Ray Bradbury’s short story “There Will Come Soft Rains” that was written in 1950 is set on the day of August 4th, 2026 (tomorrow)!! Now’s your chance to read it around the time it’s based in!
Audio: A recording of Leonard Nimoy reading it on Internet Archive.
Ryland filming a video for you while your gone - Ryland Grace x Reader (18+)
You’re on a work trip out of town and you’re going to be gone for a while, about a month or so.
You joke on a call with Ryland about him filming a video for you for entertainment while you’re gone, but he decides to actually do it as a surprise.
Filming from above like a vlog, he’s all nervous, scratching the back of his neck with a shy smile, saying, “Hey babe, uhm… you asked me to make a video…?”
It’s an amateur video, but the clumsiness and lack of confidence adds to the charm of it.
He’s jerking off while leaning back against the headboard of your shared bed, the phone propped up against something at the edge of the bed so you get a low angle of his performance.
He’s only taken off his pants and underwear, only wearing his shirt and his socks, glasses askew on his face.
His other hand is running up over his body, under his shirt and across his chest, which rises and falls with each heavy breath he takes.
His head falls backwards against the headboard, making a small thunk as he lets out a breathy moan of pleasure.
His eyes are shut, a blissfully fucked out look on his face with his mouth agape, small gasps and pleasured hums escaping from him.
At one point the camera falls over and you’re left with just audio of him, able to truly hone in on the little noises he makes.
Soon, shuffling is heard as he finally realized the phone fell over and he quickly stands you back up. He lets out a meek, “sorry-“ before quickly returning back to his previous actions.
You can easily tell when he’s getting close.
The way his thighs quiver and shake, the way he quits teasing his tip and starting moving his hand faster, the way his body jerks up into his hand out of pleasure and more sounds come out of him.
His back arches and a load moan escapes him as he finally cums, ropes of white painting his hand and landing on his thighs and his shirt.
He keeps jerking himself off through his orgasm, before finally slowing to a stop.
Sweat is beaded on his forehead, hair all messed up and glasses almost falling off his face.
He looks gorgeous.
You watch as he comes back from his blissed out state and a small smile appears on his face as he slowly crawls over towards the camera.
He picks up the phone and shyly looks away for a second. You can see the blush that’s covered his face and the small line of drool coming from the corner of his mouth.
You can hear how heavy his breathing is as he says, “…um…I hope you liked it…bye…!”
The video ends there. You’re in your hotel room, sitting at the edge of the bed with your headphones on, staring at your phone screen intently, horny as can be.
You've been able to understand animals your whole life. Though, to be fair, it's not as interesting as it sounds - it's mostly demands of sex, cries for help, or stuff concerning food. And so it was until yesterday when you overheard two frogs discussing the finer points of quantum physics.
rocky probably knows that the most common meaning for grace's name is elegance, because that man is not graceful at all. he finds it endlessly funny that his silly creature that somehow trips on air was given grace of all names.
so when rocky finds out the word "grace" also means mercy, unmerited favour, and not to mention saving grace — a redeeming factor. grace was rockys redemption, he was the one who saved rocky, he gave rocky the solution to the dying sun, he turned back for him.
grace was rockys message of mercy sent by the universe itself.
and for the next 8 (human)hours, grace finds himself absolutely smothered by rocky, who's suddenly overcome by the human urge to cuddle.
Eridian Grace who barely kept the ship running and doesn't know what to do when the taumeba leak happens, sitting in space waiting to die. Not even entertaining the idea that Rocky will turn back (because Grace knows he'll notice and he knows Rocky will be able to fix it) because hes spent his entire life playing second fiddle to romantic relationships and doesn't believe for a moment that Rocky would forsake his mate for Grace. Eridian Grace tries very very hard not to feel bitter about it. and then Rocky turns back anyway and Grace tries very very hard not to feel guilty.
Okay chat I tried making them equal in length the best I could, also I’ll update this to look nicer with some dividers in the future because my phone is bugging and will not let me add dividers rn 😭 - Saturn <3
-
Ryland:
It had been a while since either the both of you had been able to go out on a date together. You’ve been dealing with a harsh project deadline at work, and he’s been dealing with parent teacher conferences.
So safe to say that the moment you two had an evening to yourselves, you took advantage of it.
You were at a restaurant, one that was nice enough you had to dress up just a tad in some fancier clothing.
Ryland had been nothing but a gentleman, holding doors open for you, pulling out your chair for you and pushing you in, and also ordering you both some wine to start off your evening.
It was wonderful, nothing short of it. There was nothing worrying either of your minds, just the presence of one another.
You stare into Graces eyes as you swirl the wine in your glass, listening to every word that comes out of his mouth.
Whether it was how long it’s been since you’ve been able to have sex, or the wine you’ve drank almost two glasses of, it made every single dorky ramble he went on into the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.
Feeling some boldness, and the fact that the tables had long tablecloths almost to the floor, you start to nudge your foot against his ankle.
His stutters at the unexpected sensation, but with flashing you a smile, he pays no mind before continuing, moving to grab your hand across the table and rub his thumb along yours.
Creeping further up his leg, you slowly drag your foot across the dark slacks he adorned. He keeps talking, though a little confused and raises an eyebrow.
When you finally reach his thighs, his breath hitches and he stops his rambling, mouth agape just slightly.
He doesn’t say anything, but the moment your foot teases the soft outline of his cock in his pants, he softly gasps and his grasp on your hand tightens.
His cheeks flush as heat rises through him, shifting the way he’s sitting just slightly at the new position he finds himself in.
You can’t help but smirk, enjoying his reaction. “What’s wrong Ryland? Cat got your tongue?” You tease, adding a little more pressure with your heel.
He sharply inhales, keeling over in just the slightest amount that you notice it. He looks up at you with a tad bit of embarrassment and nervousness.
“Are…are you serious right now? Here?-“ He shout-whispers. He’s cut off, letting out another gasp as you add some more pressure, moving along the length of his now hardening cock.
You keep your smirk on your face, relishing in the way he crumbles under your touch. His hand continues to grasp yours tightly, the other gripping the fabric of the tablecloth as he tries and keeps his composure.
Let’s just say you two didn’t even make it to your apartment, instead opting to go at it in a nearby abandoned parking lot instead.
-
Colt:
After a long day on set, you found yourself in the first-aid tent on set.
Luckily, you were just fine. Instead, you were patching up small cuts on Colts face after a stunt went a little too harsh for your liking.
The tent wasn’t too far from the rest of the filmmaking crew, with sheer white sheets making up the ‘walls’.
You could see the shadow of each person who walked by, and it absolutely wasn’t soundproof at all.
Which, in hindsight, makes your next move a little stupid.
While Colt sits atop the infirmary table, you stand between his legs, his thighs resting on either side of your waist.
You dab some antiseptic wipes across a few of the cuts, Colt jolting and hissing through the sting.
“Oh cmon, it can’t hurt more than the stunt you just pulled.” You tease, moving to start bandaging his wounds.
“Hey, those are performative, this is not.” He whines, flicking his hand to try and ease the pain for just a second.
You hum in acknowledgement, before fully bandaging the cuts. Once he was settled, you can’t help but notice the position you’re in.
The table sits low enough that your hips are at the same level. Taking a quick glance at the sheets closing the entrance to make sure nobody was immediately walking in, you lean down and begin to mouth at his neck, grinding slowly against his hips.
“Woah-!” He starts, surprised at your actions before you use one of your hands to cover his mouth. He whines against it, sighing deeply enough you can feel the air from his nose against your hand.
You lean up from his neck, saliva shining in the light along his skin, to look him in the eyes. “Shhh…you wouldn’t want us to get caught Colt.” You warn.
He nods, grinding back against you, relishing pleasure your providing. His cock hardens beneath his clothes, the denim of his jeans hardly concealing anything.
He moans against your hand, one of his own grabbing at your waist while the other holds his body up.
His ankles wrap around your legs, keeping you locked in place to rut against him.
You continue to make small noises against his neck, making sure you aren’t kissing hard enough to leave any marks since the makeup department would have your head if you did so.
All of a sudden, you can feel his heels kicking against you as he scrambles to push you away.
You raise your eyebrow, leaning upwards and reluctantly back away, silently missing the warmth of his body against yours.
Before you could question the man on his actions, you get your answer as you turn to look at a crew member popping in to grab some files of some sort from the desk.
As soon as they leave, you turn back to Colt, eager to continue what you started. However, before you would get the chance to do so, the walkies on your belt chime in that you were needed somewhere on set.
You groan, leaning forward to give him one last kiss before you head out.
“We’ll continue this later, yeah?” You murmur, looking into his eyes with a sultry smile.
With a dumbstruck look he nods, fully enraptured by your words.
“Y-Yeah! Can’t wait...” He says, watching as you walk away.
-
Holland:
In the back of a taxi, you sit on Hollands lap next to Healy, who crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, leaning to look out the window.
After a rough stakeout and a few too many drinks, Holland had once again ruined the plan and you found yourselves getting into a taxi, your own little version of a getaway car. It was smaller than most cars, which resulted in you sitting on March’s lap.
You look out your window, watching the cars pass by. You jump a little in surprise as two hands reach around your midsection, bringing you back to lean against the man.
You try and act annoyed, but it’s hard to focus when the man presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, whispering, “m’sorry baby…” drunkenly.
You keep your annoyed demeanor up as long as you can, before a pothole in the road makes the car jump, causing you to land hard against the man’s lap.
In doing so, it causes you to basically rub up against the man, feeling the outline of his cock through the unusually thin pants he decided to wear today.
He makes a small noise against your neck, his arms tightening around your waist, pulling you back against him.
Smiling to yourself, you grind your hips down again, relishing in the way he lets out a gasp.
He continues holding you still as if you were going to disappear at any moment, out of his sight.
You glance over at Healy, who seems to have nodded off during the drive and is still facing the window.
The taxi driver was paying you all no attention, so you decide to make the most of it.
You purposely continue to fidget and stir in the man’s lap, feeling his hot breath against your neck and the small noises he makes against your skin.
“Shit…babydoll quit teasin’ me-“ He whispers, eyes squinting shut and basking in the pleasure your hips provide.
You hum in response, your hips hitting a particularly good spot. He presses his face into your skin and lets out a short moan into you, muffling his voice.
The sounds of the outside world and the car driving easily covered up the noises he was creating.
You continue your ministrations, grinding down harder and faster, keeping an eye on both the driver and Healy to make sure you don’t get caught.
He leans his head down, rest his forehead against your shoulder and lets out a small and muffled whine.
You can feel the way his dick has hardened in his pants, enjoying the twitch it does every now and then.
You can only imagine what it looks like beneath the fabric at this moment, ready to pounce the moment you guys get some alone time.
His hips buck up into you, stuttering slightly as you gradually build up his orgasm. One of his hands reaches down from your waist and slowly parts your thighs.
“…Two can play at this game, yeah?…” He whispers into your ear, trailing his hand down to rub at your clit through your pants.
You relax, leaning more of your body weight against him, feeling the way his large fingers feel you up through the fabric.
You two are interrupted, however, by the sudden skirrrt of the car as it brakes in front of Hollands house.
Quickly, you remove hollands hand from your center, since Holland was too drunk to realize that your playtime was being interrupted.
Healy seemingly wakes up from the braking of the car and quickly gets out on his side of the car and heads over to pay the driver.
While he does so, you unlock your side of the car and get off Hollands lap, silently missing the warmth of his body.
He also gets up, stumbling a bit and you have to help him from almost tripping, but once he’s out of the car he’s fine.
You pull the man’s head down by the tie, hearing him grunt in response to the sudden movement.
“We’ll continue this later, yeah?” You mumble in his ear, relishing in the way he almost goes weak in the knees.
“Y-Yeah-Yes, please, thank god-“ he nods, stumbling over his words.
You leave him standing there as you go to catch up with Healy, who was already halfway into the house.
Holland looks down and realizes his boner showing through his pants and silently curses himself and heads into the house.
Tags: established relationship, Colt has a filthy mouth, needy Colt, handsy Colt, porn with like a sprinkle of plot
Author’s note: you all told me to watch this and now you must deal with the fall out. Just had to get this out of my system 💀 anyway enjoy everyone’s favorite yappy, sappy, golden retriever guy. Title is from the Moose Blood song.
18+ only — minors DNI, ageless bios will be blocked
There were a lot of parts of Colt’s schedule that were hard. Early mornings, late nights, far away shoots for weeks at a time, but thankfully, he came back to you every weekend. As soon as they called wrap on Friday, he ran back to wherever you were, which was usually on his couch waiting with his favorite food and a movie queued up. This Friday was no different. Thankfully, he currently had two back to back movies in LA, which meant months of uninterrupted date nights. No delayed flights or bad weather could keep him from falling into your arms at the end of every week.
Your heart sped up when you heard his truck rumble into the driveway, and you waited in the doorway with your arms crossed, grinning wildly at the way he hopped out and jogged so confidently up the path.
“Hey hot stuff,” he smiled, scanning the length of you as he put his arm above your head, boxing you in for a deep kiss against the door.
You groaned into his mouth, fisting the side of his shirt a bit while he went in to palm your ass through the thin grey pajama pants.
“Slow down,” you laughed while he playfully peppered your jaw with kisses and licked a messy line up your neck.
“Mine,” he grumbled mischievously into the crook of your neck and planted one last kiss before following you inside.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” His arms were draped around your neck as he waddled impossibly close behind you, pressing into your back, smelling like sweat and smoke.
“Dim sum,” you gestured at the spread of white boxes on the table with packets of sauce and chopsticks filling the empty spaces. “And I believe we were on Fast Five?”
Colt had suggested several months ago that you watch through the Fast and Furious franchise together. A lot of it was cringy, but it had also been special to see where some of his interest for stunt driving started to take shape.
“You are too good to me. Ten minute shower and I’ll be right there next to you,” he promised as he leaned against the couch to unlace his boots.
“I can’t promise there will be any bao left in ten minutes,” you sing-songed at him, rounding the corner of the sectional and seating yourself in the corner before picking up a pair of chopsticks.
“Unless you want me stinky tonight.” He flipped onto the sofa easily with one arm and grabbed at the pork bun, but you lifted it out of reach.
“Go shower,” you swatted at him, taking a bite and groaning at the flavor.
He kissed your cheek before swinging back over and heading down the hall. Eight and a half minutes later, Colt was sitting next to you again, thigh pressed to yours and broad shoulder invading your space as you both picked at the food on the table in front of you, but you didn’t mind one bit. He liked to be close whether it was cuddling while you sleep or holding hands on a walk or pressing you to his chest when you were on top so he could take in every part of you while he hammered into you from beneath. Wide palms gripping at your thighs and back so there was no space between your bodies.
It was hard not to think about that when he was shirtless with a pair of black joggers sitting low on his hips. His hair was drying crazy with no product to tame it, spilling over his eyes as he pointed out some of the driving moves on screen. He was impossible not to stare at. Even more than a year in, being next to him filled you with butterflies because he was just so vibrant, so electric, so Colt. There was no one like him.
“I’m stuffed,” he announced, pushing the table back and settling against a pillow. He liked to stretch out on one side of the sectional, while you took the other laying in an L shape. Your head fit perfectly on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm snug around you, anchored at your hip. His thumb would absentmindedly rub against the stripe of skin exposed from where your sleep shirt bunched up. He was always warm, bordering on hot, and you theorized it’s because he had so much pent up energy inside that sitting still made him buzz.
“Ooh, watch this. I get to do a barrel roll like that next week,” he pointed at the screen. You could feel his heart quicken as explosions and flipping cars filled the screen. You loved that he loved his job so much even if it made your stomach turn to visit him on set. The first time had almost made you lose your lunch when you saw him willingly jump off a higher than high platform and into a deep pool of water until his hand surfaced first with a thumbs up. Next came his head with a wide grin as he shook water from his hair much like the golden retriever your family had as a kid. He winked at you in the middle of the director making some suggestions as she checked the film.
“Again?” He asked excitedly.
Colt only asked you a few times after that first visit. He could tell how much it worried you to see him in action, but of course you said yes when he asked, because you could see how excited he was to show off for you. Truthfully, it was hot if you could get past the dread. You always insisted on looking him over in his trailer after, running your hands over his ribs and taking him into his mouth while he fisted your hair.
“You should come watch,” he teased, pinching your hip a little and bringing you back to the present.
“Hmmm I’ll consider it,” you turned your head to look him in the eyes, wrinkling your nose at him which drew a rumbly laugh through his chest.
“You’re cute when you worry.”
“And you’re cute when you’re alive,” you turned your head back to the screen, settling deeper into the hold of his arm. Your hands snaked around his bicep and he flexed it a bit, pulling you closer. It was barely nine o’clock, but the stress of the week was catching up to your body. Something about being in Colt’s arms always made you relax. Tension started melting away in the safety of his embrace, and you began to nod off. For someone always on the move, Colt found it impossible not to slow down for you. He noticed the soft snores escaping your lips, and grabbed the remote to turn the movie volume down. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and rested his cheek against it in an embrace, heart softening at the simplicity of it all.
Content to watch the rest of the movie before heading to bed, he propped his left hand behind his head and shifted his focus back and forth from the screen to the girl he loved pressed against his arm. He tucked his fingers under the waistband of your sweats and splayed them against the warmth of your skin. It made something switch on inside of him. A hunger he had to repress when he was far from you, but you looked so beautiful like this. No make up, no nice work clothes, just clean skin and an old tee shirt of his hugging your body. It wasn’t his fault that his cock started to twitch when he thought about what your body looked like under that shirt, under him completely.
Colt swallowed thickly and waited out the last few scenes of the movie, feeling guilty about potentially waking you, but reminding himself that you were free to sleep in tomorrow. When the screen turned black, he switched the tv off and turned himself further towards you. He took greedy handfuls of your hip, groaning in a tortured way in your ear.
You stirred from the touch, humming softly on the edge of sleep.
“Hey pretty girl,” his voice was low. He brushed hair back behind your ear and pressed scruffy kisses to your jaw. You hummed again and turned to meet his mouth. The kisses were messy, and the tension registered as electric as soon as you were fully awake.
“Couldn’t wait any longer,” he whined between kisses. “Not with your tits all pressed against me. And all this,” he took a handful of your ass and jiggled it, growling and nipping at your throat.
“Missed you,” your voice was heavy with sleep as you loosened your grip on his arm and turned to your back.
Colt didn’t waste a second. He swung his legs over your hips and settled his weight against your pelvis. His cock was pressed against your thigh where it sat heavy in his joggers, aching for you, for this.
His hands lifted your shirt up to your neck so he could knead the flesh of your breasts with both hands. He pinched both nipples and leaned down to press his tongue against the right one, sucking it into his mouth and groaning into your skin while his other hand continued to work your other nipple. You squirmed beneath him, reaching to stroke his shaft through the fabric of his pants, rubbing your thumb over the tip where it had already begun to leak precum.
“‘M’not gonna make it to the bed,” he whined while you rubbed his length.
“You can fuck me right here, baby,” your voice was gravelly from sleep still.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he took a second to suck on your left nipple, the roughness of his beard scratching the tender skin. He pulled away quickly to tug your shirt the rest of the way off your head, fully exposing your torso to him. His hands ran down the sides of your ribs, taking pleasure in the softness of your skin before he reached your hips, dipping his hands beneath your waistband once more to drag your pants down. You lifted your ass up and kicked your feet to fully free your legs, and he hitched your right thigh up over his hip so he could get a better look at the shining desire already gathering. He slipped two fingers into the wetness and pumped them into you easily.
“Fuuuuuck,” he breathed out. “All this for me, baby?”
You continued to stroke his cock with one hand, and raised your other to cradle his cheek and tug firmly at his hair. “I told you I missed you,” you breathed out.
He turned his mouth to press a kiss to your palm, impossibly tender while he was knuckle deep in your cunt. “Your pussy feels so good already. Been dreaming about this,” he fucked his hand into you faster, reaching his thumb up to roughly rub your aching clit. His other hand played with your nipples till the pressure built quickly. Colt could feel you start to tighten around his fingers, and he quickened his pace.
“Time for number one already?” He asked cockily, smirking down at you while you tried to keep your composure.
“Still keeping count?” You quipped, but your breasts were heaving as your heart raced. Sweat coated your body already.
“You know I want to beat my high score,” he leaned down and shoved his tongue in your gaping mouth. You moaned against his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth.
“Come for me, baby,” he whined, “I wanna feel you.”
His eyes locked with yours as he kept his dizzying pace, watching your eyes go wide as you rode out your first orgasm on his fingers. “Shit, Colt,” you gasped, whining as you tightened around him.
“Yeeeeaaaahhhh, that’s my fucking girl,” he grunted through gritted teeth as he fucked you with his fingers until your walls relaxed again. “God you moan so pretty,” he pulled his fingers from inside you and licked them clean.
He scooted himself down on the couch and went straight into licking up the rest of the mess he had made. He pressed kisses to your thighs and licked deep inside of your still sensitive hole, groaning obscenely at the taste. Your hands tangled in his hair, yanking roughly as he worked you with his tongue, paying special attention to your clit and licking it roughly until your thighs were trembling around his thick neck. His shoulders were so broad as they hooked your legs open and you were mesmerized at the sight.
“Colt,” you gasped.
“I can take another one, baby,” he mumbled, still nose deep in your pussy.
One of his hands reached up to squeeze your nipple again and you were soon careening over the edge again. You wondered if this part of the thrill was why he did what he did every day.
“Babe,” you whined long and loud as you quivered against his tongue.
“Fuck!” He almost shouted as you spasmed around him, legs shaking so badly you couldn’t stand if your life depended on it.
“Please fuck me,” you gasped, back arching from the heat where he had touched you.
“Oh, I’m gonna fuck that pussy, baby,” he laughed, pulling his pants down and letting his cock finally spring free. The head glistened in the warm light of his living room, and you reached to feel it bare on your skin, stroking it quickly.
His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned his head back. “Your hand feels so much better than mine.”
“My mouth feels even better,” you proposed, cocking an eyebrow.
“Tomorrow,” he groaned. “Because if you do that now, I’ll blow a load down your throat, and what a waste that would be.” He reached down to rub his fingers through your folds again, and you jumped at the touch.
Colt hitched both of your hips up, slotting himself so he was fucking straight down into you. He buried himself deep, both of you moaning lewdly at the way you fit together.
“Feels so fucking good,” he breathed. His cheeks and chest were flushed, shining with sweat. He tossed his head back to shake his bangs out of his eyes and you reached to grab onto his hips. Every muscle on his torso was taut like he had just finished a workout, and you let yourself enjoy the sight of him fucking himself into you. The slap of skin as his hips met yours. The way your body molded to his, taking him in like a practiced dance.
“I’m so full of you already,” you breathed out. You reached up to hold the back of his neck, locking eyes with him. Colt leaned forward to share a messy kiss.
“Gonna fill you up even more in a minute,” he licked into your mouth while he continued to bury his cock deep inside you, hitting what felt like the very end of yourself. “Right there,” he grunted. “Gonna fill you with cum right there,” his pupils were wide and desperate now. The lines of his neck straining as he tried to hold himself together.
You angled your hips to take him just a bit deeper and his eyes rolled back.
“God damn,” he grunted through gritted teeth. Your whole body was like a bowstring ready to snap. “I’m gonna, I’m,” he stuttered. He groaned so loud the neighbors surely heard as he emptied himself into you. Watching his chest heave and his mouth hang open, watching him come undone was enough to make you come once more. Your thighs trembled violently where they were locked around his waist.
“Yes baby, yes baby, yes baby,” he goaded you on as you spasmed around him one final time.
Colt exhaled deeply, before he pulled out, reaching down to give you a lingering, sweet kiss, his demeanor instantly softer.
“Sorry I woke you,” he murmured against your lips.”
“It’s okay, I had fun,” you smiled.
“I didn’t beat my high score. Let’s play again tomorrow,” he winked as he stood to his full height and stretched his back and arms, chiseled like a god and spent from getting out a week of longing for each other. He reached a hand down for you and pulled you up off the couch, lighting his hand on your bare hip once more.
“You’re staring,” he smiled against your mouth, stealing a quick kiss.
“You’re hot,” you retorted.
“Round two?” He asked eagerly with mischief in his eyes.
“Bed time,” you pushed his chest playfully towards the bathroom.
pairing - brendon park x plus size f!reader
wc - 2.37k
summary - brendon park walks in on you changing into your operating room scrubs, and he can't seem to shake the image of you in your underwear out of his mind. read anon's request here!
cw - reader is younger than brendon. reader is tipsy at the end of the story and drunk texts brendon. reader is insecure, but doesn't specifically mention any features of her body. reader has a hard time believing that brendon could be interested in her. other than that, i don't think there's any!
a/n - happy day six of park the shark week! i think this might be one of the ones i had the most fun writing, so i hope you all enjoy it too, hehe!
shark divider from @sisterlucifergraphics
He didn’t mean to. Brendon Park really did not mean to bust in on the private staff changing room on you while you were all but naked, save for a lavender lace bra, a pair of purple panties with a bow on the top, and matching compression socks.
Truly, when he had seen the rest of the team waiting for the go-ahead to scrub-in, he had assumed everyone had already changed, and he’d be free to walk into the room without knocking.
It had been a great misjudgment, he realized when he heard your yelp as you scrambled to pull clothes up to cover your nearly bare body. He spun on his heel faster than should be humanly possible, reaching his hands up to cover his eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked,” the surgeon muttered, suddenly sounding a lot less self-assured than usual. “I’ll wait outside.”
You nod to his back, despite knowing that he can’t see you, and your cheeks burn as you hide behind the dark blue fabric of your scrubs. You silently pray that the ground will open and devour you whole as he slips out of the changing room.
“Fucking hell,” you breathe, swallowing the lump of embarrassment that forms heavy in your throat, threatening to pull tears from your eyes. You push it down, stomp it out like the last embers of a fire, and refuse to let the familiar feeling of shame consume you.
You slink from the room three minutes later, the navy operating room scrubs firmly on your body now, and don’t make eye contact with the orthopedic surgeon as you walk past him, ignoring the way your shoulders brush for the briefest of moments. You hear him sigh, but do your best to forget the way his face looked when taking in your bare body. It makes your chest ache, but there is a periacetabular osteotomy coming up for surgery in twenty minutes, and the last thing you’re going to do is stew in embarrassment instead of focusing on a patient.
Brendon groans when the door to the changing room closes, his head falling back so he can stare at the ceiling and curse himself. Just when the two of you had been managing somewhat of a friendship, he had to go and fuck it up.
The sight of your blushing cheeks lingers in his mind as he changes into his surgical scrubs, entirely stuck on the image of you flustered in your underwear.
God, this was going to be a long surgery.
“Screw three,” you murmur softly, passing the titanium screw to Brendon, his gloved fingers brushing yours for a brief moment.
“Positioning seems stable,” he says clearly, after checking the work of the residents. “Get the next angle started.” When the doctors lean in to adjust the retractors, Brendon’s eyes drift back across the operating table, locking straight onto you.
Your cheeks flush underneath your surgical mask, and you silently hope that he can’t see the redness that is likely spreading down your neck, too. You can’t help but squirm at his gaze, despite shaking your head once in an effort to regain focus on the procedure in front of you.
Unprofessional. This was entirely unprofessional. Dropping your head, you make work adjusting the forceps that sit on the instrument tray, lining them up to be perfectly straight despite the slight tilt of them having no effect on the surgery.
The moment kept replaying in your mind. The door opening, your squeal, the way your cheeks had burned, embarrassment flaring heavy in your chest at the idea of your superior seeing you in such a crude form. You were finally making headway with the surgeon, having broken past the walls that seemed to be impenetrable, and had come to realize the teeth Brendon bore when anyone new came close were just a posture, but your chest tightened at the backpedaling that would, no doubt, happen as a result of this morning.
You’d purposely waited until you saw all of your coworkers prepped for the operation to go into the changing room, which was nothing out of the ordinary. You preferred the privacy of getting to change alone, and you didn’t like to overanalyze the fact that the preference no doubt came from some deep-seated insecurity.
Unfortunately, with the events that had transpired, you were left with no choice but to stew in those emotions. There was no doubt in your mind that Brendon was replaying the same thing in his mind. Your nearly-naked body, your wide eyes, the way you’d scrambled to press clothes to your chest in a desperate attempt to cover yourself. Chewing on your bottom lip underneath your mask, you ponder the optics of quitting your job and slipping downstairs to blend in with the ER nurses.
Across the table, Brendon shifts his grip on the instrument, but the movement does nothing to quell the sudden heaviness in his hands. Six years. He’s been a surgeon for six years. Has led thousands of operations and had no trouble focusing on any of them. Yet here he is, performing a periacetabular osteotomy, a notoriously demanding surgery, struggling to stay even half-concentrated at the open pelvis in front of him. Every time he tries to recenter his thoughts, his mind flicks back to the image of you just four hours ago. Caught off-guard, flushed, breathless, and maddeningly distracting.
“Focus.” He orders the residents, his tone clipped, and there is no doubt in Brendon’s mind that he is projecting.
You scrub your arms harshly, methodically getting every sud of surgical soap off of them. The tick of the clock above you is the only sound in the sanitation area, and you let out a relieved sigh when you read the time: 5:23. Only an hour and forty minutes of hiding from Brendon to go before you are free to rush home for a girls’ night with Yolanda and Trinity.
You keep your head down when you hear the door behind you swing open, eyes trained on the soap suds sliding down the sink drain. You can tell exactly who it is by the sound of his black shoes against the ground. Your pulse spikes.
Brendon’s voice breaks the silence, softer than the tone he usually speaks in, “Hey.”
“Hey,” you mutter, your attention stuck on the feeling of the cool water running over your fingers. “Good case. Positioning looked nice.”
“Yeah, it did,” he says, taking one big step towards the sink next to yours. Instead of turning on the tap to wash his hands, he reaches over and turns yours off, the water halting.
You freeze, hands dripping, as you look up at him and breathe a resigned sigh.
The surgeon leans against the counter, and you feel like his intense gaze could burn you to ash. You feel like the room is buzzing, and you’re surprised when you catch your own nervousness reflected in Brendon. He rubs the back of his neck with one huge hand.
“Can I talk to you about something?” he asks, his voice steady despite the tension.
Your stomach flips, and you can’t help but stammer, “If it’s about what happened this morning-”
“It is,” Brendon interrupts, a small smile threatening to form on his lips, though it almost seems like he’s embarrassed. “We need to talk about it.”
You squirm, hands dropping to your sides. “Look, I’m sorry. I thought everyone was done changing, and I just wanted to have some privacy. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
“You don’t need to apologize for what I saw. There wasn’t anything wrong with the sight.” He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just want to tell you that I am sorry for barging in without warning. I apologize for putting you in that position.”
You swallow, and you feel like you’re burning up, as he adds, “Let’s leave it behind us, okay?”
“No, it’s so bad, Yo.” You groan, letting your head fall back on the couch behind you once Trinity fills up your wine glass for the second time tonight.
“Park’s a weirdo.” She murmurs as she sinks down onto the floor beside her girlfriend, and you note the way Yolanda leans into the resident doctor, glad the two of them have finally come to their senses.
“You should have seen the look on his face. It was fucking awful. He looked like he was seeing a rotting corpse, I swear. His mouth opened, and he covered his eyes, and it was horrible,” you pout, reaching for your wine glass in a desperate but feeble attempt to nudge the embarrassment away.
“You’re the most dramatic person ever,” Yolanda tuts, hitting your shoulder lightly. “Your perception is seriously off. You’re hot. Brendon’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid. I’m sure he was just caught off guard."
“You’re just being nice,” you’re sulking, and you know it, but you can’t seem to stop the words from falling from your lips.
“Oh, you’re such a bitch,” Trinity groans lightheartedly, rolling her eyes. “We’re gay. We know when women are hot.”
“But it’s different with him,” you huff, taking a sip of your wine. “I don’t know why, it just is. It was so embarrassing. He kept looking at me during the surgery, and I got bright red. And then he cornered me when I was washing my hands, and I was stuck there.”
You pick at the corner of the carpet, “I thought we were finally friends and then this happens and I fuck it all up like a goddamned idiot.”
“How is him walking in on you naked you fucking up?” Yolanda presses, clearly the least intoxicated of the three of you. “I’m serious. He didn’t knock. He walked in on you. He made things awkward. The only issues I’m seeing here are because of him.”
“I don’t know,” you grumble, your throat feeling tight despite the firmness with which you try to will the tears away. “I just feel dumb. I keep thinking of his face. His dumb face and his big hands covering his eyes.”
“Oh my god, listen to yourself,” Trinity groans, her palm coming up to slap her forehead. “I don’t know how one person can be so smart and so stupid at the same time.”
“She’s right,” Yolanda agrees with a sigh, shrugging. “I’ve tried to tell you like three different times. Brendon’s a jackass, but he likes you. Genuinely. He gets all awkward around you. It makes him the tiniest bit less insufferable.”
“He does not!” You exclaim, taking a gulp of the red liquid in your glass. “You’re being stupid.” But your words get quiet, and you let yourself think over the last month of interactions you’ve had with the intimidating surgeon.
Like that time he brought you coffee and somehow managed to get your overly complicated order right, even though he hadn't asked. Like when you’d quietly asked him for ibuprofen for a migraine during the third day of a four-day stretch, only to be lying in bed that night when you discovered someone had silently wiped the rest of your shifts off the schedule. Like the time he’d gone up to administration with you after you’d confided in him that you’d worked two days of overtime and hadn’t been paid properly for them. He’d argued on your behalf when Gloria had talked over you, and you’d been shocked to see a message from him that afternoon that read “The situation is handled. Your money should be there by the end of the week.”
You chew your bottom lip, eyes wide, when you ask Yolanda, “Are you sure?”
“A thousand percent,” she nods. “He’s probably just mad at himself for crossing a boundary without permission, even if it was an accident.”
“You really think that?” You question again, and Trinity grabs your phone from the coffee table, shoving it towards your face so it unlocks.
“He’s obsessed with you, dude.” She says, eyes glancing over your screen as she searches for Brendon’s contact.
You see her smirk when she reads some of the messages, cheeks heating as she types, “Here, send him this.”
Question: I’m going on a date on Saturday and wondered if you could give a man’s opinion on what to wear? I’d ask Yolanda, but I feel like gay women have different tastes than straight men LMAO. I just want to impress him.
“That sounds so unlike me,” your nose scrunches as you read the message, finger hovering over the send button.
“It’s fine,” Yolanda assures, looking at the message from over your shoulder. “You can take a picture of our wine if he responds weirdly. Pretend you’re drunk and not just a little tipsy.”
“Fine,” you reply, and on the same exhale, you click send.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, gasping softly when you see three dots appear and then disappear, before a message from Brendon finally shows up.
You’ll impress him in anything you wear. You could wear what you had on at work, and he’d be pleased, I’m sure.
“Wait, why the fuck is he responding like that?” You shriek, popping onto your knees as you shove your phone into Santos and Garcia’s faces. “Why’d he say that?”
“I told you,” Yolanda groans, “You’re oblivious, and he likes you.”
“Well, what do I say?” You chew on your bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, what about this?”
The scrubs or the panties?
“Good lord,” Trinity chuckles, “Give the girl two glasses of wine, reassurance, and some encouragement and she becomes bold.”
“Shut up,” you huff, and hit send before you can overthink the message. Your hands tremble.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Yolanda gapes, covering her eyes as she takes your phone into her hands.
Brendon’s message sits clear against the background of your chat, and your mouth falls open at the words.
I think I’d need a picture of them so I can refresh my memory. For accuracy’s sake.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” you breathe, your face flaming red, stomach fluttering as you read and reread the text.
“Looks like the shark found himself some prey,” Santos grins, lifting her wine glass to clink it against your own.
Totally normal for a legitimate for-profit company to refuse to reclaim or stop running their products even after they're no longer being paid to do so. I'm sure it's very normal to just keep running your service for free when your contract's been terminated. Spending money to continue running cameras that supposedly no one is looking at is definitely not an indicator they are just run by the federal government to spy on everyone and only a wacko conspiracy theorist would think so.
synopsis: Woozi cared about two things: his wife and his farm. These are a bunch of moments over a year that show that.
[requested]
warnings: mdni, 18+, slice of life, farmer! Woozi, cowboy! Woozi, wife! reader, seamstress! reader, oral (f + m rec), praise, dirty talk, fingering, riding, mating press, exhibitionism, hardly any plot my bad, Woozi big, squirting, etc.
wc: 10.9k+
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
Woozi hated the town meetings. They were redundant, long, and boring, messing with his routine, and as a farmer, his routine was meticulous; it had him rising before dawn and working late into the evening to make his ranch work. Which meant he had to plan out the little bit of time he got to be with you, his pretty wife.
He looked at his watch for the third time tonight and sighed.
If he weren't at this dumb fucking meeting, he could be doing something way more productive. Like fucking you into his bed to expel the last bit of energy he had before he had to wake up at four in the morning.
He liked his routine; it ensured him that his world would continue to go round as he woke up to fresh scratches on his back, and sore muscles that were worked out in the fields and in his bed with you. So, if he wasn't in the town hall right now, he could be hearing that little whine you make when he sinks into you nice and deep, your pretty nails clawing for mercy while you take all of him like he knew you could.
But instead, here he was, the dirt on his cowboy boots scuffing the old wood floor as he sat in the uncomfortable folding chair provided by the assistant to the mayor. His jeans covered the expanse of his thick thighs, his flannel stretching across his chest as he folded his arms with a furrowed brow. He watched as the mayor tried to placate the postman and the grocery store manager, the two grown men fighting over the location of the mailbox in front of 'Gyu's Grocery Store', and Woozi could feel his jaw tense.
This was a stupid meeting. It was the same meeting they always had once a month, and it had nothing to do with him or the farm.
And it's just as he begins to grind his teeth in annoyance that he feels you nonchalantly place your thigh against his.
The town meeting required everyone in Silver Springs to attend, and because the town wasn't big at all, everyone who wasn't a child attended the small town meeting. Nothing really exciting happened in Silver Springs; everyone pretty much knew everyone else since birth, and therefore, the only new bit of drama that could unfold was at these types of events.
Hence why Jeonghan had an amused grin playing on his lips as he shared a thing of popcorn with Joshua, the owner of the only candy shop in the town center.
Jihoon was a quiet man; he wasn't a man for displays of affection in these types of situations where anyone could see him, so when you touch him - his breath stills. He knew he loved you; it was a feeling etched in his bones, the same type of knowing he got when he could look at the clouds for a minute or two and know there would be a storm later in the evening. It's ultimately how his entire body hums alive when you give him the simplest touch. Your knee knocks into his knee, and it feels like electricity shoots through his veins.
You're sitting right next to him in the same type of folding chair, wearing your pretty little summer dress, which you made from scratch, and you had paired it with some little heels to match. You're a complete contrast to him. He's got dirt and grass stains smudged onto his jeans and boots, a simple flannel for a shirt, and his old black cowboy hat resting on his lap. If anyone walked in and didn't know who Woozi was or you, they'd never guess you were his wife.
I mean, you don't even spare Jihoon a glance when your thigh presses into his, your bare skin rubbing against the rough material of his jeans while the mayor demands the postman to sit down. You simply fold your hands in your lap, head raised tall, an aura of elegance coming from you. You looked perfect, but maybe Woozi was just biased.
The town meeting goes by quickly after that; Jihoon doesn't focus on the same monologue everyone gives once a month. Instead, he chooses to focus on the way your bare thigh feels against his. That your pretty little heels are next to his dirty cowboy boots, and if he moves, your perfect put-together look would be ruined.
His mind wanders.
His fingers twitch.
And when the meeting comes to a close, he doesn't hesitate to grab your hand in his. He holds you firmly, guiding you through the thick crowd as you two make your way to his red truck. Again, the contrast screams in his head. His eyes were watching you as he helped you inside his truck after opening the door for you, noticing how you stood out compared to him, and he made it halfway home before he finally couldn't take it anymore.
The truck pulls over onto the gravel road, bouncing you a little in your seat before he turns the truck completely off. When you realize you are somewhere on Woozi's farm, you try to figure out how far the Big House is. There's so much land he owns, and it's dark out, so you're not entirely sure where on the farm you both are, but it doesn't matter when he's calling to you softly.
Jihoon coaxes you closer with an outstretched hand, his fingers curling to beckon you near as he says, "c'mere." He's not asking, and you don't hesitate. You easily slide across the bench seat of the truck until Jihoon pulls you himself, his patience running thin as he brings you onto his lap directly.
You can feel the buckle of his belt against your pelvis, his jeans rubbing against your inner thighs as his fingers dig into your waist. It's cramped, but you've never felt more comfortable than right here as he looks up at you. His hat is tilted back, his hair almost falling into his eyes, as you rest your hands on his chest.
The air is charged with tension, your breath stuck in your lungs before Woozi breaks the silence. "I fucking hate those meetings."
It's unexpected, and it jolts you into laughter, your lips pulling up in an amused grin as he deadpans you. He meant every word, and you know he did.
"I'm serious. They wasted my time, and they wasted yours." He grumbles, and your shoulders shake as he leans back in his seat, the movement making you grind against his lap, and it quietens your giggles. "Could spend my time doing better things."
You know what he's hinting at, and you know you're not in public, but your eyes still flicker from window to window of the truck before you meet his eyes again. You notice the way his eyes have darkened, his lips parting as a soft pink dusts his cheeks with color. "Is that so?" You muse, your heart rate picking up pace as warmth pools between your thighs. "And what would that be?"
Your husband doesn't answer you; he pulls you into a kiss to show you. His warm hands are holding your lower back to keep you close, and he kisses you like summer rain, slow and steady, like he's got nowhere else to be. His hands move up your back and up to your face, tilting your head back so he can begin his trail of kisses down your neck, stopping in spots where you moan sweeter than before. And you're unsure how you end up on your back, splayed out on the bench seat of the 1970s boxed truck he drove, but Jihoon is fitting his hips between your legs like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle.
His denim jeans rub deliciously between your plush thighs, and your dress gets flipped up high enough for him to pull your panties down. You're just thankful that the windows are cracked because otherwise, you were pretty sure the windows would be fogged up by now with the way he's got you gasping for air.
When Jihoon's calloused fingers find your pretty pussy soaking wet and needy, he's got the top of your dress already bunched at your waist, his tongue laving over one of your nipples as you moan in pleasure. "This is what I ought to be doin'," he mumbles against the curve of your breast, his teeth nipping the supple skin as he swirls his thumb around your puffy clit. You make a keen whine, jutting your hips with a jolt that makes his smile grow. "Should be pleasing my wife, taking care of her. Isn't that right, my love?"
He doesn't expect an answer from you. Not when he's filling your sweet pussy with two of his fingers, stretching your gummy walls open as he sinks his digits to the knuckle.
You take him easy, already soaking wet for him, like always, and Woozi goes back to sucking your nipple into his mouth. He thrusts his fingers into your drooling cunt like he wasn't pulled over by one of the fields he owned, curling them just right, and your head swims with desire. He takes in the hitch in your breath, the way your legs fall open wider, your knee knocking into the dashboard of his truck as you take another one of his fingers, and the heart in his chest grows warmer.
"You take me so well, Peach." Woozi praises, and he looks between you two to see how glistening wet you make his fingers. "Should just have you like this all the time, wrapped around me, and making those sweet noises just for me." The sound of your pussy becoming wetter fills the small space, and your nails dig into his biceps, your cheeks flushed as he curls his fingers again and again.
He grazes the spongy spot that makes you see white, and your entire body tenses as you moan loudly for him. "Right there, oh! Right there!" You babble, and Woozi thinks about the contrast again. How pretty and put-together you were at the town meeting, and how ruined you are now.
Your dress is bunched up around your waist. Your pretty tits are exposed to his hungry eyes, and your sweet pussy is slurping on his fingers, begging for more, while he is still fully dressed. The power imbalance is unable to be hidden in Woozi's eyes, and his cock was hard and heavy in his jeans, wishing to be buried deep inside your drooling cunt as he got you rolling your eyes to the back of your head. His cowboy boots leave dusty footprints on the inside of his driver's side door as he brings your orgasm close, but he couldn't care less because after a few more strokes to your g-spot, he gets to see you like this: disheveled, holding onto him like a lifeline, and a complete mess as you cum with a cry of his name.
You tremble underneath him, your pussy spasming around his fingers while you gush hot and sweet, bucking your hips like you can't control them yourself. And Woozi's chest warms with pride, his fingers working between your thighs to fuck you through it, prolonging your high as your eyes glaze over in ecstasy.
When your tremors subside to little twitches in your thighs, he leans back, slipping his fingers from your sopping cunt with a satisfied grin. He keeps eye contact with you as he licks his digits clean, groaning at the taste of you, and murmuring, "sweet as a peach," while you try to blink away your bleary vision. "I think this was better than any town meeting."
And you can't disagree when he's unbuckling his belt, moving to shove his jeans down so he can get his cock free.
The weather is perfect today on the farm. It's clear skies and a sweet breeze that make the rows and rows of trees sway in the wind gently; the green leaves do a little shimmy before settling back in place, and you stand in your kitchen barefoot.
Normally, you'd always be dressed down to the kitten heels at the very least. Your wardrobe is usually picked out the night before, matching the perfectly fixed hair that you take your time to do every morning, but today is different. You are off today, not needed in town after your assistant threatened to lock the doors to your shop if you tried to come in. Minghao was like that, a sharp eye that meant well, and you were the kind of boss who didn't know what an off day meant until it hit you. So, after some whining from you that your assistant easily blocked, you were hung up on and left to your own devices.
But now what?
You're still in your pajamas, which consisted of a shirt of your husband's and little ruffled shorts you hand-made yourself, and your hands rested on your hips as you tried to figure out what to do for the rest of the day.
Your husband was long gone by now, somewhere on the farm working hard; he always got up before the sun did, and you would wake up to a pot of coffee waiting for you, still hot on the kitchen counter when you eventually made it downstairs.
That's what you gravitate to first.
You see the new mug set out on your kitchen counter; today it's shaped like a cowboy boot, and you fill it up with coffee Woozi left on. This was your routine. Woozi made coffee, something he desperately needed to start his day, and he made enough for both of you as he picked out the mug he wanted you to use for the day.
The first sip warms you entirely, making your lips curve into a soft smile as the taste of coffee and creamer swirls along your tongue. You're feeling more awake as you lean your hip against the old counter, your eyes flickering to the window above your kitchen sink.
You look out the window, ready to enjoy the view, when you spot your husband a little bit in the distance. He's on top of one of the big tractors he owns, tinkering on it as one of the dogs you two own zooms around it, making your husband shake his head. You don't have to be close to know he's smiling, and you can't tear your eyes off of him.
He's in his normal uniform: denim jeans, a plaid flannel, and a black cowboy hat. He's got the sleeves of his flannel rolled up to his elbows, and you know that even with his hat, he's got to be sweating. The summer hadn't turned unbearable yet, but it was still hot to be out there for long periods of time without any shade.
And you're just thinking about making him some lemonade or a snack when he's suddenly coming through the kitchen door, making you blink in surprise. You hadn't realized you were so lost in thought, but it seems you surprise Woozi just as much as he does you. He falters in step for a second, taking you in slowly, seeing your bare legs and feet as you hug the cowboy mug to your chest. You would normally be gone by now, halfway to work, but with your day off, you aren't.
You twist your body to face your husband, leaning back into the corner of the kitchen counter as he keeps eye contact with you. His eyes flicker, and it's too fast for you to try and read the emotions, but you watch as he silently opens the door of the fridge, grabbing a cold water bottle before he copies your stance - leaning back on the kitchen table, facing you, as he crosses his feet by his ankles.
His eyes stay on yours as he takes a moment to speak up, choosing to instead open the water bottle with an easy twist before bringing it to his mouth. Your eyelashes flutter as he takes a drink, a brief memory of last night flashing through your mind, and you're feeling more than envisioning his mouth sucking on something else that makes your thighs clench together in need. You watch his throat work, drinking in the water while your eyes wander down his body.
His flannel hugs his torso, stretching over muscles built by long days of hard labor, and you can't help but appreciate it. His thighs fill his jeans, and his forearms flex as they cross at his chest - and you're all but salivating at the mouth for your husband.
"You doin' work from home today?" He asks, breaking the silence and pulling you from your wandering thoughts. You shift from one foot to the other, not knowing that you were driving him insane by being in just your pajamas and a little messy hair. He wanted to bend you over the counter, spread your thighs, and tell you how much he needed to relieve some stress. How one of the tractors started acting up, getting on his nerves, and only your pretty pussy could help him get through the rest of his day - but instead, he does his best to restrain himself. He quirks a brow in your direction and watches you lick your lips before answering.
"No, I uh, took the day off." His eyebrows raise more at that, and he taps the empty water bottle against his bicep in thought. He doesn't know if he really could be productive today when he knows his wife will be inside all day, wearing his shirt, and hardly anything else. "But it could give me time to catch up on some personal work," you add, and Woozi stays quiet.
In the Big House, your home, Woozi had made sure you had your own office. A place where you could bring work home, or create on your own when you had the time. But you were always busy with something, especially since you were the main seamstress in town, and therefore, you hardly ever had time to create your own work.
Another beat of silence stretches between you two, and eventually Woozi nods his head to himself, standing straighter as he clears his throat with a little grunt. "Well, maybe I can join you for lunch if I can fix the tractor in time."
You knew your husband well enough to know that he wasn't a man of many words; he showed his affection through actions, and you knew that he'd do his best to find time to see you, and it made your heart flutter as he pushed off from the table. He seemed to hesitate again, just briefly, before he took two big steps toward you. When he was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from his body, his hand reached for your face, pulling you half-way until his lips barely brushed yours.
It made you gasp, your eyes widening as your cheeks flushed, and you felt more than you saw, his lips curving into a knowing smirk. He hummed softly, and your lips tingled before he finally gave you a kiss that made your head spin. But as soon as he kissed you, he was pulling back, his tongue licking over his bottom lip as he cleared his throat like he was restraining himself. "Good morning, by the way."
And then he was gone, back outside with your two dogs at his heels while you slumped into the kitchen counter.
How were you supposed to be productive today after that?
Three hours later, you give up trying to work from home entirely when you're too distracted by your husband working outside. Your office faces the East, filling the small room full of fabrics in a warm glow, and giving you the perfect view of your husband riding the tractor he fixed. He's going up and down in the field to your left, and you're going insane alone with your unfinished projects.
Even from where you stood in the Big House, you could see that more buttons had come undone on his flannel, exposing his skin to the sunlight, and leaving you in a trance that makes you shake your head literally. You only got like this, dazed, with your husband; you were usually more composed, focused, and a little cold out in public. You owned and ran your own business, all from money you had earned through hard work, and it had taken years to get where you were now.
You had finally started becoming a recognized brand that was highly respected, and it was because you could remain composed, level, and meticulous in everything you did.
That's why no one would ever believe you if you told them you were in the kitchen making homemade lemonade as an excuse to see your husband instead of working.
You were still in your pajamas, your ruffled shorts hidden under your husband's old t-shirt as you added water to the pretty pitcher you had been gifted for your wedding. All the lemons you had stored on the kitchen counter had been juiced, and your cheeks were flushed from the silliness you felt by doing this. You could just go outside and call him over. You knew he'd drop everything, but you had no reason to interrupt his work. So, you didn't stop your lame excuse and grabbed the sugar from your pantry to stir in with your water until the lemonade was as sweet as the lemonade you could get from the state fair.
Once you were satisfied, you poured a tall glass with ice full of your lemonade before you ventured out the sliding glass door in your kitchen. Your stomach flipped as you realized you had no shoes to wear that wouldn't get ruined by mud, and you decided to carefully shake out your husband's extra pair of cowboy boots before you stepped in them.
The boots were old, worn, and dusty, but it was all you had, even if they didn't go with your outfit and they felt a little big to be walking in. Nevertheless, you were determined, and with the glass of lemonade in one hand, you stepped off the porch in search of your husband.
Luckily, it was not too hard to find him; you only had to glance at the field you last saw him in before you saw the barn door open in the distance. He must be getting ready to saddle one of the horses, and the thought alone made you walk faster so you wouldn't miss him.
The red barn was one of the bigger ones on the farm. Jihoon had four in total, not including the Big House, and they had been on this land long before he was even born. They had withstood rainstorms, snow, and a flood back in the eighties, and the goal was that they would be here long after him. Some paint peeled now and then, and Woozi would have to hire contractors to come look at a leak in the roof soon, but most of the time, it was the sanctuary he gave himself in between tasks for the day.
Amongst the stalls for the horses, and the extra bales of hay in the corner, the barn also housed all the gear he needed to saddle his horse or brush them after a long day, and a little workbench he was currently leaning against to give himself a small break. He was hoping to finish early to see you back home sooner, and he had been so lost daydreaming about you from this morning that he hadn't noticed you hesitantly walking in until you were calling for him softly.
"I made lemonade."
Woozi blinks; his flannel is fully open now, and he catches the way your eyes flicker down to the lines and ridges of his abs as you come to a halt a couple of feet away from him. His lips twitch, an amused grin almost showing on his face as his dark eyes move from you standing there like his greatest temptation and the cup of lemonade in your left hand.
"You made lemonade?" He mused, and he leaned further back against the workbench, allowing his flannel to fall from his sides. He can see you shift from one foot to the other like you were unsure of yourself, out of your element, and it's then that he realizes you're wearing more of his stuff than before, and the sight of it makes his cock twitch in delight.
"Yeah, I uh," you lick your lips and trail off because your mind is wandering south just like your eyes. You briefly wonder what it'd feel like being bent over the desk he's leaning on, and your thighs squeeze together pathetically in response. "I uh, thought maybe you'd be thirsty."
Thirsty. Jihoon nods to himself, agreeing he's thirsty, but not for your lemonade.
He stands up, slow and confident, loving that you made this excuse to see him, and he walks closer with deliberate, languid steps. His pretty wife, it seems, had been thinking about him as much as he has been thinking about you all day today. And when he finally takes your cup from your hand, he's all but backed you into one of the haystacks with a knowing smirk that makes your breath hitch in your throat.
"You're right," He hums and keeps eye contact with you as he sets the cup to the side on an adjacent haystack. His hands find their way to your waist, slipping under his shirt to touch your hips without anything in the way, and the feel of his calloused fingertips against your smooth skin makes your eyelashes flutter. "I am thirsty," he says it low and deep, and you're clutching onto his biceps as he lifts you to sit on the haystack with ease.
From this height, your hips are the height of his chest, and your gasp echoes as your husband pulls your ass to the edge, his eyes sparkling while heat pools in your stomach.
"You gonna let me fix that, my love? Let me have a taste after working so hard in the sun today." His words make your heart pick up the pace, stuttering in your chest, and you find yourself nodding dumbly as his fingers hook into your ruffled shorts and panties.
He drags the two pieces of clothing down until they are balled up next to the useless cup of lemonade, and then he's pushing you back gently, forcing you onto your back as he manhandles your knees to your chest, exposing your pretty pussy to the open air.
It should be embarrassing how wet you already are, and how much more of your slick seeps from your puffy folds when Jihoon moans. He hasn't even done anything but stare, watching how your sensitive clit glitters with your juices as he stands over you. "Always so good for me," he praises, and you're unable to speak when he dives right in.
His hot tongue is thick, and the wet muscle laps up your slit like you're his favorite meal. And maybe, it's because you are. His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs, keep you spread open, and his nose buries itself against your clit as he slurps obscenely, letting the noises echo in the big barn. It's dirty how he has you, with your ass hanging on the edge of the haystack as he messily makes out with your cunt, but you've also never been more turned on.
Your hands scramble to hold onto something, anything, before you bring his face closer to your pretty pussy, your hips rocking up to match the filthy thrusts of his tongue plunging into your sopping cunt.
The familiar heat in your stomach swirls tighter with each sloppy shake of Jihoon's head between your plush thighs, and your cries resonate in the tall barn louder, mixing with his lovesick groans. "This is just - hah - what I needed-" He confesses, and you feel his hand leave your thigh before two of his fingers stuff your cunt with a sticky squelch. Your eyes swirl, and your jaw drops, and Jihoon dives back in, sucking your clit into his mouth with a precise curl of his fingers that makes your ears ring.
Stars burst behind your eyelids, bringing your orgasm closer, and your whimpers turn more wrecked as he focuses on the soft spots inside you that have you thrashing underneath him.
"You don't even know how much I wanted to fuck you when I saw you this morning." His words come out between his tongue lapping on your pulsing clit, and the deep plunges of his thick fingers inside your pussy. His lips and jaw are dripping with your arousal, and he's only more determined to make a mess out of you as he keeps talking you through it. "Just - ngh - wanted to bend ya' over our kitchen table, see if your pretty pussy was still molded to m'cock from last night."
Your gasp comes out choked, and your gummy walls tighten around his three digits, squeezing him in pulses as your orgasm crashes through you suddenly. You cry out his name when you cum, and Jihoon replaces his fingers with his tongue, slurping your slick while his thumb rubs sloppy hearts into your clit, fucking you through it with a happy groan. He rides out every wave of your orgasm until your noises come out silent and you're oversensitive, weakly pushing on his head to let you go.
When Woozi finally listens, he places a sweet kiss on your trembling thighs before he stands back up from his hunched position. Your arousal coats his nose, lips, and jaw with a glittering shine that has your cheeks blushing a darker shade, and the pleased smirk he gives you when you lie there boneless has your pussy fluttering with new tremors.
You watch him lick his lips before grabbing your forgotten lemonade. He makes sure you're watching as he takes a sip, sighing in contentment before he gives you a teasing wink. "Sweet, but you're sweeter."
When the leaves change colors in the fall, the farm changes with it. It'd been an annual event for the pumpkin patch to be held on your husband's farm. It'd been the designated place for generations, so as the spooky holiday neared, your work balanced between running your business in town and creating side projects to decorate your land for the town to enjoy with their family and friends.
The usual staples would be provided, like bobbing for apples, hay rides, pumpkin picking, and a corn maze that you were determined to make spooky enough for the teenagers when they came during the evening. It was always like that: kids and families came during the day for wholesome fun, and then teenagers and young adults came in the evening for date night and scares. You were proud to be a part of this tradition, and the whole town helped, so it wasn't just on you and your husband's shoulders.
Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Dino came early to help your husband set up tables, guide food trucks to a clear field, and put up structures that you had painted the week before. Seungkwan supervised not only the kids' activities because he was everyone's favorite school teacher, but also the rest of the town on what their job was and how to do it properly. He had muttered to you that otherwise no one would do it right, and it made you hide your grin behind your hand as he sauntered off to find Vernon, who was supposed to have the raffle tickets for the prizes that would be won later.
You had felt like you had been pulled in every other direction putting this whole thing together, and it also felt like you had hardly seen your husband unless it was across the way, and he was busy with another task with one of the boys. You'd catch him lifting hay bales, muscles flexing under the autumn sun, before someone would come to talk to you about an activity, distracting you from your view of your man, and when you looked back moments later, he'd be gone. The moments seemed to build as time went on, and before you had realized it, hours had passed, and the kids and families were gone, while the evening rolled in with the next wave of people.
Eventually, you'd find yourself back inside the Big House, which was off-limits to others but your husband and you, and it was your solace as you leaned on the kitchen sink with a heavy sigh. The kitchen window gave you a view of adults mingling around, laughing and talking, and you felt satisfied with how the event turned out, even if you were tired and missing your husband more than usual. The last time you had seen him, it was just before four in the afternoon, and Seungkwan was hosting the last kids' bobbing for apples activity with you right next to him.
Your eyes had wandered from Seungkwan's dramatic flair on how to actually bob for apples to the tractor dragging the hitched trailer full of families, your husband being the person behind the wheel as he drove it around for everyone.
Jihoon had his black cowboy hat tipped back, his posture relaxed and confident, and the urge to kiss him consumed you so suddenly you felt frozen. You couldn't keep your eyes off of him, watching as he drove nearer, and as if he could feel you staring, his head turned, and his dark eyes caught yours like two magnets snapping together.
With one look, your breath caught, your cheeks flushed, and Jihoon's lips curved up in amusement. When he was close enough, he tipped his hat to you nice and slow, a teasing smile dancing on his face as he murmured, "My love," before driving by. It was just two words, but it was enough to make your tummy flip and your neediness grow as Seungkwan redirected your attention to the kids who were clamoring to bite one apple from one of the five barrels in front of them.
You had spent the rest of the day in a daze, your eyes glossed over with very little attention span, and you hadn't even realized you were no longer alone in your kitchen until your husband spoke up.
"My love," those two little words snap you from your wandering thoughts, and your head turned to look over your shoulder towards your husband, who was wearing the same teasing smile as before.
When you realize you're finally alone with him, your body moves faster than your mind, and you're not hesitating as you pull him into a kiss that makes his warm hands squeeze your hips with a groan. You take charge of the kiss easily, nipping on his bottom lip with your teeth as your hand snakes down his chest to the waistband of his jeans. You make quick work of his belt, sliding his zipper down and unbuttoning his jeans until they bunch at his knees with an eagerness that makes his head spin.
He lets out a strangled noise when you pull back from his kiss just enough to see his eyes swirl, and his cheeks darken with a blush. His hat is tilted back, his eyebrows are furrowed, and his cock is growing a tent in his boxers as your palm rubs against it, squeezing him through the thin material that separates him from you.
Precum oozes from his tip, staining the fabric enough for you to see, and your smile is all seduction as he holds onto the kitchen counter tightly. "Were you missing me, too?" You asked Jihoon with a flutter of your eyelashes. You've taken to stroking him through his boxers, circling your thumb around the tip until heat ached down to his lower stomach. His abdomen tensed, his knuckles whitened, and your husband looked too good being this wrecked over a few tugs of your hand.
"Baby-" His moan came out desperate, his hooded eyes never leaving yours as his hips twitched under your hand. "Fuck, yeah- ngh - missed you s'much." Your touch became firmer as he stuttered through his words, and your hand moved underneath the waistband of his boxers to feel him hot and pulsing under your palm.
The mere touch of your hand made a whine slip from his lips, and his head tilted backwards as you used his precum as lubricant to tug on his cock. Obscene "schlick!" noises resonated in the kitchen as the event happened just twenty feet away outside your kitchen window, and your husband's head began to fill with nothing but the way your hand felt around his cock, and the pretty smile you gave as the wet repetitive sound of your hand pumping deliberate strokes grew more frequent with each squeeze you gave to his tip.
His hips moved in tandem with your hand, thrusting his cock into your tight grip, and just when he thought you couldn't get any hotter, you're sinking onto your knees between his spread legs.
His cock is heavy, weighing down from the amount of blood that rushed south to it, and his tip is cherry red with need. The sight of him, hard, pulsing, and leaking gooey precum profusely, has your mouth watering, and you're only able to give him a cheeky wink before his vision swims, and your warm mouth swallows his tip with a satisfied moan.
"Oh fuck," his curse comes out choked off, and his muscles flex as the coil of pressure in his abdomen tightens to an overwhelming tremor. His breath leaves his lungs, and your mouth slides further down his cock until his hand comes to twist in your hair. He doesn't pull you off or guide your movements; he just uses it as a hold to keep himself grounded as your mouth slurps his cock all the way down to the base.
Your nose brushes the trimmed hair on his pelvis, and his balls tighten with each wet, slobbery bob of your head. The slippery friction of your warm mouth leaves him gasping for air as you take him all the way down your throat before going back up to swirl your tongue around his tip. The sloppy sucks of your lips wrapped around his shaft increase, your pace picking up, and his hand on the back of your head gets heavier with each filthy "gulk!" your throat makes when his cock stuffs it to the brim.
After a few more bobs from you, he can't take it anymore, and he holds your head still, his hips rolling forward on their own accord as he takes over. The pleasure became too much, and your eyes watered as he fucked your mouth, your name coming out as a thankful chant. When he looked down at you, his eyes were blown wide, glossy like your lips, and the sight of you blinking up at him as you let him use you was enough to make the pressure building inside him burst.
His hips jutted forward, his thrusts stuttering into an erratic rhythm as his eyes squeezed shut so tightly that colors exploded behind his eyelids. Your name tore through his throat, raw and undone, echoing in the room as a mix between a broken sob and a gasp. All of his muscles locked up, his hand keeping your head down on his cock, forcing your throat to swallow around his thick length as his tip twitched with the first wave of his release.
His thighs trembled, and he fought to stay upright as you sucked on his sensitive tip until you had swallowed every last drop of his cum. Your tongue massaged the pulsing veins down his length, and when the waves of pleasure began to subside, you finally let him go with a wet "pop!"
Your tongue licked your lips clean as he slumped into the kitchen counter, out of breath, and you stood up slowly, getting onto your tiptoes as you gave him another slow kiss, letting him taste himself on your tongue. "I missed you." You murmured against his lips, and his fingers curled into your dress tighter, bringing you closer.
The coldness that creeps in, foreboding the coming of winter, brings slower work for Woozi; by this point, he's moved his cattle from one area to the next, and he's prepping the old land they were on for better growth for next spring as he manages the shorter days with less sun.
He's still busy almost the entire day, but with it being the colder season, he's able to finish up earlier with fewer tasks needing his attention, which allows him to have dinner with you on a four-day regular basis, an upgrade to your normal two- to three-day dinner dates.
You two work in tandem to cook a home-cooked meal, provided by his hard work, whenever you can, and while you insist on cooking, he insists on setting the table once he's finished with work for the day. The routine is simple: you arrive at the Big House around five-thirty like usual, and immediately get to cooking, and once Jihoon comes in for the day, you're usually half-way done with dinner to allow him to wash up and set the table in the meantime. You two don't really talk as much during this time; you know your husband isn't much for talking unless necessary, so you're not prepared when he comes in a little later than usual and sets his black cowboy hat down on the kitchen counter without so much of a glance.
His walk is heavier than usual, his eyes set on you as you stir the pasta you had made in the pot, and a shiver runs up your spine when you meet his dark eyes. "I just need to make the salad, and dinner should be ready," you say, and you mistake the hunger in his eyes for food. You don't know he's had a rough day, that every little thing seemed to go wrong, and he had pent his frustration in a slow swirl that tightened up like a rattlesnake's tail that jittered in warning before striking.
The silence hangs heavily between you both, and you could feel the air shift, electrifying the tension, and you had made the fortunate move of flipping the stove top burner off before you spoke up again.
"I just need you to set the table-" you are unable to finish your sentence before your husband reaches for you. The rattlesnake struck, gripping you with strength that made you gasp as you were whirled around the kitchen until your chest met your kitchen table. The wood table was cold against the little slip dress you had worn to work. The thin material hugged your body, stretching tight when Jihoon manhandled you to bend over the table, and your arms were behind your back before you could say his name in alarm.
His one hand holds both of your wrists in a taut grasp, and another gasp leaves your glossy lips when his cowboy boot kicks your legs open wider. You can feel his hips against your ass, his buckle digging into the end of your dress, and your cheeks flush as you feel his cock is already hard under his fitted jeans. "I'm going to fuck you." His words come out confident, a sureness that makes your pussy clench in anticipation, and you're rewarded with a roll of his hips as he continues to talk. "And you're gonna cum on my cock twice before we have the dinner you've made, okay?"
You're pinned to the kitchen table, his jeans rubbing against the back of your thighs, and your panties are soaked, sticking to your folds as you nod your head quietly. You can hear him huff a little laugh, smug, and his hands tighten around your wrists as he flips your dress up, dragging your panties down just enough to give him access to your pretty cunt.
You expect him to be rough, to take you right then and there, but instead, he's much worse. He's a tease.
His thick fingers find your clit with ease, and your arousal drips down his digits as he strokes your nub with light touches. His denim jeans are tight over his wide thighs, and they are keeping you in place as he teases your cunt with slow caresses. He winds you up with knowing accuracy, rubbing sloppy hearts into your clit until your cunt is all but weeping slick down your trembling thighs.
The room fills with the wet sounds of your cunt, and your breathy moans, and Jihoon lets out a sigh like this was exactly what he needed. His eyes can't stop staring at your quivering pussy, the way your hole flutters as he plays with you, dragging his fingers through your dripping folds, teasing your entrance before going back to your pulsing clit like he knows you could cum from just this.
And you could; he's had you do it before, stroking your clit until you were throbbing around nothing, begging for his cock before you orgasmed with a cry of his name.
Tonight, he's too tense to have that happen again, and just as your hips are tilting back, pressing back onto his fingers with a wiggle that says you're about to cum - he stops. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, shoving his jeans sloppily down to his thighs, before he grabs your ass with a heavy hand. His cock aligns with your entrance perfectly, and the fat, blunt head of his cock is dark and leaking with his precum, coating your pussy and making your head spin with lust. You're just about ready to beg for him to move when he pushes his hips forward, sheathing his cock inside you in one full thrust.
Normally, your husband has you cumming on his fingers and mouth a few times before he gives you his cock, but tonight, he takes you like you're his personal cock sleeve. He holds your wrists in one hand behind your back and your hip in the other as he drags his heavy cock through your gummy walls, pushing out loud moans from your glossy lips each time he fills you to the hilt.
The table digs into your hips as his balls smack into your clit with little 'plap, plap, plaps', adding to your pleasure as he uses you hard and fast. You can only tilt your hips up to take each thrust with a whimper, your pussy slurping his cock deeper with each clap of his hips meeting your ass. The orgasm that builds in your stomach develops hotter with each stroke he gives, and you're rendered to a babbling mess as your pussy slobbers his cock with another wave of your slick. "Oh! Yes, yes, just like that!"
You barely hear your husband scoff, a smug smirk dawning on his face as he hooks your knee up onto the table. The new angle has him plugging his cock deeper into you, and your tongue lolls lewdly in response. "Just like that?" He croons condescendingly. "Yeah, you like it when I fuck my frustration out on you? Hah, look at you - you're soaking me."
Your legs tremble, and his thrusts pick up pace, bringing drool to the corner of your mouth as he reaches under you to find your puffy clit. He rubs the pretty nub with quick and mean circles, and you're unable to warn him fast enough before something snaps inside you. Your orgasm bursts like the wail you let out, and your cunt spasms into a vice grip around his cock, pulsing in tremors that make Jihoon's hips stutter.
"That's it, let it all out for me, Baby." He praises, and your pussy quivers as he keeps rubbing your clit, his thrusts growing harder as he changes his pace to fuck you deep and slow. He makes you feel every inch plunge through your gushing channel, until you're realizing just how much of a mess you've made. You can feel your cum drip down your thighs, and your cheeks flush as your second orgasm builds quicker than the first.
"Ji-Jihoon! It's too - ngh - too much! M'gonna - oh fuck, fuck," Your moan turns into a squeal as your body locks up; you've barely stopped the trembling in your thighs before you're gushing for the second time. Your stomach tightens, your pussy clamps down on his thick cock, and your vision darkens as he smacks your clit with his wet fingers.
You think you forget how to breathe, because one moment your vision blackens, and the next you're gasping for air as Jihoon curses behind you. "Fuck, you're perfect." You can hear his teeth grinding together, and your pussy is still milking his cock through your orgasm when you feel his cock swelling as he cums. Every inch of his shaft rubs your sensitive walls deliciously, and you can feel every spurt of his cock filling your cunt with his cum as he groans loudly behind you.
His hips grind into your ass, his cock painting your pussy white, and it's then that he finally lets go of your wrists. You feel your arms drop to your sides while he rubs his hands down your back, keeping you stuffed with his cock and cum as he praises you. "You did so good for me, my love; you made such a mess- even squirted for me." He sighs blissfully, and your cunt squeezes his cock instinctively at his words.
You're pretty sure your pasta was cold now, but you couldn't care less; you felt warm and satisfied as your husband rubbed your hips and back with deep circles, praising you with more compliments as you lay boneless over the kitchen table.
There are only a few days Jihoon takes off from working his farm. If he had it his way, he'd work even on his birthday, but you'd never allow that. You always claimed that the ranch could handle one day without him, and one small finger from you pointed at his chest with a determined glint in your eye had him shutting up any protest as he hung up his hat for the night, following you to bed as you slowly led the way with an enticing sway of your hips.
But old habits die hard, and Woozi wakes before the sun does. His eyes flutter open, and the first thing he notices is that your soft body is tucked into his as your leg drapes over his hip. It's quiet, the stillness before the dawn, and your little sleepy noises that you huff into his neck make his heart warm all over. It was always hard to leave you in the mornings, even when his body moved on autopilot.
Mornings were definitely not in his favor; his eyes could barely stay open as his hair jutted out every which way, and the only balm he gave himself was by making a strong cup of coffee to start his day. As the coffee dripped into the pot, he grabbed two mugs out of habit, one for himself and the other chosen specifically for you. Today, he chooses a pink one dotted with tiny red hearts all over it just for you.
When the coffee is done, the sky has barely changed color; it's still dark, but the first glimpses of it lightening up are seen just behind the mountains to the East, and he takes his cup of coffee onto the back porch.
Your porch wraps around the entirety of the Big House, but Woozi likes to stay on the back half, looking over all the land he worked hard to maintain. Two of the red barns are back here, and the chicken coop is around the corner, so as everyone sleeps, he sighs and leans his hip into the porch railing as he finally takes his first sip of coffee for the day.
He drinks his coffee mostly black; the bitterness shoots through his veins, waking him up faster, and his brows pinch as it warms his body over the cold morning air. Usually, if he were working, he'd drink his first cup of coffee just like this. He'd take the brief moment of quiet before grabbing his second cup to go as he headed out to check up on all the animals. He only allowed himself two cups of coffee; otherwise, his body would get too jittery, his brain would drift, and the urge to "fuck all" and find his wife would be too unbearable to resist. Essentially, nothing would get done but you, so he had to have some restraint as he would call your two dogs to follow him on his heels.
But none of that matters today, though; it's his birthday, his wife was naked in his bed upstairs, and when he finished his first cup of coffee, he planned to celebrate with his head between your thighs, waking you up with the warmth of his tongue to start your day off right.
The thought alone makes him smirk to himself, his cock growing in his jeans as he daydreams, and he's so lost in his own world he doesn't hear you until you're setting your pink mug of coffee right next to his on the porch railing.
"I woke up alone."
Your statement comes out quietly, calmly, and his dark eyes shift to the right, widening when he sees you standing there still as naked as he had left you. "Baby, it's cold out here-" His body fully twists in your direction now, and his eyes can't help but dip and follow the curves and lines of his pretty wife as you give him a knowing grin.
"-then warm me up, cowboy. Make up for the fact you weren't in my bed this morning." Your little nickname was always an inside joke between you two, something you called him just to rile him up, and his plans to take you on the bed fly out the window entirely. A grin tugged onto the edge of his lips, matching your own, and his hands grabbed your waist so fast that you let out an involuntary yelp as he pulled you into him.
Your cold skin hummed with renewed heat as his hands rubbed down your back, and your moan got swallowed by his lips when he kissed you like there wasn't enough time in the world. He could feel your perky nipples against his chest, the goosebumps that ran down your arms, and the smile you two shared as he licked over your bottom lip before pulling back. "What are the magical words?" He teased low and deep, the morning raspiness in his tone making your thighs squeeze together in anticipation as his hardening cock pressed against your hip.
It was unfair how easily he could make your head clouded with lust, and your nails lightly scratched down his sides to provoke a little inhale from him as you watched his pupils blow wide with hunger. You leaned up, brushing your lips over his, and smiled at the tingling you felt all the way down to your toes. "Happy birthday, my love."
Jihoon groaned, and you laughed as you two were brought down onto the floor by him. He didn't bother even making it inside with you as his body covered yours, right there on the back porch, and his hips slotted between your legs as he squeezed your ass playfully. His head dipped down, and his teeth nipped the curve of your neck, bringing another round of giggles from you as he spoke into your ear with an affectionate scoff. "I was looking for, please, Darling, not some cheesy happy birthday." He huffed, and an adoring pinch to your side made your hips buck up into his.
Your pussy slid up his jean-covered bulge, and both of you groaned as his own body reacted to yours instinctively. Every time your hips rolled, his hips responded, grinding into your exposed cunt, dragging the seam of his jeans over your pretty clit until your arousal seeped onto the front of his jeans with a darkening wet patch.
You were so pretty, lying underneath him, dry humping him out in the open, and he knew he was going to take you right here in the cold early morning, but before Woozi could pin you down, your knees pressed into his hips, and your body used his weight to roll you two around until you were on top.
Your weight settled back onto his lap as he found himself lying on the creaky wooden floor in surprise, and your hands rested on his chest as your hips swiveled again, grinding over his lap as he held onto your waist with a moan. "Birthday boys don't need a please; they just need to be good and take what they're given." Your husband's head fell back, exposing his neck, and your smile turned a little condescending as you looked down on him. "Now, are you going to let me ride my cowboy, or what?"
Jihoon gave a short, jerky nod in consent, his vision blurring a little as his cock pulsed in need from your words. He barely made out the two coffee mugs still steaming on the railing before you made quick work of his jeans, unbuckling his belt, and sliding his zipper down. He helped you shove his jeans down to the middle of his thighs with his boxers, and you were already soaking wet as you leaned up on your knees to reach back for his hefty cock.
There is no prep, no teasing, just your hand guiding his cock to your entrance, and then your pretty pussy engulfing his shaft inch by mouth-watering inch with such warmth that his tongue slaps the roof of his mouth as his eyes roll back in pleasure.
Your pussy creates a filthy and sticky squelch from the breach of his cock stretching you open, and you can feel every thumping inch of his cock rub deliciously along your gummy walls as his weeping tip reaches places you didn't even know existed as your ass finally meets his hips in one swift swoop. Fuck, this was Jihoon's favorite position for a reason, and it shows when your head falls back and your eyes cross lewdly from the feeling of him stuffing you full.
Each time your hips slam down, driving his cock deeper into your wet heat, dirty "plap, plap, plaps!" resonate in the open air as your skin smacks into his. Your gyrations only got nastier with each twist of your hips, and the feel of his plump cock swiveling around inside you so deliciously had his jaw gritting, his muscles straining, as you rode him like he was a prized bull.
This was heaven, and he says as much as his eyes fixate on your bouncing tits, your face showing him the fucked-out expression he loved seeing you wear when you got cock drunk. One of his hands displays his fingers over your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as his other hand snakes up your curved back, bringing you lower until his lips could wrap around one of your perky nipples.
He sucks with a hard pull, and the new angle has his cock drilling into your sweet spot like a bullseye, making your entire body jolt as he bucks his hips upwards to meet your movements. An adorable "ah!" shrills from your gaping mouth, and your legs burn as every inch of your velvety walls gets massaged by his thickening shaft.
You were being fucked, and your brain lags the information that you weren't in control anymore, even if you were on top. Woozi's hand slips between your two sweaty bodies, his fingers spreading your puffy folds open even more, and you're babbling in desperation as his teeth graze your nipple with a grin. "Wait! Wait- I'm-" Your words slur, and Jihoon can't help but place a mean smack on your clit, splashing your juices across his fingertips as his other hand held your hips in place.
"So gorgeous," Your husband praises, and your cunt drools at the feeling of his cold wedding band on his left hand rubbing against your hot, pulsing clit in beckoning swirls, smoothing the harsh sting he gave your little nub seconds before.
You're not sure if it was the way he used his wedding band against your quivering cunt or the way his cock continued to bruise your g-spot with a mean accuracy, or if it was because he was looking at you like you were the greatest gift on this earth, but your orgasm slams through you suddenly, knocking every last thought from your brain as his lips crash into yours.
You feel your cunt gush all around him, splattering your juices, and his fingers make quick, swift smacks onto your pulsing clit until you're squirting hard, crying into his mouth as his tongue licks over yours with a deep groan.
When you finally pull away, Jihoon is chasing after your lips, and your pussy is still spasming through your orgasm as your slick spreads across his lap every time you fucked yourself down on his hard cock. You can barely see Jihoon's lovesick grin on his face behind your teary eyes, and his voice sounds as wrecked as you feel when he rasps, "Such a messy wife I got, huh? Squirting all over me."
Your pussy clenches wantonly, milking his weeping cock pitifully, and Jihoon's balls tense, his pupils dilating into hearts as you look at him with glossy eyes. You don't have to speak for him to know what you're wanting, and the two of you roll around again until your husband is pushing your knees to your chest, forcing you into a nasty mating press.
Maybe taking the day off for his birthday wasn't that bad after all.
The sun provides a welcoming warmth across your face as you lean back on the peach tree in April. Your chin tilts up, and your eyes close, basking in the sun's rays of spring while the green leaves cover you with partial shade. All the peaches look ripe and juicy, and a few of them are piled to your left on the blanket you're sitting on, and you can't help but think about how the past year has flown by so quickly.
You'd gotten married, built your business up even more, and had fallen for your husband more and more each day that passed. Your lips pull up into a sweet grin as you think about it, and you open your eyes just enough to glance down at your lap.
Jihoon's wearing the same type of flannel he wears almost every day, along with his worn jeans and dusty cowboy boots. The only thing missing is the black cowboy hat that he took off so he could lay his head across your lap. He had placed it by your foot, your legs stretched out over the picnic blanket, and your fingers scratch his scalp in soothing swirls, making his lips part as he exhaled a long, happy sigh.
You two had been sitting here for over an hour now, taking in the cool breeze, the green leaves surrounding the beautiful peaches, and the warmth of the sun. You're pretty sure your husband could fall asleep like this, and the thought brings a giggle that makes him barely crack his eyes open with curiosity. "What's so funny?"
Your head shakes, and his eyebrow quirks as your fingers swirl through his dark hair, combing through the long strands that now reach his shoulders. "Nothing, m'just thinking." Your left hand rests on his chest, and your wedding ring shines as you move your right hand from his head to grab one of the peaches you two picked together earlier.
Jihoon doesn't try to pry any further; instead, he watches as you take a bite of the plump fruit, the juices coating your tongue with sweetness that makes your smile grow until he can't take it any longer and he reaches for you. You've barely swallowed your bite before your husband's leaning up and bringing you down for a slow kiss, curling his tongue over yours to taste the same sweetness you just experienced.
He cups the back of your head as his tongue licks over your mouth, kissing you with a softness he only reserved for you, and your head slowly begins to fill with cotton.
When he pulls back, his forehead leans against yours as you two catch your breath, and his nose nudges yours softly. He's smiling, pulling you into another kiss that makes you melt into him, and the both of you sink onto the blanket under the big peach tree as he mumbles across your lips, "I love you."
He repeats the three words like a mantra, kissing down your neck as his hands worship your body, taking his time to show you how much he means it.
And while your husband makes his way south, sliding your dress up your soft thighs, your smile feels permanent - your love overflowing your heart as you say it back, taking over his chants as he places the first kiss on your inner knee.
"I love you, I love you, I love you."
대박 - you made it to the end!
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grace officially moving into his cutesy little biodome house and he immediately is like oh my god. i can take a real honest to god shower. for the first time in... i dont want to think about how many years. i cant imagine how incredible this is going to feel. rocky butts in to supervise which grace is slightly embarrassed about but hey. rocky is probably just... scientifically curious about how humans bathe themselves in ideal circumstances. this isnt a child safety lock type thing. he doesnt actually think ill trip and brain myself somehow. right, rocky? and rockys like no im very sure you will. i dont think ive ever seen you being "graceful" a day in your life. clumsy ass human. and grace is like. :/ RUDE. but he moves the fuck on because hes so excited about his awesome as fuck shower. HOT! RUNNING! WATER! hes going to feel legitimately clean for the first time in ages! sure, they havent synthesized soap yet, but theyll get there! and so hes in the shower, he turns it on and it comes out STEAMING. extremely undignified yelp, he crashes through the shower curtain in his haste to get away, and stands there squinting through the steam. and rocky internally is like WHAT DID I SAYYY but in actuality hes like Ughhh i will consult with biodome team about this :/ (<- was really excited to watch grace lather fluids on himself) wait here. dont do anything dumb. grace continues fiddling with the shower and comes to the conclusion that there are two settings: "boiling" and "off." he has to genuinely deliberate with himself whether a shower is worth stripping three layers of skin off with heat alone. and hes like. Well thats a gamble im fine taking. cut to rocky walking back in like "issue should be solved now" only to find grace crumpled on the ground red as the day he was born and shakily giving him a thumbs up
