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roosterforme · 6 months

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Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time.

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh.

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret.

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him.

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated.

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up.

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message.

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way.

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface.

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number.

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip.

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later.

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush.

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be.

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten.

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin.

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning.

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone.

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her.

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him.

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open.

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself.

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on.

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face.

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache.

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar.

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit.

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest.

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck.

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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horse-shit · 2 years

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{starts working on another 2 character piece}

{remembers i hate doing that but these two are also really cool cuz they're based on space stuff {sucker for space if you haven't noticed lol, also named myself after a constellation that was practically always around when i was little}}

mm :)

im gonna work on that later. starting a 3 person piece with a character i have yet to make a profile for :) <- is having trouble with sketch for both pieces

also haven't drawn her in a while but they're all a genre yknow, ive also been wanting to put my girl in another situation but she's so tied in with her og stuff that's its Really hard to, and it would feel wrong

but also not everyone's gonna know what she's from

#imps bs #artfight blabber #the girl i keep talking about is named daemon and was made for friday night unknown {still think about it}#shes a junping angel whos taking care of the si's i made as her kids cuz they drifted more into their own people #originally the twins were 1 person #then i was like 'wait. i can do more than this #bllp :þ #heehee

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marxo-fm · 19 days

Text

Take me to Church

✯ John Price x f!reader | Playlist

Summary: A reader who’s so religious that she doesn’t even think of anything close to inappropriate, until she meets her dad’s best friend, Mr. John Price.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mature themes and language, age gap (reader is 25 and Price is in his early 40’s), religious trauma from Catholic variety, dad’s best friend, loss of virginity, pet names, slight aftercare in the end, fear of getting caught from reader, smut, assurance, fingering, reader isn’t all that clueless but super inexperienced, protected PIV, oral (fem! receiving), reader has some troubles with masturbation (failure to finish), Price teaches the reader how to feel good, praising, no descriptions of readers body, race, skin color, ethnicity, hair type/length and body type.

A/N: Currently don’t know wtf I’m doing with my life and how this absurdity came to mind, but aye, I’m all here for it. This was so…..!? Yeah. Also big shout out to Hozier, my icon. Side note: I truly apologize If this fic is rough, I will edit it soon but it’s mostly because I haven’t written in a hot minute, due to school and shit, but I’m back now—and I’m proud of this!

—

The breeze kisses your skin as you soak the sun's warmth on a Friday afternoon. The grass is green, and the clouds are out, summer has just begun. You feel yourself start to come back, you were struggling but now that’s over—for a bit. You look over as you watch your dad chopping wood. Usually, he has his friends helping out, but you guessed they had things to do, which explains why they weren’t here.

You memorized their names.

There’s Gaz, Simon, a man who goes by the name of ‘Soap’—which you find funny and you’re not sure if that’s his real name or if it’s just a nickname—and then…John.

Mr. Price. Or so you call him. Sir or Mr works just fine. But you never explored your unknown and strange feelings for him. How you always felt so shy around his dominating presence, or how his voice sounds like honey and sins. You prayed at night and asked for forgiveness when thinking of such thoughts you’ve never thought of when you see John.

Until one day in high school—in health class—they taught about intercourse and other things that left you baffled and quite scared. Anxious. Curious.

You’d get scolded by your Christian parents when you asked such things, they say it’s too early to get into these topics, or that you should wait until marriage. Your parents are good, but you always follow their rules. You never once disobeyed, only minor times but you always asked for forgiveness.

You’ve always been a good girl, but Mr. Price always makes the fire in your belly grow. And that fire burns through your veins in an excruciating need for something so sinful. Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder, but you never fight it off, and that was bad.

“Hey honey, ought to help me out here? The jerks I call my friends are out busy somewhere, c’mon, I’ll teach ya.” Your father motioned his hands as he walked to his area where he chops his wood, you’ve never done this before, but you’re excited. He gives you his axe, and you almost give out due to how heavy it is. “Can’t carry it like that sweet pie, hold it strong and firm.” He instructs.

You do as he says, squinting your eyes to look at his face of approval, “I think I got it.”

He nods and you bring the axe up to your shoulder, and you bring it down with every ounce of strength.

You chopped it.

“Attagirl, that’s one hell of a way to chop down wood.” A man with a deeper voice and a southern drawl said from right behind you, you turn around and the blood rushes to your head.

It’s John.

“Oh…Mr. Price,” you stammer, and you feel a rush of embarrassment plastering your cheeks.

“Y’know ya can call me John, right? Good job raisin’ her pal, she got manners.” He chews on his toothpick as he takes the axe from your hands, and the contact leaves you feeling vulnerable and so flustered. His rough hands that he used to work, chop wood, and fix things felt oddly familiar on your soft skin.

“We taught her well, ain’t that right darlin’?” John looks over his shoulder, his flannel covering his bulging biceps and that itself makes you feel thirsty for cold water.

“Yes, Dad,” you replied softly, “Well, I’m just going to head on over back home to help Mom out. Want anything to drink John?”

John looked at you momentarily, the way his name slipped out of your sweet mouth left him speechless. His eyes gaze over your white dress that sits just above your knees, it feels like he is undressing you, but he’s just wondering how and when the hell you looked like this. Of course, you were always beautiful, but there was something special there.

A spark.

“No ma’am.” He waved his hand and went back to work. You watched as his forearms grew bigger when he swung that axe down.

Forgive me for my sins.

You mumbled before you opened the door to your home and walked in.

—

“My baby’s such a bad girl, aren’t ya? Takin’ me so well.” John praises as he thrusts into you in sinister motions like he’s been deprived of something so good for such a long time, that it almost drove him over the wall.

How you felt so good, so welcoming, as his thrusts became deeper and faster. Touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed—nor could feel. It was an out-of-body experience like your soul had ascended, and you didn’t know whether it was real.

Until your alarm woke you up. It wasn’t real, but gosh did it feel real. You’re sweating, and your heart is running a marathon, as you regain your breath, you feel like you committed a crime. A crime so punishable that it could result in a death sentence.

You grab your rosary and you rock back and forth, praying and asking for forgiveness for ever dreaming about him. Your parents always told you that you wouldn’t have a good spot in the afterlife—a place called hell—if you thought of or committed any acts of sin. Especially anything and everything related to dirty inappropriate thoughts or worse, sex. Commit any of these before marriage, and you have a spot ready for you down below.

You feared for your life, even though it was impossible for anyone you love to know. They won’t ever know you have thoughts about John, or how you feel warmth between your legs when you picture him touching you in places you can’t please. Or how you picture him shirtless chopping wood, grabbing your waist from behind as he helps you hold the axe properly and swing it down. It was oh so shameful of you. Dirty, bad, sinful.

But you feel as if enough was enough, you’ve been good for far too long, that you deserve to feel good about yourself for once.

It was the perfect time, six thirty in the morning and both your parents were sleeping away, not knowing their good and obedient daughter was yearning to touch herself.

You lock your doors for safety as you scurried back to bed, you lay down on your back as you skim your fingers down your chest.

Deep breathes in and deep breathes out. You don’t know how to do this, but you’ll give in anyway. You sigh as you pull your shorts down, with your underwear as well. You drew circles around your belly before trailing down to your heat. Soft gasps escaped your mouth at your sensitive touch. Sensitive and swollen from the dream you just had.

You close your eyes, rubbing circular motions on your most sensitive area as you picture John doing this for you instead. Rough and hard-working hands aiding you. A coil in your stomach tightens, urging you to untie right then and there, but you can’t get the motions to stay the same.

You winced as you pushed your finger deeper, your back arching in response. You don’t feel anything, no pleasure, only pain and emptiness.

You want to scream in the agonizing torture of being so close yet so far away. You pull your shorts back up as you go inside the restroom to wash your hands.

You committed acts of sin and weren't pleased, and now you feel nothing but guilt and insecurity of not knowing how to do something right.

—

The next day, the same place you were before. Outside on your dad's truck watching his friends help out with work. John wore a tight brown tee that accentuated his muscles, he's a retired man, but you could see every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears in that body of his.

You blush, thinking about it. About what could be hiding under his shirt.

He catches you eyeing him but you quickly divert your eyes back to your book. John smirked, telling your dad he'll be back in a second and wants to talk with you.

"Ya watchin' me, sweetheart?" He smiled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. You watched as he did so, fearing that he'd ask you to take a puff, though you never would. "I...I was just trying to learn how you chop your wood, sir."

A deep chuckle escapes his mouth, "Y'know I can teach you, doll," the new nickname had you unable to face him, but he loved seeing you flustered. He took a puff and you nodded, "Come on over to my place, your dad won't mind. I'm not at home much, anyway. S'good to learn y'know," he went on as he walked closer to you, his southern accent becomes deeper as he goes, "You'll have the privacy that you need, to read your books and pray." He knew how religious you are, heck, he's a good friend to your parents.

"I don't know if my father will let me go, with a man nonetheless." John looks back and then back to you, "It's only me, angel."

You decide to ask your father, just in case. You don't want to go behind his back, even if John is family. You walk on over, building the courage to ask your father if it's okay to go over to a man's house, a man you yearn for.

"Dad, is it okay If John takes me to his house? He's gonna teach me how to chop wood." Your dad looks at you momentarily, before speaking, "Of course honey, just because I want you to help an old man out here and there. 'Aka' me." You tried to keep your cool, to not look so eager about going over a man's house.

John smiled, the thought of having you all to himself at his place gets him straining against his jeans. He loves it when you eye him as if he doesn't know or sense when you drool over him.

"Here's your room, sweet thing, if ya ever need anything I'm just a shout away." He sets his tools down and walks to the kitchen, his jeans shaping his toned legs and shirt sizes too small. Butterflies invade your stomach, merely at the thought that you'd be sleeping under the same roof as this man, and willing to teach you something you're so interested in.

"Can't believe your dress is that short, doll. Your mother let you out like that?" He eyed your white dress that sits just above your knees and shows more skin than the dresses you usually wear. "You know, Mr. Price, I'm an adult now."

"Course you are," he takes a sip of his beer, "but I ain't take you as the one to dress like this. Can't say I don't like it."

You smile, flustered at the way he just complimented you. You can't deny that you like it, you love it. It sent a rush of arousal through your entire body, and he noticed the way you crossed your legs.

"Damnit,"

"What is it?" You asked curiously, not knowing that John saw the way you squeezed your thighs together. He wants to ease the need and desire that coursed through you, but he doesn't want to screw it all up.

"Nothin', now come on outside."

"Now, you're going to hold it just like this," he instructs, pushing his hard body against your back as he holds your arms. You could feel the hardness of his strain on your back and you scream internally, unable to form coherent thoughts.

You made this so hard for him, so difficult to the point where John himself forgot what he wanted to teach you.

"Easy," his calloused hands left your arms and snaked their way along your waist. Your stomach flipped at the action. Goosebumps flare over your entire skin, his manly scent entering your nose and taking over your mind. You swallowed, and continued.

"Now raise your axe, and swing it down."

You did just so, and you successfully chopped the wood.

"That's it, angel baby, look at ya. Such a good learner."

"I am, aren't I?" You slightly bit your lip, John cursed himself and cupped your face. "Mm, damn right you are." John wondered deeply if you were such a good learner in other parts as well. Price cupping your face was a first, but his calloused hands that signal just how much of a hard worker made the intense throb between your legs grow.

You wake up with your blanket suffocating as you struggle to fall asleep, again. You tossed and turned, repeating everything and every touch he gave you. You try to stop the need and the burn in your belly, you really do, but it's hard when you don't know how to fulfill your need. It became so bad to the point where you stood up and walked to the kitchen for water.

He wasn't in his room, he was out for the morning. A busy man and you're so silly for thinking he'd be home, even when he informed you he wouldn't be home every passing hour.

But oh how much you needed him. In ways, you couldn't forgive yourself for it.

You sit down, as quiet as a mouse, waiting patiently for him to come back just so you can confess your dirty sins. Maybe he'll forgive you for them, or maybe he won't show you mercy.

You try to occupy yourself, laying down on the couch and turning on the TV, still in your nightgown. You pull the blanket over, ready to watch a cooking video to learn a few things.

But it hits you that you're actually able to do something about the heat in between your legs, now that nobody is here. The house was quiet except for the TV playing.

Your hand trails under the blanket, lifting your nightgown as you reach for your soaked underwear. Shameful how you're soaked even when he's not around, John really leaves his mark on you. You let out a sigh as you reached your wet and sensitive clit.

It's not easy when you struggle to please yourself, it's so disappointing, honestly. Today was no different.

There is this creeping guilt, but it always hits you the most just when you creep up the tip of the mountain, only for you to fall off when you realize what you're doing.

You can't stop thinking of him, shoulders aching and tears urging to escape when you're so close to reaching the end, only for it to be unsuccessful.

So, you close your eyes and let out a deep breath. Spreading your legs further as your fingers plunged into your aching hole, you gasped. Picturing yet again, how he pleases his women. Of course, he knew how, he is well experienced and capable of pleasing a woman, to the point where she forgets her own name.

You're committing acts of sins in his own home, unforgivable and dirty. Because you were raised with the idea of being perfect, but no one is perfect. From the moment you're born and the moment you die--but the moment you die is the moment John Price fulfills your dirty little dreams.

He whispers in your ear telling you how to do this and how to do that.

'Just like that.'

'Those fingers are too light, darlin', lemme do all the work."

"Attagirl, in and out."

And you almost reached the top of the mountain, whispering finally as sweat buds trail down your forehead.

Finally, finally, finally.

Until you fell down the mountain you tried so hard climbing, when John swings open the door to the sight of his best friend's daughter getting off on his couch. You hurriedly pull your panties back up.

At that moment, you wanted to scream.

To run away.

To die.

He's going to tell your dad, and your entire body freezes. You can't plead for forgiveness when you're so far gone. No mercy will be shown when he kicks you out and tells your parents how bad their daughter truly is.

You sit straight as your body shakes in fear, you're unable to cry when you know your fate.

A sinful girl.

"John," you choke, "I-I am so so sorry, I didn't mean to. I really wasn't-"

"How long have you been at this?" Your heart drops all the way down as the blood from your face drains. "O..only," you struggle to speak as his deep brown eyes gaze at you, "It was only this one time."

You lied.

Another sin.

He stands in silence, shutting the door behind him as he takes big steps towards you. He hovers over you, looking down to see a dirty girl in front of him. As if you played this innocent and sweet girl, though you were, except in John's eyes you weren't. At least that's what you thought.

He takes your chin and pushes your head up to face him, you weren't able to look in his eyes, it was all too much.

"Look at me," he grumbled, you did just what he said. Not once resisting, although it was difficult.

"I ain't mad at ya, it's natural, honey."

Your eyes widened and your shoulders relaxed from the tension and fear.

"You're not going to tell on me?" You asked, Price chuckles.

"Course I'm not, I ain't no snitch, I'm a grown man." He bends on his knees, his thumbs rubbing circular motions on your exposed skin.

"Did it feel good? Sorry to have ruined it for ya' angel." It sure did feel good knowing you almost reached the top, it really did, but it felt better having John assuring you that it was all okay. "You don't have to be sorry--I was just..."

"Go on."

"Continue what I interrupted, don't let my presence stop ya," he signaled his pointer finger toward the door to his room, "it ain't comfortable here. No space to spread those sweet legs, is there?"

You shake your head, "Go on, unless you want me in there. I know deep down you do, doll, you can feel so much better." He's right, the moment you've been dreaming of, it finally comes true. How could you say no to John being in the same room making you feel good?

You almost can't believe it.

He suddenly picks you up from the couch, initiating a soft gasp from you when he opens the door and throws you on his mattress.

You balance yourself with your two hands when he undresses himself in front of you. Starting off with his shirt. You gasp once again, at the sight of his sculpted body before you. His chest was full of hair and his abs were the definition of perfect.

He gets on the bed and slowly crawls towards you, his head now in between your thighs. "I interrupted your time of need, sweet girl, let me make it up to you." He smiles before hooking his finger on the hem of your underwear, pulling them down all the way to your ankles. On display right before him, so shy you hid away, unable to look at the lewd sight in front of you. "That ain't gonna work for me, eyes over here." His fingers dug into your thighs, you did just as he said, looking at his eyes that continue to look at your pretty pussy.

"S'fuckin' wet."

It's a dream come true for John as well, to see you all wide open and soaking wet for him.

He places peppered kisses along your thighs, and you whimper as he stops. John makes his way up to your lips, biting your bottom lip before kissing you deeply and hungrily. Exactly like the dreams.

His stache brushing against your top lip only made it feel real, his tongue deep inside your mouth as your hands held the back of his head, pushing his mouth impossibly deeper. He's eating your face as if it were his last meal on death row. Like a predator catching his prey.

He pulls away from the intense kiss, the saliva leaving both of you.

Good God did he know how to kiss, you let him do all the work when you could barely kiss him back just as good.

His chest heaved, and he continued with his kisses on your neck and down your collarbone, pushing a soft moan out of you that drove John over the wall. "Make more noises, it's only the two of us, jus' let me hear ya." He cooed, his hands lifting your nightgown over your hips and then over your head. His eyes trailed over your breasts hidden in your bra. "Ah fuck," you sit up, allowing John to unclip your bra, the sight of your chest out on display for him made his mouth water. He grips your left breast with one hand while he sucks and kisses the other.

"Oh, John...keep doing that, please."

He kneads your breast, almost putting you to sleep with how good it feels, "mmmhm," you sighed, "you been wantin' this, and I'm sorry for waiting this long." He apologizes as he places kisses down your belly and finally makes his way back to being in between your thighs.

"No need...to be sorry," you breathe, tilting your head back when he swipes his tongue between your wet folds. The new feeling alone made your legs tremble, enticing a loud gasp from you. You start to rock your hips against his mouth as his deep groans vibrate through your entire nervous system. "Taste like fuckin' Heaven, oh sweet baby, I think you are heaven itself." Praise that had you dropping your jaw as he inserted his hot tongue in your hole.

You swore you saw Heaven.

Brows furrowed and back arched as he eats you like a hungry man, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you, and your legs spread further open inviting him in for more.

John inserts one finger in as his tongue continues to suck on your most sensitive area, and you let out the loudest moan you didn't think you were capable of ever making.

You died in this moment. And John swore he died in that moment, also.

"John," you pant, focusing on what could be your first-ever orgasm.

"I know, you're close baby, s'fuckin' tight, come for me." His words of encouragement suddenly break the coil inside your burning belly, the liquid seeping out of you as he continues to lick away every last bit from you.

He takes his finger and licks you away, which leaves you half-lidded.

"See? How hard was that? Like rippin' a damn bandaid off, does your wound feel better?" He teased, "It does," you say softly, still reminiscing what happened a few seconds ago. What you just felt, how it felt like fireworks exploding inside your veins.

"Such a perfect pussy, waiting to be full of me." He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, you've never had sex, but you definitely never needed something more than now. You need him, to get to know him, even when you already do.

"Does it hurt like they say?" You asked nervously, watching as his jeans disappeared, leaving him only in his boxers. His thick thighs didn't do much justice in the dim light.

"When I do it, then it shouldn't be as bad, doll. Jus' a little pain, but if ya feel like it's too much, you jus' tell me. Hm?"

It makes you feel special with how sweet he treats you, he treats you with such care that it truly makes you dizzy.

He takes off his boxers and you almost lose all consciousness, his cock leaking with pre-cum and hard, you thought it was quite inhumane how big he is.

Sure you've explored your curiosity, but John, he differed from all of them.

"Poor thing needs some love and I'm going to show your pussy what the definition of love is." You grew heavy with desire, "ya need me to use a condom, sweetheart?" he asked, you nodded, simply because you weren't on the pill.

He opens his drawer and pulls out a condom, ripping it off with his teeth and spitting a piece of the wrapper out.

That was a sight for sore eyes.

He slips it on his thick cock, the condom intensifying every vien, it left your mouth dry like a Sahara desert.

How was that going to fit? Was all you were thinking about, but you were so sure he was going to make it feel okay.

He sets his heavy cock on your soaking entrance, teasing you while he moves his dick up and down your folds, you whine with need and John chuckles.

Was this the sinful thing that would literally damn you for eternity? How could something so dirty feel so good?

He brings a hand of his to pin your arms down, while the other holds your leg close to him. Your brows furrow as he slowly enters himself into you. John grows concerned when he sees your lips pursed and your eyes shut tightly, a tear escaping.

He stops, and you stop holding your breath.

"It hurts don't it? Want me to stop?"

"Please, no," you gasp, "I...I want you to keep going."

He readjusts your hips, before proceeding to continue, "You sure, honey?" You nod and whisper a hundred times yes before he thrusts deep inside of you.

"So fuckin' good for me, fuck!" he shouts, he loved the way your cunt fluttered and wrapped tightly around his cock.

The silence in the room was filled with his groans and loud moans from you, so lewd and so dirty. But you're too far deep to leave now, you're ready to die, happily.

"My," he thrusts, then pulling away and thrusting back in deeper, "gorgeous," you gasp when he continues his rhythm of thrusting and being so close to pulling out before he thrusts impossibly deeper again, "Girl." He breathed.

He brings his fingers to circle your sensitive clit, and you feel it happening again. It's more intense and heavier.

Your walls wrapped tightly on his cock, initiating that you're indeed closer than you have ever been before. "Mhmm," he moaned, and it was such a sweet sound you so badly wanted to hear again. He grabs hold of your legs, bringing them closer to your head, thrusting at a deeper angle that you can feel in your throat.

"That's it, baby, that's my fuckin' girl right here. All mine, gimme one more." He stopped as you cried out his name over and over until it became engraved in John's brain. He silences your cries with his lips as your legs shake around him.

"You did so well for me, your pussy jus' needed some medicine to be cured, got you coming all over my cock." He begins to move again, to finish himself this time. Your pain turns into pleasure and familiarity when he pushes himself in and out.

"John, that feels so..." He groans loudly at the way you watch his cock slide in and out, it was obscene but also surreal, "look at you, fuck, gonna make me cum just lookin' at me like that."

Which you felt so good about, it's all you wanted.

He pants as he reached a certain point, chest heaving as you can feel his cock twitching inside of you.

John pulls out, and there's sadness in your heart at the emptiness. Your heart thuds loudly that your first time to be with a man you dreamed about, it feels euphoric. You felt ecstatic.

He wipes away your dry tears and your hair away from your face, that drowned in sweat and tears.

John admired you the second he laid his eyes on you till now, he never knew the definition of perfect until this moment.

"Can you teach me how to feel good?" You asked as your hand roamed his broad shoulders and his back. And fuck, did John love that.

"Course' baby, on top of the choppin' the damn wood lessons," you both laugh, "I got all the time in the world, for you."

Your heart ached, he whispered sweet nothings before he carried you into the bathroom to clean up the mess.

Then you nestled under his arms and his body heat, his chest, and arms hugging you as the two of you slept the day away.

It was worth every waking second, and now you can sleep peacefully.

A/N: Y'all, wtf. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Need him.

This lowkey needs to be edited some more now that I’m reading it, but I’ll definitely do that later…

400 notes · View notes

friday-night-unknown · 2 years

Note

I think it’s funny that UN BF’s name is B001, because it looks like the the word “bool”, which is an American slang term for someone whose really cool.

#ask #anonymous #un bf #bf #boyfriend #friday night funkin #unknown au #friday night funkin au #lizard boyfriend

15 notes · View notes

trivia-yandere · 9 months

Text

visions

you’re convinced by your friends to go to a party and let go of the memories of your ex just for one night. unfortunately for you, jungkook doesn’t want to be let go.

@momnomnom @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree writer: quay (explicit-tae)

word count: 5.186

warning: yandere themes, smut, dark themes, cursing, manipulation, toxic relationships, non-con, reader is drugged, impregnation kink, spitting, nipple sucking, biting, dirty talking, blood, neck slitting,

Your eyes snap open when the loud and ringing noise of your alarm. You’re quick to yawn, body stretching before grasping your phone off the bedside table. The alarm is titled “work” and you silenced it with a groan.

Your eyes catch the day of the week. Friday. The time was 8 a.m - an hour before you had to be at work. You contemplated calling off, but understood that it would cause nothing but your boss to be petty and write you off the schedule for the next few days - so you decided against it. Your feet kick the covers off of your body and swing to touch the cold, wooden floor. You winced at the impact, sending shivers up your spine.

Your phone sounds suddenly. You furrow a brow and go to grab it, color draining for your face. You bite your lip at the unknown number displayed on the screen.

Hesitantly, you decline the call and quickly block the number. Unknowingly, you begin to feel uneasy as you make your way to your bathroom to wash up. You’re trembling as you wash your face and when you brush your teeth, you can feel just how terrified you are.

It’s only been a month, you note. You had no doubt in your mind that Jungkook was behind the phone call - he’s called nearly every morning since you broke up with him and quickly signed a restraining order. It was only a temporary one until the two of you went to court, but it was necessary to do so.

You met Jungkook nearly a year ago. You recall the way the man has entered your job - the one you had prior to having to quit because of a scene he caused - and smiling brightly at you. He asked various questions about the countless sweets and desserts you had displayed behind the glass and you answered the best you could.

Each day Jungkook returned, buying desserts such as iced cream, candy, cookies - anything. He would munch on it a bit while the both of you talked and laughed and before he left, he assured he’d leave a tip for you at the counter.

Day by day, you expected Jungkook’s arrival. It made your job less boring and you also found yourself willing to come to work more dolled up. You’d coat your lips with gloss that you knew Jungkook liked (he’d always flicker his eyes to them when you’d talk) and style your hair differently each time.

Your first date with Jungkook was at the very same shop you worked at. You came in on an off day to pick up something you forgot and just as you were leaving, Jungkook was entering. His eyes were wide upon witnessing you face to face - this time you in casual clothing instead of a work uniform.

By the third date, you and Jungkook were officially dating - him asking you once the movie you two watched at the cinema was over - you agreed without a thought.

By the second month of dating, you noticed a shift. Jungkook was sweet, sure. Caring. He offered you rides everywhere you needed to go, and when he couldn't he’d never felt comfortable with you going alone. You brushed it off with Jungkook just being a cautious person.

Month three was when he became vocal in how you dressed. He didn’t appreciate the way other men looked at you - his words exactly - and you were giving said men a show by wearing shorts or skirts that were too short. He changed your wardrobe with clothing that he deemed was “outside clothes” and some that were “indoor for his eyes only”. Again, you brushed it off. Jungkook was your boyfriend now and his opinions mattered.

By the sixth month, Jungkook began to isolate you from your friends. “Why do you always hang with them on the weekends?” he’d ask when you were invited to a gathering. “Why can’t I go? Are other guys going to be there?” he’d asked once, eyes glaring at you. “Your friends are single. You aren’t. Why do you need to go to a club where other single men would be at?!” he had hissed, hands in his hair as if he was seconds from pulling it out.

Jungkook was amazing at comforting you - or so you thought. “I know how men are, baby.” he murmured while stroking your hair in his embrace. “If able, they’ll take advantage of you. Your friends cannot protect you from a man willing to do you harm.”

But the man that had harmed you was Jungkook himself.

Jungkook was never physically abusive. Sex with him was rough, yes, but you enjoyed it.

Jungkook’s abuse was manipulative - often pinning you against your friends that you were no longer invited to places they’d be because you would either bring Jungkook, or the man would come unbeknownst to you. Jungkook would call you countless times until you picked up and asked when you’d be home - and if the answer wasn’t good enough for him, he’d insist on picking you up himself. “Why can’t I come?” Jungkook asked when you were hastily walking out the door to meet your friends. “You’re not going to see your friends. You’re cheating on me!” he’d hiss, eyes blown wide and neck veins pulsing.

Last month, marking the eighth month, you decided to break up with Jungkook. You were nervous to say the least. You thought of several ways to break up with the man - you decided that in a public place would be best. You had more respect for him than to end the relationship over the phone. However, you also could not trust what he would do if you allowed him into your home.

You invited Jungkook to meet you in a public area - a park where you and he walked hand in hand many times. You were a bunch of nerves, especially when Jungkook was strolling towards you with a wide grin and in his hands, sunflowers.

Your heart flutters when he offers them to you, and awkwardly, you take them in your hands. You and Jungkook sat at a bench and he talked about how much he missed you, peppering kisses along your cheeks before you managed to push yourself away.

“You’re…leaving me…?” Jungkook's voice was dangerously low and calm, but his eyes were glaring daggers at you. You placed the flowers onto his lap and managed to get out of his embrace. His eyes are following you as you - slowly, so slowly - walk backwards, eyes apologizing while you remain silent.

The following week was Jungkook aggressively knocking at your door until you threatened to call the police. He would call nonstop and send multiple messages that you had to change your number to get him to stop - even if it never did, only slowed him down until he somehow found your number again. You had to change jobs more than once when he would show up at random times - you had no choice but to file a restraining order. You thought that maybe this would stop him - and for a moment it did.

Until today.

The unknown number calling you was no doubt Jungkook. You never answered any number that wasn’t familiar to you and instead blocked them. They left no voicemail after calling and each time, it was a different number displayed.

You walk out of your bathroom and down the hall to your small kitchen. You didn’t have time to eat anything for breakfast outside of a quick muffin. You would be late if you cooked or even made coffee.

Your muffin jolts out of your hand when you hear sudden knocking at your door. Your blood runs cold at how powerful and rapid they’re coming. Your mind is on one person.

“Open the door, Y/N.”

Jungkook was behind the door.

Jungkook didn’t care for whatever petty restraining order you had against him. The constant calls told you so.

“I can hear you moving.”

You stiffen at his words. You didn’t know what to do.

You weren’t once afraid of Jungkook - he has never hit you. But he was like another person when he was angered. He wasn’t the same man with the sweet smile and the soft eyes - it was as if a switch flipped and he was a completely different man.

“I just want…closure.”

Jungkook's words crack as he speaks and your heart betrays you. You were beginning to feel guilty for putting him through this. Your friends told you that it wasn’t your fault, that Jungkook was good at manipulating you.

“Please, Y/N…baby.”

Your hand was on the door handle before you knew it and you cracked the door open.

Jungkook’s eyes are wide when you do and he gives you a dazzling smile. He steps closer but stops himself from entering when you don’t open the door wider for him.

Jungkook’s smile falters. “You’re…”

“You can’t be here, Jungkook.” you manage to say without stuttering.

“You…are serious?”

You knit your brows.

Were you serious?

You changed your number multiple times in a span of a month that it was insane. You blocked multiple numbers when changing yours became tiring. You got a restraining order against him.

Did Jungkook think this was just a simple misunderstanding and you needed to be “alone” before coming back to him?

“Yes. I’m serious, Jungkook. Please leave.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. His eyes are searching yours for any hint that you were hesitant - but he found nothing.

You were serious.

You wanted nothing to do with him, Jungkook grunts.

You were willing to throw everything he offered you out the window because of what? A few disagreements? Arguments? Your single friends?

“So there’s nothing that is going to bring you back to me?” Jungkook tries one last time. He doesn’t want to blow up and demand you stop being the dumb bitch you were acting like now. He didn’t want to raise his voice and break down your door - because you would be frightened and close yourself off once more. He was trying but you were too selfish to see it.

“No.”

Jungkook’s heart shatters and he doesn’t say anything when you close your door. He hears you lock it but he decides that if you couldn’t allow yourself to accept his love - then others wouldn’t either. He was done with being nice to you - you didn’t deserve his kindness. If you were going to act like the damsel in distress, then he was going to give you something to be distressed about.

The music was far too loud to hear anyone who wasn’t speaking directly into your ear. The air was muggy and humid. It smelt of cheap cologne/perfume and several different types of alcohol - but you were just happy to be here.

Well, as happy as you could be standing alone in the corner of the home while others danced, laughed and drank. You were invited by your friends to come to “let loose” and “get your mind off of your crazy ex”. You agreed - but now you were left to your own devices while they mingled elsewhere.

Speaking of your “crazy ex”, you haven’t heard from Jungkook in nearly two months. It was a sigh of relief, truly. You assumed he wanted closure in seeing you once last time to confirm that the relationship has indeed ended. There weren’t any random pops up at your home or work, no random phone calls or text messages from random numbers. Slowly, you were beginning to be less afraid of seeing the man out and about.

“First time at a party?”

Your head whips around to a tall figure beside you. You can smell the alcohol in the cup he’s holding. He’s offering a small smile as he towers beside you/ He’s close to you just so he could speak loud enough for you to hear.

“First time in a while.” you respond to him. You give a small smile in return.

“Are you here alone?” the guy takes a sip of his drink.

“No. My friends are…”

“...Around here somewhere?” the guy nods in agreement. “So are mine. Haven’t seen them in an hour.”

You laughed.

You and the tall guy - who’s name you learned was Dean - hit it off quickly. You and him stood together and talked the majority of the night - your friends and his never returning, but you aren’t surprised. You weren’t as outgoing and friendly as your friends were. You’re positive they’re playing a game of beer pong (and losing).

As another hour rolls around, you were seated on a large leather couch that you’re surprised was vacant with Dean, your head began to hurt. You feel hot and stuffy and your vision is blurring.

“Are you okay?” you hear Dean say. “Do you need some water?”

You nod your head, allowing Dean to pass you a bottle of water.

Jungkook - on the other hand - was livid. The nerve of you to break up with him just to come to a party and look for another man. And not just that - but to get drugged by said man and not even notice it. Jungkook lingered deep into the side lines that you would never see him - but luckily he was there watching over you. He witnessed Dean put a small pill into your drink while you were busy laughing at something he said - Jungkook clenched his fists.

Jungkook isn’t far behind when you are being escorted out of the large sitting room, a sea of people not bothering to stop and see what Dean is doing with a groggily woman.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes heavy when you are pushed into a vacant room, the door closing behind them.

Jungkook blamed your friends for leaving you alone in an environment that you didn’t belong to. No matter how hard he tried to tell you that you didn’t belong to a friend group such as this, you never listened. Now look - you were drugged by a man you didn’t know and about to get raped.

But luckily, Jungkook was here to save you.

Jungkook knocks aggressively onto the door, not stopping until the door swings open and an annoyed Dean surfaces. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to draw back his fist and plant it right between the man's eyes.

And again.

And a few more times until Dean is a bloody mess, squirming away and out of the room.

Jungkook shakes his head and closes the door, locking it behind him. You aren’t completely unconscious, but he’s positive you will be soon. Your shirt is off already, Dean wasting no time.

Your bra - a red lace - looks amazing against your skin. It makes his heart swell and a smile forms onto his lips. It was a gift from him that you kept.

“Y/N, baby.” Jungkook coos, hovering above you. He wraps his arms around your body, you groaning low when he does. “I missed you so much.”

Jungkook sends kisses down your neck, arms never wanting to leave you. Your smell is tainted with alcohol, but his nose catches on the faint smell of vanilla he adores on you.

“I told you not to have such horrible friends.” Jungkook tsks. You are yet to be fully unconscious. You moan out an inaudible response and Jungkook only coos again.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” Jungkook presses himself into you, hard length at the center of your clothed core. “Do you miss me as much as I missed you?”

You do, Jungkook concludes. He dips his hands beneath your jeans and finds how wet you truly are for him. Jungkook removes his hands and pops it into his mouth, shuddering at your taste. It’s been so long - too long. He’s angered that you went too far away from the relationship. A restraining order? Far too dramatic for his taste. But he’ll let it slide and choose to forgive you because here you lay, beautiful as ever. Wet for him and him only.

Jungkook doesn’t waste any more unnecessary time. He needs to feel your warm essence around him. He pulls your jeans down along with your underwear, eyes widening at the beauty that was your wet pussy. He feels the bulge in his own pants begin to tighten and he just cannot wait any longer.

Foreplay was your favorite when it came to Jungkook, he knows this. You would cum so hard against his tongue, squirming and begging for him to stop because of just how overstimulated you were, but Jungkook wouldn’t. He would let you cum over and over on his tongue, fingers, thigh - wherever you wanted to.

However, now he could not console himself. The need to be inside you was far greater than anything. Once you and he were back together than he would allow you to sit on his face where you belong.

Jungkook pumps his cock as he inches closer to you. He rubs the tip of it against your swollen clit and shudders once more. Goosebumps litter his arm and he can’t hold back anymore. He enters you with a high pitched groan, hands going to place themselves on your hips.

Jungkook hears your moans as he sinks in and out of you, the sound of his skin slapping echoing off the walls. You were so wet and tight that he’s proud - proud that you haven’t let another man touch what was his. That even when you were upset and the both of you went through this break, that you understood your role in the end.

“Fuck, baby.” Jungkook snaps his hips into you harder, left hand going to toy with your clit. It’s sensitive as he remembers it to be. His right hand snatches the lacy bra down so he could watch the way your breast bounce for him. “So beautiful and all mine.” he hisses, leaning down to suck a nipple into his mouth.

Jungkook sucks onto it until it’s swollen and throbbing, and he proceeds to the next one. He could never get enough of you, littering bite marks around your breast and collar bone.

“Your pussy’s milking my cock so good, baby.” Jungkook grunts, his thrust becoming sloppy. You were so wet, pussy clenching around him while your juices ruined the sheets.

Jungkook snaps his eyes shut, groaning loudly. A free hand slaps down harshly on your stomach as he pounds into you. He recalls the few times the two of you spoke of the future - of getting married and having children. He declared that he desired them to look exactly like you - you were just so perfect in his eyes. “I’m going to put a baby in you.” Jungkook feels himself about to cum. His hands don't remove from your stomach. It was soft and it drove him crazy just thinking about you round with his child - your breast enlarging with breast milk to feed his child. You would be an amazing mother and he would enjoy nothing more than for you to be at home while he provided for you and the child you both shared.

Jungkook cums inside of you, twitching. He’s humming slowly, trying to regain his breath. He places a deep kiss upon your lips, sweaty forehead placed against your own.

Your head is pounding. Your throat is sore and dry and your body aches. You try to rake your mind about what the hell is going on and what has happened to lead up to this. You blink your eyes open, hissing how bright the light shines above you.

Your wrist is aching and when you attempt to move, you notice you cannot. Your wrist appears to be detained and when your mind registers this, you begin to whimper. Your vision is blurry with tears, but you blink them away to attempt to see what the hell is going on.

“Baby!”

Your thrashing stiffens at the familiar voice. Your blood runs cold and your mind is screaming alarm bells.

“You’re awake.”

You blink away your tears rapidly to regain your vision. It takes you a few moments, but when you do you’re crying all over again.

Jungkook was before you, but it wasn’t just him before you that had you screaming and crying. It was the man, tall and smiling warmly, covered in blood. The irony smells hit your nostrils and your stomach churns. Your head whips around to your surroundings, unsure of just where the hell you’re at. Your wrist is bound behind you. You’re sitting on a wooden chair in a room unknown to you.

“I didn’t want you to see this but…” Jungkook sighs, trailing off. He steps away to show you what was behind him and the reason why he’s covered in blood.

Your throat releases a horrified whimper, eyes wide with tears.

“I had to do it, baby.” Jungkook says with a shake of his head. “They weren’t real friends. They left you alone at a party where you were drugged!”

The lifeless body of both of your friends laid flat against the ground, blood covering their skin even more than it did Jungkook’s. You want to vomit at the horrifying scene but somehow manage not to.

“P-Please-”

“Don’t start with your shit!” Jungkook raises a bloody hand to silence you. “Listen to me.”

You flinch when Jungkook takes a step towards you, eyes closing ready for him to deliver the same fate as your friends.

Jungkooks eyes widen at the sight of you cowering before him.

“You think I would harm you?” Jungkook scoffs in disbelief. “Everything I have done has been…for you. For us.” Each word that releases from Jungkook’s mouth is a hiss. His eyes are wide and he appears utterly insane. “I saved you from being raped by that bastard! I got rid of the trash you call friends!”

You jump when you hear banging coming from Jungkook, but you open your eyes to look.

“You left me for what, Y/N? To be left alone at a party and drugged? These weren’t your friends.” Jungkook scoffs. He goes as far as to spit on the two girls you dare to call your friends. “You got a restraining order against me just for me to not be the bad guy.”

You scream when you feel a hand on your jaw. Jungkook shakes your head to force your eyes open. His hands feel wet and sticky, obviously with the blood of your friends.

“I love you, Y/N.” Jungkook voice cracks as if he was the one that is hurting - as if you weren’t the one that had to witness the deceased body of your friends and an ex boyfriend declaring he did it for you. “Say it back….” Jungkook’s lips are soft when they kiss your cheeks. Your salty tears are warm against his lips. “...Say it back….” Jungkook continues.

“Fuck you!” you scream. You’re thrashing, kicking your feet to get Jungkook away from you. Your wrists are burning with your arms attempting to release them.

“Already did.” Jungkook laughs gleefully. He isn’t upset at your outburst. You’re a pure soul and he’s saddened that you had to see this - death of fake friends and learning the realization of your (almost) assault. “How could you not remember the way we made love, baby?”

Jungkook trails a hand on your covered stomach. You stopped your struggle at his words, eyes wide and tearful.

“You were so wet for me, baby. You missed me just as much as I missed you.” Jungkook taps your stomach gently. “Soon the product of our love is going to grow.”

Jungkook’s eyes are shining with love - to you it was psychotic. Jungkook was insane. This wasn’t love - you heard him admit to raping you; there was no way you could consent while drugged.

“No…” you shake your head at Jungkook’s words, but the man only nods. “...I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I hate you.” you repeat.

“Stop.” Jungkook hisses, eyebrows knitting. “How could you say that after-” “I hate you!” you scream in his face - and you repeat it again, again and again. You repeat it until Jungkook’s hand tangles into your hair and yanks it back.

“Say you love me, Y/N.” Jungkook demands. “Say you’ll stay with me.”

Jungkook was crazy - there was no well in hell you would remain with a murderer. If you thought Jungkook was bad before, your thoughts on him have worsened now.

“I’ll never love you.”

Jungkook's heart thumps rapidly. Your words make his heart ache.

“You don’t mean that.” Jungkook shakes his head. His hand tightens itself in your hair. “You’re just upset. This is my fault. I should’ve taken you home.”

“I’ll never love you!” you hiss at him.

Jungkook’s heart thumps again. His eyes stare into your own.

You weren’t lying.

You hated him.

You feared him.

Your eyes weren’t lying, nor were the words coming from your mouth.

“I see.” Jungkook murmurs, dropping his hand from your hair. He takes a step back, tilting his head at you. “You’ll never love me again.” he states, more to himself than you. “If I cannot have your love, Y/N, then there is no reason for either of us to live.”

Your breathing increases at Jungkook’s words. He reaches into his jacket pocket, removing a pocket knife.

“I love you.” Jungkook’s crying now as he speaks. “Everything I did was for you!”

“Jungkook-”

“Don’t speak now.” Jungkook interrupts, pointing the knife at your throat. “You’ll never love me and I’ve accepted that.” Jungkook drops to his knee. He leans down to your face. You’re whimpering - and even now, Jungkook thinks you’re beautiful. It saddens him that this is what you chose. “Maybe…if we’re reborn…you and I can raise the child we spoke about.”

“Jung-”

Jungkook places his lips on yours - a final kiss he tells himself. He places the pocket knife onto your throat and slits it. It’s deep and he feels the blood rush out and squirts onto him. You cough into the kiss, and Jungkook isn’t far behind. He slits his own throat just as deep. He’s coughing, placing his head onto your lap, desiring to be just as close to you in death as he desired in life.

Your eyes snap open and a scream erupts from your lungs right when the loud and ringing noise of your alarm. Your hands grip your neck, heart pumping outside your chest.

You’re in your room.

A shaky hand grabs your phone that was laid on the bedside table and turn off the alarm. It was titled “work”.

Your eyes watch as your phone displays the day of the week.

Friday.

8 A.M.

An hour before you had to be at work.

Was everything that happened to you…

“A dream?” your voice is hoarse and low. There’s goosebumps littering your skin and you’re visibly shaking.

You were having deja vu.

No, you did this already - you’re sure of it.

Your dream began with you waking up just as you were now. Friday at 8 A.M.

Your feet kick the covers off of your body and swing to touch the cold, wooden floor. You winced at the impact, sending shivers up your spine. You didn’t need to think what was going to happen next.

Your phone sounds suddenly. Color drained from your face. You knew who was calling you without having to look at the screen. You were reliving your dream. Could you call it a dream or vision?

Were you given a second chance at life?

You recall the way you declined the unknown number and proceed in getting ready for work. Jungkook was knocking at your door. You recalled the party you were invited to, your friends, Dean.

You scurry down the hall to your bathroom just as your stomach churns. You release the vomit into the toilet, clenching the side of it.

“What’s going on…” you murmur to yourself, flushing the toilet. There was no way you were reliving what you had dreamt.

You began to brush your teeth and wash your face, hands trembling.

You don’t go to the kitchen like you would usually when you wake up. If your dream was correct, Jungkook would be-

A sudden knock makes you yelp. You’re stiff in your spot, eyes wide.

In your dream, you told Jungkook that you wanted nothing to do with him. That the relationship was over.

You told Jungkook you hated him as he stands before you, covered in blood.

You could feel the way the knife rips through your throat, unable to breath or help yourself.

“Open the door Y/N.”

Jungkook’s voice frightens you.

Your breathing becomes heavy.

Your dream was becoming a reality - if it was ever a dream.

‘Maybe…if we’re reborn…you and I can raise the child we spoke about.’

Jungkook’s last words replay in your head while the hair on your skin raises.

Before your mind thinks, your feet are moving. You slam the door open, eyes wide at Jungkook. He stands straighter at seeing you after a month.

“Y/N…are you okay?” Jungkook wants to hug you. You appear to be seconds away from crying and it causes his heart to thump.

“Jungkook…” you trail off, voice cracking.

“Y/N…baby…” Jungkook takes a step closer.

You wrap your arms around Jungkook, crashing into his chest.

Jungkook’s distraught, but he doesn’t push you away. He wraps his arms around you and presses his nose into your hair, inhaling your sweet scent.

Your hands clench his shirt, trembling.

You didn’t want to die.

You didn’t want your friends to die.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook murmurs after a sweet moment of having you in his arms. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” you sob.

Your mind is screaming at you to run. To push him away. There was a possibility that you could do things right - not go to a party and meet Dean. You can just go to work and home.

However, you’re tired. You’re tired of the phone calls and having to constantly look over your shoulder. There was a possibility that you could face the same fate as the dream.

“P-Please s-stay with me.” you stutter out.

Jungkook's heart pounds with excitement. “Really?” he gently pushes you back to look at your face. You’re crying, tears streaming down your puffy cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby. I love you.” he wipes your tears, a small smile on your lips.

You nod your head at him. You step back and allow him to follow you in.

Jungkook closes the door behind him. He leans down to kiss your lips.

Jungkook sighs into the kiss. He missed your soft lips.

“I promise, baby, I’ll be better.” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to lose you.” you murmur to him.

You’re unsure if this decision was the correct one, but you were far too frightened to see what an angered Jungkook would do to you in this reality if you denied him.

#Visions #trivia-yandere #bts smut #btswritingcafe #bangtanwriters net #bangtan smut #bangtanwritershq #btswritersclub #btswriterscollective #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook yandere #yandere jungkook #yandere bts #bts fanfic

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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last call | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

a one shot based on the song last call by jamie miller, i highly suggest listening to it 'Cause when it's last call I wanna be your first call I wanna be your ride home You're gonna be my downfall

word count: 7.4k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, alcohol consumption

Max Verstappen was a lot of things.

He was a world champion, for starters. A two-time world champion, a title he carried proudly. He was on his way to claim that title for the third time, but he didn’t let the arrogance or the ease of it get to his head, there was still work to do this season.

He was a son and a brother. He cared about his family more than the media would ever know, always painting him as some sort of villain on and off the track to which it got to the point that Max simply stopped trying to change people’s opinions. His family knew who he was, he didn’t need to make any adjustments for them.

He was a friend, and a damn good one if he said so himself. To be fair, it was difficult to see the mates he grew up with when his job took him around the world and back, but he never forgot his roots. He cherished any time he got to spend with those in his close circle. He had a rule too, no phones. If he was with his friends, nothing on his phone mattered. That was also why he was deemed ‘antisocial’ during any breaks, however long. God forbid he not take any photos of him having a good time to prove he knows how to have a good time.

Last but most certainly not least, on Friday and Saturday nights in Monaco, he was a chauffeur.

Your chauffeur.

Neither of you were quite sure when this whole arrangement started, but did that really even matter?

Max pulled up alongside the curb of the club and sent you a text. A minute later you came walking out the doors, a grin plastered on your face as you said your goodbyes to your friends.

As you walked around the front of the car, Max tried to not let his gaze linger on the way your skirt showcased the length of your legs and how in a matter of a seconds you’d be sitting next to him and he’d be thanking his lucky stars he drove a manual so he had a reason to keep his hand off of you.

You climbed into the passenger side of his car, the seat was already adjusted to your height. There was an unopened bottle of water in the cup holder. An artist you listened to was already quietly playing through the speakers. Even if Max didn’t get a heads up that you were going out tonight, he knew what to do when you called him.

He knew that if the seat was pushed back you would complain, jokingly. He knew that you’d ask if he had water somewhere in his car and he knew that you’d ask for help to connect your phone to Bluetooth, if it hadn’t already died.

And while Max liked that routine, he also liked seeing your face light up when you realised you no longer needed to ask for anything.

“Hi,” you turned in your chair to face him. You were smiling, but you had been smiling all night. Did you mean any of them in the last few hours? The answer was unknown, but you certainly meant it now. You took one look at Max and you couldn’t help but smile, it was your body’s natural reaction, just like how you turned to face him as soon as you sat down.

“Fun night?” He asked. He always asked that, but you both knew he didn’t care about what you got up to inside the walls of the nightclub. If he cared, he would have joined you the number of times you politely asked him to when you saw him in passing when you left the flat. But Max just wasn’t a nightclub kind of person.

“Yeah,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Yeah, Rina’s a bit of a handful, but it was fun.”

“You stayed out late,” Max pointed out, but not in a type of way you would expect a parent to discipline their kid. It was simply Max calling attention to the time, the same time as always.

This was a habit you had fallen into, unintentionally.

Wherever you were, whatever establishment, when their bartenders yelled for last call, you pulled out your phone and called Max. The call for the last round of drinks was your reminder that you needed to go home and luckily, there was someone who would pick you up, every time, without fail.

It was convenient that you two lived in the same building. It may have been in passing that Max offered for you to ever call him if you needed something, but neither of you expected it to spiral into this.

He was just being friendly. It was the neighbourly thing to do.

Which is why you were hesitant the first time you called Max when you needed a ride home. But all of your friends had left you, you lost your credit card somewhere on the dance floor and in your state of mind, you were in no position to try and walk the streets of Monte Carlo alone.

So you called him, apologising about a dozen times but through the line you heard him get up from bed with a quiet sigh. You heard the jingle of keys and it wasn’t long before you finally heard Max’s car roar to life and he told you he’d be there in ten minutes.

That pattern of sounds became music to your ears before you knew it. The faint grunt as he stood up, the keys twirling around his finger, his car turning on.

Breath, keys, car. It was clockwork. It was something you pretty much expected at this point when you called him.

And Max, well Max knew it was pointless to even lay down, but he did on the off chance you didn’t go out. You always went out.

Max had a good heart. He wanted his friends to be safe and somehow, you had wormed your way into that layer of his life. You were one of his friends. And he would rather you call him every Friday night than have to wake up in the morning and not know if you got home at all.

It was convenient that he was home for the break. He was in Monaco. He could be there for you when you needed him, and he would be.

But that pegged the question, what did you do when he was away? When he was racing? When he was across the globe fighting for championship points, who did you call to pick you up at the end of the night?

Max never asked. In fact, the topic of his job never came up with you. You knew he was a Formula 1 driver, he mentioned it subtly, well he thought it was subtle, it really wasn't. And when you said “Oh yeah, my dad watches that. He likes Josef Newgarden,” Max bit his tongue so as to not tell you that your dad was referring to an IndyCar driver, a completely different series.

You knew very little about the sport. Even with Monaco being the pinnacle track of Formula 1, you never bothered to learn about it or keep up with it. Maybe that’s why Max found it so easy to talk to you in the first place. You never once saw him as a driver. You just saw him as your neighbour and on some nights, your chauffeur.

So one could imagine his surprise when you brought up his career during that drive home.

“When do you go back?” You asked, slight hesitancy in your tone as this was not a topic you knew well, your vocabulary was limited. “To racing?”

“Two weeks,” Max answered. “It’ll be my home race.”

He pulled up to a red light and glanced at you, instantly recognising that the term home race was not one you were familiar with, but you nodded as though you did.

“It’s in the Netherlands,” he further clarified. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you were reminded that he was Dutch.

“That’ll be fun,” you added.

Why was this awkward? Neither of you were usually ones for small talk. Usually you would get in the car and talk about the characters you saw that you knew he’d get a laugh at. You would be chatting his ear off, that was part of the routine.

And tonight, you were struggling to fill the silence. Max couldn’t tell why.

You knew why, however.

It was because when you were out tonight, your friend Rina was whisked away by someone who asked to dance with her. She blushed, her cheeks and neck turning bright red before saying yes and taking his hand to lead her towards the dance floor.

You watched with amusement, happy for your friend, but there was that sinking feeling of jealousy settling in the pit of your stomach. Granted, the man she was dancing with was not your type. He was tall, too tall, with dark features, an arm of tattoos. Sure he seemed charming and he certainly knew how to dance, but you weren’t jealous he had chosen Rina instead of you.

You were jealous that your friend had someone to dance with.

And you had been asked a few times by strangers to join them under the lights, but you turned down all of them. They weren’t people you wanted to spend your time with. They didn’t give you butterflies when you thought about the potential of starting something new with a stranger from the club.

No, you got those butterflies when you climbed into the passenger seat of Max’s car. They were faint, they came as fast as they went. They could have been mistaken for nausea if you weren’t certain you only had two drinks tonight.

But they were there.

Which led to your next thought, if Max ever asked you to dance, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

And you had been attracted to Max since the first day you saw him, basically, but you kept those feelings to yourself, even as they grew from a physical attraction to more.

Recently, however, they had been getting harder and harder to ignore.

So maybe that’s why you were struggling to move past this silence right now. You were suddenly looking at Max in a very different light. He was your friend, yes, but he had proven time and time again that he would show up for you, that he wouldn’t hesitate to pick you up no matter that hour. None of your other friends made that commitment to you.

But you would never act on any of it. The thoughts, the feelings. Max had never once hinted that he was interested, he was just nice. He was wholesome, despite what you had heard in the media. He was just looking out for you.

So when he walked you to the door of your flat that evening, you said goodnight like you usually did and you headed inside.

You had no idea that Max lingered in the hallway for a minute, debating with himself whether or not he should knock on your door. He’d done it before, making up some excuse to talk to you for just another few minutes.

Because the truth was, Max enjoyed the time he spent with you, even if it was limited to those car rides from the club to your apartment complex. He liked not knowing which version of you would climb into the passenger seat. While you were almost always talkative, there were times when all you wanted was a coffee at an ungodly hour. There were times when you were complaining about the people you met. There were times when you couldn’t stop laughing to the point that Max had to pull over because your laughter was angelic and contagious and he wasn’t about to risk getting into an accident because the two of you couldn’t contain yourselves.

Max liked the fact that you always called him at the end of the night.

For some weird reason, he liked that you were thinking of him. It made him so unbelievably happy to know that when the bartender yelled for ‘last call’ at the end of the night, he was your first call.

But those phone calls were only ever restricted to Friday and Saturday nights. And only when he was in Monaco. While you didn’t understand Formula 1, you must have followed it a bit to know when he wasn’t home. You never called him during a race weekend.

Except that one night last year when he was in Austin. It was just after 2am in Monaco, but Max was sitting down and having dinner in his hotel room. For you, it was early Sunday morning. For him it was still Saturday.

And it was because you didn’t recognise the pattern, you didn’t hear the breath, the keys, the car, you instantly knew that this was a weekend where he was away. He was working, racing, whatever he wanted to call it.

“Oh fuck,” you blurted out before Max could say anything. Your exclamation was met with a hefty laugh. He wasn’t annoyed in any means that you had called him while he was away, just a bit surprised is all.

“I can order you an uber,” He instantly offered. You heard the sound of him shifting on the bed and his voice then echoed as it bounced off the walls of his hotel room, like he turned on the speakerphone, like he was already looking for the app to order you an uber from halfway across the world.

“I can do that myself,” you argued.

The line was silent for a moment. You were both thinking the same thing. Why didn’t you just always call an uber? Why did you always rely on Max to drive you home?

Neither of you voiced that question. You had your own answers, but if they didn’t match up then that would lead to an entirely different conversation, one that you could do without, one that had the risk of ruining whatever sort of pattern you had fallen into.

“You okay? Did you have a fun night?” Max moved on, not wanting to think about how you were probably ordering that car for yourself. If he was in Monaco right now, he’d already be in the elevator down to the parking garage.

“Yeah, it was good,” your words slurred together. Not enough to alarm Max, but he knew you. He knew that the more you drank, the more honest you were.

You proved that point about two seconds later.

“Honestly, Jordan’s just fucking annoying,” you sighed. Max could picture you running your hands through your hair, you did that often, but especially when something was eating at you and right now, it was your friend Rina’s boyfriend. Boyfriend? Boy toy? Ex? Max tried to keep up, but there was a new label every week. It’d be easier to stay up to date with your life and the ‘drama’ that circled it if you saw him more than once or twice a weekend, but he wasn’t about to put that thought in your head and potentially scare you off. What you had was fine. The late night calls, the last calls turned first calls was fine.

“What happened now?” Max asked.

“Well we literally told him not to come out, Rina’s still pissed after what he did last week- oh shit, hang on.”

While you searched for what Max could only assume was a credit card or your lip gloss or something that should have fallen out of your pockets by now, he thought back to what Jordan did last week.

You sighed heavily into the receiver, “...what was I saying?”

“Rina’s still mad,” Max reminded you. “She hasn’t forgiven him for getting drunk at her parents anniversary dinner?”

You laughed, “God you have a better memory than me. I had to ask Rina why we were giving him the cold shoulder tonight.”

Point for Max.

Why did this little victory mean so much to him?

“Anyway, he tried to make it up to her tonight by buying all of her drinks but then his card declined like an hour in, who lives in fucking Monte Carlo and can’t afford drinks? He’s a fake, is what he is and Rina deserves so much better. I have a theory he’s-”

“That he's from Nice,” Max finished with his own chuckle. “Want me to hire a P.I. to look into it?”

There was a pause and then a very serious, “Can you actually do that?”

“I could but I was joking,” Max said. He could picture your pouty bottom lip. It was a good thing you weren’t actually with him. He probably would have given in and found a private investigator within an hour.

“Oh I think my uber- yeah that’s it,” you said, more to yourself than to him as your voice trailed off at the end. “I’m sorry for calling. I knew you were in Austin, I just- I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Max told you. “You don’t ever need to apologise for calling me. You know that if I was home I’d come pick you up, right?”

A faint inhale, one that held so many feelings that your words could never express, “I know.”

“Get home safe, okay?”

“I will,” you assured him. “And good luck today. Or- tomorrow, I guess. I know you’ll kill it.”

This was how Max knew you weren’t keeping up with Formula 1. He had officially claimed his second world championship title last weekend in Japan. He could quite literally sit out of the remaining races and still hold enough points to safely stand at the top of the driver standings.

But he wasn’t going to tell you that because he knew you’d instantly feel bad for not knowing, for not congratulating him. In your head, the championship fight went until the end of the season and typically it would, but this year was different for Max.

Max just said thank you and you both hung up. You climbed into the backseat of an uber where there was no water waiting for you and you didn’t dare ask for the driver to play Harry Styles. Max laid back on his bed, pushing his tray of room service aside as he stared up at the hotel ceiling.

When he returned that following Monday, Max was surprised to see dark blue streamers hanging on the outside of his door. There was a card shoved halfway underneath the door and he opened it up, looking at the delicate handwriting that read ‘heard you’re a world champion or whatever, let me know if you want to celebrate, I don’t mind picking you up for a change’.

Max laughed as he read the card. It was very you. You didn’t give two shits about the driver championship and Max loved that. He loved that you found reasons to be his friend outside from the fact that he was a Formula 1 driver. You didn’t care that his name came with power, wealth, fame, but you still showed your support with the little you knew about racing. You were a good friend to him.

And that’s what it was. Friendship. Why else would you have written, ‘I don't mind picking you up for a change’? You weren’t offering to celebrate with him, you were offering to be the designated driver after he went out with his group of friends, the friends that did care about his career.

Max would have gone out and celebrated with you. He would have said yes in a heartbeat, if you asked.

But you didn't. The closest that you came to going out with him was when you politely invited him to join you on your evenings out with your close circle, but Max was an afterthought. You never knocked on his door and invited him out, it was only if you passed him in the hallway or if the elevator doors opened and he was standing on the other side.

And Max said the same thing every time. ‘Nah, you have fun. Let me know if you need a ride home.’

Max thought you were just being friendly, neighbourly, but the truth was, you were waiting for the day where he said ‘Yeah, why not?’.

You never went out of your way to ask him out because of the rejection you had received in passing. How embarrassing would it be if you knocked on his door only to be met with the same rejection? To see the look of pity on his face as the door slowly shut.

There was a lot of uncertainty when it came to how you saw him or how he saw you and the only thing that was certain, was that you were friends.

So that’s why Max didn’t knock on your door now and make up some excuse about how you left his lip gloss in his car. He returned to his room and found himself staring up at the ceiling of his flat at 2:30 in the morning, something he had gotten quite used to, until sleep took over as he was thinking about how maybe next time, maybe next Friday, he’ll make a proper move.

But a wrench was thrown into his plans when your name lit up his phone screen a few days later. It wasn’t weird that you were calling him, what he couldn’t understand was why. It was a little after three on a Wednesday. Your conversations, the phone calls, the late night drives, they were confined to weekends.

Max answered though, maybe you left work early and accidentally drank too many sangrias on a patio. He’d pick you up, of course, this was just very unlike your pattern.

He expected to hear the slurring of words. He could understand drunk you enough to piece together what you were saying.

But the sharp inhale through your words, this was new. It was clear you were actively trying to not cry into the phone, trying to hold yourself together but Max heard it as your meek ‘hi’ came through the receiver.

And god did it break him.

“Where are you?” Max asked, already sliding his shoes on practically sprinting towards the elevator. Of course it was stuck on the main floor. No matter how many times he pressed the button, that steel boxed moved too damn slowly for his own good.

“Horizon,” you sniffed. Max recognized that restaurant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know who to call. Can you-”

“I’m already on the way.”

It wasn’t far. Max pulled up outside the restaurant in under ten minutes. You were sitting on a bench, dark shades covering your eyes but Max caught the way you raised your hand to wipe your cheeks before climbing into the car.

He didn’t even think to grab tissues before leaving his flat, but he had a feeling you would just deny them anyway. If he knew anything about you, he knew you weren’t one to cry. You had a very hard exterior, you felt things deeply, but you didn’t cry. Not in front of other people.

“Can we just- I don’t know, can we just drive for a bit?” you kept your gaze on the road in front of you. This wasn’t like you and Max would do anything to see the light in your eyes, to see your bright smile that made getting out of bed at 2 in morning worth it every time.

Max nodded, getting the idea that you didn’t want to talk. Or if you did, it would be on your own accord. You crossed one leg over the other and Max glanced at the beige romper you wore. He didn’t point out the dark red stain on your hem, but you rubbing at it was certainly not going to get it out. He could only assume it was wine? Did you spill wine on yourself at lunch? Who were you even out for lunch with?

And then he noticed you playing with the ring on your middle finger, again this wasn’t like you. You didn’t fidget and if you did, you’d play with the strands of your hair.

Max had seen you drunk, he’d seen you a few drinks in, he’d seen you sober.

He’d never seen you so upset over something before, though. The silence in the car was heavy. Whatever was on your mind, he wished there was a way for him to take some of the weight off of you.

He wasn’t travelling in any particular direction, just aimlessly around Monaco, but after the seconds turned to minutes, Max saw you visibly relax against the seat of his car.

“Do you know what I do?” You asked him, pulling your sunglasses off.

You both turned your faces towards each other. Faint mascara smudges stained the corner of your eyes. Your cheeks were still rosy, your jaw was clenched in anticipation of the rest of the conversation. This wasn’t the you that Max was used to, but it was a version of you he wanted to get to know. He wanted to know every side of you, even the sides you tried to hide behind sunglasses and spilled wine and choked back tears.

“Job wise?” Max asked for clarification. “Yeah, you’re ah- an environmental consultant? Right?”

You were a little impressed that he knew, but to be fair, you’ve had hundreds of conversations with Max and you weren’t sober for all of them. The discussion of jobs probably slipped your mind.

“I like my job,” you stated.

“Good. That’s important.”

“So why do I feel stuck?”

Max licked his lower lip, “Elaborate.”

“I’ve been doing the same thing since I graduated,” you told him, looking out the window again. Slowly, the Monte Carlo skyline was disappearing into the side mirrors. “And I like it, I do. I like the company I work for. I like the people I work with, but why does it feel like that’s the only thing I have going for me in life right now?”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Max sighed, but if he was being honest, he had no idea. What he knew about you was minimal and it killed him.

You nodded, but it was just out of politeness so as to not argue that he was wrong.

A few more minutes passed before you inhaled the heaviest breath your lungs could take.

“My sister’s engaged. Rina’s moving to Milan at the end of the summer. My brother travels for a living and I just- I’m not doing anything.”

So that’s what this was about. Max was smart, he could put the pieces together. You talked about your siblings a bit, but you never mentioned your sister getting married before. The way you were looking down at your hand throughout this drive told Max that this late lunch was you meeting your sister so she could announce the good news.

And something as big as that would undoubtedly send someone spiralling, making them question their own life choices, the path they were on. As long as Max has known you, you’ve had the same job, same friends, no partner.

Your best friend moving was not new either, you had excitedly told Max about her job offer a few weeks back, but maybe it was just sinking in now. Everyone around you was moving onto bigger and better things and you were, as you put it, stuck.

“I think I need a change of scenery,” you admitted quietly.

Which was not what Max wanted to hear.

Selfishly, he didn’t want you to leave Monaco. Even though he was the one who was gone so many weeks out of the year for the races, he liked knowing you would always be there when he returned home. That you were just down the hall.

Before Max could try and talk you out of moving, you reached across the centre console and put your hand over his, the one that rested on the gear stick. This wasn’t the first time you had done this, Max knew you to be a little handsy when you were drinking, but you seemed to be sober this time.

“I’m sorry for calling you,” you said, even though you really didn’t need to apologise. “I didn’t know who else to call and I just, I needed to breathe.”

Max found comfort in that.

That he was someone you could clear your head with, that you didn’t need to put on an act around him. In a way, you trusted him. You must have if he was your first call after your sister dropped a bombshell.

When the two of you found your way back to the apartment complex, Max walked you to the door like he always did. Your flushed cheeks had returned to its normal colour. Your eyes no longer looked glossed over. And the smile you gave him seemed genuine.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open and something in Max screamed now or never and before he knew it, he was reaching for your hand to keep you from going inside. He pulled you back to face him and the expression you wore was unreadable.

Max froze.

Something that he never did.

He was always calm and collected, always ahead of his thoughts, always knew what to do and when to do it.

But that was thanks to his training and his training only prepared him for driving at ridiculous speeds and navigating dozens of race tracks and thinking on his feet in tough situations while he sat behind the wheel of an F1 car.

His training didn’t prepare him for how stunned he would feel as he met your eyes, grabbing your attention for the first time outside the safety net of his regular car.

Whatever Max wanted to say, it had now vanished and he had no choice but to rely on the words that he had told you many times before.

“You know you don’t need to apologise for calling me, right?” Max said, his hand falling from yours.

“I know,” a faint breath of laughter followed your assurance.

“And for the record-” Max paused. “I don’t think you’re stuck. I think you’re right where you need to be.”

Max’s words stayed with you for the next few days. In fact, they were all you could think about, even when you met Rina Saturday night at your usual spot. She had ordered you a drink, she was a few in herself already and you had barely taken a sip when she brought up the idea of you moving to Milan with her.

You almost spit out the cocktail, “I- what? Move with you? Rina, my job’s here.”

“Yeah but you’re so experienced, I’m sure you could find another one in Milan,” Rina stuck out her lower lip. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do without my best friend.”

While you might have contemplated moving a few days ago, you weren’t sure you were really ready to leave Monaco. This was your home, you loved it here. Despite what you said to Max about feeling stuck, his words were burned into your mind.

You weren’t stuck. You had no reason to leave. You wanted to be here.

You just had a momentary lapse of judgement.

“I’m not moving, Rina,” you sighed, connecting your hand with hers. “But I’ll visit and you can too. I’m still your best friend, even if we’re in different countries.”

She knew better than to plead her case any more, deciding that spending the night drinking and dancing was more fun than thinking about her upcoming move.

And before you knew it, the DJ made an announcement for the last call at the bar and you were pulling out your phone to call Max.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Rina said, or rather, yelled, as the music was still blaring. She saw his contact on your screen, she saw the way the corner of your lips were pulled upwards when you thought about being with him shortly.

“Because I don’t feel anything,” you shouted back. It was a lie. A bold faced lie that your friend saw right through but didn’t push you any more on it.

She walked with you to the curb. Max rolled down the window and waved to her, offering her a ride as well. But Rina denied it, she knew this was your time to be with Max.

“Get home safe, I love you,” you called out, hand gripping the handle of the passenger side door. Rina blew you a kiss and then you climbed in.

Max reached into the backseat and grabbed the bottle of water he had tossed there when he left his apartment. He waited until taking a sip before asking if you had a fun night.

“Yeah, Rina asked me to move to Milan with her,” you answered, wiping the corner of your mouth. You looked at Max expectantly, trying to gauge what his answer would be. Surely the man who told you that you were in the right place wasn’t going to encourage you to move.

Max just hummed and put the car into drive. He waited until you were a few minutes away from the club to say anything, as if seeing Rina standing on the sidewalk in the rearview mirror was somehow going to make this conversation harder.

“What did you-” Max stopped himself and chose something else to say, “You’re not moving, though. Right?”

And then you saw it. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concern. The way his hand clenched over the gear lever. The way his jaw tightened as he fought with himself before asking if you were in fact leaving.

Max didn’t want you to go.

That thought alone made your stomach turn in knots, but not the kind you felt when you were sick. You were most definitely not sick, you could have been floating on cloud 9 when you realised Max wanted you to stay in Monaco.

“Are you kidding?” You retorted, feeling a burst of confidence. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you had been drunk before and never once tried flirting. No time like the present. “Think of how inconvenient it would be for you to drive to Milan every time I go clubbing.”

Max chuckled, his features softening as the lines around his lips made an appearance. God you loved his smile.

“Oh so you’re staying for my sake? Well that’s- that’s really kind of you. Thank you.”

He stopped at a red light and turned to you. The heavy weight that was lingering on his shoulders when you mentioned moving had disappeared instantly. You weren’t going anywhere. You would still be here when Max returned from his races. You’d be here during the break. You’d be here, calling his phone on those Friday and Saturday nights when you needed a ride home.

“Can I ask you something?” Max spoke quietly, waiting until you nodded before getting something off his mind that had been there since this whole driving arrangement started. “Who do you call when I’m not in Monaco?”

Your smile was soft as the corner of your lips were tugged upwards. Max, if he wanted to, could have convinced himself it was the alcohol that caused you to be all smiley, but he also wanted to believe he had something to do with it.

Dropping your gaze for a moment, you parted your lips, closed them again, and then took a breath as Max waited for your response.

“Max, I don’t go out when you’re not in Monaco.”

He was thinking he didn’t hear you correctly. Maybe you said you called some guy named Marco. That made more sense. You called a back-up rather than put your evening social life on pause while he was away.

He needed clarification, “What?”

You laughed this time, looking out the windshield. The traffic light was still red, but Max didn’t need to rely on the soft glow of the street light to make out the shade of pink that was climbing up your neck and cheeks.

“I don’t go out clubbing when you’re not in Monaco,” you repeated. He had heard you correctly.

Max wasn’t sure what to think.

He felt like an idiot, for starters. If he had known you wanted to see him, to spend time with him, he would have put an effort in to join you during your nights out. Or better yet, maybe he would have asked you on a date.

But he was clueless. He didn’t know that you relied on those calls at the end of the night because you were too shy to actually ask him out like a normal person would. You were too afraid of stepping outside of this pattern you both fell into because what if it didn’t work out?

Now it was all out in the open. The only reason you went out as much as you did when he was home was because you used it as an excuse to call him, to see him.

The blaring of a horn from the car behind him caused Max to shift gears, quite literally and metaphorically. He took off, having missed the light turn green, and his attention went back to the road.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at you, he did. He very much wanted to continue this conversation but he was at a loss for words.

The silence only grew during the drive back to your building. In the corner of his eye, he could see you shifting in the seat. You kept turning your phone on and off, hoping there would be texts to distract you from this hush that had fallen over the car. You were overthinking everything now, did you say the wrong thing? Would it have been better if you didn’t say anything?

Max too was overthinking everything. Had he misread signs you had tried to give him? Was he now making things worse by not acknowledging what you had said? With each passing second, it became more and more unbearable as you sat in anticipation for what sort of conversation was going to come next.

When Max finally pulled into the parking garage underneath the building, you couldn’t have reached for the door handle faster. You wanted to go inside, to forget you had said anything. God you even debated deleting his number from your phone so you didn’t risk calling him again the next time you went out.

But Max was quick too.

He knew he had to do something to make up for how painful this car ride was, something that showed you he was on the same page as you, that he too looked forward to the moments he was home just so he could wait for your phone call.

He stepped out of the car when you did, walking around the front instead of heading towards the elevator. You kept your eyes down, planning on just walking right past him, and you would have, had Max not grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you into his body.

His fingers moved from your hand to your waist as his other hand cupped the side of your face and you finally looked at him for the first time since you got into the car.

Now it was your turn to be at a loss for words, but that didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t like you had time to say anything before Max took that leap, crossed the line, and pressed his lips to yours.

And it was everything you had been waiting for.

Max leaned against the hood of his car as you slid your hand up his shirt, grabbing the thin material as you wasted no time in kissing him back. His mouth was tender and soft as it moved against yours, both of you feeling the same intensity that had been building up for weeks, maybe even months now.

It took everything in Max to not drag you back into the car and pull you on his lap in the driver's seat, an image that he had painted in his head a while ago. Instead, his grip on your waist just tightened, holding you against his chest the way he had been wanting to for a while now.

Your nose brushed against his when you pulled back, your gaze lingered on his lips before finally darting upwards.

The parking garage was quiet, there was a low hum that came from the pipes above you. The overhead lights did nothing to set any sort of mood, but you couldn’t imagine a better place to share a first kiss with Max.

You weren’t in the safety of his car, a place that had become so comfortable to you. By waiting until you stepped out, by stopping you from walking to the elevator, Max was showing you that this was something he wanted and he wanted it when the car ride was over. He wanted it before you called him, before you went out for the night, before the weekend even started.

He relaxed against the hood of his car, both of you sharing similar looks of serenity. There was no more confusion, no more wavering uncertainty.

His fingers brushed through your hair before bringing your lips to his once more.

And then there it was, that smile of yours that made getting into his car two in the morning so fucking worth it.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Max asked. He now knew the answer wouldn’t be going out with friends, that was reserved for when he was home.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure, why?”

“Well you said you wanted a change of scenery, right?” Max recalled your conversation from earlier this week. “How about the Netherlands?”

“You want me to come to a race?” You were probably the last person who should be invited to a Grand Prix and Max knew this, he even laughed at your doubtful response.

“I really do,” he said.

“I don’t know anything about Formula 1.”

Max rubbed his thumb over your side, the simple gesture was enough to have your body curving against his once more.

“I have all of next week to give you a crash course,” he pointed out. “If you’re interested.”

And of course you were. There’s nothing else you wanted more than to spend your evenings with Max, to learn more about his career, to learn about him. When your lips curved upwards into another smile, Max knew you were on board.

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You go out with me the next weekend you’re in Monaco.”

Max dipped his head back and laughed. You rested your hand at the nape of his neck, pulling his face back to yours.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he chuckled. “And I will, but we’ll be leaving before last call.”

“That’s fine with me as long as you still take me home,” you pressed your lips together tightly, trying to contain your eagerness for the night that was still far in the future. Max brushed his thumb over your lower lip. He too was thinking ahead.

Not just to that upcoming weekend, but every weekend after and all of the days inbetween.

Coming home to Monaco was always something he looked forward to, but now he had even more of a reason to anticipate the breaks between races. You two didn’t have to wait until a Friday evening to see each other anymore.

He didn’t have to be your first call at the end of the night, but you both knew he still would be, and so much more.

He’d be your first call when you got home from work and you’d be his when he landed in a new country. You’d be the first person to call him after watching his winning performance of a race and likewise, you’d be the first person he wanted to talk to, the first person he wanted to celebrate with.

There’d be a lot of firsts moving forward, but you didn’t need to wait until last call anymore.

masterlist here

this was mostly for @tsarinablogs and @estevries

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen au #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen one shot #mv1 #mv 1 fanfic #max au #f1 one shot #f1 instagram au #f1 requests

2K notes · View notes

naszircrock4 · 7 months

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god I love him By VoraciousGF

#male pred #belly bulge #digestion #unknown prey #Mobian Pred #encore boyfriend #Girlfriend (Friday Night Funkin)

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dragonbarbie · 9 months

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐘'𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇?

modern!aegon ii targaryen x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: reader thinks aegon can never be more than a one night stand, and aegon is intent on getting her to give him a chance.

word count: 2.5k

tags: modern!au, smut, drunk!aegon having sex with sober!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, tity sucking, pussy eating, p in v sex, unprotected sex

note: i very much write fanon!aegon, not the canon, show!version.

sidenote: is this lowkey inspired by my irl situationship who wont quit calling me every time he gets drunk?? maybe

it was a regular friday night for aegon. his frat was throwing a big party, and he had organised everything down to the last detail. he had a reputation to maintain after all, known affectionately as the king of parties of dragonstone university. he had already drunk his own weight in alcohol, flirted (and then proceeded to get handsy) with a couple of girls but he’d been too distracted to follow through with any of them.

his mind instead wandered back to a couple of weeks ago, at another party, where he’d met y/n. she’d been chatting to cregan stark, wearing a little black dress that hugged her in the best way imaginable. he knew, looking at her enchanting laugh at stark’s dumb joke, he had to have her. putting on his most charming smile, he’d approached her.

she’d been wary of him because of his reputation around campus (who wouldn’t be) but after a few disarming jokes as his fingertips grazed the side of her thighs, he’d managed to convince her to give him a chance.

drunken steps were then taken back to her dorm room, and they’d had what aegon could only call amazing sex.

now hold on, you have to believe him when he says amazing, alright? he’d slept with too many women to count, after a while the nights blended to the point that he couldn’t much differentiate between what having sex with each of them had felt like. so, when one such night stood out for him? it meant it had met a very high bar indeed. after all, he thought, he didn’t go around spending the night at every girl’s place.

he'd thus expected a little warmer treatment come morning and was rudely shocked at her attempting to throw him out. still, wearing his jeans in such a hurry that its button and fly was undone, unlaced shoes, bare-chested as he held his rumpled shirt in his hand, he’d had the audacity to offer her a lazy grin and promise “i’ll call you.”

“please” she’d snorted with an amused look, “everyone knows aegon targaryen is not the type to call.” taking no note of his offended expression, she’d shut the door in his face.

he’d been wondering about those words ever since. sure, she hadn’t been wrong but, hey, he’d meant the lie this time! with tits that great, ass that perfect, why wouldn’t he want a repeat of last night? he’d thought to himself.

determined to prove her wrong, he’d asked around the frat house and found out her number. but as his hand had hovered over the call button, something had stopped him. she’d caught him spot on, he realised. he wasn’t a relationship guy, and she wasn’t expecting the relationship-thing with him. perhaps it was best he left her alone.

he’d done just that, at least while sober. drunk aegon on the other hand, found it much easier to pick up the phone and dial her number.

“who is this?” there was panic and sleep in her voice, having picked up an unknown number at 2 in the morning “sweetheart! you picked up” he’d grinned, words slurring. he could practically hear the eyeroll on the other end. “aegon… to what do i owe the pleasure?” “i was just missing you.” he sighed. “sure.” nothing in her voice indicated that she believed him.

“i’m actually not far from your dorm. how about i come up with a bottle of tequila and we can… catch up?” he suggestively added. “it’s 2:14 am…. on a tuesday.” she pointed out, but her words didn’t seem to mean much to him as he replied, “so?” an exasperated sigh could be heard over the phone, “good night, aegon.” click. he stared down on the iphone in his hand in disbelief, she’d hung up on him.

he decided maybe he’d come out too strong, so the next time he texted first. he’d stared at the text for a couple of minutes, and when he saw that she was online but hadn’t bothered to text him back, he’d walked over to the nearest girl and proceeded to make out with her in the bathroom. until he was interrupted with a buzzing in his pocket, “just a minute” he’d mumbled against her lips, unbothered by her disappointed expression as he fished for the phone in his pocket hurriedly.

he saw that y/n had finally replied to his ‘u up?’ with a ‘depends.’ his brow furrowed at her response in confusion, he typed back ‘on what’.

the notification arrived with a ping. her response read ‘are u drunk?’. something told him instinctively to lie. he typed out a no, but once the message sent, he realised it had autocorrected to ‘yo’. he corrected it to a no and sent again, only to find the same mistake committed again. it was only after a string of typos had been sent, did he blink and realise autocorrect wasn’t to blame at all, his damn fingers just refused to cooperate with his inebriated brain.

ping. after receiving the string of nonsense, she finally replied ‘i got my answer.’ “aegon?” the girl in front of him looked at him impatiently, only to have him grab the handle of the bathroom door, leaving with a quick “gotta go”. he immediately called up y/n as he walked out of the party, but the call went straight to voicemail. all four times.

thus, every night aegon had gotten drunk since, he found himself being distracted by thoughts of y/n, frustrated at her refusing to engage with him.

that night too, once the clock on the wall started to look to him as if it were melting off and his feet seemed to stumble wherever he walked, his brain suddenly thought showing up to her dorm was the best idea ever.

reaching her door, he ran a hand through his hair before knocking. no response. impatient, he loudly whined “y/n! c’mon, open up!” met with more silence. he whipped his phone out, blinking at the bright screen as he concentrated to make sure it was without typos, he sent her a text, ‘m 0utsidee’. he pounded with his fist on the door one more time, before a door opened, but not the one he was standing in front of.

three doors down, y/n stood against her doorframe in her small black shorts, red tank top riding up slightly to reveal skin just above them. “wrong fucking door, idiot.” aegon grinned as he walked towards her. “you’re lucky baela’s out of town for the weekend, otherwise she would have kicked your ass for banging on her door like that.”

ignoring her, he pouted as he leaned his head against her door frame, looking too much like a wounded puppy. y/n felt a tug at her stomach at how undeniably cute he looked. “why don’t you ever pick up my calls?”

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she asked instead of answering. “what?” he mumbled, confused. “high….why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she slowly repeated, as if talking to a two-year-old. “i’m not interested in someone who needs to be drunk to call me. i don’t want to be your booty call.” she shrugged. his lower lip jutted out further at her response, crease appearing between his brow. oh, gods, y/n found herself thinking, how could someone manage to look this pathetic and this cute at the same time.

“you’re not a booty call.” he groaned in protest. after all, there were enough girls at that party willingly throwing themselves at him, he could have been with anyone, and yet… it was her door his drunken steps had taken the path of.

“go home, aegon. it was a one-time thing. it’s not happening again.” she insisted. her words seemed to have no effect on him, as he placed a hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. he bent down to her ear and whispered, his words slurring, “let me show you all the reasons that this should be more than just a ‘one-time-thing’.”

he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first. she didn’t immediately kiss him back, but the feeling of his lips on hers felt more intoxicating than whatever it was that she could smell off his breath, and she found her lips moving against his within seconds. he bit her lower lip playfully, at her response. she parted her lips to allow him to slide his tongue past them. his hand, meanwhile, slid under the material of her tank and travelled upwards, thumb pressing against her nipple as he squeezed her breast. breaking from the kiss for a second, he smirked at her, “didn’t bother wearing a bra to greet me?”. “i was preparing for bed!” she hissed in response. “excuses” he shook his head at her, teasing.

with his hand he lifted her tank to reveal her bare breasts. “aegon!” she attempted to keep her voice low, lest her neighbours wake up to the scene, “we’re in the middle of the hallway, anyone can walk in!” the idea of someone catching them only made it all the more exciting for aegon, “relax.” he told her with a laidback smile.

before she could protest, his head dipped and he captured her nipple in his mouth. a moan escaped her lips at the feeling, and she stumbled back, her back hitting her doorframe. aegon continued his tongue’s assault on her sensitive nipple, one hand gripping her waist to keep her in place, the other reaching behind her to squeeze her ass. her hand held the nape of his neck, as her head was thrown back in pleasure at his actions. she whined when he abruptly stopped.

he kneeled down and his fingers reached up, pulling her shorts and panties down her legs, causing a shiver to go up her spine. chewing on her lower lip in nervousness she weakly said, “we should go inside” but she couldn’t deny that the thought of getting caught made her even more wet. there was a hint of recklessness and danger in his eyes, “where’s your sense of adventure?”. he threw the clothes inside her ajar door, then lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. she audibly gasped as she felt his tongue upon her already soaking pussy.

“aegon…ah!” her hand gripped his hair as his tongue played tricks on her core, her eyes rolling back till she could see stars. his grip on her thigh remained firm, and she was certain she would be waking up with a bruise. “close… so…close…” she had begun to say after a few minutes, feeling her muscles tense, when he stopped.

he stood up and started to undo his pants, freeing his length. he grabbed her by the waist, letting the tip of his cock tease her folds. she was already moaning for him, “want me to take you right here? make you scream my name, till your neighbours come checking?” she swallowed at the thought, lust overtaking her eyes.

“let’s do one thing.” he smiled as if he’d struck upon the most perfect idea, but the gleam in his eyes told y/n it couldn’t be anything good. he turned her around by her waist, hand coming to her front to rub her clit as he whispered in her ear, “you see that door?”. she knew he could only mean the door to the elevator which was the way to enter her dormitory floor. she managed a nod in response, unable to form words as his fingers pressed down on her so ruthlessly. “keep looking at it.” he commanded as he grabbed her hips back to push his cock inside her. “aegon!” she gasped at the feeling.

he entered her completely in one go, pulling out punishingly slow before pushing back in. he continued speaking as he impaled her, “someone’s gonna walk in any moment now…” he teased, “…and see you in this mess… see you bent over, taking me from behind…like a whore” the thought embarrassed her, yes, but what embarrassed her more was that she found herself almost wanting it to come true.

“even when they walk in, i won’t stop.” he threatned, his thrusts becoming faster. “you’ll be on display for everyone to see… to see how well you take my cock.” he gathered her hair in his fist in one hand, and she felt him pulling it lightly. “yes, oh, yes!” she found herself moaning, eyes intently trained on the door. “you’d like that? of course, you would, little slut.” she only whimpered in response, his words bringing her closer and closer to her edge. “you’d love to have everyone see just how well you receive a ‘booty call’” he chuckled. she could feel herself going weak at the knees at his pace and dirty talk.

“aegon… i—ah!” pleasure spread over every inch of her body, as she came all over his cock. he continued to thrust into her, chasing his own orgasm, until he emptied inside of her with a grunt.

her legs felt wobbly as he pulled out of her, turning her back around to face him. “next time i call—” he panted as he spoke, exerted from their activities, “—pick up.” she smirked, in contrast to his dominating actions mere moments ago, his words now sounded more like a pleading request; one she felt gracious enough to grant him as his juice and her own dripped down her legs. “i will. promise.”

his pearly white teeth showed as he grinned at her response, pleased. “oh, but i’m not nearly done with you for the night, just yet.” he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he shut the door behind them as he walked back inside her dorm.

the next morning, she didn’t kick him out like the last time. she let him linger around her bed, aegon placing a trail of kisses down her body as a manner of greeting her good morning. he was needy and showed it by being as tactile with her as could be. yet she felt comfortable with his touches, allowing herself to lie with him for hours, their legs tangled. even as she bid him goodbye from her door, she had to practically tear her lips off his, neither able to get enough of the other.

she felt content as she’d shut her door behind her, leaning against it as she thought back to the night that had passed, when her phone started to ring. she picked it and smiled as she saw the name being displayed, ‘aegon (don’t pick up)’.

“see i am the type who calls. a lot” she laughed at his words through the phone, able to hear him standing right outside the door. “and also the type who does breakfast. what do you say, brunch in an hour?”

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ot8archivesblog · 3 months

Text

Party

꒰ ͜͡➸ Pairing: Minho x Female Reader

꒰ ͜͡➸ Genre: College AU, Smut

꒰ ͜͡➸ Warnings: (Obviously) NSFW content, alcohol, mentions of drugs, cigarettes, smoking, drinking, explicit content, overstimulation, fingering, pet names, praise (like good girl)

꒰ ͜͡➸ w/c: 3,5k

꒰ ͜͡➸Masterlist

So I read this request a day ago and thought of it as really interesting because I'm currently writing a story which is similar to that, so I wanted to give this specific scenario a go.

You haven't mentioned which Gender the Reader should have, so because of the roommate being female (and as far as I know there are no mixed rooms) I will assume that the Reader is female as well.

This is actually my first attempt to write NSFW so I hope it'll be good and let me know how you think of it.

Have fun <3

(Not proof read because it's 1 am and I was too lazy so please excuse any mistakes <3)

Request by @the-unknown-daisy

Your bag hit the ground the moment you finally closed the door to your dorm room.

Your best friend was currently sitting on her bed, painting her nails, while you let yourself fall onto your bed.

"Everything okay?" She turned her head to you for a second, taking in the little ball you had curled into, before she went back to concentrating on the task ahead.

She knew you had been like this for a few weeks now and she didn't know what was bothering you.

You normally always talked with her about stuff like that, but this time you decided against it. Exam stress was getting to you and you felt as if you weren't doing enough, but it felt stupid to voice it like that.

You knew she would understand and support you, but you still didn't confide in her.

She had been so happy these past few weeks, always meeting up with Changbin and spending time with him, that you didn't want to spoil her mood with yours.

Changbin is a really nice guy and he was making her so happy, sometimes you envied her.

Of course you wished them nothing but happiness, but it often happened, that when you saw them interact, you wished to be able to have someone like that in your life too.

You weren't lucky with boys though. All your relationships had ended on a bad note and you were just annoyed by it at this point.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you getting ready for something?" Stupid question. It's Friday. There would obviously be a campus party somewhere.

Students could barely contain their desire to drink and party all week, of course no one would miss the weekend parties.

Normally you would go as well, not as often as your best friend, but also quite often. However you didn't really feel like it the past few weeks and you didn't want to drag anyone down with you.

"Yep, the party is at Changbin's dorm this time. I would have either spend the night with him or at a party anyway so it's pretty convenient." Your best friend answered, while she finally closed the bottle of nail polish.

"You're coming with me, by the way." She nonchalantly added, as she blew on her nails.

"Wait, what? When did I say yes to this plan of yours?" You tilted your head, confusion taking over your features.

Had you promised to go?

"Well you didn't. But I told Changbin I would bring you along. You've been quite down these past few weeks and I wanna cheer you up." She got up from her bed and went over to yours, sitting down next to you.

"Plus you know Changbin's roommate?" Of course you did. Who didn't know him.

"You mean Lee Minho?" Her face lit up at that.

"Exactly! Isn't that enough reason to come? He'll be hanging out with Changbin, I'll be hanging out with Changbin and you'll be hanging out with me." She beamed at you and you could only sigh.

Of course, like everyone, you thought that Minho was very attractive. Hell, their entire group of friends was. But you still felt rather down and meeting someone like him in this condition, wasn't going to get you any plus points with him.

You turned to your friend to tell her that you didn't want to come, when you noticed her smiling down at her phone.

"I'm Telling Changbin you're coming! He missed having you around too." At that point you couldn't say no any longer.

She was being so happy over the fact that you could spend the night together, that you didn't want to let her down again.

"Fine, I'll come."

The last few hours had been spend with getting ready and by now, you were already tired.

You didn't know how you'd get through the night, but your best friend was convinced that if you looked hot, you would certainly feel hot and she wasn't wrong.

You did actually feel better, if you didn't think about the tiredness seeping into your bones. An energy drink would fix that.

Your best friend was wearing a pretty white top, that stopped right above her belly-button and a short pinks skirt with high heels.

Her makeup was close to that, but not too much pink.

While you were wearing tight black jeans and a black top that had only one sleeve and also stopped right above your belly-button. However it was also V-formed, showing more of your cleavage than your besties top did.

The dorm wasn't too far so you made your way over there, slowly strolling through the night, which was immediately illuminated by the party lights.

The music was already at full power and you could nearly hear it on the entire campus.

Professors thankfully never minded, so they could keep doing their little parties.

You followed your friend, never letting go of her hand as she lead you inside the dorm, finally meeting up with Changbin.

"Hey baby, you're here." He pulled her closer by her waist and planted a soft kiss onto her lips, which probably would have turned more passionate if you hadn't been standing next to them.

"Hey there little one, I missed you." The taller male greeted you by ruffling your hair up.

"Missed you too." You replied while your eyes scanned the room.

It was already extremely full and it was only 11 pm. You didn't want to know how full it could get.

You had been to quite a few parties but you were always amazed how many people actually fit into these dorms.

They weren't small but they weren't exactly big either.

Changbin had been playing beer pong with some guys until we had interrupted him. So he resumed in doing so, while one of his arms was securely wrapped around your friends waist.

"Binnie." Your best friend whined and he chuckled.

"Sorry guys, finish without me." He turned to her and kissed her, before leading you two away.

"Minho just wrote me telling me he's on his way back with Chan." Changbin commented as he made his way through the crowd and into the kitchen, offering us something to drink.

"Where did they go?"

"They went to get the others. Jeongin was at his parents for a few hours and Chan and Minho went to get him." The older answered, while giving us two glasses.

Not even seconds after he had given them to us, the crowd outside got louder.

"Seems like they're back." Changbin chuckled and went to meet up with them. We followed him closely.

"Hey, look who is finally out of her prison." Chan joked as he side-hugged you.

You had become friends with most of them after your best friend started dating Changbin so this was pretty normal behaviour.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't know I was missed so much." You chuckled as you leaned into Chan's side, when your eyes found Minho's.

You never knew what he was thinking. Could never figure him out. He was a mystery to you and many others.

Chan left first, going to greet some friends while Changbin, Minho, your friend and you made your way to the terrace to get some air.

A lot of people were out here as well but you all sat down on the couch.

"Let's play a game." Someone suggested and everyone agreed on truth or dare. The typical party game that everyone loved to participate in when their brains were non-functional.

You were sipping on your drink while the game commenced.

Till now you had been playing it safe, mostly taking truth, as you knew not many would pick up on it due to being drunk. However someone did pick up on it.

"Three time in a row. You have to pick dare." Minho said as he leaned back on the couch, his eyes fixed on you.

It had been Changbin who had spun the bottle, so why was he interfering?

You said but complied, picking dare this time, which made Changbin grin.

"Kiss Minho."

You were left speechless for a moment. Of course you knew how the game worked, but you hadn't expected this from Changbin. He always went easy on you, which is why you hadn't really been worried when the bottle picked you.

"What, never kissed anyone? I won't bite unless you want me to." Minho commented, a smirk finding its way onto his lips.

You got up from your place, walking over to Minho.

People were sitting next to him so you couldn't do so to kiss him. While you were still contemplating what to do, his hand found your waist and pulled you onto his lap.

"Not so shy." How could you not be, when you were about to kiss the Lee Minho?

Your thighs were on either side of him, as his hands still kept a steady grip on your waist. You leaned in closer, stopping right before your lips could touch his.

At this point both of your eyes were fixed on the others lips and you could feel his smirk on yours.

"What are you waiting for, Princess?"

That's all it took for you to connect your lips.

The kiss was slow at first. Your lips still finding the perfect rhythm to move against each other. However, it didn't take long before the kiss got more heated. He bit your lower lip, asking for entrance which you immediately complied with.

His tongue found its way into your space, exploring your mouth while you tilted your head to deepen the kiss.

It didn't take long for his tongue to find yours, his hands moving up and down your waist at this point while you could feel that you were sitting atop his member, as he got hard.

Your hands found their way into his hair, holding onto him as you moved your hips for a second, making him bite your tongue at the movement which made you gasp in return.

You both parted from each other, a delicate string of saliva still connecting your lips to each other, as you tried to breathe in as much air as possible. This being the only reason you parted in the first place.

The game had commenced while you two had been shamelessly making out and you finally realised that you two weren't alone.

You immediately got off his lap and went back to your place, however your lips were still burning with the feeling of his on them.

The game got boring soon and most disappeared back inside, including Changbin and your friend, while you were now sitting next to Minho, still outside.

He was smoking a cigarette right now, accompanying it with a glass of vodka.

You never really smiled but at this point and the level of drunk you currently were at, you were curious.

"Let me try."

Minho turned his eyes to you, the cigarette still on his lips. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, until a smirk formed on his lips.

"Sure, but allow me to try something." You didn't really mind. He is Changbin's friend so you trusted him as well.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, before his long fingers found their way onto your chin, pulling you closer without a word. They put slight pressure on your chin, which made you part your lips and you immediately understood, parting them a little more.

He came closer to you, your nose nearly touching his as he leaned his head to the side, to blow the smoke inside of your mouth. You inhaled, but he didn't give you a lot of time to think as his lips smashed onto your again.

The smoke not being the only thing that went into your mouth as his tongue followed suit. You held onto his shirt, returning the kiss while his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing them for a second before he lifted you onto his lap by your waist.

You immediately adjusted to the situation, sitting up slightly. Your hands finding his neck as you returned the kiss. Your tongue finding his, the fight for dominance not taking long as Minho immediately won it.

You both parted again, out of breathe. It was way too hot between you two. And you both wanted nothing more than to taste the other.

Without a word he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his torso as he carried you to his room.

His room was a no-go zone at parties like these. Everyone knew that. The moment he entered you noticed that the room was empty. He closed the door behind you two, locking it before he resumed his way to his bed, letting you fall on it.

Minho didn't wait for another second, his lips were on your neck this time, as his hands found your waist again. His lips were leaving butterfly kisses all over your neck before he finally found a spot he was satisfied with.

His lips latched onto the soft skin and he sucked on it. Gaining a sweet moan from your lips. He grinned, finally letting go of the skin, admiring the dark hickey that was forming.

"You're okay with this, right?" He asked, just to be completely sure, before you two went any further.

Your nod was more than clear, however that wasn't enough for Minho.

"I need your words, Princess." Those words went straight to your core and it needed a lot of self-control to not cum untouched.

"Yes, please." You didn't need to tell him twice. He removed your shirt from you, his hands immediately unclasping your bra as well as his lips found their way onto your chest.

Soft butterfly kisses littered it at first, before his mouth found one of your nipples catching them between his teeth. At first he softly licked it, watching goosebumps erupt all over your skin before he softly bit it, again pulling a moan out of your throat.

Your sweet sounds were going straight to his member but he tried to control his desires, wanting to prep you enough for him.

You could feel yourself getting wet and it only got worse the more he continued. You needed to feel him inside of you, but you could barely form thoughts, let alone words. Everything felt so good for your touch starved body. And it didn't help that Minho was so perfect at everything he did.

He stopped torturing your breasts, continuing his journey down, a soft kiss on your belly-button and you felt his teeth on the hem of your pants. His hands skilfully opened them before he pulled them down and threw them away.

Just as he had done with your shirt and bra.

"Already so wet for me. What a good little, Kitten." A whimper escaped your lips the moment you felt his hand on your inner thigh, moving closer to your heated core.

"Minho." You managed to moan but the boy only smirked as he moved your drenched panties aside to let one finger graze your folds. He was only rubbing them slowly, but this was enough for you to arch your back already. His fingers felt so good, you could barely wait for them to finally enter you.

"You want me so bad?" He looked up at you as you nodded as much as you could. "I will need your words, Princess."

"Yes, please Minho-..." A moan escaped your lips as his finger entered you. Your hands found the blanket behind you, as you had nothing else to hold onto.

He moved his finger slowly at first but the moment he felt you losing your mind his pace picked up, hitting all the right places.

You were so close to your release when you felt a second finger entering you. You pushed your head into the mattress, trying to ground your thoughts but everything felt so hot. You could barely wait any longer.

"I'm so close." You whined which only made him pick up his pace.

"The cum for me, Princess." Seconds passed after his sentence before your orgasm came crashing down on you. He helped you ride it out until he pulled out his fingers, licking them clean.

"you taste so good." He chuckled.

"You made such a mess, only because of my fingers?" You blushed. "Let's see what a mess you'll make for more." He knew he prepped her enough so he finally got rid of his clothes as well, letting his member finally out of its confinement and you understood why he had to prep you so good.

His member was a sight to behold and you could feel yourself getting wet again only at the sight of it.

He got on top of you, pulling a condom out of his drawer before you stopped him.

"It's fine, I'm on birth control." You needed to feel him inside of you, without a condom.

"Are you sure?" He asked, wanting to be completely sure that you were okay with this.

"Yes."

He threw the pack of condoms away, not wanting to waste another second on them before he connected his lips with yours again.

The kiss was as messy as the first ones but this time you could feel him positioning himself at your entrance.

He broke the kiss, his eyes finding yours. Analysing if there was any doubt before he pushed the tip in slowly.

Your warm walls immediately welcoming him.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He moaned as he slowly kept pushing his member deeper. You were holding onto him, your nails surely leaving marks on his back as your back softly arched. You needed him inside of you, all of him.

He finally bottomed in, giving you a moment to adjust to his size before he pulled out nearly completely only to push it inside a little more forcefully this time.

His groan and your moan mixed as he kept a fixed pace. Your back arched as his member hit your sweet spot every time he pushed it back inside of you. His hands holding your hips so that he could burry himself as deep as possible.

You felt so good around him, your pussy clenching around him as you felt yourself getting closer.

One of his hands moved to your clit, softly rubbing it as he thrust into you, making you scream his name out in pleasure.

You were happy it was so nosy outside, or everyone would have probably heard you two. It was impossible to contain your moans.

"I'm close." He notified, hid hold on your waist tightening.

"Please come inside." You moaned, wanting to feel the warmth of his cum inside of you, to fill you up with it.

"You you want me to fill you up with my cum?" You didn't have to look at him to see the grin.

"Such a needy, whiny brat. If I had known this we would have done this earlier. So good for me. You better take it all. Every drop." He chuckled as his thrusts got sloppier and harder.

You were close, your pussy clenching around his member which made him groan.

"Clenching so good around me, such a good girl."

This only threw you over the edge, your pussy clenching around him as you arched your back, your orgasm hitting you like a truck for the second time.

He helped you ride it out, his thrusts not faltering as his pace only picked up, indicating that he was getting closer to his release.

You felt overstimulated, your pussy was burning as you tried to match him but there was no need, as he came only a few moments after you had.

His hot cum filling your walls as he held your hips still to push his member as deep inside of you as he could.

His back was arched as he threw his head back, your pussy so tight around him that it felt as if it was squeezing every drop out of his members.

"So greedy." He chuckled as he pulled out, admiring the mess you two had made.

"I told you to take it all, Princess."

He teased as he noticed some of his cum sliding out of your hole, only to push int inside with his finger again, making you moan in the process.

Your clit was extremely sensitive and every touch felt burning hot.

"Min, mhh." His eyes focused back on your fucked out state and he grinned, pulling his finger out of you and in front of your lips.

"Taste our mess." You immediately parted your lips taking his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean.

"What an obedient Kitten."

You were exhausted at this point, hoping that he wouldn't make you leave now, but it seemed as if he had no intention to do so.

He pulled you closer to him, covering you both with a blanket.

"Rest for now, let's clean this mess up later." A soft kiss was placed onto the back of your neck as you back was pressed to his chest, his hands secured around your torso.

It didn't take long for your eyes to shut and for you to fall asleep next to him.

No one had ever made you feel as good as Minho had, and you were certainly hoping this wasn't the first and last time you did this.

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