired or settle down enough to take a sleep!! make up your mind you silly lil guy!!#maybe i'll reblog things or scroll tumblr or something; oh unproductive mindless activity u-u#aight peace out; love you all <33#edit: i realize ive accidentally been using ''periodic life updates'' instead of ''periodicAL life updates'' hfghf well sht
10 notes · View notes
thecherrygod · 1 year
Text
i am. making a mistake
#my posts#im. very depressed. in a bad state. and also ill and unsure if im actually becoming feverish. and its midnight#i. am struggling emotionally and with a class and with motivation and i guess im also underwhelmed#like i have. shit to do. and things id rather be doing. im doing none im just sitting there feeling useless#i. just told a classmate i didnt start my assignment at all yet not even read the material#and he said it makes sense you were a bit sick im sure youll feel better and be able to do it#and i told him that hes wrong bc i would have been able to at least read the material before getting sick#and that if i was doing okay i would still be in the same situation#i. i dont. think i should be having this conversation with him#i dont. know why im doing this. i want to kms#i mean he has talked to me once when he was struggling he broke the mental illness barrier but i dont think i should be passing it either#i feel like i should stop saying whatever the fuck i am saying idk why i started idk if its too late for that#editing my tags to ad more bc i dont want to make another postabout this#yes i made a mistake. idk how to reply without going further into the conversation#'you could do what you told me and do the text to speech thing you sometimes do when you struggle to focus' my guy. my man. i cant#idk what to tell him that isnt an 'i cant even start that i can only open the documents i cant do more than that' i made a mistake#idk how to lie my way out of this idk how to just say 'yeah i should do that' or something and thats it#i mean i guess i do want to have someone to tell them how im actually doing but i dont. think its the right thing to do#also i want to throw up and cry and die and if i knew where our thermometers were id check my temperature#yeah my brain is barely working so since i feel my options are actually answer or ask him to forget i asked#i am asking him to forget i asked#i do feel awful and stupid but i dont think actually replying is good and i dont have another way to do so
3 notes · View notes
fefairys · 2 years
Text
i used to be such a sweetie online damn! i feel like i kind of repressed that part of me at some point for some reason :( because ill still feel like typing like that!!! with all exclamation points! like this!!
i think maybe it has to do with like... people thinking that ur not being sincere when u type like that? or just general cringe culture lmao i wonder when that change happened.. it was before i even changed my icon away from feferi i think?! because that wasnt that long ago that i changed it but i feel like ive been. typing as if i Dont Care About Anything for a while now. much to think about.
i should stop doing that and just type how i feel! damn!
5 notes · View notes
hauntedrain · 2 months
Text
For Years! | Max Verstappen x Reader |
Tumblr media
Social media AU Summary: Max and reader get criticism over the status of their relationship.
✮▹ A/N: So sorry for not posting for so long. Life has been BUSY. but hopefully i can post more and write more! Love you guys <3
✰▹Warnings/Notices: Not edited. nothing really. reader mentioned to write music
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Liked by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, & 3,345,678 others
@Y/N: Lovely time lately.
view all 19,234 comments
user1: LMFAO MAX.
user2: Y/N you'll always been iconic
user3: sometimes I forget Max Verstappen is dating THE Y/N L/N.
↪ user4: SO TRUE. It completely passes my mind that they've been together before he even got to F1.
↪ user5: THEY'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR 9 YEARS?
↪ user6: YEA ITS WILD.
↪ user7: wait but they haven't gotten married or anything?
↪ user8: Yea no. They also avoid the questions around it. Kind of weird to me.
↪ user9: But hasn't Y/N written songs about marriage and getting married? Why haven't they?
↪ user10: Maybe they just don't want to. Or max doesn't.
MaxVerstappen: Why did you choose that photo of me.
↪ Y/N: You want me to post the photo from yesterday?
↪ MaxVerstappen: NO.
↪ user11: LMFAO. PARENTS.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Liked by Y/N, Redbull, & 2,345,567 others
@MaxVerstappen: Great race and great win! Getting ready for next week. And thank you to @Y/N for making me but those glasses, best purchase.
View all 14,567 comments
Y/N: I told you they were a good investment
↪ MaxVerstappen: I don't know if you would call it an investment.
↪ Y/N: I'll post that picture.
↪MaxVerstappen: It was a great investment! better than a house!
↪ user12: better than a ring?
↪ user13: STOP. but no fr, wheres the ring Max?
user14: Okay nice win but when yall getting married?
user15: everyone needs to mind their business, maybe they're just not ready to get married and that okay.
↪ user16: But its been 9 YEARS. NINE YEARS. Its a red flag.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by 18,234 others
@F1GOSSIP: Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N have been criticized over the status of their relationship. The couple has been together for over 9 years however many fans have realized that there's been no movement in the relationship, family and marriage vise. Thought?
view all 5,567 comments
user17: I mean its their life but 9 years?
user18: Idk guys don't hate me but sometimes max doesn't seem interested in Y/N. Like all of the Monaco GP? seem happy around her.
↪ user19: Bro look at the pictures in the post. Does he seem unhappy in them? No he seems very happy.
↪ user20: Okay but lets be honest. Both only seem that happy in front of a camera.
User21: I mean for some of their relationship they were fairly young. Maybe they just wanna enjoy it little by little.
↪ user22: I think in 9 years you can enjoy a lot.
user23: I wouldn't marry her either. Max knows what's best which is why he hasn't done it.
Tumblr media
Y/N has posted to their story!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by 6,678,567 others
@MaxVerstappen: happy 3 year anniversary @Y/N. love you much and cant wait for years to come. Also, people said I hated her? How could I?
view all 35,567,878 comments
Y/N: Guys my husband is kinda cool.
↪ MaxVerstappen: Kinda?
↪ Y/N: yea cuz im cooler than you.
↪ MaxVerstappen: Okay love.
user24: WTF 3 YEARS?
user25: max said hold my 3x WDC titles while I make everyone shut up about my relationship.
↪ Y/N: He just wins everything doesn't he?
↪ CharlesLeclerc: Yea its kinda annoying. you should distract him Y/N
↪ MaxVerstappen: Dont tell my wife to distract me, I'll lose.
↪ CharlesLeclerc: thats the point.
↪ LandoNorris: I just wanna win.
↪ user26: LMFAO WHAT IS HAPPENING
↪ Y/N: Im collecting them all
User27: And people said max didnt wanna marry her.
user28: Bro just keeps winning doesnt he. Y/N GIVE ME A CHANCE.
user29: if you look closely you can see me getting run over by an F1 car.
Tumblr media
⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: I hope you guys like it! I need to post more but ive gotten so busy and haven't had the time. But I'll try to post more often. Love you guys! hope you enjoyed.
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
kittyhazelnut · 1 year
Text
help I think people are genuinely upset with me for the newest chapter of my fic
#like not even 'i cant believe you've done this!' upset#i wouldn't be surprised if at least a few people stop reading#and it makes me sad bc this is like An Important Part Of The Fic™#and i was all excited to get to it because its gonna lead to Things™#and the people who are like "noooo stop itttt' are making me happy because it's supposed to piss ppl off#but it's supposed to make you mad at the avengers not mad at me 😭#i almost want to go back and change the avengers' reactions to it and maybe people will be less upset#but also it'll make ***** and ****** look worse and i don't want that either#and i always go back and edit chapters a few times before i post them because i finish them a couple weeks before they get posted#but i might like Really Edit the next few to kinda retcon it a little#because idk if people are gonna be okay waiting (number) of chapters until people start peopling#and i dont want them to stop reading right before thingd finally get better 😭😭😭#but im on The Scene rn and it's like 5000 words already and it's just getting to The Part so if people make it to this chapter and the one#after it i think it will be okay? i just don't want them to give up yet 😭#i was kinda in the same boat towards the beginning of the fic tho and i think most people stuck through that so maybe...?#but this is also Much Worse and uhhhh#idk man#idk#i think for my own sanity im gonna stop checking my email for ao3 comments obsessively like i usually do#and instead just read them when i get around to answering them#(which is gonna take a few days because i think i have like 80 comments in my inbox rn 😬)#my night's kinda booked (im baking Christmas goodies for my cousins rn) but im hoping i can catch up on most comment tomorrow or wednesday#but honestly my only free day this week is thursday so we'll see how that goes#but anyways I'm currently writing a scene I've been very excited to write for a long time so focusing on the positive!#and hopefully nobody reads it and thinks (redacted) is doing a bad job (redacted)ing because it's not supposed to come off like that 😭
1 note · View note
saturniolos · 2 months
Text
besties (matt sturniolo x reader) ౨ৎ⋆ ˚。⋆
notes: this took me days. i am going BLIND plz show sum love &&&&& hey——— come talk to me ! (btw this type of editing/social media aus have been around for ages- credit goes to the person who came up with it first!!)
Tumblr media
yourusername
Tumblr media
liked by matthew.sturniolo and others
yourusername happy 20th my boys. thank u for driving me around and feeding me and being the greatest airbnb hosts when i be acting up … 🦌🦌🦌🤍 love you always.
View all 2,304 comments
christophersturniolo love you freak
sturniolohens their friendship >>
nicksfries i love them
mattsturns cant wait for the ship tiktoks 😩
sturniolotrippies THE MATCHING TSHIRTS WITH MATT ARE YOU KIDDING US Y/N
yourusername i be getting that bag anything for my dawgs
christophersturniolo @yourusername where’s the one of you were wearing my boxers
nicolassturniolo HELL NAH
matthew.sturniolo 🩷🏇🏻
sturnsfilm the pink heart are you jokingjfjfjfjjff 😔😔😔
mattsplaylist PINK HEART 😩
mattsturniyolo THE HORSE???
chrisraress i feel like they’re all best friends but matt and y/n have a different kinda friendship its so pure 🤍
hoeslovesturniolos the last slide lmfao TRUE they saved my life
mattscarkeys matt girls were winning look at that stubble
nicolassturniolo love you alwayssss 🧚‍♀️💛💚🧡❤️🩷
yourusername guys stop thirsting this is a thirst free account!
madisonbeer sweetest 🤍🎧🌷🪩🦩
nathandoe8 yndawg my birthday’s coming up 👌🏼
yourusername when
nathandoe8 😐
madifilipowicz marry me y/n 🍬🍬🍬
yourusername WHEN!
nicolassturniolo @matthew.sturniolo
yourusername @nicolassturniolo girl gtfo!!!! 😡
mattsbelly YO WHAT??? WHY THE MATT TAG
ynsnosepiercing WHAT DID WE MISS
Tumblr media
yourusername
Tumblr media
liked by nicolassturniolo and others
yourusername i lvoe crazy bitchsees 😍⏰🪩🐎🦋 !!!◡̈!! guys i went skiing for the first time as well- can u tell :-)))…
View all 6,384 comments
madifilipowicz ur soooo 🥹🥹🥹🦩🩷🦋🍬🍬🍩🌈
yourusername 🪐🩷 love ya forever !
mattscarkeys shy introverted and weird….. someone’s cookin’
sammydawson let them cook bae
chrissassturniolo yk who’s shy and introverted and weird?
gimmemystaaaaff DONT SAY IT she’ll block us atp 😂
nicolassturniolo my gawwwwd 🦋🦋🦋
larray okay i see you 😍
matthew.sturniolo Can I borrow the green shoes
yourusername yas darling x
matthew.sturniolo 🤭
ynslipgloss DARLING !!!
christophersturniolo mona lisa ohhh
yourusername yeahhh the mona lisa ayyyyyy
mattlovebot ur hand in marriage @yourusername
leclercftsturn is this matt’s burner account?? lol
megamatthew44 tears on my thighs frrrr
Tumblr media
matthew.sturniolo
Tumblr media
liked by yourusername and others
matthew.sturniolo Huge toothpick fan
View all 6,383 comments
christophersturniolo 👊🏻😊
nathandoe8 clean
mattstoothpick MAAAAATTTTTT 😍😍😍😍
nicksdirtysocks GOD ITS ME AGAINNNNN
sturniyoolo babygirl matt is back 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾
nicolassturniolo cutie
yourusername on gawd babygirl ☺️🤍🐎🩷
matthew.sturniolo 🩹🤍🐎
chrislovebot he was a horseboi, she was a horsegurl ☺️
nicolassssssturn ON GAWD BABYGIRL 😂😂
mattsturny you guys are sickeningly cute n lovely
larray walk that walk ❗️
yourusername would definitely
nicsturniolos Y/N WHAT
latinamatt FINISH THE SENTENCE BESTIE!!!!!!!!????
gayhorsegirl Y/N 🤭🤭🤭🤭🙃 wtf
beerpongchris y/n’s intrusive thoughts winning again
ynseeyore girl 🌝
nicolassturniolo @yourusername …let’s get you to bed grandma 🙂
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
yourusername
Tumblr media
liked by matthew.sturniolo and others
yourusername new year new me xo
View all 7,539 comments
nicolassturniolo it’s February
yourusername go be a hater somewhere else
madisonbeer im in love with u 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🐑
mattlovebot MY WIFEEEEEEE
christophersturndaily HER
ynskitten drive thru with that dress hits hard
matthew.sturniolo Down bad for you girl grrr
yourusername disgusting behaviour leave :O
gamermattsgf AWWWW SHUT THE FUCK UP
ynmattsupremacy IS IT HAPPENING
ynsparkour EVERYONE STAY CALM !!!!!!
christophersturniolo y/n, don't listen to the haters. I love you, and you love me. We do not owe anyone anything. Our family is who matters. If you get likes and good comments great, if you get hate then whatever because THEY DON'T MATTER. I love you💕
yourusername 😳 bye
matthew.sturniolo What family are you talking about bro
ynslovebot chris so unserious byeeee 🤣
nickstrniolo matt has no clue about the reference i love this
matthew.sturniolo ❤️❤️🐎🐎🦩🌠🌷🌍🌍🌍
gracewee bro keysmashing
mattscup calm down my dude 😳
sturnioloteam matt we get it and we agree
thesturnioloos someone said matt’s fighting for his dear life in the comments section and i can’t stop laughing xjxjjdjxhdhshsydhdysytssg
matthew.sturniolo I love you 🤟🏼
1K notes · View notes
itsbecomeblue · 2 months
Text
band!ellie 2 headcanons and smau
Tumblr media
sinopse: ellie williams is the lead singer in a band (+some texts with her).
cw: nsfw after the texts with warning! swearing, explicit, reader works in a record store and ellie's a simp, not explicit if reader is fem or masc.
part 1
☆ at first dina and jesse could NOT bring themselves to believe ellie found her girl, but then they met you.
“this shit's cringe as fuck but the way y'all act around eachother…” jesse starts and dina immediately agrees.
“yeah, she's perfect for you, el.”
“i knowwwww, i need her.” jumping like a teenage girl fr…
☆ sometimes she thinks her bandmates like you way too much.
“invite y/n to the next rehearsal too for real.” jesse says after you leave a rehearsal you went to.
“okay man i get it, she's amazing.” with an annoyed expression.
“so… invite her.” dina chuckles.
“no, i don't want any of you jumping on my girl.” but she does invite you anyway.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
☆ she's so stupid tbh, she's gonna sign girls’ tits after concerts and act all oblivious when you swerve her kisses.
☆ and swerving her is so fun istg, she's gonna try like 4 times before she's upset. UPSET! (she will go non verbal).
☆ the type to perform and glance at you like you're about to have sex right that instant (u will, after the concert tho!).
☆ she is a singer herself but turns on the tv and pretends to be the weeknd for you.
☆ she wishes she could rap�� actually, no. she thinks she can.
"that was... something." you smirk and she scoffs, throwing herself on the couch she was standing on, mic in hand.
"i'm literally in my rapper era but whatever, you'll see." and you're full on laughing. "don't laugh." and you come hug her and say she's so so special.
☆ you can't open x (twitter) without seeing girls mourning your girlfriend… she's alive not single tho!
Tumblr media
☆ always late for everything, but she tries her best istg. you and the band are TIREDDD.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
☆ nervous about pda… but she likes it, showing everyone you're hers and she's yours.
☆ made a slideshow about how you should move into her apartment… that was kinda like:
“REASONS FRRRR 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯
ALL OF THEM 🤣
we're literally soulmates so we gotta be roommates too???
countless sleepovers omg i'm crying!
i'll never be late again (kinda😬)
we can get a pet tg 😯
i'll get to listen to u sing in the shower more and you know i like hearing you and singing with you while im in the toilet or even outside the bathroom
passionate lesbian sex before sleeping, after eating, doing the dishes, the laundry ALL THE TIME
i love you the most and i want you close all the time
you love me back (i hope) so you gotta want me close too
i want you as my wife asap
think about it, thanks and please my love ❤️”
you moved in… weak mf but can anyone blame you??
Tumblr media
☆ loves cooking with you for friends and family when they come over. just loves being with you in general but even house chores are better with you??
☆ comes disturb see you at your job, your bosses hate her and said they were gonna stop selling their album 😒 (they actually love her).
☆ switches from your serious cool rockstar girlfriend to your silly baby girlfriend in a second.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
☆ when fans edit you, reposts them and comments under them more than on her own (she has a folder of them on tiktok)
“that's my baby so stop gawking.(jk)” “whats her @” “id repost but my gf would be jealous, shes hot asf 🤤🤤” “THAT'S MY GIRL” “creamed💔”
someone said “ellie cant handle allat” and she replied fr “true, she the one handling me 💯💢” SHE HAS NO CHILL
☆ she pays the same attention to potential hate you'd get, she will block them… don't talk about her girl.
nsfw (cw: cunnilingus [e and r!receiving], fingering [e and r!receiving]. switch!ellie!!!!).
☆ you were supposed to be in the shower but ellie saw you stripping out of your clothes and she has to ask to kiss your clit, dropping to her knees. her fingers bruising your thighs and shes eating you out as if she'd been starving. you cum but she's not satisfied yet, she pulls you down on the bedroom carpet with her "give me another one, please." hands roaming your skin ever so softly, sending shivers down your body. she asks what you want, the position, how many fingers, she just needs to please you. and now she's on top of you, pounding you with her fingers and pressing down your lower stomach because she just wants you to cum again.
☆ she's gonna be in bed with you, almost asleep asking you for kisses, then for some touches... and you end up between her legs, sloppy nasty head and some slow fingering. your lips around her clit and kissing her pussy lips and slit and your fingers in and out her pussy. she's whining and squealing, playing with her own tits and caressing ur face. you're humming against her pussy and she's clenches "let go for me, ellie..." you coo and she squirts on your mouth and fingers. soft pants leaving her lips, soon stopping with her caresses on your face as you lick her cum. you look up, hair messy against the pillow and eyes closed. "i love you..." she mutters after you clean her and lay next to her "i love you." you spoon her.
a/n: this is kinda shitty but it's for who asked for more! @kyleeservopoulos @sameenatruther @harrysslutsstuff
2K notes · View notes
leclsrc · 6 months
Text
wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1
Tumblr media
genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...
word count: 3.6k  
It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this
auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!
nsfw warnings under the cut!
18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie
It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 
To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.
The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—
“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.
His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”
“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.
You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 
“What about Max?”
Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”
“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.
“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”
The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.
Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.
His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.
OK, nice. Did u need something?
No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?
Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.
I thought we agreed no contact unless business
He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.
Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.
Yeah. Got a drink.
I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.
How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.
Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit
Yeah? I missed you today.
Really?
A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.
He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?
You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 
So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.
The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.
And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.
It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.
I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.
He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.
So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.
He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.
In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.
He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.
The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.
He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.
You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.
Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.
His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”
One week later
“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”
The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.
You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 
Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.
“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”
You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”
“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”
“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”
“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”
“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”
“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”
He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”
“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.
“Wanna test that out? Come play.”
Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.
“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.
“You got it wrong. Teaching.”
He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.
If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.
You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?
You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.
Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.
“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.
You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—
“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.
“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.
“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.
“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.
“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.
“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 
“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.
“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.
“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”
“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.
“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.
It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 
He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.
“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”
“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.
“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 
“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”
“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 
“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”
His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.
“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 
Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.
“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.
“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 
You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.
3K notes · View notes
oreoluvskento · 5 months
Text
CEO! nanami kento
summary: you came to give your husband his lunch at work but it lead to other things.
a/n: felt like writing and his this is the scenario that came to mind, not edited bc i'm lazy
cw: none really its just smut, some fluff, gojo satoru makes an appearance at the end so uh if you have a personal vendetta against him, i wouldn't read this
wc: 662
~~~
"fuck angel, you're so wet," nanami moans as he fucks you at his desk.
you were supposed to be bringing him lunch. supposed to. as you placed the bag in front of him, a few papers fell behind you.
you bent over to pick them up, not really thinking about your ass being in his face. one thing led to another and now here you are, bent over, titties spilling out your shirt, shorts at your knees, and your cheek pressed into the cold table.
"'nami, we're loud," you whimper, the hard thrusts he's giving you forcing the table to loudly scoot on the floor.
"what are they going to do? fire me? i sign their paychecks. plus, everyone who works on this floor is usually in the cafeteria at this time, anyway. now come here," he grabs you by the back of your neck and pressed his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss and you cant help the moan that escapes your lips.
he releases you and continues to drill into you from behind, his hips slapping against your soft ass.
"gripping. me. so. fucking. tight." he groans behind clenched teeth, accentuating each word with a hard thrust.
you feel your orgasm quickly approaching you reach your hand back to hold on to his wrist.
"fuck- 'nami, im close," you choke out, the pleasure beginning to override your critical thinking skills.
"wait for me, angel. you can do it," he moans as he begins thrusting faster. your eyes roll to the back of your head as you hear your pussy getting wetter.
eventually, nanami begins to pull your hips back to meet his, strokes getting sloppier, and you know he's close too.
"so-so good for me- fuuuckk- so so good. cum with me angel, i need to feel- shit- need to feel you," as the words leave his lips, you let yourself go.
your orgasm hits you hard, your arms going out to search for something to ground yourself. you eventually settle on the edge of the table across you.
nanami cums as soon as you do, hot ropes of cum filling your insides quickly, adding to the wonderful sensation you were feeling. you tried to stay quiet, but you couldn't stop the loud moans that pushed their way out of your throat.
finally, the two of you still and catch your breath, nanami pulling out of you and sitting down, pulling you down with him. you rest your head on his shoulder as your chest falls up and down, and once he can breathe again, he pulls your mouth to his.
you pull away first, leaving a kiss on his cheek as you stand back up. you pull up your pants and he watches you as he tucks his dick away.
"i'll see you at home, okay? have a good day, babe." you tell him and give him a final kiss on his lips after you pick up your purse. nanami grips your ass as he kisses you and smacks it when you turn around to walk away.
you smile to yourself as you leave and when you open the door, you let out a sigh of relief. everyone was truly in the cafeteria.
"well, hello again." a voice to the left of you calls out and you whip your head over, eyes wide. nanami's best friend and business partner, gojo satoru sat in one of the chairs against the wall of nanami's office, legs crossed, a pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. he gives you a knowing smile as he stands up.
"hi, gojo," you whisper, your voice suddenly gone.
"all that screaming must have taken your voice, huh? get better soon," he teases as he shoots you wink and enters nanami's office. you hear nanami groan as gojo enters and you walk to the elevators quickly, feeling embarrassed.
the next time nanami forgets his food at home, he'll just have to order something.
2K notes · View notes
viinieroxide · 15 days
Text
—seven days. [ iii ]
pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.
summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.
author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.
tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.
part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5. part 6.1. part 6.2. part 6.3. part 7.
you: *sent a link*
him: ?
him: what's this
you: benefits of crying
you: read it it's enlightening
him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay
you: why crying helps.
you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.
you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.
you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.
you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.
him: it feels like an std
you: pussy
you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.
you: you may look fine now but i know you
him: please stop
you: no
you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.
him: what even is that
you: the parasympathetic nervous system
him: ??
you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school
you: education is important yknow
you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence
him: fuck you im smart
you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography
you: you probably can't do your taxes
him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default
him: the american system is just weird
you: cant argue w/ u there
you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance
you: see? you need that
you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy
him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now
you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?
You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.
In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.
You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?
Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?
Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.
You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.
You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.
Max Max Max Super Max Max—
“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”
Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.
“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”
He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.
You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.
The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.
“Max, sweetheart, you there?”
No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.
Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.
“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.
Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.
This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.
Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.
When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.
Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.
“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.
Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”
You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.
“Max—”
“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”
What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.
You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.
“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.
“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.
“They’re mismatched.”
Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.
“Ignore them.”
Silence.
“You good now?”
“No.”
“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”
You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”
“Okay.”
Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.
“Thank you, by the way.”
“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.
“For coming here.”
You shrug.
“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”
Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.
“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”
He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.
You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.
After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.
You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.
The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.
Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.
You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.
The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.
The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.
Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.
You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.
“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”
But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.
The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.
“We should drink,” you suggest.
“It’s mid-afternoon.”
“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”
He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.
“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”
Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.
Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.
Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.
At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.
Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.
“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.
“Hm?”
“That it was unfair for her.”
You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”
“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”
You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.
“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”
Kelly….what the fuck?
“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”
“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.
Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.
“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”
423 notes · View notes