Part 7
when we
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tw// angst, profanity, hangover, smut, spanking, aggression, punishment, hair pulling
"Can you walk baby?” he asked. Although ‘baby’ wasn't far from babygirl, there was something about hearing him say it that made your body warm. As if ‘baby’ was his boyfriend mode nickname. “Yeah, I think so,” you stood up, woozy would not be accurate, spinning in a tornado as a hurricane swept you into the air would better cover how you were feeling. “Alcohol bad,” you whispered as you tried to hold your shit together before you got inside his apartment. Before he opened the door you panicked, “Jimin, I can’t go in there...I am such a mess and I just can’t, like make a mess in your apartment. I just...just leave me here, save yourself.” He laughed out loud, unintentionally causing your head to feel like it was exploding, “oh no, I’m so sorry baby.” His whisper and the way he sweetly reached out for you, no matter how disgusting you felt and probably looked, made you fall for him...all over again. You were stupid in love. Stupid crazy in love with him...and if he asked, you would absolutely run off to elope with him at that moment.
“Come on baby. If you make a mess, you make a mess...it's nothing that can’t be cleaned up. Don’t worry about stupid shit, my love. You being comfortable, or at least the most comfortable as possible is all I’m thinking of, ok?” he affirmed. “I’m so sorry, Jimin,” you started to cry. Fuck, teary drunk has entered the building, you thought to yourself as if having an out of body experience, watching yourself fall apart. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. Or write you back. I’m so sorry...I just. I didn’t know what to do. Shit between you and him was like way too much. I’m a no drama girl, I have rules, I don’t mess with messes. I’m sorry...I missed you. I still love you. I want you. I’m gonna be sick again,” you ran to the bathroom and took residence in front of his, thankfully very clean, toilet. He ran after you, holding onto your hair again, rubbing on your back and telling you it was all gonna be ok.
“It’s ok baby. I’m right here. I’m not leaving, you’re ok, I’m not leaving…” and he stayed, until all that remained was a heavy dose of dry heaving. He sat on the floor and cradled you into his lap, running his fingers through your hair, placing the cold wet cloth that he had prepared for you onto your forehead. “My poor baby,” he whispered, “my beautiful poor baby.” You snuggled into his thigh, holding onto him as if he was your lovey from your toddler years, and you moaned yourself to sleep...swearing off alcohol, like you did every weekend in college.
The next morning, you woke up to him watching over you. His eyes were red, you could tell he hadn’t slept. You smiled at him, grateful that he had kept his blackout curtains pulled closed for you. “Hey beautiful, how are you feeling?” he asked, as he held out a couple of aspirin and a full glass of room temperature water. You nodded, closing your eyes as the pain of your self-inflicted hangover set in. You took the aspirin from his hand and sipped enough water to get them down, before falling back onto the bed. You wiggled slightly, allowing the feel of the fabric hugging you to take hold, and you thought to yourself, when did I change?
--
“It’s ok, baby,” he whispered, as he slowly shifted from underneath you. He placed the towel he had rolled up, under your head as a temporary pillow, so that he could get everything ready for you to transition into bed. When he got to his feet, he smiled knowing you were with him, that he was the one taking care of you. He shrugged playfully, accepting how good it felt to love...and be loved. “I love you,” he whispered, more for him to hear himself say it. He giggled inside and got to work.
He pulled the sheets and comforter back on his bed, fluffing your favorite of his pillows. He searched through his drawer, pulling out the one pair of panties that you forgot when you left and he hadn’t torn through. Then he searched his closet for one of your favorite shirts of his and grabbed a pair of his sweatpants to change you out of your ‘club night’ attire. He laid everything out on his bed and he looked it over, to make sure it was what you would like. When he was certain, he went back into the bathroom. He squatted down and carefully pushed his arms under your body, delicately rolling you into his hold. He stood up slowly and smiled as you snuggled into his chest, which is when he melted.
He laid you down on your side of the bed and started to clean you up. Wiping any trace of alcohol regret from your face, hands, and body. He took extra care to slowly separate your hair from the regret that held onto it, one strand at a time to make sure that he didn’t pull it, unintentionally. He smiled, as he doted on you, love no longer a feeling he had hoped to feel...no, now, he felt it...he felt it all. He carefully removed your earrings, then your necklace, placing them in one of his empty watch boxes on the nightstand next to your side. Once he felt like he got you as clean as possible, he started to change your clothes. It was the first time he really looked at the beauty of your body, your glowing skin, your soft curves...he took a moment to admire you, to fully embrace that you were his, that all of you belonged to him. Just as all of him belonged to you. It was the first time he saw you naked and didn’t immediately think about fucking. He daydreamed about one day rubbing the soft skin of your tummy as it stretched around a baby, placing a pretty ring on your finger, rubbing along the matching tattoo’s you would get… "holy fuck,” he whispered, overcome with an emotion that he was sure he had never experienced, another first with you...bliss.
--
You smiled at him and whispered, “thank you.” “No need,” he smiled as he patted his chest, a sweet invitation to hold you. You accepted with a joyful smile, scooting over slightly to place your head against his neck, your hand softly sweeping over his chest. He squeezed you softly, afraid to add to the discomfort of your hangover, and took a long deep breath of you snuggled onto him. Finally feeling confident that you were really ok, he relaxed and fell asleep, your body perfectly draped on his...the sound of his heartbeat, pounding through his body.
--
Your head was still ringing the next time you woke up. He was still sleeping so soundly, that you did everything you could to stay still, the smell of him just as intoxicating as it ever was. You scanned the small space that was visually accessible to you and the limited expanse of your peripheral vision. You smiled, seeing his organized closet, his work clothes clearly separated from his other clothes. His small watch collection on top of his dresser, you laughed to yourself remembering the first time he walked you through his bedroom, proud of his very specific attention to detail. And then, there it was, a picture...you couldn’t make out exactly what it was, but the number of people in it made you believe that it was a picture of him and his 'friends'.
The thought made your stomach fall, thinking of everything that happened the last time you were over. The whole ‘thing’ with Namjoon and the ridiculous invasion of your privacy, the jealousy, the shit storm that you ended up in the middle of...you closed your eyes to prevent the room from continuing to spin with your thoughts. You needed some air. You slid carefully away from his body, his bare chest glistened like a pile of gold glitter. He was impossible to ignore, impossible to stop caring about, impossible to do anything but love...no matter what mess you had to get into. When you were out from under his arm, you sat, staring at him...your beautiful mess of a boyfriend.
You paid him a bit more attention, before recognizing that his earrings were in, something you nagged him about...which made you feel for yours. Fuck, you thought, feeling that they were gone, figuring they had fallen out somewhere. You looked around the bed and then you saw the box on the nightstand next to you. It hadn’t ever been there before, and your man was meticulous about where everything was placed, so you opened it up. Your hand moved to cover your mouth, seeing your earrings and your necklace, perfectly placed in the watch box on top of a pretty lilac silk fabric. Your eyes filled with tears of happiness, as you ran the words over and over in your head, ‘he remembered, he remembered, he remembered...’ You held the box close to your heart, blissfully content in the realization...Jimin, was for sure, your boyfriend.
--
“Baby? Where are you?” he called out. You had gotten up, unable to sit still, waiting for him to wake up so that you could get the whole, ‘we love each other’ business taken care of. “In here,” you called out, the headache that had been drilling into your head for most of the day, finally feeling a little better. Your heart skipped a beat when he appeared, his loose pajama pants hanging just off of his waist, his sharp vline peeking out. The cut of his pecs matching the cut of his abs. Your pussy responded automatically, as it always did, each step that he took toward you met with a throb of your clit.
He stopped momentarily, a big stretch combined with a yawn, “good morning!” You giggled, you mean, “good evening?” “What, no way...what time is it baby?” he asked, as he plopped down onto the couch next to you. “Time for you to check your watch collection,” you teased. “Oh, is that so,” he looked at you, a full grin painted onto his lips. He chuckled as he pulled you into his lap, “now my love, is that how you should be talking to your perfect, supportive, and understanding boyfriend? Who took excellent, some might say superior, care of you...and your drunk ass!” You giggled, “serves you right! You wanted me to blow you on the drive home...tada, this is what you get!” He gasped, “baby, I can’t believe you would blame your unfortunate run in with the top shelf of the bar on my fat cock in your mouth...how dare you!” You both laughed. You were sitting in his lap, your legs straddling over his. He smiled, looking up at you, finding the comfort that tucking your hair behind your ear brought him, “you have completely and utterly ruined me. I will never be the same.” You scrunched up your nose, unsure of what he meant...the words, not exactly hitting you right. He giggled, “I don’t mean that in a bad way, baby. Just...the person that I was when we met, that’s not who I am anymore, but it’s the best thing in the world.” You let out a huge sigh of relief, before tilting your lips to meet his, the sweetest of kisses passing between you. “I love you,” he whispered. You smiled and leaned onto him, whispering the same, “I love you too.”
You stayed, attached to each other, happily allowing the silence to encompass you. “Baby,” you asked, still in a whisper, “I love lovey dovey Jimin...I really do, but can I expect Mr. Park anytime soon?” You watched a sinister smirk fall over his face and before you could respond, his fingers were intertwined with your hair and you were staring at his ceiling. “Babygirl, my sexy, bratty, babygirl...are you sure you are ready for Mr. Park? You were exceptionally naughty last night...the list, my dear, is long,” he dared. “Yes, sir,” you asserted. His hand gripped onto your hair, holding you still. "Naked, hands and knees,” he directed in his low, sexy, and unmistakably commanding voice. The moment he released you, you jumped to your feet and stripped. A few brief moments later, you were on your hands and knees in front of him. “Good, babygirl,” he gloated, the control he had over you, almost addictive. “Knees only,” he commanded. You dropped your head down and lifted your ass into the air, creating the perfect wedge out of your body, exactly as he specified.
“Count,” he directed. Spank. “One,” you stated, your voice calm and collected, the way he instructed you. The burn from his hand across your ass cheek, feeling like licking the icing off of a delicious cupcake.
“You will respect me,” he instructed, then smack. “Two,” collected.
“You belong to me.” Smack. “Three.”
“You will obey.” Smack. “Four.”
“You are mine.” Smack. “Five.”
“Will you respect me?” his voice demanded. “Yes, sir,” you remained collected.
“Do you belong to me?” “Yes, sir.”
“Will you obey me?” “Yes, sir.”
“Are you mine?” “Yes, sir.”
He rubbed his hand over your ass, reddened, his dick had sprung to attention feeling the warmth beneath his hand. “Remember your safe word?” he checked in to make sure you were ok. “Yes, sir,” you stated, the pleasuring pain still prominent on your skin. He stood up and commanded, “stand up.” You jumped to your feet and he lifted you over his shoulder, bursts of spanks adding to the sting of his lesson.
“Do not cum,” he directed, right before slamming into you. Your body was draped over the side of the bed, as he pumped into you, hard slaps continued to meet your skin. It was almost too much, but the careful straddling of the line, made you feel powerful...you were actually the one in control. His grunts began to meld to moans, his high was imminent, but using every remaining ounce of will power he stopped. Your mind was blown, the amount of control he was able to wield was the hottest thing you had ever witnessed.
“Who do you belong to?” he asked. “You, Mr. Park,” you stated with confidence, wanting nothing more than to feed his ego. “Who does your ass belong to?” “You, Mr. Park,” you repeated, it took everything for you not to clench around his cock. “Who does your pussy belong to?” “You, Mr. Park,” you took in a slow breath, trying to control the overwhelming need deep within your walls. “Who does your cum belong to?” his voice was steady, the tone low, controlled and deliberate. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK, you screamed internally. “You, Mr. Park,” you answered, trying to hide your internal celebration that your boyfriend was the sexiest mother fucker on the planet.
“Cum for Mr. Park,” he directed and started to pump into you again, this time, reaching into your pussy and rubbing on your clit. You bit down hard on your lip and at the same time, clenched down onto his cock, “fuuuuuuck!” “Fuck who?” he growled through his hardest thrusts into you. “Fuck, Mr. Park!” you screamed out as your body shook through the hardest orgasm of your life. You felt like you floated out of your body, looking down at yourself, taking his cock, his aggression, his savage way of fucking you good and hard...like a fucking champ. Your floating self, clapped, boasting with pride, ‘that is my mother fucking bitch!’ Three ‘fucks’ later and he was shooting his load, deep inside of you...deep, deep, inside of you.
He rested against your back, beginning the post-punishment cuddle, placing small pecks along your spine...as he filled the room with words of love, adoration, and gratitude. He pulled out slowly and gently turned you over, kissing your lips first, then painting your shoulders and collarbones with more sweet kisses. His whisper, sounding like a woofer at maximized bass power, “There is absolutely nothing in the world like when we fuck.”
--
“Do you think he will show?” you whispered to Jimin, sitting as close to him as possible, without being on his lap. “Probably, he needs to gloat,” Jimin chuckled, “fucking loser!” “So does anyone know?” you asked, wondering who your reunion might surprise, in addition to Namjoon. “Nope,” he started, squeezing your thigh and pushing his lips together making a kissing sound. You giggled, heart melting into a puddle, and kissed him. “...the only people who matter are you and me,” he laughed. “Agreed,” you snuggled under his arm. He chuckled, “you better stop being so adorable baby...your gonna end up working your pussy into a love making session.” “Maybe, I want a love making session, babyboy?” you sassed, playfully. He raised his eyebrows, “...there are a lot of things I know about you, my baby, and one thing is for sure...you like it best when we fuck!” You both laughed and locked onto each other in a kiss, heavy with exploring hands...a wet pussy and a hardening dick. “Fuck this, let’s get back home,” he growled, sucking on your neck...his appetite for you never satisfied. “Yes, let’s!” you shrieked, no longer caring about ‘showing’ Namjoon a damn thing.
He slid off of his seat and stepped in front of you, pushing his body between your legs, before lifting you off of yours. You giggled, holding onto his shoulders, before he placed you on the floor and grabbed your hand. You kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand tightly, exchanging a knowing glance as you walked out. You didn’t even notice, but Jimin did, a shocked Namjoon...jaw open, loss handed to him straight. Jimin smirked, his inner dialogue sounding like the cheers at a championship game, because the win indeed belonged to Jimin, ‘Boom, motherfucker! Boom! Not this time! You don’t win this time!’
“Come on baby. If you make a mess, you make a mess...it's nothing that can’t be cleaned up. Don’t worry about stupid shit, my love. You being comfortable, or at least the most comfortable as possible is all I’m thinking of, ok?” he affirmed. “I’m so sorry, Jimin,” you started to cry. Fuck, teary drunk has entered the building, you thought to yourself as if having an out of body experience, watching yourself fall apart. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. Or write you back. I’m so sorry...I just. I didn’t know what to do. Shit between you and him was like way too much. I’m a no drama girl, I have rules, I don’t mess with messes. I’m sorry...I missed you. I still love you. I want you. I’m gonna be sick again,” you ran to the bathroom and took residence in front of his, thankfully very clean, toilet. He ran after you, holding onto your hair again, rubbing on your back and telling you it was all gonna be ok.
“It’s ok baby. I’m right here. I’m not leaving, you’re ok, I’m not leaving…” and he stayed, until all that remained was a heavy dose of dry heaving. He sat on the floor and cradled you into his lap, running his fingers through your hair, placing the cold wet cloth that he had prepared for you onto your forehead. “My poor baby,” he whispered, “my beautiful poor baby.” You snuggled into his thigh, holding onto him as if he was your lovey from your toddler years, and you moaned yourself to sleep...swearing off alcohol, like you did every weekend in college.
The next morning, you woke up to him watching over you. His eyes were red, you could tell he hadn’t slept. You smiled at him, grateful that he had kept his blackout curtains pulled closed for you. “Hey beautiful, how are you feeling?” he asked, as he held out a couple of aspirin and a full glass of room temperature water. You nodded, closing your eyes as the pain of your self-inflicted hangover set in. You took the aspirin from his hand and sipped enough water to get them down, before falling back onto the bed. You wiggled slightly, allowing the feel of the fabric hugging you to take hold, and you thought to yourself, when did I change?
--
“It’s ok, baby,” he whispered, as he slowly shifted from underneath you. He placed the towel he had rolled up, under your head as a temporary pillow, so that he could get everything ready for you to transition into bed. When he got to his feet, he smiled knowing you were with him, that he was the one taking care of you. He shrugged playfully, accepting how good it felt to love...and be loved. “I love you,” he whispered, more for him to hear himself say it. He giggled inside and got to work.
He pulled the sheets and comforter back on his bed, fluffing your favorite of his pillows. He searched through his drawer, pulling out the one pair of panties that you forgot when you left and he hadn’t torn through. Then he searched his closet for one of your favorite shirts of his and grabbed a pair of his sweatpants to change you out of your ‘club night’ attire. He laid everything out on his bed and he looked it over, to make sure it was what you would like. When he was certain, he went back into the bathroom. He squatted down and carefully pushed his arms under your body, delicately rolling you into his hold. He stood up slowly and smiled as you snuggled into his chest, which is when he melted.
He laid you down on your side of the bed and started to clean you up. Wiping any trace of alcohol regret from your face, hands, and body. He took extra care to slowly separate your hair from the regret that held onto it, one strand at a time to make sure that he didn’t pull it, unintentionally. He smiled, as he doted on you, love no longer a feeling he had hoped to feel...no, now, he felt it...he felt it all. He carefully removed your earrings, then your necklace, placing them in one of his empty watch boxes on the nightstand next to your side. Once he felt like he got you as clean as possible, he started to change your clothes. It was the first time he really looked at the beauty of your body, your glowing skin, your soft curves...he took a moment to admire you, to fully embrace that you were his, that all of you belonged to him. Just as all of him belonged to you. It was the first time he saw you naked and didn’t immediately think about fucking. He daydreamed about one day rubbing the soft skin of your tummy as it stretched around a baby, placing a pretty ring on your finger, rubbing along the matching tattoo’s you would get… "holy fuck,” he whispered, overcome with an emotion that he was sure he had never experienced, another first with you...bliss.
--
You smiled at him and whispered, “thank you.” “No need,” he smiled as he patted his chest, a sweet invitation to hold you. You accepted with a joyful smile, scooting over slightly to place your head against his neck, your hand softly sweeping over his chest. He squeezed you softly, afraid to add to the discomfort of your hangover, and took a long deep breath of you snuggled onto him. Finally feeling confident that you were really ok, he relaxed and fell asleep, your body perfectly draped on his...the sound of his heartbeat, pounding through his body.
--
Your head was still ringing the next time you woke up. He was still sleeping so soundly, that you did everything you could to stay still, the smell of him just as intoxicating as it ever was. You scanned the small space that was visually accessible to you and the limited expanse of your peripheral vision. You smiled, seeing his organized closet, his work clothes clearly separated from his other clothes. His small watch collection on top of his dresser, you laughed to yourself remembering the first time he walked you through his bedroom, proud of his very specific attention to detail. And then, there it was, a picture...you couldn’t make out exactly what it was, but the number of people in it made you believe that it was a picture of him and his 'friends'.
The thought made your stomach fall, thinking of everything that happened the last time you were over. The whole ‘thing’ with Namjoon and the ridiculous invasion of your privacy, the jealousy, the shit storm that you ended up in the middle of...you closed your eyes to prevent the room from continuing to spin with your thoughts. You needed some air. You slid carefully away from his body, his bare chest glistened like a pile of gold glitter. He was impossible to ignore, impossible to stop caring about, impossible to do anything but love...no matter what mess you had to get into. When you were out from under his arm, you sat, staring at him...your beautiful mess of a boyfriend.
You paid him a bit more attention, before recognizing that his earrings were in, something you nagged him about...which made you feel for yours. Fuck, you thought, feeling that they were gone, figuring they had fallen out somewhere. You looked around the bed and then you saw the box on the nightstand next to you. It hadn’t ever been there before, and your man was meticulous about where everything was placed, so you opened it up. Your hand moved to cover your mouth, seeing your earrings and your necklace, perfectly placed in the watch box on top of a pretty lilac silk fabric. Your eyes filled with tears of happiness, as you ran the words over and over in your head, ‘he remembered, he remembered, he remembered...’ You held the box close to your heart, blissfully content in the realization...Jimin, was for sure, your boyfriend.
--
“Baby? Where are you?” he called out. You had gotten up, unable to sit still, waiting for him to wake up so that you could get the whole, ‘we love each other’ business taken care of. “In here,” you called out, the headache that had been drilling into your head for most of the day, finally feeling a little better. Your heart skipped a beat when he appeared, his loose pajama pants hanging just off of his waist, his sharp vline peeking out. The cut of his pecs matching the cut of his abs. Your pussy responded automatically, as it always did, each step that he took toward you met with a throb of your clit.
He stopped momentarily, a big stretch combined with a yawn, “good morning!” You giggled, you mean, “good evening?” “What, no way...what time is it baby?” he asked, as he plopped down onto the couch next to you. “Time for you to check your watch collection,” you teased. “Oh, is that so,” he looked at you, a full grin painted onto his lips. He chuckled as he pulled you into his lap, “now my love, is that how you should be talking to your perfect, supportive, and understanding boyfriend? Who took excellent, some might say superior, care of you...and your drunk ass!” You giggled, “serves you right! You wanted me to blow you on the drive home...tada, this is what you get!” He gasped, “baby, I can’t believe you would blame your unfortunate run in with the top shelf of the bar on my fat cock in your mouth...how dare you!” You both laughed. You were sitting in his lap, your legs straddling over his. He smiled, looking up at you, finding the comfort that tucking your hair behind your ear brought him, “you have completely and utterly ruined me. I will never be the same.” You scrunched up your nose, unsure of what he meant...the words, not exactly hitting you right. He giggled, “I don’t mean that in a bad way, baby. Just...the person that I was when we met, that’s not who I am anymore, but it’s the best thing in the world.” You let out a huge sigh of relief, before tilting your lips to meet his, the sweetest of kisses passing between you. “I love you,” he whispered. You smiled and leaned onto him, whispering the same, “I love you too.”
You stayed, attached to each other, happily allowing the silence to encompass you. “Baby,” you asked, still in a whisper, “I love lovey dovey Jimin...I really do, but can I expect Mr. Park anytime soon?” You watched a sinister smirk fall over his face and before you could respond, his fingers were intertwined with your hair and you were staring at his ceiling. “Babygirl, my sexy, bratty, babygirl...are you sure you are ready for Mr. Park? You were exceptionally naughty last night...the list, my dear, is long,” he dared. “Yes, sir,” you asserted. His hand gripped onto your hair, holding you still. "Naked, hands and knees,” he directed in his low, sexy, and unmistakably commanding voice. The moment he released you, you jumped to your feet and stripped. A few brief moments later, you were on your hands and knees in front of him. “Good, babygirl,” he gloated, the control he had over you, almost addictive. “Knees only,” he commanded. You dropped your head down and lifted your ass into the air, creating the perfect wedge out of your body, exactly as he specified.
“Count,” he directed. Spank. “One,” you stated, your voice calm and collected, the way he instructed you. The burn from his hand across your ass cheek, feeling like licking the icing off of a delicious cupcake.
“You will respect me,” he instructed, then smack. “Two,” collected.
“You belong to me.” Smack. “Three.”
“You will obey.” Smack. “Four.”
“You are mine.” Smack. “Five.”
“Will you respect me?” his voice demanded. “Yes, sir,” you remained collected.
“Do you belong to me?” “Yes, sir.”
“Will you obey me?” “Yes, sir.”
“Are you mine?” “Yes, sir.”
He rubbed his hand over your ass, reddened, his dick had sprung to attention feeling the warmth beneath his hand. “Remember your safe word?” he checked in to make sure you were ok. “Yes, sir,” you stated, the pleasuring pain still prominent on your skin. He stood up and commanded, “stand up.” You jumped to your feet and he lifted you over his shoulder, bursts of spanks adding to the sting of his lesson.
“Do not cum,” he directed, right before slamming into you. Your body was draped over the side of the bed, as he pumped into you, hard slaps continued to meet your skin. It was almost too much, but the careful straddling of the line, made you feel powerful...you were actually the one in control. His grunts began to meld to moans, his high was imminent, but using every remaining ounce of will power he stopped. Your mind was blown, the amount of control he was able to wield was the hottest thing you had ever witnessed.
“Who do you belong to?” he asked. “You, Mr. Park,” you stated with confidence, wanting nothing more than to feed his ego. “Who does your ass belong to?” “You, Mr. Park,” you repeated, it took everything for you not to clench around his cock. “Who does your pussy belong to?” “You, Mr. Park,” you took in a slow breath, trying to control the overwhelming need deep within your walls. “Who does your cum belong to?” his voice was steady, the tone low, controlled and deliberate. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK, you screamed internally. “You, Mr. Park,” you answered, trying to hide your internal celebration that your boyfriend was the sexiest mother fucker on the planet.
“Cum for Mr. Park,” he directed and started to pump into you again, this time, reaching into your pussy and rubbing on your clit. You bit down hard on your lip and at the same time, clenched down onto his cock, “fuuuuuuck!” “Fuck who?” he growled through his hardest thrusts into you. “Fuck, Mr. Park!” you screamed out as your body shook through the hardest orgasm of your life. You felt like you floated out of your body, looking down at yourself, taking his cock, his aggression, his savage way of fucking you good and hard...like a fucking champ. Your floating self, clapped, boasting with pride, ‘that is my mother fucking bitch!’ Three ‘fucks’ later and he was shooting his load, deep inside of you...deep, deep, inside of you.
He rested against your back, beginning the post-punishment cuddle, placing small pecks along your spine...as he filled the room with words of love, adoration, and gratitude. He pulled out slowly and gently turned you over, kissing your lips first, then painting your shoulders and collarbones with more sweet kisses. His whisper, sounding like a woofer at maximized bass power, “There is absolutely nothing in the world like when we fuck.”
--
“Do you think he will show?” you whispered to Jimin, sitting as close to him as possible, without being on his lap. “Probably, he needs to gloat,” Jimin chuckled, “fucking loser!” “So does anyone know?” you asked, wondering who your reunion might surprise, in addition to Namjoon. “Nope,” he started, squeezing your thigh and pushing his lips together making a kissing sound. You giggled, heart melting into a puddle, and kissed him. “...the only people who matter are you and me,” he laughed. “Agreed,” you snuggled under his arm. He chuckled, “you better stop being so adorable baby...your gonna end up working your pussy into a love making session.” “Maybe, I want a love making session, babyboy?” you sassed, playfully. He raised his eyebrows, “...there are a lot of things I know about you, my baby, and one thing is for sure...you like it best when we fuck!” You both laughed and locked onto each other in a kiss, heavy with exploring hands...a wet pussy and a hardening dick. “Fuck this, let’s get back home,” he growled, sucking on your neck...his appetite for you never satisfied. “Yes, let’s!” you shrieked, no longer caring about ‘showing’ Namjoon a damn thing.
He slid off of his seat and stepped in front of you, pushing his body between your legs, before lifting you off of yours. You giggled, holding onto his shoulders, before he placed you on the floor and grabbed your hand. You kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand tightly, exchanging a knowing glance as you walked out. You didn’t even notice, but Jimin did, a shocked Namjoon...jaw open, loss handed to him straight. Jimin smirked, his inner dialogue sounding like the cheers at a championship game, because the win indeed belonged to Jimin, ‘Boom, motherfucker! Boom! Not this time! You don’t win this time!’
