#and a wall-mounted television. warm colors

[passafrisk]

Enclosed - Traditional Family Room

[revorocketnails]

Living Room in Philadelphia

[hellosaidthemoonisafangirl]

Open Family Room

[rottiens]

A LOVELY TOUCH┊ISAGI YOICHI

✮ summary. meeting his parents and being in his room for the first time allows you to get to know another side of isagi that you hadn't discovered before.

✮ tags. (18+), established relationship, unprotected sex + creampie, fem reader, petnames, sex toys, praising (that’s my girl), spit, dirty talk. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. 4.3k

Isagi's room is just as you had pictured it in your imagination. The walls are decorated with soccer posters, of some anime with rather colorful characters and of some soccer players you vaguely recognize from having seen them on your phone. The bed is impeccably made, with a navy blue bedspread that matches the two pillows perfectly lined up on top. Next to the bed, a nightstand holds a stack of comics and manga that you fail to identify until you get close enough. In front of the bed, a wall-mounted television is connected to a playstation, ready to be used.

The room, in general, is surprisingly tidy, almost too tidy to be Isagi's. The thought that he probably cleaned neatly because he knew you'd be staying over tonight brings a smile to your face. Throughout your relationship, you had always met at your place or at the hotels he stays at when you visit him out of town, so to be here, in a space that is entirely his, sends a tingle through your stomach that stirs the hunger of your curiosity.

As you flip through the monochromatic pages of one of the manga, you hear the sound of his footsteps approaching down the hallway. The floorboards groan under his weight, and your heart pounds, as if you've been caught doing something wrong. A smile spreads across your face as you see him standing in the doorframe, his silhouette blocking the light coming in from the hallway, giving him an almost cinematic air.

Isagi mimics your smile, mirroring it as he closes the door behind him and steps into the space you now share. It is at that moment that you notice the subtle scent of sandalwood wafting through the air, permeating the atmosphere. The room, completely enclosed and with thick curtains blocking the outside light, has maintained this scent throughout the day.

"What do you think, then?" asks Isagi, with a slight tension in his voice that makes you wonder if his heart is beating as fast as yours.

Isagi's parents turned out to be even more charming than you had imagined. His mother insisted on adding another dish to dinner, even though you had offered to cook for everyone; she even offered to help you wash the dishes, while Mr. Isagi and your boyfriend continued chatting in the dining room a few feet away.

The feeling you are left with is one of warmth and comfort, like a warm blanket wrapped around you after a long winter's day. And that's what you're trying to express, albeit in a simpler, less corny way.

"…I'm happy to have finally met them," you conclude sincerely.

Isagi, who has just hung up his jacket in the closet and is now wearing only a shirt and dark sweatpants, walks up to you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. With the manga completely forgotten, your hands find rest on the back of his neck, and out of instinct, you start stroking his hair. Isagi visibly relaxes at your loving touch.

"'Yeah? I think they really liked you, I was nervous," he says, laughing softly.

"Really, you thought they wouldn't like me?" you tease as Isagi closes his eyes, enjoying your touch.

"Quite the opposite. I thought they might like you more than me," he replies, meeting your eyes again, causing a sparkle to tingle up from your belly to your ribs.

"Your mom is so nice, and your dad is so cool. I think it's adorable how they support you."

It's obvious how proud they are of their son, how far he's come. That was reflected in every topic of conversation they had tonight and in the way their eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Deep down, you're relieved to have their approval, too.

"I had no doubt they would like you. My mother loved the dessert you made too, you're cooking so much better every time."

Isagi guides you towards the bed, interrupting the conversation. He lies down first and invites you to join him with a few pats on the mattress. You crawl onto the bedspread, which stays perfectly in place despite the movement, and lie comfortably on the arm he has extended for you.

"I'm gonna stay all weekend," he says, playing with the silver "I" dangling from your neck. Your eyes instantly light up, and Isagi struggles to contain a mischievous smile that threatens to appear at the corners of his lips.

"You hadn't told me," you murmur, controlling the excitement in your voice. "I thought you had to leave tomorrow."

"'Yeah, I wanted to surprise you." His fingers fiddle with your collarbone and the line of your neck as he says it, only to finally focus his full attention on you.

He watches your reaction closely, delighted that he got this reaction in person, knowing it wouldn't be the same if he'd told you about it over the phone. Then, he leans toward you and kisses you softly on the lips, a fleeting kiss after which he doesn't pull away, allowing you to become drunk on the fresh, woody scent that surrounds him.

"We could go out tomorrow, maybe invite your parents over again and…" you start to suggest, but Isagi interrupts you with another soft kiss that instantly makes you close your eyes. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling his heart dance against his ribs, as his palm rests on your waist.

"I'd love the idea, but right now I don't wanna do anything but hold you close."

The physical contact instantly ignites your skin, and the tone of his voice alerts your senses to what might be coming. But you're still curious to explore more of his space, so you add, "Your room…" he chuckles, probably guessing what you're going to say next. "It's very organized."

"Does that surprise you?" Not really, but the attention to detail does. Everything looks impeccable, you know he's put a lot of thought into it. "I've learned a few things about keeping my place in order with Barou."

"Oh, yeah, you guys were roommates before."

"Uh huh. He wanted to kill me when he found my shoes where they were not supposed to be, or my jacket on the couch when I got home late from training."

You laugh at the mental image of an angry Barou chasing Isagi with his shoes in hand around the apartment, though you remain aware of Isagi's touch, of how his fingers gently trace lines on the skin of your stomach, which your now somewhat disheveled top reveals.

The room is enveloped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint whisper of the fan on the ceiling. You've settled into his chest, with his heartbeat providing a steady, soothing rhythm that almost lulls you to sleep. Yet your eyes roam the room with a newfound curiosity, lingering on details you had previously overlooked, as if you want to unravel a little more of what this space can reveal to you about him.

Near the door, the closet remains ajar, revealing a glimpse of its interior. The shirts are lined up with almost millimeter precision, but it's the bottom corner that captures your attention. Between a pair of worn sneakers and a backpack that has seen better days, a cardboard box with worn corners peeks out, partially hidden.

Your curiosity piqued, you sit up slightly, trying not to disturb the moment.

"What's that?" you ask quietly, pointing to the box with a slight nod of your head.

Isagi follows the direction of your gaze and sketches a shy smile, as if you've found something he'd forgotten. "Oh, that… it's just a box with some old things, souvenirs and such."

His answer is simple, but his tone piques your interest even more. You slide gently from his side, the mattress emitting a slight creak under your weight as you stand up. " Can I see it?" you ask, wariness mingling with growing curiosity.

Isagi chuckles softly, shaking his head with a mixture of resignation and amusement. "Sure, but there's not much, really."

You make your way to the closet and kneel down in front of the box. You carefully pull it out, surprised by its unexpected weight. You place it on the floor in front of you and, as you lift the lid, a rush of nostalgia seems to flood the air.

Inside, you find a variety of objects: a pair of soccer tickets yellowed by time, photos of a younger Isagi alongside friends you don't recognize, and a scarf of his favorite team, still vibrant in its colors. There's a small trophy, probably from some school competition, and a keychain that looks like it was purchased on his first major trip away from home. Each object seems to be loaded with history and meaning, as if they were pieces of a puzzle that together reveal the essence of who he is now.

Your fingers stop on one photograph in particular, where a teenage Isagi smiles broadly, holding a ball with his hand raised in victory. Beside him, a childhood friend embraces him with the same energy. The happiness on his face is so genuine that you can't help but smile too.

"This is adorable," you say, holding up the photo so Isagi can see it from the bed.

He gets up and comes over to you, sitting down next to you on the floor. "That was a good time," he comments, his voice laden with nostalgia as he takes the photo from your hands to look at it more closely. "We won that match by sheer luck, but it was one of the best days of my life."

Your attention is diverted to another object in the box, a small notebook with worn edges. You delicately open it, finding inside scribbles, small drawings and notes that Isagi probably wrote when he was a teenager.

"You've kept all this for how long?" you ask, fascinated by the amount of memories he's accumulated.

"Since forever, I think," he replies, laughing lightly. "I'm not one to usually hold on to the past, but some things are worth keeping. I like to remember them from time to time."

You close the notebook and put it back in the box, feeling like you've just discovered a side of Isagi you may not have been fully aware of. As you do so, something else at the bottom of the box catches your eye. It's the thick edge of what appears to be a red book. Curiosity leads you to slide your fingers along it and pull it out for a better look. The objects on top offer resistance, but without giving up, you manage to pull it out.

"Oh," Isagi murmurs as you realize that it's not a book you've pulled out, but a stack of magazines that, under the light of the bulb, reveal their true nature.

"Yoichi?" you ask, covering your mouth with your hand to contain the laughter bubbling in your stomach while at the same time showing the magazine in his direction.

"Fuck." His cheeks flush red, and you've never seen him so nervous. Immediately, he tries to snatch them from you, wrestling you with the box in between.

"Let me see them!" you laugh, louder this time, enjoying the rare sight of seeing him so distressed.

"Stop, it's embarrassing! Don't open them!" he insists, desperate, as you try to wriggle away from him, the porn magazines now scattered around you.

In the struggle, his foot buckles and he loses his balance, falling on top of you and crushing you to the floor. Your hands are trapped above your head, imprisoned, and the magazines fall open, revealing their stained pages beside you.

" Can I explain?" he says, his voice trembling between embarrassment and nervous laughter.

"Well?" you ask, biting your lip to keep from laughing again.

You watch him as he struggles to find the right words, finally giving up with a sigh. "It was a gift from a friend."

"And you kept them?" you ask, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Well, yes…" he mumbles.

You laugh again, not because you're judging him, but because seeing him so grief-stricken over something he tried to hide, but which is really no big deal, is adorable. It's rare to see him in this state of vulnerability, and you can't help but enjoy his discomfort a little. Your laughter grows with his fingers starting to tickle you, and your eyes fill with tears as you beg for mercy. Finally, Isagi pulls away, sitting back on his heels, victorious as the air from the fan ripples his hair.

"It's okay, check them if you want. I'll go pee, but don't touch anything else until I get back," he says, his voice tinged with faux authoritarianism.

His words only fuel your desire to explore more. You sit back down, the magazines now forgotten on the floor, as you scan the room for something else you might discover. But finding nothing that captures your attention, you momentarily give up, remembering that you probably have missed messages from your mom asking how dinner went. Your phone, deep in your pocket, had died halfway through dinner.

"Babe, where's your charger?" you yell, heading for the nightstand. You open the drawer and what you find is more than you expected. It's a treasure trove, exactly what you were looking for to piss him off even more.

"Fuck me," Isagi mutters from the doorway, his tone a clear sign of resignation.

"A fleshlight?" you exclaim, completely shocked. There's not even any intention of joking now. "I didn't think you were the type to use toys… I thought you didn't like them."

Isagi advances towards you quickly, but you hide it behind your back just in time. He stops, measuring his next steps.

"It was a joke," he explains, his voice laden with embarrassment.

"What kind of joke?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Isagi shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "The guys thought it would be funny. It was a 'joke' because… well, because I was a virgin and stuff. Now, give it to me."

Isagi takes a step forward, but you step back, finding yourself pinned against the bed.

"Did you use it?" you ask, your eyes full of genuine wonder as you try to keep your cool.

Before you can run away or have time to react, Isagi advances towards you with the speed and precision he only shows in the field. His eyes, tinged with a deep blue full of determination, bore into yours, revealing an expression you have rarely seen, a mixture of defiance and desire. Effortlessly, he manages to lay you down on the mattress, his weight taking you prisoner as he reaches for the object hidden behind your back. He teases you again with tickling, and new tears of laughter form in your eyes.

"Fine! Fine, I give up! But first…" you say with a chuckle, noticing how he raises an eyebrow tentatively, as he pulls away and is completely seated on top of you, you notice small beads of sweat forming a crown on his forehead. "I need to know if you've used it."

Isagi licks his upper lip, his heart beating rapidly. He shouldn't feel embarrassed, but there's something uncomfortably intimate about admitting it in front of you, as if crossing an invisible line.

"Yes," he replies simply, his voice barely a whisper.

"Thinking about me?"

The room is plunged into a thick, tension-laden silence. Isagi looks at you, his eyes roaming over every detail of your face.

"Yes," he confesses, his words full of honesty. You lick your lips, struggling to keep your breathing under control.

"What were you thinking?" you ask, your voice low, barely audible in the charged atmosphere of the room.

Isagi takes a moment before answering, his eyes scanning yours for any clues. Finally, he leans in a little closer, his face close to yours, and in a barely audible whisper, he answers you.

"I was thinking about you… riding me, then me fucking you sideways, toying with your clit. Fuck, I remember it so clearly," he says, his voice deeper, charged with a mixture of desire and vulnerability you've never heard before.

The confession leaves a shiver running across your skin, and for a moment, the air in the room seems to grow thicker, heavier. His words, so simple yet so loaded with meaning, make you feel a mix of emotions. All you can do is look at him, contemplate this man who has somehow become so essential to you, so intimately tied to your life that imagining a future without him seems impossible.

"I want to see you use it…" you whisper, your words full of desire, stripped of any trace of teasing. The question hangs in the air, waiting for his answer.

Isagi takes a shaky breath, and you can feel his hips push against your abdomen, letting you know exactly what he thinks about the idea. The tip of his nose brushes against yours in an intimate gesture, but then he stops, reluctantly pulling away.

"Okay…" he sighs with resignation. Though you lick your suddenly dry lips now, and silently moan at the loss of his warmth when he pulls away, your skin begins to tingle with anticipation. Before you, your boyfriend peels off his shirt in one fluid motion, dropping it carelessly to the side. The sight of his naked torso, bathed in the soft light of the room, makes your heart pound, building anticipation and tension in the air.

"Do you have any lube?" you ask, your tone anxious, straining to keep your eyes fixed on his and not on the noticeably tight bulge under his boxers as he finally strips out of his pants.

Isagi gives a slight nod of his head, gesturing towards the bedside table. "If you'd looked a little harder, you would have found it right next to that… thing."

A smile tugs at your lips as you hear him refer to the toy that way, reminding you that, while he's not completely comfortable with the idea, he's willing to experience something new just because you've asked him to. Quickly, you lean over to the nightstand, pushing aside the charger and other items, until your fingers find the bottle of lubricant. You take it and return to bed with excitement pulsing through your veins.

Your legs are folded and wedged between his thighs. You watch anxiously as he holds himself with his hands on the mattress, his back slightly arched back. The sight of the tangle of hair peeking over the edge of his boxers distracts you for a moment, intensifying the desire growing between you both.

"Take it out," you ask, flashlight in one hand, lube in the other.

"You take it out, I thought it was you who wanted to play."

The response makes you bite your tongue, so he was going to make you work for it, you conclude. Good. You set the objects aside and ask him to lift his ass up so you can fully pull his boxers out of him, his free cock bouncing gently on the spot. He was completely hard and you want to tease him about it, comment to him that if he doesn't like the idea so much why is he so hard, but you know he's been thinking about it probably before dinner and that, if he were to toss your panties aside he'd realize you were just as needy so you let it go for now. Just for your own good.

It throbs as you feel your determined hand approach with the bottle of lubricant. You drop a generous amount at the tip, watching as it slowly slides to the base, its viscous texture catching the dim light of the room. Deftly, you reach for the liquid just before it touches the mattress, catching it with your fingers in a precise gesture.

Isagi shudders under your touch, a tremor running through his body more from the warmth of your touch than the coldness of the lubricant. The sticky sound of your hand sliding up and down now accompanies the soft murmur of the fan, creating an intimate symphony that fills the space you share.

You stroke him just a little before taking the toy, Isagi grunts as you press it to the tip, he thrusts his hips up to receive you when you finally slide it down disappearing his cock completely. You dare to give it a few pumps, taking note of every reaction.

"How does it feel?"

"Good," he replies with his eyelids half drooping and his jaw clenched.

Tentatively you give another deep thrust, the lewd sound of the toy filling the room with its wet, provocative echo. Then, you pull it out completely, and you can't help but watch as his cock drips pre-cum mixed with the lube, creating a tantalizing gloss on the tip. Isagi moans at the lack of attention, his voice laden with need, but it doesn't take you long to re-wrap his cock with the plastic, resuming a rhythm you know he loves.

"You're doing such a good job…" you murmur, fascinated as you watch him lose himself more in the moment, clearly surrendered to the pleasure you're giving him.

You liked it, you must confess. The power it makes you feel to see him like this, it was just like when you were masturbating him, he could reason, but for some reason there's something different about using a toy in between, the whole new scenario has you in a thick cloud of frenzy, your movements speeding up, determined to make him cum. His brow furrows, his lips part.

"Yes? Do you like being in control?" asks Isagi, his voice husky with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

You just mumble something inaudible, caught between the intensity of the moment and the proximity of his body. Before you can add anything else, however, Isagi rises, his movements fluid and confident. His hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping it firmly as he draws you closer, his lips only inches from yours, like a promise of an approaching kiss. "You like fucking me?"

"Yeah… fuck, I wanna watch you cum."

"Do it. Fuck me harder, cmon. Use me."

With both hands on your cheeks, he traps you in an intimate kiss, a heady mix of lust and love. His lips move urgently over yours, his tongue tangling in yours as his teeth gently punish your lower lip. Isagi's moans grow louder, each one charged with desire, as he inevitably nears climax.

"I'm not cumming…" he growls. "Not anywhere else but in your pussy."

Before you can react, Isagi takes your hand firmly, pushing the fleshlight aside. With a fluidity in his movements, he gently lays you down against the bed, his body pressing against yours. One hand rests on your neck, the touch warm and reassuring, while the other descends to your clit, caressing it in slow, long circles. The air becomes thick with anticipation and desire, each brush igniting your senses and leaving you breathless.

"No more games." The determination on his face is exhilarating, it has you throbbing and clenching around his fingers stretching you.

In a moment, Isagi gets rid of your bottoms and underwear and spits on his hand to wrap his cock with saliva, his hips exerting weight on your thighs open you wider for him and then you feel the tip part the walls of your pussy, your mouth opens slightly.

"There's nothing like this pussy."

Then, with one precise movement, Isagi slides inside you, so deep it takes your breath away for an instant. The sensation fills you completely, eliciting a choked moan in your throat. He doesn't move fast, but begins to roll his hips, creating a friction that makes you shudder. At the same time, his fingers continue to torture your clit in slow, deliberate circles, sending waves of pleasure that make you arch your back, letting the moment consume you completely.

"I'm almost there… but I need you to cum with me," he gasps.

You can only nod in desperation, begging him wordlessly to keep up the pace. But, without warning, Isagi pulls out, wrenching a frustrated moan from you before you can protest. With almost ruthless precision, he flicks your clit with the tip of his cock, drawing an unexpected cry of pleasure from you. Then he lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder in a new position that allows him to go even deeper. Without further warning, he begins to thrust hard into you, the rhythm now brutal, as if he is determined to bring you to the edge of your orgasm. Each thrust is a promise broken and fulfilled at the same time, a movement that seeks both his release and yours, as you feel yourself collapse in shared ecstasy.

"There's nothing like this fucking pussy," Isagi murmurs between clenched teeth, his voice laden with desire as his lips land on your heel with a sweetness so intense it leaves you breathless. The contradiction between the brutality of his thrusts and the tenderness of his gesture makes you feel dizzy. "Lets cum together, baby."

His words sound like a request, but his raw passion, along with the strokes that spread throughout your body, feel like a command you can't refuse, even if you wanted to. Your back arches, and an electric current runs down your spine, tangling in your insides and exploding in an explosion of colors like fireworks. A few thrusts later, Isagi is chasing you, cumming inside you as he showers you with praise and how good you always are to him.

"That's my girl, there you go," he says sweetly as he kisses your throat, moves up to your jaw and concludes on your lips with tiny kisses that he scatters all over your face, tickling you.

"Stop!" you laugh as he gently bites your cheek for the sole purpose of teasing you.

"Don't run away from my kisses, c'mere!" Isagi squeezes you against his arms, from which you can't escape, as he continues to shower you with kisses and nibble you gently in every corner he can reach with his teeth. He doesn't stop until you surrender in his arms and kiss him back as you tousle the sweaty strands of his hair.

"Let's take a shower and go to sleep," you murmur sleepily. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, let's do that," he says, giving you one last kiss on the lips as he squeezes your cheeks.

"Maybe we can use the toy aga—"

"Don't even think about it."

[isaacforalpha14]

Dean Route

   The motel room is charming; a quaint breakfast nook by the bay window, potted succulents in the window frame, a sizable television mounted the the pale yellow wall, plush carpets the color of beach sand, a teal overstuffed loveseat with canary yellow pillows, two king sized beds with ocean blue comforter sets, and a freshly remodeled bathroom with white tiles and a clear shower stall. It seems you’d hit the jackpot finding a cheap motel in the middle of a remodel. Sam’s annoyed, you sense it the minute you agreed with Dean on sharing a room. The manner in which his shoulders tensed and his jawline flexed, there’s a shadow of hope creeping into your brain that this won’t end in another argument with him. It’s strange, there’d been an undeniable amount of communication throughout the relationship but Dean shows up and that comes crumbling down. Now, there are arguments that just seem trivial, secrets being hidden and that strange tension that seems to loom over the Winchesters. It feels like the universe is testing the relationship or telling you that you’d made the wrong choice. Sam mumbles something along the lines of ‘I am going to get us dinner’ before he disappears with the keys to the Impala. Dean’s holding his hand against his ribcage as he sits on his motel bed. Dean always slept in the motel bed closest to the door, it was the instinctual need to be the protector, if someone or something came crashing through the door they’d have to go through him to get to you or Sam. His attention is on you; the way you lean against the loveseat watching Sam leave without even attempting to take you with him, solemn expression.

“He’s just pouting.” Dean attempts to ease your nerves, releasing a hiss through clenched teeth as he shrugs off his military style green jacket. “He’s never liked the tiebreakers. He used to say you always side with me.”

The atmosphere in the motel room is comfortable; the tension that radiated from Sam has dissipated, leaving the aura in the room to feel like the old times when Sam would leave to run errands and you’d stay behind to help piece Dean together. Zipping up the backpack by your boots, you held the first aid kit that your father had gifted you on your first hunt. He instructed you to always carry it with you and you have every day since. The mattress tousles as you sit beside Dean, you hesitate, thrown by the intruding idea that you could help him remove his shirt but refrain from doing so. Fingers plucking at the sleeve of his black cotton t-shirt in a nonverbal gesture for him to remove the article of clothing. “You don’t have to help me.” He murmurs in a quiet tone, swallowing the lump in his throat at the close proximity as the flesh of your arm brushes against his bare skin after he’s removed his shirt. 

“Dean.” The hint of a smile on the corner of your tongue dampened lips as you focus on searching the first aid kit for the alcohol wipes. “When have I ever let you patch yourself up?”

“Touche.” He replies in a hushed tone, falling silent as he watches the movements of your hands in their determination to search for something. His stomach feels hollow as he anticipates the feel of your warm hands on his bare skin. 

“This is gonna sting.” You warn, furrowing your brow in empathy as he sighs at the frigid sting of the alcohol wipes against his wound. The fluid movements of the alcohol pad are gentle and precise, afraid that if there were too much pressure applied or if the action were rushed it’d end up in additional pain. It’s when you retrieve the nylon threading that he braces himself, he’s had homemade sutures a thousand times before, the sharp sting of the needle puncturing the wounded flesh is always the worst at the beginning. “Are you ready?” You question with a sympathetic smile, he nods in acknowledgment, placing his hands on his jean clad knees as he releases a hefty breath. A tilt of his head and closing his eyes, he tries not to involuntarily twitch as the needle punctures his skin. The sudden warmth of your palm against his chest near his anti-possession tattoo makes him shiver, ignoring the pain as you sew the wound closed, his olive eyes are focused instead on the concentration and care in your eyes. You’re so close that he can  smell the scent of your shampoo melded with perfume. The scent is intoxicating and he has to refrain from leaning forward and burying his nose in your hair. Before he can linger in his intrusive thoughts for too much time, you’re snipping the end of the thread and tying a knot. He glances down at your handiwork, admiring the precision of the suture and noting in another life you could’ve been a doctor. 

“At least it didn’t get your tattoo.” You observe, fingertips brushing the delicate flesh below his collarbone as you trace the design in an absentminded action. There’s a sense of guilt that creeps into the pit of your stomach but it’s overshadowed by the lurch of excitement that causes butterflies to go soaring in your abdomen as you notice Dean’s muscles in his toned stomach clench at the touch. Something in the air shifts, electric tension crackling within your nerve endings, the scene feeling more intimate as his olive green eyes meet yours. He’s fighting an unwinnable war in his mind; his heart is screaming at him that you feel what he does, his mind telling him this is wrong, and his gut telling him to just kiss you. He places his forehead on yours, the affectionate gesture startling you at his vulnerability, nose brushing against yours, warm breath fanning over your lips. Heart hammering against your chest, your mind is chanting for you to remove yourself from the situation, you can’t do this, but there’s something in your heart that’s telling you this is where you belong. All it would take is Dean pursing his lips and they’d be on yours. Neither of you are moving away, it’s like a silent game of chicken to see who’d retreat first but both are too stubborn to give in. Dean’s throat bobs as he swallows, retreating from the compromising position as he leans back further to sit upright again. There’s disappointment in your expression, he catches it and it makes him wonder if you’d wanted him to kiss you. It’s a dangerous game to play. If he had kissed you; he’d never stop until you were his, it would hurt Sam. 

The motel room entrance releases a beep, Sam using the key card to come in just in time to witness you walking away from a shirtless Dean. His attention flickers to the sutures on his bare chest and it makes him release a sigh of relief but then he catches the longing in his brother’s eyes as you close the bathroom door and he’s hit with a realization. Sam never wanted to be that guy but he can't seem to help the jealous annoyance; he caught Dean watching you in the rear view mirror on several occasions throughout drives to hunts, the manner in which he smiled like a lovesick teen as you spoke made his stomach knot, the hushed conversation and giggling at the diners during lunches, the way Dean never minded when you ate food off of his plate, the way Dean always let you choose music in the car, the way Dean always just knew what you needed and how to make you feel better. The intimate scenes he’s witnessed over the years like what he walked into after Kevin disappeared, and now this. How could he have never noticed that his brother is in love with you? The real question that haunted him was if you love him too.

[plywoodsinchennai]

Top 10 Modern Unique TV Unit Designs For Ultimate Entertainment at Your Space

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7. Floating Illusion TV Unit

Mount the TV on a wall panel or a specially-made shelf with hidden wires to create the illusion that it is floating.

8. Space-Efficient Corner TV Unit

Triangular units made especially to tuck into corners will maximize space in confined areas.

9. Sleek and Low-Profile Media Console

Choose low-profile, broader units that offer plenty of room for media equipment storage while maintaining a stylish appearance.

10. Hidden Storage TV Stand

When looking for neat modern TV unit designs for living areas, combine a TV stand with hidden storage to keep books, DVDs, and other items out of sight.

Key Factors to Consider Before Choosing Modern TV Unit Designs

Before choosing a modern TV unit design, there are some key factors you should consider. Firstly, make sure that the TV unit is at the proper eye level and complements the overall decor of your room. Secondly, choose a unit that provides sufficient support and ventilation for your television model.

To avoid messy, tangled cables and to maintain a sleek, modern look, opt for unit designs that prioritize compactness and a clutter-free setup. Additionally, you can use cable management solutions such as ties or concealers to keep wires organized and out of sight for a smoother viewing experience.

Lastly, evaluate your storage needs for media devices, gaming consoles, DVDs, and other accessories to ensure that the unit has enough space to accommodate them.

Conclusion

Upgrade your living space with these modern TV unit designs that combine style and functionality. Whether you prefer a contemporary, wooden, or shelf-style unit, each design enhances your viewing experience. These designs elevate your entertainment space, creating a trendy living room that seamlessly integrates style with technology.

Remember, your TV unit reflects your style, and it plays a crucial role in setting the ambiance of your living room. Contemporary living room TV units should blend seamlessly into the decor, using Lakshmi Veneer materials and Laminates for warmth, color, and visual appeal. So, explore these trendsetting designs and create a living room that uniquely defines you.

FAQs

How do I determine the right size for my TV unit? Consider the size of your TV, the available wall space, and the surrounding furniture. Ensure there's enough clearance for ventilation and easy access to ports.

Are floating TV units suitable for all wall types? Floating TV units work best on solid walls or stud walls with adequate support. It's essential to use appropriate mounting hardware to ensure stability.

Can I customize the design of my TV unit to match my existing décor? Yes, many furniture manufacturers offer customization options, allowing you to choose materials, finishes, dimensions, and features that complement your décor.

How do I maintain the cleanliness of my TV unit? Regular dusting with a soft cloth or microfiber duster helps keep the unit clean. For stubborn stains, use a mild cleaner suitable for the material of your TV unit.

What are some budget-friendly alternatives to store-bought TV units? DIY projects using reclaimed materials, thrifted furniture finds, or repurposing existing furniture are excellent budget-friendly alternatives to store-bought TV units.

[elvirahomeinspiration]

How to Decorate a Small Victorian Bedroom

One of the best things about Victorian bedrooms is that they are so versatile. This is a style that can be done in any color palette and with any type of furniture.

Victorian Bedroom Design Definition

Cream, pink and wood tones define this refined Victorian-designed bedroom. A king bed is located opposite the window seating area. Cream wall-to-wall carpeting adds softness to the room. The main key when buying or renting a house is to pay attention to the design and comfort of the bedroom

A headboard is a simple way to add a Victorian touch to your bedroom. These tall units are great for creating a room aesthetic, allowing you to display antique mirrors and other decorative items.

These beds usually feature carved designs and ornate decorations. They also come in a variety of colors ranging from subtle to bright, and some may include family crests or other unique accents.

Design and Characteristics of Victorian Rooms

Most of these frames require a base, as placing the mattress directly on top of the slats will not work. However, some more modern models can support flat-screen TVs if you mount them using the appropriate brackets. This option is perfect for those who want to combine Victorian style with the modern comfort of watching television in bed.

Victorian bedroom decoration can create a beautiful and romantic space that is luxurious, elegant and timeless. Typical bedroom decor for this style includes a calming color palette, ideally floral wallpaper, and lots of accents.

Choosing the right mirror for your Victorian bedroom is important to keeping the room looking beautiful. The size of your mirror can have a big impact, and its shape can add a unique, eye-catching touch. The color of the frame is also important, as is the placement of the mirror in the room. For example, a mirror hung facing a window illuminates your reflection. It's not ideal for everyday use, so it might not be the best in the bedroom.

Adds a Touch of Romantic Drama

A four-poster bed adds a sense of grandeur and drama to the bedroom. The tall posts on these beds offer a sense of privacy and are often covered with curtains for winter (keeping you warm) or summer (protecting you from pests).

This dark oak four-poster bed features bold carvings, including lions and satyrs, indicating the royal heritage of its past owner. It also features traces of brightly colored paint that will produce a rich and dramatic effect.

You don't need a large space to accommodate a four-poster bed. This sleek wood version looks beautiful in a small room and draws color from a natural fiber rug.

Iron-framed beds are an iconic choice for your Victorian bedroom. Unlike modern metal beds, Victorian frames were made of wrought iron, a material known for its durability and timeless elegance. Inspiration for getting a Victorian bedroom can be through property sales sites property.thegardengranny.com.

[thefirestoreco]

Stay Warm and Add Style to Your Home with Electric Media Wall Fires

Looking to stay cozy and enhance the style of your home? Look no further than electric media wall fires. These innovative and sleek fireplaces can provide both warmth and aesthetic appeal to any room. With their easy installation and versatile design options, electric media wall fires offer a convenient and attractive alternative to traditional fireplaces.

The Benefits of Electric Media Wall Fires

Electric media wall fires offer several advantages over traditional fireplaces. First and foremost, they are extremely efficient and cost-effective. Unlike wood or gas fireplaces, electric media wall fires use electricity to generate heat. This eliminates the need for expensive fuel and reduces the environmental impact. Additionally, electric fires can be turned on and off with the flick of a switch, allowing you to easily control the temperature in your home.

Another benefit of electric media wall fires is their versatility. They come in a wide variety of sizes and styles, making it easy to find one that matches your home decor. Whether you prefer a modern look with sleek black glass or a more traditional feel with rustic wood, there is an electric media wall fire to suit every taste.

Furthermore, electric media wall fires are incredibly easy to install. Unlike traditional fireplaces that require a chimney, these electric versions can be mounted on any wall. This means you can place them in any room of your home, whether it's the living room, bedroom, or even the bathroom. The flexibility of installation makes electric media wall fires a practical option for any space.

How Electric Media Wall Fires Work

Electric media wall fires work by using electricity to generate heat and simulate the appearance of a real fire. Behind the sleek glass or wood exterior, there are small heating elements that warm up and radiate heat into the room. These heating elements are powered by electricity and can be adjusted to your desired temperature.

To create the illusion of flames, electric media wall fires use LED lights and mirrors. These lights are positioned to reflect off the mirrors, creating a realistic flickering effect that mimics the look of a traditional fireplace. Some models even offer adjustable flame settings, allowing you to customize the intensity and color of the flames to match your mood.

In addition to the heating and flame effects, electric media wall fires often come with built-in media features. These can include speakers, Bluetooth connectivity, and even television screens. This means you can not only enjoy the warmth and ambiance of a fire but also watch your favorite shows or listen to music while relaxing in your living room.

Choosing the Right Size and Style for Your Home

When selecting an electric media wall fire, it's important to consider the size and style that will best suit your home. The size of the fireplace should be proportional to the room it will be installed in. A small fireplace may get lost in a large living room, while a large fireplace could overwhelm a small bedroom. Measure the dimensions of the space carefully and choose a fireplace that will complement the room without overpowering it.

In terms of style, there are endless options to choose from. If you have a modern home with sleek lines and minimalist decor, a contemporary electric media wall fire with a black glass finish might be the perfect choice. On the other hand, if you have a more traditional home with warm colors and rustic furniture, a fireplace with a wooden mantel and realistic log bed might be more suitable.

It's also worth considering the features that are important to you. Some electric media wall fires come with additional features such as remote controls, timers, or even built-in storage shelves. Think about how you plan to use the fireplace and what features would enhance your overall experience.

Installation and Maintenance of Electric Media Wall Fires

One of the major advantages of electric media wall fires is their ease of installation. Unlike traditional fireplaces, which require professional installation and a chimney, electric media wall fires can typically be mounted on any wall with minimal effort. The process usually involves attaching a bracket to the wall and then hanging the fireplace on the bracket. However, it's important to follow the manufacturer's instructions carefully to ensure a safe and secure installation.

In terms of maintenance, electric media wall fires are relatively low maintenance compared to traditional fireplaces. Since they don't burn wood or gas, there is no ash or soot to clean up. However, it's still important to keep the fireplace clean and free of dust. Regularly dust off the exterior and wipe the glass or wood surface with a soft cloth to maintain its appearance.

Additionally, it's important to check the electrical components of the fireplace periodically to ensure everything is in working order. If you notice any frayed wires or loose connections, it's best to have a professional electrician inspect and repair the fireplace to prevent any potential hazards.

Safety Considerations for Electric Media Wall Fires

While electric media wall fires are generally safe, it's important to follow some safety precautions to ensure their safe operation. First and foremost, always read and follow the manufacturer's instructions for installation and use. This will help you understand any specific safety guidelines or recommendations for your particular fireplace model.

When installing the fireplace, make sure it is securely mounted to the wall according to the manufacturer's instructions. This will prevent any accidental tipping or falling of the fireplace, which could cause damage or injury.

Additionally, never leave the fireplace unattended while it is running. It's important to turn off the fireplace when you leave the room or go to bed to avoid any potential accidents.

Finally, keep flammable materials away from the fireplace. While electric media wall fires don't produce real flames, they still generate heat. It's important to keep curtains, furniture, and other flammable items a safe distance away from the fireplace to prevent any fire hazards.

Enhancing Your Home Decor with Electric Media Wall Fires

Electric media wall fires not only provide warmth but also add a stylish touch to your home decor. With their wide range of styles and finishes, electric media wall fires can complement any interior design theme.

If you have a modern home with clean lines and a minimalist aesthetic, a sleek black or white glass fireplace can create a striking focal point in your living room. Pair it with contemporary furniture and bold artwork to create a cohesive and stylish look.

For those with a more traditional home, a fireplace with a wooden mantel and realistic log bed can add a cozy and rustic touch. Pair it with warm colors, plush furniture, and vintage accessories for a traditional and inviting atmosphere.

To further enhance the ambiance, consider adding some decorative elements around the fireplace. Hang a mirror above the fireplace to create the illusion of a larger space and reflect the flickering flames. Place a few candles or decorative objects on the mantel to add visual interest and create a cozy atmosphere.

[richdadpoor]

Nanoleaf 4D Kit Review (2023): Fantastic Colors

I watched Return of the King with 4D lighting, and I never want to go back. The colors of Mount Doom’s lava poured onto the wall behind my TV, and the flickering lanterns as Aragorn took up Andúril, the flame of the west, warmed my living room. The green of the Shire felt nearly in reach. It was all thanks to a little camera hanging over my television, and the light strip wrapped around the back…

[aleeshxb]

Exploring the Perfect Blend of Room Colors and Intriguing Home Designs

When it comes to designing our homes, we all strive to create a space that reflects our personal style and caters to our individual needs. From the color palette of the rooms to the intricate details of staircase designs, every element plays a significant role in shaping the ambiance of our living space. Let's delve into some key aspects of home design, from room colors to various furniture and decor elements, that can elevate the overall aesthetic appeal.

Room Colors: The foundation of any well-designed space lies in the choice of room colors. The colors we choose for our rooms have a profound impact on our moods and emotions. For a calm and serene environment, soothing colors like soft blues, greens, or neutrals like beige and cream can work wonders. On the other hand, vibrant hues like red, yellow, or orange can infuse energy and create a lively atmosphere. The key is to strike a balance between personal preferences and the purpose of the room.

Design of Stairs: Staircases not only serve as a functional element connecting different levels of a home but also present an opportunity to showcase creativity. From sleek and modern designs with clean lines to ornate and grand styles, the possibilities are endless. For a minimalist look, floating staircases with open risers and sleek handrails can add a touch of elegance. On the other hand, curved or spiral staircases can create a dramatic focal point, lending a sense of grandeur to the space.

TV Unit Designs: The television has become an integral part of our daily lives, and designing a TV unit that seamlessly blends with the overall decor is essential. Wall-mounted units with concealed wiring and storage compartments are gaining popularity, as they not only save space but also provide a clean and clutter-free look. Customizable modular units are another excellent option, allowing you to personalize the design according to your requirements.

Kitchen Setting: The kitchen is often considered the heart of the home, and its design should combine functionality with aesthetic appeal. Opting for a layout that maximizes space utilization and promotes efficient workflow is crucial. Modern kitchens often feature sleek cabinetry with clean lines and minimalist hardware. Incorporating a mix of materials like wood, glass, and metal can add visual interest, while proper lighting is essential to create a warm and inviting ambiance.

Showcase Designs: Showcases or display units are ideal for highlighting cherished collectibles, art pieces, or family photographs. The design of a showcase should complement the overall style of the room while providing ample storage and display options. From traditional wooden showcases with intricate carvings to contemporary glass and metal designs, there are various options to choose from, catering to different tastes and preferences.

Wooden Door Design: The entrance to a home sets the tone for what lies beyond, making the design of the main door significant. Wooden doors, with their timeless appeal, are a popular choice. Depending on the style you desire, you can opt for solid wood doors with ornate carvings for a classic look or sleek, minimalist designs for a modern touch. Choosing the right color and finish can further enhance the overall aesthetic.

Mirror Designs: Mirrors not only serve a functional purpose but also create an illusion of space and reflect light, making a room appear brighter and more expansive. The shape, size, and frame of a mirror can dramatically impact its visual impact. From statement wall mirrors with ornate frames to minimalistic frameless designs, mirrors can be incorporated into various areas of the home, including the living room, bedroom, and even the bathroom.

Dining Table: A well-designed dining table brings people together and serves as a focal point in the dining area. The size and shape of the table should be determined by the available space and the number of people it needs to accommodate. Rectangular tables are versatile and can fit into most room layouts, while round or oval tables encourage conversation and create a more intimate setting. The choice of material, such as wood, glass, or metal, can further enhance the overall aesthetic appeal.

Designs of Wall Tiles: Wall tiles are an excellent way to add texture, color, and pattern to a space. From the kitchen backsplash to the bathroom walls, the right choice of tiles can transform the room. Subway tiles are a timeless option that works well in both traditional and contemporary settings. Patterned tiles can create a bold statement, while mosaic tiles can add a touch of luxury and visual interest.

In conclusion, designing a home involves careful consideration of various elements, including room colors, staircase designs, furniture choices, and decorative details. By harmoniously blending these elements, we can create a space that reflects our personal style, enhances our daily experiences, and truly feels like home.

[vistatitta]

Dark woods layout

This more eclectic styled living room features dark wood floors with little variation in tone, which allows patterns in the furniture to be more varied and still not compete. This gorgeous modern living room features dark hardwood flooring that simultaneously contrasts and picks up some of the more orange tones of the wood of the entertainment center and the wall-mounted television cabinet. The dark wood floors of this modestly sized but comfortable living room are covered by a natural fiber area rug that lends a nautical feel to the blue and white color pallet. This rustic dark wood living room has two large seating areas and fantastic exposed beams across the wide, tall ceilings. These smooth, polished red-toned wood floors are a more traditional width and go perfectly with the varied, curved wooden furnishings. Small natural accents, like the stump side tables, add a bit of life to the room. This much more modern living room has wide-plank wood floors stained nearly black laid on a diagonal. A light cream marble table sits on a white and beige cowhide rug. These rich dark wood floors vary very little in tone and complement the button-tufted leather sofa against the stately windows. To bridge the gap between the two colors are shades of silver and gray in the richly textured furniture. These ultra-dark wood floors are almost black and contrast beautifully with the white ceilings, built-ins, and fireplace. The planks are laid on a diagonal, which adds another dimension of visual interest. The rich red tones of this floor warm up the cream linen sofas and the light stacked stone of the enclosed fireplace. Molding details are abundant throughout this elegant room. Perhaps the most stunning part of this formal living room is the contrast between the floors and the pristine wainscoting on the walls. The soaring ceiling panels are painted a golden brown that picks up some of the varying tones of the hardwood floor far below. Light variation in tone and a beautiful wood grain add to the natural feel. These have a more dusky tone that complements the modern furniture.Ī more traditional solid hardwood floor goes perfectly with the exposed wooden ceiling and columns of this rustic great room. This open-concept living area that flows into the dining room and a galley kitchen is another great example of multi-tonal floors. This gorgeous example shows the varying tones and thin planks that pick up each tone in the cowhide rug. While many dark wood floors tend to have little variation in color, these have an almost gray and featherlike woodgrain.īamboo flooring is considered a hardwood floor, although bamboo is technically a grass. The dark wood is continued throughout the furniture. These dark hardwood floors have a rich red tone that pulls a rich wine color out of the thick fringed curtains on either side of each window. The way the exposed beams and hardwood floors flow into the room makes the space feel larger and aesthetically connected. We hope you’ll love this varied gallery of large and small living rooms as much as we do!Īn ornate southwestern style archway leads from the dining room into the living room. Some of the floors will not vary at all in tone, like in the above living room, while others will range from planks in a much lighter tone to planks in wood so dark it looks black–all within the same floor! Some will have very thin planks, while others will embrace a much more contemporary wide plank. In the above dual-sided living room, the dark hardwood floors allow the two rooms to flow together while still maintaining distinct seating areas marked by area rugs.Īs you peruse this living room gallery, watch for the different styles of hardwood floors. Even the darkest floors have a warm undertone that complements more colorful accents. This gallery features dark hardwood flooring, which is typically associated with contemporary and traditionally styled homes and favored for the contrast with a neutral color palette. This is true, and the reason why in many of the following designs you’ll see area rugs of varying sizes, colors, and styles. While hardwood is certainly beautiful and durable, one of the main complaints against it is that in the winter hardwood can be very cold to walk on. For allergy sufferers, hardwood is often the best way to relieve indoor symptoms. Carpet is by far cheaper than hardwood to install, but doesn’t last as long and is prone to holding pet stains and dander. There is a long-standing argument between supporters of carpet and hardwood. Welcome to our gallery featuring a large selection of living rooms featuring beautiful dark hardwood flooring. Check out herringbone patterns, bamboo flooring, and wide and thin planks. A gallery featuring 21 living rooms in different styles, each with a different dark hardwood floor.

[stephreynaart]

Gravity Falls - “Waiting”

Pop-Pop AU

Stan sits in a hospital waiting room, thinking about his life and the people he loves.

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This is kinda old, but I realized I never posted it on tumblr. Hope ya like it!

Lots of fluff, the only ships are Soos and Melody.

AO3 LINK

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It had a square aspect ratio. Ink pen and watercolor on white heat pressed cotton paper in a bland white frame. One single blue flower in a red vase with what looks like a yellowish shadow. One shadow going left, the other going right. The lack of confidence and inexperience was obvious, the lines were unfocused and jagged, the color plainly filled the shapes and gave no other visual interest to the image.

Below the frame was a small white card that read “Painting donated by Jessica Blaise from Gravity Falls Elementary School”

Stan scanned the painting at least 20 times while sitting in that chair. The too rough and too soft at the same time chair that had similar copies populating the almost white room he sat in. The wallpaper bouncing off light pinks and blues with tiny ducklings as a makeshift wainscoting was starting to irritate the old man. It was too bright, and the consistent buzz of the fluorescent lights seemed so loud. Stan adjusted himself in his chair, switching his crossed legs to a wider spread and leaned his head against the wall.

The only other stimulus in the room were a few posters promoting proper hand washing techniques, the play area with a small table and chairs with large blocks, crayons and that weird “game” with the metal wiring and wooden beads that’s in every waiting room Stan’s ever sat in. He played with the toys to give himself something to do after he read all the magazines. The novelty wore off fast.

The television mounted on the wall was airing some cooking channel with no sound and no subtitles. Looking at food when you haven’t eaten in a few hours was practically torture, so Stan had been averting his eyes.

There were other paintings on the wall, one was less of a painting, but instead a print of a painting. He doubted that the artist got any compensation from it, if they were still alive. The other was a charcoal drawing done by a student from the community college a town away. Another square, but the entire image was black, the brightest thing on the page was an intruding infant hand coming from the left with the arm fading into the dark background. The fingers seemingly mid-twitch and grabbing at something. The lighting was dynamic and interesting. Stan swore it was a drawing of a penis the first time he glanced at it, which resulted in his brother’s laughter. Stanley smiled at the memory, it was only a few hours ago, but he relishes any time he can make Stanford laugh.

Stan’s eyes darted at the door in the far corner when it opened suddenly. He eased back into his chair when the nurse crossed the room to talk with the receptionist. He couldn’t hear the conversation very well, but could tell they were just gossiping and making jokes. Nothing that was of his interest. So he looked back to the elementary school child’s painting and analyzed it again. His eyes were dry and he was tired. He wished he could sleep, the chair wasn’t comfortable enough and when he did managed to sleep, his neck was sore when he woke up. He was only lucky Ford let him use his shoulder as a pillow for a while. He looked to his left and noted the book his brother placed in the seat. It seemed thick and in what looked like Hebrew. Stan wasn’t very surprised Ford was fluent in the language they were acquainted with as children. Their grandparents on their father’s side were the last to be fully fluent in Hebrew. It was like his brother to be curious of their heritage, but Stan only remembered a few phrases and words he learned from holidays and special event when he had to recite anything in Temple.

Stan crossed his arms and glanced at the clock on the wall and let out an exasperated sigh. It had only been 10 minutes since he last checked the time. He wanted to be at home, be in his soft warm bed and getting ready to eat pancakes at this time in the morning.

He and Ford were on the porch of The Mystery Shack when Soos rushed them off to the hospital the yesterday afternoon. What he originally thought would be a couple of hours of waiting turned into almost twelve. Apparently labour can last a long time.

Stan wished he could be a witness for Soos and Melody like he was when Dipper and Mabel were born, but Melody wanted her privacy, which Stan could respect, but Soos wanted him there…..so he and Ford waited in this bright, annoyingly pastel waiting room, twiddling his thumbs awaiting the arrival of the new member of the mystery family. He was glad he was in at least comfortable clothes, some gray sweatpants and a sweater Mabel knitted for him that read “godfather”.

He was never clear on what the title entailed, but it was mentioned a few times by Soos’ grandmother and the kids insisted that Soos was intending to ask him. He hadn’t, but he didn’t protest Stan wearing the sweater. Whatever job godfathers had, he was willing to play the part if Soos were to ask him.

Stan looked at the double doors a few feet away that lead out of the waiting room and into the halls. His brother left to find something for them to eat, but was taking his sweet time. The turkey being basted on the television was no help in aiding his growling stomach.

He distracted himself by returning his thoughts to Soos and Melody. Just down the hall they were experiencing the strange and beautiful phenomenon that was witnessing the arrival of a brand new person. Stan remembered the feeling so clearly. His entire life he’s felt the presence of human beings. It’s inherent in most people to feel when someone is in the room with you, the other soul sharing the same space as you. Imagine being in a room with a set amount of people and someone else comes in, but imagine they came in without using a doorway. Just appearing seemingly out of thin air. Suddenly another person is with you, and they’re brand new to the world, a life full of potential and power. Yes, today is indeed a happy day, but no amount of positive thinking would ease Stan’s nerves. His foot began to bounce and his hands unconsciously began to fiddle with each other. He didn’t want to think anything would go wrong with Soos’ baby, but anything can happen and life is so fragile, especially at the start of it.

He recalled his nephew’s nervousness the day Dipper and Mabel were born. His hands were shaking and he was constantly checking on his wife and asking the doctors loads of questions. He didn’t fully understand the twins’ father’s behavior until the end of that day.

Mabel’s birth was swift and easy. Her mother only needed to push one and a half times before she was here. It was as if she was eager to meet everyone waiting for her. She cried like most babies do, but Stan could’ve sworn they were tears of joy. While Mabel was greeted with, “hello, beautiful”, “hi, sweetie” and “she’s perfect”, Her brother’s introduction to world started with, “what’s wrong?”, “wait, let me hold him”, and “he’s not moving”. Dipper was rushed out of the room before his mother got a chance to look at him. Stan managed to catch a glimpse of the horrifyingly blue tint on his great nephew’s tiny face. The memory still gave him chills. He remembered how much he wanted to hold Mabel, who began to fuss and cry, obviously missing her brother. He was terrified at the prospect of another incomplete set of twins in their family. After the longest 30 minute of his life, Stan’s great-nephew returned with a bright pink face, wailing with all the power his little lungs could produce. Once the twins were reunited in their mother’s arms, they settled down almost instantly. The doctors told their parents Dipper was significantly lighter in weight than his sister, but both were very strong and healthy. Every so often Stan thinks about Dipper and how much he has impacted his life. His thoughts lead to darker places and he questions if Ford would be here if Dipper wasn’t there to find the third journal. He shook his head as a cold shiver went up his spine.

Stan did his best to distract himself from revisiting the scare that Dipper caused him 16 years ago.

16 years…..17 in August

Stan blinked. The squishy, bright faces that stayed with him that first summer had changed significantly. They stayed in contact all year round and visited every summer since they were 12. But every in-person meeting was always a shock. Dipper was developing the square jaw Stan, both his brothers and nephew shared. He started to regularly wear glasses their second summer with the Stans. Poor kid will grow up looking like Filbrick like the rest of the Pines men. He reminded Stan of Ford at that age.

And Mabel…..

Stan will never get over how much she looks like his mother. It didn’t strike him until Soos and Melody’s wedding and she put her hair in a bun. She’s calmed her hyperactivity down a bit, but not by a lot, she still brightens his day with her wit and creativity. They’ve both matured physically, but not much has changed personality wise and they still acted like big children when they’re around each other. Stan loved them very much, and wished he could see them more often. He wondered what the future held for all of them. Would they still visit town after going to college? Would they move here? Or somewhere else?

He’s had several conversations with them to see how they’re managing the prospect of separating. They’re much better at communicating than he and Ford were and they seem actually excited to have some independence. It made Stan nervous, but he was sure their close relationship wouldn’t suffer.

Wendy chose to be elsewhere for the next few years. She and her friends booked a plane ticket and plan to backpack and hitchhike around Europe and the UK. Stan hopes they stay safe and watch out for each other. Lotta weirdos in Amsterdam. She was set to leave in the coming days, Wendy wanted to wait until today arrived so she could meet Soos and Melody’s kid before going away for who knows how long.

A tap on the shoulder woke Stan from his deep thoughts. His brother arrived with some warm sub sandwiches and coffee.

“Any word yet?, he asked Stan

“Nothin’ yet”, Stan felt helpless not having any clue how Soos and Melody were doing.

Stanford took his seat next to Stanley and they both silently enjoyed their late breakfast. Since arriving they’ve witnessed families reuniting and going past the door in the far corner to meet their children, grandchildren or siblings. Stan looked at the clock again. How has it only been another 5 minutes? He sighed, leaned back and finished the rest of his sub. One hand holding the sandwich, the other went back to gripping the arm rest, then a six fingered hand went down to rest on top of it. Stan let go of the armrest and tangled his fingers between Ford’s and held onto it with a, hopefully not too tight, grip. It was like an anchor to reality, much better at easing his anxieties than any words could. Over the past 4 years, Stan and Ford’s bond grew stronger. Stan still feared one day he would wake up and find himself still in that basement surrounded by broken machinery and languages he didn’t understand. He hasn’t yet, and was enjoying the time he had left with his twin. Stan took a moment to look at his brother again, Ford made eye contact and smiled then continued to read his book. Hands still intertwined

Stans thoughts went back to Soos…

It amazed Stan how much he had grown and it still baffled him that Soos idolized him as much as he does. Before Soos, Stan had no one. His brother was….gone, the rest of the family didn’t talk to him much outside of the holidays and special occasion. There hadn’t been any sense of consistency in Stan’s life for years, decades even, until he hired the chubby little kid he barely glanced at one random Saturday. Soos always arrived to work early, sometimes with breakfast for both of them. Stan didn’t know how much he needed a reliable companion until he had it and he enjoyed the 10 years he had with that kid… or man he should say. Here he was…a few rooms away, becoming a father.

Stan used to daydream a lot about the prospect of having kids when he was younger. He’s was always good with them when he had the chance to babysit his nephew, then later Dipper and Mabel when they were toddlers. He loved having kids in his house that first summer. He loved the energy and the sense of adventure the twins brought. They gave him a sense of purpose and belonging he hadn’t felt in years. He wished he was brave enough to have his own children. Not that he was ever with anyone long enough to want to have kids with him. He supposed it was for the best that he didn’t subject a child to homelessness or an unhappy marriage. He was also terrified at the idea. His dad used to say having kids ruined his life. He wondered who his father was before his older brother was born. Did they really ruin his life? Stan often wondered if he would be like his own dad if he has children of his own. Would he change and become that annoyed parent that resenting his children?

He thought about Soos again

That was probably the closest to parenthood he ever experienced. The first time he felt like one was when Soos asked him for homework help after closing. He initially told Soos no, he wasn’t exactly smart and didn’t think he would be any help. It apparently upset the kid, so Stan sighed and gave it a try. It was fairly simple middle school math, he didn’t remember everything, but helped Soos do more than half of it. Soos thanked him and went home happy. Stan felt weirdly proud, he was glad he made a small difference and managed to teach Soos something he didn’t even know he knew.

The second time was when Soos was a teenager. His grandmother wasn’t able to teach Soos to drive, since she had forgotten how and her late husband used to do the driving, she mostly walked everywhere. Soos offered to work for free so Stan could teach him. Stan loved driving and found teaching Soos cathartic. He was a fast and eager learner, he only bumped Stan’s car once while trying to figure out parallel parking. Little did Soos know that he was getting paid for his normal work hours. Stan just put it away long enough to help buy the kid some old used truck in the junkyard for getting his license. They fixed the truck up and in only a few weeks it was ready to be on the road. Soos has taken good care of it and it’s still his ride to this day

Stan was very proud of Soos. He taught the kid some basic self defense and managed to be a decent influence in his life. Soos at least has his priorities straight.

Stan was even glad to see that Soos was willing to question him. When the portal was reaching the final countdown, he didn’t hesitate to protect the kids from him when he thought Stan was dangerous. He didn’t know, none of them did, so he didn’t blame Soos for distrusting him. He hoped he never had to betray him again. They both had crappy dads, and Stan knew how Soos saw him. Stan was never really sure if he reciprocated those feelings. It felt natural to act the part, but to put a label as important as “dad” on Stan was daunting. Soos definitely deserves better than what he was given, Stan wasn’t sure if he was it.

Stan looked up at the familiar voices running towards him from the double doors.

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!” Mabel waved to them

The two teenagers and Wendy walked in holding a balloon and various toys. They took some seats across from the Stans and asked how everyone was doing and if the baby arrived yet.

“Not yet, hopefully soon” Ford answered

Stan relaxed and silently enjoyed his family’s company. He laid his head back and leaned slightly on Ford to rest for a minute. His eyes shut as he listened to the kids joke around and talk amongst themselves. He squeezed Ford’s hand one more time before drifting off.

He knew he should’ve tried sleeping earlier, he wasn’t out for more than 15 minutes when Soos came into the waiting room. Stan’s eyes shot open and he was on his feet faster than he did when he was being chased by angry costumers as a door to door salesman. Soos’ red eyes sagged and he seemed exhausted, but carried a proud, wide smile across his face. He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“It’s a boy”, he squeaked, “mom and baby are okay”

Dipper and Mabel were first to start the hugs, and the room filled with cheers of congratulations and love. Stan felt light as a feather giving Soos a hug and joking about child labor.

“Can we see him?”, Mabel bounced with anticipation

“Yeah, dudes!”, Soos gestured everyone past the corner door and into the suite. “But only for a little while, Melody has to sleep”

The room was small, dimly lit and warm. The Pines crew collectively lowered their voices as Melody came into view on the bedding holding a bundle of blankets decorated with small yellow ducklings. She was leaned back on a large pillow, covered in blankets and toted a soft smile on her face. Soos stroked her hair and picked up his little son to show to the Pines’. The younger twins got a look at him first,

Mabel squealed and cooed at the tiny infant. Then Wendy, who said hi to the baby and told Soos she’d make sure to send him gifts while she was away

“What’s his name?”, Mabel asked Melody

“I named him after my dad”, Melody replied, “Jacob”. She smiled sadly at the memory of the father she lost the year before.

Soos approached the Stans, Ford smiled and complimented the couple on a having such beautiful little boy, but shot Soos a look, who silently replied with another one. Something was up.

Finally Stan got a look at baby Jacob. “Wow” Stan smiled, patting Soos’ arm. “He looks exactly like you”

Soos laughed, “really? I think he looks like Melody”, there was a short silence before Soos spoke up again.

“Do you want to hold him, Mr Pines?”

Stan looked at Soos and smiled, “heh, sure”. He held his arms out. Soos lowered his arms to pass the baby to Stan, who scrunched his face up and started to fuss. Stan took the infant and managed to hold him with one arm. He bounced and shushed little Jacob until he calmed down. “Heya kid”, He’s held babies dozens of times, but something felt different about this one. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Stan felt an almost magnetic pull towards him. Jacob settled comfortably against Stan and continued his rest. Stan softly beamed at the tiny person in his arms.

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan lifted an eyebrow and looked at Soos, who was fidgeting with his hands and nervously smiling.

“Uh..”, he paused, taking in the sight of Stan holding his child. “You know about my dad”, Soos looked at Ford again, who shrugged and nodded. Stan studied Ford’s face, who’s eyes strayed away as he hid a small smile. Soos got his attention again.

“You uh…he wasn’t…”, Soos choked up, his voice strained a bit, “I met you when I was probably the loneliest I ever was in my entire life”. Stan pictured the little boy he hired on the spot, he didn’t remember him until Soos showed up at his door step the next day ready to work. He didn’t know how much that quick, thoughtless decision would change his life.

Soos perked up and walked across the room to a table and picked up the piece of paper sitting on it. Soos glanced at it, then at Stan and smiled, gaining some emotional strength it seemed.

“You mean a lot me”, Soos, “you were there when I really needed it, you gave me a job, taught me just about everything I know. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that”

Stan got a bit nervous, Was this him asking to be the godfather?Everyone was silent and curiously watching. Soos held his hand out and handed the paper to Stan. He adjusted his arm to properly hold Jacob in his arm and took it. Stan flipped the page and noticed it was the baby’s birth certificate. Stan eyes bounced off the page and read the various information: birthdate, weight, parents, but he froze when he read the full name. Stan’s wide eyes questioningly studied Soos’ face.

“Are you…”, Stan felt his own throat tightening, crap. Come on, not in front of everyone “really?”, he asked. Soos gave a genuine nod and sniffed.

“I uh” Soos cleared his throat, “I was wondering, since Jacob doesn’t have one…if you wanted to be…. his grandpa?

There it was

Stan felt dizzy and took a small step back before remembering who was in his hands and regained his balance. Ford came to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Stan decide not to look at his brother and chose to stare forward, then his eyes went back to Soos, who look deflated. Oh man. Stan was terrified, he didn’t want to say no and hurt Soos, but if he said yes….he wasn’t sure what made him so nervous. The entire concept sounded so alien to him, like he didn’t deserve the title. He always considered Soos, Melody and their son a part of his family. But to bare a title like “grandpa”, had to mean he had children that that children. That he was already a parent without his knowledge. It all felt so natural to want to lean into this and become part of this family like Soos wanted.

He heard something make a noise from beneath himself. Stan looked down at little Jacob, who was mid yawn. The baby’s mouth grew wide opens and inhaled, scrunching up his face and suddenly shut. Suddenly two tiny eyes opened for just a few seconds, enough time for Stan to make eye contact before Jacob shut them and got comfortable again

Everything was different now.

Stan didn’t notice how quiet the room had gotten nor the tears forming in his eyes. Stunned by beauty and overcome with pride and a sense of purpose. The pride he felt teaching Soos math, how to drive and attending his graduation all combined just looking at the perfect being in his arms. If he said yes, he would want everything that came with it. Stan lifted the birth certificate up to read the name again.

Jacob Stanley Ramirez

“Y-Yes”, he heard a shaken voice say, almost not realizing it was his own “of course”. He looked at Soos, tears in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. He still wasn’t sure if he deserved this, but Stan wanted it. He wanted it all. Why not indulge just this once? He gave the certificate to Ford and used his now free hand to pull Soos into a hug. Gently sandwiching his…..grandson in between him……and his son.

[abovethemists]

En Pointe - Part 11

(Banner by the lovely @desperatemurph!)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Read it on AO3

*

It was, Isabelle Schwartz reflected, entirely unlike her to be so taken with a man.

She wasn’t sure what it was exactly that so enthralled her about Detective Weaver. He was, after all, just a man and she’d had little enough use for them over the past several years. He was handsome certainly, but so were some of the other men who’d asked her out over the past five years. Weaver was different. There was a magnetic pull there, something she couldn’t deny, didn’t want to deny. He was sexy and charming and a little bit dangerous and it thrilled her. Isabelle was someone who lived life cautiously, but Weaver made her want to throw caution to the wind. She invariably trusted he’d be there to catch her if she fell.

Despite her certainty in where the relationship was going, she felt nervous as Weaver led her up the stairs to his third floor walk up. His hand was big and warm around hers, comforting but frightening too. Isabelle wasn’t exactly the trusting sort, experience had taught her that men were callous, cruel, and fickle creatures. But here she was again, risking her heart on something that could so easily go badly.

“Here we are,” Weaver said as they arrived outside an unassuming door. He dropped her hand as he fiddled with the key in the lock, forcing the door open with his shoulder. It thumped open on squeaky hinges, banging against the far wall and he glanced over his shoulder apologetically.

“It’s not much,” he warned, flipping on the overhead light and dimming it slightly, setting the mood.

Isabelle gave a little shrug as she entered the apartment. She wasn’t expecting a castle.

It was small, but open, with high windows along one wall that probably made the space feel bigger than it was during the daylight hours. There was a slim table beside the front door and Isabelle plopped her bag down on top of it as she took in Weaver’s private sanctum. The living room wasn’t much more than a brown leather sofa, a coffee table, and a television mounted on the wall. On the other side of the living space was a kitchen with a small island with two stools pulled up to it. There was an opening beyond the kitchen that probably led to a bedroom and bathroom. Nothing much else to see.

“So,” she said, crossing the small living room and turning to face him. “This is the enigmatic Detective Weaver’s home. I wonder what secrets I could uncover.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he said with a shake of his head. “Not from you.”

Isabelle raised an eyebrow.

“Now I can’t believe that,” she said. “A man like you seems like he’d be awash with secrets.”

“Ask me anything you like,” he said, spreading his arms wide.

Isabelle pretended to think for a moment.

“Favorite color,” she posited.

“Blue,” he replied at once.

“Favorite food?”

“Ice cream.”

“Favorite sexual position?”

“You on top,” he said, without hesitation. “So I can watch those beautiful breasts bounce while you ride me.”

Isabelle’s mouth fell open. “You’ve never seen my naked breasts,” she pointed out. Weaver just shrugged.

“Call it a hunch.”

Isabelle bit her lip, giving him a show as she turned on her heels, letting her jacket slip from her shoulders slowly before tossing it aside on the sofa. She was left in her tank top and leggings, hardly the most alluring of outfits, but then Weaver didn’t seem to mind. She did mourn the loss of her little black dress and matching lingerie set she’d purchased for their first time together. She supposed they’d just have to do this again soon so they didn’t go to waste.

“Do you have any other hunches about me, Detective?” she asked, turning away from him to look around the apartment more thoroughly. On closer inspection there wasn’t much more to see, no photos adorned the walls, no personal items of any sort. There seemed to be file open on the kitchen island, police work most likely.

There were footsteps behind her on the wooden floors as Weaver followed her on her tour of his living space.

“You’re a wonderful mother,” he said, “though I’ve seen that first hand.”

Isabelle glanced over her shoulder at him with a smile.

“You’re a good friend, better than most deserve,” he continued as Isabelle stopped to look down at a book on Weaver’s end table. It looked familiar, somehow, though she’d never heard of it before.

Her Handsome Hero.

She flipped it open to find an inscription in a woman’s hand. To Gideon.

Weaver had asked for Gideon, that evening in the hospital. She had assumed he was referring to his partner, but that was Rogers. Who was Gideon? His son? The name tickled something in her memory.  

Weaver had stopped talking, just watching her closely.

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he said lowly, his voice little more than a whisper. “And you find that same beauty in others even when it’s buried deep. You’re unfailingly kind, but that shouldn’t be taken for weakness. You’re stronger than anyone realizes.”

Isabelle flipped the book cover closed, turning to face Weaver. He was close, their chests nearly touching as he looked down at her. He was so intense, like she was the only person in the world, the only one who mattered. No one had ever looked at her that way and Weaver couldn’t seem to stop.

“I don’t feel very strong most of the time,” she said without really meaning to. Something about Weaver made her want to spill her innermost thoughts even at the most inconvenient of times. It was a skill that probably aided him well in his chosen profession.  

Weaver gave her an indulgent smile, reaching out to push a lock of hair over her shoulder, his fingers caressing it as his eyes searched her face.

“You’re stronger than you know,” he said. “You’ve raised that boy, all on your own. You’ve given him a wonderful life. There’s no greater strength than that.”

“You, uh, sound as if you’re speaking from experience,” she said.

He nodded, his hand still absent mindedly stroking her hair.

“I raised my eldest alone for a time,” he said. “I let him down in a lot of ways. I’m not as strong as you are.”

His eldest son, the child he’d lost.

Isabelle reached a hand up to cup his cheek and he started a bit, his eyes finding hers.

“I don’t know what happened between you and your son,” she said, “but I can tell you loved him very much and I’m certain he knew that too.”

He blinked, his eyes wet.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice raspy. “I hope he did.”

They stood there for a moment, staring in to each other’s eyes. When she’d left her studio with him, she’d imagined something more fiery, banging doors and slamming against walls, hands and teeth and ripping of clothes. But here they were and it was simply tender, sweet, entirely unexpected.

She reached up on her tip toes, kissing him softly, her hand still against his cheek. Weaver’s hands dropped to her waist, holding her to him firmly, but gently as he deepened the kiss, parting her lips and stroking the inside of her bottom lip with his tongue. Isabelle felt her knees going all wobbly and she pulled away after a moment, breathlessly.  

“I have condoms, in my bag,” she said, motioning over to where she’d dropped it by the front door.

Weaver glanced over his shoulder to where she was pointing before looking back at her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“We’ll get to that,” he said. “But it’s been a while, and I intend to take my time with you, Miss Schwartz.”

Isabelle swallowed,

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, her voice trembling only slightly. “Tell me.”

A wicked little smile crossed his face. “Go lie back against the sofa and I’ll show you.”

Isabelle had no doubt he could show her things she’d only dreamed of, but the way he’d spoken to her at her dance studio, the things he’d said, the way it had made her feel…

“I’d like to hear it first.”

Weaver’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Miss Schwartz,” he said, with a quirk of his lips. “Am I to understand you like a bit of dirty talk?”

Isabelle blushed, biting her lip.

“It’s the accent,” she said. “It does things to me.”

He huffed a laugh, his hands stroking her sides through the thin fabric of her top, the touch light but pleasing.

“Well, first things first,” he said, leaning forward to whisper against her ear. “I’m gonna get you naked. And then I am going to look my fill at every beautiful inch of your perfect little body.”

His actions followed his words as he gripped the hem of her tank top, starting to slowly tug it up. Isabelle let him pull it over her head, casting it aside. Her tank top had a built in shelf bra and without it, she was completely bare from the waist up.

“Beautiful,” he said, reaching out to cup her breasts with his hands, calloused thumbs stroking over her nipples. She shivered a little, more to do with his touch than the cool air.

“Cold?” he asked.

She shook her head and Weaver gave her a little grin.

“Then let’s continue.”

His hands found the waist band of her leggings, tugging them down the length of her legs until Isabelle could step out of them. Her panties followed and soon she was standing in his living room, completely stark naked. Weaver was still completely dressed and, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, it thrilled her. She should probably feel ashamed, some desire to cover herself until he was as naked as she, but instead she held her head up, meeting his eyes.

“Perfection,” he said as his eyes raked over her body, goosebumps erupting down her arms as though she could feel his touch.

“Now then,” Weaver said, his voice low. “Lay back on the sofa, and spread your legs.”

Isabelle let out a nervous little laugh but did as instructed, sitting back against the leather sofa and parting her legs. Weaver kneeled on the ground in front of her, his hands stroking her thighs as he looked at her intently.

“I want to make you feel good,” he told her.

“You already have.”

“Oh, but I’m making up for lost time,” he said with a little grin. At Isabelle’s questioning look he continued. “We should have done this over the weekend, but I cancelled our date because I’m an idiot.”

Isabelle snorted. “It was my fault!”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “The way I see it I owe you at least four more orgasms and if I don’t make my quota, I’ll owe you a very nice steak dinner.”

“Can’t I have both?” Isabelle asked cheekily.

Weaver leaned forward to kiss her, his shirttail brushing against her sensitive flesh and making her gasp.

“I’ll buy you a burger after,” he said, planting another light kiss to her lips.

Isabelle couldn’t help but giggle. She didn’t think she’d ever laughed during sex before, certainly not with Nick. Weaver was intense and sexy and looked at her like he wanted to devour her whole and yet he still made her laugh. What a wonder.

Weaver stopped her laughing with a kiss, one that made her bones turn to jelly. His hands were still on her thighs, stroking her lightly as his lips plucked at hers. His mouth moved lower, away from her lips to her neck as his hands went higher, massaging her hips. She let out a sigh, her hands finding their way into his hair, so soft and a tad too long, getting shaggier since when they’d first met, months ago now. Who’d have ever thought that horrible detective who’d caused a scene at her recital would end up here?

Weaver kissed down her chest, his mouth hot and wet as he found her breasts. His lips closed around her nipple, suckling her and Isabelle’s legs clamped around his waist, her hands holding him to her.

“Yes,” she heard herself say, but Weaver let her go with a wet pop.

He kissed and licked across her belly, her muscles tense with anticipation. And then he stopped, pulling back and kneeling between her spread thighs. Isabelle let out a little whimper at the loss of him.

“You’re a beautiful, wonderful woman,” He said, his dark eyes sparkling in the low light. “You’re amazing, and so far from boring. And after tonight, you’ll know it too.”

Isabelle swallowed thickly at the mention of her earlier hang-ups. When he said things like that, she almost believed him.

His right hand slid up from her thigh, his thumb tracing over her slit, coaxing out her little pearl. Isabelle gasped and Weaver smiled, a truly filthy thing as he leaned forward.

“I’m going eat you out now, if that’s alright with you,” he said, casually.

Isabelle nodded frantically.

And then his tongue parted her folds and Isabelle squealed.

No one had ever done this for her in her life.

“Holy shit,” she exclaimed, her hands gripping on to Weaver’s hair for dear life.

His mouth covered her, his tongue lapping at her and it was all she could do not to yank his hair out, her hips bucking as his hands held her firmly in place.

Weaver groaned in pleasure and Isabelle could feel it thrum through her whole body, waves of warmth seeming to crest over her until her body was nothing but a raw nerve concentrated on the man between her thighs. His lips latched on to her clit, firm but soft, and his hand dropped from her thigh, bringing two fingers to pump inside her, stroking against her inner walls and she couldn’t handle another second. Her hips bucked against his mouth, chasing her pleasure as her whole body shuddered beneath Weaver’s ministrations.  

“Fuck!” she shouted as she came, writhing against Weaver’s continued efforts.

He didn’t relent, continuing to lap at her like a drowning man. He slung one arm across her hips, holding her in place while his fingers worked her up, refusing to let her come down from her high. The waves crested again, her orgasm sharper this time as her thighs clamped around Weaver’s head, trying to push him away or keep him there forever, she couldn’t be certain.  

He pulled his fingers from her, tracing over her overly sensitive flesh as her body jerked involuntarily.

“Perfection,” he murmured, planting one last kiss. Then he pulled away, his lips and chin glistening with her essence and his eyes dark as midnight. He crawled his way up her body, kissing her hard. She could taste herself on him, musky and sweet and she moaned against his mouth.

“I want to be inside you,” he whispered roughly. “I’ve wanted it from the first moment I ever saw you and no matter how much I have you, it’ll never be enough.”

“Yes,” she gasped.  

She scrambled for his shirt buttons, getting them undone and pushing his shirt from his shoulders. She pulled at the bottom of his undershirt, and Weaver grabbed the back of it, yanking it over his head. He’d been so patient and deliberate at first, but he seemed to have lost that patience, a new sense of urgency taking over his movements.

He really wanted her. Isabelle bit back a grin as she watched him struggle with his clothes, shoes and pants and boxers all landing in a crumpled heap beside the sofa.

Then there he was, in all his glory, wiry but strong with just a bit of belly. His cock was standing to attention, long and hard and thick and Isabelle let out a shaky laugh.

“What?” Weaver asked, glancing down at himself.

She shook her head. “You look better than I even hoped,” she said with a grin. “Well done, you.”

Weaver gave her a lopsided grin.

“I have no idea what you see in me, but I’m not going to question it.”

“Good,” Isabelle said, pulling him over her on the sofa. “You’re beautiful.”

He kissed her again and Isabelle thought she might never get enough of his kisses, so eager and sweet and worshipful. It was like he’d known her in another life, every kiss full of a deeper meaning they weren’t even privy to.

“Condom?” he asked, interrupting her strange train of thought.

“I’m on the pill,” she said, by way of answer. After her accidental pregnancy with Eli she’d been a strict adherent to birth control, even if she didn’t particularly need it. She’d bought condoms for this encounter, and maybe she was being stupid, but she trusted Weaver. She trusted him with her whole self. He said he would never hurt her, and she believed him.

“Okay,” he breathed.

“Okay.”

They were still for a moment, Weaver hovering above her, his eyes tracing over her face. The air felt charged, electric, and then Weaver moved, adjusting himself until he could push in to her, slowly, so she could feel every inch of him as her body stretched to accommodate him.

Isabelle threw her head back against the sofa cushions with a cry as Weaver filled her up, tears stinging her eyes at the sensation. He started to move above her, his hips thrusting against hers and stealing her voice and her breath. And then she was crying, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Belle!” Weaver exclaimed, his voice panicked. He stopped moving, his hands going to her face, pushing her hair back. “What’s wrong?”

Isabelle just shook her head, her thighs and arms gripping on to Weaver to keep him from going anywhere.

“Don’t stop,” she said. “I’m sorry. It just feels good, it feels right.”

Weaver let out a breath, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. No wonder she had no sex life. Here she was with a man for the first time in recent memory and she was sobbing over him. She was hopeless.

“No,” Weaver said, with a shake of his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“Keep…” she gasped, her hands clinging to his back. “Keep moving, please?”

Weaver’s expression turned from concern to slightly smug.

“I’ve got a better idea.”

He pulled her over on top of him, gripping on to her backside with both hands to keep from breaking their connection, until she was straddling his waist. The new angle had her seeing stars and she gripped on to his shoulders, her nails digging in to his skin.

“I want to watch you, remember?” he whispered against her ear. Isabelle nodded before pushing herself up on her knees and plunging back down on him. Weaver’s head fell back against the couch cushions, the tendons in his neck standing out stark as his hands gripped her backside, urging her to ride him. Isabelle bit her lip, setting up a steady pace. Weaver’s eyes were hooded as he watched her. His hands came up to cup her breasts, slid down her belly to her hips, touching her everywhere he could reach, like he couldn’t get enough.

“Faster,” he urged, and Isabelle did her best to comply, her hips rocking against his as warmth rushed up her spine, sending her tingling. He was so long and thick, hitting deep inside and filling her up so completely.

Weaver leaned forward, placing open mouthed kisses across her chest, catching her nipple in his mouth and laving it with his tongue. His mouth moved upward, latching on to her throat and sucking and she couldn’t hold out any longer. She felt herself clenching around him, her whole body shaking as she came, hard, for a third time that evening. At this rate she’d never get her steak dinner.

Weaver wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to his chest as he bucked up beneath her, chasing his own orgasm before coming with a shudder and a burst of warmth that left her shivering.

For a moment, the only sound in the apartment was their labored breathing as Isabelle slumped against Weaver, a sweat slicked mess enjoying the aftershocks.  

“Oh my God,” she finally managed. Weaver was rubbing a hand down her back, his lips finding the side of her face and leaving feather soft kisses there.

“Well, I can honestly tell you I wasn’t the least bit bored,” he quipped.

Isabelle huffed a laugh, shoving him in the shoulder as she sat up. She could feel him slip from inside her, the sensation making her shiver.

“I want to take you to bed,” he whispered, looking up at her reverently.

“I thought you just did,” she countered.

“No,” he said with a chuckle, “this is a sofa. Now I want you in my bed.”

Isabelle’s eyes widened.

“There’s more?” she asked.

Weaver smirked. “Oh there’s much more where that came from.”

-

Two hours later, Rumple had exceeded his promise of only four orgasms.

He owed her more than that. He owed her everything. They’d spent a year apart, right under each other’s noses and none the wiser. But he had his Belle back now, had her in his arms and he’d be damned if he ever let go.

It had been so hard not to say the things he wanted to say to her, that he loved her, that he’d missed her so very much. Isabelle wouldn’t understand and might even be frightened by declarations of love this early on in their courtship. He couldn’t say how he felt, but he would show her, as many times as Weaver’s mortal body would allow.

Belle was lying against his chest in Weaver’s bed, her fingers running over a patch of scarred skin on his chest, just above his heart.

“Is this…” she trailed off, swallowing thickly.

“Where I was shot,” he finished her question. “Yes.”

She snatched her hand back, as though she could possibly hurt him. Truth be told, it didn’t hurt at all, barely a scar left despite it only being a few weeks since his injury. The curse was good for one thing at least, it kept him alive long enough to reunite with Belle.

“How…how did you survive that?”

“It looks worse than it is,” he supplied unhelpfully. “And I’m tougher than I look.”

Isabelle hummed in response, her fingers resuming their idle patterns across his chest, light enough to tickle and make his skin pebble beneath her touch.

He flinched, taking her hand in his own and holding it against his heart.

“Ticklish?” she asked with a wicked little tilt of her eyebrow.

“Only a wee bit,” he admitted. “I trust you’ll not abuse that information.”

“Hmm,” Isabelle sighed contentedly. “Just store it away for later. I did come here for your secrets after all.”

“My weaknesses?” he asked with a tilt of his head. “I think I may have discovered yours.”

Isabelle’s brows drew together as she pushed herself up on her elbow.

“So you like my accent, do you?” he continued with a grin.

Belle blushed a little hiding her face against his chest and Rumple laughed, smoothing her hair down her back.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “It’s funny. The night we met I could have sworn you were English, but now you’re more Scottish? Where are you from anyway?”

Rumple’s hand stilled against her back, wondering how much he should reveal. His planted memories told him that Detective Jacob Weaver was born in London in the mid 1960s. But that wasn’t any more true than the cursed memories that told him Mr. Gold had been born in Glasgow in the 1940s. He was born in the Frontlands, centuries ago in an inconsequential village that no longer existed.

“Lots of places,” he said, not untruthfully. “But I’ve been in the US longer than anywhere else in this world. Spent decades in Maine, believe it or not.”

Isabelle looked up at him, arching a brow.

“Maine?” she asked. “Did you wear a lot of cable knit sweaters and fish for lobster? Is it called fishing if you’re trying to catch lobster?”

Rumple snorted. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve always avoided boats where I could. Not my favorite mode of travel.”  

No, he hadn’t spent much time on fishing boats in Maine. He’d spent more time on pirate ships than he’d like, even if the pirate in question wasn’t so bad these days.

As if summoned by the thought, his phone on the bedside table chimed, lighting up in the darkness of the room. He reached for it, seeing a text from Rogers.

He let out a grumpy sound and Isabelle sat up, holding the sheets to her chest.

“Is it work?” she asked.

Rumple grunted his assent.

“Well, I should be getting home anyway,” she said, reluctantly, reminding Rumple that this wasn’t her home, that she wasn’t his wife, despite the night they’d just spent together. That her son wasn’t his son, not to Isabelle anyway. “I already owe the babysitter a fortune.”

“And I should see what Rogers thinks is so bloody important he needs to call me in at 11:30 in the evening.”

They went about getting dressed in comfortable silence, a few heated glances the most they could spare. In truth, Rumple was exhausted. And he was concerned about Rogers’ urgent SOS. The man was fairly reliable. He wouldn’t be pestering him if it wasn’t something serious.

A few moments later they were headed out the front door, hand in hand.

“Oh,” Isabelle said, her hand tightening around his as they made it down to the street below his apartment. “Um, Eli wanted to know if you’d spend Christmas day with us. I mean if you don’t have any other plans or work or something…”

Weaver usually worked holidays. Being an old curmudgeon meant he had no family or friends to spend special days with and he distracted himself from the fact with work. Rumple felt he’d more than earned a holiday off.

“There is nothing I would love more than to spend Christmas with you and Eli.”

Isabelle beamed, reaching up to kiss him, one last one for the road.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, with a nod.

“Okay,” Isabelle, said. With one last look she set off down the street toward her apartment. Once she was out of sight, Rumple pulled out his cell phone, dialing Rogers.

“Alright,” he said, when the other man answered. “Whatever it is, it better be good.”

“Victoria Belfry is dead.”

Rumple’s hand clamped around the phone, painfully. Well, that was one suspect in who cast the curse eliminated.

Someone wants you distracted.

They’d certainly succeeded.

He had Isabelle’s attention, her affection, and hopefully, eventually, her love. Now it was time to focus on breaking the curse.    

[isaacforalpha14]

Sam Route

   The motel room is charming; a quaint breakfast nook by the bay window, potted succulents in the window frame, a sizable television mounted the the pale yellow wall, plush carpets the color of beach sand, a teal overstuffed loveseat with canary yellow pillows, a king sized bed with an ocean blue comforter set, and a freshly remodeled bathroom with white tiles and a clear shower stall. It seems you’d hit the jackpot finding a cheap motel in the middle of a remodel. Sam places your luggage by the loveseat, the furniture piece appearing comically miniature beside his colossal frame.

“How about we clean up-” Sam suggests falling silent, wrapping his muscular arms around your shoulders as he leans down to press an affectionate kiss to your forehead before he continues. “Then we go to that diner at the corner and pick up dinner.”

“Samuel Winchester, are you trying to wine and dine me?” The flirtatious question makes him chuckle, the sound reverberating in his chest, as he shyly gives a subtle shrug. “Shouldn’t we see if Dean needs anything?” The question causes him to groan, setting his forehead on your shoulder before he presses a trail of warm open mouthed kisses up the column of your neck.

“Dean’s capable of taking care of himself.” He mumbles selfishly, heart leaping with delight at the hum of approval. “Besides, I just want to spend time with my girl, alone.”

“Is that what the bickering about rooms was about?”

“You noticed that, huh?”

“Of course.” You release an amused laugh, the whimsical sound making Sam smile in fondness. “That poor kid probably thought he was going to have to break-up a fight over available rooms.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” He chuckles, pinching your jean clad hip and laughing as you squeal and swat at his hands. “It was weird, right? He kept pushing for us all to stay together.”

“It’s not that weird. That’s what he’s used to, that was how we did things before he went to purgatory.”

“I remember.” He hooks his index fingers in the loops of your jeans, pulling you flush against him. “My favorite nights were when it was my turn to share the bed with you.” He buries his stubbled face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling the supple flesh before murmuring against your ear. “I really didn’t like having to share you.” Something about the confession sours the mood, an odd guilt churning within your chest. If only he knew that he kind of still was having to share you; your heart. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sam questions, feeling the tension that settles in the atmosphere. “Are we good?” 

“Of course we are.” You replied, running your fingers through his smooth chestnut hair as you avoided meeting his beautiful hazel eyes in fear of spilling the secret hiding within your heart. He’d always been a skilled listener, it was impossible for you to keep secrets from him. In a bizarre twist, your love of the Winchesters was the sole secret you’d been able to keep from him, but your resolve was dwindling. “Why do you ask?”

“I just-” He sighs, pulling away from you as he gnaws on his lower lip before taking your hand in his and playing with your fingers. “Something has felt off since Dean came back from purgatory. I just wanted to make sure that we’re okay and that you didn’t change your mind about us because we were thrown back into the grind.”

“Sam, I-” You stammer, unable to think of the correct words for the tsunami of conflicting emotions that’re crashing against your heart and mind in waves.

“Oh.” He murmurs, attempting to release your hand before you grasp at his jacket sleeve with your free hand in an attempt to stop him.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” You rush, groaning at yourself and the inability to form proper sentences. Sam’s silent, watching the struggle and conflicting emotions as your delicate features settle on a helpless expression of exhaustion.

 “It’s not you or anything you’ve done. I just have things-emotions-I am working through.”

“You can talk to me about it.” He tries before you shake your head and look up at him with warm tears blurring your vision.

“I am sorry if I made you feel like I don’t care.” You sniffle, and Sam feels guilty for bringing it up. He never wanted to upset you. He just wanted reassurance that he wasn’t going to lose you. He didn’t know if he could handle it. No, scratch that, he knows he couldn’t handle it. “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you too, honey.” He whispers with a sad smile, hugging you tightly as he cradles the back of your head against his chest. “Please don’t cry.”

“I am sorry.” You mumble against his chest, the apologies are muffled by his jacket but he still hears you in the silence.

“Everything’s okay, baby.” He whispers, pulling away to cradle your face in his palms, thumbs wiping away the warm tears. “I love you so much.” 

The conversation sparked something inside you; it was as if the fear of losing Sam had startled a sense of clarity. The love you have for Dean is not and can not be anything other than familial. You’re in love with Sam. Sam Winchester is your home.

[mochegato]

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 1 - Meeting the Team

This was it.  She was excited.  No excited wasn’t the word.  Terrified? Yeah, that was closer.  Marinette was about to step into the Young Justice base for the first time and meet her new teammates.  What if they don’t like her?  What if they don’t let her join the team?  What if they let her join the team but they exclude her?  What if they get mad at her because she won’t expose her identity and they think she doesn’t trust them?  What if she messes up and she ends up getting someone killed?  What if she gets one of her teammates killed? What if she gets someone else killed? What if… No!  

She wasn’t going to do that.  She wasn’t the same 14 year old girl who spiraled into anxiety-induced, worst-case-scenario, death spirals.  She was 17 now.  She was in her final year of school before college, nearly an adult, legally, she was an adult.  She was the Guardian.  She was a hero.  She was already in a prestigious internship with one of the biggest names in fashion.  She was working with the Justice League, well Young Justice, but that was better because there wasn’t as much of a time commitment, which was really good because she didn’t have much to spare… where was she going with this? Right!  She was smart.  She was competent.  She was confident(ish).  She was… standing outside the zeta tube opening staring at it like an idiot, and she was going to be late.  

She took a deep breath and ran her free hand over the costume she wasn’t quite used to yet, trying to find comfort in the feeling and focus her mind.  She could do this.  She may no longer be able to be Ladybug for secrecy reasons, but Ladybug wasn’t her only option.  She was Chimera now and Chimera was not linked back to the miraculous.  So this new and completely un-miraculous affiliated hero definitely wasn’t unifying the fox and horse miraculous.  Chimera was a separate and unmiraculous hero.  She was a new heroic entity; a powerful amalgamation of divergent parts; an illusion, who uses illusions; a dream that can never be captured.   Chimera was just another magical hero working in the background.

Gone was the flashy, bright suit of a central hero.  She was a shadow now and her suit reflected her new role.  The base of the suit was a brown so dark, it almost looked black.  Her knee-high boots and gloves that reached to midway up her bicep were both black, meeting with the brown core of the suit with a strip of deep orange.  Her mask was the same dark brown color with deep orange at the corners.    She no longer had her yoyo, but in its place was a rope that responded to her like her yoyo did.  Her flute across her back completed her weaponry.

She was still a hero, just not a miraculous one, as far as anyone else knew. She was still protecting people for now, she just wasn’t on the front lines anymore.  She was still protecting the miraculous and would for the rest of her life.  And she was still… standing outside the Zeta tube opening, staring.

She closed her eyes, and walked through the portal.  Before she let out her breath, she could feel a difference in the air around her.  She heard a digital voice say “Recognize Chimera B12.”  She opened one eye tentatively and jumped back with a quiet squeak when she saw Batman standing on the other side giving her an amused smile next to Black Canary and a red figure.  

Black Canary stepped forward, “Welcome to Mount Justice, Chimera.  You’ve already met Batman.  This is Red Tornado.  He supervises the cave here.” Chimera nodded to him but before she could say anything Black Canary continued speaking.  “We are very excited to have you here.  While you are training and on missions, this will be your home.  I know you have an apartment near your internship, but if you ever want to get away, you are always welcome to stay here whenever and however long you want to.” Her voice was warm and welcoming.  She leaned over and lowered her voice, “lead lined walls and no bugs or cameras allowed in the personal rooms in case you want to drop your transformation while you are here.”  She gave her a nod and started walking, motioning to Chimera to follow her.

“As discussed before, your team knows nothing about you.  What you choose to disclose is your decision.  Only Batman and I know anything more.  The team is used to people hiding their identities so there is no pressure to give your personal identity.  I mean, there might be teasing, but you are under absolutely no obligation to divulge and they will respect that.  Especially since Robin is under the same requirement.”  

They entered into a small sitting area that appeared to be their common room. The first thing she noticed was a kitchen that was almost as nice as her parents’ kitchen in the bakery and significantly bigger.  She let out a quiet “Wow” without even noticing she had done it.  She would have to try that out as soon as she was able to get back to it.

“Pretty nice, huh?” She heard from behind her.  She whirled around and finally noticed the other half of the room were a few couches and chairs were clustered in front of a television.  More significantly, there was a red headed boy talking to her, standing in front of four other teens.  They were looking at her with uncertainty and a slight bit of curiosity except the red headed boy who looked excited to meet her, and the larger black haired boy who looked a bit hostile.

“Uh, yeah.  It’s… um, a really nice kitchen.  It looks… really professional.”  She stammered, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice.

The red head smiled brightly at her.  “Only the best for the Justice League.”

“Alright team, it’s nice to see your smiling faces.” Black Canary started with more than a hint of sarcasm.  “I would like to introduce you to your new team member.  This is Chimera.”  Chimera gave an awkward wave to the Young Justice members.  “She was recruited by the Justice League.  Her identity is secret and will stay that way, am I clear?” She stared at each of the team members one at a time.  “Good. She is here under an outside deal so she may not always be available for missions, but she will be here whenever she can be.”

The red head raised his hand. “Wally, you don’t have to raise your hand.” Batman said tiredly.

“What is the outside deal?  What does that even mean?”

“It means something else brought her to our vicinity and she is only available to us because of that.  The details of the deal are not important.  Only that she is a hero on your team and every bit as dedicated to the team as the rest of you.”

“How is she as dedicated if she can’t commit to being here?” Artemis snarked quietly to Superboy.

“We all have outside lives that demand our attention.  There are times I can’t go out with the Justice League.  One of the others cover for me.  Are you suggesting I am not committed to the Justice League?” Batman stared harshly at her.

“No, sir.” Artemis shrunk back.

“I’m sorry, I have school and… other obligations, but I promise I will give you as much time and attention as I can spare without going insane.  Learned that the hard way.” She looked down as she muttered the last part under her breath.  She quickly looked back up hoping nobody heard her.  Everyone seemed to have the same expressions on their faces except Superboy who was giving her a quizzical look.  “I am committed to the team.  I want to be here, I promise.  Um… here, I brought macarons!”  She said with forced cheeriness, attempting to placate their suspicions and hostility. She opened the lid to the box of macarons she had brought with her.

Chimera’s hair blew back as Wally rushed forward.  He had already grabbed three macarons before she even saw him move. “These are delicious!  Where did you get them?”

“Thank you.  I made them. I like to bake.”  She smiled broadly at him.

Wally stared at her with his jaw open, the macaron close to falling out of his mouth. “Marry me.” He said dreamily.

Chimera giggled at him.  “How about I use the only-the-best kitchen to make something else for you a bit later instead?”

Wally gave her a bright grin.  “That will work.”  He looked at the rest of the macarons longingly then back at his teammates.  “Uh…. These are absolutely terrible and you shouldn’t have to be subjected to them.  I’ll just finish these off so you don’t have to.”  He reached back toward the box but Chimera closed the lid and raised an amused brow at him.

“Move over,” Robin pushed Wally to the side.  “Thank you Chimera.  That was sweet of you.”  He took a bite and looked back up at her with a smile.  “Hey, Wally was right.  These are delicious.  Artemis, Kaldur, Superboy, get over here and try these.”

Kaldur and Artemis came over, Artemis shoving Wally again for no apparent reason. Superboy stayed where he had been and continued to eye her suspiciously.  Wally looked at them with a pout.  “Hey!  Leave some for me.”

“You’ve already had a bunch.  The rest of us get some too.” Artemis rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I have a fast metabolism.  I need to eat.” Wally whined.

“Thank you… I’m sorry, I didn’t get any of your names.” Chimera said apologetically.

“Tall, blonde, and hostile is Artemis.  Tall, blonde, and aloof is Kaldur.  Tall, dark, and broody back there is Superboy.  You already met Wally, aka Kid Flash.  And I’m Robin.”  Robin gave her a charming smile and shook her hand.

She gave them all a brilliant smile.  “It is nice to meet you all.  I’m really excited to work with you.”  Wally smiled broadly at her and gave a lovesick sigh.  Artemis groaned and turned away.

Kaldur moved forward and extended his hand to her, “Welcome to the team.”

She shook his hand and gave him a warm smile.  “Thank you.”

“Okay, now that everyone has introduced themselves, let’s get to the training area.  I’m interested to see how Chimera’s powers work with the rest of yours.”  Black Canary announced.

“The training area is just this way,” Robin said with a suave smile, sweeping his arm out toward the direction they were supposed to move.

“Thanks,” Chimera smiled anxiously at him.

Wally came up on the other side of her and bumped his shoulder gently into hers.  “Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you.” He said with a wink.

Chimera looked at him blank faced for a few seconds before throwing him a sassy grin.  “It’s not me I’m worried about, speedy.”

“Oh no, Speedy was someone else.” Artemis threw in, moving past the group.

“You’re kidding.” Chimera stared at her.

“Nope.” Artemis responded popping the p.  “A whole different hero.  Not even fast either.  Makes no sense.”

“Good to know.” Chimera nodded absentmindedly.

“Oh, she can never meet Speedy.” Wally looked at the other heroes with wide eyes.

“Is he that bad?” Chimera asked, concern seeping into her eyes.

Artemis turned back to her and grinned wickedly, “No, he’s afraid you’ll start dating him.”

“Ahh.  I don’t date teammates so, don’t worry.”  Chimera reassured Wally with a clap on his back.  Artemis barely contained the chuckles that were fighting to spill out.

Wally gave her a distressed look, “But, teammates are great.  They are supportive and understand you… They’re… They’re the ideal dating material.”

“You make some interesting points.” She nodded as though contemplating his words.  “Luckily, you have very pretty and interesting teammates, four at least from what I can see.  So you have a wealth of dating material at your disposal.”  Chimera gave him a wink and walked ahead of him.  Artemis cackled loudly and threw her arm over Chimera’s shoulders, walking along with her.  “I think I’m going to like having you here.”

Chimera smiled at her.  “Good.  I hope so.”

Black Canary gave them a serious look and stood in the middle of the sparring area as the team lined up around the edges.  “Let’s get started.  This is an exhibition sparring match.  We want to see what you can do and what your teammates can do and see how you can mesh.”

“You don’t know what she can do?” Kaldur asked.

“I know. It’s you I’m concerned about.  You’re going to be working with her and leading her. You need to know what she can do. So, Chimera?  Go full force.  We want to know what to plan for in the field.”  Black Canary commanded.

Chimera looked at her unsure.  “Full force?  Are you sure? I don’t want to… That can be really dangerous.”

Black Canary nodded in understanding.  “I get that, but I assure you it will be fine.  We just need to see where you are in your skills, so we need you to give it your all.”

Chimera eyes got even bigger, “I’m not going to kill someone to prove a point.  I can do a demonstration instead.”

The rest of the team looked at her insulted.  Robin finally spoke up to scoff at her.  “We can take it.  We’ve dealt with worse.  Don’t worry.”

Ladybug looked back at him with wide eyes.  “It isn’t… I don’t think I’m a better fighter than you.  I’m positive you all have better training than I do, especially since I don’t have any, it’s just… I’ve brought down the Eiffel Tower with one hit before.  Thank god for miraculous ladybugs.  But you all look a bit more…” she struggled for an appropriate word to finish her thought, “…vulnerable.  I really don’t want to hurt any of you.”  She shot him a pleading look.

Superboy stepped forward with a determined look on his face. “Then try me.  I’m less…” he paused as if thinking, “what was that word you used… Vulnerable.”

She looked at him uncertain then looked over to Black Canary, taking note of her stern expression.  She nodded and stepped onto the mat.  “I’ll make it work.” Chimera offered uncertainly.

They faced each other for a few moments before settling into a fighting stance.  When she was ready, Chimera nodded to Superboy.  He rushed at her and extended his arm at the last second to deliver a haymaker punch.  Chimera bent backwards and twirled in a semi-circle so she was standing behind him and kicked him in the butt, sending him sprawling on the floor.  He got up and glared at her.  He rushed her again, this time aiming for her waist so she couldn’t duck under him.  She stared at him coming at her like a deer in headlights.  Superboy got a smug glint in his eye as he closed in on her.  At the last second, Chimera jumped up and rolled down his back, landing on her feet behind him, the wide eyed expression long gone.

“We need you to try, Chimera.  We need you to actually fight, not just dodge.”  Batman stated sternly.

Chimera looked over to him to nod at the instruction. The momentary distraction was enough for Superboy to land a hard hit to her stomach.  The force of the impact sent her flying across the mat.  The team winced and groaned in sympathy as she hit a wall with a hard thump.  Superboy moved over to her to check on her but stopped half way to her.   Chimera stood up and cocked her head to the side, examining Superboy.  She raised her brow and asked calmly, “So… super strength.  Invulnerability?”

He nodded at her.  “Okay then.”  She smirked at him, walking back to the central area of the room.  “Let’s do this.”  He smiled slightly and nodded.  She immediately launched herself at him, catching him by surprise.  She punched him hard enough to send him across the room in the opposite direction.  He slid toward the wall but was able to regain enough control to use the wall as a springboard to launch himself back at her.  She saw him coming and twisted at the last second, using his momentum against him to push him off balance.  He recovered quicker than she expected and swept her legs out from under her. She used her momentum to turn the fall into a flip, leading to a series of flips and twists taking her away from him, giving her some space to think.

They circled around each other trying to plan their next move.  Suddenly Chimera stopped and looked like she just realized something.  “Oh I forgot.  I’m supposed to be showing my skills…” she started innocently.  Superboy took advantage of her apparent distraction to jump at her again but that was the moment she had been waiting for.  “Voyage” she whispered and created a portal behind her. She stepped out of the way at the last possible second, sending Superboy through the portal at full speed.  The portal ended close to the rock wall on the other side of the room.  Superboy almost slammed into the wall with his full force but she had left him enough room to bounce back off the wall and launch himself back through the portal and back in front of her, throwing a punch toward her sternum that she was just barely able to twist away from, rolling along his arm until she was in the perfect position to elbow him in the back of his head.  He grunted and turned back toward her, circling around her again.

“Full force, Chimera,” Black Canary chastised her.

“Not going to make him bleed on purpose for a game, Ms. Canary.” Chimera responded, still focused on Superboy.  “Besides, we’re not done yet.”  She turned to Superboy, “Right?”  He nodded at her, an amused glint in his eyes.  “I haven’t even showed off all my skills yet.”

“Well, let’s see those skills you keep talking about.” Superboy taunted her.

“If you say so Superboy.” She smirked at him then frowned.  “I don’t appreciate that your actual name is the name I would have called you to taunt you.  You’re making my job harder.”

He frowned at her, the amused look that had been in his eyes dropping.  “So sorry my name is an inconvenience.  You can call me The Weapon like my makers did if you prefer.”

Chimera stood up straight, fidgeting and frowning at him.  “That’s… really?” She looked around to the other heroes.  They all nodded solemnly.

She looked back at him with softer eyes.  “What do you want to be called?” She asked in a kind tone.

“I… Superboy.”  He said stiffly, not exactly sure how to respond to the shift in atmosphere.

Chimera nodded and gave him a warm smile.  “Superboy it is.  No nicknames unless you approve of them.”

“As heartwarming as this is, you are supposed to be sparring.” Black Canary reminded them.

“Right,” Chimera said shook her head to refocus herself. “Sorry.”  She whispered “Mirage,” bringing her flute up to her lips.  As soon as the notes were heard, a dozen replicas of her appeared and began running around the circle.  Superboy tried to scan them but they all looked identical even with his infrared vision.  He stilled to listen for a heartbeat or breathing, but he couldn’t detect it in any of them.  He looked around wildly.  It was a sea of dark brown and bright orange.  He nodded to himself calculating the possibilities.  Most likely she managed to split herself.  So either they are all fully sentient or there is a central figure controlling them.  He’d have to hope for the latter.

His eyes flicked to one of the figures running at him.  The figure jumped into a flying kick.  He dodged out of the way and rolled to his feet, looking around again for the next attack. He didn’t wait long.  Another figure ducked low to sweep his feet.  He jumped over her but felt a sharp pain in his side as one of the replicas body checked him with enough force to knock him into the far wall.  

Superboy shook his head to clear it.  When he took more than a few seconds to recover, the replicas looked at him concerned.  One of them finally moved forward and asked “Are you okay to continue?”  

He stared at the replica for a few moments before nodding.  “We’re not done yet.”  All the replicas smiled at him and moved into new positions, waiting for him to indicate he was ready.  As soon as he nodded two replicas moved to attack him, one went high, one went for his legs.  He lunged for the one going high, jumping over the one going for his legs.  As soon as he reached her, she disappeared.  Not meeting the resistance he had expected, the force of the lunge caused him to lay out flat on the floor.  He grunted and jumped up before any of the replicas could attack again.  

As soon as he was up he looked around with a grin. “Mirage,” he repeated.  They were all an illusion.  He just had to find the real one.  Two attacked him again.  He hit one causing it to disappear but the other one hit him with her flute, knocking him to the side.  He shook his head again and turned back to them and backed away, giving himself space. He just had to find the one. There had to be an indication of which one was the real one.  He couldn’t use his infrared vision or hearing.  Maybe there was something about them.  He stared at them as they circled around each other.  There!  There was one with a different shade of orange, the shade Chimera had before the match. All the replicas had bright orange but the real Chimera had deep orange accents.  

He kept his eyes moving so she wouldn’t know he’d made her.  He moved forward toward one of the replicas moving to punch her.  Chimera attacked from the side again, coming at him before he could touch the replica and make it disappear.  He grinned to himself.  At the last second, he changed his trajectory and sent another haymaker toward her.  He jerked back in pain as the replica he had been moving toward originally made contact, knocking the air out of his lungs. He grunted in anger and confusion as a rope was tied around him, pinning down his arms.  His legs were swept out from under him causing him to land hard. He trashed with all his strength as he felt her tying his legs too.  He kept thrashing against the rope, but no matter how hard he pushed and pulled, the rope showed no indication of weakening.  

After a few moments of him pointlessly struggling, Black Canary walked over and declared Chimera the winner.  She smiled excitedly at Chimera.  “Now we know what we’re working with and we can plan how to incorporate your skills into missions and approaches to your training.”

Chimera nodded in understanding and looked over to the team who were still watching her in various degrees of surprise.  Kaldur nodded in approval.  Wally and Artemis stared at her in shock.  Robin was pointing and laughing at Superboy.  Chimera glowered at him and turned back to Superboy, releasing the rope so he could get up.  

As soon as he was freed, Superboy jumped up and rubbed his arms, glaring at the floor.  Chimera smiled nervously in his direction, but he refused to look at her and had turned his body away from her.  She sighed and looked down too, shifting nervously.  After a few moments, she started gathering up the rope to tie it back around her waist.  She furrowed her brows at the sound of Robin still laughing, which seemed to upset Superboy even more.  She narrowed her eyes at him and whipped the rope out in his direction.  It snapped a few inches away from his face with a crack so loud it reverberated throughout the cave.  Robin jumped away awkwardly and fell backwards, landing on his butt.

Superboy looked from Robin to her.  He let out a small laugh and gave her a smile. Chimera took it as a good sign and smiled back at him.  “That was a lot of fun.  You are really good at picking up on details, otherwise that color trick wouldn’t have worked.” Her voice was soft, like she was addressing a scared child.

He nodded at her and quietly said, “Thanks. It was fun.”

“Does that mean we can do it again sometime?  I need practice sparring and I’m usually afraid I’ll hurt someone when I’m in the suit and when I’m not, it isn’t as effective. I mean, helpful still, but not as effective.”  He stared at her for a few seconds but finally nodded at her.

“That was a pretty good introduction but it’s getting late now.  I think it’s time to call it a night.  Red Tornado, can you take Chimera to the room she will be using so she can recharge?” Black Canary asked.

When Chimera returned a few minutes later, the group smiled at her and gave their goodbyes.  They made plans for everyone to return the next day for more training.  One by one, they all left through the Zeta tubes except for Superboy.  Chimera looked at him confused.  “Are you not leaving too?”

“No.” He stated coldly.

“Why not?  I mean… if you don’t mind me asking.” She stammered out.

“Because I live here.” He grumbled back at her.

“Alone?” She gasped.

“With Red Tornado.” He corrected defiantly.

“But no other… people? In this big, empty, cold place?” She looked out over the cave, the empty, cold, inhospitable place he was going to call home.

“I like being alone.”  He stated in an annoyed voice.

Something that looked like anger flashed across her face transforming into a determined look before she smoothed it out and gave him a cheeky grin.  “That’s a shame.”  

He narrowed his eyes looking at her suspiciously, “Why is that?”

“I’m moving in.”  Her smile grew bigger.

He furrowed his brow and frowned, “What?”

“I’m moving in.  I have school and, uh… stuff during the day, but I’ll be here in the mornings and at night, most weekends.” She nodded at him.  “It will be like a sleepover every night… except we’ll be sleeping in separate rooms.”

He stared at her for a few seconds, unsure how to react. “Whatever,” he grunted walking back toward the residence area.  “Dinner is usually in like 30 minutes.” He called over his shoulder.  She smiled in his direction.  It wasn’t a warm welcome but it was better than nothing.  

“Are you sure about this?  It isn’t required for you to live here.  Most of the members don’t.” Black Canary reassured her.

“That’s why I’m doing it.  I’ve already had one teammate who had to live essentially alone and isolated in a big, empty space.  He hated it.  It messes with your self-worth and your ability to interact with other people, no matter how badly you want to.  It scrapes away at your humanity.  I couldn’t really do anything for his living situation, but I can do something for Superboy.”

“It will make keeping your identity more difficult.” Batman warned her softly.

“I know, but he’s my teammate.  I won’t abandon him.  And I need a friend here too.  I’ll be all alone otherwise, so… it will be mutually beneficial… I hope.”  She added tentatively.

Batman and Black Canary shared an approving look with each other and turned back to her.  “Okay.  Let us or Red Tornado know if you need anything.  We really think you are going to fit in amazingly with this team.”

Chimera smiled at them and shifted slightly to look out over the rest of the cave.  “I think so, too.”

Chapter 2

[clouditae]

First Love | 16

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | smut | oral | fingering

Word: 6.3k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

You stare at the two story house as if it’s your own home. The red brick walls and white shingles–it’s like your typical house you see in movies. You and Hanbin have been together for eight months and you’ve been over to his house for two months now. His parents and siblings love you. Every time you’re over they’re asking if you’d like to stay for dinner or if you’d like to play family game night together. You would always stay and have dinner or play games even though you knew you were supposed to check in to your hotel room.

They always seemed to distract you and then you’d take their spare bedroom instead of heading to your already bought room. Eventually you just stayed at their place rather than find a hotel.

Today is different in a way. You’re staying at his place as usual, but today Hanbin’s family isn’t home, leaving just you two alone for the weekend. You’re nervous. Why? Because after almost three months of things getting heated between the two of you, you’re wondering if this weekend will be the weekend you lose your virginity to him. It makes you nervous and scared, but you trust him. You wouldn’t want to lose your flower to anyone but him. The man who makes you feel loved, cherished and so protected that you feel like you can go anywhere with him and not be scared of the “monsters” that lurk out in this world.

You walk up to the door with Hanbin after going out to grab some dinner for the movie you’re going to watch in his bedroom. “It’s a scary movie,” he said, and although you like scary movies, you still get scared during the movie and at night when you go to bed and let your thoughts take over. If he’s going to make you watch a scary movie close to night time, he better be ready for you to sleep in his bed with him and against the wall because you are not sleeping alone.

You wait as he unlocks the door, bag in hand and drinks in yours. With the familiar sound of a click from the door, he turns the knob and opens the door, allowing you to enter first. You walk inside the house and further down until you’re standing near the entry ways of the living room and kitchen. Hanbin closes the door behind him and locks it, turning to you with a sweet smile as he walks along with you up the stairs and down the hallway towards his bedroom at the end of the hall.

“I’m so excited,” Hanbin says, the tone in his husky voice showing excitement as well. “I heard No One’s Home is the best horror ghost film this year.” You can’t help but shiver and he seems to notice as he chuckles. “I’ll hold you real close, Y/N. You can your face in my arms.” You smile, feeling your heartbeat quicken. The two of you enter his room and he closes it behind you, following you as you make your way towards his black sofa that is against his wall on the right side of the room.

The room is rather simple but expensive looking. Standing at the doorway, the bed is immediately to your left against the wall, his desk with an expensive computer was at the end of his bed. Black sheets and a gray blanket with a worn stuffed elephant placed in between the two pillows–a stuffed animal he’s had since he was a baby. Along the wall with the sofa is a dresser with little knick-knacks he’s collected over the years along with a few trophies he’s won from his baseball tournaments. At the back far wall is Hanbin’s wall mounted television, underneath is a long bookshelf full of figurines, photos of his friends and family and books on film. On his off white colored walls are photos from movies such as The Godfather, Casablanca and more well known movies.

You take a seat on the sofa, placing the drink on the dark wood coffee table as Hanbin does the same with the food. As you get everything ready you can hear Hanbin get to work setting up the projector placed on a floating shelf above you, ready to project on the empty wall where the bed was against. You place his drink and order in front of the empty spot where he will sit, opening the box and putting the straw into his cup before doing the same for yourself. Once everything is ready and the movie is starting, you watch as Hanbin grabs a remote off from the coffee table, pressing a button and the lights dimming just enough for it to be dark but to still be able to see the food in front of you.

And so you two dig in, the movie already starting with a woman screaming.

You bury your face into Hanbin’s shoulder, earning another laugh from him as the intruder breaks the window to enter the house. He rubs your thigh that was on his lap with his thumb, his other hand holding you closer. “I didn’t know I’d date a scaredy cat when I asked you out.” You shake your head, not wanting to hear the struggle of whatever is happening. He chuckles, his body vibrating from his laughter, giving you a sense of peace from the fear that is hovering over you. He places a kiss on the side of your head, resting his cheek against you. You turn your head to the side, your forehead pressed against his cheek as you focus on the sound of his breathing. Closing your eyes, you enjoy the feeling of him. The feeling of his arms wrapped securely around you, his thumbs rubbing small circles on you, his slow breathing, and his heartbeat.

You move your head back to look at him, watching him as his attention goes from the movie to you. He looks down at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What?” Releasing one hand from around his waist, you cup his cheek and lean forward, watching him fill in the gap between you two. He kisses you like he kissed you that first time in front of your dorm room. He’s slow, cautious with you, as if he’s waiting for you to give him the okay. It’s what you like about him, he always puts you first.

You kiss him harder, with more greed as you feel him comply, his tongue brushing along your lower lip for access. You let him enter, his tongue brushing along yours as he shifts on the sofa and lays you on the couch as he places himself on top. He places his hand on the armrest to the sofa, the other finding its way to cup your cheek. You let your hand run through his locks as your other hand clutches onto his maroon colored shirt.

He continues to kiss you for a while longer, his lips making their way to your neck a few times before he breaks the kiss and pulls back. “We should probably stop,” he says, resting on his knees between your legs. The first time the two of you got into the moment, his hand brushed along the skin of your hip, scaring you a bit. You’re nervous and unsure and end the moment in an instant. Thankfully he understood and wasn’t hurt by your sudden reaction. However, it continued every time the two of you got caught up, and sometimes you wondered if he was getting irritated by it.

But he wasn’t. He always reassured you that it’s okay to feel that way. You weren’t ready at the time.

Today, however, you’re ready. You’re more than ready.

You sit up, bringing your legs under you as you get to your knees and almost to his height. You shake your head, cupping his cheeks and kissing him once more. You feel him hesitate at first, unsure if this is what you really want, but you have to let him know. You have to let him know you’re ready. Grabbing his hands, you place them on your hips, this time brushing your tongue along his bottom lip. He seems to understand what you’re trying to say, his grip on your hips tightening, his greed he lost coming back to life.

Your hands travel down from his cheeks to the hem of his shirt, trying to push it up and off of him. He releases his grip on you and helps you, quickly removing his shirt. Letting the shirt fall to the floor, he kisses you again; you let your hands roam his toned stomach, feeling every line of his abs. They’re hard even when he’s not flexing. A sign he’s clearly worked out a lot.

You feel his hands reach for your shirt, but he’s hesitant. Unsure if it’s what you want, so you grab your shirt and pull it off yourself. Feeling your heart race and the fear consume you as you realize you don’t have a shirt anymore. You’re topless in front of your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. He’s not a stranger. He’s not someone you’re hooking up with. He’s someone you’re going to make love with. Someone who was so shy in asking you to be his girlfriend that he asked you to be his wife on accident because of the show you two were watching. You never laughed so hard. He’s your boyfriend. He won’t see you any different.

That’s what you have to tell yourself as you remove your hands from over your body, letting him see you. He holds your cheeks, bringing your gaze back up to him. He gives you a soft kiss. A warm and caring kiss. “Are you sure?” he asks in a whisper, his lips brushing along yours.

You swallow and nod. “I’m ready,” you mumble back, looking into his hazel colored eyes.

He nods back, kissing you slow and delicately like you can break any minute, and you feel like you can. You feel his hands travel down carefully until he reaches your sides. He feels the curve of your hips, the side of your bra but never your chest. You want to move his hands there, but you’re too scared to move your own hands from his chest. You’ll just have to let him take his time.

He breaks the kiss again, and not just a few inches, but far enough that you can see the details to his facial features. The mole on the bridge of his nose, his long lashes, and so much more but he doesn’t give you the chance as he wraps an arm around your waist and the other at the back of your thighs, lifting you off the couch. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, watching as he takes a few steps around the coffee table and towards the bed. He climbs onto the bed before lying you down, his body hovering over yours once again.

He places himself between your legs as he kisses you this time with more need than the last. His hand is on your stomach, trailing small circles around your belly button. You shiver under his touch. The kissing continues with your tongues dancing around one another as you find yourself getting a little more confident as you trail your hands down to the beginning of his pants. He doesn’t let you continue as his hand travels up to the fabric of your bra. Your hands stop, body a little tense again as he let’s a finger trail between the valley of your breasts. He plays around your breasts, waiting for you to relax a bit, and when you finally do, you realize your heart is going to explode. He finally places a hand on your boob, waiting a few before he squeezes lightly.

It feels strange if you’re going to be honest. You’ve never been groped before so you’re unsure as to what it should feel like. Maybe because you have the bra on that it’s weird? If you took off your bra would things feel better? Even though you’re beyond scared, you arch your back as a sign for him to remove your last top clothing article. He takes the hint and his hand goes to your back, struggling a little before he unclasps your bra. He kisses his way back down to your neck, licking and sucking as his hand comes out from under you and makes its way under your loose article. His hand is warm as he takes a light hold of your flesh. He squeezes and it still feels strange.

He plays with your nipple, moving it in small circular motions and even pinching it. It feels slightly nice as he  bites your neck. He flicks it and you can’t help but jerk at the sudden motion, but you want him to do it again. You want him to take away the bra so that it’s not in the way.

“Hanbin,” you mutter, catching his attention. You grab your bra and pull it off you, feeling your face go red as you toss it across the room. His eyes travel down from your eyes to your naked top. Leaning down you feel the butterflies explode as he kisses just above your nipple. He kisses below it, kissing around them before he takes one into his mouth. It’s warm and different as he swirls his tongue around, sucking the tip and your body reacts, arching your back for him to take more.

You’ve touched your breasts in a sensual way before, but you didn’t feel this aroused as you do now with Hanbin touching you the way you did. You want him to continue on for who knows how long. You just want to be in this euphoria for as long as you can be before you face–

He grinds himself against your core, your breath hitching from the sudden movement. He does it again, a little rougher as he switches breasts. There’s another intake as you feel the pressure between both your clothed cores. You open your legs wider for him, wanting to feel him grind against you again, and he does. Grinding your own hips to meet the small friction happening between the two of you, Hanbin takes your now hardened nipple between his teeth and bites, pulling it just enough to earn a small moan from you.

As if he couldn’t take it anymore, Hanbin sits up and works on unbuttoning your jeans, you’re just as eager to help. He pulls down your pants and takes them off before they disappear behind him and leaves you now in just your underwear. He looks down to your womanhood, his finger traveling to the fabric. He lets it slide over the silk, his fingers brushing lightly but still causing your body to react from the sudden touch.

He meets your gaze, eyes full of lust that you can’t look away. You feel his finger again, pressing harder so that his fingers traveled between your lips and stopped at your bud where he forms a circular motion. You take in a deep breath never realizing how wet you already were from the few minutes of what he’s done to you. You can’t help but wonder what he feels, but you don’t have to think hard as you can see it in his eyes and the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Ah,” you quietly let out, body twitching from the pleasure you’re getting. Your breathing is slightly uneven as you take a handful of his blanket in your hands. “Hanbin,” you whisper, watching his finger the entire time while he watches you.

Maybe he understands what your body is telling him but your mind isn’t processing because he removes his finger from your bud and grabs the band of your pantie, removing it slowly and off you. Watching him scoot back and lean forward, you can’t help but imagine the first time this happened. The first time you experienced oral sex was when you had your eyes closed and you were lying on Yoongi’s bed as he held your legs open and–

You shake your head, no longer wanting to remember him. He’s not in your life anymore. You haven’t seen him in almost two months–you really haven’t seen him since that night when you had your double date with Ari and Hoseok. When Sam left his bedroom…

Your moan is louder, body pulling back and your back arching as you feel Hanbin run his tongue between your folds. You feel his arms wrap around your thighs, his hands holding them open as he continues his rhythm of a few licks between before going to swirl around your bud, sucking lightly. Your toes curl at the sensation as his hot breath hits your warmth as he creates your fourth orgasm, the building up becoming too much that your body shakes as you see the white stars and the build up burst.

You can feel your skin turning sticky from the sweat that built up from the heat slowly rising the room. The afternoon sun shining through the window, making Hanbin’s skin glow as he sits up, looking down at you. He looks sexy. His jet black hair sticking to his forehead from his own sweat, his toned body glistening as well, and the bulge more evident than before. Just like that first time in Yoongi’s room–your mind refuses to think but rather listens to your body as you get to your knees, kissing him again and your hands traveling to his pants.

You don’t hesitate this time as you unbuckle the belt to his pants, working on his button before finally zipping the zipper down. You don’t pull down his pants but let your hand go in and feel his length. It pulses from under his boxers and it’s hard, the tip leaving a small gap between the band and his pelvis. You grip his member, hearing an intake of his breath as you follow the length up and down. He grabs one cheek of your behind with one hand while the other goes down in between you two, his fingers finding its way to your bead again.

His breathing is ragged as you palm him, feeling his length radiate heat through the fabric as you suppress a moan as he rubs your own heat. Your tongues dance around one another as you finally bring your hand inside his last clothing article, feeling the skin of his penis. It’s warm and pulses in your hand as you do what…

You push that memory back as you let your hand do what it did that day, forgetting the person you practiced on. He moans into your mouth as you rub your finger on his tip, feeling a sticky substance coming from his slit. “Pre cum,” Ari told you when describing the male penis to you. Who knew having a friend open to talking about sex can help you now.

You can’t take it any longer as you feel the familiar high coming as you remove your hand from his pants and use both to push them to pull down his pants and off him. His hand leaves yours and he hops off the bed and removes his pants and boxers in one motion. You stare at his erect member, swallowing at the size of it. It looks big–bigger than Yoongi’s. You can’t stop the fear taking over as you think of that entering you. It’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt so much.

As if sensing your fear, Hanbin climbs back onto the bed, cups your cheeks and brings your gaze up to him. “It won’t hurt like you think it will, Y/N. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you’re ready, and when you know you’re ready, you tell me and then we’ll try. If you’re not ready today, we don’t have to do it,” he reassures, his voice soft and filling you up with warmth.

You nod, feeling a bit more at ease as he kisses you once, twice, and then you’re lost in his lips. His hands travel down, feeling the curve of your body until he’s back to rubbing your clit, bringing back the feeling once again. You can’t help but bring your own hands back to his, feeling it pressed up against your stomach as you rub it between your hand and stomach. He moans into your mouth as you do the same, feeling the need to do more for him. Grabbing his sex, you bring it down, opening your legs wider as you move his hand away and place it between your folds, remembering how you did it with–no. Stop.

Hanbin breaks the kiss and looks down between you two before looking back up at you. “Please move,” you mumble. feeling already sensitive from him pressed against you. He pulls back, climbing off the bed again. You’re confused as you watch him make his way to his dresser, opening the first drawer, digging around for a second before pulling out a plastic wrapper and a black bottle. He comes back to you, tossing the condom on the bed completely forgetting about it as he focuses on the bottle, opening it and pouring a clear liquid substance onto his open palm. Closing the lid and dropping it next to the forgotten condom, he rubs it between his hands before coating his staff with it.

You realize it’s lube.

He makes his way back to you on the bed, on his knees in front of you as he nods, grabbing his rod and putting it back between you. It’s cold and you can’t stop the gasp escaping past your lips as you go still, waiting for your body to get used to the sudden change in temperature. “Sorry,” he mumbles, voice low and uneven as if he’s trying to stop himself from coming already. After a few seconds of deep breaths from him, he moves, his erection sliding along your vagina. You gasp, feeling the familiar pleasure you feel that day coming back. You close your legs, trapping him between you as he moves, a groan leaving him.

He keeps his pace slow-like as you feel the heat between the two of you grow. “Faster.” You want to feel him–feel him move at a fast pace that you can’t keep still. He complies with your request, capturing your lips as his thrusts become more quick. He glides against you so quickly and with ease as you feel your high grow more and more. The two of you are groaning into each other’s mouths as his thrusts are faster and harder, his pelvis hitting your own that if you weren’t desperate for him to go harder, you would feel the pain ten times more than you do right now. He wraps his arm around your waist to hold you still as he pounds against you.

You pull away, gasping and choking on a moan as you clutch onto him, wanting to become undone so badly. Hanbin stops moving, letting go of your waist as he instructs, “Lie down on your back.” You do as told, feeling your skin peel apart from each other as you lie on your back, looking up at him. He scoots closer to you, placing his sex between your folds again before grabbing your legs closing them and trapping him between them. You bend your knees close to your chest as you feel him move again, his grip on your ankles tightening immediately as he begins to pant.

The moans come back, your hands clutching onto his blanket. You’re close this time. Coming close a lot faster than you were earlier. Maybe it’s the angle, or it’s how he can thrust faster without having to be blocked, but your toes curl, back arching into an uncomfortable position as your body shakes, the long awaited orgasm finally coming undone. You can tell Hanbin’s rhythmic thrusts are uncertain now as he groans louder and a curse leaving his lips as he stills and a warm substance lands just below your belly button.

He releases his grip on your ankles, your legs falling like jelly onto the bed and Hanbin resting his hands on either side of you, his head resting against your shoulder. The two of you breath heavily as the sunlight barely filters through the trees, the room almost completely engulfed in darkness as the ceiling lights had turned off when you finished eating. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he mutters, his breath hitting your collar bone.

He brings his head up to look into your eyes, his hazel eyes glistening from the dim sunlight, black hair sticking to his forehead. You reach a hand up and brush the strands away. “Can we keep going?” you ask, voice barely a whisper, but he hears you loud and clear.

His brows rise. “You want to continue?” You give a slow nod. Did you mess up by asking to continue? Is he tired? Does he not want to? “If you want to we can. It may take me awhile to… you know.” He smiles sheepishly at you, giving you a second to catch on to what he’s saying.

“Oh. Okay,” you reply, nodding in somewhat understanding. You had two orgasms within the first session, so you don’t understand the male body. Maybe all men are different and Hanbin just takes a bit to get into the mood. “We can stop if you want.”

Your boyfriend chuckles. “It’s all about you today, Y/N. If you want to continue we will. It won’t be that long before I’m hard again.” With another nod from you, Hanbin leans down and places a kiss on the tip of your nose. He kisses down to your lips, the two of you sharing the sweet moment before he continues down further. He gives each breast light kisses before reaching your stomach, going down the center of your stomach and stopping before your belly button. He moves down to reach your center. His eyes travel up to you, his hands finding yours and he interlocks your fingers together. “I’ll be trying something. If you’re uncomfortable just tell me.”

Giving him your “okay”, he continues a bit further down until his tongue brushes between your lips again. You can’t help but gasp, your body clearly sensitive to the touch. He lets your hands go and as he holds one leg down, the other is there right along his tongue. He opens the folds, his tongue working its magic and even going a bit further by entering your hole just a bit. You revel in the feeling of his tongue, letting yourself get lost in the feeling as his tongue is back on your clitoris, fingers still where he put them.

His finger glides up and down, collecting what juices you made before he stops lower than where his mouth is. He forms a small circle around your entrance and slowly sticks one finger in. It’s barely the tip of his finger, but it feels strange. However, you’re too absorbed in the feel of his mouth as he inches another finger in. He continues until he has almost his entire finger inside you. Hanbin pulls out before slowly pushing back in.

It feels weird–it feels strange, but maybe he’s trying to get your body used to it before it’s him that enters. When he pulls out, he enters another finger, carefully pushing two digits in you, and you can’t help but feel even more strange. How long does it take before you’re enjoying the feeling? It honestly didn’t take long for the mouth to make you feel good, but his fingers are different. You close your eyes and try to enjoy the feeling you’re getting as best as possible without letting the fear take over.

“Ah,” you moan, body jerking as you feel his mouth suck a bit harder than earlier on your bud. Hanbin continues his small thrusts, twisting his fingers as he enters again, and once curling his fingers, but as he continues, the strange feeling is slowly being replaced with pleasure. He searches and tries as many angles as he can until he finds a sensitive area inside you. “Right there,” you gasp, as he pulls his fingers out. He looks up to you for what looks like reassurance. “Right there please.”

As Hanbin enters his fingers again, he does what he did the last time, twisting his fingers and curling them to hit the same spot so perfectly. You moan louder, bucking your hips from how strong the feeling is. He does it again and again, always finding the same spot as you clutch the blanket, moving your own hips to his movements. “Faster,” you beg, bringing your hips back as he does with his fingers before the two of you meet moving forward. He picks up his pace, the sound of what you can describe as sticking your fingers in slime and the wet sound coming after filling the room along with your moans. You can’t hold back any sounds escaping your body, even if you fear the neighbors hearing you–it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is feeling the whirl of emotions you’re having right now.

You’re begging now. Begging for him to go faster to give you that rush you’re so close to getting, but it’s not enough. “I need you,” you moan, looking down at him as his eyes meet yours. He pulls back and out, sitting up and cocking his head to the side. “I need you in me,” you rephrase, watching as a small ‘o’ forms around his lips in realization.

“Are you sure?” he questions.

“Please.”

He looks hesitant again. Like a child afraid to take something after his mother said “no”, but he moves forward and grabs his girth, lining it up to you. He glances at you. “If it’s uncomfortable–”

“Just tell you,” you say.

He chuckles. “Guess I talk a lot.”

You reach a hand out to him and he takes it. Holding his hand you look at him with a look of comfort this time. “I’m ready. I trust you.”

He inhales, caught off guard by your words. “Okay.” Grabbing the condom and lube bottle, the two items long forgotten about, he rips the wrapper open with his mouth and pulls out the condom, rolling it onto his fill. Tossing the package to the floor, he opens the cap to the bottle and pours it onto his hand, closing the lid and dropping it to the ground where the wrapper lies. You watch him as he rubs the clear substance on his protected shaft. Once he figures it’s covered, he strokes himself a few times before aligning it back to you.

He rubs his bulge up and down your sex, sending a shiver down your spine. Finally, he pushes himself in. You feel him enter but it’s a small amount before he pulls back out just barely leaving the tip inside. He pushes himself back in, a little further in. Pulls out. Again back in, more entering. He continues this, the feeling strange because it’s bigger and he can’t twist or curve it like he did with his fingers. You can feel your walls widen, but it’s not painful like you thought it would. There’s no tears like they have in the movies or what people tell you.

“Sex isn’t painful like people think. If your vag is prepped enough, it won’t feel like you’re being stabbed like the actors make you think. It’s all about knowing your body,” Ari told you when you first confessed to her about your first heated moment with Hanbin.

You’re not afraid, your body isn’t tense like you thought it would be. You’re calm and ready more than ever, and although it feels strange, once he starts moving in and out you know you’ll feel what all women feel.

Hanbin finally comes to a stop, his erection fully inside you. “How are you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you answer.

He nods, leaning forward and placing a warm kiss to your lips. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

You wait for a bit. Waiting for your body to get used to his size. When you feel like your body has adjusted, you exhale. “Okay.”

Hanbin moves. Pulling out like he did with his fingers, slow and careful. You’re unsure as to when you’ll feel good, but right now it’s just strange. It’s not uncomfortable or painful. It’s just… weird. He pushes back in, his own breathing uneven, eyes shut tight.

“Are you okay?”

He struggles to let out a chuckle as he answers, “You’re really tight and warm. I’m losing my mind right now.”

“Oh.” Even through the reddened and sweat filled cheeks, you can still feel the heat rise in them.

He opens an eye. “Are you okay?” He pulls back out.

“Yeah,” you half lie. You don’t want to tell him how you really feel. “You can move faster.”

He exhales. “Okay.” The blanket on either side of you shifts due to Hanbin’s grip tightening as he pushes in faster than the last thrust. Resting on his elbows now, Hanbin leans forward and kisses you. You cup his cheeks, feeling his tongue enter yours without a thought as his thrusts into you, the feeling still foreign. Your tongues play around one another with more practice compared to the first time. With practice you’re used to your boyfriend biting your lower lip, pulling back just a bit. With practice you find it so attractive and love how he’ll sigh in such content as you would do the same.

And with practiced thrusts, you finally let out a moan as the strange feeling disappears and the familiar thrill enters in its place. Your moan seemed to encourage Hanbin as he thrusts even faster than earlier, earning another muffled moan. The kiss breaks, Hanbin sitting back up on his knees with his hands gripping your hips, and you grab onto his wrists, eyes shut as you finally enjoy the feeling of sex.

You moan out his name and he moans out a curse as he pounds into you, the sound of your moans and skin slapping fills the room, the sun long gone and moonlight shining through the window along with the projector light now playing a white light. Opening your eyes to look at him. You can only see his outline, the light from the projector creating an illusion that he’s a god coming down from above. A god thrusting into you so good that your back arches, giving the god-like figure a chance to dip forward and bring his arm under you, changing your positions in one swift movement. You place your hands on his chest to keep your balance still as you adjust yourself now on top of him.

You sway your hips forward and back as you watch your shadow on the wall in front of you. Your hair is wild and if it were a mirror you’ll probably see the mess Hanbin has made out of you, but you can’t stop to focus on yourself as you hear a moan leave your boyfriend’s lips, his hands traveling from your hips up to grab your breasts and squeeze. His moans urge you to move faster and harder like he did. His pleas urge you to be just as quick as he is as you sit up straight and begin to bounce on him, the familiar sounds of slapping skin and moans filling the room again within seconds.

You can feel it again. You can feel the tense feeling licking the edge ready to burst. Hanbin grunts loudly, his body stiffening beneath you as you bounce a few times more before you feel the walls clench around him and the orgasm hit like a wall breaking down a dam. You sway your hips, eyes shut and nails digging into Hanbin’s skin as you ride out your orgasm, feeling your legs trying to close shut around his waist. After a few seconds and the world coming back to life, you hear the pants coming from you two along with the whirring sound from the projector.

You open your eyes to see Hanbin staring at the roof, his chest heaving as you slowly pull yourself off him, flinching as you feel him leave you. Lying next to him, he turns his head towards you, sweat more evident on his skin than earlier today. “That was–how do you feel?”

“It was amazing and intense,” you confess, feeling your voice crack. Your emotions are all over the place and you’re trying hard not to have that urge to cry.

He shifts his body facing you, caressing your cheek as he leans forward to place a kiss on your lips. “What do you want to do? Do you want to take a shower?”

“I want to sleep.” Your body will refuse to get up and make its way towards his bathroom, but you know it’ll get up just a bit to climb under the covers, and it does as Hanbin leans over the bed to grab his shirt and boxers. He hands you his shirt for you to put on as he removes the condom and tosses it into the trashcan next to his desk and puts his boxers on. When you’ve settled in, Hanbin brings you into his arms and you fall asleep almost immediately.

The following morning you wake up before he does, remembering all that happened the night before. You turn to look at his sleeping figure, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. After five minutes of debating with yourself, you decide to wake him up.

The two of you barely left that room for the rest of the day.