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httpsserene · 1 year ago

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ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!

want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!

huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)

cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss

here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!

it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.

this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).

the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.

you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.

you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left.

they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“

“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”

charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.”

you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”

you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.

you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like.

you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.

max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.

you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.

you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.

your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.

you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.

now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing.

“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.

the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss.

your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.

charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control.

the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.

eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall.

his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can.

your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing.

thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath.

the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.

you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.

you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other.

the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.

you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face.

even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises.

the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come.

you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.

but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it.

your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.

you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.

after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.

fuck.

a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”

max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath.

but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide.

charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”

max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”

the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom.

max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.

max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”

your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly.

max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”

you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.

the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…….okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“

charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”

you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”

you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.

“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”

“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”

charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago.

you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy! i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”

a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.

“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone.

a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”

max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.

charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.

“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”

the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.

you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”

“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.

max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”

“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.

you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”

max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.

“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”

charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“

“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”

you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.

“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“

“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”

you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.

“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”

you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”

max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.

max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.

“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”

you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them.

your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.”

“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.

“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.

he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”

you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”

he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—

“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.

max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”

charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”

you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”

charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”

“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.

“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”

“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”

you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes.

you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.

“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”

“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”

“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”

“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste.

you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.

“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”

charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”

“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”

“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”

“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”

“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“

what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.

max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.

you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“

and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.”

they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep.

“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner.

shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”

max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”

3K notes · View notes

beautifulpaprika · 5 months ago

Text

Party Next Door; Jungkook

pairing: fem!reader x jungkook

warnings: smut, a cool massage

summary: Every Thursday is a struggle. The neighbor is constantly disturbing the peace with loud music. But Y/N has had enough and decides to go over there herself, but she sets herself up for failure when the owner turns out to be beautiful. Her hatred and annoyance towards him turns into a need.

word count: 4.7k

My head is a jumbled mess. I’ve tried headphones, my own speakers, going to the furthest corner of my room, but nothing can drown away the noise next door. Every Thursday night is a hassle to work. I’ve never met the party animal neighbor, but no matter how many times I call the police on them, they don’t seem to care.

Music seeps into my living room, interrupting my work. It’s not exciting by any means, but I would like to finish it before midnight.

I hear yelling from across the way. It’s the last straw before I decide that I’ll take care of it myself.

The music is even louder in the hall, itching my brain and raising my irritation. I raise my fist and knock, no, bang on the door, trying my best to make it louder than the music and chatter.

The attempt is a failed one when no one answers the door. I try once again. And one more time.

Nothing.

A stomping up the stairs causes me to turn to a small group approaching me. The man at the front, who seems to be the leader, gives me a strange look before walking past me and opening the door.

I watch them walk in. No knocking. No banging on the door. All I had to do was turn the knob.

“Thanks,” I yell at them, only to get no response.

The frustration dwells for a moment before I go back to focusing on the main task. Finding the owner of this place and giving him a piece of this. My mind. Not my body.

“Excuse-” the woman ignores me, walking into the living room and sitting next to others who seem to be enjoying a game of ‘Spin the Bottle’. “Can you tell me-” another man ignores me. This is a very welcoming group.

“You look lost,” the voice is behind me now. A woman smiles at me, a drink in hand.

“Is it obvious?” I ask her, my vocal chords rasping at how loud I have to be over the music. She simply shrugs as a response. “I’m looking for the person who owns the place,” I tell her. She nods in understanding.

“Jungkook? He’s out on the balcony, but I wouldn’t recommend disturbing him. He’s snippy,” she takes a sip of her drink, still making eye contact with me over the rim. It’s a bit intimidating, but I’m grateful for the information nonetheless.

“Thanks!” I head to the balcony, the apartment has the same layout as mine. I peek out of the blinds blocking the party from the outside. A man lounges on his lawn chair, his legs spread out and a drink in his hand. His eyes are open and touching the sky. There’s hardly any light, the balcony sitting in an alleyway. I almost forgot that I was here on a mission - his beauty a distraction. Maybe the police didn’t want to say anything to him.

I fling myself back to my cause, sliding the door open and stepping out.

He doesn’t spare a single glance at me.

“Are you the owner of this place?”

“Who’s asking?” he still does not look at me.

“The neighbor,” my irritation rises at the lack of eye contact.

“Yeah. I am. What about it?” he takes a loud sip of his drink, his eyes closing for a moment before opening again.

“Your music's too loud. The people in this place are too loud,” I tell him. I figure laying it out now is better than beating around the bush. Especially when it comes to this guy.

“Ignore it,” he says matter-of-fact. I’m not sure what I expected when I came over here, but the attitude catches me off guard. I scoff then look around. I’m not sure what I’m looking for - maybe some help?

“I’ve tried. Several times,” my arms cross in an effort to show that I won’t let this slide no matter how much he avoids eye contact and suggests I ignore it.

He closes his eyes, sighs, and finally his eyes glide down to meet mine. The stare stops my heart for a second. His eyes are intimidating, but there can be no mistake at what he’s looking at because his glance is hard and purposeful.

“You’re the one who’s been calling the cops on me, aren’t you?” he asks.

I don’t answer. Instead, I look out onto the city not wanting to expose myself for being a wet rag. Normally, it wouldn’t matter and I would have confessed, but I’m more out of place here, making it easier to be intimidated. He stands. His boots are like bombs as he steps in front of me. His face hovering over me.

“If the police didn’t work, what makes you think I would listen to you?” He whispers. I try not to focus on his breath smelling like a mix of mint and alcohol. It’s intoxicatingly good and annoying.

“I thought,” I make sure to make direct eye contact, “that if you had a bit of empathy and compassion,” I put emphasis on ‘compassion’, “you might consider others who are around you.”

He says nothing, only narrows his eyes. Those same eyes glide from my face, then slide down my body. Heat rushes from my head to my toes, reaching my core.

“Are you gonna say something or keep looking at me like that?” I don’t know what possesses me to say it, but it makes him chuckle. “Some of us have work to do,” I continue.

“I’m not turning down the music, do whatever you want with that,” he turns to sit back in his seat. My blood boils, but not from desire anymore. “I’d like to go back to my peace and quiet if you don’t mind,” he lounges back and his eyes close, facing the sky.

Peace and quiet? With all this noise inside? Oh no, no, no.

I pull the extra red lawn chair to sit beside him, lounging back.

“Does that look like the door to you?” he asks, his shoulders stiff now and his eyes wide open. I lean back taking in the chilly night air, adjusting myself to get comfortable.

“We all want peace and quiet, sir. Even me,” I throw him a pointed look. “I don’t give you yours until you give me mine.”

“Fine,” he says. He doesn’t argue anymore, still not giving in. It’s a matter of who can last the longest now.

***

My attempt fails as the next Thursday the music seeps right through the cracks of my apartment and into my ears. I breathe in, then out and pack my laptop. I sit with him on the balcony again until the music dies then return home.

And the next Thursday, it happens again and I make my way over with my laptop once more.

It takes one minute for me to leave my apartment, step into his, and out onto the balcony. Jungkook is there in the same spot as last week and the week before. He glances at me then back up to the sky.

“Me again!” I cheer.

“Yay. . .” his voice is dead.

I take a seat in the same red chair I did before.

“I brought some entertainment this time so I might last a bit longer,” I gesture to my laptop. “Hope you don’t mind.” He definitely minds.

I put on a video of someone playing a horror game. I don’t know the person, I’ve never watched the person, or a horror game for that matter, but my hope is the noise will be enough to annoy him.

He doesn’t say anything when it plays and his body language doesn’t change either.

“So, how come your party is inside but you’re always out here?” I ask, filling some of the awkwardness.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“My question is more important to me,” I close the laptop and face him fully. I can’t place the emotion on his face when I do. It’s a mix of surprise and confusion. “I can only assume this,” I gesture to the party going on inside, “is not going to stop any time soon,” he grins at that, seemingly proud, “we might as well get to know each other a bit.”

“I preferred when you were watching your videos.”

“We can’t always get what we want. No matter how intimidating we might be,” I make sure to murmur the second part. The roll of his eyes tells me he heard it anyways. “Fess up. Why are you not in there?” I lean in to show my interest. It did strike me as strange the first time that the person throwing the party wasn't participating in it.

He stays silent, the sound of a few cars and people yelling on the street taking his voice’s place.

“Come on! Who am I gonna tell? Your sweet and kind friends in there?” he chuckles at that at least.

“I don’t want to party,” he says, shrugging. His answer confuses me even more.

“Are you sure?” I raise an eyebrow, “‘Cause the parade in your apartment says otherwise,” I laugh.

“They’re background noise,” he looks off into the distance now. “The music, the talking, the games. It’s all background noise,” his head leans back, smiling when a group cheers inside.

Background noise? My Thursday night is sacrificed every week for background noise? He doesn’t even enjoy the party?

“But . . . you’re giving up your space. You know there are an infinite amount of videos online that actually allow you to have a noise similar to thi-”

“I don’t want the video,” he snaps. I blink at him. “It’s not the same,” he goes back to his normal tone. “It doesn’t fill the space. What’s the point of this big apartment if I’m the only one in it,” he looks back into the city and there’s a voice in my head telling me not to press further. This isn’t about background noises, I realize. This is about loneliness.

“You could fill the space with someone else. Someone you care about and cares for you in return,” I suggest. He scoffs at that.

I’ve chosen the wrong words.

“Yeah? Simple as pie. “Find someone who cares for you.”” he mocks. “Give me a fucking break,” his hand lifts to chew on his nail. It’s a habit that I used to have. It brings back memories of all the feelings I used to have that resulted in me biting down.

I get up, and grab his wrist away from his mouth.

“That’s not healthy, you know?” I tell him. He’s frozen, stuck in the same position as before I pulled his hand away, then his eyes finally move to look up at mine.

Before I can say anything, I’m planted in his lap, my legs draped over his, his arms wrapped around my middle. My mouth opens ready to scream when I his nose grazes my neck, his breath brushing it and the top of my collarbone. I can’t say anything. There’s words but they’re stuck in my throat unable to escape as an effect of the sensation I feel from his fingers grazing the skin under my shirt.

“Maybe you should be the one to take care of me. You’re already telling me what to do,” his fingers move up to graze my cheek and push me to face him. His eyes are hooded when he looks up at me. It’s the perfect angle to kiss him.

Kiss him?

I push myself up out of his lap, broken from the trance he put over me.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask. It’s a rhetorical question, because no matter what the answer is, it can’t be reasonable. I scoop my laptop up making my way to the sliding door.

I step inside. I squeal when a body collides into mine, the sudden feeling of a cold drink spilling down the front of my shirt.

“Woah! We got a spillage!” the man laughs. There’s heat rising to my brain, having the urge to take me thankfully safe laptop and break it over that empty dome sitting on his neck. “She’s feisty, too,” he purrs. My eyes narrow in an attempt to fend him off. “I haven’t seen you around here,” he leans in, grabbing me by the waist.

“Buzz off,” I’m able to push him off due to his sloshed state. I’m able to evade him, but a body pushes past me. The same figure grabs the drunk man by the neck and drags him to the front door, chucking him out and down the stairs. I blink at Jungkook who seems more pissed now that he can’t even look at me.

He retreats to the balcony without another glance at me.

***

This Thursday there is no music. No yelling. Only complete silence. This is what I have been wanting for weeks, yet keep opening my door a smidge to peek at someone who might pop up ready for a party.

I even start to pace from the living room, to kitchen, to dining room, to kitchen, to dining room. I’m growing restless at the silence. Why now? Why is it quiet the week after he almost kissed me. It’s a scene I play over and over in my head. I’m trying to answer questions like why he would do it. Why is he radio silent afterward? Why am I obsessing over a man I met three weeks ago?

My instinct pushes me to check outside of the door again, but before I reach for the doorknob a piece of paper slides under my door. I unfold it to look at the words scribbled on the lines:

I know there’s no music.

But it breaks my heart that you haven’t come to visit.

I scold my racing heart at the words.

But he’s inviting me this time- a funny way of putting it- but inviting me nonetheless.

I remind myself that this could not be anything romantic. Maybe he’s remorseful. If my mother could see me now pining over a man I’ve talked to twice.

But I can’t get that near kiss out of my head. I haven’t been touched in that manner since high school and the fact that it was unexpected adds to my anticipation.

My pajamas are exchanged for a skirt and a tank top. Nothing wrong with a bit of seduction.

I take the risk of humiliating myself and open the door to walk over to his apartment. When I swing the door open I’m surprised to find he’s already standing outside of his door. His head whipping away, his throat clearing.

“Were you . . .” I pause, “Did you have your ear on the door?” I tease.

He avoids eye contact with me. “I was wondering what time you were going to come over,” he clears his throat again, his face transforming from panicked to stoic.

“I-”

“My apartment’s empty,” his voice is back to a calm tone.

“I noticed,” I laugh. His lips pucker and he looks from my lips, to my eyes, to my lips, to my eyes. It makes me nervous.

“Not that I wanted you to be there in the first place, but if you’re not busy, you could be my background noise.”

I dwell on his invitation.

“You don’t want me there? But,” I hold the note up, “this says I’ve broken your heart,” I point to the exact words.

His eyes narrow on the lined paper, then he shakes his head.

“I don’t remember any of this,” he turns and walks back to his apartment before I get to defend myself.

I follow him in, now fully able to look around his place without people in the way. The quiet is unsettling considering that each time I’ve walked into this apartment, I’ve mentally prepared myself and my ears for speaker breaking bass.

The apartment feels as if no one lives here. There are no pictures or decorations that display any hobbies. I wonder how much time he spends here by himself. Most of it must be time spent cleaning after those Thursdays.

He walks towards his living room and throws himself on the couch, his head on the armrest. I follow soon after and stand near the wall next to the couch waiting for him to instruct me to do something.

His eyes open.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do,” I admit. “This is strange being here and not having hooligans yelling around us.

He laughs. One would think he would be angry that I called his friends hooligans, but I know now those were not his friends.

“Do what you would normally do,” he gestures to the coffee table. “Do work, watch horror videos. Do whatever you want. I just need a bit of noise,” he says nonchalantly, but all I’m hearing is “I like you as background noise more than the parties.” It could be my ego thinking that, regardless, my heart is racing.

He follows my moves as I sit on the floor and place my laptop on the coffee table. He relaxes by throwing his head back again.

***

I groan at the pains in my neck and shoulders.

Jungkook sits up, tilting his head at me.

“I should probably go.” It’s been about an hour and we’ve been exchanging a few words here and there. It’s pleasant. What is not so pleasant is the horrible pain on my lower back from sitting on the floor.

“If you want, I can massage your back there for you,” he offers. It catches me off guard. He pats the cushion, gesturing for me to come up with him.

The words “No, thank you,” are on the tip of my tongue, but he offered so quickly, it makes me think he doesn’t want me to go. Again . . . ego.

Instead, I rise up onto the couch, my back facing him.

“Thank you, I guess,” I say, scolding myself for letting my voice waver. The thought of his hands on me is intoxicating. I can’t say I haven’t thought about them since the night he snuck one underneath my shirt.

“I guess?” he chuckles, the sound right in my ear. It sends a shiver down my spine, awakening every nerve in my body.

“Well, it’s strange -oh!” his thumbs dig into my lower back. The sensation is wonderful. It’s more than I could imagine. “You’re being very nice today compared to the snippy personality that shows itself,” he laughs at that too.

“I can be nice if I want to,” his hand sneaks under my shirt again and I jolt at his warm skin rubbing mine. “I can be as nice as you want me to be,” his voice is low now. There’s an ache growing at my core. No. No! I am not getting horny over this man. This one man that I have barely had time to get to know.

Those same, enticing hands glide up my sides, relaxing me into him. It doesn’t help that he smells like mint again with something stronger this time. It’s difficult not wanting to fall into him.

“You can lean back,” he says, reading my mind.

Reject him, Y/n. Reject him!

“Sure. It’s been a while since I relaxed. You know, work, work, work,” I joke trying to ease the tension, but instead it comes off awkward. He hums in acknowledgement - the vibrations from his chest massaging my shoulders leaning onto him now.

This is paradise. I mean, there are big flashing red lights going off in my head, but I can’t deny that it also feels like I’m in the clouds - soaring high above the city and no one else can see me while I parade around giddy and relaxed at the same time.

His fingers still dig into my sides and when he massages into my lower back again, I involuntarily let out a moan.

We both freeze. I look up at him, his face a few inches from mine. He’s looking straight ahead then finally moves his head to look at me. There’s a hood over his eyes. He blinks once, then twice.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“You should stay tonight,” he interrupts. I can’t believe it’s possible to catch me off guard again after having done it a million times already, but I am.

“Why should I do that?” I whisper. I already know the answer. Of course, I know the answer. But I want to hear it from his mouth.

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes glide to my lips sending goosebumps to every inch of skin.

But then he laughs and it sends me spiraling. His eyes move off of my face for a moment before coming back and into my eyes.

“You know, last week,” his hands move again now gliding to my thighs, and I’m the one who breaks eye contact, “when that guy was putting his hands on you after I just had you in my lap,” his hands slide up and down, massaging the inside and outside of my thighs, “I couldn’t stand it,” his face lowers to my neck.

“Jungkook,” I sigh.

“I was frustrated and pissed off. Not only because I just had you in my lap, but I was also frustrated that I couldn’t understand,” his nose traces a line from the bottom of my neck to my ear. “Why did I want you so badly?” I gasp when his hands push my thighs apart. “I was going to figure that out tonight - in the most innocent way possible. Then you come here in that fucking skirt,” I moan when his hand moves inside my skirt tracing patterns on the inside of my thighs and take a bit of pride that the outfit worked.

“I wore it for you,” I admit.

“God, don’t say that, Y/N,” his fingers finally land on my middle, sneaking underneath my underwear. “I’m already painfully hard,” he whispers, before slipping a finger inside of me. I moan out, my back arching and pushing my head into his shoulder. His lips are still hovering over my neck, but not quite touching it.

I slide my hand up, around his neck, and into his soft hair. I push him closer to me and he gives me what I want. His kisses trail from my shoulder, pulling my tank top sleeve down, to my ear.

His fingers move inside me for a couple more seconds before pulling them out. I take the opportunity to move from my position to turn and straddle him. I can feel how “painfully hard” he is when I settle my hips onto him, a small groan escaping when I do.

“I need to be honest,” I tell him while locking my fingers behind his neck, “I haven’t done this in a while, so forgive me if I seem inexperienced,” he pulls me closer by my ass, causing some friction between us.

He leans in, his lips centimeters from mine. I hold in my breath waiting for a kiss.

“You don’t have to do anything but enjoy it,” he leans in, starting with a peck, then giving me a real kiss. His hands sneak under my tank top, pulling it up. We break when he pulls it off of me. He rushes to unclasp my bra from behind me and pushes his hips into me when it finally comes off.

My brain is melted at this point. He’s almost panting underneath me and I can feel his desperation. There’s a want and a need that I’ve never experienced and it makes this all the more exciting.

“Your turn,” I whisper, tugging at his shirt then pulling it over his head. I’m not surprised when I uncover the chiseled chest and abs, but it does make me want him more (not that I knew it was possible).

I flip the tables and put my lips on his neck. He sighs and puts his hands on my ass again, rocking me into him. I moan over the hickey I left and come back up to kiss him, but he has other plans. I squeal when he lifts me up walking towards the balcony and opening the door.

“Wait, wait!” I hold my hand out to stop him from going out there while carrying me - a half naked woman! “What are you doing?” I panic.

“We’re finishing this on the place I started it,” he’s so nonchalant about it as if he isn’t suggesting something illegal.

“Are you out of your mind? There are people out there,” I scold. He gives me a look.

“It’s an alleyway, the only people who come through here are other people who want to have sex,” he explains, but I can’t help the paranoia settling in my stomach. It’s a bit exciting, I’ll admit, but I can’t say this is sensible.

He must notice the worry on my face when he closes the door.

“Alright, compromise,” he sets me down on the ground, and I’m worried I’ve disappointed him and he’s going to kick me out. Instead, he pulls his jeans down with his boxers, throwing both of them somewhere behind him. My eyes widen on his dick. What have I gotten myself into?

“We won’t go on the balcony,” his hands grab the back of my thighs and I squeal when he lifts me again, wrapping my legs around him, the only barrier being my underwear, “we’ll stay right here,” he presses my back against the glass door, the cold making me arch my boobs into him.

I’m ready to reject this idea as well, but I can’t get a word out when his mouth falls onto one of my nipples.

“Jungkook, oh God,” I cry out when his ministrations continue as he grinds into me.

“That skirt stays on,” he demands. I quickly nod.

He pulls away from my chest, flipping my skirt up and pushing my underwear to the side. With a little effort, we adjust ourselves, his dick sliding into me. My head rests on the glass door as a groan leaves him.

“I knew you’d feel amazing,” he sighs. I pull his face into my neck as he pushes into me. I slide up and down the glass door but I don’t mind how it feels. It’s not my focus.

Nothing could have prepared me for what this feels like. I’ve fantasized over and over ever since he pulled me into his lap last week, but I never anticipated that it would be this delicious.

“Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about this,” he whispers, catching me off guard. But it only takes one thrust to get my brain to malfunction again.

The door and one of his arms supports me when his face pulls away from my neck but is replaced with his inked hand. A pathetic whine escapes when his fingers apply pressure to the sides of my neck.

“Jungkook, please,” I rasp. His breath is shaky when I clench around him, my release on the way.

“I’m almost there. But I want to come together, understand?” I nod my head. “On the count of three. . . three,” he whispers, thrusting in, “two,” thrust,”one,” our highs are synced, his hand applying more pressure as I come around him.

Our breathing is synced as he pulls out of me and sets me on the ground. I can’t leave when his body leans onto mine, my back still pressed on the door.

“Normally, the background noise doesn’t stop until later,” He breaths into my neck. “You might have to stay for a while longer to fulfill the background noise quota,” I laugh. His face comes up to meet mine, while massaging my sides and ass. “Stay the whole night this time,” he offers.

“One condition.”

“Anything,” he whispers on my lips. A shiver rushes down every nerve.

“No more parties,” I tell him. A smile paints his beautiful face.

“No more,” he lifts me up again and carries me to his bedroom.

“You can’t just carry me everywhere!” I yell.

“You weren’t complaining earlier,” and he throws me on the bed- our night filled with getting to know each other and other noises filling the space.

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