MV1 - Fuck-ups
Summary - After an appalling race Max’s temper is short and his skin is prickling with anger, what better way to deal with that other than to have him fuck it out through you?
Warnings - Smut (with very little plot), swearing, choking, bruising, orgasm denial, overstimulation, degradation, light praise, angry sex, dom!max, manhandling, use of power dynamics, semi-public setting (drivers room), delayed verbal consent, intense dom/sub dynamics and aftercare.
Word count - 1.6k (1606 words)
Timeline - Post-race
Pairing - Max Verstappen x girlfriend!reader
Masterlist <3
“Fucking bullshit, mate!” Max exclaims as he storms into his driver room– where you’re perched on the sofa bed– and slams the door behind himself aggressively. You jump up at the sound, not from fear, but from the sheer force that made the walls vibrate.
“Max, it’s just one race, you can’t let it get to you.” You say in an attempt to calm him, stepping towards him as he starts yanking open drawers, not paying any attention to you as he searches for something. “Max.” You try again, stepping in front of him so that he can’t continue to rummage through things. “Whatever you’re looking for can wait, take a minute to calm down.”
His chest rises and falls heavily as he looks down at you. “Calm down?” His laugh is bitter. “You want me to calm down after that absolute fucking shit show?” He pushes you against the chest of drawers and you suck in a sharp breath, the drawer handles digging into your back yet you don’t stop him.
“I can leave if you–” You start, trying to respect his boundaries but you’re abruptly cut off, he clearly has other plans.
“Leave? I don’t want you to leave.” He begins trailing his fingers along the hem of your low-cut top, causing your skin to come up in goosebumps. “I want you to stay right here and everything I give you like a good fucking whore, can you do that?” He asks, letting his hand travel up your throat and squeezing tightly when you don’t answer.
A small gasp slips out. “Yes.” You manage but before you even complete the word he’s securing the sentence with a kiss. It’s mean; his teeth tugging at your bottom lip as he shoves the straps of your dress off of your shoulder. It’s a kiss made to ruin.
He tugs your dress down, allowing it to pool by your feet as he diverts his attention from your lips to your neck.
Biting you. Claiming you.
He brings a hand back up to your neck as he does it, squeezing once again and you let out a soft gasp in pleasure. He divides his time all over the surface of your throat: from behind your ear to just above your collarbone, but as he gets to your shoulder his teeth begin to graze your skin. He nips along your skin before tugging your bra strap down with his teeth.
“Max…” You whisper as he continues to nip at your skin, feeling the bruises he’s creating in real time and you press your thighs together, feeling the growing ache. A hand slides around your back and unclips your bra, allowing it to fall off of your frame. His other hand makes its way down from your throat and onto your breast, where he fondles it angrily. “Max!” You repeat as he pinches your nipple – hard – causing you to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly.
“You like this don’t you? You like having me so worked up that I have no choice but to take it out on you. I’d bet all my money that the paddocks little golden girl is fucking soaked from so little of my touch.” He teases, sliding his free hand down onto your stomach. “Fuck. You’re going to look so pretty when I fuck my anger out on you. All because some dickheads can’t fucking drive properly.”
You clench involuntarily.
Max fiddles with the lacy hem of your panties before dragging them down your thighs; it’s quick but it’s not rushed.
He sucks in a breath as he admires your naked body. “You’re so pretty when you’re like this.” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your sides yet he still doesn’t hesitate when it comes to manhandling you onto the bed, shoving you down with the rage that is bubbling just beneath his skin.
He stripes down to nothing before crawling on top of you. “Such poor performance today,” he yanks your knees apart, revealing your needy cunt to him. “So many little fuck-ups,” he pushes two fingers into you without warning, curling them almost immediately which makes your back arch as you cry out. “So many dumb mistakes made by dumb people.” He adds a finger, plunging it into you with rapid, merciless pace. “So many things that cost me the win.”
Your nails dig into his back as he uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit. A tight knot begins to form in your stomach, the sensation causing a wave of pleasure that settles deep within you. “Max– Max, I’m going to… I’m so close.” You manage to get out, moaning as you try to grind your hips against his hand to create more friction yet he pulls his fingers out.
A sly grin spreads over his lips. “And why should I let you come, schatje? Why should I let you come so easily?” He asks, sliding a finger through your slit. “I mean, you’re so fucking wet for me, so eager to let me use you like my little fuck toy yet I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”
“Please, Max.” You beg. “Please, I need– I need it, I need to come.”
“Save the begging for when I’ve stretched you out so much that you can’t even think straight.” He demands, lining himself up with your entrance but pushing only the tip in. You moan loudly but Max grips your throat – tight. “Shut the fuck up and fucking take it, whore.” You whimper but obey as he pushes into you, splitting you open in a way that has tears springing into your eyes before you can even register it.
Max doesn’t give you time to adjust, finding his rhythm immediately, whatever he had been looking for earlier now long forgotten. He slams into you, keeping you quiet with a singular hand squeezing your throat. “you're so fucking tight, schatje. You were fucking made for me, weren’t you?” He grits out as he continues pounding into you, small groans slipping past his lips.
Tears begin rolling down your face, dripping down your chin before landing on Max’s hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He crashes his lips back down onto yours, probably tasting the saltiness of your tears on your lips as the combination of pleasure and overstimulation eats away at your willpower – fast.
He pulls away, leaving you breathless as he moves down to your tits; kissing them, sucking them. Doing everything he possibly can to have you a shaking mess beneath him.
“Fuck, you’re such a perfect slut for me with those pretty tears running down your face. You’re doing so fucking good for me, so fucking good.” He lifts his hand from your throat briefly, whilst the other is being used to hold your hip as he wipes your tears away.
“Please, Max. I need to come so badly.” You whimper, your voice raspy and your throat sore as he grips it.
“I know. I know you do but just a little longer, I’m almost there.” You dig your nails into his back, working against every cell in your body as you feel him twitch inside of you.
“Max! Fuck– Max, I need to.” Your body jolts as you cry, choking on your own tears from the overstimulation but Max just chuckles.
“You’re so fucking pretty when you’re a writhing mess beneath me, schatje but not yet. I promise you I'm close, okay?” You feel him twitch again and his thrusts only get harder, deeper as you whine. He reaches down with the hand from your hip and rubs your clit whilst simultaneously going back to wiping away your tears.
“Maxie… Maxie, I need to come, please. I can’t, I can’t, Maxie please.” You beg, your whole body shaking from the orgasm denial. Max takes one look into your glassy eyes and that’s all it takes for him to take mercy on you.
“Go on then schatje, go on, make a mess all over me. Come undone whilst wrapped around my cock, you’ve done so fucking well for me.” That’s all it takes. You let go, allowing the most intense climax of your life wash over you, leaving you exhausted and hazy.
Yet Max fucks your through every second of it and with one final thrust he groans, tipping his head back and spilling his load into you.
He readjusts so that he can lie down next to your shaking figure, pulling himself out as gently as possible because he knows he’s been rough but you don’t miss the sound of pleasure that escapes his lips when he catches his come leaking out of you.
“Too much?” He questions calmly, pulling you against his chest as the last of your tears flow down.
“Just a lot.” You reply, using your last ounce of energy to bury your head in the crook of his neck before fully allowing yourself to relax.
“You did so well for me, schatje. I know I was rough but you took me like a fucking champ, like your fucking made to fit around me.” He tells you whilst stroking your hair and taking in your state; handprints and bruises already forming on your body, a thick layer of sweat matting your baby hairs to your forehead and his hot come dripping out of you and onto the sofa bed. He kisses your forehead. “I’ll clean you up later, yeah? Just rest now.”
You simply nod against his chest and there’s a timid knock at the door.
“Max?” The voice calls out, one you recognise as his strategist.
“Fuck off.”
love and hate
-a
