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my comprehensive list of gax throuples because all of them are peak yaoi, actually:
gaxcar: not actually a throuple this is more like three separate couples that operate semi-independently from each other and according to an excel timetable that they've all got open on their phones at all times
gaxlex: this is just george, alex, the stray they adopted. no notes except max is maybe prime candidate to let alex indulge his lactation kink
gaxiel: max gets strapped to a cuck chair and has the time of his life about it, the movie. also they've got History and when they move in together the elephant in the room moves in with them
norrusstappen: max, george, the human equivalent of that one childhood hamster that died microwaved except instead of microwaving the hamster they are feeding it treats and maybe jumpscaring it once in a while to keep the spark alive
gaxnando: max, george, their very willing but also very evil daddy issues outlet. fernando and his favourite sugar babies if you will. fernando uses their absolute dumptrucks as an armrest for each of his hands and gax have the time of their lives about it
verrussainz: "i can take both at the same time"
gax x toto: need i say anything, actually
336327 (whatever their name is): and yet another instance of 'gax found and hunted a father figure substitute and took turns sitting on his dick'
russtappenelli: kimi "when i was 19 i hooked up with two 45 27 year old married men and i was absolutely the predator" antonelli. obligatorily rancid as fuck vibes but that is the point
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r63 gax / galex / gaxlex wip for da freaks #happypride (1.2k words)
Max isn't jealous, and even if she was, it wouldn't be of Alex Albon, of all people.
Alex Albon is as close to nothing as a person could be. It's mean to say it, but it's true, and Max isn’t exactly known for being nice, anyway. Alex Albon is, for all intents and purposes, a loser. She’s nice, Max supposes, and funny, but she’s a loser at the end of the day.
“Am I a loser?” Daniel asks, once, his tone lighthearted and serious at the same time, a tone that only he can really achieve.
“Yup,” Max replies, shoving at his face. They’re laying in the hot sun, on the side of a private pool, somewhere in Mexico where it’s still warm and sunny in January. Max is in Daniel’s spare swim trunks, lying on her stomach without any sort of bra because she doesn’t need one, not in general but especially not with Daniel. He is across from her, close but in seperate chairs. and he laughs. He laughs at her, and he’s loud and bright because that’s just how Daniel is. He’s loud and he’s bright and he’s not— He’s not a loser like how Alex is. He’s not a loser, he just lost. It's different.
Lewis Hamilton isn’t a loser because of 2021, but Oscar Piastri is a bit of a loser for 2025. Sebastian Vettel isn’t a loser for 2018, though he came close, but Mark Webber is certainly a loser for everything from 2010-2013, and a bit before that. Daniel isn’t a loser. Alex is. That’s just how these things work.
“You’re a misogynist,” Daniel says, and Max scoffs.
“Spell misogynist,” Max retorts.
“M-I-S-S—”
“Absolutely not,” Max snorts, “You’re a dumbass.”
“You don’t care,” Daniel grins, “You love me.”
“Fuck you,” Max rolls her eyes, shoving at him again. “I’m not a misogynist. I don’t even care about that sort of thing.” Daniel frowns slightly, tilting his head bemusedly.
“You’re no feminist,” He mutters, and it’s almost a question but they both know it’s not. It’s true, really. Max isn’t a feminist. She hangs around Horner and Helmut despite... everything about them. She hangs around Daniel, who sounds like the spirit of a man from the old workplace harassment tapes they rolled out when Max first got hired is speaking through him half the time; tits and ass and sex and ugh. Max doesn’t exactly put herself out there for womens rights, womens representation, womens anything. She’s a woman, and that’s about as far as her activism goes. But, still, she’s not actively awful to women. She’s not, like, a sexist. It’s certainly not Alex’s womanhood that she hates about Alex, and she says as much.\
“I don’t think Alex is a loser because she’s a girl,” Max protests, even as Daniel raises an eyebrow, “I think she’s a loser for entirely unrelated reasons.”
“You don’t think Pierre is a loser, and they’re practically in the same situation. Frankly, Pierre’s the bigger loser than she is, if you really think about it.” Daniel hums, pondering it for a moment, before wincing. “Ah, shit,” He says, “Nothing against Pierre. But, well, you know—”
“Pierre’s not a loser,” Max huffs, interrupting him, “He’s just French.”
Daniel squints at her. She’s getting real tired of him thinking she’s wrong. It all started when he retired, really, all of his protests and pushback and... being a bitch. He’s annoying her. He’s not agreeing with her. It’s pissing her off.
“Everything pisses you off,” He says, when she tells him just that. He’s all smug, with sunglasses covering his eyes like an American, like an asshole. She hates him.
“I hate you.”
“I know,” Daniel grins, “Now, explain it to me.”
“Explain what?” Max hisses, stubborn.
“The Alex thing,” Daniel elaborates, “The anger. The pettiness. The bitchiness—”
“I’m not a bitch,” Max snaps, and it’s important that he knows that. It’s important that she says that. Max doesn’t get called a bitch. She’s an asshole or a dickhead or a motherfucker, but she’s never, not ever, a bitch. That word is reserved for real bitches, people like the journalists she doesn’t like or the girls on the social media team who gossip about her shitty attitude or Georgia Russell—
“Is this about George?” Daniel asks, eyes guileless and innocent, in a way that tells Max he knows exactly what he’s asking.
“No,” Max lies, “It’s about Alex.”
“What about Alex?”
“She’s a loser.” Max turns around then, flipping her head to the side and ignoring Daniel’s weedling and whining and bitching for the next twenty-three minutes. The reason why she does this is simple — It is easy to ignore Daniel, and it is hard to explain Alex.
Mostly because Max doesn’t know Alex. Not really. They were two women on the same team, and Alex was a rookie but she was older, and none of that mattered because Alex didn’t matter, because Alex was never not going to be playing second fiddle, runner-up, cannon fodder. Alex was never going to matter. At least, not to Max.
But, well, Alex matters to Georgia Russell, and that’s something.
Max grinds her teeth. It’s certainly something.
It’s nothing to be jealous of. Georgia Russell is obnoxious, and knowing her is difficult even for Max, who tries her best to spend as little time with her as humanly possible. Georgia Russell is pretentious and prickly — She’s prudish, sure, but she primps and she preens, attention-hungry, desperate. She’s annoying, up her own ass, and Max hates her. Max really hates her, like nothing else. She’s British and she’s a bitch and she’s really, really beautiful, and Max hates her. God, Max hates her.
And, well, it all works out, because Georgia hates Max.
But, well, Georgia doesn’t hate Alex.
And it starts like this: Max enters Alex’s drivers room early on in their teammate relationship, and George is beautiful, hair tumbling down her back in waves, her eyes bright blue, blinding. She’s like nothing Max has seen before, tall and lean and angular, cool and icy and delicate like glass, sharp at the edges. She’s gorgeous. Max immediately hates her. What Max hates more is the way Alex’s hand lingers at George’s waist, the way they duck into each other to laugh and talk and breathe, like they can’t bear to be outside of each other’s orbit. They barely even glance at Max, and when she leaves, she can hear their giggles through the door.
They’re talking about me. Max thinks, hysterical. They’re fucking talking about me.
She doesn’t do anything about it. It drives her crazy. She thanks God when Alex finally leaves. She curses God when Alex leaves for Williams, sitting right back down in the seat George is about to leave.
Is her seat warm? Max wants to ask, nonsensical.
Do you have to share everything? Max wants to ask too, even more nonsensically.
Even a seat? Max is spiraling. You need her seat? Do you need her clothes too? Her underwear? Her skin? Can you even live outside of each other for a day?
I cannot stop thinking about your ficlets where George is a girl who is dating Alex and max is down bad... Max's pov is so delicious. Are the other drivers also as obsessed with George? Was it implied that there are other drivers who have shared a bed with George and Alex? I'm dying to see what happens next 👀
honestly its been so long since i started those girl georgie ficlets that i had mostly forgotten abt them... loll!! but to appreciate you finding those from a year ago lost here in the depths of tumblr, i went searching on my google docs and found some stuff in that au i hadnt posted yet just for you!! so here you go:
girl georgie wip 1 (this one is actually the continuation of the last part i posted and somehow forgot to post the rest btw):
"Well, princess, what we do isn't just about you, now is it?" He says, pushing his hip up strong enough that she can almost feel him inside her, even though her panties and his boxers are still on.
She moans loud enough their hotel neighbors must hear it.
"Even if he's not into men, he can always just watch... or you could-"
Alex doesn't let her finish her sentence, manhandling her until her back is on the bed and he's hovering above her hard nipples, that stand see-through on her white champagne-drenched shirt.
"You don't really want to finish that sentence, love," Alex half threatens, half teases. She gasps every time his breath hits her chest, almost touching but not quite.
She doesn't say anything else as Alex takes her silence as surrender and takes her tit into his mouth, through the shirt and all. He must taste the lingering champagne as he sucks and kisses her nipple until her legs are twitching by his sides, only offering her half a second of relief before he moves on to her other one.
She's trembling by the time he pushes her shirt up and start making his way down her toned belly that she likes showing off so much.
Even when there isn't a single magazine that hasn't seen her half naked, Alex always acts like she's something precious to look at and touch.
He's almost where George wants him most, his full lips kissing just below her bellybutton, but she stops him before he can reach the top of her baby blue panties; pulling on his hair hard enough that he moans when he looks up at her.
"Promise you'll consider, that's all I ask," she begs, moans, using all her will power not to push him back down because she really has to get this message across.
Alex looks between her eyes and her wetness, mouth hanging open and saliva almost dripping down the corner of his lips as he nods, desperate.
He wants this as much as her.
George smiles wide as she lets him take it.
girl georgie wip 2:
The wire of George's bra is poking a hole through her skin, and she's half sure the purple lace is clashing with her skin tone – but she smiles through it, chest inflated and tummy sucked in and posture flawless and body angled in a way that can't look natural, but that's not the point anyway.
She gets the image a few months later. They photoshopped her lips bigger and her cellulite off and her lashes, somehow, even bolder; but she looks good.
Alex tells her so when they pass a billboard with said photo, and she tries not to think that this billboard is so close to the track that every person in the paddock has seen her half naked by now – or at least the photoshopped version of her.
They part ways when someone from the Williams' garage is waiting by the entrance to snatch Alex from her. He bids her goodbye with a soft kiss.
George is left alone then. Well, mostly.
Photographers take pictures of her as her heels click-and-clack the closer she gets to the Red Bull Hospitality, her phone a weigh in her purse that she decidedly ignores.
She doesn't think of what the press will make of her in Alex's old team building because she can't afford to do so right now.
Max is where he said he would be; second floor, third conference room to the right on the west wing hallway.
She gets in without knocking, closes the door behind herself.
"You wanted to see me?" George says, reluctance and innocent and something else fighting through her tone, making her voice crack a bit.
She stands taller than Max, who's leaning against the center table, half-sitting, his phone laying forgotten in his hand.
They'd be about the same height, if George wasn't wearing heels and Max was upright and had a good posture. As it stands, she looks a few feet taller than him.
She tries not to look down to meet his eyes.
"I didn’t think you'd come," Max says. He sounds honest enough, but George doesn't know him enough to tell his tones apart.
"Well, you texted me," George says, gesturing to her phone that still lays hidden in her purse, "so I assume you have something to say."
"Isn’t that usually your job?" Max pokes, tease, and George feels something flare inside her chest – anger, annoyance, or something else.
"It's still Thursday. You haven't had time to fuck up your weekend yet," George replies, taking his bait because Max knows the right buttons to click, despite not knowing her at all.
"We'll see about that," He pushes himself off the table, phone getting left behind. He has to crane up his neck when he walks closer to her. "Where’s Alex?" he lowers his voice, tone soomewhat like mocking but not quite.
"You asked me to come alone," George states, almost angrily. Her breath is caugh behind her throat the closer Max gets.
"And you did," Max whispers now, less than a feet apart from her.
Her back is to the door, and there’s nowhere to go in the room that wouldn't have her bumping against Max – and she's not about to take his bait again and step back. So she stands still.
"What do you want, Max?" She says, and her tone has gotten lower too, without her permission.
He looks her up and down, then back up again.
She thinks of how his eyes are always trained on her whenever they bump into each other on a club or outing. How he pointedly ignores Alex beside her and will not look away when George looks back at him.
How she looks back at him at all. Every time.
"You know what I want," Max says, and she does. She knows what he wants and she came here anyway.
She'll be in Alex's garage in a few minutes, and she'll wear Williams merch and talk with the Williams crew and Alex will kiss her before he gets into his cockpit and let the marketing team take photos of him. He'll mention her in the tiktok's they'll make and he'll drive her to the hotel later and fuck her on his bed and Max will be a few floors up and be none the wiser.
Yet, she stays still when Max takes another step closer. He's looking at her lips, obviously so, and she could step back and leave.
She doesn't.
"I saw your billboard," Max offhandedly says, as if he isn't all up in her personal space. He's still looking at her lips when he says; "It's nonsense that they've made your lips bigger, really. They look so much better like this."
He says the last part up close, his breath hitting her face like a slap or maybe even a kiss.
She doesn't move.
"That's- Uhm. That's the business, nothing to be done about it," She says, slurring her words and willing her eyes to stay open.
Max hums, says nothing else.
His hands feel big on her hips when he eventually moves to touch her. His breath is hitting her neck.
Her phone is ringing in her purse.
It's Alex's ringtone.
She steps back.
"Try not to make a fool of yourself this weekend," George rushedly says, but the bite is back to her tone.
She can only hear Max hums again when she turns her back and walks off.
His stare burns a hole through her back.
The wire of the lace bra draws blood from her skin.
She doesn't even feel it.
girl georgie wip 3? (i think this one was my attempt at rewriting the au to post it on ao3 but i never posted it for some reason):
That Alex Albon is no jealous boyfriend is not exactly Breaking News – not that he could even be with a girlfriend like George.
George was an attention whore, to put it simply. That's not to say it's an insult, but it doesn't make it any less true; George Russell is absolutely obsessed with attention.
That can translate in many different ways, according to her mood every given day. Sometimes she'll just talk and talk and make everyone and anyone present hear her ramblings, other times she'll post a picture in the tiniest bikini known to man – she has range, of course.
Alex doesn't mind so much that so many people are simping over his girl; she's hot, so of course they are.
George is a fucking picture; long legs, bright blue eyes, plump lips, small round tits, defined muscles, a big ass… she's the whole fucking package.
It helps that she's a formula one driver, too. First girl with her own seat, first one to get a podium, first one to win a race, then two, then three, then… well. The first.
Considering that, it's almost a given that everyone would be obsessed with her – even other drivers, who every now and then comment on her instagram pics with a fire emoji or a heart emoji or a winky face emoji or a- well, there's been a lot of different approaches to flirting with her over time.
Alex doesn't even mind that, either; formula one was a cock-fest before his girl came in, so it's only natural that they'd be driven to her.
Besides, George's always been faithful– or, at least, that's what Alex thought.
The request came so suddenly, Alex must've stood there unmoving a good few minutes before he managed to say; “What?”
“God, don't make me repeat it,” George says, flustered all over, red spreading down from her cheeks to her neck to the top of her exposed tits.
“I just- there's no way I heard you right, Georgie. Did you just ask me to-”
“Ugh, don't say it!” She interrupts, covering her eyes with her hands like that'd make her disappear.
Alex pulls out from inside her to sit back on his heels, a groan leaving her mouth as his hard cock bobs between her thighs.
“We didn't have to stop!” She groans, still hiding behind her hands.
“George, you just asked me if you could fuc-”
“Arghhh,” she groans louder, taking her hands out of her face to use them to push herself into seating, now properly looking at him. “Alex, I said this didn't have to be a big deal. I would never do anything you didn’t agree to, obviously!”
“You think I'd agree to let you fuck Max behind my back?” Alex deadpans, tone harsher even as his cock still hangs hard between them.
“Alex, please! It sound awful when you put it like tha-”
“George, that's literally what you just asked me to do. You just asked how would I feel if you wanted to fu-”
“I never said I would do it!” She raised her voice, british accent stronger now that she's gotten more agitated.
Alex just looks at her, watching the way she's flustered all over. Her wetness is still shining all the way down to her thighs, her tits bruised where Alex's bite at them, her belly contracting every few seconds – effect lingering from how close she had been to her orgasm before.
She's fucking perfect.
“Alright then,” Alex says, after the silence has been lingering for a while.
George creases her brows at him as if he’s crazy; “Alright then what, Alex? What do you even mean?”
“Let’s do it then. You can fuck Max,” Alex says, resolutely. Her chest rises and falls rapiding as her eyes open even wider to stare at him.
She starts; “Wha-”
“I mean it, you can fuck him,” Alex interrupts her before she can even get the word out, voice serious as he meets her eyes. “You can fuck him,” He insists, clearing his throat. There's a set look in his eyes when he adds; “But I get to watch.”
That finally gets her talking again; “You want to watch me fuck Max? What? Why?”
“Well, you want to do it. It's only fair,” Alex says, diplomatic tone to his voice. He barks out a laugh as she stands there, completely shell shocked in the way she looks at him; “What? Now you don't want to?”
“No, I do, it's just- God, fuck. I really need you to fuck me right now,” She gasps, almost moans to herself, her eyes flicking down to where his cock still holds hard between her thighs.
“Yeah?” He asks, teasing. There's a smile lingering in his tone as he moves the tiniest bit closer to her.
“Mmhm” she mumbles, barely coherent. She's struggling to keep herself up, arms twitching every time she insists on maintaining her body upright.
“Lay down Georgie,” Alex demands, sweet. It's almost instant the way her back hits the covers again.
Alex pushes himself up his hunches to crawl over her, his cock hanging between their bodies close enough that his tip touches her belly, a trail of his precum marking her body every time he slightly shifts.
He moves down until his face is hovering just above hers, breath ghosting her lips as he says; “Is this how you would want Max to fuck you? With you on your back like the pillow princess you are?”
She groans, legs wrapping around his knees to push him forward. He doesn’t move an inch.
“Baby-” she starts, half begging.
Alex doesn't let her get any further, “Is that way you'd call him: ‘baby’?” He taunts, almost mocking. She groans again, halfway into a moan. “You think he'd like that?”
She fully moans now, her lips touching his own but only briefly as her head bucks up. His tip is making a mess on her stomach, but she doesn't try to push him inside again.
“You know what I think?” Alex says, whispers, moving down until his words hit her neck almost like a kiss, but not quite. He moves until he's hovering above her ear to add; “I think he'd like you on top, baby. Riding him so you'd do all the work.” Alex reaches one of his hands between them, spreading his legs to push her thighs further apart. He hold the base of his cock to tease her clit with his tip until she's rolling her eyes to the back of her head. “You wouldn't like that, would you?”
George moans again, her thighs clenching around him, ankle hitting the back of his thighs in a foolish attempt to push him inside. She groans when the only thing it does is make Alex stop moving until she's moved her foot back to the bed.
He starts guiding his cock up and down her folds, up to her clit then down to her entrance. She's so wet, his tip keeps accidentally getting caught inside her when he guides his cock back up.
“Imagine, Georgie. Max laying down in this very bed, hands stretched behind his head as he just watches your tits bounce every time you fall back down on his cock,” he says, cock catching in her cunt again. He pushes the tiniest bit in now before pulling off and guiding his cock up to her clit again. “You know we can't have that. I can't have my princess doing all the work, can I?”
“Alex-” She moans, loudly now. She's twitching all over, cunt so wet his comforter will be smelling of her for days.
“Mm-mm, not Alex,” Alex clicks his tongue, disapproving. “Isn't it Max that you want to fuck you?” He says, mocking. His cock catches again, and this time he lets it stay in, pushing only his tip in and out as he moves his hand from the base of his cock to the bottom of her belly, his thumb circling her clit.
She's a moaning mess by then, entirely incoherent, but Alex still pushes; “I asked you a question, Georgie.”
aaand thats all i found :)
if anyone sees this and and wants to see some more from me, like my other abandoned wips or send me a prompt for something new (other than my ao3 fics), feel free to send me an ask hehe :3
