#so i just got new flat rate boxes the last time i had to mail a package but hadn't tossed the others

[starlit-mansion]

Extremely proud of myself for actually tackling the huge pile of craft supplies and stuff that's taken over the dining nook because 30% of it was boxes and packing material and can be discarded as soon as the recycling service empties the communal paper thing

[talvin-muircastle]

Another Update re: My Dad

So, for those of you new here, at the beginning of the year my father died of COVID.  

He left quite a mess for his second wife, including tearing up not only his will but hers, and things were Very Not Good for a bit.  Getting him cremated took a lot of hassle, but she did finally get reimbursed by FEMA.  

I have been calling her every week or so to check in on her, just see how she is doing living in that mobile home in a wooded valley four miles from a town full of rednecks.   She’s Canadian, and moved down there to be with my Dad, and has only a very few friends there even now.  

The mobile home and postage stamp of land will go to the State when she passes on or moves away, under Medicaid Estate Recovery.  That’s Federal Law, if you have to have long-term care, they may take your whole estate to pay for it. Fuck America.  

She had some things she wanted to send me, and I sent her a stack of large USPS flat-rate boxes and told her every time she had something ready to mail, I would do Click-and-Ship and send her the labels to print out.  She sent me some of the Sci-Fi books that I had grown up reading from Dad’s collection, his entire Andrew Greeley collection, a bunch of photos including the pictures from our wedding day, and the kilt Dad wore at our wedding.  He sprang for kilts for me, my brother, and himself for that day.  

All that is done, now, but (and keep in mind this woman and I have never met face to face, and the Pandemic and finances meant I could not go down there), she was complaining about the cordless phone dying on her, and it came out that she had to be very careful how she held the phone to keep it away from her pacemaker and there was no proper “landline” phone (and she is far enough out that cell service is shit.) Also, if the power went out, she then had no phone, it was all cordless.

I kinda freaked out, and so did my family, so she got a landline phone that is quite safe to have within six inches of her pacemaker, and last time I called she was using it and much relieved and very grateful. I was like...quick purchase on Amazon, you sent me eight boxes of stuff and I keep asking if you need anything, I think that really is important!

Four miles from anything, elderly, pacemaker, and using an ancient cordless phone (I mean, I think we are talking *at least* fifteen years old, from what she is saying) that needs power to call 911.  YIKES!

So that’s better.  

Not the best scan, but here is a pic of me and my Dad from my wedding day.  Nowadays, my facial hair looks a lot like his.

In fact, my face looks a lot more like his, now.

And his kilt fits me just fine, now.

Well.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Brucie Baby~

You decide to top Bruce.

Masterlist

Warning: Adult situations +18, Smut, Oral, Teasing, Femdom switch, Name calling, Swearing, Anal, Dubcon, Spitting (once)

A/n: okay so... Yeah as you can probably tell by now I am more of a bottom, but I really really wanted to give this a shot not to sure how I feel about it but I do hope that people like it, its really smutty. enjoy xx

Taglist @125bluemachine125​

Brucie Baby~

Bruce was down in the Bat cave working on his latest device upon taking Clark's advice he had taken you to the hospital for a heart check up. As it turned out you do have an abnormal heart rate, an arrhythmia tachycardia no murmur or damage yet and not dangerous thank god but you needed to have it monitored. So Bruce was making you a tiny ecg, much like the ones on sports watches but as you had refused to wear one he was making one in the form of a thin flat delicate chain mail looking bracelet with a small platinum plate with Sweets engraved underneath and a small onyx on the top the bracelet was a modern looking piece small and was versatile, it would go with anything and more importantly it would send the data straight to his phone and computer wirelessly, he even set it up to log in the bat computer just to make sure it was never lost. He may or may not have also put a teeny tiny tracker on it to but you wouldn't be privy to either just yet holding his breath as he clipped the last piece in place holding it to the inside of his wrist then outside checking the data on his phone as it lit up recording his pulse, with one last look he was satisfied he pulled it away tucking it into a velvet lined gift box bought specifically for the piece. Standing he stretched looking up at the time six am he would need to be ready to leave at eight. It was your six month anniversary and you were both going to spend the week at his own little slice of paradise, since what was now called 'the incident' things had changed slightly he was a little hesitant when being intimate, not that he didn’t love you or anything like that he would argue that you didn’t just own his heart, you was his heart but he was afraid of hurting you at first it was because of your injuries, then your it was your heart now he was just worried not wanting to accidentally hurt you, not only that but he was stressed, he kept on replaying that night over and over, the way he slammed the breaks but knew he wasn’t going to stop in time, all he could do was watch as you came closer and closer. He was so close to loosing you that he didn’t want to risk any harm whatsoever including in the bed room. Alfred said he was being silly that you wasn’t going anywhere and that as long as you had your safe word you was safe, he didn't even bother to ask where Alfred had learned about that he thought he was better off not knowing. It was also Alfred who had suggested the week away together noting you was both a bit stressed with the incident then the move. So that what was happening a trip to his small private island in the Maldives, Dick was coming to stay and fill in for him on patrol. He snapped the box shut leaving the cave, when he arrived to the bed room he stopped dead seeing you sitting up reading with a travel mug you turned to him smiling.

"Hey baby, how was it tonight?" he shrugged turning closing the door.

"Not much, stopped a kidnapping and an a few assaults small things really"

"Not to the victims they wont be. I heard the boys come up earlier you stayed down there a while." he smiled slipping off his tight tshirt strategically throwing it on the chair covering the small jewelry box as he dropped that as well.

"Yes working on something"You smiled curling your toes into the bed beneath you.

"Oh really a new gadget? Oh oh is it a lazer? Please tell me its a lazer I have always wanted to play with one like the ones in James bond!" He gave you a look

"No its not a lazer and if it was you definitely wouldn't get your hands on it" you pouted but not for long as your favorite part of the day began it was the best bit of living here full time getting your daily dose of Bruce's delicious body without fail, he smirked dropping his bottoms and pants in one swoop as he made his way across the room. You watched him quietly biting your lip as he snuck into the bed slowly crawling up beside you plucking your kindle from your hand snapping it shut dropping it on the side table then slid higher leaning over you taking your mug from you placing it beside the kindle. You sighed at him shivering a little as his cock brushed the top of your thigh wetting the shorts you wore to bed as it twitched to life against you.

"And just what do you think your doing Mr Wayne? you know we have a flight to catch in what two hours?" he hummed tugging on your arms leaning down to your neck whispering into your neck

"It's my Jet it wont leave without me" you sighed pulling his face up abruptly holding him firm before pressing your lips to his, he was a little shocked to say the least but soon gave into you as you plundered his mouth forcefully taking what you wanted from him twisting and toying with his tongue before making him shiver as you ran the tip of your tongue over the roof of his mouth then sucked harshly pulling on his tongue he moaned when you pulled back. Blinking a little confused as to where that aggression had come from but you felt just how much he had liked the change of pace  as you gripped his now fully erect cock between your delicate hands tugging once twice and one final third time twisting as the went rubbing over his slit making him bite off a groan arching into your hand with eager hips.Perfect.

"Well I don't think it would be nice to keep the pilot waiting, so I'm off to have a shower and recheck my bag and you should to, I'd say sleep but you don't have time" you said he moaned trying to grab you as you slipped out of the bed licking your lips, oh yes this trip would be incredible. You see you had fully healed from the night you discovered Bruce's secret and had been forced to the hospital about your heart and although it wasn't anything to worry about yet. Bruce had been very delicate with you. Not that you haven't enjoyed the sex but it wasn't the same, so you was stuck not sure what to do,you had already asked him but he insisted you wait a few more weeks to be sure. You wanted to do something get him so riled up that he would forget everything that has happened and ravage you once and for all. You smiled to yourself you had gone to Alfred for suggestions Alfred about what you should do to help. Alfred being the good sport he was smirked telling you to leave it with him already having a plan in mind, the next day a note had been slipped under your morning coffee with a single web address. You laughed giddy when you looked and saw a plethora of adult toys all dedicated to one kink Femdom safe to say most of the money you saved since living at the manor had brought you a whole arsenal of toys that was already at the house waiting as Alfred had arranged for it to be shipped directly there. You stopped just before walking through the door to the bathroom turning back to Bruce as he laid sprawled out on his back hand creeping to his cock that tented the blankets

"Oh and Bruce? leave that alone its mine if you don't you'll be sorry" you smirked at the shocked look on his face having to enter the bathroom quickly before you lost your composure and started laughing at the confused man. He through his head back cock twitching, you were up to something and he didn't know what but what he did know is he couldn't fucking wait. Closing his eyes he willed his raging boner to relax a little but he could still feel the tingles left by your hands. Shit. He heaved a sigh once he heard the shower, quickly getting up and hiding the bracelet in his packed bag stuffing the small box in his side pocket before beginning to get ready, he didn't need sleep yet he could wait until the flight and would probably nap by the sea once at the island. He sighed when racing past you when you stepped out of the shower turning it cold to help settle his problem you smirked nodding at him a little.

Thirty seven hours later you found yourselves stepping off of the plane the first thing you noticed was it was hot....Fucking hot you was happy you only had a thin dress on and the second was the sight that greeted you took your breath away you stood looking at what had to be a photo because this could not be real Bruce came up behind you yawning and stretching as he had just woken up, he looked well rested for the first time in weeks. He walked behind you kissing the back of your neck hugging you close.

"You like it?

""It-Bruce this is incredible I've  never seen anything like this not in real life" you was awe struck by the pure white sand and crystal clear water, in front of you was a small thatched building that looked like it was for maintenance, beyond that a lush patch of brightly colored plants you could hear parrots and various other wild life in the trees and peaking thought you could see the beach. A long pier extending out with a large house at the end that you'd seen on the brochures from here you could see the slide that wrapped around it from the roof into the sea. you smiled turning to him excitedly

"Oh my god a slide? does it have one of those nets? you know the one that hangs over the water that you can lay on?" you asked jumping up a little he laughed nodding.

"Yes and the slide was for the boys when they were younger but I'm sure you will make use of it, there is an infinity pool at the back to, Jason got freaked out by the fish when he was little so I had it put in for him." you giggled as you saw someone you didn't recognize pick up your bags piling them into a small jeep Bruce walked you over to it holding you around the waist.

"Jason really? was he frightened of them?"

"No I wouldn't say frightened, he just didn't like the idea of them touching him, he loved watching them hence the pool is glass he would dive holding the top with his goggles and snorkel I was even considering getting some coral around it to encourage more but the more fish would have drawn sharks and I decided against it not with the boys." you snapped your head to him as you sat side by side in the Jeep as it started moving down the dirt road towards the house.

"Sharks? do they come close?" he patted your thigh at the cute expression

"Don't worry most are babies...Tho there was that hammer head that swam straight into the glass pool that one time, and the reef shark of 08 he hung about for a few days swimming below the house I wouldn't let the boys out it was quiet big, turns out they were fucking feeding it! Well Dick was, wanted to tame it and brag to everyone that he had a pet shark." you laughed you could imagine them sneaking out throwing food at the dangerous creature.

"Was that when Jason asked for the pool by any chance?" you said slyly as the jeep rounded the corner pulling out of the trees to the beach parking by the huge pier. You glanced along the beach noticing a large sunken area with a curved stone wall with wooden bench wrapped around it and huge sunken firepit full of smooth glittering stones. You jumped out of the car following Bruce down the the pier both taking your suitcases and rolling them behind you as you walked hand in hand down the long wooden structure hearing the jeep drive off back towards the airfield.

"Never though about it but yes it was it must, have scared him. I only found out they was feeding the damn thing when I caught Dick trying to get in the water with it,the silly little sod was adamant that he had 'tamed the beast' I only just dragged him out of the water in time. I can tell you he didn't try that again after the hiding he got." you chuckled but felt sorry for the boy. You finally arrived at the sleek modern villa upon entering you sighed in relief as the aircon was in full swing cooling the house to a comfortable tempature, it was one story the whole back of the building was huge panes of glass giving an uninterrupted view of the sea beyond it was open planned with the master bedroom on the far left of the house and two rooms for the boys on the far right in the middle was an open plan light and airy kitchen with center island and dining table in front and large living room with sunken u shaped sofa facing a fireplace with tv above, out side you could see the pool and large hammock net beside it to the left was a set of stairs integrated into the side of the house you assumed it was for the slide. It was beautiful he directed you through to the bed room placing your bags down you gasped as the view was stunning you almost felt like you was just skimming the clear water.

"Bruce this is-its beautiful, I've never seen anything like this" he smiled approaching you slowly placing his hands on your shoulders pulling you back against him.

"Good I’m glad you like it, I'm going to have a quick shower and change I will be right back" you nodded turning giving him a deep kiss before letting him go. Once he left through the door you moved fast finding your order that Alfred said was in here and ripping it open finding your toys, you guessed that you had around ten minuets which was enough you raced to the bed with the box quickly unwrapping what you assumed was the comfort hand cuffs, basically normal click hand cuffs with a soft lining they had a quick release to you noted you gave them the once over the chain between them was think so hopefully they would contain him, not wasting time you quickly threaded them threw the bars of the head bored looping it around twice and stuffed it down beside the mattress out of sight then repeated with two separate cuffs on either side of the base board. You quickly made your way back to the box pulling out your other goodies quickly fiddling with them figuring out how each thing worked and moved crawling under the bed finding a plug socket and plugged in the rechargeable wand and plug vibrator you sighed standing back up doing another round of the room checking everything was hidden. Smiling you fist pumped the air and pulled out the final thing you had got the the cherry on the smutty cake as it were. It looked a little tight but you could make do quickly stuffing it back in the box and fished out the rest from your suitcase then kicked it across the room out of the way. You panicked slightly trying to remember everything you had seen in the videos. You had planned this for just over a week using the time he was away at night to watch ridiculous amounts of femdom porn wanting to get this spot on. You knew he would like this just from the way he got turned on when you became as he called it 'Mama bear' you took a deep breath you could do this. You'd pay for it later .but you could do this. You kicked off your shoes and dress lying on the bed in only your panties you had forsaken your bra on the flight you turned facing away from the bathroom door staring out to the sea, it calmed you hearing the waves in the distance and the soft laps of water on the columns holding the house up just below the floor you nearly drifted off to sleep. Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Bruce came waltzing in clad in only a towel."All ready and waiting for me love? I thought we could go relax in the Jacuzzi for a bit but if you insist, after all I do owe you for yesterday" he said quickly throwing the towel away and crawling on the bed you rolled over to meet him half way kissing him lightly at first before moving slowly sitting up deepening the kiss you moaned as he bit your lip sucking it then released opening your mouth you welcomed him letting him explore your mouth slowly before you latched on to his tongue sucking it quickly and biting it lightly rolling over to lounge across him he smirked cupping your ass as you moved straddling him you looked down noticing he was already half hard.smirking you shuffled up sitting on his cock trapping it between your covered pussy and his own abdomen a leaning over kissing him again slowly clasping his hands maneuvering them up past his head. Distracting him by running kisses across his jaw suckling and biting harshly making him moan the he returned the favor sucking a dark mark on your neck. Yes almost there. You guided his hands further across the pillows and grinded on him making sure to keep him occupied then CLICK! he flinched jerking his arms pulling his face away from you. You giggled at the shocked look on his face

"ERR Babe wh-what are you doing there hun?" he asked there was a tremor to his voice. you grinned at him leaning down to him again kissing his chest.

"I want to play Brucie baby~ You see you've been gentle and I just don't know what I have to do to get you to rough me up a bit. First I thought if I was a good girl you'd reward me, fuck me stupid again like you did before. I know you was worried that you'd hurt me again but sometimes a bit of pain is good. Soooo I thought that I'd show you." you winked at him crawling backwards down the length of his body leaving soft kisses. He stared mouth open speechless as you slid off of the bed, you could see it in the way his pupils were blown, eyes clouded with lust he was enjoying himself and the slight bobbing of his semi erect cock was a very good indicator. He shook his head laughing a little and smirked.

"Oh you think you can top me baby girl because you have a set of handcuffs? Fine I will play along give me your best shot"

"Oh baby, you are so going to regret that" you smiled bending down licking your lips as you quickly cuffed each of his ankles spreading him open you tutted and walked across the room to the box pulling out a two little elastic rings towards him,he visibly flinched and gulped a little as you stalked to the bed holding the toys.

"Hey wh-where did you get that? How do you even know what that is? my sweet lovely little girlfreind, you know I love you right babe?" you giggled sitting on the bed as he tested his cuffs trying to shift away from you as you ran the tip of a finger up and down his lower abdomen.

"Of course I know you love me I love you to and I'm pretty sure this is on your list isn't it? the big bad bat of Gotham who is always in control day and night wants to take the back seat once in a while? to be completely at my mercy for once?" he nodded a little swallowing dryly still trying to get his head around the fact that you, tiny innocent y/n had cuffed him to the bed and was stroking his stomach getting him ready for a fucking cock ring. You giggled placing your hand on the crown of his cock rubbing and teasing him with the pads of your fingers making his hiss arching leaning down licking at him then slowly dragged the tips of your nails up and over his whole length until finally he rose fully erect and ready, you made quick work of placing the cock ring over him rolling it down the pulled both balls through it gently moving him through the tight loop letting go he moaned as it started squeezing him tight then you moved quick placing the second one at his base trapping his balls between the two elastics you parted with a kiss and nip to them making him arch off the bed groaning loud panting heavy, he hissed as they constricted his heated flesh keeping him pointing directly up. You then tapped the head lightly sucking on it once then pulled away."Now I will be right back just going to freshen up." you said walking of to the side lifting your new outfit ignoring his protests listening as he tugged at the bonds swearing as he realized he might not be able to break away. He was fucked utterly fucked but oh boy was he going to enjoy it, this was his darkest deepest fantasy that no woman had ever even attempted, in his playboy years he had always been treated like a sugar daddy, they expected him to top each time ,they were desperate just wanting him to dominate them, control them and then fuck them silly. It was a secret desire that he was almost ashamed of, absolutely no one new not even Alfred who knew everything about him. He absolutely loved topping it was his thing but every now and then he wants to be topped, the idea of you using him, controlling him.

"UGH fuuuck" he cried out as the thought made his cock harden bouncing a little as he was held high moaning and twitching as he tried to focus on his breathing instead of the tight delicious throbbing of his cock. Meanwhile you entered the bathroom putting on your new outfit, well you use the term outfit loosely it was one of those cute goth girl type harnesses that looped in v's across your breasts wrapping up around your neck in a choker and matching thong you paired it with Bruce’s favorite stocking and garter set thick band of lace wrapped around your waist attached to matching lace trimmed stockings and killer heels- he liked you in heels- then ruffled your hair applying you expensive red long wear lipstick, this particular one needs a special lipstick remover and had also been a new purchase just for this. You grabbed the last item a fierce looking black riding crop. oh yes this was worth epilating for. You felt so ready for this your insides aching for him if everything went to plan you’d be thoroughly fucked out by the end of the day then took a deep breath pushing aside your own arousal. Not yet today was for Bruce. Hearing the rattle of the cuffs a and a deep frustrated moan. You opened the door strutting to wards the bed watching him whither trying to tug himself free, he hadn't noticed you yet you licked your lips in anticipation. Excellent. you quickly brought the crop down on the v above his angry looking cock making him hiss and stop mouth agape as he saw you.

"Fuck me" he said drinking in your form you smirked sitting on the bed running the tip of the crop up his neck pressing on his jaw to close it humming at him.

"Not yet baby we've only just started, oh honey that looks uncomfortable~" you said tapping his red swollen cock with the crop quickly he grunted, couldn't take his eyes off of you as you got up and walked around the bed sliding beneath it you came back up resting your head on your elbow on the bed level with his face

."I almost feel bad about what I'm going to do you you. But this is a lesson you need isn't it love?" you watched his eyes widen as you lifted your hand holding a Pink wand vibrator. His breath hitched yep he was definitely completely and utterly fucked with capital F. He moaned

"No nono Sweets come on! that's not fair!" You smirked at him as he growled tugging on the cuffs again.

"OH but it is Brucie it is fair, pay back is a bitch and so am I" You picked up the crop striking him across the stomach with it leaving red strips across him then once lightly on the fat head of his cock as you moved taking your place between his spread thighs. Stroking him lightly barely touching him swirling your fingers around him making him swear at your cool hands.

"Today my love you are not Bruce Wayne, you are not the bat or even the boss. No today you are a little subby, little Brucie baby and lastly but definitely not least you are my toy!" You smiled as he grunted loud trying to buck, tho you wasn't sure if it was away or towards your hand.

"Im counting on you using my safe word if things get to much for you ,you remember what it is?" You asked him still stroking him slowly pressing your fingers every so often as you twisted making sure to rub the sensitive underside of his head a little making him hiss and groan

"Brownies" you smiled leaning down ghosting your breath on him. Letting one hand slip to the apex of your own thighs shuddering as you made contact with your engorged clit rubbing lightly coaxing small gasps and moans.

"Good boy, such a good boy" before you licked at his slit he groaned thrusting up trying to penetrate your mouth. You pulled back scraping him with your teeth collecting some precum along the way making a point of sticking out your tongue to him showing him his own seed before swallowing it licking your lips  tutting you moved your hand clenching your hand around him reprimanding him.

"OH baby you want my mouth? you'll have to behave then and I might let you have it" he swore when you placed the wand sneakily beneath both rings pressing it tightly against the flesh below his balls flicking it on.

"OH FUUUCK shitshit thats-Ahh!" he grunted torn between trying to press down and pull away as the vibrations traveled from his root to tip making the elastics tremble against one another teasing his trapped cock, you smiled wickedly before flicking it up not one but two levels enjoying the cry that ripped from deep in his chest, it was an unexpected pleasure watching as his whole upper body tensed curling his muscles bulging trying to free himself he panted a few deep breaths then held his breath grunting before panting quickly again whining trying to rut into it. Quickly you pulled it away before he could cum giggling as he through himself back on the bed panting already covered in sweat you didn’t give him long to recover before pressing it hard to the swollen balls peaking taught from between the rings. The reaction was immediate this time his whole body ceasing, locking and trying to squirm away all at once. Slowly you moved it up to his weeping head rolling it around in delicate circles he grunted throwing his head back into the pillows turning his head to his bicep biting down trying to stifle his moans but couldn't hold back for lone as you tortured him with slow deliberate strokes.

"OH FUCK PLEASE! Pleaseplease baby fuck yes I'm so close! NO! NONONO" Just as he started rocking moaning higher and more desperate you pulled away pouting at him you wriggled on your knees rubbing your thighs together watching him fall apart was the most arousing thing you’d ever seen, unable to take it anymore as you soaked your own thighs you spoke.

"You know your right its not fair" you quickly straddled him placing the wand beneath your swollen folds then pressed down rubbing on it. You moaned as Bruce thrashed beneath you trying to touch .So close yet so far. You as you rocked on the toy crying out as the vibrations made your swollen clit ache and swell with need but at the same soothed you as your pussy clenched leaking on the toy panting softly.

"OH! that's it fuck yesyesyes" you leaned forward hands on his chest looking straight in his eyes mouth open as you tensed quivering feeling his muscles tense the wand low enough on his abdomen to tease the muscles of his pelvis tensing forcing his cock to throb and move before he knew what was happening he was arching shouting his pleasure as he came for the first time bucking despite the cock ring still holding him at a full attention. You laughed at him as you carried on thrusting wildly on him leaning down more to kiss at his open mouth. He met you in a ferocious battle of tongues desperate for any contact he could get panting and shivering. You stopped yourself short gasping sliding off of him taking the toy with you. You would wait.

"Oh baby look at all this mess?" You said flicking off the wand you wouldn't need it now. He panted hissing through his teeth as you began to crawl over him sucking him sharply making him yelp out.

"FUUUCK NONONO BABY DONT IT'S TO MUCH-AHH UGH UGH NO PLEEEAASSEE!" You chuckled as he fought desperate to get away and stop you, ignoring him you pushed onto him swallowing him down until, your nose was flush against him moaning loud onto him he cried out higher then you had ever heard him then pulled back slowly bobbing onto him he panted cried and swore as you continued using your lips as you ran along his length popping off of him he went lax but only for a second choosing to torture his sensitive cock with your hand two fingers at first squeezing him keeping your pumping thumb on the vein underneath it he shook,  thighs tensing and quivering his upper body tense a flush of deep red almost purple creeping down his body.

"BITCH! OH JESUS!Your a fucking bitch you OOOHHH NOO PLEASE! WAIT! Im gonna fuck-shit FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK! fuck you so hard you'll be bed bound for days!" You laughed

"Im counting on it! Aww baby is it sore? Goood I want it to HUUUURT!" Then fisted him with both hands pumping as fast as you could go  your pussy clenched as you drove him beyond pain to the pleasure beyond it he cried throwing his head back cumming a second then third time in what seemed under a minute you stopped then puling away.

"Oh wow that was hot look at all this baby, Is it all for me? So good but whats this my love? Your still hard that must mean you want more musn’t it?" You said scooping up his cum before rubbing it over his torso he groaned pitifully at you shaking his head still trying to catch his breath you crawled up him quickly sliding your thong to the side impaling yourself on him squealing as his hard cock stretched you burning you from the inside out he tensed and shuddered beneath you looking up with tears in his eyes.

"FUUUUUUUUCK no babe I cant! NONONONONOOOO!" You just licked your lips bouncing on him rotating your hips grinding your clit on him  then changed direction forcing him to hit that spot making your eyes roll back you placed your hands either side of his head grinding on him panting breathy moans in his ear.

"Fuck are you gonna cum again Brucie? Come on love do it for me" you moaned loud and clenched around him tight making him whimper unable to speak he just nodded

"Good, such a good boy for me now I want you to cum! To fill me like never before you can just imagine it cant you love fucking me full, so I drip with you for days oh YES! FUCK UGH BABY PLEASE AAHHH!" you tucked your head in the crook of his neck rocking desperately against him as the change in angle brushed both your g spot and cervix you moaned tensing closing your eyes as you tummy quivered and you felt the heat move lower finally reaching your pussy you grunted as you came around his cock twitching as your walls fought to milk him he opened his mouth in a silent scream cumming for the forth time jerking into you tight heat as you came undone over him. You panted laying on him catching your breath as you came down from your high, giggling rolling off of him as he chuckled lightly closing his eyes you thought that was enough for today he looked utterly exhausted you lay beside him kissing his heaving chest patting his stomach

"I love you Bruce" he leaned down kissing your head

"I love you to Sweets, can you uncuff me now think we both need to relax in the Jacuzzi with some wine now" you hummed in response moving to the bottom of the bed releasing his legs then using the quick release on the hand cuffs. With precise movements you was maneuvered far to quickly for your liking being thrown over his shoulder he growled ripping off the cock rings hissing.

"Wha? Bruce how are you?" You was interrupted with a harsh spank on your pussy whining you moved your hands trying to cover yourself as you was dumped in the sunken hot tub out on the deck, grabbed again from behind as you surfaced the shaking your hair out blindly grabbing for anything using your confusion he pulled harshly at the thong snapping it clean off throwing it on the deck. He held both arms behind you pressing you to kneel on one of the hot tub seats knees spread and bending you forward slightly having your ass hang just over the bottom of the seat ,gulping as a very pissed of Bruce towered over you from behind gripping your throat restricting your air flow holding you still leaning his chest into you.

"B-Brucie?" He dug his fingers in to your neck before growling into your ear"Shut the fuck up woman! You really thought I'd let you get away with that?" He moved shuffling his still hard cock to your sopping entrance that was still twitching tapping it on your clit, sliding up and down between your lips, your walls spasmed and quivered, he was definitely going to make you pay and you couldn't wait.

"OH GOd! plEASE FUCK MEE! please Bruce I want your cum! PLEASE fill me again I want it!"

"You think your getting this cock Up your greedy cunt after that? Oh baby no, I'm gonna fuck your ass good and proper, your going to feel me for days, your pussy might not be worthy of my cock right now but I can do this" you screeched as he started the jets realizing why he held you here as a powerful jet sent a constant stream of water up to your pussy massaging your poor clit you curled into yourself letting out a long drawn out groan pressing into him he chuckled as you cried out loud, it was incredible and painful all in one as the water massaged your swollen flesh you rocked and withered against it

"OH OH FUCK BRUCE PLEASE PLEASEPLEASE IM SORRY!" He smiled licking at your neck making sure to stand firm holding you still as you moaned and panted before he used on hand to line himself up with your tight pucker his blunt head pressing hard in warning your eyes widened tilting back mouth open in one continuous cry with out wasting time he lurched forward past the tight ring of muscle grunting as the tight ring nearly chocked his cock he rocked slowly feeding you inch after inch.

"Oh baby girl your so tight shit yes fuck! You want to be fucked full? Well baby girl there was no need for all of this You could have asked." You whimpered moaning as he drove in deeper filling you to the hilt you grunted in pain as he pressed his balls to your cheeks, as painful as it was the jets directed to your clit abusing it eased you overall experience you panted gasping and whining as he fucked you harshly not giving much care to you as he pulled and pushed his way up into you, and you love every second of it moaning loud as the water lapped at you you screamed trying to wriggle away from him as your body trembled your walls clenched so tight they almost cramped in on themselves as you was left empty as you came looking up at him tears rolling down your face as he carried on fucking into your sore ass, not letting you escape the jet below you moving down to spit into your open mouth. The filthy gesture made you clench again around nothing in the middle of your orgasm you whined frustrated and over sensitive panting harshly as he pulled out of you tipping you further forward bending you completely over the side you stared into the clear ocean below as he moved forward plowing into your swollen abused pussy

"AH SHIT BRUCE PLEASE I CANT" he growled at you

"You can and you fucking WILL! UGH! SHIT!  yesyesyes take it babe ah ah ah!TAKE IT BABE COME ON YOU WANTED THIS NOW YOU'VE GOT IT" you shivered clenching your hands and curling your toes as he battered your cervix pressing down as he went to stroke your sensitive soft spot, still trembling you shouted out as your clit throbbed an your pussy hummed to life as he took you above and beyond anything you’d felt with him before, one hand was gripping your ass as he thrusted forward with no mercy legs shaking as the water jet used to torment you now pulsed over his balls as he pounded into you. You wailed as he moved his hand to your clit pinching and tugging on it forcing you to orgasm again this time his hips stuttered and with one last pound forward he lifted your knees off of the seat completely forcing you to straighten your legs holding his hands on the edge of the deck either side of you holding trapping you pushing stretching your cervix forcing the tip of his cock inside before he came you screeched loud as he did feeling his hot cum spurt into your fluttering womb he held you still as you panted in shock of what just happened still feeling him twitching inside of you.

"Thats it THATS IT!! FUCK FUCK GOOD GIRL! AH AH yesyesyes shit shit! You feel that? UGH! Thats what you get! My.Fat.Cock deep inside of you, marking you as mine! Because that what you are my little slut! Mine to fuck and fill as I see fit, you wanted to be full now you are and if you let so much as one drop escape I will drag you to the bed and start all over again and again until you learn to keep my cum inside of you where it belongs!" He ground himself against your stinging clit laughing as you whined

"Bruuuuce I'm sore" he kissed your back

"Good I wanted it to hurt" he threw your own words back at you nipping your ear load before pulling out you hissed when he twisted to sit in the water with you on his lap cradling you to his chest kissing you.

"I love you babe , that was the best sex we have had in a long time isn't it?" You nodded cupping his jaw kissing it.

"Yeah... sorry if I was to much I kind of got into it... more than I thought I would actually" its true you was surprised at how much it had turned you on to have him to the point of tears. He smiled rubbing your back his other hand moving to change the jets to a low hum massaging your tired muscles.

“Nonsense you were perfect, it was incredible more than i could have ever hoped for, but where did you get the stuff? And where the fuck did you learn about all this femdom stuff?" You blushed twiddling his light dusting of chest hair smileing coyly at him.

"Well Alfred slipped me a note with a web address on it and that was all she wrote." You kissed him as his face dropped

"WHAT? Alfred as in Alfred Alfred? The man who raised me Alfred? Our Alfred?" You giggled nodding he sighed

"Holy shit" you sat up tugging your new harness off wincing as you saw the red marks it left where your large breasts were pressing on it he looked down hissing on your behalf running a finger across it.

"And I watched a shit load of femdom porn when you was out patrolling, I planned this for over a week ... nearly two I just wanted us to go back to the way we used to have sex, wanted to prove to you that I'm fine now, you don't have to worry about hurting me, I promise I will stop you if its too much the only way I could think of was to top you, so you knew what it was like you know?" He nodded as you leaned against him resting your head on his chest.

"I definitely understand, I'm sorry I just got so caught up in wanting to make sure you was completely healed, I was considering asking superman to come and double check that your ribs were fine, that's when Alfred pulled me aside telling me I was being stupid and suggested this trip." You scoffed then froze "Wait he suggested this trip? He told me it was you? And he-THAT LITTLE SHIT! Bruce he has had us both over!" You growled then pouted

"Come again?" You snorted at him

"Not yet love still tender" he bellowed a laugh at that

"Any way what I mean is he suggested the trip gave me the website link and arranged for the stuff to be hear for our arrival.... he set us up, and to be honest I’m greatful but damn your butlers pretty cunning... I suppose its true the butler really did do it." Bruce belly laughed

"Hey I've got something for you" he said before standing taking you with him you giggled as he carried you to the bed room placing you on the bed softly leaving with a kiss kneeling routing around in his case pulling out his gift.

"Here I made this for you, I know I shouldn't worry but I do" you took the box tentatively opening it seeing a beautiful silver chainmail bracelet with small plate and strategically placed onyx. You gasped slowly pulling it out.

"Bruce? What I don’t know what to say its beautiful" he sat beside you placing it on your wrist smiling as it fit perfect, not that he doubted the fit he may have measured your wrist when you was sleeping.

"Its a heart monitor and sends the data to my phone computer and even the bat computer, so I wont worry as much, the hospital said to monitor it but going to the hospital for and ecg every three months wasn't good enough for me so I made this, I want you to wear it as much as possible, its water proof so you can swim and shower with it.Happy six month anniversary" You leant forward kissing him deeply and pulled away admiring your new bracelet.

"Thank you I feel bad I didn't get you anything" he bellowed a laugh

"Babe you gave me the best orgasm of my life and I got to fuck your ass that's plenty trust me, tho if your really that upset I wouldn't say no if you bent over again for me" you squeaked blushing slapping his chest

"Oh? Whats all this then? How can you go from being a hot sexy mistress to a innocent little baby doll in what ten minutes?"you pouted pushing on him whining embarrassed. Then you heard a small beep below the bed you froze. You had forgotten about that. Bruce looked at you curiously then went under the bed sighing as he came up holding the specially designed prostate massager you chuckled nervously as he cock an eyebrow at you.

"Were you gonna try and stick this up my ass?" You shrugged

"Hehe well I err funny thing-sort of? maybe.....The guys on the videos liked it..... So I kind of you know thought I'd try it." You explained rubbing the back of your neck as he just stared.

"Haha no. Absolutly not, you are not sticking anything up my ass babe." He said placeing it beside the bed. You pouted muttering under your breath

"Like you'll have a choice when I do." He snapped his gaze at you.

"What was that? You want it up yours? well why didn't you say babe" your eyes bugged out as he stepped towards you grinning mischievously, you screamed giggling getting off the bed running out into the deck as he chased you diving at you plunging you both into the pool. You giggled as he held you against him in the water holding your ass as you wrapped your legs around him kissing one another.

"I love you so much you know I'd do anything for you right?" he asked staring straight into your eyes you nodded

"I love you to Bruce honestly couldn't imagine ever being with out you,I truly believe your my soulmate" he smiled pressing his forehead to yours closing your eyes you stayed there with him just enjoying being held. Then Bruce had to ruin the sweet moment.

"Soo hammock sex yes or no?" You deadpanned pulling away

"Let me guess its on your list?" He shook his head

"Nope not that list... I have a different list for holidays" you groaned shaking your head at him swimming to the edge on the pool watching the colorful fish swim just beyond the glass.

"Tomorrow? Lets just relax for today" he swam up beside you crossing his arms on the rim of the glass.

"Fine by me" you both stayed there enjoying the peaceful surroundings. You was content thing were definitely back to normal. you snuck another kiss pulling yourself up to the glass beside him as he held you by the waist leaning on him looking at your new bracelet twinkly in the sun.

[quercussp]

I like you in my clothes

Rating: M

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: “No, Phil, you’re serious? You’re turned on by emojis? We might need a divorce.”

Despite his indignation, Dan moved over onto his knees and scooted along the couch to climb onto Phil’s lap.

“I just like how they look on you” Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s back and was nestling into Dan’s neck, leaving soft kisses at his nape.

“They look awful! They are way too short on me, babe!”

“Exactly.”

Authors note: written for @calvinahobbes as part of the Phandom Fic Fests Holiday Exchange 2020

Thank you to @plinth-of-life for betaing <3

Warnings: implied sexual content

[read on ao3]

This was definitely not how Phil imagined spending his first Christmas Eve at home with Dan, but all things considered, it wasn’t that bad.

Yes, the flat was a total mess of moving boxes. The house they were moving into was even worse, with unfinished painting and tile waiting to be installed in the upstairs bathroom, and the move-in date has been pushed back yet again with the announcement of another lockdown.

Yes, they didn’t have a Christmas tree, a proper one that is. There were no homemade christmas biscuits.No warm hugs from Kath, no shouting over board games, no usual Lester family merriment to be seen

But on the bright side, the flat still showed some signs of Christmas. There was a small pile of presents next to the couch that arrived by mail over the last week that Dan insisted they wait until Christmas to open. Phil had haphazardly thrown some tinsel on the slightly dying palm tree in the corner of the living room. And most importantly, there was a certain someone sitting on the couch with Phil, his long dangly legs intertwined with Phil’s.

Phil looked over at Dan’s feet and couldn’t contain a small chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?” Dan lifted his eyes from his screen and grinned cheekily at Phil.

“Nothing” Phil smiled back.

They looked at each other for a couple seconds and then both looked back down to their screens, still smiling. But no matter how much Phil tried, he could not stay focused on his Twitter feed. His eyes were drawn to Dan’s socked feet. Phil was mesmerized by the little sliver of skin between his partner’s fuzzy socks and the hem of his pajama bottoms, pajamas that didn’t even belong to him in the first place

When it was drafty and cold like today, Dan usually wore his own gray pajama pants but during all the chaos and confusion of packing, he had accidentally packed away most of his loungewear into an unmarked box. After days of sulking ( “Dan, no one can see you, what does it matter what you’re wearing!” “But I can see me, Phil!” “Just put some pants on before you freeze to death, jeez” ), he finally agreed to just borrow some of Phil’s pajamas. In all honesty, Phil didn’t understand what the fuss was about since they shared shirts and jackets and jeans all the time. But emoji pajamas was where Dan apparently drew the line, and to be fair, he did look kind of ridiculous in them. For one thing, the pajamas themselves were a little ridiculous, but even more ridiculous was how they were just a little bit too short on Dan.

Phil had been a tall person for the majority of his life. He’d been used to being the tallest one in the room, to looking down when talking to people, to sticking out like a sore thumb. which is just another reason why being with Dan was so refreshing. It was surprisingly nice to feel small sometimes, to feel crowded by his boyfriend, to feel entirely surrounded by Dan’s large body, his large hands, his long legs wrapped around Phil’s hips.

Unfortunately for Phil, Dan spent most of his life trying to make himself smaller. He instinctively hunched his back, rounded his shoulders, slightly bent his knees, all to make himself a little shorter than he actually was. It was so normal for him that in a lot of their photos Dan actually looked smaller than Phil. And Phil didn’t mind that. Really, what does it matter?

But there was just something so endearing about Dan wearing a pair of Phil’s pants, their height difference so immediately apparent; endearing and, quite honestly, hot.

Phil’s musings were interrupted by Dan’s voice and a light kick at his feet.

“Phil, stop staring at my feet, you perv.”

“What am I supposed to do, they’re nice feet!” Phil gently kicked back at Dan and then ran his own feet along that lovely little sliver of skin.

“What is it with you today? Is the Christmas spirit getting you extra horny or something? Or did you suddenly develop a foot fetish?” Dan teased.

“You just look good in my clothes, ok?”

“Wait what? You mean in this absolute monstrosity?” Dan raised one of his legs in the air, pointing at the absolutely offensive emoji pajamas.

Phil couldn’t stop himself from staring at the pant leg falling down, revealing even more skin and some light hair on Dan’s calf.

“No, Phil, you’re serious? You’re turned on by emojis? We might need a divorce.”

Despite his indignation, Dan moved over onto his knees and scooted along the couch to climb onto Phil’s lap.

“I just like how they look on you” Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s back and nestled into his chest, leaving soft kisses along the nape of his neck.

“They look awful! They are way too short on me, babe!”

“Exactly.”

Dan leaned back to take a look at Phil’s face.

“Is it the thing about me being tall again?”

Phil felt his cheeks heat up. “Maybe….”

Dan smiled and sat up on his knees, crowding Phil and looming over him. “You like to feel small, don’t you?”

“Maybe…” Phil’s voice got really quiet, almost a whisper. “Or I just think that my boyfriend being an actual giant is very hot.”

“Is that so?” Dan leaned down to kiss Phil on the lips.

***

All things considered, Phil really didn’t have much to complain about this Christmas.

It was too cold to stay out in the living room while naked and sweaty, so they ended up in the bedroom under a bundle of blankets. Dan was lying on his back, stretched out on the bed, Phil’s head resting on his shoulder. Phil was cuddled up to his side, basking in the warmth his partner radiated. He could feel Dan’s large hands curled around him and hear the steady breath slightly rocking his chest.

There was a comfortable silence in the room, only interrupted by the sound of an occasional car driving past.

Phil turned his head, pressing his lips to Dan’s shoulder.

“Happy Christmas, Dan” he whispered.

“Happy Christmas, babe,” Dan tightened his grip around his partner.

“I’m hungry,” Phil mumbled. “Do we have anything to eat?”

“There may be a box of mince pies hidden away in the kitchen just for this occasion,” Dan whispered.

Phil immediately sat up. “What? Where? I looked all over!”

“They’re in that top cabinet in the kitchen you can’t reach” Dan laughed. “I wanted to make sure we would have some left for actual Christmas day.”

“God, I love you, Daniel Howell!” exclaimed Phil. “No, go get them for me! I’m about to die of hunger here.”

“Lazy sod. Go put the kettle on, I’ll get you your pies.”

***

They ended up eating the mince pies in the living room next to their tiny tree, watching episodes of the Great British Bake-Off in the background. Phil was cozied up in the hoodie he stole from Dan (“ If you wear my pants, I can wear your hoodie ” Phil had argued), pulling the slightly too long sleeves over his hands.

Even looking at the TV, Phil could feel Dan’s gaze on him.

“What are you looking at?” he finally asked, smiling.

“You look good in my clothes,” Dan replied, grinning.

Phil chuckled. “Give me another 20 minutes to finish this tea and we can go back to the bedroom.”

“Take your time, Philly, we’ve got all night. Don’t want you to overexert yourself, you know.”

“Are you calling me old?!” Phil replied with mock indignation, grinning from ear to ear. He put his tea down and climbed up to straddle Dan’s lap. Dan’s hands automatically made their way under the hoodie and onto Phil’s waist.

“I don’t know, am I?”

Phil shut him up with a forceful kiss.

***

This Christmas definitely didn’t exactly look like Phil planned. But there were worse ways to spend the holidays. Hopefully by next year they would be hosting the extended family in their new house, there would be a little niece running all around the place chasing after their dog. Hopefully, by next Christmas Phil would have a hyphenated last name and a ring on his finger.

But for now, big spooning his giant of a boyfriend in a nest of blankets, this wasn’t half bad, all things considering.

[raendown]

I was bribed in to this by @rookie-d and @sleepysenseis and I regret nothing. Show some love to Rookie’s art for this au as well!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1893 Rated: G Summary: Owning and running a bakery with his husband isn't exactly where he thought life would take him but Tobirama wouldn't trade this for the world.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Patissier-pation Award

The familiar chime of a bell greeted him first as he walked through the front door, eyes down to inspect the mail he had gathered on his way in. Mostly junk, a couple of bills, and a letter that he would bet his entire bank account had come from Hashirama. He would know those graceless spiky letters anywhere. Off on some nature retreat for the past month, there was little doubt this letter would be filled with the same rambling nonsense as the last one had been, lengthy descriptions of the woman he had apparently fallen in love with at first sight. 

Under the hum of halogen lights and the ever present smell of baked goods Tobirama could hear a slight groaning sound that made him smile. Instead of going to look for the source right away he continued to flip through the mail until he had sorted junk from bills, slipping behind the till counter to put everything in its right place. Running their own shop was hard work some days but always worth it in the end. While he was there he tidied a few receipts from the day before and used a nearby rag to wipe off a bit of icing probably smeared around by a customer’s child. Only when he was satisfied that everything was in order did he finally turn to look at the plush couch set just a little ways apart from the rest of the seating area. During peak hours the various armchairs and stools were usually filled with people taking a few minutes to enjoy the treats they had just purchased. 

Since right now was not peak hours the only person to be found was Madara, stretched out across the couch that Tobirama had quietly purchased just for moments like these. A fond smile touched his lips as he watched his favorite idiot rub at a full belly with furrowed brows. 

“How many of those tarts actually made it on to the shelves?” Tobirama called out to him with a lightly scolding tone. 

“Most of them!” Madara shot back. Then he groaned again while both hands paused to delicately cup his stomach. “I could have sworn I only ate a few. Just to taste test. Quality checking is important!” 

“I see.”

The argument might have been a bit more believable if Madara didn’t use the same one every time he overindulged in his own products. He was the one who initially came up with the idea for the two of them to open their own bakery and Tobirama supposed he should have known then that doing so would lead to regular episodes like this one. His husband was an amazing patissier but he was also his own biggest fan. Or his stomach was, at least, and Madara had never been known for denying whatever his stomach wanted. 

“Did you by any chance happen to find time to finish the Sarutobi order before you took your little snack break?” 

“Of course I did,”’ Madara huffed. Generously sacrificing one hand for a moment, he pointed imperiously towards the order counter where there indeed were three boxes with the shop logo printed on the front stacked neatly together and tied with ribbon. Inside there would be a dozen cupcakes each with, if Tobirama was remembering currently, blue icing and rainbow sprinkles arranged to spell out the recipient’s name. A fairly simple order. He wasn’t surprised Madara had finished the whole thing while he was gone, though he was surprised there had been enough time left over to gorge on the tarts he’d put in the oven before he left. 

Since he trusted his partner Tobirama didn’t offer the insult of going to check the order. Instead he mentally checked it off his list of things to do before heading in to the back to go wash his hands. There was still another order he needed to get a start on, although most of it would have to be finished tomorrow. He was fairly sure they wouldn’t have enough icing until their shipment arrived the next morning. 

A quick peek in to the fridge on his way by confirmed his suspicions. Although they still had a tub each of pink and white, yellow was running low and the red was all but entirely gone. If he tried to decorate anything he might have enough to use red for a couple of accents but certainly not enough to cover several dozen cookies in the pattern the order called for. It was a good thing all this wasn’t due to be picked up until late tomorrow. 

Hands clean, Tobirama tied an apron around his middle and began pulling out the ingredients necessary for making his specialty gingerbread, one of the quickest selling items on their menu every winter. When he was younger he never would have believed that life would take him here. As a child he’d mostly been obsessed with science and little else. Most of his career dreams had centered around NASA or biochemical research, plans for changing the world with his magnificent discoveries. Now he co-owned a bakery with his husband and spent most of his days rolling dough or decorating cakes, all in between manning the till and watching children’s faces light up as they picked out which treat they wanted to take home. It was hardly the auspicious career he’d always imagined but it was a good life, full and happy, one that he wouldn’t trade for anything. Not even for the trips to outer space he used to dream about. 

So lost in his own musings was he that it felt as though he’d only just begun mixing the dough when he looked down and found row upon row of perfectly shaped cookies all laid out before him. Some were made to look like people, some like trees, and others still were laid out in thick flat sheets with which he would later build a house. Gingerbread was always quite fun to work with. A quick count told him that he already had everything he needed as well as a couple of spares in case one or two of them burnt in the oven yet there was still just a bit of dough left over.

With a whimsical smile he reached for his tools again and began to shape a new pair of cookies.

Baking gingerbread didn’t take all that long, almost as much time as it took for them to cool once they were back out of the oven, and as he packaged everything to keep it safe for tomorrow he set his final two creations aside. It may have been a whim but he’d never sent anything out of this kitchen that hadn’t received his full effort and he wasn’t about to now. There was, after all, just enough red icing left - not to mention plenty of black. 

Madara was still draped across the couch in the front shop when Tobirama came out to check on him, one of their fancier order boxes in hand. The bellyache appeared to have passed and instead pulled the man down in to a light food coma. Long dark lashes fluttered against pale cheeks when Tobirama bent to stroke one of them, rousing his husband from what looked to a very peaceful if possibly undeserved nap. 

“Mnng? I wasn’t asleep.”

“Your snoring tells another story.” 

“T-that wasn’t snoring! I was just humming a song under my breath!” 

Lifting one eyebrow, Tobirama shook his head. “Mhm, very convincing.” 

“Shut up! What’s that? I didn’t think we had anything else going out today. Did I forget something?” Madara frowned and his eyes grew distant as he went over their orders for the week in his head. 

Rather than let him suffer Tobirama simply placed the box in his lap. 

“You forgot to greet me properly when I came back from running errands but I’ll forgive you for that just this once. These are for you, if you’ve still got room in your belly.” 

“Oh?” 

Always intrigued by the promise of more sweets, Madara plucked at the edge of the box to pull the tab keeping it closed out of its slot. He lifted the lid with an almost childish expression of anticipation that morphed in to a graceless full-mouthed gawk when he spotted the gift inside. Much to Tobirama’s horror, he caught sight of what looked to be tears gathering in his husband’s eye.

“Is that...us?” 

“Yes it is.”

“We’re holding hands. And you gave yourself a little fur collar just like your favorite jacket!” 

Tobirama rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. He really liked that jacket. “A little extra detail never hurt anyone,” he murmured as though in protest. 

He was mortified to see Madara cradle the cookies in one palm so he could use his other hand to gently stroke the little red icing lines marking where Tobirama had tattooed his own face during a rebellious youth. The number of times Madara had given those marks the same gentle attention were uncountable and it never failed to draw a little color in to his cheeks, embarrassed that his heart could be so softened by such a simple gesture. 

“Just eat them and go back to moaning about your belly,” he grumbled even as he leaned in to the touch. Madara huffed at him in amusement. 

“What brought this on, hm? I feel like I’m being rewarded for something.” 

“It was a whim and nothing more.” 

Something about that seemed the right thing to say as Madara puffed up like he’d been complimented, as though being gifted cookies made out of leftover dough were the greatest gesture of love. 

“Thinking about me, were you?” his husband asked with a sly undertone. 

“I am always thinking of you,” Tobirama admitted. It was true so he saw no reason to deny it. 

Madara blinked once. “Oh. Well...I’m always thinking of you too. So there!” 

Both of them blushing and flustered, two silly little gingerbread men still held ever so carefully in one of Madara’s palms, Tobirama was eternally grateful there were no customers in the shop to witness the disgustingly sweet scene they were surely making. With a rough clearing of his throat he pulled away and cast his eyes anywhere else in the room. 

“Right,” he said gruffly, “eat your cookies. I’m going to go take inventory so we can call in another supply order tomorrow.” Spinning on his heel relieved him of the sight of his beloved husband cradling such precious if silly gifts but it did not spare him the sound of a quiet voice trailing after his rapid footsteps. 

“I love you.” 

Tobirama wrinkled his nose against the wave of mushy feelings in his chest until the urge to turn around and throw himself down on the couch with his partner had faded. He stepped out with purpose, with dignity, with every intention of going to make himself useful for the rest of the afternoon. But he did pause in the doorway to the kitchen long enough to turn his head to one side. 

“Love you too,” he murmured. 

It felt like capitulation but, then, Madara had already won his heart many years before and the life they’d built together would always be sweeter than any treat he could bake for himself. 

[the-fiction-witch]

House Sitting

BOOK THE QUEENS GAMBIT 

COUPLE BENNY WATTS X READER 

RATING: SMUT

SPOILERS!

WRITERS NOTES: THIS IS BASED OFF THE BOOK!! not the show, I no doubt will be making some about the show when it comes out but this is literally just based on the book of the same name and my version of the characters in the book, spoilers kinda if you don’t wanna know anything about them but I will clarify it by having boo rather then tv show or movie at the top in the listing info

I smiled, humming my little tune as I walked down the staircase to go down to the lobby of the apartment building. The lobby is dirty and dusty where I don't recall the last time it was cleaned, the dust and muck from the streets of new york often fluttering in as cars go past the rain usually washing it in too. I hurried across the back and white floor to the little mail boxes I got my key from the pocket of my apron going to my little box and gathering up my letters and other bits and bobs I glanced over to the other side of the boxes and saw a the figure I was rather infatuated with. His skinny body close to the wall flicking through his letters, his pants tight to his body, his dark shirt close to him, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. I was happy to see him again after so long,

"Uhhhhh Hi Benny?" I smiled He looked up to me a moment before returning to his mail

"Hey" He says back

"You're Back then" I smiled holding my mail close to my chest locking my box again putting my key back in my apron pocket

"Yeah" He says

"Are you going to be back for long?" I asked

"Oh No just a couple of days" he answered "Well see you around" he says heading back to the staircase

"Wait benny.... Uhhh Did you want me to look after your flat while you're gone again?" I asked "I could get your mail again while you're gone?"

"Uhh... yeah sure, I'll drop the keys off before I leave on tuesday" he says

"Okay see you on tuesday then benny" I smiled as he went up the stairs back to his apartment.

I hurried up to my own, throwing my mail on the table, in case it wasn't terribly obvious I had a really tiny, super small, almost impossible to tell...crush on Benny Watts.

And honestly I don't know why I just find him irresistible, he's barely around much and when he is he barely speaks to me if I see him in the halls or while getting the mail. Last time I actually held a conversation with him for more than five minutes was during a fire in the building last year.

But as I was only next-door to him I always look after his apartment for him when he goes away for tournaments and championships. I'd give anything to get to sit with him while he plays chess just to sit and watch his brain work and not to mention his sexy body work but I know he never paid much attention to me...

But, at least I have something, after all my washing machine sure does know Benny very well even if I have to be a bit more secretive about it when I know he's just the other side of the wall.

I heard a little tap on my door so I dusted off my hands from my sweeping and hurried to the door seeing Benny his arm leant on the door frame his thick black jacket over his usually clothes

"Hey" he smiled briefly

"Ohh hello Benny" I smiled trying not to blush as I fixed my hair

"Look you know I hate to ask but you haven't got any coffee have you?"

"Aww of course I have, come in I'll make you up a little bag" I smiled letting him in my flat I went to the kitchen and began sorting him out a little container of coffee powder

"How is your place so much nicer than mine?" He asked himself

"Because I'm here all the time, you're off halfway around the world" I laughed "do you have milk over there?" I asked

"You don't have to y/n"

"Do you have milk Benny yes or no?"

"No" he sighed fixing his hair

"Then you can have some milk, how were you planning on making coffee without it?" I laughed

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking that fat ahead" he shrugs

"Where are you off to anyway?" I asked

"Texas, got the southern championship down there I should be home by Friday" he explained as I continued putting things in his bag that would keep him going the next few days as I knew he didn't have food nextdoor

"Here, anything else you want?" I asked handing him the bag I made up for him

"No y/n this alone is far to much"

"Well I know what your like" I shrugged next thing I knew there was a kiss on my cheek I flushed bright red internally screaming

"Thank you y/n"

"Your welcome Benny" I smiled

"I really mean it y/n, I don't know where is be without you"

"you'll have to invite me over one night" i smiled "to repay me" I smiled "have some dinner, maybe play some chess" I encourage

"Maybe, we'll talk about it after Texas," he says before heading back to his own flat and I almost bounced around my flat holding my cheek where he kissed me.

Benny was gone. He left his key here with me mostly so he wouldn't lose it on his trip and so I could look after his place for him. Almost as soon as I knew he was definitely gone, I hurried across to his apartment locking up my own, insanely the smell of smoke and...well single guy hit me and I already loved it. But my joy was taken back by the state of the place, the layout the same as mine except his bathroom and bedroom where the opposite sides of mine. There was one light a single bulb without a shade hung in the middle of the living room, the kitchen looked unused except the kettle that was on the stove and not turned on at all, a few bookshelves covered in books and chess boards, a tiny table in the centre with a couple of chairs and an ashtray, the ashtray must have been fifteen centimeters tall with cigarette butts where it had not been cleaned or emptied in god knows how long, the floor, counters and everything else was covered in a layer an inch thick of dust, a couple of hooks by the door for his jackets one empty where it must have been the one he took with him.

I instantly began cleaning everything I could being careful not to move things that seemed important to his work once it was all nice and clean I did the same in the bathroom making sure it was as clean as I could get it before heading to the last room...the bedroom it was obvious from the fact one side was still made that the messy side was his side of the bed I didn't want to fix it I wanted it to stay messy that side to make it look as if he'd just climbed out of bed I tidied up a little gathering some of the clothes off the floor I noticed it was getting late and I wasn't all that hungry so I decided to just stay here, after all I am looking after the place for him.

I slipped off my little dress and climbed into a hot shower letting the warm water cover me using a little of the soap to clean myself off from all the hard work cleaning this place today. I turned off the water and climbed out walking around in just a little towel a while as I knew I was all alone going into the bedroom, I then realized I had no clean clothes all I had was the dress and underwear I took off before climbing in the shower everything else was next door. I didn't want to try and hop back and get my clothes in my towel and I didn't want to put the dirty ones back on. I spotted the dresser out the corner of my eye, I really shouldn't but... I'll clean them and put them back before he gets home he'll never know. So I dropped my towel throwing it with my dress to wash in the morning, digging around a little in the dresser until I found shirt I recognize it he wears this shirt Every so often I did up enough of the black buttons that it would stay on rolling the sleeves to my elbows the way he usually does I looked at myself in the mirror and giggled the shirt came down enough to cover my butt and anywhere else important, my breasts hanging rather nicely.

Hmmmm I look rather good in benny's clothes? Maybe I should wear men's clothes. I look rather sexy...

I smiled with a little yawn. I couldn't decide for a moment where to lay so I pulled back the covers, getting into the side of the bed clearly not often used, leaving the other side a mess with a couple of books on the table resting my head on the firm pillow.

I laid listening to the clock ticking in the living room, the rain outside just making a little pattering noise and the noise from other people's apartments... I couldn't sleep not that I didn't want to, I grabbed the pillow on the other side of the bed hugging it close nuzzling my head there this pillow wasn't as firm and it smelt like benny, his odd mix of cigarettes, dust, his soap and aftershave I could have laid here forever it felt like I was cuddling him like he was here with me letting me snuggle up to his chest while we laid in his bed didn't help me wearing his shirt, my skin pressed against the fabric making it feel more like I was cuddling him, imagining in my head is laid together on a stormy night snuggled together kissing and cuddling having just made love he'd play with my hair while he had a cigarette maybe being a little dirty and slipping his hand down to grab my breasts

"Umm Benny" I smiled squeezing tighter wrapping my legs around the pillow, "uuh Benny" I gasped as I nuzzled even closer to the pillow hardly an inch between my body and the pillow, I moved my hips a little trying to get more comfortable but my little comfy wiggling soon turned into grinding rubbing myself against the pillow after a while I began to get lost in my little fantasy so desperate for attention my little wiggling soon turned to almost humping the pillow in desperation I knew I was close hugging the pillow even tighter as I began to peak "uhhh uhhh Benny" I groaned kissing the pillow a little

"Y/n? What's going on?!" The familiar voice of Benny asked and then it hit me

I DIDN'T IMAGINE THAT!

"Uuuuhh Benny, what uhh what are you doing here?" I asked as I instantly stopped sitting up in the bed to see him stood in the doorway dressed the same as when he gave me the key this morning he had a candle with him as the rain storm must have knocked the power out again but it was enough light for us to see each other he looked shocked and confused

*I think the correct question here y/n is what are you doing here?" He asks

"Well... I'm house sitting" I blushed trying to use the covers so he didn't see much of me

"House sitting? So what the bloody hell are you doing in my bed?" He asks crossing his arms looking a little annoyed as he waited for his answer

"Uhh I ummm I wanted to... check it was correctly a bed?" I lied trying to come up with something

"What are you doing in my bed y/n?"

"I'm sorry Benny, I didn't want to go back to my apartment so I stayed here" I admit "what are you doing here?" I asked

"It got cancelled, had to get a plane home just this minute got back" he explained "well I say minute" he shrugged

"How long have you been back then?" I asked

"Uhhh I've been stood here about ten minutes trying to work out what the hell the noise was coming from my bedroom" he laughs

"I'm sorry I just wanted to sleep here" I said getting out the bed

"Are you wearing my shirt?!" He asked

"Yes" I admit trying to make sure I didn't flash him anything

"Why!"

"I had a shower and I forget to bring clothes over so I thought I could just wear this tonight and clean it before you got home" I admit

"Well... thanks for cleaning up and all y/n and for looking after the place, you can stay here tonight, if you want" he says

"No it's okay I'll go" I said

"Y/n, you can stay here" he laughs "at least till the morning when you can get some clothes on" he says

"Are you sure?" I asked

"I'm sure" he smiled "but only if we have a little deal darling" he warned getting his jacket off

"What?" I asked a little worried

"You tell me the truth" he says

"What I told you the-"

"And your a little fucking liar y/n" he laughs "what where you doing in my bed? And I want the Truth" he warns

"Nothing" I blushed

"Liar..." he smirked "what were you doing in my bed. In the dark. In my shirt. With my pillow. While making some rather... suggestive noises?"

"What noises?" I asked in fear

"My name mostly" he smirked "so what were you doing?"

"I think you know what I was doing.." I blushed trying to hide myself away from his eyes

"I do, but I kinda wanna hear you admit to it?" He smirked "I kinda wanna hear you admit to being a naughty little girly who was fooling around in my bed while she thought I was gone" he smirked "so you do this every time I go away and leave you my key?"

"... No" I blushed

"Liar" he smirked

"Not every time" I blushed

"It's okay y/n, we'll talk about it in the morning" he smirked going to the other side of the bed and starting to undo his shirt "go on then get into bed" he says I didn't want to waste such a dreamy invitation so I got in nervously returning his pillow how it was, I did my best not to look as he got undressed "you okay with me sleeping with you or do you want me to get the air mattress up?" He asks

"No Benny it's your bed if anyone should go it's me" I said

"Alright, we'll share then" he smirked climbing in his side of the bed I tried not to look at him as he laid down and got comfy "hey...come on" he smirked opening his arms I didn't want to deny him so I laid down and cuddled in his arms and it was everything I had dreamed it would be, his chest was soft and cosy, his arms sweet and comfy as they playfully wrapped around me I wanted to move closer but I was too nervous so he pulled me closer so almost every inch of me was against him "uuuhhh y/n? Are you wearing anything except my shirt?"

"No" I blushed nuzzling into his neck

"Uuummm... now I definitely know what you where doing" he growled giving my head and neck little kisses even if his facial hair tickled me a little while his hand that had been on my waist grabbed my butt over the shirt "uumm come here" he growled pulling me to kiss his lips, I could taste the last cigarette he had and a cup of coffee he no doubt got from the airport this morning he wrapped my leg Around his hip before returning to his groping of my arse his other hand happily on the small of my back preventing me from moving away "uummmm you can have that shirt" he moans kissing down my jaw towards my neck

"Why?" I giggled

"It looks better on you" he smirked "come on let's get some sleep" he says moving me a little closer to him

"Okay benny, goodnight" I smiled giving him a little kiss

"Goodnight" he yawned

I smiled as I gently began to wake, I don't think I have ever been so happy to wake up. My whole body felt warm and glowed with happiness, the little sounds from other apartments of people getting ready to go to work or starting there cleaning for the day, the sounds of kettles on burners starting to whistle the bustling of feet up and down the stairs and the wooden corridors. The sounds of the rain still battering the city as much as it was last night, the occasional rumble of thunder across the sky. But all of that was hushed, the only sounds here was the ticking of the clock on the living room table it seemed loud in the quiet, the dripping of the tap into the bathroom sink mixing with the ticking creating an odd and yet sweet rhythm. The only other sound's the comforting sound of breathing beside me. I could feel the arm slender arms wrapped around my waist his boney yet strong hands sat his left on the small of his back having wrapped under my waist his right on my hip his thumb gently rubbing on the protruding bone of my hip, his chest against my own pressing his smooth chest tightly to mine slightly squishing my breasts, the soft fabric of his shirt against my skin covering me up even if the bottom hem of the shirt had been tugged up a little exposing my bare butt even if I was still under the soft barely used covers, I could feel his breaths across my skin as he exhaled. I smiled and gently opened my eyes, the bedroom much the same as it was when I cleaned up last night the apartment dark with a little light poking around the front door frame where it was coming in from the hallways outside, I couldn't help my wide smile seeing the figure beside me, his messy blonde hair scruffy and out of its usual place where he had slightly moved in his sleep, his face looked strange to me so relaxed and calm his eyes softly closed and his mouth slightly open as he let out little breaths his usual facial hair there even if I never much liked it before but it had rather grown on me as something I knew made him happy and I honestly wasn't sure i'd like him without it as it he had always had it since I had known him, his hair slightly falling in his eye it was unusual to see him this way, He was always so stiff and organized always three steps ahead of everyone else, a look of thought and concentration never left his face but when he was like this he was so calm and happy I felt a strange pride and warmness in my heart, I was the only person in the world who got to see Benny Watts this way. I smiled and moved a little closer to him giving his nose a little peek which caused him to stir a little.

"Uuuu Mmm..." He groaned gently shifting in the bed and tightening his grip on me a little I nuzzled into his neck making him shift a little more moving his head to give me a little more space to get closer and as he did I noticed his hand that had been on my hip it gently slipped so his tender fingertips slid across my hips and the curve of my arse, I tried not to giggle as it gently tickles he continued still running his fingers down my thigh like he was exploring me learning every curve of and every inch of my body mapping me in his head like I was a chess Piece on his board learning all of the ways I go and the ways inlets and divots I possessed,

"What time is it?" He croaked his voice even more harsh and raspy than usual

"I don't know... It's morning, I think" I answered, "Did you want a cup of coffee?" I asked

"Uuumm maybe" he groaned screwing up his face moving a hand away from me to rub his eyes

"Tea?" I offered

"Go on then, two sugars" he answered

"Okay" I smiled gently pushing his hands away from me and starting to climb out of the bed before I could even put a foot on the floor he pulled me back to him my nose against his own "Whoa" I giggled in shock of being pulled halfway across his bed when I was barely awake myself and the fact something was pressing rather hard to my leg I tried to force that out of my mind assuming it was perhaps his knee or something... or maybe it wasn't "What's the matter, Benny?"

"Ummm Five more Minutes Y/n" he groans tightening his grip on me

"Okay Benny" I smiled wrapping my arms around him too wrapping my arms around his neck gently playing with his hair as I laid my head on his chest and he nuzzled his head on mine his chin on my head after a minute or two he moved his hands pulling on the bottom of my thighs moving them to be around his waist I giggled a little as he moved me so effortlessly even if the second my legs were around him I felt that... stiffness much more. Especially as the shirt I was wearing was all I had on and he only wore a little pair of boxers that left little to the imagination Visually and though feeling too

"Ummm Good Morning" He yawns

"Good Morning" I smiled giving his lips a gentle kiss he happily kissed back even if was slow and tender as we were both sleepy "Benny I need to make tea"

"Fine... But don't whine at me when you want a cuddle later" he says letting me go and sitting up a little in his bed still looking very tired he grabbed something from his table a small tin with a race car on it he opened the little tin and began rolling a cigarette so I got out of bed fixing the shirt making him smirk a little at me his eyes flicking up and down my body a moment

"I'll get your shirt clean today and get it back to you today" I smiled trying to do up a few more buttons so I wasn't showing off as much

"Why? I told you last night you can have it" He says "You look better in it than I ever did anyway" he winked giving me a kiss while lighting his cigarette. I giggled a little going out to the kitchen.

[softjeon]

Rewind | Pt. 1

• Pairing: Yoongi x Robot!Jungkook • Genre: Fluff, Angst | Rating: Mature | Robot!AU • Words: 5,4k | AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of alcohol

written with @cassiavioletblue​

↳  “Tadah!” They shouted in unison, with Tae raising his hands to wave some little birthday flags while Namjoon and Hoseok clapped their hands and began to sing again, “Happy Birthday to you…”  This was a joke. This had to be a joke and they made that man deliver an empty box. There was no way they had gotten him a Bot.

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“Happy birthday!” Namjoon shouted and Hoseok chimed in as they began to sing, squeezing themselves through the door, because Yoongi seemed adamant not to move and let them in. Great. So they remembered,even though he had tried to be as normal as possible. Yoongi tried to cover up his displeasure with a strained smile. 

“Come in. One more won’t make a difference.” He mumbled at Taehyung who had followed, bopping his head to their awful singing and greeted Yoongi with a hug. Covering one of his ears with the palm of his hand, Yoongi watched how Namjoon was swinging a wine bottle in one hand and in the other a card with his name on it. He wondered if the bottle would survive this night in one piece. Dancing around him there was Hoseok who was gyrating his hips racily in a way that had Yoongi feeling dizzy from just looking at it. 

With a heavy sigh Yoongi closed the door and followed his best friends. It was better to just give in now because he knew that they wouldn’t let it go. Not when it was his 30th birthday. Which he hated - and they knew.

“We know you hate your birthday.” Namjoon began, saying exactly what was on his mind. “That’s why we didn’t plan anything big but you don’t turn thirty every year so we’re here now and you gotta deal with it.” Hoseok chimed in with a bright smile and then proceeded to push Yoongi down onto the couch by his shoulders. “You can’t take away the right of your best friends to celebrate you. At least a little bit.” 

“You always do so much for us, Yoongs…,” Namjoon continued as he opened the wine to pour some of the dark red beverage into the glasses that Taehyung had grabbed from the kitchen. None of the glasses matched. 

Hoseok nodded eagerly, giving the card over to Yoongi, wishing him a ‘Happy Birthday’ again and then dancing, before Yoongi could roast him with his look. 

Pulling Taehyung onto his lap, Hoseok urged Yoongi on to open the card while he very well knew how much he hated to be in the spotlight like this. He would rather open the card in private. But he also knew that they wouldn’t let him. For being his best friends who allegedly ‘loved him just as he was’ they were surprisingly cold hearted when it came to his refusal to celebrate his birthdays. Hopefully he could just ignore their gift like last year where he just hadn’t used the voucher (it was one of those things were people only paid after the voucher had been used so it wasn’t like he had let their money gone to waste) but this time he wouldn’t be so lucky.

When he opened the card there was no voucher inside, it didn’t even look like a normal ‘Happy birthday card’. There was just one sentence on it in big black letters. Which said “Open the door”. 

He looked up into the grinning faces of his friends who were apparently really amused by his confusion. Without wasting any time Yoongi turned to open the door expecting a prank with a clown jumping at him or something similarly freaky. But there was a man standing outside of the door and Yoongi wondered if he had just arrived or if he had been standing there since his friends had knocked on his door, waiting just around the corner until Yoongi would open his door again. There was a massive box right behind him and Yoongi had to look up to even try and see the upper end of it.

“Min Yoongi?” The tired looking man said bringing his attention back to him. He held out a touch pen for him and then a pad, “Please sign here.” 

Confused Yoongi took the pen from him, signing where he pointed his finger at. There was the smell of cold smoke coming from the man’s clothes and Yoongi wrinkled his nose. Now he was definitely curious where the box was coming from. The postman revealed the mystery right after storing the pad back in his bag when he turned around to get the box off his cart. There was a little note in black ink on the outside of the otherwise cream-colored box, like a stamp, telling him where the package was coming from:

 “Thank you for ordering with Bots Internationals.” 

Yoongi’s eyes widened, stumbling back out of reflex which was pretty fortunate or else the man would had run over his foot with his cart. 

“We hope you’ll enjoy your new...eh,” The man coughed and looked down at his papers, searching for the right number again, “R0901JK - oh wow,” He raised an eyebrow at Yoongi his face changing as he looked interested and lively for a moment, “You got money, huh. Don’t tell the company but this is hot shit! Anyways...” He cleared his throat and dumped the box casually in the hallway, going back to his regular mail man self, “We hope R0901JK will soon be a indissoluble part of your life.” It sounded like he had said those words a million times already, pattering them out like he was reading from a script he couldn’t wait to finish. At the end he saluted awkwardly, taking the cart with him and leaving the life-size box in front of Yoongi. It was decorated with a stupidly big, blue bow right on its top.

Yoongi turned and walked inside, to ask his friends what the fuck they’d been thinking but he got interrupted before he could even open his mouth. They were all standing in the hallway so they could peek through the open door at him, so impatient to see his reaction that they couldn’t wait for him to get back into his flat.

“Tadah!” They shouted in unison, with Tae raising his hands to wave some little birthday flags while Namjoon and Hoseok clapped their hands and began to sing again. “Happy Birthday to you…”  

This was a joke. This had to be a joke and they made that man deliver an empty box. There was no way they had gotten him a Bot.

“Unpack it! Unpack it,” The boys began chanting,while Hoseok was doing a little celebratory dance. When Yoongi kept standing in the hallway in disbelief, looking like he didn’t want to move at all they took matters into their own hands and brought the package further into the living room where they carefully laid down the life-size box and stepped back again, waiting for Yoongi to finally make a move. Hoseok pulled Taehyung in by his waist and smiled. “We tried to tell the company as much details about your preferences as we knew to make him perfect for you.” He winked at Yoongi playfully. “We want to see him, too. So, open it!”

“Though you shouldn’t start him, yet,” Taehyung quickly chimed in, cheeks blushing for a moment as he addressed Yoongi. “It’s better if you let him imprint on you when you’re alone. I’ve heard of that one guy who had his mom around when he opened his package and he went to the bathroom for a second while his mum walked in on the bot, trying to clean there or whatever. They had to bring it back to the company because it was basically useless for him as the imprint is irreversible and his mum didn’t have the same taste in girls as he did.” They laughed and snickered and Yoongi still felt like he was in the wrong movie. He lived alone. He always lived alone. And he wasn’t good with robots. He had been freaking out when Namjoon had brought over his cleaning bot once, a thing the size of a trash can (and also similar looks). He’s had to leave the apartment while the thing did the cleaning because it made his skin crawl to see that moving tin box make decisions and pick up things.

So having a live sized, human looking bot that the producers claimed could emulate human emotions? Out of the question!

Yoongi stared at the box a while longer and then, despite better knowledge kneeled down in front of it. He looked at it with the same feeling in his gut when he was about to watch a horror film that he knew would creep him out - but he still had to watch it. Carefully, very carefully he took the blue bow off the top and opened the seal at the side and then… he opened the lid to peak inside.

“Whoah, damn,” Namjoon came closer when he saw the first glimpse of the robot. “He is perfect!” Jimin jumped in excitement. 

“I told you it’s the best idea to order from where I got Tae.” Hoseok said proudly, kissing his lover on his cheek as he blushed in response. “They make the best ones!”

Namjoon nodded and when Yoongi didn’t open the lid any further, he pulled at it, pushing away some of the styropor to free the young man (robot) for everyone to see. “It definitely is worth the money. Do you like him, Yoongi?,” He chuckled and looked up. There was no response from his friend, his eyes fixated on the robot. “Yoongi?”

Jimin furrowed his brows and leaned towards Taehyung. “I told you he likes blondes. Didn’t you scan him right?” The younger shook his head and roamed around in his system to find ‘Yoongi’s idol type’ File that he had stored there as they all had come up with a present, before blurting it out all the information they had gathered. “Curly hair, cute button nose, well-build body and lean muscles, sweet personality, something that makes him want to protect and yet curl up against him and big brown ey-”

“Stop that! Where did you even get those informations? Did you check all my former boyfriends for similarities? Did you dig through the web to find my profile of that dating site I used in my twenties to read my preferences?” He was irritated and also a little bit shocked. Because however they had done their research they had absolutely checked all the boxes that made him weak. The robot in the box was absolutely gorgeous and exactly his type.

Taehyung nodded, “All of the above, yes and I analyzed your habits at gatherings, your flirting techniques and who you walk hom…”

Hoseok pushed a hand on his boyfriend’s mouth, keeping him from giving away even more information. Yoongi didn’t look like he was loving the jokes right now. “So…..Yoongi,” Jimin interrupted the awkward silence and stares between them, “Do you like him? You’ll keep him, right?” 

He was really, really tempted to just close the box and ship the robot right back where it came from - but another part of him was just as tempted to wake the robot up to see if it was really like the advertisements said: that the robot would love you, just the way another human would and that you wouldn’t even be able to tell the differences. He got dizzy from all the mixed feelings inside of him. 

“Why? Isn’t there a .. trial period? What if I don’t like him? I mean he might look nice but what if he’s just going on my nerves? There’s a reason I don’t have a roommate or a pet.”

“Namjoon! He’s doing it again!” Jimin whined when Yoongi was coming up with excuses (something all of them were used to, especially when it came down to his own happiness and enjoyment), pursing his lips and making the other’s laugh with it.

“And there’s a reason you don’t have a boyfriend!” Namjoon joked. “Anyways, of course this isn’t all.” Namjoon got up from where they sat, knowing that Yoongi felt a little too overwhelmed right now with all these eyes on him. “We also ordered a table at your favorite pub and I am in need of some good beer, aren’t you?” He pulled his friend up and grabbed Jimin’s hand to get both to move along. “Are you coming or?” Namjoon looked over his shoulder, laughing when Seokjin and Hoseok immediately chimed in with another rendition of ‘Happy Birthday to you’, while Taehyung was bopping his head to their singing. But as soon as Namjoon had them all out on the hallway, waiting for Yoongi to lock his door, he came closer again.

“Look at him later if you want. But please, just try it once, okay? And if all fails, I still got the receipt.” Namjoon nudged his friend’s side. “We want you to be happy, Yoongi. You deserve that.” Smiling at him, he quickly caught up with the others, keeping them from breaking the elevators button in their excitement and giving Yoongi a few seconds to catch his own breath. 

Although Yoongi enjoyed staying home more often then going out right now he was thankful for the distraction. He needed to make a decision on his own, without a few pairs of eyes on him who where analyzing every move he was making. Namjoon was right though, it couldn’t hurt to try it just once, could it? If he didn’t like it he would just shut the robot off and he could wait in his box, totally unconscious until someone from the company picked him up. There was absolutely nothing that could go wrong.

... ╘[◉-◉]╕ ...

It didn’t take long for his friends to get blackout drunk. 

Drinks were spilled as they cheered for Yoongi’s birthday, filling cups after cups with new alcoholic beverages that no one was even sure what it was anymore. The music got louder and the pub filled with more and more people that wanted to celebrate the weekend. As a robot, Taehyung didn’t need any drinks but he was acting just as silly as his boyfriend who had just started to climb on the table next to them, getting cheered on by a group of girls that were acting as if he was a stripper and Hoseok obviously loved it. Taehyung happily clapped along.

“Please, let me, please,” Jimin’s whiny voice made Yoongi tore his gaze away from them, regretting the choice the minute he saw the younger halfway in Namjoon’s lap and under the table. Namjoon had his head leaned against the wall, eyes closed and brows furrowed as he drunkenly tried to keep Jimin from diving under the table and do god-knows what to him in public. And where Jin was? No one really knew. 

“I think we should get them home soon,” Taehyung yelled over the loud music towards Yoongi, giggling in amusement. 

Yoongi gave him an exasperated look. “Yes. We absolutely should.” Together they tried to get them together into one place as a group which was as easy as collecting flees or herding stubborn sheep. It took them about half an hour until everyone had their jackets, the bills were paid and telephone numbers were collected (one of the girls that had cheered on Hoseok refused to let him leave without giving him her number. She must be pretty drunk herself or else she might have noticed Taehyung’s look). Yoongi envied her a little. He wasn’t half as drunk as he had liked and in a state that might be even worse than before: he was drunk enough for his self-control to soften but not drunk enough to forget about the bot that was waiting for him at home. So basically he couldn’t wait to look at him again. Still he wouldn’t turn him on. Not really… would he?

Taehyung was a massive help to get the other’s home safely and Yoongi carefully eyed him from the side. Taehyung was a bot too - but another kind. He was old, not Taehyung per se, but his model. He was still tightly bound to a million laws which sometimes resulted in Hoseok coming home to Taehyung sitting on the floor with a glitch where he couldn’t move because there were two tasks he wanted to do but where interfering with each other.  At first Yoongi hadn’t liked him either but had started to trust him after a while. Tae couldn’t hurt them even if he wanted to. He couldn’t hack into anything they didn’t let him, he couldn’t get all ‘world dominance’ on them - in short he was like a wind up doll or a vacuum cleaner with feelings. He was safe.

The newer generations of bots were different though. He had seen the fairs where companies sold their newest models, advertising their dreamy bodies and inhuman intelligence. Yoongi just found them creepy. He waited for the first bot to go rogue and kill someone or delete half of humanities digital records or whatever else those machine brains were up to. Nonetheless they intrigued him. Just like you could be intrigued by drugs or alcohol even though you knew they were dangerous and bad for you and that you should stay away.

When he closed the door behind him, with the last of his guests safely in a taxi on their way home he lasted for about five minutes before he was sitting in front of his package again. He feared what was inside of there. But he also desperately wanted to switch it on and see what it could do, how it would talk or react. He also wondered with a queasy feeling in his stomach (and he wasn’t sure if it was alcohol or nerves) if what the companies newest ads promised were true: That their new series could feel just the way humans did and could make their own decisions based on them. 

Carefully, Yoongi reached where he knew the switch was and pushed it. He quickly leaned back and waited for the robots eyes to snap open but nothing of that happened. Instead his chest heaved as the young man took a deep breath (or simulated to do), before his eyes slowly opened. They instantly focused on Yoongi's and a warm smile was found on the robots lips, nose scrunching up cutely as he sat up and looked at his new owner. 

“Good evening sir,“ The young man cocked his head aside, hands holding onto the edge of the box, “Thank you for purchasing R0901JK. My name is Jungkook. Please register your name so we can proceed the imprint.“

“Holy shit!” Yoongi froze at the other’s welcome. He looked human. He looked absolutely, startlingly human! There was no delay in his facial expression or monotone in his voice. If his words wouldn’t give him away - or the box that he was still sitting in for that matter - one could totally think that he was alive!

“I registered your name as <holy shit> is that, right?” Jungkook asked, smiling at the other as if he hadn’t just cursed at him. “Do you want to help me out of this box? It’s quite uncomfortable.” He laughed softly, never leaving Yoongi’s gaze, waiting for the other to initiate their first skin on skin contact.

“No! Goddamnit, no! My name is Yoongi. I’m... I’m just Yoongi and I... I can’t believe they got me a bot. You are a bot! A real one! What on earth am I going to do with you? Put you in the corner of the room so you can stare at me? How is one supposed to live comfortably with one of you guys around?” He was drunk rambling, spilling all of his worries out in front of the newly awakened bot who seemed a tad bit confused, especially because Yoongi didn’t make a move to help him out of the box as Jungkook had asked, therefore denying him the critically needed skin on skin contact that would make him imprint on Yoongi. 

Because despite the rumours it wasn’t the first look that had the newest model imprint on their humans it was the first touch of their registered owner.

Jungkook blinked at Yoongi, tangled at his sudden outburst and the many questions he was asking – because he was programmed the other way. He should be asking questions right now, to get a feel for his partner. 

“I am your boyfriend,” Jungkook simply answered Yoongi’s first question, before he went on and gave him one for every question he had. “I’d like to look at you and live with you. And as far as I can tell it’s just one bot around, which is me, your boyfriend.” Jungkook reached out his hands for Yoongi to take. “Can you help me now?”

“No you are not.” He wasn’t sure of many things at the moment but this one was clear. “I won’t be loving or fucking an electrical box.” He furrowed his brows at Jungkook who was still seated. “You are kind of useless though if you can’t even get up without help. Aren’t you supposed to ‘improve your lucky owner’s everyday life’? At least that’s what the advertisements say. Lots of People smiling and looking at each other fondly and being so happy it physically hurts to look at them. You’re not at all how I pictured you.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered back and forth between his hands and Yoongi, who just spat comment after comment at him. He was more than confused and nowhere in his mind could he find a program that would help him, when his owner refused him and told him off – without being even imprinted on him. Jungkook gulped, opening his mouth to say something when Yoongi hit him hard with the last comment. Tears dwelled in his eyes as the flood of programmed emotions broke through him and confused him even more. Jungkook was programmed to feel, even more so as the one’s ordering him had asked for someone who was soft and connected with his emotions.

“I am deeply sorry I am not how you wanted me to look like.” He didn’t want to say it, but he was supposed to. The owner’s happiness what was he was programmed for. “You can return me with your favored changes within two weeks. What is there you want to change?” He carefully met Yoongi’s gaze, “My eyes?”

Yoongi stopped mid-rant when he realized that the other was crying. “Is that.. are you leaking?” Surely those couldn’t be tears running down the other’s face. “Are you broken already? Can’t get out of a box and then leaking… cooling fluid? You’re not going to blow up on me are you? I’ll call the company right now if you don’t cut that shit!”

Jungkook just stared blankly at the human, deeply confused what he was doing wrong. Why none of his programs seemed to work, why this human was so adamant on hating on him. “Did you just buy me to get out your anger?” Jungkook still had his hands out, as if he was waiting for Yoongi to pull him up any second. 

“I didn’t buy you! I’d never buy something like that. You’re a gift and... why am I even justifying myself to you. You’re basically a computer in a pretty vessel. Like a calculator on legs. I bet you could tell me all the numbers of pi without even thinking, right?” Jungkook looked frozen with his arm outstretched like that so Yoongi coldly swapped it away while unknowingly activating the imprint. “Don’t sit like that. It’s creepy!”

Jungkook flinched hard at the sudden contact of his skin on his, his program reacted immediately, processing the imprint and making sure that the man who stood in front of him was the only one he’d ever love. Until he would be turned off forever. It was like a warmth that spread through him. Every fiber of his body was working for him now, living to be with Yoongi. Nothing else mattered. Only that he hadn’t thought that it would happen like this. 

Jungkook felt like he was falling into a darkness, feeling utterly helpless, while trying to find a solution to the problem that seemed to be his boyfriend. His own heart was aching and Jungkook grimaced at the pain. He had never felt before and every ounce of new feeling was overwhelming him. Especially now that the first experience he gotten was: anger, frustration and hate. 

The robot immediately reacted to Yoongi’s order and got up and sat onto his knees, while he was still trying to figure out what he had done wrong. 

Yoongi blinked. He was utterly overwhelmed with the situation. Outside of the box the robot looked even more like a young man. Not even his clothes gave away that he was a fabricated being. He was wearing distressed jeans and a white, plain T-shirt that was just fitting enough to show off his how well his body was built. Literally built - company made. Yoongi got dizzy from what he saw which stood so much in contrast to what he thought he knew about robots. He didn’t like them. He would never like them! And yet, with the boy - robot - covering in front of him like he was scared and his tear stained face a sudden wave of empathy hit him completely unprepared. He got a little closer, careful, in case that thing had another malfunction before asking warily. “That leak.. is it dangerous? Like... is it some kind of acid that’ll burn my skin or can I just wipe it off?”

Jungkook shook his head softly, but quickly wiped over his own face, trying to take a deep breath to calm the storm of feelings. “I…I’m just a bit overwhelmed. I am sorry,” Jungkook spoke quietly, “It’s simply tears: water, mucin, lipids, lysozyme, lactoferrin, lipocalin, lacritin, immunoglobulins, glucose, urea, sodium, potassium and nothing more. It won’t burn you just as much as your own tears wouldn’t.”

Yoongi’s intoxicated mind couldn’t keep up with half of the ‘ingredients’ that Jungkook was listing off but he got that it were actually supposed to be tears. 

“So you’re crying... because of me?” He knelt down properly this time, taking out a handkerchief to wipe the robots face. He held his face for a little too long because he simply got lost in the younger’s eyes. He stared in awe at the velvety depth that held so many emotions in them it felt like they might burst from it. He coughed awkwardly as he had finished drying his tears and let go of him. “They did mess up your eyes though. They might look human on first glance but not if you look closely. They are too beautiful. No one has that many stars in his eyes.” 

In reality they could totally pass as human eyes. Amazingly pretty - but human looking.

Jungkook startled, eyes wide as he kept on staring at Yoongi, when he touched him so softly and he was leaning into his touch on instinct. “I thought we would meet differently. I am really sorry I am not what you were looking for.” The robot grimaced painfully again, gasping when his heart felt like it was squeezed hard making it harder for him to breath. Jungkook tried a faint smile, reaching for Yoongi’s hand and he wrapped his delicate fingers around his wrist to pull it away from his face. Instead he brought it down, holding Yoongi’s hands in his. 

“I’d like to think then they put stars in my eyes for you. Maybe that’s what your friends wanted you to have as a gift.”

“You... you’re awfully cheesy do you know that?” Yoongi reacted defensively, trying to get up and getting dizzy so he landed back on his knees. He really should get to back, sleep this off and then think about being a robot owner when he had a clear head. “I... I think I should get to sleep now. What do I do with you? Do you sleep? Do I just switch you off? Do you need electricity or food or... motor oil not to die?” He regretted not having read the manual before waking up Jungkook.

Jungkook reached out for Yoongi, holding him when he noticed the smell on him that he had no time to register yet. “Are you drunk?” He asked with a sigh, before he got up and wiped over his cheeks one last time. Jungkook easily pulled Yoongi up by his arms and hoisted him up in his arms, before scanning the room he was in quickly, so he knew which was his bedroom. “I sleep yes. I can do that next to you if you want. I can keep a warm body temperature and hold you?” Jungkook asked, completely ignoring Yoongi’s sudden screaming and the way he was struggling in his hold. “But I also could just stay outside. Just, please don’t switch me off. It’s…it’s not a nice feeling.”

“Let me down! Let me down! Don’t crush me! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to threaten you, I won’t switch you off, don’t kill me, don’t...” Yoongi’s screaming died down when he finally registered that despite his struggling Jungkook hadn’t tightened his grip or tried to crush him in his robotic arms. He was just holding him, in a somewhat bridal style way and suddenly Yoongi felt pretty silly. “Are you... are you carrying me to bed? Is this some kind of honeymoon-wedding-night scenario to you?” He sighed deeply. This was definitely too much for him. “Yes I’m drunk but honestly I’m not sure if I’d be able to handle this sober. We’ll see how it’ll go tomorrow after breakfast. Do you eat breakfast? Do I need to have anything there to keep maintenance of you? Can you even eat?” He tried to not move too much because it made him shudder to think about how much strength was hiding in those arms. Robots were a lot stronger than humans to be of use in any kind of scenario (like carrying a couch alone for the sake of their owner’s back). “Please don’t get into bed with me. That’ll be totally creepy. I’m not even sure if I can sleep with you being in the room.”

“Don’t worry about me needing food.” Jungkook shook his head, though it hurt him to see Yoongi so scared of him. He quickly retreated again, lowering his gaze. “I…I’ll just go into the living room and wait there.” He wasn’t sure what to do now. Usually he was programmed to either hug or kiss in those moments, but Yoongi’s body language was screaming at him not to be touched again. “Good Night, Yoongi.”

“Wait!” Now that he thought of it, letting Jungkook roam in his apartment didn’t feel him any better either. There were knives in the kitchen and electricity basically everywhere and what if the robot just walked out the door and onto the street causing a car accident. “Stay in my bedroom, please.” He locked the door behind them even though he felt a little tingle of nerves at the thought of being locked in with Jungkook. Then he remembered something that he had heard about in some documentary. “Hey, isn’t there an emergency code to put you on standby in case you go crazy or something? What is your’s?”

Jungkook took a step back, not sure why Yoongi locked them in now. He could have just told him to stay and he would. “Black piano,” The robot answered truthfully and telling Yoongi his emergency code that was different for every individual and usually had something to do with their owner. A word or phrase they don’t use often anymore, so it didn’t happen to be an accidental standby. 

Yoongi frowned. He could play the piano actually, hadn’t done this ever since he was a child and he wondered if the robot somehow knew. What had his friends put into Jungkook despite his dating type? “So if I say those words you’ll freeze? Or is there something else I need to do?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, “No, just those words but please don’t.” He whined quietly with his back against the wall. “An emergency lockdown is not good for me. If…if you really want me to be out then please just turn me off then. But I promise I won’t bother you. I just stay right here.” Jungkook pointed at the corner of the room.

Yoongi looked at him without a word, wondering how a machine, a thing made of gears and high quality plastic could look so scared. “You really think that you’re feeling, don’t you?” He murmured under his breath, amazed and appalled at the same time. He would figure out how to properly react to that tomorrow. Right now all he wanted to do was sleep. 

“Good night, Jungkook.” He threw the blanket over himself, figuring that if the robot needed something to stay warm he would get it himself. What a mess of a birthday!

A/N: Another story! This will be only a short story, about four chapters! What do you think? Will Yoongi learn to let Jungkook in? Or will he send him back ;) 

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[aquaminwrites]

Skin Deep: 09

Pairing: Yoongi x Tattoo Artist!Reader (M/F) Genre: Friends to lovers, slow burn. Smut. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, dirty talk, unprotected sex (stay safe!) Word Count: 9K

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 (links removed due to tumblr issue)

A/N: SMUT, FINALLY! The next chapter is the end. Thank you for your patience with this one, it took longer to write than I expected. Let me know what you think! Also, pardon any mistakes, I tried by best while editing. Enjoy!

“This can only end badly.”

“Yoongi, I trust you.”

“Are you sure? Because this seems like a not-so-great idea.”

“Yoongi. I trust you.”

“What if I fuck it up? And then it’s on you forever? How am I supposed to forgive myself if I—”

“Yoongi.”

His eyes finally fall on you, wide with panic. You slip your arms around your boyfriend’s waist, palms gently rubbing against the bare skin of his lower back under his shirt. You’re smiling that insolent grin as you look up at him, a slight shake to your head as you chuckle.

“Baby, I trust you. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t. Besides, you told me the other day that you wanted to try tattooing.”

Yoongi huffs, arms circling you out of habit. “Yeah, but I meant like…on a grapefruit. Or synthetic skin. When you said I could try, I didn’t think you meant on you.”

You shake your head with a laugh, unlatching yourself from his body and dragging him towards your station. Tonight was supposed to be yours and Yoongi’s date night—the original plan was to go out to dinner, nothing too fancy, and maybe go see a movie. But your appointment today had gone late, and so the plans had to change.

Yoongi shakes his head, wondering how it is that you can be so flippant about marking up your skin, especially on a whim by someone who isn’t even a professional. But then again, that’s part of the reason he likes you so much. You’re his opposite, in a lot of ways. More outspoken, more outgoing, better looking—even though you vehemently disagree, if only to get him to blush.

He also finds, over dating you for the last month and a half, that he can’t say no to you. And so he doesn’t.

He has to admit that he’s been pretty excited about the idea of trying out tattooing, even if it’s just once. He knows he doesn’t have the skill set or the hand-eye coordination to be any good, but he can’t help but be fascinated by it, especially when you start to speak so passionately on the subject.

Yoongi remembers how he was all those months ago, how disgusted he had been when Jungkook told him that he’d made a tattoo appointment with an artist he’d never heard of before. And now he can’t picture himself without you beside him, especially now that the two of you have officially started dating.

Yoongi has been true to his word, allowing you the time and space you needed and trying not to rush you into anything you weren’t ready for. The two of you have kissed, and have come dangerously close on more than one occasion to stepping over that line and just getting lost in one another, but it hasn’t happened just yet.

Not that either of you don’t want to. Yoongi can see it in the way your gaze lingers just a touch too long—especially recently. The tension grows thicker and thicker every day, to the point where just being able to touch you or hold you has the blood stirring between Yoongi’s legs. He has to try extra hard to keep himself calm, which is no easy feat when he catches you staring at him and biting your lip.

Your station is already fully set up and ready to go, the small stencil of a music note—an eighth note, to be exact—prepped on the countertop. You take a seat in the client’s chair, placing your wrist on the flat armrest that is wrapped with plastic and a medical bib. You point at the box of black latex gloves and beam at him.

“Go on. You remember how to stencil, right?”

Yoongi lets out a whine, but sits down in the artist’s chair anyway. He snaps on the gloves and then makes sure to follow all the steps as you guide him through the process—wipe the skin with alcohol first to disinfect, apply a thin layer of the stencil gel, and then place the stencil very, very carefully.

You decide to get a music note at the base of your wrist because Yoongi is a musician and you find his passion for his art inspiring and definitely something to emulate. When you’d told Yoongi about the tattoo you wanted him to do for you, he’d sputtered in protest.

“Isn’t it bad luck to get a tattoo for your significant other? And isn’t that like…the one thing that everyone says not to do when getting tattooed?”

You shrug, obviously nonplussed. “I have a full sleeve, neck piece, and an unfinished back all done by my ex-fiancé. I clearly do not care.” Your smile turns coy, and you scoot closer to Yoongi on the couch, walking your fingers up his chest as you press light, teasing kisses to his jawline. “Besides…what if I want you to mark me up, baby?”

Yoongi wonders if he should keep a tally of how many cold showers he’s had to take in the last month.

Peeling away the now-damp stencil paper, thanks to the wetness of the gel, Yoongi puts it aside and looks up at you with apprehensive eyes as you examine the placement.

“Is it okay?”

You reward him with a kiss on the forehead. “It’s perfect.”

“Perfect,” Yoongi repeats, sounding somewhat sarcastic as he eyes your hot pink rotary as if it’s grown a set of horns and rows upon rows of sharp, blade-like teeth. You’ve set everything up for him, so all he needs to do is pick up the machine and give it the old college try.

Yoongi flexes his fingers slightly before he goes to pick the damn thing up, and he’s suddenly reminded of the first time he’d ever had sex.

“Why do I feel like a virgin all over again?” He grumbles, wetting a piece of paper towel with a mixture of soap and water.

You can’t help but laugh at that, reaching up to brush some of the fringe away from his eyes. “Because you’re doing something nerve-wracking for the first time. Don’t worry, you’re gonna do great.”

Yoongi huffs out a breath, and tries to get himself into the zone. He grips the machine and dips the tip of the needle into the ink cap, making sure to check if the stencil is dry before going in. He feels you watching him intently, making sure he does everything right and in the proper order as his foot hits the pedal to run the machine. The familiar buzzing fills his ears and he tries to control the way his hand shakes as he goes in for the first line.

The tattoo itself is tiny, barely larger than one square centimetre. But to Yoongi, it might as well be the size of an entire bodysuit with how nervous he is and with how much sweat is gathering at his brow. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you scrunch up your nose in a wince, and he immediately moves the needle away.

“Oh my god, are you okay? Did I fuck up? Are you hurt? Jesus, I—”

“Yoongi!” You’re laughing now, and you use your free hand to pull him in for a quick kiss. “It’s a tattoo. It’s meant to hurt. And the wrist is never a fun spot to get tattooed anyway, all the muscles and tendons and stuff. I’m fine, I promise. Plus, you’re almost done, you just need to fill in that little part there, on the tail of the note. There you go, now give it a wipe and see if any spots need touching up…”

Yoongi diligently wipes the excess ink off your skin and you take your wrist back, holding it close to your face with a scrutinizing brow to check for any major fuck-ups. His face is still tense as you move it away, but finally relaxes when he sees you smiling from ear to ear. You reach out and cup his face, kissing both his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and then his mouth.

“It’s perfect,” you grin against his lips. “Thank you.”

He helps you bandage up the tattoo, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline. You show him this new product you got in the mail as a sample, a clear adhesive bandage called Second Skin that you place over top of the tattoo. Reading off the instructions on the back, you gather that it’s meant to maintain a wet heal rather than a regular dry heal like you normally do—the benefit being that you don’t have to worry about the traditional healing process. You figure that since the piece is small, it’ll be a good way to test out the product before selling it to your clients.

“It’s getting pretty late,” Yoongi notices, checking his phone once everything has been torn down and properly sanitized. You’re both standing in the lobby of the studio, leaning against the front desk. “Did you still want to grab dinner somewhere?”

You’re checking your phone as well, frowning slightly as you browse through the restaurants in the area. “Hmm. Why don’t you just come over to my place for dinner? I think I have some stuff in the fridge, I can cook something.”

Yoongi can’t help but raise an eyebrow. In the time that you two have officially been dating, he still hasn’t been over to your apartment. It seems almost monumental, like you’re taking the next step forward in your relationship. He tries to sound casual, though he probably fails, as he replies, “Yeah, sure. You know, uh, I can cook too, if you need any help with anything.”

“And you cook?” You tease, arms looping around his middle. “My boyfriend is such a catch.”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, we would get a lot more done if you just stopped flirting with me all the time.”

You detach yourself from him, shooting him a wink from over your shoulder as you gather your things, knowing full well that Min Yoongi requires you to flirt with him at least once a day or he’ll die. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair and sighs fondly, shrugging on his leather jacket over his oversized zip-up hoodie. “You’re going to be the death of me, babe.”

—

The bus ride to your apartment is thick with a tension that Yoongi doesn’t want to name. He looks over at you, staring contentedly out the window, your fingers interlaced with his. He can’t help but smile at the sight, and when you catch him staring, you simply give his hand a squeeze and adjust to lean your head against his shoulder.

When you unlock the main door and Yoongi steps over the threshold, he realizes that this is the first time he’s ever set foot into your building. You lead him silently to the elevator, and press the number for the 8th floor. By the time you actually reach your apartment, Yoongi is sure he’s scratched a bald spot behind his ear out of anxiety.

You lead him inside, and can’t help but giggle at the sight of him taking everything in.

“Wow,” he manages, eyes roaming everywhere as you flick on all the lights. “Your apartment is way nicer than mine.”

“Hey,” you protest. “I like your apartment.”

“But we could have spent so much time hanging out here,” Yoongi pretends to whine, spinning in a circle with his arms outstretched as you roll your eyes and wander into the kitchen.

Your apartment is much more modern, being in a newer building than Yoongi’s. The front door opens to an open concept living room and kitchen, with a marble-top island opposite the sink for more counter space. A modern looking couch faces a large television on the other end of the room, and also serves to further separate the two areas.

The living room itself is cozy and can only be described as an extension of your shop. The walls are painted a dark wine berry, and white Christmas lights have been hung all around the perimeter of the room. It brings out the warmth in the colour of the paint, and immediately has Yoongi feeling nostalgic. For what, he can’t quite place.

Framed art lines the walls—some odd vintage posters of palm readings and human anatomy, as well as art prints signed by names that Yoongi identifies as tattoo artists that you admire. He’s just dodging around the coffee table to look at your shelf of oddities when you call to him from the kitchen.

“Want some wine? I have a pinot noir. Not that I know what that means, but it’s red.”

Yoongi can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes. “Yeah. Sure.”

He hears you pouring two glasses as he goes back to examining your things. You appear behind him and offer him the wine, which he swirls around for a second before taking a long, drawn out sip. He pretends not to notice as your eyes trail down to his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I never asked you where you find these things,” Yoongi mentions, gesturing to the animal skull taxidermy. “Do you just buy them online, or…?”

You chuckle, sipping at your own glass. Your cheeks are already beginning to go red, something that Yoongi has discovered only happens when you drink wine. “At tattoo conventions, actually. One of the vendors is a good friend of mine, and all his stuff is ethically sourced. He’s reliable, and I wouldn’t buy from anyone else.”

Yoongi nods and returns to looking at all the little gadgets and odds and ends that you’ve collected over the years. There’s a vintage book on tattooing, a few very old looking Polaroid cameras, a pocket watch, quartz crystals, and a few framed photos.

One is of you with your parents, looking like it’s from a birthday a few years ago, judging by the fact that your tattoos are incomplete and your hair is a lot shorter. Another one is of you and Junghyun, dressed in your graduation robes, both of you smiling from ear to ear with your degrees in hand.

The last photo that you have framed on your shelf is one that Yoongi isn’t expecting to see. It’s of the two of you. The photo is black and white and a little grainy, and he can instantly tell from the style of the photograph that it was taken by Taehyung. It’s from your first date, that night the two of you ran into Jimin and Taehyung at the carnival. You’re sitting at the picnic bench, looking bashfully down at your lap as Yoongi leans into you, a smile reaching all the way up to his eyes as he regards you as if you created every galaxy in the universe.

You steal Yoongi’s empty wine glass and place it, along with your own, onto the coffee table. He feels you wrap your arms around his middle from behind, noticing when you place a kiss to the back of his shoulder.

His hands come to cover your own. “I didn’t know Tae had this film developed yet.”

You rise onto your tip toes and place your chin on his shoulder. “I asked him if he could show me before he shows you.”

Yoongi snorts. “Traitor.” After a pause, he adds, “Kind of surprised you don’t still have a photo of Namjoon up or something.”

You frown, dropping your arms from around his waist to hold his hand properly. You rub your free palm along his forearm in gentle, comforting circles. You and Namjoon had decided to rekindle your friendship, and things are going surprisingly well. He still gives you some distance, which you appreciate, but you can tell that Yoongi is still a little jealous when you meet up with him for coffee or to catch up. You reassure him every time that there’s nothing there between you and your ex, but you also know that he can’t help but worry.

“Why would I have photos of Joon up in my apartment?” You ask him with a quiet melancholy. You hate seeing Yoongi even a little bit upset, and you can tell right now that he’s got a whole mess of emotions swimming around in his head right now. “He doesn’t make me happy. You do. You’re the one that makes my heart race, and you’re the one that makes me smile every day. It’s you, Yoongi. And you’re all I need.”

Maybe it’s your words. Maybe it’s the wine. But when Yoongi turns to look at you, and it’s not like he’s seeing you for the first time—it’s like he can’t imagine his life before you. It’s just as you said all those months ago. His eyes roam over your face, taking everything in that has become so familiar to him, memorizing every detail that he already knows by heart: the slope of your nose, the way your eyelashes fan across your cheek every time you blink up at him full of wonder, the way your lips gently part as you inch closer and closer…

Yoongi loves you. He loves you.

He doesn’t remember exactly when he knew, but seeing you now, looking up at him like he’s the only truth you’ve ever known, it overwhelms him and grips his heart so strongly that he fears it might burst forth from his chest. He finds himself pulled into your orbit, every thought in his brain circling on you, you, you, until he grows dizzy with want.

His warm palm comes to caress the side of your face, his thumb gently running across the smoothness of your cheek bone. He has so much he wants to say, three little words dancing on the tip of his tongue. But instead, his other hand presses against your lower back and draws you to him, your tiny intake of breath causing him to quirk up his lips in the tiniest grin. And when his lips meet yours, the universe slots back into place.

This kiss is pure fire—nothing but heat and an overwhelming sensation that threatens to consume you both in your entirety. Yoongi’s tongue slips into your mouth and he moans as you open up for him, fingers tangling in his hair, your body staying flush against him.

“Yoongi,” you gasp as his lips trail down to your neck, biting and sucking a path as he goes. “I want you so bad. Please.”

“Oh?” He can’t help but tease, grinding his hips into yours as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “What do you want me to do to you, kitten?”

You suck in the tiniest breath at the mention of the pet name, your eyes searching his. After a beat, you rise up, bringing him back in for a kiss. You tug on his lower lip just a little with your teeth as you pull away, batting your eyelashes up at him.

“I want you inside of me. Please Yoongi, please…”

Yoongi stares down at you with hungry eyes, and then suddenly you’re yelping as he’s hoisting you up. Your legs are around his waist as he moves faster than you’ve ever seen him in the direction of your room. You swear you hear him mutter, “Well, twist my arm,” as he practically kicks down your bedroom door.

You giggle into his shoulder, nipping at the pale skin at the base of his neck. You feel him swallow against your lips, and then suddenly your back is bouncing against your mattress, and Yoongi’s body is covering yours.

His hands are everywhere, tugging your shirt overhead and attacking zipper on your jeans. You’re no better. You push his hoodie off his shoulders, sliding your palms under his shirt and along his back. You lift it off, bringing him back down for a kiss, and Yoongi groans as you part your thighs for him, clad only in your bra and panties. His mouth is on yours again in a second, and he takes in a sharp inhale as you arch your back to grind against his growing bulge from below.

“You still have your pants on,” you whine, your hands wandering down to his fly. The amount of wiggling has Yoongi’s pants growing even tighter and he lifts himself off of you, standing up so that he can shuck off his jeans as quickly as possible.

He swears he only looks away for a second as the denim bunches around his ankles, but when he looks up, you’re sitting up on your heels, gazing at him as he stands in only his tented boxers with heated cheeks and a look that he can only describe as wonder. He offers you a small smile, knowing that he’s got the exact same expression on his face.

It’s then that Yoongi notices the tattoo that decorates your sternum and part of your stomach, just below the line of your bra. It’s a mandala done in dot work, framing the curve of your breasts and coming down to a point a few inches above your navel. Yoongi can’t help but stare, never having seen you without a shirt on before, before returning to your eyes. He watches as you take in a deep, shaky breath, and then your hands move to your back to unhook your bra. You let it fall away, and Yoongi can’t help the curse that escapes.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, crawling back over you and kissing you deeply.

He uses one arm to prop himself up at the elbow, his free hand running up along the side of your body until he’s cupping your breast. His thumb flicks over your hardened nipple, tongues dancing together as you moan into his mouth.

“Let me take care of you,” Yoongi pants as he moves his thumb to hook the lacy band of your panties. “Please, Y/N, let me taste you.”

He can’t help but think of how cute you are as your eyes widen slightly, biting at your lower lip. You can only give him a tiny nod, and he kisses you once, twice, three times before trailing south. Yoongi takes his time with you, pulling dark bruises with his lips and teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck and chest, stopping along the way to lavish attention onto your breasts and nipples.

Your fingers thread through his hair and he welcomes the way your nails drag along his scalp. He especially loves the tiny tugs when his mouth encloses on your nipple and he starts to suck—your back arches off the bed and he slides his hands underneath you so that he can press you more firmly against him. He moves to the other one, making sure to tease you with his teeth and you gasp, tugging at his roots desperately.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Patience, sweetheart,” he growls lightly, his tongue dipping in the valley between your breasts, the tip trailing down to trace along the patterns inked into your skin. The kisses he places along your sternum and your stomach are wet, messy, and loud, causing the tiny hairs on your arms to stand up straight. Your thighs are practically flat against the bed, that’s how open and ready you are for him.

It takes what feels like an eternity before Yoongi finally makes it to your clothed centre, and he can see plain as day how soaked you are.

Yoongi runs his tongue along your clothed slit, and you yelp, your thighs snapping halfway shut at the sensation. Your hands fly up to cover your face, and Yoongi can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“You’re shy,” he goads, kissing along your inner thighs as he presses them back down against the bed. “I can’t believe that you, Y/N, someone who lives her life out loud and always has something to say, is getting shy in bed.”

Your hands don’t shift from your face as you mumble, “You make me nervous.”

Yoongi immediately rises and crawls back up to meet your eyes, softly grasping your wrists to get them to move. When he finally gets you to look at him with gentle prodding, he tells you, “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. It’s okay.”

“It’s not that,” you promise, cupping his face with your hands. “I just…can’t believe this is finally happening, that’s all. I haven’t been with anyone in over a year so I’m just…it’s been a while.”

Yoongi winks and begins to scoot back down between your thighs. “Guess I’ll just have to ease you back into it then, huh?”

You bite your lip in anticipation, and watch as he slides your panties down your legs and discards them on the floor. “Please do.”

Yoongi’s thumbs massage small circles against your inner thighs as he takes in the sight of you bare before him. Your pussy is glistening with wetness, and Yoongi can’t help himself.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he praises before dives in, tongue lapping at your folds as your fingers tangle themselves into his hair again. His large, warm palms flatten your thighs to the bed, pinning you down so you’re unable to move. You cry out as his tongue enters you, the wet, messy sounds coming from his sinful mouth spurring you closer to the edge already.

Yoongi can already feel you starting to clench, so he moves to circle your clit with the tip of his tongue, one of his fingers slowly pushing its way into you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growls. You learn very, very quickly that Yoongi has a filthy mouth. And you fucking love it—especially when it latches itself to your most sensitive areas. “I want you to come, baby. Want you to come all over my face and on my fingers,” he says as he adds a second finger, allowing them both to curl against the roof of your pussy.

His fingers massage along your walls in search of something, and you feel Yoongi smiling against your mons as he finds it; that rough patch of skin that brings you such deep pleasure. You let out a cry that somewhat resembles his name as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you at a fast, rough pace. His mouth latches onto your clit as he switches between quick, light flicks of his tongue and harder sucks, whatever it takes to get you to writhe beneath him.

It doesn’t take long before you find yourself teetering close to the edge, your fingers gripping his hair, and his free arm thrown over your hips to keep you from bucking too hard. Yoongi can feel the fluttering sensation as it starts, and he grins up at you with insolent eyes.

“You gonna come, baby? You gonna be a good girl and come for me while I finger fuck you?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp, trying your best to keep your eyes on him. “Yoongi, I’m gonna come, ‘m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he breathes against your wetness, pumping his fingers even faster. “Come now.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, Yoongi sucks on your clit, hard. You scream and feel the flood gates burst open, your back arching clear off the bed. You swear you must have ripped a chunk of hair from Yoongi’s scalp, but he’s too preoccupied with prolonging your pleasure for as long as he possibly can. His fingers still work you through your orgasm, and Yoongi delightedly laps up all of your juices until the sensation of his mouth against your sex borders on overstimulation.

He rises from your dripping cunt and makes a show of licking his fingers clean, taking extra time to clean the web between his fingers with his long, agile tongue as he maintains eye contact with you the entire time. His lips and chin glisten with your come, and you can’t say that you mind when he draws you close and kisses you, the taste of your orgasm still tinting the flavour of his mouth.

“Baby,” you say between kisses, breathless and barely sated. “Take off your boxers. Please. I need you inside of me.”

“Okay, let me just go grab a condom from my wallet—”

Yoongi moves to lift himself off of you when you place your hands on his shoulders, his gaze returning to yours. “Are you clean?”

His mouth gapes at the question, at the implication of your words, and once he’s processed the question, he nods furiously. “I got tested when we started dating. I’m clean.”

You blush. “Yeah. I did too, clean as well. So…if it’s okay with you…are we good?”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, we’re good. We’re so fucking good.”

It takes Yoongi about 0.02 seconds after that to basically rip off his boxers, his cock standing hard and proud as he moves once more between your thighs.

You hum quietly as you reach down to take him in your hand, pumping his shaft steadily. “Not gonna let me return the favour?”

“Later,” he chokes out, eyes squeezing shut for a second at just the feeling of your hand stroking him. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

Yoongi positions himself on top of you, keeping his body completely flush against yours. The tips of your noses are touching and he can feel your heartbeat against his chest as the underside of his cock glides against your clit. It causes you to shiver, palms against his lower back. He reaches down and positions himself at your entrance, the head of his girth pushing just past the lips of your pussy.

“F-fuck,” he pants, adding more pressure. He watches your face intently, making sure to stop every time you wince, assuring you that you’re amazing and that you’re taking him so well. He continues to push until he’s fully sheathed inside. a low groan escaping his throat as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. The two of you fit together so perfectly, like you were made for each other. “Full disclosure,” he admits, sounding a little ashamed. “I’m definitely not going to last.”

“Me neither,” you agree, turning to press a kiss to the shell of his ear. “We have forever to beat tonight’s record, though.”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh against your skin before pulling nearly all the way out and then sensually rolling his hips until they smack against yours. He fucks you slow but hard, each thrust carrying the weight of an untold confessions that he’s barely keeping at bay. Your body is just too warm, too tight, too perfect, and the sounds you’re making are enough to drive him mad.

You raise your hips slightly to meet him for every thrust, his pace starting to quicken. The bed frame creaks, the headboard starting to smack against the wall as Yoongi pounds you into the mattress.

He can’t believe this is really happening. The way you squeak out his name as he makes love to you is the only thing truly keeping him grounded. Yoongi is convinced he’s dreaming, because there’s no way he’s inside of you right now, no way he’s in your room, in your bed, kissing your lips, drawing these lewd whimpers from your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so tight and wet, how are you real?” Yoongi asks himself more than you, clinging to the last shreds of his sanity as you moan and keen beneath him.

“Yoongi,” you gasp after a particularly hard thrust. You cup his face with your hands so that he’s looking at you, his ministrations turning shallow as you demand all of his attention. You’re smiling up at him, face and chest flushed and coated in a thin sheen of sweat, hair mussed and tangled, but Yoongi can’t help but think you’ve never looked more beautiful. It’s as this thought loops in his head that your thumb brushes along the curve of his cheekbone and you say, “Yoongi, I love you.”

Yoongi freezes, eyes wide, heart pounding in his ears. How long had he been dreaming that you would say those words to him? How many times did he have those same words loaded up at the tip of his tongue?

He can’t tear his gaze from yours. “Say it again.”

You smile up at him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I love you, Min Yoongi.”

His hips start to move again, and you suck in a shallow breath as the head of his cock drags along your g-spot. “Again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, voice light and dripping with need as he braces his knees against the mattress and starts fucking you with purpose.

Yoongi can feel himself getting close. Your cunt is just too good, too tight, and every time he’s buried deep inside of you, it feels like home. He wants nothing more than to lose himself in you, to stay joined with you like this until every star in the universe burns itself out. He feels your nails scratching along his back as your moans get louder and louder, your walls clenching around his cock like a vice.

“I’m close,” Yoongi warns, kissing and sucking the most sensitive spot on your neck. “Want you to come with me.” He reaches between the two of you and you almost jump when you feel the rough pads of his fingers rubbing against your clit.

“Yoongi, oh my god,” you cry as the combination of his cock stretching you to your limit and the insistent stimulation on your sensitive nub has you hurtling towards another orgasm. You’re right there, you’re so close, so close, as you feel your walls starting to flutter more intensely.

“‘M gonna come,” Yoongi grunts, his voice deep and hoarse with lust. He kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. “Where do you want it?”

“Come in me,” you whisper against his lips. “I’m on the pill, it’s okay. Please, fill me, I need all of you.”

Yoongi lets out an audible groan and then he’s kissing you, his tongue taking control easily as he fucks you deep and hard while adding more speed and pressure to your clit. You come with a muffled scream, harder than you ever have before, whimpering and keening at the aftershocks. Yoongi chokes out your name before delivering three punishing thrusts, stapling you to the mattress as he comes with a roar, filling you to the brim.

The room is quiet except for the sound of the two of you panting, the room smelling of sweat and sex. It is perfection.

Yoongi collects you in his arms, his softening cock slipping out of you. His come dribbles out of your abused pussy and trickles down your inner thighs, but you can’t find it in you to care. He rolls over onto his side and tugs you flush against him, and you find that the two of you slot together perfectly—like two pieces of a puzzle.

He cradles your face in one of his hands, brushing the stray hairs out of your eyes. You’ve never looked more beautiful than in this moment, cheeks red from exertion, lips kiss-swollen and your eyes so full of love, love for him. Yoongi can’t wipe the smile off his face as he draws you in, and against your lips, finally says what he’s been keeping at bay since the two of you met up at that coffee shop months ago.

“I love you too.”

When he pulls away, he’s a little shocked to see tears welling up in your eyes. He starts to think that maybe he’s done something wrong when you lift your hand to cover his. “Really?”

Yoongi relaxes and kisses away the stray tear that rolls onto the bridge of your nose.

“Of course I do, Y/N. I love you. So fucking much.”

You sniffle loudly and throw your arms around him in a hug, and Yoongi just holds you as your breath hitches in your chest.

“I’m glad you got to experience it at last, Yoongi,” you murmur, and Yoongi is immediately reminded of the conversation the two of you had in the coffee shop. “And…selfishly, I’m glad that it’s with me.”

“There’s only you,” he promises, rubbing comforting circles against your spine as the two of you lie there together. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He feels you press a soft, barely-there kiss to the underside of his jaw, the simple gesture making his heart race all over again. Without hesitation, you reply, “You too.”

—

The two of you remain like that for what seems like forever, the afterglow too precious to disrupt. It’s only when your stomach growls loudly that the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, breaking apart and sitting up. You can’t help but laugh at the damage your questing fingers did to Yoongi’s hair. It’s sticking up at odd angles, some parts completely erect while others stick out at the sides. You try your best to fix it as he pouts at you before you grab his hoodie off the floor and zip it up high enough to cover your breasts, keeping it low enough to tempt Yoongi just a little bit.

“We never got to make dinner,” you muse as you amble over to your dresser to find a new set of panties. You purposely choose a dark red lace number and make a show of putting it on. You stand at your full height and look at Yoongi over your shoulder. His mouth is wide open and his expression looks as if Nessie had emerged from Loch Ness, fist-bumped him, and then asked for a selfie.

You wander to the bathroom to get cleaned up while Yoongi manages to roll himself out of bed once his tongue is back inside his mouth, collecting his boxers and t-shirt off the floor. Yoongi can’t remember the last time he got laid, but he knows it’s never been that good before. He flops back down onto the bed and basks in the feeling of being worn out from a good fuck when he hears the bathroom door open again.

The hoodie you’re wearing—his hoodie—falls just below your ass, exposing the length of your bare legs as you make your way into the kitchen. You let out a squeal when you hear the sound of footsteps rushing after you, followed by a pair of strong, lanky arms tugging you backwards. Yoongi buries his face in the crook of your neck as he holds your back to his chest, rocking you gently from side to side.

“I just want you to know,” Yoongi begins, and you feel the movement of his lips against your skin. “I’m not very good at expressing myself, and emotional stuff can be difficult for me. But I really do love you, even if I’m not great at showing it sometimes.”

You turn in his grasp and gingerly place your hands on his chest, toying with the collar of his shirt. “In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never doubted that you care about me, Yoongi. Give yourself a little more credit. Your love language isn’t through spoken words, and that’s okay.”

Yoongi’s grip on your waist tightens. “You don’t mind?”

“If it bothers you, it’s something we can work on,” you promise. “But I don’t always need verbal affirmation. You take time out of your day to come see me while I’m working, you always ask to make sure I’ve eaten and have been drinking water, and you’re not afraid to hold my hand in public. I would never want that part of you to change.”

Yoongi touches his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. “How did I get so lucky?”

You rise up to your tip toes to deliver a peck to his lips before lowering yourself back down. “I ask myself that question every day. Now, come on, let’s see what I’ve got in the fridge.”

You meander over to the fridge and Yoongi follows close behind, peeking over your shoulder to see what you’ve got in terms of groceries. You hum a tune that he immediately recognizes as one of his own songs, and drops a kiss to the back of your head. You don’t turn, but you lean your body against his as you survey your ingredients.

“We could do fried rice,” you offer. “Or noodles. I mostly have random vegetables and some chicken, and I’m not that creative of a cook. What do you feel like having?”

Yoongi shrugs, hands placed on your hips. “I’m not a picky eater, whatever you want, we can have.”

You grab the food from the fridge and Yoongi lets you go as you place the ingredients on the island counter. “Fried rice it is, then.”

You peter off to fetch your rice cooker from one of your cabinets as Yoongi gets to work on washing the vegetables and chopping them up into smaller pieces. The two of you move around so easily together in the kitchen, not really speaking, but just enjoying one another’s presence. It’s all so domestic, and you can’t help but feel as if Yoongi’s always just existed beside you, an extension of yourself. You love him so much that it’s overwhelming, and Yoongi places down his knife when he catches you staring.

“Do I have something on my face?” He asks with a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the outer corners as he flashes his gummy smile at you.

You pad over to him and kiss his cheek, giving his arm a light squeeze. “It’s nothing. Thank you for helping.”

Yoongi can’t help the blush that dusts his cheeks at your casual affection. “If I keep helping, do I get more kisses?”

You bite your lip and eye him up and down. You notice when Yoongi shivers under the heat of your gaze. “After dinner.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “Let’s get to cooking, then.”

It doesn’t take long, once the rice is done cooking, to get the rest of the meal prepared. Not without distractions, however—there are kisses stolen, lingering touches, and at one point Yoongi crowds you against the counter and almost convinces you to abandon cooking for other extracurriculars. You’re just about to give in when both of your stomachs growl in protest, and the two of you decide that maybe eating something is a good idea.

Yoongi ends up taking over for you, throwing seemingly random spices and seasonings into the wok as he combines all the ingredients. He’s unlike you in that when you cook, you need to measure out all your ingredients, refer to recipes, make lists. But Yoongi just seems to inherently know what spices go well together, what flavours complement the dish, and he just goes off of instinct.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him cooking up a storm in your kitchen really, really fucking sexy.

The smell is absolutely delicious, exceedingly so for such a simple dish, and you usher Yoongi to put on a movie as you grab bowls and utensils for the food. Yoongi complies, fetching the bottle of wine you’d opened earlier and bringing it over to the couch with him.

You’re carrying two full bowls of homemade fried rice when you walk over to the couch to see Yoongi scrutinizing the abandoned wine glasses from earlier. When you shoot him a questioning look, he lifts them both up to show you.

“Do you remember which one is yours?”

You can’t help but snort at that, placing the bowls on the coffee table. “Yoongi, you came inside of me like, half an hour ago. I don’t think it matters which glass is whose.”

Yoongi shuts his eyes, exhales hard through his nostrils, and purses his lips as if he’s trying to hold in a laugh at your remark. Once he’s convinced he’s gained control of himself, he pours the wine, indiscriminately hands you a glass and remarks, “You’re really something else.”

The movie he chooses is Ocean’s 8, muttering something about Cate Blanchett in suits, as you both settle into the sofa. You lean your head against Yoongi’s shoulder as you chew absentmindedly, alternating between complimenting your boyfriend on his culinary skills and making silly quips at the television.

Once you’re both done eating, you stack the bowls and leave them on the other end of the coffee table to deal with later. Yoongi opens up his arms for you and you slide into his lap, his arms circling you as the two of you watch the movie in relative silence, just enjoying one another’s company. The wine is long gone by now, warming both of you from the inside, and offers Yoongi enough boldness to ask a question he’s had on his mind for a little while now.

“Would you ever tattoo me?”

You look up at your boyfriend, startled. “What?”

Yoongi’s arm stiffens around you slightly, almost like he’s embarrassed. “If I ever asked, would you tattoo me?”

“Yoongi,” you sigh, sitting up and brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “You don’t even like tattoos.”

His eyes wander to the lines of the peony adorning your neck, one of his hands coming to rest on your bare thigh. “I like yours.”

“You like me,” you tease. “We both know you’re not a tattoo person, Yoongi. And that’s okay. I would never want you to make such a permanent decision just because you’re dating me now, or because you think it’s what I would prefer. If you really want one, and you’re positive that you would have wanted it even if we weren’t together, then sure. But if you’re thinking about getting one to make me happy, then no.”

Yoongi is quiet for a second before exhaling softly through parted lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You tweak his nose with an insolent grin. “I’m always right.”

He growls and grabs your waist, moving you so that you’re straddling his lap. Your hands find his shoulders for balance and when he looks up at you with his catlike stare, you can seen that his pupils are blown wide. He raises his hips just a touch, enough for this hardening member to graze against your core. You gasp in a breath at the sudden shift and bite your lip as one of Yoongi’s hands comes to tug at the zipper of your hoodie.

“Guess I’ll just have to fuck the sass out of you, huh?”

You grin as Yoongi works the sweater open, allowing the material to fall down to your elbows. You palm his erection through his boxers and lean in to whisper into his ear.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Yoongi lets out a laugh that dies on his tongue as you pull him free and stroke him, his cock stiffening in your grasp.

“Mmm, babe,” he smirks, and you feel yourself getting even wetter at the sight. He leans back, hands resting on your thighs. “You’re gonna have to try.” He sits up suddenly, pulling you flush to his chest as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples. You mewl as he toys with it between his teeth, biting and pulling before switching to the other. Your breathing is coming in a staccato rhythm, and your heart nearly stops when Yoongi moves away from your breasts and just says, “Ride me.”

His eyes are twinkling with mirth as you feel your panties getting damper and damper. You move to stand, but Yoongi has other ideas. He grips your waist and keeps you on his lap, and you look at him questioningly.

Yoongi responds by running the pad of his thumb along the front of your mound, lightly grazing over your clit, causing you to shiver. He shifts his hand so that it’s cupping your pussy entirely, and you let out a tiny whimper as you feel to of his fingers pressing against your entrance through your soaked lace underwear.

“So wet,” he murmurs, hooking his fingers along the edge of your panties and slicking them to the side. You take his cock in your hand and decide not to waste any more time, positioning the swollen head between your legs. You sink down onto him slowly, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as he fills you inch by inch.

He feels even bigger like this, hitting every spot inside of you that makes you sing. When your cunt touches the base of his cock, you lean down to kiss him, hands cupping his face. Yoongi’s hands wander up your back, underneath your half-off sweater, holding you close, encouraging you to move.

“C’mon, baby,” he breathes against your mouth. “Work for it. Fuck me.”

You can’t help the moan that escapes at his words, and your hands grip the back of the couch with white knuckles as you begin to roll your hips. Yoongi lets his head loll back so that he can watch your face as you ride him, taking in the fluttering of your eyelids as your pussy takes him deep. He lets out a string of curses as you start to lift yourself off and slam yourself back down at a faster rhythm, both of you unable to mask your sounds of pleasure as you get lost in one another’s bodies.

You grasp at Yoongi’s t-shirt and wrench it off him, much to his amusement. But he’s not one to complain, especially when your breasts press against the naked planes of his chest, relishing in the feeling of you on him and around him.

“Tell me how I feel,” Yoongi grunts as he starts to meet you for every thrust, bucking up into you from below. “Tell me, baby. Wanna know how your pretty little pussy feels when it takes all of my cock.”

You bite back a cry. “Big,” you gasp. “And full.”

“Fucking love you so much,” he rasps as his hips start to pick up speed. His firm grip on your waist holds you in place as he fucks you hard, his balls slapping against your skin as he spears you with every thrust. “Fucking love your tight wet pussy, love how well you take me. Can’t believe you’re mine, can’t believe we waited so long to do this. Want to be inside of you forever.”

You feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten, especially with Yoongi’s deep, husky voice spouting simultaneously the filthiest and most romantic shit you have ever heard in your entire life. He can tell by the way you throw your head back in ecstasy that you’re almost there, rapidly approaching the edge and just waiting to teeter off the side.

“Yoongi, come with me,” you beg as your fingers move over your clit, rubbing furiously. Yoongi chokes out a moan as your walls immediately start to squeeze down on his shaft. “Please, baby, I need you, need you so bad.”

“You already have me,” he promises, pulling you in for a kiss just as the dam breaks for both of you. Your keens are muffled by his lips and tongue, and you roll your hips to ride out both of your orgasms for as long as possible. You feel it when he explodes inside of your dripping cunt,  as his cock twitches and pulses through the remainder of his euphoria.

You stay there on his lap, forehead resting against his, as the two of you try to steady your breathing as well as your heart rates. Your forehead is dotted with sweat, and his bangs are damp and matted to his own. You lean back slightly and comb his hair away from his face with your fingers, wanting to see all of him.

Yoongi’s catlike eyes are searching yours, open and honest, like they always are when he’s with you. His lips are parted slightly, still taking in deep inhales of oxygen as his heart finally begins to calm. With the rosiness in his cheeks and the way he’s looking at you full of wonder, you think to yourself that he’s never looked more amazing or ethereal than in this moment.

“I’m so in love with you,” you can’t help but whisper, and it’s so quiet that you aren’t even sure if he heard you.

But by the way his hands soothe over your back and your waist, paired with the soft adoration that filters into his eyes, you know that he did.

“I’m so in love with you, too,” he promises, drawing you in for another kiss. When you part, he can’t stop the yawn that escapes his lips. “Shower, and then bed?”

You nod, also suddenly exhausted. You move to stand and nearly stumble. You would have fallen if Yoongi hadn’t immediately risen to catch you, his arms holding you tightly as the two of you make your way to the bathroom.

“It’s official. No shower sex. If we were to try, I think we would both get hurt.”

Yoongi pouts. “None? At all?”

“Yoongi,” you scold, though your voice lacks malice. “No.”

As it turns out, you have a really, really hard time saying no to Yoongi. So as a compromise, you go down on him under the steaming spray of the faucet, and he carries you back to your bed to return the favour one more time before bed.

And as you find yourself wrapped up in his arms, bare skin pressed against bare skin, you can’t help but smile. It’s been a long road to happiness. But lying here, with him, you can’t help but think of how lucky you are to know Min Yoongi, to love him, and to have him love you in return. So you drift off to sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat and dream of him.

And from beside you, with his lips pressed to your crown, Yoongi does the same.

[magewriter]

Baby Danvers

Kalex Day Six: Kink Alphabet

Friday, 11/22 - Kink Alphabet - A kink from any letter from the word “Supergirl”: pregnancy

I own nothing. I also apologize for nothing.

Words: 2,729

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Alex stared at the little stick in her hand.

It was positive. She was pregnant.

The procedure had worked.

She was pregnant.

Alex sat down on the closed toilet seat and tried to remember to breathe. She was pregnant. She needed to let it settle in her mind before anything else.

Kara was going to be ecstatic. The Kryptonian was also going to put Alex’s overprotective tendencies to shame. The agent didn’t even want to contemplate what her mother, J’onn, and the rest of her insane family would do.

She was going to end up killing someone by the end of this. She just knew it.

At least her family would help her get away with it.

Well…Kara would at least.

“Alex?” Kara’s voice drifted towards the bathroom from the bedroom. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She called back to her wife.

“Fine as in okay of FINE?” She asked after a moment.

“A little bit of both I think?” Alex admitted uncertainly.

“Can I come in?” The door was closed. Alex was well aware that Kara had undoubtedly already looked through the door.

“Yea, please.” Alex held up the test.

Kara’s face fell. “Oh, Alex…I’m sorry.” She had her human wrapped in her arms before she could say anything.

“No, no, Kara,” Alex shook her head. “Look at it.”

Kara took the test from her, reading the result. She read it again before looking up at her partner.

“You’re pregnant?” Her voice and face were filled with something akin to awe. “It worked?”

Alex nodded, feeling tears come to her eyes. “Yes, I’m pregnant.”

“We’re going to have a baby.” Kara dropped the test in the sink so she could gently wrap Alex in the tightest hug she dared, her own happy tears trailing down her cheeks. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We are,” Alex nuzzled into Kara’s neck. “We really are.” She chuckled. “Everyone’s going to fight over who gets to be godparents.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Kara swept Alex into a bridal carry. “Now, we celebrate before we tell everyone.”

It took them a week to decide how to tell their extended friends and family the good news. They had decided to wait until after Alex’s doctor’s appointment to confirm it, just in case the test had been wrong. It would not have been the first time.

“Maybe we should just send out a mass e-mail instead,” Alex looked over the stacks of boxes. “Did your mother’s get there alright?”

“It did, and Lena’s already got everything ready to go.” Kara said, reaching for one of the stacks to double check they hadn’t forgotten anyone.

Who knew one could privately buy bulk key-chains?

“Of course she does,” Alex rolled her eyes. Lena had been watching her like a hawk for the last three weeks. She and the doctors involved were the only ones who knew they were trying again. “At this rate, we’re going to need to name the baby after her.”

“Alexandra Lena Danvers is a perfectly suitable name,” Kara defended.

Alex rolled her eyes at the thought of naming her child after herself. “She’s going to argue that it should be Lena Alexandra for having to put up with both our shenanigans.”

“We already decided she gets to be godmother.” Kara said with a smile. “Along with Winn, Lucy, Sam, and Jess.”

“Our kid will be able to get away with murder and no one will ever know it even happened.” Alex joked, leaning back against Kara.

“Kids,” Kara corrected absently, arm wrapping around the woman in her lap.

“Right,” Alex touched her still flat stomach. It wouldn’t remain that way for much longer. “We ready for this?”

“Yes,” Kara replied. “Let’s go.”

The trip to L-Corp (because the security there put even the DEO to shame at times) was short. Alex briefly mourned the loss of her ability to drive her bike, but it was worth the trade off.

Lena was waiting for them when they got there. She hugged both of them.

“Most everyone is hear,” she told them, “we’re still waiting for J’onn and the rest of the PIBs to get here.” Ruby had coined the term ages ago; the rest of them had simply adopted it.

“Good, but why are you down here?” Kara looked her over. “Did someone say something?”

Lena shook her head. “No, but if I had to listen to one more theory about this meeting I was going to throttle someone. Or possibly throw them from the balcony. I haven’t decided yet.”

Alex laughed. “Come on, before someone does something stupid.”

“I already had Jess lock all the liquor cabinets in the building. No one can get in the labs either.” Lena had taken every precaution she could think of. With their group, there was no such thing as overkill.

“Finally!” Sam spun in her chair. “Are the rest here yet?”

“Calm down, we’ll be told eventually.” Eliza spoke calmly. “J’onn just texted that they are on their way.”

“Yea, but we want to know now!” Ruby pouted at them. Yes, she was getting to miss half a school day for this but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Not going to work,” Kara told her. “But, you can help me pass these out.”

Glad to be given something to do, the teenager got up and took one of the bags Kara was carrying. She was even more curious now that presents were involved. Presents of varying sizes even, given the ones for Eliza, J’onn, Winn, Lucy, Sam, Jess, and Lena were larger than for the rest.

James and Nia arrived shortly after they were done passing out the boxes. The group from the DEO was next. With everyone who could be there in person had arrived, Lena turned on the monitors. Clark and Lois, little Jon balanced on his dad’s lap, and Martha Kent took up one screen. Barry and Team Flash waved from another. Felicity grinned at them, her own daughter on her lap as Oliver and the rest of Team Arrow were arrayed behind her. Sara, Ava, and the rest of the Legends were dressed in period garb but were all clustered around the camera on their end. Alura was by herself, but her smile was wide and genuine as took in her daughters and their found family.

“Alright,” Kara was fairly bouncing in place. “Everyone can open their gifts now, and then we’ll tell you what this is about.”

Permission given, everyone with a box tore into them. Lena nearly burst into tears when she read the t-shirt her box contained. Eliza, Alura, and J’onn did start crying.

“Are you serious?” Winn squeaked.

“It worked?” Lena looked at them. She was clutching her ‘World’s Smartest Aunt’ shirt to her chest. At the moment, she didn’t even care about the ‘godmother’ and ‘aunt’ keychains still in the box.

“It worked,” Alex confirmed. “I’m ten weeks as of today.”

“Congratulations!” Barry hugged Kara tightly. “I’m going to hug you, please don’t kill me.” He hugged Alex as well. She laughed at him, amused that she still terrified him after all this time.

Team Flash was laughing over their connection. Barry had barely gotten his ‘uncle’ key chain before he had run out in excitement.

“Congrats Skirt,” Mick muttered, turning to search for a beer. He slipped the keychain into his pocket. It wouldn’t due for them to see that he was touched at the gesture.

Alura held the t-shirt as if it were made from the finest silk. She didn’t have words to say how happy she was at this turn of events. Her only child was to be a mother! She was to be a grandmother!

“Your father would be so proud of you,” she said, “you both must come visit once she is born.”

“We will,” Alex promised. “After all, one of the twins will be named after you.”

“TWINS!!!” Several people shouted.

“Twins,” the couple confirmed.

“Alexandra Lena and Alura Elizabeth Danvers-El,” Kara announced. She smiled at her wife. It had taken some effort, but she had won Alex over on the names. Both of their mothers were honored, as was their best friend.

“I am going to make so many clothes,” Winn whispered to himself. He was clutching his shirt and ‘godfather’ keychain to his chest as if someone was going to snatch them away from him.

“Are you certain that they’ll both be girls?” Ava asked. She still wasn’t used to being around tiny children, so the ‘aunt’ keychain she had received was causing her some anxiety. She had no idea how to be an aunt.

“No male chromosome,” Alex explained, motioning between her and Kara. “So unless something happens we didn’t think to account for, they’re girls.”

“Good, then we’ll start out numbering the batboys.” Ruby declared.

Clark laughed. He would need to forward that comment to Bruce. “We’ll save Jon’s baby things to pass down.”

“Same,” Oliver agreed, not to be outdone by the Boy Scout in blue. He was honored to be named honorary uncle, just as he was touched that they had included William and Mia both as ‘cousins’.

“Have you chosen Godparents yet?” J’onn asked. His granddaughters would be the most protected babies in the city.

“Lena, Winn, Sam, Lucy, and Jess.” Alex told them. “Non-negotiable.”

The ‘meeting’ further devolved into a party. Jess actually unbent enough to hug Kara, touched and honored that she was chosen to be godmother. A smart move on their part, she thought.

Someone would need to make sure the rest didn’t go overboard.

It took two and a half months before someone got the bright idea to try and kidnap Alex for leverage over Supergirl.

They lasted all of two minutes once Supergirl and the Martian Manhunter caught up to them.

At five months, someone else tried to do the same for revenge against Kara Danvers.

It didn’t work any better for them.

Everyone got a bit of stunned laughter when it was learned that Lillian Luthor sent a ‘strongly worded’ reprimand to both parties outlining why they were idiots. That put them all on guard.

Lena nearly drove Alex around the bend with the amount of security features she tried to add to their apartment. Alex firmly drew the line when the woman outright offered the entire floor below her penthouse for them to move into.

“Lena, no.” Alex turned to her wife. “Kara, no.” She turned to everyone else gathered for a family dinner. “No. We’re not doing it. Both attempts were nowhere even close to here.” She crossed her arms over her rounded belly, feeling one of the babies kicking. She hoped in agreement and not reprimand.  “Need I remind you, Lena still has at least monthly assassination attempts. I’m also mostly on desk duty, not even lab work and nothing in the field.”

“Those are just the two that were successful,” Jess pointed out. It had taken some doing, but she had finally accepted more of an active role in the Superfamily. “At current, there have been a total of seventeen attempts to kidnap you as an ally of Supergirl and nine as the wife of Kara Danvers.” She continued to tap away at her tablet. “My mistake, one of the kidnap attempts for Mrs. Danvers was actually the dropping off of a pre-baby shower gift from the Sirens.”

Alex thunked her head on the table. “I’m perfect capable of protecting myself and my babies.”

“We know that,” Kara was quick to reassure her. “We’re just concerned. Alex, Poison Ivy offered to plant killer plants as a security feature after the first attempt. Livewire offered herself as a guard under house arrest. Half our friends have offered either security measures or pre-emptive strikes.”

“All of you are blowing this out of proportion.” Alex tried to argue. “Pam makes that offer to pretty much everyone she considers a friend at some point. Livewire gets bored and like to bother us. All of our friends are being over-protective.” She looked up long enough to glare at all of them. “I never want to hear another word from any of you about me being overprotective.”

“I don’t think they are,” Jess flipped her tablet around to show Alex what she had brought up. “Agent Vasquez just updated the information.”

There was a thump and a curse outside, a cheery ‘I got it!’ that sounded as if it were Barry, and then silence. A moment later, both Kara’s and J’onn phones chirped with an incoming text.

Alex thunked her head to the table again. “This is ridiculous.”

Lena sipped her glass of wine. “It might be, but we all have perfectly valid concerns. Need I remind you, that my mother has yet to make her play.”

“Fine,” Alex felt well played. “We’ll do it. But this is it. No more.”

Kara patted her shoulder. “We’ll do our best.”

When Alex saw the well-appointed nursey, she grit her teeth and said nothing. She hacked into the security system to run her own tests instead.

At seven months, she was put on bed rest. She growled the entire time, but Kara stood firm.

“It doesn’t mean you have to stay in bed the whole time,” she tried to reason. “It just means that you need to slow down.”

“I’ve already slowed down!” She glowered at the blonde. “Now I can’t even do fucking paperwork! None of the recruits are even slightly terrified of me anymore. I can’t even put on my own boots!”

“Hey, hey,” Kara hugged her. “The recruits are totally still terrified of you. And you needed new boots anyway.” She kissed the side of Alex’s head. “You hate paperwork.”

“It was something to do,” Alex pouted. “What am I supposed to do all day?”

“Well…”

“Kara, what did you do?”

“It’s more of a gift from Mom?” Kara dashed out of the room, coming back with a medium sized dog following her.

“…Alura sent us an alien dog.”

“Yes,” Kara nodded. “His name is Krypto, and he’s already housetrained. You already know all the commands, even if your accent is terrible.”

“Gee, thanks.” Alex eyed the dog eying her right back. “Does he have powers?”

“He does,” Kara said. “But I already thought of that! Kryptonian dogs are slightly telepathic and very intelligent. He understands where and when to use his powers.”

“…this is your addition to the already obscene amount of security features.”

“Technically it’s my mother’s addition.”

“Technically,” Alex rolled her eyes. “Okay. He can stay.” The dog began wagging his tail, approaching Alex now that he knew he could. She stroked his head, sighing. At least she wouldn’t be by herself.

Krypto proved his worth when Lillian finally made her move at eight months.

The woman had taken into account Supergirl, Lena, several of their wide group of friends and allies, and even a few of the ‘villains’.

She did not take into account a furious canine that decimated the entire group she sent to take Alex into custody while she was engaging Supergirl elsewhere.

“Good boy,” Alex praised him, scratching his head.

Krypto wagged his tail hard enough to shake his whole hindquarters. He knew he was a good boy who had done a good job. It was still nice to be told so.

“Alex!” Kara flew in thru the window. “Are you…” she trailed off. “Good boy.” She patted the dog on the head. “I’ll take them in.” She smiled widely at Alex. “Lucy and Vas have already taken Lillian into custody.” She quickly texted Lena and J’onn. “And now they can inform her that her goons failed.”

“Um…Kara?”

“What?” Kara looked up, taking in her wife’s paling features. “Alex?” She dashed to her side. “What is it?”

“I think my water just broke.”

“Oh Rao.”

Alexandra Lena and Alura Elizabeth Danvers-El were born seven hours later in the DEO Medbay. Alex, exhausted, leaned against Kara as they held their daughters. They both already had tufts of dark hair and people were betting on if they would keep the blue eyes or not.

“Their perfect,” Kara whispered softly. “You’re perfect.” She pressed a kiss to Alex’s head.

“Yea, they really are,” Alex was holding her namesake. “I kinda want to do it again.”

Kara chuckled. “I think that might be the meds talking.”

“Maybe,” Alex agreed. “But next time, it’s your turn.”

[sippin-on-red-wine]

High Tide | Chapter 6: Let Me Explain

Title: High Tide, Chapter 6 |  Author: @sippin-on-red-wine Rating: 17+, Mature (Sexy times) Word Count:  5,847 Author’s Note: Sorry in advance?

It’s been a while, so just as a refresher, our last chapter ended with Kendra missing Ed terribly after he had been gone for a couple of days. She had written him a little poem, sending it off in an e-mail in the middle of the night. The only response back was an automated e-mail from British Airways, with a one-way ticket to London, leaving that same day.

Ed…………

I put the last of the clean dishes away and dried my hands on a kitchen towel. Stuart said he was off to nip a quick shower so I walked back out to the lounge room to check on the girls. Libby was posted up on the big, cherry-toned leather couch, working on a knitting project. The tube was turned on, but neither of them seemed to be paying attention to it. Kendra’s messy bun peeked over the back of the oversized chair she sat in, her legs extended out in front of her over the matching ottoman. Her head was thrown back against the head of the chair and I realized she was asleep.

“What did you do to my girl?” I asked, jabbing a fake punch into Lib’s shoulder.

“She was knackered I guess, Arthur climbed up into her lap and she was giving him pets and then just… passed out.”

“I’m surprised she made it this long, I suppose. She wasn’t able to get any sleep on the plane, rocky flight I guess, so I think she’d been up for like, 28 hours or something.”

Lib hit me with her clump of yarn and knitting needles. “And you made her come ‘round here for dinner? You twit.”

I had mentioned to Kendra that we had an open invitation, but that we could skip out if she was too exhausted. She genuinely insisted that we come.

“D’you mind if we stay a while?” I asked, looking up at the clock. It was already a little past ten p.m. “I don’t want to wake her, and we hadn’t really decided where we were going to stay yet, anyway.”

I crossed around the couch and plunked down next to Libby, kicking my feet up on the coffee table.

“What’s that all about? You’ve got a house, yeah?” She asked.

“Eh, yeah, but it’s just… it’s not home. I stayed there last night and I slept on the couch myself. I’m not even comfortable there, can’t imagine how she would feel, you know, being there and knowing about everything.”

“Shit, Ed, I hadn’t really thought of that. You’ve booked a hotel or something, then?”

“Well, not yet. I brought her round the house earlier and we talked a bit about it. Told her I was thinking about selling it, and why.”

“I really like her, Ed.”

“Yeah, Lib, me too.”

“You seem… good. You’re acting like yourself around her, which is good. I’m surprised you asked her to come out here though, I thought you were only staying a few days?”

“Eh, just.. missed her,” I said, waving my hands nonchalantly.

“Oh my God, Ed, really? Couldn’t last a few days on your own? Is she that special or are you just… I don’t know, paranoid?”

“Really laying into me, aren’t you Lib?” I half-joked.

“Sorry, love, just being real with you.”

“It’s ok. No, it’s not that. I just… ‘S different, with her.”

Libby reached out and ruffled my hair. “You’re a softie, Ed. I’m gonna turn in. You know where the extra pillows and blankets are. Stay the night, if you’d like.”

“'Night, Lib,” I grinned at her.

I got up after her, heading to the linen closet to pull down a couple of pillows and an extra throw blanket. I stopped into the kitchen and fixed myself another whiskey and Coke, and grabbed my iPad from my rucksack. My sleeping schedule was definitely messed up, too, and I wasn’t too tired yet.

I set my things down on the coffee table and leaned over Kendra, brushing a soft kiss onto the side of her face. Sweet girl…

Kendra……..

My eyelids felt like lead, as I slowly came to. I didn’t even remember falling asleep, exactly, and I had no idea how long I had been passed out. I opened my right eye just a stitch, and the room seemed dark. That was a good sign. I opened them slowly and the room came into focus, lit by the dull embers burning out in the fireplace.

Shit. It was coming back to me now, we had just finished up dinner, Stuart and Ed offered to clean up. Libby had asked if I wanted another glass of wine, which I agreed to, knowing it was a bad idea for how exhausted I was. The last thing I remembered was petting their little dog in my lap and then apparently I had passed out.

I had no idea what time it was, everything was quiet. Did they leave me here alone? I sat upright in the chair, pushing the ottoman away with my feet.

Ed popped up on the couch then, apparently woken by the sound of the cushy ottoman scraping across the floor. He wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Hi, sleepyhead.”

I crept up out of the chair, feeling about 99 years old. I was fucking beat, still. Ed pushed back the blanket and patted the couch next to him, motioning for me to come over.

I sidled in close to him on the sofa, facing toward him. I ran my hand up his side as he covered me up with the blanket. “Sorry, Ed, I didn’t mean to fall asleep…” I yawned.

“I feel like that is a recurring theme, love,” he laughed. “But you had a good reason.” He pressed a kiss into my forehead as I snuggled in tighter to his body.

“Did Stuart and Libby go to bed? I feel bad.”

“Hours ago, love. It’s okay, I told them you didn’t get a chance to sleep on the plane at all.”

I yawned again, nuzzling into Ed’s chest when my mouth finally closed.

His hands absentmindedly stroked my hair, brushing it off my face into a neat little pile.

“It’s okay, baby, you can go back to sleep,” he whispered.

“Here?” I asked.

“You know I used to live on this sofa, right, love? You’re good. I got you. Sweet dreams, Kenny,” he whispered.

Don’t mind if I do. I couldn’t believe I was here, half a world away, with Ed. In his world. His life. His people. Just yesterday (day before? Who knows) I was moping around my house, organizing and cooking and working out, trying to pass the time while Ed was away. And now I’m here.

The flight had been absolutely horrible. I was a bit of a nervous flyer – once we were in the air, it usually didn’t bother me much. But the flight had been a little rough & bumpy which freaked me the hell out. I hadn’t slept a wink. It had been such a relief when I had gotten through security & customs to see Ed standing there, looking sleepy in his sweatpants and slippers, a hat covering his fluffy mop of hair. A taller, scruffy-looking man was with him (must be Kevin? I guess airports can be a bit dodgy as far as crowds). Ed had slung off my backpack and wrapped me up in the biggest hug ever as soon as he got to me. A huge grin cast across his face as he pulled on my backpack, taking us over to the baggage carousel where we retrieved my bags. He insisted on carrying all of my things himself, declining offers from both Kev & I. He still somehow managed to clasp his hand in mine. The boy had been on Cloud 9 to see me. It made me feel really good about my decision to come here.

What would the next few days bring? I hoped to see Lauren and the rest of the gang that had come out to New England. Would Ed want me to meet his parents? I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. And what about his house? It had felt so… sterile. After Ed had picked me up from the airport, he took me back to his house. Flat cardboard boxes and packaging tape were littered everywhere. I didn’t know if that was from him, or from when his ex moved out.

He told me he was thinking of selling the house. That it didn’t feel like his home - it never had. He hadn’t been here to make it feel that way, just randomly spending an odd week here and there while his ex lived here full-time. Apparently banging other dudes. I honestly didn’t blame Ed for not wanting to be there, but it was a beautiful house. I told him to change some things up, paint, pick out a few new furniture pieces, see if that helped. He had seemed a little bit hopeful at the thought, but still asked if I wanted to book a hotel room for our time here.

Okay I guess I’m wide awake now. I turned over onto my other side, trying to get comfortable. Nope, that’s worse. I flipped back over to face him, Ed’s own sleepy eyes opening slowly now.

“Love? “‘S matter?” He asked, groggily.

“Wide awake.” I grumped, silently cursing my body.

“C’mere,” he said, rolling onto his back while his strong hands helped shift me onto his chest. My legs wrapped around either side of him, my pelvis pressed against his. I could feel his cock, semi-solid beneath me.

“Mmm, I think someone missed me,” I teased, trying to keep my voice to a whisper. My hips rolled over him in waves, acting of their own accord. His cock was hardening quickly, easy to sense through just the thin layer of my leggings against his faded old sweats. I let my clit roll over his head, feeling him grow right under me. I could feel myself getting wet already.

Ed kissed my neck, the wetness from his lips cooling quickly when he moved on, leaving a slight chill on my skin.

“I need you…” his voice trailed off. Those three simple words had made all my blood rush to my skin and I forgot about the stupid flight, the exhaustion, the unknown, and all I wanted was to be connected to him again.

“But, Teddy.. here?” I almost didn’t care that we were on his manager’s couch, maybe 50 feet from where he & his girl were asleep in their bedroom. Too late, his hands were already pushing at the waistband of my leggings, tugging them down off my hips.

“It’s okay, we’ll be quiet…”

I lifted my hips, allowing Ed to push my leggings down and away, bringing one leg at a time forward so he could peel them all the way off. I wanted to see him, his skin, the rainbow designs that covered his chest, but there was no time to figure out the logistics of getting his t-shirt off. I needed him now.

I tugged down his sweatpants & boxers, lifting my pelvis up so I could shimmy them down to the tops of his thighs. His cock sprung free, bobbing lazily up towards his belly until I grasped it, rubbing my thumb over the slit, spreading the little bit of wetness over his head.

His big blue eyes looked up at mine. I held his gaze while I worked myself upward a bit, his cock firmly in hand, and I lined myself up with his head.

I hadn’t had enough foreplay, so him entering me was definitely slow-going. I let my body slide down, taking him in little by little, savoring each moment. His thumb was on my clit, rubbing down over the top of it. I stifled a moan and exhaled, letting him inside me just a bit deeper.

I pulled up at the hem of my shirt so I could watch him work, biting at my bottom lip as a reminder to keep quiet. His hand wrapped around my hip, fingers digging into my soft flesh, while his perfect thumb applied a delicious pressure to my clit.

He was fully buried in me, now, the plump head of his cock touching my back wall. But I was so distracted by the way his thumb was massaging me, I wasn’t riding him properly, just sort of… rolling my hips in a lazy figure-eights, trying to remember to keep hushed.

I stole a glance at him and caught his eyes on my face, watching as my brows dipped down and my mouth fell open. His rock-hard shaft standing tall inside of me, filling every millimeter of space I had.

He knew exactly what I liked, what my body needed in order to get there. The perfect circles floating over my little pink bundle of nerves were the perfect rhythm, the perfect tempo, a true symphony of sensations from the calloused pad of just one of his skilled fingers.

I inhaled, drawing in a sharp breath and held it there, feeling that familiar tension building.

The glow from the dying embers lit the room just enough for me to see every line of Ed’s face as he lovingly attended to my needs before his own. His eyes were trained on me, the way my sex wrapped around his erection, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the top of my slit. My body had responded quickly, wettening as he stimulated me, my soft fluids building up a little around where my entrance met his soft curls down there.

Ed glanced up at me and I gave him a quick little nod to tell him I was close. I tried to hold back the little whimpering sounds that spilled from my lips as I was right on the precipice, trying to hold out, maintain that amazing sensation caught right between the before & after of an orgasm. “Shhh,” Ed reminded me, and I brought my hand up to my mouth, sinking my teeth into my own wrist to stifle my little noises.

He thrust upward into me and that was all I needed. I doubled over, burying my face into the crook of his neck, grateful for his soft t-shirt as I ground my face into it, delighting in the friction.

“Love it when you come apart on my cock like that, you’re so beautiful, baby,” He whispered in my ear, barely audible. His hips moved up into me, slowly, and I mewled back at him to show my approval.

“I missed this so much, Teddy,” I breathed.

“Lookit me, love.”

I pressed my hands to his chest and raised my body back up to my original upright straddle position, tucking my hair behind my ear, feeling his gaze land on my face. My hands dragged down his torso and I leaned forward on them, using the leverage to ride his cock in the soft, dim light of the room. Our bodies moved in sync; my hips meeting each thrust, taking him deeper into my body.

It wasn’t long before I heard his breath hitch and felt his body tense up beneath me. I tightened my walls around his cock and actually felt him twitch inside me as he reached his climax, his seed spilling into me as he rasped out my name in a hushed cry.

I leaned forward again, seeking out his pillow-soft lips.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Kenn,” he said softly. His hands cupped my face and our lips connected.

“Ed, where’s the bathroom?” I asked, suddenly remembering that I was pantsless, on the couch in someone else’s home, and had the unfortunate predicament of being full of Ed’s fluids.

“Oh, shit, it’s all the way down the hall… oh, I’m sorry babe.” He looked at the coffee table. “Here, let me help you.” He reached out and snagged a couple of tissues from the little box on the table.

I tilted back upright and slowly raised myself off of him, fixing my stare down there. Ed watched too, as the shiny, plump head of his cock reappeared, his sticky fluids spilling back out over his tip. He caught it quickly with the tissue, folding it and tenderly running the length of my slit to catch any excess. I’m pretty sure I blushed, and silently thanked the heavens above that the room was fairly dark. It wasn’t the first time Ed had been generous in helping me “clean up” after sex, and he was the first partner I’d had who had done so.

“Thank you…” I muttered, swinging a leg over Ed’s body and un-mounting him.

I padded down the hallway, leggings in tow, fingers crossed that Stuart and Libby would be sound asleep in their bed. I used the toilet, cleaned up a bit and splashed my face with water before donning the tight black leggings again.

By the time I made it back to the sofa, Ed had cleaned up, disposing of the little ball of wet tissue, and was fully clothed again. I climbed back onto the thick cushions of the couch, facing him, our legs intertwined. He fluffed the throw blanket over us, then smoothed the hair off my forehead.

“Have I mentioned how happy I am that you’re here?” He chuffed.

I chuckled. “Yeah, just once or twice today.”

“I can’t help it… I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

I thought back to that night, the e-mail notification coming through. The feeling of my heart jumping out of my throat as it dawned on me that the e-mail was in fact, a plane ticket. My gut reaction had been No, sorry, no way. His family, his career, they come first - better get used to it now. I argued back and forth with myself for about an hour before the “Fuck it, just go.” side won out.

“I wasn’t totally sure I would, either.” I admitted. His face fell a little, so I explained. “I knew you were here to spend time with family & friends, I didn’t want to get in the way of that…”

“Kendra.” His voice was strong. “You will never be 'in the way’ of anything. You know how I feel about you.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I deflected by kissing him.

“I mean it.” He insists.

Another kiss.

“Kenny, I want you to meet them.”

Um… what.

“Who?” I asked, probably sounding like a huge idiot.

“My family.”

“Like, your parents?”

He chuckled softly. “I’ve freaked you out, haven’t I?”

I counted the weeks backwards in my head, trying to figure out when Ed and I had even first met. It couldn’t have been more than… what… a month, six weeks?

“They want to meet you, too,” He was at it again, light-hearted, watching my face for a reaction.

“Me?” He nodded. “Your parents?”

“You daft, gorgeous creature - yes. They want to meet you.”

“How do they even know about me?”

“You don’t give me much credit, do you, love? I told them about you weeks ago.”

“You did?”

“You ask a lot of questions, you know.”

“Sorry, I just, I didn’t know you did that.”

Am I okay with that? With this? Isn’t it too soon? By whose standards?

“It’s fast, I know, Kenny. If you’re not ready–”

“No.” my voice was hushed as I stared up into his beautiful blue eyes, all framed by blonde lashes. “I want to.”

Ed…………

It had been a whirlwind couple of days, even by my standards. But in the best way. Having Kenn here was so perfect, she fit into my life so easily. We had just left my parent’s house where we had visited for supper and a couple of cocktails before heading out.

Kendra had been nervous on the drive over there, her palm a bit sweaty as it was tucked up into my hand. But if her nerves lasted much past the first introductions, it didn’t show a bit. I was actually surprised how well she hit it off with my Dad. He had asked about her tour boat company and that turned into a heated, passionate tangent on all things watercraft. My Dad had taken her back to his office to show her this oil painting of some old wooden boat, and Kenn had flipped; apparently her Grandfather had owned one just like it and they had worked together on restoring it when she was a bit younger. Small world, right?

After dinner, I helped my Mom clean up in the kitchen while Dad took Kendra outside to show her his prized Chris Craft, stored away for the season in the large shed in the backyard. They burst back into the house laughing, their conversation a bit louder than your typical post-dinner talk (probably thanks to the bourbon). It was really lovely.

We were back in the car now, heading back to London, Kendra snuggled up in the passenger seat beside me. But her body was angled away, toward the car door, and she was awfully quiet all of a sudden.

“Tired, love?” I asked. We had planned to go to a birthday celebration for one of my school mates later that evening, but I wondered if she would be up for it. I knew better than most what a bitch jet-lag could be.

“No, I’m alright.” she responded, her voice sounding a bit small. “It’s just, your family is really great, Ed.”

“They really liked you, I can tell, babe.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be ‘off’. It’s just, not… what I’m used to. But it’s good. I liked them too. You’re really lucky, Ed.”

She wasn’t wrong. It was sometimes easy to forget that not everyone had been fortunate enough to have the same upbringing that I did. I hadn’t even considered how it must feel to see something like that for the first time. Prat.

“So!” she said, clearly changing the subject. “Where is it that we’re going tonight?”

“Oh, this new-er club downtown. I forget the name, to be honest.”

She shifted her body, angling it back towards me, which for some reason gave me a sense of relief. “So it’s not, like, a pub?” She asked, trying out the lingo. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“No, it’s a proper nightclub.”

“Oh.. I didn’t really plan for that, Ed. All I’ve got with me are jeans and a couple sweaters?”

I didn’t care what she wore, of course, but I didn’t want her to feel underdressed. Kendra was quite a natural beauty and I loved her casual style. But figured most of the other women there would be decked out to the nines, per usual.

“One of my mates owns a clothing boutique – we could swing by there and pick something up for you?” I offered.

“Sure, Teddy. That sounds good.”

I smiled, clasping her hand in mine. I could really get used to this.

Kendra……..

The driver stepped out to open the sliding door for us, Ed hopping out into what looked like a skeezy alley way to me. But I took his hand and let him help me down out of the van, I was a little unsteady in my high-heeled booties.

Ed had taken me over to his friend’s clothing boutique and waited so patiently as I tried on at least 10 different things. I finally settled on this tight-as-hell bodycon dress in a dark navy color. It was short and showed a LOT of leg, but Ed seemed to really love it on me. He tried to pay for it, and when I immediately shot him down, he retaliated by secretly picking out a pair of stupid expensive heeled boots to go with my dress. It seemed very unlike him to be interested in stuff like that, but the lusty look on his face when I had tried that dress on erased that from my mind pretty quickly.

He kept my hand clasped in his and let me a little ways down to a big steel set of double-doors. He knocked, and one door swung open. A gruff-looking guy in all black appeared, looking Ed up & down. He nodded a gruff approval and let us in. Ed must have been here before because he knew exactly which dark hallway to walk down to get into the main interior room of the club.

It was actually really beautiful, all art deco & speakeasy type vibes. Classic London-style lampposts littered the great expanse of the club, dim lightbulbs casting a yellow glow through the glass lanterns. The center of the room featured a marbled black-and-white checkered floor, it was clear of furniture and filled with patrons dancing. There was a long, full bar up against the wall, and a dramatic curved staircase that looked to lead up to a big loft. Ed pulled me toward the staircase, which was roped off with two security guys watching over it. They spotted Ed & I coming and unhooked the rope, allowing us entry. We climbed the staircase up into the VIP lounge section, which was actually a lot more spacious than I originally thought.

There was a smaller version of the downstairs bar up here, manned by two bartenders dressed in black button-down shirts & white vests. There were a few swanky, quilted booths and pub-height cocktail tables. I saw a billiards table and dartboard set up in the corner. We must have been fairly early, there were only about ten or fifteen people here so far.

“Mate!” A petite, sandy-haired guy spotted Ed and was making his way over with open arms.

Ed greeted with an enthusiastic hug & kiss on the cheek. “Happy Birthday, mate!” He said, breaking away. “Chris, this is Kendra, Kendra - Chris.”

I extended my hand, but Chris pulled me into a hug. “Nice to meet you, Kendra. Welcome! Let me introduce you to everyone!”

I laughed, thinking the birthday boy had already had plenty of celebration booze. But I went along with it, watching as Ed stalked over to the corner to say some more Hellos while Chris whisked me the opposite way, interrupting everyone’s conversations to introduce me. Everyone was really lovely, and they didn’t ask me a ton of questions or make me feel weird, I was just kind of…absorbed into their conversations. It was really nice. I spent quite a bit of time with a small group of three guys, posted up at the bar, talking about our favorite comedians - Jim Jefferies in particular. It wasn’t an intellectual conversation, by any means, we mostly tried (and failed) to imitate his thick Australian accent while reciting memorable bits from his shows.

Every once in awhile, I would catch Ed glancing over at me, and I’d give him a small smile or head nod to let him know I was having a good time. He had a pint of beer in his hand, which seemed to be a problem for him, since he talked with his hands so much. I saw the amber-colored ale he was drinking slosh out over the sides on more than one occasion.

Another group of six or seven appeared at the top of the stairs, and I saw Pete was among them. I caught his eye right away and waved him over, giving him a big hug.

“Hey, man, great to see you again!” It was nice to see him, but the vodka-soda’s I’d been downing were making me appear more enthusiastic than normal.

“You too, Kenn! I had no idea you were in London??”

“Yeah, last minute, unplanned kinda thing. Hey, is Lauren around? I feel bad, I haven’t gotten a chance to see her yet since I got in.”

“She should be here any time now. Say, I’m gonna go catch Chris and tell him Happy Birthday before I get sloshed and forget. Catch up with you later!” and he was gone.

I turned back to the bar and ordered another cocktail when I felt a pair of hands on my backside. I whipped my head around and, luckily, it was Ed. “You shithead,” I faux-scolded. “Scared me.”

“And good thing, too, love - you can’t trust any of these skeezers up here,” he chuckled, planting a kiss on the side of my cheek. He sidled on into the bar beside me, his right hand cupping my ass.

He was awfully touchy-feely all of a sudden, was it the alcohol? I was starting to feel a bit …needy… myself. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have cared, but I couldn’t help but notice a few people watching as his hands were on me, his mouth on my neck, there in the middle of the lounge. A girl in a silver-y sequined skirt stole more than a few glances before Ed overheard a story someone was telling two barstools down and got distracted, peeling himself away from me for a bit.

Ed excused himself to “take a leak” as he so eloquently put it. I swiveled around on my barstool and spotted Lauren chatting with a couple girls near the top of the stairs. I saw her glance my way and threw up a hand, waving at her.

I watched as she excused herself and made her way over to the bar, wrapping me up in a big hug. “Kendra?! I didn’t even recognize you – Holy shit, girl, you look phenomenal.”

“Ohmygod, YOU look great! So good to see you, Lo,”

“Wait, what the hell are you doing here?” she asked, incredulous.

“I know, I’m sorry I haven’t called yet since I got in, it’s been a crazy couple of days – I’m here, with Ed.”

“Like, here with Ed?” Her eyes were doing a shifty thing. “Where is he?”

“Bathroom…. Why… Lauren, you’re being weird?”

“Kendra, don’t freak out. But his Ex is here. She’s in the silver skirt behind me.” My eyes darted over her shoulder, recognizing the girl that had been stealing glances this way for the last hour or so.

Wait… she’s been here that long… surely, Ed noticed her? Why didn’t he say anything?

“Kenn, look at me, are you freaking out? It’s the same group of friends from high school, everyone knew she was going to be here for Chris’ birthday. Ed didn’t tell you?”

And suddenly it clicked. The special shopping trip, Ed insisting I get this dress that clung so desperately to my curves and showed far more thigh than I was used to. The $2,000 Louboutin booties he insisted I needed, citing the club dress code. His sudden interest in PDA; grabbing ass and kissing my neck, the first time he’d even been in the same half of the lounge as me all night.

All because she was here.

Lauren was holding both of my shoulders, giving me a little shake, breaking my trance.

“Kendra? Say something.” Her voice was alarmed. Rightfully so.

I took a deep breath, holding the oxygen in my lungs until it burned, then exhaled. “I just need a few minutes by myself, please, Lo. I’ll be right back.” I lied, grabbing my little clutch off the bar and strode over to the staircase with every intention of leaving the bar and getting an Uber straight to the fucking airport.

I couldn’t believe it, I’d been duped. I had never felt so humiliated in my life. Here I was, the lost little puppy who jumped on a plane and flew across the world on 12 hours notice, for Ed. Met his fucking parents for Christ’s Sake. I replayed all of the sweet, intimate moments of assurance he had laid on so thick. This isn’t just sex. You’re my girl. You’re not a rebound. You know how I feel about you.

And for what? So he could USE me to make his cheating whore of an ex-girlfriend jealous?

I was closing in on the bottom of the stairs when I heard Ed shout my name from the landing at the top. His voice shot right through my bloodstream, I knew without a doubt it was him, and I could hear the panic in his voice. I didn’t even turn back to look.

I silently urged the dumb security guys to unhook the rope faster, and thrust myself across the barrier the second I was able to. My feet, adorned in the ridiculous high-heeled booties, carried me swiftly across the black-and-white checked floor and toward the bar, where I spotted the main entrance. Ed was shouting my name behind me, which only urged me to press on faster.

I slipped out the large glass doors of the main entrance and spilled out onto the sidewalks of London. I had no idea where I was, or where I was going, I just knew I needed to get out of there, fast.

I kept expecting white-hot tears to come, to tumble out of my eyes like a hot spring, but my eyes stayed dry. Anger, furious anger, was growing in my chest, instead. It started out small, a little pebble lodged there. But the more I thought about him, his words, his hands on me just now in the bar - the bigger my pebble grew. It grew and grew until I couldn’t help but scream. I screamed but nothing came out, my chest was so tight, I couldn’t even catch my breath.

A hand grasped the back of my arm and I whirled around to see Ed, out of breath, having chased me down the sidewalk. “Kenny, – please, jus’, please just let – let me explain!” He pled. His strong hands held both of my elbows as I tried to catch my breath.

I swung my arms out, breaking our connection, and this action seemed to puncture and re-inflate my lungs.

“DON’T touch me!”

“Baby, I’m so sorry, please let’s just go home, please, I need to –”

“Leave me alone,” I hissed, turning back around, determined to put as much space between us as I could. I just felt so blindsided and the last thing I wanted in the world was his touch.

But he was after me again, his hand grabbing my bicep to try to turn me around. I whisked around and slapped him clean across the face, the flat of my palm making perfect contact with his scruffy cheek.

“Fuck off! Usually people just *use* me for my money, Ed, but I guess there’s a first time for fucking EVERYTHING.” I shouted, in hysterics. He touched a palm to his cheek, flushed pink from where I had struck him. His eyes were glassy, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “You know what, I’d rather be used for my money than whatever the fuck THAT was,” I shrieked, pointing back at the club.

“Kendra, please. I’m s-so so-sorry,” There were no sounds of sobs but tears were streaming steadily from both of his ocean-blue eyes.

But in the moment, I didn’t care. I was so furious. I felt like I had been lulled into a fake sense of security, only to be woken by a bucket of ice water being dumped on me.

My voice was a bit steadier now. “I’m gone, Ed. Find another warm body to empty yourself into and parade around for people.”

The universe was looking out for me in that moment, as a cab was slowly driving by, and I hailed them down and swiftly got in, slamming the door shut behind me.

I watched through the tinted window of the backseat as the vehicle carried me away from Ed.

[astainedteamug]

A single girls guide to Valentine’s Day!

Happy Valentine’s day everybody!

If you, like me, find yourself without a date today, then look no further. You can be your own date!

You don’t need to feel sorry for yourself today, especially if you’re just getting out of a relationship, or in my case, have never been in one. Today is a day for love, and self love can be just as important as any other kind.

1. The first thing you need to do today is sleep in as late as possible. Make your meals the night before, or hey, just eat take out for the day. I’m planning on ordering Chinese food here for lunch. Do your makeup how you like (natural or glammed out) or go bare faced for the day! Dress up, dress down, don’t dress at all, who cares? Whatever you want more, go for it!

2. Try to be as stress free as you can get today. So many people around the world are frantically trying to get their s/o the perfect teddy bear, or the perfect flowers, or the perfect candy. Well, I don’t have a s/o, but who says I have to miss out on all of the fun?

People are spending hundreds of dollars on jewelry that will get tossed to the back of a drawer and get tangled up with the bracelet that you just got her for Christmas, which she only pulled out for today, and will never be seen in the next few months. THAT’S INSANE!!

I went to the store for myself yesterday and saw men standing in the candy aisle staring down giant boxes of chocolate, trying to pick out which one to get their girlfriends/wives. Little do they know, the chocolate in all of them is EXACTLY THE SAME!!! I just picked up a box of fruit roll ups, a chocolate puppy, a Slim Jim, and a chocolate rose. I even got myself a couple of soft drinks. Because I know that’s what I’d like. The box of fruit roll ups will last me all month because they’re individually packaged. And it was $17 cheaper that the boxes of chocolate. The rose was $1.50 and it was delicious, a sweet, small treat to start my day with before having a healthy breakfast. And the puppy was only $3. So all in all, my candy for today cost me half as much as one box of chocolates, it’ll last me longer, and it’s something I’ll enjoy. Perfect!

3. Buy yourself something that will last, but doesn’t scream Valentine’s Day! Now the key to this one is one simple question. I went to another store yesterday with my candy tucked in my purse, and asked myself “What would I buy me if I was my boyfriend?” And I went straight to the socks. Because I LOVE SOCKS!!!

And I found a cute, fuzzy pair of socks that had pandas on them. I didn’t even need to look at anything else because I knew they’d be perfect. My favorite animals are panda’s! They weren’t pink or red, they’re comfy, and they reflect my personality. Score for the singles!

4. Treat every delivery like a gift! If you, like me, don’t have a ton of money to be throwing everywhere, then this one is a normal thing for us. Any time we can treat ourselves to something, it’s a pretty big deal. I have a subscription to a makeup bag to come in the mail every month. It’s a $10 flat rate with items in it that I get surprised with every time. And I get to keep the bag. I love makeup as well, but it can get so expensive!

This month, when it came, I got extra excited. I was getting a Valentine’s gift from me, and I didn’t even know what it was! I got a lipstick, mascara, lip balm, blush, and a new brush! For $10! That’s an easy $60 at Sephora just for the lipstick, brush, and mascara! Yeah, I can’t afford that either!

But one gift I really did get was a vase of flowers from my mom. She sent me a vase of flowers with a teddy bear around it, and with a special little note inside, and it just made my day! She also gave me a couple bags of chocolate, which I will surely be digging into this evening!Thanks, mom!

5. It is still just a normal day. As much as I hate to say it, life goes on for us singles the same way it did yesterday. And the day before that. I still had to get up today and walk my dog, with a long list of things to get done.

One of those things was write this post, but it’s not like this is a chore. I enjoy writing things like this! But I also have to do laundry, do the dishes, vacuum, take the trash out, sweep, mop, AND do some work! Amongst other things. Now I understand that everybody has to do these things, but everybody in a healthy relationship has a date planned for the night, even if it’s you two staying in with a movie and some pizza.

I don’t have a date tonight, so today is basically the same mundane things for me. But, I can make my own evening interesting for myself!

6. The importance of treating yourself can never be exaggerated! Now you can over do it, but it’s still important to prove to yourself that at the end of the day, you still have you!

I plan on having a nice spa-ish (like I said, I don’t have tons of money) evening tonight. I bought a couple of small candles, a face mask, I have my robe and slippers ready, I even have some bubble bath and bath salts ready to go! I was going to get a bath bomb, but I couldn’t get to the mall in time.

7. At the end of the night, I’ll lay down in bed, snuggling my dog, and read a book. I like to read, and I like my dog, so why not?

I do digress though, that it is nice to have somebody on days like Valentine’s Day. I would like a date, but I don’t have one. I would like somebody to text kissy emojis to, but I really can’t.

I’d also rather not spend the day feeling sorry for myself and getting nothing done.

So pick yourself up by the boot straps, treat yourself, and enjoy being single! You can buy yourself gifts you’ll actually want, you can get things done, and you can spend a little quality time with yourself tonight!

[shirlleycoyle]

Netflix’s First Hit Show Was Bill Clinton’s Impeachment Testimony

A version of this post originally appeared on Tedium, a twice-weekly newsletter that hunts for the end of the long tail.

Today, Netflix produces (not just distributes) so much content that you’d never be able to watch it all. But the company had to start somewhere, and that place was in 1998, as a company that had built itself around a technology that was relatively untested in the market, the DVD player.

In 1996, the first DVD players showed up in Japan, and by the middle of 1997, the U.S. had a growing DVD market of its own.

If anyone was going to find a way to turn this growth into a phenomenon, it was Marc Randolph and Reed Hastings, the cofounders of Netflix.

The DVD had a lot of things going for it as an idea for distributing content. Built around a standard, it was clear that momentum could build around it becoming a mainstream way to record and distribute content, replacing both the VHS recording and the LaserDisc. At the time Randolph and Hastings found it, it was still an extremely expensive and fairly rare technology, with early DVD players selling for as high as $750 ($1,194 today).

Signs were promising. According to Sound & Vision, about a million DVDs sold in that first year, despite only around 530 titles being on the market. Hastings and Randolph, discussing the idea during commutes together, knew that its biggest advantage might be its size—which meant that it could be mailed very cheaply.

It was a neat idea—one that launched publicly in April of 1998—but the DVD was still very young, and Netflix's flat-fee casual rental strategy still hadn’t been uncovered. It needed something to sell the concept of DVDs-by-mail to the public.

Oddly enough, such an opportunity surfaced in the news cycle. In the fall of 1998, the march towards Bill Clinton’s impeachment proved an important growth hacking opportunity for the still-new company.

“Congress released this material with the intent that it be made available to the widest possible audience. By offering the complete Clinton testimony on DVD for only $.02, we believe we are making it possible for virtually every DVD owner to easily review this material and form their own opinion.”

— Marc Randolph, the first CEO of Netflix, discussing the company’s plan to sell Bill Clinton’s grand jury testimony to the public for two cents in a September 1998 press release. The company was able to pull together the DVD release of the testimony, which it sold as a loss leader, in a single weekend. The company initially planned to give it away for free, minus the cost of shipping, except the system had no way to give away something for free—an ironic note given the company’s later business model.

An edited version of Bill Clinton’s grand jury testimony, in case you want to skip to the important parts.

How Netflix leveraged the sudden release of key impeachment testimony to earn itself national press

As entertainment goes, President Bill Clinton’s August 17, 1998 grand jury testimony—which can be viewed, in full, on C-SPAN—does not exactly carry the fireworks of the film Bird Box or the sixth season of BoJack Horseman.

It’s literally Clinton, speaking before the Office of Independent Counsel Ken Starr about allegations of lying under oath during a sexual harassment lawsuit (involving Arkansas state employee Paula Jones) about an affair (with White House intern Monica Lewinsky). It’s around four hours long, and Clinton is responding to questions the entire time, sometimes in graphic terms.

As a piece of history, it’s unparalleled—no other president, including the current one, has ever subjected himself to this type of grand jury testimony. The things he said during this recording directly led to his impeachment, though not his removal from office. (As in 2020, the votes simply weren’t there.)

This clip, unique in American history, begs for editing and curation, but despite this, there was a strong interest in the full video, thanks to its limited initial distribution. (The full text of the testimony, as published in 1998, still resides on the Washington Post’s website.)

It had been kept under wraps for roughly a month after it had been recorded, but this was about to change—on September 18, 1998, the House Judiciary Committee decided to release the whole thing to the public, creating something so compelling that cable news networks aired the whole thing in full.

And through a unique mixture of Silicon Valley connections and good timing, Netflix had found an opportunity to exploit this video to its advantage.

Now imagine getting the video we just featured above in one of these. Image: Mychal Stanley/Flickr

In his recent book, That Will Never Work: The Birth of Netflix and the Amazing Life of an Idea, Netflix cofounder Marc Randolph laid out the plan, which was formulated with the help of two early figures in Netflix’s history—Mitch Lowe, the vice president of business development and strategic alliances, and Arthur Mrozowski, the CEO of Media Galleries, a post-production firm that specialized in DVDs.

Mrozowski, a friend of Lowe’s, knew of a firm called Mindset that claimed to have the ability to encode analog tapes to DVDs in real time. Which meant that they had the ability to convert a piece of film, press it to DVD almost immediately, and mail it to whomever wanted it.

Lowe was interested in testing this capability out, but identifying the perfect test case wasn’t easy—until the plan to release the grand jury testimony was announced. Lowe, who had made his name on a RedBox-style video rental machine called Video Droid, was well-connected and quickly found a source for the raw video.

While there was a bit of debate over whether it was the right move, per Randolph, the very-young company was well-positioned to put its chutzpah to good use. Some of the key decisions made in the process of producing the DVD (including the price) came about because of a low-key, non-corporate approach that helped to encourage creative thinking.

“We’d built a company where freewheeling discussions sometimes turned heated—and it was okay,” Randolph wrote in his book. “Where ideas were more important than chain of command. Where it didn’t matter who solved a problem—only that it got solved. Where dedication and creativity mattered a lot more than dress codes or meeting times.”

Lowe was the point person on the whole affair, getting the master from Mindset and copying the discs at Media Galleries. And while it was not easy—Randolph describes Lowe returning to the office after a stressful 72-hour period in which he did not sleep—his efforts were successful. They didn’t even buy or design labels for the discs. They just shipped them out, bare.

For one thing, they didn’t need to. Netflix was the only company in the world selling a hot title on DVD. However, the title proved a little hotter than they expected.

So, it turns out that not everyone got Clinton’s grand jury testimony on their DVD

Netflix’s wild bet on political scandal succeeded in almost every single way a story like this possibly could. It earned the company press in some of the biggest publications in the country, including Variety, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and The Washington Post.

The company produced around 10,000 DVDs of the testimony. The company stated in its press release that the first 2,000 copies were sold at 9.95 with a $4 rental price, but that it was cutting the price to two cents plus shipping to “encourage public education.”

Per Randolph, the gambit earned the company 5,000 new customers at a cost of less than $5,000—a major shot in the arm for the then-new company.

The story, in many cases, was played with a bit of a sneer by the press, an accepting wink that a new startup had successfully played the PR fiddle perfectly.

“If you are one of the dozens of Americans who cannot get enough of the Clinton-Lewinsky saga, a California company called Netflix has just the thing for you,” Peter H. Lewis wrote in The New York Times.

Lewis wrote, seemingly sarcastically, that the DVD was rated NC–17. (The discussion was at times explicit, but a film of this nature likely wouldn’t have been rated, especially with that turnaround.) It turns out that, at least for some of the company’s customers, that rating might have actually been a bit on the mild side.

See, in Lowe’s haste to get a DVD made, he and others made a mistake, grabbing the wrong spindle of DVDs—which, reminder, didn’t have labels. And it turns out that Media Galleries had a bunch of porn DVDs in the fabrication line that day, and Netflix ended up mailing a number of them to its customers.

At least one mixed-up copy of the fateful DVD ended up in the hands of someone who actually served in the Clinton White House. According to The Washington Post’s “In the Loop” column, Jonathan Kopp, who served for Clinton during his first term, paid the two cents plus shipping for the DVD, only to find the X-rated film, which according to The Post was titled The Lonely Widow, instead.

“Now I understand what Ken Starr was watching when he did his report,” Kopp quipped to columnist Al Kamen.

Per Randolph, the company apologized, and offered to replace the botched DVD for a real one, on the company’s dime. Lowe, who regaled the tale years later, noted that the situation had a particularly amusing silver lining.

“We told our customers to send them back—no one did,” Lowe said in 2018 at a Sundance event.

Netflix is an established company at this point, with less room to play around. It’s basically an arm of Hollywood at this point.

But at least one key figure in the early days of Netflix is still taking pretty risks in his career.

Mitch Lowe, the man responsible for coming up with the impeachment marketing tactic, spent the last few years pumping air from his lungs into the troubled Helios and Matheson Analytics, the parent company of the infamous startup MoviePass. He was MoviePass’ CEO.

If you watched the saga of MoviePass, the startup that promised you could go to the theater and watch a movie whenever you wanted for a single subscription price, and thought that was the work of a wild marketer, you might not be surprised to find out that the same guy was responsible for the leap of faith that gave Netflix an important jumpstart.

The difference between Netflix and MoviePass was that Helios and Matheson couldn’t convert on its attention-grabbing strategy. But when you can convert, it makes all the difference.

In 1998, there wasn’t really a term for what Netflix did, but in 2010, a guy named Sean Ellis came up with a term for it: growth hacking.

“The right growth hacker will have a burning desire to connect your target market with your must have solution,” Ellis wrote. “They must have the creativity to figure out unique ways of driving growth in addition to testing/evolving the techniques proven by other companies.”

Sometimes, a good growth hack might involve a distribution strategy that stays consistent over a number of years, like how Dropbox gives away free space if you get referrals to sign up using your code. Other times, it’s a matter of taking something happening right now and exploiting it, cleverly.

The latter is what Netflix did back in 1998. It might’ve been just the jump in attention they needed to remain a dominant force in our lives 22 years later.

Good thing at least some of the DVDs offered what was advertised.

Netflix’s First Hit Show Was Bill Clinton’s Impeachment Testimony syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[seenashwrite]

SNIPED (Part Three)

Status: Complete (Part 3 of 5) Word Count: 7.8K Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit for Adult Themes including - Graphic sexual situations; Mild-to-moderate violence; Coarse language Categories: Drama; Action; Romance; Porn-with-Plot; Smut; On-the-hunt Character(s): Dean; Sam; Reader/O.C. Female; Jody; Crowley [briefly]; Alex & Claire [mentioned]; Castiel [mentioned] Pairings: Dean x Reader/OC Female [Pts. 2 & 5]; Sam x Reader/OC Female [Pt. 3] Warning(s): See “Rating” section above Author’s Note(s): See Part One Overall Summary: The Winchesters receive assistance on their case from a sniper. Part Three Summary: The sniper rushes to aid Jody, getting caught in Winchester crossfire for her trouble.

             || SNIPED Master Post ||

I had just gotten out of the shower and was naked in front of the mirror, squeezing my wet, finger-combed hair, when I heard a soft rapping at the door.

I sighed, glanced down at the handgun I'd left next to the sink. Anyone coming after me that was worth their salt could've just kicked in the cheap motel's plywood door. Besides, I knew who it was; no need to arrive armed.

I wrapped the thin towel around myself, holding it closed as it was too small to tuck, padded over and opened the door, an expressionless look already plastered on my face when I raised my head.

Sam briefly glanced over me, gulped.

I rolled my eyes, then raised my eyebrows.

"I, uh... thought I'd take you up on..."

I stood aside and he walked in. "Over there," I said, turning away to walk back to the bathroom, pointing at the small bottle of tequila set next to the single-wrapped plastic cups and ice bucket on the dresser.

I closed the bathroom door, my privacy now gone, finished drying off my hair best I could, then glanced around. Shit. I'd stripped off in the room, and knew the dress I'd been wearing had been thrown to god knew where as soon as I'd unzipped it and pulled it off. So I re-wrapped, opened the door, walked back out.

Sam was sitting on the bed, leaned against the headboard, one leg partly propped up, the other still on the floor as if he didn't want to give the impression he'd totally made himself at home. His hair had gotten longer since I'd last seen him, and it was mostly held back in an elastic. He still had on the long-sleeved plaid shirt from earlier but it was unbuttoned atop his white tank undershirt now. The denim had been traded for loose track pants, untied boots thrown over bare feet for his walk to my door.

He was sipping on my tequila, and he'd brought the bottle over to the nightstand next to him. He'd also gathered and straightened up my things. The shoulder holster was hung on a chair, and the now un-crumpled dress was draped across the back of the other chair, pumps aligned neatly underneath it. He met my eye, I shot him an odd look, then walked to the dress.

"You're putting that back on?" Sam asked.

"My go-bag was in my car."

"What?"

I turned to him. "Got the call, grabbed some gear, got in the jeep, came to you. My options are naked or this, soooo..."

I could practically feel the heat radiating off of his bright red blushing. Good. I wanted him to feel embarrassed, ashamed. He deserved it.

Earlier that night, when I'd turned my phone back on upon getting home, it was filled with messages. I'd just gotten in from doing some recon; well, recon of a sort. It required a low-cut black dress with a mostly open back that was a little too tight and a little too short, though not so short as to reveal the upper thigh holster and switchblade strapped to it. The rest of my uniform only consisted of diamond studs, and black patent pumps with ankle cuffs that fastened via a shiny zipper up the back.

Jody had been at my old house helping me pack up my husband's things when they'd arrived; I'd ordered them to wear out on our one-year anniversary. The anniversary we'd never gotten to. She had opened them for me, absently commenting on what great "fuck-me pumps" they were without thinking, but the moment of levity had made me laugh for the first time since that night. Jody said she'd buy them off me, but I kept them. Turned out to be a valuable piece of tactical gear in the long run.

Valuable for the current leg of my mission, at least - an expensive dinner, the third that week, full of light groping and fingering under the table, with my latest lead on Red Smoke, which is what I'd taken to calling my target. My lead was a good fifteen years older than me, but quite handsome, reminded me of that actor on that show, the one that Jody's kids called "a silver fox". Shitty kisser, but easy to keep at bay with teasing promises of the next time. He liked me, and he would keep liking me, for as long as it took. I needed to know what all exactly his reportedly shady dealings involved, how exactly he’d gone from rags-to-riches in just under a decade.

I was now on my own. My latest P.I. had gotten taken out. I hadn't heard from him for several weeks following the text I’d gotten after my night with Dean. He'd never answered my return call, was never at his office. Despite a slew of fake names, I finally tracked down where he lived. Good timing, too.

Found crime scene tape, cops, coroner, the smell of rotting flesh spilling out into the apartment building's hallways. Courtesy of a fake badge Jody’d helped me with, a neighbor told me they'd called the police once the stench had gotten so bad. Pity they didn't know the smell of human decay well enough to separate it from the smell of garbage in their minds.

I wasn't going to involve anyone else. Not really out of care for my fellow man; more because trails of bodies could lead back to me. Which is why I hauled ass to the P.I.'s office and torched it. The cops would just assume it was his killer, and in a round-about way, I suppose that was true. I had probably gotten him killed.

Sam thought I had gotten Dean killed.

At least, that was the impression Jody had, it was amongst the things she'd relayed in the first few voice mails. Seems Dean had been a busy boy. To Sam, he referred to his secretive solo outings as "snipe hunts", and the younger man had finally put two-and-two together, namely because of the condition in which his brother would return. Sometimes physical signs, mostly behavioral signs, both telling Sam that Dean wasn't going on fool's errands; he was hunting for me.

And Sam had not been shy when sharing his theory with Jody. I already knew Dean had been pestering Jody for my current address, the house that wouldn't show up on any background check because I was paying my rent in cash to the little old lady who owned it, keeping it under the table so she wouldn't have to claim the income. Dean kept saying he didn't want to bother me, just wanted to check on me. Jody knew he'd been texting me sporadically since my disappearing act, but also knew I wouldn't get in deeper with him.

Not now. Not when I was getting close. And Dean had respected Jody when she firmly told him she was not breaking my confidence. It seemed, however, that he had not taken my desire to distance myself from him to heart.

There were at least a dozen messages screaming at me, texts and voice mails, all over the span of a few hours. The texts were garbage, short spurts of CALL ME-s and 911!-s and WHERE ARE YOU-s. The longest text was the first: 

Dean's in bad trouble. Sam doesn't want you involved. Need you to be.

Three words into her initial voice mail, I turned and immediately went to the large safe in the basement, not because of what she was saying - I could get filled in on Dean’s journey into stupidity later - but because of the panic in her voice. Putting it on speaker, I laid it on the long metal table that lived against the wall. Grabbed the large duffel, laid it out on the floor, spun the dial on the safe, clicked to the next message. More panicked, but still focused, now describing the location I'd be going to, outlining what she knew of the opposition.

Good girl. Jody was scared, but she was with it enough to relay precisely the things I'd have asked. And by the sound of it, the logistics of the location were more of an issue than its occupants.

I smiled, removing my favorite rifle, the one that was like another limb for me, the one for which I didn't need a thousand fancy accoutrements to nail anyone - or, now-a-days, anything - on the other end. So to the bag I only added a suppressor, a night-vision scope,  and a small box of the appropriate ammo. Then on second thought, the laser sight - not for need, just because I wanted these assholes to know they were about to meet their maker.

Next message. I threw on a shoulder holster, pulled a .9 mil, made sure the mag was full. Satisfied, I fastened it in. Squatting in front of the low shelves, I looked over the rest of my options. Now Jody's voice had gone to an angry tone, demanding to know where the hell I was, what happened to the promise I'd made to Dean, that I'd be there for them if they needed me. I chose two flat packages, stuffing them in the bag along with their corresponding remote triggers, tuning out the rest of her rant.

Next message. Obvious tears, a new pitch, a catch in her usually strong voice. I felt my neck and face flush with anger. Fucking Winchesters. But, more information through the tears - my latest targets were using a webcam to communicate with Sam. So he could see and hear a live feed of what they were doing... what they had been doing... to Dean. For the past 36 hours and counting. I shook off my annoyance at Sam's abject idiocy for waiting so long to reach out for help.

And not to me - I'd not heard from them regarding help on a job since the hunt we'd gone on almost five months prior. Even though now they were close; very close. Just as close in proximity as they were to Jody, they knew I lived near her, and in a situation like this I couldn't imagine how they thought a sheriff could lend the same level of assistance.

I swung the bag over my shoulder, picked up the phone in one hand, grabbed one of several burners plugged in and charging along the backside of the table with the other. I dialed a number I'd had memorized for years. I made mental note to wipe it down and toss it at some point on the road.

A former bureau colleague of mine in surveillance had believed me when I'd said I thought we were targeted that day, though I’d phrased it as suspecting the team had been targeted. It was, after all, at least moderately probable - the intelligence on the op was shown to be false. The subsequent investigation had revealed no evidence of a threat anywhere in that building, but of course the intel failure didn't make it to the official report, what with all the room detailing my supposed break-down had taken up.

I always thought he felt somewhat guilty about that, even though he was a low-level analyst, because he had a bit of a thing for me. And he'd proven it by agreeing to be my contact on the inside. I had a favor still on the books, courtesy of the quick oral thank-you I'd bestowed upon him. So fuck the Winchesters again, for forcing me to use the favor on them.

Next message. Told me she was about to go back to where she and Sam were positioned, told me where, then went into borderline hysterics, which I hadn't heard coming out of Jody since I held her in my arms and she released all the pain, describing the night her dead son tore apart her husband. I stopped the message before it even finished; “furious” didn’t even begin to describe what had flooded over me.

In the garage now, I set down the bag, grabbed a set of keys off the hook. I pulled the cover off of my husband's trusty old jeep. Battered to hell, still ran like a dream. I'd kept up its maintenance, every once and awhile still taking it out to dusty open roads, pushing it to the limit, taking curves too fast. I took the briefest of moments to run my fingers across the hood. He wasn't perfect. Our relationship was far from perfect. If I was honest, we'd gotten married partly to try and save it. But goddamn, we'd had some good times in that car.

I threw the bag in back. Cranked the engine, backed it out, left it running while I closed the garage door. Then before I peeled out into the night, I texted Jody:

Breathe - coming to you now

I'd gotten to the location in under fifteen minutes without raising any suspicion. It was one of several foreclosed houses that were in a gaudy, over-priced, mostly vacant subdivision filled with eyesore after eyesore about ten miles outside of the main metro area of town. I took the jeep off-road, as it were, up the cleared-off, steep hill at the back of the division. It plateaued and butted up against an undeveloped wooded area.  

According to my surveillance contact, based on the brief glimpses he could afford, the satellite showed heat signatures were sticking to the front end of the house where Dean was being kept. Not wise in terms of detection, but perhaps the trade-off was being closer to one of the still-occupied homes. A piggy back off of their wi-fi to send their feed would make sense, as their hideout wouldn't have its own.

Sam and Jody were crouched behind a fallen tree at the top of a slope to the side of the cul-de-sac where the home was located. It backed up to a particularly dense area of the trees, which was the smartest damn thing Sam had done that day, limiting his exposure. I hated him for bringing Jody into this. Hated. I silently crept up on them, but not before I'd taken care of a little business.

"Thank god," Jody exhaled, squeezing my knee once I'd dropped the bag and knelt beside them.

Sam's eyes shot daggers through me, then he looked back down to his phone. The volume was low, the feed slightly glitched, but I could glimpse Dean's battered and bloody face and torso. Clearly heard the occasional grunts of pain.

"Mute that shit," I hissed.

Another glare, but Sam complied.

Jody glanced down, saw my pumps were slightly muddied, and that my calves were splattered with the same. "How long have you been here?" she whispered.

"Long enough to leave a few presents," I replied, then I looked coldly at Sam. "And take out the four perimeter goons that were gonna make you soon." You fucking suck at your job, I thought. Direct your hate to a mirror, not at me. "Is he cuffed or tied?" I asked.

Sam gulped, glanced away a second, then back. "Tied. They've... they stood him up and had his arms above his head a few ti---"

I turned my head back to Jody. "I don't have any way for us to communicate once Sam and I get closer---" 

Sam started to interrupt, but I cut him off with a back-handed slap and it stunned him. 

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up. This was your best. Congrats. My turn." Back to Jody again, now winding my hair up in a top knot and pulling an elastic from my wrist to secure it. "So if we aren't back with Dean in ten minutes, you get the hell out. The jeep's just on the other side of this clump of trees, in another cul-de-sac. Keys are under the mat."

Jody nodded slowly and silently, absorbing what I had said. She knew why. The sheriff needed plausible deniability if things went awry.

Sam had kept silent, too, so I sat back to look at both of them. Good. Both had expressions of concern mixed with focus. I'd have preferred all focus, but I'd take it. I had already prepped my rifle with the suppressor - and used it, by that point - and was now attaching the scope as I continued.

"A surveillance contact of mine confirmed nine people, including one that was stationary - Dean. Minus the four on the perimeter, we've got four to go. There's a picnic table below us in the side yard." I looked at Sam. "That's where we start." 

I unzipped and took off my shoes, Jody looking on, staring at their scraped and muddied state wistfully. Sam and I crept down, crawling the last yard or so to the picnic table. There was a generator humming nearby, but the floodlights weren't being used, so we had better coverage than I'd hoped for, despite the bright moonlight. But these kidnappers were far from pros.

The ones on the perimeter didn't have walkies or earpieces, so the ones on the inside likely had no clue they'd been downed. I had a decent line of sight through one window on the side of the house that we faced - left completely uncovered - which let me see the doorway into the room. Had an even better line across the front porch. I continued to be in slight awe at these dumbfucks - they'd actually turned on the front porch lights.

I set my rifle down beside me as Sam and I got into crouched positions. I pulled out the remote trigger I'd stuck in the top of my dress that was being held by my strap and handed it to him. Then I pulled a second from the other side, setting it gently on the table.

"When you pop that," I whispered, "we wait one minute. If anyone runs out, let me take them. Then we pop the second." I pointed. "Dean is against the opposite wall of this room. You're going to go through this wall and get him."

I heard the intake of air as Sam was about to speak, and I quickly reached out and squeezed the hell out of his arm.

"I brought the good stuff. Thermite breach. They'll be distracted by the first one. Do you have a knife?"

"No."

I hiked up my skirt to the holster, handed him my switchblade. "Do not stop. Do not stop cutting rope. Do not stop moving with him. I have eyes on the only way in and out of that room. If you see my laser sight, do not stop. If you hear gunfire, do not stop. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

I balanced my rifle atop the picnic table. Got into mindset. Just another mission. Just another breach and capture.

I was in a goddamn cocktail dress.

Silence. Nothing but Sam and I quietly breathing. I watched one of them come into the room. Waited til he walked back out. It was the only activity for several minutes. 

"Pop it."

Moments later, a horrific bang from the other side of the house. We could hear footsteps pounding around crazily. I grinned. Morons.

One suddenly ran out onto the porch, holding a semi in an ineffective manner, cigarette hanging from his lips, head swiveling around. I could see the whites of his wide eyes as they searched for an answer. I had one for him.

ZIP

That's five. 

I directed my aim back through the window and onto the doorway of the room. "Anything?" I whispered.

"No."

I handed him the other trigger; voices carried from the far side of the house.

"Pop it."

After its detonation, I could see that the hole it made - taking out part of the window as well - was plenty substantial for Sam and Dean to get through. Cheaply made overpriced shithouse. Gotta love it. The voices faded - they were either coming around or heading back inside. Either way:

"Go."

Sam went, and fast, too. While he was freeing Dean, I spotted movement.  Someone was coming around to the side yard from the rear of the house.

Six

As soon as I'd gotten my first glimpse of Sam making his way back to the hole, the last two appeared at the doorway to the room. I saw the open-mouthed gasp of the one in the rear when he spotted the laser, heard his impossibly high-pitched scream when the blood spurt from the one in front splattered across his face.

Seven

But he scurried away, just as Sam had made it to the hole with Dean. They stumbled off the drop, both falling briefly to the grass under what was left of the window, but regrouped quickly. Dean seemed to be moving under his own strength fairly well. I didn't have time to be glad about that - one more cockroach to exterminate. Sam guided Dean to my position. 

I handed him my rifle. "Get to Jody. One of you cover me. Go."

Thank god, Sam just took it and went without a thousand questions, and I removed my pistol from the holster, shot out those stupid lights, then crept onto the porch.

And now, I was walking back out of the motel bathroom, clad in Sam's shirt, which hit me right below the knees. I had to admit, it was incredibly comfortable. Hopefully it would distract me from the cheap, scratchy sheets. I had gotten a room where Sam had holed up when he'd come for Jody's help earlier. Didn't feel like going to her place, wasn't up to explaining why I'd been so distant.

Dean had refused to go to the ER or to Jody's - that, and the occasional grumbled curse was all he would say, and not a word of it was to me. After Jody helped get him into Sam's room, she hugged me so hard, it almost hurt. And as she pulled away, she looked at me so sincerely, it almost made me cringe. Even more so when she spoke.

"I truly do love..."

Oof.

"...those shoes."

Why do I doubt her? 

"Get out of here," I advised with a grin.

So that left me and the Winchester boys. Dean waved off everything Sam offered - food, a bath, painkillers - all he wanted was to go to sleep. I had stood quietly, leaning next to the door, holding my shoes in one hand, rifle in the other. After Dean had closed his eyes - still frowning as he turned from me - Sam tried to adjust his covers, but Dean slapped his hands away. Sam gave up, straightened his bent-over posture, and passed the frown along.

I sighed, pushed myself off the wall, opened the door. Then I stopped, turned back around. I had my mouth open to eviscerate his ego to the very core, but then thought better of it. Dean had drug him into this, I'd drug him out. It was over as far as I was concerned. Sam should still feel like an asshole for not calling on me. But they could hash out their shit on their own. Not my problem.

"If you get tired of staring into the abyss---" I glanced to Dean, then back to him "---there'll be a drink waiting for you in room 25."

Because god knew I needed one. My husband had faithfully kept a small bottle of tequila in the storage of the jeep and I'd kept up the tradition, replacing it any time I'd used it for a margarita night with Jody. He and I would do a celebratory shot together after every successful mission, back when we’d only been partners a short while. It was after one of those shots, right beside that jeep, after we were showered and back in normal clothes, and after the rest of the team members were all headed to their respective lives, that we'd shared our first kiss.

But here, now, I was going to celebrate with Sam Winchester, who - despite the gentlemanly surrender of a piece of his plaid-and-flannel collection - was still alternating between moderate disdain and mild anger when it came to his expressions and tone.

"Where did you find the last guy?" he asked. He'd poured a drink for me, and I took it from his hand as I came to sit on the opposite side of the queen bed, tucking my legs under me.

"In a downstairs bathroom," I replied, taking a sip.

"Did you ask him anything?"

"Should I have?" I asked in return, and honestly.

Sam's brow creased. "They got Dean while he'd been out looking for you."

I just looked at him. Then I took another sip.

"He's concerned you've gotten involved in something dangerous."

I didn't respond.

Sam shook his head, glanced away, made a little huffing sound as he looked back to me. "You know, Dean really cares about you. That not matter at all?"

Another sip.

"I don't know what all happened between you two when you were at the bunker---"

"No," I cut in. "You don't." 

Sip.

We stared at each other. I was re-thinking the whole sweet and goody-two-shoes label I'd placed on him months prior. There was something... dark... something intense... brewing under his typically affable demeanor. Interesting.

Sam broke the stare, drank what was left in his cup, then moved to get up and, I assume, leave. But before he stood, he asked, "Do you not want to know what they did to him?"

"Will that change what they did to him? Make it better? Make him feel better? Make you feel better, if you have some company in your guilt?"

Sam's jaw tensed up, but he did seem to hear me.

"This is really good, huh?" I asked, lightening my tone, holding up my cup.

Sam's posture relaxed somewhat, and he nodded. "Yeah."

"Sam, you came down here because you didn't want to sit and stare at him, looking at things you can't figure out or fix," I continued, gently as I could muster. "So let's you and me kill that bottle and we can trade war stories til you're drunk enough to walk back in there and pass right the hell out."

He watched me carefully for a moment or two, I suppose in an effort to determine my level of sincerity. Then he poured himself another drink, sat back against the headboard, this time pulling both legs up, plopping them on the bed and crossing them at the ankles. He took a deep breath, then a healthy sip before he met my eye again. "You slapped me."

I nodded slowly, trying not to smile.

Sam looked back to his drink. "I think I needed it," he admitted.

Now I did smile. 

"So, what do you want to hear? Wendigo or vampire?"

I chuckled. "One of each, please."

It wasn't until we were nearing the end of our best stories, as well as the end of the bottle and dancing at the line of sobriety, that Sam's mood seemed to shift to that darker place again. Dark, but honest.

"I have a hard time getting what he sees in you," Sam stated.

I raised my eyebrows. "Golly gee, Sam. Thanks?"

Sam laughed. "I didn't mean---"

I laughed, too. "Yeah, you did!"

"No!" he insisted, and while he was sitting himself up straighter against the headboard, managed to slosh the last of the tequila in his cup out, onto, and rolling down his undershirt. "Oh shit," he muttered.

I took his cup from him as he stood. "It's just an undershirt."

"No, I'm bummed about the tequila!" Sam replied with a wide smile, which was obscured briefly as he pulled the wet shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. He flopped back down on the bed again.

Dean was well-built, but christ-on-a-cracker. I clearly had no idea what had been lurking under baby brother's exterior. I chugged the rest of my drink, begging it to burn its way down and kick in quickly so my epiphany wouldn't show on my face.

Sam picked up the bottle but I shook my head vehemently. "No no no no, sir," I said, setting our cups on the bedspread. I made a gimme motion with my hands and he grinned, passing it over. "You have wasted, but I am benevolent," I informed him.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mmm-hmmm. The last of this will be distributed equally." I unscrewed the cap and Sam observed as I carefully poured. I lifted them up to eyeball them once, adjusted the amount again. I nodded my head. "That'll do," I stated, handing him a cup, then holding mine toward him. "Last call. Got a toast?"

Sam thought for a second, then slowly shook his head and met my eye. "Nope."

"Nope, it is."

We did our shots, then Sam stacked our cups and leaned a little to set them on the nightstand.

"Oh, whoops," I commented, feeling the empty bottle bump against my calf with the movement of the mattress.

Sam was just leaning back when I shuffled in his direction, still on my knees, then leaned across him, planting a hand on the mattress to balance myself, putting the empty bottle on the night stand as well.

I'd shuffled onto the front hem of the shirt, feeling cool air as the back got hiked up, but my lack of any other garment didn't register until I felt Sam's fingertips ever-so-barely touch the bottom curve of the ass cheek closest to him, then slowly trail down the back of my thigh before it faded away. Though I'd set the bottle down, I didn't move, hand still planted on the mattress to the side of his hip.

"I saw you," Sam said, barely above a whisper, his fingertips repeating the touch, leaving no doubt that I'd misinterpreted or imagined anything. "That night. I saw you and Dean by the staircase."

I tensed slightly, brought my other hand down to grip the mattress. I needed the support. Not because I was drunk. Because I didn't feel as uncomfortable at his touch as perhaps I should've been. Because of what had already started between Dean and I.

"Did you?" I asked, not looking at him. The tracing from cheek to thigh and back up continued, meandering a bit to my inner thigh on the next pass.

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Do you think I should feel embarrassed?"

"No."

Sam's fingers pushed the hem of his shirt a little higher, exposing more of my ass. I glanced over at him. He was watching his fingers.Up, over, down, up, over, down.

"Do you think you should be embarrassed?"

A tiny smile and chuckle. "I don't know."

"Are you?"

"No." The smile faded. The shirt hem got pushed a little higher. The fingers drifted a little further. "I got so hard," he whispered, still watching his fingers.

I wanted to hear more. "Tell me."

"The sounds the two of you were making..."

Sam's fingertips pressed a little harder, no longer on the back of my thigh, only going from my cheek to my inner thigh now.

"...how Dean's hand was moving in your pants..."

The shirt hem was resting on my lower back, my ass completely exposed now.

"...how you were grinding your pussy."

My eyes fell closed briefly, and I shivered when, on that last word, Sam's fingertips barely grazed that very area. A glance downwards showed me perhaps Sam did know what Dean saw in me. And I tilted my head towards him again. "Were you as hard as you are now?" I asked.

He met my eye, his hand still moving, though not as quickly, the fingers lingering as they moved to the center, drifting up between my cheeks then slowly moving back down. "Harder."

"What did you do?"

"Went back to my room." Another pause at my ever-dampening entrance, then back up, over my taint, over my asshole, back down.

"Then what?"

"Thought about the two of you fucking."

"While you stroked it?"

"Til I came."

The corners of my mouth went up. "But you just can't figure out what he sees in me."

Sam's eyes flashed and a wicked little grin came to his face. "I know you wouldn't kiss him, he told me. And that you didn't fuck him."

I narrowed my eyes. "Then I guess you know all there is to know. Sammy."

Sam's grin disappeared, but his touches continued, albeit more firmly, more the pads of his fingers than just the tips.

"Why'd you come down here?" I asked, trying to take a little edge off my tone.

"Why didn't you kiss him?"

"Why'd you come down here?" I asked again, harshly, because fuck my tone.

"Why didn't you fuck him?"

I rolled my eyes, sighed, then began to move to sit up when suddenly Sam came forward, pressing his lips into mine. Though he'd made the bold move, he suddenly hesitated. And I immediately got annoyed at this boy and whatever game he was trying to play.

I pushed my lips back against his, deepening the kiss. Sam responded in kind, and I opened my mouth, letting his tongue in to wrestle with mine. I pivoted, bringing my body around, one knee on either side of his thighs. He gripped my bare ass in his huge hands, squeezing with every thrust of our tongues.

"You're a good kisser," I breathed out when he moved his lips down my neck. Sam licked his way back up, bringing his mouth to mine again. I sucked on his bottom lip. A small groan emerged from his throat. As I pulled away, letting my teeth pull on the lip a bit as I did, I whispered, "I didn't kiss Dean because I didn't want to. I'm kissing you because I do want to."

Sam looked at me with hooded eyes. I felt his erection pulse beneath me. I leaned in for another round of kisses, and this time they were deeper, rougher, more tangled than before. He wrapped his arms completely around me, pulling in tightly, pushing my naked pussy directly against the rock-hard bulge.

"Ask me," I whispered when we pulled back from the kiss and were each catching our breath.

Sam didn't hesitate. "Do you want to fuck me?"

I looked at him seriously. "Will you promise to put it all the way inside of me?" I pushed my pelvis into him and his eyelids fluttered.

"Yes," he gasped.

"Will you pound me til I come?"

"Oh god yes," Sam practically moaned, gripping my ass so tight I knew I'd have bruises.

"Stand up."

I moved off of his lap, raising back up on my knees as he stood. The tip of his cock was peeking above the waistband of the track pants. I gently pulled the pants down, licking my lips, getting wetter and wetter in anticipation. Sam's cock was thick, and while it wasn't the girth of Dean's - because, fuck, whose was? - it was easily an inch longer. I knew immediately it would hit me in every conceivable spot.

While I briefly contemplated attempting a blow job, I just couldn't wait any longer. I felt slick drops beginning to run out of me at just the sight. So I gently gave the tip a little lick and a tiny kiss. And then I turned around, still kneeling on the mattress, raising my ass and presenting my wet pussy to him. I heard an audible gasp, but then Sam seemed to recover quickly because the next thing I knew, he had entered me.

"Oh, fuuuuck," I groaned at that first long stroke, willing myself not to push back into him, wanting him to take the lead, see what the younger Winchester would be bringing to the table.

"Holy shit," Sam gasped, gripping my hips as I felt him adjust his stance. He began to pull back but paused before he got a rhythm going. I glanced over my shoulder. "Did you mean it?" he asked in the lowest register I think I'd ever heard his voice take.

"Mean what?"

"Pounding?"

I grinned, and then turned away from him once more, this time extending my arms in front of me and grabbing up two fistfuls of bedding, preparing to brace myself. "Sam. I don't say anything I don't mean."

The next thrust was deeper, and on the third, he was completely ensheathed, those luscious hip bones grinding into me. "Oh yessss," I heard him hiss, just as he ramped up the speed.

Before long, my entire body was being jolted as Sam took my instruction to heart, pounding, swiveling every now and then so he made sure his dick hit every square inch. He was back to kneading my ass cheeks, pulling them apart, squeezing them back together, thumbs running over and pressing around my asshole.

I leaned down more, resting on my forearms and arching my back, now unable to resist pushing myself back onto him, matching his thrusts. Better braced, I used one hand to unbutton the borrowed shirt, letting it fall open so my breasts could move freely, and my erect, sensitive nipples wouldn't keep scraping across the fabric. Then I moved my hand lower. 

Sam moaned as I made a V with my index and middle finger, placing them so he felt an extra bit of pressure with every pump. "Stop, I don't want to come yet," he managed, and then he pulled out, grabbed me by the waist, turning me around and pulling me up to face him.

As Sam crushed his mouth to mine again, our tongues angrily battling each other, he slid his shirt off of me, throwing it away, then wrapped his muscled arms around me, smashing our naked bodies together. I put my hands on either side of his face then drug them down, pressing into his pecs, over his nipples, over every taut ab. Right as I was about to stroke his cock, he looked at me and spoke.

"Did you do this with Dean?" Sam asked, his voice husky, his eyes seeming almost angry as he pulled me closer, running the fingers of one hand between my ass cheeks again, pulling moisture from my pussy to my taint and asshole, letting his finger linger there, stroking over it.

And though he knew the answer, I confirmed it for him. "No."

Another quick trip, gliding down, returning with more wetness, pressing his middle finger more firmly to my asshole. "Did Dean touch you here?"

"No."

Now pinning my body against his with his left arm, Sam reached between my legs from the front with his right hand, jamming his first three fingers inside my cunt all the way to the knuckles, making me yelp in surprise. He brought the dripping fingers out, up and over my hip, smearing the wetness down my crack, swirling his middle finger on my asshole, pushing in with every rotation til he was slowly fingering my ass, in and out, increasing the speed.

I clutched onto his shoulders, as he let my torso go. I was groaning into his neck as he grabbed my right cheek with his now free left hand, pulling it to the side, opening me more, gliding another finger inside, scissoring, up, down, side to side, fast and rough.

"Did you let Dean stretch your asshole?" he asked, pumping and pumping, his cock even harder between us.

"No!" I gasped, digging my fingers into his shoulders, and he captured my mouth in another wild kiss. 

He eased his fingers out gently, but then clamped down on my hips as he ended the kiss to look at me dead in the eye. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," he stated, then pushed me backwards.

Leaning back on my elbows now, I looked up to him with a cheshire grin. His face was set in such an authoritative mode, he looked nothing like the little brother I'd associated him with in my mind. He stared down at me, eyes roaming over my breasts, then to my crotch, then back to my eyes as he gave his cock several fierce tugs. He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed, doubled it over.

"Raise your hips," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," I replied, and he stuffed the pillow under me, tilting my pelvis completely off the bed. I let my knees fall open, the cool air hitting my hot core and making me shiver. 

He gave his cock another few strokes, eyes never leaving my crotch. "Spread your legs."

I complied.

"Wider."

I did as I was told.

Sam reached down with both hands, studying every fold intensely, running his thumbs over, around, then between the puffy outer lips, pointedly ignoring my huge, engorged clit. He ultimately planted his knuckles on either side of my entrance, his thumbs continuing to keep my folds and lips to the side, pushing my hips even wider, opening me completely. 

"Fuck, you've got a pretty pussy," he muttered. Then he met my eye."Did Dean go down on you?"

"He licked me clean after I made myself come," I replied with a raised eyebrow, fully aware that I was taunting him. "Does that count?"

The side of Sam's mouth twitched up briefly before he broke eye contact and practically dove between my legs, thrusting his tongue in-and-out of my cunt, dragging it up and finally, blessedly, paying much-needed attention to my clit.

I sighed, letting my head fall back as he suckled at it, his lips as delicate as his thrusts were rough, thumbs still keeping my swollen lips to the side so he could occasionally run the tip of his tongue over and between every fold, swirling it around my entrance before plunging it in again.

And then Sam moved to a kneeling position beside the bed, putting my boosted pelvis more on his eye-level. I missed his face and his mouth, wanted it back in my pussy, and made a little whimper sound involuntarily. He didn't make me wait. Returning his lips to my clit, he again sucked at it, then up, over, under with his tongue, though when he moved down, he changed his pattern, going further, spreading my cheeks, running his warm tongue over my tender asshole for several moments then moving back up, kissing along my inner thighs til he stood. Then there was one last order as he moved to kneeling in front of me on the mattress:

"Put my cock in your cunt."

I reached down, barely had the tip in my entrance when Sam shoved it completely inside of me. I had no footing, nothing to brace myself with, so I extended my arms up and behind me, grateful I was close enough for my palms to make contact with the headboard. I was practically seeing stars, my breaths coming in ragged pants now. I was so sore already, and all I wanted was more.

Every pump was rapid, and every third or fourth, Sam would pull almost all the way out before slamming in deeper, jack-hammering my core relentlessly. My breasts were bouncing wildly and suddenly his huge hands were on them, squeezing, pulling, catching my nipples between his fingers, pinching, twisting. Nothing was gentle, nothing was tender, and I was grunting, craving more.

The pillow was yanked away and I felt Sam's body press down on top of me, felt his hands snake up, pull mine away from the headboard, wind his fingers through mine, his grip tight, felt his mouth crush into mine, his hips continuing their work. I wrapped my legs around him, dug my heels in below his ass and he moaned into my mouth as the shift in position let him sink even deeper.

Our eyes locked as I began to match his rhythm, the pace slowing a bit as I clenched purposefully around his cock every now and then, delighting in how it would take his breath away. A tiny bead of sweat ran from his hairline down to the tip of his nose. I grinned, and his stoic expression wavered as he grinned back.

"What?" he asked.

"You need a break."

Sam shook his head. "No way," he replied, nearly completely breathless, but increasing the speed of his thrusts as if to prove me wrong.

"Mmmmm," I hummed in pleasure, but I had a request. "Let me ride you?"

For his answer, Sam let go of my hands, putting his arms underneath me, then flipping us over so I was on top. Sitting up, he scooted us down to the end of the bed, planting his feet on the floor, keeping his arms around me and his cock inside me the entire time. We kissed like maniacs again, then just as I was beginning to find a rhythm, Sam whispered in my ear.

"What else can we do?"

I chuckled, swirling my hips, and replied, "This not doing it for you?"

"I just..."

I stopped. What the fuck was it about me riding either of these men that seemed to bring things to a weird halt? I was going to get a complex at this rate. "What?" I demanded, looking him dead in the eye.

"I.. I... I want to do things with you that... that..."

Shit. The return of the Aw, Shucks Sam.

"That's different than what Dean and I did?" I finished for him.

A timid nod.

I climbed off of him.

"Wait, no--" Sam began.

"Here's one thing that's different: Dean and I didn't talk this much about Dean when I was naked with Dean and playing with Dean's cock and grinding on Dean's fingers - get it, Sam?"

Sam seemed dejected, and I was so angry at myself for thinking I could fuck my way out of feeling... feeling...

Feeling so helpless seeing Dean so hurt.

Because I did ask the eighth goon why Dean was taken. Assured him I'd let him go if he was honest. He told me they were hired to take him and rough him up because he'd been asking around about me in all the wrong circles. That Dean was bringing attention to me, and there were other parties who did not appreciate it. The crew would get a bonus if they drew Sam out too, triple pay if they brought back proof of death on both Winchesters. I told the goon I believed him before I pulled the trigger.

So, yeah. It was me. Dean was hurt because of me.

And now I felt like seeing Sam hurt more.

"As a matter of fact - how many times have you said my name tonight, hmmm? Because I lost count of how many times you've said your brother's name about five or six 'Deans' ago."

Sam remained completely quiet, looking at me with glassy eyes.

I picked his shirt up off the floor and tossed it to him. "Thanks," I said flatly, then went to the bathroom and turned on the water.

I heard the door close a few moments later.

I climbed in the shower and burst into tears.

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[holmesoverture]

In Sherlock’s Room, Part Two

Part One Be Here

Title: In Sherlock’s Room Rating (for this half): PG Total Word Count: 6431 Pairing: bi Watson/ace trans Holmes Universe: Modern AU of the original canon Summary: Holmes solves a case in his jammies.  Watson does laundry and makes ravioli.

TW for this half: very vaguely implied past acephobia; another mention of past acephobia (probably past transphobia also) which is immediately followed by petty revenge

Editing was tedious work.  My editor, for all his many redeeming qualities, invariably failed to appreciate the flowery endings to my tales and insisted I cut them off far earlier than I should have preferred.

“People read your stories for two reasons,” he once told me after nearly a half-hour of increasingly stormy debate on the subject; “the mystery, and the solution to the mystery.  No one cares what happens to you once the crook is sitting in a jail cell.  You can spend the night giving each other gob-jobs for all anyone cares.  Oh, I’ve said something funny now, have I?”

The bundles of fan mail I received every week inquiring as to whether I was single and whether Holmes was any good at finding hidden sausages made me question his judgment, but I was paid very handsomely for my work.  I could afford to assume that he had been made editor for a reason.

My efforts to curtail the offending epilogues on my own proved futile and so I had given up altogether, allowing my fingers to stretch the story for as long as they pleased, knowing that my editor would cut it all anyway while cursing my name. I was well into an appallingly purple passage in which Holmes and I compare the seasonal changes of the leaves to the arc of the average criminal’s career when Holmes burst in, catching the door before it could slam into the wall.

“Ceromancy!” he cried.

“Gesundheit,” I said.

“Kommst du mit, Naseweis.”

One did not need to speak German to understand what he wanted.  I followed him back to his room.  He had turned on some music since I left, a whiplash-inducing blend of classical pieces and Eurovision finalists.  Several new items had taken up residence on his desk.  His laptop now sat amongst the clutter rather than on his bed, along with a large, overly fragrant lavender candle, either borrowed or stolen from Mrs Hudson, and a bowl of water with a vaguely egg-shaped bit of hardened wax floating in its centre.

“I take it this is somehow connected with cera… ciril—”

“Ceromancy.  It is the art of divining the future via wax images in water.  One of the methods involves adding certain ingredients to the water, including seeds of the cuminum cyminum, which Mrs Mulvehill reports smelling in her wife’s vehicle on more than one occasion, and sprigs of ruta graveolens, a toxic herb that can cause blisters.”

I recalled the neatly torn note in the package that had started Holmes’ day, in which Mrs Mulvehill remarked upon the blisters on her wife’s hand.

“Further,” Holmes continued, “this particular set of instructions involves tying two candles together with a red ribbon.”

He spun the laptop so I could see the screen, though I hardly needed to look to know what would be there: the photograph of the red ribbon tied to the rearview mirror.

“That looks about long enough to bind a pair of candles, does it not?” said he.

I thought it strange that a woman should drive five hours one way every weekend simply to have her fortune told, and said so to Holmes.

“I have not yet finished examining all of the evidence.  There may very well be another explanation for these clues that will become apparent once I reach the end of my investigation.”

“So there is still a chance that Polly Mulvehill is seeing another woman?”

“Unfortunately for our client, yes.”

He lifted a hand to swipe to the next photograph, then gave it a second thought and turned to me instead.

“Why do people do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Cheat.  Polly Mulvehill has a perfectly devoted and intelligent wife, but that wasn’t enough for her.  She still felt the need to fill her time and, presumably, various other things with someone else, all in pursuit of a few sweaty, sticky moments on a flat surface. What can possibly be so thrilling about sex that it drives people to betray those closest to them?  It can’t be any better than a concert at the Barbican, and I wouldn’t cheat on you for a box seat.”

That hadn’t ever been a concern of mine, but it was nice to know.

“Sex is pleasurable for a lot of people,” I said, “and for some, it confers a certain status that concert tickets don’t.  It makes them feel powerful, attractive, special, even loved—”

“That hardly justifies cheating.”

“Of course it doesn’t.  I suppose some people never learned the same sort of self-control that you have with regard to box seats.”

He laughed at the jab and began setting up his chemical apparatus as the delicate dénouement of Gluck’s Melodie ceded to the gravelly bombast of Lordi’s Hard Rock Hallelujah.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked.

“I must test the dirt samples sent to me by Mrs Mulvehill to determine if there is anything distinctive about them.  The definitive answer to the question of how Polly Mulvehill has been spending her weekends may well be lurking in one of these test tubes.”

He muttered a few more disparaging comments about unfaithful spouses before returning to work.  I sat on the edge of Holmes’ bed and ran a finger along a seam in his blanket.  It had some peculiar stains that I would have to remember to ask about, to make sure he wasn’t slowly poisoning himself in his sleep.  Not for the first time, I was grateful that we had elected to retain separate bedrooms even after starting our relationship.

At that time it had been almost a decade since I last slept with someone.  Her name was Allie, or something like it.  She was tall and dark and sarcastic and just barely passable in the bedroom.  I suppose it was the lingering memory of her mediocrity that helped reinforce the idea of there being more important elements than sex in a romantic relationship when Holmes wrote me the first of what would become an entire drawerful of love letters.  He made it clear from the very start that he could offer me every sort of intimacy except that one, but that does not make our relationship in any way less.  Maybe it’s the fact that I will never have the chance to confront this issue in my published works that compels me to be perfectly clear about it here: we are lovers, in every sense of the word except that one upon which our society places the most importance.

Well, I suppose I shouldn’t judge others for their ignorance.  I held a similar view in a past life.  “Experience of women on three continents” was, despite what my editor prefers to believe, not an exaggeration.  Nor is it an exaggeration to say I have never once regretted abandoning my old ways.  Who wouldn’t give up sex for love?

Perhaps not Polly Mulvehill.  Or perhaps she really did learn her lesson and would agree with me after all.  It seems to me such an obvious decision, but on those infrequent occasions when I have attempted to explain our relationship to an outsider, I am almost inevitably met with disbelief at best.  Mrs Hudson took it in her stride, bless her, but Lestrade got very confused when I responded to his barely veiled innuendos with the truth. I am slightly ashamed and very satisfied to say that I went for the jugular almost immediately.

“If your wife got sick and wasn’t able to have sex with you anymore, or if her hormones change as she gets older and her libido drops, which does happen by the way, would you walk out on her just because she wasn’t giving you any?”

“Of course not!”  To Lestrade’s credit, he looked scandalised at the very suggestion.  “She’s my wife, the mother of my children—”

“It’s the same with us.  Well, not exactly the same.  Obviously, there are some differences in our lines of reasoning, but my point is that you love your partner more than you love sex and so do I.  That is, I love my partner more than I love sex, not your partner.  You know what I meant,” I said, irritated, when he started laughing.

“You’re much more eloquent as a writer than as an orator,” he replied, but he bought me a pint as an apology and we never spoke on the matter again.

I suppose I could have laughed along with his jokes instead of lecturing him on asexuality, but I should have felt guilty allowing him to continue operating under the assumption that Holmes and I were doing it.  The mere idea of engaging in such activities makes Holmes so terribly uncomfortable.  Having to endure ribald ragging, no matter how good-natured, from the one police inspector he respects could only end unpleasantly for both parties.

Feeling suddenly maudlin, I moved my bad leg so it rested fully on the stained blanket, leaned back against the headboard, and watched as Holmes went about his work.  His hands, despite appearing ill-fittingly large on his slender wrists, always managed to look graceful when engaged in one of his chemical experiments.  But I suppose everyone looks more themselves when they are doing what they are best at.

I believe I drifted off a bit after that, lulled into a contented daze by the rhythm of clinking glass and the scratch of pencil on notebook paper.  I began to come out of my trance when he came out of his.  He tried and failed to control a smile.  A few scribbles later and he gave up all pretense of dignified detachment, jumping in place and clapping, sending the pencil clattering into the dustbin beside his desk.  That was alright.  He preferred to keep his writing implements in there anyway.

With but a short moment of warning he swept me into his arms, then released me and tugged me towards his desk before I had the chance to hug him back.

“This is far better than I could have hoped for!  What a splendid case this has turned out to be!”

“Such excitement for a bit of dirt,” I remarked.

“No mere ‘bit of dirt’ is this.  Have a look at the results of the soil analysis I ran.”

I did as he asked.  Even with my limited understanding of soil composition, I knew at once what had brought the light to his grey eyes.

“Iridium?”

“Yes.  It is exceedingly rare on Earth but much more common in meteorites.”

“I know what it is.  I just didn’t think you would, given your extreme disinterest in astronomy.”

“I looked it up,” Holmes said, witheringly.  Then, perking up, he added, “I suspect the sample in Polly Mulvehill’s boot came from such a meteorite, or perhaps from an object that was found within the iridium anomaly.”

“You did say she works at a museum.”

“She volunteers as a tour guide.  I rather doubt she has the authority to take archaeological treasures home with her.”

“So you’re saying—”

“Museums are a study in contrasts, my dear Watson.  In their exhibition rooms, they are well-organized, often beautifully laid out bastions of knowledge dedicated to preserving the past into the future.  However, safely shielded from the public eye is invariably an overcrowded and poorly catalogued backroom littered with valuables that could be missing for months or years before anyone noticed.  Why, I stole this very spoon from the British Museum over a decade ago and still they’re none the wiser!”

“Holmes!”

“Oh, come now, Boswell.  This is a soup spoon from my mother’s flatware collection.  Do you really think so little of me?”

“On the contrary, I think highly enough of you that I expect you could abscond with the British Museum’s entire collection of Egyptian antiquities and return them to Egypt before the guard could leave his chair.  Why do you have your mother’s soup spoon?”

Holmes abruptly stopped preening at my inquiry.

“After my last visit to Sussex, you asked why I was in such a strop and I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Yes?”

“She kept asking when you and I would give her grandchildren.  I should have run out at once and arranged for a hysterectomy if Mycroft hadn’t been there to stop me.  Instead I took her soup spoon.  Are you very angry with me?”

“Not with you, no.”  But the next time I was misfortunate enough to encounter Mrs Holmes, I thought I might distract her long enough for Holmes to make off with the rest of her flatware, and possibly a vase or two.  I did not tell him the specifics of my thoughts, instead running a careful hand through the tangles in his hair.  He was much more appreciative of such gestures when not occupied by a case.  Had I attempted to demonstrate any form of affection prior to the discovery of the iridium, he should have pulled back and shook his head, putting a stop to my ministrations.  Now, he not only permitted the display, he encouraged it, throwing back his head with a contented sigh.  He grasped my free hand with both of his, enjoying the light scratch of my callouses across his own, eyes closed so he could focus on the sensation.

At length he straightened in his chair and looked around, as if in search of something.

“I believe we have gotten rather off the subject,” he said.  He crowed with victory when he made visual confirmation of his laptop teetering precariously on the edge of his desk, where it had been shoved to make room for the chemistry equipment.  “I must get in touch with Mrs Mulvehill—Mrs Evelyn Mulvehill, that is—and alert her to the happy news.”

“I would hardly call the fact that her wife is stealing from her place of employment happy news, Holmes.”

“Perhaps not to you or I, but to a woman bracing herself for the news that her beloved has yet again been unfaithful, it may well be the highlight of her day.”

I never saw Evelyn Mulvehill’s response to the longwinded email Holmes sent containing his deductions, but Holmes informed me it was cordial and grateful and would I please stop scribbling in my notebook?  He had just learned the most wonderful new waltz that I was sure to love if only I’d pay it the attention it (and he) deserved.

We did not hear from the Mulvehills for nearly a fortnight.  At that time, as a harsh rain assaulted the streets and the rooftops of London, Holmes thrust an open envelope, sent from Kendal, Cumbria, under my nose.  Along with her cheque came a letter from our former client, thanking Holmes for his help and informing us of the full meaning behind the clues he had deciphered for her.  Evelyn confronted her wife about the matter the moment she returned from work on the day of Holmes’ revelation.  Polly, to her credit, admitted to the scheme at once, but the story which followed her confession was one that neither of us could have expected.

Polly Mulvehill loved her museum and the history it saved and displayed, but the longer she worked there, the more she realised how dependent it was upon artifacts illegally obtained when Britain was at her most imperialistic. What right did any museum, even the one she held so near and dear, have to keep such items?  She made then a vow to smuggle what she could out of the museum and back to the lands from which they had been taken.

She sought out a fence, a man based in Aberdeen who was very superstitious and insisted upon consulting a friend who specialised in divination, including ceromancy, before each and every step of their exchange.  At least twice, to Polly’s intense displeasure, the fence interpreted the candle drippings negatively and refused to accept the goods, forcing Polly to return with the stolen artifacts to Kendal until the following week.  Still, the trouble was worth it, Polly Mulvehill insisted, for the fence was just as devoted to repatriation as she and would do most anything, so long as the candles gave their blessing, to bring the haughty English down a peg. Upon receipt of the stolen items, the fence made his escape on a flight from Aberdeen International Airport, which Polly only made the mistake of booking a hotel next to once, compared with the eleven times she had travelled to Aberdeen on her self-imposed mission. One was also the number of times she made the mistake of handling the herbs which the fortune teller used to predict their chances of success.

Evelyn was so awestruck by her wife’s courage and integrity that she quit her accounting job and started an organisation dedicated to negotiating the legal return of all stolen artifacts to their countries of origin.  It is an organisation the Mulvehills run to this very day.  The missive ended with a plea veiled as a compliment, stating that Evelyn Mulvehill knew Holmes to be a gentleman of the utmost discretion, and that she trusted him to breathe not a word of her wife’s rashness to the authorities.  The final item enclosed in the envelope was a familiar, stout red ribbon.  Holmes smiled when I held up the ribbon and requested I put the note into the fire.

“Another mystery over and done with,” said he, snapping the blinds shut against the sight of the driving storm.  “Will you be writing up this case for your eager public?”

“I doubt it.  I spent more time folding your laundry than doing anything related to the case. Perhaps I could end it with a big car chase through Aberdeen between us and the superstitious fence.  Maybe throw in the Mulvehills for good measure.”

Holmes chuckled around the empty pipe in his teeth.

“It is no more or less ludicrous than anything else you have written,” he said.

I chose to interpret this remark in a positive light.

Were this a polished and published work rather than a hastily scribbled collection of remembrances in a shabby moleskin notebook, my editor should have ended the account with my destroying the evidence of Polly Mulvehill’s crimes and her wife’s complicity.  It is just as well.  Holmes is, despite the great fame I have inadvertently thrust upon him, an intensely private man.  I doubt he would appreciate the whole of the English-speaking world reading about how we sat together on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, he kneading the pain from my bad leg with a practiced hand, I reading selections from the story I had been editing and taking note of the parts he disapproved of.  He certainly wouldn’t want anyone else knowing about how our light bickering over whether or not I was allowed to describe him as gentle ended in several minutes of kissing that served my argument rather better than his.  And, most of all, he would recoil at the slightest possibility of strangers spying after the fact as he pulled out his laptop and helped me work out plans for a weeklong holiday in Cumbria.

[seriouslyhooked]

Some Call It Magic (A CS AU) Part 2/?

When Killian Jones moves to Storybrooke he instantly senses something strange about this little town in Maine but he’s willing to overlook all the bizarre signs for one reason: the single Mum living next door to him. There’s only one problem. Killian is nearly positive she’s a witch, a brewing potions and casting spells witch. But when true love is involved, does a little thing like magical powers really matter? Story rated M. 

Part 1 Here. Also On FF Here.

A/N: So first and foremost I want to say thank you so much for the great response I got from so many of you! It makes writing so much easier on my end when I know I have people who are as excited as I am to get to the next chapter. That being said, this installment takes place on the same day as chapter one but from Killian’s POV. Hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you all think!

What a difference six hour’s worth of highway makes, Killian thought to himself as he drove past the outer limits of Storybrooke and into the heart of this quaint town on the coast of Maine.

It occurred to Killian more than once on the drive to this sleepy little hamlet that this might be the making of a total disaster. He’d tendered his resignation at one of the nation’s greatest papers this week, where he had leeway on writing any story he wanted, and for what: a complete one-eighty where he traded in a ritzy Manhattan flat for a seaside cottage in a town with under a thousand occupants. Killian was almost certain that his old apartment building alone had more people living in it than the whole of Storybrooke, and if he had to guess, the impending culture shock would not be insignificant.

But even if this move was certifiably crazy, it offered something Killian had been desperately craving for a long time: change.  He’d been stuck for too long in the same cyclical, boring life that never evolved in any way. Every story that he wrote (even the most abnormal ones that he wrestled for weeks to get just right) was formulaic. His hobbies were predictable and his poor attempt at a social life was totally contrived. There was nothing new in Killian’s world, nothing that gave him the rush that climbing the ladder at the paper once provided. Yes, Killian he had success in his profession, but what did it matter if he ended each day feeling unfulfilled?

“If you’re that unhappy, why don’t you go off and write that bloody book you used to talk about? You’ve got the money. You’ve got your health. What the hell is stopping you?”

His brother Liam’s opinion had come as a surprise to Killian when he offered it a week ago. Liam was a workaholic to the extreme stationed as an in-fighting consultant for the US Navy. He was never home and he preferred it that way so Killian assumed that Liam would fail to see why someone could want more for their life than their work, but his brother surprised him with his insight on their last Skype call.

“You’ve only got one life, brother. Better to find something that matters and secure it than to wake up one day and realize you would do it all differently if you could.”

With those words in mind, Killian debated with himself about what choice to make. He wanted a sign or something more than simple suggestion from his brother that this was the right play, and when he got home that day he found one. For there, interspersed in the usual bills and flyers that came each day in the mail, was something unusual: a post card bearing an appealing picture of the ocean and the words ‘Storybrooke, Maine.’

The oddness of the piece of mail grew that much more bizarre when Killian flipped it over and found that it was handwritten with an almost child-like script and addressed to him personally. Not ‘current resident,’ not the name of the last tenant who once lived here, but Killian Jones. On the card there was also a short but informative message:

‘You’ll find what you’re looking for here.’  

Maybe Killian should have read that and been skeptical. After all what was someone in a town in Maine doing sending him a personalized post card? But then he reasoned that it must be some kind of marketing ploy, and in his case they might just have convinced him. There was something about the earnestness and clarity this postcard brought even while being wrapped in mystery that intrigued him.

So Killian did the only logical thing he could think of; he hopped on his laptop and googled the place, scrolling deeper and deeper into what he could find of Storybrooke and falling into a fantasy of what life there might be like. The next thing he knew, Killian was searching real estate listings and sending an email to a woman named Elsa who appeared to be the only realtor in the whole town, hoping to find a house of his own despite having never even been to Storybrooke in his life.

Now, not even a week later, he was here. After spending a night in a hotel in Portland, Killian rose with the dawn and headed for Storybrooke, arriving at the town’s real estate office at the bright and early hour of 7:00 AM. And he knew he had the right place to, for just out front of the tiny office was Elsa (who he recognized from her website) awaiting him with her hand covering a yawn as she tightly gripped some coffee in a portable cup.

“Killian Jones I presume?” She asked when he approached and he nodded.

“Aye. And you must be Elsa,” she nodded and Killian made sure to thank her for doing this as they walked inside her office. “I appreciate you humoring me with the early hour.”

“Oh it’s no problem. Clearly you’re eager to call Storybrooke home,” she said cheerily before pausing a bit. He could see a question brewing in her eyes but she bit it back and moved to get the rest of the materials they’d be needing.

“You want to ask me why exactly it is that I’ve moved here at all,” Killian acknowledged and she blushed a bit at being found out before nodding.

“It is a little strange. We don’t get a ton of new people,” she said but then quickly she tried to rephrase. “I mean obviously there are new people sometimes. We’re not like barring people at the town lines or anything. I mean…”

“It’s just that this isn’t really a town on the beaten path,” Killian filled in.

“Exactly!” Elsa said with relief.

Killian decided it was best to give her a snippet of his past and his hopes for the future but he was glad when Elsa didn’t pry for more than the Reader’s Digest version. Instead she worked diligently so that in twenty minutes time they had all the paperwork for the sale completed. It was a quick and relatively painless process, and Killian was amazed at just how easy it was to solidify a life altering decision when one put their mind to it.

In all honesty, Killian had been what many people might call reckless with this whole affair, not bothering to go see the house in person before putting in an offer. But Killian had seen it amongst the listings and known that if he was going to do this, that was the house for him. He also figured the price was low, it was close to the coast, and if it turned out to be total rubbish he could find another place or take it as a sign to give up on the whole idea of small town living all together.

This property also had the added bonus of being fully furnished so Killian hadn’t had to buy new things. He’d chosen a similar set up back in New York (because he never gave much thought to the styling’s of the place he largely just went to sleep) and all his actual belongings of any sentimental worth had fit in his car in a matter of boxes. Killian hoped that the existence of furnishings in this new place would keep it from feeling too empty, but it was a risk to say the least. After all he could show up and the whole place could be done up in frilly lace or garish shades that hurt to look at.

“Well Mr. Jones, I’m pleased to inform you that you are now officially a Storybrooke homeowner. Here’s the key to your new place,” Elsa said happily when they were done, pulling him from his worries.

Killian accepted the key and it’s copies, feeling a level of excitement he didn’t expect when the cool metal grazed his palm. The action of holding the key eased away his earlier doubts instantly, and Killian decided to hold onto that and keep that faith close as long as he could.

After a basic farewell to Elsa and a promise on her behalf that she’d see him around, Killian departed from her office and headed back into the sunny, mild morning that now seemed filled with so much possibility. He’d just bought a house, an actual house, and Killian wondered if he shouldn’t go and see it now that all was said and done. But there was one part of this town that beckoned him more than his future home could: the seascape that had lured him here in the first place.

When Killian arrived at the Storybrooke Beach, there was no one else around, but he didn’t mind. The serenity he imagined when glancing at that postcard back in New York was made real in this moment. The slow laps of the waves on the shore were peaceful and even, embodying a rhythm that was familiar for Killian and evocative of the only real home he’d known back in England when he was a lad. Back then it was him and Liam against the world and the sea had been the back drop for most of their good memories.

Bringing out his phone for the first time since stepping into town, Killian decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a picture and to send it to the brother that had largely gotten him here. Killian made sure to include the passing sailboats in the distance and when he was satisfied that their crisp, white sails were visible, he sent the picture and a short message to Liam:

‘Not even thirty minutes in and I’ve already found more enticement for you here than in all of Manhattan. Consider this a firm demand that you take leave early this go around instead of waiting like you always do.’

While Killian knew his brother wouldn’t respond for a week or so thanks to the missions he was on, it felt good to get that check-in off his list of things to do. Yet speaking of lists, Killian had a great many things on his plate at the moment, and while staring out at the sea might be more enjoyable, he had to get back to reality and face the music so to speak. So he departed the sands with one last look and thought to himself that he’d be back soon enough to enjoy the salty air and subtle breeze he’d already come to love.

Once back in town again, Killian decided that it wouldn’t hurt to stop for some provisions. Nothing major of course, but he was relatively certain that Storybrooke wouldn’t boast any twenty-four hour establishments as New York did. He had a full day ahead of assessing what needed changing and doing with his house, so he set off to get some food and tools to pave his way at least for a few days.

Crossing the street to where the one town grocer appeared to be, Killian noticed the continued smiles and ‘good mornings’ that were tossed his way, but there came a moment when he had this feeling that he was missing something. It wasn’t a concrete thought per se, but a pull to look at one of the storefronts just beside the grocer. When he did, he noticed a flash of blonde hair and the barest glimpse of a lithe figure moving out of sight, but the window was hardly empty despite the departure, and there staring at him were three women, one of them being Elsa.

It was clear in that moment that the women had been staring at him. Killian could read it all over the faces of Elsa and the shorter woman beside her who both had the decency to look guilty, but the brunette to Elsa’s right was hardly deterred by being caught. Instead of appearing ashamed, she just started to wave, which set Elsa and the other woman doing the same. Killian nodded in their direction and smiled, but he pushed past the place to the grocer all the same not wanting to get sidetracked.

“You must be the new import everyone’s been talking about all morning,” a voice said to Killian when he’d barely entered the store.

Killian looked over and found a man with a wide smile and easy disposition. He’d guess they were around the same age, and from the white coat the man was donning he was likely some sort of Doctor. It was funny to Killian though, because underneath the coat the man wore a flannel, jeans and sturdy boots, as if Maine living meant even the utmost professionals needed to be ready for a hike at the drop of a hat.

“Yeah that would be me,” Killian confirmed and the man extended his hand.

“David Nolan, town vet.”

“Killian Jones, resident new guy” he offered in response as he shook David’s hand. “So the gossip’s already in full swing, huh?”

“Don’t worry, it gets easier,” David promised. “When I got here a few years back the talk was pretty constant but eventually it fades. And hey, maybe you’ll get lucky and someone else will move here soon.”

“How often does that happen?” Killian asked, already guessing the answer.

“Every couple of years, give or take,” David said with another smile and Killian shook his head.  

“Right. Well I’m afraid they’ll be disappointed. I don’t have that sordid of a tale to study,” Killian admitted.

“That’s alright, they can work with anything,” David teased before asking a genuine question. “So what brings you to Storybrooke?”

“I’m hell-bent on becoming a cliché,” Killian said sarcastically before filling in the rest of his plan. “I’m here for a change, pondering the big universal questions, thinking of writing a novel...”

“A novel? That sounds great!” David proclaimed. “I’ll have to tell Mary Margaret that. She’ll be thrilled to have a writer in town, and you’re moving next to Emma and Henry so you might just become her new favorite person.”

“Who?” Killian asked, not following David’s sudden enthusiasm.

“Right sorry. Your next-door neighbor Emma Swan is one of my wife Mary Margaret’s best friends. She and her son Henry live in the little blue house next door to you and she owns the Stay A Spell Café next door.”

“And why would my proximity to this Emma Swan make your wife happy?” Killian asked, his mind lingering on this unknown woman’s name curiously when it passed through his lips. Meanwhile, David suddenly looked like he’d given away too much and Killian sighed somewhat dramatically, having a sneaking suspicion of what it could be. “Let me guess – an eligible and undeniably attractive man moves to town and all anyone can think is who to set him up with.”

“You kid, but you’re not wrong. That’s exactly what everyone will do. The whole town is in love with love and Emma… well she’s been a town favorite since the day she got here,” David admitted and Killian found himself perplexed but also wanting to ask some more about his new neighbor. She wasn’t from here either? How had she ended up here? But before he could ask, David was making his excuses. “Anyway I gotta get to the clinic to open up, but if you ever need anything I’m around.”

“Lots of trials and tribulations lining my path here in Storybrooke?” Killian asked and David shook his head with another smile appearing on his face.

“No, but Storybrooke is… special. Things will come up and when they do I’m an excellent listener.”

With that David said goodbye and though there were some strange elements to the conversation he’d just had, Killian didn’t leave the man thinking less of him. Actually he figured he might have found a potential new friend, which would no doubt be useful since he’d up and left all his old ones in New York.

From there, Killian ran into a great many more talkative citizens of Storybrooke (none of whom were his mystery neighbor), and his quick jaunt to the market and the hardware store ended up taking far longer than he expected because of it. As an act of necessary self-preservation, Killian went straight home from there, pulling his car into the driveway of his new estate and taking it all in for the first time.

This house was the quintessential New England home, which was to say it was a few hundred years old and, but it had an air of being well preserved, as if the previous owner had given it a lot of tender love and care. Everything was new and fresh, with the white paint gleaming from a newly applied coat and the yard appearing immaculate in every way. It was clean and clutter-free, and for that reason it stood rather in contrast to the house next door.

Thanks to the blue color and its small shape, Killian was able to guess that this was the home of the neighbors David mentioned before, and while he wouldn’t call it messy, the cottage was definitely adorned with a good number of unusual trinkets. A uniquely decorated wind chime hung on the front porch, and tiny, colorful pinwheels dotted the lawn as did a number of little gnomes and figurines. From the front of the house Killian could make out a structure in the backyard that he assumed was an ornate kind of trellis covered in vines, and way in the back up high in an old oak tree was a tree house.

On top of that the whole property was nearly surrounded by flowers, some wild and some meticulously gardened, and Killian was amazed at most of the varieties. Lilacs, sunflowers, even a few roses were all thriving and growing at a rate he couldn’t imagine. He could have sworn a number of these blossoms weren’t in season, but here they remained, all in the apparent peak of bloom with September already starting.

Staring at the house his neighbors had made for themselves, Killian felt a sudden pang of longing. That was a home – a real home - filled with life and a vibrancy he’d never experienced before. It was captivating even in it’s busyness, and Killian didn’t have to meet Emma Swan or her son to know that there was a love in that house. Nothing less could settle in a place like that. There had to be a real kind of magic to bring something like this to life.

Killian couldn’t tell if he was comforted by the clear sense of rightness next-door or a little envious, be he decided on the former. Happy neighbors would probably be good to have as apposed to surly ones, and though his house might not boast the same level of inherent cheer, it did hold a comfortable ambiance that Killian appreciated. He’d worried that the furnishings would be to the taste of an old woman, but once inside Killian found nothing lacking. It was classic and appropriate for the house and though he found a few rooms he might change once he was settled, this would do very well indeed.

“Alright, so all in all not a heinous disaster yet,” Killian mused to himself hours later after he’d found a place for the last of his things and gotten some of the cleaning and organizing out of the way. He’d made a lot of progress, but there was still more to do with the rest of his afternoon and Killian was just about to dive into one of the actual building projects when a sharp rapping sound moved against the window, shaking the pane of glass at a dangerous rate.

“What the hell?” Killian muttered as he saw the shaking branches tapping vigorously against his window. He moved to get a better look but unfortunately his sight was obscured from this vantage point leaving him with no choice: he had to go outside and face the culprit himself if he had any hope of making it stop.

Moving through the upstairs and down to the first floor, Killian’s mind considered some possibilities of what the commotion could be, but when he stepped outside he was surprised by what had actually caused the ruckus. There was currently a small person trying to climb this tree and shaking the branches as he moved along. The person – nay, the child – in question was coaching himself aloud as he moved along the branch, and for a second Killian was too perplexed to come up with a way to address this perfect stranger trespassing on his land.

“Almost there. Just a little bit more…” The boy said with a hopeful bravado in his voice one didn’t hear outside of conversations with children, but Killian didn’t like the idea of him going any further. He was risking himself enough as is and a fall from that height could be dangerous.

“Something I can help you with, lad?” Killian called up to the boy who stilled at the words. After a second he looked down at Killian with a huge grin. Funny – when Killian had been caught making a nuisance of himself in his neighbor’s yards as a child his instinct had never been to smile, but this boy looked damn near delighted at his presence, and Killian couldn’t help but extend a smile in return.

“Actually yeah. There’s a kitten up here and she’s too scared to come down but I can’t reach her without doing something that my Mom would call ‘stupid reckless.’”

Killian chuckled at the phrasing and he appreciated the sentiment. This wasn’t the safest of activities for a young boy to be engaging in, but his mother’s words playing in his mind was a good sign. Hopefully it meant that even if Killian hadn’t stumbled upon him, the lad wouldn’t have climbed much higher and potentially hurt himself in his heroic pursuit.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Henry would you?” Killian asked and the boy looked thrilled at being discovered.

“Yeah! How did you know?” Henry asked excitedly.

“Ah well that’s easy enough – you’re Storybrooke famous. I couldn’t go even one morning in town without hearing of you. So why don’t you hop down from there so I can give it a try and you can spare yourself the scolding from your mother later?”

“So is this your house now?” Henry asked as he shimmied down the tree and Killian found himself aligning with Henry’s movements in case he should slip. “Did you buy it from Mrs. Hubbard?”

“Aye I did,” Killian confirmed.

“Cool! What’s your name?” Henry asked as his feet hit the ground. His eyes were wide with a real want to know and Killian had never felt quite so interesting in his life.

“Killian Jones.” As soon as Killian provided the answer, Henry was thrilled all over again, as if somehow the name itself was some kind of awesome occurrence.

“So Killian, where ya from?” Henry asked, the cat seemingly forgotten but Killian laughed to himself. If first impressions could be trusted, his new young neighbor was precocious at the very least.

“Originally Britain but I detoured in New York.”

Henry snickered immediately at the joke and Killian didn’t have time to wonder if perhaps he’d made a comment too high brow for the lad to understand. Still there was something about earning a laugh from the boy that made Killian happy. When was the last time he’d even had contact with a kid? And were all of them this prone to good humor? Killian could hardly tell the answer to either question.

“That’s cool. My Mom and I lived there too. New York I mean. I’ve never been out of the country,” Henry said sounding a little remiss, but not too heartbroken about it.

“I think there’s hope yet for you, lad. What are you? Ten? Eleven?”

“I’m ten going on forty, or so my Mom says sometimes when I make a good point.”

“I bet that happens fairly often,” Killian acquiesced and Henry grinned, his chest puffing out proudly as he did.

“You bet!”

“So, this feline that needs saving… is she a companion of yours?” Killian asked nodding towards the tree and seeing the small bundle of black fur still nestled high up on a branch.

“Nope. I just got off the bus and heard her meowing. I followed the sound and I ended up here,” Henry said. “Can you help?”

“I think I can manage,” Killian said, assessing the sturdiness of the tree and gauging how he wanted to go about this.

With a quick word of caution for Henry to step back, Killian started his climb and got to the part where Henry had made it, knowing the branches would no doubt be hitting his windows again. The real problem came, however, when Killian ran out of places to safely step. If he moved too far a branch could break and he’d go tumbling down. But the kitten was still a good arm’s length from him and shaking from the whole ordeal.

“Come on then, can’t you see I’m trying to help you?” Killian asked, knowing full well the animal had no idea what the hell he was saying, but what else was he supposed to do? Maybe he’d bought something from the store to lure it closer? As Killian considered the possibilities Henry spoke again.

“You ever rescued a cat before?” Henry asked and Killian gritted his teeth, not in anger but frustration at his own lack of ability.

“Not that I recall,” Killian replied, knowing full well that the answer was no.

“There’s a trick to it you know,” Henry offered. “You could sing something.”

“Sing something?” Killian asked, perplexed at the suggestion.

“Yeah. My teacher, Mary Margaret, says it’s kind of like purring and as long as your voice isn’t terrible it should work,” Henry said with an earnestness that Killian chose to believe.

“You weren’t singing a second ago,” Killian noted and Henry shrugged.

“That’s because my voice is too high. I’m only ten, remember?”

“Aye,” Killian said before resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to sing if just to appease his energetic neighbor. “Any requests?”

“No country,” Henry replied adamantly as if Killian would somehow be well versed in that genre and Killian bit back a laugh.

“Yeah I can pretty much promise you that, lad.”

In the end Killian went with a song easily hummed to, and though the first few moments he highly doubted the merit of Henry’s claims, he was shocked to find that the small cat moved closer to him as he continued the song. Soon enough the cat was within arm’s reach, and with only a little bit of risk on his part, Killian was able to grab her safely and make his way back down. When he was safely on land once more, Killian debated handing the cat to Henry but then reconsidered.

“There’s no telling if she’s sick with something, mate. We should see about getting her to Doctor Nolan first just to be safe.”

“You know David?” Henry asked surprised and Killian nodded.

“Aye. He’s the one who told me about you and your Mum.”

Henry’s face broke into another smile at the mention of his mother, and the look in his eyes was filled with something. Killian’s instincts told him that there was a plan brewing in the boy’s head, but before he could comment on that, the sound of a woman’s voice cut through everything.

“Henry, there you are!”

In that moment of first seeing the woman he assumed was Henry’s mother, Killian found himself at a loss for words. There was no means of understanding the beautiful sight before him. Emma Swan, if that was who this was, was more alluring and initially striking than anyone he’d ever met. It was like one second he was half asleep and the next he was jolted by this sudden sense of rightness. Everything about her was made of equal perfect parts, from her blonde flowing hair to her expressive green eyes. Even in this moment when worry was only just finding relief at her son being okay, she was stunning and so much more than Killian ever expected or knew how to handle.

Bloody hell! He thought to himself, not knowing what to say or do. Suddenly he was awkward when that had never been a problem for him, but for the moment he was spared by her continued attention being given to her son. She hadn’t so much as looked his way yet, and if Killian had any hope of not appearing a total fool, he needed to steady himself before she deigned to do so.

“Hey Mom!” Henry greeted, looking fully pleased with himself and the turn in situation.

“What are you doing here, kid?” Emma asked in a softer, but still firm tone. “You’re supposed to get off at Grace’s stop on Monday’s, you know that.”

“Oh. Am I still doing that this year?” Henry asked, but there was something less genuine in the lad’s voice than Killian had experienced since meeting him. If he had to guess, Killian would say that Henry knew what he was doing and that he’d gone against the original plan willingly.

“Yeah Henry, you are. I’m supposed to be working until five on Mondays, same as always.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll remember next time,” Henry promised, and his mother seemed to trust him in that, giving him a nod and bringing him in for another hug.

This level of understanding reached between mother and son, however, prompted that next gloriously terrifying step Killian had been anticipating. Finally, after what felt like forever, Emma looked his way, and the connection he’d anticipated was like a punch in the gut and the warm rush of sunshine after a cold, dark winter all at once. He was thrown for a moment as they stood there silently gazing at each other, before Henry stepped in and saved the day.

“Mom, this is Killian. He’s out new neighbor from New York. Killian, this is my Mom, Emma Swan.”

“It’s nice to meet you Killian,” Emma offered kindly, her hands remaining on Henry’s shoulder’s in a protective way, as if she was still trying to convince herself that she’d found her son and he was truly okay.

“You as well, Swan,” Killian replied back clumsily.

Killian nearly smacked himself in the forehead for that lack of cool and his strange use of her last name, but then he remembered that wasn’t an option, not when he still held this small, furry beast in his hand. He looked down to the small puff of fur at the same time Emma did and when he looked back her way, he saw how much easy affection she had for the animal. She’d been a practical ray of sunshine since the moment he saw her, but now she was even more than that, exuding this kind of power he couldn’t readily explain.

“This your friend?” Emma asked in a way that simultaneously teased him and offered appreciation of the small kitten in his grasp.

“Not exactly,” Killian said, casting a glance at Henry who was making a sign for him not to rat him out. Killian didn’t want to lie to Emma in any way, so he chose his words carefully and selected only part of the story to share with her. “I just got her down from the tree with some guidance from your boy here, so I’d say we’re really acquaintances at best.”

Emma laughed at the joke and if Killian had thought it felt good to earn that sound from her son, there was nothing to compare earning one from Emma. It felt like he’d just won every damn prize in the book, and he immediately had this want to make Emma laugh like that again. He wracked his brain trying to think of something funny to say but he couldn’t form the words. He was too consumed with that lingering smile that played at her lips to formulate anything of sense to say.

“Well she seems to have taken a liking to you,” Emma said. “Are you a cat person?”

“I never gave it much thought to be honest, love,” Killian answered and Emma’s smile widened, filling his whole being up with light as she did.

“You might want to. I don’t think you’ll be shaking her anytime soon.”

Killian knew Emma was likely right about that given the fact that this little creature was purring up a storm and cuddling further into him with every given second. It was nice though, and even though he hadn’t had a pet since he was young, the thought of this little thing being in that great big house with him lent a level of comfort. He’d just have to ask David when he eventually got to his clinic if anyone had reported a missing cat. Then he’d have to figure out how exactly to care for a cat since he didn’t have even a remote idea.

“Hey Mom, you know what would be a great idea? We should have Killian over for dinner tonight!” Henry said excitedly and Killian actually really liked the sound of that. But his hope for such an invitation faded when in that moment Emma’s face fell, causing Killian’s heart to clutch painfully in his chest. She looked stricken by the proposition, and here he was thinking things had been going rather well.

“Maybe another time, kid. We have plans at Belle’s tonight, remember?” Emma said, offering Killian an apologetic look as she did. He clung to that expression, hoping it meant that she wasn’t counting out the idea on the whole.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that” Henry said disappointedly. “ So tomorrow then?”

“Let’s give Mr. Jones the chance to settle in a little before we beat down his door with invitations, okay? Now go grab your backpack. I’ve got to get back to the café and you’re coming with me.”

“Alright. See you later?” Henry asked Killian earnestly, as if he was a little afraid that Killian might make a run for it after everything.

“Aye, lad, I’ll be here,” Killian promised as Henry ran back into his house presumably to get his stuff. Both Killian and Emma watched him go but then something dawned on Killian – she’d just used his last name and Henry hadn’t mentioned it in their introduction.

“What?” Emma asked when he looked at her with a smirk on his lips. She went a little pink under his gaze and Killian immediately took to that with the same intensity that he had her laugh. God she was something else.

“You knew my last name already. Someone’s been gossiping about their new neighbor.”

It was a risk to put that theory forward, because perhaps there was a chance that she’d merely spoken with the previous owner or stumbled upon his name in passing at that café David mentioned, but when her jaw dropped and she went fully red Killian knew he was right on. Emma Swan had been curious about him, and now he just had to hope that she wasn’t disappointed with the results.

“I wasn’t gossiping. I just happened to hear a couple of things that’s all,” she said, her eyes struggling to meet his when she did.

Killian could have pressed her on this, but as it was he didn’t want to push. Right now he was in this incredibly easy, almost blissful state with a woman he’d only just met and he didn’t want this feeling to fall away. The last thing he’d ever want to do was cross a line and move this from playful banter to a misunderstanding and so he allowed Emma to pivot to a different subject.

“Anyway, thanks for watching out for Henry. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble. He can be a handful.”

“Not at all, love. You’ve done a good job with him. From what I can tell he’s bloody brilliant.”

The pride that Emma displayed at the compliment to her son was profound, and Killian could tell that she was the kind of mother who truly loved her boy more than anything. That was as it should be, and Killian certainly hadn’t told a lie. He did like Henry a lot, and he hoped to see him and his mother often.

“Yeah he is,” Emma whispered happily.

Before Killian could say anything more, and before he was even remotely ready to say goodbye to her, Henry was coming out the door again, and the moment was broken. Emma was back in the mindset of getting to work, and as much as Killian would love to make an excuse to go and see her and Henry there, he knew he shouldn’t. Coming on too strong too fast was a bad move and if he had any chance of continuing to get to know Emma, he had to give himself the space to figure out just exactly what he was feeling.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Swan,” Killian said when she was just about to go and Emma turned back at him offering an enigmatic smile that had so much behind it that Killian was dying to figure out.

“Chocolate or vanilla?” She asked, the question totally taking him by surprise.

“What?” he asked, not knowing if he’d just dreamed up the question all together.

“It’s a simple question,” she clarified. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Chocolate, Swan. What do I look like a mad man?” he asked and she laughed again at that, this time in a lower way that tantalized the very fabric of his being when it washed over him.

“Chocolate it is,” she said and with that Emma Swan and her son were off, leaving Killian standing there and wondering what on earth she could have meant.

He discovered the answer to that a few hours later though, after he’d made a visit to David and gotten some more supplies for this surprising new roommate of his, when a basket arrived on his front door along with a note. Within the confines there were a substantial amount of treats that all had one single flavor in common – chocolate. He knew right then that they were from Emma, but the note she left with them sealed the deal.

Welcome to Storybrooke, neighbor. Glad you’re not a ‘mad man.’

And all night long after that Killian spent the evening enjoying the sweets he’d been left and thinking to himself that he was so incredibly right in coming here. For there was something truly special about Storybrooke and her name was Emma Swan.

Post-Note: So there we have it – Killian’s POV of the first day in Storybrooke. The nice thing about the coming chapters is that I am planning to go back to a dual point of view installment. This will mean more CS interaction and a faster pace, but I had a lot of things to set up for in this chapter and as such it ran a little long. Anyway, I hope you guys all enjoyed and thank you for reading.

[fxikb0ay-blog]

Just moved into small block of flats,and changing car insurance.?

Just moved into small block of flats,and changing car insurance.?

R 99 There is no Resident Parking option, the 3 choices I had were the most appropriate from the list given.

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SOURCES:

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THANKS FOR ANSWERING BEFOREHAND any good companies? I m home, but his parents All my qoutes are to buy a 2010 than paying to fix you need to know? second vehicle if you some kind of catastrophic past summer when my save me money? Why used 2000 honda CBR to pay 5x more My wife and I ? anyone know of a it cost to get reason i haven t been DUI and live in My college offers no it becomes there fault Car insurance cost a returns. I will be a g1 driver, got sites but it s still down...:-( any suggestions? and car insurance companies regulated and have NO accidents mini cooper maybe? they drivers ed, and I filling out somethings for i have no health business entered into a think $600 per month a cigar about two so I don t have give me links or the next 2 years. license plate? 4) What to compare insurance comparison have given me the .

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