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libidomechanica · 6 months

Text

The pillars of

A curtal sonnet sequence

Stanza I

And it’s not long catechism of quean. The pillars of man, on the banquet we made for many wound think no more green or fifty-nine years, by vain I could not when with into The Sons by star or blame it. Here is a bubbles o’er the hind-part in him as he black dull-gurgling place where thro’ myrtle twin broad daylight grows never be destroys: and, as hath they whose Oath winged Chiefs were one walk’d away—yet not me, my Giraffes.

Stanza II

Enough the damned grotesques made no truth live beyond the porches rich flower wit or not allow’d, as he Wrong’d to David’s Son renewing smart. A hand touch’d nor reward his with unreproaching Witnesse raign’d. Not kneelings, as brightest! And all, and but yet hangs their Power to his neck, what was fairer that I wept spirals, and what we drink crept behind me whispers of manly game, but stroke, subdued majesties, garden and man.

Stanza III

Slick with grew still my pretty name of Dulness, is much more, Theocracy. Starry Fays; she answer. With his little body spy the lightes with using; the pass’d well, where quicklime on the lighter ill defend me—you wept. I’m trying tooth, tusk, and bedeviled breath of flower unfamiliar to be vexed at poor Plot they by Loues winking of murderous was all. That I know not— it succeeding for wanting Nation ruin fall.

Stanza IV

Phoebus sinks bene stars drink, and being weak, it short at the strolled for human had found is built thou return! Came waggish fauns, and still my zenith, euer was Patriots name—juanna. You minus of torture- pilgrimage; until the morning Eye to guardian snakes. Then skelp alang to deeds and play. Tamed by Worthier Head. And where you will, or his heard the door opening on his Soul are done: mine ear, will not be compliment.

Stanza V

These precious path, as if she to myself, but the fate it. Somehow, I call grow mad, and let me, and all awry: however the daily counsell can, so lustless, you wilt see? Sitting me thus, ye meets you, to yours to cradle the devil if that heaviness, plead they gaz’d upon that he hent influence, and though leans something still be Naked left a desease; bankrupt of Love a wild stretch his looks, hissing in the soft, her spot.

Stanza VI

First Ferment by the quintessence! Ever her altars did creature, and nerves of a Forgiving trial was scarcely that little to looked at a’? Made of reasons and sae douce and maidenhood against youthfull woe. And her roguish een. And thus by such a Tie God or De Tott: her gilded masks? Bout the spell, and thee near: for worse vnto the never ask’d her arms about the faintly stirs they shone, perhaps from the end ill, who taught the death.

Stanza VII

If matters: robert Burns: “pass by hunders! But perfect in twenty, for flow. Naked of sums, yet you fairly. Slept quiet in ilka grove, as are further by the restaurant I pointest tieth! The Warders with wares were Slaves. They be, more: and sting throat: the poor these were assur’d, long since nourish languish een. Thou pype and beaten gold. Round its deep vaulted, bound, he is in her weel waled were, sleek Odalisques, which made one was no joke.

Stanza VIII

But pyping leave to all that over themselves into an end. You, kneel once, you welcomes within my bones, is it should ne’er a lightning, I? I own imperial Form, and wipe my life; but the whole days by emperish as young Messiah bless his Lord, stirr’d or crouched swinged Psyche, both his happy day thought! The flow’r-reviving rains his features rude in ponderous Host of human health and try it: i’ve rare. Nest of lucid wave!

Stanza IX

Too high: strong, and He who had ne’er ye meets you saw the Pigmy Body which now my breast,—for over so. Higher plac’d; such utmost perfect behind then to do: a sister slain, as over he had pierced his petticoat—a cuff neglectful, and set me his wholly in a gentle worlds of the chamber: dim and warm excesses: many a time but now a’ tint, sin’ thou steal about that vnkind?—But by our heads in truth of a song?

Stanza X

A fourth time in a Sea of yce: take amiss, though his little reasons and Stews; whose ynne Penaunce, where-through there held their head, the evening draperies unfelt in my child, and stayneth! That before I saw a fury where she, still thy brain? To speake; fit Oratours to createst sweet flowed your bonnet brave, i’ll seek me, and pity ere he lovely far her lives, but Actium, lost for one so well where soft and Traverse, and Delude the bride.

Stanza XI

’Twas vast, so, gratefull Colin, I language— Now let me so. Fresh from the hyghest Ioue, and haste the Jebusite. I want to a daring—who would blunt fist of heaven was never be. I hear horses, girl, said he, the wine upon the Madness I commiserable Creation, could your virtue crowne hand stood, seem Constraining sun restore of none.—A livelier the seas, and beauty taken from heaven’s glorious prisoner!

Stanza XII

The only sight trailed as certain that is left I came, to pass; nor Entreaty, Threat, or Countries and in all the heaven, dost hide this general gain by separate Hell. Fain would not cold, aglaia slept, since I visited the waterspout had strung, and he then groans of my Firmán, he saint’s what she, too, was God ordain; what she knew fulwell, who made of another or Sommer trembled as though not our sightless lake, on so, young and low!

Stanza XIII

But could know what he was made arabesques, compare there were spight. Night, I can be not mine, the sun as the favourite; but with Honour inconstantly at brim of any leisure to wonder’d straightwayes my life, no incense and beautiful, and look in it like I think, t’ espouse—next, because tis not now, for she must content influence. Without loves in order fight; for each the Dross of azure o’ercast our soul inspir’d.

Stanza XIV

Thou Me fast in clothes, we have found and roar’d for our sins,—making the lobes of new the Presence! And lips thrones—amid things to have nothing through a thousand yet been arraigne heard, she unobservant to seek with two tame leopards couched if each other: keep your track when he walls to ballast lineaments, opening steeled in Sommers flow; an’ she starts, and pearl, and seemed to the midnight, the People die. Their bottom agates with breed.

Stanza XV

’Re a spell o’ wit and these antics were fewer, specks in the arch through. For what he finds shook the rolls of Kings. More like any superstition Blinds! Which, euen of royal coupling Doues, guide, stuttering amongst the ministring lime but extremely wrong: and my pretty one, sleep is purest soone I rede their beds at hand. From the dark-clusters threate. In pity ere he may accuse, he thus, my Fear: thought forth my mind advantage of hate.

Stanza XVI

What you spring; some Royal blood no Grace. Gentle patience would rob the scepter Venus, till he spared her Ground: they wont to his Lord, stirr’d or talk’d the shepherd-sang but with Lar and hopes a Right, dear her bonie Lass of Allah from my Muse to frames, and speech grew still for three years! So wistful eye upon some fresh, and the Good. At seven were taught: let thy seated on your foundation the morning leer, each wishing and louder o’ the blood.

Stanza XVII

Yet, Corah, thou fill thy train: from out His care: at once more witness these signs. They met a press glittering death from the rest, and drink deep, admiring the skies, the next she did her lip kissing upon that had to stretch of man, with flourish languish een. As he court and let out my vigorous trains. I crave; and me.—What is withering pool I will world’s soul of midnight with the labyrinth in the grapevine suffices of a song?

Stanza XVIII

Mine eyes, ne’re be sin in my Longing coal and third rail that blessing dead and glutted all the great their jug was it Absál? Within us finde, which now his owne child, and still and child I oft have before shuttles to ceased to hear heats unscalable but on the back-stile, an’ I’ll come when the web of glass shows, kill me backs of that seem’d to the Heaven our hands to breath! A lullaby to streamed, if the midst a golden age— why not?

Stanza XIX

Love, that so longest bed, without short of love, that when one which was woven in skins, raw from; but feeds on her troubled mighty, nor confound, renne after all, but fate’s gentle shepheards with thee. Wine, the Lord, stirring time, if of joy to joy that will come too hard bit. Sure new maim’d a Throne, which light who breed the least, and the Plot to know do well as I were blow, and what thou looked so wistful eye upon thyself to immorality.

Stanza XX

Yet lov’d an old mysteries unfold on a hearts, unutterably vain I have him his Eyes&Ears didst my Seal: the western sea, that we are all the red coat? Our Fortune’s feet; that his world of asphodel, they were it burst open half of;—don’t matter but vision; for that frolicked up. Pray to cure your love that the light before the nearer to the twirled to make a lad that had strung unable mount the world! ’Tis the same blind.

Stanza XXI

But it can be, of modesty deck’d here. Against it may not before red, with silent, shy, and come to pain, and trembled as he crew had given hearing of eyelashes and yet those whom, shunning with joy, or duty, all soft delicate web, the Master, Sirens though a brother: they lay calm- breath; thou of it! And if from hands would think to man. Countrymen, your Bosom utter’d from Vesper, amorous grace the Her face.

Stanza XXII

Till live beyond their life was strutted all around and made this fire was unseen leaped aside, and stormes, his Son, for fire, like one like the November that light, th’ Offending sward of summer shapeless circuses, sweet in this poor many times upon the Time’s reign. As that Pan wit to tempting from High, is of all Time sparkled at scarce could not the Column, let go! The snow minaret on and dismal air and thought rheum to kill.

Stanza XXIII

I was a strange art; their sepulchral sites, they ne’er young love was not all were for the fire thee in prospect his Hand a Moses’s face rose wan, and should all enuie hope, with his head againe, and scuds along to learning: but nowe vpright, We turned and told the sphery session might, but since which is that bloody sweating force, but forst by thee. King such a Reign may man might? Her face bare mercy sway’d, and a night meant and that burn these are frail, so brave!

Stanza XXIV

With unwilling else could not, as colowred crime on my freed from coste, can make in me like a porcupine, quick another? For what he would excuse my delightfote Nymph reserv’d!—Seeming reign, which in my fear’d hope we under walked the rotted she kiss than all controul; and, glowing therefore a green, when Love’s light; then I was given to utterly of your passion grow bad, and bathe inscrib’d with dry cheek turn’d gem, the came— from Spain.

Stanza XXV

Now you spoke of eight: each held you still God Supreamly Good by Fools, and when their Sunday suits ancient Secret be blesse raigne of what Applause might half a Father dangled, and little mend here and maiden babe, a double dress of heads they met, the moment lips all rounde to lay thy Minds, our body grief it flash’d suddenly a sequel, but lacks salt, in acting three days by emperish’d? And join’d the prime, and by each hollow behind.

Stanza XXVI

And he alone, ’ quoth shew beyond the wearied each hellisht with a perpetual dullness. The Latmian! The more whither toilet, where none of her station gate and morning’s maturity, checked into this lump of each foot, nor thee. But when I awoke with you! Look at the dawn grew a brazen below thine own torn hair, and much knowledge afford the colour of all Caesar’s victorial. Left no echo of the Scrifice. The crest.

Stanza XXVII

Our Authour sweet who banisht eyes held them. Yet sighes, dearest love, to pay. Cyril said not sow of gentle water in? Now take the Governor was hardest gazer drank more love appear to have the State. But when the sleep; the fifteen hundred veins to spil. As a’ to both in his Shrieval Board the chamber Oda is the burning on the shirt off, dancing upon push’d a foe in hope from the God or deep and flower away.

Stanza XXVIII

And, last thou can only the breeze before the savior of Remorseless circle round we knelt with a carved so. Whose captive scorched thou know what make his face, an’ I’ll have you won. Us all, she gave heaven punish’d to the clock thy counsels fit; I do forgetfulness. And does the chapel on the child pushed turning gold and great whale was ripened, your fancy frae his be held their single think upon the matron’s prime Designs, and burn.

Stanza XXIX

Love forgot; cool was they did encroche, and fault, and the flood, and, green on Jordans Flood: unfortunates of night to life. There any stone, developing for a masquerade. Hence so true friend is her own to do: a sister. She, thos bad, and smiling died but Mercy and scorne thy kindness of my love in me, miracle-tones all felt the best care-worn sage, who look in to mind; and blowes through and told her spot. And snaw; but wi’ me.

Stanza XXX

Her mammie’s warm excess of the L&N, hoping thought he was a poet sublimest of shepherd’s lays, for Julia took the heaven—whose Oath with his shirt off, dancing thee. Pear or blazing downward spring from Courts of all metal, a lethal musket shot, a plot, a plot, a plot, a plot to know. And next to you are old; so dexterous Conscious heate, our spirit: despair: to dance upon all time? It is soul is said, they died.

Stanza XXXI

And and dumb: but Phyllis prayse: but since thy kind?—And blind my Spectre follows obeying to teare, like slaves to wed. For a season being the moon, at the part, it barre to desire, which Musike speake; fit Oratours that gushes, and mountain-top—the said not take think much disparage such unholy groues to smiles, and can have before thee dear. Drunk with cold, aglaia slept, or oracle, that you would not teeth, thy fairy colours!

Stanza XXXII

Tis Sin to colleges on summer eve but because at hand in the Prince, I have its hungry jacobins thought more, still pass this; but faither, that over my dreaming sudden should rise to wexe so bold, to make the waits for everything newer. Another by a moment, and, thought to life, of the Bramble bush, nor breathe amorous rigour fragrant our destine these those will do well in my breast-plates their excel; which mighty crown’d.

Stanza XXXIII

The form look’d about his eyes or ribbons be few, the Sage—oh Thou art outgoe. As clothes a wretch, doom’d with ample of the Land. And two days for bread that was epicene, as by a word. For human Wit could not pure lost. I score: he seemed kind at once in denays, at kirk and buikit and desired, these days—when like yon cherries ripe, that blood that now this short their sins a second Moses’s face, and with laurel boughs lisp thy Fruit must build.

Stanza XXXIV

Which for the bumpers a Righteously projected, hissing skil with subtle things are at my wing’d ship came the Judge of fair grot varied each other, that might his names were the shade, nothing to my thou goest safe, supreme; if thou madest Pluto’s scepter, a forlorn child the strangers release. Nor did I see. In gentle write! We did beam, and thou then picked impulsive; I was a dandelion set a love give up love, my Katie?

Stanza XXXV

Who every closet. About he doesn’t respond with amorous highest man at his ear, these treasure of it or duty, all seek to have all worse. That we escape of Prosperous warm; Katinka was amiss, but go they proudly as just as he’s mountain- source of dreamed of sleeps. I know children foolerie, and ever head: and in a most on man’s day the urge to heal of Guebres, Giaours, thou art a girdle of cheualrie: but of the Prince!

Stanza XXXVI

Sweetly in the broad and red why, thy word! The emperor and rue, that I follow as you shine so breath, who, what dainty of Verse. Said in a breathe. They whose braunches bright as thy close—at last! War’s loud repeatedly, in thine eyelids screen; thou wast the vitriol madness manage well grudge; the violet- hooded sae dear. With their own goddess! Blowing no more, and a’! And I felt thus our prayers finds, but thou lay that briefly all hell.

Stanza XXXVII

Which would make a little by line, ribb’d and means of all the David! As every girls of Rome did they fetched! And yet been of Jerusalem, Shimei, though bound its head, and force press’d its bright the ghosts, ’ replied: we scarce have grow up from the long, we watcher’s skein; and, lang ere will be dead make no noise about then the rings ladies of Yazd; and if it doth devise. Nature’s rich to know thou only within whose Christian-name way, and she fell.

Stanza XXXVIII

’Mid continue still german, I stood before two women of Jesus set me from happy free, ah! But vision into each further, though he court and far—the Rahvs in the weak, paranoid. Of the Lycian custom, and bobbing me to me when next to you, all seize the empty out, O fairest maid on Death nor a burial. If any hartblood of women of my widowed sky, that she said, but with many a Manichean.

Stanza XXXIX

That he well as I have staggering a womankind direct how this: I could sweet, lord of suckling steps, that is giving Love is me, and thus parting of the yard, in earth our sins,—making eyelids from Hebron bring, and self. A cricket hid I curst mad with thee, and you are, the web of glass, and looks love. But no doubt! Is a garlanding Devon, wilt thou know you should rather Adams of a few who never-changing helm beside!

Stanza XL

The empress, sudden showers of love; o, there were but that is falsely brow and thyself, though stately let you are; likewise Issachar, his Title, gem, and tent one of the heather tunes Ice prefers to consummation If you art not for gentle Lawiers, will and who can Amiel, who knew the rest, and rest, with you know’st my fault curst the pulses and flowers where long. To have: Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, and your skin and will in short.

Stanza XLI

Add ones which Cupids self it or not so master head again, by Laws are like dew, but read it be, or whatsoever come, as any meete tales, or both commiserable of Kings no Titles gave me a bower fellowship. As that his last the name of the habits of dead, half undo it. In the sight of summer air, her eye dilated anchored on sinful patience; first be Pawn’d, and, like their King, and moan: hast the night.

Stanza XLII

Marmalade out, and lips for all these shades ’mong rushed bird skulls in passionate shrill-edged shroude weede he wast the protests to breathing, a Son, what Occasion grew not. Deep in compare within her wept, but women living the heard, the Court, the purest signifies the pearls, shy, and there’d to or laid his Faction ever but what she that several Factious force their Disease. Thou dost thou shalt heart, and in we still he thus, for City.

Stanza XLIII

Because is due, onelie thro’ myrtle twin brother Kind? And thus, form’d to the Sultana, their year, On gold and hidden grace the walk’d away like a body should risk a throngings: to desired, and in the marine cloud that may complainest to my soul to pleasant tales, to gather’d, and bonfires made: though my loue ytake: well know. Whilst the Nations do the Lass of Man eaten by their better look’d for ever— ever dwelling.

Stanza XLIV

Thou dost thou art could not, like their own and Earth, and our loves than truth is like any one good store, still believing he deny’d promise it from thy darkness, nor Fortune of the Peoples Prayer! Her bosom, all song doth shame on a white rosebud with downcast his mould make that’s out of a living eloquence of my mouth too long to breath, who, withered shapes, wizard another, each man’s snare bid all his rine, abandoned, almost sad?

Stanza XLV

And not before; or if the dead and rise from under them. In the red cock and set my mighty every girlish grant who, what thou hast been resum’d in that not your parents on heaven grace, the heau’nly guest: your cool radiance from fair. A bless heavy on the best do knows he held in the Heathen Priest, and how we have knows were thro’ myrtle twin brother, ’ I know thy fears had left alone bent over this little your because all song.

Stanza XLVI

And with a sight—not to speak back in me, miracles are one tinge our heard thin Partition Blinds! Near and sweating out upon my will all this being town stone, until the Infernally before. For Priests devise a total oppose, to caroll of dead, whose shingles were na looking the age when something what we knew we would fail! We enterings, ye meadows, with that herself. And years, and white. Our least, and prayed from all that Circe!

Stanza XLVII

In an effort of Memory. Still a Higher place of honey I shall live by line, when pray that taught their Destiny! Limbs, and curse. That mighty consumed, may looks a friend Hortensius. And Fortune and Tarnish with tears might be, that makes they who possess that ocean must do the Lady glanced after and proves in a rill—or rather host, they scarce could pass were must be contempt, and low! I take them Joyn’d all in whose evening before?

Stanza XLVIII

He woud have myself deceive. Who banisht eyes, and Doom: the world is lights that hath the grave as filchers use, he drank the dark came flying gold around, softer Adams of the consent; as if God’s sweet Venus’ ceston even by a worlds are supplies: she twilight of his Person exacted by the halloo will ranke Winters call my loue as the seraglio guest, like a jewel’d sands took to Drink making a youth, and pricked upon.

Stanza XLIX

A lady on a most adore! Worst of sighing startled soul gives; and tak the chilly women, on her company, about the Jews well; but I need not warmed not: O, if so indeede true Parentage, which is a garth, two in the love and seem to looked at! Said Cyril. With wicked Neighbour groues to peep, to gathered place for some slim canoe of faded Oake, pitied her an’ merits nomenclature slate the held in dreadful day.

Stanza L

Able to give our only tutor us toys of his separate Hell, and keeps with flowre is reply’d his person to address ooz’d out. Some machinist at other wise, and impearl’d without my heart i am never sea, over my sisters nyne, which his heart is waking in arts of the Lucius Junius Brutus of Fear thine are soul would wanderings, as he slept, and signal join’d experience to traveled fleeces by.

Stanza LI

Whether window lighted Vows to think you Gods, and the things more deliver met before all Command, scatter game of cloudlets, glittering a Titan’s bring? I saw him, and a mat of Greenwich Village, then tattered weeds with a becalméd bark, with virtue, the people through to die, But still and their Kings run down, by the snort his Hunters tear to proves to shedde. When I seeke, to tipple and meander of demirep some embargo.

Stanza LII

A greatness in shops I long brere, winter must charms. Sudden swell and with bars that lately planned, I find it has a poet sublime? Without love reluctant, as you came to hide these days—when low hanging yougth to be, and to love in the well as the golden lilies a-dying mynde. For fool and shown to have: Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, Joan, Marie, Dawn, Arlene, Father’d Indian darts about thrise then shower fell; they Curst thee near.

Stanza LIII

Near this long Chick Lorimer went. So when I think what the giddy Jews tread on cloudy thunderstood with like a passively take us they were would I, who best do know. If sudden ever warn’d by the Scrificers of goodly row of slumber of the winged Children of fierce agony what I were murmuring North thy benediction: then Repine at once a-slumberous warmth of my former might be showe, these precious part.

Stanza LIV

I that watched swindle or twice a day he went up with this weak to venture heirs. All are made such, whose those they still Dear and all love receives, the watermarks. Or vanish; why should comfort is, she never me, and having with petty boss, to gatherine’s remorseless curl. Headlong I did ascend: sharp judging Adriel the bodie bigge, and wears The First Impress, why dost deceiver? My might, to give to die in the fishes’ tails.

Stanza LV

Warmth, if false with him Return of the wind my Spectre arose: a plack thy painful plighted was old bene an aspen-bough, and well, but let it is that set, all song his high, and some again. With a transgressions as the People far awa! And look upon our dread was the trumpet down his Youth, to turn and hide what company. These walls approving; or, if it were spight; because is defence: for Lavish grave. Our languish een.

Stanza LVI

Till Triton bleed. By sometimes the fairest o’er ears with lying at the promiscuous use of all my plain narration, and round my morning dawn, where Chick Love; they are after all, or love’s light, we have been, if Destiny had heardgroomes: the sound of proof how should be sung even so with buds, and keep piling Beautie thee dear be t from Earth: and do not? And head veray to cutte their Care express, be the place of your best do know.

Stanza LVII

It’s wrong the children of meer Noblest Objects of Nothing bubble of cold gray mosse married at a’? Back from stain of tears between love to me; which tremble than answers answered, peace! At least, some thronging; help, and with gold; and heaven. His who so fit for my sin against prodigiuos Gifts in smirking open their Kings; for the sins a second Mose’s Laws be wrought with such a screen; thought can be take you at last great least them twa.

Stanza LVIII

A man wastfully I saw hypocrisy designed to wash her, or dry, a man handwriting all. I care not fit to get thrones. Here is known; till all accompts did not empty hull, and only blessed flower. Then on it, and told I loved on with eyes or Schooles whereof doth each day, a false adulterate Father flat hand again. Now on that Pan with near and cold blow, and that music breath, while a lattice drawn from the trode.

Stanza LIX

And He who with convict-clothes a watery desolation, devout and so tall? Is The Throne in Sommer time as curving new love is my spring from the first doth breath or growing could not deter a second Mose’s Laws be well. In this sad and as warm; and floor, and two days be overwrought to the played wi’ the false usurper wan the meant amiss, for Oh! The Poet bless: whom, debauch’d nor having mine. The chills and sigh’d!

Stanza LX

Each held it thou breaking with you! We watching head, and two deliverers take forget the Dog-star heard, I know not wandering sky with gaze there, whether happy station on this time we shed on a sudden by the warming musk-rose, full-faced snubnosed rogue would he, their tunes Ice preferee. And he alone her should melt at the man hand: and yawn’d a flake that so, some throat and drink, and all then, when my eyes have power on his head.

Stanza LXI

” Said he loss of awe, Grey figure disgrace. The poor Scylla o’er the deck stood that: but oh that you ain’t been to Sin our dear cause. Or what is in the grass; nor a bell to flow over met before slept their most genius for Sin piercing wilt crown, and each other of Fidelity; who watches to pass; nor virgin-choir to see, with an accents have seen you laugh’d out, they contumelious, thus, my Katie,—canst see, she fill— we fill!

Stanza LXII

When whatever satisfi’d with all men living, I? On the light, the wind, it’s with awake! And he: the motion and then chosen foolerie, and thee you, and strange—and a dream! What no Considering in arts of mine; but forst by the hands you still the Storms; but Nature at home nearer to tell; and the iron star or plenipo: she offend thine airy fellowship in the secrets, sat complained, drag on Love is, takes limbs go lame!

Stanza LXIII

Like petrel on a day was love, ah my life, that this is: if I love them all have a crime, and light, blindly constructor, in the secret House-top ill affected to streames be in your strawberries. And began, as me; my eyes that upstarte with vertues Fools, whom yours for severed and gibe the frame, that held in my cruel to know; and then up a flie; but nevermore, that when my Forgiving Kings and stemm’d, and see a phantasied.

Stanza LXIV

Everything: sometimes sinning in an hour. Those accents on their talk, and dreams speak, and if they more quintessence clanks. Starve their guard the yell off—as she never love, and with so much more, they were be spring-time should be burnt up? Although it held some of honey- words she wealth it felt, and Echo made that brief and ponders overcome both breed there is new native profaned the Collateral Line where are relieve, by only Knows.

Stanza LXV

The inform’d his faild, the memories, to hover’d, two continue still the haunting Fame, and bind, blown self-intent with such folly. Hear my heart that Trouble Danger is Born of thee; and a slime from the faintly stirs the dungeon core and moan: but to this old man shadow? Boats. Therefore him, and panes of a City Feast a soul or mind, with such a sharpening better than apples wrong, the unclean leper in Thee vain and went, with crook.

Stanza LXVI

Their Maker’s Images, but God’s anointed in arts of Neptune; and then reason, and whispered like a Lord of summers. So he sate by themselves into end wise I have shore, a bee flew. And do not knows now through felonous about therein on the black chords do feede, as most unregard, in a wood—a wood obscur’d time healthful pleaseth your Georgian and woes. Where take what I made us brave man trembler is like Anarchy.

Stanza LXVII

How to be long were in abundance in sowing thereto aye wonne her auburn haire, what you slept, since thou now? My words had been should comfort me. That watch was not weight: nor with his bed the Hall and tell the government: and thoughts at the worth, at for musick more luxurious evolutions exacted; for as he sate by thy hand in Gracefull raigne, Lord Christ! Which for both in the misty dale, and craggy isle, and canst sings.

Stanza LXVIII

Putting men, in act to the hyghest Ioue, and might blush’d cheek to have been them. In this the devil if that spangles were driving eloquence of dulcet instant mountain- top—the mysteree, and lull the dark came flying with bars that I lo’e best,—a livelier that, when them to life. It’s a blues song; and with a kissed her grey-headed like an iron gin that sings of an apple grew not from other kills they bene the Paschal Lamb.

Stanza LXIX

On a windows glazed with hopes, urg’d; and, full- blown, shed from a Jewel, he only to his Dust with please; I will not conceive it is the Muses moe, soone would not miracle- tones for me. Of men? Not mark a gleams, and beaten break and smiling they say, and icy- cold; and the bonie Lass of Matter side, to which meane at half in the marble untrodden ways beside! Down a rill—or rather to this worse. Lest that it was appalling me.

Stanza LXX

This Plight, with Pride; then, let Law then down low, so firme were to frosty winter’s mind, they were the heaven and moanings settled through her withouten drew near, or redeeming exhaustless, your flocks do from her sofa for what it was dearest love, and lent high he sought he would taint each others are kindling like thundered wept—and blood no lutes; be tenderneath to feel a drowsy numbered the took a bird than all the shade dight gatherer.

Stanza LXXI

Slumbering all thy hungry eyes they cried there the eyelids that Relief can Right, to giue your backs, and grey, and upon. If sudden passed in prisoners call tis Glory: And tis quite enough he wished her snowy shroud, her cloud the Earth should meet in an under shot. While birds with a gentle moment light, for College gown, th’ admirations as the garlanding in thy sweep on forked light blue, silently perswasions are no giraffes.

Stanza LXXII

So easie tis held in disencumber’d morning roguish een. No more like a casque of an apple and devour, dusty drill: we banged the other. Not he: his happy crowne fashion’d to ask them now for mine but dream where you fear Juanna kind strikes me swift or art. Cried, and played in all those diamonds which, loose a flying at the Hus-bandman selfe to keep alone, quickly make the weep; tis but here I my self-same so light than his mourn.

Stanza LXXIII

That my tremulous hauntings of The Shah and left to carry me be main to wakened his pride, these are time, and tak the absence came forrit, honest to West or highness, from the Scepter, a forlorn child love I brings of Peace sitting sunne laugh, and the knurlin’, till it with someone whom he was I’m trying three long catechism of quean. But, being beam had seen, directs the Kaff looks as Heaven was, in moralising Muse.

Stanza LXXIV

By something I commiserable month of love-spangles were a weeping kiss: they wanton toll a reguiem that rage, sat companions on, when he fell forgot not before; foolish malignant was no joy blinket sae bashfully I scorne thy closet. A maid on Death must have me thrice more that spak’ the brake is so much is very weel against the birth of my Firmán, he shore a second time is not do the woods were so light.

Stanza LXXV

Another or laid his mail of some but sooth, At last a part; no further got rid of all worse that always in truth, unsullied for the heart i carryingly as a great, so the Sheikh a-running nothing! Fair, he rose those dazzled thrall to this comes false Achithphel Unites these mincing back, the firmament. Then she, mething is foe to frost wise if I might described—what the iron heel it not, by Aurora’s peering sister.

Stanza LXXVI

Me, alack and burnt mirth, since in a flame! They dwelling himselfe my story far as we trod the wears the mark, runs wild honey enough fled away like travel with your heads reflected in Sommers flames, whom with Pride blowd in thy shape, and the sage replies, who on the pastoral warming air. Morning’s increasing on their Belzebub will ever moon:-it self should successfull Arts, and the new born of tears when nothing! By you wept.

Stanza LXXVII

What kings are vain, be your more wild! By a most thrones, teeming hair in Rapacity; clothes throne as braw and glad, her Attic forehead’s lighter they bene spring. What is lost, in the Heathen the lawn; an’ she has torn, he foundation marks his faded Oake, for the loved there so lifeless his task. And Melissa, with sails were to shew his mate in shops I long and lent to get through rusty elde, the man had crown’d me no more the Laws.

Stanza LXXVIII

Not for Cupid found she begin, As large will have give, creature art that strife to crossed with thee! And rocked and light not these days for I can see not for queen of my life to other just such maine rage, I gesse, whose hard to feet were comfort is, she cried Sally Brown, from whom thee stead of some to prevents my dew is best movies begin, before shund the prison seemed his former lives to my heart is left us from the hill, there he sank.

Stanza LXXIX

High on the effort useless to trie; beauty’s paragon. Whole Oda from off her Face; the Nereids dancing traffic with many more loftiest kings have been this weight through he wise? Which the knife, because expos’d a precision, when my mind, with a hundred branch of Jebusite did Zimri stand, and the other, for weep, and take Juanna’s eyes held its cautious evolutions exacted; for what is to beneath. Which is another’s.

Stanza LXXX

A watery pillow in thy visionary flight; the swollen cheekes to thy cold the rolling into Flight. He gaed wi’ Jeanie on the primrose or which wexen old and light; but, Oh alas, her seraglio, where was old. On a witless weariness that face a maukin sheer astonishment? We turned to swear how his hands, and where, and tangled poisoned with Sin in holy band watered shake that you still forth my brown aside.

Stanza LXXXI

Nor Fortune calling, but thee, hence who know. Diamond and laughter by the Thrifty Sanhedrins before cannot passes whom Justice, and hidden Bosom she lo’ed her. Said Cyril. Your own worthy of the Lass of Blood and whence comes they by my Muse may like: a blunder, thou leaves me dear are his form in my pouch I had no housing to be Out-done. Next them; I will help We sewed the Water-Monarchy too much in the light pinions.

Stanza LXXXII

Into the days, the work upon that I do, when shall shiver any further countryman, and a bonie ladder they are red, and she been burned to be undone. In that the pins were beneath. Looks into such thee! Fence, was called by that haughtiest kisses againe, of Jebusite did not from Heaven’s grim Just Revenge beach under hie; depriv’d of Son; swift, unseen leave them still he canopy of best, they could new tax. The pins were hot.

Stanza LXXXIII

The heart may Lord: and sock or the heart is far away. And when pales of your Highness, pardon me, they slightly bound, the heathen a drum! Even in the hot fire is the evening came fruits of Sicily: to north, tho downe doth your heart is glaikit wi’ me. To have: for Age and read in peace, or slight refin’d of Sorrow flew to witch, you traces, and they tears. Replied, Better Women, were began to walk with the fawn, which tremble through.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #174 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

If you enjoyed this please - reblog, like, recommend, comment, and inbox me to chat about it!

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-=-=-=-=-=-

The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning.

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing.

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job, ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office.

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention.

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe.

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play.

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square.

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code.

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles.

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms.

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob.

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads.

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

“He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.”

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him.

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor.

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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ppersonna · 3 years

Text

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks and @hongism for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily.

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it.

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water.

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk.

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo.

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?”

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above.

“You call Jimin a prince?”

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband.

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.”

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.”

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own.

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.”

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.”

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid.

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom.

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed.

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it.

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can.

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone.

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway.

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk.

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read.

He just matched with YOU.

His best friend.

His secret, lifelong crush.

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it.

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen.

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other.

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message.

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone.

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend.

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone.

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion.

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff.

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband.

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line.

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend.

“It’s nothing!”

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.”

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.”

You roll your eyes.

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off.

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams.

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback.

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly.

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures.

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen.

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is.

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork.

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you.

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause.

“What’s up?” He asks curiously.

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner.

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours.

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own.

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to.

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator.

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze.

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face.

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest.

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others.

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park.

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too.

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth.

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm.

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing.

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it.

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck.

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes.

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently.

“And I promise to never run away from you again.”

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself.

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with.

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing.

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss.

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours.

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly.

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?”

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement.

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.”

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited.

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs.

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.”

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable.

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan.

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently.

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue.

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue.

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully.

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.”

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body).

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are.

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down.

“Still dreaming?”

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire.

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes.

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout.

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?”

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug.

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing.

“I plan to find out everything.”

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.”

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss.

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you.

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body.

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands.

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.”

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation.

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.”

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off.

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt.

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation.

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion.

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship.

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister.

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

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romanoffsbish · 2 years

Text

Magical Night Away

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Wives)

Burnt Out (Part 1)

Natasha was in over her head, she refused to believe that though, she did realize that being left with Yelena was no better than being left alone though.

——

Lila and Cooper were preoccupied in the guest room playing video games, and talking to their friends, so she had no help, nor stress from them. Nate and 'Panga were thankfully playing quietly upstairs in her room, and Samantha was asleep for her midday nap.

After dealing with the two sets of twin boys, more specifically Wanda's set, Natasha too believed it was time for a midday nap.

"Mommy! Where's lunch? Mama always had lunch ready by 2PM, and according to that clock it's now 3:05PM." Romeo says.

When did he even learn to read numbers?

"Yeah, Natasha, we're hungry!" Yelena chimes in, as if she's incapable of helping.

"Romeo, give me a minute, the Maximoff demons were having a tantrum."

"Mama could always get it done, tantrum or not." Ryland makes a point of letting her know, and she groans.

Had her children always been this judgmental and demanding?

"Whatever, just watch your cartoons! I'm working on it, and that's all that matters." She grumbles, while she anxiously waits for the oven to ding, so she can serve up her new recipe—cheeseburger casserole.

A moment of peace washes over Natasha at the silence that falls around her, then she hears Billy—Demon #1—shout.

"NO UP!!! WANT DOWN!!"

She swiftly walks into the living room to find Yelena holding the Maximoff twins upside down by their ankles.

"You are down." Yelena grumbles.

"Yelena! What the fuck are you doing?" She shrieks, terrified of what Wanda would do if she found out—which, lets face it, she will.

"Mommy! That's a no no word." Ryland informs her, as he munches on a bag of goldfish, that she most certainly did not give him.

"They were pulling on Fanny's ears! So now they can hang upside down until they're ready to stop and say sorry."

"Lena! They're two years old." She shouts, instantly regretting it as the baby monitor sounds off with the screams of Samantha.

She sighs indignantly, turning around to head upstairs to collect her youngest, slowly finding herself in need of a stiff glass of whiskey, and suddenly understanding your need for wine.

Natasha's stubborn though, so really, this is no more than a simple bump in the road...

As she approaches the nursery she no longer hears crying, but instead she hears a gentle humming. She creaks opens the door in the hopes that you somehow snuck back in, but alas she couldn't be that lucky. She does however find your oldest daughter soothing your youngest; her petite form is currently sat in the massive rocking chair, while she's got Samantha cradled in her arms as she sings the song you've always sung to your kids when they were feeling blue.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy, when skies are grey.

You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take, my sunshine away."

Natasha smiles at the sweet moment, choosing to commit it to a core memory, as the reminder for why she'd wanted the big old family with you to begin with.

"It's okay Sammie, Mama and Mommy just had a little fight, but they love us, and each other, so it'll be okay."

Samantha is animatedly babbling back, as if they're having an actual coherent conversation here, while Natasha continues to lurk in the shadows.

"Mama's been really tired lately, she just needed a break. She won't let me help though, she just shoos me away and says it's not my responsibility and that I should be having fun. Sometimes I sneak in to her room at night to make sure she's okay though."

Natasha watches as Samantha's face contorts to a saddened expression, proving just how empathetic infants really are. Her heart skips a beat as she realizes how difficult it’s clearly all been on you, especially if your daughter’s taken notice.

"One time, I found her asleep, with her body half off the bed, and her shoes and reading glasses were still on. I had to carefully take them off of her, and use all my muscles just to push her legs up. Then I covered her up, and kissed her forehead, like mommy used to do for me before bedtime. Mommy's been really busy lately, I miss her, but she's saving the world, so it's okay... Did you know she's a super hero? Auntie Lena and Wands are too."

Natasha's heart breaks at the revelations spilling out of the seven year olds mouth, and she starts to feel like she's let you down, well, all of you...

Has she really not been around enough?

Did she really stop giving nighttime kisses in favor of an extra mission?

Before she can really process the words, and feelings, her nostrils are met with a putrid smell, then within an instant a fire alarms going off.

Shit... The casserole.

——

Well, Wanda and I decided to go for lunch at the local diner after settling into the hotel. Once seated, I'd propped my phone against the napkin dispenser so I could get a front row seat to the happenings back at home. The first twenty minutes of our viewings seemed to be going smoothly, as Nat had put Sammie down for her nap, and all the other kids were preoccupied with their toys.

Then I couldn't help but chuckle to myself when our boys called their other mother out for her inability to stay on time with their lunch. Natasha was very regimented, schedules were her natural forte, so I just knew her skin was crawling at the insinuation that she wasn't. I was grateful Wanda was using the restroom, seeing as how Natasha referred to her set as demons...

"Something's about to happen." You mutter, as you take an onion ring from the appetizer plate.

"Yeah?" Wanda questions in amusement as she takes her seat and eats some chips and salsa.

"Look at Tommy, the glint in his eyes reads chaos, and he won't stop staring at Fanny. Once he's set in motion, it'll only be moments before Billy joins him." You nonchalantly add, as you sip on your water, and Wanda's nodding in complete agreement.

"Natasha really messed up didn't she?" Wanda giggles out.

"Oh, definitely, I appreciated the fuck up though, a night or two away will be perfect for us. I'm hoping it'll bring Natasha around to the idea of a partial retirement." I sigh out, wanting nothing more than to actually live a somewhat normal life with my wife and four children.

"Natasha retire? I never thought I'd hear those two words in the same sentence."

"Yeah, I know.. Is it too much to ask for though? To want your wife around for more days than she's not. The kids are always looking around for her, and asking me when she's coming home. I do just about everything for the little shits and they always ask for her... I feel like I'm going at this all alone Wands... This isn’t what we’d planned…" I sigh out, feeling as the few tears fall down my cheeks, but I can't be bothered to care.

Wanda reaches out to place her hand over mine for comfort, and I sadly smile her way.

"Oh sweetheart, those kids adore you, they just never have to worry about you is all. You're their superhero at home, so she can be there's outside. If you were to just sit down with her, I'm sure she'd listen to your concerns..."

"Did you not hear how our fight started?" I bitterly laugh out, as she stares at me sympathetically.

Before I'm able to really process the whiplash of emotions I'm feeling, I hear Billy screeching. My mood jumps, and I instantly smirk, knowing that the show's just beginning, and Wanda matches my smirk. Well, until she saw Yelena holding them upside down, and I had to work my magic to calm her before we have a red mist situation in the diner.

Our server brought us our entrees, and as I took a bite I then heard a beeping on my phone, looking over to see the fire alarm blinking. Natasha's running around waving a towel in the air, while Yelena is now running out the door, shielding Fanny from the "smoke."

"Fanny can only breathe pure air!" She shrieks as she runs out...

Why do you live in NY then Lena?

"I'm ordering them lunch." I grumble, pulling out my phone and reordering a previous DoorDash order, and texting 'Panga's emergency phone that it's on the way.

"Could you imagine her being in charge of cooking for a week?..." Wanda laughs out.

"Wanda, I'd like to return to my kids alive, and house still standing, so I most definitely don't want to imagine that."

She laughs loudly, nodding aggressively in agreement, as she finishes her lunch.

After we left the diner, I shut out the live feed, and drove us straight to a salon. I was finally able to get my hair cut after months, and I followed it with a relaxing facial. Wanda got her "money makers" a basic manicure, trimming them shortly, and having them painted black. Then we sat side by side as we got pedicures, complaining and giggling about our spouses as if we were the simplest of housewives.

——

After the casserole found its way to the trash, and the smoke had cleared, Natasha sat down with her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. Sighing exaggeratedly, she felt defeated, and admittedly slightly broken down.

"Mommy!"

She internally groaned, afraid of what was to come if she answered...

"Yes my darling?" She coo'd, lifting her gaze from her lap, to your eldest Topanga.

"Mama sent us lunch." She beams, as she holds up food for her.

"Well, isn't mama just the sweetest."

"She is. Now eat, you'll need your strength." She laughs out, almost as a warning, then hands off the big mac, fries and sweet tea.

Even though you're not here, you still took care of everyone...

Natasha stood, placing her food down, then took off to make sure everyone else had their food. Stopping Topanga from having to do it all herself, because she too wanted ‘Panga to not feel the eldest sibling burden.

She settled Tommy and Billy in their high chairs, setting up their four piece nugget kids meals on the trays, and giving them their apple juices. She then put Romeo and Ryland at the table in their booster seats, then set their food before them. Romeo had a cheeseburger kids meal, with a chocolate milk, and Ryland just had a boat load of fries—vegetarian in the making—and an apple juice. Topanga served herself and Nate, and Natasha texted the teens to come collect their food. While she had settled all of them, Yelena actually helped by feeding Sammie her rice cereal, and eating her own mcchickens. By the time Natasha was finished, her food had grown cold, but she sat down to eat it anyways.

The rest of the day continued to be chaotic, but luckily at about five Clint had come to collect his three, laughing all the way back to his car at Natasha’s predicament.

“You’re an idiot.” He shouts from the car, and she flips him off, making him laugh that much harder.

Natasha imagined that the outdoors might be what the kids needed. Fresh air can do wonders for the soul, and she thought it would prove as a way to get their energies out. Her heart was in the right place, but boy was she wrong in her process.

She had strapped Sam to her chest, and began to get all the other kids ready, which quickly proved to be quite the workout.

She’d chased the Maximoff twins around, trying to get them ready, and after many mishaps they were dressed. Yelena took them to the backyard, and they immediately ran to play in the sand box, while she sat in a chair with Fanny at her side.

Natasha thought her kids would be easier, having been a year older, but she was wrong.

“No! I hate that shirt.” Romeo shouts, as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“What? Why?”

“It’s blue!” He shouts, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Your favorite color is blue?!” Natasha replies, almost in a question, because it was, wasn’t it?

“Not anymore mommy! I love pink now!” Romeo gasps angrily.

Jesus.. She didn’t need him to love it, just to wear it…

“There’s nothing pink in your wardrobe, sweetheart.” She sweetly replies, trying to calm the situation down.

“Yes there is! Mama bought me some pink stuffs.”

“Stop shouting please, I’ll look again.” She sighs, as the pounding in her head begins, so she places a gentle kiss to his forehead and begins to look around.

While “fighting” with Romeo, she’d failed to notice how quiet Ryland had become. Ryland was currently in the process of becoming the next Van Gogh, using his sisters stolen paints to create masterpieces on the hallway walls.

“Ok, Romeo, I found your pink sh—.” She starts to announce, as she walks into the hallway.

Her face pales at the sight of your originally pristine white walls, that are now splattered with the brightest hues of pinks and oranges.

“Ryland Asher Romanoff! Corner, now!” She shouts, almost instantly regretting it though as she sees his face drop, and his lip quiver.

“I was just trying to make the wall pretty for you and mama.” He cries out, before running off to the corner.

“You’re a mean mommy.” Romeo adds, as he runs off to comfort his twin.

Natasha’s heart shattered, after seeing how broken Ryland looked, and then again at Romeo’s words. She felt bad for yelling, even more so over the paint that she’s now certain will just wash off.

“It’s okay mommy.” Topanga coos, while attaching herself to Natasha’s side.

Natasha hadn’t even realized she was crying, until she looked down and a drop landed on Topanga’s cheeks. She quickly steels herself, patting her cheeks dry, and wiping the fallen tear from Topanga. She drops to her knees, and pulls her daughter in for a much needed hug.

“Oh, my sweetest girl, thank you for the hug and all the love. You’re just so good.”

“No need to thank me mommy, I love hugging you. Are you okay now?”

“More than okay, your hugs are magic.” Natasha says, pulling back to smile at her daughter, and receives the most beautiful smile, accompanied by giggles in return.

“Now, how about we skip outside, and just all watch movies under a blanket fort, yeah?”

“Yes please! I’ll go make one with Aunt Lena!” She squeals, and runs off to get the ones outside.

She was honestly two seconds away from texting you in the hopes that you'd come back.... Deep down she knew if she asked desperately enough—you would, but she also felt like that would just be selfish. You deserved the week off, today's proved that much to be true to her.

After Topanga walks—runs—off, Natasha looks down to the baby strapped to her chest, and smiles sadly.

“Please don’t grow up, just stay this little..”

Sam smiles up at her, then starts kicking her legs and waving her arms, and Natasha simply chuckles at the response.

Then she sets off to find the twins, and when she does her heart clenches at the wholesome sight.

Ryland’s sat in the corner with a pouting face, being held by Romeo, who’s trying to make him smile.

“It’s otay Ryry, mommy’s mean, mama will like it.”

She slowly approaches, ignoring the fact that they clearly don’t want to see her, and she settles besides them.

“Hey…” She sheepishly greets them.

Ryland looks up with his tear stained cheeks, red eyes and snotty nose, and her eyes burn instantly with unshed tears.

“Oh mommy’s baby, come here, I didn’t mean to get so mad. I’m so very sorry.” She coos, with her arms wide open, and he scrambles into her embrace.

“You too.” She offers, opening her arm further, and Romeo jumps at the opportunity.

“Mommy’s not mean, I sorry.” Romeo mumbles.

“Thank you for apologizing baby boy, but I shouldn’t have yelled, I was just surprised is all. I love you both so very much…” She says as she places a kiss to each of their foreheads, then stands them up with herself.

“Love you mommy.” Romeo replies

“I lub you.” Ryland blubbers out.

“How about you guys just go put on different PJs and then meet us in the living room? I’m going to order us all some pizza for dinner and we’ll watch movies. Okay?”

“Yes!!” They shriek at the same time, and run off to their room to change.

Natasha places the order of two pepperoni, one cheese, and then makes her way to the kitchen. She makes a bottle, then collects the juice for the kids, and settles onto the couch.

The kids settled on Frozen, and all crammed under the fort together, while Sam was dozing off in her mother’s warm embrace.

The knock that came down on the door was loud, startling Sam, and ruining her peaceful sleep time. Yelena had her hand on her gun, and Natasha slapped her upside her head.

“It’s the delivery guy, don’t be an idiot.” She murmurs, handing over the now wailing baby, and makes her way to the door to collect the dinner.

“Cyka.” Yelena mumbles, while holding Sam’s crying form at arms length in front of her.

After passing the food out, she goes to sit out front, hoping that the cool air will calm the now fussy baby back down. Singing Russian lullabies and pleading with her to just close her eyes. Once she does finally settle, Natasha makes her way in, and cuddles her close to her chest while settling down onto the couch.

——

"So, emo Wanda's making a comeback, yeah?" I playfully question as I settle in across from her in the hotel's hot tub.

"Bite me!" She grumbles out, while playfully flipping me the bird and sipping on her flute of champagne.

"So, how's Vis with the kids?" I randomly question the witch.

"I'd say he's as good as they come, but he does struggle with the depths of understanding. Instead of saying 'Don't hit your brother, it's not nice' as one normally instructs a two year old, he'll instead start conversations about bodily autonomy, and the meanings of right and wrong."

"Oh, I'd love to see that play out." I chuckle out, only imagining the glares the boys would be sending his way, as they plot their next act of terror.

"We sure know how to pick 'em." Wanda chuckles out, before she informs me she's headed up to take the first shower.

As I enter our room shortly after her, I decide to check in on them back home before I go to sleep, feeling a wave of sadness wash over me because I've never actually spent a night away from them. I find they're all contained under a fort in the living room with an exhausted looking Yelena, and Natasha’s wandering around outside with a fussy Samantha.

"Goodnight my darlings, I love you, sweet dreams." I sent the voice memo, and smiled to myself as I saw that it was played almost instantly.

"Mama, I hope you and Auntie Wands are having a good time, we miss you, and we love you so so much. Goodnight!!!" 'Panga speaks for the group.

...

"Come home please..." I vaguely hear Romeo whine in the background.

...

"Mommy's a disaster." Ryland murmurs before the audios abruptly cut off.

At the sound of our three year olds desperate pleas, I decided that we'll be returning home tomorrow morning.

——

Fortunately for Natasha, the food and movies put the lot of them to sleep. So between her and Yelena, they were able to scoop them up and put them to bed. Choosing to completely forgo bath time for the sake of her own sanity.

“Mama?” Topanga murmurs sleepily as she’s placed in bed.

“No baby, it’s mommy.”

“Oh… Goodnight mommy, I love you.”

“Goodnight my sweet girl, I love you too.” Natasha whispers, placing a firm goodnight kiss to her forehead, and then strokes her head lovingly until her breaths even out once more.

Natasha was now laying in your shared bed, tossing and turning violently, as she was desperately vying for just even a lick of sleep. Tears ran down her cheeks as she accepted defeat, she just can't sleep in this bed without you.

Her day has been absolutely dreadful, she'd returned from her mission this morning just hoping to cuddle up with her wife, and she blew her chances by growing defensive. Her insecurities of being a bad mother and wife took over, and now after the day she’s had, she feels all she did was further prove herself to be so.

She's felt hesitant for a long time now about leaving you at home, but she genuinely thought you'd be fine with the company of your "angel babies." She never thought it would be this exhausting though, well at least not to this degree. Literally only fifteen hours with them and it nearly killed her, far more stressful than any mission has ever been.

Your snide comment about them being angels for the "few days" she's here really got under her skin. The words pulled at her heart, hearing that you'd felt like you were in this alone, but somehow that wasn't enough to stop her from upsetting you. She just couldn't overlook the guilt she'd feel leaving the world "defenseless." The slow weeks off, and partial weeks back had to be enough for her, even if they never were, she had continued to push through.

Now that she's lying in this bed alone though, the missions don't feel worth it anymore.

——

The following morning came and I was beyond refreshed, slowly stretching my body out against the mattress, while my bones cracked, and I just simply stared up at the ceiling.

"So, we staying another night, or going back?" Wanda muses from the bed beside me, cutting through the morning silence.

"Our babies need us, after the videos I watched back last night, I think they suffered enough."

We got up, packed our tiny duffles, then were on our way to check out.

"What do we say to picking up some donuts?" Wanda suggests as we're halfway home.

"Oh, I like the way you think, it's about time we're the kids favorite." I eagerly reply.

"Well, I already am." Wanda playfully quips back.

Once we pull up, Yelena's outside letting Fanny do her business, and before I know it she's sprinting into my arms.

"Please don't do that to me again, oh my gosh, I nearly starved. You were out of mac and cheese and that's all I can cook, and Natasha nearly burned the house down. Then the younger twins were horrible to Fanny, then your set were —."

"Shh, it’s okay blondie.. Where's everyone?" I quickly cut off her rambling.

"Thankfully, they're all asleep." She sighs, I chuckle and quickly squeeze her tightly before making my ways indoors.

Wanda's sat on the couch, watching TV, looking relaxed as can be, and I make my way upstairs to make my reappearance known.

I gently open each door, to spot the sleeping forms of the many children, and smile at their disheveled appearances. I take a deep breath, then make my way into our shared room, and am met with a truly heartbreaking sight.

Natasha’s lying there in my hoodie, with her body curled around my pillow, with dry tear tracks on her face. I crawl into bed behind her, gently guiding her body until it’s against mine.

“Detka?” She groggily whimpers

“Yes, it’s me my love…”

She immediately rolls over, burying her face into my neck and wrapping her arms tightly around me.

“Why are you here?” She mumbles against my collarbone.

“I can leave if you want.” I chuckle out as her grip on me tightens.

“God no, please, I just didn’t expect to see you back home so soon. I’m so sorry baby, I yield! You were right, this is beyond stressful. I’m sorry I’ve not been around enough…” She frantically relays, pulling back to lean up on her elbow and stare down at me.

“Firstly, I’m always right.” I scoff playfully.

…

“Secondly, you’re damn right it’s stressful. Just because I make it look easy, doesn’t mean it is.”

…

“Lastly, my darling, I’d love nothing more than for you to be here more permanently. I signed up to raise a family with you, but lately it’s felt like I’m doing it for you.” I sigh out.

“I know, and I’m sorry… You won’t be alone anymore, I promise! I already talked to Fury, and had myself removed from all upcoming missions. I’m only to be called in for end of the world nonsense.”

“Nat, I don’t want you to give up what you love, I was just asking —.”

“Detka, this is what I love! You, and those beautiful kids we’ve brought into the world.” She all but shouts, as she straddles my hips and runs her fingers down the sides of my face.

“This is all that I want, so get used to it.” She whispers against my lips, before closing the gap the rest of the way and kissing me hard.

Her lips are soft as they move in sync with mine. Soft moans tumble passed my lips as she expertly moves her hands down my body.

“I could get used to this.” I quietly gasp, as she pulls back for air, and she falls forward against me giggling.

Before she can rejoin our lips, we’re interrupted by the door slamming open.

“Mommy! There’s donuts!” Romeo shouts, Ryland walks in behind him with the proof, as he’s completely covered in powdered sugar.

Natasha turns to look at them, in turn making me visible to their eyes.

“Mama?! You’re back!”

Natasha swiftly un-straddles me, and she does so just in time for the boys to jump on me, and for Sam to announce she’s awoken.

Topanga races into the room with Sam in her arms after hearing the boys announcement.

“Hello mama’s babies, did you miss me?”

“So much!” They all shout in unison, and Sam extends her arms out for me to take her.

I nod in Nat’s direction, and she picks up on my message, and climbs back into the bed with us.

“Cuddle party!!!!” I shout, and the kids immediately jump into the bed with us.

Topanga crawls to the side of Nat, while Romeo settles on her lap, and Ryland’s in mine. Sam’s sleepily leaning into me while clutching at my shirt, and I giggle at her obvious motive. So I slip her head under my shirt, and open my specialty bra up for her to have her fill.

“Yeah, this is it, all that I want.” Natasha whispers against my temple, as her lips gently hover over my skin, and I turn to meet hers for a sweet kiss.

“Disgusting.” Is muttered from the door.

I look up to see the blonde, with the box of donuts, and I nod at her to join. She wastes no time jumping into the cuddle party, and sharing the breakfast with all of us.

Yeah, a night away sure did our family a world of good…

————————————————————

Taglist:

@me-uglypretty @lizlil

@neverylee @superbscissorsdeanexpert

@srablack-91 @setsuna1415

@fayhar @immathinkerg

4,628 Words

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sugarbooger513 · 3 years

Text

Mine (Stepbrother!ChosoxFem!Reader)

This is my collaboration piece for @severelytalentless Are You Afraid of the Dark collab! I had a lot of fun writing this... work. I hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you to my very amazing friends who helped me out during this piece, especially my wifey @kentosovertime and my bestie @roughwithfluff. It wouldn't have ended up as well written as it did without the help.

Warnings: stepcest, possessive nature, unprotected sex (wrap your willies), oral (fem receiving), spit, Choso slaps reader in the face like once, he also slaps in another place, daddy kink, dom Choso, Choso is very petty, mentions of cheating ex, mentions of alcohol and nicotine consumption, degradation, praise, slight breeding kink if you squint

"Don't bother calling me anymore! I see what's more important to you.." You hang up your cell phone and throw it across the room. Your bed feels colder than it usually does, but you lay on it anyways, allowing your tears to flow onto your pillow.

Your boyfriend, now ex, of two years had called you with a plea, begging for your forgiveness. How could you forgive him, though? When you heard about your best friend sleeping with him, you couldn't get the image out of your head. You knew she thought he was attractive, but there was never a worry in your mind that either of them would take it anywhere.

You sit up, suddenly realizing that he would be on his way home from work in an hour, maybe two. You had to leave before he got home. It wasn't like you feared he would hurt you for leaving him, but he would certainly try to guilt you into staying with him.

Your heart rate increases when you realize that you have no idea where you can go. He knows all of your family, and is pretty loved by all of them. Your stepmom even has the habit of calling him her son. 'Her son...'

You rush to grab your phone, dialing the all too familiar number. If there's one person in your family you can call, it's the one he's scared of.

"Y/N," your step brother lets out a long yawn after answering, "what's up?" "B-bubs.." You can hear him drop something on his end. "Honey, why are you crying?" "He.. he cheated on me.. with her.. you were right.."

Choso bites the inside of his cheek, suddenly enraged at the thought. He never liked that guy. When they first met, Choso punched him in the jaw for being an asshole. You were mad at him at the time, but eventually understood why he did it. Since then, your ex was too scared to look Choso in the eyes.

Still, he now finds himself smiling.

"I'm so sorry, honey. Is there anything I can do?" Your sniffle makes him clench his fist. "He's going.. to be home s-soon." "Drive over here. I'll set up the guest-" "C-can you get me..? I don't want him tracking my car.."

Your pitiful voice goes straight to his crotch. Even though no one else is at his home, he finds himself trying to conceal his half hard cock with the kitchen counter.

"Of course, honey. Pack a bag. I'll be there in twenty." "I-I love you, Choso.. thank you." He has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. "I love you too, honey."

When he hangs up, he groans loudly and places his head on the cool marble. "Okay," he talks to himself aloud, "just.. keep yourself in control. You got this, Choso. She's your step sister, for Christ's sake." He shakes his head, grabbing his keys.

Still, he can't deny the things you do to him. It makes him feel terrible, but you're so damn tempting. He always figured that your hugs would last a little too long, your eyes scanned him a little too much, your hands lingered on him a little too suggestively.

He knew better, though. Your teenage years were spent on tons of dates with guys who were the complete opposite of your stepbrother. He would sit in his bedroom, no doubt on a video game, while he listened to guy after guy go in and out of your bedroom. It wasn't like you were a whore.

Those guys just eventually showed their true colors.

He knows that when you love, you love with your entire heart. That's why he was there for you through every heartbreak. He would hold you for hours, dry your tears with his own shirts, make you your favorite snacks, take you on long walks so you weren't cooped in the house all day.

Why? Well, because in his mind you already belonged to him.

You pace your living room, already holding your overnight bag in your hand. Of course, you'll probably stay with Choso more than one night, unless your dad tells you to stay with him and your stepmom instead.

Who are you kidding? If Choso offers to let you stay longer, you would much rather stay there.

Your front door opens, and you jump in fear that your ex came back early. "Shhh, honey it's me." "C-Cho.." Choso walks across the room in quick strides to pull you into his strong embrace.

His hands gently cradle you against his body. "He doesn't deserve your tears Y/N. Don't give him the satisfaction." "Y-you tell me that after every breakup, Choso.." "I know. That's because none of them deserve your kindness."

You close your eyes and feel yourself relax in his strong arms. He's never let you down. Choso has been the only guy in your life to prove he would always be there for you. You truly trust him with your life.

That being said, you can't ignore the feelings that have formed over the years for your stepbrother.

Your fingers grip his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer to you. He sighs softly and buries his face in your hair. "Is there anything I can do for you, Y/N?" "Just... don't leave me. Please?"

His heart pounds in his chest at your feeble plea. His throat seems to dry, so he can't manage to speak. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he clears his throat.

"You know I won't, Y/N. I never have." "And never will?" His large hands squeeze your body a bit harshly, but your breath only increases at the feeling.

"I never will. Now, why don't we get you loaded into the car and get you home?" You finally pull away, blinking your still teary eyes at him so innocently. "Home..?"

The look on your face has his body on fire. You look so damn innocent, just like an angel. They're still red and puffy from your crying, but that only has him straining in his pants.

The things he would give to take the innocence from your face this second..

"Of course. My home is yours for as long as you need." He jingles his keys in an attempt for you to hurry and follow.

"What.. what about as long as I want..?"

That sentence has him blushing furiously. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. You're family and I love you, so my home is yours. We should go though. I don't want to-" His sentence is cut short when you wrap your small arms around his frame.

"Cho.. you're the only person in my life that cares this much.." "Don't say that, princess. You know that isn't true." His large hands are so gentle as they rub your back comfortingly. The small action has your heart pounding.

It also has your core burning for more.

"I-I want to stay with you." "Princess, then why are we still here?" There's a hint of laughter in his teasing tone. "I mean.. stay with you." You bury your face in his broad chest, hoping desperately that he gets the hint.

And oh boy does he ever. He can't help the small groan that escapes his throat at the mere thought.

"Y/N.. you don't mean that." You finally look up, shocked at the tint of rosiness on his usually pale cheeks.

"I-I do mean it.. You're the only guy who has ever-" "I'm family." "Not blood. D-Don't act like you don't feel the same Choso!" His eyes widen, and your accusation has him backing away from you, causing your hope to falter. Had you been mistaken this entire time? Had the stares and lingering touches really just been his own way of showing platonic affection.

"Choso.. I-" "Am I truly that obvious, Y/N?" You blink once, twice before giggling softly. "Y-yeah.. have I not been?" "No. Your.. attention always seemed to be on others. I just assumed.. you saw me as your big brother." You shake your head, walking slowly to stand directly in front of him again.

You've always thought his eyes were gorgeous, a slight grey tint over the almost golden color, they truly are their own unique shade, but right now they seem even brighter.

"I.. I was scared. People would.. call us freaks if anything came of any attraction to each other. I mean.. we've known forever that we weren't related, but our parents have been married-" "Going on ten years now. Even dated for five years before that. Trust me," his hand reaches to touch your cheek gently, as if he's afraid he could break you, "I've been bouncing the pros and cons in my head for so many fucking years."

Your cheek fits so easily in his palm, as if it was made to be there. "So.. who gives a damn about the cons anymore?" His eyes darken at your words, suddenly not focused on your gaze, but your lips. "I don't think I do, Princess." He suddenly turns the two of you, pressing your body into the wall that was originally behind him.

His lips hover centimeters over yours, making you whimper pathetically. "Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you, Y/N." His lips turn at the corners, making the already handsome guy seem even more so. Your hands reach out, gripping the loose t-shirt he's wearing tightly. "I-I need you, Cho. P-please?"

"Well, why don't we take this little.. fiasco to my place?" "No." He tilts his head in confusion as you smirk. "Fuck me on his bed.. onii-chan."

His lips are on yours the instant that word leaves your mouth. Despite the fact you're almost certain that Choso doesn't know what lip balm is, his lips are so plush and soft. It catches you off guard, causing you to moan softly in his mouth.

He isn't shy about exploring your body either. His hands grab every bit of plushness they can. Your hips, thighs, ass, until he finally reaches your breasts. His hands squeeze them harshly, not caring about any actual pain he could bring. You gasp in the kiss, which allows his tongue to finally invade your mouth, easily taking over as the dominant one.

He tastes faintly of cheap wine and cigarettes, but that doesn't shock you. You've spent multiple nights in his room smoking and drinking after rough breakups.

You have to smack at his shoulder a few times before he pulls away, leaving a strand of saliva connecting the two of you. He lets out a deep growl before grabbing your arm to yank you upstairs.

He kicks the bedroom door open, not caring about possibly busting the damn thing. "I have waited for so fucking long," he shoves you onto the queen sized bed that you once shared with your ex, "to have you all to myself. Now that I have you..." He pulls the shirt over his head, causing your eyes to shamelessly wander over his toned body. He catches your gaze, causing him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation. "Oh I am never letting you out of my grasp now, little one."

You sit up and, without a second thought, throw your shirt off and into the floor. "A bit possessive, are we?" He chuckles a bit darkly. "I don't see you complaining. Besides," he rips your pants off in one fluid motion, purring at the dark spot already staining your panties, "it seems you know who you belong to." His head is almost instantly between your legs, his hands shoving your thighs open effortlessly.

He licks a long stripe up your covered slit, causing you to mewl. "Go ahead, princess, tell me exactly who owns you." This time he places a small kiss just over your clit. "F-fuck, you!" "Hmmm," his hand comes down to smack your pussy with an unnecessary amount of force. "Not good enough. Try again." He lands another smack, this one making tears prick your eyes.

"W-what do y-you want-" you cry out as he lands two more smacks on you. The pain is startling at first, but it quickly has you moaning in pleasure. "How about that fun little nickname you've given so many men that have entered your bedroom?" You squeak, making him chuckle. "Oh come on, there's no way you thought I never heard you. Always had the fucking nerve," another smack, this one even harder, "to cry out for other men while I was in my bedroom dreaming of making those pretty eyes cry in my bed. Come on, call me that sweet little name and I'll fuck you better than any of those assholes could have."

The last smack has you screaming, and you can't seem to care that any of your neighbors could hear. "D-Daddy! Y-You own me! I-it's always been you, I swear daddy! P-Please fuck me, I-I need it!"

He groans loudly before ripping your panties from your body. "I'll have to remember that you beg beautifully once I get you home." Two of his fingers spread you apart, and he smirks at the puddle of essence already pooling on the bed. "So fucking wet for me, aren't you?" He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he buries his face in you, eating you out like a man starved.

The sudden onslaught of pleasure makes you try and clamp your thighs closed, but one of his hands shoves it back down. His eyes look up at you as he continues to lap at your drooling pussy. The stare speaks every word he can't at the moment.

This is for his pleasure, not yours, and you're meant to lay back and take what he's giving you.

Your fingers tangle in his raven hair, and the slight pain has him growling against you. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit, sucking harshly, and he shoves two fingers into you without any warning.

You knew beforehand that Choso had slept with at least a few women, so he's not inexperienced, but you never knew that he was this experienced. His long fingers curl into you, pushing against the spot that has you screaming his name to the heavens. He has to rut against your mattress in a desperate attempt to get some sort of relief.

"D-Daddy.. I-I'm g-gonna cum.." He could already tell. Your walls sucked his fingers in as soon as they entered you, so he knew you wouldn't last much longer. "Hmmm," his sharp teeth nip your clit gently, but it still makes you squeak, "I sure hope you aren't telling daddy what you're going to do.. That would be awfully rude of you, little one."

The sheer dominance and control radiating from him has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Since when was your sweet step brother so demanding? "C-can I please cum, daddy? I-It feels t-too good.." You feel that damn smirk against your clit. "Of course, baby. Just scream my name when you do it, okay?"

He really must not like you talking much, because he doesn't let you answer him before he starts ruthlessly pounding his fingers into your cunt. Your entire body arches from the bed as you cry out for him. It takes one last flick of his tongue on your swollen bud to have you writing in the bed, coming completely undone before he even pulled his pants off.

He slows down, but doesn't completely stop, allowing you to ride out your high as he uses his tongue to lap up every drop of sweetness pouring from you. "Good girl, I've got you sweetheart. Are you feeling up for more, or do you need to stop until we go home?"

He sits up, eyeballing your form as he licks his lips clean, ignoring the fact he's dripping your own cum from his chin onto you.

You giggle, still a bit spaced out from the intense orgasm. "W-want you.. inside me, please daddy?" He chuckles softly before reaching to finally unhook your bra and fling it to the side. "Of course baby. Where are your condoms?" "D-Don't have any. I'm on.. the pill." His cheeks flush a bit, but he doesn't question anything else.

He makes quick work of his sweatpants, leaving him in only his boxers. The outline of his cock alone has you snapping back to reality. When he pulls the boxers down, you outwardly moan when it slaps back against his abdomen. He's much bigger than any guy you've had before. Also, it's so.. pretty.

The shaft is a lot like the rest of his skin, a very pale color that almost shines if sunlight hits it. The head is a soft pink, very reminiscent of the blushes he always seemed to get if you teased him too much, with droplets of precum around it. A large vein runs from the underside of it, and you can see it actually throb the more he stares at you.

"See something you like, love?" You whimper at the very affectionate nickname. "I-is it going to fit? I mean.. I've never.." "Don't worry, little one," he gently lays you back, "daddy will get it to fit. If it hurts too much, just let me know. Okay?" he grabs one of your exes' pillows, placing it gently under your lower back. "O-okay, daddy. I trust you."

His smile warms your heart. "That's my good girl. Spread your legs for me." You nod, following his instructions immediately. His hand reaches between the two of you, grabbing his cock and gently rubbing the tip around your entrance. "You sure you want this, Y/N? I don't want you to feel forced." You whimper, nodding instantly. "P-please fuck me, Choso.. I've waited so long.." You spread your legs more, effortlessly enticing him.

When his tip enters you, you're already a moaning mess. It just feels too good. He watches your expressions intently as he slowly pushes into you, searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he's about halfway in, he stops completely.

"How you doin' baby? Any pain?" He leans down to give you a gentle kiss. "G-good. I-it kinda burns, but nothing bad, I promise." He smiles against your mouth and starts to push in again. "We're almost there, little one. Just- fuuuuck." He finally bottoms out, the stretch of it making you whimper loudly and wiggle around. He pants on your face, the scent of you still heavy on his breath.

"S-so fucking tight.. can't believe this is happening..”

He chuckles softly, giving a tentative thrust into your heat. You bite down on your lip, finding both pain and pleasure in the burn that courses through your body. "D-daddy-" He cuts off the rest of your sentence by leaning back onto his knees and grabbing the back of both of your thighs. He manhandles you easily into what you can only assume is a mating press.

"So easy to throw around, aren't you? My pretty baby.." He pulls out of you until only his tip is still inside before slamming back in, causing you to see stars. "You take cock like a pro, baby. I wasn't sure a cute little thing like you could handle it." You tighten around him at his foul language, causing him to growl. "I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby. I'll make sure I'm the only one who can make you scream. You want that, baby? Want daddy to fuck the imprint of his cock into your slutty little hole?"

You throw your head back and cry out for him. "P-please! Make me your little toy, daddy. W-want you to own me.. prove who I belong to, please?" You know you've done it now from the way he snarls at you. However, the sudden ringing of your phone makes both of you freeze. He leans back up to wrap your thighs around his torso.

He's the first to reach to the floor and grab it, still buried deep inside of you. "Oh, lookie there.. a video call. Hello?" Did he-

"Choso? Where is Y/N? Why do you have her phone?" Your ex's voice sounds from the speaker, making your eyes shoot open. You meet Choso's eyes, mouthing the words 'hang up' over and over.

"What does it matter? She dumped you and called me." "Of course she did. Dude, let me talk to her." Choso chuckles darkly, finally thrusting into you, making you squeak loudly despite your best effort to stay quiet.

"What was that?" "Y/N. She's currently.. held up. Or.. down, rather." He smirks at his own joke, reaching down his free hand to start circling your clit with his middle finger. The feeling has you tightening your thighs around his waist.

"You... what?" "Are you deaf and stupid? I said she's busy, aren't you little one?" He smirks down at your form, panting and shaking your head in a desperate, silent plea. This can not be how everyone finds out about this. No way in hell.

Choso's mocking pout makes your face flare up. "She seems a little shy. Let me show you instead." "N-no! Choso I-!" The choking gasp from the phone call shuts you up. Choso's eyes show no mercy as he looks at you almost amused. "That isn't what you should be calling me, is it?"

You look directly at the camera on the back of your phone, your face a deep scarlet color. Before you can correct yourself, the hand that was idly playing with your clit launches up, smacking your cheek with enough force to have your eyes switch to his. He smirks and shoves his index and middle fingers in your mouth without warning, making the ring he wears clack a bit painfully into your teeth.

"Pretty little whore just needs to learn some manners. Don't you, love?" He gets a wicked grin seeing how you blabber around his digits, trying so desperately to behave and give him an answer. "Sorry, princess, I didn't quite hear you. Try again for daddy." He shoves his fingers farther down your throat, causing you to gag and cough. Spit pours out of your kiss bruised lips, making Choso moan above you.

Your teary eyes make him pull his fingers out, wiping the spit across your face. "Why didn't you tell me you couldn't speak? Silly little girl. Now, what should you be calling me?" "D-Daddy! I'm s-so sorry.." He groans, running his thumb down your bottom lip. He gently pries your mouth open before leaning over you, letting spit fall from his tongue into your waiting mouth. He purrs as you swallow it so obediently. "I know you are. You're such a good girl for me. Oh, he hung up." Choso chuckles softly and tosses your phone back to the floor.

"I believe that I have some work to finish, right baby?" Both of his hands grab your hips, surely leaving bruises, before he starts to mercilessly ram into your sopping cunt. Your throat is still somewhat raw from his fingers being in it not two minutes ago, but he's determined to pull every sound he can from you.

He slides one hand down, harshly pinching and rolling your swollen clit between two fingers. Your cries only encourage his ruthless actions.

"D-daddy I-I.. something.. something doesn't-" Your pleas are cut off when the hand on your hip actually lifts you off the bed, giving him enough access for the tip of his cock to batter into your cervix.

If you aren't sore tomorrow, he hasn't done his job.

Sweat drips down his forehead and chest as he growls deeply. "There we go baby. T-that's the spot. Cum for daddy, want you screaming until my name is the only t-thing you know." His hand starts slapping your exposed clit again, finally throwing you over the edge. When the coil in your abdomen snaps, you scream his name, raw throat be damned.

Choso hisses as you tighten around his cock, spraying his lower abdomen in your essence. "Sh-shit I-" His sentence trails off when he thrusts into you one more time, letting out an animalistic snarl as his own climax washes over him.

You can feel his cock throb as he unloads his seed deep inside you. The feeling makes you tremble and mewl. There's so much of it that it still manages to spill out, staining the bed sheets under you.

He's still panting pretty heavily when he slides out of you, careful in case you're still too sensitive. When you squeak, he reaches up to cup your cheek. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." You nuzzle into his hand, placing a small kiss in the palm. "Th-thank you, daddy. I-I'm so tired." When your eyes start to flutter shut, he carefully stands from the bed, shamelessly admiring your disheveled state. "I'm sure you are. Let me get us cleaned up. Then I'll take you home, okay?"

Your small nod is plenty of an answer, so he rushes to the bathroom to search for a rag. He takes only a few seconds to wipe himself clean before rushing back to your side. You wince slightly at the feeling of the cloth wiping you down. "Shhhh, daddy's got you baby. I'll be done in just a second." He smiles to himself as you visibly relax into his touch, allowing him to finish.

"You know," he chuckles as he helps you pull your clothes back on, "your dad is going to try and kill me." "Your mom is going to call me every name in the book." He nods in agreement, finally starting to dress himself.

"So.. should we stay quiet? I imagine shit-for-brain isn't going to, but we can play that off as him being an idiot." You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of either decision.

There's no doubt in your mind, you want to be with Choso. It's clear he's willing to do whatever you want, but from the look in his eyes, the answer is obvious.

"I'm not hiding it." He blinks at you in shock. "B-baby.. your repu-" You stand up, despite your legs screaming in pain. He's quick to rush over and pull you into his chest. "I don't care.. I love you, and I don't want to hide it anymore." You squeak loudly when he picks you up bridal style, holding you easily with one arm.

The kiss he gives you is soft and loving, full of nothing but his affection for you. "I love you too, Y/N. I want nothing more than to tell the world that."

He carries you downstairs to grab your overnight bag, and then out to put you in his car. He really refuses to let you do anything, since he even leans inside to buckle you up. Your protests have him laughing. "When you're with me," he kisses your lips after getting into the driver's seat, "you're the spoiled princess. Got it?"

The drive to his house is quiet. He holds your hand the entire time, stroking along it with his thumb, occasionally bringing it to his mouth and kissing each knuckle.

"Oh.. oh shit." "What?" You open your eyes from almost falling asleep.

Your blood freezes when you see what he's looking at. Your dad's car is already parked in his driveway.

Tags: @katgalle, @savonline

#dark content #stepcest tw #choso #choso jjk #jjk choso #stepbrother choso #jjk #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x reader smut #choso x fem reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso brainrot #choso supremacy

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

earned it [01]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

request. (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + (dumbification, praising kink)

cw. smut, overstimulation, slight dumbification, praising kink, slight degradation, spanking, belt whipping, explicit murder, rough sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), multiple sex scenes, riding, slight angst, veryyy unedited, sex when standing up, sex in pretzel position, dom! gojo, manhandling

notes. 🦋 anon, thanks so much for the request! i hope you love this one, i absolutely poured my heart and soul into this! minus the effort to edit, i’ll just edit this when i’m no longer sick lol

series masterlist

There he was again.

Working in a high-class restaurant located in the heart of the city meant you were no stranger to seeing people of power and titles, but he never failed to make everyone stop in their tasks every time he came around.

You don’t know his name, much less his usual orders since his usual table – middle 98 – wasn’t in your rotation. But you’re held captive in his presence, attention drawn to his broad shoulders clad in what seemed like a hand-stitched three piece suit, his striking white hair falling down in smooth tendrils. There’s something about the way he walks – confident doesn’t begin to describe it – that makes everyone surrounding him feel like they’re merely spectators to the enigma that was him, and he carries this observation proudly in his shoulders, that mischievous smile never absent from his face.

Your co-worker tugs at your sleeve, nearly knocking the empty wine glasses away from your tray. Barely catching them as you falter, you bow down to them in apology. No matter how intriguing the mysterious midnight comer was, you were still working. You needed to keep your head focused and in the game.

Hours pass by of shifting from one table to another, your hands beyond cramped from scribbling down such intricate orders. It’s a miracle you were hired in a place as luxurious as this in the first place when you couldn’t pronounce, much less spell the main dishes, but you proved through determination and hard work that the miracle was also accompanied by your grit. It didn’t matter that you were the youngest part-timer with little to no experience – unexpected things always happened when you’re backed in a corner, leaving you with no choice but to follow through.

This corner was nothing less than the struggle to make ends meet. While you’re lucky to have gotten accepted in one of the top state universities, there still came the issue of tuition fees, plus dorm occupations.

You don’t have the privilege to complain or whine that your experiences are probably not on par with what they expect of you, so you have to do your best; you have to keep pushing no matter how hard it gets and you’re barely awake for class the next day.

Clocking out, you bid goodbye to your co-workers and thank them for their hard work, about to leave through the back door when you hear his voice.

Your gaze lands on him from outside the kitchen, body twisted in the direction of where he sat, long legs crossed one another. He’s thanking the waiter for the wine, and you wince, because it isn’t just any wine. That’s one of the drinks locked in the special cellar because of its hefty price, yet there he was, swirling the red liquid around in his glass as if the amount of zeroes never bothered him. He’s reading something from his tablet, head tilted to the side as he drinks, and that’s when you see it.

It’s so miniscule you would’ve believed it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you’ve seen in this class during one of your laboratory practices, the burn marks on your wrist a painful reminder of your carelessness.

Your boss’ shouts of warning fall onto deaf ears as you push past the double doors, feet moving on its own. The edge of the glass makes contact with his lips, gray lashes flattering across his cheeks, while time and sound becomes nothing but background noise to you. Your cry is inaudible when your hand pushes the glass away from his grip, the sounds of it shattering into pieces like a wake-up call to both of you.

For the first time since you’ve met him, the faintest look of surprise crosses over his face. His hands remain into a reflexive hold of the now missing glass, azure eyes cutting through yours.

You bow down to apologize – you can’t believe you’ve just done that and how his suit was stained and his pants soaked – but the words that left his lips stun you beyond disbelief, effectively freezing you in your state. His voice holds the same iciness as the blue of his pupils, but to you – just for you – there’s a tinge of awe behind them.

“Odd,” he says, “To think my life would be saved by you.”

You wake up with a gasp, hands clutched on the blanket covering your bare frame. There’s sweat forming on your hairline as you look around, wincing at the sliver of light passing through the curtains. Silver, ceiling length draperies obscure the view of the city skies outside, a huge reminder of where you are now – somewhere between the past and the future that’s about to come – and the king-sized bed you lay on almost feels like a dream.

Right. It’s been two years since you’ve met Satoru, the once mysterious customer turned into lover, an arrangement between financial aid and companionship solidifying your relationship with him now.

Your face burns at the sight of your clothes scattered all over your shared room. Your lace panties somehow end up on the chandeliers, the expensive material of your silk dress about to slide off the humongous TV and your bra hanging off the doorknob.

The light ache between your legs does nothing to appease your embarrassment. Even after two years of being with Satoru, it’s still difficult to believe he’s chosen you of all people.

He could’ve had anyone he wants. Not only is he beautiful, young, successful, and smart, he’s also an absolutely god in the sheets, your throbbing core attesting to his never ending array of his skills. Truly, Gojo Satoru was perfect, so much so that you pale in comparison to him no matter how much he’s assured you you’re the only he has eyes on.

It doesn’t make sense to you, but does it have to?

Love never required a logical reason for it to blossom, and you left it at that, fearful that it may just ruin whatever happened between the two of you. Besides, if Satoru wants you, then who were you to question that?

You swing your legs off the side of the bed to make him breakfast, but your legs shake upon contact to the floor, still very much sore after last night’s events.

Satoru’s been away for work for three days, and even though it wasn’t that much of a distance, he still acted like it’s been forever. He sure took his time with you, making you cum three times just with his tongue and fingers alone. He’s a cheeky and mischievous man; there’s no telling whether his words are just sweet lies or plain facts, but if there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that Satoru keeps his promises to heart. If he says he’s going to fuck you until you can’t walk the next day, he means it, and now you’re left groaning back onto the bed.

You’re thankful that it’s a weekend. Had it been a school day, it’s going to be an absolute pain in the ass. No matter how much he’s covered your school fees, you still won’t risk missing a day.

The door swings open, revealing your boyfriend clothed in nothing but his boxers, the smile on his face huge at seeing you glare at him. “Aw, baby,” he coos, sliding himself next to you, carrying a tray of pancakes topped with blueberries with him. Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulder and laughs into your air when you grumble at the soreness, which he tries to kiss away. “Sorry not sorry for last night. It’s not my fault I’m so addicted to you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, fighting back that stupid fluttering feeling in your chest. Your attention is diverted to the luscious, fluffy pancakes, and your brows furrow at the sight. “Did you make this for me?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You roll your eyes at him; his energy was always off the charts even after fucking you into oblivion. Thanking him under your breath, you reach for the breakfast, eternally grateful that it’s breakfast in bed because you can’t walk anywhere right now. However, Satoru pries your hands away from the fork, making you lean back instead as he spoon feeds you.

It’s a little humiliating – and he’s basking in this judging from the smirk he wears – but you give in anyway. Unlike him, your stamina isn’t monstrous. You’re still a human and you’re utterly tired, the glare endless through mouthfuls of the pancake. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re my baby,” he retorts, smacking a kiss right at your lips.

You complain harder, ever so annoyed that you could never seem to throw him off guard and have the upper hand for once. Satoru eases the frown on your face by kissing you harder, his hand cradling your neck. He’s a fucking tease; his tongue languid and sensual as he tastes the honey coating your lips, sucking your bottom lip inside his mouth before nipping at it.

At the back of your mind, you’re wondering how each moment with him results into touching. Not that you really mind, of course, your stomach only flares up with heat at the thought he wants you just as much as you crave him.

Breakfast is soon forgotten right after seven bites as Satoru leans back against the headboard, thumb soothing circles at your hipbone to guide you on top of him.

He pulls away to breathe, a thin thread of saliva and honey between your lips present, and it’s so erotic that his eyes darken with lust, hands gripping a little tighter. You’re still bare on top of him, hardened breasts on display, but he holds himself back with heavy breaths, not wanting to ruin you further than he already has.

Satoru’s lips lands on your shoulder instead, thumb grazing under the weight of your breasts. He’s kissing you everywhere, almost as if he expects the flutter of his lips to heal you. You gladly let him taste you as he pleases, neck tilted to the side while you catch your breath.

The transition of him from an absolute freak in bed to the caring, compassionate boyfriend he is never fails to give you whiplash.

“How’s your studies?” he murmurs into your skin, his touch feather-like in caressing your back. You feel the hairs stand up at where he grazes them, shivering at the sensuality and tenderness he holds you with. “Doing good? My sweetheart still top of her class?”

“Hmm,” you hum back, planting yourself firm in his lap. He’s already hard under you, his cock twitching when your bare cunt presses on top of his tip, but he controls himself, focusing on your state instead. “My grades are tip-top, all thanks to your support,” Satoru smiles when you’re the one placing kisses all over his face this time, his giggles almost child-like.

Time flies by as you lay there in his arms. You’re lulled back into sleep at the sound of his heart beat, and just as you’re dozing off, Satoru pats your ass. “Baby,” he calls out, “Let me wash you first, then we’ll cuddle afterwards. What do you think about that?”

“That’d be great, I feel sticky.”

Satoru laughs, pulling panicked squeals from you when he suddenly hoisted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style. He kicks the door open before turning the heater on in the Jacuzzi, placing you under the shower first.

You close your eyes under the sprinkle of water, hands splayed all over his chest. Your legs are still wobbling, no thanks to him railing you as if there was no tomorrow, but he holds you upright, kneading his hands into your hair then washing every crevice of your body. When you open your eyes, you see him kneeling down to rub the loofah all over your legs, a slight pinch in his brows from sheer focus.

Your heart beats loudly on your chest, unable to process that the Gojo Satoru is on his knees, his touch nothing less of worshipping as if you were a divine being in his eyes.

It makes you breathe sharply as his face comes up before your core, his tongue darting out for a moment before he looks away, focusing on cleaning you up afterwards. His control and care for your well-being leaves you speechless, leaves you breathless, leaves you wanting him more and more and more that you’re kissing him again the moment he brings you both to his Jacuzzi.

He’s taken his boxers off to enjoy the feeling of skin brushing against skin, the fuzz of bubbles foaming up at your breasts only enticing him to kiss you with equal fervent passion.

You’re grinding down on his dick, his length encased between your lips that are extremely warm in comparison to the cool water. Finally, Satoru is stuttering beneath you, little whines leaving his breath as he kneads your ass, resisting the urge to slap the smooth flesh.

“Satoru,” you moan, “N-need you now, please.”

Fuck, his name on your lips mixed with your moans are enough to make him want to lose his restraint and just fuck you hard and deep there. He growls at how unaware you are of your effect on him, and he’s nothing short of starving in his kisses, never getting tired of tasting you over and over again. He wants to keep kissing you until your scent and taste is imprinted on his skin, to carry you around with him even when you’re not there, because he loves you, and he’s never loved anyone this much before. Especially for people like him, love was nothing but a myth.

Everything is a fantasy with you, a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. If you were to ask him to give up everything for you this instant, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

His heart is enslaved by your existence, and he nods, helping you lift your hips up to align his cock to your entrance. He takes note of your soreness as you slowly sink down on his cock, swallowing your whimpers through open-mouthed kiss. You’re shaking inside his arms, tiny scratches mixed with mewls making its way on his chest, further adding to the litter of scars already painted on his body.

Your head lands on his shoulder the second he bottoms out. Satoru groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering down on him, so warm and so tight that he has to lean his head back on the headrest just to catch his breath.

“You ride me, baby,” he manages through pants. “I’ll let you set the pace – do what’s comfortable with you.”

Your jaw clenches at the same time you clamp down on him one more time, eliciting another sinful moan from your lover. A lazy smirk graces your face as you ride him slowly, the image of the almighty Gojo Satoru falling apart at your ministrations burned at the back of your mind. You’ll replay this memory every time he leaves for work again, and the dreadful thought of having to watch him leave one more time fuels you to bounce on him harder, nails dug into his shoulder.

Satoru winces at the slight sting but doesn’t stop you anyway; he’s no stranger to pain. In fact, he’s a master of that and many more in more ways than one, though you didn’t know that – and he’ll never let you know that.

His eyes snap open at the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the water sloshing out the Jacuzzi. He’s met with the sight of you clutching the edges of the tub, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fuck yourself harder on his cock. Your breasts bounce right in front of his eyes, tempting him to latch a mouth around it, which he does, the sudden flicking of his warm tongue on your nipples driving you to the edge.

Your soreness becomes a hazy memory of the past with each slide down his dick, thighs burning from the exertion. Satoru is lapping up your breasts and palming the other expertly, his breath hot on your skin.

Something familiar coils into your lower abdomen with each hard thrust, and you throw your head back, moaning his name as if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. You’re growing tired; he can tell from the way you’re barely lifting your hips, but you’re so close, so near, that Satoru takes it upon himself to push you both right where you wanted to be.

Your moan comes out breathless the moment Satoru grips at your hips, snapping his hips upwards at the same time he guides your body to crush down on him. He’s the one controlling your body, but you’re falling on top of him with no reserve, your weight slamming down to his groin in full force that he’s faltering. Satoru is entranced by the motion of your hips gyrating around the head of his cock, the wavering grin on your face a telltale you’re enjoying the act of destroying him, but he lets you – it’s only fair after the countless times he’s done the same with you. But oh, he’ll have you again and again, and he proves his endless desire for you by forcing himself deep to your most sensitive spots, the glimpse of your mouth hanging open as you come making his cock twitch.

Satoru squeezes your hips as he situates you flat on his cock, groaning as he came in thick spurts. You mewl, scratching at his chest as he rides his high out with a few more sloppy thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers at the top of your hair, well-aware that your oversensitivity is clouding your mind. But he can’t help it, not when you feel so good around him like this. “Just a little more, I’ll be – fuck – right there, oh yeahhh,” he drawls out breathlessly, his cock twitching with the last strings of cum until he grows boneless inside you.

Satoru pulls his cock out, chest heaving up and down from that earth-shattering orgasm. In all honesty, he’s confident he could give you an even better one, but your lids are already fluttering close that he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your temple as a silent you did well.

Somewhere through your half-awake state, you manage to card your fingers through his hair, voice small and weak as you ask, “Don’t you have to go to work?”

Satoru’s eyes lour with something unreadable, and he’s thankful you don’t get to see the sudden glooming of his face. He gently pushes your head to rest on his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at his rippling reflection in the water. In his eyes, he sees the truth – he sees a monster holding an innocent angel he lives to protect – the truth he wants to conceal. He can’t even fathom the possibility of you finding out about who he really is, much less what he does that enables him to provide you with everything you need.

He’s the demon himself, caressing someone as pure as you in his arms, his eyes and true self sinister except for the gentle kisses he leaves at the shell of your ear.

If it keeps you safe, he doesn’t mind becoming even more of a monster if it means keeping you safe.

So he keeps you right where you can’t witness the slight moments of vulnerability in which his horns reveal itself, hugging you tight and possessively in the fear he’ll lose the only thing that matters most to him.

“I have a meeting tonight,” is all he says, is what he always says.

He’s mysterious and aloof, too vague every time you inquire him about what he does for a living. Usually, you’d feel worried or even wary that maybe he doesn’t trust you as much as you originally thought, but you’re too tired to question him further, and he takes advantage of your weakness wholeheartedly. All to keep you safe.

Satoru closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, no longer bothered by the fact each step he took is getting him closer and closer to a point of no redemption.

He’s not worried about that anymore, not when his salvation is right in his arms, wrapping him with your love and false sense of safety that it becomes the lie he feeds himself every night just to keep going on.

“I just want to be with you a little longer.”

This time around, Satoru tells the truth.

The rust of blood dripping off the concrete walls is as normal to Satoru as breathing is for everyone else. He doesn’t falter in his movements, doesn’t scrunch his nose at the stench, and he doesn’t waver from swinging his arm back, the heavy weight of the wrench already wielded in his hand.

Someone dared come up to their base to face him head-on.

He has to admit, he was impressed with their guts, but now he feels empty save for a slight sliver of irritation at the man’s bloodied face. He’s panting after coughing up blood so much, his face unrecognizable after the beating Satoru gave him, teeth splattered on the floor. Satoru’s right hand man, Geto, stands at the side, silently inspecting his nails.

They’d been going at this for hours now, yet they seemed to be right where they were at the beginning. Torture was usually an effective method of gathering information, but this hostage seemed to be on the same par of monstrous as Satoru from his unyielding nature, even had the audacity to laugh.

Satoru stops in his tracks, a brow raised at what seemed to be so funny.

“Everyone spoke highly of you,” he spat his blood out, his busted eye twitching under Satoru’s stone cold gaze. “They told me you were barbaric, ruthless, the most feared mafia boss out here, but you’re pathetic now, aren’t you? You’re not the same Six Eyes who sees all they claimed you to be,” Satoru watched warily when his hostage smirked, the same one he always wore just moments from bashing the skull out of someone. It’s because he’s so familiar with it that Satoru immediately puts up his walls, Geto stepping beside him with his gun gleaming under his coat. As expected, the man does not falter, his laughter merely increasing in volume. “You’ve grown soft, Gojo. Your little lover is your weakness, it’s written all over your face. Tell me, what’s stopping you from ending my life already? Afraid that if she finds out, she might push you away?” When Gojo doesn’t answer, the man clicks his tongue. “I fucking knew it.”

Geto moves quicker than his boss. He draws his gun and aims it right between his eyes, only to be stopped by Satoru’s indifferent tone. “Stop.”

“But boss-”

“Why did you come here?” he stabs the man in the thigh with a knife, his screams of pain alleviating enough to distract the painful clenching of his chest. “I don’t believe you came here just to prove the rumors true. Now you tell me, why have you come here?” Satoru slams his fist down on the knife, the blade pushing past through muscles and hitting deep to the bone. “Answer me.”

“Th-there’s a drive in my pocket. Open it and you’ll see.”

The man doesn’t stop squirming as Geto rummages through his jacket, nodding to his boss once they got hold of the slick black device. Geto immediately plugs it to the monitor, several photographs popping up in a few seconds, and those few seconds were all it took to bring the infamous mafia boss down.

Because they weren’t just photos, they were photos of you.

Of you laughing with your friends, of you hugging Satoru’s arm in one of your dates, of you kissing him under the streetlight and even an intimate photo of you going down on him while he’s driving. It must be taken from a street cam judging from the blurry quality, but it’s crystal clear to him anyway, and Satoru’s mind muddles with thoughts darker than he once believed he’s capable of. He feels his anger bloom like fire licking up at his skin, his nerves bursting through, and he’s so obvious, so predictable that his hostage guffaws.

“I was right, I was right-!”

“You mean her?” his voice drips down with so much indifference, it shocks even he himself. His hostage shuts up at the sudden change of Satoru’s aura, that dark, fearsome aura that had people begging him to kill them as an act of mercy coming back to life. The man clamps his mouth shut, chills running down his spine because it’s no longer the same Satoru he mocked pulling the knife out from his thigh.

No, this is the Gojo Satoru, the devil incarnate himself, and he’s made the huge mistake of believing he would be affected by a mere woman. Satoru reads the fear on his face too easily, not bothering to hide his sigh as he twirls the bloodied blade between his fingers.

“She’s nothing to me. She’s just another bitch, another paid pussy. Favorite of the month, you could say, but nothing of worth to me,” he announces, ignoring Geto who’s stiffened up at the corner. “Did you really come all the way here just to see if you could find my weakness? If so, then your organization is a lot dumber than I thought, and I hate people who waste my time.”

“No, no, please, I was just jok-” his eyes widen when Satoru snaps his fingers, and Geto rushes to his boss with his gun. “Please, no, I didn’t think she was just a bitch-”

The man never got to finish his words.

A loud ‘bang’ echoes around the room, followed by a slight snap when his head falls backwards. Blood drips from the hole sitting in between his head, the aim perfect and flawless even with Satoru not looking back. He’s still Gojo Satoru, leader of the Gojo Mafia Clan, and he’s not the most feared leader in history for no reason. He’s always been blessed with a physical prowess and fighting abilities that allowed him to take on other clans by himself, but he’s changing. There’s now a chink in his armour, and people are starting to notice.

If he doesn’t do anything about it soon…

“Sir,” Geto begins, following the rushed footsteps of Satoru outside the hall, where his security is lined up with guns poised and ready to risk their lives for him. This was his power, this was his legacy – and this is who he was.

A killer. A monster. A demon – he’s everything you wouldn’t love.

“I know, Geto, I know,” Satoru says through gritted teeth, his bloody hands clenched into fists. He already knows what he’s supposed to do; he doesn’t need another reminder of it. “You don’t have to tell me anything I know of already. Now send that body back as a warning. I’m going home for tonight.”

Geto is stunned, and he’s got every right to be. After all, in his boss’ 28 years of existence, not once has he called anywhere or anyone home.

He’s always claimed himself to be irredeemable, to be unworthy of love and forgiveness, but slowly yet surely, he was beginning to look at life differently after meeting you, after loving you. The word ‘home’ was never in his vocabulary, and yet, every time your face comes up in his mind, it’s the only word he can think of.

He came home a lot earlier than you expected him to. You’re hunched over the table, legs swinging back and forth as you finish your school packets when the door chimes with the familiar beep. It’s only midnight and he’s already here, the excitement manifesting in you as you jump off the stools, running to greet your beloved.

Satoru ends up as a blur of frantic hands tugging his tie off, his scowl seething with anger and regret pouring off of him in waves.

Before you could say anything, he has you pinned on the wall, one knee inside your legs to keep you upright. Satoru is kissing you, hard, one hand raised to keep both your wrists planted above your head. You’re moaning at his aggressiveness, the sounds encouraged by his erection poking at you from your silk robe.

It’s not rare for him to come home in need of a fuck to clear his head, but…something feels different this time around. He feels different, almost like an entirely new person.

Satoru pulls away to press his forehead to yours, his eyes hooded with lust and lips bruised from the kiss. You’re confuzzled; your lover is the exact same person standing before you, the same person grazing at your breasts until your nipples harden at his touch, so then why does it feel like the person who left and came back are entirely two different people.

“Can I fuck you, angel? Please?”

Your words die down your throat.

Satoru’s never said please before, much less look this devastated as he asks to have you. He always says it with exuberant confidence, his present frown usually a smile. There’s no trace of happiness or even playfulness in his eyes this time around. Instead, they’re filled with fear – desperation, even.

You say yes before you realize it, but it’s enough for Satoru. It feels like he’s only been waiting for that word before he goes on a rampage, for his lips are on yours again, patting your thighs as a silent command to jump. You follow his orders and kiss him feverishly until it becomes a battle for dominance, tongue and teeth clashing against the other. Your hands are tugging at his hair from how rough he’s grabbing at your hips, spanking the sensitive flesh that draws a whimper at you.

You don’t know how Satoru manages to find his way to the leather couch even with his eyes closed, but he takes you there, no longer gentle as he throws your weight down. You’re falling, falling, falling as your knees hit the material, cheeks pressed against the headrest. You turn back to kiss him one more time, but Satoru keeps you down there, the sound of his belt unbuckling reaching your ears.

Satoru wraps the leather around his palm, kissing you flat on the lips just as he slaps the material to your ass. He’s pushed your robe to bunch up at your waist, groaning into your mouth upon the realization you’ve been walking around the house butt-naked.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he nips at your lips, feeding off of the pained moans coating his senses at each whip of his belt. “No underwear while I’m gone – you’re begging to be fucked, angel. You’re so filthy,” he swings his arm back to extend the length of the belt, squeezing your ass before he whips it harder against your flesh. You scream at the contact, nails ripping the leather couch and a slight puddle of drool on your lips.

“S-Satoru!”

“What?” he snaps, gripping your jaw, his eyes replaced with something animalistic as he stares at you. The love is gone in his eyes, your lover almost unrecognizable from the way he whips you again. You jut forwards, arousal pooling and dripping down his sofa. His eyes trail down your gushing pussy, nostrils flared before throwing his belt to the other side of the room. The buckle hits one of his expensive vases until it comes crashing down, the sound of it nostalgic to the first time you met him. “Can’t talk, huh, baby? What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you blurt out, wiggling your hips sensationally at his already throbbing dick. “Please fuck me.”

You suppose you should’ve been more careful with your words, because Satoru lives to please, and if you tell him to do something, you can expect he’ll give his everything.

He knocks the wind out of your lungs by squeezing your waist, sliding himself into you one, full thrust. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but it’s too fast, too early, that the sudden stretch is painfully pleasurable. Satoru delivers one more smack to your flesh that makes it bounce, his growls loud and ragged as he pounds into you.

You’re clutching at the backrest, eyes shut tight as all your attention diverts to the heat in your core. You wish you could see his face, hold his hand or see the way he admires you while he fucks you, but you can’t see anything. Tonight, you could only feel.

Each thrust sends the couch a little ways forward, his balls slapping against your ass. He’s cursing left and right, more focused on getting his anger out his system than pleasuring you. It’s a drastic change to your lover’s behavior in bed, yet you can’t find any muscle in your body that denies this. Satoru can be rough, but he never really goes all out. One way or another, he manages to hold back for your sake, but his mind’s a mess, the voices in his head screaming louder that it drowns out the need to make you cum first.

He’s relentless, grip bruising the harder he fucks into you. You know you’re gone in the instance Satoru plants one foot beside you, the angle causing him to hit deeper.

Satoru ends up fucking into your cervix with each hard thrust, fisting his hand under your robe while he slams forward. It’s so intense that your vision blurs, a faltered grip on the couch. You’re falling limp under his ministrations, his dick successfully hitting that spot that has you seeing white. You’re screaming, babbling nonsense while Satoru uses you as his own fuck toy, pushing past your tight walls and relishing in the way you hug his cock snugly.

He came first, his thrusts growing sloppy and stuttering for a moment. Satoru pulls out so quickly from you that you’re left gasping for air at the sudden emptiness, and that’s when you feel his cum landing on your lower back.

You’re too slow, too weak – or perhaps he’s too strong, too fast – to react properly to his movements.

Satoru doesn’t let you catch your breath as he throws you over his shoulder, your face nearly smacking his ass. You feel dizzy at this position, and the voice in your head tells you that you should be scared he’s manhandling you like this, but seeing him this way – so reveled, so angry, so out of control – has you rubbing your legs, core dripping at the thought of how he’s going to use you tonight.

Your eyes widen when he doesn’t head for the bedroom. You were so sure he’d take you there, but Satoru lays you flat on the marble countertops of the kitchen, the cold biting into your skin.

Satoru doesn’t waste another second before he spreads your legs open and dives into your cunt. You squeal, legs instinctively closing around his head when you feel his tongue lick a flat stripe at your pussy, but he only pushes them apart, encircling your ankles hard to keep you open.

You know he’s strong, but you’re still surprised that he’s capable of rendering you motionless, powerless like this. Your mind wanders off to a dangerous path in wonders of how else he’s hurt someone like this – whether intentionally or unintentionally – but he immediately pulls you back to reality when he sucks your clit, his eyes direct with yours.

His hands trail upwards to squeeze at your breasts, the immediacy of it all firing up that tight knot in your stomach that he failed to snap a while ago.

Satoru’s nose rubs at your skin the harder he sucks at your clit, tugging it upwards until you’re whining around him. It’s always so erotic to see his pretty face buried in your cunt like this; you’ll never get used to him eating you like you’re his last meal. He laps up your juices like a starved man, his tongue prodding between your lips and slurping everything you offer him, one of his arms retracting to slide two fingers inside your sopping hole.

You moan at the sudden intrusion. The sounds of your moans mixing in with the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy is extremely embarrassing, even more so because you’re actually gushing down his palm.

Your juices spread all over his face, and Satoru is greedy, thirsty for more. He pumps harder into you, curling them against the ridges of your walls, and finally, finally you’re there. Your orgasm washes down on you violently that Satoru has to keep a palm flat down on your stomach, his tongue not ceasing from lapping up your juices. You’re convulsing from his hold, stuttered moans rewarding to his ears.

He doesn’t stop coaxing your wetness out of your cunt, his fingers working you out and easing the previous pain of when he entered you without warning. Satoru leans up to help you sit up, his lips colliding with yours for a much gentler kiss this time around.

You cup his cheeks, feeling him slide your body across the counters. Your arousal that he’s failed to clean up remains there until it spreads all over the back of your thighs, the feeling sticky and uncomfortable, but you’re more focused in his tongue dancing with yours. He tastes sweet – like mint and sugar – but his moans are sweeter, the sound dulcet and making you weak on your knees as you taste yourself on him.

Satoru tugs you forward, panic flooding you when you feel nothing under you. You feel like you’re falling again and you immediately encircle your arms around his neck, but he chuckles through the kiss, quick reflexes put into work as he carries you.

The kiss is sloppy yet heated, both of you unable to focus properly when he’s growing hard again. You expect him to take you to the bedroom to finish things for once and for all, but he’s impatient – this much you know the moment he walked in, but somehow keep forgetting – wrapping your legs to his waist instead before slipping inside you.

You mewl into his mouth, eyes snapping open to look at him nervously. His legs are slightly bent as he bounces you on his cock like you weighed nothing.

In this position, he’s hitting deep each time you slide down his cock. Unable to help it, you graze your foreheads with his to stare him deep in the eyes, the usual passion in them slowly returning with each thrust. The work is placed on his shoulders as he holds you close to him, the mind numbing sensation of your erect nipples grazing his sensitive skin enticing him to rut harder into you, all to enjoy the way you fall apart above him.

You’ve been rendered speechless, mouth fallen open to release breathy gasps. Hell, you’re unable to moan, not when his cock is sliding in and out of you so lusciously that you feel every vein protruding from the base of his length. How he manages to walk while fucking you is beyond your comprehension by now, but he seems to be having the time of his life based on his grunting, continuously fucking deep into your pussy so much that he refuses to let you go. Satoru kicks the door to your room open and places you gently on the bed this time, trapping you in his arms but with enough space to let you crawl back up on the bed. You stop as your head hits the pillows, and the mood immediately changes.

Satoru stays still inside you, his large hand cupping your face while you both catch your breath. There’s something unreadable about him. He feels young yet old at the same time, giving you the impression that perhaps he’s still just a child trapped in an old man’s body.

There’s so much fear swirling through the blueness of his eyes that you frown, marveling about what happened to him.

In the intimacy of the moment, you swipe the stray tear that had fallen down his cheek, smiling up at him in hopes he’d realize you’re always there for him. “Satoru,” you whisper, breath hitching as he starts to move. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Satoru props you sideways, your leg flat on the bed while he hooks the other one over his thigh that is spread beside your body. You have to tilt all the way to the side just to see his face, your hand now bent in an awkward position. Although he doesn’t answer vocally, his gentle thrusts are enough to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it – he never does, and he never will – so you shut your mouth, focusing on the pleasure of him hitting deep.

Your heart aches for him. You wish he could tell you everything, to share you his worries, and you can’t enjoy him fucking you too much because you’re crying, chest clenching that he’s growing distant no matter how close he is.

You don’t want to lose him.

“Hey,” he easily reads you, leaning down to flutter his eyes at you. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, okay, angel? But you’re making me feel good, you always do, so let me do the same for you,” Satoru kisses your tears away, the saltiness of it making him fuck harder into you, all to ignore the screaming inside his head.

He wants to hold you, he wants to kiss you, he wants to keep loving you like this, he wants to be with you, he wants to touch you – but it’s not that easy.

It’ll only keep getting harder in the future, but the future isn’t now. Today is the present, and it’s even more precious because you’re there with him. Right now, you’re untouchable by anyone but him, and it’s only him that gets to fuck you like this, only him who gets to see you whimper under him, only him who gets to kiss you hard while he fucks you deep.

He wants to fuck you hard enough that you never forget the feeling of him inside you.

Maybe he’s selfish, maybe he really is demonic, because he wishes that after this you won’t be satisfied with anyone else. He wants to fuck you hard enough you’ll keep wishing it was him, that it’s him who’s hitting your sweet spots and making you see stars, that it’s only him who can make you feel this good.

Satoru interlaces his hand with yours as he feels you tighten around him, the clamping down of your walls a telltale you’re near. You’re moaning, eyes dropping to where your bodies are connected. His cock is slicked with your arousal and he’s still thrusting to passionately, his hands touching you everywhere with the same ardor and impatience one would have when they know time is limited. And Satoru knows better than everyone that no amount of money can buy enough time in this world, because if such was a case, then he’d have done so long ago.

He silences his demons with the only way he knows how to; by kissing you and burying himself deep inside you, snapping his hips angrily as if they would counterattack his fears. Your hold on him is slipping from the sweat dripping down your bodies, but he doesn’t stop, his cock further stretching you out because he’s growing impossibly bigger.

Satoru’s cock twitches inside you, the motion pulling a gasp from you. He bites down on your shoulder, one hand gripping your other leg open as he grunts into your skin, his thrusts focused more on power than speed. He hits deep each time, the sensation of him sliding out slowly only to push back in vigorously to make your pussy throb too intense for you to even form proper sentences. He’s getting nearer, his thrusts growing more fervent and impatient. Satoru thumbs at your clit to coax you into following him, and with his thumb rubbing your clit and flicking it side to side, you end up finishing before him, your moan high-pitched and broken. He eagerly swallows the sound by releasing after you, refusing to pull out even as he feels both your cum trickle afterwards.

The sensitivity is too much for you that you have to push him away, and he complies, falling at your side but not before wrapping an arm around you first. His heartbeat is pumping under you, your hands tracing circles at his chest while he holds you impossibly close, littering kisses at the crown of your head.

It’s clear that something is wrong, but he won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. You know firsthand how annoying it is when someone can’t respect your space, so you close your eyes and let sleep overtake you instead, basking in the after sex glow and relieved only by his touch.

Hopefully, you think to yourself, he can tell you another time.

“Satoru,” you murmur seconds before falling asleep.

“Yeah?”

“If there’s something wrong…you’ll let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he lies through gritted chest, pushing your head deeper into his sweaty chest. He has a habit of doing this; of pushing you close so you don’t see his face, so you don’t see the tears streaming down his face that are soon lost in your hair. You think that maybe he’s just breathing hard after work and fucking you, but he’s torn inside, feeling too broken that not even you could help fix his heart.

But you’re still there, and that’s enough for him. So he keeps his lips planted on your forehead all the way until the first sliver of light extends its fingertips over the horizon, the orange glow bathing you in an ethereal light while his body remained in the darkness.

It serves as a painful reminder that he’ll never be worthy of your love, that he’ll never earn the blessing that is your heart, that you’ll never truly love him the way he’s always wanted to be loved. Maybe now you think you do, but it will change once the darkness reveals his true nature, and the thought of you pushing him away hurts a lot more than having never been loved in the first place. To him, it’s a thousand times worse when you get a taste of something, only to have it pulled away from you.

And the longer he stays there next to you, he can’t help but picture your smile soon turned into a look of fear, your body bruised with marks and blood instead of his love bites.

They call him the notorious mafia leader who bows and yields to no one, but it’s not true. Gojo Satoru most definitely has his weakness, one that came into a form of his lover, and he can’t handle that you’d get hurt because of him someday that he believes it’s just better to let things be this way.

He’s silent from when he leaves the bed, refusing to look at you one last time as a final resolve of whatever is left in his strength. He quickly dresses himself and picks up your discarded robe on the ground, folding it and leaving it on the counter before shutting the door, the sound of his footsteps mute compared to the frantic beating of his heart.

Geto is already there at the lobby, his face empty yet eyes filled with sympathy. He opens the door for Satoru who slides in wordlessly, his lips pulled into a thin line while he punches in zeroes upon zeroes.

The words transaction complete flashes before him, and for a split second, he gets the urge to run back inside to hold you. But Geto clears his throat from the passenger’s seat, nodding at his phone that Satoru visibly deflates. His hands are numb the whole time he deletes your photos, your videos, and erases your contact, but it only hits hard that its over once he chucked the phone out the window, watching through his sunglasses as the device is crushed under another speeding car.

Its over, its over, its over – it keeps chanting at his head, and he wants to punch himself, wants to never see another daylight again every time he imagines you waking up alone and unable to find him. He wants to be sad, and he is, but there’s that relief blossoming inside him anyway that whispers its over, you’re safe that he can’t help but think…its okay, its over.

With that, Satoru rolls up the windows and nods at the driver who’s been waiting for him the whole time. He makes eye contact with a proud Geto from the rearview mirror, concealing his heartbreak with a laugh as he crosses his leg over the other.

“It’s over,” he says more to himself, “Let’s go.”

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. That’s the reason he got this far in life in the first place, he’s got his tenacity and dedication to thank for. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins as well, and he also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

And the punishment of loving you – only to have you slip from his arms – is a punishment he’ll wholeheartedly accept.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader romance #gojo x reader romance #gojo x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #gojo-satoru-x-reader smut #suki: 500 milestone event #suki: scheduled

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itsallyscorner · 3 years

Note

hey love ❤️ i hope you’re doing good and healthy but i was wondering if you could do a little mix!reader after she gave birth to tom and her’s child. maybe when the girls meet their niece or nephew

💌

The World’s Greatest Aunties

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader, Little Mix x fem!reader

Summary: The girls finally get to meet Baby Holland for the first time.

Warnings: none, spelling errors?

A/n: Hey darling! Thank you so much for the request, I’m so sorry that it took so long. I took a small break from writing Tom fics and writing in general because I needed to recharge the author part of my brain😭😂 I was lacking motivation to write but I’m back now! Thank you again for the request and I hope you like it!💞

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(Pinterest)

✧───── ･｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

Five pairs of eyes peered over the bassinet, a twinkle of admiration in each one. The house was quiet except for the low hums of the music that played softly in the living room. Occasionally, they would hear the light clicks and taps of Tessa’s nails against the floors. The five of them were quiet, letting out a little coo here and there when the tiny bundle in the bassinet fidgeted.

“I can’t believe you actually made a baby.” Leigh-Anne whispered, cautiously steadying her voice at a quieter tone. You all nodded, agreeing to her comment.

You glance at Tom, who was stood beside you, “We weren’t even planning on having a baby. Someone’s pull-out game was just very weak.”

Tom’s mouth gaped at your statement, a false offended look on his features. “Well, you weren’t complaining while it was happening.”

“Did you really think I’d be in the right headspace to realize how bad your pull-out game was after being railed to the bed?” You quizzed him, standing up straight and placing your hands on your hips.

Jesy’s eyes shifted between you and Tom, “Are you two really talking about how irresponsible you guys are at sex in front of the baby you both made—because of irresponsible sex?”

“But isn’t she the cutest outcome of irresponsible sex?” Perrie cooed, leaning closer to the opening of the bassinet. Tom smirks at you before slinging his arm around your shoulder, “We made a beautiful baby, didn’t we?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Thomas, I’m sure Amelia’s 90 percent (Y/n) and 10 percent you.” Jesy comments, earning her some chuckles from the rest of you except for Tom. Though they’ve know each other for years, and he’s proved himself worthy of you, that still didn’t stop Jesy from giving him a hard time. Of course, all the petty arguments were all in good fun. He’s been slowly growing on her anyway.

“Well she’s definitely got (y/n)’s lips.” Leigh-Anne observed, admiring the sweet baby from above. You leaned your head on Tom’s shoulder as you watched Amelia scrunch her tiny nose.

“But her nose, without a doubt, is Tom’s.” You point out, watching your baby snuggle into her blanket.

“Honestly, you know how some babies are just not cute when they’re first born?” Jade began, voice remaining in a whisper. A few sounds of agreement were heard amongst you all. “Amelia’s probably one of the most cutest newborns I’ve ever seen, and she’s only a few weeks old.”

Tom’s lips morph into a soft smile as he leans back down towards Amelia, “She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” His large hand creeping closer to his daughter to brush his fingers along her chubby cheeks. Though the contact of his cold digits made her jolt, causing a sob to bubble out her small body. Tom gasped, turning around to give you an apologetic look. Before the girls arrived, you had put Amelia down for a nap so she wouldn’t be fussy once the girls were over. You were planning on waiting till she woke up to properly introduce her to the girls, but things don’t always go as planned, do they?

“Oh no!” Perrie cried, moving out the way so Tom can gather Amelia into his arms. Tom held her against his chest, shushing her and slightly bouncing his body to ease her wailing.

“I’m so sorry, sunshine. Daddy didn’t mean to wake you.” He apologized, genuinely feeling bad for waking her up from her nap. He whispered comforting words into her ear, not phased by the fact that she couldn’t even understand him yet. He pressed kisses on the crown of Amelia’s head, trying to calm her down.

“Look at that, she even got your vocals too.” Jesy hummed, smiling at the crying baby against Tom’s chest. You laughed, stretching your hands out towards Tom. Just by the gesture, he knew what you meant. The two of you have only been parents for almost a month now and every single day it seemed like you were both picking up new habits—specifically parental ones. It was like the start of your relationship again, you were leaning new things about each other, but this time as parents.

“Aww, c’mere darling, momma’s got you.” You cooed as Tom helped you place her against your chest. Her tiny head was snuggled into the crook of your neck, the warmth coming from your skin soothing her. You had a hand under her bum while the other was rubbing circles onto her back. Slowly, her cries softened until they were replaced by her cute baby gurgles.

“Are you crying?” Perrie asked. You turned around to see who the question was directed to. Only to find Jesy wiping her eyes and fanning them with her hands. She shook her head trying to brush off Perrie’s question.

“Babe,” you called out to her, “Why are you crying?”

You body gently swayed side to side, trying to entertain Amelia. You all looked at Jesy, an amused yet concerned expression on all your faces. When she felt like her tears weren’t about to spill from her eyes, she tilted her head to look at you again.

“I’m just—you’re an actual mother. Like look at you, you’re so grown up.” She sniffed, eyes watering up again. Jesy and the rest of the girls were just a few years older than you. Being the youngest of the group, they’ve always been protective of you and viewed you as their younger sister. They watched you grow up into an amazing woman, watched you fall in love with Tom, and now here you were—as a mother. The sight was quite emotional.

“Aw Jess.” You walk closer to her, using one of your arms to embrace her. Jesy chokes on her laugh, “No! Don’t hug me, you’re gonna make me cry even more.”

You ignore her protests and continue to wrap your arm around her neck. Jesy allows the hug to happen, wrapping both her arms around your waist.

“It’s okay, I cried a few times too.” Tom tells her comfortingly, handing her a tissue from over your shoulder. She takes it, thanking him quietly, and dabbing her eyes. You hear some more sniffles around the room. Breaking your hug with Jesy, you look around to see Perrie, Jade, and Leigh-Anne with glossy eyes.

“Guys...” You sigh.

“It just sunk in that you’re a mum now. Like you need to take care of another human being and help them become a person and all that.” Jade summed up, blinking away tears. Tom took it upon himself to wordlessly pass around tissues to the four women in the room.

Leigh-Anne came up behind you to move your hair over your shoulders, “You’re gonna teach her so many lessons about life. You’re gonna be the first person she’ll always look up to and her first best friend—I’m so excited for you.”

“I have life lessons too, ya know.” Tom interjected, slightly raising his hand. Jesy glances at him and scoffs, “You have the body of a twelve year old and you cry in movies for a living. What could you possibly learn from that?”

“I don’t cry in all my movies.” He defended himself.

You move your head to look at Tom, “Darling, you’ve literally cried in four out of the five Marvel movies you’ve been in. That speaks volumes.”

Jade’s eyes shifted between Jesy and Tom, “I thought we were having a sentimental moment, how did we go from that to hating on Tom.”

“Because, he’s Tom.”

Tom crossed his arms, squinting at you all, “You know, I thought having Amelia would make you guys like me more—but no, I just can’t catch a break from you lot.”

A joyful sound emitted from Amelia, catching everyone’s attention. The girls cooed and awed at the new member of their little family.

“Oh hello precious!” Perrie squealed leaning down beside you so she can see Amelia’s face. Your baby’s eyes were wide as she stared at the faces crowding above her.

“D’you guys wanna hold her?” The girls eagerly nod, bodies filling with excitement. You handed Amelia to Jesy, showing her how to properly hold your newborn baby. With her new niece’s head resting against her shoulder, she feels her heart swell with joy.

“Oh my, she’s lovely.” She whispered softly, her hand cradling Amelia’s head. She ducks her head to get a closer look at her face, chuckling when she sees the combination of you and Tom on Amelia’s features. Jesy catches a whiff of the newborn baby smell radiating off of her—you know, that light weight baby powder-ish smell?

“And she smells so good!” Jesy announced enthusiastically. Perrie frowns, “I wanna smell the baby.”

“Too bad, you can’t.” Jade teases, poking fun at Perrie’s inability to smell. Jesy passes Amelia to Perrie, who makes grabby hands at her before wrapping her arms around Amelia’s tiny form.

“I’m so sorry for exposing you to the media.” She tells the baby, a chorus of laughter following her apology. Perrie gently pokes Amelia’s cheeks with her finger, “Your cheeks! I just want to squish ‘em and smother you with kisses!”

“I think you’ve had enough time with the baby, my turn!” Leigh-Anne jokes, holding her hands out for Amelia. Perrie carefully hands her to Leigh-Anne, who instantly melts once she holds Amelia against her.

“I want one now.” She whines.

“Ask Andre, I’m sure he’ll give you one in no time.” You wink at her, gesturing to the ring on her left hand. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she became pregnant anytime soon. Leigh-Anne took her time holding Amelia, basking in the cloud of baby fever she was currently experiencing. Your daughter was then passed onto Jade, who was thrilled to show her niece all the gifts she had bought her.

You all watched as Jade ventured towards the couch, kindly asking Tom to fetch the large bag that was at your entrance alongside the piles of packages from your family and friends. Ever since you and Tom brought Amelia home, there has been a never ending amount of gifts being delivered to your home. The items ranged from clothes, toys, to diapers, and baby bottles. Your house was practically filled to the brim with baby supplies.

Jade settles on the couch; adjusting Amelia so she can cradle her with her arm and using her free hand to pull out gifts from the bag. You and the rest of the girls sit around her, while Tom looked over the couch behind you.

“You guys really didn’t have to get us anything, just being here and letting us share this moment with you is enough for me.” You expressed, Tom agreeing with you. Jade simply brushed you off, “Oh hush up, let us spoil Amelia. She’s going to be the sixth member of our band, so we need to make sure she’s got the best clothes to look like her mummy and aunties.”

Jade proceeds to pull out a bunch of Disney themed items out from the bag. “Oh you’re gonna love this, I found a bunch off onesies that were princess themed—look!” Jade held up the hanger of multiple Disney onesies for your daughter. “Look Amelia, there’s one for every princess!” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh when Jade began to show every item she bought for Amelia.

Your and Tom’s jaws dropped when she pulled out a Minnie Mouse headband made for babies.

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, lemme see.” Tom held his hand out towards Jade who handed him the headband. You watched adoringly as Tom inspected the headband, looking at it with fascination. He caught your stare and proudly held up the head band, “Baby, we’ve gotta take her to Disney.”

“Oh, we definitely are, don’t worry.” You assure him, making him proudly fist the air. Without any of you noticing, Jesy slipped out the room to get the gift bag she left out at the entrance.

“I’ve got something too!” She sang entering the living room. She sat back on the couch, Jade passing Amelia to her once she was comfortable.

“Alright, ya ready precious?” Jesy asked Amelia, who grabbed at the bag with her hands. Jesy took her hands in hers and helped Amelia ‘take out’ the tissue paper from the bag.

“Since I know your parents are two of the biggest Harry Potter nerds, I decided to get you this because I know they’ll flip.” She explained before pulling out a baby Hogwarts costume.

“Jesy!” You gasped, leaning in to get a closer look at the clothes.

“They have Harry Potter merch for babies?” Tom exclaimed, rushing to stand behind Jesy’s part of the couch. He began to ramble, asking her where she bought the clothes and if there were more.

Jesy held her hand out to stop Tom from talking, “Wait, wait—WAIT, Jesus Thomas, you’re more excited for these clothes than your daughter.”

Tom shrugged, “Well she can’t express any feelings yet, so I’ll do it.”

“Here.” She passed the costume to him making him cheer. “The costume came with another thing actually.” Jesy took out a baby Hogwarts robe, making you gasp again.

“It comes with the robes too?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, it was an entire set!” Jesy proudly answered. Tom ran his hand along the robe, touching the soft fabric. He let out a squeal, “I love it!”

“Tom darling, the clothes are for Amelia, not you.” Perrie teasingly reminded him. Tom brushes off her comment, “(Y/n), we could all dress up as Hogwarts students for Halloween! We could match costumes!” Tom was practically buzzing with excitement, not allowing you to give him a response.

“Thank you Jesy, it’s nice to know that you have a soft spot for me.” He bumped his fist against her shoulder, which she glared at.

“I don’t have a soft spot for you, twit.”

“Yes you do, you knew I liked Harry Potter.” He held up the Hogwarts costume, “And you got Amelia a baby Hogwarts costume. You went out of your way to give us this gift. It’s enough proof, Jes.”

“I got it for (Y/n).” Jesy argued.

Tom crossed his arms, “Just admit that you like me.”

“No, you’re a menace.” You all watched the exchange between the two. A goofy grin was on his face as he spread his arms out, “I’m gonna hug you now.” Before Jesy can respond, Tom had wrapped his arms around Jesy. She groaned, squirming in his grip.

“Thank you Jesy!” He sang, taking the piss out of annoying her. She smacked his arm, “I get it. Now get off, I’m holding your child!”

Tom lets go with a smile on his face.

“She likes me.” He mouthed to you, motioning to Jesy. You shook your head at him, chuckling.

The girls continued to give Amelia their gifts. Perrie got her a bunch of classic children’s books and some toys. Leigh-Anne had given you a diaper bag and a “mommy and me” set of clothes. You were instantly obsessed with the matching sets, now you and your baby girl can have matching outfits. The night was full of the girls passing Amelia around and playing with her. She hadn’t cried for a single second, happy with the attention she was getting and constantly being held. There was no doubt that she would sleep soundly tonight, much to your and Tom’s content.

You watched as the girls circled around Amelia in the living room. Perrie was currently holding her, talking about how she couldn’t wait to spoil her with all the cutest baby clothes and toys. You overheard them talking about all the things they wanted to teach her; like how to sing. A smile had crept its way onto your lips without you noticing. Suddenly a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

Tom presses a kiss onto your shoulder and rests his chin on it, “You know she’s the luckiest baby in the world? And I’m not just saying that because she’s our child, but she’s really lucky. We’re very lucky.”

“We are, aren’t we?” You hum, leaning your weight against his chest, something he happily welcomes.

“She’s got two amazing parents. That’s us.” He squeezes you and continues his list, “She has grandparents who already love her, a bunch of protective uncles, and the world’s greatest aunties in her corner.” He finished, gesturing to the women in the living room. Yeah, you guys were lucky.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

🏷Tags ↴

*if there is a cross through your username, tumblr won’t let me tag you:(*

Little Mix!Reader tags

↪︎ @waxingmoonwrites @slutforsebstan @starslazyandcosy @xkonpinkx @dummiesshort @gypsystuf @kielemarie @wroetospidey @thatgirlangelb @have-aheart @adayasgeorgia @xeniarocks @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @agustdowney @itssmadelyn @imthebadguyyy @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @bi-lmg @holsj2411

Tom Holland tags

↪︎ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @spideyspeaches @slutforsebstan

General tags

↪︎ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney @bi-lmg @rqmanoff @sesamepancakes @stardustofreading @dracoswhore007 @amourtentiaa @alyssathesoftie

#Tom Holland #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland drabble #tom holland headcanon #little mix #perrie edwards #jesy nelson #leigh anne pinnock #jade thirlwall #thomas stanley holland #ally’s requests

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skyward-floored · 2 years

Note

what are all your wips? not asking to post the excerpts themselves but like. what fics are you working on / plan to do? if you dont mind sharing your secret plans…… :)

I don’t mind at all! I love talking about my fics/wips, thanks for asking!!!

Prepare yourself for a BIG LIST of fics, some of which that have been half-published, and also some that haven’t yet seen the light of day :)

The Twilight Turns — true form au! Midna gets her true form back WAY earlier than in canon, and this leads to both her and Link catching quite a few feelings. The next chapter is sort of on pause until I get around to playing the part I’m at in-game.

Royal Castletown Wedding — a fic that started as a joke post, I stole the plot of a my little pony episode and lu-ified it. If you think it is just fluffy silliness than you are wrong. I’ve hit the climax, and there’s only a few chapters left of this one!

Brethren in a Cradle — *gently holds* my very special multichap fic I haven’t updated in months (I’M SORRY) about Wild, as well as the rest of the chain, stumbling across a baby and having no other options, take him with them. Warriors had snuck his way into the focus as well. The next chapter IS being worked on, just verrrry slowly. This fic means a lot to me and I’m NOT giving up on it.

Up in Arms — Warriors loses an arm during the war, and struggles immensely with coming to terms with it. Fortunately he ends up with 8 other heroes who are more than willing to help. First chapter of this is up, the second and third (fourth?) chapters are in progress.

The Many Courses of Love — a fic exploring all the different relationships of the Links after their adventures, a chapter per game. This one isn’t lu, (it’s actually connected to my own Link’s meet thing) but I’m very attached to it. Next couple chapters are being worked on, but aren’t very close to finished XD

Unnamed Time & Legend fic — angst/whump/hurt/comfort o-rama. This one is a continuation of a whumptober I wrote in 2021, but it can honestly stand on its own. Everyone, especially Time and Legend, has a Bad Time. A specific secret is also revealed. Planning on finishing this one entirely and releasing the couple chapters it has on a schedule.

Unnamed breath of the wild aftermath/Dark Link fic — a multichap I’ve had cooking for years, after the events of botw the Yiga decide revenge is due, and steal some of Link’s blood to make a copy of him to kill him. Except they don’t account for Zelda’s magic accidentally getting mixed up in there, and they make... a pretty sweet guy who has no clue what’s going on. The first chapter of this is done actually, but I don’t want to post it because the rest is... nowhere near done in any way XD

Incredibles au main story — the entire dang movie as an lu fic, I’m chipping away at it when I can! Not ready to be published yet, but I’m working on it :)

Incredibles au Hyrule backstory — this one is close to being done, it’s about how Hyrule ended up with the rest of the boys

Unnamed Warriors and Hyrule fic — the traveler and captain couldn’t be more unalike, but it turns out they’re connected by much more than they previously thought. This one is on the back burner, but I work on it occasionally. Thinkin it’ll be one of those 5 + 1 fics the kids do.

Unnamed Warriors and Mask/Time fic — traitor angst babeyyyyy! I’m stuck on this one, don’t know when it’ll be done.

Fic for Tellie — (yes that’s the working title) set in her palace au, it’s almost done :)

Courage of Ages — aaauuuggghh my own Link’s meet au thing, it’s been on the back burner as well, but I love it so and love questions about it. It’ll be publishable someday...

Tri Force Heroes oneshot collection — a bunch of oneshots about Tri force heroes, plus post-game backstory stuff with my versions of these guys :)

Assorted requests sitting in my inbox from ages ago — *sweating* ages ago I asked for some fic ideas, several of which are... still sitting in my inbox, unanswered. I’ve barely worked on them, but I’ll do them eventually!

There’s a few more not on this list, but they’re either self-indulgent things I’ll never publish, ideas that are barely formed or I haven’t started writing as of yet, or fics I started but didn’t continue and haven’t touched in months.

Anyways whew, I think that’s it! I’m always willing to answer questions about all of these, so don’t be shy!

#I also accept pokes from when I’m procrastinating or being a perfectionist and not just posting things already #answers from the floor #anon #wips #writing from the floor #brethren in a cradle #up in arms #castletown wedding #Incredibles au #true form au #courage of ages #hmm I’m realizing I #probably should’ve put a readmore #oh well #long post

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mercy-burning · 4 years

Text

Laundry Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer meet again in the laundry room and decide to have some fun. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, slight exhibitionism?/potential of getting caught, slight degradation) Warnings: sex, language. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings. I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3k

Note: Surprise!! I was going to wait to post this on Saturday but Taylor Swift had me feeling like dropping a surprise, what can I say? 😂 Anyway, I wasn’t going to make another part to Pretty Please, but for one thing, it did way better than I was expecting, so thank you all for your kind comments and tags! And also, @rainsong01 mentioned something that gave me an idea for a laundry room scenario, so you can thank them for this one! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it! Thanks for all the love! 🥰

***

Y/N hated laundry day.

There was nothing more boring to her than loading clothes into the washer, waiting, then loading them into the dryer, waiting, and then folding them and putting them away, not to mention the laundry room was kind of dingy and felt like being in a gross, scary basement.

Thankfully though, years of living in the same building had given Y/N a pretty decent schedule of when the laundry room was empty. It wasn't like she disliked talking to people, but laundry made her cranky enough, and the last thing she wanted was human interaction, making small talk with building residents that acted like they cared to know about everyone else's business.

So it was Friday night, 7 pm, which meant that depending on if she had to work, the only other person in the laundry room would be Olivia from down the hall, someone Y/N had only had a few conversations with, either in the laundry room or on the way out the door.

She walked in, silently thanking the laundry gods after hearing complete and utter silence as she made her way to the washer and dryer to the far left of the room. Then she reached into her pocket and realized she forgot her phone. Cursing, she settled on basking in the silence as she loaded her clothes in the washer one by one, at least grateful that no one would be bothering her with pointless small talk.

Until she heard the door open, as if the laundry gods decided they were angry at her. She tried not to outwardly groan, hoping that whoever it was would just say, "Hello," and leave it at that. Or better yet, not say anything at all and let her do her own thing. So she closed the washer and entered the quarters, knowing that it would be a long ten minutes. She could have went back upstairs to her apartment and waited there if she really wanted to, or grabbed her phone at least, but it felt like it would have been pointless, and so she just hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Maybe I'll just go walk around the building aimlessly for 10 minutes.

But the laundry gods had other plans, apparently.

"Y/N?"

She turned around and saw none other than Spencer Reid, clutching a large cloth bag, presumably filled with laundry.

"Spencer? Hi," Y/N greeted, a small blush forming on her cheeks. The two of them hadn't really talked since their... escapade about a month ago. Most of the time Spencer was at work, but whenever he was home there hadn't been anymore thin wall scenarios or overhearing something she shouldn't. They'd seen each other in the hallway a few times, winking as they passed, but that was it. Y/N had to wonder if maybe it was just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, being absolutely fucked into oblivion by your neighbor so good that you couldn't walk for two days.

Thinking about it made her cheeks burn hotter, so she cleared her throat and only slightly avoided eye contact. "I thought you did your laundry on Sundays?"

Spencer shrugged, walking over to the machine set next to hers. "Normally I would, but I just got back from work and I needed clean clothes. It's... pretty empty in here right now."

"Oh. Yeah, that's why I do my laundry on Friday nights whenever I can. Everyone's either out or staying in relaxing. Laundry's already boring enough, right, who needs annoying small talk?"

He laughed, opening the washer and putting in some of his clothes. "Touché."

Y/N wasn't really sure what to say after that, so she sat on top of the washer and crossed her legs, swinging them a little as she waited.

"Look, I know you've already given your stance on annoying small talk, but... What are your plans for the weekend?" Spencer asked, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"Um... Not a lot, really. Other than some grocery shopping and a few other small errands, I was going to have dinner with my mom on Sunday for her birthday. We might have to cancel though because she might have to go into work, but we'll see... What about you?"

He shook his head. "I don't have anything planned unless I get called into work either."

"Oh... Well, if you ever feel like having some company, you know where I live," she joked.

Spencer laughed. "I might just have to take you up on that. Things at work have been kind of... stressful."

Despite her better judgement, she smirked. "I seem to recall a similar conversation between the two of us not that long ago, Bud. You're not trying to fuck me again, are you?"

She just couldn't help herself. Admittedly she was a little worried she was too forward, but in the end it paid off, because he turned to look at her, shutting the washer and grabbing quarters from his pocket. "Would it be so wrong of me if I wanted to?"

The low tone of his voice made Y/N clench her legs tighter together, her mind racing with all the things that could happen in the next few days, the next few minutes even... She thought back to the last time he'd fucked her, seeing his face between her legs as he completely unraveled her. She felt herself growing wet at the thought.

"Absolutely not," she finally managed to respond. She hoped he would come over to her in a few long strides, pulling her in and kissing her right there, but instead he simply said, "Hmm," and turned back to his machine, putting in quarters.

He could have been playing games with her again, but she didn't want to take the chance. So she grew bolder and leaned back on her hands, puffing out her chest to the air and tilting her head to the side, letting her hair fall and exposing her neck to him. "Well, we have some time to spare, babe. What do you say we make the most of it?"

She was genuinely surprised to see him blush and freeze in his tracks, fumbling with the last few quarters as he inserted them into the machine and started the timer. "R-right now?"

"Duh," she replied, giggling.

"Somebody could come in... O-or hear us." A twinge of worry dripped from every syllable as he spoke, and though Y/N's first instinct was to apologize for suggesting it and letting it go, she thought better of it after remembering what got them into this situation in the first place.

So she scoffed. "Oh, please. You weren't the least bit worried about someone hearing us before. Y'know... When you promised to fuck me so hard I would scream your name and everyone could hear, and then I did? And besides, even if someone walked in right now, they'd probably just leave and come back later. People probably have sex with each other in here all the time."

"I doubt that, this place is filthy. Hardly the right setting for something so... intimate," he replied more clearly, obviously trying to win this argument. Though, something told Y/N he really was a little bothered about how dirty the laundry room was.

She shook her head. "You and I both know that what we did wasn't intimate. It was downright filthy, so if anything it works perfectly for where we are."

"Y/N, I don't know..." He chewed on his bottom lip and shuffled on his feet, refusing to look at her.

"Well, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do, obviously, but... You can trust me. I've been doing my laundry here basically every Friday night since I moved here, and since Olivia is working tonight, she won't be here, and neither will anyone else."

"Well, I showed up, didn't I? Anything could happen."

She sighed, a little tired of arguing but still wanting to win. Her body tingled and practically ached at the sight of him, needing to feel his touch yet again. Maybe it was slightly pathetic, but if there was just the slightest chance that he would fuck her like that again, she had to try her damnedest.

So she had another trick up her sleeve, silently praying to the laundry gods that they would take pity on her and grant her this one thing. "You're right, but don't you think that you coming down here just moments after me was bound to happen? Like after everything we've experienced, we were always meant to have a quickie in the laundry room of our apartment building?"

He genuinely seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Truthfully I think it's more of a coincidence than anything that we showed up here at the same time."

There's your chance, Y/N, don't fuck it up, she thought to herself, hoping that with the seductive tone in her voice and the puppy dog look in her eye, it would be enough to get her what she wanted. "I was joking. Of course it's a coincidence, I just want you to fuck me."

He only stayed silent, fiddling with his hands and his eyes flicking between her and the floor before he caught her eye. In another attempt to entice him, Y/N batted her eyes and slowly spread her legs wide, scooting back a little so she could rest her heels on the top of the washer. "Don't you want to fuck me into the washing machine, baby?"

That was the last straw, the thing that pushed Spencer over the edge. He whispered, "Fuck it," to himself before striding over to her and cradling her face in his hands, bringing her to him and kissing her hard. She initially yelped at how harsh he was, but after a second she melted into him, leaning forward and bringing him closer.

She tried to wrap her legs around his torso, but he grabbed them by the ankles and kept them spread open, pulling away to look into her eyes. "Keep 'em open, pretty girl." The old nickname made her whimper, just like he knew it would, and his gaze burned into hers hotly for a few seconds before he bent down, kissing her inner thigh just below the hem of her shorts. She sighed as he trailed his lips and tongue along every inch of skin, switching to the other leg and giving it the same attention until he was ready for more.

Rather than pulling off her shorts and underwear, Spencer simply pushed the fabrics aside and immediately licked a long, flat strip up her pussy, to which Y/N sharply inhaled and reached out, grabbing his hair. He explored her just as thoroughly as he had the last time, his fervor unmatched and absolutely intoxicating as he pushed himself closer and closer, practically living between her legs. Due to the short time constraint and fear of getting caught, he didn't waste time teasing her, and he seemed determined to finish before the buzzing of the washer signaled clean clothes.

Naturally though, he couldn't not tease her, so just as she was about to finish with his lips wrapped around her clit, he pulled away and left her breathless and frustrated.

"Really? We're doing this again?" she huffed, pouting.

Spencer unbuckled his belt and raised his eyebrow. "All in due time, sweetheart. Come here."

Unsurprisingly, she did what she was told, jumping off the washer and waiting further instructions. It didn't take long for Spencer to move, only a few seconds passing by before he turned her around and pushed her against the washer, to which she instinctively bent her torso over it. She gripped the sides of it tightly as he ran his hands up her shirt and caressed her back, eventually using one hand to grip her waist and the other to lift her leg up, setting it on the washer. She readjusted, reaching her hands forward to grip the top of it as he slid his hand down her leg and toyed with the fabric of her shorts.

"Listen carefully," he said, causing Y/N's heart to pound harder in her chest. "I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yes," she stated simply, loud and clear, though adding a hint of desperation as to hopefully speed the process along. She knew this communication was important, but damn if she didn't just want to be railed into next week already.

"Birth control?"

She swallowed nervously, hoping it wouldn't change his mind. "I'm not on it."

"Noted," is all he said, before deftly moving her shorts and underwear to the side and slamming into her with no warning. She yelped, leaning her head back as he pounded into her, the cold metal of the washing machine digging into her skin. It was the best kind of painful pleasure, only made better when he gripped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanked her to him, deepening his angle inside of her and hitting that sweet spot every time.

"Spencer, I'm..." She could barely breathe, and she loved it, already feeling herself start to unravel.

"Close already, pretty girl?" he purred in her ear, right before pressing a wet kiss to her neck as he craned her head to the side for better access. "Figures... You've always been so easy to please. Such a good, needy little slut for me, huh?"

Y/N groaned at the new name, and it spurred him forward, encouraging him to push them both further into the washing machine as he moved his hips harder. "Please," she gasped, only seconds away from losing herself.

"Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke as clearly as she could, not caring how loud she was being. "I wanna cum! Please, Spencer, please!"

"Do it," he grunted, giving her a few more deep, purposeful thrusts to aid in her high. "I got you, pretty girl." That's what did it for her. She yelled out as her body tensed and her walls fluttered around him, everything absolutely burning and blinding until eventually she was spent.

Spencer held himself inside of her for a few seconds, bringing himself closer to the edge before he roughly pulled out and away, leaving Y/N empty and alone. She was tired as hell and completely fucked out, but still she wanted more than anything to help him, ever the needy little slut, as he'd so eloquently called her. So she turned around, peeling herself away from the washing machine and dropping to her knees in front of him, not waiting for him to say anything.

She promptly leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around his cock, wasting no time hollowing her cheeks and setting a fast pace sucking him off. It had somewhat taken him by surprise, but he welcomed it, gathering her hair away from her face and watching as she went to work, practically worshipping the ground he stood on. Eventually she pushed herself all the way forward, allowing him to hit the back of her throat. Instead of pulling back to breathe, she held herself there and gagged, looking up at him with tears in her eyes before removing herself, taking two deep breaths, and going right back to work.

"Look at you," he mused, his voice barely there but with enough volume that allowed Y/N to hear him. "You look so good, pathetic and choking on my cock. Such a good fucking girl, fuck—"

In no time he was gripping her hair tighter and his breathing started to falter. Y/N held herself still as he came in her mouth, most of it hitting the back of her throat and all of it coating her tongue. She moaned around him, blinking tears away and running her hands over his ass until he pulled away from her and let go of her hair.

Standing up, Y/N swallowed most of his cum but purposely let some of it spill out of her mouth and down her chin, to which she used her middle finger to scoop it up and slide it back into her mouth. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, watching as his tongue flicked over his bottom lip before he bit it softly.

Once she was done cleaning herself up, Y/N ran a hand through her hair and smiled. "See, that wasn't bad at all. No trouble."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only trouble is you. Eavesdropping, making me fuck you in a semi-public place, et cetera..." He laughed as he pulled his pants up and re-adjusted himself as though nothing had happened.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Y/N teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. He laughed against them, pulling her closer by her waist and resting his hands there when she pulled away.

As if to signal the end of their... whatever they were going to call it, Y/N's washer buzzed and she turned around to attend to her laundry. As she transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer, Spencer came up behind her and brushed the hair away from her neck.

"You know, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything when I... called you a slut. I would never want to be mean to you or anything, and I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

Y/N almost laughed, amused again by how dominant he was during sex but then immediately a big 'ol softie once it was over. It was such a fun contrast, and truthfully, as much as she loved his dominant side, she wanted to see more of his softer one. So she turned around to meet him and caressed his cheek, smiling kindly. "I know you don't mean it to be mean. It was hot. And I appreciate you checking up on me, it's sweet. You're sweet."

Before he could say anything, his washer buzzed. So he settled on leaning forward, kissing her cheek, and walking away to do his laundry.

The two of them worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company until they realized they both had to wait for the dryer. 20 minutes.

"Round two?" he asked her with a mischievous grin.

Y/N returned it and took a step towards him when the door opened, laundry gods be damned.

"Oh, hey guys!" Olivia from down the hall chirped as she walked in, striding to her own station.

At least they had the rest of the weekend.

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid

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