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bitch-for-bo · 4 years ago

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"Worried I'll Replace You?", "No." (Ushijima Wakatoshi x chubby reader)

TAKES PLACE POST- TIMESKIP

Despite the fact that you and Ushijima have been dating for years, he still doesn't want to introduce you to the team. You find out that it isn't because he's embarrassed, it's for selfish reasons of his own.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY

When you had told Wakatoshi that you were going to be attending the Japan National team’s practice later that day, you didn’t expect him to react. Why would you? Toshi rarely reacted to anything you said in explicit ways, he was a stoic man. Sure, he was a stoic man that you happened to love, but a stoic man nonetheless.

You had been curling your hair in the bathroom mirror as Wakatoshi took his morning shower when you brought the fact that you’d be attending his practice up.

“I’m going to be there with Kuroo-san planning some advertising strategies.”

“Do you have to be with Kuroo?” Wakatoshi’s deep voice rumbled from behind the shower curtain.

“Why?” you asked, leaning against the counter and looking at the shower curtain through the mirror, seeing Toshi’s large outline through the light material.

“I don’t appreciate the way that Kuroo speaks to you. He isn’t your boyfriend, I am.” He replied before ducking his head beneath the showerhead to rinse the shampoo from his hair.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at Wakatoshi’s blunt statement. No matter how many times you told him that Kuroo was only kidding when he teased you, Toshi was still unnecessarily possessive of you.

Not that you minded. It was nice to feel protected by the powerful ace, even if that meant having to almost hold him back when he saw Kuroo playfully ‘flirting’ with you.

The shower turned off and the curtain was slung back, revealing a fully nude Wakatoshi. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist as your eyes followed him lustfully in the mirror, admiring how the beads of water ran down his broad, tanned back as the muscles flexed and relaxed with his movement.

“I also don’t want my teammates meeting you.” He said, walking up behind you beside you to the counter to continue his morning hygiene routine.

You scoffed lightly at that. You knew that his words held no ill intent or malice, but if Ushi would have said that sort of thing in public, and someone overheard the conversation, they would’ve thought that Ushijima was embarrassed by you. So much so that he didn’t want his team meeting you. Again, deep down you knew this wasn’t the case, but that didn’t stop the small ball of dread from making its way into your heart as you began to question if Toshi really was embarrassed by you. You knew that the only way to find out what he meant was to ask, or else you would be upset the rest of the day and lord only knows that Wakatoshi was too bad at verbal communication to ask you why you were mad at him.

“Why?” You teased, grinning at your boyfriend in the mirror despite the small pang of hurt in your chest. “Scared I’ll find someone more attractive to replace you with?”

“Why would a be scared of that? I am the most capable partner for you on the team.” He replied, turning to look at you in the eyes with an expression of slight confusion.

You couldn’t help but giggle at your big dumb boyfriend.

“Awful confident about that aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

You just laughed more, stepping towards him and craning your neck to place a small kiss on his jaw. It was mean to bully Toshi like that, especially since he took every word you said so literally, but it was too fun not to.

“How about this,” you offered, wrapping your arms around his bare hips and encouraging him to do the same to you, forming a loose hug between the two of you as you stood in the doorway of the bathroom. “I’ll go do my job with Kuroo, but you don’t have to tell the team I’m your girlfriend. We can both pretend we’re strangers.”

You weren’t gonna lie, you really wanted Wakatoshi to introduce you as his significant other to his friends, after all, you’d been dating for almost 5 years, but you understood that PDA made him uncomfortable so you could deal with your own butthurt feelings if it meant that he was more comfortable.

“Are you sure?” Wakatoshi asked, his eyes looking down at yours, seemingly into your soul.

“Yes.” You smiled, kissing his chin, “Who knows,” you added, “it might make for some hot foreplay too…”

Wakatoshi chuckled and kissed your forehead, letting his lips rest against the skin for a couple of seconds before pulling away and detaching the two of you from your ‘loose hug’.

“When do you have to go?” You asked, glancing at the bedside clock that read 5:50 AM.

“I have to be there by 6:30.” He responded. You groaned in reply, turning back to your own routine as he moved out of the bathroom to get dressed so he could go to practice.

You absolutely hated the days where Toshi had to go to practice early in the morning. He would wake up at almost 4 AM to go on his jog. And of course, being the huge oaf that he is, he’d always wake you up with him as he tried to maneuver his bulky frame out of bed. It wasn’t too much trouble though, because usually, you would just go back to sleep. The best part was when Ushijima got back from his jog and joined you in the shower for some pre-practice ‘endurance training’.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened today. You had to be a work kind of early too, so you had already taken your shower and done your makeup by the time Wakatoshi was back.

You were almost finished curling your hair when Wakatoshi came to wish you goodbye, wrapping his large arms around your waist as he pulled you into one of his kisses that never failed to take your breath away and leave you weak in the knees.

After he had gone, you finished getting ready in the bathroom and went to decide on something to wear.

You wanted to wear something nicer than usual to make a good impression on the team, even if Ushi wasn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend. It was rare for Wakatoshi to see you in your work clothes, so you also wanted to wear something that would get his attention, and if you were lucky occupy his mind all day until he could rush home and fuck you.

You settled on a black lace blouse tucked into a pair of red slacks. Kuroo had told you that the two of you would get ‘bonus points’ with the bosses if your clothes matched the team’s colors. Plus you knew that Wakatoshi loved the way that the outfit looked on you. The top displayed an appropriate yet sexy amount of skin with its black velvet bodice and long lace sleeves and the high waisted slacks hugged your curvy hips and made your ass and legs look amazing.

You looked in the mirror, admiring your ability to look professional and badass at the same time. If only your highschool self could see you now. Highschool You wouldn’t have been able to see the way that the outfit complemented your plush form. She would’ve been focused on the small yet noticeable bump of your stomach underneath the slacks, or the way that the light hit the stretch marks on your arms, making them visible despite being covered in black lace.

It had taken a long time to love yourself, you’d gone through the first twenty years of your life despising how you looked. Finally, you learned to accept who you were and with the help of your friends and family, you learned that you were worth more than what YOU saw in the mirror.

You remembered the first couple of times you went out with friends after gaining your confidence. They convinced you to accompany them to a small sports bar. You remembered that night fairly clearly, you had worn a flowy maroon blouse with a pair of high waisted black jeans and a pair of 3-inch nude heels. It was one of the first times that you had looked in the mirror and liked what you saw.

You and your friends drank and watched the games on the TVs that were situated around the bar, a different sport playing on almost every one of them. You remembered that you were attracted to a volleyball game that was one. You had played volleyball a lot with your brothers when you were young and over the years, the fondness towards the sport never died. You took a seat in front of the television, sitting next to a tall, slender red-head who was nursing what smelt like a vodka cherry limeade. Your eyes were fixed on the TV, smiling as the players volleyed back and forth, admiring the strength and power it must take to perform like that.

“It’s impressive isn’t it.” The redhead next to you spoke, looking at you with wide, analytic eyes. You nodded, your eyes barely leaving the screen to give him a quick ‘hello’ smile.

“You like volleyball?” You asked, giggling a little as the man tilted his head at you.

“I used to……” He said wistfully, taking a long sip of his limeade that he happened to be drinking through a straw. “I played in high school. I quit cuz I knew that I’d never be serious enough to play like them.” He waved towards the players on the TV before continuing, “My buddy is still obsessed with it though. He’s in the bathroom right now.”

You nodded, you weren’t sure why the stranger was telling you so much, you figured that it was kind of due to the alcohol so you let him speak, plus you were enjoying the conversation.

“That’s cool.” You smiled, bringing your own drinks up to your lips as the two of you continued to watch the game in silence for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, he looked over.

“Listen,” He said, “my friend that I mentioned, the one in the bathroom…”

You nodded.

“He’s had his eyes on you the whole night.”

As soon as he said those words, your face lit up with the biggest blush you had ever had. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ before opening and closing like a fish. No one had ever looked, let alone stared! at you (to your knowledge). You had no idea how to react seeing as this was your first time anyone was so brash with you.

“I-I’m sorry- are you sure that it’s me and not one of my friends?” You asked, still in disbelief that anyone could find you attractive enough to stare.

“Of course I’m sure!” the redhead confirmed, his eyes scrunching as he looked back at you in just as much confusion as you looked at him.

He wondered if you were completely oblivious to all of the attention you’d been getting from the inhabitants of the bar. You looked gorgeous with your long legs, your thick thighs…..hell he would’ve approached you if it hadn’t been for his best friend expressing his interest in you first.

“It’s actually kind of a miracle that you sat here.” The redhead continued, “Wakatoshi isn’t very good at talking to people. Unless it’s about volleyball, which you also like!”

The blush on your face was unrelenting at the thought of a guy approaching you. A guy that you didn’t even know if they really existed. This guy you were talking to might have been a complete crazy who had gotten a little too much to drink.

“Well, I-” You started, only to be interrupted by possibly the deepest voice you’d ever heard, coming from behind you.

“Tendou, who is this in my seat?”

That’s how it all started. In those first couple of minutes, you were terrified of Ushijima. His face was so serious. Handsome, yes, but also very serious. Tendou had acted as a buffer that first night, giving you a smooth transition and kind of teaching you how to talk to Wakatoshi.

Over the next couple of months, you and Ushijima went on dates. Every week on Friday. He would pick you up at 7 pm sharp without fail. He never talked much, he much preferred to listen to you, always watching your face closely as you spoke. He made you feel safe and listened to and before long, five years had passed and the two of you were living in domestic bliss.

The sound of the phone broke you out of your little daydream, Kuroo’s caller ID flashing across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Where are you, Kitten? I’m at the gym. I see your super ace boyfriend here, but not you.”

“I’m coming” you replied, pulling a pair of black block heels on as you walked out the front door, “Also, I promised Wakatoshi that no one would tell the team that I’m his girlfriend so please behave!”

**********************

“Waaaah?? Girlfriend??” Hinata Shoyou exclaimed, leaning closer towards Bokuto who had just gathered the team while Ushijima was in the bathroom to tell them all what he had overheard from Kuroo’s phone call.

“She’ll be here today!” The owl-like hitter whisper shouted, excitement practically seeping out of his pores.

“I can’t believe Mr. Stone Solid has a girlfriend and I don’t” Miya Atsumu groaned, hiding his face in shame. As the team started to speculate about what she would look like.

“I bet she’s really pretty”

“Dumbass Hinata! Of course, she’ll be pretty! Why would Ushijima date her if she wasn’t!!” “The real question is, why would she choose Mr. no-emotion. He has the emotional range of a crayon!”

They all nodded at Atsusmu’s statement, even Iwaizumi, and Aran, who had been silent in the conversation regarding Ushiwaka’s mystery girl.

They all flinched at the sound of the gym door opening and sprang away from the huddle as they heard Ushijima coming into the gym. They all had quickly gone back to practicing as if they hadn’t just been gossiping like middle schoolers, and Ushijima being the oblivious idiot that he is, noticed nothing as he picked up a volleyball, wondering when his girlfriend would be arriving with her work partner.

Not even ten minutes later the gym doors opened again and in walked the coach, Kuroo, and you.

“Holy shit!” Atsumu whispered to Hinata, imaginary blood bursting out of his nose as he took in your figure.

The team was enraptured with you from the start, even Kageyama had stopped setting to look at you. They couldn’t stop looking at you, eyes drinking you in disbelief as to why you were with someone with Ushijima. And while you didn’t notice all of the male attention since you were currently talking to Kuroo and the coach, Wakatoshi did and a mix of possessiveness and jealousy burst into his chest.

His eyes roamed your body, fists clenching at how devilishly perfect you looked in your outfit. And even though Ushijima wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, he could figure out that you’d worn the outfit just to make him feel like this.

He looked across the faces of his teammates, even the athletic trainer’s eyes were on your body as you made your way towards the court, your heels clicking lightly on the glossy wooden floor.

No one was really listening to the coach’s words as he introduced you and Kuroo to the team. They hadn’t even heard the coach ask them to introduce themselves until Ushijima began to speak.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He said, shaking Kuroo’s outstretched hand and then yours, staring deep into your eyes.

‘Just wait till tonight’ his dark eyes read, making something in you keen in arousal.

“Well you all know me, this is my associate, Y/N,” Kuroo said, causing you to break Wakatoshi’s gaze. It jarred the others out of their dazes as well.

“Hello.” You said brightly, smiling. You and Kuroo then went down the line of them, shaking all of their hands and learning their names.

“Are you a model?” Hinata asked, his eyes wide as you towered over him in your heels. You almost looked like a goddess to the short spiker.

“No, but thank you Hinata.” You laughed, shaking his hand gently. You shook your head in amusement and moved to the man standing next to him. A dark-haired man with a blush dancing across his cheeks and his mouth turned down in an attempted frown.

“Y-you are tall,” Kageyama mumbled, holding out his hand to shake. You merely nodded and responded with an ‘it’s mostly the heels. It’s nice to meet you’

You continued to greet them one by one, feeling extremely awkward as they one by one stumbled over introducing themselves. You wondered what was wrong with them, painfully ignorant of the fact that they were all in awe of you.

‘I kind of see why he didn’t want me meeting them’ you thought.

“Aright!” Kuroo exclaimed as soon as the two of you had given all of them handshakes and introductions were finished. “Y/N and I will just be casually monitoring the practice and thinking of advertising strategies. Anything to add?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Sorry for the intrusion!” You said, smiling at all of them once again, “Please play like normal and do your best!”

Ushijima scowled, he could pretty much hear all of his teammates’ brains exploding.

***************

It was a long but successful day, you thought, sliding your key into the front door of your apartment. Wakatoshi was home, the team was let out at 2:30 but you and Kuroo had headed back to the office for a couple of more hours before you came home.

“Toshi?” you called out into the seemingly empty apartment. There was no smell of dinner being cooked or sounds of the shower or sink running. You wondered where he had gone. Tendou wasn’t back in town, so unless Ushijima was out with the team you hadn’t the slightest idea where he was.

You flicked on the lights.

“AHH!” You screamed, hurling your messenger bag at the figure sitting in your living room. Your hands coming up to search for something else to protect yourself with. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you sighed. “Wakatoshi what the fuck? You scared me!”

Wakatoshi said nothing, a frown painting his face while his eyebrows were angrily scrunched towards the midline of his face.

“Toshi?”

“That is why I didn’t want you to meet my team,” he said, taking you completely by surprise.

“What?” you asked, confusion prominent on your face.

“I didn’t want them looking at you like that. You’re mine.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah. Toshi, they were just being nice to me. That’s all” you replied sweetly. A small smile worming its way onto your face at your boyfriend’s childish jealousy.

“You are mine.” He repeated, a bit more assertively this time, getting up and walking towards you.

“I know Toshi.” You whispered soothingly, your arms opening up and accepting his huge form into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your perfume as he sighed in content at your affection.

“I felt jealous as they looked at you. Why did you wear those clothes?”

“I wore them for you Toshi…” You whispered in his ear.

“Oh. I see.” He said, his hands slowly beginning to draw firm circles in your lower back.

“Why were you jealous Toshi?” You whispered sweetly, you couldn’t stop the sly smile from gracing your face. As mean as it was, you loved it when Wakatoshi got all possessive like this.

“They looked at you.”

“People are allowed to look at me Toshi, how would they talk to me if they weren’t?”

“They’re not allowed to look at you the way they did. Only I can. Only I own you.”

You felt your stomach twist with arousal at Toshi’s deep voice, whispering into your neck. You knew that he didn’t realize the effect that he had on you when he talked like that, but you couldn’t help the want from building in your core as your thighs pressed together.

“Show me Toshi.” You breathed out, your arms tightly wrapping around his neck, pulling his face even closer to your body, “Show me you own me.” Wakatoshi obliged, groaning lowly as his mouth began pressing bruising kisses to your neck. You tilted your head back, giving his rough lips wider access as you let him guide you into the bedroom, pressing you up against a wall.

His hands were gripping your soft hips, pulling you closer to him as his hips rolled against you. You could feel the hard outline of his cock through the thin sweatpants he had on, making your mouth water.

“Shit Toshi…” you moaned, your arms trying desperately to pull his body against you. You reached down between the two of you to feel him through his sweats. As you pressed your palm to it, his hands came down and caught both of your wrists before bringing them above your head.

“Did I say you could touch me?” He growled, his tone changing from the usually even, calm tone, to one of domination.

“Please Toshi….” You keened, a light whine of frustration slipping out of your lips.

Wakastoshi didn’t move, his eyes roaming down your body, taking in your heaving chest practically begging to be bitten and sucked, your thighs pressed together around his muscular leg that had forced its way between your soft ones. He couldn’t’ stop the surge of incredible pride that swelled in his chest as he looked down at you, hunger evident in his eyes. Your pupils were wide and blown out, lips parted and gasping for breath.

‘All mine’ he thought, slowly and firmly taking your mouth with his, demanding that you submit to him. He loved how pliant and submissive your body was beneath him. He loved how you trusted him with your pleasure. He knew he wouldn’t disappoint.

“Fuck!” you gasped as he pulled off of you, allowing your lungs to breathe in deeply, relishing at the feeling of air. Your panties were sopping wet, and you were afraid that if you didn’t take them off soon, your slacks would be in the same boat.

“Please……” You begged, your hips bucking pitifully against Wakatoshi’s firm grip. You needed relief, your brain was beyond clouded with want and the only end in sight was Wakatoshi fucking you hard and deep against the wall.

“What do you want Love?” He asked, his baritone voice invading your brain, making you involuntarily arch your back towards him, a breathy plea slipping from your lips.

“Fuck me Toshi…”

Without a word, Wakatoshi tore your blouse down the front. A small surprised shriek leaving your mouth.

“Toshi! Yo-”

“I will buy you a new one. Their filthy eyes ruined this one.” He growled before reaching down and doing the same to your slacks. You couldn’t even be mad at the incredibly hot strength of your boyfriend. Your shredded clothing fell to the floor as the super ace yanked down your soaked panties, his fingers sliding through the wet folds as he groaned softly against your ear.

“Open your legs.” He commanded, gently yet firmly grasping your thighs as he guided them apart. His fingers glided over the outside of your pussy, dipping in and pressing against your clit while his other hand fondled your breasts, pinching at the nipples.

“Toshi….” you whimpered, yearning for the feeling of his thick fingers inside of you and his mouth on your chest. He seemingly understood your pleas as his fingers slowly thrust into you, stretching you out with two straight of the bat.

“Fuck!” you squeaked, not expecting the brutally fast pace that followed.

“I will not be gentle tonight. When you see the team tomorrow, they will know you belong to me.” He growled, mercilessly finger fucking you with two fingers, using a third to draw small circles around your clit.

You were gasping for air as your head tossed back against the wall. There were no words to express how you felt, even if there were you wouldn’t be able to say them with how Wakatoshi was fucking every breath out of your body.

He didn’t let up, not until you were almost to climax, your nails digging into the meat of his bare shoulders. One of your legs was wrapped around his waist as three of his fingers pressed in and out of your g-spot at lightning speed. You could feel both of your thighs shaking under your body weight, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold your one thigh up around him.

“Wakatoshi....please….” you cried, raking your fingers down his shoulder blades, reveling in the way that they flexed against your grip. “I’m so close!”

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” he asked, taking his fingers out of you and turning you around before pushing your top half down against your vanity in the corner of the room. You could feel your dripping pussy exposed at a new angle as Wakatoshi quickly kicked off his own pants, stroking his thick cock in his hand before stepping up behind you and rubbing it against your slit, wetting it with your juices.

“Yes, please!. Pleasepleaseplease!” you babbled, the feeling of the head of his cock rubbing up and down your pussy becoming too much to bear.

With a single thrust, Wakatoshi was completely inside of you, ripping a scream from your lungs as his cock split you in half. Usually, he took his time, but you could tell that tonight he wanted to show you that you truly belonged to him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, thrusting his hips into you at an intermediate pace. He wanted to teach you who you belonged to, but he didn’t want to hospitalize you by going full speed right away.

“Mmmm….” you moaned, “love the feeling of your cock baby.” you tried to bring your hips back to meet his thrusts but were immediately stopped by his big hands pressing them into the wood of the vanity.

He continued his onslaught, snapping his hips and thrusting in and out of you, quickly building up to a seemingly inhuman pace. He wove his finger through your hair and pulled your head up to look at him through the mirror of the vanity.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He demanded. You opened your mouth in a silent moan as your eyes were met with the sight of him fucking you into the piece of furniture. Your face was red with exertion, your hair sticking with sweat. It wasn’t a superficially erotic sight (at least in your opinion) but the fucked out expression on your face was a dead give-away of how badly you enjoyed Wakatoshi dominating you like this.

Wakatoshi groaned, the feeling of his cock pushing in and out of your tight hole as he brutally fucked you was glorious. His eyes never left your form in the mirror as he stared at the way your pretty tits and stomach bounced with each push of his hips.

Fucking you in the mirror was his favorite was to take you, the ability to watch your face, your tits/stomach, and your ass/thighs all at the same time was quite possibly his favorite thing in the world. He felt himself getting close as his eyes continued to watch your blissed-out face through the glass.

One of his hands reached down and his fingers began to circle your clit again, making your eyes, that you hadn’t even realized were closed, spring open and another cry slip from your lips.

“Ooooooh…. Toshi…:” you panted. “I’m close…”

“Tell me who you belong to.” He growled, his free hand coming up and wrapping around your neck as his lips pressed against your rapid pulse. You could feel yourself beginning to lose yourself, you were so close to orgasm that tears began to run down your face.

“You! Toshi- only you!”

“Are you sure?” he asked meanly, flicking his thumb out maliciously over the oversensitive bud of your clit.

“F-fuck YES! Fuck yes Toshi….. p-please....let me cum!”

“Cum.”

Your body began to practically convulse as your orgasm ripped through your body, leaving your vision white as you shook with pleasure, you could feel yourself clenching around Wakatoshi’s cock as he moaned deeply and began to cum inside of you, letting himself be milked by your walls.

You cried as you came down from your high, your legs feeling like jelly as Ushijima’s strong arms wrapped around your body, supporting you and making sure you didn’t drop to the floor from exhaustion.

He gently pulled out of you and carried you to the bathroom. He set you down on the counter as he went to turn on the shower, the sight of his broad back covered in scratch marks making you bask in the glow of your orgasm even more.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked guiltily, concerned eyes sweeping your body worriedly. You let out a half giggle/ half hiccup and shook your head.

“I love you Toshi.” You whispered, opening your arms so he could pick you up and carry you to the shower with him, which he contently did, his thick biceps flexing against your back as he held your body against him under the hot stream of water.

“I love you too. You are mine.” He said as he lathered shampoo into your hair. You smiled, shivering at the feeling of his fingers against your scalp and his words of love in your mind.

“I’m yours.” You said sweetly, before turning in his grasp to return the favor.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuuxreader #haikyuu 18+#ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima

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phoenixradiant · 7 months ago

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Who's perspective are you describing it from?

Disclaimer: I can tell you how to describe it, but I don't know if I can keep it from sounding weird. Muscle is just one of those things that's inherently impressive.

If you're describing it from the perspective of another dude:

The first thing we notice (not always but usually) is "could we take him in a fight". We think this even if we have no reason to believe we'd ever have to. I personally believe this is because guys naturally find fighting fun, unless there's bigger stakes involved, but I digress. How good someone appears in a fight is a function of three things, in order of decreasing importance: Carriage. Someone who carries themselves well and only has moderate muscle will look more imposing than a guy with a slouch who's jacked. Build. Height and bone structure. Different builds are good at different types of fighting. As a tall, thin guy, I'm not as naturally good at grappling as shorter or heavier guys, but I have reach and I've learned to block in a way that turns my boniness to my advantage. Muscle. Finally, a guy who's just jacked is probably halfway decent in a fight. To get big you need discipline, pain tolerance, and strength, all things that'll help a guy out if it comes down to it.

A lot of the time, the "fight" evaluation is conscious, but about half the time we don't consciously think that, we just evaluate them and sort them automatically. The way we measure muscle is roughly as follows: Shoulders. You can get big arms and chest and legs just by eating right, provided you have a good build for it (Not everyone has that good build, I don't, but some people do and they can get big), but while broad shoulders can come from build, muscular shoulders only come from training. A guy with broad, muscular shoulders is a guy who elicits respect. A good set of shoulders is hard to miss. Arms. It looks a little weird if your arms are significantly smaller than your shoulders. Not super off-putting, just a little odd. Good shoulders accompanied by arms that agree gives you a decent amount of credibility. Now there's people on the internet who say that the third thing we look at is the pecs. I don't find this to be the case, personally, but the internet says I'm wrong, so take what I'm about to say with a Carthaginian level of salt. Next I look for lats and other back muscles. Now this is a bit harder because if you have wide shoulders and are careful how you dress, most people can't tell if you don't have lats. That's part of what makes shoulders so important, it brings everything together even if there's stuff missing. But the back is the next thing I judge by, because in my experience, the back provides more practical strength than the chest, and the chest isn't crucial to a complete look.

You'll notice I've mostly told you methods of analysis rather than giving descriptions. That's because this is an analytical process. Unless we have delusions of grandeur, this measurement is pretty objective, and the least dispassionate we get is something along the lines of "Hey, that's pretty nice!" If some guy is absolutely ripped.

If you're describing it from the perspective of a lady I have no idea how to help you.

If someone is describing themselves:

Most people don't spend excessive amounts of time staring at their own bodies. Most people won't describe how they look. If you're writing first person or third person limited, describe how it feels, the burn, the almost euphoric sense of acceleration and action. If you really want to describe how muscle looks, describe what it does. Muscles bulge when being used, they band together into cords when stretched, they squish like those rubber stress balls when contracted.

...

But I don't know, maybe that's all just me.

AAAAHHHH I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE MUSCLE ON A MAN WITHOUT IT SOUNDING WEIRDDDD

Help me pleaseeeeee

@supersoakerfullofblood @phoenixradiant @willtheweaver

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whentherewerebicycles · 4 years ago

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some thoughts that might seem unrelated but aren’t, i promise:

— in that atomic habits book I read a couple weeks back the author talks about using a specific, action-oriented question repeated throughout the day to help you build or break habits (like “what would a physically fit person do?” or “what would a sober person do?”).

— the aging books i was reading last month noted that people who score high in conscientiousness (on the Big Five personality traits) tend to age most successfully ie enjoy the longest stretch of active years. to quote this article, conscientiousness is “a fundamental personality trait—one of the Big Five—that reflects the tendency to be responsible, organized, hard-working, goal-directed, and to adhere to norms and rules...Conscientiousness comprises self-control, industriousness, responsibility, and reliability. A conscientious person is good at self-regulation and impulse control. This trait influences whether you will set and keep long-range goals, deliberate over choices, behave cautiously or impulsively, and take obligations to others seriously.” I tend to score very high in openness but very, very low in conscientiousness. more on this in a bit...

— my sister and i were talking recently about different kinds of intelligence, and also about core values. one of hers is efficiency, a word that i have all kinds of negative associations with lol but that she explained in ways i found really intriguing. for her efficiency isn’t about, like, Maximizing Productivity for Capitalism but is about methodically searching for the most effective, least confusing or redundant, most easily-communicable-to-others way to solve complex problems. when she encounters a system that has all kinds of weird bottlenecks or inefficient, time-consuming ways of completing a task (esp if the rationale for those methods is just “well.. that’s how we’ve always done it”), she starts immediately examining the larger structures and workflows around those bottlenecks to see if the established ways of doing things can be rerouted or simplified, and then she constructs new protocols or tools for people to use instead of the old inefficient way of working. efficiency will never be a core value of mine, in part because i think my humanities-oriented brain accords more value than her STEM/medicine-oriented brain does to wandering, daydreaming, slowed-down thinking, doubling-back or retracing one’s steps, and other “inefficient” modes of thinking that slow down the process but can lead you in unexpected directions or spark unanticipated epiphanies that illuminate the larger structures differently. i think we both share a keen interest in systems-level thinking and in examining whether established ways of doing things are the most effective ways of doing things, but we prioritize different modes of thinking and problem-solving in figuring out how to alter or redesign those larger systems (which is probably a result of temperament differences + our field-specific training).

THAT SAID, i have been thinking a lot about how one area of my own intelligence i would like to sharpen/hone in both my professional and personal life is like... a mode of intelligence that is linked to rigor, a more methodical approach to problem-solving, and the ability to construct & more methodically test detailed mental schemas. not quite sure how to articulate that but i feel like my thinking has gotten a little fuzzier than i want it to. and I think maybe this sensed fuzziness in thinking is linked to some of my ongoing feelings of restless discontent re: work. I also just in general want to be more conscientious in how I approach and solve problems, or in how I tackle big and small projects.

— this is more tangentially connected but: i feel like one thing i’ve noticed this year is that a lot of the people i admire professionally are really good at seeking out & taking on lots and lots of additional challenges or commitments, and they can do this in part because they tend to be very conscientious people, ie people who have big-picture vision but are also very detail-oriented and good at managing their time effectively & doing things efficiently so they can take on multiple projects without feeling overwhelmed. i feel like my own low-conscientiousness means that i can’t take full advantage of my high-openness—often i want to take on new projects or challenges but i worry that i’ll overextend myself or that the project will become more time-consuming than i anticipate. i think is linked to a different sort of fuzziness, ie a lack of clarity about how long things take or how much time i have — all combined with a deeply ingrained sense of myself as someone with executive dysfunction issues (poor time management, poor planning skills, poor organizational abilities, etc.). i think of myself as a very inefficient and extraordinarily disorganized person, whether this is 100% accurate or not, and that can sometimes lead to me taking myself out of the running for opportunities or limiting the number of projects i take on out of a fear that i won’t be disciplined enough to see them through.

— another thing my sister and i were talking about recently is how within large families, siblings tend to get assigned a “role” or a personality within the family dynamic very early on, and then they get sort of locked into that over time. everyone in the family expects them to always behave in that way, and there’s often a lot of unconscious resistance to letting your family members change or grow or develop in ways that contradict the clearly defined family role that’s been assigned to them, or the family “story” that everyone else in the family tells about them. you can get locked into both positive and negative roles—or like, often the positive role has a negative flipside. we were talking about how within our family, i’ve been “assigned” to be the “deep thinker” ie the introspective one who spends my life writing and thinking and daydreaming, whereas my sister has been assigned the role of being most like my father, ie very methodical, analytical, unemotional, and action-oriented (and therefore not introspective or inward-looking). and we were talking about how both of these have a negative flipside: my sister feels like she doesn’t get to be a “deep thinker,” or an introspective, emotionally intelligent person; whereas i feel like in my family’s story for me i am forever in “lalaland,” as my mom always says—head in the clouds, an ineffectual dreamer, the absentminded professor who has lots of big thoughts and feelings but is incapable of bringing any of my fantastical ideas to fruition because i have very little practical knowledge or stick-to-itiveness.

— as i’ve said many times before, i feel like i can’t solve the big-picture issues with my job right now, since so many of them are linked to shitty pandemic realities. but i was thinking that maybe one way to begin laying the groundwork for this final year in my job might be to work on strengthening my conscientiousness at the micro-level, ie in small everyday habits and interactions. my hope is that maybe by practicing conscientiousness in lots of small, low-stakes situations, i can start strengthening those muscles and building trust in myself as “the kind of person who does ____” (which i feel like is necessary for me to begin challenging the family story i’ve internalized what i am like). i mean, there is a lot of truth to that family story! but i bet that those aspects of my personality are nowhere near as inflexible or as like, divinely preordained as i have often assumed they are. like, i bet that through practice & through building better habits i can actually become significantly more conscientiousness (reliable, responsible, hardworking, efficient, good at follow-through, self-disciplined, etc) than i am now. and while efficiency may never be as central a value for me as it is for my sister, i think there is probably a way for me to see efficiency and conscientiousness as linked to my own core values, if only because those qualities or traits will allow me to better enact/embody my core values. so i think i can see it not as working against the grain of my personality, but as working to build out less-developed parts of my personality to strengthen the parts of my character that i value most.

— anyway this is all to say that for the last week i’ve been asking myself aloud “what would a conscientious person do?” multiple times a day, really any time i find myself at a small crossroads where i have to make a small decision. do i pick up that piece of cardboard and put it in the recycling bin now or leave it till later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i return that call from the plumber now or put it off until later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i take two minutes to pay that $4 toll bill now or put it on the giant stack of “tasks i will definitely deal with when i’m in the mood to deal with them,” where it will inevitably become a $25 and then $50 bill because i forgot about it and now have to pay late fees? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i comment on that student’s draft now when i’d rather be on the couch scrolling through social media? (i could probably do it tomorrow, when i have another block of free time, but what would a conscientious person do?) i have no idea if it will work in the long term!! but it’s been an intriguing experiment so far, mostly because i think it is teaching me that many of the tasks i build up in my head as incredibly time-consuming are actually quite quick, and once you finish them you also free up all the mental energy you were putting into procrastinating on them, and are better able to move onto the next thing. i also feel like it is teaching me that uhh maybe a conscientious person is not like, a completely different species of human being, but just a person who has different habits or patterns of response to daily choices than i do. that feels important too: if we are what we repeatedly or habitually do, then changing what i habitually do can probably change the kind of person i am! i’m finding that there’s something very useful about the simplicity of the question, too. deliberately posing the question to myself interrupts my habitual, unconscious response (which is always some version of “i don’t have the energy to deal with that / don’t want to expend that energy right now -- i’ll put it off till later”) -- it requires me to stop and focus my attention on the present situation instead of sliding right past it without thinking about it. and there’s also something quite satisfying about framing it as a choice or a decision: i get to choose what to do, ie i get to exercise agency, and exercising agency makes your brain feel happy (we like to feel in control! we like making choices!). so throughout the day i get to experience lots of little bursts of whatever gets released in the brain when you make a decision and immediately follow through with it, and i think/hope that this kind of positive reinforcement is helping to strengthen those circuits and lay down the groundwork for new patterns of habitual response.

those are some thoughts this morning!! now i am going to allow myself a few minutes of sloth lol and then i’ll get up and exercise.

#mw #thinking aloud #long post

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mrsluttystark · 4 years ago

Text

Repeat After Me Part 2

Part 1

You guys have no idea how much it meant to me that part 1 was so well received. Thank you from the bottom of my little starker heart!

Tags: nff, age difference, former teacher/student, mention of daddy kink, mention of choking

Word count: 3.1k

Read below the cut

Peter wakes up five minutes before his alarm, like he always does. He absolutely hates the shrill screech of it. His bed creaks and groans as he sits up and swings his legs over the side. Suddenly, the springs that had previously been holding him up collapse under him, making him yelp in surprise. Peter made a mental note that maybe it was time for a new bed, he’d been holding on to the rickety twin mattress he had all his childhood since it was the only thing he had left from May’s.

He usually went into the lab on Saturdays, even though he was supposed to be off during the weekend. It’s not like he has plans or anything, but he guesses he could shift his schedule around a little to go mattress shopping.

His arm darts out like clockwork and taps his screen to turn the alarm off before his phone could utter the first mind melting ring. Peter runs a hand through his hair to brush some stray curls out of his face and stretches before getting out of bed to do his morning routine.

It’s not until Peter sits down at his two-seater dining table with a bowl of captain crunch berries, two pieces of toast, and a cup of earl gray tea, does he finally check his phone.

The spoon is barely out of his mouth when he sees the notifications. Eyes wide, he chokes on the cereal trying to force its half chewed self down his throat. He can taste the oat milk is his nose and it is not good.

Mr. Stark accepted his friend request and messaged him? Peter looked around his apartment, skeptical. Was he dreaming? Was this one of those life-like dreams where he gets ready for the day then wakes up and has to do it all over again? He looked down at his arm, should he pinch himself? No, Peter, that’s stupid.

He shook his head and looked at his phone again, opening the Messenger app.

Hey, Kid.

Shit, he was toast. Collecting himself, Peter took a deep breath to prepare himself for a conversation with his former high school teacher (that he may or may not want to fuck him senseless and cuddle afterward). He racked his brain thinking about how to approach this. Should he be bold?

Hi, Daddy. Please cum down my throat? Yeah...that might be too bold.

Hello, Mr. Stark. I humbly thank you for accepting my friend request. Ugh, too weird.

He’s overthinking it, he knows. Peter types out and deletes maybe five more messages before he finally settles on:

09:10 am

Hi, Mr. Stark. It’s Peter.

09:11 am

Parker.

Peter threw his phone down on the table and put his head in his hands, bowl of cereal soggy and forgotten. He made a face at it and pushed the bowl away, pulling his toast closer. He took bites of a slice distractedly and washed it down with some tea. He’d regret not eating a proper breakfast later, but right now his appetite was replaced with a turning feeling that he couldn’t quite place. His phone vibrates on the table, startling him from his thoughts.

From Tony Stark 09:22 am

Yeah, Peter. I did read your name on your profile.

09:23 am

Right. Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:23 am

Don’t worry about it, Kid. Just pokin’ fun.

09:24 am

(sweating emoji)

Thanks for accepting my friend request btw, Mr. Stark.

From Tony Stark 09:26 am

No big deal, thanks for the request, it’s been a while.

And Tony is fine, you’re not my student anymore, Pete.

09:26 am

Yeah, okay. Tony. I can do that

So you remember me?

From Tony Stark 09:27 am

I remember all my students

09:27 am

Really???

From Tony Stark 09:28 am

No, not really lol

But I do remember you, you were a lot skinnier back then.

09:30 am

(eye roll emoji) And you were a lot younger

From Tony Stark 09:31 am

Ouch, that was uncalled for

09:32 am

You asked for it

So what have you been up to?

From Tony Stark 09:34 am

I’m a mechanical engineer now, quit teaching a few years ago. What about you?

09:35 am

That’s awesome! You were way too smart to be a teacher.

I’m a research chemist

From Tony Stark 09:38 am

Thanks, kid.

That’s about where I’d thought you’d end up, as smart as you are.

09:40 am

Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Stark

Tony*

Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:40 am

Everywhere?

09:41 am

Everywhere.

From Tony Stark 09:50 am

Say, Pete. I don’t actually have a habit of checking this app and I’m about to head out of the house for the day. I’d like to continue this conversation, so here’s my number if you wanna text me [hidden contact information].

No pressure of course.

From Tony Stark 09:53 am

Peter?

New Message

To: Tony

You know who I am.

From: Tony

Had me there for a second kid.

I’m about to drive, I’ll text you in a bit.

Peter put his phone down for the first time in almost an hour, eyes straining to refocus after staring at his screen intensely for so long. His heart was pounding in his chest and his cheeks were starting to ache from smiling. Had that really happened? Peter brought a hand up to rub at his jaw, still in a daze. He was finding it very hard to believe that this wasn’t some elaborate dream because there is absolutely no way that this could’ve happened in real life. Talk about a glitch in the simulation.

He really got Tony Stark’s phone number, and he didn’t even have to ask for it!

Peter scoffed in disbelief, no fucking way! He opened the Facebook app again and went to Tony’s profile. Turns out there wasn’t much else on it, he had a total of 3 profile pictures and less than 100 friends, none of which were other students and only a few midtown teachers. So, he either was a very private person or he didn’t use Facebook at all. And if it was the latter (or both for that matter), why did he accept Peter’s friend request in the first place?

Peter decided not to think about it right now.

He went to his profile pictures and glanced at the current one he already studied last night. The previous one was just the Guns N’ Roses album cover for Appetite for Destruction. Classic Rock fan, noted. His first profile picture, though, was an absolute masterpiece. Tony looked to be on a beach somewhere, his hair was wet and messy from the clear blue salt water. Peter wanted to run his tongue over every inch of the olive toned skin exposed to the sun. His smile was radiant, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, with thick, dark eyebrows peeking over his sunglasses. Swung low on his hips right below a toned stomach were hot rod red swim shorts that stopped in the middle of his thigh, showing off his tan legs dusted with dark hair.

Peter tried not to look, he really did, but he could not stop his eyes from landing on the older man’s crotch. And he was not disappointed. There, curving onto his thigh, was a long, thick unmistakable dick print. Peter’s mouth watered at the sight as his own cock stirred with interest.

Fuck. He wondered how big he really was in person. How far he could take it down his throat. He wanted to know how it would feel to be stretched and filled by Tony’s cock.

Scooting his chair back abruptly, Peter shot up off of it. His hard-on tenting almost painfully in his pajama pants and it was starting to create a wet spot. Mattress shopping can wait, Peter needed to cum, like, yesterday.

He rushes to his room and yanks the drawer of his night stand open, revealing a wooden box. Peter unlatches the box and grabs a bottle of lube and his veiny lifelike vibrating dildo with a suction cup right behind the silicone balls from his small collection. This one was by far his favorite, it’s eight inches long and he loved feeling the veins and the girth of it filling him up.

Peter lays a towel down on his bed and climbs to the middle, carefully avoiding the new dent in the mattress. He bunches up the pillows behind his back so he’s laying at an incline, then starts rubbing himself over his pajama pants while he uncaps the lube and squeezes some onto his fingertips. Clumsily, he pulls and shimmies his pants down his hips with his left hand, breath hitching when his heated erection makes contact with the cool air in his apartment. It lands with a light smack against his abs and Peter tugs his shirt up and under his chin. Kicking his pants off his bed, Peter spreads his legs. He can feel his hole puckering in anticipation of being used.

His left hand begins lightly skimming his torso, feeling his abs contract under his finger tips. Bringing them higher, he rubs across his chest, pinching his nipples softly. Peter rubs the lube between his thumb and forefinger to warm it up, then starts rubbing the tight ring of muscle in circles, making his cock jump.

Once he’s coated, he sinks a finger in slowly to coax himself open. His left hand continues caressing his body, skirting across the area right above his cock. Peter lets out a plethora of whines and pants, eyes screwed shut at the feeling. The image of Tony’s face urging him to take another finger.

He knows Tony’s fingers would be thicker, stretching him wider than Peter ever could with his own. The younger man hoped his former teacher would be able to handle him the way he wanted. Peter imagined large, strong hands encircling his throat while the other gripped hard on his hips while he took him.

Three of his fingers are buried deep in himself before he even touches his neglected, leaking cock. His left hand comes to collect the precum pooling at the head and dribbling down his shaft, allowing his hand to glide along his hot skin. He strokes himself lazily as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the dildo. Uncapping the lube again he slicks up the silicone and brings it to his open, waiting hole.

Pulling his left hand off of his cock, Peter grabs one of the pillows and stuffs it under the small of his back.

He imagines Tony looking down at him with dark, analytical eyes, watching Peters every movement. The rise and fall of his chest, his heaving breaths. The way Peter keens when he’s stretched like he longs for the sting of it. Would he fuck into him slowly or would he seath himself in one smooth, quick stroke?

Peter chooses the latter.

He cries out as he pushes the dildo balls deep into his ass without pause. The pain from the stretch mixes deliciously with pleasure. Sweat beading on his forehead has Peter’s curls sticking wetly to his skin. His entire body is covered in a thin sheen of it.

The young man turns onto his left side, dildo still deep inside him. Peter reaches around his back with his right hand and grips the bottom of the suction cup. He sighs, easing the dildo out slowly before pressing the button at the base of the shaft to turn on the vibration and ramming it into himself once more.

Tony would be taking him from behind, a long arm encircling Peter’s body, hand coming to grip him at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone so that he could pull the younger man down and onto his thick cock while he fucks up into him.

Peter continued to fuck himself roughly with the dildo while he thought of Tony’s hard body doing it to him instead. He’d whisper dirty things in Peter’s ear while he fucked him. Tell him that he’s such a good little slut for his teacher. Peter whined at the thought, he’d love it if Tony let him call him Mr. Stark in bed.

He starts stroking his cock faster, feeling his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach. His right arm is starting to get tired from fucking the dildo into his ass for so long, he’s gotta cum soon.

Peter’s eyes fly open when he hears his phone vibrate through the thrumming in his ears. It’s a text from Tony.

How’s my favorite student? Miss me?

That does it. Peter’s entire body jolts as he cums all over his hand and the towel he laid on the bed, a high whine caught in his throat.

He’s still trying to catch his breath a few minutes later, after he eases the dildo out and places it on the towel. He wipes his hand off on it as well before he grabs his phone. He definitely needs a shower now. Then he’ll go to the mall.

To: Tony

Don’t flatter yourself

To: Tony

Maybe a little

Tony can’t help but smile at his phone, he might have been a little too eager with the message, typing it up as soon as he put his car in park. The easy banter going on between him and Peter was refreshing. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt genuinely excited to talk to someone, let alone text.

As the conversation kept flowing while Tony picked up his dry cleaning, he could only deduce that it was because they were nearly equal on an intellectual level. It may have helped that Peter was easy on the eyes as well.

They talked about their projects at work and the research behind it, what it was like at Columbia for Peter, and how MIT had been to Tony. The older man made a mental note to ask where Peter worked at a later date, maybe he could recruit him. He learned that Peter’s favorite colors were blue and red. That he hated horror movies but watched them anyway just to spite himself. He loved rom-coms and (surprise, surprise) sci-fi movies. He couldn’t cook to save his life, Tony assured him he could give him lessons if he wanted, he could make a mean Chicken Piccata.

Tony couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it at all. The conversation was innocent and Tony was a flirt by nature, Pepper never had a problem with it. If anything, this thing with Peter was just a budding friendship. The universe knows Tony needed someone to talk to.

Around noon, Tony’s stomach started to grumble, not surprising considering the hearty breakfast of black coffee he had this morning. Peter mentioned earlier that he’d been craving Gyros, and that didn’t sound half bad right about now. He was a few blocks away from the mall anyway.

From: Peter

Here’s a contact picture, in case you needed one...

[see attachment]

The picture Peter sent was absolutely adorable. His bangs fell over his forehead, slightly parted to the side so it wasn’t completely covered. Tony felt utterly entranced by the younger man’s smile and the way his left eyebrow looked like he’d slept with his face buried in a pillow. He was wearing a T-Shirt with a science pun on it, as if the kid couldn’t be any dorkier. Tony loved it.

To: Peter

Is that a sly way of getting me to send you a selfie back?

Cute shirt by the way, where ya headed?

From: Peter

Maybe...did it work?

I’m going shopping for a new mattress, old one crapped out on me.

To: Peter

Here, since you asked so nicely

[see attachment]

From: Peter

Oof, you can just delete mine. You just made me go from a solid 6 to like a 2

To: Peter

Hey, give yourself some credit, you’re definitely at least a 5

KIDDING, I’d rate you a solid 9, kid. Just because there’s always room for improvement

From Peter:

I would just like to know who gave you the right to be so sassy and RUDE

To: Peter

Definitely my narcissistic ego

No, but seriously Pete, you’re stunning. Don’t listen to the old guy

From: Peter

Pls you’re not that old, Tony.

To: Peter

A man after my own heart. Thanks, kid.

From: Peter

Anytime :-)

You’re more like my friend’s hot dad if anything

To: Peter

Little shit.

From Peter:

;-)

Tony shook his head fondly and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he entered the mall, looking around for something indicating what direction the food court was in. He hadn’t been to this mall in a while, he admits since he’s been making more money it’s kept him from coming and eating the fast food they had here. So he followed the signs until he got to the food court, and noticed there were still quite a few tables open for him to sit and eat at. He made a point to stay as far away from the family with three screaming children as possible.

He scanned the choices until he found somewhere that had gyros and went to go stand in line. The menu wasn’t too extensive, he could either get a gyro platter or a falafel platter, and he already knew what he was here for. His eyes fell from the menu to the person in front of him. Not to be a creep, he’s only human, but he had a fantastic ass. A perfect little bubble butt.

The man was a little shorter than him, he had a trim waist that opened up to broad shoulders not bigger than Tony’s. Incredible figure. He’s probably a dancer or a marathon runner. He also noticed this man had brown curls. That made him snort softly to himself, he either had a type or Peter just invaded his mind in a short amount of time. It could be either, honestly.

His eyes dropped to the phrase printed on the back of his shirt.

Never trust an atom, they make up everything

Ha. Peter would love that shirt.

Wait.

Peter has that shirt. It’s the one he was wearing in his selfie.

“Peter?”

The man in front of him whirled around to look at him with a puzzled expression. Tony suddenly found himself unable to move or say another word. He was instantly captivated by doe eyes and one of the prettiest faces he’d seen in a long time.

He watched his confusion turn into realization and then disbelief and dare he say: panic.

“Tony?”

@sweetqueen449, @slut-for-starker, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerhowlter, @sthefystarkersworld, @crazycocococonut, @bris-sins, @delicateavenuenacho, @ironspiderstarker, @katzenbaby1, @spider-iron-man, @rebel13lion39, @twokinkybeans, @frenchfrostpudding, @cherrygoldlove, @silkystarkk, @icandoakickflip, @irondaddio, @briesb1tch

creds to @problemchildnoonewanted for some of the messages in the beginning

#starker #sluttystark stuff #starker fic #starker au #ironspider #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #Peter Parker/Tony Stark

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agapaic · 4 years ago

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tianshan top gun-AU drabble. 💞 on behalf of emma’s very generous donation to the ‘justice for jacob blake fund’ @plumb19. if you would like to donate to an organisation supporting black lives in return for a drabble, please see here for more information (closes monday evening). 🌸

///

‘No visual on Farmer! I repeat, no visual on Farmer!’

He Tian’s laugh comes through his headgear. ‘You don’t need a visual on me, sweetheart! This is a race not an op—there’s no bandit here but me!’

Guan Shan grits his teeth. He goes full throttle, flies blind. The finish line is in sight, ten miles out at his twelve o’clock. He can feel his face pulling backwards with the speed, the G-force making him lightheaded. He can’t g-LOC now—he’d die from the shame of acting out the funky chicken before his plane even hit the ground. He Tian will know what happened—he’ll see the Firebird jet tail out, the vape from the tail end stretching skywards.

Faster—fucking faster.

Guan Shan’s eyes dart to his mirrors. All clear. Where the fuck is He Tian? He can’t be ahead of him—there’s no way Guan Shan could go any faster. He’s got the jet firewalled, his head mashed backwards against the headrest. His bones are shaking; his teeth are aching.

He Tian again: ‘Right above you, sweetheart.’

Guan Shan’s head jerks up. He doesn’t know why he bothers looking. There’s nothing there but the roof of the jet: no window. He Tian’s a ghost on his radar.

‘The fuck do you think you are?’ Guan Shan spits, eye locked back on the finish line. The engine roars in his ears. ‘Fuckin’ God?’

He Tian laughs again. Guan Shan doesn’t hate that He Tian’s enjoying this—he hates that he’s enjoying it too. Why shouldn’t he? It’s a game, not a dogfight, and the winner chooses the reward. There’s no bogey or bandit on their trail, no spike on the radar. When’s the last time he got to go full throttle without the fear of a strike?

‘Come on, Guan Shan,’ He TIan croons through the headset. ‘We’re nose for nose.’

‘Are you even tryin’?’ Guan Shan barks back.

‘You should see my hand,’ says He Tian. ‘It’s never wrapped tighter around a stick before.’

Guan Shan swears under his breath. He Tian must hear it: he laughs.

Two miles.

‘Just—get off my back, would’ya?’ he grouches out. ‘Wanna see your face when I beat you over the finish line.’

‘Oh, Ah-Shan. You know I like to finish on top.’

Guan Shan veers.

There’s a damning thud, an awful shriek of metal. He Tian swears over the comms. Everything shakes and the engine judders as the underbelly of each jet scrapes against each other. The sky swings above him, pendulum-like, and an alarm blares somewhere.

Out the corner of Guan Shan’s eye, he sees He Tian’s jet wrench itself away. The Shenyang J-6 sidles up beside his own, evening out. He Tian’s face is shielded by his helmet and the high-alt oxygen mask, but Guan Shan imagines his mouth split open in a wide, white-toothed smile.

Fucker.

‘Daring,’ He Tian comments over the radio, his voice crackling. ‘Nearly took me out with that move. Yourself included.’

Guan Shan breathes shallowly. His heart is beating fast, and he wrestles it under 110. If it goes too high or flatlines Zhan Zhengxi will call in the cavalry from the base.

‘I’m not above playin’ dirty,’ Guan Shan mutters.

‘Oh, I know. You’re not a grape, Mo Guan Shan. Bigger balls than anyone gives you credit for.’

You’d like to think so.

‘At least,’ says He Tian, ‘I’d like to think so.’

700 yards. They’re at break-neck now. A final bend through airspace, and Guan Shan will be over the finish line. His face has started to go numb. He’s conscious only of the pressure in his ears, behind his eyes. Feels like bruising in his eye sockets. His knuckles must be bone-white beneath the gloves.

500 yards from the turn. Guan Shan bites down hard on his lower lip. The jet rattles around him like an earthquake in flight. If he leaves it too late he’ll veer off path and lose seconds he knows he wouldn’t recover. Too early and he might force the jet straight into He Tian’s and they could both go down.

‘You gonna tell me your action plan?’ asks Guan Shan, teeth gritted.

‘Oh, no. I’m leaving this all to you.’

Guan Shan swears, eyes on the blue-skied horizon. 200 yards. ‘Even if I kill us both.’

‘I think you know how to punch out if it gets too much.’

Now. Guan Shan yanks down hard on the controller, the skyline swerves around him; nausea wells in his throat. There’s no collision; he has no visual on He Tian’s jet and no time to wonder why that might be. He makes the turn, levels out, throttles forward to the finish line.

The base comes into view below him, and a green light blinks up at him from ATC like a traffic light.

He’s done it.

Guan Shan throws his head back against the headrest, breathes out shallowly.

A voice comes over the comms. ‘This is Mother to Firebird. Mother to Firebird. How do you hear me?’

‘I hear you,’ Guan Shan says thickly. He starts to drop, pulls back the throttle. He’ll have to do a loop of the base to line up with the runway. He doesn’t mind the victory lap.

There’s a smile in Zhan Zhengxi’s voice. ‘Cleared to land at your leisure. How does first place feel?’

Guan Shan swallows a grin. ‘Affirmative,’ he says. ‘Feels pretty fuckin’ good.’ He checks his mirrors. ‘Where the fuck is Farmer?’

‘Uh, he hasn’t crossed yet. Looks like he pulled back at the finish. Problem with his radar, I think? Jian Yi’s working him through it.’

Guan Shan’s mouth falls open. ‘Bullshit,’ he gasps. ‘Bull. Shit.’

‘Don’t shoot the messenger. Take it up with him.’

Guan Shan glares. He can feel his vision narrowing. He has half a mind to turn the jet around and shoot He Tian down for the sheer fucking hell of it—a fox two, maybe a three if he’s lucky. Guan Shan’s fingers go to the triggers. How fucking dare he?

‘Firebird, did you copy?’

Guan Shan sets his jaw. ‘Affirmative,’ he says flatly.

Take it up with him? He’d better fucking bet.

///

There’s a view of the runway from the changing rooms, a long strip of glass that means Guan Shan knows the exact moment He Tian’s Shenyang J-6 touches down on tarmac and pulls into the hangar. It means, also, he knows exactly how long it will take He Tian—second-place DNF loser—to walk through the base to the changing rooms.

It takes He Tian twenty minutes to land the jet and make his way to the changing room. Twenty minutes for Guan Shan to simmer and get himself close to boiling. The second He Tian walks through the door, he tips over. Guan Shan’s helmet smashes against the floor in fragments of plastic, metal, and glass.

The helmet nearly strikes He Tian in the face, but his reflexes are good. He dodges, swears, looks back to Guan Shan with wide, incredulous eyes. Glass crunches beneath his boot as he moves over to the ceiling-to-floor lockers.

‘Those are expensive, you know?’ He Tian says.

Guan Shan doesn’t care about a fucking helmet. He Tian’s father can foot the bill, mark it off as an extraneous expense. Being the commander of the base has its perks.

‘You fuckin’ fixed it.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ says He Tian, stripping off his gloves. ‘There was a malfunction. Probably after you rammed into me, I suspect.’

‘You let me win,’ Guan Shan growls.

He Tian shrugs. ‘Check the black box if you like. It’s all there.’

‘Who’d you pay to wire it?’

He Tian begins to unbuckle his suit. The black leather sticks to his body like a second skin, suggesting at lean muscle and broad shoulders that bare themselves as He Tian peels back its layers. Nothing about it is standard-issue. It’s been made to fit like a glove. Guan Shan hates it.

‘I didn’t pay anyone, Mo Guan Shan.’

‘Right. You didn’t have to. People will suck your dick around here for a look.’

He Tian looks at him.

Guan Shan snarls. ‘What the fuck do you even get by losing? Are you that fuckin’ desperate to disappoint him?’ He shoves a thumb upwards. Not God, but He Tian’s father, and doesn’t everyone act like he’s the same thing? ‘Fuck me over and bring shame on the family name? Two birds and one stone?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ He Tian sighs.

‘Fuck, I wanna kill you right now.’

‘Go on, then. Try.’

‘What’s the point?’ Guan Shan sneers. ‘You’ll punch out at the last second. Blame the faulty mechanics.’

A thought strikes him: he could punch him. A realisation: he’s going to.

Five concentrated footsteps, the swing back of his right arm.

His knuckles bruise on He Tian’s cheekbone.

‘Fuck!’ He Tian shouts. He spits blood onto the floor, doubles over at the waist. Guan Shan steps back and his eyes go to the sharp nodules of He Tian’s spine as he bends over, curved out like a penitent. Guan Shan looks at him with disgust.

‘You didn’t even fight back,’ he mutters. ‘Who the fuck has you whipped?’

There’s blood coming from He Tian’s nose; some of it has spattered onto the toe of Guan Shan’s boot. He Tian, Guan Shan realises, is laughing.

‘You’d think—oh, fuck me—you’d think it would be fucking obvious, wouldn’t you?’

Guan Shan stares at him. ‘This ain’t fuckin’ funny—’

‘But it is.’ He Tian winces, straightens, dabs two fingertips against his bloodied nose. ‘You’re a good fucking pilot, Mo Guan Shan, but you are awful with analytics. Never go into the Intelligence sector, okay?

Riddles and disguise. Guan Shan hates it. There’s some truth to He Tian’s words, but he’s glad for it: he’s glad he doesn’t get it. Glad he can’t deal with conundrum and complexity. In the ten years they’ve been at this—flight school, their junior years, coming close to leading, wingmen by virtue of their shared skills—he’s never stopped hating the enigma He Tian enjoys wrapping himself around like a coat keeping him warm through the winter.

‘I don’t have time for this.’

He turns to his locker; he’ll take his clothes back to his room, save changing for somewhere that rHe Tian can see him. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He clicks in the combination, tugs the door open with a metallic clank. A hand falls to the locker beside him, just brushing the side of his head, and Guan Shan can feel the heat of He Tian’s bare chest through the fabric over his back.

Guan Shan swallows. ‘Move.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘I’ll hit you again.’

‘I might put up a fight this time—even if it’s you.’

Guan Shan stills. ‘The fuck is that supposed to mean?’

‘What do you think?’

Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. ‘Tell me. Please, just fuckin’ tell me.’ Put me outta my misery.

He Tian’s mouth is level with his ear, and Guan Shan shudders as hot air moves across his neck. He Tian is too close. Guan Shan’s body still aches from the G-force, a strain that will last through the night, but he can’t distinguish it from anything else that might be bruising its way through his narrow veins like swallowing a tablet dry. Guan Shan puts his forehead on the frame of his open locker; the metal is cool to his skin.

‘Why do you think,’ He Tian murmurs, silken, ‘I would make sure you won?’

‘I don’t—’

‘Why do you think,’ he says, ‘I’d let you hit me if that’s what you wanted?’

If that’s what you wanted.

Guan Shan’s voice is tight. ‘I never wanted to win if you made yourself lose.’

There’s a pause. He Tian says, ‘You said you’d quit if you lost. Before the race. You said you’d move somewhere else if you couldn’t be number one here.’

Guan Shan frowns. ‘I was—that was a joke. I was just settin’ the stakes.’

He Tian moves. He’s a few paces back when Guan Shan turns to face him. His expression is unreadable, and Guan Shan’s head is working on overdrive trying to keep track of the conversation and all its hidden nuance.

‘Are you sayin’—you did that to keep me from leavin’? You seriously thought I’d quit over some stupid race?’

‘It wasn’t a stupid race. It was you and me—’

‘I’m never gonna be as fast as you,’ says Guan Shan slowly. ‘You’re never gonna be as good a shot as me. I know where we’re strong and I know where we’re not. I’m not gonna quit ‘cause of some stupid competition with you.’

‘But I didn’t know that.’

Guan Shan swallows. There’s a heat to He Tian’s words that blisters. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s conscious that He Tian is half-dressed before him and that there’s blood drying on his chin.

‘I’m not leavin’,’ Guan Shan tells him, feeling oddly inclined to reassure him. He Tian. The stalwart bastard who never gives him a break. Guan Shan can’t stop himself: ‘I’m—we’re a good team. General Qiu said we’re one of the best this fuckin’ base has seen in twenty years.’

‘You hate being my wingman,’ He Tian says flatly.

Guan Shan’s eyebrow quirks. ‘I get first seat watchin’ you fuck up and take none of the damage.’

He Tian drags a hand over his face. ‘God, he’s good,’ he mutters to himself. Louder, he says, ‘So if you weren't quitting if you lost, what did you want if you won?’

‘Probably the same as you,’ says Guan Shan carefully.

‘Ha!’ He Tian crows. His eyes darken. ‘Oh, I doubt it sweetheart.’

‘Wanna bet?’

He Tian’s brows lift. A smirk spreads slowly across his face, arrogance coming into steady effect. He swaggers forward.

‘My request,’ he murmurs, ‘would’ve been you.’

Guan Shan closes off his expression, puts his walls up. The news comes as no surprise: He Tian’s been clear with his intentions since they were in flight school, tugging at heartstrings like pigtails. Guan Shan doesn’t mind anymore. He’s used to it. He knows, with He Tian, the offer of intimacy is only sex and doesn’t go further. The walls Guan Shan has built are thick with cement.

Behind them, another jet comes into land. The windows rattle.

Guan Shan breathes out slowly, waits for the engine sound to fade. ‘Like I said,’ he starts, lifting his gaze from the floor. ‘Probably the same as you.’

It takes He Tian a few seconds. Guan Shan takes it as a win—a real one.

‘You—’ He Tian swallows. ‘So, all this time—all of our fighting. You could have just said so.’

‘Could’ve,’ Guan Shan admits. ‘But I never wanted sex, He Tian. I mean—I never just wanted it. Not like you.’

He Tian blinks at him. ‘Maybe I wasn’t clear. When I said I wanted to give you what you wanted: I meant it. Every word.’

‘You’re gonna regret that.’

He Tian nods slowly. ‘Very possibly,’ he says.

They’re close enough that when Guan Shan reaches out a hand and loops his fingers around He Tian’s wrist, He Tian comes forward with ease. His smile is indulgent.

He Tian continues: ‘But I’m willing to take a fox three for it.’

Guan Shan rolls his eyes. His fingers knot themselves in He Tian’s hair, and his mouth comes down to meet his willingly.

‘Shut the fuck up, He Tian.’

#19 days #tianshan #donation drabble

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wolveria · 4 years ago

Text

Buttons - Ch. 3

Pairing: Therapist!Connor x f!Reader

Summary: Connor knew he shouldn’t be so attracted to his patient. It wasn’t right, especially when she had been nothing but sweet to him.

But when the opportunity presented itself to finally get a taste of her, he couldn’t help himself.

Chapter Warnings: Explicit dubcon

Word Count: 3.4k

Co-authors: @uh-kitty-got-wet, @groovylabrat, @technohumanlation

AO3

(Moodboard created by @uh-kitty-got-wet)

“I would tell you if something was wrong, of course,” you said, trying not to shiver as the hand remained where it was, heavy and hot on your shoulder.

“Not having nightmares again, are you?”

The question was perfectly reasonable, so there was no reason for your cheeks to be on fire or for you to clutch the couch cushions as tightly as you did.

“N-no. No nightmares.” Oh, definitely no nightmares.

He hummed thoughtfully, and then he slightly squeezed your shoulder, making you jump.

“You’re incredibly tense,” he said, repeating the motion. “You shouldn’t hold so much tension in your muscles, especially here. It increases the chance of cluster headaches and neck injury.”

You couldn’t breathe, or think, or function at all as he moved his hand closer to your neck and pressed the pad of his thumb against the top of your spine.

“You’ve got a knot. Right… here.” He rubbed the spot harder, digging into the sore muscle.

You moaned, and immediately slapped your hand over your mouth.

He stopped moving his thumb.

Fuck, you thought, panicking. Fuck, fuck.

“Sorry,” he said with a little laugh, as if you hadn’t done the most embarrassing thing in the world. “Forgot to warn you this might hurt a little. If it gets to be too much, please tell me.”

Oh. He thought you’d moaned in pain.

You lowered your hand from your mouth, nodded and gave a strangled, “Okay.”

Connor placed his hand on your other shoulder, effectively doubling your heart rate as you pressed your thighs together. You felt like you were going to explode or catch fire on the spot.

He began to rub both of your shoulders, long and deft fingers working through your muscles. Goosebumps erupted over your skin, your nipples were painfully hard, and you ached between your legs.

All from a simple massage that probably meant nothing to him. It wasn’t fair.

“Is this all right?” His voice had dropped to a low murmur that was sinful enough to short-circuit your brain. “If you’re uncomfortable, just tell me to stop.”

“No,” you rushed out, immediately flushing. “It’s-it’s fine. Great, really. I… think I needed this.”

He gave a low chuckle. You were pretty sure you could come from his voice alone.

“Really? I couldn’t tell at all,” he teased, fingers pressing into an especially stubborn muscle. “But honestly, someone as young as you shouldn’t be so tense. It’s unhealthy. Are you practicing any muscle-relaxing techniques at home?”

“I don’t think so. Unless drinking counts,” you sheepishly added.

“No, drinking does not count,” he reprimanded you, even as you could hear the smile in his voice. “I have a few suggestions, if that’s all right?”

“Sure,” you said, head hanging forward as you continued to relax. He could do anything to you right now and you wouldn’t care. It felt so insanely good, better than any massage you’d ever had, and those fingers and his voice were better than any porn.

You really needed to stop lusting over your therapist. It was wrong, pathetic, and clearly pointless. This wasn’t going anywhere except to give you another broken heart.

“Well…” He moved his hands back up to your neck, the tips of his fingers gently cradling the columns of your throat as his thumb worked against your spine. You thought you had died and gone to heaven. “Lying down and reading is a good one. Stretching your muscles everyday also helps. Relaxing in a hot bath.

“And, of course, there’s masturbation.”

You stopped breathing. Went stock-still like a frightened rabbit before a hunter.

“Really?” you asked faintly, on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up. Did he know what you had done just before your session? Was he just teasing you some more?

“Yes, absolutely,” he said, still massaging your muscles as he had a whole bunch of tensed up ones to work through. “It even helps bolster the immune system. I recommend it to all my patients.”

“Oh.”

All his patients. It didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good therapist. Of course he was. He was a professional and you were a pathetic lowlife who let your innocent crush run wild until it had become totally perverted and—

Connor’s hands went still as he leaned down, put his mouth close to your ear and murmured, “I can show you the best technique, if you like.”

This couldn’t be happening. Surely, you were still dreaming. There was no way—

“Okay.”

He seemed surprised, going by the short breath he sucked it, but it was nothing compared to your own shock. Had you just really agreed to let Connor show you how to masturbate “properly”?

He removed his hands from your shoulders, and for a moment you thought he was going to laugh at you, tell you it was a joke and you really were pathetic to fall for it.

Instead, he stood before you, peering down so intently that you felt he could see right through you. Hear each beat of your heart and listen to each shallow, pulled breath.

Normally, the glasses perched on his nose gave Connor a soft, endearing look. Now he looked almost predatory as his analytical gaze roved over every inch of you. And then he reached up, pulled at the knot of his tie, and tugged it off in one swift motion.

You gripped the edge of the couch. Holy shit.

Connor sat down next to you on the couch, and the parts of you that felt they were on fire burned even brighter.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice raspy and low as he looked you in the eye. “If we have to stop later, you’ll be even tenser than before, which will make this entire exercise ineffective. So once I start… I plan to not stop until it’s finished.”

This was really happening. You nodded, licking your dry lips and swallowing the lump in your throat, voice shaky but the words clear.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

He gave a little smile, so faint you almost didn’t catch it, and then he took your hand, holding the back of it against his palm.

“Good. Then let us begin.”

Connor sounded so formal it was almost funny, as if this really was some kind of legitimate therapist practice, but there was nothing professional about the way he gripped your hand, placed it on your thigh, and pushed it up your skirt.

“I’m glad you wore this today,” he said, almost conversational except for the hoarse quality of his voice. “Makes it easier for the both of us.”

A small whimper escaped before you could tamp it down, the tips of your fingers against your inner thigh combined with Connor’s low praise already too much. How were you going to do this and survive with your mind intact?

“It’s all right,” he breathed against your cheek. “Don’t hold anything back. This is all about making you feel good.”

You couldn’t hold back, even if you’d wanted to. Connor pressing your own fingers against your clothed sex was enough to pull another noise from you, a stifled, strained whine.

“That’s it,” he instructed sweetly, guiding your fingers into a slow, circling motion over your clit. “Just like that.”

You shut your eyes tight, trying to be quiet despite what he’d said, and Connor gave a sigh.

“You’re not relaxing.”

He didn’t give you an opportunity to respond; Connor pushed your hand harder against the fabric barrier over your clit just as he gently wrapped his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to the side so he could press his nose against the side of your neck.

“Relax.”

He said the word against your skin, moving lips forcing a shudder out of you, and just as if he had you under a spell, you began to relax, muscles becoming loose and pliant under his control.

“That’s my girl.”

Between the guide of his skillful fingers, his lips teasing your neck, and his low, murmured praises, you were already well on your way to reaching that peak. He felt so warm, his voice more raspy than usual, and that hint of cologne you’d always thought smelled nice was now intoxicating.

But just as you started to feel your walls tightened, Connor pulled your hands away, and you gave a pitiful moan.

“Impatient, aren’t you,” he teased, drawing your hand up your mound and to the waistband of your panties. “Insatiable little thing.”

You were beyond speaking at this point; all that was left to you were needy whines and breathy, strangled groans.

Connor, meanwhile, seemed as composed as ever, even with his tie removed and the top button of his collar undone, leaving a delicious swath of pale, smooth skin. You wanted to reach out and suck on it, leave a hickey he would have to hide from his next patients, and the thought made you wild with need but your hands remained next to your legs, clutching the cushions for dear life. You didn’t know if he would let you touch him, but you wanted to, desperately.

Still leading your hand, he dipped your fingers under your waistband, moved them down, and guided them over your folds. Your face was on fire, made worse when you both felt how drenched you were.

“It seems to me you really needed this.” Was it your imagination, or did Connor’s breath hitch and nearly stutter? “How long have you been… wound so tight?”

As he said the words, he pressed your fingers inward, teasing and prodding your entrance. You rolled your hips and arched against the back of the couch, unable to keep still or quiet as you released a muffled cry.

“You’re holding back again.” You felt something warm and wet against your skin, and belatedly realized he was dragging his tongue along your neck. You whimpered and tried to squeeze your thighs together over his hand. The stimulation was too much and not enough.

With his free hand, he grabbed your knee and forced your legs apart.

“What did I say about relaxing?” he nearly growled, sending a shiver up your spine. “Even now, you’re still fighting it. You have to trust me.”

You nodded, eyes still shut down, because you couldn’t look at him without dying on the spot. It was purely self-preservation at this point. “I trust you,” you managed to breathe out.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Connor nibbled at your earlobe, gentle but the scrape of his teeth still forced out your moan. “Now for this part… you have to make sure you’re properly lubricated.”

As if to make his point, he swirled your fingers between your folds, coating them with your slick. “If you do this technique dry, it’ll be uncomfortable. Painful, even. We don’t want that.”

You were barely able to follow his words, enjoying the lull of his voice more than anything. It was better than in all your fantasies combined.

He moved your fingers upward, placed them directly on your clit, and began to move them. A counterclockwise motion that was slow and methodical but already threatened to break you to pieces.

“The key is to set a steady, rhythmic pace,” he said, his tone ridiculously formal again except for the hoarseness. “Another tactic that people overlook is to keep your body relaxed, but to keep this area taut.”

Connor slid your fingers down again to your entrance, teasing against it before returning to your clit. He continued to speak, ignoring your choked cry as if he hadn’t heard it.

“Tensing and flexing your pelvic muscles is key to achieving a satisfying orgasm. So in this case, I do want you to tense up here. Can you do that?”

Oh, fuck, was about the most coherent response you could come up with, but you managed to choke out a, “Yes.”

You really did try to follow Connor’s instructions. Relax your muscles except for between your legs. Easy. Except you were a giant stress-ball of horny and you wanted to jump into Connor’s lap, unzip his pants, and sit on his dick.

The thought made you moan and arch your back again, desperate to move your fingers faster, but Connor wouldn’t let you, forcing your fingers to remain at the slow, torturous pace.

It was good, so good, but it wasn’t enough, and Connor was keeping you just short of reaching your peak. He might actually succeed in driving you crazy.

Fuck it. If he was going to keep torturing you, you were going to enjoy it was much as possible. With your free hand, you slipped it under your shirt, pulled your bra down, and rubbed your thumb harshly over the nipple. The additional stimulation made you almost sob with relief, unable to be still as you squirmed and pushed up against his hand.

You heard Connor suck in a breath, his hand suddenly still, and without thinking you grabbed his lax fingers and forced them back onto your clit. Directly. His hand remained frozen, even when you tried to move it. Despite his lanky limbs and slim body, he was very strong.

You finally opened your eyes, met his warm brown ones, and desperately begged.

“Please…”

He chewed the corner of his lip as if conflicted, even with his hand down your panties.

“Please, Connor.” Your words were a choked moan, his name a sinful plea on your lips, and you saw the moment his resolve break.

Swallowing hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob, he removed his hand entirely from your panties. For a moment, you thought you’d misinterpreted, but then he lifted his fingers to his lips, glistening with your slick, and cleaned them off with his tongue before popping them into his mouth.

You just stared at him, sure your mind had just broken, especially when he pulled his fingers from his mouth with an indecent pop.

And then… he removed his glasses.

You’d never seen Connor without his glasses before. He looked… barely restrained. His eyes, normally so warm and soft, were sharp and edged like the blade of a knife. Like he wanted to take you apart and make you all his.

Apparently, that’s what he intended to do.

Connor rose to his feet and stood between your knees after kicking them apart, barely giving you any time to adjust before he knelt on the cushion between your legs. He grabbed your thighs and lifted you up, settling you into his lap and trapping you between him and the back of the couch.

You watched, mouth dry and chest heaving as he unbuckled his belt and harshly pulled it from its loop, tossing it aside. His eyes never left yours even as he unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks and pulled his cock out of his boxer-briefs.

You’d never thought it was possible for a cock to look so delicious, and his was mouth-wateringly gorgeous. A nice size and girth, flushed and already leaking precum at the tip.

He didn’t give you enough time to admire it; Connor looped one arm around the small of your back, lifted your hips, tugged aside the crotch of your panties, and pulled you up onto his lap. The tip of his cock pushed past your slick entrance, and he slid the rest of the way inside without much difficulty from how wet you were, but you were suddenly so full you could barely breathe.

“Fuck,” he gasped against your ear. It was the first time you’d ever heard him curse. “You’re so… tight.”

You held onto his broad shoulders like a lifeline, fingers digging into his dress shirt and whimpering as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist.

“Connor,” you nearly sobbed from relief and the almost-painful fullness. You didn’t care if it would hurt, you needed this. Needed him. “Please… fuck me.”

With a low growl, he thrust forward, crushing you between the couch and his chest, half-holding you up as he thrust into you again. Each drag of his cock inside you made you moan, or cry, and you buried your face into his neck as your walls already started to tighten around him.

He felt better than a dream, hitting the spots you could never reach yourself, the sound of his hips slamming into yours wet and obscene in his small office. You could feel yourself dripping, making a mess of both of you, but neither of you cared.

“Connor.” You repeated his name, over and over, voice rising in pitch the tighter you became. “Connor.”

“I know,” he gasped out, fingers digging into your hips as he increased the brutal, merciless pace. “You’re doing… so well, baby girl. You’re… almost there.”

You half-sobbed at the praise, wanting to come so badly, but at the same time, conflicted. Never wanting it to stop. Not wanting this fantasy to be over.

Maybe Connor sensed it, because he latched onto your throat with his mouth, nipping and sucking and kissing your skin as if he could live on that alone.

“Come for me,” he growled, and you did, unable to do anything but obey.

You gripped him so tightly you must have left bruises, arched your back, and cried out sharply, your whole body shuddering as you pulsed and throbbed around him. Stars exploded behind your eyes as pleasure sparked through every nerve and inch of your skin, and all you could do was cling to him tightly so you wouldn’t drown beneath the waves.

Connor gave a choked curse, his pace staggering into shallow, uneven thrusts, before he pushed all the way inside and shivered hard. He held you tightly against his chest as he groaned into your hair, panting and holding you on his lap as his cock twitched and throbbed inside you.

Only when you felt his cum start to leak out of you did you remember you hadn’t used a condom.

Shit.

You expected him to pull out of you, to tell you to get out now that he was done with you. Instead, Connor kept his arms around you as he shifted over, sitting back and pulling you onto his lap, still embedded deep inside you.

And then he did something you never would have expected; he took your head between his hands and drew you forward, pressing his soft lips against yours. Tender, warm, and inviting, the tip of his tongue licked against your lips. You gasped and shivered and he pulled back, a small, satisfied smile pulling at his lips.

“So…” His smile fell and he looked almost nervous. You almost missed it because he had lowered his hands to your hips and begun tracing distracting circles on them with his thumbs. Even through the cloth of your skirt his touch was warm and electric. “I don’t know if you would be interested… but…”

He faltered again and you weren’t imagining the shyness there, which was crazy because he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life. What could he possibly have to be bashful about?

“Yes?” you asked, surprised at how raw you sounded. You curled your finger into his hair, liking the softness of it, and needed to do something with your hands before you decided to start riding him again. His cock, even though it had softened, was still very distracting inside you.

Connor’s cheeks a pretty pink, so endearing and awkward as he leaned into your touch. “I was wondering if you’d… maybe want to come over to my house tonight?”

You blinked at him. Probably the fifth time he’d broken your brain in so many minutes.

“I mean,” he flushed a deeper pink, “I feel like I at least owe you dinner. I’ve been told I’m a decent cook, and… that is, if you don’t want to sue me for… for malpractice—“

You surged forward and pressed your lips against his, forcing him to stop talking.

Connor gave a startled gasp, giving you the opportunity to lick into his mouth. You could feel his dick give an interested twitch inside you. You groaned, shifting your hips a little. You knew your time was almost up, so there was no possible way for a round two, but…

Going to Connor’s house? Having him cook you dinner? Maybe even stay the night in his bed?

You broke the kiss, took a steadying breath of air, and smiled down at him.

“Yes,” you said. “I’d love to.”

#dbh #detroit: become human #detroit become human #connor #rk800 #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #connor fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #co-authors #fic rec

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toysoldiers-rwby · 3 years ago

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[CS] 10. Learning Pains

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny Polendina, Aurora Glade, Winter Schnee, May Marigold Word Count: 5.5k

Everything crumbles under a weak foundation.

Read on Ao3

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Faunus Oddities: 1

Penny looked down at Aro, watching her carefully. She breathed in, and in, and in. So deep Penny thought she was part Aquarian mammal. On the exhale she pressed her hand firmly, but gently to avoid waking her up, on Aro’s exposed cleavage, as close to the center of her lungs as possible-

“Wha…”

Penny locked her joints. She could feel several hydrolic system stiffen, making her jerk anyway. Thankfully Aro was exhausted from yesterday’s combat class. Her scared ears twitch and she cuddled her pillow, hair splayed out without any horns to cradle it in.

Winter and May looked mildly amused but mostly confused. Winter cleared her voice, speaking in a normal volume this time. “What, pray tell, are you doing Ms. Polendina?” Winter asked, her voice faux professional. Her cool mask soften by slight tilt of her lips and raised brow. Though she did still held her hands behind her back.

“I’m trying to figure out if Aro purrs,” Penny answered.

“Can’t feel it even though you laying on her?” Winter asked, her voice perfectly leveled. May grabbed her shoulder biting a finger to refrain from laughing. She did snort when Penny stuck her tongue out at her.

“My sense of touch is… not sensitive.” Penny answered carefully. It was a wonder her father got it working at all. Penny settled back on Aro again, careful not to knock her leg off of the couch. Penny had missed her chance to gather data and had to wait. Again Aro took a deep breath that went on far too long. Long enough for May to comfortably lean against the back of the couch and for Winter to hover next to her.

On the exhale Penny placed her hand back on Aro’s cleavage. Luckily organic beings had remarkably even breathing when they sleep, so it was easy for Penny to keep an even pressure-

"I definitely heard something," May mubmled, understandably skeptical. “But she’s a goat Faunus.”

“Feel it!” Penny grabbed her hand and dragged it to Aro’s chest. She tried to pull it out but Penny adjusted her grip and strength.

“This is so inappropriate!” May hissed, blood quickly rising to her cheeks. “You fell asleep on her again! It’s alright if you- well not touch but- but!” Penny pouted and let go. May barely stopped herself from flying backwards.

“You said it was bad to touch strangers without asking.”

“This is, it’s different- Winter!?” May’s voice took on an odd strangled and restricted tone as she failed to stop from yelling. Winter had placed a hand on Aro’s chest and another delicately around her neck. Penny was a little worried about how much blood seemed to be in May’s face but she was also enthralled at the pressure Winter needed to maintain around Aro’s neck. “What are you doing?!”

“Trying to listen and feel, Marigold.” Winter answered. She leaned in and closed her eyes, ear directed at Aro. Finally on the next exhale there was that soft sound again. Winter nearly jumped. Instead she pressed just a little more on the hand on Aro’s chest until the noise drifted off. “Aurora purrs.”

“I told you!”

"She does not! She’s a goat." May yelled back.

“I didn’t peg you as a racist.”

Winter jerked back while Penny and May screamed. Thankfully the deaf women didn’t wake up startled. Instead she roused gently from all the movement. Penny made an odd noise. Perhaps a yelp as she was suddenly shifted and held. Aro had clasp a hand on her should to leverage herself into a sitting position while her other one was on Penny’s waist to make sure she didn’t fall off. The metal women went from nestled atop Aro to in her lap.

Penny stilled trying to calm her processors. Her father was able to upgrade a few drivers to better accommodate all the physical sensations but the artificial skin wasn’t meant to be artificial, but rather synthetic, in combination with organic analysis and inputs. Too much all at once caused her Aura to glitch her systems, a flood warmth and power to hardware that didn’t need it. Such as the one that simulated dopamine and serotonin.

From the kitchen Xanthic and Ciel grinned and sneered. Xanthic looked at May and Winter, signing something. Penny’s sign language has gotten better but she didn’t feel accomplished when the only sign she recognized was ‘forget’.

“Did ya’ll forget my house is bugged?” May whispered to Winter. The Specialist groaned into a hand. Aro snapped her fingers, getting their attention and signing at them with a frown. May cleared her throat and translated. “What… are you all doing?”

“These idiots,” May pointed at Winter and Penny. “Was trying to find out… if you purred.” May said.

Aro nodded. Though in understanding or confirmation was unsure. She paused to wake up a little more. She stretched her back and arms high above her head. Penny watch, her shoulders and arms flexed. She could see the muscles in her neck and shoulder jerk. From Penny’s place on her lap she could feel several joints pop back in place.

Lazily reaching for May’s hand she pressed it firm on her bralette covered chest, fingers splayed wide. May let out a strangled noise body tense and blood rushing to her head. Her posture relaxed a little when a deep and loud rumble vibrated from Aro’s entire torso.

Penny tensed. Nearly feeling her Aura surged to several systems. Particularly her visual analysis, which was for some reason searching out May’s reaction, and her incomplete sensation of touch.

May took her hand back, signing back to Aurora. “Okay, okay. The goat can purr.” Aro gave a tired and crooked grin, ears wiggling slowly and lethargically. Penny allowed her leader to slide her onto the couch.

“Shall I get ready now or make breakfast first?” Xanthic translated this time.

“Get ready now.” May said, her signs stressing ‘now’. Aurora laughed, grabbing the baggy shirt from the armrest and walking up the stairs. Penny noted how May’s eyes traveled Aurora’s form, lingering where the shirt barely covered her bare thighs and boy shorts. Winter’s gaze was similar to Penny’s brushing across her neck and chest.

Once out of sight, May practically collapsed over the couch. She had a hand over her chest. Her heart must be beating hard, trying to spread her blood across her body instead of just pooling at her cheeks, ears and neck.

“I’m dead. This had to be a dream.”

“I don’t think the dead can dream,” Penny said a little slowly. Her commentary was usually interpreted as ‘snark’ rather than facts. But Winter and Ciel laughed so Penny didn’t mind too much.

“Considering how tame that was it’d consider it a nightmare.” Xanthic called from the kitchen. “You’ve been crushing on her for what? Five years and not even fucking in your dreams?”

“I don’t know it definitely had that softcore porn vibe until you interrupted,” Ciel said, her dry tone-

“Wait, what?!” Penny asked. She felt her circuits nearly frying. Her general knowledge included basic sex education. Basic. Between human men and women. For analytical reasons she was able to recognize signs arousal and simulation but her processors struggled to directly link her own actions to intercourse.

It was easier when she remembered how flush May was. With new context her processes suddenly rewrote May’s lingering gaze as ‘hungry’ and Winter’s hands on Aurora changed to possessive. Then dominating.

“Oh.” Penn took a deep breath, trying to cool down her power unit. Her temperature was slowly increasing to dangerous limits. Luckily Winter handed her a glass of water and she gulped it down. Penny will have to do more research… Perhaps she’ll request Aro to make her one of those backdoor Scrolls.

Morning classes was a little difficult to focus on. As students of the Accelerated Program their schedule was altered to focus on their strengths and smooth out any weaknesses. Team APCX was smart, as a team their academic scores passed most fourth years so they focused heavily on combat training, Grimm studies, and military vehicles and other equipment.

Physical Conditioning was in their morning routine. While the other students try their best to regulate their behavior around Aurora and Xanthic, they prefer to completely avoid them locker rooms. They were too intimidated by the pair, even if their civilian lifestyle meant their bodies weren’t as tone.

Those brave enough to share the same row of lockers as Team APCX were also controlled enough not to stare. Unlike Penny who took far too long to change. Her eyes constantly wandered to Aurora.

“Soo,” This time Aro held Penny’s stare. She crossed her arms under her sports bra, “Any other Faunus related curiosities I can satisfy?”

“I think I’m legally obligated to stop you two from fucking,” Xanthic said in her usual dead drawl, “It’d be unfair to May.”

“Blatantly ignore the actual law in front of your Officer teammate,” Ciel scowled. She then looked at Penny and Aro. No matter how hard Penny tried to focus her gaze on the floor her peripherals kept her alert to any movement. “Serious request, no more softcore porn.”

“You two should fuck if that’s where your mind goes. They were being completely appropriate,” Aro laughed. Her voice was loud and ringing in the locker rooms. Penny was vaguely aware of clothes shuffling and metal clacking against metal as lockers closed. “Hold on, I got another Faunus secret to show off.” Aro pushed off her locker and walked towards the more populated area in nothing but her sports bra and boyshorts.

Ciel and Xanthic sneered as there were some shocked noises. A gasp of surprised and louder slamming lockers. A few of the shyer students hurried out of the locker rooms.

“Hey Neon.”

“Good morning Aro! How badly did you piss off General Ironwood to get Conditioning in the morning.”

“As bad as you, it seems.” Aro laughed. “Can I brow your nunchakus?”

“Of course- Oh! Are you gonna show them your freckles!!”

“… It was a surprise.”

Neon Katt came around the corner, dragging Aro behind her. Unlike Team APCX she was partially change for a military work out.

“Fun fact! A lot of nocturnal Faunus,” Neon stressed, eyes on Aro who only rolled her glowing ones in return. “And some other types have a secondary coloring only visible under UV and neon lights!” She cracked her nunchakus, a bright purple light imitating out, then held them to Aro’s skin. Under the violent glow bright blue and pinks dotted her cheeks and down her neck. Further down there were intricate… patterns across her chest…

Penny had to focus really hard on the scientific mysterious to keep her hands from wandering. It was easier to put them in nonsexual context when Neon shined the glowing nunchakus on her torso. Her pattering was large sports that grew into large planes. It wasn’t as intricate or bright.

“Wow, that sure is interesting to my cybernetic eyes,” Xanthic drawled. Neon and Penny giggled as the hacker finished dressing for class. "I’ll wait outside and stall if you idiot take too long with the anatomy lesson."

“You seriously need to get laid,” Neon taunted. She slipped her shirt completely on and following her out. “I’m sure Ivori would-”

“I’m like 20… Wait I think 21. Find someone older.”

Their chatter slowly faded among the crowd. Ciel held her Scroll to her locker, and was satisfied when it clicked closed. She left and Penny focused on changing, trying to keep her eyes forward even as her partner waited patiently.

“No more Faunus questions…” Aurora’s teasing tone drifted off. She closed her eyes briefly, ears shifting around out of habit as she focused her senses through her aids. Penny paused, waiting for her to continue and was a little startled when her hand was suddenly on her abdomen. Her processors struggled with the input. The area wasn’t as vulnerable as organic ones but it wasn’t a common area to be touched. Perhaps May had a point about inappropriate touching and asking permission.

Aro to lean in and splay her hand wide across her artificial skin. The pressure she applied gradually increasing, glowing eyes watching her hands. Her artificial skin didn’t give as much as organic ones…

“Penny, there is no one in the else in the room.” Aurora whispered. The tone was tense. Her power unit slowly leveled its output, the simulators mimicking serotonin gradually stopping. For a moment. Aro’s hand brushed a completely flat surface.

Organics had belly buttons.

“How much of you is metal? Is… is this why I never see you eat anything solid?”

“That’s…” Penny struggled to answer. Aro lifted her hand off her and took a step back. Her head and brows tilted with worry. There were so many protocols it choked her from saying what she wanted. “That’s classified.” Penny said. Pain flickered across Aro’s features before Focus could hid it. Penny never saw her ears pointed so low and she never wanted to see it that way again. Aro sared at her for a few moments before nodded and leaving the room quietly.

Penny took a breath and rested her head against the cool metal locker. She stopped all thought that wished for the impossible, such as the simulations that weighed Winter and Aro’s reactions. Penny knew May would be furious. The Happy Huntresses would steal Elm’s rocket launcher and shoot it at General Ironwood.

Penny slapped her cheeks and focused.

Her next test was the Vytal Festival a few months away. Perhaps if she does well Ironwood would feel safe and confident enough tell Winter…

Neon and Aro was already on the track, stretching. This time Harriet was able to join them, adjusting settings to randomly create hard-light obstacles or even rotate the individual tracks backwards or forwards.

Ciel and Xanthic were doing more general body conditioning with Flint and Ivori. As Accelerated students they were privileged to the more advance training equipment but also had higher expectations. She could see Xanthic eye the panel their instructor was using to set up the usual suicides run and weights. Ciel elbowed her partner, a warning glare to not hack the technology.

A loud explosion signaled the start of the speedster’s race, plus Aro. For once the mechanic was leading right from the start. Harriet seemed to struggle to catch up, her semblance needing a warm up to reach top speeds.

For those with well-conditioned bodies and above average strength, Atlas Academy decided to focus on strength and Aura. Penny and Kobalt went through their usual warm ups at their own pace. Penny did it to blend in at first, but found that it helped her Aura and power unit prioritize and optimized her systems.

Her conditioning consisted of maintaining high Aura concentrations to bolster their physical bodies and further increase their offensive and defensive capabilities. Kobalt was skeptical of Penny at first. But after the first day of taking metal fist to her sides with little damage to her Aura levels he looked at her as a challenger. The rest of team FNKI and APCX were worried. That expression slowly stopped after the first few days but sometimes Ivori or Ciel would stare a little long. Aro adjusted much slower.

“Aah, fuck!” Her face slammed right into a hard-light barrier and she stumbled back. Neon laughed, passing her and taking second. The mechanic didn’t get up right away, instead looking at Penny with guilty eyes.

Penny looked away first and focused on her Aura before each impact from the robot’s fist. She tried to ignore the several blast that rang out from the track. After defensive conditioning, Penny’s next exercise was continuous Aura control. She’ll push a heavy block of metal, only unlocking the gears that bolt it down when her Aura level was at the threshold. Below and it would lock. If it was below for too long the block would slowly reset and push Penny back to the starting point.

By the time their hour and half Conditioning class was done both Teams were exhausted.

“I hate it when Harriet joins,” Neon mumbled as they walked into the lockers. “All we do is run!”

“My legs are on fire…” Aro mumbled. This time Aro wandered directly into the showers, not bothering with her clothes or even closing the stall as she stood under the cool stream. It hissed angrily at her augments, cloud of steam quickly filling the showers.

Penny stared at her for a moment. Normally she would gather her clothes and slipped into another stall, opening her own vents and letting the cold water chill her systems. But Aurora really pushed her prosthetic this time. She was able to overtake Harriet twice. She even in regular sparing it would overheat. While not on literal fire, the temperature could be dangerous.

“Would you like some assistance in removing your prosthetics?” She asked.

“No softcore porn!” Xanthic said. Some students chuckled softly, too exhausted to be shy. Neon let out a whistle.

Aro didn’t reply or respond.

Penny looked closer. She didn’t see the blue glow of her eyes through the steam. She tried to calm the protocols that instantly went to the worse scenario. Her tired Aura seemed to awaken again, energy suddenly flooding her system. It ramped up, as Penny took a step for closer observation. She barely saw any glow from all of Aurora’s cybernetics and augments. She definitely could hear it humming loudly over the shower- Aro’s body suddenly buckled. Penny watched as all power in her legs flickering off.

“Aurora!” Penny lunged forward, catching her. Her footing slid across wet tiles and she slammed with unfamiliar weight pressed on her. Penny took a sharp breath. The metal prosthetic really was at a dangerous temperature, even for her. She quickly adjusted to make sure her artificial skin didn’t melt. “Aurora!” Penny laid a hand across her forehead and pulled her hand back. The horns around her head was the same dangerous temperature, even when it was directly under the cold spray.

“Move!” Xanthic shoved Neon and a few random students aside. In the hacker’s hands was Aro’s Scroll and red flashing warnings. “Agh! That idiot overheated- Neon! Get some medics!”

“R-Right away!” Neon was out of the room, a rainbow trail lingering behind her.

“Don’t!” Penny quickly stopped Xanthic from reaching out with her bare hands. “It’s too hot.” The hacker’s solution was to slip off her shirt, taking the extra time to thoroughly soak it in the water before wrapping it around the cybernetic legs.

Penny felt around Aro’s skull for that hidden button for her aids. She ignored several warnings about temperature or how all her senses felt numb. She struggled to trace the cybernetics to a familiar spot she’d seen Aro press down on before. She didn’t flinch at the hot steam blowing in her face when she finally found the manual release.

Everything was oddly numb but focused. Her own senses narrowed down to the single stall and Aro’s breathing. Every so often Xanthic’s voice would pierce the fog but Penny moved without conscious thought. Her hands felt around Aro’s thighs without order. Pressing on the manual release when she barely felt the seam.

She murmured an apology, automatic and flat as Xanthic scrambled away from the steam. Penny released the other prosthetic and the hacker kicked the metal into another stall and turned the cold water on it. Penny was about to carry Aurora out but Xanthic stopped her.

“Penny!” It took a few yells of her name for her to focus. Xanthic’s expression was nearly grounding. It was too conflicted, too concern to calm Penny down but it was enough to get her to listen. “Her… both of our augments are deeper than they look.” The hacker confessed.

Penny braced the women against her own chest. It slowly turned into a hug. She faught the instinct to hold her tighter. She could barely differentiate Aro’s breathing from the spray of water. She knew a tight grip would only do more harm so Penny focused on what she could feel. Aro’s steady heartbeat against her own Aura wild chest.

That grounded Penny. Xanthic pressed a well-hidden button at the base of Aro’s neck. After holding it down for three seconds, several slits along her skull but mostly her neck opened and vented out more steam.

Aurora let out a low groan that rolled and vibrated through her chest. Physically Penny relaxed. She adjusted her hold on Aro to angle her better under the cold water. Internally she felt ready to combust herself. Fear driving her systems so hard they temporarily malfunctioned and now her processors were trying to fix corrupted or missing data. Penny dropped her head onto Aro’s shoulder. Her skin was much cooler now but still a dangerous 106 degrees.

The last conscious thing Penny remembers is watching the medics lay a soaking wet yet still feverish Aurora Glade onto a stretcher and pushing her away. Harriet gave Penny a look that barely held any guilt. “Team APCX will be notified when she wakes up.”

Her high cognitive functions didn’t return until lunch. She remembered a few hours after Aro feinted, Xanthic was called to assist in something regarding Aro’s technology. As Xanthic’s primary supervisor Ciel was forced to follow. Penny took notes throughout her classes with no real attention to what the instructors were saying. True to routine her body automatically wandered to the mess hall but Penny stopped. Without her teammates she had no reason to enter and pretend to be organic.

“Salutation Penn!” May’s voice called out. Penny turned around to see the Huntress approaching her. She found herself burying her face into her shoulder, the pressure somewhat relieving the Aura building behind her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” May gently whispered to her. Her hands rubbed up and down Penny’s back attempting to calm her down. “Aurora will be okay. She survived the journey from Menagerie to Atlas and several White Fang assassination attempts. She won’t die from her own augments.”

Penny buried her face deeper into May’s shoulder and nodded. She knew it was an unreasonable feeling but her protocols, processors, no line of code knew how to rationalize the fear and worry. Instead the same thoughts looped as if it would answer herself. What if her overheating cybernetics caused permanent neural damage? What could she have done to prevent possible said damage? How much metal Aro had hidden under the surface? Then Xanthic’s suspicions of experimentation-

Her thoughts clouded her analysis and kept spiraling until May pulled her into an unfamiliar area of the Academy. The dorms. APCX was one of the few teams that didn’t live together or on campus. Xanthic’s home was slowly becoming their usual base of operations but everyone also had their own places to retreat too.

In the elevator May pushed the button for one of the highest floors. When it stopped she popped the ceiling open. “By the Brothers,” She chuckled, “Winter was right, they still haven’t fixed this yet.”

“Where are we going?” Penny asked.

“It’s a surprise!” May said as if it was a suitable answer. She easily jumped through the hatch and offered Penny a hand. The metal women tried smiled and a pretended to accept her help. The elevator shaft looked a little unkempt, with a large panel missing in between floors. Before them was an open crawl space dust and cobwebs caused May to hesitate long enough for lock on the elevator cable to open and it slowly lowered.

“Ah, fuck!” May jumped into it and Penny followed after. Luckily the pair didn’t trip on each other. They barely had enough room to walk normally and getting tangled or pressed against each other would be uncomfortable for May. The Huntress pulled out her Scroll, illuminating the crawl space for herself.

“Ugh. I remember this place being a lot bigger.” May muttered. Due to the thin space she occasionally bumped into her. Penny grabbed her hand and held onto it. It was a numb feeling and she wasn’t sure why she did it until May squeezed back and flashed her a small smile. Whatever locked Penny’s systems at minimum finally lifted enough to at least try and recuperate May’s efforts.

“Can I get hints to where we are going?”

“Depending on what you ask.” May answered.

“Is it a restricted area?”

May laughed, “Of course! Those make the best hideouts.”

“Is it… surveillance?”

May’s grin turned a little wicked for a moment, “Nope.”

“Does Xanthic know about it?”

May winked, “I’m the better spymaster.”

Before Penny could ask any more question they reached the end of the crawl space. May carefully pushed the wall, trying to slide it up out of it slits. It took four tries but it eventually popped out and she slide it aside. She had forgotten it was in the middle of the day. Her internal clock had told her lunch would be finishing soon and she should be making her way to Military Machinery Operations class. She deleted the internal reminder and adjusted the aperture in her eyes to filter less light in.

May stepped out onto a hidden platform, shadowed by another overhanging piece. The view was unobstructed by other buildings. While it wasn’t at the very edge of Atlas, it was tall enough to get a view of Mantle below and the white snow of Solitas that stretched around for miles.

“Welcome to the… uh…” May’s boisterous voice quickly lost steam. Her cheeks flaring pink again.

“I believe Robyn called it the Dove’s Nest-”

“Winter!” Penny gasped and ran out. She stopped short of throwing herself onto the Specialist. Winter gave her a tired smile and relaxed into the misting white fur of her summon. This time an Alpha Manticore. It lounged on its side, completely at peace with being used as bedding for two. “Aro…” Her Faunus was curled at Winter’s side, eyes closed and those soft sleeping purrs rumbling from her.

“Woah, slow, Penn.” May said quickly grabbing her shoulder. Penny didn’t even notice she was running again. She slipped her hand back into Penny’s and they walked closer. Aro was in a hospital gown, back completely bare but lower body covered in her boyshorts. Penny didn’t get a good look at her earlier, with all the steam and water obscuring her vision. Right now Aurora looked a little flush, skin a little damn… like she was recovering.

“Is she doing better?” Penny asked.

“Ideally,” Winter said with a frustrated sigh. “The hospital was making her… restless. So I took her here.” May let go of Penny’s hand and laid across the Manticore’s back and wings to reach Aro. She pressed a hand to seemly clammy skin. Winter glanced back at Penny who didn’t take another step. She smiled gently, completely free of the image she needed to maintain on military grounds. It reached her eyes. It didn’t have a literal glow like Aro’s but it did seem to light up, “My summons are completely under my control. Perfectly harmless unless I wish otherwise.”

Penny couldn’t help the skeptical twitch of her nose. The Specialist always sent constant waves of white Beowolves at her during training. Winter laughed at it, soft and light. The sound and sight of May with Aro melted Penny’s guard enough to approach the usually dangerous beast. Her self-improvement codes told her skin contacted optimized her ability to performed under emotional stress. She mildly wondered if the Manticore would fulfill that odd requirement.

Penny slowly reached out. At first the Alpha Manticore didn’t feel like anything. Just a cool pressure against her hand. Then slowly her processors adjusted, focusing on the tingling cool against her skin. Still very faint. “It’s… soft and cold. Oh!”

The Manticore took a deep breath, pushing firmly against Penny’s hand and letting out a growling exhale. Aro jumped a little startled. She immediately calmed seeing May’s face and barely looked around to see Penny or Winter. A happy but high pitched purr came from Aro as she learned back into May’s hand.

“Morning, doll.”

May didn’t answer but smiled, a light blush dusting her cheeks. With her eyes close and no aids communication was limited to sign and writing. May grabbed Aro’s other hand, fingers tracing words onto her palm.

“I feel… hot. Dizzy. Headache.” Aro’s words slowly started to slur. May jumped over the Manticore, settling next to Aro. The mechanic immediately curled up to her chest. “I’m okay. Tell Penny I’m okay.”

“She knows,” May murmured, writing the words onto her skin.

Penny walked around, taking Aro’s previous spot next to Winter. Once against the cool furs Penny nearly drifted into sleep mode. Her Aura was pushed during training and her simulations and processers kept burning an excessive amount of energy as well as-

“Penny,” Winter gently called out. Her hand slipped into hers and gave a tight squeeze. The pressure paused the spiraling line of through. “Are… are you alright? Xanthic and Ciel informed me that we you a little… despondent. After the accident.”

Penny looked at May and Aurora. Her eyes kept wandering end of her form and the abrupt end at the nubs instead of the usual prosthetics. She frowned and looked back up at Winter, “I was so scared…” She did everything right and it might have not been enough. It wasn’t a problem she could fix. “I couldn’t-”

“You did well and prevented any permanent damage.” Winter quickly interrupted. “Xanthic and Dr. Pietro are drafting upgrades. The problem was a faulty part from my father’s company.” She practically hissed out. The Manticore let out another growling exhale along with several other frustrated twitches. Particularly its tail, which hit May and Aro. The two grumbled, voice a little scratchy with sleep.

Penny giggled watching the pair try to adjust into the Manticore again. This time Aro was more awake and restless. She’d whine and wiggle, elbowing May several times. With a tired groan May propped herself up and pet Aro’s hair slowly lulling the deaf women back to sleep. Winter and Penny giggled. The Manticore responded with slight jerks.

“If you wake her up again I swear…” May scowled at her. Aro grumbled and complained, a bunch of slurred noises and not any real words. She did manage to nuzzle May’s hand, pulling it off her hair and pressing a kiss her wrist. All fight immediately left May. It looked as if her flight instincts kick instead. Though she didn’t move with Aro curling against her.

“Sleep, doll.” Aro murmured, pulling May back down.

Penny settled back into the soft furs of the summon. Slowly sleep mode turned power consuming functions. Combat analysis and Floating Array was set to standby. Those thoughts that kept her alert, ready to respond slowly faded. She watched the sky, content to listen to Winter’s giggle and May’s soft groans.

“You should have kissed her back.”

“Shut up. It’s not that easy.”

“Oh?” Penny glanced at May who seemed to fidget under both their gazes. Kissing seemed like one of the easiest actions a Huntress could do. “It takes at least 2 muscles to kiss someone. 23 or 34 for more rigorous types.” May let out a panic noise, a little strangled as she was forced to restrain herself or wake Aro.

“I-I’m not. There’s a time and place and heavily drugged and sedated isn’t it!”

“Five more years won’t be the right time either.” Winter said. She settled on her side, half propped up to talk with May. Idly her thumb continued to brush the back of Penny’s hand though her grip slipped into a comfortable position and strength. “If you’re that much of a prude ask her out first.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from a Schnee.”

“I’m deaf but I can feel you idiots talking.” Aro loudly grumbled. “Go the fuck to sleep.” May grumbled and complained, up until Aro suddenly propped herself up. She pushed May’s back firmly against the Manticore and hovered over her for a few seconds. “Fucking. Sleep, Marigold.” Then she practically collapsed onto her chest. May dropped an arm across her eyes, face a vibrant red. Winter hid another giggle behind her hand and completely relaxed against her summon.

Penny closed her eyes. Her low Aura levels and safe environment triggered Sleep mode, primary systems entering a low performance state and easing cognitive thought to the bottom of the power list. Power to her sensors was cut, limiting Penny to just her sense of touch and hearing. She couldn’t feel the soft Manticore fur or the cold it gave off, instead she barely registered Winter’s hand in hers. The soft purrs from Aro was temporarily hidden by May’s deep breaths, a little shaky from how hard her heart was beating. Sometimes she heard Winter and May but couldn’t truly process what they were saying.

Oblivious relations: 4. Useless Lesbian: May Marigold. Penny Polendina.

Error: System corrupted. Invalid analysis detected.

#Penny Polendina #fic #cutting strings #pre-fall of beacon #winter schnee #may marigold #pfenning #qued

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settersprouts · 4 years ago

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꒦ ikanaide : chapter four ! ꒦

半神

. . : oikawa is the son of athena, while iwaizumi is the son of ares. both godly parents are known to be rivals, but what does that mean for their children ?

or, hq + percy jackson au, where oikawa is not the son of aphrodite for once, but people still think he is because he's pretty, and he's flattered and confused.

. . : okay hear me out, oikawa is known to be strategic and analytical, which is perfect for a descendant of athena. that is my reasoning for this alr dont attack me pls also, vv sorry this was late, i was feeling like shit all week and couldn't finish m sorry :((( hopefully you guys didn't wait too long :((

iwaizumi's about had enough of his bullshit.

his fists were shaking as he stood in front of his divine cabin, the front door ajar and an absolutely horrid smell wafting out from the cabin. he stepped closer to the cabin, stiffening even more as he pushed the door open the rest of the way. the whole place was absolutely trashed- both his and his other roommates' clothes mixed together in many piles on the floor. he could tell just from the strategically placed items all around the room that the place was definitely rigged with mediocre traps. nothing would kill him, but it would most likely maim him.

the demigod growled, stepping over the tripwires on the floor and grabbing his khopesh. it was charged with electricity, thanks to yū nishinoya from cabin one. in exchange for the many weapons the son of ares' crafted, the son of zeus would help charge a select few and give them back to him.

the added energy would definitely be helpful for when he beat the absolute shit of a certain demigod.

he was seething with bloodlust as he stepped out of his cabin, walking towards the beach, where he knew the person he was looking for would be.

and there he was. sitting in one of the little tide pools, talking with one of the sea nymphs. she was way too close to him, but oikawa didn't look like he minded in the slightest. or he didn't notice, one of the two.

she bent down to whisper in his ear, his pupils growing smaller in his brown eyes, and he let out a laugh. it was really melodic, which was common for a son of aphrodite. their beauty was immaculate, and they were practically irresistible to everyone, unless you had a decent sense of self control. iwaizumi knew that oikawa had the whole camp under his fingertips. except for him.

iwaizumi let out a groan, clenching his fists. fuck morales. he knew that his father and oikawa's mother were on really good terms, but he couldn't help but feel attracted to the absolute need to punch the brunette in the face. with a concrete slab. or choke him with aphrodite's famous scarf. one of the two.

he let out an animalistic growl, drawing the attention of oikawa and the unnamed sea nymph. oikawa blinked at him, unimpressed, while the nymph shrieked and dove back into the ocean with a splash. oikawa glanced at the bubbles where the nymph had disappeared, and let out an unamused sigh.

`oh, well, she was kind of boring anyways,` he said nonchalant, stepping out of the pool, buck-naked, without a care in the world. iwaizumi's eyes widened as he turned away almost immediately, his face flushing completely.

`what the hell do you think you're doing?` he seethed, his usual bark lacking no bite, since oikawa really couldn't see his facial expression.

the latter let out a chuckle. `calm down, you can turn around, now. i'm decent.`

forest-green eyes slowly darted back to the brunette's figure, pupils growing bigger in relief, as he realized that he really was decent. he was dressed in the atrociously bright orange camp half-blood shirt, and bleached denim jeans, rolled up to just above his ankles. his bead necklace was still wrapped around his neck snugly. it was extremely tighter than iwaizumi's, which hung down just over the scar on his left pec. he must've tightened it like a choker. it was kind of smart- usually, monsters with half a brain used those necklaces to pull demigods towards them if they couldn't grab their limbs. this tactic limited the amount of things they could grab on him.

iwaizumi would've never thought of that.

`so,` oikawa mused, folding his now damp towel. he must have used it to dry himself off while iwaizumi was looking away from him. `what do you need from me?`

the other demigod blinked, mouth forming an 'o' once he realized his reason for being there. he totally didn't forget that he wanted to sock oikawa in the face just because he saw him naked. `right. i have a bone to pick with you, oikawa.`

`oh? is that so?` the brunette smiled sweetly at him, his eyebrows furrowed in an act of confusion and innocence. disgusting.

iwaizumi stepped forward, whipping out the khopesh he had stuffed in his pocket. with a simple flick of his wrist, it extended. the contraption was thanks to someone in cabin number six, with the help of cabin nine- apparently, iwaizumi had saved someone dear to them, and he was given the khopesh as a thank you. however, the person never did reveal themself to iwaizumi. it was an athena cabin secret.

oikawa's brown eyes widened at the sight of the weapon, but that expression was quickly replaced with an amused sneer. `oh, what's this? you want to fight?`

`no, you're going to let me maim you in silence, i refuse to fight someone as weak as you.` iwaizumi retorted, fists clenching. the brunette gawked, his mouth agape in a silent shout.

`weak? excuse me? i'm far from weak. just because you come from cabin five, doesn't mean you're higher than everyone else.` he replied, sticking his nose high up in the air. `i'll have you know, i've won many tournaments against your cabin.`

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. `yeah, because you always cheat and sneak over to athena's group.`

`i don't cheat! and i don't have to sneak over to athena's group, i have a place there you know!` oikawa shrieked, whipping out a dagger and pointing it at iwaizumi threateningly. however, the latter remained unphased, which pissed the brunette off even more.

`yeah. sure, and what's that?` iwaizumi said, letting one of his eyebrows raise. if rules served him correctly, there was no teaming allowed in any game at camp half-blood, unless stated otherwise. however, he always saw oikawa with athena's group, but he let it slide, thinking the ares' cabin would win anyways. he was, unfortunately, very wrong.

oikawa blinked. `are you stupid? athena's my mother.`

`huh?` the son of ares' stepped back a bit, glaring at the other. `you- athena's son? but- you're-`

`pretty? yeah, i get that a lot.` oikawa sheathed his dagger, stretching out his muscles. `people mistake me for the son of aphrodite way too much. it's kind of annoying, actually. there's a lot more to me than my face,` he mused, glaring at iwaizumi. `looks like you're no different from the rest of them. shame. i actually took a liking to you.`

the other stood there, unmoving, confusion lining every forehead wrinkle. `what are you saying? there's no way-`

oikawa sighed. `i should've known you were going to be hard to convince. look, i'm the son of athena, and the current ruler of the cabin. if you don't believe me, ask my cabin mates. they'll tell you.`

`then who the hell's trashing my cabin?` iwaizumi seethed, still not convinced by oikawa's truths.

the latter let out a melodic laugh. `i thought that was obvious. i saw some of hermes' cabin sneak out to yours during lunch. makes sense, they're always trying to pull pranks on everyone and see their reactions. yours was most likely the best one of them all.` oikawa smiled, his eyes twinkling as he walked away. `well, while it was fun talking to you, i have to go. it's getting dark, and i'd rather not get caught being out past curfew.`

iwaizumi looked up to the sky to find out that he was, in fact, right. the sky was slowly darkening, the sun almost disappearing at the horizon. the green-eyed demigod let out a sigh, turning to glare at oikawa, to find out he was long gone.

`..damn it!`

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`can you believe he's even athena's cabin ruler?` takahiro hanamaki muttered lowly to his fellow cabin mate, issei matsukawa, who also stood in front of a very emotional toorū oikawa. he had been ranting about how he was sick of everyone mistaking him for a son of aphrodite, and when his cabin mate shigeru yahaba said it could've been a compliment, the hysterics had gotten even worse.

fortunately, the 18-year-old had tired himself out, and was now resorting to laying on his bed and blinking the tears out of his eyes.

matsukawa sighed. `no. i can't. not when he's like this.`

`i can hear you, 'ya know.` oikawa muttered, tear-filled chocolate brown eyes turning to them accusingly. `you can't even act like you're tired of me, you just got here.`

`true,` hanamaki replied, kneeling down next to his dear friend. `but according to yahaba, you've been complaining about this for the past forty-five minutes. don't you think that's a tad bit excessive?`

oikawa sat up abruptly. `no! well- maybe. but it's so stupid!` he exclaimed, fists furrowing in his fluffy brown locks. `i don't act like aphrodite at all! i don't even look like her, but i'm pretty and that's the only reason people need to lump me in with that cabin. i actually liked iwa. of course, he's just like the rest.`

`oh.` matsukawa snapped his fingers, pointing at oikawa. `he's the guy who rescued kiyo and takeru, right?`

the brunette shuddered. `right. that memory just gives me chills.` he thought back to that day, where a gorgon had came across oikawa while he was taking his sister and nephew shopping. the gorgon smelled him, and realized he was a son of athena, and attacked the group, leaving oikawa bruised and bloodied while he took kiyo and takeru as prisoners. however, a group of demigods from camp half-blood on a quest sensed the violence occurring, and rushed to the scene as quick as possible. iwaizumi was amongst the group, but he had taken off after the gorgon, and didn't get a good look at oikawa's face.

when the group returned to camp, oikawa had made the khopesh iwaizumi had sported, and left it on his bed while he was out training with his cabin mates. he also left a thank-you note, but didn't sign it, hoping to leave his identity anonymous.

`yeah, why don't you just tell him that you're a relative to kiyo and takeru? the whole camp knows about that quest, so if iwaizumi knows your identity, everyone else will too. people won't mistake you for a descendant of aphrodite anymore,` hanamaki supplied, reaching into the tupperware of ambrosia oikawa was given (he had started a fight with kyōtani from ares' cabin to relieve his stress- both parties sporting the same amount of cuts and bruises) and popping a bit into his mouth.

oikawa shrugged, snatching back the tupperware before hanamaki could steal any more. if a demigod ate too much of the sweet, healing treat, they could get extremely sick. `yeah, maybe. but,` oikawa grinned, turning to his two friends that stood by his bedside, `beating him at capture-the-flag tomorrow sounds way more fun.`

the two boys sighed, smiling at the sight of their best friend with a much happier mood. capture-the-flag with demigods was always a very violent and extreme sport, but all cabins ended up having a lot of fun playing the game. and, no matter what side the athena cabin was on, they always ended up winning. no one could remember a time where they lost.

beating the ares' cabin was going to be a piece of cake for oikawa.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`you seem on edge, iwaizumi.` ushijima had muttered to the demigod, taking a seat beside the other. they were currently stationed in the middle of the forest, with the job of guarding the red flag. `do you want to talk about it?`

iwaizumi glanced at his companion. under the absolutely atrocious battle helmet was a look of concern and worry for his friend. the dark-haired demigod let out a sigh, nodding slightly. `yeah. i'm just.. shaken up, i guess.`

`how so?`

`well..` iwaizumi pondered, trying to figure out the best words and phrases to lay his point across. `i pissed off one of the sons' of aphrodite here, because apparently, he's the son of athena, and not aphrodite. like, what the fuck? the dude even acts like the deviled spawn of her, so i don't understand why he's so pressed.`

ushijima nodded, listening intently. `you mean toorū oikawa, right?`

iwaizumi gaped. `how the hell did you know that?`

`i made the same mistake you did, thinking he was a descendant of aphrodite.` ushijima mused, looking up to the sky. the clouds reflected in his olive-coloured eyes, but were less noticeable than the clouds reflecting in oikawa's eyes. `when he had first came to camp half-blood, he was called weak by one of our cabin-mates. he challenged him to a duel and won. i then told him he should have been a descendant of ares, not one of aphrodite. he would have a rightful place here, with us.`

`oh? what'd he say, then?`

the olive-haired demigod shuddered. `he slapped me. very hard. and then yelled at me, saying he was a son of athena, not aphrodite. he apparently doesn't like being addressed as a child of aphrodite.`

a sharp wolf-whistle came from the trees. ushijima and iwaizumi stood up, quickly switching to a fighting stance. iwaizumi clenched his khopesh as the figure who was listening to their whole conversation emerged from the trees.

and of course, it was fucking oikawa.

`y-you?` iwaizumi shouted, almost dropping his weapon. `how long were you there?`

the brunette stretched, calm despite the fact that a sword and a khopesh were both aiming at his chest. `i heard the whole conversation. i've been watching you two for quite some time, now.`

ushijima stepped forward as to greet oikawa, but faltered. his eyes widened, and he turned around. leaning on the flag they were supposed to protect was a silver-haired male holding a celestial-bronze axe. his honey-brown eyes met ushijima's olive-green ones, and a corrupt smile split his face. `finally. you noticed me. i was wondering how to get your attention.`

iwaizumi turned around to see the second attacker, letting out an almost animalistic growl. `it's a fucking ambush.`

`correct~` oikawa mused, taking out his dagger and smiling at the other. `however, suga-chan isn't allowed to touch you. i wanted to do all the dirty work myself.`

the silver-haired demigod nodded. `my only purpose here is to take the flag once oikawa defeats you. he requested to fight you both at the same time.`

oikawa nodded, flicking a little switch on his dagger iwaizumi hadn't noticed before. as soon as he did so, he dropped the dagger, and it extended into a much longer weapon. the other demigod scanned it, recognizing the weapon to be a scythe. 'suga-chan' smiled at the sight, meeting iwaizumi's questioning eyes. `you guys better be prepared. he hasn't lost a duel since he came here.`

the brunette nodded, pointing at ushijima with a smile before lunging at the demigod. before the latter could even react, oikawa had connected his foot with ushijima's abdomen, sending the demigod flying. he landed on his back with a gasp, having the air knocked out of him. iwaizumi's eyes widened- he hadn't even been able to react either. that was how fast oikawa was.

ushijima sat up quickly, blocking oikawa's attack with his sword. the other demigod smiled sweetly, twisting the scythe and yanking ushijima's sword out of his hand. it landed in the dirt a couple yards away.

iwaizumi growled, running at oikawa with his khopesh up high. the brunette turned around, unamused, sidestepping iwaizumi's attack and tapping at the end of his weapon. the khopesh hissed and groaned, a net pooling out from the back end, trapping iwaizumi in the knots. the demigod gasped, writhing around in the trap. `wh-what the hell?`

`you seem to be confused. could it be,` oikawa laughed, `that you didn't even know that was there?`

`s-shut up! how the hell did you know anyways?`

oikawa deadpanned. `i made the stupid thing. i think i would know every little thing there is to know about it.`

the dark-haired son of ares stared at his attacker, watching as he stalked over to suga and ripped the flag out of the ground. the brunette turned and smiled sweetly at his victims, waving. `well, see you.`

the two demigods sprinted off, laughing at the shouts coming from behind them.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`i can't believe him!` iwaizumi kicked the boulder, ignoring the pain from doing so. `he's so fucking insufferable! but i can't even do anything about it, because apparently he made this stupid weapon-` he waved the khopesh in the air, `-and i have to be grateful, but he's making it so goddamn hard!`

kyōtani glanced at the demigod, popping another piece of ambrosia in his mouth. he was still recovering from his fight with oikawa earlier. `you didn't know he made that for you? i thought it was obvious.`

the other glared at his cabin mate, confusion in his eyes. `what do you mean?`

`well,` kyōtani chewed the left over ambrosia in his mouth and swallowed, before continuing. `i'm pretty sure he has a crush on you, or something. he's been watching your duels ever since he came back with your group.`

`what group?`

`the quest you had a while ago.` kyōtani muttered under his breath, probably ridiculing iwaizumi. `you saved his sister and nephew from a gorgon. remember that?`

iwaizumi deadpanned, the memories all but flooding back to him now. `that was him?`

`that was him.`

`so he really is a son of athena?`

kyōtani nodded.

`..fuck, i'm an idiot.`

`i know.`

─── demigods.

#oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #kyotani kentaro #yahaba shigeru #sugawara kōshi #sugawara koushi #ushijima wakatoshi #takeru oikawa #oikawa's sister #percy jackson au #demigods #gorgon

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thisisthehardestthing · 4 years ago

Note

Heya Claudia! This is my first time asking for something like this but for the 1k event, my sign, Aquarius + Todobaku(Todoroki and Bakugou) + prompt #9 (and maybe if youre into it or something, the specific kink is anal)if you don't do polys then Aquarius + Bakugou + prompt #2. Thank you, bebe

Hey Luna! Thank you for your request! I’ll be honest, this is my first time writing a threesome, so I apologise if it’s a little... weird? I need the practise so I’m very grateful for your request! Thank you for it!

also, I am very into anal, so I put that as the focus.

TODOROKI SHOTŌ X FEM!READER X BAKUGO KATSUKI

18+ “How do you feel about two at once?”

Warnings: Anal, threesome, a denied orgasm. If you know me, I am a slut for edging. So, as usual, I leave you wanting more.

You stare from Shotō, to the explosive grumbling guy next to him. Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens and then, you swallow.

“What?” you ask, shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of your boyfriend. He’s taking in your reaction with those analytical eyes.

“He said, you dumbass,” Bakugo Katsuki chimes in, the hand in his pocket moving to point at Shotō. “How do you feel about taking two cocks at once?” His voice is crude, grating, the opposite to the velvet smooth of your lover.

“Don’t call her that,” Shotō retorts, side-eyeing Bakugo before looking at you with a cocked head, heterochromatic eyes searching deep into your own. “Let me know if this makes you uncomfortable, but Bakugo has told me that he wants to fuck you too.”

You choke. You'd mentioned threesomes once to Shotō, and he has always been straight-forward, but this is insane.

So why did you agree to it?

You're on the bed, Katsuki standing in the doorway, and, for once, staying quiet as he watches the scene unfold. His red eyes take everything in. The way the light reflects off your soft curves, the rise and fall of your chest. He's observing what makes you tick as IcyHot does it.

Shotō reaches across, grabbing a foot to tug you down, closer to him. Air rushes from your chest as you glide along the bedsheet. His muscular chest ripples, the right hand grabbing you cold against the sensitive skin. He lifts your foot to his face as he kneels down onto the bed. The kiss to there is delicate; the starting signal.

Like frostbite, he starts on your extremities. His fingers circle around your ankles, hot and cold, lifting them slowly, placing them softly against the mattress. He knows the exact place to touch you, to massage up your legs, releasing the tension of the day. He kneels between your legs, gliding up, and watches you shiver below him. You're still so reactive, even after all this time. His hands reach your thighs, and he pauses, looking over his shoulder at Bakugo. You follow his gaze, coming onto your elbows.

"I get her ass," he says with no room for rebuttal. You're thankful.

"Sure, IcyHot, whatever," Katsuki huffs, pushing off the doorframe, stripping the shirt from his body, tugging his pants off fluidly. Shotō looks back at you, fingers toying with the skin of your thighs.

"If he bothers you, he's out of here."

"I'm fine, love," you whisper, reaching a hand to his cheek which he leans into, only slightly, before he takes on his more dominate role.

One eye sparks lightning while the other rumbles with thunder. Shotō watches as Katsuki kneels onto the bed, pulling your chin sideways with rough fingers to place a crushing kiss against your lips. The hands around your thighs tighten, you gasp, letting a warm tongue slip inside your mouth.

Katsuki tastes like burnt marshmallows around a campfire. He's warm, overpowering, his tongue chaotic and commanding as it swallows you whole. Not one to let the attention fall away from him, Shotō reminds you of who you belong to. You feel cool lips against your mound as he kisses the heated flesh.

Oh fuck, you moan, fall back into the bed, pulling away from fiery lips. Katsuki's hands are on your breasts, experimentally fondling them, seeing the way your left nipple perks up with a pinch. There's a lick to your slit, a chilled tongue, and a flick to your right nipple with hard fingers. Katsuki lets out a groan when he sees how your breasts perk up between his grip.

Your attention flickers between the two of them, overwhelmed, unsure where to focus as you're attacked from all fronts. Shotō doesn't waste time, sucking down on your clit, dragging the blood from your head to him. Warm fingers tease your opening, barely slipping in, and already there's the first pulse of your impending orgasm. He pulls away.

"Shotō!" you shout, eyes flying open to look down at him grinning between your legs.

"Katsuki should give you the first orgasm of the night," he remarks, trailing his eyes to the ash-blond above you, a grin on his face, "but first,"

An index finger swipes between your sopping folds, collecting your slick. The finger dips lower, tracing the rim of your puckered hole. Shotō presses in, the muscle straining tightly around him. He uses his left hand, warming it up only slightly to ease the tension from your body. Katsuki stares on with wide eyes, taking in the way you moan at the touch, eyes rolling up to stare at unknown shapes in your mind.

You’re so hot, body burning up, stretching open. You're no stranger to anal, but god, every time feels like the first.

"Katsuki, get the lube. In the nightstand." Shotō murmurs, shooting an order at the man frozen in place. He reaches behind him, throwing the bottle to your dual-quirk lover who catches it with his other hand.

The finger inside you retracts, only to be replaced. This time, it slides in easier, pumping in, slowly, letting you adjust, then two. You reach out, grab for anything, Katsuki's forearms. Your fingers dig into the toned muscles still latched onto your breasts. Shotō is methodical, practised, he knows your body. It doesn't take long before you're ready, slit leaking from your denied orgasm.

You are ready to be fucked.

Shotō pads quietly to the head of the bed, sitting against the headboard to then pull you up against his chest with your arms. His hard cock is pressed against your back, leaving a smear of precum in its wake.

"You good, baby?" he asks, leaning you into him. You're pressed against him, aching, open, craving more. When you were so covered in touch before, now you're starved of it. You confirm, feeling him push you forward slightly as he slathers his cock in lube. You tingle, all over.

Katsuki watches on, shifting so he's between your legs, between Shotō's legs, eyes wide. You catch his stare, devouring the contours of his strong shoulders, his pecks. Bakugo is wider than Shotō. Your hips lift, the head of Shotō's cock pressing into you slowly.

"Fuck!" you swear, head falling back, white hair tickling your peripheral vision.

To put it bluntly, there's nothing like getting fucked in the ass. The moans that leave your lips as you're split around Shotō's cock rivals a porn star. Pressure builds, and he isn't even thrusting. You can feel your cunt pulse around nothing, your ass inching its way down his pipe. You feel every little movement, legs spread wide as you're parked on Shotō's lap, feet on the outside of his thighs. His hips shift lower so you lean back on him. Your pussy is open, waiting, quivering for release.

"Katsuki, why don't you finish our lovely Luna here?" Shotō purrs into your ear, eyes staring past you to Bakugo. He grunts, falling down between your spread legs, between Shotō's legs. The bed jostles, and you moan out at the jerking of the cock nestled in your organs.

"Fuck, please," you beg, craving a release of the pressure inside you. You don't even hear the compliment from Shotō praising you for begging.

Katsuki's lips against your folds drown out everything. He'll eat you before he fucks you, not afraid of his friends cock so close to his face. After all, he wants to show half-and-half that he can make you moan just as loudly.

-----

... *white person smiles with a closed mouth* thanks

#1kevent #todobaku #todoroki x reader x bakugo #todoroki x reader #bakugo x reader #BNHA FANFIC #mine #i tried

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tiny-maus-boots · 4 years ago

Text

Linchpin

A/N: I know I know. Here I am with the start of something else entirely instead of finishing all the other 2734387423 other open projects I have. But this is for Kate’s bday, albeit a few days early.

Happy Birthday Workplace Proximity Acquaintance. @smolletts

ALSO: y’all. Just...watch.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bql02sOBf4&feature=youtu.be

01.

"Mind if I sit here?"

Aubrey looked up from the newspaper she was rereading for the second time that morning. She wasn't that much of an avid reader of current events to have spent the time on it, but she'd been stalling. Stretching her time in the quaint Cuban bakery from her usual routine of 13 minutes to an unprecedented 39.

She had almost given up and gone on about her day, resolving herself to stop thinking about the gorgeous brunette with mile long legs and a smile that blasted right past the barrier of cool analytic thought that Aubrey managed her world through.

And here she was in the flesh, voice as soft as all the curves that Aubrey couldn't keep her gaze from dropping to before she remembered her manners and nodded with a smooth gesture at the table between them. The other woman smiled coyly and put her drink down before slipping into the only other empty seat in the small dining area.

"Thanks. I forgot how busy this place gets at this time."

Aubrey quirked a brief smile at that and nodded again. They had been playing a careful dance of covert glances and flirtatious smiles for months. And if she were being honest with herself it was the closest thing to dating she'd done since she left the CIA to take a position with the FBI. Though was it really dating if you were just spy banging an asset for information? There were too many thoughts suddenly crowding her brain, pulling her back to a life she didn’t want to remember and she had to give herself a slight shake to settle her focus.

"It's gotten busier now that the hipsters have discovered it. I guess I should feel bad for hogging a table to myself every morning."

"Nah you're not bad. You're here what? 15 minutes tops? Long enough to read your paper, eat a pastelito and punish yourself with a steaming cup of acid."

It startled a laugh out of her, and Aubrey felt the sudden need to put distance between them. Her brain telling her that it was best to change her schedule, choose a new coffee shop, retreat, it was an echo from a past life of as an operator. She had to remind herself that this life didn't require a deft and abrupt change every time the wind blew east.

"Should I be more alarmed by the fact that you're watching me or that you think my coffee order is bad?"

"First, you've known for three months that I've been watching you. And can you blame me for having eyes? And second, this..." The woman reached out and carefully slid Aubrey's coffee cup out of her hand and replaced it with her own. It was ridiculous, they were strangers and she had no idea if the other woman had done something to the drink. Yet she was tempted to taste it the second the warmth of the woman's hands pressed her fingers around the new cup. "Is coffee, what you were drinking before is a sin."

"Did you put something in this?"

She could have cursed herself for her suspicious second nature, but the brunette seemed to take in stride, head tipping back with the bubble of laughter that erupted.

"Absolutely. Two sugars." The laugh made her own lips tug into a smile and Aubrey brought the cup up to taste the steaming liquid. The coffee was delicious of course but, in all fairness, it could have been the worst swill ever created. Aubrey couldn’t focus past the amusement in the other woman’s eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and she wondered if it was a jolt from the caffeine or the lazy smile on the brunette’s face. “So, what do you think?”

“I think I might have to change my coffee order.”

The smile grew and her heart skipped forward in double time. Definitely not the coffee. A sharp chirp broke the shared held breath between them, and Aubrey reached into the inner pocket of her jacket. She pulled her phone out and glanced at the display with a disappointed sigh.

“Time to go?”

Aubrey raised her head at the question, thumb already pressing the sleep button to black the screen out before it was seen. The woman raised a brow but didn’t ask any questions. It was different. There were always questions, and with questions came demands, and with demands came responsibilities. It was tiring always trying to remember what lie went with what cover, more tiring to just speak the truth of her life.

“Unfortunately. Duty calls so I had better…”

“Sure, I have a date to get ready for anyway.”

It was early for a date and it piqued her own curiosity and something else. Something deeper than her reflexive need to know everything about all the players in the game. Disappointment echoed through her and she knew it was silly. They weren’t a couple; they didn’t even know each other. A few months of watching each across a crowded room didn’t a relationship make. And yet… Aubrey offered a polite but blank smile and a short nod.

“I hope your date has something special planned.”

The woman stood, everything in her body suggesting so much more than a casual flirt between strangers. She leaned over and took one of the napkins that Aubrey had neatly stacked and piled on the table. Her smile turned sultry as she produced a pen, she clicked it and scribbled something before sliding it toward the blonde.

“Guess we’ll find out when you pick me up.”

Aubrey sat back in her chair as she pulled the napkin closer. It was just an address and a time. 8 pm sharp. She raised a brow but couldn’t force the smile from her face. In another place, in another time, she would have agreed and disappeared long before there was time to make a connection let alone have a date. Maybe it was time to try things differently, this was after all, her only life to lead now.

“You know I don’t normally go out with strange women. Especially when I don’t know their names.”

“My name is Stacie.” Something flitted through the gold flecked green eyes, her smile turning bemused for just a breath of a second. Stacie gave an amused half chuckle and pointed at the coffee cup. “And we’re not strangers. I bought you coffee.”

Aubrey looked down at the cup and back up, but the tall woman was already halfway to the door. She stopped to toss a smirk over her shoulder at the blonde and Aubrey felt that surprising surge of adrenaline pump through her, kicking her heart into overdrive.

“Oh Posen…you are in trouble.”

----

“So how was that for a first date?”

“Hm. Does it count as a first date when we’ve been having coffee together every morning for months?”

Aubrey laughed and tucked her hands into the pockets of her slacks. It’d been a weird day in the office, her mind too scattered to focus on the current killer du jour. It wasn’t like her and her partner, Swanson, was all too happy to point it out. But planning out a date at the last minute had thrown her off kilter and she’d spent more time thinking about that than her job. She had to rely on something familiar and more personal instead of a perfectly planned event.

“Considering the first time we spoke was this morning I’m going to say yes.”

“Definitely a treat. I don’t know if I’m more impressed by your mastery of Latin dance or your flawless Spanish. Where’d you learn?”

“I picked up a little here and there.” It was vague and she knew it but how did you tell a date that you learned it during 18 months under cover in Belize?

“Very mysterious.”

“You say that like you aren’t intrigued.”

The tall woman at her side laughed and slid an arm through hers and Aubrey’s muscles twitched reflexively when the movement blocked access to the gun holstered under her arm. Her neck and shoulders bunched with tension as Stacie looked at her with raised a brow when she felt the hard edge of the grip.

“Is that a gun in your suit or are you just happy to see me?”

“You’re not even a little surprised are you?” Stacie smiled and Aubrey felt the world drop out from under her. She only knew she was on solid ground because the other woman never once faltered in her stride. “About the gun I mean.”

“Should I be? Everything about you screams cop.”

Aubrey gasped lightly at that. “It does not!”

The brunette snorted and gestured vaguely at Aubrey. “Baby, you’re wearing that suit like it’s your superhero costume. Understated make up, hair up in a stylish yet no nonsense hairdo, no jewelry save a watch. My guess is you’re trying to convince yourself and everyone else that this who you are.”

It was too much truth in one statement and gravity hit, weighting her down from her gut. Aubrey cleared her throat and raised a shoulder in a half shrug, playing it off casually despite the fact that it was anything but casual conversation to her. The knot in her shoulder tightened even more and she rolled her neck trying to loosen it.

“You don’t think this is who I am?”

Stacie stopped them in front of an apartment building and stood facing her. Their eyes met and she felt seen. No. Not just seen, exposed. Stacie was reading her as easily as she read every suspect to ever sit in her interrogation room.

“That watch you wear? It’s expensive and has more complications on it than gauges in the cockpit of a 747. I bet it cost at least seven grand and don’t get me started on those shoes.”

“Eight not that it matters.” Aubrey looked down then frowned at her date. “What’s wrong with my shoes?”

“Nothing. But they’re as high end as the watch on your wrist and I don’t recall Ferragamo pumps being standard issue to cops.”

“Well, Federal Agents get a bigger budget, so…”

Stacie narrowed her eyes slightly, her smile turning knowing and Aubrey reached up to rub her neck and shoulder to ease the tightness there. She was uncomfortable being laid so bare to a stranger. It had been too long since someone could see past whatever façade she put up.

“You’re not just a Fed. Why don’t you want anyone to see who you are, Aubrey?”

“Well that’s a conversation for a second date.”

Stacie’s grin changed, going soft and coy at the prospect of another date they both already knew would happen. As uncomfortable as Stacie made her, as exposed as she felt…she kind of liked it. Liked that she couldn’t hide who she was inside, somehow that made it all the more real to her. If this was the only life she had to lead she didn’t want to do it alone. Maybe now it was time for her to let go of the habits she already knew led to nothing but brief entanglements that ended up meaning less than nothing.

“You know you’ve been nursing that shoulder half the night.”

“It’s nothing, just a tweaked muscle.”

Stacie stared at her a moment longer and stepped in close, her hand trailing along the lapel of Aubrey’s blazer. Her heart stuttered and sped into overdrive when the brunette’s full lips twitched into a smile that said she knew so many things Aubrey couldn’t even begin to fathom to guess.

“Ah, well. You do know that I’m a licensed massage therapist. I could totally help you out with your kink.” Aubrey’s laugh tumbled out at the teasing waggle of eyebrows. “No but for serious. Come up. I promise to find all your sore spots.”

There was a hint of something just under the surface but she couldn’t put her finger on it. And maybe before that would have been enough of a red flag to make her take a pass but there was something in the other woman’s eyes that called to her like a siren song. Desire coiled low in her gut and Aubrey nodded her agreement. Stacie took her by the hand and led her up the stairs into the large brick front building.

“Nice place, how long have you been here?”

“Not long, just a few months.”

Aubrey nodded distractedly at that as Stacie casually flung her long hair over a shoulder. She was barely aware of the woman unlocking the door, too caught up in the light scent of her perfume and the soft expanse of neck that dipped delicately at her collarbone.

The first-floor apartment was larger than she expected with splashes of bright color against the backdrop of a soothing gray on the walls and furniture. The blonde’s eyes darted everywhere, internally cataloguing everything she saw and its placement in the room. The lock clicking behind her seemed so loud in the quiet, dim interior of the apartment.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She gave a slight shake of her head. “I’m good.”

“Except for that shoulder that has you looking like Quasimodo.” Both brows shot up and Stacie laughed playfully before taking her hand once more. “C’mon, let me show you the way.”

“Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly…”

She couldn’t ignore the slight tingle of anticipation that skittered down her spine and Aubrey’s voice came out a soft rasp as she blindly followed the other woman into a smaller room that she used for treating her clients. Stacie moved to a linen closet and pulled out a bath sheet sized towel to set on the massage table. Her gaze trailed up Aubrey’s body and lingered for a few seconds before she turned away to turn on the aroma therapy diffuser.

“There is a hanger behind the screen for your clothes. Just come on out when you’re ready. I won’t peek. Much.”

If Stacie expected her to be shy, she was mistaken. Aubrey had lost any shame in her body during the early days of her career when she’d had to learn that nudity and sex were less important than keeping your cover. The screen was an unnecessary attempt to preserve modesty and Aubrey didn’t think twice about peeling off the layers of her Special Agent costume where she stood.

The sound of her slacks dropping to the ground caught Stacie’s attention and she turned, her lips pursed into a surprised little ‘o’ as she took in every inch of the blonde. Aubrey smirked and settled face down on the table, all the muscles in her body jumping with the weight of tension in the air. A finger trailed along her spine in a gentle caress making her back twitch in warning at a danger her mind couldn’t quite perceive.

Long fingered hands flattened over her shoulders and back down her back spreading warm oil over her skin with practiced ease. It wasn’t the first time that day that she thought she was in trouble, but it was less and less alarming the lower those masterful hands roamed. Maybe Stacie was dangerous for her…but what girl didn’t like a little danger?

Stacie gave a low chuckle as her hands slid over Aubrey’s hip to trail down the back of a toned thigh. “Oh…I think I am going to be in all the right kinda trouble.”

Well. At least she wasn’t the only one.

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tatiletotesamaze · 4 years ago

Text

“Good Morning, how are we feeling?” Mentor XX asked, sitting down and smiling. The man who stared back at them seemed tired, worn. Perfectly understandable given the circumstances. “Not too chatty then? That’s fine. Thirsty?”

They popped the top off the thermoflask. Steam floated out, bringing with it the faint waft of spicy, warm tea. The man blinked slowly. Mentor gently pushed the full cup across the table. Their newest charge watched blankly, almost gormlessly. But inside something was still ticking along. They could see it in those dead, grey eyes.

“Everything in the Empire is built on solid foundations, isn’t it?”

***

“Tell me what happened on the Void.”

“There was a blue light and… everyone just faded away.”

“Do we have to start over, Cipher?”

“Start over? That’s what happened! You have the footage. I know the Navy wouldn’t have scrapped the computers before you got your hands on them.”

“Now now, Forty-Five-”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Temper.”

“I have a name.”

“Do you? What is it?”

“It- it’s… I…”

“Now, Cipher, what happened on the Void?”

“There was a blue light-”

“Try again.”

“There was a blue light-”

“Why don’t we take a break for now, and give it another go in a few hours? Once you’ve had a chance to calm down.”

***

“Lieutenant Rochester Windthorpe, deceased.” Mentor XX carefully laid the datapad on the table. The room was cold, grey and decorated with harsh lighting. “You seem quite lively for a dead man.”

Rochester stared at them. He’d been in this room for four hours now. Before that… various places he couldn’t remember. Days had passed. Six, he was sure, since…

He said nothing.

Mentor XX smiled. It was a warm and friendly smile and if Rochester was in a place to feel, he would have been afraid.

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? Solid grades, not exceptional, but demonstrating an analytical mind and a penchant for ‘individualism’. Certainly officer material. Though it would do you a disservice to say you got into our programme on anything but merit, I think we both know your familial connections played some part in your being accepted.” Mentor shrugged. “If nothing else, it helps to know Sith.”

And not be intimidated by them, Rochester thought.

“A shame you couldn’t stay,” Mentor paused, checking something on the datapad. “Lord Vizloch just would not allow it.”

“No…” His voice croaked. His throat was dry, jaw stiff from clenching. “I failed… I wasn’t good enough.”

Mentor XX stiffened. It should have been imperceptible. It was, almost. But he noticed it, the sudden flash of steel behind the eyes, a tightening of the smile. Do we have to start over?

“Is that so?” The smile warmed again. Mentor’s tone was soothing, underpinned with something patronizing. Like he was a child. A stupid, petunlant child. He had said the wrong thing. “Well, if you’re not good enough, I suppose we’re done here.”

***

“Cipher, forget this conversation.”

“You said that last time.”

“Did I? Well, it’s been a long day. Good night, sleep tight.”

***

“Hello, how are we feeling today?”

Mentor XX closed the door behind them. Only a flash of the bleak corridor outside, but it was enough to get the man’s attention.

“Sore.” He said.

“Are your sleeping quarters not to your liking?”

Rochester looked behind him. There was a crease in the wall where a bed would pop out, whenever it was time to sleep. The lights were always on.

“It’s fine. I fell.” A quick roll of his shoulder, to show where he’d once tripped? Slipped? He’d gone down hard, seen something.

“Bed rest and stretches.” Mentor set the datapad down and took a seat. “Now, please tell me about what happened on the Void.”

“I t- We picked up the team from [planet]. They had some cargo. The manifests for it weren’t filled in correctly, so I had to fix that before we could leave. One of the crates… it came from Belsavis… but that wasn’t noted down anywhere. I was going to fix it but Major… Major…” He stops, brows furrowed as he cannot remember the name, nor anything else about the Major.

“Forget the Major, Cipher, what happened next?”

“We left the system. We were going home to Kaas.”

“Good.”

“There was an explosion. No, the atmosphere. We vented atmosphere? But there wasn’t an alarm. I checked, nothing failed. There was a bl-”

“Calm down Cipher.”

“We lost atmosphere, somewhere near the Doldur sector. I tried to send out a distress call. There was a hull breach. There was… they were… in the walls, the floor-”

“Calm down. Cipher.”

“-bits. That’s how I fell.” His voice full of wonder, looking at his shoulder, imagining the blood that coated him, seeing the face.

“Cipher, do we have to start over?”

“Yes.” Rochester swallowed. Panic and pain rising with bile in his throat as he remembered that awful corridor. Red lights flashing, red on the floor, the walls.

He wanted to start over. He wanted to forget.

---

His rib bent. He felt the bone shift and come dangerously close to breaking. He was at his limit. It was only the first fight. The fist kept going and he rocked with it. Let it push him back and away from the followup. Not fast enough. His opponent crashed an elbow into his sternum. Rochester went to the floor in a heap, gasping.

“That’s what you want to train?”

He heard them muttering across the room. His new cybernetics were better; too good, really. His spine was more flexible and the only pain he could feel in his back was the surgical incisions, still healing. The plate from his stomach was gone. He had an armour plate over it at the moment - the plugs and muscles were delicate, taking their time. That part of him was off limits for now.

His opponent helped him to his feet. He got up, wanting nothing more than to just lie on the ground forever.

She was a little shorter than him. Well-muscled in a disarming way. She had an air of being designed; of being sculpted and molded into a weapon for any occasion. He didn’t know her name or her designation and, being in the middle of forgetting his, he’d been introduced as Red. In turn, she’d introduced herself as Grey.

She didn’t smile. She wasn’t kind. And she’d beat the living shit out of him until told to stop.

“Again.” Shadowy assessors lined the room. He was sure some of them even were real.

---

“We need to concentrate on combat abilities. I believe the asset could excel in close quarters given enough time.”

“Is that why you’ve struck the seduction practicals from the itinerary?”

“That subject isn’t strictly relevant to--”

“It’s a core part of being a Cipher. If the asset cannot make a lasting impression on the target a mission will fail.”

“If you look again, Trainer, you’ll see only certain parts of the practical have been struck.”

“I noticed, Mentor.”

“And if you check against the asset’s history, you’ll see there’s only so far we can push before that mind breaks. Irreparably.”

“We can run a mental assessment. Perhaps the control levied in a training scenario will help to overcome previous trauma?”

“The asset has been sexually active for some years now so I don’t believe that’s entirely the issue.”

“Then what, Mentor?”

“The issue of control, as you said.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Quite. Keeper?”

“I agree with Mentor, for now. Keep the adjusted itinerary. However, assessments should be carried out routinely and should the asset be deemed capable you can entrust it to Trainer. Keep it at an appropriate rank until such time as it can meet all the requirements of being a Cipher.”

“Of course, Keeper.”

“Thank you, Keeper.”

“Dismissed.”

---

“Trainer, this is Forty-Five.”

Trainer’s eyebrows creased in a brief, if obvious, loss of control. Mentor didn’t bother to admonish her.

“He’s… familiar with the theory, Mentor?” She asked, now pointedly ignoring Forty-Five.

Mentor nodded. They were as stern and emotionless as always but Forty-five could tell something was off. Perhaps Mentor was concerned he might fail? Or perhaps enjoy the studies too much. There had been mutterings about other candidates - field agents all - who were deemed a little too eager. That would not be an issue. Mentor left with nary a word goodbye.

Trainer waved him into a little room. A table, some props and…

“We’re of course aware of your personal preferences, Forty-five, but personal preferences do not apply on a mission. Do not think of this as a test,” Lie. Everything was a test. “Today we are simply gauging your inherent abilities. Mimicking romance will not be necessary here - consider that any and all types of connection are important. Now, this is my fellow Trainer, Sixty-Four. Seduce her, befriend her, whatever you see fit. I will observe.”

He nodded. The immediate panic did not subside but he was able to quash it. He sat, unsure of how to begin.

Sixty-Four took the lead. Her body language changed dramatically. Her stiff posture and cold stare disappeared. She seemed all at once carefree and her smile was a joyous one, meant for a festival or a lover.

He mirrored her. It was not easy. The muscles in his face rallied against being pulled into an unnatural smile. Memories of who he might have been looking at, once upon a time, threatened to overwhelm him. Feeling sick, his gut knotting, he twisted these visions, picking them apart and erasing the one person he most dearly wanted to see. It was over. He would have to change.

“Hi.” He said, a little laugh in his voice.

“Hey.” She said back, happy to see him.

#swtor #open thinking #writing

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samwrights · 5 years ago

Text

Elixir - Punk!AU mini-series

Hi guys! So I wanted to write something a little different. Not necessarily a “choose your own adventure” but something along those lines. This mini series will be a Punk!AU where the reader is in a band where your story depends on the person you choose! While no place is actually mentioned, I’m thinking Chicago (home sweet home) for setting. I’ve been working on this between requests and, while the requests keep coming, I’m trying to get the routes going. For now, I present to you the prologue.

Thank you quarantine, necessary drives to my Starbucks, Halestorm, Neck Deep, Pierce the Veil, and Paramore for inspiring these babies. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: there will be swearing, smoking of cigarettes and weed, consumption of edibles and alcohol, cheating and possibly be NSFW. I haven’t decided on the last one yet. Everyone will be of legal US age for consumption of nicotine, marijuana, and alcohol in the present day (18+ in some states for tobacco, 21+ in for everything else). However, there are mentions of underage consumption/distribution of alcohol. These are genuinely mature themes! If you are unable to understand that these themes are not encouraged to be re-enacted, specifically cheating and underage consumption/distribution of nicotine, alcohol, or marijuana, please do not read for your own safety.

A complementary playlist can be found » here

Photocredit by @scandeniall

Word Count: 3504

Prologue is below the cut!

You had been trying to ignore the gnawing thrum of discomfort that had worked its way into your intuition the last few weeks, but today the dull throb had transcended into an alarm blaring at the back of your consciousness. Like your body was trying to tell you something that should have been painstakingly obvious, yet when you attempted to pinpoint the cause, you fell short with an answer.

Period? Nah, too early for that.

Food poisoning? That wouldn’t last multiple weeks.

Pulled a muscle at the gym? That was a joke, considering you hadn’t gone to a gym since your senior year of college.

Anxiety? Well that was a given, considering you had a nasty gut feeling about something.

Stress? Stress was nothing new. In fact, stress was a very familiar friend to you.

What the fuck was it?

Even meditating on the thought for the last three hours, an answer had yet to come to you. Without ever finding one, you reluctantly pull the plush covers off of your queen sized bed and push yourself up to sit on the edge before checking your phone’s lock screen for the time. 1:23pm. You still had quite some time before you needed to leave for band practice, but you knew full well that laying in bed any further would encourage your current laziness. Making your way around the clothes that haphazardly littered your disheveled bedroom floor, you entered your bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

The warmth of the water did little to quell the unsettling feeling that emanated from your gut. You even attempted to center your with old therapy tactics such as identifying all of your surroundings, such as which muscles of your body the shower was raining upon or the different notes in your voice that reverberated off the shower walls as you subconsciously sang. When that had failed, you allowed your mind to wander through the metaphorical meadow that resided in your brain.

At first, your mind focused on whatever lyrics fell from your lips, recognizing the prose as one of your band’s songs. Connecting the words that were committed to memory with people, your mind began to wander to your friends—the three boys you were thankful enough to call your best friends of a decade and members of your band, Elixir—Tetsurō Kuroo, Takahiro Hanamaki, and Yūji Terushima.

Kuroo, or Tetsu as you sometimes called him, was the guitarist of Elixir and the “mastermind” behind the name of your little group. Mastermind being a relatively loose term, as at the time, you all had felt indifferent to the name. But as nobody had come with any better alternatives, you all had stuck to it until it had grown on you. Kuroo was a year younger than you and, outside of the band, was a chemist for a small time company at the ripe age of twenty six. As you thought of him, you let out a soft snort that nobody but you could hear, thinking of his disheveled raven haired locks that framed his face; thinking of his earlobe holes that had been stretched out to nearly half an inch in diameter; thinking of the myriad of tattoos that littered his body from neck to toe. Sometimes, it did seem a little funny that this man had to wear a lab coat on the daily. You were so proud of him and of his accomplishments. He was ambitious and driven, focused on his goal of succeeding in both his field and with his band. Whether that meant recording an album and touring or just continuing to have fun was unknown, since really he would be fine with either or both.

Entertaining your analytical thoughts about Kuroo brought you to the bassist of your band, Takahiro Hanamaki, as you had met them both at your high school jobs in a local cafe. Makki, though he initially seemed profoundly reserved, had a relaxed sense of humor that typically came at the expense of others. At the time, he was a distinct contrast to Kuroo’s loud, antagonistic nature. Now, the two of them began to take bits and pieces of each other’s personalities. While Makki’s cool, composed self remained, he also was not one to avoid baiting someone just to crack a joke or tease them, an attribute he had adopted over the years of exposure to you and the guitarist. However, his laidback attitude was almost never immediately acknowledged by strangers, as his lanky build and harrowing, deep set eyes typically intimidate those who don’t know the light hearted bassist. And while he wasn’t the most “modified” member of the band, many saw the two eyebrow rings that rested above the right brow and, in conjunction with his natural features, immediately assumed the impression that Makki was unapproachable. You always had a soft spot for Makki and his slightly misunderstood ways.

Speaking of misunderstood brought your mind to the youngest member of your quartet—Yūji Terushima, or Teru as you affectionately called him. While he was only a year younger than the boys, two years in comparison to you, he was the life energy of the squad. When he had entered the cafe in which you, Kuroo, and Makki worked at for his first day, it felt that the final missing piece of the puzzle had been found, though you didn’t know it yet. It had been a year later, with you officially accepting the role of supervisor instead of trainer and Kuroo being your replacement. The two hit it off swimmingly and, while Makki didn’t necessarily match his energy, he compensated with humor. Terushima was, and still is, a wild thing. He breathes life into the rest of you by offering up crazy adventures that varied from a simple 2am Walmart trip to breaking into forest preserves at the dead of night to swim in a creek even though you had finals to attend to the following morning. In a sense, Terushima was the very reason Elixir had been born. After all, he was the one who encouraged each you to learn covers of songs until the interest had been sparked enough to learn how to properly play everyone’s respected instruments.

Backtracking your thoughts—finals. Finals meant university, and university was probably the most wild time of your life. As the friendship between the four of you continued to blossom with years passing, you all had made a pact to attend the same university. At one point, it had been tricky, trying to decide on where you were going to go and if you wanted to wait for Teru to catch up due to the age gap or if you, as the eldest, were going to pave the way for your juniors. It came as a surprise to the boys when you announced that you would wait, taking a two year gap in order to save money to lessen the blow of tuition in your bank account. Even more surprisingly, Kuroo and Makki had agreed with each other to do the same—what was the point in you staying behind and waiting for Yūji if they weren’t going to as well?

Waiting for Terushima turned out to be the absolute best idea ever. While you were initially hesitant to be rooming with three boys, friendship be damned, the four of you getting an apartment together for your university years was the best chaotic good moment you had ever been involved in. In a way, you all had gotten to celebrate many firsts together because of it. Did it bother you that you were a slightly older freshman? Sure, a little bit. Did it matter? Not at all, considering you were able to start buying liquor and beer as a sophomore in college and, as soon as your younger peers found out, you had turned it into a business to help pay rent for your shared apartment. Oddly enough, Terushima was the one who handled all of the expenses and calculated what you should be charging for your, ahem, “services”. Go figure, the youngest of you all was a math whiz. There was one unwritten rule for the apartment—no parties. Period. You could use your services to grab whatever supplies needed, whether it be alcohol, weed from a dispensary, or cigarettes, they were for your guys’ personal use only. Home was meant to home, and that was that.

Home; probably the single most important word in the entirety of your personal dictionary. While home was most often defined as a place in which a person or family resides, it meant something entirely different to you. Being home meant being with your best friends, your family. It meant being free to be yourself, unapologetically and unabashedly. And, maybe after rummaging through every single thought and analyzing each one through a metaphorical microscope, maybe that was where the disturbance in your intuition—that nasty gut feeling residing in the pit of your stomach—was coming from. There was something that you could not quite place that was disturbing your freedom, your home. Coming to the realization that your hot water had now gone cold, prompting you to shut it off and seek refuge and warmth in a fluffy towel and robe. Had it gone cold in that moment—the moment you realized why you had been on edge? Or had it been running cold out of irony that you had been in meditation for so long you hadn’t even realized it? You would never know the answer.

2:07pm. You still had plenty of time before band practice, considering both Makki and Tetsu would still be at work for another hour. To give them ample time to unwind from their work day, practice always started at five in the evening. In an attempt to kill time, you opted to make yourself a small lunch before sitting down to do your hair and makeup so as that you felt more comfortable being in public. Not that the boys cared—they lived with you for four years in university, they knew what you looked like at your absolute worst. Perhaps it became a habit to do so when you re-entered the working world as a full fledged adult three years ago.

2:29pm. After having your lunch, even taking the time to do all the dishes before moving into your next task—getting ready. While you didn’t feel the need to go overboard on your appearance, since it was just practice after all, you still had a solid hour and a half before Elixir was supposed to meet. Having plenty of time to kill allowed you to take your time to forego some self-care as well; maybe giving your locks a little extra tender love and care if you felt you needed it; plucking stray eyebrow hairs that had grown just a bit further outside of your desired shape. You checked the time on your phone again after you felt your look was complete, hair, makeup, and all. How the fuck had only an hour gone by? That was way more effort than you normally put in, or so you claim, yet time seemed to be mocking you.

3:36pm. If you could magically waste time picking out an outfit to wear to practice, you were doing so now. One part of you almost wanted to chuck on the leather pants you would potentially be sporting for tomorrow evening so as to give them a slight stretch and make them more comfortable while you performed. Another said to just keep it simple, and stick to leggings and a nice loose tee to keep you at ease. The last option that your mind entertained was wearing shorts and a tank because it always got so hot in Terushima’s basement during practice. You even went so far as to try on multiple shirts and tops that were essentially the same, swapping out different preferred accessories to see if you liked the look, if only to make the minutes tick by. Hell, you even tried multiple pairs of shoes, lacing each foot individually before the clock had passed four in the afternoon. Eventually, you tied on your typical, everyday combat boots despite the wasted minutes trying to do a wardrobe check. Now that there was only an hour left for Elixir to begin arriving the at the drummer’s family home, you decide to give yourself ample time to stop by and grab coffee for everyone.

4:13pm. You send a text message out to your mates, waiting for them to reply with what you knew would be their typical orders. Well, as typical as it could be considering Terushima was always trying out crazy concoctions. One by one they responded and of course, your assumptions were correct when Teru sent in his drink that took up four rows of text. “What in the actual fuck?” You grumbled out, squinting at your phone while simultaneously trying to enter your car. Following your typical routine of turning on whatever guilty pleasure playlist you were feeling in that moment and lighting a cigarette, you glanced at your friends order one more time before ultimately deciding to place the order online. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself ordering Yūji’s stupid drink. After placing the order, you made your way to a Starbucks closest to the aforementioned boy’s family home.

The drive to Terushima’s wasn’t a particularly long, even with the coffee run. Traveling between two suburban towns typically only took about twenty minutes regardless of the direction you were coming from, though you hadn’t taken into account the long line wrapping around the Starbucks Drive-thru. Not that it mattered—you were still on time for practice. Even if it seemed all of your friends were already here. Cautiously exiting your car with the tray of drinks in one hand while you let yourself into the Terushima residence.

His parents greeted you warmly as you always did before you made your way down to the basement. “Ayeeee, there’s momma.” Makki greets, taking the tray from your hands and distributing everyone’s respective drinks. Small talk place between band members, distracting you from the other three people in the basement—your bandmates’ girlfriends. When you did finally acknowledge their presence, you gave them a tight lipped smile, so as not to be rude, though they only gave a blank stare before bringing their attention back to the phones in their hands. You gave a roll of your eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, per se. It was more along the lines of you were the only female in the band and they automatically assumed that you were out to steal their mans. Not the case, especially considering you all formed the band before any of them were even in the picture, but go off.

Having already finished your beverage from earlier, you began plugging in the microphone into the amplifier and tuning the guitar you used for a small number of songs. Everyone else seemed to be ready to go except for you, who was strapping on the aforementioned guitar to prepare for the insanity of an opening that is Kuroo’s masterpiece. Besitos, he called it. Spanish for little kisses, you often wondered where the romantic title had come from considering the narrative was less than pleasant, even foreshadowing murder in the final verse. When you asked him about the inspiration for the lyrics and the title, Kuroo did nothing but laugh, adding in, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

The second song was a project curated by your drummer, Terushima. Brick by Boring Brick was a song that he claimed was inspired by his girlfriend, which was an endearing gesture if that were the truth. But from what you and the rest of Elixir had known of his girlfriend, she didn’t come off as a person plagued with baggage. Not that you could base it solely off of appearance, but with her and Yūji’s short lived relationship, it was a bit unbelievable that he had unlocked her tragic backstory in a matter of three months. Then again, what did you know? You didn’t even remember her name.

The title of the third song, Growing Pains, always made you laugh at the irony considering that Makki’s tall ass wrote the song. While a romantic, upbeat love song from Teru didn’t strike you as a shock, it certainly did coming from the bassist. Emotions that danced in the “love” category didn’t really sway him often. Maybe his girlfriend was just that special to him? You weren’t sure, because once again, you knew none of their names. But you knew for a fact that the song seemed to call for something more stable, endearing growth together and support for each other, which had you questioning how long had you been apart from your friends.

After the third song, you were winded and uncomfortable and no amount of water you chugged was helping you with sweat and dehydration. “I’m gonna die tomorrow.” You joked after setting your water bottle down by your microphone stand.

“We’re only a third of the way through the set, headass.” Terushima joked, pulling down his lower left eyelid and sticking his tongue out to you.

“For real, it’s only been like twenty minutes since we started practice.” Kuroo chided.

“Yeah, but can we smoke instead? I think there were a few things we should tune up before moving onto the next third of the set.” You looked to your guitarist with pleading eyes, holding a cigarette and lighter between your fingers. Makki, without saying anything else, pulled out a small bowl and packed it. He knew that any form of pleading made Kuroo a weak man, which inevitably meant a smoke break was up next rather than continuing on with work.

“Fine.” Despite the mock defeat in his tone, Kuroo is already gliding up the stairs, taking two steps at a time with you in tow. More steps could be heard, but they were lighter than the boys you had come know so well, meaning the three stooges were most likely following suit, despite them not being smokers themselves.

You and Kuroo were currently seated on a stone barricade as you lit your cigarettes, the rest of the crew picking at sporadic seats along the wall. Teru and Makki were next to each other to share their bowl while their girlfriends sat on the outside of them, just to your right. Kuroo’s girlfriend had taken up occupying the space between you and your guitarist and, maybe for a moment, you were wondering they were deliberately arranged this way.

The worst part of the girlfriends accompanying practice, in your eyes, was not their presence, but rather the fact that you felt like you couldn’t even talk to your best friends, your bandmates at band practice, because they were too busy comforting them so that they “didn’t feel out of place”. Regardless, you respected your friends enough to not make the situation more difficult for them—if you needed to say something, you could say it in the basement where spectator talk was not welcome. Out of the corner of your eye while you were internally monologuing, you see the lanky arm of Makki offering you the bowl, a few cinders of his hot still lit. With poor timing, he grabbed your attention while you were exhaling the smoke in your lungs, unintentionally doing so onto his girlfriend. “Shit, I’m sorry.” She rolled her eyes, though you know you didn’t do it on purpose. Whatever, she had her truths. You held up your hand that squeezed the filter of your cigarette between your index and ring finger. “I’ll get it on the next turn,” making Makki shrug and pass the small glass bowl back to the drummer.

A couple more drags of your cigarette soothes your craving for nicotine and when the paper had finally burned all the way to the end of the filter, you tossed the butt into the dead fire pit that acted as the center for your gathering. Terushima stands up real quick to hand you the bowl that had been nearing its end—giving you the last couple hits before it was cashed. When it came to marijuana, you didn’t smoke very often, but today you were grateful for the offering. Maybe the high would take the edge off of your...anxiety? No, that wasn’t it. Irritation seemed to be a better fit.

The seven of you shuffle back into the basement, rearranging yourselves, and knocking back a beer. “Okay, so before we move on, is there any song that you guys think we should work on before moving to the next third of the set?” You asked, your back towards your audience while you looked at your bandmates in earnest. They looked at each other, before locking eyes with you.

“Is there anything you want to work on? You’re the one who’s switching around with instruments and you’re the one who runs around on stage so we’ll leave it up to you.” Kuroo says evenly. You pursed your lips in uncertainty, think back to how each song sounded.

“Ya know what, let’s work on...........”

[ Besitos ] » Kuroo’s Route

[ Brick By Boring Brick ] » Terushima’s Route

[ Growing Pains ] » Makki’s Route.

BONUS: Terushima’s Starbucks order.

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