#so i was forced to think about my wife kissing my neck sloppy style oh nooo

[autism-corner]

waugh

[paisley-print]

8:00am : When We Cut The Cake

A Wedding Day 

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2122

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (Oral Fem Receiving, PIV sex, semi-public sex)  mentions of vomit , implied age gap, pregnancy, family drama, fluff.

Series Master-List 

Notes: Does anybody else get super nervous before they post a story? I get so nervous. Why?

“Almost ready honey?” Jack asked, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Yeah, just one sec” you said, fastening the last bobby pin into the veil. “Alright no peaking when I come out-”

“Sugar, our appointment time is at-”

“Jack please,” you whined. “It will just take a moment, and you’re not allowed to give me sass today because I will get my pay back tonight when we cut the cake.”

You heard him chuckle from behind the door, “alright darlin’ my eyes are closed.”

You cracked open the door to make sure he was telling the truth. “No peeking,” you warned, stepping out so that you could be in full view.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a smirk.

“Alright - you can open.”

He opened his eyes, giving you the once over and whistling. “Well, look at you. My mamma forced me to go to church all my life, and they never mentioned anything about letting angels walk around on earth... but here you are.” 

“oh yeah, that’s me, proper virgin Mary.” You turned around to look in the stand up mirror in front of you. You weren’t showing a lot, but enough to make you feel bloated and icky. It had been weeks, but the morning sickness persisted.

He came up behind you, placing his hands on your stomach and resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you looked at each other in the mirror for a moment. 

Jack was in his Sunday best and you in the only white dress you could find at the boutique in town. You two were not pressed for money but considering the circumstances, and how sick you still felt, both you and Jack decided to keep the wedding low key. You didn’t need a big wedding anyway, neither did Jack.

“I don’t look dumb?” you asked.

He looked at you seriously “now sugar, why on earth would you say that?”

You adjusted the dress a little, frowning. “I don’t think either of our families are thrilled about the surprise. You know, one second we were both single, then the next we were pregnant and engaged… The age thing doesn’t help either. Then the people at the courthouse, they’re probably going to judge too-”

He spun you around so you were facing him. “If anybody says anything to you - then you tell me and I will deal with it. I don’t care who they are. You understand?”

You looked into his eyes, remembering how angry he had been the day you found out you were pregnant. “You still want this, right?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“Of course. I’m just making sure.”

He put his hands on your belly again. “Trust me sugar, nothin’ would make me happier than standing up there with you and telling the entire world how much I love you. I do not give a flyin’ fuck what anybody else has to say about it, because frankly it is none of their goddamn  business. You understand?”

You nodded. He spun you back around so he could hug you from behind again. You giggled and scrunched up your nose as he pressed little kisses to your cheek, then neck. 

Sunlight drifted in through the lace curtain, bathing the room in an amber glow. The two of you, together, it looked right. You had never felt more safe than when you were with Jack. He had collected the pieces of your broken heart and glued them back together one by one, and you did the same for him. 

For the first time in a long time, he was excited about the future because he knew he wouldn’t be alone. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked him softly.

He smiled “how much I love you.”

You returned the smile. Feeling that familiar sting in the corners of your eyes. It seemed as though recently you had little control over these kinds of shifts in emotion. The last few weeks had been a lot. “Fuck,” you laughed “I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the ceremony.”

Jack noticed and kissed your cheek again and shushed you gently. “No need for that, you’ll ruin your makeup darlin’.”

“I love you too,” you told him.

“So let's get married. Come on” he said, giving your ass a light tap - before going over to grab his hat from the bed. “Or do I have to pick you up and carry you there myself?”

“I bet you wouldn’t even be able t -” you challenged.

Before you could even finish the sentence, Jack placed his hat on his head and scooped you up bridal style. You giggled all the way down the stairs.

-

The wedding was lovely. The courthouse was one of the oldest buildings in the county, built in 1796. It was a grand building, full of white stone columns, with a clock tower that made it the tallest structure in miles. The ceremony was brief. You and Jack were smiling like idiots the entire time.

A little while later, you hosted a backyard reception with your family and friends.

-

“Hey- I need you” you whispered, hooking your arm in your husbands and pulling him away from the group of people he was standing with. 

“Why? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” he asked, placing a hand on your belly.

“Yes. Sorry, nothing like that just...you’ll see” you pulled him into the laundry room and shut the door behind you. Without another word, you leaned up and kissed him. He was surprised at first, but was soon kissing you back - trying to keep up.

You pulled away breathless and kept your voice low, “OK I need a favor.”

Jack’s brows were still knit in confusion. “anything.” 

 “I need you to fuck me.”

“Now?” he asked, a little too loud. You gave him a stern look and his voice softened “now?”

“Yes” you whined. “Tonight is too far away,” you gave him those puppy dog eyes “please?”

He put his hands on his hips and looked down at you, laughing a little. “Twice this morning wasn’t enough?”

You kicked idly at the floor with your shoe “no... but if you don’t want to-”

He was quick to cut you off “no, no. I want to…. but sugar, we got a whole house full of people, why don’t we go upstairs?”

“I want to save that for our real first time,” you said. 

Recently it seemed as though if you weren’t bed ridden from nausea you were all over him, begging for him to fuck you. Jack didn’t mind, of course, he enjoyed seeing you feel better…. and you know, the sex wasn’t too bad either. The record had been four times in one day. At his age, he was pretty proud of that. 

The cowboy laughed and glanced out the frosted glass window. Shadows of people moved back and forth. “What if they hear us?”

You gave him a little smirk “then I guess you’ll just have to keep me quiet.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, then took your hand to pull you in for a bruising kiss. He pulled you flush against him, exploring your mouth with his tongue, before breaking the kiss and spinning you around. 

He nudged you gently with his body, boxing you in against the dryer. 

“This okay?” he whispered, bringing a hand around to your stomach once more.

“Yeah” you said, then felt his hand move to the buttons on the back of the dress. “Don’t bother - keep it on.”

“Whatever you say Mrs. Daniels.” 

He got on his knees behind you, large hands brushing the back of your thighs and pushing your dress up over your waist. He smirked at the lacy panties you had on, hooking a finger in them and pulling them down. They fell to your ankles; he helped you kick them off easily. 

In one fluid motion, he lifted you up a little and put his mouth on you from behind. You suppressed a groan  hen grabbed at a towel to bite down on and muffle your sounds. 

He swiped his skilled tongue through your slick folds, loving how you tasted. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his tongue inside of you. His hand came up, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing until he left a little red mark. 

He continued licking into you, flicking his tongue against your clit as you squirmed under his touch. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to come crashing into you. You bit down hard on the fabric of the towel, trying and failing to stifle a moan. 

“Holyfuck Jack,” you breathed, when he finally broke away. 

You felt him move your veil to the side so he could plant sloppy kisses to your neck, his hands quickly undoing the loops on his belt. “Was that good honey?” he knew it was, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“I know what you’re doing,” you giggled. 

He pretended to be offended “what? Trying to make sure I’ve satisfied my wife?”

Hearing him referred to you as his wife turned you on even more. That need settled between your legs again. Jack’s arm came to hook around your waist while the other came to steady himself on the dryer. 

You shuddered as he dragged his cock along your folds, teasing you. 

His voice was dark with lust “you ready darlin’?”

As soon as you nodded, he moved his hand from your waist, clamping it over your mouth as he pushed inside you. You threw your head back and allowed your eyes to close again. The feeling of him stretching you out made you clench around his cock. He always felt so big from behind. 

He ground his hips into you slowly, his hand buzzing with the sound of your moans.

Soon he fell into a steady pace, pumping into you as your hips bucked to meet each thrust. His breaths fell heavy on your ear. The two of you were so lost in bliss you nearly forgot about the party outside. 

The handle to the laundry room door twisted and was pushed open only a crack before Jack’s hand came out and slammed it shut again.

“Is y/n in there?” a woman’s voice called from behind the door. It was one of your aunts, you realized. 

You felt Jack’s hand press a little harder into your mouth. “Yep, she’ll be out in a second,” he responded, never slowing his pace. “Morning sickness is a bitch, gotta get the stain out of her dress.”

“Oh, alright,” the woman said, “tell her to find me once you’re done, we want to get a picture for Facebook.”

“Will do,” Jack responded, then pulled out of you - spinning you around to face him before slamming into you again. 

He removed his hand from your mouth and replaced it with his lips. Growling against your lips as he continued to pump into you; he was trying to hold out until you came first. He wanted to make sure your needs were taken care of before his. 

He could tell that you were close by the way you clung onto him, the muscles in your body tensing as he built up the pleasure in your core. When you finally fell apart, he made sure to kiss you a little harder - absorbing the sound of your cries with his mouth. 

He was not far behind and soon you were both left, disheveled and out of breath. He kissed you on the cheek and nuzzled the side of your neck, breathing in the smell of hairspray.  Jack knew that the two of you had to go back out there, but he wished he could stay in there with you all night. 

He finally pulled back, studying your face for a moment before saying, “look at that, didn’t even smudge your lipstick. Am I good or what?”

“It’s a stain Jack. Cover Girl gets the credit here” you teased, patting the side of his face before reaching down to pick up your panties from the ground.

He started to dress himself again as well “you just wait, I still got two more tries tonight. I bet that mascara is gonna look wonderful running down your pretty little face.”

“Two, huh?” 

“What?..... Three? Christ darlin’ you’re gonna put me in the goddamn hospital you know that? If I throw my back out again you are gonna have to explain to Ginger how it happened this time.” He reached up to straighten your veil as you adjusted his tie. Then he offered you his arm. “Alright baby girl, you up for a dance or two?”

[blissfulparker]

Ladybug and Butterfly—dad!Peter Parker

Parings→dad!peter x reader

Warnings→angst, death,

Summary→where peter is forced to leave behind the two things he loves the most, his daughter and his wife

A/n→when I said I was in the mood for heartbreak I meant it. Also sorry there is no read more link, I can’t find my computer charger and I dunno how to do it on mobile.

Spider-Man’s identity reveled last night after the hero tragically was found dead

Peter Parker, young man who was our beloved hero, Spider-Man, found dead

Our hearts break as our one—

The T.V. Went black. Every channel you changed to had something to say about peter, interviews with officers, fans of the hero, people who lived nearby. All stations talked about was Spider-Man, even the ones that weren’t News stations had something to say.

Your hands shook as you dropped He remote and couldn’t believe all the things you were hearing. Peter was gone, peter was dead, your husband Peter Parker was found dead.

After a distraught call in the middle of the night from an unknown number that had dilaled you three times, you picked up and heard the sound of an officer. The man called you and had informed you that peter had been found on the side of the street with multiple gunshot wounds and that you needed to come quickly.

Peter went though a lot of things but never died from them. Hell, the boy went to space even. You never though a little gunshot wound would be the last of your everlasting boy.

“Mama?” Your six year old, May Parker, sat down on the couch next to you. Seeing her mother in tears was never a good thing. Seeing her mother without her father in tears scared her more. “Where’s daddy?” She looked up with big eyes. Peter, she looked so much like peter. The moment she came out of you, you knew she was peters girl. She had his eyes, his smile, his smartness, his hair, she was all his. He always told you that she had your stubbornness though, put up a good fight for a good reason.

“Daddy,” how do you tell a child her father is gone? How do you tell her he’s not coming home? How do you tell her any of that? Her role model was gone. “Daddy, he’s hurt right now okay?” You sniffle and she nods as she pulls out a crumbled paper of a drawing.

“I made him this, can we give it to him when he comes home, please?” She asks with big doe like eyes. Tears fall and you can’t help them, they trickle down your face and the little girl furrows her brows softly.

“Bug,” you pull her into your lap and pet her hair. “I have to tell you something.” You sniffle and she looks up. “Daddy can’t come home.” You cry and she turns and looks at you.

“Why not?” She was so innocent, so innocent and it wasn’t fair peter was gone.

“Because daddy got really hurt, really hurt. And he can’t come home. He can’t come home at all but he loves you and he loves us so much and it wasn’t his fault.” You tell her and she looks down at her hand with the drawing in them.

“Daddy can’t come home?” She sniffled and you nodded wiping your tears.

“No, no bug he can’t but he wishes he could.” You tell her and she falls back into your chest.

“I want him home.” She mumbles and you kiss the top of her head.

“Me too, me too.” You stare off and finally look to see the picture. Her, Spider-Man, and you. In the back was New York City and peter was waving and the two of you had big smiles. It was pure, innocent, soft, everything that made you wish he could stay.

“Alright ladybug, what story for tonight?” He pulls the sheets up and she looks up pretending to think.

“Umm, the one with the metal arm!” She says in excitement. She talked about the one where peter fought Bucky, the winter soldier.

“Nah, I’ve told you that story a million times!” He tickles her and she giggles trying to push his hands off but secretly wanting them on. “Okay How about the spider monkey.” He smiles and she gives him a look.

“Who’s that?” She asks and peter grows the biggest lopsided grin.

“Oh I think you know,” He tickles her again when suddenly the sound of his suit beeping caused him the stop. His emotions dropped as this was the time in the night where he left.

“Can we do a sleepover?” She asks innocently and peter thinks about staying in. Thinks about how he should stay in more, he should be there for her more.

“I wish I could ladybug, but daddy has work.” He pouts and she does as well. He hates seeing his daughter sad, hates it more than anything in this world. So he thinks, he thinks hard of a way to make her happy. “I’ll tell you what, you go into bed and sleep with mom, and I’ll be right there when you both wake up. And then we can have pancakes before school.” He smiles and she grows the biggest smile and sits up.

“Really?” She smiles, two teeth missing and he nods.

“Pinky promise?” He holds out his crooked pinky and her small perfect one wraps around his.

“Kiss it!” She leans in and kisses his pinky.

“Goodnight ladybug.” He gets up and she does as well. You wait at the door for her to come on over and join you in bed.

“Goodnight Daddy!”

“You be careful out there,” you scold as peter shuts the little girls door to have a moment with you before she takes over. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“I know what you’re about to scold me with. I’ll be okay, I promise! I come home every night do I not?” He says and your hand touches the small butterfly necklae.

“I know you do it’s just...it makes me nervous.” You take a deep breath. “Maybe You should stay in and—“ you start and his hand finds yours on the necklace.

“I know what you’re gonna say and I can’t! You know I can’t. I love you two to death, you know that.” He says and you take a deep breath.

“I know, I know, my mind has been a little all over to place with the new files at work and I—“ you start and he pulls you closer.

“Look, I can ask Carol to watch May this weekend and we can go out on a date, how does that sound?” He asks and you look up with a soft smile.

“Sounds perfect.” You let your head rest on his shoulder.

“See? Everything is fine. Spend the night with little May and I’ll see the both of you in the morning. Goodnight my butterfly.” He presses a kiss on your head.

The kiss you’d feel to this moment.

You two woke up. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there and he made her a pinky promise that he’d be in bed, they’d make pancakes, and she’d go to school. Although she didn’t go to school. She went to Auntie peppers house so you could figure everything out. She was confused, confused as to where he was and as to why she’d never see him again.

You held your girl, you and peters girl. She sniffled into your shirt as all she thought that peter was hurt, not dead. She wanted him home to tell him about the day she had with pepper, she wanted him home so they can play with his Webb’s, she wanted him home so that they can all make dinner and even bedtime was fun when peter was around.

“Did you know that daddy keeps all your pictures.” You reach down and grab the picture. She looks up with hope in her eyes as you say those words. “Everything you’ve ever drawn from the past six years of your life, he’s kept.” You admit. Even when she was one years old and scribbles all over your paper you had for work, Peter kept it claiming it was her first piece of art. You were mad about having to go reprint everything but peter found beauty in everything that girl did.

“Really?” She perks up and you wipe your nose.

“Yeah, you wanna see where he put them?” You get up with her in your arms. She nods as you walk her to your bedroom and get into your closet to pull down a big box titled MAY BLAIR PARKER. It was a collection of all the things peter ‘had’ to have from her. You had your own box of her things but it wasn’t as big as peters for he collects things every day.

You set the box down and start to rummage though it with her showing her all her past drawings when at the bottom you see a smaller box, a box filled with a small lady bug necklace. It was a similar style to your butterfly one peter got you about a year into dating. The one you never took off. There was a small note written in peters sloppy handwriting right under the necklace.

“For my little love bug, when it’s time.”

Your heart broke. Peter always talked about his death in time. When he talked about bens death he never called it ‘passing’ or ‘death’ it was simply ‘his time in another life’ that’s what aunt may always told him. And that’s what you were going to tell Your little May here.

“Look.” You get her attention and she looks over. “Daddy wanted to give this to you.” You caught her attention and she lights up seeing the necklace.

“A ladybug?” She tilts her head and you nod putting it around her neck. “Daddy said that if Spider-Man had sidekicks they’d be ladybug and butterfly.” She touches the small silver pendent. Peter would make up stories to either help her laugh or help her sleep.

There were multiple stories about the ladybug and butterfly helping Spider-Man.

“Did I tell you about the ladybug?” Peter would squat down at her bed and hold he stuffed animal for her.

“The ladybug? Like me?” She asks and he nods as he scoots her over so he can come lay in her bed too.

“Yeah, she has a red suit like Spider-Mans and she can fly. She doesn’t have wings but she can fly and her power is this black force that comes from her hand. She has brown hair and the cutest button nose.” He pokes the girls nose and she scrunches it up. “She And Spider-Man always save the day. Well...most of the time.” He tells her and she sits up.

“Does she work with the butterfly too?” The girl asks now interested. You stand at the door watching the two of them interact.

“Of course. They all work together and they’re kind of like a family. A small one that maybe will get more members.” Peter looks over at you and gives a playful wink. You roll your eyes at peters want for another baby.

“Like the avengers?” She asks and he touches her cheek.

“Better than the avengers.”

You were peters butterfly, always beautiful and lighting up every room you entered.

“I bet they would be named that.” You sniffle letting your heart break a little more.

“Mama?” She looks up and sees your small butterfly at your chest. “Are We butterfly and ladybug?” She asks tilting her head.

“We were always butterfly and ladybug.” You kiss her head and hold her close.

Peter wasn’t gone, he was holding you guys close and looking out for you. Peter could never leave, he could never leave his ladybug and butterfly.

Tagging some mutuals: @thollandss @keepmeholland @starlightparker @hazssouthernbelle @all-about-tom @ppkrtingle @stormyholland @elysianparker @tomslovey @mcuspidey @lostinspidey

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[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 4

Warnings: none. Just some cute Ovi and little kids ;)

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

It is a fifteen-minute drive into town; a picturesque central area with a healthy mixture of both low and high end shops and numerous eateries and cafes. In the winter it is reminiscent of a Dickens novel; snow covered trees and streets, the Victorian area store fronts boasting immaculate decorations and displays in their front windows,  white lights strung from almost every available surface, and a skating rink in the centre of it all.  In the summer, when tourists flowed into the area and brought in the most money for the economy, the sidewalks were full of patios and lined with immaculate floral gardens. Telluride is a small town, and regular residents all seemed to know one another; conversing in front of the bank and post office, catching up on gossip and talking about high school sports. Tyler’s already exchanged pleasantries and small talk with five people, and that was when just stepping out of the car.

 When they’d first arrived, talk had spread fast about the new family in town.  They’d spent four months living with her parents and getting on their feet before buying able to buy a home with their joint savings and money that Mahajan had managed to scrap together and give as thanks for taking care of his son. Nik had taken it upon herself to act as the ‘small town gossip’, quickly using some of her contacts to spread small little rumours about who they were: an ex Australian Army soldier who’d been injured in Afghanistan and forced to retire at a young age, his young pregnant wife and their baby girl, and a kid that they’d adopted after losing both of his parents. It had managed to keep people from asking too many questions when they’d show up unannounced at the house with various casseroles and baked goods and welcoming gifts. Every so often someone would ask about his service record and just what happened that forced him to leave at such a young age and Tyler would just repeat the same old bullshit about arthritis and nagging injuries and show off some of the more prominent scars that marred his body. Just like five years ago in Dhaka, people had taken to them.  They were young, friendly, always willing to lend a hand if someone needed it.  Never too accessible, but just accessible enough.  Never free and easy with their personal information, but giving out just enough that kept people curious. And when he started his own business, word travelled fast and within a week he had a client list of over two dozen. On his first day of school, Ovi already had people waiting to meet him. Interested in who the kid with the ex Army Aussie dad was.

Even five years later it is a novelty of sorts: an Australian living in their small town. They’re intrigued by his accent and his slang and always want to hear stories about ‘the land down under’. Even now he couldn’t go into the hardware store or into the pharmacy to buy diapers without someone wanting to hear all about kangaroos and koalas and was it really true they had spiders the size of dinner plates? He humoured them for the most part; slightly annoyed when they attempted to copy the way he talked. What was the saying? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? He’d just laugh it off and they’d think it was hilarious whenever he called them mate.

The twins and Millie had decided to tag along; the boys wanting mohawks done at the barber and their sister wanting ice cream. The little mom and pop candy store was always one of their stops when they happened to make it into town, and she wasn’t about to let her father forget about it.

“I can take her,” Ovi offers, still trying to make up for his huge fuck up the night before. “I could use some ice cream too.”

“Oh please, daddy?! Please?!” Millie gushes, as she waits for him to unload her brothers from their car seats before tending to her. “Can Ovi take me for ice cream? Let Ovi take me for ice cream!”

“Sometimes I think you love him more than me,” he teases, as he leans across the back seat to unbuckle her, and in response she curls both arms around his neck and gives him a sloppy, noisy kiss on the forehead.

“I don’t love anyone more than you daddy.”

“Not even mommy?”

“Mommy is a close second. Don’t tell her that though. It might make her sad.”

“What about your brothers? Where are they on your list?”

“Oh they are wayyyy down there. Like between broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

“You hate broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

Her eyes narrow. “Exactly.”

He can’t help but laugh at the seriousness in her voice, at the frown that takes over her face, the way her normally brilliant blue eyes grow dark.  So much like him in so many ways. He sees it all the time; in all of his kids. Certain facial expressions and mannerisms that he long ago recognized in himself.

“Okay, I know they piss you off, but they’re still your brothers,” he reminds her, as she clambers out of the SUV.

“Maybe they’re adopted,” she sounds hopeful at the idea, and then rolls her eyes at them when they start harassing her about her dress and her pig tails.

“I hate to break it to you, but they’re not. They definitely came out of mommy’s tummy. I was there. I saw it happen.”

“But how’d they get in there? Maybe other babies got put in her tummy by accident.”

“Naw, I was there for that too. So sorry. You’re stuck with the brothers you have.”

She’s side eyeing them now, with absolute disdain despite the fact they’re actually behaving and just waiting patiently for their dad to lock the car and set the alarm.  He recognizes that look, too. He’s used it many times himself when someone’s mere presence has annoyed the shit out him.

“They’re just so…ughhh…” she huffs dramatically.

That’s definitely more her mother coming out.

“But at least I have you, right Ovi?” she curls a hand around two of his fingers and gazes up at him adoringly. “At least you won’t pick on me and pull my hair and do stupid boy stuff. You’re like an older brother, right? That’s what mommy always says. That you’re practically my big brother. Is that true?”

The kid looks as if he may burst into tears at the mere thought of it. “If that’s what you want. Do you want me to be your big brother? I’ve always wanted a little sister.” He’s always seen her that way. She’d been his first hands on experience with babies and he’d relished every moment. Never once complaining when he was asked to change a dirty diaper or she threw up on his clothes. He was a natural, calm, patient, compassionate. A surprise, considering he’d never been brought up experiencing any of those traits.

“I can be your little sister,” she offers, and picks his arm up and slings it around her shoulders.

It takes him a moment to compose himself. And he blinks his eyes several times and clears his throat and then smiles down at her.

“I’d like that.”

 ****

When he was a kid, this place would have been paradise. An entire wall devoted to clear plastic cylinders filled with a rainbow of various candy, display cases showing of chocolates in all kinds of shapes and even cartoon characters and over two dozen different flavours of fudge. There’s even an old fashion milkshake and ice cream bar on the far wall, serving everything from basic cones to sundaes with dozens of available toppings, and enormous banana splits.

Oh, to be a child again! He longed for those days. Not his childhood and his previous life in India; spent as a prisoner in his own home because of his father’s evil misdoings. But a childhood that would be much simpler. Worry free. Where he could actually be a kid and enjoy all the innocence that came with it. If he could choose, he would pick this moment, this place, this family, to experience as a child. In a home where he felt safe. Valued. Respected. Loved. Where his opinions and his feelings are validated, and he can speak without being spoken to. Where there is more laughter than there were tears. More smiles than harsh raised voices.

And love. Lots and lots of love.

That is what he witnessed in his new home, with his new family.  He’d been made to feel as if he was loved just as much as the biological children. He was valued. Seen as a person and not a thing. Tyler and Esme never said those three little yet powerful words, but he felt them. In the way they expressed pride in his school accomplishments, in the way they helped him battled his issues since the incident in Dhaka five years ago, how they encouraged him to always try his best and learn from his mistakes. Even when he was younger and being disciplined, there was love in it.  They only wanted what was best for him and hated to see him wandering down difficult paths.

No. They never said it. Neither did he. But it was all around him. And inside of him.

Half a dozen customers linger in the store; a small family picking out candy, a couple sitting on the stools at the counter, and a solo man sitting in one booth at the very back.  A trucker style hat pulled low over his eyes, sleeves of brightly coloured tattoos visible under his t-shirt, a mug of black coffee and that day’s newspaper in front of him.  He glances up as they enter; his eyes locking on Ovi’s for a split second, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ovi finds it a tad unsettling. He’s spent a lot of time wandering the town and in and out of the various shops and he’s never seen that face before. And in Telluride, newcomers stick out like sore thumbs.

Millie tightly holds his hand and happily skips alongside of him, pausing every couple of feet to spin in a circle; commenting on the way her dress looked when she twirled. Because that’s how the princesses’ dresses moved in all the movies she’s seen, and she would very much like to be a princess when she’s old.

And a firefighter.

“That’s quite the combination,” he remarks. “A princess and a firefighter? Are you going to wear your tiara and your princess dress when you go to fires?”

“Maybe the dress, but not the tiara,” she says. “Because I wouldn’t be able to get my helmet on.”

Pretty sound logic.

He notices the way people watch them, mostly out of curiosity. That sweet little girl in her blue and white gingham dress and her light up Frozen sandals.  With her unruly hair and her huge blue eyes, her hand tightly clutching his. They probably think he’s a babysitter. Or a family friend. But truth be told, he is closer to her than he’s ever been to any of his blood family.

“Let’s see what we want,” he says, and scoops her up into his arms, settling her on his hip in the same fashion he’s seen Tyler use so many times.  And she curls an arm around his neck and pushes her unruly hair out of her eyes and leans forward as far she can go in order to get a closer look at the tubs of ice cream laid out in the freezer before them. He doesn’t know why he bothers. She orders the same thing every time they’re there.

“Aren’t you a lucky little girl,” the cashier says, as she rings up their order. “Having a friend take you out for ice cream.”

“Oh, he’s not my friend,” Millie informs her. “He’s my brother.”

The woman arches an eyebrow.

“What she means is…” Ovi attempts an explanation of his own, but Millie jumps right in.

“Just ‘cause we look different doesn’t mean he’s not my brother. ‘Cause he is. My mommy and daddy adopted him when his mommy and daddy died. He didn’t have anywhere else to live so mommy and daddy let him live with us. I also have three other brothers.”

“Are they adopted to or…”

“Nope. They’re my real brothers. They have the same mommy and daddy as I do. Two little brothers were enough and when mommy was having another baby, I really wanted a little sister. Or a puppy. Puppies don’t cry all the time and wake me up in the middle of the night and steal my toys. But nope, another brother,” she’s clearly disgusted by that fact. “How come so many boys? Daddy says that some people just have lots of boys and others have lots of girls and some just have a little of both. But mommy says daddy is a boy making machine. Whatever that means.”

“I am so sorry,” Ovi apologizes. “She likes to talk.”

“My brothers that came right after me are twins,” she continues, taking the cashier’s wide-eyed interest and awe at her precociousness as her cue to keep going. “Tanner. And Tyler. Tyler’s my daddy’s name too. My baby brother is Declan. He’s the cutest one. The other two are just way too annoying.  And Declan doesn’t pick on me and pull my hair. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t…” she makes a fist, as if to signify she’s going to punch him in the face if he doesn’t tow the line.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ovi notices the tattooed man in the trucker hat slipping out of his booth; mug of coffee and newspaper in his hands as he moved closer to them. Dropping into one of the stools closest to the entrance.  He shifts nervously from foot to foot; keeping one arm tight around Millie as he pocked his change and then carries her and their treats to the nearest table. He makes sure that he’s facing the door. Tyler has always told him that is was the smart thing to do; you didn’t want to be surprised by trouble sneaking up on you.

He hates that he’s still so paranoid. That the nightmare he’d gone through in Dhaka still bothers him to this day. It’s his cross to bear; painful and heavy. And some days he just wishes he could ease the burden on his tired shoulders.

Instead of taking the seat across from him, Millie slips in right beside him, kneeling on the vinyl bench in order to reach her ice cream.  She happily digs in; spooning the bubble gum flavoured concoction into her mouth as she rattles on about gymnastics and martial arts and how she really wishes that daddy didn’t hate hockey so much, because she’d really like to learn how to play it. And how to hit people really hard and fight them. And as he listens intently and offers up nods and appropriate responses, he casually keeps an eye on the stranger seated at the counter.  Ovi knows he’s watching them. He can feel it every time he looks away to pay attention to Millie.

“Ovi?” she suddenly asks, as she licks ice cream off her fingers.

“Yeah?”

“What does daddy do? What’s his job?”

“He fixes up houses and makes them nice again. And helps people do things they’re not able to do in their own homes. You know that.”

“I don’t mean that job. I mean his other job. The one that Auntie Nik always calls him on the phone about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…”

“He always leaves in the middle of the night and then he’s gone in the morning and I’m mad that he didn’t even say goodbye,” she continues. “And then he’s gone a long time and mommy is really sad and cries about it. She tries to say that she doesn’t cry, but I hear her when she thinks I’m asleep. I know she’s worried about daddy. Is he doing bad things?”

“No,” he assures her. “He’s not.”

“I don’t like that he’s gone all the time. It makes me sad. And then I can’t sleep because I’m sad and daddy isn’t there to tuck me in and read me a story.  Where is he? Where does he go? Mommy says he’s far away, but he still calls us every night. It makes me feel better when he calls. ‘Cause I can hear his voice.”

“He’s a lot of different places,” Ovi explains. “He travels a lot.”

“But what does he do? What kind of job is it?”

“He helps people. People that are in trouble.”

“Are bad guys after the people?”

He nods. “The bad guys are after them and your dad goes and helps them get away. He rescues good people from bad people.”

Her eyes widen and her voice is above a whisper, speaking in astonished awe. “You mean like a superhero?!”

He grins. “Just like a superhero.”

“Like the Avengers?!”

“Just like them. Just like Thor.”

“Oh, he’s my favourite!” she gushes.  “Mommy’s too because she says he’s a total snack.”

“I wouldn’t tell your dad that. About mom thinking Thor’s a snack. Or about how you know he’s a superhero. He doesn’t see himself that way and he doesn’t like to talk about it. You know how some superhero’s keep it a secret and no one knows who they are? That’s how it is with your dad. So we’ll just keep it between us, okay? You don’t want to embarrass him, right?”

“I’m not brave, mate.”

“Of course you are. You rescue people.”

“Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes I do other things.”

“You mean like killing people?”

Ovi can hear that conversation as if it were just yesterday. At Gaspar’s house, when he’d asked Tyler if he’d always been brave.  How could you not be? When you willingly put your own life on the line to save the lives of others? Even if there was money involved, it still took a lot of courage to go into a situation where you didn’t know if you’d survive or not.  Tyler and his father were nothing alike. His father had killed people with horrible intentions. Tyler kills because he has to. To save others and himself.  He would never tell the little girl beside him that. Those details are difficult to digest and painful to hear about, and she doesn’t need to know them until she is older.

And maybe not even then.

“Ovi?” she asks once again, and he uses the tip of his thumb to clear ice cream from the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“That man is giving me the creeps.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tries to play it cool. “What man?”

“That one,” her eyes narrow once more as she glares at the stranger in question.  “He keeps looking at us. Why does he keep looking at us?”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute. Or he’s jealous because you have ice cream and he doesn’t.”

“We could always ask him,” she suggests. “About why he’s staring at us.”

“Or we could just mind our own business and eat our ice cream. We don’t want it to melt, do we?” he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her a little closer and a little tighter to his side. 

***

The chime above the door sounds as it swings open and Ovi watches as Tyler and the boys enter; the twins being maneuvered over the threshold with a large, strong hand gripping the back of their shirts, effectively steering them in the right direction. Both have mohawks now; one with frosted green tips, the other blue, and Ovi grins at the sight of Tyler’s own new look. Or was it in an old look? Newish oldish perhaps? The same cut he’d sported when they first five years ago. He remembers how he’d been intrigued by it; no one at school would dare have their hair cut like that and there was no way his own father or any of those paid to watch him would have ever allowed him to get it done.

He also notices it’s a bad knee day. That limp a little more prominent than usual.

“Over here boys,” he says to his sons, and with a gentle push with his thighs sends them the right way.

Ovi clears his throat noisily, making it a point to catch Tyler’s attention. And when their eyes lock, he makes a small nod in the direction of the man sitting at the counter.  Pretending to be immersed in his paper as the cashier refills his coffee mug.  Through the lenses of his sunglasses, Tyler’s able to check him out without even being noticed, and Ovi sees the way his head barely moves as he gives the stranger a once over; his brow slightly furrowed, lips set in a thin line.

“Hi daddy!” Millie cheerfully greets as he approaches the table, and Ovi notices how the stranger finally looks up; no expression on his face as he eyes Tyler from head to toe. “What’s up with your hair?”

“Most of it’s gone. Why? You don’t like it?”

She frowns. “It’s kinda weird.”

“Blame your mother. She likes it like this. Get in,” he instructs his sons, and helps each of them by grabbing the back of their shorts and lifting them onto the bench.

“Nice hair cuts boys,” Ovi enthuses, and he gets high fives from each of them. “Very cool. What’s up with the colour though?”

“My wife’s going to kill me,” Tyler laments, and then heads off to purchase ice cream for the twins. Ovi notices yet again that the man at the counter watches him intently; brows arching as he takes in the tall, powerful frame.

Impressed, maybe? A little intimidated? Even now Ovi himself found it hard not to be. When you’re that tall and you’re back and shoulders are that broad and your muscles are that big, you tend to draw attention to yourself. Mostly it was from women. Ovi noticed that a lot. The females like Tyler’s big muscles and his blue eyes.

Tyler slides into the seat across from him, removing his sunglasses, placing them on the tabletop and then getting the twins settled with their ice cream.  He’s a good dad.  Ovi has always thought so. He’s a gentler version of himself when he’s in ‘dad mode’; his features softening, his voice not as gruff.  Calm and patient.  

“What’s up with that guy?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of the counter.

“He’s been staring at us,” Millie answers for Ovi, as she ducks under the table, crawls to the other side and then resurfaces and climbs onto her dad’s lap.  “It’s creepy.”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute,” her father reasons. “Or he wants your ice cream.”

“That’s what Ovi said. Hey!” she flashes a dramatic pout when he helps himself to some of her treat.

“He’s just been sitting there,” Ovi says. “He was here before we got here.”

“What’s he be doing?”

“Sitting. Reading the paper. Drinking coffee.”

“And watching us,” Millie pipes up. “Super creepy. I don’t like creepers.”

Tyler chuckles at the use of the word ‘creepers’, and running a palm over her hair, drops a kiss on the top of her head.  “You definitely are your mother’s daughter.”

“You ever seen him before?” Ovi asks. Tyler’s in town more than he is; always at the hardware store picking things up for his side business.

“Don’t think so. I think I’d remember a face like that. Definitely doesn’t fit in around here.” But then again, neither did he really. With the accent and the tattoos and the scars. And now the haircut.

“People are weird,” Tanner chimes in.  He’s the observant one out of the two boys; the kind that sits back and quietly takes in a situation or an environment, brain coming up with different scenarios and outcomes. Wise and intelligent beyond his years.

“You’re one to talk with that haircut,” his father teases, and nudges him playfully with his elbow. “You realize your mother is going to seriously hurt me, yeah? She’s not going to be happy at all. Think it’s worth it? Think it’s worth me having to sleep on the couch for the rest of my life?”

His son nods enthusiastically.

“That’s it. Throw me under the bus. Now I remember why your brother is my favourite,” he’s teasing of course, and reaches across the bench to gently and playfully pinch his name sake just below the ribs.

Ovi notices just how much they all actually do like alike.  The same facial features: blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes, almost the exact same colour and texture of hair, the same noses and ears. Even the same smiles and mannerisms.  The way they will each smirk and cock their heads to the side when they’re sensing someone else’s bullshit.  

There are definitely some extremely strong genes on Tyler’s side of the family.

“He’s coming this way,” Ovi whispers, as the stranger slides off his stool, and folds his newspaper and puts it under his arm before carrying his empty cup to the cash register.

He’s average height and has a stocky build. Nothing remarkable about him at all save for the arms full of tattoos.

Tyler casually watches him; legs stretched out under the table, an arm across the back of the booth.   If he senses something is up, Ovi can’t tell for sure.  There’s no darkness to his eyes or furrows across his brow.

The other man turns towards them now, briefly pausing at the side of their table as he looks down at Tyler, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Can I help you, mate?” Tyler asks. Calm. Cool. Collected.  It was a trait that Ovi admired; the ability to stare someone down yet remain completely relaxed and expressionless.

“Just admiring your family. I’ve got a few kids of my own back home. Just made me miss them seeing you all together.”

“Where’s back home?”

“Chicago.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“I could say the same about you. Accent and all.”

Tyler nods slowly. “Here for business or…?”

Ovi enjoys watching the process. The way the questions come so easily and never seem prodding or invasive. Tyler’s expression and tone never wavering.

“You could say that. What brought you here?”

“The wife’s from Colorado. Decided to move here when we started having kids.”

“Definitely a nice place to be. Well you all take care. Enjoy your family.  Kids are a special gift. Don’t take it for granted.”

Tyler nods, then casts a casual glance over his shoulder, watching as the man heads through the shop and out the front door.

“Anything?” Ovi asks expectantly.  “Feels weird, right?”

“Felt like it’s just a guy away from home and missing his family. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like. He probably just wanted someone to talk to.”

“But the way he was watching us. The way he was watching Millie…”

“Maybe he has a little girl of his own and she reminds him of her.”

“So you felt nothing? You didn’t feel like there’s something weird? Something’s going on?”

Tyler smirks. “Not every strange person is out to get us, mate. Sometimes people are just weird. Or lonely.  Sometimes they just want someone to talk to and don’t know how to go about it. Remember how you felt when you first moved here? How different it was and you didn’t have any friends? It’s like that. But a hundred times worse. A guy’s thousands of miles from home, missing his wife, missing his kids, maybe having a shit day. So he wants to reach out to someone.”

“So you really felt nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Just a normal guy missing his family, kid. That’s all.  Thought you were getting a handle on this. The paranoia. It’s been five years. If someone from back home was after you, they’d have found you by now.”

“You don’t worry? About people from your past coming to find you?”

“If I just my entire time worrying about stuff like that, I’d never leave the house. And let’s not get too into it, yeah?” he nods down at Millie and then over at the twins. “Little ears and all.”

He likes to keep things on the downlow as far as the kids are concerned. They’re young and vulnerable. Impressionable. And telling them that their dad helps people is one thing, but telling them that he sometimes has to hurt and even kill people to do it, is a different beast all on its own.

“Does chocolate milk come from brown cows?” TJ suddenly asks, effectively breaking the mood.

“Excuse me?” his father laughs. “What?”

“Well if the white milk comes from the black and white cows, where does the chocolate milk come from?” his son continues. “Brown cows, right?”

“That’s not how it works,” Tyler chuckles. “That’s not how any of that works. It comes from putting chocolate in white milk.”

“What about the grass?” Tanner’s turn now. “How come the grass is green and the sky is blue?”

“That’s a simple one,” Tyler says.  “If the sky was green like the grass, you wouldn’t know where to stop mowing.”

Ovi can’t help but laugh at that. The way it is said with the utmost seriousness and how the kids are now both in awe that their dad knew that and thinking he’s apparently the smartest man on the planet.  He’s able to relax again. Calmed by the fact that he’s with his people.

His family.

[pastelpinkcheeks]

Oh, dear, you guys really are giving me material to work with. Sorry for the overall delay, but as my health is fragile these days, it’s hard getting anything done really.

 Anyways, here we go, not adequate for working environment Diavolo/Doppio/Risotto with Doppio wearing lingerie, I hope you don’t mind that little thing I added! 

.

.

.

The white lace had been an indicative, now that Doppio thought back about that.

Standing across the room, the dimmed lights throwing peculiar shadows on his lean, juvenile body, he could hear the faintest whisper of conversation from the other side. There, the two man constantly meddling with his life were discussing something of importance to them. What was it, he couldn’t know, but his shivering frame stood still, obeying the order he received from the Boss.

The lingerie was pretty, in fact. Something expensive, he gathered, by the way the lace felt soft against his freckled complexion and the cool satin hugged his genitals just right, as if it had been tailored. Knowing Diavolo, it could very much be the case. Doppio ran his rand across his lower stomach, admiring the white satin gleaming with the timid shift of his hips.

A low hum came from much closer and the boy’s head snapped up. Diavolo and Risotto were standing there, their looming tall silhouettes defined by the lighting arrangement of the room. Diavolo’s long hair, drifting past his shoulders, looking like curtains of magenta pink, the electric green of his eyes shining with arousal and violence. That was him, most of the time, lead by his desire to possess and break and put back together the way he saw fit. He was wearing a black suit.

Risotto was of similar built, a little taller and bulkier, his style completely different. In ripped jeans and a black tank top, the man didn’t let his state of underdressing – if compared to Diavolo – turn into resignation, holding himself just as imposing as the other. He also emanated arousal and violence, the tempered edge of a knife being just as sharp as the man’s black and red gaze. A gleam of pearl and Doppio let out a shaky breath.

He had no idea what was happening.

He was offered a hand, slowly taken towards the canopy of four posters bed, shiny dark wood and covers the color of blood; it was velvet, he realized, when his pale frame was pushed down on that crimson softness. What a sight he was, dressed in transparent white fabric, his skin almost as fair as a ghost’s, swimming on top of that king size mattress. Diavolo smirked.

“He’ll be mine, it’s only natural.”

“Just because you’ve been around for longer? Pitiful.” Risotto remarked, not taking long to get rid of his clothing, a lot less of a ceremonialist when compared to Diavolo. Doppio knew all about him from the top of his head now. His bronze skin, the sinful contrast of his choppy short white hair falling down on his forehead, looking like vanilla and caramel mixing together. The boy whimpered when Risotto’s huge hands found their place around his hips, rubbing their bodies together with wanton.

The lace burned a little against his cock, squeezing the member until it leaked a little, staining the fabric. Risotto kissed with care, intensity, of course, but care. He liked making his partner breathless, he didn’t do sloppy. His warm flesh warmed up Doppio’s shivering skin just fine.

As Risotto started licking and sucking at his sensitive nipples, on top of his bra, the boy opened his hazel eyes, the eyes he wasn’t even aware he had closed, to stare at Diavolo. Leaning against one of the posters, hand touching his dick through his trousers. He liked playing the possessive lover, very much, so seeing him teasing himself by the sight of his most beloved possession being touched by someone else, awakened a burning fire inside of Doppio’s guts.

He raised his hand, mouthing. “Come, Boss, I want you too.”

Diavolo had a hard time denying him anything.

As the mattress shifted, four hands groped at his body, pushed his bra aside to bite his nipples. The boy yelled as the pain struck hard, Risotto’s nails scratching the inner portion of his thighs. He parted his legs even more, his neglected dick twitching inside the panties, hips thrusting into the air.

He was shifted on top of the bed, like a ragdoll, he was on all fours on top of Risotto’s body while Diavolo assaulted his neck, hands going up and down on his back. Two erections rubbing against his backside at once and the boy realized the first time that night what the two were planning. Could he take it?

“Do you think you can take it?” Diavolo whispered against his ear, almost as if prompted to do so, Risotto was rubbing their crotches together, slowly humping their dicks against each other.

“Of course he can.” Risotto gruffly said. “Wonder boy is full of surprises.”

Diavolo rolled his eyes.

His panties were ripped apart by whose hands he couldn’t tell. His body was burning, he was so sensitive with all the attention he was receiving. Thinking straight was a challenge and even coordinating movements was impossible. At some point, Doppio just gave up and decided to let the men do as they pleased, to be guided and orientated by their will, and their will alone. Diavolo removed his anal plug, discarding the thing on top of the bed. The empty feeling didn’t last for long, to which Doppio was glad at the beginning, but scared afterwards as both their dicks started pushing inside.

There was nothing that could have prepared him for that, for good. Not all the extra-large sex toys, the plugs and the lube stored inside his arse. Not only he was filled to the brim, but both cocks could move inside him in different paces. Risotto’s dick, pushing upwards, was slower but stronger, making the boy jump on the bed. Diavolo had no patience for lazyfucking, coming from behind, he guaranteed his thrusts were quicker, huffing on Doppio’s ear and holding his arms back.

“His belly is bumping.” Risotto sighed in delight, hand groping at said bump. Doppio looked down in disbelief, seeing as his belly was, in fact, distended. “You want to carry my child, baby?”

Doppio blinked, not sure he heard that properly.

“I’ve told you, it’s my children he will bear.” Diavolo huffed, changing the angle a little to push Doppio on top of Risotto’s chest, pull his hair back and fuck himself inside with force.

What was their game?

He couldn’t bear children. He was a boy! But if that thought didn’t make him feel funny all over, then he couldn’t tell what was the passionate feeling that took him by surprise. The white lingerie, bridal style, the beautiful canopy bed and his two lovers coming to take him at once.

Of course, it was his honeymoon. He did feel his belly being filled, a second earlier, could it be filled with child as well?

The new angle made the boy’s dick rub against Risotto’s chiseled stomach, basically milking the orgasm out of him. He gasped and whined and moaned as the jets of cum came out, staining both his and Risotto’s abdomen. Falling limp like a noddle, Doppio couldn’t think of anything if not the undying pleasure. The high of his orgasm seemed to last for too much time.

Too much, in fact, as both men were not done. As Diavolo realized the boy had fallen forward, he grabbed him back by the arms, pushing his body into their starting position. Risotto’s right hand grabbed his hips to help stabilize him, the other pushing his foreskin back again. Doppio jumped.

“I’m t-too sensitive, please…”

“It’s said the chances of impregnation are greater if the woman cums.” Risotto said, managing to remain stoic someway somehow despite having his hard dick leaking inside someone’s else arsehole. “You’ll cum as much as possible.”

“B-but…!” Doppio’s face scrunched up with shock as Risotto started moving his hand on top of his spent dick, bringing him back into hardness after a couple of strokes.

His body was weak, there were burns from where the panties had been ripped right where his hips were, his knees were hurting and even though he managed to get hard again, every new tug on his cock stung a little. Doppio closed his eyes, completely out of breath, imagining his belly inflating and turning rounder and rounder, heavy with child.

Whose child? There seemed to be some game or bet between the men, who could get him pregnant after all? Doppio didn’t want to choose anyone, he wanted to get pregnant with both of them, to be bred like the good wife he was.

The second orgasm came and as his body was starting to give up, he felt the wet and hot, sticky cum being released deep inside, the jets of cum painting it all white and creamy. What a glorious feeling it was, he rejoiced in it. Doppio looked down again, finding the belly bump still there, distended tummy looking cute and precious, heavy to carry all the babies he could produce.

And the cum didn’t stop, more of it was being shoot inside of him, he felt like a cannoli perfectly stuffed with cream, only that instead of custard, it was the heavenly seed of his lovers. His spent dick twitched with that thought, making the boy wince with pain. No, he thought, I can’t get aroused again or I’ll die!

Both men held his spent body, quickly leaving his insides, but stuffing the plug back where it belonged to guarantee all of that seed would be well kept inside. Like a lazy cat, Doppio turned on the bed and held his legs close to his torso, eyes blinking in tiredness as he stared at both men. If he closed his eyes, he was sure he could imagine being heavy with child, bearing the children of his lovers and bringing them so much happiness.

“Don’t… ugh, don’t compete to see who can knock me up first…!” The boy said with a yawn, bubbly giggled coming out of his lips. “I’ll have both of your babies at once, just you wait…!”  

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

I was dreaming about how Hades Harry would tease Persephone YN for being all cute and shy about wanting sex but she's too bashful to straight up ask him so she's all grabby hands and tucking her face into his neck to hide 😭

SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS WJSJJWJSJWJS

Persephone couldn’t do it.

She just can’t.

She knows it’s dumb and childish of her because she’s an adult, not the mention a goddess, and everybody does it, but she just can’t find the will in her to say it.

Sex isn’t taboo; Y/N knows that much. The heritage and history of the Greek gods was formed primarily out of sex. Hell, the entire world was founded on sex. Gods, minor gods, demigods, monsters, and humans alike. This shouldn’t be something difficult to do.

But Y/N was raised sheltered from the real world most of her life, the only man to ever have touched her in an intimate way being her husband, Hades. Her mother had never spoken much to her about it and no one else had taken it upon themselves to tell her what it was, so one can imagine how confusing her wedding night had been. It had been awkward when they’d arrived to their get-away mansion for their honeymoon and Harry had pushed her against the nearest wall, groping her chest and mumbling things such as, “’M gonna fuck you so good, darling. Gonna make you a proper queen– my queen.” and “Gonna make you come so hard you’ll forget everything else except for my name.”

Persephone had stared at him bewildered, asking what on earth he was doing and what this whole business was with her “coming” (“Har, we’re already here, aren’t we? We just walked through the door… What are you talking about?”).

And that’s when she’d finally received the sex ed speech. Not from her mother or her nanny or the nymphs she often went about with, but from her husband, who’d taken it upon himself to make it a…hands-on experience.

Now, decades upon decades later, even to this day, sex was a contradictory subject for her. Y/N didn’t have a problem with it or anything– as a matter of fact, she loved it– but actions and words are two very different things.

Doing it wasn’t hard– no, she could definitely do it, and pretty well if a sweaty, breathless Harry had anything to say about it. They’d fucked in some pretty risky places, ranging from the roof of the castle (where Harry had taken her missionary style as she stared up hazily at the cavernous ceiling of the Underworld, the warm light of the eternal fire below dancing across her husband’s glistening, tan skin and lapping at his glossy emerald eyes), to the throne room (a story from another time) and even in a storage closet in the kitchen, where she’d held on to the railings of a bread shelf as Hades took her from behind with his fingers down her throat and his cold rings pinching at her clit.

But saying it was a completely different matter all together. Persephone usually never had to ask for it; her actions showed it fairly well. A drawn out blink here, licking her lips a certain way there, coasting her hand up her thigh in the middle of board meeting as Harry sat across from her, a small smirk tugging his raspberry lips. Sometimes she’d even go as far as palming him under the table during dinner, spooning her pumpkin soup into her mouth nonchalantly as her other hand pumped him over his toga, a small smile threatening to show as she felt his thighs clench and knees accidentally jump up to slam against the bottom of the mahogany dinner table.

Bottom line is, when Y/N wants it, she makes sure she communicates it. But she’d rather show it than say it because speaking the words out made her feel dirty. She doesn’t know why (probably because of the whole “being sheltered from it her whole life” thing) but uttering, “Fuck me” outside of the bedroom made her sick to her stomach. She just can’t find it in her to force the thought out of her mouth.

And the thing is, Harry knows this, and to make it worse, he takes it as a big joke. He finds it hilarious that she can drop to her knees in the middle of her garden and suck him off behind a redbud tree, but can’t come up to him on his throne and whisper, “Come fuck me in the shower” into his ear. With this in mind, he takes it upon himself to make her world a living hell (as if actually living in Hell wasn’t bad enough already).

So on this particular day, when she comes up to him after he’s walking out of a meeting through the giant double doors of the counsel chamber, Hades decides he’d play a bit of cat-and-mouse with her.

Y/N’s intentions are obvious as soon as she’s within five feet of him. He can smell her– a combination of clementine, rose and the soft scent of sex he’s familiar with from being down on his knees and nose-deep between her thighs. Invisible to anyone else’s nose, but alluringly toxic to his own. He can already feel the underside of his balls give a foreshadowing throb.

“Hey, princess,” Harry reaches out an arm for her to snuggle into, pulling her body against his and feeling her long, shimmery, frilly black dress tickle his ankles. “How are y'doing?”

“I’m good. Just…” Persephone leans forward onto her tip toes, hiding her face into the crook of his neck and biting at his earlobe slowly, her tongue licking at the spot right behind his jaw, where she knows he’s weak. “Just missing you right now.”

And that’s it. That’s the cue he should take to make an excuse to his advisors and find his way to their bedroom. But Harry simply tuts at her with fake sadness, pulling back and pressing a sloppy kiss to her forehead because he knows it annoys her. “Don’t worry! I’ll see you later tonight at dinner. Kinda busy with a fresh wave of new arrivals. A boat sank off the shore of the Mediterranean– a war ship. You can guess the numbers are pretty staggering, to say the least.”

Y/N’s arm comes up, wiping agitatedly at the wet spot his lips had left with the back of her hand, her big, innocent eyes giving him a cruel, not-so-innocent glare. “You’re a–”

Harry raises a single eyebrow cautiously, warning her to pick her next words carefully or she’d have to suffer with not seeing him at all.

She gets the message clearly, all anger melting right off her beautiful face. By the way her jaw tightens slightly, he can tell she’s gritting her teeth. Her voice comes out strained and high. “You’re a busy man. I couldn’t expect any less.”

Hades’ mouth twitches into a smug simper, his eyes trailing down his wife’s body in a gloating manner. “Wow. I didn’t like that tone. Was kinda mean and tight. Almost as tight as you.”

That one comment sets Y/N off. All of her annoyance molds into neediness, her eyes going wide and pleading as she clings to his lean arm with one hand, the other fisting the material of his fine silk toga, pulling it away from his chest. “Harry, please come meet me in our room. It’s an…emergency.”

“An emergency, y'say?” His tone is one of faux shock as he pretends to be sifting through the notes from his meeting, all to drag out the torture. “What is it? Did Cerberus get free again? I told Nyx to always double-check his chains but I swear, she’s more of a knobhead than Ares is.”

Persephone just about stomps her foot in frustration. “You know what I mean.”

He turns his body completely to face his queen as he slaps the notebook closed, towering over her smaller frame and looking down at her, bright jade irises full of pretend cluelessness. His words are slow and mocking. “’M afraid I don’t, doll. Sorry. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Y/N scowls so hard she can feel the muscles along her mouth ache. The glare she’s delivering to him could kill an entire month’s harvest, easy as a muse could play a flute. “You know I…can’t.”

“Oh, on the contrary, my love,” Harry steps forward, his broad chest pressing her backwards into the nearest corner, where they’re sheltered just out of sight. He brings a hand up to cup her chin, thumbing over her plump bottom lip and digging his two front teeth into his own, the specks of gold in his eyes expanding with raw lust and desire. “I think we both know exactly what you’re capable of.”

She doesn’t mean to, but a tiny whimper stings her tongue. This small sign of weakness is the last nail on her coffin. It’s proof to Hades that she’s close to breaking.

He doesn’t let this chance go to waste, dropping his leather-bound book onto the ground and shoving his now-free hand up her shimmering black silk dress. She lets out a loud gasp, her body surging upwards against the smooth granite of the wall. Harry shoves his thumb in her mouth, telling her quietly to shush. The hand under her dress coasts up her fleshy inner thigh, his chunky rings colder than ice as they bite their way up her skin. His fingers cup her softly, the cold ruby diamond on his middle digit pressing right against the little bulb under all her folds, sending a shiver to wring her spine.

“Harry, no–” Y/N chokes on her desperate plea, feeling him start to rub her at a tender pace. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, her shoulders slumping forward against him as her knees give out. She’s been so wound up the entire day that this small spoonful of ecstasy is enough to send her spiraling.

“No panties, hm?” Harry’s lips ghost over her jaw, nibbling lightly as he trails to her ear. “Naughty, naughty girl.”

Persephone whines over his thumb, tongue lulling around it as she tries to defend herself with words, but is rendered silent. She grasps at his taut arm as he starts to rub her faster, her nails digging into the chiseled muscles of his forearm, the veins under his skin portruding and making him look more intimidating.

She’s trying to tug his hand out feebly, her mind and body in disagreement. Her brain tells her she obviously has to stop him before this goes too far, but her body is telling her to let him play with her. It’s what she’s been craving since she woke up and she was finally getting it.

It turns out, however, that it’s not up to her to decide.

Harry suddenly stops, halting all actions beneath her dress and with his lips. He pulls his hand out from between her dripping thighs, bringing his glistening fingers up to his face. He slowly sinks three of them into his mouth, sucking her juices off with leisure and humming in approval, shimmering eyes fluttering with pleasure. When he speaks, his voice is deep, thick and taunting. “Such a sweet little thing, Y/N. Taste so good f'me.”

Y/N tries to slip out of his grasp, knowing that he’s going to keep this up until she gives in and does what he wants. She’d rather run to the bathing chamber and handle it herself.

But Hades sees her intention, quickly pressing his body harder against her’s to keep her trapped, refusing to let up. He grabs her jaw gently, bringing her face to his so that their noses brush. She can see herself on him, the glass chandelier hanging down from the ceiling shining against the liquid on his lips. His abnormally pink tongue peeks out, licking everything up, and he sucks on them to get whatever is left over. He gropes down her bottom until he’s gripping the back of her thigh, yanking her leg up onto his hip and surging forward until his groin is pressed to her’s.

“Just say it, darling. I know you’re horny for me. Nice and wet, as can be seen. Just do it.”

Persephone winces at the dirty word, feeling filthy already. She can’t say it– she won’t. It’s against her nature and she can’t push past it.

“No,” she puffs out quietly, her warm breath sighing over his lips, causing them to tingle. “I won’t.”

“Yeah?” Harry rocks his hips forward, slamming her back against the sleek black wall, the sudden bulge under his toga pressing up into her heat. His voice is a low, dominant, mocking growl. “How about now?”

Y/N whimpers freely, hating how much she loves everything he’s doing. Hating the way she throbs against him, her body begging to be compliant. Hating the euphoric shots of lightning that travel through her nerves as he digs crescents into her skin with his nails. Hating his soft, fluffy hair and his pretty, full lips and how he has her in the palm of his hand without breaking a fucking sweat. But most of all, hating how warm he is because he’s usually always cold to the touch, only getting warm when he’s around her. And now this same warmth is sinking into her, heating her up from the inside out so that sweat breaks across her hairline, tickling the sides of her neck.

Harry’s looming over her, rocking his hips against her center and igniting a slow simmer at the pit of her stomach that she just can’t shake. He looks incredibly hot with his lips in a cocky smirk, eyes glimmering like a thousand jewels, his hair groomed perfectly messy, his tattooed arms flexing as he man-handles her, and his crown glinting cruelly in the buttery light of the long corridor. And she wants him– fuck it, she wants him. Wants him so much it hurts.

But what finally cracks her is what he says next, in a quiet yet powerful voice that booms over her and seems to shake the very ground they stand on.

“Just say it and I’ll take you right there in the training chamber. Bend you over the sword chest and fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling me in your tummy for the next week. Spill so nice and deep inside that tight little cunt, I’ll be coursing through your veins for a proper month. All you gotta do is tell me you want it, and I’m all yours, baby.”

A painful shudder wracks Y/N’s shoulders, the air around her suddenly rising by thirty degrees. She feels as if her skin were melting right off her shaking bones, Harry’s intense gaze dismantling her entirely. At first when she looks at his eyes, she thinks she’s imagining it, but after her sight focuses, she can see it’s true.

The tiny bronze and golden specks in his eyes are twinkling like stars in the vast sea of willow green that are his irises, the thin band of color that hugs them glowing– actually glowing– with a verdurous, watery light. He’s so intent on having her that he’s unknowingly tapping into some of his godly power, causing his true form to slip through the cracks due to his lust-induced vulnerability. The bright light slowly spreads into the tissue of his irises, causing his eyes to crackle with power, yet it is only a slight show of the energy he holds within him.

His voice sounds as if a thousand people are talking in unison. “Do it.”

Y/N smiles– actually smiles. In the face of his unwavering power, only she could handle him so nonchalantly. “Stop being a show off.”

“It’s not on purpose.” His voice is now back to normal, but his eyes are still glowing faintly. “You do this t'me. Now say it.”

Persephone gulps, letting out a rattling breath. “I want you to…fuck me.”

A satisfied smile spreads across Harry’s beautiful, godly features, dimples pinching awake.

“Where do y'want me? Here?” He dips his tongue into her mouth, feeling her cheeks heating up against his. “Or here?” His hand trails down, giving her ass a good spank. “What about here? Fucking myself in between these?” He gropes at her chest, lapping her nipples over her dress. “Where, Y/N?”

“I-In me. In my…cunt.” She almost flinches at saying the word.

Hades grins. “That’s all y'needed to say, peach.”

He pushes back from the wall, pulling her forward. Her knees are so weak she falls right into his awaiting arms, scowling. He presses a soft peck to the damp crown of her head, murmuring into her hair. “Now go be a good girl and wait for me in the training room. When I get there, I want this,” he tugs at the material of her sleeve, “on the ground and you bent over that chest I mentioned. And don’t you dare touch yourself, got that?”

“Alright,” she squeaks, watching with wide eyes as he pulls out the key to the designated door, dropping it in her open palm.

“Alright.” He returns the phrase with finality, sending her on her way with a light, playful spank to the bottom.

As Y/N makes her way down the corridor, she looks back, calling after him. “What are you gonna do?”

Harry throws a look over his shoulder, blinking at her all slow and seductive, a knowing grin spreading his lips as he bends down and picks up his work book.

“I’m gonna go get the lubricating oil and then, I’m gonna fuck you bloody raw.”

[starboyjxmin]

Meet Me in the Hallway (Jeongguk AU)

 Synopsis: “Just let me know I'll be at the door, at the door Hoping you'll come around Just let me know I'll be on the floor, on the floor Maybe we'll work it out,”// Harry Styles

Warnings: Angst, Smut, a bit of Fluff 

Genre: Drabble, (BTS X Harry Styles’ self-titled album)

Word Count: 6,855

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

This was an absurd idea, the silliest he had in a while. He knew better than to help the woman who had entered into the hotel with her over-the-top fur coat and the silver thin designer dress with milky pearls adorning her neck and the very large diamond ring on her left hand. She had come into the Aria, alone with a bellhop who was pushing three carts filled with Louis Vuitton luggage. But the woman had looked distressed and despite him being a bus boy, he took the remaining two carts and helped his fellow co-worker and the woman who smiled at him. 

“My name is (Y/N), what’s yours honey?” She had a voice like money and when he had told her that his name was Jungkook, she laughed like God. He was in such awe with this beautiful and glamorous woman. 

“This is my room. Just leave it here, please. Do I have to tip you?” Before any of the boys could say anything, (Y/N) took out a wad of cash from her flowery designed wallet, giving half to each other boys who were absolute awe. “I hope that’s enough.”

The whole day, Jungkook felt the pocket of his slacks heavy. Heavy with the money of the exotic woman who held this aura of sophistication as she walked and spoke. By the time it was night, he had forgotten all about the mysterious woman.

“Go clean table 17. Make it fast.” Jungkook nodded at his manager as he began to walk with his half-full of dirty plates and cups cart mindlessly to the booth that was a bit secluded. He had enough money to send to his parts, he began to think as he maneuvered through tables and waiters, and he had enough money to pay his rent this month finally on time. All he needed was a bit more for his food and it would be a great month for him. 

“Listen to me, (Y/N),” (Y/N), that was the name of the sun-kissed woman who had given him a hefty tip earlier that day. Jungkook was a few feet away when he realized that table 17 was the one with you and a man who seemed to have been growing more furious by the second. “if you think that you can throw another one of your fucking tantrums to me about how fucking selfish you think I am for bringing you to my fucking business trip which let me fucking remind you,” You flinched at your husband’s sharp tone and grew red as you realized how Drew was probably causing a scene. “that it was you who always cried about how I never took you out and I spent my said business trips just whoring around! So the least that you can do is shut the fuck up with your whining and keep that pretty mouth fucking shut!” Now you were aware that the whole restaurant had grown quiet as they turned to see what was the problem. “You are my wife, you are meant to look good on my arm, not talk or tell me how you think that I am going about my meetings the wrong way!” Drew stood up, knocking his chair back. All you could do was just stare at him in terror.

“Drew, love-” You gave him a warning look as if saying, “You are embarrassing me.” but was cut off short.

“If it weren’t for me, you would have been prostituting yourself on the streets of your beloved Colombia and killed yourself years ago from an overdose.” He didn’t hold back. Why would he? You had made him look like a fool at his meeting today by outsmarting him about the ways to advertise and manage sells. How was he suppose to have the respect of his employees when his wife, a woman and not to mention, a foreigner, thought it was okay to speak when not given permission and to make suggestions for him and towards his company.

Jungkook didn’t know what to do. He just watched as your said husband just publicly humiliated you and then went on to insult you by pretty much saying that he had saved you from a horrible what if as well as insulting your country. If he was being honest, Jungkook felt really bad. But he was the help. He couldn’t do anything. So he was forced to watch as your husband threw his stained napkin at your face before walking out, huffing and muttering things under his breath. The man did appear to be older than you but not by that much so it was insane to him just how your husband really thought it was okay for him to treat you so badly.

You felt like just crying. There was no other emotion in you but sadness. The whole restaurant had turned back to their business as if nothing at happened. No one stopped Drew, no one gave you at least a sympathetic look. But what were you to actually expect? It wasn’t like you deserved any form of sorriness since it was you that married the dick bag. You sighed, covering your face with your hand, much like you did after every fight the two of you had because it made you feel invisible, small, and safe.

“I’m sorry but-” A tenor, accented voice with soft hints brought you back to your reality. “can I clear some off the table?” You sighed, closing your eyes as you brought your hands down to your lap, trying to keep the last ounce of safety in.

“Yes. I’m-” You opened your eyes to find the same doe eyed boy with the bunny like appearance who had helped the bellhop bring up all your luggage to your hotel room. As you looked at him with now time and more close up, he was a beautiful boy. His rather big, yet subtle scar on his cheek didn’t seem to give him a mysterious or scary look if anything he looked more endearing. “-I’m sorry for the scene-” You shook your head confused. “the scene my hu-husband made.” Jungkook simply gave you an apathetic look which quickly reminded you that no one cared, nor will anyone ever.

But he smiled at you, brightly as his eyes caught the yellowish lighting of the restaurant as his eyes held a gleam and stars in them.

“It’s quite alright, ma’am.” The boy began to reach for your sloppy husband’s silverware, plate, and flute and you couldn’t help but notice the veins that came into sight on his tanned arms. His fingers were long and ridged with veins as well.

“How old are you?” Junngkook quickly turned to you. You were a very, very breathtaking woman. There was no denying it. Your husband was a blind fool for not noticing it with the way he treated you. If Jungkook had a wife like you who took her time to straighten her black, cascading hair, did her makeup and applied lashes as well as a blinding light that bounced off your cheekbones, not to mention how you were dressed. He could tell you took your time to dress with the beautiful olive nude dress that seemed to be flowy and soft if he were to rub the material in his fingers. You were showing cleavage too, a little bit of a kind view for him.

“I’m 19.” He hoped that you hadn’t noticed the quick swept he just did of your appearance. He quickly went back to clearing your plates although he didn’t ask you for permission. “Oh!” Jungkook nervously looked at you.

“It’s okay.” You grabbed your flute, placing it in his hand. “My, you’re so young.”

He nodded, looking away from you. If his manager was watching, he was sure to scowl Jungkook about not interacting with the guest because it was unprofessional of him. So he kept his head as he finished loading his cart and quickly muttered a “Have a good night.” to you before pushing his cart towards the doors of the kitchen.

A stupid idea. He couldn’t stop his stupid idea though. Jungkook held a ripped corner of a paper in his fist tightly, sweating profusely as he pressed your floor number into the elevator. Given that he hadn’t spoken to you regarding the tantrum you husband had thrown at dinner and rather much had eyed you the whole time instead of extending words of comfort to you, he quickly wrote you a note. It was a stupid plan. Jungkook nervously looked at the illuminated numbers that signaled him getting nearer and nearer to your floor as his stomach turned.

What if your husband was there? The thought made his blood run cold. He hadn’t actually thought this through at all. 

Ding!

“I’m fucked.” He stepped out into the empty hall. It was empty considering it was 11 P.M. which meant that since the restaurant at ground level had closed, everyone had flocked to the casino or been about the lively night city given him the freedom to go and do this since he had no other duties for the night. Jungkook began to walk down the hallway, looking at the numbers on the doors until he saw yours. “I’m fucked.” He slipped the note down from under the small crack underneath the door. Now what? Were you to just randomly stumble across it?

“Mamá, no.” Jungkook heard as you spoke from behind the door, your voice getting louder as you approached. Well, what he could do was tap on the bottom of the door and make a run for it but that would make him very childish and by the look on your voice when he told you his age, you looked at him like as if he were a child and not a man. But what was there to lose?

There was a knock on the bottom of your hotel room which startled you. Why was it from the bottom? As soon as you looked down, there was a note that seemed to have been pushed in from under the door.

“Espéreme mamá.” Your mom stopped her rant about how you should have left Drew the first day he laid a hand on you. You bent over, picked up the small note and examined the writing which was neat but you could tell was hurried.

“I know that guests shouldn’t mix with the help but I just wanted to let you know that you a wonderful, beautiful, strong, and not to mention very classy woman for not stooping down to his level. Instead, you were level headed and stayed in control. I;m sorry your husband views for you are so low. I hope you know that I don’t think such things about you. If you ever need an ear or a shoulder, I’m here :) -Jungkook” It was a lot of writing considering the small piece of paper. Would this mean he was still outside?

“Mammi, la puedo llamar ma��ana?” But you had hung up absent minded before your mother could say anything to you. There was no thinking process in you as you opened the door.

Jungkook indeed was standing there but he seemed terrified beyond his wits as soon as he saw that it was too late for him to run away because you had caught him.

“I-” He paused. What a stupid idea. He began to bite his lower lip. You were going to get him fired, he knew it. But as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, you grasped onto the front of the collar of his white t-shirt and pulled him.

“We can’t be seen in the hallways-” You closed the door behind him fast and quickly locked it. “sorry.” He felt dumbfounded when you gave him a beautiful white smile. 

“Um- is your h-h-usband h-here?” If you had looked at him before, down at the restaurant as a child as soon as he had told you his age was 19, you were giving him a look as if you were his mom. 

“No.” Jungkook felt compelled to look at you properly instead of shyly looking down at the floor, seeing your carefully cared for feet and the matte black nails along with the fact that you were still wearing heels despite leaving the restaurant 3 hours prior. He looked up slowly, taking in that you were still wearing the silky, thin material dress that reminded him of a runaway. His finger itched to feel the material, to rub it between his pointer finger and thumb. “Thank you for the note.” He quickly looked up.

You gave no impression of noticing how the boy in front of you kept looking at you up and down. 

“You’re welcome.” There was an awkward impregnated silence between the two of you. 

“Sorry, how rude of me. Come sit, anything to drink?” It was then that he noticed that your hotel room was actually one of the nice ones. You had turned to the kitchen and all Jungkook could see was the way the heels helped you add a little more sway to your hips and the hugging dress didn’t help him much as he admired the curves and how your ass was plump as your lips. 

Jungkook quickly shook his head, looking back down as he sat on the couch that was near the entrance of the hotel suite. This was wrong. You were much older than him. Not only that, his mom kept nagging him about finding himself a nice Korean girl. Dating outside of his race wasn't exactly celebrated as it was with most cultures, he was sure. But it was bad enough that he found beauty in the complete opposite of the beauty standard of his country. He found your dark skin enticing, your thick lips something he kissed he could taste, and your curve, fuller body a temple. No one ever spoke about the beauty the world had to offer, just to keep to your own. He didn’t want to fetishize you at all but he couldn’t help but wonder what if he had brought you home to his traditional Korean family. Jungkook was sure he wouldn’t have cared for the judgment but it was as soon that you returned with a can of Coke, handing it to him with your left hand that he saw the large diamond ring adorning your ring finger, a concrete reminder to him that you were married.

“Thank you.” You sat next to him, watching him contently as he opened the drink with a bit of a shaking in his hands and soon took a quick sip.

“Tell me about yourself, Kookie. May I call you that?” He gave you a tight nod.

“Y-yes. Um... I work here for the hotel’s restaurant as a bus boy.”

“You’re not from here, are you?” He shook his head.

“No, ma'am.” You laughed as you placed a manicured hand on his arm.

“Dear, call me (Y/N). Ma’am reminds me of how much older I am to you, 3 years more of an age gap and I could have been your mom!” You gave him a tight squeeze as you laughed. Jungkook longed for your touch to be more.

“Really? But you look young.” You covered your smile with the hand that was on his arm, making him miss the contact.

“I’m 28.”  He quickly did the math.

“So if I were 22,” He paused as he watched you give him a warm look. “and you were still 28... You would have been 12 when you would have me?” He felt a bit disgusted to think of you at all as his mom.

“Mhm, quite a bit of my cousins stared at that age. It’s a bit different from here, no?” You waited for his response, expecting him to say something rude.

“Everywhere is different, I’m sure. In my country, we wait until we are well established in our careers to even consider dating.” He let out a deep chuckle. 

“Where are you from, Kookie?”

“South Korea.”

“What brought you here?” 

“I thought I could become a well-established singer or at least a dancer if I came here.” You placed your hand on his shoulder, giving him a small shake of encouragement. 

“Are you taking classes?” He nodded before turning to you. God, your eyes were dark and rich. The whole atmosphere had changed. If Jungkook wasn’t a good, decent kid, he would have come only to fuck you from the beginning. But he wasn’t some douche. You noticed that from the start. The boy was as sweet as he was shy. 

Jungkook was taken aback by your sudden gesture which was how you caressed his face with your very married hand.

“You’re very beautiful.” He couldn’t help but breathe out a compliment. Your eyes grew soft.

“It’s been so long since anyone has said that to me.” You whispered.

Jungkook brought his hand over your thin, elegant hand that was on his cheek and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips one by one. You felt a sudden wave of arousal and heat wash over your stomach and lower regions.

“You should be told every day.” The painful memory of how your husband treated was suddenly brought to mind, reminding yourself that even Jungkook was there to witness it. He probably thought you were a fool to put up with Drew but you remembered his notes and how he called classy for not adding to the scene. Not useless, not weak, not what Drew thought you as or how your mom would describe you every time you let your husband just ride out his tantrums instead of fighting back with him.

“Then tell me.” You immediately pulled his face towards you, meeting his rather thin lips, overpowering him with your thick, plump ones. Jungkook moaned into the kiss, feeling just how soft and sweet your lips were and how they seemed to kiss his whole mouth. His hands found their way to the hem of your dress, feeling the rich silk velour fabric between his fingertips as his skin grazed your knees. 

You turned a bit, kissing the outer corner of his lips as your own hands began to tug at his shirt. 

“Hold on.” He painfully removed his hands from you and proceeded to take off his shirt, seeing your dilated pupils and swollen lips as well as a blush that covered the apples of your contoured cheeks. “Come.” You quickly sat on his lap, kissing his chin and trailing your hot lips down his neck. 

Jungkook’s eyes closed as they began to roll back at the intense pleasure he was feeling and how you began to suck sweetly on his neck, sending the shocks into his cock that began to stir. 

“You are so pretty, Kookie when you breathe so hard with your eyes closed for me.” The whispered words added to the fueled arousal he felt. You went back to sucking the thin skin of his neck, sure you were leaving marks on him. 

“C-Can I touch you?” You paused for a bit, startled that he was asking you for permission. No one ever did. You didn’t think anyone had to ask for permission because people had always just done their way with you, regardless if you were okay with it or not. That’s how you were conditioned from a young age by the opposite gender. Drew had told you many times he didn’t have to care for anything like that because you were his wife. There was no need to.

But here you had a young man, breathing hard, whimpering from under you with intense pleasure surely blinding him but yet, he asked for your permission. He was putting you first. You blinked back tears.

“Yes, Kookie.” The boy quickly pushed the hem of your dress up, having you sit up with your arms around his neck for support as you sat on his thigh again but this time. with bare thighs and the thin lace of panties being the barrier between his muscular skin and your soaking core.

He pressed a chaste kiss into your jaw, hugged you by the waist as he tried to even his breath despite his angry erection that was hurting him as it was caught in his tight jeans. 

“You deserve to be treated like the Goddess that you are,” His husky, low voice caused the tears that you were holding back to come out without your notice.

You kissed his head, wishing more than anything in the world that you weren’t married, that you had met Jungkook before as a single woman. You wished you were younger, more appealing to him, you wanted more than nothing to love this boy forever. To protect him with your whole life.

Jungkook felt the same way as he felt the love in your kiss. Had he been older, wiser, better, this could have been possible. 

Maybe it still was. 

“Touch me, please.” He didn’t need to be told twice. 

Jungkook had never realized just how sexual taking clothes off was before. 

His rough large hands carefully slipped the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders, watching as the nude silk dress came down, revealing your nudity. 

He found your skin tone the best nude.

You moved up a bit, arms still around his neck as he moved the dress carefully from under you until it pooled near his feet, showing that you were free.

If only you really were. 

You let him take off your bra, pressing yourself into him as he undid it with one hand, two fingers under and it came off fast. 

“You must really be good with your fingers.” You realized how dirty that sounded, immediately feeling embarrassed but Jungkook’s dark eyes shone with lust and love as his other hand was pressed into the middle of your back as if you were a doll.

“Let’s find out.” Before you could think anything, the hand that had undone your bra was plunged into your panties, rubbing your clit between his fingers.

“Oh carajo!” You cursed in Spanish as you felt the tension in your body become stronger. Jungkook rubbed your button with the pad of his middle finger as he began to kiss your chest. You felt him move his finger now to your leaking hole, spreading the warm liquid around your lips teasingly. 

“You’re so wet, mommy.” You could have sworn you felt tears forming behind your eyes from the painful pleasure he was bringing you along with what he had just called you. 

“Mammi, call me m-” He dipped his finger into you, causing you to contract your walls around his thick finger with need. “-mammi.” Jungkook let out a deep chuckle as he began to finger fuck you, curling his finger into you, reaching up into your g-spot as his large palm was pressed roughly against your clit. 

“Look at you,” He whispered into your ear, his hand pushing your chest into him as his hand pressed into the back as his other hand was brutally pumping now two fingers into you, hitting your g-spot while you rubbed yourself against his palm, relinquishing at the feeling of how he felt on your clit and instead of you. “Fucking yourself with my hand, God imagine how you must look on my dick, mammi?” Tears began to roll down your face, choking on wet sobs.

It was then that you felt your climax reaching you, Jungkook pulled his fingers out of you.

A mewled whimper escaped you. 

“Please.” Just then, you started to rock yourself against his thigh, feeling his hard muscles from underneath you. 

“씨발,” Jungkook leaned back cockily as he watched you fuck yourself against his thigh while he slipped his two heavily coated fingers into his mouth, sucking the sweet nectar of your being. “Let me make it easier for you, little one.” You felt a pang in your heart as he referred to you so sweetly. He sat up, lifting you by your hips and gently sat you beside himself. It was then that you noticed just how strong this kid was. He had been moving you around like a doll, with no weight this whole time. You watched as he unbuttoned his jeans, his biceps were very prominent. He didn’t look muscular to you before but having him here shirtless made you realize that he was indeed very defined. 

Jungkook moved up as he began to pull down his jeans to his knees before kicking them off. That was when you noticed something surprisingly big in his briefs. 

“Thanks.” You whispered causing the boy to turn to you with a cute bunny, reminding you of a sweet bunny. Involuntarily, you brought a hand to his cheek, giving him a sweet rub of your thumb as you felt the soft skin of his face and how it felt when he smiled. You wanted to stay like this, to always remember how his skin felt. 

“Alright, come now.” He picked you up against and placed you on his lap, making you feel like it was you that was the young child here playing with fire instead of it being him. Jungkook contracted the muscles of his thighs, causing you to moan loudly all over again. You felt your eyes roll back as his sultry voice began to speak in Korean like he did the first time when you started to ride his thigh. The hard ridges of his thighs felt amazing against your clit but you were clenching around nothing, wishing he was there with you. 

“Please baby, touch me.” Your whimpering voice and the way you were begging him with a slight pout of your lips made him reach for your panties as he saw how your blown out pupils were begging him to help you. 

“You’re worth everything.” He pressed a kiss your temple as the sound of ripping fabric tore through the room.

“Kookie!” You looked down to see that he had ripped your laced panties with a smirk.

“Do you really want this?” The sexy, experienced man disappeared, being replaced by the timid young boy who had slipped you the very heartwarming note. You brushed his bangs away from his face and leaned in, kissing his nose.

“I do.” 

Jungkook pulled down the band of his briefs, wincing as the air hit his over sensitive head from being horny for a while but he wanted to give you as much attention as you needed. 

“Mammi,” You felt yourself become wetter as you heard how he said mammi with his accent and in Spanish. “Please,” He began to whimper as he held his cock from the shaft. “Fuck me.”

You moved up, supporting yourself by having your knees on the outside of either side of his slumped down hips as he lazily sat there on the couch, and grabbed his dick in your hands which caused him to whine loudly. He moved a bit, causing his hips to move up, making his head hit against the inside of your thigh.

“Patience, baby boy.” You aligned him to your entrance and began to slowly sink down onto his hard dick. Jungkook moaned loudly at the feeling of you, forgetting anything about protection since he had planned to return to his apartment instead of actually sticking around to see what was the outcome of his notes. “You make such pretty sounds, baby.” He nodded fast as his breathing increased as well as his heart rate, causing his blood to pulse with an urgency which made him twitch inside of you.

“P- move, mammi.” He whimpered shyly as you started to slowly move your hips. Jungkook looked beyond attractive with his head kick back, resting on the couch as his hands were gripping your hips, helping you bounce on his dick and the way his mouth opened with the most erotic sounds you had ever heard. 

“You’re so thick, you fill me so nicely my bunny.” Jungkook felt like he was going to burst at any moment. “Want mommy to choke you?” Your accented sultry voice whispered darkly into his ear before nibbling on his earlobe as he felt just how warm and wet you were all around him. 

“Please,” He whined like a child.

“So eager to please,” You placed a thin, delicate hand around his veiny neck and squeezed his throat slightly to test his reaction, just where his common carotid artery was. You watched as Jungkook’s eyes began to get heavy with lust as you stopped his oxygenated blood flow from getting to his brain and carefully squeezed his dick at the same time with your walls. “Baby.” You let go of your pressure, watching his breathing increase far more than before. 

“God, woman.” He felt this wonderful rush of euphoria as his blood rushed to his head and how you were clenching around him, causing him to moan your name louder than ever. “Please fuck me, I want to cum with you on top.” He pressed his face into your neck, whining as you started to ride him harder than before. Your hand was around his neck as the sound of your ass hit his hard thighs, surely leaving you with bruises on your ass. 

“Kookie,” You cooed at your lover as he continued to mewl. “My bunny, keep making pretty noises.” He caught one of your nipples in his mouth, biting it firmly causing you to roll your hips and arch your back with his hand now on your back, pushing your chest into his face as you rose him passionately. 

His other hand slipped down between your thighs, rubbing your clit with his fingers mercilessly as he started to suck on the soft numbs of your breasts, breathing your skin in.

You felt the familiar tension rise between your hips as Jungkook started to meet your hips with his own, fucking you with a rage. 

“I’m c-close.” He moaned into a breast. 

“Baby boy, cum with me.” You struggled to choke the words out as tears rolled down your face by the second. Jungkook growled, smacking your clit hard with his fingers leaving you to finally break from on top of him and screaming his name. He himself found his release when he heard your scream and saw you weeping, releasing his warm seed deep inside you, all over your walls as his cock twitch inside of you. 

He rode his high out with you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist with his head in your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. 

“I love you.” You kept your eyes closed at his confession. In response, you simply ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp tenderly as you closed your mouth, breathing through your nose and out your mouth slightly to not give away how hat made you uneasy. 

“We have to wash you, baby.” He nodded into your shoulder, kissing it sweetly as he grew soft inside of you. You stood up, letting him slip out. “Come, baby.” You teasingly said to which he faintly gave you a big smile.

How was it that he had arrived at his apartment?

Jungkook looked around the badly shaped complex with glazed over eyes. He saw his apartment number, walking towards the stairs.

He had told you he loved you. But you didn’t answer him. You simply walked him to the huge bath in your hotel room with jet streams, helping him in given that his embarrassing legs were still shaky from the out-of-life experience of sex he had with you. But you didn’t get in.

 Jungkook bit his lip as he reached into his sweater for the key of his apartment. 

You had bathed him in a warm soak of what seemed like tea leaves and flowers as the water was a translucent lilac. Hell, you had even washed his hair with your expensive, floral scented shampoo and conditioner and lather his body with a clay like soap bar that smelled of passion fruit. But you didn’t get in.

He locked the door behind himself as he walked towards his room, ignoring his messy living room and a mess of a kitchen, wishing he had morphine to numb everything.

It hurt.

It fucking hurt.

“Hey, Jungkook.” Jungkook snapped out of his zombie like trans as he saw his manager in front of him, calling him over.

His nightly shift didn’t start until 3 P.M. which wasn’t nightly but it was dinner time for some reason until 11 at night. 

“Yes, sir?” He walked over to his manager who held an envelope in his hands.

“A guest handed me this.” Oh shit. “Addressed to you.” His manager raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. But Jungkook kept his eyes on the letter. “We have spoken about this before.” He felt numb. “The help cannot mix with guests.” There went his job. “But given that she did say that it was from your mom and she knew your mother, I’ll let this one slide because the guest happens to have some sort of family ties with you.” Just as his manager was going to give him the card, the man patted it into Jungkook’s shoulder as he began to walk away with Jungkook placing a hand over the letter to prevent it from falling. “Also, cover up the hickeys. It’s unprofessional.” His heart skipped a beat.

The letter had his name neatly written on it in cursive. 

He couldn’t open it here, it was far too risky if anyone saw what the letter could have said. He knew deep down it was your written apology for the previous night, probably calling it a mistake and that you hoped he understood. Jungkook felt his eyes well up as he walked towards the nearest men’s bathroom and locked himself in a stall, leaning into the wall to read it.

“Dearest Jungkook, thank you so much for last night and being my support as well as comforting me with your words in the note you slid under my door last night.It was very sweet of you to do such a selfless thing. I just wanted to say to you, I have thought it through. I’m going to divorce Drew and leave him. He has treated me like shit for 13 years of our marriage. He has always just seen me as an exotic object, a great fetish in his possession, his best trophy really that must ‘behave’. But last night, you treated me as a person. I was a human being, to you, I was a woman who was important. I felt it in your touch and with the way, you looked at me. I feel like a teenager again, but I want to run away with you. He took me from my home at the age of 15 when I was naive and stupid. You are the complete opposite of me so I hope that you, in the end, do what’s best for you. Divorcing him will make him give me half of everything as he is extremely rich so you wouldn’t have to ever worry about your dreams again, baby. You made me realize that I was worthy and you became my anchor last night. Thank you, come to my hotel room as soon as you get this. Yours, (Y/N)” 

He couldn’t believe it. You were going to leave your husband. You were going to be with him. Jungkook didn’t think it was possible, much less that such a blessed thing would ever happen to him. He had to get to you. 

Everything was a faded blur to him as he stumbled his way off the elevator and into your floor. The pain he felt last night was gone. All he felt was as if he had flowers growing between his ribs. 

He reached into his pocket for his little notebook and pen he had to carry for work and quickly scribbled with a shaking hand, “I’m here.” He slipped it under the door and left a knock on the lower section of the door, hoping you would notice like last night. 

Jungkook had been waiting for 5 full eternal minutes. He quickly wrote another note saying, “I’m going to be at the door, waiting.” He flipped it over adding, “I’ll be on the floor.” He had told you during the bath how the staff called the employee lounge “The Door” like it was some terror room. You had laughed at him and called him cute. Jungkook decided to make his way to the lounge, turning from away your door.

“Jungkook?” The same bellhop that had pushed your luggage yesterday morning approached him.

“Hey man.” He gave his co-worker a puzzled smile. 

“Did you come to get her stuff?” 

“Whose stuff?” 

“Miss Ford?” His co-work pointed at your door. “She checked out a while ago actually.” This wasn’t true. “Her husband had booked the whole week but had to cancel due to her wanting to go home but he seemed confused as to why she wanted to leave at all.” 

Jungkook felt a sudden heavy pressure surround his skull as he began to hear dull, loud ringing in his ears as he felt his body on fire. 

You had left him.

You lied.

It had been 3 months since the incident. Jungkook didn’t know what to think. He was motionless, just a robot bus boy as the staff whispered whenever he passes by. He had let his guard down and hard. What did he expect? That you would actually leave your husband who you had been married to for a while, had money, gave you what you deserved at the end of the day even if he did treat you like shit, and wasn’t younger than you? Had you stayed with Jungkook, what could he have offered you? His shitty run-down apartment and his measly salary? Who was he kidding? That would have been no life for you especially with a 19-year-old.

So all he did, was stare at the wall until he had to go to work and come back dragging himself home just to sleep. And when he had classes, he put his anger into it, making him top of his classes. He was naive.

Jungkook got home after a rather long shift since his manager decided to give him more hours and found that he had stepped on a letter that was on the floor of his living room, near the door as if someone had slid it under. It didn’t have who it was from or who it was directed to. He sat on his couch, deciding to just open the damn thing.

“Dearest Jungkook,” He couldn’t believe it. Your beautiful cursive words seemed to have been kissing his name. He brought the letter to his nose, breathing it in. It smelled just like you. “I just wanted to tell you that I did mean to divorce Drew. The reason why I had to leave without giving you a proper explanation was because he saw the bruises from our night. He became enraged and threaten to kill me along with himself if I ever dared to leave. He also said he would report you since he found the note between the cushions of the couch and you had signed your name.” Jungkook felt a tear roll down his cheek but quickly wiped it away as he gripped the letter. “I should have left with you that night. I didn’t care that you were young or made less money. You cared for me. You were home. But now I realize how selfish I was being by thinking that I could have just stayed with you because I would have been a very heavy burden to you.” No, you would have never been. “You have a whole life ahead of you, baby.” He felt a deep pain his chest as if a hole was forming in his heart. “I’m far too old. One day, you’ll meet a young pretty girl who knows her value so she will never make you doubt yours.” The pain grew black. “It will be beautiful to fall in love with someone who is for you, Kookie.” A sob tore through his being and the silence of his living room. “I’m sorry you had to meet me and I’m sorry for not being responsible enough to stop us. Yours always, (Y/N)” 

He stared at the letter for a long time. He couldn’t think. He realized that he had been looking at your writing a lot longer because his vision began to blur. Why? Jungkook brought a hand to rub his eyes only to find that he was crying. 

He had broken his own heart by letting your beauty seduce him. 

“What now?” He spoke out loud. 

Ford. Your last name was Ford. He knew your husband’s name and that he was a rich company owner.

This was an absurd idea, the silliest he had in a while.