#i have no idea whats going on in this show

[yieldtotemptation]

ANACHRONISM ft. Mina

mina x male reader smut

part one of strange currencies

14k words

Go ahead, try and pretend like any of this happened by accident.

Like you totally didn’t mean to charm some poor, pretty little thing; dazzle her with the wealth, the fame, the you of it all.

Have her spreading her legs for you, bunching her dress up over her thighs, serving herself up like she’s one of those ludicrously expensive banquets you frequent, pleading—

"God, I need you inside me, like, right this fucking second."

Because here’s the truth of it all, what you’ve come to realise about this woman who has never once in her entire life been reduced to something as pithy as poor or pretty or little; let alone anything short of extraordinary. This wildly successful, elegant to the point of being untouchable, and just really, really fucking gorgeous idol:

Nothing about Myoui Mina is accidental.

Even all this—her idea: showing up at your suite uninvited, leaning against the doorframe, panties hanging off her fingertips. Showing off how ridiculously drenched she is for you and how badly she wants you to do something about it.

If only these walls could talk.

“Hurry up,” she’s gritting out. Deadlocking the door behind her. Still not used to waiting for anything, apparently. “Come on, I need your cum. Anywhere you like. Just inside me. Now.”

You should be more surprised. Instead, you’re laughing. “Patience, darling.”

A step forward, pants hitting the floor, cock in hand. Running the tip of it across her folds, making it shiny with her slick, forcing this sigh from her lips.

You pause, just to make her whine. To make her give you what you really want to hear.

Mina bites her lip.

Squeezes her eyes shut.

She knows the deal.

"Please."

That word, that crack in the composure, the control that Mina is so used to maintaining everywhere else but here. It’s the thrill of it all—the challenge in the attempt. Taking someone like Mina, all perfect posture, sparkling teeth, effortless grace; and bringing her to her knees.

Figuratively speaking, mostly.

Only, her phone lights up.

You look down and see it, left abandoned on the floor somewhere in Mina’s rush to get to you. But now its glow is stark against the dark parquet, beaming with messages by the dozen. All different variations on the same question: where the fuck is she?

Her eyes flicker to the screen, then back up to yours. There's a silent conversation happening there—desire fighting with duty, lust with loyalty.

You make it easy for her.

A push is all it takes, really. Cunt yielding to your will, cock sliding into that ridiculous tightness.

She freezes.

Braces herself.

Whimpers.

“Priorities, Mina,” you grunt through it, breaching in deeper; assaulted by the heat of her cunt around you, choking each inch. “Remember, you asked for this.”

The phone keeps buzzing, panicked vibrations at your feet. Urgent messages becoming calls, flashing faces across the screen. You can see them one-by-one, see Mina’s reaction as they pop up—sighing when she sees her managers name, eyes widening when a rather flirty photo of Chaeyoung comes next, and then her entire body tensing, tightening around you at the next picture:

Her and her boyfriend, arms thrown around each other, both looking all beautiful and famous and so very much in love. The perfect couple; so picturesque it might as well have come right off a billboard.

“God, fuck,” Mina groans out, panting, breathless. “You’d think they’d—ah—just leave me alone for one—single—night—”

“Should we snap some photos? Add them all to a group chat, send them through? Let them see the look on your face and figure it out from there.” 

Mischief flashes across her eyes, mouth open to answer back with something that is no doubt clever and suggestive and designed to get you both into far more trouble than you’re already in—but she doesn’t get a word of it out.

You’re slamming into her.

Mina nearly comes apart then and there; eyes snapping shut, neck arching, back banging against the hard, unforgiving wood of the door behind her. Her lips round into this perfect ‘O’ of surprise, and this sweet, sweet needy whine comes slipping out from her throat.

And just like that, she’s all yours again. 

It’s not like the phone goes silent—it just stops mattering.

“Asshole,” she’s saying—grinning now, doing that Mina thing where she says one thing but means another, expecting you to read the underneath. Which this time is—touch me, pull me close, pin me and keep me fucking trapped while you fuck the air right out of my lungs.

“Now there’s an idea.” You’re kissing her, tongue past her lips, tasting the rush of the forbidden, the lines she’s crossing just so she can have you filling up her cunt.

And there’s all this noise—the sound of your cock thrusting into her, skin against skin, shaft into wetness; the buzzing of the phone, her cries of your name dying in your mouth.

Oh, you know it’s going to be brutal if anyone was to overhear, if you’re caught and all this gets out. The narratives that will be crafted, the cliché of it all, the sizzling hot headlines that will undoubtedly paint her, as they are wont to do, in a million different unfair ways.

Seductress. Gold-digger. Slut.

But even as you’re fucking her deep, lips marking up her skin, digging your fingers into the meat of her ass and making Mina cum so hard that all she can say is— “please, please, please,”

—you know the facts, no matter who’s begging who under the shine of the outrageously garish chandelier hanging overhead:

You're the one that chased her first.

—

(It’s incredibly fitting that this whole thing started with a celebration.)

—

Taking a step back, to months earlier, at a gala:

Where it’s becoming apparent to you, and seemingly, just you, that Mina’s the only one here that doesn’t look entirely out of place.

Or at least, she’s the only one that seems to fit amongst the grandeur; the imposing pillars and archways, the ornate cornices, the glint of gold and jade beneath the soft glow of paper lanterns, and the shadow of the palace itself, cast over the sprawling garden like a looming guardian.

The anachronism of it all is the concept, or so you’ve been told. The new, the future—your company—against the backdrop of the old, the traditional. A fusion event, meant to celebrate and honour the past right before yanking it to the future; and yet it all somehow feels so…

Boring.

The same faces, the same games; sharks in a sea of corporate sabotage and political machinations. They’ll smile for you, sing your praises to the highest heavens, do everything they can to make you remember their name—right up until the moment you show your back.

All this to say, it’s going to be very hard to last four hours without wanting to punch someone in the face just to make things slightly more interesting.

(Oh come, one and all. Throw yourselves at the feet of Korea’s youngest self-made billionaire, and hope that by some stroke of luck or misplaced charm, you might just catch a crumb from his table.

That’s what this whole exhausting circus feels like to you.)

So, when you’re about done with what seems like the hundredth round of fake laughs and vacuous pleasantries with yet another politician who’s trying to sell you on the importance of family, and coincidentally, his very marriageable daughter, you make your escape.

Something about needing a drink.

Ease out of the circle, let the noise of the gala swallow you up like you were never there, and navigate across the garden to the bar.

Where you find her.

Mina, something of an anachronism herself; looking more at home amongst the pagodas and the cherry blossoms than in the company of suits and ties and plastic smiles. Like she’s been painted onto the scene; rendered in living colour—stark white, midnight black, blue silk. Or cobalt. Maybe azure.

You’ll have to reserve some time later to ask her about the colour of her dress.  

What’s important is that she’s alone, which seems like a crime in and of itself, on account of, well, how fucking breathtaking she is. Add that she’s here at all, and it all amounts to some kind of serendipitous miracle.

(An idol, a celebrity, willingly spending her free time in the company of the elitist dregs of society? The world's gone mad.)

You don’t really need an excuse to join her; you know her, technically. Not intimately, but in that same way that everyone in this high society tapestry is threaded together. An award show here, a charity function there—the kind of acquaintance that lets you say hello without raising eyebrows, but not much more.

All this to say it makes some sense to slide yourself onto the barstool to her right, ignoring that the rest are completely unoccupied.

The smile that Mina gives you as you approach is a little sharper than it needs to be, a little too knowing.

“You’re not going to ask if this seat’s taken?”

You return the smile, a mirror image of hers, and lean onto the bar. You don’t even need to look at the bartender; your drink is in your hand, cold and crisp, the second you set it down. “I thought I’d risk it.”

“Neat trick,” Mina says, posting her chin on one hand, watching the sleek liquid slide down your throat. She’s got a flute of champagne in front of her, untouched.

There’s a gravity to her, you’re realising only when you’re this close. Something in the way the moonlight's kissing her skin, a blend of porcelain and peaches, glowing. Maybe that’s why she’s been left alone; the other guests were smart enough not to get swallowed up in it all. Better to appreciate at a distance than to drown in it.

She regards you for a beat, runs a finger around the rim of her glass. "Shouldn't you be off being the centre of attention somewhere? Shaking hands, kissing babies, that whole bag?”

“Nah," you’re dismissive, looking back out to the crowd milling about, lost in their own conversations and power plays. "This whole thing's more for them than it is for me."

Mina scoffs. Raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. You follow her eyes—across the banners, the placards, the giant projection cast onto the palace itself.

A brushstroke circle—the logo you designed—swirling around, stamping itself on what was once a symbol of absolute power, now reduced to just another stage for the rich and the elite and all their insignificant little games.

You feel the need to clarify. “For the company.”

Mina ripostes. “That just so happens to be named after you.”

“Just one of those funny coincidences.”

“Apparently so.”

It does occur to you that it should be somewhat startling how instantly familiar you feel around Mina. Slipping into casual conversation—light jabs, coded compliments; all soaked in insinuation. Just enough edge and implication to keep you on your toes.

There's an ease to her, to how she smiles, how she laughs, how she just sits there, all drop-dead gorgeous and oh, this? Nothing special, just how I always am.

So it’s only natural that somewhere in all this easy banter, between your third drink and her second, her hand lands on your forearm, your knee brushes against hers and you both decide to stop being so subtle.

You pick your moment, as she’s thumbing through a menu of drinks she’s already deciding she doesn’t want, to try to solve the mystery of her. Past the red of her lips, the edge of her jaw, the hollow of her throat. Along the neckline of her dress, where the silk clings like it’s afraid of letting go, and down to where it dips and angles out; the open shoulder, the collarbone, the swell underneath.

It’s the sum of it all, you’re realising. The dress, the look, the woman.

(Accentuate without revealing. Tease without giving away the prize. Show off that flawless ass and dare the world not to look. And yeah, they fucking look. They all do.

You’re just the only one that doesn’t look away when you're caught.)

But now, you could reach out and touch her; unlatch the straps of her heels, run your fingers from her ankle up, up over the smooth expanse of her calf, her knee, the bare skin of her thigh right where her dress decides to daringly split, and underneath, until your hand is filled with the heat of her and all she knows is you.

You could complete her. Or she, you, you think.

Only, there’s a slight misstep in an otherwise immaculate ensemble.

A necklace.

A ridiculous, ugly, tacky thing. Hanging off her like a misplaced jewel on a swan; more ‘costume party’ than ‘refined modern gala’. Fighting the simplicity of her gown, offensively jarring, especially against the serenity of the moonlit garden.

Mina notices you staring. “A gift.”

“Boyfriend,” you realise, doing the math in your head. A careless present, given by someone who doesn’t know (or doesn’t care to know) her. Hoping the flash, the dollars spent overshadows the unfamiliarity.

(It doesn’t.)

“Partner,” Mina confirms. There’s a slight dip at the corner of her mouth, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of something unpleasant. It disappears as soon as it comes, but you caught it. “A little too old to have a boyfriend.”

“Hm.” You click your tongue. Narrow your eyes. You’ve been told that it makes you appear disarming. “And where is this partner?”

Mina’s smile returns. She takes her first sip of champagne. “You tell me. Don’t you sign off on all the invites?”

“Just the important ones.”

“Even so, not like he would have come if he was invited.” Mina leaves you to fill in the gaps. “A tad too public. For the both of us, really.”

“I see.”

And you do. You’ve seen your fair share of these types of arrangements, participated in a few, even. At the beginning, the secret of it all, the cloak and dagger; it’s exhilarating. But that only lasts so long. Eventually, like all things, it fades. Leaving you with someone who you don’t really see, who you don’t even know, and the sinking realisation that maybe the thrill was the only thing that kept it interesting. 

“So,” you lean forward, drawing your conclusion. “You’re here. All alone. Stuck in a relationship with someone dumb enough to let you go out looking like that.”

“Careful.”

“It’s just,” you offer, your gaze lingering on her throat, “You don’t strike me as the type to settle for anything less than you deserve, Mina.”

That makes Mina pause. Almost flinch. Imperceptibly if you weren’t looking so closely at her lips. The sound of her name rolling off your tongue, like it's always been there, waiting to escape—it has her reeling.

And yet, somehow, she recovers.

“Because you know me so well.”

So, you switch up, throw a curveball. “Is it the sex?”

To her credit, Mina barely reacts to that provocation, as if she was expecting the follow up. Just takes another sip of her champagne with a grace that seems rehearsed. You’ll have to try harder.

She shrugs a bare shoulder.

"Sex is just sex. It’s not everything."

“So, no sex at all, then.”

Mina’s smile is like a knife’s edge. “Are you always this forward?”

“All I’m saying,” you keep going, somewhat emboldened by the game, by the warmth of the whiskey poisoning your kidneys. “If it was me—”

Mina’s hand slides up your forearm, ending somewhere around your triceps. You’re close. Close enough to inhale her perfume; cinnamon, smoke, darker than anticipated. You’d fill your lungs with it, if you could. “If it was you.”

You take another drink. She watches.

And it clicks into place. What this really is. What she’s really doing here.

The slight tilt of her shoulder, a slip of her dress—just a fraction. A shift in her seat and suddenly, the silk has risen, too high, and there’s a stretch of skin leading up to a flash of lace that’s more moonlit than the night itself.

The suspicion sets in. Was she waiting for you?

Mina laughs.

You ask, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking,” Mina says, lowly. Grinning, like she’s reading your mind. “How even you’re the same.”

“How so?”

“All you men. How you see me, how you’re looking at me right now.” She reaches up to her neck, taps the clunky stone hovering over her throat. Once. Twice. “Making it about you. You think I need saving.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open once more to protest—

“That’s what you think.” Mina interrupts, smirks; and your eyes are on her lips, wondering if anyone would be able to pull you off them if you were so lucky enough to taste them. “What you want is to own me.”

“Mina,” you regard her, openly. Honestly. “I could never dream of owning you.”

She nods back towards your logo, emblazoned across the castle walls. “Because you’re clearly not the type of person that likes owning things.”

And there’s a realisation here, as she’s staring into your eyes—a real, actual, bone-deep revelation—that she's been doing the same thing as you this whole time. Reading you, until she's seeing through you.

The silence stretches, thick and sweet , and it’s obvious to see where this is heading. The idea that’s being sparked—lean in, kiss her right here, right now, with all these eyes on you. Kiss that smirk right off her face, steal whatever clever rebuttals she’s composing from her lips, the flirtations that she’s left hanging in the air. Replace them all with your name.

But it’s all hypothetical, for now.

“You’re not even thinking past right now, are you?” Mina asks, amused. "The rumours you've started just by sitting next to me."

"Rumours."

"The kind that ruins careers. That never leave. That would make him want to kill you if he found out."

Another sip, letting it burn down your throat. Think about it. Attack it from every angle—

(Doesn’t it just make sense; the billionaire, and his beautiful celebrity partner? Or even if there was a scandal, just a one-night fling; wouldn’t it be worth it?

You could both live off the thrill alone, it’d reignite whatever embers her boyfriend hasn’t stomped out yet.)

“Maybe I want the rumours.”

Mina’s eyes widen. It’s the first time she’s dropped her guard.

“If you were mine,” you start, and stop immediately, reining in that last word on the tip of your tongue. “If you were my girlfriend, partner, whatever label you want to put on it. I’d tell the whole damn world. Broadcast it on every channel. Make sure everyone knows exactly who I’m fucking every single morning, afternoon, night.”

You’re hitting the mark of something, you can tell, because Mina’s hand tightens around your arm, and she doesn't seem to mind when yours lands on her thigh. A flash; the thought of spreading them, of seeing her laid bare underneath you. Or flipped over in front of you, crumpling that dress around her waist, so you can take proper purchase of that ass that’s been hinted at all night long.

And all of a sudden, she doesn't seem to be as spoken for as she might have led you to believe.

She bites her lip. Keeps it there for a second, two, before letting it go.

“So, this is what you usually say to all the pretty girls you invite to these parties?”

The alcohol’s loosened your tongue enough to state truths you’re supposed to keep to yourself. “I usually don’t have to say anything at all.”

Mina challenges. “Must be nice, being this rich, cute, and charming.”

“The being rich part does a lot of the hard work.”

“So, the cuteness and the charm?”

“I’ll let you decide,” you finish, watching her smile spread, the corners of her eyes crinkle. It makes your chest tighten.

“I suppose, in your perfect world,” Mina surmises, and now she’s so close that your knee is splitting the difference between her thighs, and you’re already planning the logistics of it all—the where, the how— “this ends with you fucking my brains out behind one of these old houses.”

“I’ve got a few in mind.”

“I bet.” Mina takes one last pull of her drink, empties it, and sets it back down. “And afterwards? After you’ve made me forget my own name and made the entirety of my existence revolve around your cock—what’s your plan then? Who are we—who are you going to be?"

You finish off your own glass, setting it down with the same deliberate clink as hers. “You know, the funny thing about money is," you say, sliding your fingers up her thigh, higher, higher. "It can make you whoever you want to be. So, the real question is—who do you want me to be?"

You’re holding your breath as she answers: “Not some knight in shining armour. I don’t need a saviour. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then what do you need?”

Mina inches, gets close, and now her breath’s a tickle on the shell of your ear. She bites. “Just someone to help me scratch an itch.”

There’s a moment, somewhere before Mina threads her fingers through yours, lets you lead her through the throngs of guests and into the shadows of the palace; where all of this—this want, this need, boils over. Where Mina kisses your cheek and warns:

“You don’t have the time for me.”

Now it’s your turn to grin; reaching up to her throat, slipping that necklace off her, leaving it to clatter onto the granite below never to be spoken of again.

“Maybe. But I can make every second count.”

—

This is how you end up:

Pinning Mina to some ancient wall; the moon’s spotlight spilling over the contours of her body, a hand tangled in her hair, the other pushing her dress higher up her thighs.

You weren’t lying, you did have a place in mind. Namely, by the west gate, where a house that used to be the servant’s quarters stood. It’s a part of the palace that’s been neglected in the reconstruction, and thus, ironically, the most authentic part of this whole sham.

A true hideaway for those not to be seen or heard; a building that’s seen centuries of service, of lives lived in the shadow of royalty, and now it’s going to bear witness to this, to you and Mina, undoing each other with every passing second.

Something a little sacred, a whole lot profane.

She’s smiling against your lips; a smirk, more likely. Because she’s new to this kind of thing—the almost romantic picture the two of you are painting—chaste kisses stolen in quiet corners of royal residences. The kind of thing that could fuel a dozen dramas.

But you both know better.

So, you let her start things off, let her set the pace for this evening's affairs. And Mina, to her credit, is gracious enough to tell you exactly what she wants.

(Kiss me harder, touch me here, please, please, don't let go.)

Twisting the lapels of your jacket in her hand, desperately pulling you closer, even though there's no more room left. Kissing you with longing. Making you believe that she's missed this—missed you—despite the fact that you've only just officially met. And sure, it's a lie, but it's a lie that feels so good, so right, that you’re willing to indulge her.

Indulge yourself.

Your lips veer off the corner of her mouth, ignoring the tongue and teeth that try to keep you there, the hand that kindly urges you to not stop kissing her.

Because you’ve got a ticking clock in the back of your mind, counting down the seconds before someone calls you or her away, or more problematically, catches you and her, a heap of limbs and lust and fucking in the dusty archives of history.

You break away, keep things moving, kiss your way along her neck, feel her heartbeat drum against your lips. Follow her neckline down, down; find this sweet little spot, a darkened freckle right on top of her collarbone that makes her sigh.

“Tell me something, honestly.” Mina finds her voice the same time your fingers meet the promised lace of her underwear, turning her words into these breathless moans. “How often do you do this?”

You tug the fabric pooling at her waist—once, firmly—and Mina’s dress slips from her shoulders, whispering down her arms and leaving her in nothing but flawless white and a strapless bra that matches the silk in hue. 

You smile, look up. “This?”

Mina clarifies, "Whisk some innocent girl away into a deserted corner and—"

She’s cut off by the click-clack of her bra releasing behind her back, your fingers slipping beneath the cotton, and you’re filling your hand with the swell of her breast; so soft, so perfect.

The sound when you touch her and she gasps; if only you could capture, keep it forever. You’ll just have to make sure she keeps making it—kneading gently, rolling the pebbled peak of her nipple between your thumb and forefinger, feeling it bead and tighten.

Your lips to her shoulder, you ask, “And what?”

Mina sighs, “fuck her completely, thoroughly senseless,” and you swear there’s something revelatory about how she says it—sinful ideas from saintly lips.

"Honestly?" You pause, your gaze lingering on the goosebumps rising across her skin. "You're the first."

Her laughter's a surprise; it's light, disbelieving. "First?"

"First tonight."

Mina's smile widens, her grip on your jacket tightens. "You're so full of shit," she says, but there's no malice in it. Just the thrill of the hunt. Or, being hunted.

You don’t bother to argue the point; let her think what she wants. Instead, you lean into it (into her), let your other hand snake around her thigh, over the elastic of her panties and lower, until you’re palming the curve of her ass.

Firm, taut, flawless—because of course it is; exactly like the rest of her. She’s so hot under your touch; the softness, the smoothness of it. And you know—without a doubt—you’re going to worship this ass.

A squeeze for good measure—balancing the fine line of respect and greed. Mina yelps—surprise, pleasure.

“God,” Mina shudders, does her best under the assault of your lips on her neck, fingers pinching, tugging, hand squeezing. "You're—oh, you're not so bad at this."

You press a kiss to her throat. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Miss Myoui.”

“Please, not with the government names,” Mina hisses, her cheeks flushing a soft pink that matches the glow of the lanterns outside.

“Apologies.” You chuckle, slipping your hand underneath the band of her panties, and around—down—pressing against her and sinking lower until you’ve got a proper hold of her. Soaking wet and dripping heat onto your fingertips.

A cry from her lips. A shiver. A buck of her hips.

Her hands shoot to your chest.

“Please, kiss me again.”

You oblige—how could you not, with the way she’s begging?

Her nails dig into your shirt, her breath hitches as you push your finger—your index—past her entrance and inside, and just before she can moan your name into the night air, you’re filling her mouth with your tongue, licking inside.

You kiss her like it’s your first kiss, like it’s your last. Like the only way to calm her down is with your mouth and your tongue and your teeth. She’s so wet and tight and pulsing around you, she’s trying to suck you in; and fuck, when you’re knuckle-deep she bites down on your lip so hard she nearly draws blood.

The moans that she's filling your mouth with; this symphony of want sends a jolt of pure, unfiltered desire straight to your cock. You're straining—against your trousers, against her thigh, straining against the urge to rip that dress off her and leave her bare, but you're not there yet.

It's about her, about needing her, making her beg for it. Making her so desperate that she'll do just about anything to get you inside her.

(Because there’s something about her, about Mina, that just makes you want to take your time. To learn the ins and outs of what makes her tick. The secret spots that make her moan into your mouth, the places to touch that make her shiver, the sighs and sounds that only you can coax out of her.

It’s etched into every line of her body; every curve and sharp edge—just pure heat from head to toe; And there’s a beauty so absolute in her perfection, the dash of makeup, the careful draping of her hair, it’s too good not to ruin. To not want to leave your mark on her in some way so that everyone knows she was once yours, if only for a night.)

“You’re just so needy, Mina.” You hum into her jaw, when your lips slip from hers and you struggle to resist the urge to leave these marks on her. Her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Every part of her that she’s offered to you, every part you’re eager to claim. “Like it’s been ages since someone’s touched you like this.”

“I don’t—please—” is all Mina can manage, because the pad of your thumb is ghosting over her clit, pressing in and circling, and the way her pitch rises and she sighs your name gives you your answer:

It’s been a while.

“I don’t think—gah—” She tries agin, but you torture her with another finger, stretching inside her, sinking in and curling upwards. “I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this.”

“Good,” you tell her, and she shivers when your voice rumbles through her, when you drop down and your lips go low again, and you take one of her stiff peaks between your teeth. “I don’t settle for second place.”

“Neither do—God—I—” Mina braces herself against the wall behind her, failing to find anything but cold brick to hold onto as you map out the rest of her with your hands and your fingers and your lips.

She’s so, so hot for you; you would’ve never predicted it, not in your wildest estimations. Never thought just how easy it would be to undo someone so poised and put-together like Mina, to render her into this puddle of need.

“So why don’t you show me then,” Mina breathes, voice trembling as much as she is. You suck deep, swirl your tongue, make her arch her back to push more of herself into you. “What all the—oh my—what all the fuss is about."

“As you wish, darling.”

And there’s part of you that’s recognising the awfulness of what you’re doing, taking something—someone—that’s not yours, and having her tell you all these things, finger fucking these words of oblivion from her lips, touch me, please I need it, kiss me harder, more, more, make me feel it, make me feel you.

But even that part of you is so, so small right now, buried deep down with everything that isn’t Mina, with everything that isn’t her pussy clenching around your hand, or the taste of tits on your tongue.

Ignore all thoughts of the after, of what happens when you’ve made her cum again and again, and you’ve wrecked yourself in the pursuit of it all. What happens when you return to the throngs of nobodies, all rumpled and flushed and red, and the whispers start flying, and the glances are no longer just knowing but shamelessly envious.

That’s a problem for future you.

Right now, you’ve nearly stripped her entirely, pressed up against a wall that’s seen more than its fair share of secrets, and your two—now three—fingers are ruining her in a way that has her dancing on that borderline.

“I’m close, so close,” Mina cries, but you already know.

Because you’re already giving it to her; everything she wants and then some. Touching her, fucking her with your fingers, pushing her higher, watching her unravel.

Making her whine against your skin, making her eyes squeeze shut like she’s afraid of what’s happening, afraid of how much she wants this.

“We’re only just getting started, Mina.”

You let her nipple pop out from your mouth, leaving it to bob in the cool night air, sensitive and dying to be back between your teeth. Hand shifts from her hip, sliding up to cradle her jaw, to tip her face back—force those deep, dark eyes to open so you can really look at her.

Panting, pupils blown wide, and the sight of her so undone sends another wave of heat straight to your cock.

“Look at me.” It comes out harsher, more of a firm command than intended. It does its job. “You're going to cum now.”

She nods, frantically, eyes locked on yours as your thumb traces over her bottom lip, feeling it plump and swollen from your kisses. Her tongue darts out, swipes over the pad, tasting herself and you; and you’re thinking about filling that mouth of hers, or maybe that cunt, or if she’s game, that tight, untouched little asshole.

But one thing at a time.

“I’m going to eat your pussy,” you’re saying everything you’ve dreamt of saying to her since you first saw her, first caught sight of that ass daring to wander past your line of sight; and suddenly, every raw, filthy thought you’ve had of her is coming to the surface. “Then I’m going to fuck you. Again and again. Your cunt, your mouth. That ass. I’m going to take it all. And you’re going to let me, aren’t you, darling?”

Mina breathes, nods, signing a verbal contract to let you do whatever the fuck you want with her, promising you all of her, every part of her you’ve so shamelessly craved.

“Good.”   

And so, you drop to your knees.

You glance up at her. She looks down at you.

Like she’s been burning for this; like she’ll combust if you make her wait a second longer.

Pushing her dress up until it's around her waist, keeping it up with your hands on her thighs, spreading her legs wider. And you’re seeing her pussy, the darkened, plump flesh—bare, wet, begging—and so, so pretty.

Fuck—what kind of guy could resist this?

(The kind that buys her jewellery without knowing the first thing about her. The kind that leaves her to sit alone at a gala like a trophy on a shelf. The kind that doesn’t get to taste her—doesn’t know how.

The kind that’s not you.

And maybe she was right—you do think you could save her.)

“What are you doing?” Mina huffs, impatient.

You smirk, unable to resist the urge to drag this out, to keep her on edge a little longer. "Just appreciating."

Mina's eyes narrow, but the smile never leaves her lips. "Well, appreciate faster."

You don’t need to be told twice.

Take her by the hips, spin her around, make her inhale—sharp. Force her to look away from you, to face the cold, indifferent wall, to brace herself.

“Wait, why—”

“Hold your dress up for me,” you mumble against her thighs.

Mina’s hands obey, holding the silk out of the way; and now she’s bent over, like a fucking present. Letting your eyes drink in her ass; unable to do anything but just stare.

How the moonlight kisses the curve, makes the shadows play against it. So perfect. So round and tight and full. Fruit so ripe you could pluck it from the tree with your teeth.

You’re leaning in, kissing the top of her thighs, right below where her cheeks spill over. Kissing up, a soft press of your lips to one cheek, the other, and fuck Mina’s trembling; barely holding it together, and you’re just getting started.

You drag your nose up, across the cotton of her panties and inhale her deep. Sweet and musky, a fine wine that’s been left to breathe, and she squirms.

Shivers under your breath.

And when Mina sighs something that sounds suspiciously like a warning—because she’s not the type to let you get away with anything like this so easily—you take the band of her underwear with your teeth, feeling the fabric stretch. Thin, delicate, begging to snap.

The panties fall away, down to her ankles. The sound of her heels tapping the ground as she lifts her legs to let it slide off, leaving her bare, vulnerable, and yours.

Mina goes still.

Hands spread her cheeks, and finally, you dive in, tongue first. Swipe along the crevice of her ass, taste the sweetness of her from bottom to top, forcing this gasp from her lips. You’re not shy about it—no room for anything close to it when your nose is pressed up against her asshole—and Mina’s thighs are trembling, muscles in her legs tightening like she’s trying to run away from what’s coming next.

But she won’t. You’ve got her pinned. You’ve got her right where she wants to be.

You flatten your tongue against her pussy, lick from cunt to asshole in one, long slow drag, make her sigh your name like it’s a prayer.

“I can’t believe—I never—no one’s ever—” She’s talking, trying to keep it together, trying to rationalise how something so filthy is making her fall apart in a million different, tremendous ways. But the words break off into moans, pure music to your ears.

“Like that?” You murmur against her skin, words disappearing into her.

“Oh my god, yes,” Mina cries out, a benediction. Her grip tightens on her dress, holding it up like a veil. A fucked-up kind of thing, marrying her cunt to your lips; arousal so potent you’re drowning it.

Because she’s a wreck, been a wreck since the moment you laid a hand on her. And now you just have to keep her there.

You let your tongue slide up and down her slit, teasing the folds, going lower, spreading her legs to lap up her clit until she’s begging for it—until she’s begging for you to push inside, to fuck her with it, to make her scream.

"Enjoy it, enjoy being so messy for me.”

"Oh—oh my God!" Mina cries out as you delve into her, and the sound echoes down empty corridors, bouncing off the walls, taking a grand tour of the palace. “I can’t believe—can’t fucking believe—"

You can't believe it either. That no one else has had the pleasure of tasting, of licking, of dining on this slice of Eden laid out before you. It's a crime against nature, really. A sin that you're more than happy to rectify.

"Fuck, you're so good," Mina voice is strained, her legs buckling under the weight of her own desire, she needs to post one hand onto the wall to not completely collapse into your mouth.

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. Feeling smug and utterly in control. "It's not rocket science, darling. Just a little bit of appreciation goes a long way."

But you're not just tonguing her ass because it’s there, because it’s what you’re into. You’re doing it because it’s driving her wild, because you know it’s a button that’s been left untouched, unexplored. And there’s something about being the first to do it that makes your cock throb, makes you want to worship not just her ass, but all of her.

Every part of her that's been neglected, overlooked, ignored.

"You have no idea," she breathes, her legs trembling harder now, "How good it feels."

You lean back, just a fraction, looking up at her, the tension coiling up her spine. "Oh, darling," you say, "I do. Believe me, I do."

A kiss into the small of her back, and you slide your finger back into her, once at first. So impossibly wet, stretching so easily for you, welcoming you right back in.

It’s all for you.

And you can’t get enough, so you add another, then another, stretching her even more, making her drench you and moan for you louder and louder.

You’ve figured it out. How to fuck her, lick her, press into her cunt just right. Finding the rhythm, that makes her breath skip and her body tense, that makes her pussy clamp down around your digits.

“Oh, God, oh, oh, oh—yes—right there—right there—” She’s panting, her hips jerking back, meeting every thrust of your fingers and your tongue.

You’re so close to making her cum—so close that you can almost taste it on the air—and she’s begging for it, so sweetly, so desperately.

“Please, please, don’t stop, I’m right there—” Mina’s hand reaches back, tangling in your hair, and she’s pulling you closer, grinding herself against your mouth.

Bury your face between her cheeks, fuck her fast with your fingers. It’s heaven down in the depths of hell; her thighs, her cheeks, her cunt, her ass. So soft, so wet, so very yours.

That whimper, that beautiful sigh that escapes Mina’s lips is her final invitation. You push your tongue inside her, opening it up, feeling the tightness, the warmth. The shock coursing through her as she surrenders to the unspeakable filth and bliss of your mouth on her asshole.

So tight, so clean, so delicious.

You lick and suck and kiss, fucking her with your fingers, pressing into her, exploring the depths of that tight little hole.

"This is, this is—” her voice strains, wonder, desperation, downright heat at what you’re doing to her. "No one’s ever done this to me. Keep eating my ass, please."

It’s her words that keeps you going, and it all becomes a blur of moans and shivers, of the way she tastes, smells, feels. But you don’t stop, you can’t, all you want to do is make that tight ring of muscle yours.

“Please let me cum. Now. Please. I need it—I need you—”

She needs you to never stop.

You take her, right there in the moonlit garden, hidden by the shadows and the foliage and the silk of her dress. You can almost feel the vibrations of her voice in your mouth, against your tongue, like it’s a part of her, like she’s speaking straight into your soul with every moan and gasp and plea.

The squelch of your fingers fucking her. Her cunt griping you, being devoured. Your tongue invading her ass. The way you’re ruining her for everyone else. Her cries.

She’s so loud.

It doesn’t matter.

The whispers of the gala seem so far away, so irrelevant. It’s all about Mina and her ass and your three fingers sawing in and out of her and she’s saying—

“God, fuck, how can you do this, how can you make me—fuck—"

The answer to her unfinished question: it’s because she’s worth it. It’s because of her, how she makes you want to prove yourself. Because of her hips and her thighs and her cunt and her ass and all of her, every single part.

And that’s your name on her breath, that’s your name when she’s close, that’s your name when she finally tips over, when her legs give way and she’s gasping it into the night.

“Oh my—”

Mina cums.

You swallow.

Drink your fill from her cunt, fill up your nose with her scent. Burn the memory of what it’s like to have your face buried in her ass and have her leaking down your chin. It’s a full body spasm that wracks through her, setting her soul on fire. She’s a star, a supernova, a fucking explosion on your tongue.

Her walls pulse around your fingers, squeezing, clenching, and you give it to her, keep fucking her through it, keep licking, because she’s still there, still hovering.

It overwhelms her—she lets it—you feel her body tighten, quiver, then release like a bowstring snapped.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please—yes, like that—right—right there—yes—yes—yes—”

A chant of yeses right before falling off a cliff and into an oh fuck, I’m cumming.

And you’re right there, knees in the dirt, smiling against her cheeks, holding onto her hips, making sure she doesn’t collapse entirely.

And fuck, she goes, and goes and goes.

Until the ground falls beneath her feet.

You’re there to catch her, to ease her down to the ground with you, hold her in your arms until her world stops spinning.

It takes a moment, two.

And she looks up at you, like she’s unsure of how she got there, in this tangle of sighs and limbs and you. But it doesn’t really matter because she pulls you closer, hand still buried in your hair, needing to kiss you just one more time.

Her taste lingers on your tongue—sweet and salty and so uniquely her. She kisses you again, a little less frantic this time. A little more like she means it.

It’s hard not to feel anything but pride.

Mina’s cheek is pressed to your chest, her eyes barely able to focus, her breaths coming in quiet, contented puffs.

And you’re coming to realise what kind of woman Mina is. Even now, when she should be an unrepairable mess—sprawled out on the cool floor with her dress in a puddle around her, her pussy still pulsing and leaking down her thighs—there’s this poise to her that’s downright intimidating.

She breathes, “You’re just a fantasy, aren’t you?” It feels like a warm hand sliding down your spine.

You lean down, kiss her forehead, tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

It’s peaceful. It’s perfect.

And then your emergency line rings.

Mina inclines her head. A spell is broken. “Well, that’s timing for you.”

You instantly regret the next words that come out of your mouth, the rational words that have never sounded more irrational. “I need to go.”

Mina’s far too polite, far too graceful to say what she wants to say, what you’re pleading her in your mind to say. But she knows the game. You both do.

She just nods, rewards herself with a peek at the tent angrily poking underneath your slacks.

“It’s fine,” she says. (It’s not). She reaches up to your lips, running a thumb over the gloss she’s stained you with. “I think I can handle it from here.”

Her other hand slips down to your thigh, gives you a courtesy squeeze as a farewell, and it’s all you can do not to jump. But you can’t, because the phone’s still ringing, because at the end of the day you’re still a billionaire with responsibilities and a reputation to uphold.

She’s kind of enough to give you an out. “You’re supposed to be giving a speech, right?”

Said responsibility and reputation has you answering, “Yeah.”

You’re stupid for it, stupid for even entertaining the idea of letting her go, or leaving her behind. But you’re not completely blameless—it’s near impossible to even think straight when all the blood in your body has gone south for the evening.  

“Are you going to be okay with,” Mina blinks down at you. “Your situation?”

It’s painful to even say it. “I guess I’ll have to be.”

Mina sits up, pulls herself off you, untangling her legs with a grace that seems almost otherworldly.  Pulls her panties back up, tucks them into place with a little shiver. Smooths her dress down, twisting it back in place.

You’re already regretting letting her leave before she’s even gone.

But the messages have piled up on your phone, and Mina can see it all, the endless frantic texts, the missed calls.

You’re late.

You’re needed.

The world’s waiting.

Mina reads your face, and you can’t tell if she’s impressed or disappointed. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

You stand up, help her to her feet, because that’s what you do—you take care of your own messes. She’s still smiling at you, and you want to tell her how much you wish you could stay.

“It’s okay,” is all she says, as you tuck your shirt back in and slick your hair down.

She’s redoing her own hair, trying to fix it into something presentable. Something less ‘I’ve been fucked raw against a brick wall’ and more ‘gee, quite a strong wind tonight’.

“I knew from the jump you didn’t have the time.”

You’re blurting out, “I can make more.”

“Not even money can buy that.”

Your phone rings again.

Mina’s eyes follow the screen, the glow lighting up her face. Ethereal. Yeah, that's the word for how she looks. You've never been sure of the definition but you're certain it fits.

And when she stands on her toes to kiss your cheek, to bid you farewell, she holds onto your shoulder long enough to whisper her address in your ear. “I’ll be waiting. If you can get away.”

“Why don’t I just come with you now?”

She laughs—but it’s empty, almost a little sad. “Because, you have a job to do, and I have an appearance to keep up. And unlike you, I’m not quite sure I’m ready to broadcast to the whole world who I’m fucking. Or who I’m going to fuck. If he’s not late, that is.”

And with a quiet breath, she’s gone.

A ghost in the moonlight, slipping away like she’s been painted out of existence, leaving you with the memory of her on your mouth and the ache she’s leaving in your cock.

You turn back to the gala.

The air feels somewhat colder.

—

The rest of the evening goes far, far too slowly for your liking.

While your absence has been noted, the whispers and glances are more curious than concerned. They don't know where you've been, and one of your assistants is kind enough to fetch you a new shirt to replace the one that's smudged with lipstick and makeup and Mina, before any real juicy rumours can start.

You try, and fail, to get things moving as quickly as possible:

(A business rival pulls you aside to congratulate you on the recent product launch��You're just thinking about Mina's ass.

A board member sings your praises about last quarter’s earnings, how you're really sticking it to those idiots that forecasted a downturn—You're only thinking about sticking it between Mina's thighs.

A reporter that sneaked in wants to know if you're planning another acquisition so soon after the last one—Yes, you're going to acquire Mina; find somewhere far away from here with another wall to pin her against and make her scream and ache all over for you.)

Thankfully, your assistant is at the ready before you can really make a scene, dragging you over to the stage and pulling you out of this shit show.

‘Just stepped away for some air’ is what you had assured her when she took the shirt off your hands, but really, there's no point trying to hide it.

She's seen that look before, that glow that you can't quite wipe off.

But she's loyal, she doesn't ask questions. Just tells you that you’re on in five, and that in the meantime, she’ll make sure the driver is ready for a quick exit.

So, you force yourself to smile, address the faces that meld together into a wall of teeth.

Make a speech that’s just a rush of words that you've recited countless times before. Innovation and growth, the future of the company, the same spiel from the annual report wrapped up in a shiny new bow.

But none of it matters. You're not even hearing yourself speak. You're hearing the echoes of Mina's moans, feeling the tremble of her thighs as you devoured her, replaying her orgasm in your mind again and again.

You can't wait to get off this fucking stage.

The second the applause dies down, you're off like a shot. The podium forgotten; the spotlight cold on your back. You grab your phone and slip out of the garden, dodging the eager hands that reach out for just a second of your time.

You find your driver waiting, just as instructed; Mina's address already punched in the navigation.

Just go, drop me off. Don't stick around. I'll call you to pick me up in the morning.

—

“It was cerulean,” is Mina’s amused answer to your admittedly idiotic question.

Not your best moment, to be fair. You raced up to her apartment so quickly that you really didn’t have anything more intelligent to say than ‘what happened to your dress?’ and ‘I wanted to know what colour it was’.

But still, show you the person living or dead that could have said anything coherent when being greeted by Mina, opening the door to her apartment—so unashamedly smug, and so very naked.

So what if you just stood there and stared?

Stared at the curves and dips, the way her hair cascades over her shoulders in inky waves, damp from a shower; making it cling to her skin, drape over her collarbone, her breasts. The nipples peeking straight at you, dusky, pointed, waiting the return of your tongue. Her pussy winking between her thighs, a treasure hidden in a sea of smooth flesh.

You don’t know whether to apologise for your lack of eloquence or thank her for being so incredibly distracting.

You kind of want to request that she turn around.

Mina laughs at what is certainly a stupid expression colouring your face; folds her arms across her chest, crosses one leg over the other. "Waiting for me to offer you a drink?"

You blink. “Thought you already gave me one.”

She scrunches her nose, answers, “I was only being polite.”

“I think we’re well past that.”

There’s that gravity again; shifting around Mina, tilting the world towards her until she’s pulling you into her apartment and you’re kicking the door closed behind you.

“Then hurry up and take me upstairs.”

—

There’s a part of you that feels like you should warn Mina when she tells you:

“Look, you’ve kept me waiting too fucking long. I need your cock, your cum inside of me. Right now. Before it’s too late and I change my mind. So, just please, please, please—”

But those kind of thoughts are lost halfway up the staircase; when you both decide that you just can't wait anymore, and your hands are back on her hips and your tongue is pushing into her throat.

Her fault, really.

Stripping you down the hallway, leaving a trail of your clothes through her kitchen; taking you by the cock. Firm, confident pumps as she leads you through her penthouse, refusing to give you a moment to breathe.

Because she’s obsessed with it. Obsessed with how it fills her hand, how it jumps at her touch, how it throbs when she squeezes it, strokes it.

“So big for me," Mina's says—to you, to herself, to your cock. "So perfectly, impossibly, big for me."

You’re never going to make it to the top.

Pressing her up against the banister, kissing her, hard. Deep, bruising kisses, because now that you’re out of the garden you don’t give a fuck if you’re leaving marks.

You just want her to remember this night, to feel it in every pulse and every breath.

Make her think of you when she’s with him, if she can even go back to him after this. Because you’ll both know that she’s yours even when she’s not.

“You’re going to ruin me, you know that?”

You look into Mina’s eyes. You can see it all, how the rest of the night will play out. You and Mina, tangled in her apartment. You and Mina, on top of the kitchen island. You and Mina, against the shower walls, on the living room floor, maybe even on the balcony.

You and Mina, until the sun rises.

You kiss her harder. “Is that a request?”

“Of course it is.”

Because now you actually have the time to appreciate her, to let your hands wander.

They glide over her body, mapping it out again, but slower this time. You've had your fill of the frantic touches, the greedy need. This is something else. This is savouring.

You start with your thumb at her navel, tracing the line down to her hips, then back up against to the base of her ribcage. It’s the feel of the muscles in her stomach tensing and relaxing as you touch her, the inhale and the exhale. How ridiculously tiny her waist feels in your hand, how your palm fits so perfectly into the curve of her side that you swear she’s been tailored for you.

Mina chokes on her breath as she tells you, “You’re going to have to stop, or we’re not going to make it to the bedroom.”

You don’t even slow down. You just don’t care.

Your hand rises, higher, finds her breasts again; cupping it in your palm. A thumb rolls over her nipple.

You pinch. She gasps.

You smile into her neck. “So, so, sensitive.”

Mina’s so willing, so keen to give herself over to you, to your touch. You’ve proven yourself to her already, made her cum with just your fingers and tongue. Now it’s just a matter of doing it all over again—but slower, better, more thorough.

You palm her breasts, rolling and pinching them until they’ve been given the attention they deserve, until she’s panting through your teases and caresses. Kneading the soft flesh beneath your hand and making her arch into your touch.

“You’re really going to take your time, aren’t you?” Mina mewls, half-sigh, half-plead. Grinding herself into you, making a shimmering mess on your waist. “Going to torture me until I can’t breathe.”

“It is your fantasy.”

Pull her closer, take a handful of that perfect ass once again. It hasn’t really been that long since you last had it in your hands but it’s all you’ve had on your mind. What it looks like under proper lighting, what it feels like without the dress in the way. What kind of noises will she make when you grope, and she doesn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing.

Press and squeeze, dig your fingers into her flesh. Not rough, but firm. Leaving little spots of red that will be gone by the morning.

Slide your finger down, down between her cheeks, and deeper, pressing into the sweet heat of her ass.

And then you feel it.

Her asshole. Wet and slick. Prepared.

A wink. A laugh. "Not my fault you're predictable."

You can’t fucking wait anymore.

She’ll just have to settle for the staircase.

Grab her by the hips—her ass, and pull her down with you onto the steps, her legs straddling you as you sit down.

Take her in—all of her. The curve of her, the line of her spine, the fucking paradise that’s her cheeks. Unbelievable.

You kiss into her back, follow down that trail right to where it swells, feeling the heat of her skin against your lips. You’re going to ruin this ass; permanently plant your flag there, mark it as property of you and your cock until she can’t take a seat without cursing your name.

Mina's shoulders tense when you pause, and she looks back over to you. There's a flash of nerves in her eyes, a gasp of "Here?" that's so faint you almost don't catch it.

Another kiss into her skin, you murmur, “Here’s perfect, Mina,” and she sighs when your finger presses against that puckered ring, cold with lubricant, made as ready as she’s ever going to be.

It’s the preparation that gets you; the idea of her in anticipation for you, for this, making sure she’s nice and primed. Mina at the store, still wearing that dress, fresh from her orgasm, buying lube. Mina in her bathroom, stripping herself bare, toying with her asshole, making it perfect for you.

And Mina, now, eyes clenched shut, breaths heavy as your digit is pushing through, slipping into her, and she’s so fucking tight around it.

“Oh my god,” she hisses through her teeth, a quiver in her legs as you push deeper into her tight channel.

Your hands shoot to her thighs to steady her, a reassuring anchor to keep her from toppling over as your finger fills her completely, twisting and turning, slowly but surely easing her into the idea of being taken.

It’s the moans that get you, the sighs as you intrude inside her. She’s so responsive, her breaths skipping and her pussy already starting to gush, coating your finger, your thighs, the steps below.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah—yes,” Mina stutters, her footing slips just so, but she catches herself on the banister. “It’s—it’s intense. So intense. But don’t stop, I can take it. I want—I want more. I need this. I need this now, before—before I take all of you inside of me."

“You want more?” You repeat her words, before giving her what she needs—adding a second finger, pressing them in deep, making sure she’s good and open. The lube helps, but it’s the eagerness that gets her most of the way there; it’s that trust that she has in you, her willingness to let you take her here, in this way.

“Yes, please,” Mina cries, doing everything she can to not collapse on top of you, to not come completely apart.

You’re merciless, adding a third finger, stretching her until she’s panting, until she’s crying out, making this noise, this hushed whimper that takes the shape of your name.

“Please, please, please,” Mina whispers to herself, pushing back against you, starting to rock back onto your hand, taking your fingers into her ass.

“Not yet, Mina, not yet,” you tell her, because even though she’s close, even though she’s begging, you want her to be absolutely fucking desperate for your cock when the moment comes. 

You reach around her with your other hand, finding that button, already swollen and begging for attention. Playing with it, gently at first, a soft pressure to help her let go, to allow herself to let her voice echo up the staircase and through the penthouse.

God, how is she this sensitive, reactive to every little touch, to every exploration of her cunt, her ass, her body.

It’s the ceremony of it all; this lurid, obscene ritual that you’re walking her through. Making her ass bounce on your hand in this hypnotic movement, making her stretch around your fingers, making her repeat your name over and over until she’s convinced herself that all of her belongs to you.

These perfect, near-silent sighs. This unbelievable tightness. Mina’s body, turning itself into a fucking playground for your touch; to do with it as you will. Even if it means ruining her.

And it’s when you have her creaming all over you; down her thighs, making a mess of herself with these pushes and pulls, these declarations of how ready she is for you, that her body shakes with one last, long shiver.

She cums.

Softly, soundlessly, another cry of your name dying on her lips. A hand to your wrist to stop you abruptly, panting.

Tiny, tiny shivers, twitches in her thighs, around your fingers, leaving her barely there, barely with you. Head hanging low, chest heaving, catching her breath, putting herself back together again.

Time stretches before she's cognisant again, and she turns back, looking over her shoulder and straight at you. Eyes half-lidded, hazy, dripping with lust, anticipation, burning with need.

Deep, heavy breaths. And then Mina says the most devastating thing:

“I’m ready. Fuck my ass. Now. Please.”

A gunshot in the quiet of her home, rumbling through your bones.

Your fingers leave her ass, her cunt with a wet pop, forcing a whine from her throat at the sudden emptiness. A look at her asshole, how it clenches and unclenches, beckoning for you to fill it, to claim it as your own.

“Good girl.”

Holding her by the hips, lining her ass with your cock, nudging her opening with your tip and making her shiver. You don’t go in immediately; you hover, giving her one last out, to really see if she’s absolutely certain.

Mina trembles. Nods. That’s all the invitation you need.

“God, I—”

You push in, slow and steady, eyes on her ass as she takes you. So fucking tight, so intense, you can feel every part of her squeezing, accommodating you, moulding itself around your girth and swallowing you whole.

“Take it slow, darling, take it slow,” you whisper into her skin, guiding her down, telling her how good she’s doing, how good she is for you, how much you love her tightness, her trust.

It seems impossible at first, the grip she has on you, like you’ll never get in. But inch by agonising inch, she takes you, and it’s nothing short of total heaven.

Mina, so fucking beautiful in this moment of raw vulnerability; all sharp inhales and strained quivers wrecking through her, voice shaky as she tells you, “I’ve never felt anything like this, I never thought—fuck—I never thought I could take anything like this.”

“You’re doing so good,” you kiss your words into her, wrapping your arms around her, holding her.

“I can—I can do better,” she gasps, and you believe her.

But you still go slow, so painfully slow, even though every fibre of your being is screaming at you to just dig into her hips and slam into that glorious fucking ass and never look back.

“I can take it,” Mina breathes, “Do it, I can take it. I want all of you. In my ass. I can handle it.”

Mina nods, clenches her ass, her cheeks firming up around your throbbing cock.

“I want it to hurt so good.”

No more convincing required. You push in deeper, make her back stiffen, her muscles contract, making her cry.

It’s a dance, a delicate ballet of bodies, of breath and touch, of your cock inside Mina’s ass. Lost in it, in the feel of skin on skin, the sound of wet, needy noises that she’s making, her shudders in your arms.

Until finally, with a strangled gasp, she’s fully seated. You’re buried in her tight, hot ass, basking in the warmth of her, leaving you both winded and struggling for air.

Stillness overrides the moment, because it’s too perfect, too overwhelming, and the feeling. You need to get used to the feeling.

You break the silence first. “Mina?”

“I know. I know.”

A kiss against her neck, scraping the soft skin there. A whisper in her ear, your breath hot and ragged.

“I’m going to fuck your ass now.”

You always keep your promises.

Mina answers by leaning back into you, her hand finding yours, her nails running along your fingers as if to say, “Yes, please, now.”

Moving, so slow it’s almost painful. The drag of her ass around your cock like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re sliding through warm, velvet-covered steel.

“Fuck, yes, please,” with every inch you pull out, and “Too much, so good, too fucking much,” when you push back in, deeper and deeper still.

It builds and builds, this sweet agony, each pass in her ass faster, harder, turning Mina’s cries and wails into moans of pure bliss. It takes time and long, hard fucking for her body to relax into this rhythm, letting you take her, own her.

A vision above you, sweat glistening on her back, hair matted and sticking to her shoulders, and Mina’s ass, a snug ring around your cock. You watch as your cock slides out of her, the way her ass clenches around the head, holding on for just a second before pushing all the way back down.

You can’t help but groan, “Christ,” as she moves on top of you like that. So gracefully, so beautifully, so fucking obscenely on your cock.

“Thank you—God—thank you, thank you, thank you.” Mina’s moans are pure music to your ears, she’s babbling, talking through the pain, through the pleasure. “So, so good, filling me like—fuck—never been filled up like this.”

And as you push on, push further and further until your cock is melting inside her, burning her up in every way she's ever dared to dream, you can see the smile curling onto Mina’s face. It’s pride, you’re realising. Proud of herself, proud of how she can take you, how she can handle this kind of depraved ecstasy.

“It feels so deep.”

Tearing her open. Revealing the tender, delicate core beneath the glamour, the lights, the unreal beauty that is Mina. Leaving her sobbing, pleading, whining for more, more, more.

Bouncing on you now, each more assured than the last, cries of nothing but need. Opening up to accept you fully, completely, her ass a tight fucking sleeve for you, coming down and wrapping itself around you like a searing hot second skin.

You know the truth, but you still want to hear it.

“How many?”

Mina has her answer ready: “You’re the—you’re the first.”

You grin. A smug, triumphant baring of teeth that spreads from ear to ear. “I have no fucking idea how that’s possible. How nothing has ever been up this tight, perfect little asshole.”

“Oh, there's been toys,” Mina moans, strained and shaky as you pump into her, “But you’re just the first that's real.”

“Then your boyfriend is a fucking idiot,” you growl into her ear, your hand moving to her throat, gently clasping, making her gasp, making her eyes go wide with shock, with excitement. “He doesn’t know what he has.”

“Enough about my boyfriend,” Mina's quick to answer, snapping, her head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. “Even though—even if—he wouldn’t, couldn’t dream of filling me like this. Filling me up so much that it hurts, so much that—fuck, it feels so right, so fucking right—”

“You love this, don’t you, Mina?” You ask, but all Mina can do is nod vigorously, too overrun by the fucking to form words. “Underneath it all, you’re just a dirty slut for it, aren’t you? Letting me use this pretty, tight ass like this.”

“I—” she stutters, right before confessing, “I love it.”

She slams her hips down on you, the stairs groaning with each thrust, not built to withstand this kind of punishment.

“I love that it’s you, love that you’re the first. I can’t believe it—just—I need it. I need your cock in me, so deep—I need you, I need you, I need you—so please don't stop.”

“I would never dream of stopping.”

Never.

Not when she’s begging like this, her voice hoarse and her body quaking. When she sighs and shivers every time you fuck a little faster, push a little harder, testing just how much she can take.

Tits jiggling with every thrust, cunt leaking all the way down your thighs, ass puckering and loosening.

Her whole body, yours.

Yours for the taking. Mina’s divine body, in all its sharp planes and ridged muscles, squeezing and coiling at every juncture, every penetration setting her alight.

You declare it, even though it doesn't need to be said. “Made for me.”

“Yes,” she’s nodding. Or rather, letting her head fall into one. “God yes.”

“Just been waiting for me for so long, haven’t you? Been waiting for the right cock to come along and split you in half.” You’re saying these things, these stinging words that you fuck into Mina, send shooting through her like sparks. She’s a live-wire, a fucking blackout waiting to happen.

Weeping down her thighs, choking out every whine, “Yes,” she whispers, “yes, yes, yes, been needing to be ruined. Needing it, needing you. So much, so much, so—fucking—right—”

“Fucking criminal that you had to wait,” you’re saying, loving this, so enraptured by all of it. “But I’m here now.”

Mina shivers, pussy clenches, and she just can’t stop saying, “Yours, yours, yours—”

Completely, totally yours, now.

You know it. She knows it.

It’s written in the way she takes your cock, in the way she loses herself to you, loses all semblance of composure and decorum, peels back all the carefully curated layers that make her Mina, until all there is to see and touch is the raw, unfiltered need that you’ve unleashed from underneath.

"Touch me, fuck me, take me, take my ass, I need more—"

Again, your fingers find her folds, sticky and swollen and waiting.

You touch her, press down on her clit. Circling it with the same rhythm as your hips. Striking a match in a dark room, lighting up her body in this blaze.

The noises that it all makes; the slosh of your fingers at her cunt, the squelch of your cock invading her ass, so fucking explicit, so fucking filthy. 

She’s erratic, breath catching, throat pulsing against your fingers, and she somehow, impossibly, clenches even more around you, suffocating your cock with just her tight, tight ass.

You keep that same tempo. That desperate, fucking unyielding beat that’s going to make her come, going to turn this idol, this mystery, this drop-dead fucking gorgeous woman who should belong to someone else but is now screaming proudly just how much she’s yours, into nothing but a trembling mess of whimpers and whines.

“More, fuck—oh my god, oh my fucking god—it’s so fucking good—so good—so fucking good—”

She’s reaching her peak—her voice, her body, her cunt, her ass—all of her reaching that perfect crescendo of pleasure that you’ve been orchestrating, that you’ve been waiting for.

“I’ve never—no one’s ever—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Sinking into her, making her feel like she’s being torn apart and remade with every stroke, making her feel nothing like she’s ever felt before, making her feel like nothing but your fucking whore.

So, so close, barrelling towards it now, all these tears running down her cheeks, these filthy words slipping from her lips. Coming apart in your arms, because she’s never been this filled, this complete.

“Going to—going to cum—fuck me, harder, harder—going to cum all over your cock—” Mina tells you, a warning, the last one you get before she screams, “Too good—filling me—so good—give it to me—God—I can never go back—”

She shatters. Monumentally.

Into a million tiny pieces of pleasure, each one more brilliant than the last.

Her body spasms, her ass squeezes so fucking tight around your cock that you can feel the orgasm ripping through her, up her spine, through her throat, until she’s crying out and it’s hitting your ears—

“Oh my God, I'm going to—just, say my name—please, say my name when I—”

“Mina,” you say, and she cums.

“Mina,” you repeat when her pussy floods over your hand, ass smothers your cock.

“Mina,” again when it ripples across her skin, leaves her in fits, uncontrollable quakes, consumed by pure, unfiltered joy.

You watch the whole thing—watch her scream your name, watch her shake and quiver and fall apart, right there on your cock; and you're fucking her through it all, fucking her well past it, chanting “Mina” over and over again.

You'll never forget this, never forget this sight—this woman, this star, built up and broken down just for you.

“Mine,” you bite into her ear, because now, it’s true.

Mina’s barely there, eyes glassy, hand cradling your face. But she’s able to say it, because it’s branded into every bone of her body: “Yours.”

It’s a complete disaster.

And now you're cumming.

Brand new sensations, devastation in full measure—your soul ripped from your chest, until all that’s left is this impulsive, overwhelming need to give her your all, your everything—to fill her entire existence with just you.

You drive your cock into her once more, impaling her deep, and let go.

It floods her, rushes inside her, spills and spills.

Mina can't do anything but feel it—every pulse, every spurt. She throws her head back, her mouth open in this silent plea, satisfaction painted across her face as your heat surges inside her. Her ass milks you, needy for every drop, so, so thirsty for it.

“It's—cumming inside my ass—so, so nice, keep cumming for me.”

You hold onto her, throb inside her, pump ropes into her, and there's a kiss—hot and clumsy—somewhere in the midst of it all, your mouths colliding and tongues wrapping around each other in a futile attempt to last just that little bit longer.

Getting all dizzy and spellbound, floating back down to the ground as the last waves of your climaxes start to subside, until one of you says, “Thank you,” and the other echoes it back.

You stay like that, swallowed up inside her, dripping out of her ass. Lowering one hand from her throat, rising the other from her pussy, pulling her into an embrace, keeping her as close as you can while you both try to put yourselves back together.

It’s sex that soaks the air, fills the penthouse—sweat, lube, the musk of all the evidence you're leaving behind. Intoxicating, breathing it in, setting your nerves alight, rousing your cock inside her all over again.

But Mina, she’s a stunning catastrophe, torn asunder in all the best ways. Perfection not marred, but made better. Completed. Looking up at you with wonder, with gratitude, with a smile.

You look down at her and admit it, “Perfect.”

Mina laughs out loud, “Disastrously perfect.”

“This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

You kiss her once more.

Mina kisses you back.

“Only if we make it one.” 

—

You think you can read her mind.

And she, yours.

It’s the only way any of this makes sense—how perfect you fit together, how well you read each other; fill each other’s needs without use of any words outside of curses and names and strangled pleas.

Printed onto your DNA, carved into your bones, these exact pathways you shape through her home and into her skin.

You do make it to the bedroom, somehow.

And then, exactly as predicted:

The shower, where Mina takes you into her mouth, gags herself around you, covers herself in your cum before letting the water wash it all away.

Then the kitchen, polishing off a bottle of wine, slurring promises into Mina’s cunt, having her rake the back of your scalp and scream the same promises back into your ears.

And finally, the living room, folding her over the couch, tumbling onto the floor with Mina, riding you so hard the neighbours below start banging on their ceiling in protest. 

It's only the balcony that goes untouched.

Maybe another time.

But that’s where it ends: sprawled across a lush rug, sticky with sweat and cum and wine, naked and bare. Ignoring the watchful eyes of the photos that line the walls and shelves—family, friends, her boyfriend. Just living in this bubble where the sun will never rise and the world outside ceases to exist.

Getting to know each other in ways few people ever do.

Tracing patterns into the small of her back, asking these questions. Is this what you always imagined you would be doing? How you thought your life would be? Does it ever actually feel enough?

Mina pokes and prods back, her nails lightly scraping against your chest, leaving half-moons in her wake. Do you think you could ever be happy? Do you ever wonder why it’s so hard for other people to keep up? Are you fucked up in all the same ways as me?

And it’s so easy to answer truthfully, to be honest, because you’re both still maintaining the façade of this just being a simple fling; a blip along the timeline of your lives.

The yours and mine of it all, all those promises you were spilling. Just callous words tossed in the throes of passion.

They didn’t mean anything real.

Because it’s not like you’re going to see each other again, not like there’s going to be a mess of emotions and consequences that will have to be dealt with in the morning after.

Eventually though, the light does slip through the curtains, the clothes come back on, and you’re kissing Mina against the doorway and thinking of a million reasons why you should stay.

"So, how long are we going to pretend that this is normal?" You broach, and it immediately feels like you’re breaking some unspoken rule. 

Mina’s keeping herself busy, hands at your shirt, buttoning it back into place, one by one. Hiding away evidence that her mouth, her lips, her teeth were ever on you.

She looks up at you. Smirks. “Fucking ‘til the break of dawn, giving each other orgasms that never quite end? Flooding each one of my holes with your cum?” 

You tilt your head. 

“I don’t know. This whole thing is… unique. Uncharted territory and all.”

“It goes without saying, but, yeah. Same for me.” You echo, “Unique.”

You reach for her, smoothing her hair back. The early morning light makes it shine like a crown of jewels. 

“Do you want it to stay that way?”

Mina considers. Leans into your hand. “You think we should make a habit out of this? I didn’t pin you for the type.”

“Neither did I, but it didn’t seem so bad when you were riding me on that couch,” you tease. “And in the shower, and on the staircase, and in the kitchen…”

She blushes, lips caught between her teeth, looking like she’s struggling to hold in a laugh. There’s this glint in her eye as her hand wanders up to your cheek, thumb hovering just shy of your mouth. For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you again.

But instead, she just looks at you.

Eyes you with something close to fascination, something that makes your heart stop. And you're reading each other’s minds again, knowing you're both going to lie, going to pretend like this was just a one-night thing. Something the two of you can easily wipe your hands with and walk away from like it never even happened.

Because this really is the first time—you’ve never done anything like this before. Sure you’ve dipped your toe in the pool of commitment, paddled around in the shallow end, but you’ve never fallen for someone proper.

Never worried about what someone's going to be doing when you’re not there, never thought about whether you’d be better off sticking around to find out. 

But you have a job. A company to run.

And Mina, a career. A boyfriend. A life.

So, you don’t make plans.

You don’t even ask for her number.

You don't need to.

Deep down inside you know you’ll find her again.

For now though, you spin your bullshit: “It’s probably for the best if we don’t, though.”

“Probably.” Mina agrees, but she can hear the same ticking clock as you.

The timer that’s already started, counting down to when she’ll inevitably be undoing the same buttons, redrawing the same patchwork of red and pink across your chest, and pulling you into her home and into her; fucking her pussy, her ass, her mouth, in all the ways she needs, until you’re spilling out of her all over again.

 “Definitely.” Mina unlocks the front door. “For the best.”

[five-one-two-station]

At this point I am convinced some people are watching this show solely via the subtitle files, because that's the only thing that explains drastically misunderstanding everything that's not spelled out in dialogue to this extent.

Honestly some of the most embarrassing mass failure of media literacy I've ever seen. It's not even complicated stuff, it's basic text comprehension and story fluency.

- No, Caitlyn's "I know!" is not anger at being called out; she's saying she is very, very painfully aware of what she's done wrong. Watch it again.

- No she didn't take the guards away or go to the cell to have sex with Vi. TF?!?

It was Vi who initiated; Caitlyn was surprised she did.

She pulled the guards away to help Vi if/when she chose to do what she knows her well enough to know she probably would. Vi makes her choice - Caitlyn doesn't "let" her, she just supports it, because it's Vi's choice to make.

Vi has no idea she's done this until after, it doesn't affect her "agency" at all. That's not what any of those words mean!

- She did this as a direct acknowledgement of and response to Vi's previous criticisms.

You are supposed to be able to make the very, very minimal leap of imagination required to understand what the show is telling you here; that she is genuinely sorry, genuinely committed to getting her shit together, and that she has heard and received every word that Vi has told her.

The reason this gesture is so important is that it demonstrates she's now going out on a limb to put herself, her resources, and her privilege to work for the greater good.

And the reason Vi reacts the way she does is that she understands all of this immediately.

You should not need the show to sit you down and spell this out to you step by step Barney the Dinosaur style.

- She works very hard and sacrifices quite a lot to try to do right by people after fucking up so badly before, but not before very explicitly acknowledging that she can't undo the harm she's already done. And this isn't even an inference thing, she actually even says this bit out loud twice, and you still somehow missed it.

- For $5, what do you think the show was suggesting by having Sevika take up her seat, her final costume have no Enforcer uniform elements, and having her allude to an ongoing struggle. Come on, guess.

I am loathe to call people stupid just because some tv show stuff sailed over their heads, but... y'all are legitimately testing that. This is not exactly The Holy Mountain or something, it is very straightforward storytelling.

And just... I mean why would you be this loud about anything without making sure you didn't have it ass backways first?!? In public!?!? 💀

You guys, you have to watch shows to know what is happening in them.

[kkukverse]

Put Your Head on My Shoulder

Pair : husband!jk x wife!reader

Genre: marriage au

Warnings: sex scenes nothing too wild

w/c: 10.3 k

“Passports?”

“Check.”

“Your backpack?”

“Check.”

“My wallet? Your wallet?”

“Also check.”

“Oh! Toothbrushes?”

The man didn’t reply as he stares at you in disbelief. “Babe,” he sigh softly. But you’re too busy checking your luggage and your backpack. Not wanting to leave anything important behind.

“Our toothbrushes Kook, do we have them? Oh god don’t tell me you forgot. Remember Krabi? The one where we forgot our toothbrushes?” With frantic hands you unzip the front part of the luggage to check for the said items.

“Mr. Jeon Jungkook?” 

You let out a sigh as you look up to see why your husband didn’t reply to you. Instead of catching him getting as busy as you are, he is actually looking at you with an amused smile on his face. “There we go, finally you’re looking at me.”

With a grunt you stood facing him, eyes rolling and the little lips pout started to form on your face with wrinkles on your forehead. Jungkook leans forward as he puts his hands on your shoulders, “Babe, calm down. We’re not going to the other side of the world for months. It’s your hometown. I have packed our toothbrushes, and so what, if we left them behind? We can buy them.” Jungkook squeezed your shoulders in hopes to loosen up the knotted muscles as you’re too tensed.

You are always on the edge every time the two of you went on a long trip together. But today it seems to get worse. 

You’re used to be the reckless traveler, someone who is hungry with spontaneous adventures and unplanned vacations. But all of that were before marriage, before you had to take care of another human being.

Ever since with Jungkook, you always feel the need to have everything perfectly arranged. You never admitted it but you somehow feel inadequate at attending the need for your husband.

Well, compared to your peers, you, as a wife, is on an 'okay' level. 

Most of your friends who got married earlier than you certainly are on the master level. You love them, really. But there’s a time when you think that they’re being too good to be true.

They’re the perfect housewives, the spot on clean home all year round, birthed beautiful babies, cooking up home cooked meals that would make top chefs cried. They’re the trophy wives.  

You and Jungkook are a working couple. You work on the typical working hours, from 9 to 5. The house? You think the house look perfect because you have such a wonderful husband who loves cleaning and doing the laundry.

Unlike you, Jungkook works around his own schedule hence his working time is more flexible than yours. Plus, he’s working from home most of the time. If it’s up to you, the house would be a mess. For the food part, on weekdays, it’s take outs. 

You are matured enough to understand that people will show things they wanna show. But somehow, somewhere in your heart, it stings when you thought you are not good enough as a wife.

You have no idea how you managed to catch Jungkook as your husband because that man is amazing. He never complains. Not once. Never degrading you for not being the typical wife.

As if the role is reversed in your household. He has been the one that begs you to rest so he could help with the house chores. He sometimes prepared dinner, although claiming he’s not a good cook but if there’s one warm hearty meal on the table after a long day at work waiting for you, you are in no place to complain.

"Well, I'm pretty independent too, you know. Mom and dad were busy and hyung was always studying somewhere. I know how to take care of myself, and now I can take care of you," This is Jungkook's favourite statement.

He really is an endearing human being. You’re still learning to take care of him as well. Which is why you get fidgety because you’re so afraid of screwing everything up.

“I know but we don't have to buy it. Why are we wasting money? Once we're back home, we gonna have extra set of toothbrushes, which we don't even need in the first place.” You yaps under your breath as you double check the snacks in your backpack.

Rummaging the backpack for the nth time. Ointment, mint breath strips, lip balm, protein and choco bars. Jungkook must munch on something, and he needs sugar. That’s the least you can do. Providing him snacks.

“Will you please look at me?” Jungkook hunched down to be on your eye level. He puts his hands on yours as your knuckles grip the luggage trolley. A little smile adorning his face at how his big hands envelope your tiny hands, looking perfectly fit together. He rarely tells you but he absolutely loves it when he gets to wrap your fingers with his palms. Feeling the warmth emitted from you.

But right now your hands are cold, and Jungkook knew that you’re not just anxious. He’s not sure yet, so he’s trying to ease you to tell him. Silently pleading with his cooing and his bambi eyes for you to look at him back. 

He winced a little when your eyes locked on his. Jungkook knows very well from the look of his wife just gave him. Immediately, he cups your face and lean closer.

“Hey, hey what is it? Can you tell me?” he whispered as if you're both are sharing a secret that only the two of you know. In the hectic airport with so many people come and go, Jungkook grounded you by just being close to you.

“It’s just, you don’t have to come with me, you know. I hate dragging you into my family matters. I know you’re busy and the fact that you have to leave everything for a week is just,” you heave a sigh as you put your hands on his chest. “Just not sitting well with me. I can go there all by myself,” you rambles.

“Don’t say it like that,” Jungkook is not gonna lie but your words hurt him.

It hurts when you’re trying to not include him into your personal matter. He is your husband, he admits it was hard to break through the wall you built. It took him enough time to get a glimpse of the side that you always hide.

He wants to be your tree, he wants you lean on him and trust him. Your problem is his problem too. It pains him to see you stress over something and he just wanted you to share it with him. 

You have never been the one who wears their emotions on their sleeves, so Jungkook have to observe you carefully. He learns with the frown on your face, the wavering voice, the way you avoid eye contact. He is still learning because you are like an enigma in an endless maze, he used to be the one who wanted to decode your thoughts, and the one that can walk into the layers of your maze without feeling lost.

But now he just wants to understand you, wants you to know that he accepts all of your quirks and wandering thoughts. 

God, he loves you so much and how could you unconsciously treating him like he is a stranger. 

“Don’t you dare say it like I’m not supposed to be there. Don’t exclude me from your family affairs. They’re my family too,” he emphasis on every word and it softens you.

“Also, I will not allow you to go so far away all by yourself, not when I’m still capable to go everywhere with you. I know, you’re the most amazing and independent woman but I want to be there,” Jungkook gently butts his head on yours, an act of comfort he always do when you’re not listening to him or whenever you feel a little insecure, it’s like saying I’m here and don’t shut me away, his stern yet soft statement makes your view a bit glassy.

He kissed your cheeks before leaving a fluttering peck on your lips. To soothe your nerves.  

It’s true that Jungkook had insisted on coming with you to your hometown, despite his busy work. Piles of unfinished videos and songs in his studio at home were left behind immediately the moment you said you have to go back to your hometown for a family business.

Jungkook knew what family business you’re talking about because it has been your constant topic during dinner. It’s a series of events. It’s started from your aunt is getting a divorce - not that it has anything to do with you but somehow all of your family members had agreed on an urgent meeting.

You figured out from your cousin that they also wanted to gather in remembering your late Grandpapa. 

It was a long overdue event. It kept getting pushed back because somebody got married, someone just gave birth, your cousin is still studying overseas and much more excuses.

Perhaps they realized now is a good time, or perhaps because everyone is coming to support your aunt. You decided that you must come, you missed everyone so dearly.

The other solid reason why you have to be there is because you’re the closest grandchild to your Grandpapa and it has been years since you visited your Grandmama. Even Jungkook hasn’t met her yet.

She couldn’t make it to your wedding since she had fallen ill at that time. The wedding was a small ceremony with only close relatives and friends. And you didn’t stay longer because you and Jungkook have to fly back immediately. 

You missed your Grandmama terribly. Your grandparents practically raised you when your mom and your dad were economically and psychologically struggling in being a parent. Not that you blame them, because now, you're at their age when they become parents for the first time and you started to understand them.

Grandpapa passed away before you met Jungkook, way back when you were in high school, and sometimes it always hits you at how he would love to know the amazing man you called your husband.

Since he loves teasing you when you were little, and you can’t help but think Jungkook and Grandpapa would be close buddies with their teasing antics. 

You told Jungkook some of the memories you had with your grandparents, you also shared with him the moment when you have to move out from their house to live back with your parents. You still remember the sadness looks in your Grandpapa’s wrinkled face like it all happened yesterday. You did visited them occasionally. During the holiday season or when you have a long school break. But, it was not enough.

Honestly, Jungkook is as excited and definitely nervous in meeting your Grandmama. He heard a lot about that amazing lady from you and he’s afraid of her acceptance. What if she didn’t like him? What if she decided that Jungkook is not enough for her granddaughter? From your stories your grandma sounds like a warm person but what if she’s cold to him?

“Thank you Jungkook, for coming with me,” it came out like a whisper in his ear. Squeezing your hand, he pulls you to walk beside him as he push the trolley to the boarding gate.

Although you were reluctant on dragging him along, his presence still brings you peace, and you need him.

“Oh babe, I forgot to show you. Remember yesterday, Taehyung came over with Yuna?” Jungkook is pulling out his phone from his back pocket. Wanting to show you the video of your friend’s baby.

“Of course I remember. They left before I reached home.” Sighing, recalling how you rushed to get home yesterday just to meet Yuna, the little bundle of joy.

She is just at the perfect age when curiosity takes over her and babies are the best at this age. It’s not like you can meet and play with her everyday. First of all Taehyung loves hoarding his daughter all to himself - selfish - and secondly because of your work.

Yuna is going to forget her godmother since she only spent her baby days with Jungkook, her godfather. 

“I’m very sure Yuna misses you just as much as you miss her. Look at this! She’s sleeping so comfortably on our desk.” Jungkook squealed as he keeps playing the video of Yuna in her pink fluffy onesie, (the one that you bought for her) drooling on your desk next to the files. She was sleeping on her stomach and as Taehyung is about to pick her up, she whined.

Making both of you giggle at her cuteness.

“God, how does she sleeps soundly on that hard desk? You know my ass is still sore from that night you pushed me onto it?” Jungkook smirks like a little tease he is, while you’re trying to act like you have no idea what it is that he’s trying to tell.

“No, honey, I don’t know,” of course you know but you’re trying to focus on anything, not the memories of your tangled sweaty bodies, falling files and your stationary box topple over on the floor. 

Sensing that you're getting shy, Jungkook keeps on teasing you. He is relentless.

He leans over the armrest, whispering in your ears, “awe come on. How can you already forgot how hard you pulled my hair, the scratches on my back, babe? Still stings. God, the way you ride me on your desk, ugh you're so hot,” he sighs heavily and you feel the warmth of his breath on your neck, you're sensitive spot.

You snapped your head so fast at your husband’s bold action. You are in an airplane for heaven’s sake! You can feel the warmth blush creeps on your face. You pinched his arm.

“There are hundreds of people on board, and we’re gonna be here for hours! No one wants to hear our bedroom story!” You hissed and Jungkook is silently yelping in pain. He hates the fact that he loves pain especially from you. 

“Okay, okay, okay!! Sorry, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll behave!” He grips on your wrist to stop you from keep abusing his arm.

The grin on Jungkook’s face is as wide as yours but suddenly your face feel in horror as you remembered you rode Jungkook on your desk!

You had sex on the desk of where Yuna fell asleep on! Slept on her stomach! Face down on the spot of Jungkook’s ass! Baby Yuna! Taehyung’s sunshine! On your desk! Did you cleaned it up?!

A loud gasp coming out from you as these thoughts bombarded your mind. You covered your mouth with your hand while the other one is grabbing Jungkook.

“What, baby, why? You wanna vomit?” Jungkook quickly leans forward to grab the paper bag from the pocket seat. You stopped him, half laughing and half crying, you’re trying to explain to him the sin you two had done but it all came out as broken sentences.

Not wanting to disturb other passengers but wanting to scream at the same time is probably the hardest choice you have to make at this moment. With wide eyes, Jungkook look at you in bewilderment.

“What is it? Should I be worried? Want me to get help?” Jungkook is in between laughing along with you or be scared that his wife is losing it. Honestly he has no idea. 

“Shit, babe. We had sex at the desk! Yuna slept on it! What are we gonna tell Taehyung? Should we tell him?” Wiping your tears while you’re mouth is still widely laughing is a confusing sight for Jungkook but once he gets the gist of what you’re trying to tell him, he, too let out a loud laugh.

The seat next to you gave the both of you a weird look and and grunts can be heard. Your husband straighten his back on the chair and clears his throat as he apologize loud enough for the row in front of you to catch it. 

Leaning back to you he grabs your hand and trying to muffle the noise as you both keep on giggling like little kids. You’re still terrified on the inside, thinking of Yuna and how are you supposed to tell her father? Kim Taehyung is going to cut your husband’s dick once he knew.

“Jeon Jungkook, stop laughing! This is not funny,” your attempt to be serious was blown away by your own wheezing.

“In my defense, you’re the impatient one,” he scrunched his nose with his lips jutted towards you. 

“You could’ve carried me to our bed!” you hissed.

Jungkook gives you a betrayed expression as he puts his hand on his chest. As if you’re accusing him of the crime both of you committed.

“Excuse me ma’am, I clearly remember you’re the one who chanted more baby, please I want you in me, now,” he mocked your moaning. Your face is in your palms as you keep shaking your head.

“I did not sound like that. Please, Jungkook at least tell me we did clean the desk.” Banging your head on his shoulder while he snorted. 

“Well, your welcome, because your amazing house-husband did cleaned the desk. You blacked out the moment we got into our bedroom. Meanwhile, your dutiful husband, wiped our crime scene clean with a hand sanitizer. I told you that sanitizer will come in handy.” This is one of the moments you’re so happy to have such a clean freak as your husband.

“Oh god, thank goodness!” You showered his cheek with kisses.

“But do we have to tell Taehyung though?” Biting your lower lip, you secretly wished he is as evil as you. Because you don’t want to freak Taehyung out.

Just as you thought, called it soulmate behavior, because Jungkook just shrug it off and said to not tell him and even if he did, Taehyung would understand anyway.

He had done a lot worse back in his college days and Jungkook have all the receipts as his roommates. 

Laughing softly you shakes your head. “Can’t believe we tainted Yuna like this. What kind of godparents are we? Unbelievable,” your eyes are getting droopy as the airplane breaking the clouds.

Jungkook is taking off his grey hoodie for you because you always catch cold easily, especially when travelling in an airplane. Thankfully he’s wearing a long sleeve shirt inside. 

He did reminded you to wear an extra layer but it seems like you forgot. Snuggling as close as you can, you sleep almost immediately with your head on his shoulder. Jungkook chuckled at the sight. You sleep so easily. Be it on the bed or in a moving car, you are unfazed.

The first time you went on a road trip together, you fell asleep even before Jungkook gets to drive out of the city. The road trip was a lonely one for him because you slept all the way. 

He is relieved, relieved that you laughed. You were fidgety and anxious with going back to your hometown before the flight and he is just really, really, really grateful that you had a good laugh just now.

He managed to take the stress off of your mind. Always.

“Where is she, do you think she forgot, Kook? Do we have to get an Uber? Ugh, why is she not picking up her phone?” Punching your phone with your thumb, you texted your cousin, asking on her whereabouts.

Not that you’re ungrateful for having her coming down to pick you and Jungkook from the airport, but it would be much easier if she told you beforehand if somehow she couldn’t make it. You would’ve requested an Uber and you’re probably would be home by now. 

“Babe, sit down, please. Maybe there’s a heavy traffic or maybe she left her phone or something. It’s not like we’re waiting for hours anyway. It’s not even an hour yet. So, will you please, don’t stressed out over this, hum?” Grabbing your hand, he patted on his lap, telling you to sit on him.

Engulfing his arm on your waist, he took a breath of your natural smell on your neck and leaving a kiss on the skin. For a married guy, Jungkook is still shameless with showing off his affection on you. Grabbing you, leaving kisses on your face, smelling you. To him it’s an announcement that this girl is mine. 

He sneak a peek on your unanswered texts to your cousin. Seeing you used a lot of emojis and silly meme stickers in your previous conversation with her as you’re scrolling down. 

Adorable ice queen. You rarely replied cute emojis with him. He pouts as he placed his chin on your shoulder. Feeling a little jealous with your cousin.

“No reply yet?” The vibrating sound from Jungkook tickles you but since you’re still stressing over the unanswered text, you ignored it.

He’s now feeling the jet lag starting to kick in. Resting his head on your shoulder, shutting his eyes. When he said you don’t even need a comfortable bed to sleep on, well, it is the complete opposite for him. He just needs you. 

A ping was heard indicating a new message on your phone, and you quickly checked it as a soft laugh coming out from your mouth. Laughing at the meme your cousin sent you. She apologized for not getting out of work earlier because now, she has to face the traffic.

As a truce for her mistake she bought you a dozen of your favorite donuts. 

Jungkook flinched and scrunching his eyes as he felt a movement from you.

“Hey. Sorry, baby.” You noticed the flinched and instantly place a kiss on his cheek. As a token of apology for waking him up. By the groggy grunts, you know he’s awake now. Guilt rushed in you because you know he hates jet lag as it always gets the best of him. You’re scratching his scalp as your other hand is still holding your phone.

“She’ll be here in ten. You’re right, she’s caught in a traffic jam.”

Jungkook just hummed at that because all he wanted right now is to lay down next to you and have a good sleep. Smiling at your husband, you keep scratching the back of his head.

A habit you gained from living with Jungkook. He purrs like a kitten full with milk every time you do that. With one hand you replied to your cousin to just step on the gas like a daredevil she is. 

Your cousin, Suri, is only one year older than you. She’s the mature cousin in many senses but it is always you who she runs to when life is being the big bad wolf.

Like the one when she had to tell her mom - your aunt, that she lost her earrings. They weren’t just any earrings, it was inherited by your grandmama. Being the curious rebel, Suri took them from her mom jewelry box and showing them off at school.

What a way to go when she lost them during recess. In panic, she dragged you and both of you spent hours searching for them in the school yard, at the field (she doesn’t even went to the field), at the cafeteria, basically every nook and cranny of your high school. 

Living just a few houses away, you and Suri were practically attached at the hip, always hanging out together after school, so nobody really questioned why you and Suri was late on that day.

The search was fruitless. Finally she decided to come clean at her mom, which was your earliest idea before the both you dipped your heads into the bushes.

Staying by her side, you comforted her by holding her hand. She was scared shitless and as expected she got a ‘good’ earful nagging from your lovely aunt. But you still stayed by her side, only leaving when she fell asleep, with wet pillow because of the tears and snot. 

Just like highschool, right now you feel the need to be by her side in facing the divorce of her parents. She acted like she was fine when you called last week, from her defeated voice, you know. You know her probably better than she knows herself. 

She was the one who found out that her dad is cheating on her mom. She kept it to herself for months. Months!

Not telling a soul because she’s giving her dad a time or a chance to make things right. Her dad, doesn’t even know his daughter knew. Perhaps she was in denial but not until she broke the news to you. You advised her that she should tell her mom.

Well, clearly she did took your advice because now everyone is here to support your aunt and your cousin. 

From far you can hear a screeching sound which you don’t have to listen carefully to know that it belongs to Suri. She’s loud. Even Jungkook is wide awake now. Blinking like Bambi with his big eyes, his hands are still on your hips. He looks so adorable you can’t help but planting kisses on his nose and his cheeks.

“I’m sorry you have to wake up now. I promise you will have the most wonderful rest at grandma’s. But for now we have to settle with Suri’s car, yeah?” Whispering softly as if you could break him if you speak too loud.

Jungkook just looks so fragile when woken up from a nap. You’re not sure if he managed to catch all the words you just said because he keeps blinking with a slightly parted mouth. You’re so tempted to kiss him silly when suddenly somebody tap your head from the back. It’s Suri. 

“Damn, did I just cockblocked you from kissing him?” She said with a smirk on her face. Her short hair really does look better in person, she was so unsure during your facetime, feeling it would make her head look big.

Getting up from Jungkook, you give her a tight bear hug.

Feeling ignored, Jungkook grabs the end of his hoodie that you’re still wearing.

“Oh Jungkook, my brother! How are you? Man, look at this healthy long black hair. What did you feed him? He looks more buff now” She patted his shoulder like he is her little brother, looking amused at his hair.

“Keep it longer boy, your wife has a long hair kink.” She sends you a wink as if whatever that she just spilled is normal. 

Jungkook tilt his head to you with a wide grin on his face.

“I know, she just doesn’t want to let go of them, her hair pulling game is getting stronger,” he chuckles. He noticed that you have become a lot more touchy especially on his hair ever since he let it grow, long enough to cover his eyes.

And not to mention how you keep on pulling them like your life is hanging on it during your heated sessions. Suri just clapped in amaze at Jungkook’s reply.

The ride was a peaceful one, perhaps Suri is as tired as you are. It's relatively far from the airport to your grandma’s.

You keep glancing out the window to stare at the view. The street is still so familiar with nothing much has changed. Sitting on the passenger seat, you’re devouring the donut from your favorite bakery like a madman because they’re still taste the same. You save some for Jungkook since he already passed out at the back seat. 

The picture of you sitting next to Suri surely brings back your young adulthood memories. Only now with an additional passenger at the back. 

You turn to check on him from time to time. He looks so adorable, you covered him with his hoodie after you took it off from you and his head leans on the window. Suri noticing you keep glancing back, smiles fondly.

“You can sleep with him at the back.” Suri breaks the serenity that lingered in the car.

“No, it’s fine. He’s fine.” Pulling your left leg closer until your knee reaches your chest. A habit of yours every time you’re in a car.

“Seriously, you keep glancing at him like a mom watching her baby sleeps. Does he really can only sleep with you being near to him though?” 

“Yeah, he told me he was completely fine with sleeping alone before he met me. But he couldn’t anymore now.” Smiling so wide you remembered the night Jungkook confessed that.

Suri cooed and dramatically clenched her fist on her chest. “He’s romantic. You used to despise these hopeless romantics” 

“Keyword, used to.” 

Both of you and Suri let out a small laugh, and the smile on her face faded before she let out a sigh. “I missed you. You have no idea how bad it was for me to deal with this shit all by myself.”

You put your hand on her shoulder to comfort her. You know it won’t bring much difference but what else can you do?

“My dad is so stupid, I’m telling you. He asked me to check for his PayPal account when his mistress is still texting him at that time. Imagine how fucked up it was for me? I had to pretend I saw none of her filthy texts.” Suri speaks in a low voice, sounded defeated. 

“I almost broke up with my boyfriend. I keep thinking his ‘I love you’s is as fake as my dad’s when he used it to my mom.” She rubs the bridge of her nose and you listen to her, letting her venting out all of the frustration that she couldn’t do through a video call.

“My mom acted like she’s fine and all. She told me she saw it coming. But she didn’t say shit because of me. How stupid. It’s not like I am a teenager. Hell, they should’ve part ways when we were in high school. At least I get to hang out with the kids from the ‘divorced parents’ club.” 

“No, you were banned from joining clubs because you made a bad joke to one of them kids." You’re trying to lighten up the mood. But it was an exaggerated statement.

“Fuck, yeah I forgot about that one. Well, ain’t I was a troubled child, the sign of a messed up parenting was already there,”

You laugh at that and as the laughter died down, Suri looks at Jungkook through the rear-view mirror for a few seconds before her soft gaze falls on you.

“I pray he treats you right, I pray that your love will never fade. I don’t think I want to get married, not now at least. Love sucks but seeing you two, Lilo, looking this happy, makes me wanna believe in it again.” 

“Lilo? I haven’t heard that nickname in a long time. You either sappy or drunk to call me that,” you giggles at your cousin. Intentionally ignoring the heavy mood because you hate it when your cousin is sad and brooding. Like she’s giving up.

“See, this is what I meant. You, was never serious about love, you hated it more than I do. I thought you’re pranking me when you told me about him. It was me who was in a long relationship but look who’s wearing the ring now,” she slightly punch your shoulder as the car stopped at the red light. 

Unbeknownst to you, the passenger in the back seat is listening to your conversations. 

Jungkook was half awake after he heard laughters and giggles coming from you and Suri. He wants to fall back to sleep but he decided to listen more when you told Suri he couldn’t sleep without you.

Jungkook blushed under his hoodie that he had to pulled to cover his face. He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop on your conversations with your cousin. Since it sounded intimate when Suri talked to you in a low tone. 

But then again, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep after Suri called you Lilo. He never heard of that name before, and he made a mental note to ask you about it later.

He’s eager to listen more as you and Suri are talking about him right now. When Suri said she prays he treats you right, he wanted to profusely said yes, yes he always hope he’s treating you right. Always trying to be the right man for you, that’s all he wanna be. 

He couldn’t calm his wild heart when he heard his name coming from you, speaking softly.

“Jungkook, is so endearing. I’m sure he had it rough when he first met me. I was mean to him. I shut him out. But he keeps coming back, keep asking me to let him love me properly. Truthfully, at first I was annoyed. I told him he likes the idea of me, not the real me. I keep telling him that he would hate me at the end of the day,” you sigh, thinking back to the day you left him with a hurtful looks on his face. 

Jungkook is screaming internally. No I would never hate you, I can’t hate you. 

He wants to hold you so bad right now. Scrunching his eyes with a heavy exhale coming out of his nose. Jungkook knows his love story wasn’t the greatest love story ever told but it was the most beautiful journey he ever walked into.

From meeting you, getting to know you, rejected by you, multiple times, to the day you finally let him in. And he is still learning new things with you. His heart breaks a little when you think of it that way, because he never thought he had it rough, he never thought of you being mean to him. 

“But he accepts me, all of me. I have no idea how to love so he asked me to learn it together with him. Saying yes to marrying him probably seems reckless and rushing to some but out of so many unsure things in my life, being with him isn’t one of that. Now he has become my home, my wings, my lover” 

Jungkook teared up at your confession. You rarely are the first one to show affection but he knows. He always does. 

After almost an hour drive, Suri slowed the car on the familiar residency. Pulling up her car in front of the beige house, you straighten up your back as you can see a few cars already parked neatly, along the street to your grandma’s house.

The beige coloured wall looks new yet you still recognize it as the house you used to reside when you were a little girl. You noticed familiar figures. Looks like everyone’s here already.

You glanced back and saw Jungkook stretching his arm as his mouth widely opened with a yawn. Suri is already out of the car hugging your other cousins. You help Jungkook fixing his hair and coming out of the car together, before they practically swarms you and engulf you in a big hug. 

Jungkook can feel the warmth from the interactions he got. He really feels bad for not staying longer after the wedding. Otherwise he will get to know your family a bit better. He was awkward at first, but your uncles and aunts didn’t treat him like a stranger and everything that you’re stressed about for weeks disappeared into thin air.

The unnecessary thoughts you and Jungkook had about meeting your Grandmama also gone too. 

Grandmama loves him, she may be slightly senile as she couldn’t quite remember people but she is so comfortable with Jungkook. Oh your grandma, the wrinkles on her skin, her hearing and eyesight are starting to deteriorate.

The moment you walked into the door, you saw her on her favorite couch, kneeling next to her legs, you put your hands on her knees. Informing her that you have arrived safely. She couldn’t hear you properly so Suri told you to speak a little louder.

She hardly recognize you which breaks your heart but it’s partly your fault. You should’ve visited her often. 

Jungkook who was sitting next to you just looks at you and your grandma. Fondness filled in his eyes when he saw your thumb rubs circle on your Grandmama’s knee. 

An act Jungkook always does to you. You introduced Jungkook to her and ever as polite your husband his, he stretched out his both of his hands to your grandma. She held his hand as Jungkook told her that he is your husband.

“Lilo? Lilo’s husband?” Grandmama asking for a confirmation at Jungkook. Jungkook kneels closer to her because she hasn’t let go of his hand. With as much energy her frail body can give, she squeezes his hand. “Lilo, you happy?” Grandmama turns to you as her other hand patted your head.

“Yes, grandma. Very happy.”

Fighting the tears from rolling down your face. This whole situation is very emotional because it’s like she’s giving your marriage a blessing. You regretted for not coming earlier. Jungkook notices how emotional you’ve become and he gives you a reassuring smile.

“Lilo makes me happy, grandma. I’m sorry for not visiting you sooner,” Jungkook squeezed back your grandma’s hand and your heart swelled at him using your childhood nickname. 

The night went so well after the emotional reunion. 

The thing about your big family is nobody is left out. It’s loud because everyone get to talk. Even the shy Jungkook is included. Jungkook have no idea kids love him. The only little kids interaction he managed to survive is Yuna, Taehyung’s baby.

Watching from the kitchen window, you can see your cousin’s children are following him like ducklings, the sight is very endearing.

He is good with kids, he just didn’t know that. He has a lot of stamina to match up with the kids’ energetic nature. He had his rest on the way, and now he is walking around while holding an infant.

You instantly think that he would be an amazing dad. 

“Thinking of having one of those?” Suri speaks up from behind you. Her eyes glued on the kids chasing Jungkook at the yard.

Grandmama once told that Grandpapa wants a big yard for kids to run freely. Now it serves its purpose.

“We haven’t fully discuss about it yet, but we did talked ‘bout it” Your feel your stomach doing a back flip because the idea of mini you and Jungkook running around in the house, tiny hands and feet, giggles and gurgles are so, so, so tempting but you’re not sure if Jungkook wants that as much as you do.

Your marriage is still on the early stage. 

As if Suri can read your mind she turns to you to help you stacked up the clean plates. “What’s there to discuss? If you both want kids, then let it happen. I’m pretty sure Jungkook wants them as much as you do.” 

Biting your lower lip, thinking how should you break your desire to Jungkook. “Yea, I guess.” Turning off the faucet, you and Suri walks to the living room.

You and Jungkook decided to stay a night at your grandma’s before spending the rest of the week at your parents’ house. Jungkook feels like he has a lot to catch up with Grandmama. But since it’s already late into the night and Grandmama needs her rest, Jungkook would have to settle down with you and spend the day with her tomorrow. 

Jungkook was given a mini tour of the house before you stopped at your used to be bedroom. It wasn’t big now but it felt huge when you were a little kid. 

You took a shower first before Jungkook because that man takes forever when he’s in the bathroom. Seriously, he could spend an hour doing whatever it is inside it. 

After showering, you sprawl on the cozy bed. Looks like someone been tidying the room, you might have to ask Suri later. You turn around to face Jungkook who is sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Babe, c’mere please, I need you,” you groggily calling him. Jungkook chuckles softly as he crawls hastily to you. Like a dog being offered the bone. This sight could be mistaken as lust but right now, with his bunny grin and and bouncy long hair? He is just so adorable. 

“Okay Lilo, tell me, why am I just found out about Lilo now? Lilo?” Raising his brows as he hovers above you. You let out a soft giggles as you place your hands on his chest, creating a space between you and he pouted at that.

“Truthfully I forgot about that name. Because, only my closest family call me that.” Jungkook hums at that and you can feel the vibration from his chest.

“Back off Kook, you’re suffocating me.”

He whines when you pushed him but he clings back to you like a koala on your side. His legs trapping your legs as his hand sprawled on your stomach. 

“Why Lilo?” He speaks softly.

Confused at your husband sudden ministrations, your turns to face him. “Why are you suddenly so clingy?” You raise one brow to him before he tightens his hold on your stomach. Leaving wet smooches on your neck, your jaw and your cheek.

“Let me love my wife. Come on, you didn’t answer me. Why Lilo? Is it related to Lilo and Stitch?”

You place your hand on his cheek. 

"Yes, it is indeed related to Lilo and Stitch. They call me Lilo because I… Okay promise you won’t laugh first.” You giggle thinking about the silly reason behind your nickname.

“What, babe. Don’t keep me hanging. I won’t laugh.” 

Propping his hand, he grabs you closer. “Stop giggling, tell me.” Jungkook pinches your cheek with his other hand.

“It’s because I used to make voodoos with spoons. Just like Lilo.” You cover your face with your hands. Jungkook lets out the loudest laugh and after realizing that maybe you’re embarrassed by that, he toned it down a little.

“You promised you won’t laugh! Asshole." You smack his arm.

“I said I won’t laugh, I didn't promise anything,” he talks back at you while sticking his tongue out.

“Trying to be a smartass now? Get away from me, I’m sleeping with grandma” You wiggle your body so you could get out from his leg. He laughs even harder as he tightens his hold, not wanting to let you go.

“Awe but why? Tell me more? How did you do it, voodoo queen” 

Jungkook pulls your hands that covered your face, and he kisses the fingers and your palms.

“Kids were mean to me, telling me that my parents doesn’t love me, because I’m living with grandma and grandpa. So, coming home after school, I would grab a spoon and draw a face on it with crayons. Stop snickering Jungkook, it was so hard for me back then.” You pouted at him. 

“Awe I’m sorry, I’m sorry you had a rough childhood. My poor baby,” he patted your hair like he’s coaxing a child. “Who are they? Want me to beat them? I have black belt in taekwondo, let me use my strength.” He said with a serious face. He wouldn’t.

“Jungkook it was a long time ago, and we were kids,” you smile fondly at him, feeling protected though you know he has the softest heart of them all. 

“I forgot their names let alone their faces. Never choose violence, Kook, what if some kids bullied our babies, you're gonna beat them?” You trace your finger on his tensed brows, and they’re soften at your touch.

Actually his whole face softened and lit up simultaneously at your remarks.

“Our babies?" he utter. The words rolling on his tongue so smoothly.

"Say it again, love.” He nuzzles his nose on your neck. Oh, the idea of having a baby with you, drives him wild. 

You on the other hand is giggling at his actions, you’re a bit ticklish on your neck. And when he bites and sucks the sensitive skin, you let out a breathy moan “Our-babies”. Damn Jeon Jungkook.

“Kook,” you speak as softly as you can.

“Hmm,” he lapped on the abused area, purple and dark pink are subtly forming and surely they will be darker marks by tomorrow morning.

Still latching on your neck he pulls himself with one hand holding him up, the other hand is roaming your body. From your arms, to your belly, before settling by the hip. His thumb is caressing your soft skin.

His dark wavy locks is tickling your chin and you had enough, grabbing his face with both hands as you bring him closer. Noses touching and his lips are wet from biting, with hooded eyes but still carrying the fondness in them, his breathing is becoming more labored and so do you.

“We shouldn’t, Grandmama is sleeping next door,” you either telling that to him or to yourself because from the way you’re licking your lower lip, you don’t want him to stop.

Jungkook knows you, you wanted him to convince you that whatever you’re about to do is okay, he will be the bad guy for you.

“Grandmama’s hearing is a bit-” before he can finish you smacked his chest.

“Don’t say it, it’s the age factor. Don’t be so mean!” You whisper harshly.

“Ouch, okay I’m sorry, I shouldn’t put it that way, but she won’t wake up. We’re not gonna bother her." He assumed.

"So, you my darling, have to be quiet,” he smirks as he winks at you. 

“Yeah? Kiss me already,” you pulls him down so his lips crash on yours. It is lustful, it is messy, but Jungkook always takes it slow. He’s a bit sentimental when it comes to making love with you.

You’re so different, you want it hard. Biting his lower lip as you tug it, a silent pleading for him to move faster. He chuckles at your impatience.

“Always rushing, princess. I’m not going anywhere.” His tongue skillfully breaking into your mouth, dominating the kiss. You let him. Your hand which was on his neck now grabbing his hair.

Feeling his soft hair through your fingers before you pulled them. He moaned into your mouth and he pulls away, bearing his neck to you as he lets his head thrown back gravitating to your pull. Eyes closed and he looks like he’s high on ecstasy named you. “Ahhh princess-”

“Shh! Keep it down.” You immediately leaving marks on his neck and noticing the position is making you uncomfortable, you pushed him until he lays on his back. Straddling his lap, you dive back to his neck, continuing the abuse.

Jungkook can’t keep his hands to himself as he quickly pulling up your shirt with struggle as you’re both are chest to chest. He rested his palm on your belly before grabbing your breast. He kneads the soft flesh and it illicit another moan from you. What a sight for Jungkook. You arched your back and gasped at the feeling of his dick poking your ass. Hard. Shakily putting your hands on his chest, you grind on his dick. 

Jungkook almost cum in his pajama pants at this feeling. The view of you getting off on his clothed member, is making him insane. Your hips moving forward and backward making a tasty fraction, it feels good but it is not enough.

You keep biting your lips until it becomes swollen, and he swears he can feel you soaking your panties already with the wet feeling he felt. “Come on baby, cum like this,” He commands with a deep voice.

“Nnggh- Kook, I can’t- need you” You scrunch your eyes and your movements is getting slower. You’re exhausted.

“Yes, you can. Come on baby, come on.” Jungkook gritted his teeth as he can feel your ass snug his dick perfectly. Noticing that your movement is getting faltered, he grips on your hips, and helps you picking up the pace. Surely will leave another bruising marks there. You whimper because the sensation is overwhelming.

Feeling the knot under your stomach is getting tighter and your pussy keeps on clenching on nothing. Only letting out more gush of slick.

"Ahh Kook, close! I’m cumin-” the knot snapped and all you can see is white. Your breathing is getting more erratic before you completely fell down to his chest. He rubs you back lovingly but his hard dick is still poking you.

Jungkook prioritize your desire first before his and he kisses your head softly. With limping hands you got up pressing his chest once again.

“Take it off, take it all off,” your fingers grabbing the hem of his shirt and pull the material off while he frantically pushing down his pants and his boxer. He helps you taking off your bra as well before he starts swirling his lips on your perk nipple.

A tug and you moan deliciously, he moves on to you other nipple, paying as much attention as he did with the first one. He throw off your pants and panties and god knows where they lands in this room. 

Pulling you up, he leans on the headboard. He instantly plunged two fingers into your hole and you’re clenching so hard, making he whines. It’s starting to get hot and steamy as you two letting out breathy moan. Still straddling him, you blindly grab his dick with your hand, pumping it up and down.

“Enough, just wanna be inside you, now!” Jungkook aligned his member to your hole. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you slowly sinking down on him.

Choking and moan in unison as you both adjust to the position. With head thrown back, you sob because Jungkook is big and no matter how many times you fuck, it still feels like your first time. 

Sensing your discomfort he stays still.

“Kook, why are you so big?” You’re mumbling incoherent words.

“Yeah? I’m big? Taking my cock so well. Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Come on baby, bounce on my cock” he grunts as your walls keeps on fluttering. His rolling hips and his dirty talks are making you seeing stars. A whining mess and your cunt is clenching him like a vice.

“Stop clenching so hard baby, I might cum soon, we don’t want that, right?” he warns with a bite on your shoulders and he switches the position with you now laying on your back, dick still hard inside you.

He keeps up the pace and moaned so loud as he can see the way his dick pistons in and out of your pussy.

“Creamed so hard on my cock, baby, you’re so wonderful.” His hands on your waist with your heels digging his ass.

“Faster, faster. Please, please, please,” you’re chanting, ignoring that somebody might hear you because Jungkook is hitting it right. 

The squeaking bed and the loud skin slap are echoing in the room.

So much of keeping quiet.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Baby, let’s have kids, huh. Let’s have them,” he spreads his palm on your lower belly. Already thinking you carrying a child, his child, how you would look like with a swollen belly.

Fuck, motherhood would look good you. With that thought he trusts harder and faster. You whine and scratch his back as the pace was intensified. Jungkook hiss on both sensation, the sting on his back and how your walls grip his dick tighter at the mention of having a kid.

“Yes, yes, yes. Let’s have a baby- nnnghh Kook, shit shit” Your body jolted when Jungkook suddenly flicks his thumb at your clit. Pushing you to the edge. And you trashed so wild under him as you feel your bliss is approaching.

“Cumming- Baby I’m cumming nghhh Kook, don’t stop” letting him know before you finally let go. Feeling buzzed as Jungkook keep on trusting in and out of you, dragging your high.

“Gonna cum in so deep, gonna make make you swole with a baby. Mine, mine, all mine” Jungkook chanted as his pace is getting sloppy, chasing his own high. Warm ribbons of cum spurted inside your pussy as you milk him dry. 

The only sounds that you’re hearing right now is a buzzing, and how you two are breathing so heavily. He falls down next to you with his arm snaking around your waist. His breathing is fanning your neck before he left a kiss on your cheek. You're pushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead while he also helps you with your untangled hair.

“I’m serious,” Jungkook grabs your chin to make you look at him. Gone already the lust and the dark in his eyes, now replaced with pools of galaxies.

“About having a baby?" You asked.

"Yeah, me too,” you smile sweetly at him and he grins so wide, if you could list the most beautiful look on Jeon Jungkook’s face, one of it was when you said yes after he proposed. When you walked down the aisle, your first sex with him, and right now.

“Thank you, baby. You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he kisses your whole face.

“I thought you don’t want kids yet, since, well, since we never really discuss about it seriously.” You said softly, putting your head on his chest with finger tracing the skin. In contrast to your heated session, after sex is always soft and calm.

“You silly, of course I want them. I thought you’re the one who is not ready yet, because yea, I never wear condom whenever we made love, but you’re always on the pills, so I assumed you don’t want one, yet, and I also don’t wanna push you,” he whispers softly. You sigh, the way he uses the words “made love” and not sex. Instead of ‘let’s fuck’ it’s ‘let me love you’, and how can you not keep falling for this man. He is disgustingly nerdy and sweet and lovely.

“I will consult my doctor for the pills and we start from there okay?” You glance up, making a promise to him and he nods excitedly like a child.

“Come on up, pee-pee first. Always pee after love making.” Jungkook patted on your bare ass before he got up to carry you to the bathroom. 

Usually you’re woken up everyday to a big pair of warm hands rubbing circles either on your back or on your belly. Some mornings, the same hands just played with your head, the long fingers ran through the hair with a little pressure. Massaging the scalp. Some mornings, the hands get extra playful when they tickled your nose, your neck, your waist, poking the inside of your ears or pinched your cheeks.

These assaults always resulted in the owner of the hands winning. How can you beat the strength of a man with doe eyes, silly bunny grins and his boyish laugh?

His laugh booming in the room like a heavenly sound. But today, you woke up on your own. No hands. No head massage. No tickles.

Where is your husband? Is he showering? There’s no sound of water hitting the tiles. His phone is still charging by the bedside, he never let go of his phone. Strange. 

You freshened up before you leave the room to check on grandmama. But she’s not in her room too, well, considering the time and she’s an early riser, she’s probably somewhere around the house anyway.

Just as you thought you were left alone, you heard a very familiar giggles. They come from the outside of the house, and your feet are following the sounds.

A smile adorns on your face as you can see the backs of the most important people in your life sitting side by side. Both of them are facing the backyard garden.

You come closer and you can clearly see her wrinkled hands on top of his. He pulled his head back and laughing like a little kid, while she held onto his hands lovingly. Her laugh, though soft, can be heard along with his. 

You wanted to soak this moment in your brain so you could remember this for years and years. How the morning sunshine makes everything more picturesque, how his broad shoulders shakes when he laughs, how she leans on a chair, as old as she is.

Her brown chair, bought along with his husband’s big chair. The spot which was left empty ever since he passed away, and you wonder how lonely it is for her to be sitting there alone every morning and every evening.

You stood silently by the sliding door, not wanting to break the moment as so many sentimental memories flooding your mind. 

“Hey, babe? Good morning,” said the man as he turns around to face you. Wide smile on his face, post-laughing puffy cheeks.

“Good morning, Lilo” said another voice as she struggles to turn around. You don’t want her to strain her back so you immediately move to sit next to her legs. Kneeling closer like you always did, like a little girl listening to her favorite stories, you place your palm on her knees.

“Good morning, Grandmama. You had a good sleep?” Still not used to speaking louder to her. Brushing your hair she smiles fondly, “yes, yes”

“Where’s my good morning?” Pouted the man next to her. 

“Yes, Jungkook. Good morning to you too,” you roll your eyes playfully. 

If it’s not Grandmama’s hands holding him, Jungkook would have touched you, peppering you with kisses because it is his morning routine. 

But he woke up early today, because he guessed Grandmama is already up and he wanted to spend time with her. He was right, the moment he stepped out of the room, Grandmama was walking slowly to the chair outside of the house.

The lady who Jungkook assumed as the maid which Suri told you about last night, is plating a tray of toast and tea for her. 

Jungkook moves to help Grandmama settles on her chair before she insisted him to sit next to her. 

“That’s Grandpapa’s chair.” You jutting your chin at him, whispering but he can still hear you.

“Really?” Jungkook flustered because Grandmama really insisted him to sit on it and now knowing that this seat belongs to Grandpapa, he feels even more honored. 

“What are you two laughing about just now?” You glanced up to face your grandma with big eyes. Grandmama just chuckles and you can see your husband is biting his lips trying to hold back his laughter.

“Just, reminiscing old memories, sweetheart,” Grandmama replied. 

“Apparently, someone really hates wearing pants since she was a little girl. Humm, Grandmama did you know she still refuses to wear pants sometimes?” Jungkook leans closer to Grandmama’s ears as if they both are sharing some secrets. Pretending that you’re not even there.

With shocking wide eyes and gaping mouth, you knew exactly who is that little girl. It’s you. Grandmama just told Jungkook about your unhealthy habit, great, now Jeon Jungkook can collect another material into his teasing box.

“Did not!”  You gasp and giving your Grandmama a betrayal look. 

“What was she’s like back then? Running around naked? She’s a wild one isn’t she?” Both of them are ignoring you and Jungkook keep on firing questions to Grandmama.

You’re pretty sure the blush on your cheeks are from controlling the anger you have towards your husband right now. Definitely not because of embarrassing. Nope.

Seeing Grandmama laughing at both of you is making your heart swell. Your eyes land on her hands that has been holding Jungkook’s ever since you saw them. You were worried for nothing, and guilt is starting to creep on you as you were initially do not plan on bringing Jungkook along. 

Because first, you’re worried for him. Jungkook is not used to your family which is again, your fault. You didn’t properly introduce him to your family, not traditionally-proper. It’s not like you’re breaking the norms or rebelling or anything. It’s just you don’t feel that is necessary.

As long as you love each other, that’s all that matters. But you worried nevertheless. Worried they might not include him, what if Jungkook is uncomfortable because, dear god, Jungkook will never let you know if he’s feeling bothered. Very much like you, now taste your own medicine.

Secondly, it’s Grandmama, she has never met Jungkook, and yes, she is lovely but what if she suddenly doesn’t approve of him? That would break his heart. 

Now you realize that you’re worried for nothing, everyone loves him. How can they not? 

“I wanna take a short nap, you two can stay here.” Your Grandmama reaches for her cane as her wobbly legs trying to stand up. The maid rushed out to help her before Jungkook was about to carry her himself.

“You don’t have to carry and old lady like me, just carry your wife,” your Grandmama chuckles as she slowly walks back to her room. 

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck and sigh, he doesn’t mind carrying Grandmama. He once saw his dad carried his grandma on his back and he wanted to do that too. Shifting his gaze back on you who is still staring at him.

“Hey, the girl who hates pants,” Jungkook smirks cheekily. Here comes your Jungkook. “Wow I have no idea you hate pants. No wonder you don’t wanna wear one all the time. Oh wow,” he faked gasp at the fact. Mocking you.

“I will burn all of your pants the moment we got back, Kook,” words are seething through your teeth as you faked threatening him. 

“I don’t mind that, we can be pant-less together,” Jungkook leans back to the chair as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of the morning air. 

You're sitting next to him, only managed to stare at his beauty.

“Stop staring and come closer, please. I’m yours, you can touch me.” He said. Of course he caught you staring at him.

“I didn’t stare!” You blush.

“Put your head on my shoulder. Let me bask in this glory morning with my wife,” Jungkook speaks softly as he pulls your head closer to his shoulder. And you let him.

Feeling his steady breathing, cold cups of tea, half eaten toast, his humming of an unknown song, his hands on top of yours, a kiss on your head, and you really deeply seriously madly in love with this man. 

“By the way, Grandmama heard us last night, she said good job and she wants to see great-grandchildren real soon,” Jungkook said in a monotonous voice as if it’s nothing. 

Well, shit.

[stonerfromlesbos]

✦ make it worse. | b.e

warnings: smut, oral, strap usage, hair pulling, tit sucking (all !r receiving), degrading, spanking, brat !reader, brat tamer !billie, mentions of safe word (not used), jealosy, billie being sweet at the end.

summary: how you should react to that? some random girl calling your girlfriend ‘mommy’ right in front of you, after weeks that billie hadn’t fucked you properly… well, maybe you ill had to tease her until you get what you want.

“baby please, i have to get ready to enter the stage in a few minutes.” billie said as you two were cuddling on the dressing room couch. your legs crossed on both sides of her waist, holding her sides tightly. “im gonna miss you so much.” you said with your usual whiny dramatic tone, making a pout face.

“is just one show… you will be watching it in your usual vip spot tho, ur already being privileged, my girl.” she says giggling and kissing your forehead softly. her fingers go up to your head, caressing your hair gently. the ‘my girl’ never failed in getting you flushed. “let me be selfish, bills.” you said with a pout face again, she just smiled gently at you. billie loved the way you wanted to be glued with her 24/7. she gave you multiple fast kisses, getting up and entering the box she was transported in.

the show was starting now, you could hear all the fans screaming and shouting at billie while she sang. her voice was almost angelic, she sang all those lines with all her heart. billie couldn’t stop herself of looking at you, no, she looked at the crowd, but at you? she boldly stared. those lines at her song ‘lunch’… she was almost singing them just for you. at many moments you cried, hearing her soft voice sing the most beautiful lines in the world.

but one in specific was your favorite, when the party is over. and it was a big moment in her show too, you felt so proud remembering that you gave her the idea of synching the vocals, she didn’t thought it was going to work because of the silence but it did. and it was fucking beautiful everytime. when she was preparing herself, she started her usual speech.

“guys.. i need you to be quiet right now.” she said and shortly after you could hear a girl screaming from the crowd, and it just made your blood boil. “yes mommy!” the girl said, clearly kidding, but after that billie started giggling. she was fuckin’ laughing at that, in front of you? it wasn’t a big deal, but, your blood just boiled, knowing that other girl called her that, and she fucking thought it was funny.

you would usually think it is funny too, but after she dragged you into a tour and almost refusing to fuck you, you were almost insane. billie didn’t want to take a night off to pay an hotel to be alone with you just because all of you were going to give the first tour break in like, 3 days. you were trying really hard to fight the urge of fucking her every single night, but this? this was too fucking much. as soon as the show ended, she leaded you towards the backstage.

“hi my angel” she said gently, holding your waist and walking with you by her side towards the dressing room. “hi billie.” you answered in an raspy tone. giving a clear hint that something wasn’t okay. “what happened?” she says closing the door behind her, looking at you with true concern. “you tell me, laughing at those fucking stupid things.” you didn’t look directly at her eyes, crossing your arms, you were acting childish, but you couldn’t help it.

“its because of that? seriously?” she said in misbelief, giggling getting closer to you, holding your waist. you still refused to stare at her, those goddam eyes, the smirk you could feel on her face, it was all to much. you took her hands out of you, going towards the other side of the room. sitting on the couch and going through your socialmedia, completely ignoring her.

“ignoring me huh?” she said standing in front of you, grabbing the phone from your hand and lowering herself to make you stare at her. her hair was messy and down now, but her black liner was still perfect. billie’s eyes just drowned you into them, it was some sort of magical power. “js showing you what you should’ve done with that girl.” you said raspy, staring at her with a nonchalant face, trying to hide how bad you wanted to make her take you right there.

“stop bein’ a fucking brat, you know damn well it was a joke.” she said with a serious tone, but you knew her. she wasn’t being serious, she wanted you to misbehave. just with that phrase you knew, she was going to fuck you tonight. “maybe i wouldn’t be if you just fucked me like you usually did, now im here, having to watch other girl call you ‘mommy’ while the ‘mommy’ here is just an lazy bitch.” you said trying so hard to not smirk, it was kind of your game… you would push her to her limits, until she was fucking you brainless.

“you’re such a slut, are you even hearing yourself right now? you can’t stand not being fucked by a week? maybe i will gift you a fucking vibrator if you need to cum that bad all the time.” she said mockingly, smirking at each word. “maybe i wouldn’t need a vibrator if my girlfriend wasn’t so incompetent, why im even dating you if you can’t make me cum properly?” you said getting up, staring at billie, getting closer trying to intimidate her. as she just grabbed your arms tightly. “i can’t make you cum? you are really sayin’ that?” she says with an smirk, you knew that you reached it, you made her mad enough.

billie’s hands were now grabbing your hair, not in a gentle way. she forced you to sit on the couch as she refused to kiss you. “gonna show u what i can do, slut.” she said almost ripping your tank top off, now staring at your exposed tits. “no bra?” she said sliding a hand underneath your skirt, and realizing that you were not wearing nothing underneath. “no underwear? desperate slut almost begging to be fucked.” she said in a low teasing voice. “stop being a fucking bitch and do it.” you said smirking and looking at her eyes, the next thing you felt was a harsh slap across your face, as billie grabbed your chin and pulled your face closer to her.

“fuckin’ behave, this is not going to end well to you, so you might as well don’t make it worse. keep this up and ill edge you all night, not letting you cum even a single fuckin’ time. understood?” she says with a even lower voice. staring deep at your eyes, you knew she was serious, because she already did that. and it was fucking hell on earth. she slapped you like thirty times just because you touched your clit. “yes..” you said giving in, in a more fearful tone.

“already tamed? weak slut, can’t stand the thought of not cumming huh?” she said mocking you, smirking as she layed down, giving her lap gentle pats. you understand the signs and go to sit on it, straddling her sides. billie’s hands quickly find their way to your skirt, lifting it up to exposed your bare ass. you try to kiss her, but she puts you away. “if you act like a slut, you get treated like one.” she says grabbing your ass tightly, feeling your soaked cunt starting to grind on her crotch. “fuckin’ stop that, sit on my face, now.” she demanded you, as you started going up. finally fitting the lower half of her face in the middle of your thighs.

“you’re dripping baby.” she said before entering your needy hole with her tongue, and after that, making her way to suck on your clit. you could feel every way she flicked her tongue on your sensitive spot. you covered your mouth with your own hands, trying not to scream in pleasure right now. it was not a fucking hotel, it was an dressing room, and you knew that all her team was on the room beside this one.

“taste s’ good, mamas.” she was fucking devouring you, like she was a starving beast. you could feel your hips grinding billie’s face as you were almost cumming. she could feel your insides tightening around her tongue, and then, she stopped. “do u really think im goin’ to let u cum this easy? after all you did?” she smirked giggling as she took your hips off her face, getting up of the couch and grabbing her bag.

that fucking bag.

billie took two straps out of the bed, one black and one red, you were used to the red one… but the black? that one was new. your eyes widened as you saw the size of it, it was fucking huge. “what do u wanna take first? huh? the black is 9 inches and the red is 7,5.” you were so fucking screwed, you were sure it wasn’t going to fit inside of you. “9 inches??? bills… i can’t take that.” you said with genuine concern.

she opened an gentle smile. “but you will.” her smile started to turn into a smirk. “ill get you prepared to it, and if it really is too much, you know what do to.” she said refearing to your safe word. you knew she wasn’t ever gonna do something to hurt you, so you trusted her. now she was unbuckling her belt and placing the red strap on her, getting closer to you again. “face down, ass up.” you obeyed her without questions, getting on the position she demanded you to.

"such a good girl." she says placing the faux cock on your folds, teasing you. you kept quiet, whimpering as you were being teased... it turned billie on, but she wanted to hear you. she harshly slapped your ass cheek. "are you behaving because you´re a good girl or a needy slut who got tired of acting up, huh?" she says chuckling, and grabbing a fistfull of your hair, pulling your head back. "don´t get cocky, you know i had to act up. or else you would keep me here insatisfait... then maybe i could write a song just like "over now".." you said giggling, mocking her, she kept quiet, but you still decided to hum the lyrics of her song.

"It's not that complicated"

"I wasn't satiated"

"You weren't that bad, just lazy"

you were so focused on humming the lyrics that you couldn´t realize that she was placing her cock right on entrance with the hand she had free. billie slammed her whole cock into you, making you unable to continue teasing her. she was rough, but she didn´t want to hurt you. after slamming her faux dick on your insides, she kept it there for long seconds, making you get used to it. after that, her pace was brutal. you could tell that she just kept quiet in that moment for you to burn yourself even more, and give her an excuse to be even rougher with you.

"never gonna tease m' like this again, mama." she almost growled as one of her hands holded on your waist as the other slapped your ass in a way that you knew that you´d be all sore. you tried your best to keep quiet, failing miserably. in a stupid attempt you shoved your head into the couch cushion, trying to muffle your moans that were coming out as almost screams of pleasure. "im gonna teach u a fuckin' lesson, cock addicted slut." you just whined, your whimperings being muffled by the cushion. "such a fucking whore, only able to behave with my cock filling you up, huh?" she mocked you, but you were unable to even form a sentence.

billie could feel your insides tightening around her, and then, she pulled it out, not letting you cum. you whined, with your legs trembling. "do you think you deserve to cum that easy huh? pathetic slut." she says as you turn yourself to lay on the couch and stare at her. she walks towards the bag again, taking the 9 inch strap from there and handing it to you. "you want to cum with wich one angel? do you think you can handle that one?" she spoke softly, with genuine concern not wanting to take it too far. "yes... i think i can bills, jus' let me be on top.. okay?" you said looking up at her with your usual sweet eyes. "whatever you want, angel." she said giggling "seems like i fucked the bratiness out of u so easily, huh?" she chuckles, taking the dildo from your hands and strapping it onto her crotch.

billie sat on the other side of the couch, because you made a mess on the other one. "come here angel." she pat her lap, as you crawled towards her, now straddling her sides. she holded you by the waist, pushing your sore body towards her. she gently caressed your cheek, pulling you into a slow and soft kiss, that just turned you on even more. you broke the kiss after she started to play with your neglegted clit, not being able to be quiet anymore. her skilled finger just played with it slowly, it felt like a torture. her half lided eyes just staring at you with a smirk on her face. she stopped, not wanting you to cum just yet... she took her strap and took your hips up, placing it on your entrance and staring at you, with both of her hands.

"whenever you´re ready, angel." she said as you took a deep breath and started to lower yourself in her cock. "so good baby, you´re doing such a good job." you managed to get half of it inside of you, taking another deep breath. "if you want to stop, just say the word, okay?" she says remembering you "i-im okay.." you say with your shaky voice, lowering yourself slowly until your cunt hits the base of it. "such a good girl, taking all of me." she says kissing your neck, and then going down to your exposed tits, sucking on it briefly as you are getting used to the size. "can i see where im at?" she asked and you nodded, allowing her. one of her hands started press a few places on your belly, until she saw the bump that were on your tummy, smiling knowing she was that deep inside of you.

you started moving yourself, riding her, it was slow. she helped you with your moviments, holding your hips and guiding you. "doing so good for me baby, so good." at this point, you were already in a fast pace, riding her cock as you got used to the size, it hit your g spot just right. your moans were increasing, so you took your hand to cover your mouth. she was staring at you, admiring how pretty you were while fucking yourself on her cock, how pretty you sounded being filled with her. "wanna hear you, mamas... don´t worry about them, you can fuckin' scream if u want to." she says grabbing your arm and putting it down, you soon took both of your hands to the sides of the couch, leaning on it to help you move, you were so fucking loud.

the room was filled with sounds, the sound of billie´s cock being shoved into your drooling cunt, of her sucking your tits, or even the wet sound of her playing with your clit... but it was clear that the loudest one was of you moaning, whining, screaming while being filled by her. "you´re so gorgeous fuckin' yourself on my cock, such a angel." your walls tightened around her faux dick as your moviments slowed down due to your now tired hips.. "i-im so close, can you help me.. bills?" you say staring at her with your tired eyes "don´t even need to ask me twice." she grabbed your hips, pulling you up, as she started to pound you in that position. she wasn´t gentle, but she didn´t hurt you. "gonna cum huh? gonna let you cum now, such a good slut." she mocked you, trying to get back to her dominant self. her pace was fast, hitting your g spot over and over again.

but she ended you in the moment that she stopped holding your hips with one hand and started to play with you clit again. in that moment you could feel your orgasm hitting you in one way you never experienced before. your whole body was trembling, as you were almost unable to moan. her pace slowed down, letting you ride through your orgasm in a way that you felt like you were on heaven. "can i pull it out already, babe?" she asked you, bringing you back to earth after pulling you onto the edge of pleasure. you nodded, as she gently took it out of you. holding on your waist gently while she pushed you closer to kiss her.

billie kissed you slowly, letting yourself rest after all she put you throught. "you know that you´re the only one, right my love?" asked you.. "i know." you answered it in a lazy tone. she quickly took her phone, texting someone. "what is it?" you ask "gonna take you to a good hotel tonight okay? gotta take care of you now, prepare yourself, gonna to spoil you all night baby.." she said in a soft tone "really huh?" you said giggling with a wicked smirk "gosh not in that way... you´re so naughty sometimes... can´t be a good girl even after i had railed you?" she says slapping your exposed ass again. "so no naughty spoil?" you said in a playfull sad tone.

"only if you can take it, my love."

taglist: @chrissv4mp @karaeilishh @iluvapplesxh @hkkuugu @bilsdillldough @n0vabug @certifiedwomenlover @dollyvuu

[okwonyo]

NERVOUS, 或 𓈒𓈒 making them loose it.

SUCC𝑖NCT───────⠀❛ 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𓈒 ❜

( R𝑒QUESTED ) 𓈒 ⠀𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 7OO fluff ── non idol au skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀dedicated to @jaexiyu my girlfriend 🎀

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG&princess treatment : the simple action of your hand reaching his cheek, then cupping his jaw in your palm ever gently before, under his hypnotised gaze, running the finger tip of your thumb on the corner of his lips— sends him into a spiral. the tip of his nose gets red and he is unable to say anything, and before he can even do, the raise of your praise stops him in his tracks. warm creeps all over his body when you pat his cheeks lovingly and says, “good boy.”

“oh my god,” he chokes.

JONGSEONG&public display of affection : listen, if there is one thing about your boyfriend is that he loves to touch you. whenever he can, wherever he can. he has a thing for doing it under the public eye— sliding his strong hand on the back of your lower back, to show everyone you are his. when you do it, it is different. you showing him off makes his heart crave you even more. your thumb rubbing his nape, here in front of all your friends, makes a shiver run down all the way to his spine. 

the world already faded away, “it tickles,” he tells you. 

JAEYUN&tucking his hair behind his ear : he has never planned on keeping his long hair for longer than a month. usually, when he finally had the time to book an appointment at the hairdresser, he would cut it again. his hair habits completely changed when you did that for the first time. he admits that his hair was a mess at that time, but he was too busy talking to you to even notice. when your finger tucked a stray harstrand behind his ear, like in the movie, the air inside of his lungs evaporated. he couldn’t even do anything, and you adding ‘keep on going, baby’ didn’t help much.

“o-okay,” he stuttered out.

SUNGHOON&eye contacts : the hottest part about this, he thinks, is that you have no idea of the true power you have on him. he doesn’t think you even realize what is the reason he stutters or stops breathing when you talk. even during the times whereupon you watch him from afar, he stops completely in his tracks— as if you have mind control—you don’t understand. it’s your eyes, he whines all the time to his friends about. your godforsaken eyes boring in his, alluring him like a siren in the ocean, closing his mouth. 

“i—you—we,” he malfunctions, his stomach aches from all the butterflies in it.

SUNOO&pet names : he remembers, there was a time where he would find any sort of petnames given by romantic partners beyond embarrassing. he was never the type to call any one by those and disliked the idea of someone using one on him. he realized later on that it wasn’t disgust but sheer nervousness. because, yes, he admits that he has a weakness that would fall on his knees for you if you dare to call him ‘babe’ one more time. he especially loves when you say it in a whine— when you groan his petnames.

he hides his face in the crook of your neck before giggling, “what?”

JUNGWON&flirting back : as the annoying and teasing boyfriend that he is, making you so flustered that your face burns and that you trip over the words you are trying to get out of your mouth, is his first mission. and he succeeds most of the time, a quick “don’t hesitate to call me if you need a hand taking that off,” while looking down at your dress. but when you retort with an “don’t start something you can’t finish, handsome,” as you slightly quirk your brow— it’s different. 

“bet?” he says after five minutes of silence, but you are already doing something else. 

RIKI&compliments : never in his life he has found praise and compliments embarrassing to get. in the contrary, he loved them a lot. although it is not embarrassing when it comes from you, it’s totally different— and he can’t really pinpoint why. it is just that you have always been something else, you have always known the exact way to make his emo boy act melt in one single word. his heart completely bursts when you cup his face and coo, “isn’t he so cute?”

he holds your wrist, not to get your hands away, however. he chuckles like an highscool girl amd trailing the word, “stop,”

ㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[strwberri-milk]

hiii! can i request reader asking to take a break from the relationship with the lnds boys? <3

Zayne doesn't understand at all what he did wrong. His first instinct is to try and fix it, ask you to tell him what he's done and how he can be better. He clings desperately to the hope that you mean it - it's just a break. He knows he's been really busy at work but you've never told him you don't understand, in fact, you've been telling him that you're proud of how hard he works.

His instinct will always be to cater to you, so he's going to ignore the way his heart hurts at your request. He'll agree, tell you that it's fine and he understands even though he really doesn't. He finds himself constantly holding himself back from reaching out to you, waiting patiently until the day you come back to him.

He doesn't know how to react. He's angry, sure, but also he doesn't want to do anything that would run the risk of you ensuring things end permanently here. You don't really think he's responding when he just nods and tells you that if that's truly what you want, then he'll let you.

Underlining his words is the slightest anger you can barely recognise. He finds himself wanting to be immature, to bully you into telling him what the problem is. He's already asking you, telling you that he thought things were fine because you never told him otherwise. You'd have to promise him you're coming back, but even during your time apart he finds ways to see you. He might not be talking to you or seeming to make an active effort but you get the sense that someone is trying to keep you safe.

Rafayel flips between anger and desperation. He doesn't know whether to beg or scream at you for leaving him again. You thought that he'd pout, or he'd go off and sulk quietly but the look on his face is one you never thought he'd make. He wants to grab you, hold you and convince you never to go but he's furious that you could even fathom leaving him.

He ends up pushing you away, telling you that if that's really what you want then fine, go take your break away from him. He doesn't seem to care, his feelings burying themselves deep in his chest as a way to desperately hide the truth but he's waiting every day for you to show up at his door again.

Sylus seems aloof. He doesn't say anything, simply raising your brow and asking if you really think that's a good idea. You insist, telling him that things are fine you just need a breather. You thought he'd fight harder but he simply waves you off, telling you that if that's truly how you feel then you should just leave.

To the untrained eye it truly seems like he doesn't care but he's losing his mind, just a bit. He can't stop thinking about you, finding himself beating people with a bit more reckless abandon and taking on bigger risks. His mind reels, constantly trying to figure out what exactly it is he can do to bring you back to him.

[my-castles-crumbling]

thankful - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 386

Regulus tried not to show how anxious he was as he waited hand-in-hand with James on Platform 9 3/4, eyes glued on the scarlet train slowly approaching the crowd. He had always been good at hiding his nervousness, but sending Harry to Hogwarts was one of the most terrifying things he'd ever done.

So he'd been excited to greet this son on the platform, to pull him into his arms and see with his own eyes that he was okay (even after the Quidditch incident). He'd been thinking about it for weeks. prepared himself to not completely break down with relief on the platform.

What he hadn't been prepared for was for Harry to come running toward him, a giant grin on his face. He hadn't been prepared to be pulled into a hug that made him want to cry, James's arm around him on one side and Harry's on the other as the three of them embraced.

"Haz! I thought you were happy to be rid of us!" James laughed, unaware of the way Regulus's heart was expanding with joy. "You were so excited to get on the train in September!"

Harry just smiled, pulling back and looking at James and Regulus. "Hogwarts is the best," he agreed, green eye wide. "But..." his eyes trailed over the crowd, locking onto someone Regulus couldn't spot, "I met some kids who hate it at home. They actually," he cleared his throat and swallowed, expression disbelieving, "they're scared to go home. It made me thankful that I can be happy to come home as well, you know?"

The statement his\t Regulus so completely that he almost collapsed on the platform. Memories of sitting on the Hogwarts Express, terrified to leave the train, invaded his brain. Memories of shock when he'd met James's parents and seen a family that showed love. Memories of being terrified to start a family, for fear of continuing the same cycle.

A strong, sure hand wrapped around his waist, squeezing reassuringly, and he felt James kiss his temple, murmuring quietly, "I love you, baby," all while Regulus stared at Harry in wonder.

"I...you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that, Harry," he said tearfully, again pulling his son in for a hug, waves of gratefulness washing over him.

[tswiftupdatess]

Taylor Swift talking about working on The Eras Tour, re-recording, performing with a broken heart and the joy and safety the Tour brings to fans at The Eras Tour Book:

“I'll never forget the call when I explained my idea of the concept for The Eras Tour to my team. At the time, I was working on the Midnights album and if we were to do what I've always done, I would've embarked on planning The Midnights Tour. But there's nothing I hate more than doing what I've always done.

“We're going to call it The Eras Tour and each album will have its own chapter, it's own world.” I told them that I want to fully commit to each era, musically, stylistically and aesthetically. They should feel like time capsules. If we do this right, I said, we can celebrate and honor both new fans and fans who have been here from day one.

It had been 6 years sice I'd toured. In those 6 years, a lot had transpired for me creatively. I release Lover, folklore, evermore, and eventually Midnights. In another real of my priorities was my passion project: re-recording my first 6 albums that were sold away from me by my former record label. Reclaiming my past made me fall back in love with it. Revisiting that past work made me want to honor it and honor what the fans had done for me with the Taylor's Version albums. And so the new albums and my re-records left me with the dilemma: HOW on Earth are we going to play all of this music live? I decided to create the longest, most ambitious show I'd ever even attempted. Averaging at 3 hours and 15 minutes, with 45 songs played. My goal was for every fan to leave that show knowing I gave them absolutely everything I had. I made a promise to myself to be physically and mentally tougher than I ever had been before. To be more disciplined and commited to my health, fitness, and stamina. Thankfully, I'm surrounded by my incredible crew, band, singers, and dancers who all matched my dedication to the massive scale and challenges of this show. We would go on to play this show in the pouring rain, in the blazing heat, in the thickest humidity, in the wildest winds, and in the bitter cold. We would do it if we were sick or exhausted or injured. We would do it with a broken heart. We do this because we love having the rare opportunity to create happiness and wonder up on that stage. We do it because we know it takes time and effort and money and energy to plan out coming to a concert. We do it because every friendship bracelet traded has the potential to become a new friend, and you never know what dreams can be sparked if we succeed in painting a dreamscape in every city we visit. We do it because people need an escape from how brutal life can be, and it is the honor of a lifetime to be that for them, if only for a night. And although we are all on our own in this big scary life, somehow it doesn't feel that way when we're singing the same words as 80,000 other people wearing glittery face paint. We do it because life comes in waves, in phases, in brilliant flurries of magical moments, and all of these things come together to create…Eras.

Here is the official retrospective of the most wondrouds tour of my life, my beloved Eras Tour.

See you next era..”

(November 29, 2024)

[moonys-tea-leaves]

Another major factor in birth outcomes is support.

And you might expect that trans people would be more vulnerable here - but this circles back to how trans people are less likely to choose to get/go through a pregnancy. For a trans person to be comfortable getting and staying pregnant - they likely have support.

Trans people are also basically forced to be more selective

I've seen time and again.

A birth experience that could be considered "traumatic" to outsiders (emergency c-section, etc) where the birthing person feels very supported and empowered before, during, and afterwards: the person giving birth can walk away without trauma and feeling very positive about what happened.

Meanwhile, a birth that's "perfect" can be intensely traumatic.

My first birth was very traumatic because the first midwife who attended was so awful. Thankfully the second midwife, when she finally got called in, was an ANGEL. She was so supportive and within an hour of her showing up, baby was born.

The prior 8 hours of labor with an unsupportive midwife were still really traumatic and it took me years and a lot of work to be able to give birth again.

On paper, nothing went "wrong". There was no significant tearing, no one needed hospitalization, etc. But because of that lack of support - I was still traumatized.

How many cis women go through a birth with a boyfriend/husband who isn't really involved or supportive, only to go home and be emotionally abandoned and left to deal with the baby alone?

Having adequate support is vital to being able to have a good birth expereince.

And, yes, you can have absolutely everything in place and still end up traumatized.

Life is like that - sometimes, tragedy strikes for absolutely no reason. You can be eating your favorite meal and choke to death.

But that's not an excuse to accept poor outcomes as the norm. We can absolutely make changes that result in higher rates of positive birth outcomes and reduce the rate and severity of birth trauma.

(I have no idea if anyone replied to this I just feel like talking about it)

giving birth sucks tbh. not only do you and the baby you’re birthing almost die, usually you shit yourself and often you tear your taint. then you have to push an organ out of your body (placenta) and if even a little of that remains in your body, you can hemorrhage to death or develop an infection that essentially rots your body from the inside out. even if you had a relatively “easy birth”, you bleed for weeks on end. even after that stops, your body and brain is changed for the rest of your life, the pregnancy leeched minerals from your bones, that can cause osteoporosis later. minor urinary incontinence is not uncommon, brain scans of people who gave birth show permanent changes in their brain, you’re never quite the same.

I say all of this not to say giving birth is disgusting but it is a harrowing and visceral experience. society downplays how fucking awful it is and makes it out to be a ~magical~ experience but it isn’t a magical transformative experience for everyone. it can be an extremely traumatic experience for someone who wanted to carry a pregnancy to term, much more so for someone who did not want to be pregnant in the first place or someone who knows their baby won’t survive the birth. anyway, abortion is a right. pregnancy and birth aren’t just inconvenient, it’s fucking awful.

[emchante]

OH another idea: cooking stream w max 😉 he’s wearing an apron with smt like “kiss the cook” but shirtless underneath, accidentally smearing sauce on his fingers and licking them clean, turning around to grab something from the cupboard and just showing off his back.. god i can go on and on about this

kiss the cock cook | m. verstappen

warnings: 18+/suggestive — minors dni.

DIIII OH MY GOD. you’re such a genius, your brain works in magical ways and i want to have it myself!!! the first post for this series went down well, so here you all go!!<3<3

one of the first few softcore porn streamer! max streams catch is a cooking stream. you know what his channel is now, after your first endeavour. you shouldn’t be surprised at what you see on the screen.

yet, you still are.

as soon as the ads finish rolling, the stream pops up on the screen. max is shirtless, under a dark apron. ‘kiss the cock’ is what’s written on it, but cock is scribbled off with a messy ‘cook’ above it. the apron allowed part of his soft chest to be on display. your eyes trailed down to see the apron wrapping around his soft hips perfectly, as the knot at the back held the apron together as tight as possible.

the camera angle was perfect— allowing you to see most of his top half, while leaving the rest to your imagination.

max knew his audience well, so he had an extra camera set up in the kitchen. it was a birds-eye view camera, a little box in the top right corner of the stream that was titled ‘hand cam’, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why it was there.

he was glancing at the chat as he put the ingredients for his cake in the large bowl. he smirked at some of the comments. “yes, i’m shirtless. no, i’m not trying to seduce you. my kitchen is hot, okay?” he tells the stream, acting innocent. if you really couldn’t tell though, the wink he gave the camera afterwards sold it.

he pondered for a moment before grabbing the camera above him, and moving it on the counter next to his bowl. “much better,” he muttered, before spreading his large hand across the bowl, as if to secure it. his other hand had an electric whisk, and he began to mix the ingredients together.

as he whisked, he glanced to the chat to see their reaction. he licked his lips before smirking, reading the comments as they came through. “i need him carnally.. this should be illegal..” he reads some, causing the influx of comments to worsen as they all try to be noticed by him. “max please.. please what, dear viewer? i need you to use your words for me,” he purrs, looking innocently into the camera.

the look he gives the camera sends a heat in your stomach. your thighs instinctively squeeze together at the sight, and your thoughts start racing. imagining him looking up at you like that, as you place yourself on his thighs. hands on his soft chest, pushing him down and telling him to use his words, finally switching the roles for once. how he’d deliciously beg and plead for you to—

fuck. what were you doing? you should not have been captivated so fast by him, but yet..

“anyways, i think that should be it mixed now,” max interrupts your internal conflict with his own words, turning off the whisk. he reaches out of from, and brings back another bowl. he tilts them both towards the camera to show the contents— cake batter in one, and thin icing in the other.

he eyes chat momentarily, smiling when the influx of ‘taste it!’ messages come flooding in. “you’re right, you’re right! i should taste it. how would i know if i liked what i made so far otherwise?” he questions, his index finger reaching into the first bowl.

he takes a scoop of the cake batter that looks entirely too appealing when it’s smeared along max’s finger. he slowly sucks it clean, pouty lips smacking gently when they touch again. his eyes flutter shut as a soft moan escapes from max, head tilting back.

“that is so fucking good, if only you guys could taste it,” he mumbles, licking any of the excess off of his lips as he reads the chat.

the heat in your belly was growing, the way he looked and the sounds he let out were amazing, and you needed more. you hadn’t chatted much in max’s chat, sending a few messages here and there. but tonight, you felt different. you needed more, and you were going to get it.

swallowing thickly you moved your hands to your keyboard, thinking about what you should type. your eyes scanned the screen.. and bingo. you knew what to do.

‘well you tried the batter, but what about the icing? just to be sure’

max is still reading over the chat when you send your message, and your heart skips a beat when you see his eyes widen. he stands up straight, looking into the camera with a small smirk.

“that’s a great idea, actually,” he praises, adding your username onto the end before he pulls the bowl of icing closer to him.

the icing was thin and white, from what you had seen when he showed the cameras. you watched as he plunged his index and middle finger into the bowl, pushing them right in before pulling them back out. the gooey icing dripped from the tip of his fingers, and had coated a thin layer over the rest of it.

he lifted his fingers to his mouth, stretching them to a ‘v’ shape as he licked through the middle of them. your cheeks flushed at the innuendo, and his chat clearly felt affected by it too judging by the spam. afterwards, he stared deep into the camera before pushing his fingers together, running his tongue along them in stripes to lick them clean.

his hand fell back to the counter as he swallowed thickly, before a low groan came from his throat. “fuck— that icing is amazing,” he starts, head lightly tilting back. “it’s perfectly sweet,” he adds, licking his lips clean as he reads the chat.

your heart was still racing at the look he was giving the camera, as well as the fact he had done as your message had said. your luck on his streams was unbelievable.. maybe you should start chatting more.

after that, max had went back to preparing the cupcakes in their cases that were sat in the tray. you had zoned out admittedly, not from the stream itself, just.. the baking aspect. you were more so focused on his large arms, watching them flex as he consistently moved around. your eyes were also glued to his chest, especially when he leaned over to read something from the book. the apron hung low as he did so, giving you a deeper look into his soft chest.

it didn’t take long for your attention to be peaked again, as max clapped his hands together, stating he was getting them ready for the oven.

“so, i have already preheated the oven,” he began to explain as he leaned over to his computer, messing about on obs. he stopped talking as he fixed what he needed to, and the next minute the main camera angle had switched— now, instead of the camera on the tripod, the main camera was the one on the counter initially used as the hand cam. now though, it was sat so it faced the right side of the kitchen, which included the oven.

“so no need to wait for that,” he finally finished, looking into the camera and giving it a smile before he stood up straight, grabbing the tray. he turned around and walked towards the oven slowly, as if he knew what he was doing.

max’s chat— and your internal thoughts— went back to their thirsting ways as max’s defined, toned back was on display. the comments honestly could’ve came from your mind, as they were along the same lines. ‘i need to scratch down his back’, ‘that back is looking a little bare.. let me fix that’, just to name a couple.

max stopped in his tracks, doing a 180 and walking back towards the counter. “oops, i forgot how long to put them in for,” he muttered, a small smile on his face that gave away his lies. it was obvious what he was doing, he simply just wanted to see the thirsty reactions. and god, did he get them.

“glad you’re all enjoying the view today,” he speaks up, turning back towards the oven and walking towards it, giving the fans what they wanted. then, he bent down towards the oven, giving the camera a perfect view of his curvy ass as he placed the tray in the oven. as he pulled the oven door back down, he pushed himself out further as a tease for the camera, before standing up straight again.

“it’s free today, you know,” he continues, referring to his last comment about the view. “but tomorrow? who knows,” he sighs, eyes scanning his chat as they burst into desperate pleads for him to keep slutting himself out for free.

max had decided to cut the stream off for a break while the cupcakes baked in the oven. he leaned against the counter, arms in front of him causing his chest to push together and you couldn’t keep your eyes off it.

“i’ll be back later, don’t you worry about that,” he reassures any worrying viewers with a wink. “thank you for joining, everyone. i’d say don’t forget to kiss the cook— but none of you can,” he pouted, before blowing you a kiss. “least you could do is send me a sub,” he adds cheekily, standing up straight. he begins to untie the knot from the back of the apron, causing the apron’s strings to drop to the side.

your eyes widened as he began to slowly lift the apron off of himself, allowing the viewers to see his soft body on display. his chat went crazy— from comments about grabbing his love handles, to marking his chest, to wanting to explore that happy trail— everyone enjoyed the view.

conveniently the countertop covered his boxers, therefore nobody could see there or below.

“i’ll be back later for you all, hopefully ready to show my cupcakes,” he smiles, reading the chat one last time.

‘what about your cake, max?’ is the last message he reads, causing him to burst out laughing.

“if we reach the big sub goal, maybe something can be arranged,” he teases, before the stream abruptly cuts off.

⋆˙⟡ enjoy this? i hope you did! please come chat to me about it in my ask box! publicly or on anon— i’ll answer everything <3

[wannabeschyulersister]

“What’s my middle name?”

Pedro’s smirk widened as he heard the responses to your question from his fellow cast members. They were all hilariously incorrect.

“You don’t have a middle name,” he replied confidently when they all gave up.

You turned your card over and showed what you wrote, “You are correct. I don’t have a middle name.”

Pedro wanted to wink at you since you had both discussed facts like this early on, but he was aware of the numerous eyes and cameras on you both.

During the press tour, the two of you had to be extremely cautious not to let the lingering glances or secret touches be revealed. It was incredibly challenging to maintain a distance from the man you loved so deeply.

“Next question, what Marvel movie did I have a minor role in?”

Pedro knew the answer before you finished asking the question. “You were in Captain America: The Winter Solider.”

“Correct,” you smiled.

Pedro scored more points with the last two questions you had. It surprised the others, but not you.

Next, it was Paul’s turn. You all got a few minutes for a break before the rest of the game. You asked one of the PAs where the bathroom was, and they pointed you in the right direction.

You entered the room and finished your business before exiting. Pedro stood alone in the hallway, waiting for you. A part of you sensed that he would follow you away from the others.

He extended his index finger to gesture you over, saying, “Come here.”

You eagerly complied. It felt like it had been too long since you last felt his embrace. It had just been a few hours and you were craving it. He drew you closer, and your lips met in a passionate kiss.

His lips moved to your neck and then right under your left ear, uttering, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been sitting right next to you during all these interviews this morning,” you chuckled.

“I know,” he replied, “but I haven’t been able to touch you, kiss you, or do anything. It’s been torture.”

“Oh, you poor, baby,” you cooed.

Pedro tightened his grip on you once more before letting you go in case anyone made their way down the hall.

“We just have a couple more interviews, and then I’ll be yours.”

That made him smile. “I like the sound of that.”

You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek softly.

“I have an idea,” he blurted out.

“Uh oh,” you said jokingly.

“Why don’t we attend one of the premieres of the movie together, as a couple?” He appeared vulnerable in that moment, as if he was apprehensive about your response.

“Is that what you truly want?” you inquired. It had been nearly a year of hiding the relationship. He had been hinting for some time that he was ready for something more.

He nodded in agreement, “If we both agree, I wouldn’t want to force you into doing anything you’re not prepared for.”

You swiftly weighed your pros and cons. Undoubtedly, there were more pros.

You grabbed his hand and smiled, “Then I guess we better color coordinate our outfits.”

[thankskenpenders]

Today we got some news regarding a big change for the Ian Flynn's Q&A podcast, the BumbleKast. As outlined in a blog post by Ian, starting in 2025, all Sonic-related questions submitted to the show will first need to be screened by Sega. (I have to assume this is also why Ian announced they'll no longer be doing live Q&As starting next year.)

Frankly, I can't say this is particularly surprising.

While the BumbleKast is ostensibly a podcast about Ian's work as a freelance writer for all sorts of things, and also just a place for him to shoot the shit about stuff he likes, he's still predominantly seen as The Sonic Guy. Sure, he also does a bunch of other freelance work for other series, and original comics like Drogune, and he's also the narrative mastermind for the whole Rivals of Aether franchise these days, but it's his insights into what goes on behind the scenes with Sonic that people really care about. Your average Sonic fan can't just go up to Iizuka or whoever and ask him a question about the current state of the lore, but Ian's inbox is always open.

Because of this, I've thought a lot about the BumbleKast's place in the fandom and The Discourse in recent years. Ian wants to be as open and honest as he can about his work, and I think that's admirable. To me, hearing about creators' struggles and the shit they go through just to get a story out the door tends to make me sympathize with them more. Sometimes a story just doesn't turn out as well as you'd hoped, but you're on a tight deadline and all you can do is move on to the next project. I've even softened a bit on Penders over the years as he's shared more about the absurd situations and odd creative demands made behind the scenes at Archie. Unfortunately, not everyone has that mindset.

Ian's basically always had obsessive haters who were eager to take everything he says out of context to try and stir up shit, but that used to be contained by the niche nature of the Archie comics. Most of the fandom didn't give a shit about what Ian was doing with Sonic and Sally's love life or whatever. Most of the fandom wasn't even reading those comics. But Ian's gone from being a writer for a non-canon spinoff comic, to being the initial lead writer for the first ever canon Sonic comic series, to being the new main writer for the games themselves as part of the official Sonic Lore Team. Way more Sonic fans care about his work now, and when he's so open about his work that makes him an easy scapegoat.

It feels like damn near every week on Twitter Ian's personal trolls have posted yet another BumbleKast clip out of context to rile up the fandom and make it look like he has no idea what he's talking about or like he has some kind of agenda. And, unfortunately, people often fall for this. Of course, it also goes the other way, with people more sympathetic towards Ian taking things he says about Sega and framing them as proof that Sega has no idea what they're doing with the brand. Which, well, let's be real, isn't always the most unreasonable thing to think, given Sonic's rocky history. But I'm surprised it took this long for Sega to start paying more attention to what gets said on the BumbleKast when fans use it so regularly as a source of drama.

I've also often felt that they just need to be WAY more selective about what messages they respond to on the show. Questions Ian can't actually answer due to NDAs, questions that are borderline incomprehensible, "questions" that are really just fan ideas. And the haters, oh, the haters. Ian does not need to put up with angry rants about how he should make SonAmy canon or what the fuck ever. Even if Ian's willing to put up with it, as a listener it can make the show just super unpleasant at times when someone aggressive pops up with an inflammatory question. There have been entire BumbleKast Mini episodes I had to skip because they were just obsessive critics of Ian's paying to grill him on a dozen different things and treat him like an idiot.

But at the same time, I get why the show got to be this way. It's become a part-time job for Ian with multiple new episode a week. Given how piss poor the pay tends to be for freelance writers, I can't really blame him for wanting to keep this secondary stream of income open, and to not have to refund people left and right for rejecting their questions. The man's got bills to pay. (And so does Kyle, for whom managing the BumbleKast seems to have become a full-time job.)

I dunno. The man's got the patience of a fucking saint. I would've quit the franchise if I was in his shoes, with people wishing he would die for shit like minor disagreements over Sonic's characterization or him misremembering an obscure old lore thing. While I do hope that Sega doesn't keep too tight of a leash on him moving forward, and I hope that he's still able to speak his mind about his work, part of me also hopes that having to be much more selective about Sonic questions results in less bullshit like this.

[meanbossart]

Sorry if you've gone over this before, but you've said a few times that DU Drow and Astarion both sleep. I know BG3 can be a little fast and loose with the original D&D rules to fit video game logic (some stuff I think they do better for it), and there's no wrong answer here but I was just curious. There's dialogue referring to the player sleeping no matter what race they are, so I figured maybe it was something to do with the tadpoles: Astarion lost a few vampire quirks while infected, maybe elves would lose the ability to trance/meditate and would HAVE to sleep. Or maybe they do still trance and they just say sleep because it's basically the same to non-elves. And on that note, would DU have the ability to trance at all, since he's kind of just... A bhaalspawn wearing a drow-ish skin? Again no wrong answers here cause you're the one running the show, I was just curious if there was any lore going on behind the scenes.

I could go into how most sources I found (at the time and right now) state that elves can sleep if they so wish, and honestly I can also come up with reasons why both Shadowheart and Astarion would choose to avoid reverie... But I'll be honest with you anon, I just don't find the concept very interesting!

The idea of being able to rest without ever actually letting your guard down, plus having the time required to replenish your energy being cut in half, is... Very boring to me, so I ignore it, it's as simple as that 😅 you are free to come up with your own reasons or just pretend I'm saying "meditate" instead of sleeping whenever I mention it.

Regardless of headcanon though, DU drow isn't capable of it and lacks most other perks of being a drow.

[magical-reid]

A Thanksgiving to Remember

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 1.3K

Prompts:

#28 “You owe me.” “I owe you $20, not a day of pretending to be your partner to get your parents off you’re back.”

#47 “I think I’m falling in love with you.” “I think I’m okay with that.” 

______________________________________________________________

It was Thanksgiving at your parents' house, and you were already regretting your decision to come. The smell of roasting turkey and pumpkin pie filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and clinking dishes. As always, your extended family was gathered in the living room, and they were doing what they did best—asking the same questions.

“So, still no boyfriend?” your aunt Marge asked, her voice high-pitched and just a little too loud for your taste as she passed you a plate of mashed potatoes. “You’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.”

You forced a smile, taking the plate from her hands. “Aunt Marge, I’m good, really,” you said, trying to deflect the conversation.

Your cousin Rachel piped up, “Yeah, it’s about time you found someone. You should really try online dating or, I don’t know, maybe—”

“I’m fine,” you said again, cutting her off. "Really."

But it didn’t end there. Every time you turned around, someone else was there with their unsolicited advice or questions about your non-existent love life. It was exhausting.

You sighed quietly, trying to tune out the noise, but there was no getting around it. “Maybe I should just bring someone next year,” you muttered under your breath, picking at the salad in front of you.

______________________________________________________________

“Next year” came quicker than you would’ve like and you still didn’t have your plan set in motion and then it hit you. Your mind snapped to one of your oldest friends. Morgan.

Morgan knew you well enough to know how to get under your skin, but he also owed you something. A bet from a few months ago, one that he’d conveniently forgotten about, had never been paid off. He’d promised you $20, but you’d decided that money wasn’t going to be enough. You needed a more... creative solution.

Later, you found him in the kitchen, casually sipping from a beer bottle as he leaned against the counter, chatting with JJ about something work-related. You leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms.

“Morgan,” you said, catching his attention. He looked up and smiled at you, eyebrows raising in that playful way he had. “I need your help.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Help with what?”

You stepped into the kitchen and lowered your voice so the others wouldn’t overhear explaining your situation. Reminding him: “You owe me.”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “I owe you $20, not a day of pretending to be your boyfriend to get your parents off your back.”

You shot him a pleading look. “You don’t have to pretend. I just need you to show up. You’ve been promising to pay me back for months, and now it’s time to cash in.”

Morgan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not serious. You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for a whole Thanksgiving dinner just so your parents stop grilling you about your love life?”

You gave him a tight smile. “Yes, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t back out this time.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why don’t you ask Reid? He doesn’t have plans, and I know he would love to spend the day with you.”

You blinked. Spencer Reid. Of course.

The idea settled in your mind like the final piece of a puzzle. Spencer had always been there for you, another one of your closest friends, and there was something about the way he made you feel seen and heard that was hard to ignore. You’d never considered him in that way—until now. But he’d be perfect. Sweet, thoughtful Spencer Reid.

“Fine,” you said, nodding. “I’ll ask him. But if he says no, I’m coming back for you, Morgan.”

Morgan grinned. “Good luck with that. I’ll see you at the dinner table.”

The next morning, you called Spencer. You felt your heart skip a beat when he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Spencer, it's me," you said, trying to sound casual. "I know this is going to sound a little weird, but... I was wondering if you could help me out with something for Thanksgiving."

There was a brief pause on the other end, and you could practically hear his brain working. "Help you out with what?"

“Well, my family has been asking me a lot of questions about my non-existent love life,” you began, biting your lip. “And I need a favor. I was wondering if you’d be willing to come with me to dinner, pretend to be my boyfriend for a few hours, and—”

“I’m in,” he interrupted, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Wait, really?” You blinked, surprised. Spencer didn’t usually do anything unless it was deeply thought through, but he was practically jumping at the chance.

"Yeah, I mean, I don’t have any big plans. Plus, it sounds like fun."

You grinned. “Thank you, Spencer. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Thanksgiving came, and Spencer arrived at your parents' house looking absolutely perfect. He was dressed casually, a simple button-up shirt tucked into dark jeans, but he wore it like it was tailor-made. You caught a glimpse of him as he walked up to the front door, and you couldn’t help but smile. He looked so... natural. Like he belonged here.

He was a hit from the moment he walked in.

Spencer immediately jumped into action, offering to help your mom set up the table, making polite conversation with your relatives, and even playing games with the kids. At one point, he entertained them with a few simple magic tricks, causing the little ones to cheer and clap. He was effortlessly charming, the perfect boyfriend.

And then, as you watched him pull out a chair for your grandmother and help her sit down, you realized you hadn’t been giving Spencer enough credit. He wasn’t just good at pretending to be your boyfriend—he was the kind of guy you would want to spend forever with.

Later, while everyone else was busy eating and chatting, you and Spencer took a quiet walk out back, toward the woods behind your parents’ house. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange.

You both walked in comfortable silence, the air crisp against your skin as you ventured deeper into the trees. Spencer’s hands were tucked into his jacket pockets, and you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him every so often. Something had shifted between you today. He was the same Spencer you’d always known, but the way he held himself around you, the way he had stepped in without hesitation… it had made you see him differently.

Finally, after a few minutes of walking, you stopped, turning to face him. The soft glow of the setting sun illuminated his features, casting a warm light on his face. He looked at you with an expression that was a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice quiet but steady. “I just wanted to say... thank you. You really helped me out today, and I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He smiled, but there was something else in his eyes. “I’m glad I could be here for you,” he said softly. “I’ll always be here for you.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions catching up with you. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Spencer.”

His eyes softened, and he took a step closer to you, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. “I think I’m okay with that.”

In that moment, you realized something you hadn’t fully acknowledged before: you didn’t need to pretend. You didn’t need to act for anyone else. Because you and Spencer—well, you were already something real.

[croziers-compass]

Truly, the base thing is that the younger generations of humans do not treat engaging with other people as speaking to another human being. Going to sound like a boomer myself, but there is such a distinct lack of both respect and decency. In online spaces and social media, respect is not something that is rewarded or treated as a standard; and that standard is entirely gone. So many of the younger folks nowadays treat all of their engagements across the internet with a lack of respect, decency, and honouring of the other person and their presence in their communication. Their time is spent in an online environment where they are enticed with drama, conflict, and they entertain boredom with antagonism. They also are engaging with people that they will never have to really see or properly engage with and if they want they can guilt-free block and never see someone again. This has rewarded and encouraged poor social skills and an inability to properly make deep and understanding connections with potential employers or individuals that can help move their careers or interests forwards. And then they, without knowing any better, ask the questions of: "Why do I have to treat another human being like a human being?" because they are not rewarded for treating human beings like human beings and not just a source of online entertainment and media consumption to scratch an itch. And this isn't just about e-mails as well. The way social engagements online have developed is very poor. Etiquette isn't something that's meant to be posh or high-toned. It isn't meant to be a display of superiority. It's meant to show respect, decency, and to let someone know you actually care about the other person, what they have to say, and how they feel about something. It shows you are also receptive to what the other person has. Don't you want someone to make you feel like they care and are listening to you? So when you reach out to people online, how you choose to engage with someone will determine if they wish to engage with you further. If you want to make connections with other human beings, you may have to understand that it is not always going to revolve solely around yourself. And I absolutely understand that the current settings of the social expectations of social media environments have derailed any idea of conducting yourself with dignity and respect or treating other people with dignity and respect. But it's something that will negatively impact someone in the future if they fail to grasp the importance of treating other people with basic communicated respect. Especially in professional settings.

not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram

the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis

[kismetlotts]

Omg omg hii I have this super request of Price slipping into his beautiful neighbour’s house, (just the way the man was so good at staying in the shadows when he entered Shepherd’s pffice) slipping something funny into the water she’s supposed to drink after a workout... She passes out in a matter of minutes after sitting down and by the time she wakes up, she’s so sore and sticky yet can’t even seem to remember why... or falling asleep at all!

Fucking love this idea! Got a little carried away though and made Price a bit of a stalker- but I hope you don’t mind!

cw: noncon, rape, use of drugs (spiking), Price is a little bit of a stalker, mentions of hand jobs, fingering, self tasting, oral sex on fem, being ejaculated on, watching through window, mentions of stealing panties, Price has a little obsession with the reader, mentions of spit, a lot of sweat, use of degrading name e.g 'bitch', Price can't see what he is doing is wrong, mentions of exercise, rough sex, a lot of manhandling, neighbour next door trope

"Need any help with those?" Was what started it all off. Price was in the midst of bringing in groceries after being away for so long due to work in the military. The boot of his car raised as bags of necessities- food, beer, what not- were pretty much trickling out and onto the pavement.

He lived in a local quiet area of town, houses decently sized and kept tidy. Lawns frequently mowed, flowers always grown and planted- such a shame how little sunshine England got because it would look like something out of a movie. John was also acquainted well with a lot of the elderly folk around there, most of them having lived their way before he even moved in.

It was perfect for him, given he was usually a bit of a grumpy bastard, living alone in a neighbourhood like that was a breath of fresh air. His neighbours understood him and kept to themselves but not in the distance unwelcoming way, the respecting kid of way. It made him feel secure- snug like a childhood blanket; warm, safe and familiar.

So it’s not difficult to envision the look on his face when he turned around, catching you exiting the house next door. Body in them tight gym shorts and shirt to match as you practically ran over to him. Fucking hell, what had he missed? He had to blink twice; once to register was going on and a second time to look away because your body was enchanting. Forcefully having to drag his eyes away from the plump curves of your ass- the shape of your thighs- your breasts.

Passing you one of the bags from the car, carrying three himself because- of course he had to show off his own strength and muscle to you. A jolt of arousal electrocuting his body from your skin brushing his hand; cock swelling up erratically and his eyebrows furrowed. Johns head immediately leaping to imagine scenarios with them soft fingers of yours.

Finger tips only just touching as your hand spread around the base of his girthy cock, stroking him slowly, looking into his eyes as you bite your lip nervously, wondering if you were doing a good enough job- if you were pleasing him right. He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly as the pulse in his cock died down. He couldn't let himself get distracted so easily, come on John, what has gotten into you?

As you helped him unload, you explained how you'd moved in next door a couple months ago, not realising anyone actually lived in his house. Rambling on about how nice all the neighbours seem and how easy it was to settle down. How safe this side of town was but honestly, John didn't care one bit.

He wasn't listening to the words despite him deceiving you with his humming and nodding. He was listening to the sound of your voice instead. The sickeningly sweet tone chirping into his ear so delicately it made his hands tremble. Fingers desperate to reach out and touch you like a child with fire.

He knows it will burn, he knows he cant but its just so pretty- he was losing fucking control, who the hell were you?

He'd imagine all the noises you'd make with him above you, finger fucking you until your words were all broken and tearful. Ripping out of your cunt harshly before forcing the fingers into your mouth. Shuddering at the feel of your tongue tracing laps around them, tasting yourself, doing exactly what he guides you to do.

"Do you taste good?" He'd ask you slowly, breath hitting your face from how close the distance between you is. Voice thick with husk and lust because he couldn't let you realise the power you have over him. How weak you get him at the knees- you could have him a begging mess if you asked.

A scarred yet smooth large hand grabbing you by the cheeks, squishing your adorable face so hard your lips shine with spit. Holding you like that and watching your skin pale when he lets go. Not bothering to actually hear your reply before going down and tasting you for himself.

From such short little interaction, a sick fascination had blossomed inside him. Wrapped in his head, tied in his chest and sunken deep in his stomach- it was more an obsession than a little crush. He'd watch you through his window as you pottered around in your kitchen oblivious to his gaze- it wasn't stalking to watch you all the time, he was just watching your back.

If being in the military taught him one thing it was to be cautious of your surroundings, because you never know what might happen - who could be lurking over you. So all he was doing was looking after you, really.

He knew your routine off by heart, when you would shower, when you would sleep, eat- work: He knew it better than you did yourself. He also knew things about you that you didn't even know. Like how many pairs of underwear you go through in a week.

His large muscular arm counting them as he shuffled through your wash basket being sure to snatch one for himself later, as you hummed innocently in the shower: unaware to his presence. And why your phone kept unplugging during the night when you slept, watching your angry face through the glass as you wake up and curse yourself out because you swore you plugged it in and now you have to wait an extra 20 minutes for your phone to charge up before going for your morning jog.

An extra 20 minutes of pacing in front of your window in your tight gym clothes, getting a few more stretches in because why not- you have the time.

Oh and you definitely didn't know about the faulty lock on your back door, and how when you jiggle it a bit the fucker just opens up with ease. How little effort it was to slip inside and glide around your home, the smell of you saturated into the sofa, the bed, the walls, precum dribbling into the fabric of his boxers. Your house really was yours, everything down to the last detail was just you.

He felt like he couldn't breathe yet breathing heavily was all he could bring himself to do. Lingering in the shadows as his fingers trailed along the kitchen counters, fist wrapping around the pink plastic of your water bottle. Silly silly little girl, you shouldn't have left it home because now he can’t stop himself.

Stood behind your front door, black hoodie blending him in as you stepped inside, panting like a dog- a bitch- from your run. Hair drenched in sweat that trickled down your forehead and neck making your skin look aureate- glowing.

He bit back the moan watching how carelessly and greedily you guzzled down your bottle of water. Oblivious to the fact that your friendly neighbour John had tampered with it, oblivious to the fact he was right fucking there, waiting patiently for the side effects to kick in.

Your back hitting the sofa as your panting settled down, eyes drooping a little and without your knowledge or realisation you were out cold. Knocked out- head flopping back and eyes rolled. Price chuckled, walking to the back of the couch, hand hitting your head before shoving your limp body hard, forward and onto the glass coffee table.

"Bless you, love. Didn't even know I was here, did ya?" He asked you loudly, he wanted to scream it at you and if he didn't care so much about the neighbours hearing him shout, he would've. Sadly he had to be cautious.

He had to make sure that you were fully unaware of everything he was going to do to you, before and after and he wasn't going to risk it- someone was bound to check up on you after hearing shouting even if it’s just a quick question while taking the rubbish out.

His fingers entwined in your hair as he slowly crouched down beside you. Yanking you back up, flipping and positioning your body over on the table like a mannequin. The zipper of his hoodie echoing in the silence of the house and fuck, he was desperate for you.

Undressing his top half and throwing the clothes on the settee before spreading your legs wide open. Wasting no time as he ripped a fat hole in your leggings, pushing your panties to the side through the broken fabric.

Johns mouth watered as his eyes locked on your pussy, so hot and steaming with sweat but he couldn't care less- he had been wanting you for the past month despite it feeling an eternity. He really couldn't give a shit if you were clean or sweaty- shaved or not he was fucking having you right here, and right now.

His blue eyes indulged in your peaceful expression, eyelashes pressed against your puffy cheeks while his tongue licked a long aching strip up from your entrance. Throat closed dry with thirst and his body was shaking with adrenaline, holding back and restraining himself from making a mess of your pussy. Letting himself sink into you and your flavour instead; not like it was going to last long or anything.

Less than one minute in and he was eating you, spitting on you, slapping your tiny sensitive clit. Sucking on you, biting you and getting your juices all caught inside his beard, he swore blind days went by with how long he was down there. Taking his precious time and allowing himself to relax and enjoy your taste but being cautious with his actions because he didn’t want to hurt you.

He didn't want you to feel as if you'd been raped or something horrible. He didn't want you to wake up and feel so sore and achy that you panic someone came in and fucked with you. John wasn't like that- no! He just needed a favour from you and went by it in a way that doesn't cause such a hassle. Saving himself from potential rejection and awkwardness between you too, it was beneficial. He was just borrowing you.

That was neighbours do, yeah? They help each other.

His cock would ram in you so deep his eyes stung from the pleasure he felt. So wet and tight and just for him. Slowly losing touch with the sensible side of him as he picked the pace up. He shouldn't be going that hard, you were definitely going to feel something is off. Going to feel how deep he was inside you when you wake up all lost and confused.

Your clit was going to throb and sting with how much Johns tongue had flicked, sucked and bit it. The more his brain let him know of his mistakes the more he thought, 'fuck it' and let himself be rough. Dragging and moving you around like his personal little sex doll- exactly what you fucking were.

Holding your legs up in the air then switching to your body pressed against his chest, hands squeezing your hips as he pretends your riding him.

"Oh fuck, honey just look at the sight of you. Why don't you come live with me? Why don't you come stay with me next door and I’ll do all this every night." Teeth sinking into your earlobe as his question was left unanswered- he wasn't expecting a response at all but it was an excuse to fuck you harder.

An excuse to rip off your shirt and play with your breasts because you weren’t replying or him and instead was making him angry. Leaving him with no choice but to tease your nipples until he’s about to cum.

Slamming you back down on the table before fisting his cock towering above you. The swollen and desperate tip so red and dripping with precum until finally he grunted and shut his eyes. Showering you in his hot semen watching how the white spurts out and paints your body like his personal canvas.

Palms eagerly massaging the warm cum into your flesh- your stomach, your chest, up on and over neck while he regains his breath and strength. Scooping you up into his arms to carry you up your stairs and into bed, removing everything and tucking you into the sheets- naked. His heart exploded seeing how solemn and innocent you looked all cuddles up, bending down over you to kiss your forehead before leaving.

Discarding the clothes and grabbing his hoodie, making sure to wipe and clean up any juices or evidence of the two of you before leaving out the back and returning home to rest. Missing your soft little murmur as you stirred awake in your bed, confused on how you'd gotten there and where your clothes had disappeared too.

Wincing from the sores on your legs and body and the sticky feeling everywhere as you sat up in bed. A yawn falling from your lips but- oh well.

Must've been from working out earlier.