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the-offside-rule · 14 days

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Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - The Princess

Requested: yes

Prompt: 6) "I'm not religious, but I do think I've seen an angel

Warnings: none tbh, just more requests whilst I'm watching sprint quali

The sun was setting over the glamorous streets of Monaco, casting a golden glow over the iconic circuit as the Grand Prix came to a thrilling conclusion. Max Verstappen stood atop the podium, his heart pounding with the exhilaration of victory. As the crowd erupted in cheers, he couldn't shake the feeling of winning the prestigious race yet again. He waved down to the team before the glorious tune of the Dutch national anthem began playing.

Y/n, the Princess of Monaco, fiddled with the hem of her dress as she looked down to the huge crowd. Whilst she was royalty, crowds generally did seem to get to her. Her older brother took sick and had to cancel his plan to present the winner their trophy last minute. Hence, Miss Y/n was asked to. As the announcer declared the Princess to the crowd, Y/n stepped forward with grace, her regal presence commanding attention. She held the gleaming trophy in her hands, ready to present it to the triumphant driver. Max's gaze locked onto her, captivated by her beauty and poise. He felt a surge of something unfamiliar stirring within him as their eyes met.

Y/n smiled warmly as she handed Max the trophy, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "Congratulations, Max." She said, her voice soft and melodious. Max smirked, ignoring his heart skipping a beat at the sound of her voice. "Thank you, your Highness." He replied, unable to tear his gaze away from her. Max watched intently as the Princess walked away, applauding the dutchman before Max lifted the trophy and showcasing the newest clunk of metal he would add to his collection.

As the photographers clamored for their attention, Max and Y/n posed for the celebratory photos, their smiles bright and genuine. But as Lando Norris, another driver on the podium, playfully aimed his champagne bottle in their direction, Max instinctively shielded Y/n from the impending spray.

Y/n laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as Max turned his back to protect her. "Thank you, Max. I dont think this dress would pair well with chanpagne stains." She said, touched by his chivalry. "When someone like you is wearing the dress, I dont think anyone would care." Max replied, his voice tinged with sincerity. "And plus, I couldn't let you get soaked." Y/n beamed at the subtle compliment from the race winner.

As the champagne-fueled celebrations continued, Max found himself walking by Y/n's side, unable to resist the magnetic pull she had on him. "Oh, here. Let me help you." He offered her his arm, guiding her down the steps of the podium with care as she navigated the stairs in her heels. "Well aren't you just so lovely." Y/n smiled as her arm linked with his, leaning onto him. "You looked stunning up there." Max remarked, his eyes lingering on Y/n's radiant smile. "I'm not religious, but I do believe I've seen an angel today." Y/n blushed at his words, her cheeks flushing with color. "You're bold, arent you?" She asked, a tinge of amusement lacing her voice. "I'm a racing driver, your Highness. You need to be bold." Y/n rolled her eyes. "Of course, but I don't see any other drivers making moves on me, Mr Verstappen."

"Well, I think they see we are having a conversation. It would be rude to interrupt, no?" Max smiled. The pair stood for a moment,him towering over her as she simply looked between his eyes. "I'd like if we continued our conversation." Y/n whispered. "So would I. How about we return to this conversation later?" Usually, Y/n wouldn't like how suggestively the driver was being, but her gut trusted the man. She sighed. "Where do you suggest we have our little rendezvous?" She smiled. "How about dinner?" The dutchman suggested. Y/n arched a brow. "You know, for a Monaco race winner, your idea of a celebration is very boring." Max didn't really know what to say. It wasnt until Y/n leaned towards his ear.

"I'll be meeting you ag some stage tonight." She pulled away and winked. For the first time in a while, Max felt butterflies in his stomach as the Princess walked away with her security surrounding her, while he stood there wondering when he would bump into her next.

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you

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maxarchive · 27 days

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MAX-IMUM ATTACK 2017 Season Photos and words by Darren Heath

Monday lunchtime, Heathrow Terminal 5. Standing next to the slowly revolving baggage carousel, a fresh-faced, slightly awkward-looking - just out of his teens - young man is awaiting the arrival of his chattels.

Dressed in bland black trainers, similarly hued skinny jeans and an oversized hoody, this Young Turk ain’t winning any style awards. iPhone in hand, he’s busy swiping the screen in that head-bowed social media style billions of us now ‘enjoy’.

Max Verstappen doesn’t really do flash. He couldn’t look more ‘normal’. Yet put him in a racing car and he’s just about the most special talent to arrive on motor racing’s top step for decades.

Schumacher-esque – Michael of course! – is a term increasingly heard up and down the F1 paddock, such is the impact the Netherlands’ premier sportsman is now making.

I can see it too.

The fresh-faced 16-year-old boy who was, upon his arrival, so ignorantly dismissed by many within the sport is rapidly becoming a man. It’s amazing how quickly young sportsmen living life in the public gaze assume adulthood. Just take a look at Sebastian Vettel. The gawky kid of 2009 became the handsome dude of 2010!

What sets the potentially great apart from the mediocre? What makes Max Verstappen so, so much more special than, say, Carlos Sainz?

I guess it’s the whole package: the look; the mien; the steely character honed to be a racer almost from before he could walk; the utterly uncompromising way he dismisses any questioning of his racecraft; the toys-out-of-the-pram reaction to harsh penalties; the fast straight-out-of-the-box attacking style; and the rapier-like overtaking ability, the like of which we haven’t seen for many a year. Such was Max’s impact on the art of passing and defending, the rules had to be rewritten!

The way the car looks through the turns, the application of throttle, steering and immensely late braking. Metronomic in his blisteringly fast lap time delivery, this boy has the lot. He IS the future of Formula 1.

In so, so many ways – but let’s hope not all – Max is the new MSC.

Racing in an aggressive and forceful style often results in on-track contretemps with some of his more seasoned rivals. No matter, Max takes no prisoners, batting away questions about the legality of some of his racing moves with a dismissive arrogance that’s strangely appealing in its delivery.

Up to speed now and surely making Dan Ricciardo question his team-leading abilities, Verstappen is unquestionably Red Bull’s main man.

Off-track too, Max is sorted. Guided by his F1-experienced father, the young Verstappen has an able and well-qualified navigator at the helm. Learning from his own ill-advised 1990s F1 driving career decisions, Jos pays absolute attention so as to ensure his son maximises the opportunities on offer.

With top-drawer drivers in short supply, Red Bull had better make damned sure their 2019-and-beyond engine supply is top-notch. The bidding war for Max’s signature is already in full swing. Ferrari and Mercedes are enviously eyeing the Dutchman’s abilities with covetous desire.

It’s easy to forget that Max is only 20 years old. Way ahead in racing driver maturity - a relative term! – than so many millions of a similar age, Max has appeared mentally developed beyond his years since first he appeared in the F1 paddock at Spa 2014. It struck me then how entirely capable this 16-year-old boy was dealing with multiple language questions and untold camera lenses. Listening to his interrogator politely before answering calmly and intelligently, Max appeared born to the role…

Fast forward to now and Verstappen is a multiple grand prix winner and 2018 title-chasing challenger. Part of the new breed of F1 racers, Max leads the pack. Publicly respectful of his rivals, although privately dismissive of many, he well knows his place among the potentially great.

Michael Schumacher once opined – in an interview I photographed – that his father had advised him to heed well the arrival on the scene of the next great talent. The one who’d challenge and quickly replace the dominant male. Well, Lewis, Sebastian and Fernando, that man has arrived.

You’d best heed Herr Schumacher’s words well…

#max verstappen #f1 #2017

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libraryofloveletters · 10 months

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Behind The Lens

Kostas Tsimikas x Fem!Reader

Warnings: the boys teasing kostas constantly, reader being slightly oblivious to it, sexual innuendos, it gets a little steamy towards the end, kos is lowkey bad at flirting, lots of swooning.

Word Count: 3.2k

Author's Note: I don't really have an explanation of the Kostas kick I've been on lately but here we go. thank you to @curiousthyme for the idea, this ones for you!! <3

---

Despite it being close to 8 in the evening, the humidity was killing all of you.

Liverpool had journeyed to Singapore for the second half of their pre- season training and for a few friendly matches.

You had joined the team as one of the photographers. You had worked with the team before, but never in the field. Most of the time, you hung around when they did photo shoots for their new home kits or LFC retail.

They were comfortable around you, so there wasn't any awkwardness when you decided to join them on the pitch for their first training session.

Klopp was going over the drills for the session, you took a few photos as he spoke. The only two paying attention to you were Andy and Darwin, the two of them making silly faces at the camera. You looked away, holding back your giggling by pressing your lips together.

“Alright,” the man in the glasses clapped, “you know what you’ve gotta do.” He announces, sending them on their way.

You were taking photos of the session, watching the boys kick the ball around and do their drills. You were off to the side until they eventually split into groups to run drills. The boys separated themselves into groups of 5 and the one closest to you consisted of Virgil, Mo, Joe, Kostas and Cody. The 5 men kicked the ball back and forth, Kostas stuck in the middle to block it before it got to the next person.

In this particular moment, you were looking away trying to adjust something on your camera whilst kneeling on the grass. You were all but a few feet away from the boys and the pass that Mo made from himself across to Cody, made it pass both Kostas in the middle and Cody on the other side.

“Heads!” The younger Dutch player brings his hand up to his mouth to shout to you.

The camera’s lifted at the last second, the ball bouncing off the thigh the camera was once on. Mo makes a face, “sorry y/n!” He shouts to you and you smile, waving him off.

Before you know it, there’s a man in a grey shirt running to you to get the ball. “Are you okay?”

Kostas was knelt to your level, his soft brown eyes reflected under the flood lights; they reflected a kindness you’ve yet to see in other people.

You smiled, nodding. “I’m okay.”

“You’re sure? Mo has a foot of steel.” He chuckles at his own joke, earning him a smile.

You assured him you were fine as he grabbed your hand to help you up. “I grew up with 4 brothers. A lil’ roughhousing doesn’t bother me, Kos.”

The nickname caused his heart to flutter; despite hearing it a million times over, it was different coming from you.

“Kos!” The tall man shouts, “are you coming back?!”

Virgil’s hands were on his hips, you could see the annoyance on his face - he wasn’t one for being in the heat; the Singaporean humidity was his worst enemy at the moment - as was Kostas for having him waiting.

“Go on,” you reached out to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Kostas tucks the ball under his arm, “sure you’re okay?”

You smile, nodding once more. “I’m fine, Kos. I promise.”

Joe seemed to notice the exchange between the defender and the photographer, looking over at his friend next to him. Virgil caught onto what Joe meant from the moment he looked at him, raising his eyebrows in response. The Dutchman earned a chuckle from his friend.

Kostas watched you walk off in the direction of Andy and Trent’s group before snapping out of his y/n trance as the teammate called it.

They had returned from their mini break, taking a few minutes to rehydrate and stretch out their sore muscles; a sight you enjoyed. Whether it was in a professional manner or an unprofessional one, that was a secret.

The boys were all goofing around amongst themselves, getting the last of their energy out for the evening. You were sitting next to Jurgen on the bench, the man pointed out something that Joel was doing and you two shared a laugh; a common occurrence when you two were in each other’s presence.

“Alright,” you huffed as you stood, slipping your feet back into your slides. “Back to work.”

The older gentleman shook his head as he looked down at your choice in footwear. “Aren’t you worried you’d fall? The grass is still damp.”

“Not really, and if I do, there’s a ton of handsome footballers to catch me.” You raised your eyebrows, giving him a wicked smile.

“Y/n!” He laughed, wagging his finger at you. “You're trouble.”

“You like trouble, boss man.” You clicked a photo of him laughing before walking back onto the pitch.

Making the rounds, the boys pretend you aren’t there as they go about their evening. You already mentioned you get the best photos that way; candid.

There were a handful of solo shots being taken and you finally made it towards the group at back of the pitch.

The Greek defender straightens up, his hands on his hips as he watches Cody pass the ball to Andy, who passed it to him.

Andy knew the boys well enough to know at this point and in this heat, they’re just going through the motions. Hence his shock when he watched his teammate start showing off his tricks, starting his set of kick ups for no apparent reason.

The Scotsman noticed your presence, the click of your camera catching his attention. He laughed, head leaning back as his hand came up to his chest. Virgil looks over in concern, confused as to why Andy started laughing by himself but when he realizes who was lurking around, he too laughs.

“Kostas, man!” Ibou groans, “are you gonna pass the ball or not ?”

“He won’t,” Andy butts in before Kostas can even react. “Don’t you see who’s over there?” He nods towards the woman just two feet away. “He’s showing off for y/n.”

You can’t help the laugh you let out, rolling your eyes. “Shut up Andy,” you snorted. “I don’t know how Rachel puts up with you.”

“It’s my wits and charm that keep her in love.” He flashed you a smile, making you chuckle as you shook your head.

At this point, Ibou had managed to finally get the ball away from Kostas but lost it as he tried to get past Virgil - they called him big Virg for a reason.

It rolls over to you, you stop it by placing your foot on top of it. You pass it back in the same way they’d expect one of their teammates to kick it back to them.

Kostas’s jaw hung open, shocked at how well you did that.

“In slides,” Joel nods to himself in approval. “Well done, y/n.”

You smiled, doing a little pose as you lifted your shoulder. “Got skills for days.”

“With a Z?” Virgil looks over at you, a smile on his face.

“Skills and days with a Z, big man.” The two of you shared a laugh.

After what felt like a million hours in the heat, the boys were wrapping up and the kit men were packing up. You take a few minutes to pack up your camera stuff, a few of the boys were doing interviews and currently, it was Kostas’ turn.

A few of the players watched him, making him nervous for no reason. “We wanna go, Kos. Hurry up.” Ibou teased, shouting from the little balcony. Trent butts in to say, “come on Kostas, I wanna go bro.”

Virgil was watching them when you walked over. You peeked over the man’s shoulder who moves when he notices you, putting his arm around you before whispering in your ear.

Kostas looks over when he hears your laugh and you could swear that you saw a flint of jealousy in his eyes. Surely that’s not it, everyone was just tired and the boys were annoying him.

That must be it.

Ibou laughs when you whisper what Virgil had said to you.

He starts teasing his teammate once again; “Kostas, are you afraid? On the plane, no one can sleep because you talk too much. Now when you can talk, you don’t wanna talk.”

You watch from the little balcony as Virgil and Ibou head down one by one, staring down the man doing his interview. Cody joins in on the fun and Kostas is so over them, internally groaning at his irritating teammates.

They wanted to leave so badly and yet they were the ones that were causing him to take longer than necessary.

You felt a bit bad about all the teasing, calling to the three troublemakers. ”Come on boys, leave Kostas alone.”

“Yeah,” the Greek nods, “listen to y/n.”

Cody snickers, “I bet you’d love to listen to y/n, huh?”

Kostas is red in the face as Cody falls into Ibou laughing, the two of them in a fit of giggles. Kostas hoped he could blame the redness on the heat and you were getting closer by the second, the man was begging for a breeze to cool himself down.

Thankfully, you had missed the comment with the cheesy sexual innuendo because you were coming down the stairs a few feet away.

Once you made it over, you grabbed both Cody and Ibou by the wrists like school boys, pulling them up from their seats. All you had to do was look in Virgil’s direction for him to follow suit.

“Let’s leave Kostas to finish his interview in peace, yeah?”

The man in front the camera smiles, his heart fluttering at the sight of you - as was something else when he noticed the grey leggings you had on but those were thoughts best saved for when he was alone.

---

The cold shower welcomed you back to the land of the living after the evening in the heat. You were getting ready to go over the photos from the session, your memory card plugged into your laptop to upload as you got ready after your shower.

A knock on the door interrupts you as you brushed your hair. Setting the brush down, you made your way over to the door to see who it was.

On the other side of the door stood Kostas, a green tube in his hand as he smiled at you.

“Hey,” you smiled, confused as to why he was at your door.

“Hey, I uh.. sorry I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother, is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” He nods, holding out the green tube to you. “You forgot this on the bench, or I guess it fell from your pocket?”

It’s your chapstick, mint flavoured. Your initials are scribbled on the cap in black sharpie because you and Andy use the same one; this way there’s no confusion.

“Oh thank you,” you reached over and took it from him. “You didn’t have to do that, I have like four more in my makeup bag. I lose these all the time,” you laughed, tucked it into the pocket of your shorts.

Kostas shrugs, a smile on his face. The laptop chimed from its spot on the bed, signalling that it’s done uploading the pictures.

“Wanna see the pictures from the training session? I have to go through them anyway and I got a few good ones of you.”

The man peeked over your shoulder, “I couldn’t intrude.”

“You’re not, I’m inviting you in.”

You stepped to the side, letting him come in. Kostas follows you to the bed, watching as you climb onto it and pull the laptop onto your lap. You’ve got on a pair of black shorts and a red tshirt with a little lfc logo on the top.

As much as he enjoyed the view, he’d like the outfit much better if it was on the floor.

“Are you coming?” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, patting the empty spot next to you. “I don’t bite.”

Kostas slips off his shoes, climbing onto the bed. “What if I want you to ?” His eyes meet yours.

You assumed he was joking but you answered him regardless. “I will.. but only if you ask nicely.”

His cheeks have a red hue and he clears his throat when he settles down next to you. The man sat so stiff, a statue seemed like jello in comparison. His eyes fixed on the screen as you clicked through the pictures.

Kostas watched your manicured nails click along the keyboard, tapping the screen as you pointed out things to him. All he could focus on was how good they’d feel if they were being dragged down his back - the red of your nails matching the colour of the marks left behind.

“Those are really good,” he finally says. “You’re so talented, y/n.”

It’s your turn to blush, waving off the compliment with a smile. “It’s nothing, really.”

You sent the photos off to the socials admin, letting them share out what needed to be when your laptop chimed once more, letting you know it was low on battery. The laptop was on the bed when you leaned off the side of the bed to grab the charger. Instinctively, Kostas reaches out to hold your hips, making sure you don’t fall off the bed.

His touch burnt into your skin, you could feel everything but you ignored the feeling bubbling in your gut. You plugged your laptop in and set it on the nightstand to charge.

There’s a comfortable silence in the room so you look over at Kostas. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh.. I could eat.”

Kostas didn’t get the heads up before you reached over his lap and over to the other night stand to grab the room service menu.

The man’s brows furrowed as you sat back up. “I could have grabbed it for you.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you shrugged, flipping through the pages. “What are you feeling? I’m thinking a burger, maybe pasta?”

“Those are two very different things, y/n.”

“I’m aware of that, duh. I figured I could get both and we could split it unless you want something else?”

Kostas shook his head, “that’s fine.”

You called and ordered the food, settling into the pillows behind you as you looked for a movie to put on in the meantime. Kostas’s eyes were fixed on you, you could feel them burning into your skin with each passing glance.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Kostas blurts, causing your brows to furrow. “You know, if the guys overstepped today.”

“How did they overstep?”

“With what Cody said.”

Now you were really confused. “What did Cody do? He’s a sweetheart, I can’t imagine him saying anything bad.” You chuckled.

Kostas internally groans, you clearly didn’t hear what Cody had said but now he’s got to explain. “He uh- he said how I’d like to listen to you.”

You make a face; “what does that even mean?”

“Well,” Kostas started, clearly a bit uncomfortable explaining the context of said statement. “I guess he meant.. in bed.”

“Oh.” You pulled your lips together, holding back a snicker. You often forget that despite all being grown ass men and professional footballers, they had the minds of 15 year old boys.

There’s a moment of quietness before you speak; “and would you?”

Kostas stops picking at his nail to look at you, “would I?” He trails off.

“Would you listen to me.. in bed?”

Your eyes finally met his; there’s a sense of urgency that flashed in his brown eyes, his cheeks flushed red despite the AC running and it’s like you can hear the gears turning in his head. He’s trying to think of the right way to say this without scaring you off.

“Yes.”

There’s a slight smile playing on your lips, you can’t help but reach out and hold his chin, forcing him to focus solely on you.

“Good.”

Kostas isn’t exactly sure what flipped in him but he leans over and into you, chest pressed to yours as his lips meet yours.

There’s an instant connection between the two of you as if you’d been a couple for years; Kostas’s hands find your hips, pulling you over and on top of him. You straddled the player under you, hands cupping his jaw in an attempt to pull him closer.

The two of you were as close as you could possibly get, his warm hands slipped under the red shirt you had on.

Your own hands pulled on his shirt, the two of you separating for a second to pull it off completely - a second that felt like an eternity to him.

Just as he does to pull your shirt up, there’s a knock on the door. The man groans, dropping his face into your chest.

You grab a handful of his hair, pulling his head back. Kostas groans, a happy one but looks up at you. “It’s the room service.”

“Tell them to take it back,” he pulls you against him for another kiss.

You giggled, getting off of his lap. Kostas rolls over on the bed and grabs your wrist, pulling you back to the edge of the bed. “Kos,” you whine, trying to get your hand loose.

“Whattttt?” He reaches over to give you one more kiss.

“The food is gonna get cold, let me just grab it.”

“Then you’ll come right back?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?” He held his pinky out to you.

You laughed, interlocking your pinky with him. “Promise.”

He lets you grab the food from outside, the hotel staff left the tray outside considering that you didn’t answer the door. You leant down to grab it off the trolley and you could feel Kostas’s eyes on your ass.

“I can feel you staring.”

He smiles, waiting for you to put the tray down. “Staring never hurt anyone.”

“I mean, if you’re a stalker it probably would.”

Kostas rolls his eyes playfully, pulling you back onto the bed with him. His lips find yours again, the two of you tangled together on top of the sheets.

You’re on your sides, looking at each other. Your finger traced over his jaw, Kostas turns his head to press a kiss to it.

“It wasn’t so hard for you to admit you liked me, hm?”

“You say that as if you knew,” he laughed.

“Of course I knew.”

“You did?” He looked a bit shocked. You never give him any signals that you had a clue.

“I told you I got skills for days, with a Z.”

Kostas laughs, pulling you into him. “Oh shut up.”

---

taglist: @themandaloriansdiaries @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels

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#kostas tsimikas #kostas tsimikas x reader #kostas tsimikas x you #kostas tsimikas x y/n #kostas tsimikas imagine #kostas tsimikas fic #kostas tsimikas oneshot #football x reader #football x y/n #football x you #football imagine #football fiction #football fics #football fic #football fluff #football fanfic

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laura1633 · 3 months

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I know you might be busy (srry in advance) BUT could you write a short drabble about Max going completely feral over those photos of Charles at that football match, having to wait for him to come back just for Max to ride the fuck out of him? PLZ im begging

Lovee the way you write bottom max!

Hi anon, thank you for the message ♥️. I am really happy you enjoy bottom Max stories, they are always fun to write 😃 Thanks so much for messaging me, I always love to hear from people.

I am not sure exactly which photos you mean sorry, I don't know if I have missed some photos recently! I still wanted to write you something though so I have based this around various photos I have seen of Charles in his football kit playing in charity football matches (I'm not sure if that is what you meant though). It all went a bit random and was a little rushed so sorry about that 😂 hopefully you still enjoy.

Max whines to himself as he scrolls through instagram and sees photo after photo of Charles at the charity football match. It’s been a week since he last saw his boyfriend in person and if his jet hadn’t taken off twenty minutes late he would have made it home before the Monegasque had disappeared off to the game. Maybe then he wouldn’t be feeling quite so feral.

They’ve gone a week without sex before of course. Or at least Max thinks they have, although he’s not quite sure when. It’s never felt quite as frustrating as the last week though. Perhaps it is Charles’ promise of fucking all night when they finally get back together that has Max’s skin burning up or perhaps it’s the phone sex from the night before that has him longing for the real thing. Whatever the reason, Max feels whiny and very, very, needy.

The Dutchman goes back to scrolling on his phone as he lazily starts to palm over his cock. As he scrolls through the comments he takes a certain amount of satisfaction from the thirsty responses about his boyfriend - they can all look but only Max gets to touch.

As he checks out another photo he feels his dick twitch under his hand and says a silent prayer that Charles gets to bring his football kit home with him because he looks insane in it. Max had never truly realised before just how revealing a pair of baggy shorts could be. The photograph currently taking up all his attention is rather obscene, the outline of Charles’ cock is quite clearly visible, every last inch. It looks fucking huge, which makes sense because it is fucking huge. Long and thick and enough to make Max moan happily each time it pushes up inside him.

As he keeps scrolling further he sees another snapshot of Charles swapping shirts with another player. It makes the Dutchman’s mouth fill with saliva, like some hungry animal who has just caught sight of their prey. Except Max would much rather be the prey and let Charles eat him all up.

“Oh fuck” Max feels like he is flip flopping through all the range of emotions as he suddenly gets all broody at the sight of Charles posing with babies. If he wasn’t sex starved then maybe that would be where the thought trail ended but he is suddenly overcome with a very overwhelming desire to have Charles try and breed him. Which, well its not going to happen but it wouldn’t stop Max letting Charles fuck him over and over under the pretence of trying to knock him up.

The Dutchman’s muscles clench around the plug he has been wandering around the apartment wearing for the past two hours. He’s not against foreplay, he loves having Charles spend hours fingering him open or licking into him but he doesn’t intend on wasting a single second tonight. As soon as Charles gets through the door he is going have the Monegasque’s cock up inside him.

“Max? You home?”

Max throws his phone to the side the second he hears Charles’ voice. He doesn’t need to look at photos when the real thing is walking in the door

“Charles” Max squeals excitedly as he sees Charles drenched in sweat and still very much in his football kit. The Dutchman races over and smashes their lips together forcefully.

“Babe you need to let me have a shower first”

“No” Max pouts, “I am all open, please just… I want you….”

Charles chuckles but puts up zero fight as Max drags him through to the bedroom and starts ripping them both out of their clothes.

“You look so hot on the pitch” Max moans as he rips Charles’ shorts and boxers down, “I am the slutty head cheerleader….. you are the slutty football captain” Max mumbles as he finally gets them both stripped down.

“You going to cheer my name then?” Charles smirks

“Of course” Max is grinning but glances back down at the clothes he has discarded to the floor and gets another idea, “I am going to put the socks on”

Charles laughs because Max seems a little manic but it is absolutely not the worst idea the Dutchman has ever had. As it turns out, Max naked apart from a pair of knee high socks is quite the sight, especially when the Dutchman hops on top of Charles and immediately starts riding his cock.

True to his word Max also makes sure to moan Charles’ name with extra enthusiasm as he rolls his hips back and forth at record speed.

“Grab my chest” Max takes hold of Charles’ hands and guides them over the fleshy part of his chest, “Squeeze… yeah that’s it….fuck Charles…. Fuck me”

Charles bucks his hips up to try and meet Max’s movements but the Dutchman seems to be totally in control of the rhythm, bouncing up and down enthusiastically as he moans and pants and mumbles almost incoherently about how slutty he is and how much he needs it.

The Monegasque drops one of his hands from Max’s chest to wrap around the Dutchman’s cock but Max bats him away, “Can come like this. Come from being fucked. Just ….” Max’s jaw is slack and his face is flushed and he’s almost as sweaty as Charles as he comes all of the Monegasque.

“Come inside me Charles, Come inside me” Max is still moving up and down Charles’ dick as he whines at the oversensitivity of it all. Luckily it’s only seconds later that Charles does as he is told and comes inside his boyfriend.

Max collapses down on to the bed and then immediately curls himself back around Charles, his arm landing in his own cum that is plastered all over Charles’ body.

“Hopefully I don’t get pregnant or they won’t let me stay on the cheer team” Max mumbles as he laughs wildly to himself, “Missed you”

“Missed you too” Charles hums quietly.

“Did you play well?” Max opens his eyes and looks up at Charles

“About as well as could be expected” Charles answers cryptically. He really doesn't want to spoil the mood by pointing out that of all the elements of Max’s fantasy the idea of himself being made captain is probably the least likely given he spent most of the match crumpled up in a heap on the floor before being substituted.

Max doesn’t need to know that right now though. Not when he is still dressed in nothing but a pair of knee high socks and looks to be gearing up for round two already.

#lestappen fanfiction #lestappen fanfic #lestappen

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thebashfulbotanist · 11 months

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Squirrel Corn (Dicentra canadensis) is another spring ephemeral native to the Great Lakes! This lovely specimen was photographed just south of Georgian Bay in Ontario.

These little guys look a LOT more like the traditional Bleeding Heart than their close (both species-wise and location-wise) relative Dutchman's Breeches. They don't get their name from any part of the flower however, and instead are named for their bulbs, which are yellow and divided. They roughly look like kernels of corn and, if you are familliar with squirrels and their taste for tulips, are an easy snack for small forest mammals.

#submission #squirrel corn #dicentra canadensis #very cool!#I'm more familiar with the PNW bleeding heart and dutchman's breeches

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f1tyreslightmyfyre · 2 years

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Bloody Hearts - Pt. I

A Mafia-Assassin AU Lestappen Fic

Main Series List

Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW sexual content, explicit language, mafia assassins, general themes of murder as a profession

The Flying Dutchman

As Boss Horner's prized Bull, Max doesn't work just any job. He's relentless in his pursuit, calculating in his methods, and devastating in his precision. His reputation precedes him, and some even swear that he can't possibly be real. Only a ghostly specter - like his namesake - could be so unstoppable. This misconception doesn't bother Max, though - he knows the truth better than anyone and he's happy to set the record straight... even if no one ever lives long enough to learn the error of their ways.

It's nothing personal, really - just business.

The Pianist

Almost no one suspects that the charming, smiling Monegasque is Boss Mattia's favored one. It makes it easier for Charles to get close, to play them like his beloved instrument, to hear life fade like the last notes of a nocturne. Not every job requires his personalized, elegant finesse - but Charles never misses an opportunity to remind anyone who underestimates him that they do so at their own peril.

He's an artist, after all - and every artist has their own style.

SEBASTIAN VETTEL FOUND GARROTED WITH PIANO WIRE

"Once a Bull, always a Bull." Horner's tone is murderous after the news breaks. "They've killed one of our own... and they should fucking know what happens next."

GP glances up at his boss, fingers already poised over his phone screen. "Shall I call him?"

Horner's gaze leaves no room for doubt. "Only the best for The Flying Dutchman." His lips curl with lethal promise. "It's high time that we go take those Stallions for everything they've got."

Charles sighs, dragging ringed fingers through his curls. "You cannot imprison me in my own home, Carlos."

"Mattia begs to differ."

"I didn't kill him - why the fuck would I?" He shakes his head through his rising impatience. "Seb was a mentor - he was the best in our business... he taught me so much of what I know. So, tell me why - why would I want him dead?"

Carlos shrugs, unmoved. "Nobody cares why. The fact remains that it's done. The fact also remains that you're known as The Pianist and he was found murdered with piano wire -"

"Mate..." Charles scoffs in disgust. "Don't insult my professionalism like that."

"The Bulls are too busy seeing red to remember that you're not that sloppy." Carlos continues, his tone firm and unyielding. "Rumor has it that The Flying Dutchman has been called in, and Mattia... well, Mattia wants you to stay home, to lay low." He tilts his head as if daring Charles to defy him. "Do you think you can do that for him?"

Charles sips from a highball, sighting the other man across the elegantly posh bar. Even if his hands aren't stained with blood, one killer recognizes another.

Every photograph that Charles has ever seen of The Flying Dutchman is blurry at best, but Max is stunning. Broad shoulders rest beneath a bespoke suit. A light dusting of facial hair covers his strong jaw, and his lush hair holds a neat style with a rakish edge. His glacial blue eyes glitter in the soft, golden light as they pinpoint Charles in return.

Arousal sparks in Charles' veins as he burns under The Flying Dutchman's scrutiny. Perhaps... perhaps this job will be easier than he thought.

Charles gets a good, long look as the other man cuts a path towards him. Max moves with deadly, deceptive grace, and Charles shamelessly roams his gaze down the man's strong chest, lean waist, and powerful legs. The cut of his suit is criminal, but then again, so is Charles'.

Max's icy eyes continue to bore through Charles as he effortlessly slides onto the adjacent stool. "It's nice to meet you, Charles." He tilts his head in afterthought. "Formally, that is."

Charles runs his tongue along his top lip. "It doesn't surprise me that you know my name, Max."

Max hums his approval. "Who said anything about a surprise?" He turns to search for the bartender. "You had to know what would happen when you went after Sebastian."

"You only insult your own intelligence if you actually believe that." Charles sneers, gripping his highball.

"It does seem foolish, I agree." Max turns back around, his gaze cutting in the low light. "But aren't we all guilty of doing foolish things?"

Charles darts his gaze down Max's body. "Somehow that doesn't seem like your style."

"Doesn't mean that there aren't other ways to have fun." The corner of Max's mouth curls as he openly sweeps his eyes over Charles' face. "After all, kisses taste different with blood in your mouth."

"If you put your tongue down my throat, I will bite it off."

Max's smile widens, and Charles' cock twitches in his tailored trousers. "You know, the last person who talked to me like that ended up at the bottom of a river."

Charles' mouth curls to a smile of his own as he exhales a breathy laugh. He raises his highball to his lips, knocking back another mouthful. "We both already know how this is going to end."

Slowly, Max nods. "We both have jobs to do."

Charles slams the rest of his drink, steadfastly ignoring the ache growing between his legs as he rises. "We wouldn't be professionals, otherwise." He meets Max's gaze again, marveling at the powerful undertow of the man's glacial eyes. "Next time you see me, I'll be much closer."

"Next time you see me," Max says, smirk glinting like a knife's edge. "You won't see me coming."

Charles matches his smirk, leaning in and catching an inhale of intoxicating cologne tinged with gun oil. "May the best man win, mate."

Charles' knees bracket Max's hips against the cold floor. "I told you," Charles says, voice heavy with exertion as he pins Max with his body weight. "The next time you see me, I"ll be much closer."

Max's vision still swims from the impact of landing on his back, but he's hardly dizzy. Charles' warm weight is perfect against his thighs, and he's not entirely displeased even if his gun has slid out of reach. He rests his head back against the hard tile, gazing up into those gorgeous green eyes. "And so you are," Max simply says. "Though, I'm not going to praise you for your follow-through."

"No," Charles agrees, tightening his grip around Max's right wrist as he pins the limb next to Max's head. "But you have to admit - I did get the drop on you."

Max allows himself a cheeky chuckle. "What was it that you said to me, again? Oh, yes... you only insult your own intelligence if you actually believe that."

Indignation flashes in Charles' eyes and his knees dig forcefully into Max's hips. His hands move faster than Max can blink - almost. A lethal wire flashes into view, skillfully wield by The Pianist's dexterous fingers, and Max reacts. He wrenches free of Charles' other hand, lashing out in defense as he pitches his body weight against the leaner man.

A cry punches from Charles' chest as their positions reverse. Max immobilizes Charles' legs with his own, pressing flush against Charles' sprawled form beneath him. The wire lays forgotten and out of reach, abandoned just like his gun. Max's breathing comes in quick draws to match Charles', and even though they're both disarmed, they're both still dangerous.

In the nightly glow of city lights, Charles' eyes are even more mesmerizing up close. Max's blood rushes to his cock as he watches Charles' pupils expand to swallow up the green of his irises. Their chests heave together, and despite their black, sleek, tactical clothing - Max swears he can feel Charles' body heat searing his skin.

Charles tilts his head back, baring his graceful neck. The pale swath of skin begs to be marked by Max's teeth for the whole world to see. His body runs away with him, reducing to an all consuming need to wreck the lithe man spread beneath him. He widens the splay of his legs to accommodate his aching cock, breath hitching as he presses firmly against Charles' deliciously solid thigh.

Charles shudders, his own breath faltering as his eyelids flutter. He glances up at Max through long, thick lashes, his gaze still keen despite their lust-blown state. "And now?" Charles purrs, adjusting the angle of his hips against the press of Max's body. The prominent ridge of Charles' erection is unmistakable as he stares shamelessly up at Max. "What do you believe now?"

Max grinds his erection against Charles' thigh, emboldened as Charles bites his lip to stifle a whimper. "I believe," Max rumbles so low that it's nearly a growl. "That I'm going to mark you with my teeth until you beg me to fuck you. Until you cry out for me to fucking ruin you." He leans down, drawing Charles' scent deep into his lungs. "Then - and only then - will I let you leave here alive." He runs the tip of his nose along Charles' racing pulse as he shifts a hand to grip Charles' thigh, digging his fingers into the firm muscle. "Assuming you can still walk, that is."

"You... what..." Carlos still stares at Charles in open disbelief with saucer-wide eyes. The Spaniard blinks back at him before doing another head-to-toe assessment. "Were you hit by a car?"

Charles chuckles softly as his lips curl to a private smile. He doesn't own a shirt collar tall enough to hide Max's bruises and bites. Though, even if he did, he honestly isn't sure that he wants to hide them. His gait holds a slight limp, but he isn't entirely sure if it's from his efforts to scale the building or the blinding rush of Max's cock splitting him open on repeat. The memory licks a curl of arousal down Charles' spine, and his cock twitches with want.

"No, Carlos." Charles turns to face Mattia's other beloved Stallion. "It wasn't a car. Rather, it... it was more like a ghost ship."

"Dios mío," Carlos grumbles under his breath. "You never listen, do you? You were supposed to lay low!"

Charles gives a sharp shake of his head. "Not my style, mate."

"Fuck your style! You're more useful alive than dead." He shakes his head, exhaling a frustrated sigh. "If your vanity gets you killed, Mattia will find a way to make it my fault - and I refuse to be punished for your stupidity."

Charles places a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "You wound me, Carlos - have you so little faith in me?" He lowers his hand down, fixing the other man with a hard look. "Don't let the bruises fool you. The Flying Dutchman is after the man who killed Seb, and since that man is most definitely not me, sticking close to him provides two great opportunities."

"Oh, yes - a flawless plan." The force of Carlos' sarcasm could strip paint from the walls. "Stick close to the man who knows that you killed Seb and, therefore, is now trying to kill you."

"He believes that I killed Seb. Big difference."

"Beliefs are hard to change."

"All the more reason to find Seb's killer before Max."

Carlos' eyes widen, brows climbing to his hairline. "Max...? Oh, so now he's Max, is he...? Like you two are mates or something?"

Charles allows himself a smirk. "We're hardly mates." As a general rule, he doesn't allow mates to fuck him until he's boneless and utterly wrecked. "But he's the most delicious challenge that I've had in years."

Carlos blows a long string of curses in Spanish, raising his hands to his ears. "I am not hearing this."

"Why haven't you killed him yet?" Sergio's voice echoes across the hallway outside Christian's office.

Max finishes adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket before glancing up at the Mexican. "Who?"

"You know damn well who." Sergio shakes his head with an irritated sigh. "Christian wants The Pianist's head on a platter for what he did to Sebastian."

"You don't need to remind me." Despite being much younger than Sergio, Max has cultivated a useful relationship with the older man. In many respects, it's better than the one that he had with Daniel when he first joined Boss Horner's ranks. But those days feel like ancient history now.

"Then, why are you wasting time?" Sergio's dark, keen eyes miss nothing as he searches Max's face. "His patience will run out. And then, it will be my turn."

Max knows that's exactly what will happen. But he doesn't want that for himself - nor, does he want that for Charles. He lets a smirk lift the corner of his mouth. "If Christian was really concerned or impatient about my progress, he wouldn't send you as his messenger."

#formula 1 fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #f1 #charles leclerc fanfic #carlos sainz jr #sergio perez #lestappen #mafia au #assassin au #f1 rpf #charles leclerc

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historyfagjoshi · 21 days

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hello dear mutual you have successfully implanted baroque worms in my brain i can ' t stop thinking about frans hals what do i do help

Hi! Hello. Yes. Much to say. First things first:

MWAHAHAHAHH AHAHAHA FUCK YOU WELCOME TO HELL JOIN ME HAHAHAHAH AAHAH NO ONE CAN ESCAPE THE SEXY GINGER DUTCHMAN EHAHAHAHAHA

Ahem. Second port of call. Please, if you’re interested, try out the best documentary of all time (100% uncontested) from the best art historian of all time (also uncontested) and collect even MORE brainworms about the baroque movement overall:

youtube

The third port of call: I’m so glad you like him! Unfortunately, as a semi-original character he is one big step removed from mister Frans Hals himself, however I do recommend looking at the real artist’s works if you can! They’re super fun to look at, they jump off the (if we’re being technical here) wood at you and are absolutely bursting with life! His paintings are famous precisely for their vivacity, which is notable because Hals shone pretty early on in the Baroque movement overall (he was just 10 years younger than Caravaggio, give or take). It also helps that some are very handsome fellas (even if those were not real people who actually existed 😔):

(My very own photographs 😳 zoom in! Please! The details are fabulous!)

Penultimately, I also recommend Caravaggio’s portion of the Artholes podcast! It’s an absolutely wild ride from start to finish, and you can find it on Spotify amongst a bunch of other music and podcast streaming platforms.

And finally, I really do want to emphasise that I am ALLERGIC to boring history education. As such, I can assure you that the sources I’ve offered here are all super funny and engaging (Waldemar is unbelievably silly and Artholes made me cry laugh towards the end because Caravaggio is just that fucking ridiculous at times), so I hope you’ll enjoy them too.

Thank you! 🤧

#not art #caravaggio #frans hals #halvaggio #rpf #baroque #17th century #lore dump #art history

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isablooo · 1 year

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I’ve been reading through Stoker’s working notes for Dracula for a project and I haven’t 100% finished yet (I’ve only gotten through his handwritten plot notes) but here are a few interesting things I’ve read so far:

- Dracula’s castle was originally in Styria rather than Transylvania, which makes me think Stoker was inspired by Carmilla.

-In Stoker’s original vampire rules, he states that “painters cannot paint him—their likenesses always like some one else” and that “could not photograph—come out like corpse or black”- rules which never show up in the book! He had considered adding a painter character called Francis Aytown so perhaps these rules would have been included through the Count’s interactions with this character???

-Mina and Lucy originally had an old schoolfellow called Kate Reed! I kind of wish she was still included because I would’ve loved for Mina and Lucy to have a girl squad. I’m tempted to do my own design for her (I’d probably make her a painter or photographer then??)

- Quincey was originally called BRUTUS M MARIX????

- Originally, Dr Seward was Lucy’s fiancé. Arthur was a much later addition to the novel.

-The train times in the novel are actually accurate- Stoker made extensive notes on train schedules which is so Mina Harker “train fiend” core of him.

-The original title for the novel was “The Un-dead”

-In the excised second chapter of the novel, Jonathan Harker encounters a female vampire in Munich called Countess Dolingen (who is suspiciously similar to Carmilla- she’s a Countess from Styria, whose body is interned in an abandoned village). He’s saved from her by a wolf who is presumably either Dracula or a wolf sent by Dracula to keep Jonathan safe (for now). The chapter was later published posthumously as a short story in 1914 under the title ‘Dracula’s Guest’ by Stoker’s widow, Florence Anne Lemon Balcombe (yes I’m including her full name because Lemon is such an adorable middle name). The story is actually great, I’d seriously recommend checking it out. Though, despite the notes making it clear the narrator is supposed to be Jonathan Harker, he feels like a different character.

-A few days after this event, Jonathan goes to see the Flying Dutchman at the opera ??? Idk Jonathan’s adventures in Munich could be a book unto themself lol

-Another excised event from Munich is Jonathan visiting the “Munich Dead House” and seeing a dead man whose face he later sees on the Count ??? In the facsimile I’m reading, Eighteen-Bisang and Miller explain this with an excerpt from The Atlantic Monthly from 1877: “There is a curious burial custom at Munich. The law requires that every man, woman, and child who dies within city limits shall lie in state for three days in the Leichenhaus (dead house) of the Gottesacker, the southern cemetery, outside the Sendling Gate. This is to prevent any chance of premature burial, an instance of which many years ago gave rise to the present provision.“ If a person had in fact been sent there who was still alive, there was a bell attached to a string they could pull.

-The three female vamps in Dracula’s castle were originally killed by being OBLITERATED BY LIGHTNING

-The last chapter was potentially going to include a werewolf- “a Tourist’s Tale—one killed by wolf (wehr?)”

Source: Bram Stoker’s Notes for Dracula: A Facsimile Edition, Annotated and Transcribed by Robert Eighteen-Bisang and Elizabeth Miller

#I typed this all up and then tumblr made the note disappear for some reason so I had to retype it oof #anyway I hope ppl find this as interesting as I did!!#dracula #dracula's guest #long post #text post

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