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cannibalisticskittles · 2 months

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first times - ch. 1

For the past few weeks, you’ve been plagued with thoughts of Pen. Thoughts that are… decidedly less than chaste. But really, who could blame you? You’ve got eyes. And needs. And you’re certain that Pen could meet those needs. That is, if you ever get around to acting on these thoughts, instead of just sitting around and fantasizing.

And Pen – he has his duties, sure, but when your interest in him is brought to light… well, there’s nothing that says he can’t have a little fun while he’s here, right?

…which is definitely, unquestionably, 100% the only reason why he’s increasingly drawn to you. The sudden temptation of attention, admiration, and affection holds no sway over him. But… as Sandrock’s premier protector, he wouldn’t say no to some long-overdue appreciation directed his way.

(or: you are awash in horny nonsense. feelings ensue.)

[builder/pen]

One thing you’ve learned about Pen is that he has an uncanny knack for finding you when you’ve stayed out far too late in the mines, or gathering supplies in the desert, and you wind up falling asleep somewhere you shouldn’t.

It’s a handy skill, really, given how often you push yourself beyond your limits. At this rate, you can’t even count the number of times you’ve woken up safe in your bed, knowing the only way you could’ve gotten there was if Pen brought you home.

The trouble with that is – sometimes you swear you can smell him when you wake. Sand and a faint hint of what you assume is his hair gel, but mostly sweat, lingering in the air as if he’s only just tucked you into bed; as if you could call out for him and he would appear in your doorframe.

Sometimes you do call out – though you tend to do so after slipping a hand into your underwear as you imagine him there with you, and – well, the details change from there.

You’ve seen… quite a bit of him, thanks to his insistence that you take the time to really soak in the details of his physique and admire how fantastic his pecs look after his latest workout.

Arms. Chest. Thighs. Glistening with sweat from yet another punishing self-improvement session – self-perfection, more like – that you have, mercifully, so far prevented yourself from darting forward and tasting. His exercise attire leaves little to the imagination – and you are happy to let your imagination fill in the gaps. And as all of him is big – you have to assume his cock is no exception. You wonder sometimes if you’d really be able to take him with the ease that you do in these daydreams, but that thought never lasts too long, pushed out by far more important thoughts of how good you’re sure it would feel.

Sometimes you imagine Pen engulfing you, his broad chest pinning you to the mattress as he fucks into you, filling you completely.

Sometimes you imagine his large hands wrapped around your wrists, setting a lazy pace just to hear you whine for more and chuckling as he prevents you from moving against him and speeding things up.

Sometimes you imagine him fucking you with no restraint at all, panting and grunting above you with that beautiful voice of his as he fucks you like an animal.

Sometimes you switch it up a little and imagine bouncing on his lap, your nails clawing marks up and down his back.

Often, you imagine him murmuring lowly into your ear, filthy things about how wet you are, how desperate, how ready for him.

In all these fantasies, his smile is nearly always present, smug and self-satisfied – and why wouldn’t he be? He’s not even here, and he’s made a whimpering mess of you with just the idea of him. Light, he’d love that if he knew, wouldn’t he? Love to know how desperate you are to see him, taste him, feel him. How the thought of him leaves you trembling. It’s not as if his ego needs feeding, but if he knew what you thought when you looked at him –

Fuck. He’d be smug about it, unquestionably. His ego would grow to an unprecedented size. You know he thinks quite highly of himself; rather than be flattered he may just take it in stride – his dues, as it were.

And yet. Maybe he’d be… interested in these fantasies of yours. Maybe, maybe he would… reward you for it.

And the thought of him looking at you with hunger is – delicious. Overwhelming. That’s the thought you fixate most on, as all your senses fill with thoughts of him, him, him –

And then you come to with your fingers in your cunt and your underwear soaked through and realize you have lost yet another morning to fantasies of Pen.

By the time you drag yourself out of bed, clean yourself up, and finally, finally get ready for the day, it is far later than it has any right to be – close to midday already. How much of that is from your body catching up on all those hours of lost sleep, and how much was spent tangled up in thoughts of Pen, you cannot say for certain. What is clear is that you’ve managed to waste no small amount of time.

There goes another morning…

Because – this isn’t the first time this has happened, has it? Far from it.

You… might have been deliberately staying out too late sometimes, just so he’ll find you and carry you home, and… okay, maybe this is the third day in a row that you’ve done that – and that’s just accounting for this week. How many times has this happened last week? And the one before that?

It… might be time to admit you have a problem.

Right. No more dawdling. First things first – you’re going to make up the time you lost today. There is work to be done. The bridge to the Eufaula is coming along well, but several tons of steel cables and frames do take time and effort to put together – two factors which you have been sorely lacking lately.

No more. Today, you catch up on the projects you’ve let fall by the wayside. And… this time, no midnight forays. As disappointing as that feels.

You’ve finished your designated part of the project, but there’s still more to do. Smaller tasks to help speed things up. So, off to the guild you go.

You ignore Yan’s yammering in your ear about being late to pick up commissions; like he would know anything about that. As far as you can tell, he’s been riding the coattails of legitimate builders for as long as he’s been in his position. Even with… distractions… you’re outpacing him by a mile. But you’re a practiced hand at tuning out the buzz of his voice at this point.

Heidi’s been busy; even with signs that the board has been picked over, with several commissions already taken by Mi-an or Athena – or both – there’s still a fair amount left over. Frames and beams and raw materials needed for the base. Yeah, you can handle that.

From there, you fall into a familiar pattern. Load the recyclers up with a new heap of scrap, fill furnaces with ore – which reminds you, you have got to find some way to thank Pen for carrying not only you but a full bag of ore, too. …and now you have got to stop thinking about being carried in his arms. Focus. Pop out to the scrapyard for extra materials, dip down into the ruins to top up on copper ore, head back home, reload the machines, sort the excess into storage. Only then, with the last of these tasks done, do you concede that it’s time for a break from the heat and dip inside to cool down.

You take stock of what else still needs to be done as you make your way to the fridge. Don’t you still have some pressed sandberry juice left over? That sounds like a good idea right about now.

You can always use more materials – ore mostly; you should make sure to set aside an afternoon to go mining soon – but as far as today’s commissions go, once the furnace cools, you should be able to put everything together relatively quickly.

You nudge the door of the fridge open with your hip and scan the shelves. Ah, there’s the pitcher, at the back of the lowest shelf. You bend to reach it.

The frames will be easy enough to transport, as will the various rods and pipes Heidi asked for, but the beams… once those are built, you might need to ask Pen for some help hauling them over to the bridge worksite. Difficult for you to handle moving them, but surely no problem for him.

The mental image of Pen lifting iron beams with ease hits you just as your fingers brush the pitcher’s glass handle, and you pause.

…maybe he’d be willing to extend the favor and lift more than that.

Nothing too heavy, just… your hips. As he bends you over much like the position you’re in now. His breath warm against the back of your neck, his hands pushing your underwear aside as he spreads you open with his fingers and prepares to–

The sound of your name and the sensation of a hand on your back pulls you from your reverie, and you yelp as you jolt, inadvertently bashing your head against a shelf in the process.

“Augh, who–?” You blink through the pain as you straighten. “–Athena.”

A Sister from Meidi, your fellow builder, an excellent listening ear – and also, very possibly the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever met, which you’re sure many others in Sandrock would agree with – is now standing in your kitchen.

She’s clearly been hard at work, if the faint smudges of dirt on the sleeves of her bright yellow toga and dotted across her hands are any indication, but she still looks radiant, which doesn’t make you feel much better about being caught with your ass sticking out of your refrigerator, mid-fantasy.

Athena normally wears an expression of serene tranquility, but there’s a slight frown on the taller woman’s face as she pushes back a strand of her long, white hair and then extends a hand towards you. You lean towards her obligingly, letting her gently probe at the point of impact. You hiss as her fingers make contact, but it doesn’t hurt too bad.

“No blood,” she says, “but it’ll likely bruise. Are you alright?”

“I – yeah, I’m alright, it just stings a bit. You startled me.”

“I knocked, but there was no answer and no one’s seen you all day.” Her frown deepens. “You know you left your door unlocked?”

“Yeah, I’ve… been doing that,” you say. Hard to go in and out as often as you need if you have to fiddle with locks all day. …and hard for Pen to bring you home if you leave it locked, too. “What’s, uh – what’s going on, though? Did you need something, or…?” You were kind of in the middle of something, and much as you adore Athena, it was just about to get good.

She regards you silently for a moment, her frown softening into a look of puzzlement. You resist the urge to shuffle on your feet under her scrutiny.

“...we were supposed to finish filling the planters around town and tend to the greenery on the northeast side of the desert this afternoon,” she says. “You never came.”

“Was that today? I thought–” And, wait, ‘this afternoon?’ It can’t be that late, can it?

You glance out the window. It’s dusk.

Shit.

You groan, swiping a hand across your face. All thoughts of returning to your interrupted daydream fizzle out. …well, most of them do, anyway. You’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t be able to jump back into them in a heartbeat, if given the opportunity. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time, and the days, I guess, and I…” You shake your head. “I’m sorry. I was… distracted.”

“You’ve seemed distracted a lot, recently,” she notes. “I’ve hardly seen you at all this week, and you’ve seemed frazzled every time. And I’ve heard you’ve been passing out far too often lately. Didn’t you say you were going to work on not doing that anymore?”

“I did,” you admit, and the reminder of that promise comes with no small amount of shame. “I just… I…”

What could you say – that taking care of yourself has seemed far less appealing than hoping your reckless actions will somehow bring you closer to him – not that you’ll even be awake to appreciate it if it does? That your head’s been so full of fantasies you barely have room for anything else?

“Hey.” Athena’s voice is gentle. “What’s on your mind?” She practically radiates understanding – something about the set of her eyes and the way she regards you suggests you could spill all your secrets to her and she would be a stalwart protector of them all. You wonder sometimes if that came after those years of service with the church, or if she’s always been like that. Regardless, maybe it would help to talk to someone about this.

“It’s…” You sigh. “…you want something to drink? Let me get you something. And, uh… feel free to take a seat. Get comfortable.”

Feels strange to start dumping all these thoughts on her when you’re both just standing in your kitchen. …not that it’s likely to stop feeling strange once you’re sitting, but it’s worth a shot. And having some sandberry juice as you chat might help to collect your scattered thoughts.

As you grab the pitcher and a pair of glasses, you ruminate on how to explain this in a… delicate way, but you remain at a loss. By the time you mosey over to the table where Athena is waiting patiently, you have failed to alight on some neat, perfect explanation that leaves out any potential for embarrassment. No, you’ll have to be honest about this, won’t you? Mortifying as that may be.

You fill both glasses and take a seat. “So,” you say, pushing one of the glasses towards Athena, “lately I’ve been… preoccupied, it’s true. I’ve been thinking about… Pen.” You tap your nails on your glass. “I can’t stop thinking about Pen. He’s–” Your face begins to burn. Is there not a way to do this that feels less – soul-baring? “...very attractive, and I am… not immune to his charms, and lately I have been… drawn to him more and more.”

“Mmh.” Athena takes a sip from her glass. “I’ve noticed.”

“You… have?”

“You have a tendency to stare when you see him. Constantly.”

“Oh. I do?” Shit. You haven’t noticed, but then, when Pen’s around, he is all you think about, so it’s… certainly possible.

“Mmhmm. And you’ve been giving him what I can only describe as bedroom eyes.”

You blanche. “No. I – have I?”

She nods. “And you’ve picked up a habit of sticking out your chest around him, and it’s like you go out of your way to find something to put in your mouth so that you’re constantly sucking on something.”

“That’s – a complete coincidence, that’s not–”

But Athena continues, counting off each new observation on her fingers as she goes. “You find reasons to be near him and some of your excuses are extremely flimsy, you get tongue-tied, you bite your lip so often it’s a wonder it isn’t perpetually bleeding… and you bounce sometimes. Like you’re thinking about–”

“I – I just like to move!” you protest.

“Mmhmm. And it just so happens that you always feel compelled to move specifically while you’re looking at his… ‘belt?’”

You bury your face in your hands. “Fucking hell,” you groan, “I’ve been that obvious?”

“Enough that I didn’t think you were trying to keep it a secret,” she says.

You drop your hands, though you cannot meet Athena’s gaze head on. “Yes. Yes! Alright! It’s — I mean, I didn’t know I was announcing it to everyone, by the Light, but yes, I’ve been–”

You push back from your chair and stand so that you can pace. Feels better to move. Feels better to not look at her right now, and see the judgment that you fear might be there. Instead, you run a hand through your hair.

“–unendingly horny about Pen,” you finish. “Athena, he’s so hot, can you blame me?

But it’s – it’s constant. I pass him in town and I start thinking about him picking me up, carrying me into one of the alleys, and fucking me against a wall. I – I sit next to him in church, and, Light, those thighs, and I just want him to bend me over a pew, sermon be damned.”

Athena grimaces slightly at this blasphemous scenario you’ve conjured up for her. “I understand,” she says, and it seems as though she has more to say – some advice, perhaps, but how can she advise you when this is something you’ve never experienced with such intensity?

So you – sorry, Athena – cut her off.

“I don’t think you do, because I don’t even get how it can be this bad, it’s – Athena, I don’t even need to see him, sometimes I just hear his voice and I imagine what he might say as he – talks me through taking all of him. It’s so much worse than it’s ever been and it feels like it’s getting worse day by day.”

“Really,” she insists. “I understand. …not about Pen, specifically, but – it is possible to be this… intensely horny even without having had experiences like that before, you know. Your… situation, isn’t so unheard of. Many could understand, and it’s not some damning edict. Even with it affecting your day to day life.”

You groan. “Sure feels damning, but… thanks. If you think so, maybe there’s some hope for me after all.” Hard to imagine anyone else making such a massive fool out of themselves the way you’ve been doing, but you suppose it’s more likely than you being utterly unique in this horny torment. And then you process more of what she’s said and your focus shifts. “Wait, are you saying you–?” Because it sure sounds like she’s including herself in that ‘many,’ and that is interesting. The devout Sister from Meidi, inexperienced but wanting? This bad?

But Athena shakes her head. “No.” Her voice is firm, though not harsh. “We are… focused on you, and your predicament right now. We can talk about nuances that may or may not concern me, later.”

You certainly will. But she’s right – you’re the one letting all this… pent up desire interfere with, well, everything.

“Right,” you say, “okay. So – maybe this isn’t so strange and you do get where I’m coming from. But if experience factors into this, I’m – I’m not – I do have experience.” You run a hand through your hair. You don’t love how insistent that came out. Like you’ve got something to prove. It’s really not that big a deal – honestly, it isn’t even noteworthy. “I mean… I’m not exactly virginal, y’know?”

Athena stifles a laugh. “I’ve gathered. You’re not quiet about some of your past… exploits.”

“Right,” you say, “yeah. About that. The thing is, I have had partners before. And I’ve done… some things. But there are… some other things, I… haven’t. Yet.”

Your pacing brings you to the wall near one of the windows currently letting in a gentle, warm breeze, and you lean against it, considering how best to mention this… tiny, insignificant little detail.

“Like… penetration.” You wince as soon as the word leaves your mouth. Could you have chosen a more awkward way to phrase that? Doesn’t seem like it, but it’s too late now. “From someone else, anyway,” you hasten to add. “There are some really marvelous devices sold at a shop in Tallsky that’ll do the trick for some solo stress relief – in fact, I could hook you up with their contact information if you’re interested in trying them out?”

But from the way Athena’s eyebrows are raised, she’s not taking the bait, and you have failed to distract her from this bit of information.

“You’re saying you’ve never…?”

You groan again, swiping a hand across your face. “Rub it in some more, why don’t you?” you grumble.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she assures you, “I’m just… a little surprised to hear that from you, given that you’ve always made it sound like you’re… well…”

“...a massive slut?” you suggest.

“Not what I was going to say.” You laugh. She wouldn’t say that, but that’s probably the core of it. “And… hold on, you mean to tell me that you’ve never gone all the way – and yet you’ve been getting Burgess to watch Old World porn with you to ‘show him the ropes?’”

“Yes, and I’m doing you a favor, honestly,” you say. “When you finally get around to making a move, you’ll thank me, because it’s clear that his sexual education has been woefully neglected thus far, and someone needs to teach him the basics.”

The both of them have been dancing around their feelings for ages now, which is ridiculous, given that they’re clearly smitten with each other. But, as a friend to both, you are sworn by sacred Friend Code to not reveal their feelings to either of them until they’re ready to do it themselves. Even if it feels like it’ll take forever at this rate.

…but that won’t stop you from doing your best to make sure that when one of them finally cracks and confesses, there’s nothing in this world that could prevent them from celebrating an end to that agonizing wait with some earth-shattering orgasms.

Hm. Actually, if you’re right about what Athena was alluding to earlier, she might also benefit from some good old fashioned porn watching.

“And that someone needs to be you?”

“No one else is stepping up to the plate – unless you want to volunteer?”

There’s a faint flush to Athena’s face at your words, and she exhales sharply through her nose, but she does not deign to grace your suggestion with a response.

“Seriously, though, don’t worry. I vet the vids first, and nothing too weird makes it in. Just ones that’ll give him a better sense of what to do when faced with, y’know, someone who happens to be into him.” Like her, of course. Her face flushes ever so slightly more at the implication. “When I’m done, he’ll fuck like a champ, guaranteed.”

“Something that you know so much about?”

“Hey,” you say, “I am more than qualified to teach Burgess some tricks. I may not have gotten dicked down before–” Is that better than ‘penetrated?’ “–but I do have some wisdom to pass on. I’m aces at oral, for one. And I happen to know quite a bit about what not to do that’ll help him out – keep him from following in the footsteps of those who have tried, and failed, to deflower me.” And then you pause. “No, nope, scratch that, I hate that. Blech. Should not have said that, even as a joke. Ew. Basic point still stands, though – drilling the importance of foreplay into dear Burgy-boy’s head is vital.”

“That’s still not–” Athena shakes her head and sighs. “This is an argument for another time.” Though her tone makes it clear that these are not empty words, and you should be prepared to pick up this discussion at some later date. That’s fine, though; you know you’re right. You’ll sell her on the idea eventually. “And it’s besides the point. So, you’re inexperienced. That’s not a big deal.”

“No, especially since I have had sex before, just not–”

“–penetration, I get it.” There’s a soft sigh at the end of that.

“Right,” you say. “Still, shouldn’t that help me here? Shouldn’t I be… not this uncontrollably horny, since it was never this bad before, with previous partners? It shouldn’t be like that.”

“Mmh.” Athena considers you carefully. “It doesn’t help to worry about what you should be feeling, because you are feeling that way.”

You resist the urge to respond with a sullen pout. For some reason, a logical response like that isn’t what you were looking for.

“Yeah, but Athena, this is–” You shake your head. “It’s not just the constant fantasizing. It’s the fact that I feel… ready? For it at all. For…” You roll your shoulders as though to preemptively ward off the ick of what you’re about to say. “...ugh, penetration? And that’s crazy, right? We’re not even – dating. How’s that make sense, huh? To not feel ready with anyone I actually dated, and then suddenly be so sure I’m up for it now? What the fuck is with that, huh?”

“Maybe because they’re just fantasies?” Athena suggests. “It might feel… safer to imagine doing some of these things than it did to be faced with the possibility of actually doing them.”

“Could be,” you say. “But I’m not a stranger to dirty thoughts. And my, y’know, fantasy self can be down for whatever I want her to be, so I have imagined… some of these scenarios in the past, and yet. This still feels different.”

“...what was it like before, with those previous partners?” Athena asks. “What made you feel… not ready then?”

You consider this.

“Well, one wouldn’t have known what foreplay was if it bit him in the ass – and yet hated the idea of lube, and no way was I letting him try and do it dry. One kept claiming to be allergic to condoms – not to whatever material any given kind of condom was made of, mind you, not latex or any of the alternatives. To condoms. Wanted me to trust his pull-out game, can you believe that? He was not hot enough to risk single motherhood. Told ‘em both ‘no,’ of course.”

Athena clicks her tongue sympathetically. “I’d say that’s a normal response.”

“Right? What is this, the Age of Darkness? We’re not ‘fucking to survive’ anymore, damn.” You shake your head. “There were others, but they weren’t much better. I really know how to pick ‘em, I guess. Anyway. I’ve… been fingered before. I've given oral – I mentioned I’m great at that?”

“You did.”

“Worth repeating. And… one of ‘em tried oral on me, which was – ugh.” You shudder at the memory. Like being caressed by a warm, dead fish. “Beyond that, I… always ended up dipping out before anything else happened.” You drum your fingers on your arm. “...a lot of the time, they were – I dunno, rushing things? Like everything else was just a roadblock towards their ultimate goal of getting their dicks wet? And it turns out it’s hard for me to get into it when I feel like I’m just being seen as a hole. Who knew, right?”

“Also very natural,” Athena says. “It makes sense that you wouldn’t be comfortable if you felt like your partner was just using you for release, and it also makes sense that you wouldn’t have much reason to even fantasize about going further with anyone like that. And, with experiences like the ones you’ve had, I can imagine that you may have been… put off from envisioning scenarios that remind you of them, too. So – if you’re doing that now, what’s different?”

“I mean… it’s Pen,” you say. “Pen… existing is the only change. But why?” You groan. “And why now, when there’s so much to be done that I can’t do because I’m thinking of him?”

“Now, that is a question that only you can answer.”

“Back to square one, I guess,” you grumble.

“Not necessarily,” she says. “If it wasn't like this right away, and you say you feel like it’s been getting worse recently, then something happened. Do you know when this started getting really bad?”

Hmm. Can you pinpoint the moment this went from ‘occasional flights of fancy’ to ‘constant and debilitating?’

“I’ve been attracted to him the whole time, of course,” you say, “I mean, he’s gorgeous, like really ridiculously handsome, and… yeah, that time he carried me home my first week here was – maybe fodder for a daydream or two, but for a long time, it was just an occasional thing. Manageable. Definitely didn’t start ramping up until after the bridge was destroyed. Which was also when I started asking Pen for help with moving some of the structural support for the new bridge, and… since then, he comes by to help me out in my workshop and I’ve been seeing him more often. But – it still wasn’t that bad, at least not right away.”

You frown. When was it, then? Seeing him lift beams and trusses with such ease did have an effect on you, but you still managed to get through a whole slew of commissions. Then there were a few days where you’d finished the bulkier parts of your commissions and didn’t need his help, and the next time you saw him was because he sought you out, and – yeah, that’s about when you started losing yourself to daydreams pretty consistently. At least, you think so. Which means –

“It was after he tried to teach me how to Space Punch,” you breathe. When he’d casually revealed that he’d never had a friend before and that you were his first. And when he said he knew everyone was waiting for him to fail. “Oh, shit. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Athena gives you a knowing look.

You’d – discussed the moment with her afterwards, naturally. Though Pen had sworn you to secrecy, you figured that was primarily in regards to his supposed ‘failure’ to impart his knowledge to you. You’d needed someone to be a sounding board to vent your agonies to – his first friend? Ever? The unbearable loneliness of that thought was too much to bear alone – and Athena would never go around gossiping or spilling his secrets to anyone. Plus, if you glossed over the Space Punch thing, said you just weren’t ready to learn such a powerful technique, that still fulfilled the spirit of the promise you made to him, right?

And if these thoughts intensified only after he told you all that, that means…

“...I… I’m so horny because I care?”

“You’ve been seeing him more often and it's showing you how much he’s not like your exes. How much you don’t think he sees you as a means to an end.”

“Well yeah, of course not. I mean… he comes by to help out sometimes without me even asking, and it’s not like I’m paying him for his help, so I have to assume he likes being around me. Plus, I have apparently been extremely obvious about my interest and he hasn’t even tried to make a move, so he can’t be rushing me–”

You grind to a halt as you realize what you’ve said.

“…oh, shit. Athena. Athena, what if he’s not interested, what if – oh, fuck, if I’ve been as obvious as you say, he must have picked up on it, so – shit, shit, he’s not into me like that and I’ve been parading around like a fool and–”

“Hold on,” she says, “There’s no need to spiral over this. You’re very much interested in him, and yet you haven’t made a move. Not an official one, anyway. Maybe he hasn’t said anything for the same reason you haven’t.” And then she chuckles. “In fact, I’d wager it is.”

“And… what reason is that?” you venture. “Because I’d kind of figured the biggest factor in not jumping his bones yet is that most of my fantasies feel like they’re pulled straight from some bottom-shelf porno, and that doesn’t tend to work so well outside of that.”

“Yes,” she says, “but if all you wanted to do was jump his bones, you… probably would have done that by now. Porno premise or not. I’d guess that you haven’t done anything because you’re nervous about changing things too much – or, you’re worried he won’t feel the same.” Athena’s voice is patient – despite the wry smile pulling up the corners of her lips. “You’re emotionally invested. …don’t make a face, that’s not bad. The strongest relationships start as friends versus simply going straight to romance, how else is one supposed to know if you’re compatible? And, despite Pen’s… whole situation, it’s likely he’s thinking the same thing.”

Whatever blithe comment you were going to make dies on your tongue. “...you think so?”

She nods. “I do.”

“…what makes you so sure?”

“I’ve… noticed things,” she says. “You’re not the only one being obvious.”

“Well?” You push off from the wall and return to the table in a few short, quick steps, then take both of her hands in yours. “What are you waiting for? Spill.”

She laughs. “He always seems to be looking in your direction, for one. And he somehow gets even more puffed up when you’re around – like he needs to show off somewhere you can see him.”

“How often? And – and since when?”

“About as often as you stare at him? And… I really couldn’t say. It wasn’t something I was looking out for, exactly.”

“Oh. Yeah. …still, I can work with that. Though – shit, what do I do?

“Talk to him?”

You make a noise like a strangled duck.

Athena stifles a laugh. “Yes, talk. What else would you do?”

“I mean – yeah, no, I definitely have to talk to him, just – woof. Daunting. Lot of things that could go wrong. Lot of ways I could stick my foot in my mouth. But I guess I’m going to have to... put on my big girl pants and do it,” you grumble. “What’ll I say…? Because I should probably come up with a better opening than ‘Hi Pen, could I interest you in fucking my brains out?’”

Athena snorts – and at the same time, there comes a thump from outside.

You jolt. “–the fuck is that noise?”

You hurry over to the window nearest the sound, push it open, and stick your head out to peer around. The sun has long since set, and it is completely dark outside. There’s nothing abnormal that you can see – certainly no sign of whatever made that noise.

Huh. Honey ant getting too close again, maybe? They keep wandering over from the scrapyard lately, trying to mess with some of the storage bins. After another moment of scanning around in the dark, you pull your head back inside and shut the window as you do so.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I’m gonna go take a quick peek outside and make sure everything’s okay, but after that… you’ve listened to me bitch and moan enough, and I think we’ve pretty much sussed out the root of my problem. Whaddya say we crack open a bottle of wine, get some painting done? Eh? Another paint n’ sip session?”

Athena considers this for a moment. “I think I could be tempted by that.”

“Hell yeah!” you crow.

Alright, good. You wasted a decent chunk of time this morning but the day’s not a total wash. You have… well, it’s not a plan, exactly. It’ll take some time for you to think through the right way to go about this.

But in the meantime, it seems like a good idea to blow off some steam in a less risqué way than you’ve been doing lately, and hey – maybe in the process, she’ll loosen up and spill some details about some of those dirty thoughts you now know she has. And maybe, if you’re lucky, they’ll be about her and Burgess. Might give you some new ideas for how you can nudge them together.

And you’ll… come up with some plan to… confess to Pen, in time.

Without fucking it up.

…you hope.

#mtas pen #mtas #my time at sandrock #this is second person but the POV character (for this chapter) is very much My Girl Echo #but you Could read this as a reader insert if you want. i'm not a cop.#yes it's on ao3 also. probably easier to read there too

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year

Text

Breed P6

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Dark Af + Cute

Series Breed

it wasn't long before staff rushed into the room and carried me to the bathtub laying me there with a pillow behind my head staff all rushed around me as this purple liquid continued to flood from me and go down the drain, my body numb from the hips down but still this horrific pain continued.

"Where is she?" I heard Thomas ask as he arrived at the suite he spotted me and quickly rushed overtaking my hand and giving it a kiss "Hi princess"

"What the fuck is going on!" I screamed

"Humm you're having our first little baby" he cooes giving my temple a kiss

"I am?"

"Umm humm, why didn't you say you were pregnant?"

"I had no idea!"

"I told you you'd know"

"I felt kinda strange but I thought it was normal like I had air trapped or something."

"No princess that's what pregnant feels like"

"Ohh god! I've been pregnant for like two hours!"

"I did say the reason your kind works so well as breeders for us is the turnover is quick"

"I didn't think you meant that quick!"

"Aren't you happy? you are fertile and I will be keeping my cute little breeder" he cooes

"Kinda hard to think positive right now!" I screamed

"It alright princess it's okay I'm here" he cooes squeezing my hand he reassured me the whole time keeping me close to him until suddenly my pain stopped and I almost blacked out the moment the pain suddenly stopped I felt thomas' hand leave mine and honestly I was kinda excited, My role was fulfilled as his breeder, I helped to bring the first child in who knows how long for a desperate world, I couldn't help but be excited to see the little child I helped bring into the world. But as I opened my eyes I screamed "AAAAAAAAHHHH what the fuck is that!"

In his hand was a horrific sight, he sat perched on the edge of the tub the staff all backed away giving us space. He stood in the same shirt and pants as he had worn earlier, in his arms laid this thing. about seven inches tall and five or so inches across, covered in this neon purple liquid that had been gushing out of me laid over it like a thick slime, the thing itself was an ovid shape like an egg but more rounded and thickest at the bottom and thinnest at the top, it had a red fleshy colour that was sheer showing inside a dark red shrivelled thing. Thomas glanced at me seeing annoyed for a second before returning his attention to the thing in his hand

"Noo noo mummy didn't mean that sweetie" He cooes giving it a little kiss

"ahhh! don't touch it!" I screamed

"Leave us" he told the staff and they quickly fled leaving us alone "what on earth is the matter with you?"

"What the hell is that thing! where's our child?"

"This is our child." he says and he noticed my utter confusion "You really don't know anything about linley do you?"

"No! we've been over this many times"

"Okay" he sighed still cradling this thing, "When a mummy and a daddy love each other very much" he joked "Or well a master and his breeder. And they make love at the right time for them both, his seed latches on to her insides collecting genetic material via contact cell copying or just being attached to you in non-sci-fi terms, and over the course of a day, or few hours for us given you a breeder with quicker turn over time, the seed takes the material and begins to form an embryo and protective gel which becomes muscular. Once it has reached its term in the few hours, it slowly rips itself off your womb walls typically dragging a lot of stuff along with it, and creating the lubricant to help it get out easier" he says rubbing some of the purple liquid on his fingers, Then out comes little one" he cooes showing me the thing closer I was a little creeped out but I looked taking it into my hand it felt like a fruit wet, but solid impossible to puncture though unless you had a good knife, I looked though the sheer red liquid seeing the small shape inside the start of an embryo, of a child and even as I held it in my hand it throbbed slightly with a heartbeat. "That's our little one" he cooes coming to kneel beside the bath with me giving me a kiss and gently stroking the side

"I pushed this out of me?"

"You did, don't worry you get use to the pain. and that's what I meant by you'll know, you'll feel it inside you so next time tell me okay"

"Okay, well I didn't know," I told him "Can it... hear us?"

"Course she can" he smiled "Hello sweetie" he cooes as the little creature shifted "awww she likes you, see she's moving. saying Hi mummy"

"Aww Hi little one" I giggled "How do you know it's a girl?"

"Red interiors are always girls. there black for boys" he says

"How long till it'll... be a walking talking person?"

"About a year. she'll sit in the nursery till then and we can visit her and watch her grow."

"That does sound nice" I smiled "I guess its not hard being a breeder"

"No, not too hard for you?"

"no. and its nice to be able to watch them grow. and that honestly I'm literally pregnant for like three hours tops is amazing"

"good. So shall we give her to the nurse maids or"

"No. cuddle a little longer"

"Of course you can cuddle her as long as you want too" he says giving my head "Thank you y/n. really. even just this is more help to this world then I think you realize. And... for my first little girl"

"You don't need to thank me. its my job" I smiled

#tbs #thomas brodie sangster #thomassangster #thomasbrodiesangster #breedseries

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lazyevaluationranch · 3 years

Text

On a post about the Blue Haired Girlfriend's quixotic citrus breeding experiments, @voidingintotheshout asked:

I mean, if you wanted a hearty citrus relative, why didn’t you just grow Osage Orange? They can grow as far north as Michigan which is surely further north than anyone could reasonably expect to grow a citrus tree. They’re not edible but then hearty orange isn’t either. Osage Orange are so cool and such a interesting historical plant from the Shelterbelt era of American agriculture. Apparently they do smell like citrus.

This is part three of three. Part one. Part two.

Now you've done it! It's time for A Very Brief (But Also Insufficiently Brief) History of Twentieth Century Hardy Citrus Cultivation! Growing citrus trees this far north is kind of nuts, it's true, but I promise you it is not even close to the weirdest things people have done to grow citrus in places where the citrus doesn't think it should grow.

A note: This post will written using the Swingle citrus taxonomy system, including things that are definitely wrong. The citrus taxonomic tree looks like that one box of orphaned computer cords I keep moving with me to new houses "in case I need them" except some sort of adorable five-dimensional kitten has entertained herself with them and some of the resulting knots are not technically possible in our space-time continuum.

The powers that be gave us citrus because nothing pleases them like seeing a geneticist cry.

1. The Migrant Trees

The Soviet Union wanted lemons for tea, and they wanted to be independent enough not to have to trade with anyone else to get them, which meant they wanted to grow their own citrus. That part of the world is not a great place to grow plants that die when the temperature goes below zero, but at the foundation of the Soviet Union, there were citrus orchards in the warmest part of Georgia, along the Black Sea. Specifically, there was about, uh, one and a half square kilometers of somewhat implausible citrus orchard.

Hang on, it is about to get way less plausible.

This is the great citrus migration: any tree that did well in one spot, they'd try planting its seeds a few kilometres further north, or a few kilometres further east. Prizes were offered for breeding hardier citrus. Slowly the orchards spread, but they were extremely weird orchards.

It's usually a few degrees warmer at ground level than up in the air, and there's way less wind. So as the trees grew, they were bent over and tied along the ground. Some of them had the central trunk run in a straight line along the ground, with branches spreading out from it like the leaves of a fern, like an espaliered tree on its side. Others were starfish shaped, with the central trunk looped down until it ended up next to the base, and the branches sprawling out along the ground from the centre like starfish legs. The citrus trees were no taller than particularly vigorous strawberry plants, but they survived the winters, and you could throw a blanket over them to help them stay warm.

None of that helped if the ground froze solid, so they needed Underground Citrus. You'd dig a ditch, down below the lowest area where the ground froze, and you'd plant flat Starfish Trees or Flat Frond Trees running along the bottom of it, too deep to freeze. In winter, you'd just cover the ditch with boards any time the temperature was expected to go below freezing - citrus would tolerate the lack of light, but not the cold. Mandarins (Citrus reticulata) seemed to do best, so that’s most of what was grown.

It is a nearly unimaginable amount of work to grow citrus this way, along the bottoms of pits and trenches. We are experimentally trying to grow a Soviet-developed mandarin breed of unknown parentage, Shirokolistvennyi, but we will definitely not be putting in that level of effort.

2. The Mixed Up Trees

There are a couple species of citrus that tolerate cold well, but taste awful. A lot of effort has gone into crossbreeding them with more edible citrus. The results are ... mixed.

The Ichang Papeda (Citrus cavaleriei) generally survives temperatures down to -18 degrees C. It is stoic and calm and has mastered emptiness. Unfortunately, it has mastered emptiness too well. The fruit smells like lemons, with maybe a hint of rose, but there's nothing to eat here. It has a rind and seeds. No juice, no flesh.

(Photo by Michael Saalfield)

The Ichang Papeda is the parent or grandparent to several delicious, extremely sour Asian citrus types. Yuzu/yuja smells like grapefruit and clean wet stones from the bottom of a fast-flowing stream. Sudachi smells like grapefruit and leaves with dew on them. (I haven't met kabosu or any other papeda hybrids personally, but they are numerous.) They're all too sour to eat plain, unless you really need to turn your face inside out for some reason, but make for excellent flavouring.

(We have a yuzu tree and a sudachi tree and they're surviving, but no fruit yet.)

Trifoliate orange (Poncirus trifoliata) can survive temperatures down to -30 degrees C. This may be partly because, uniquely amoung citrus, they can drop leaves in autumn or winter and regrow them in spring, like a maple tree. They also produce an internal antifreeze. They are angry, twisted, thorny little plants that yell swears when you walk past them. They make a great hedge. The fruit is furry, smells like flowers and pine trees and taste like burnt, bitter plastic. It may or may not be possible to breed the horrible taste completely out of trifoliate oranges without losing cold-hardiness, if it's due to their antifreeze chemicals. Here’s Stabby:

(Photo by Rob Hille)

Even the least terrible trifoliate crossbreeds are bitter enough to qualify as “acquired tastes.” There are recipes for trifoliate marmalade: put a dozen trifoliate oranges, a kilogram of sugar, and a kilogram of pebbles in a pot, cook until it gels, then sieve out the oranges and eat the pebbles.

We are growing a trifoliate orange / minneola orange hybrid. And, of course, someday our own trifoliate hybrids. The Blue Haired Girlfriend planted 200 trifoliate oranges a couple years ago. There are fewer now, but the survivors have lived through two winters of snow and frost, and they might have somehow gotten more stabby. We're going to breed them, to each other or to less angry fruit, try and make something new and good from them.

I've limited this post to twentieth century hardy citrus breeding, but I have to give a shoutout to somatic hybridization, a decidedly twenty first century technique, where you take a cell from each of two different plants, remove their cell walls, put them next to eachother, and shock them with electricity until they merge into a single cell whose nucleus contains all genes from both plants. Then the new plant is like, "Wow, I guess these are all my genes? It seems like a lot, haha, but it's not like somebody made me from dismembered body parts and electricity, that is not how science works. Anyway I guess it's time to do some plant stuff now."

3. The Mutant Trees

In the 1950s, people started using radiation to randomly scramble the genes of plants. You'd irradiate seeds enough to change the genes somehow, and then you'd have to plant them to see what had happened. Maybe it was people horrified by the atomic bomb desperately wanting to find some life-supporting use for atomic fission, maybe it was government-supported cold war "atom bombs are good actually, look how many we have, USSR" propaganda. Probably both.

This time period also saw serious plans for Orion, a spaceship with a huge metal plate for a butt, intended to be propelled by exploding atomic bombs under it, which I am not actually making up.

Thousands of people in Europe and the US signed up to receive seeds with random mutations in the mail, plant them, and report back on what they heck they grew into and if it had any useful weirdness. (The gamma radiation used to mutate the seeds did not make them radioactive themselves - the seeds were completely safe.) There were also more formal and carefully controlled university research programs in China, Japan, and the US, where plants where grown in a circular research garden with a coverable radiation source at the centre, so that the farther you got from the centre, the less radiation the plants got. Radiation breeding is less popular than it used to be, but Japan still has a very productive citrus radiation breeding program.

The most popular radiation-bred citrus is the "Rio Red" grapefruit and its offspring, which has a much deeper red than non-mutant red grapefruit.

There aren't many radiation-developed citrus breeds noted for cold-hardiness - with radiation you get whatever you get - but there are a few, and I want one just because I think they're neat, a monument to that lovely human vision that looks at terrible weapons and somehow sees glossy-leaved trees with bright fruit.

4. The Monster Trees

Citrus are usually grown via grafting. That is, you plant a seed from a fast-growing sturdy breed, you let it grow roots and all that, and then you cut the top off and replace it with a branch from a more delicious breed. The two citruses grow together, and you end up with a tree that's disease and cold resistant in the roots, below the graft, but makes tasty fruit above the graft.

Occasionally, this process goes Wrong.

The first recorded instance is the tree called Bizarria, discovered in 1640. Someone attempted to graft a sour orange branch onto a citron. But instead of a clean line between sour orange branches and citron roots, the graft was damaged somehow, and the two different species of cells got tangled and mixed through the whole tree. It has branches that produce citron fruit. It has branches that produce sour orange fruit. And it has branches that produce, uh ... these:

(Photo by Labrina)

Most graft chimeras are made accidentally, when the graft site is damaged. Trifoliate orange is often used as rootstock, so there are many reported chimeras involving trifoliate orange and a nicer fruit. The mixed-up cells can be arranged a lot of ways, but it's possible to have the outside layer of the tree be trifoliate orange, and the core of the tree be the other citrus (periclinal chimera). This means you could theoretically get a tree with frostproof trifoliate leaves and branches, but fruit that doesn’t taste like burnt plastic rolled in quinine.

This lucky monstrosity has, in fact, reportedly happened. Twice. There is the Prague Citsuma, discovered in a greenhouse in Prague and suspected to have been created by a Soviet breeding program. And then there is the Hormish, discovered in China and thought to have been made by frostbite messing up the clean lines of the graft. The Blue Haired Girlfriend has managed to track down budwood from the Prague Citsuma - I’m so excited! - so we'll see how the fierce thorny monster tree with a heart of gold, or at least heartwood of gold, does for us.

5. Conclusion

Humans have been trying to grow citrus trees where they don't belong for nearly two thousand years, at least since the Jewish Diaspora and people trying to grow holy etrog trees - trunks gnarled as barnacle stones and the whole tree scented like the best dream you can't remember - in Europe. Maybe longer.

The Blue Haired Girlfriend's citrus-breeding schemes aren't going to singlehandedly transform Canada into a net citrus exporter. But history shows us: it might be possible to have a little gleaming sweetness from the stony ground here, with the ravens and the fir trees and the auroras. A sweetness we made ourselves, that exists nowhere else.

Or maybe we'll just have a bunch of weird inedible fruit. I don't know, but it's worth finding out, worth weaving together leaf and thorn and stone and the light of our hands as the years unwind. Worth it to have a quixotic project we can expect to spend decades on together, hands and hearts. This is how home is made, sometimes, with a balcony full of angry thorny little trees that shout swears at passerby.

#part three of three #so much doesn't fit in this post #fog gardening #how lemons started the mafia #etrogs in diaspora #citropsis and the african citrus species #we are still discovering new citrus species in oceania!#who knows what we'll make?#and one day we'll scoop up hydrocarbons from Titan's stormy seas and polymerize them and make huge bubble greenhouses filled with citrus #small children will fling squishy citrus at their siblings by the coiled light of Jupiter #which is as it should be #thank you voidingintotheshout for an excuse for all sorts of ranting

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navalcriminalimagines · 3 years

Note

Could I request a very fluffy and comforting Gibbs taking care of the reader after needing to puke from alcohol?

I hope that's what you were waiting for! Thank you for your request! Enjoy ❤️

Unsupervised

You love your job, for sure. But you do miss having a normal social life. Being an NCIS Agent is 24/7, and it doesn't let you much time to go out with friends and have fun. Even more now that you spend all of your free time with your boyfriend - your boss - Gibbs.

When one of your old friends called you to invite you to her bachelorette party, you didn't hesitate to accept. You immediately told everyone and especially Gibbs that, no matter what happened, no matter what case you're working on, you'd go to the party.

Surprisingly, there was no current case when the date came. Since Gibbs is at home, you join him in the basement right after you got ready. He hasn't seen your dress yet, and his jaw drops on the floor when he sees you. You wearing a short black dress, open on your back, and high heels. "Spin," he orders and you obey. He can see the curve of your hips, Gibbs can't help but to imagine your bare ass. "God, you're stunning,"

"Thank you, love," you seductively approach to kiss him, but he stretches his arm between your body.

"I don't want to ruin that dress with the dust I have on me," he informs you. "But we're definitely doing this when you get back," he smirks.

"I don't know when--"

"Sweetheart, I'll wait for you. And remember, if you have any problem or you just need me to pick you up--"

"I'll call," you finish for him.

* * * * *

"A limo, are they serious?" you laugh as you notice the dark limo parked in front of your boyfriend's house.

Gibbs walks you outside on the house but stops on the porch. "I know you didn't pack your gun, but you got your knife?" he asks.

"What, is this my first day?" you joke and lean to kiss him. He makes sure his dirty shirt doesn't get in touch with your dress but he still manages to kiss you deeply.

"Have fun," he says before pecking your lips one more time.

"You too, with your boat,"

* * * * *

The evening started with a nice restaurant, where you got to know your friend's friends.

"I have to ask," one of them starts. "That guy on the porch, that's your boyfriend?"

"Yes, why?"

"How old is he?" she asks and you sarcastically laugh. You never had this kind of reaction yet, but to be honest, the only persons that know are the one you and Gibbs work with. And they knew all along that you two would end up together. "Is he rich or something?"

"He's not that old, and as far as I know, he doesn't have any secret back accounts," why do you feel like you have to explain yourself? "My relationship with Jethro is the best one I have had. Hands down,"

"Even in bed?" Your friend join the conversation. "It's my bachelorette party, I'm allowed to know things,"

You consider avoiding the question, but when else could you be bragging about your sex life? And if those women end up envying you, that's a bonus. You're going to need the liquor support though. You finish your cocktail before answering her.

"I--can't get enough of him," you confess. "He knows my likes and dislikes. I swear the man knows how to please a woman! And god, he's hot as hell,"

The girls are jealous of you and your sexlife and you couldn't be any happier. You can't stop thinking about what Gibbs said before you left. You can't wait to get lucky later tonight.

* * * * *

Unfortunately, you lost count of your drinks a long time ago. Around 2am, you were completely wasted. The girls were still having fun on the dancefloor, but you could barely stand up, so you decide to grab your phone and call your boyfriend.

"Y/N," he answers on the first ring.

"Hi boyfriend! Where are you?"

"At home. Where are you? Do you need me to pick you up?"

"Uh-huh," you agree. "I want you to take me home and ravish me,"

"Oookay," he chuckles. "I'm gonna ask McGee to pin your phone. Don't move, okay? I'll right up,"

"I'm waiting for you my man,"

After hanging up with you, Gibbs does indeed call McGee. He doesn't care it's the middle of the night, he orders him to find out where you are. Half an hour later, Gibbs enters the club and scans the room to find you in a booth. Your head is buried in your arms. He approaches the table and sits next to you.

"Wake up, sweetheart," he whispers in your ear, gently stroking your hair. You jolt at his touch, ready to fight whoever is touching you. "It's just me, love," he smiles. "Let's go home."

Gibbs helps you getting up and begins to walk out of the club. "Hey! Why are you stealing her?" Someone calls out for him. Probably one of your friends.

"I'm taking her home. I'm the boyfriend," he assures her.

"Riiiight! The guy that rocks her world!" she exclaims and you don't even react as you're practically sleeping on Gibbs's shoulder. "Do you have a friend as good as you in bed?"

Gibbs knows better. Instead of avoiding the conversation, he just gets into it, that way he'll get out of here faster. "I--I'll think about it, and Y/N will text you,"

Your boyfriend carries you to the car, he helps you settling on the passenger seat. Before driving off, he makes sure your head to being held and he opens the window to give you some fresh air. As he drives to his place, he can hear you snoring.

As he carrying you from the car to the house, he feels you trying to fight him off, for no apparent reason. "Put me down!" you shout and Gibbs does so. In a second, he watches you running to the roses he planted a few months ago and he hears you throwing up. He walks up to you and grabs your hair, making they don't get in the way. He stays next to you, stroking your bared back, until you're done puking.

"Sorry for your roses," you mumble.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Do you think you can get up?"

"Carry me?" you look at him with tired puppy eyes and he does. Gibbs carries you directly to the bathroom upstairs. He sits you next to the sink, and takes your shoes off. You're basically sleeping right there, Gibbs struggles to prevent you from falling over. He then takes your dress off, forcing himself not to stare at your naked body.

He takes you to the bathtub, and starts to wash you. "My hair!" you shout and he understands. He quickly finds a rubber band that belongs to you and does his best to tie your hair in a bun. It's far from perfect but at least, your hair won't get wet.

You're not dirty or anything, but he just wants you to feel better. That's why he washes you with his own shower gel. That's something you love to do at night when he's not there. "It's like you're here," you confessed once. He lets the warm water running on your body for a moment, and gently wakes you up to wrap you in the biggest towel he has.

He makes you sit again to your previous spot and prepares your toothbrush. "One last effort, my love," he says, putting the toothbrush in your hand.

“I’m never drinking again,” you mumble, lazily brushing your teeth.

“I heard that before,” he smirks, watching you intensely. He gently put a stride of your hair behind your ear and strokes your cheek.

“It’s your fault!” you manage to say.

“How is it my fault?”

“You left me unsupervised!”

Gibbs chuckles, “I’m sorry. Was I supposed to put on a dress and join you ladies?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “You’d be cute in a dress!”

“That is your cue. Off to bed now,” he hands you a glass of water to clear your mouth.

Again, he carries you - bridal style - to the bed. You're now naked, almost sleeping already. He grabs some panties and puts them on you, then he takes his old tee-shirt off to put it on you. That's something you love, too.

He quickly kisses your forehead and starts to leave the bedroom. "Where you going? he hears you say.

"I'll be right back, sweetheart,"

"Cuddle me," you whine.

"30 seconds tops,"

That's pretty much how many seconds he needed to come back to bed with a glass of water and some aspirin. Gibbs gets under the covers and spoons you, with his arm under your - his - tee-shirt and the other under your neck. His fingers intertwined with yours, you fall asleep as he plants many kisses in your neck, hair and cheek.

#jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #agent gibbs #jethro gibbs #gibbs

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

LOOPS RAILING CAP IN THE SHOWER - cause we all know he deserves it after a game

Not exactly after a game, but still some fun and frisky locker room shower times. Coops (and James) credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut, being sort-of walked in on (only after everything is said and done), cramping muscles

“Hurry up,” Sirius hissed as he teetered on one foot and accidentally dipped the toe of his sock into the water pooling beneath him.

“I’m trying!” Remus whispered back, still elbows-deep in his duffel bag. His face lit up and he rocked back on his heels with a small container.

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said immediately.

“It’s all I have!”

“Mon dieu,” he muttered, yanking his other sock off and kneeling by his own bag. “There is no universe in which that bullshit is going up my ass.”

“It’s Vaseline, baby, not battery acid.”

Sirius turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “It’s sticky, it’s slimy, and it’s cold as shit. You hate it, too!”

“Fair point.”

With a quiet, triumphant ‘ha!’, Sirius emerged with a small tube of clear aloe gel. “Who’s the Boy Scout now, sweetheart?”

“You’re the Boy Scout,” Remus grumbled, wincing as he stood and his knees crackled. “Alright, scoot, we don’t have a ton of time.”

“Oh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Sirius deadpanned.

Remus made a face to hide his smile. “Shut up, you.”

He peeked around the edge of the shower stall once more before backing up against the wall, then stifled a shout at the cold tile between his shoulder blades. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“We do have a perfectly good shower at home.” Despite his words, Sirius could see the gleam of excitement in Remus’ eye as he was beckoned forward. The idea of maybe possibly maybe getting caught was a bit embarrassing if he thought about it too long, but it still sent a thrill through every nerve. That may have just been the feeling of Remus’ warmth on his front mixing with the chill on his back, though.

“Do you—” Sirius cut himself off with one more heated kiss, sliding a hand down Remus’ neck and laughing slightly at the squeak of his wet skin. “I wanna see you. Can you hold me up?”

Remus hummed, then pulled back with a thoughtful look. “Not before stretching. Sorry.”

“Pas de problem, mon coeur.” Sirius uncapped the aloe and handed it to Remus, using the side wall of the stall as a brace to hold himself up. He prayed his own tired muscles would do the job and not send them both tumbling to the floor in a heap of horniness.

“Here, let me…” Remus bit his lower lip and looped an arm under Sirius’ knee, lifting his leg around his waist. “Will that cramp?”

“Nah.”

He looked skeptical, but didn’t protest as he slicked his fingers and ran them down Sirius’ cleft. The water had finally started warming up to a more comfortable temperature; Sirius closed his eyes with a sigh and soaked in the feeling, letting the familiar tingles wash over him while Remus dragged his teeth along the side of his neck and the pad of his first finger slid in.

“You have magic fingers,” he murmured, gasping when cold air hit his pulse point. Whoever created aloe gel, I owe you a fruit basket.

He could feel Remus’ smile as his hitched-up thigh started trembling. “Merci.”

A door slammed down the hall and they both jerked in surprise—the digit rubbing gently around his outer muscle slipped very deep inside on very short notice and Sirius’ yelp was quickly muffled by Remus’ palm. “Fucking Christ,” he wheezed, torn between moaning in contentment and shrieking like a little girl at the sudden intrusion.

“Sorry, sorry, it was an accident.” Remus kissed his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“All good.”

“Will this be enough?"

“Considering we have—” Sirius did some awkward gymnastics to spot the wall clock. “—shit, just under an hour until the guys should start showing up, it’ll have to be.”

Remus chewed on the inside of his lip and glanced at the aloe. “I don’t know…”

“Hey.” Sirius cupped his face and kissed him. “This isn’t my first horse show.”

“Rodeo.”

“Same thing.” Remus’ lips twitched upwards and warmth spread all the way down to his toes, not just from the showerhead still spraying them like a firehose. “Besides, God knows you stretched me well enough last night.”

His concern turned to smugness and he crooked his finger slightly. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Bastard.”

The playful insult came out a little breathy as Sirius leaned his head back against the wall, losing himself to Remus’ practiced movements and damp, smooth skin touching him everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Something blunt and quite a bit slicker nudged his entrance after a moment—after a slow exhale on Remus’ part and a whine from Sirius, he was in to the hilt with all ten fingers gripping Sirius’ hips.

“Oh, fuck.” Sirius was rather winded for reasons he couldn’t spare the braincells to name, and Remus laughed under his breath as he began to move. “Oh, fuck.”

“Shh.”

“I can’t.”

“I know you can.”

“I don’t want to,” Sirius corrected, rocking his hips to match Remus’ thrusts. His fingers began to get sore from holding the stall so tight, but heat was building in his gut and he was hard enough to almost hurt in the best way. “God, there.”

“Not god, just me.”

He flicked his arm with a teasing grin. “Smartass. This is exciting.”

“Uh-huh.” Remus caught him by the thigh as his other knee buckled after a particularly nice angle. “Can’t hold you, can’t hold you, baby—”

“Got it,” Sirius managed, propping himself up again. A clunky door echoed in a faraway corridor and he heard Remus’ breath catch. “Keep going.”

“Someone’s gonna hear.”

“So?” He quirked an eyebrow and wrapped his free arm around Remus’ upper chest, drawing him even closer for a kiss that was more tongue than lips. “That’s the whole point, right?”

“The point—” Remus punctuated his words with a harder thrust that left Sirius’ scrabbling for grip on the wet tiles with a shaky sound. “—is that we could get caught. We could get caught, and then everyone would see how whiny, and needy, and lovely you are while you’re begging for me.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius practically whimpered. He swallowed hard and wrapped his leg tighter around Remus’ waist.

The water was starting to lose some of its heat, but he was dizzy with lust, and pure pleasure dripped like wildfire through his veins. “Actually, I think they already know,” Remus murmured into the hollow of his throat, leaving a light bite there. “Our friends don’t need to find us fucking in the showers, do they? They just need to take one look at you and they’ll know that as soon as I get you between the sheets, you’re a wreck.”

Sirius’ eyes fluttered shut; he couldn’t seem to close his mouth anymore, nor could he muffle the short, guttural sounds slipping out with every quick movement. His left leg was completely numb; it was a miracle it hadn’t given out yet.

“But no,” Remus continued, hoisting him back up into the proper place with a huff. “No, we just have to be that couple that sneaks into the locker room an hour before call time because we just love to tempt fate.”

“This was—your idea—too,” Sirius panted.

“Yeah, because I can’t keep my hands off you.”

He melted into Remus’ palms as they ran along his ribs and back, then down to his ass to give it a firm squeeze. “Close?” he asked, half-slurred.

“Not as close as you.”

His free leg tried to buckle again as Remus stroked along his shaft, but he forced it to stay steady and settled for gritting his teeth around a loud moan that would surely give them away. Remus smiled and upped the pace, but kept his hips moving at the exact same speed. The contrast made Sirius’ head spin. “Please, please, please, please—”

Teeth sank into the junction of his shoulder and all the air fled his lungs. “What else do you want, baby?”

“I don’t know.” It came out far needier than he intended, but who cared? Stars were already popping at the corners of his vision, and he couldn’t even feel the lukewarm water very much anymore.

“Come.”

“I c—”

“Now.”

Sirius took one shallow breath, two, and then shuddered apart, leaning all his weight into the tiles while Remus pulled out and came on his inner thigh. Through his hazy vision, he saw they still had about forty minutes until any of the others would show up. “Love you. Oh, fuck yeah,” he sighed.

Remus made a questioning noise against his collarbone; Sirius felt his heartbeat pounding under his hand.

“We’ve got time to spare.”

“Thank god,” Remus said with a breathless laugh. “I don’t actually want anyone to catch us.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Sirius agreed. “I think I’d rather—”

“Sup, Mad-Eye?”

Both of them froze in place as a cheerful voice rang out down the hallway. Sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floors, drawing closer every second. Sirius had gone ice cold, but he didn’t think it was just the shower’s fault.

“Go, go, go!” Remus hissed, yanking away.

Unfortunately, Sirius’ thigh decided that was the perfect moment to cramp so hard it made his vision go white for a second. As soon as his foot touched the ground, his whole hamstring seized, and he doubled over with a strained “motherfucker!”

“Get up!”

“I can’t!”

James’ footsteps were getting louder. Sirius cursed under his breath and limped after Remus into the shitty little janitor’s closet in the corner, wedging himself next to a mop as he bit down on his knuckles to stifle the pained groans building in his throat. Remus shot him an apologetic look and squeezed his hand in sympathy.

The closet was not meant for much more than a handful of emergency cleaning supplies, let alone two mid-season-muscled hockey players. They were pressed chest-to-chest, holding their breath as doom approached.

Well, not doom. Just utter, world-ending humiliation. Not the kinky kind, either.

James whistled to himself as he neared the locker room—two seconds after Sirius buried his face in the side of Remus’ neck to breathe through the agony in his leg, the door slammed open and his best friend began clattering around.

All of a sudden, the room fell silent. Shit.

“Hello?” James called, sounding much too amused for his own good. “Anyone in here?”

Sirius’ pulse hammered in his ears.

“Huh. Looks like somebody left the shower on,” James said with a dramatic gasp. “And what’s this? Two whole duffel bags?”

Fuck, Remus mouthed as Sirius straightened up with a wince.

James started laughing. Deep, deep in his soul, Sirius knew he had spotted the aloe. The squeaking stopped just outside the closet. “Good morning,” James singsonged, though he didn’t open the door.

Remus opened his mouth, resigned, but Sirius jabbed him in the chest with his pointer finger and shot him a warning look. They weren’t going to engage in conversation while naked and crammed in a janitor’s closet. Especially not when James Potter was on the other side.

“I think it’s a little early for all this, but I could be wrong.” He could almost see James shrugging through the thick wood. “I suppose you’ve gotta take what free time you have. Cap, your showers are a lot nicer than these, though. At least they stay warm for more than a few minutes.”

Remus thudded his forehead against Sirius’ sternum.

“Alright, alright,” James said after a moment of quiet. “If anyone were to perhaps be hiding after getting off in the shitty team showers at seven in the morning—at least, I hope you got off—they should feel free to come out of the closet in a much more literal sense because I am leaving. And I will be out of the locker room for five minutes. Once again, that is five minutes, and then I will be back in here to get ready for my job like a responsible adult.”

The door opened and closed again with a click. They both waited with bated breath.

“Ugh, fine,” James groaned. The hinges creaked, his footsteps faded, and there was a loud slam as it shut for real.

“I’m going to kill him,” Sirius said as they shuffled out of the closet, knocking over several spray bottles in the process. “Really, I will.”

“I’ll help you bury the body,” Remus said wearily as he tossed the aloe back in his bag with a sigh. “That was horrific. Think we can sneak out and back in without him noticing?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at the door. “The son of a bitch will be waiting for us. It’s better to just accept our fate and let him have this.”

“We’re putting shaving cream in his gloves after this, right?”

“Actually, I think Vaseline would be better.”

#fanfic #my fic #sirius black #remus lupin #coops #wolfstar #lumosinlove #sweater weather #smut #shower #james potter #alastor moody

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honeytae · 3 years

Text

You’re too persuasive for your own good.

hey bubs! this is just some shower smut with seokjin bc i’ve been dying to write this concept for a while and it’s just been a bit since i even wrote smut so..i hope you enjoy, my little thots :) tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy genre: smut

word count: 4.6k warnings: sex in a ~dangerous place~, unprotected sex (use a condom!), seokjin being a stubborn little shit

“No!”

You groaned as you watched the character on your phone screen go off the road, turning your device off with a frustrated sigh before slipping it into your pocket.

Seokjin had gotten you hooked on yet another stupid game, claiming you should get it because “it’s multiplayer, so we can play together.”

He had, of course, not shown your poor new beginner skills any mercy, thoroughly enjoying how frustrated you got when he leaned over to kiss your cheek, telling you “It’s okay, love. Not all of us have what it takes.”

Those words are precisely why you’d been spending all your free time playing, practicing in order to knock his confidence a bit.

It was also the reason you were at the boys shared apartment, wanting to show him your hopefully improved skills and shove it back in his face.

With a sigh, you knocked on the familiar door, craning your neck from side to side as you waited for one of the men to answer.

When the door finally peeled open, you were met with the surprised expression of Taehyung, eyes widened at your presence before a square mouthed smile took over his face instead, his pupils obscured by the push of his cheeks up to his eyes.

“Oh, hey!” He greeted, you smiling back at him as he pulled you into a brief hug, gesturing for you to come into the apartment as he stepped back to give you room to do so.

“What’s up, Tae?”

“Eh, not much. Working, sleeping, eating. You know.” He offered with a shrug, you nodding in response before he gestured to Jin’s room down the hallway.

“I think he’s in the shower, although he might be out now. We just got back a little bit ago.” He explained your boyfriend’s absence, your mouth popping open into an ‘o’ shape with a single nod as you turned to head to Jin’s room.

“Oh wait, we’re ordering either Chinese or pizza for dinner. Which would you prefer?” He asked, dark eyebrow arched at you as he awaited your choice.

“Hm, I’m fine with either, but I guess I could go for Chine-”

“Yes!” He interrupted you with a cheer, you smiling at the man’s outburst as he pumped his fist into the air in victory.

“You’re the tiebreaker since Yoongi-hyung didn’t care.” He explained his reaction, your mouth gaping in an “ah” before you chuckled at the man strutting down the hallway containing the bedrooms, loudly informing everyone of the updated dinner plan.

Following his path to reunite with your boyfriend, you listened as some of the boys laughed at Taehyung’s actions, bursting into each room to sassily tell the members what he’d be ordering.

Pushing the door to Jin’s room open, you were immediately met with the sound of water slapping the shower floor, steam lingering in the bedroom area as it continued to pour out from the open doorway of his en-suite bathroom.

“Hello, my love.” You called out to the man as you stepped into the thick air of the bathroom, pointer finger flicking up the switch that powered the vent to hopefully suck some of the humidity out of the room.

“Baby! Hey, come on in, it’s warm.” He pushed the curtain back to reveal himself in all his glory, making your eyebrows raise in amusement at your boyfriend’s lack of shame. Modesty was never one of his top traits.

“I can see that. The whole bedroom is steamed up.” You chuckled, Jin smiling at the noise before his fingers started to gesture in an attempt to entice you into the shower with him.

You remained in your spot in the middle of the bathroom, lightly smirking as you crossed your arms over your chest, proud at the annoyed sigh that came from his mouth when he realized you wouldn’t make this easy on him.

“Can you come in here please?” He asked again, making you hum in consideration.

“I don’t know, I was gonna go help Tae order the food.” You excused with a nonchalant shrug, your boyfriend rolling his eyes at your teasing.

“Fine, but can I have a kiss before you go?” He proposed, causing you to step closer to him as he pushed his dripping hair back from his forehead, leaning out of the shower slightly to press his lips to yours.

“Ah! Jin!” You yelled when his wet hands went to your hips, your shirt now soaked through with the water from his palms.

The man’s high pitched laugh bounced off the shower walls at your reaction, causing you to bite your lip to not smile at the sound.

“I cannot believe you fell for that.” He laughed, you shaking your head at him in disappointment.

“Me neither.” You huffed, turning to grab a towel to scrub at the now wet spot in hopes to dry it.

“Come on, baby, just come in. You’re already wet now, anyway.” He said, you scoffing at his relentless begging.

Glancing up from your shirt to his face, you couldn’t stop your eyes from trailing down his chest and torso, truly a sight to behold even after how many times you’d seen it before.

The man caught your eyes traveling downward, a smug smirk lifting the corners of his lips causing you to blush when you met his eyes again, quickly diverting your attention back to scrubbing at your shirt.

You and Jin both knew that the vision of water streaming down his taut body was tempting you enough, and with a little more convincing, you’d join him in no time.

“Baby, can you please come in and shower with me?” He asked again, causing you to sigh at his persistence with a shake of your head.

“Jin, I don’t think that’s a good idea, the guys are here.” You said knowingly, not trusting the man to keep his hands to himself when it was so easy not to.

“Hey, I can control myself when I want to.” He raised his eyebrows to further prove his point, eyes widened as you raised your own back at him.

“Doubtful.” You snorted, Jin sighing in response as he leaned back against the shower wall, gaze locked on you all the while.

“C’mon, love, I’ll wash your hair for you.” He promised, holding a hand outside of the shower to reach for you, water droplets falling from his fingers to the tile floor as you remained stubbornly in your spot.

“Please? I just want to hold you, I missed you today.” He begged, eyes brightening when you sighed, caving into him and his advances because, fuck, you missed him today too.

“Ugh, fine. Only because I skipped a shower this morning, though.” You said, Jin humming with a smile at your excuse.

The way his eyes traced over your body as you tugged your shirt over your head did not go unnoticed, your eyes rolling in annoyance when the removal of your bra caused a hungrier spark in his eyes.

“Hey babe, my eyes are up here.” You placed your pointer and middle fingers under his chin, tilting his head up to look at you as a breathy chuckle fell from his lips.

“Sorry. You can’t blame me though, you’re gorgeous.” He defended his actions, making you duck your head to cover the heat rising to your cheeks, brushing the action off as your fingers began to fumble with your jeans zipper.

If you ever got used to his compliments, you’d surely be surprised with yourself.

Shuffling out of your pants, you quickly slid your underwear down your legs, practically running into Jin’s open arms due to the cold air of the bathroom now chilling your bare skin.

“Hey.” He smiled down at you, you mirroring his expression as his arms locked around your waist, holding you to his warm chest.

“Hi.” You replied, heart beating a little faster as his hands traveled up from your back to your jaw, cupping your face in his hands as you leaned into his soft pouted lips for a kiss.

“How was your day?” He mumbled, you humming nonchalantly.

“Nothing to write home about. How was yours?” You asked, Seokjin humming with a smile.

“Nothing to write home about.” He shrugged, you rolling your eyes before withdrawing your body from his, leaning around him to grab the shampoo from the shelf installed on his shower wall.

“Yah, I said I’d do that for you.” He snatched the bottle from your hand, squeezing the gel onto his palm before snapping the lid of the bottle shut once again, setting it aside and placing his fingers at the top of your head.

You hummed as his fingernails began scratching at your scalp, the circular motions of his fingers lathering the shampoo causing you to lean farther into his chest. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you relaxed your body against his, pausing when your thigh was met with a familiar bulge.

Peeking your eyes open to look at the man, you were met with a slightly guilty expression, his eyebrows raised and mouth pursed in an attempt to push back a smile.

“Jin.” You sighed in disappointment, the man’s lips quirking into a smile at your tone before murmuring to shut your eyes, tipping your head back underneath the water.

After thoroughly rinsing the shampoo out of your hair, he led you back to a straightened position, smoothing your hair back from your face before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” He chuckled, you shaking your head with a small smile as you leaned down to grab the bottle of conditioner beside you.

“Yeah, and I can’t help it either. Not when the apartment is full of six other unsuspecting men.” You remarked, Jin huffing at your stubbornness as you coated your hair with conditioner.

As tempting as it was, you could, absolutely, no way in hell, have sex with Jin in the dorm when the others were around. You two had made that rule early on in your relationship, so you didn’t know why he was suddenly not so against the idea now.

Hearing him sigh as you closed your eyes to once again rinse underneath the showerhead, you thought he’d finally given up on the whole sex in the shower thing.

You were proven wrong when you felt the sudden touch of his hand on your hip bone, his chest pressed to your back as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“Can I at least wash you?” He asked, making you smile as you turned your face to see him, hand going up to scratch at the back of his head affectionately.

“As long as it’s innocent.” You replied, Jin nodding with a kiss to your cheek before he leaned over to grab the bottle of body wash, squeezing a good amount onto his palm before snapping the lid shut.

Placing his palm on your stomach, he rubbed the area above your belly button in tender circles, spending some time there before slowly beginning to descend his hand down below your navel.

Hesitating to see if what he was doing was okay with you, he looked down at you over your shoulder, nuzzling his nose against your temple in a silent ask.

His hand remained unmoving until you gave him the go-ahead, expecting the innocent lather of soap bubbles rubbed onto your lower stomach with those long fingers to not fluster you.

Big mistake.

Noticing your gulp, Seokjin smiled to himself, hands traveling lower and settling onto your thighs, fingers teasingly staying put even when your hips greedily bucked into his touch. It was reflexive, but you immediately regretted it, knowing it gave him a hint of just how weak you were here.

“Jin. No funny business.” You repeated, mostly to yourself as a reminder of your own rule. God, it made sense to you only a few minutes ago, but now you couldn’t come up with a logical reason for you to not let him touch you the way you so badly wanted him to.

“Okay.” He sighed, removing his hands from you in defeat, only to raise his eyebrows in shock when you whined, hand gripping his wrist to guide it back to your abdomen.

“Love, you just said no funny business.” He stated obviously, eyebrows knit together in confusion as you seemed to internally struggle with the situation you were being faced with.

To give in to your desires and risk royally embarrassing yourselves, or to push off both of your needs after a long day of not being able to see each other?

Fuck it.

“I didn’t say to stop touching me, though.” You spoke up softly, Jin smiling at the sudden shyness in your tone.

Wordlessly placing his hand back on your stomach, he kept his palm circling the area, innocently at first before trailing up your sides, grabbing ahold of your breasts and smiling at the way you arched your back, pushing your chest into his touch.

Bringing your arms up above your head to wrap around Seokjin’s neck, he hummed as your fingernails scratched at the hair at his nape affectionately.

Deciding to push it further, he placed a thumb on your nipple, rubbing it in slow circles as he admired the way your head fell back onto his shoulder, eyes fallen closed at the mere feeling of his hands on you, soft sighs leaving your gaped mouth.

“You’re so pretty.”

You whimpered at both his words and the way one of his hands left your breasts, trailing down your wet skin to settle between your legs, whining when he bypassed the area craving his attention most.

“B-baby,” You stuttered at the combination of his fingers tracing over your inner thigh and his thumb remaining at your nipple, your boyfriend groaning as your ass pushed back against his now fully hard cock.

At the action, Seokjin rewarded you with his finger attaching to your swelled clit, rubbing at the bud with the pad of his thumb as you whined in response.

Biting down on your bottom lip to quiet your noises, you nearly drew blood from the skin when his long fingers curled into your entrance, using both the water and your arousal for an easy slip inside.

“Fuck, Jin, the guys.” You whimpered, chest stuttering in a broken breath when he began thrusting his appendages into you.

“They won’t hear anything over the water. Don’t worry, just let me make you feel good.” He mumbled into the skin of your neck, the way his mouth latched onto the skin and gently sucked on it shutting you up immediately.

“Okay?” He released your skin with a pop, to which you eagerly nodded your head yes, the steady heartbeat between your legs winning, all logical thinking being tossed out the window without a second glance.

Turning around in his grip, his hands quickly adjusted to hold your hips, eyes slipping shut with a drawn-out moan escaping his pretty lips when you dove forward to give him a heated kiss, tongue greedily traveling inside his mouth.

“Shit.” He groaned against your bottom lip when he felt your fingers wrap around his length, breath catching in his throat at the way you pumped his neglected cock in your closed palm.

“You’re too persuasive for your own good.” You smirked, Jin’s scoff at your words being cut off by the gasp you got out of him when your hand twisted around his base.

The glide of your hand against his velvety skin had him reeling, head falling forward to rest on your forehead, hips subtly thrusting into your hand as his eyes clenched shut. Swiping your thumb over his slit, he hissed a breath in through his teeth in response, making you smirk at him in pride.

“Baby,” he exhaled, hand gripping your own and guiding it away from his cock, leaving it pulsing in need in favor of lifting your body so that you were leaning against the wall, a gasp coming from you at the feeling of your warm skin pressing to the ice cold shower wall.

Nevertheless, you responded by wrapping your legs around his waist, your arms securing themselves around his neck.

“Love, is this a safe position?” You asked teasingly, the smirk being wiped off your face by the feeling of his lips against yours, hungrily capturing your lips with his again and again.

“Would you like to test it?”

“Hmm, but if I end up with a cracked skull, you’re fronting the bill,” your voice softened as his lips began trailing down your neck, placing sweet kisses along your collarbones and a final peck to your sternum, coming back to eye level with you as his fingers squeezed your thighs.

“I won’t let you crack your head open. But I will absolutely pay extra for my girlfriend to be stitched up like some sci-fi shit.” He joked, you scoffing in reply before meeting his lips once again, breath hitching in your throat when you felt his tip bump against your entrance.

“Baby, please.” You whined, Jin hushing you with his lips smoothing over yours, hand traveling down to properly line himself up before pushing his head inside.

“Fuck,” You whimpered at the intrusion, the back of your head bumping against the wall as his cock sank into you inch by inch.

He groaned at the tightness of your walls enveloping him, eyes fluttering shut, holding himself there for only a moment before beginning to withdraw his hips, a soft moan leaving your lips as he gently pushed back into you.

Clenching your muscles around him, you watched with pride as his features screwed, eyes closed in bliss as his pretty face looked absolutely wrecked.

A loud moan escaped him at the feeling, causing you to press your lips to his to muffle the noise. You hummed when his tongue met yours, using your arms wrapped around his neck as leverage to grind down onto him.

“Jin, faster.” You whispered, the man moaning at your words before he began to pull back, entering you at a faster pace than his previous.

“Ah, fuck.” You hissed as he started snapping his hips against you to drive his cock in and out, clamping your teeth down onto his shoulder to quiet your noises.

The way the head of his cock hit all the right spots, his harsh thrusts jolting your body up the wall; you felt dizzy, seeing stars as the man’s sexy grunts and low moans slipped past his pretty pink lips.

You were so out of the zone that you didn’t even realize you were suddenly sliding down the wall, Jin’s feet having slipped on the shower floor due to your position.

Steadying himself, he quickly caught your body before your ass could collide with the floor, narrowly avoiding a broken tailbone in the process.

Jin’s eyes widened in a panic as he froze for a moment, quickly regaining his sense and running his hands down your arms in concern.

“Fuck, baby, are you okay?” He seemed to survey your eyes then allow them to trail down your body in search of any obvious injuries on your skin, his features crowded with worry until you gave him a verbal answer.

“I’m fine, Jinnie. But unless you want that whole sci-fi girlfriend thing to become a reality, I think we should figure out another solution.”

And while his head told him that it was probably the best idea to just stop and get out of the shower and move to the bed like civilized people, his other head told him that he needed to be back inside of you as soon as possible. And that head was winning right now.

“I have an idea.” He spoke up, hands turning your body so that your back was facing him, leaning over your back to bend you over so that your arms could reach out to grip the bar at the side of the shower.

Your eyes widened at the unexpected action, pouting slightly at the view of the shower wall instead of Jin’s face. Still, you dutifully reached your hand out to grasp the pole in front of you, arching your back to push your ass up for Jin’s viewing.

It seemed to work, his hands reaching down to grip your hips as he ground his hard cock against the flesh with a groan.

“Jin,” You exhaled, “don’t tease.”

He didn’t hesitate to follow your instruction, your head dropping forward as he made his re-entrance into you, quiet moans leaving your mouths simultaneously at the feeling.

As Seokjin rocked into you, loud moans spewed out of his mouth and echoed around the shower walls, most likely spilling out into the bedroom. God, you hoped nobody had ventured inside.

“Jin, Jin.” You called in a whispered shout, the man stopping reluctantly with a whine.

“What?” He practically whimpered, frustrated at the interruption of euphoria flowing through his body, you giggling a bit in response to his grumpy tone.

“You need to be quiet, baby.” You reminded him, nothing but the sound of the water raining down from the showerhead filling the room, causing you to turn your head back to look up at him due to his rare silence.

His hair was damp and disheveled, strands strewn across his forehead as his hooded eyes looked down at you. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly, the smooth golden skin highlighted by the water sticking to it. You practically drooled at the scene, Jin’s clearing of his throat catching your attention once again and bringing your eyes back up to his face.

“Oh? I do?” He smirked and, before you could nod your head yes to answer him, he brutally snapped his hips into you again, causing you to cry out before you bit down on your lip to quiet the noise.

Leaning down to press his chest to your back, he continued his pace, spreading your legs farther with a nudge of his foot against your own as his harsh pants filled your ear.

“Oh god, there, baby.” You whined as he suddenly brushed up against a rough spot on your walls, your boyfriend taking the cue and hitting the spot at an increasingly fast pace as you whined incoherent praises to him.

More rough grunts and moans spilled out of his mouth in response, noises becoming louder as you began grinding your hips back onto him, successfully slipping his cock farther into your heat.

Linking an arm around your waist to rest a hand on your stomach, he began pressing kisses along your upper back and shoulders as he continued to pound into you, drawing soft moans out of your mouth that slightly echoed around the bathroom.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He breathed as you clenched around him, quickly pulling out and taking himself into his hand to encourage his orgasm.

The sprays of cum shot onto your back were immediately washed away by the water streaming from the showerhead, both of your heavy breathing filling the enclosed space before your squeal filled the room, caught off guard by the man suddenly sinking to his knees and attaching his mouth to your throbbing core.

“Ugh, Jin!”

You couldn’t restrain yourself from yelling out as Jin’s fingers spread you open so that his tongue could circle your pulsing clit, slipping through your folds to end up back at your entrance, securing your wobbling knees with his arms as he plunged his wet muscle into you.

Biting your lip to hold in your noises, you began to subtly roll your hips against Seokjin’s mouth, him encouraging the movement as he completely buried his face between your legs.

He grunted against you in frustration at your lack of reactions to him, withdrawing his tongue from your entrance, eliciting a whine from you before the feeling of two of his long fingers entering you instead caused you to moan, Jin smirking in satisfaction before leaning forward to tongue at your neglected clit.

“Baby, I’m,” You cut yourself off with a gasp as Jin’s fingers curled to brush against your walls, eyes squeezing shut as your muscles convulsed around his appendages, your boyfriend’s moan sending vibrations through you and throwing you over the edge.

You appreciated the hold he had on your legs as you came down from your orgasm, knees weak and head dizzy as you tried to regain control of your breathing.

His hands never left you as he stood back up, trailing his palms up your thighs to hold you steady by your hip bones, turning you around to face him and lean back against the wall.

“You have to wash me again.” You mumbled into his chest sleepily, hearing the man laugh before you felt his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Your drowsiness only increased as you felt his soothing hands glide over your body, washing you once again with a lather of soap on his hands as you leaned into him. It was peacefully quiet until Jin seemed to snap out of his state of lethargy, dancing his fingertips across your sensitive hip bones, causing you to giggle at the ticklish feeling with a quiet whine of his name.

After getting dressed in some of Jin’s sweatpants and a hoodie, you collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion hitting you as Jin lightly chuckled, ruffling a towel through his hair before tossing it into the bin beside him.

“Jin,” You grunted in complaint when he jumped onto the bed, causing the mattress to bounce and moving your entire body from your comfortable position.

The man only laughed in return, wrapping his arms around you as you cuddled into his chest, resting your forehead against the material of his shirt, his breaths almost lulling you to sleep before remembering the other grown men wandering around outside the room.

“Do you think they heard us?” You asked quietly, Jin humming nonchalantly in response, watching as you glanced up at him for further elaboration.

“I think there’s a 50/50 chance.” He put it simply, laughing loudly when you whined and buried your face into the material of his shirt, hearing your muffled words of complaint disappear into the fabric.

“They’re not that naive, baby. Obviously we’re sexually active, what’s the big deal?” He shrugged, still face unchanging as you looked up at him with widened eyes.

“Just because it’s known doesn’t mean it needs to be proven.”

At your words, you got another shrug from the man, causing you to roll your eyes at the gesture but cuddle up to him nonetheless.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You sighed, nuzzling your cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt and letting your eyes fall shut again.

”I’m aware of that.” A kiss to your temple punctuated his drowsy words, a breath puffing from his nostrils as your hand rubbed at his damp scalp.

“Are we going to sleep now?” You asked, the question muffled into his chest as he stroked his fingers through your wet hair.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He agreed, the words barely audible as his mouth moved only slightly in his half asleep state.

You giggled at the sleepy man, lifting your head from his pec in order to press your lips to his plush bottom one, then puckering your lips against his top one, the corners of his mouth quirking in a fond sleepy grin as his hand raised to support the back of your head, pushing your lips directly to his to initiate a proper kiss.

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paradisetemporarilymisplaced · 3 years

Note

omg please drop all of your haircare knowledge, asking for a wavy/curly friend

HELLO YES I LOVE TALKING ABT THIS

So once upon a time I spent weeks on end on naturallycurly.com reading about wavy hair care specifically. I had just moved to Colorado six months before and my hair was Not loving the climate shift - the higher altitude results in dryer air and my hair was unmanageable and gross 100% of the time and I was sick of it. This article in particular was unbelievably helpful and it formed the basis of my research.

Here’s my before (spring 2019) and after (spring 2020):

(I have not really been styling my hair and/or taking selfies since then because. Pandemic. Not much point in going to that much effort just to work from home lol)

Below the cut are more specific tips for washing/styling, featuring linked articles, tutorials, and products. I do want to acknowledge that these are adapted from the methods Black women have been using to care for their (type 4) hair for generations - the methods largely work for 2&3 hair types too, but with some modifications (e.g., white people don’t generally need to add extra oil to moisturize their hair between washes). If you’re going to buy products, buy from Black-owned companies whenever possible! Ecoslay and Inahsi are two of my favorites.

Some general tips:

Know the general state of your hair. Is it dense or thin? Are the strands coarse or fine? Is it damaged from color and/or heat? If it’s dense and/or coarse, you’ll want heavier products to penetrate the strands (like gels). If it’s thin and/or fine, you’ll want lighter products to not weigh them down (like mousses). If it’s damaged, you’ll want heavy stuff with a lot of protein to get it healthy.

Protein and moisture are key to balancing your hair. Protein deficiency/excess moisture results in hair that’s too soft and doesn’t hold a curl, while moisture deficiency/excess protein is when your hair feels crunchy without anything in it. Odds are if you’ve been using sulfate-heavy products you’ll need a heavy dose of both. My hair was so protein-starved that I had to do two gelatin treatments to build it back up but I haven’t had to do anything like that since

Ingredients: cut out sulfates and silicones. Sulfates dry out your hair and silicones coat the strands and weigh it down. Ingredient labels are your friends - sulfates are pretty easy to spot (e.g., sodium laureth sulfate) and silicones usually end in ‘cone’ (e.g., dimethicone). Some people also avoid heavy oils and butters (e.g., shea butter) but it really depends on how thick your hair is and how tight your curls are. I generally avoid them because they weigh down my looser curls but others with tighter curl patterns find them moisturizing and helpful. When in doubt, plug the ingredient list into Curlsbot to see what's curl friendly and what's not.

You do not need fancy products. I've linked some of my faves in here but there's plenty of inexpensive stuff available at drug stores. @coffeecurlygirl on Instagram has some highlights where she's reviewed curl-friendly drug store products. I am also American, so product availability may be different in other places. Curl Maven (based in Ireland) is a treasure trove of product information for Europe, as well as an excellent source for curly hair care in general.

Washing:

The most important part of washing your hair and scalp isn’t the cleanser, it’s the friction. Some people find success with cowashing, which is when you use a conditioner to wash your hair. This moisturizes your scalp and prevents your hair from drying out with the cleansing agents. Others like having something more cleansing and use a sulfate-free shampoo (usually containing something like sodium olefin 14-16 sulfonate). I tend to switch cleansers whenever I wash - I like the As I Am Dry and Itchy Scalp cowash, Trader Joe’s Tea Tree Tingle shampoo, and a medicated shampoo & conditioner 2 in 1 deal. (My scalp is dry 100% of the time, it’s a struggle.) I also recommend getting a shampoo brush to really scrub it in there.

Conditioning is probably the most important step in your routine. Again, knowing your hair is really important here! Conditioners come in a huge range of heaviness. I have relatively thick hair and I like heavy conditioners. You want one that you can apply to your hair and practically feel it detangle itself. I like Giovanni conditioners best - the Deeper Moisture and Tea Tree Triple Treat are both good. You want to avoid your scalp because that’s where buildup happens, so apply to the length of your hair and squish it in (tutorial) from the bottom to form your curl clumps and ensure it penetrates each strand.

Clarifying is also something you want to do every so often. You’ll end up with some buildup on your hair no matter what so this is when you need an actual cleanser to break it down. You can get clarifying shampoos (Bumble & Bumble has one but I’ve never used it) but honestly you just need a normal sulfate shampoo. I use Suave Daily Clarifying (do not use it daily) which is like a dollar and will last forever.

After clarifying you should deep condition to restore moisture to your hair. My favorite these days is Jessicurl, but when I first started out this whole thing I needed something super protein-heavy so I used Curl Junkie’s Repair Me. In the middle of the road is something like Inahsi which is relatively balanced between moisture and protein. It all depends on what your hair needs. Apply after washing, let it sit on your hair for 30-45 minutes (use a shower cap and ideally a heat cap for max effectiveness). Rinse and style as usual.

Don’t use a normal towel to dry your hair. Terrycloth is a one-way ticket to Frizz City. You can buy microfiber towels made specifically for hair but you can also just use a tshirt. Also don’t rub your hair when you dry it, instead squeeze the water out from the bottom to preserve your curl pattern and prevent frizz.

You probably don’t have to wash your hair as often as you think. I wash my hair once or twice a week and it gets the job done. It takes much longer for curly hair to get gross and oily than for straight hair - my sister’s hair is stick straight and she has to wash every day.

Styling:

The products you use are much less important than the technique. Youtube is super helpful for demonstrations of how to apply products - reallife+curlygirl has my favorite channel for this.

Leave in conditioner is a must. I recommend finding something that’s intended to be a leave in, but some people just leave in some of the conditioner they used in the shower. Same deal, apply only to your ends, not the scalp.

After the leave in, here’s where the fun begins! Apply your styling products when your hair is soaking wet (like, immediately after your shower). I like to use a curl enhancer (eg Ecoslay’s Orange Marmalade or Uncle Funky’s Curl Magic) and then a gel over top (pretty much any drug store brand works - Aussie, LA Looks, etc.). Squish it in like you did your conditioner and use a lot of water. I legit have a mixing bowl that I keep in my shower and fill partway with water when applying so I can scoop in more water as needed. Squish until you can’t really feel the product anymore and then you’re good.

Plop your hair to set the curls (tutorial). Let it sit for 15-20 minutes. If you’re feeling extra you can add more gel once you take it down.

Diffuse dry (tutorial). DO NOT use a hair dryer without a diffuser, the direct heat is too intense and won’t give you good results.

Your hair will probably be a little crunchy after you’re done. Wait however long you want/can (at least until your hair has cooled down and it’s 100% dry) and then scrunch it out. No ramen noodle hair and your curls have set!

This can all be super overwhelming but is super worth it. You can see how much it's benefited my hair and I have no regrets. Most of these tips are things that have specifically worked for me, but if you want a more general (and better explained) quick-start guide for curl care, Curl Maven is a fantastic resource. There are a zillion places on the internet to get information, but I strongly recommend just sticking to a few: Naturally Curly, reallife+curlygirl, and Curl Maven are the best I've found and seem to cover the most ground. There's also a thriving Instagram community but proceed with caution - big Mormon mom energy over there, for whatever reason.

Finally, while the curls are great, the biggest change I’ve seen has been in the overall health of my hair. Washing less means my hair doesn’t get dried out as quickly, and even when I don’t style my hair (leave-in only and air dry) my hair still has some volume which is nuts. You don’t have to do all the styling every time you wash to get the benefits.

Hope this is helpful! Godspeed, my friend.

#smolpoe #answered #face #hair care #curl care #sorry this took a few days and is very long #my problem is that i have spent so many years in academia that i'm incapable of writing anything less than a well-sourced novel #no matter the context #lmk if you have any more questions and/or if anything i wrote needs further clarification #also i didn't mention it in the post but generally speaking this is based on the curly girl method #which i don't love bc (a) why gender hair care and (b) the lady who coined the term is. hm. Not Great #i try to be thoughtful with hair stuff bc. as i said. black women have been doing this for centuries #and white women do not get to co-opt the natural hair movement no matter how hard they try #but like i said the methods still work. you just can't claim that you came up with them #which is what the 'founder' of the curly girl method did. then she created devacurl very explicitly to profit off that knowledge #curly/wavy hair is not political for white women and too many bloggers seem to think it is #anyway! all this to say i'm trying to stay in my lane and share the info i've found most helpful #while acknowledging the actual sources of said info

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Note

Sentence Starters:

Can we stop for a moment? I think I need a break.

Coz I don’t think Scott’s ever uttered those words in his life!

Water Rescue

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Gordon, Scott, Virgil

Ahaha, probably not something he’d say if he had any choice in the matter, no! That being said, five months after you sent this and I’m finally prodding this far back in my inbox (see, I get around to prompts eventually!). I might even have some idea why he might be saying it. Maybe.

Now... can I even find the original prompt list for this... Oop, apparently it was on the wrong blog, but found it eventually!

Injured Sentence Starters

“Can we stop for a moment? I think I need a break.”

Gordon hit the edge of the pool and caught the side of it, pulling himself vertical and looking over at his eldest brother, who was clinging to the side and looking absolutely exhausted. It wasn’t an admittance Scott ever made lightly, but while he had his pride - especially in front of younger brothers - he did have some level of common sense.

The tongue-lashings Gordon had delivered in the past when he’d pushed himself beyond his limits in the pool and ended up cramping and in need of rescue himself might have also, finally, sunk in. You couldn’t save someone else if you were in trouble yourself.

He eyed Scott anyway, because he was looking a little pale and he suspected he’d still pushed further than he should have done with their water training, but didn’t hesitate to agree.

“We can take a break,” he agreed. “Get up on the poolside and take a breather.”

Chlorinated water plastering his hair down even more effectively than the handfuls of hair gel employed every morning, Scott nodded. He really was looking pale, now Gordon was looking at him properly, and he lingered back in the water as Scott turned and grasped the edge of the pool with a white-knuckled grip. Biceps rippled, Scott’s arms tensing in preparation of the pull, and then Gordon was surging the foot or so between them and catching his brother as his grip failed and he vanished beneath the surface.

Yanking Scott back up, Gordon trod water as he patted his brother’s cheek. His eyes were closed, face drained of all colour, and in the back of his mind Gordon retracted anything he’d thought about Scott learning not to overdo it. Then again, he should not have been exhausted to the point of fainting from what they’d done so far.

He frowned.

“C’mon, Scott,” he urged, fingers slipping down to press against the pulse point beneath his brother’s jaw. It was still there, slightly thready but not enough to be a concern. Wet fingers in front of a partially open mouth registered steady breathing, so with a scowl he returned to tapping Scott’s cheek insistently. “Wake up.”

There was a cough and a splutter, and he grasped at the side of the pool again, allowing his own legs a respite from treading water as Scott blinked his way back into consciousness.

“Gords?” His name was a little quiet and unsteady, confusion lacing though in the background.

“You fainted,” Gordon told him bluntly. Scott blanched, as though he wasn’t already pale enough, and Gordon’s suspicions rose. There was something his brother wasn’t telling him. “Training is over.”

The sigh he got in response wasn’t surprised, rather resigned. Gordon tightened his grip as Scott reached for the side of the pool again.

“You’ve been dunked enough,” he said a little sharply. “I’m going to swim you back to the shallow end and we’ll get out there.”

“I can-”

“Absolutely not.” Sometimes, Gordon couldn’t believe his brother’s stupidity. “Come on.” He kicked away from the side, bringing Scott with him; despite his words, his brother didn’t fight his hold. It didn’t take long to get them back to the shallows, where both of them could stand easily on the bottom. “Out.”

Scott grasped the side again, muscles rippling as he pulled himself up. Gordon took no chances, boosting him from the side until he was clear before bringing himself out alongside.

Any attempts his brother might have made to escape were scuppered by a hand on his wrist, keeping him by the poolside.

“Do I need to give you the water safety lecture again?” he demanded. “You do not push yourself to the point of collapse in the pool. Ever.”

“I know.” Scott looked slightly unsure, and Gordon paused. “I was fine, Gordon, I promise. I don’t know what happened.”

Gordon didn’t like the sound of that at all; it made sense insofar as the fact that he also hadn’t noticed anything was wrong until immediately before, but if Scott was fainting for no apparent reason, then that was potentially something a lot more serious.

“You didn’t forget to eat earlier, did you?” Scott shook his head. “Sleepless night?” That headshake was less certain, but knowing his brother’s sleeping habits, that didn’t unduly surprise Gordon. Still, it was concerning. He reached out for Scott’s pulse point again.

Scott didn’t pull back.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, feeling the thrumming pulse under his fingers. It was stronger than when he’d been unconscious, but still wasn’t quite right.

“I’m fine,” Scott promised. “Whatever it was has passed.”

“I’ll be more convinced once I’ve got a scan on you,” Gordon muttered. Scott baulked at the idea, but he held firm. “Scott, if you’re ill, we need to know.” Just the idea of his brother having another fainting spell in the air, at the controls of Thunderbird One, or even in a danger zone...

No, Gordon couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m not ill.” On the plus side, Scott clearly felt fine enough to be a terrible patient. That being said, it wasn’t a particularly high bar; keeping him pinned down if he was coherent was always a challenge.

“If you can stand up without a headrush or fainting again, I’ll consider believing you,” Gordon pointed out, bringing his hand back from Scott’s throat and making his way to his feet. “Think you can?” He held out his hands for Scott to take. His stubborn brother didn’t accept the help, so Gordon snatched his wrists anyway.

It turned out to be a good move, because Scott swayed slightly - not much, but more than he’d ever do if he was completely healthy - as he reached his full height. Gordon narrowed his eyes.

“Infirmary or den?” he asked, less because he wanted to give Scott an out and more because the den was closer.

“Den is fine,” Scott replied, predictably. Well, if he wanted to play it that way.

“Den it is,” Gordon agreed, and raised an eyebrow at Scott’s suspicious look. “What? I gave you the choice, didn’t I?”

The noise Scott made in his throat was just as suspicious as the look, but his brother didn’t reply. Gordon grinned at him and led the way, not letting go. Scott stumbled after him until Gordon ducked underneath his arm. The stairs were, in Gordon’s opinion, too much of a risk, so he dragged his brother towards the elevator and tried not to think about the trail of water they were traipsing all through the house.

Hopefully Grandma would understand.

Still, he snagged a towel in passing and slung it around his neck until the elevator spat them out upstairs. It was deployed on Scott upon arrival in the den, because the sofa cushions were only water resistant and Grandma got very upset if wet bodies sat on them for any length of time.

Scott grumbled protests that he was capable of drying himself, which Gordon ignored entirely, before sinking down entirely too gratefully onto the nearest sofa. Gordon hurriedly got rid of the worst of the water from his own body before he threw himself onto the sofa next to Scott.

“Virgil,” he called, prodding at his wrist comm and leaning sharply out of Scott’s reach as his brother reacted. “Could you bring a medscanner to the den?”

“What happened?” A grease-covered Virgil appeared in miniature, scowling up at him in concern. “Weren’t you and Scott doing water training?”

“Until Scott fainted,” Gordon agreed, ignoring the hiss of his name from said older brother and extending his arm so that it was out of Scott’s reach. “As you can see, he’s lively again now, but-”

“You have no idea why?” Whether Virgil was finishing his sentence or just guessing, he wasn’t sure, but either way it was correct.

“Yup,” he agreed. “So if you could..?”

“I’m on my way.”

The call cut out just as Scott managed to grab his wrist.

“Gordon.”

“What?” he asked. “You thought I was going to just leave you here while I fetched it so you could escape?” From the frustrated look on his brother’s face, that was exactly what big brother had been hoping for. “If you didn’t want Virgil involved, you should have picked the infirmary, bro.”

He was fairly sure the growled words under Scott’s breath were ones from the military-dictionary, and not the Grandma-approved one.

“Love you, too, bro.” He pushed himself upright again and gave his brother another once-over. Scott really did look fine, and the chances were high that it was a random one-off - probably his sleep schedule catching up with him at last - but Gordon couldn’t shake the unease. “Look, Scott. Just humour me, okay? If the scan doesn’t show anything then that’s fine. I just want to be sure.”

Scott sighed, reluctance oozing from every pore, but he didn’t argue.

“I’m fine.”

Well, he didn’t argue much.

“That’s for the scanner to decide.”

Booted feet all but running across the floor cut off any retort Scott might have been building, and Virgil appeared. Somehow he looked even more grease-stained than his hologram had, but Gordon was more interested in the medscanner he was clutching.

Scott endured it with bad grace.

“How long was he out?” Virgil demanded. Gordon shrugged.

“A few seconds,” he said. “Thirty, tops.” It wasn’t long, but it was long enough.

Virgil’s hum seemed to agree with him as the scanner beeped. Three pairs of eyes focused on it.

Nothing wrong.

Well, technically it was flagging up some minor exhaustion - no doubt from the training - and an advisory about sleep and electrolytes flashed up, but there was nothing dramatic.

Virgil scowled at Scott. “Electrolytes,” he said. “And sleep. I’m grounding you for twelve hours, and it’ll be longer if you don’t spend at least half of them in bed.” He brandished the scanner when Scott’s mouth opened. “Preferably all of them.”

Brown eyes glanced to Gordon, ignoring the protests coming from their big brother. “Get him to his room while I fix something up.”

“F.A.B. Come on, Scotty. Bed time.” He slipped off the sofa and grabbed Scott’s arms. “Up you get.” Blue eyes glowered at him in frustration, but with the dreaded g-word hanging over him, Scott was reluctantly compliant. Already he was steadier on his feet, to the point that Gordon was happy to risk the stairs up to the bedrooms.

There were, thankfully, no more incidents, and Scott sank down onto his bed with another glare. Gordon joined him, uninvited but equally not dismissed, and they sat shoulder to shoulder as they waited for Virgil.

The family medic didn’t take long, appearing with a sports bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Drink all of it,” he instructed, pressing the bottle into Scott’s hand. Big brother made a face but obediently took a few gulps. “Once you’re done, get into pyjamas and go to bed.” The water was placed on the bedside table, alongside a pill. “If you can’t sleep, take that.”

Scott’s shoulders slumped but there was no protest. Then again, Gordon probably wasn’t the only one who had thought about the what-ifs of a repeat on a rescue. Scott was many things, but sometimes he could see the same dangers the rest of them were scared of. Not always, but sometimes.

“Gordon Cooper Tracy!”

Oops. Grandma must have found the trail of water. He glanced at his older brothers, who both looked vaguely sympathetic - a first, but then he’d had good reason this time - but offered no support.

“I’d say that’s my cue to leave,” he said, dragging himself to his feet. He pressed a hand to Scott’s shoulder. “See you in twelve hours, Scotty.”

There was no agreement - then again, Scott staying in bed for twelve hours seemed less likely than John willingly going to a party - but there was a small quirk of his lips into what could be a smile.

“Thanks, Gordon.”

Gordon huffed. “No more fainting during water training. I’m getting fed up of having to drag you out at the end.”

“This was the first time!” Scott protested, but Gordon didn’t bother answering that; the other occasions might have seen him still conscious, but they’d otherwise been no better. Instead, he gave a jaunty wave to his eldest brother, and offered Virgil a sloppy handover salute - big brother was his responsibility now - before slipping out of the room to face Grandma.

Scott was in good hands.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #thunderwhump #drabbles #janetm74 #water rescue

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putas-in-suffering · 4 years

Text

Ego Boost

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, Angel’s muscles

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: You get caught checking out your boyfriend so he decides to have some fun with you.

A/N: Angel Reyes is making his way to the main stage! This was inspired purely by that shirtless picture of Clayton. Ya’ll know the one. But if you don’t, don’t worry because we got you. We’ll post it below. The man is getting into shape and our minds couldn’t help but think of Angel and all the shirtless scenes we’re owed. Let’s manifest that shit for season three because we wanna see shirts off and asses out. Also, this fic can be looked at as a prequel to the drunk sex with Angel fic we posted awhile ago. It makes mention of this particular instance so if you wanna be in the know, check it out here. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

(Photo credit and this post belongs to @shadesalvarez)

You hummed to the faint melody playing on the radio, the volume muted by the rooms that separated you. You made your way to the source of the noise, cold beer in hand. You opened the door that led to the garage, the multitude of sounds now magnified without the barrier of wood to close them out. Your eyes took in the space. The large whirring fan, the half open garage door, the smooth metallic chrome of the motorcycle, and of course your boyfriend.

Angel was hunched over his bike, a pair of black basketball shorts sitting low on his hips. He was shirtless, the sinewy muscles of his arms and abdomen making you pause. You studied him for a long moment, as if seeing him for the first time. He looked bigger, more defined. The long lines of ink now ran over ridges of muscles and veins, the softness he’d once held now gone. His chest was chiseled and the very visible contours of a six-pack were now proudly displayed.

The sight made you swallow. Your mouth suddenly too dry and your panties suddenly too wet.

You knew Angel had taken up working out with EZ. He always made sure to stay in shape, but having his brother come out of prison looking like The Hulk had pushed Angel to train with his younger brother. You’d been surprised at first, but supportive nonetheless. Angel was perfect in your eyes, but you understood. So you’d supported him. And over time you’d noticed small changes here and there.

But today…today you were seeing the differences all at once. And it was noticeable.

You stepped into the garage, shutting the door behind you. Angel had yet to notice you and you took advantage of that as you watched him work. He was concentrating hard, brows furrowed as he fiddled with a part on his bike. His tongue poked out between his bearded lips and the gesture made your insides warm.

You wanted him. Right then. You wanted him in an animalistic way that made your insides clench and your nipples harden. You’d both indulged in some morning sex earlier that day, but it’d been slow and lazy, a statement of love rather than a primal desire. You wanted rough hands and deep thrusts you could feel all the way in your throat. You wanted the ache of his cock to be felt for days after he’d been there.

“Baby…”

You jumped when Angel touched your arm, almost causing you to drop the sweating bottle of beer. You focused your eyes back on the man that now stood less than two feet away from you, his chest showing hints of perspiration. Your tongue yearned to lick it from him.

“You okay? You zoned out.” Angel asked, concern lacing his gravelly voice. His deep chocolate eyes were running the length of you, searching for anything that may be out of place. It was cute.

“I’m good. Sorry, just got distracted.” You half-lied. By the look in his eye, Angel knew what that meant. Under the fullness of his beard you could see the playful smirk on his lips. He took the beer out of your hand and took a large pull, his eyes still not leaving yours. Only this time they said something entirely different.

“Distracted, huh?” He prompted once he’d wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He set the beer on the floor near his bike, straightening and waiting for you to speak.

“You look…” You hesitated on how to articulate exactly what you’d been daydreaming about. You, for some unknown reason, were suddenly nervous around your boyfriend. The butterflies in your stomach grew stronger, their movement shifting from your middle to the lower half of your body.

He patiently waited for you to continue, his brow arched as if he knew exactly what had you all out of sorts. He reached for you, bringing your body flush with his as he settled his hands on your hips. They didn’t stay there for long though. Angel was never one to stay still, and making love was no exception. The man was always moving, always switching sensations before you could get used to one. His hands traveled to your ass, gripping the flesh in encouragement.

“I just noticed how different you look. You look good.” You finally answered meekly, still unwilling to let him fully see the storm that brewed within you.

Angel nodded, as if anticipating the words. You could see the enjoyment on his face, see the pleasure he got from your torture.

“Just good?” He urged, head bowing to bury his face against your neck. You grasped his naked biceps, silently marveling at the size of them. He felt so sturdy under your delicate touches. Felt like he could break you in two if he wanted to. The thought pushed a whimper from your lips, his own beginning to suckle at your flesh.

“Angel,” You whimpered, feeling his teeth dig into a spot he’d been working over. His hips pushed against yours, letting you feel the hardening muscle beneath his shorts.

“Tell me, baby.” He demanded into your ear, suckling the appendage. You shivered, rubbing yourself against his solid form in a weak attempt to entice him. He didn’t budge.

“Sexy…” You finally whispered, tugging at his thick locks. His mouth began to move towards your lips, peppering your face with soft kisses. His hands gently massaged your ass, his dexterous fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shorts to graze your skin.

“Yeah? What else?”

He continued to lock you in a series of delicate kisses, ensuring you stayed in the haze he’d built around you. You surrendered to it, giving every inch of yourself over to it and him.

“Strong.” You breathed into his mouth, gripping his forearms to feel the veins and muscles beneath your palm.

Angel growled, palming your ass with a more veracious grip. You entangled your tongue with his, feeling him begin to shift you backwards. You moved with him until you felt the hard edge of his steel workbench dig into your back. You used it for support, struggling to keep up with the rough hands that seared your flesh.

“Fuck, baby…you got me hard as fuck.”

Arousal flooded your thighs at his words, feeling the proof against your stomach. He began to move your tank top up and over your head, revealing the black bra you wore underneath. You took the initiative and unclasped the garment, carelessly flinging it off. Warm palms encased your naked breasts, kneading the supple flesh with an expertise that had you seeing stars. His entire hand covered you, the ink splashed across his skin making the sight all that more erotic. The only thing missing were his rings. He didn’t wear them around the house, but you found yourself yearning for that cool touch of metal against your nipple. Something you’d gotten used to.

“Angel, please…” You shamelessly begged, throwing your head back when his hungry mouth joined his hands. You arched into him as he licked and sucked, pulling a peaked nipple into his mouth like an impatient newborn. He went further, encasing more of your breast into his mouth and sucking. You whimpered at the force of it, nails digging into the sinewy ridges of his back. You were both slick with perspiration, the fan doing nothing to ease the heat of the day or the growing heat between you.

Angel didn’t verbally answer your plea, but he responded. He pushed your shorts down, taking your panties with them. You stepped out of them and kicked the balled up fabric away. His arms lifted you, seating you on the cool surface of the bench. You flinched at the sensation against your overheated flesh, but settled once his hands began to smooth up your thighs. He widened your legs, fitting his massive form against you. He surrounded you. He smelled of motor oil and the shower gel he’d used that morning. He tasted of the beer you’d brought him. His naked chest stuck to yours, the warm air of the garage making your bodies slide against one another.

“You wet?” He asked, finger already edging to the space between your thighs. You nodded, but he continued on his exploration, feeling your soaked lips. His finger slipped easily in, instantly engulfed by your desire.

“I don’t need it.” You insisted desperately, attempting to push his hand away. You were so far beyond foreplay. You just needed him. Needed the raw connection that only he could give.

He relented, pushing his shorts down enough to free himself. You immediately reached for him, stroking the one muscle that hadn’t changed. Angel had always been gifted in that regard. He was heavy and thick, excitement almost making him seem larger. You swallowed at the feel of him, remembering the moments he thrust himself down your throat. You could practically taste him against your tongue as the tip of him leaked with appreciation. His hips began to move in time with your hand, getting lost in the moment. He grunted and growled, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a pressure that bordered on painful.

“Querida…” He warned, halting your wrist. His eyes met yours as he shook his head, fully removing your hand from his body. He looked almost feral. His hair askew, his beard longer than usual, his eyes wild with simmering tension. Hell, he looked dangerous. All tattoos and muscles. It was an assault on your senses. A fire raged within you; one that you were sure had never burned as bright as it did right now.

“You want it?”

You nodded, uncaring of how eager you seemed. He caressed your cheek, bearded lips barely grazing yours as he rubbed himself against your core.

“How bad?”

You writhed in place as he teased you, slipping only the tip in before pulling away. You anchored yourself to his arms as you shifted your lower half closer to the edge of the bench.

“Angel, stop teasing.” You chastised, feeling the stretch of him as he once again entered you before backing off.

“I want you to tell me, baby…tell me how bad you need me. Tell me how bad it hurts without me inside you.”

Fuck, the man could tease. His words made your walls constrict, trying to squeeze around the phantom sensation of his cock inside you. You were paying for your ogling. Paying for the inflation of Angel’s ego. It was all worth it in the end, but damn did he play a dirty fucking game.

“Let me show you.” You insisted, licking the seam of his lips. He grunted in approval, keeping your gaze as he began to push fully in. You gasped at the familiar ache of him sliding home. Your entire body came alive with him sheathed inside you. Your spine twisted, your limbs wrapped around him, your breathing accelerated. It was a chaotic state of passion and love, but it was addictive. And your body constantly craved more.

He started slow, making you earn every gasp and moan. Your insides clutched at him in desperation, intent on having him stay this way forever. His eyes were trained on your joined bodies. Taking in the way you coated him for smooth passage. What had started out as a ravenous moment of desire had shifted to something more intimate. Something to be savored.

“Angel…you feel so good.” You marveled, closing your eyes when he made his hips flush with yours, forcing him further into your depths.

“Squeeze me.” He demanded as he remained unmoving. You complied, relishing the throb of him against you in return. “Fuck, like that.”

You did it again. And again. Letting him feel just how amazing he made you feel. His hips began to increase in speed, his patience wearing thin as you gripped him. Sweat droplets formed on his forehead as strands of hair shifted into his eyes. You rubbed at your clit, leaning back so that he could see. He licked his lips at the sight, his rhythm faltering. You were both close, the end just beyond reach. He no longer stroked your walls, but instead assaulted them. He no longer left your body as his thrusts became erratic and fast, forcing you to hold on.

The brightness of the day grew hotter. The fan whirring in the corner was drowned out by your hard and reckless coupling. The rattling of the tools littered along the bench echoed as each thrust sent the bench back into the wall. Soon, your body was matching the intensity of your surroundings, lifting you high and pitching you into space. You cried out as you shook and trembled with pleasure. The only word that escaped your lungs was a name.

“Angel…”

“I’m almost there, baby…”

And with that, he was.

Heat as warm as the day filled you. You widened your legs as Angel’s body spasmed with his climax. He thrust with every release of him inside you, continuing to ensure that you’d be filled to the brim for days after. The way he groaned into your ear made you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, locking him to you. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut. He looked in pain, but you knew better. There was a flash of ecstasy and then it was gone, replaced with a calmness that you’d bared witness to a thousand times. When his muscles began to ease from the tension, you kissed him, running delicate fingers through his beard. His own ran up your back and over your spine, tickling you.

“You know,” He started once he’d pulled away from your lips, eyes now alight with mirth and satisfaction. “If I’d known bulking up was gonna get me this much ass, I woulda done it a long time ago.”

You shoved at his shoulder, laughter ravaging your body as he smirked down at you. “Not true. You get ass on the regular. Don’t even.”

He wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face a hair’s breadth away from yours. He rubbed his nose against your own, the action making you melt.

“Yeah, you are pretty generous. Gotta be with a super hot boyfriend and all.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You scoffed, but laughed nonetheless. He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, okay…you’re hot. Let’s move on.”

You tried to escape his hold, but he caught your wrists and pinned you to him.

“No, I wanna hear more. Tell me how hot I am.” He tickled your ribs as he spoke, forcing you to jerk away. You giggled when he followed, his mouth now nestled against your neck, rubbing his facial hair against your skin.

“Angel!”

You tried to wriggle away, but his Adonis-like body kept you immobile, along with his hardening cock still embedded inside you. You stopped struggling when he placed a hand to your neck, feeling your pulse jump against his palm. His face grew serious, the tendrils of lust starting to darken his irises all over again.

“Lay back, mama. I’m gonna return the favor.” He instructed, pushing against your chest. You followed his words and movements, letting him retreat from your body. He took hold of your thighs, leveling your lower half to his smirking mouth.

It only took two minutes before Angel had to close the garage door, your moans too loud for any passerby on a neighborhood street.

It took another five minutes for the cops to show up, claiming they got a domestic disturbance call in response to some questionable noises.

Angel had never looked so pleased with himself.

Tags:

@marvelmaree

@visintaes

@otomefromtheheart

@aquarius-smr-writing

@glimmerglittergirl

@arveeee

@fangirlingaesthetics

@maciiiofficial

@woahitslucyylu

#angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fanfiction #mayans mc #mayans mc fx

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grogu-pascal · 3 years

Text

Bringing Home Strays

Excerpt: Paz's suite is admittedly a mess. A mix of his and your garments are strewn across the floor, decorated with random bowls half-filled with mysterious liquids and half-eaten foods. Tufts of white-orange fur litter Paz’s couch (which smells of wet cat) and to make matters worse, he’s just stepped in what looks like regurgitated gihaal.

Paz Vizsla x Reader | ~1.3k | Mature Themes

Tags: Fluff, Implied Age Gap, Dom/Sub Undertones, Sexual Tension, Size Difference, I Call a Beloved Star Wars Character Ugly Bcos He Is, Domestic Fluff, Soft Paz Vizsla, Crochety Paz Vizsla, Bratty Reader, Suggestive Themes

Somehow, during the two weeks Paz had been off scouring Planet Alderaan for a bounty, you had not only "acquired” a pet but also named the little beast.

“What do you mean acquired?" the mandalorian asks, pacing back and forth between the confines of his quarters.

“Y’know. Adopted,” you murmur. Embarrassment blushes at your cheeks at the admission. You distract yourself with the small loth-kitten nestled into your arms tangling it's wiry fur between your fingers as Paz's lecture drones on. This isn't exactly how you imagined your reunion with him would go—but perhaps it could be worse.

Paz’s suite is admittedly a mess. A mix of his and your garments are strewn across the room wildly. The floor is decorated with bowls half-filled with mysterious liquids and cups half-full of mysterious foods. Tufts of white-orange fur litter the couch (which smells of wet cat) and to make matters worse, Paz has just stepped in what looks like regurgitated gihaal.

You slouch down into your chair at the sight of the loth-kitten's dinner mushed against his boots. Scratch that, you think to yourself, maybe this is worse.

"And this?"—Paz holds up his datapad, soaked and dripping in some strange gel—"do you even know what fluid this is?" You look up at him through your lashes and gnaw at your lip. You do know what fluid it is, but telling him would only worsen his mood.

Taming the loth-kitten had made for an interesting two weeks. There were moments where you doubted whether domestication was even possible. But, as it turned out, the species could be incredibly docile.

Sure, the kitten had attempted to rip your finger from the joint when you scritched its little beard the day after you brought it home and yes, it had succeeded in slicing a scar down the length of your forearm, but it was nothing some bacta-gel couldn't fix. Besides, you had reasoned, the poor thing was probably petrified. The kitten could only have been a few weeks old, and you may very well have been its first time ever seeing anything remotely humanoid.

After the first few days of scratching and biting and clawing, you decided on baptism by fire. You took to picking the kitten up at all times of the day, equipped with a spare pair of Paz's extra gloves. They were far too big for you and flopped around at the fingertips as you pet the beast, but it was no matter at all. The kitten was hand-fed each meals and adored with baby-talk. If you needed to step out you turned on the holoprojector so that the loth-kitten could familiarize itself with human speech.

All of your hard work had proved successful in the end—the kitten, which was once standoffish and quite rude, had now become sweet and gentle, snuggling into you at bedtime and licking kitten-kisses onto your nose at wake. It was a fast learning little thing, potty training far quicker than an adiik. (Except for the incident with Paz's datapad).

For all of the troubles you had endured with the kitten's domestication you had named it Naast. Destroyer. You weren't exactly sure of it's gender and thought it rude to simply lift up it's long, silky tail and check, but it mattered none at all. Your excitement at having something to keep you company when Paz was gone for weeks trumped a thing as trivial as sex. You'd like to think you would have loved the creature all the same if it had been an womp rat.

"Paz," you start as his lecture reaches a lull, "the kitten had no—"

Paz nearly immediately lifts his hand in the air. He tilts his head away from you and stills. Silence, he seems to say. "You need to take it back," he remarks softly. You look up at him, burly arms folded over his blue-painted beskar chestplate and he returns your gaze, shifting his weight to one foot expectantly.

You rise from your chair and make your way over to where he stands, indignant and hulking. Naast immediately flees from your arms, jumping onto the couch and digging into the cushions with its fat claws before lying down. You continue walking, pretending not to see it. You aren't sure if Paz does. Naast isn’t exactly helping you make your case here.

"Paz," you whine as you reach him, fingers trailing up his torso to rest on his shoulders. Your eyes meet his visor with a pleading gaze. He stands unmoving.

You're toeing a line here, playing at tears and feigned hurt to get your way. It's wrong. You can be much worse. Even if Paz can see right through you right now, you know that he still won't be able to resist. Not after two weeks apart. Not with the way you're pushing your tits against the metal of his armor. Not with the way your nipples have roused to a pebble under your tunic. You watch as his helmet tilts downward towards you and catch your lip to stop a grin. It's working.

Paz stands at least a foot above you and with you pressed so tightly to his frame, you know that he's getting an eyeful of your cleavage. You extend the moment past means, shifting in faux-anxiety. Your eyes never leave his visor despite knowing his attention is elsewhere.

You tug on his shoulder to redirect his gaze from your tits to your eyes, big and wet. Before you can continue begging, he brings his hand to rest under your chin. Warmth spreads through your core as he runs his gloved thumb back and forth across your jaw, palm resting against your throat.

"Hmmph,” he remarks, testing your resistance against his fingers. “I see in our time apart”—he ghosts his thumb against your lips—“you’ve forgotten how I feel about whining." His voice is strained behind his helmet, tone dark and provocative. At this, your eyes shift from his visor to the bulge where his codpiece should be, and you can see where this is going.

You don't respond, instead you parting your lips to take his thumb into your mouth. A grunt escapes his vocoder as you work it further in your mouth, cheeks hollowing around it impolitely. "You need to take it back to its family," he grumbles. His other hand has worked its way to the back of your head, and now plays in the root of your hair. He's the same way when you suck his cock. Pulling and tugging at your hair. Molding you into his desires.

"Naast didn't have a family Paz," you reply, briefly pulling his tongue from your mouth. A trail of spit links from the digit to your mouth and you lick at his thumb to interrupt it.

His posture softens under you, hand gaining slack against your jaw. You take his finger back into your mouth. Your voice slurs as saliva pools on your tongue, "'ss what I was tryna tell you," you manage, tongue working against the weight of his thumb. "Lil thing was all by 'mselff."

You take his hand from your face and hold it in your tiny one, pressing gentle kisses into his palm. The sound of his breathing is stuttered now, and his garments are tight against his crotch.

"I've gotta say Vizsla. I’ve never known you to turn away a stray,” you murmur between kisses.

Despite your bare-faced manipulation, this much was true. Paz was a grumpy ole' fucker, a trait you found amusing, but he was also darling. This was the man who stood in as a youngling instructor for three weeks when their teacher fell ill. This was the man who fended off a fleet of guild members just to save Din's little green bastard. (Who, for the record, was a whole lot uglier than your precious loth-kitten). This was the the man who took you in a year prior when you showed up at his starship in the dead of night, soaking wet and shivering, without a credit to your name.

Paz Vizsla was no stranger to collecting strays.

"Fine," he huffs tightly, pulling his hand out of yours and walking towards the bed. You note the tension in his shoulders and giggle. You abandon the act as soon as he gives in, so you hardly care that he hears you. Besides, he fucks better when he's all worked up.

Paz begins to strip his armor off piece-by-piece as you bite back the grin forming against your lips. He lies down on his back, beckoning towards you with his fingers. You obey, nearly skipping with joy.

"I knew you'd let me keep him!" You grin as you pull your tunic up to shuffle onto his lap, "Naast is a good kitty, you'll see."

"It's not Naast I'm worried about," he muses halfway to himself as he bunches the fabric over your hips. "Dank farrik," he mutters at the realization that you aren't wearing any undergarments. He quickly runs a thumb over your erect nipple, earning a sigh from you. "Now, pretty girl, show me how good of a kitty you can be."

#paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x you #the mandalorian #smut #how else can you spell his name #paz is treated like the OC he truly is in our community #can't be canon divergent with no canon babez #tommywrites

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darker-soft-starker · 4 years

Photo

Starker High School AU, Pt 3 (Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4, Pt 5)

-----

There were two things in life that Peter was unequivocally certain were true.

Number one was that Monday mornings were a universally despised, unpleasant experience that no weekend could ever ease the pain of having to endure.

And number two: Sit-ups were a specific and profound mechanism of torture that no person should ever be required to engage in, recreationally or mandated.

Of course, it would be just his luck that the two were combined on this very Monday morning.

It was cruel and unusual is what it was, Peter thought, hands curled at his temples as he pushes himself into a sitting position, falling back onto the dewy grass with a thud that steals the breath from his chest.

Bucky, holding his ankles, encourages him to complete his set.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps, his stomach trembling as he pulls himself up again. “I - oh fuck - I hate this. I hate exercise.”

Bucky squeezes his ankles tighter. “C’mon, Parker, only three more. You can do it.”

Peter shakes his head, even as he pulls himself up again with a pained groan.

“No, I can’t. Make it stop.”

“Two more. You got it. Sit-ups are not the boss of you.”

“Yes - ahh - they are!”

“One more!”

Sweat pours down his neck and his muscles protest as he pulls himself up for the last time. He gets probably only most of the way up before his gravity slams to the ground.

Bucky slaps his bare calf encouragingly as Peter stares up into the glaring morning sun, arms splayed out, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Oh, god. Never again. That was the worst.

Covering his eyes with his quivering arms he wonders if maybe coach will indulge him just this once. Maybe he can stay here until training is over, perhaps curl up into a ball and try to blend in with the grass so that no one sees him or subjects him to any more exercise.

Except Coach Danvers is already yelling at him to get off the ground and get moving.

He smacks his hands over his ears but it’s no use.

“Get up Parker, last warning!”

“Respite!” He yells back pleadingly, curling in tighter upon himself. “Please!”

Her whistle pierces the air.

“Now!”

Coach has been on edge all morning. Her harsh has turned razor edged in the face of their upcoming match against Kingston this Thursday, reminding the team of her expectations, tolerating nothing other than complete dedication.

Which, whatever.

Peter’s dedicated, okay? It’s Monday. He dragged his ass out of bed to be here at an unholy hour, exhausted and bloated from his indulgent weekend, didn’t he?

Erring on the margin of spite towards Danvers and self motivation, which he suspects is her aim, he pushes himself back up. Taking each of Bucky’s ankles in his grip, he starts counting as Bucky begins his set.

Not that he needs the assistance, Bucky proves his strength by ripping through the set like a bull stampeding through a brick wall. He doesn’t even break a sweat. Dude’s crazy athletic.

It’s really not fair.

As he mentally counts the reps, Peter thinks Bucky’s the kind of fit that Peter both hoped and never hoped to be. He’s effortlessly capable at any physical task, but he works hard for it, harder than Peter would ever dream of working, dedicating hours to gym time and conditioning. Bucky’s not even out of breath when he strikes up conversation.

“How was your weekend, PP?”

“S’okay. Played Mario Kart with my Aunt all weekend.”

Bucky grins as his upper half rises to meet his knees. “Oh, party animal. She doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good,” Peter grins wryly, taking one of his hands from the other’s ankle to push the sweat-damp hair from his eyes. “Kicked my ass though. She always takes Toad.”

“Switch?”

“Nah, GameCube. How was your weekend?”

“Boring. Parents were home all weekend and wanted some ‘family time’.”

“So, you just watched The Voice all weekend?”

“Yup.”

“Nat sneak in after?”

“Yup. How’d it go with Stark on Friday?” Bucky accepts Peter’s hand as he finishes his set. Peter pulls him up and pats him on the back.

The set off in a jog to complete a lap of the field, Coach yells that only five minutes are left, urging them to pick up speed. Peter’s lungs burn when he speaks.

“It was fine.”

Bucky looks at him dubiously, flyaways whipping at his face.

“Well not like, fine-fine, but no bloodshed. See? All limbs intact.” He holds his arms out mid-sprint.

“Wow, so you’re basically best friends now.”

“No.”

“Did you hold hands and braid each other’s hair?”

Incensed, Peter shoves at Bucky to the sound of his snickering,

“Ew, stop, I just had breakfast. Look, the first experience was painful enough. Can we move on? I really don’t want to talk about it.”

---

“And then he hit on my Aunt,” Peter complains in the showers, soaping up his chest. “Literally right in front of me. Who does that?”

“Did she flirt back?” Bucky asks, dipping his head into the spray.

“What? No. He said he was just trying to get under my skin,” he puts his head beneath his own shower head, the water pleasantly lukewarm against his heated skin. “I mean, what kind of psychopath does that?”

“Yeah, but your aunt is super hot though,” Wilson says to his right. “Stark’s an asshole, but he’s not crazy.”

There is a general murmur of agreement around the showers.

“I’m going to need you all to shut up right now,” Peter warns, turning to point at them all. “Keep my aunts name out of your mouth while you’re washing your balls, alright?”

“You heard him, move on,” Rogers cuts in, offering Peter a sympathetic smile.

He nods gratefully as conversation quickly turns to girls, grades and the upcoming Thanksgiving holidays. There was a reason why Peter was on Roger’s side all these weeks ago, he thinks, observing how the entire team respects his command without query. The guy was just interested in doing the right thing, and that’s pretty cool.

By the time they’re all dried and dressed, the topic is forgotten, much to Peter’s relief. He’s nearly late to first period though, too busy watching Wilson and Barnes smack each other with wet towels and attempting to tame his unruly curls into something resembling neatness. He’s not proud of the amount of gel it takes, but it’s what he’s got to work with.

It’s not that he’s obsessed with his appearance or anything, but he has a routine that he sticks to. Gel and lots of it.

Once, in third grade, Flash pulled one of Peter’s tightly coiled ringlet between his fingers, pulled on it and said oink. Peter still had some lingering baby fat at the time and so, as cruel as children can be, Peter was donned Piggy Parker for a time afterwards. Sometimes Porky Parker. They’re friends now, but the oinking and snuffling that followed him around the playground still haunts him.

Anyway.

On the way to first period Rogers walks alongside him down the hall. They have English together, but usually make their way separately. It kind of weirded Peter out for a moment because while they’re team-mates, they’re not really friends.

“Heard you got paired with Stark for an assignment,” the other boy says, his wry smile caught between amused and sympathetic. “That’s shit luck, Parker.”

“You’re telling me,” Peter agrees, waving to Ned and Betty as they pass. “Dude’s a freakin’ prick.”

Rogers bumps their shoulders together.

“You said it. Want me to have a word with him, get him to back off?”

“Nah,” Peter shakes his head. “I can handle Stark, he’s just some bored rich kid looking for a fight. Besides,” he gives Rogers a once-over, “pretty sure you’re supposed to keep your distance after your last brawl with him.”

“True,” he concedes, clamping Peter’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as they stop before their room. “But we’re a team, alright? Just say the word and I’ll encourage some sense into him. Promise to be gentle.”

Peter clamps his hands over his heart with a flair of drama, despite being truly touched. “You’re my hero, Captain Rogers.”

Rogers rolls his eyes and shoves him into the classroom.

“Alright, smartass. Let’s go.”

Inside, he smiles sheepishly at Mrs Perez who glowers at them for their lateness and takes his usual seat between Clint and Shuri. He signs a good morning to the former and smiles at the latter, who is staring down at her desk with disdain.

“What’s wrong?” He nudges her chair with his foot to grab her attention.

“The curriculum.” She raises her head and points to the board miserably. It reads Lord of the Flies.

Oh, great. He could use the nap.

Peter smiles sympathetically, opening his nearly full notebook up to a blank page. “How was your weekend?”

“Meh.”

“Meh?”

“Mmm,” She nods, gesturing airily. “You know, eh. Oh, oh! I heard you spent the weekend getting cosy with Stark,” Shuri follows, pretending to search through their textbook. “Wow, that’s a three-sixty, PP. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What?” Peter hisses, voice lowering when their teacher looks around as roll-call commences. “That’s not -- ”

“Parker!” Perez yells for roll call.

“Present!”

Shuri snickers as Peter’s hand shoots up.

Lucky for him it’s the last he hears of it.

Kinda.

---

His next class is Bio with MJ who, thankfully, says very little through class. She inspects him with bleary eyes when he enters, nursing a coffee in her hands, always earlier than Peter who has to come from the other side of the school.

Peter’s grateful for the reprieve. When she does speak to him, it’s to borrow a pen or to offer him a sip of her coffee. It’s not a lab class today, only note-taking and listening to their teacher drone on about plant anatomy in the same monotone, so he accepts the bitter black coffee without hesitation.

It’s only then that he ventures to initiate conversation.

“So,” he begins precariously, doodling in his notebook, “how was your weekend?”

She shrugs, appearing more awake than earlier. “It was okay. You?”

“It was okay.”

And that was that, he’s relieved to note, companionable silence falling between again as they turn their attention to their teacher again. It’s not until they’re packing up their books at the end of class that MJ speaks to him again.

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, dude. Save us a table?”

“You bet. Oh, and by the way, I heard Stark is gonna be your new step-daddy. Congrats.”

Peter groans.

“How do you -- you know what, no,” he says, pulling his backpack over his shoulders and making a x with his arms. “Nope. No more talking about Stark, he is persona non grata. I’m traumatised enough.”

MJ pushes his glasses up after they slipped precariously down his nose during his declaration. “You’re so dramatic, dude.”

He bumps their shoulders together on the way out of the room and shakes his head.

“Why do people keep saying that?”

---

Ned texts him during recess; Peter is taking an extended break in the bathroom despite not needing to be there, but he’s definitely not hiding, nope. He’s just chilling in the cubicle.

< heard stark spent the weekend < lol wtf < plz verify < actually i don’t want to know < no wait i do tell me < dude

< hello?

----

Traitors, all of them.

He wonders if he should leave this school and start anew elsewhere.

---

Here’s the thing.

As much as Peter loves his friends, he has limits to how long he can spend with them before needing a time out.

They’re his motley crew of village idiots. Some he’s known since first grade, like Ned and Flash, others only since he came to the school and subsequently, the football team.

This school headhunted him because of his academic merit. With his pursuit of scholastic excellence - and the fact that some of his best friends would be attending the school, he applied for and was awarded a scholarship. It was a no-brainer - he had big dreams and even bigger expectations of himself to achieve them and he wanted May to be proud of him.

Which was why when it was suggested that he try out for JV, having exhibited some physicality during gym class, he decided to give it a try. It would look great to have on his applications, he was assured.

So he did. Somehow his wiry frame and years of gymnastics was considered an asset and he was promptly recruited by Coach Danvers. At first he deeply regretted the additional commitment -- the early hours, the soreness, adapting to the internal culture within the team. But he’s persevered and he’s glad that he did.

And for the most part, he copes okay. He can juggle football obligations and after-school activities and the odd tutoring jobs here and there and stay sane, right?

Sort of.

Because as grateful as he was for his broad circle of friends, Peter was still, at heart, an introvert. And right now, his social energy is running on fumes.

It’s because of this - and nothing to do with the relentless questions about Stark - that Peter retreats to the library at lunch that day.

Nestled away in the dusty, back corner, near the collection of old encyclopaedias that nobody reads, are an assortment of bean bags. It’s away from the main area, quiet and disregarded by most. It used to be a thriving recreational area way before Peter’s time, but there wasn’t any maintenance to it over the years. Now the bags are old, terribly lumpy and are speckled with suspicious stains, the fabric is thinning and aged. Most people purposefully avoid the old rec area, which is why Peter likes this spot best. It’s his secret hiding space.

He prepares to disassociate for the next forty minutes by getting comfortable on his favorite bean bag and popping his earphones in.

Next, he retrieves his slightly soggy ham-tomato sandwich from his bag and takes a large bite after unwrapping it. The first burst of tomato hits his tongue at the same time as the music begins.

Ah, to be alone.

Closing his eyes, he allows his body to sink into the bag and for his thoughts to wander freely.

Of course, because his luck is as poor as he is, his seclusion lasts all of three songs before someone else enters into his space. Well it’s not his space, technically, but it should be.

When Peter creaks an eye open to see who is intruding he’s surprised to see Thor perched on the bean-chair opposite him. They catch each others stare and smile.

Well, alone time is overrated.

Maybe his luck isn’t down the drain after all - because this is his opportunity to prove he isn’t a total fumbling loser. He doesn’t know which deity he pleased to be alone in a quiet corner of the library with Thor, but someone up there is clearly looking out for him.

He wants to say something, to strike up a conversation that might make Peter seem cool and only casually interested - something that would make him sound both smart and like, available.

But not too available.

With little success, Peter wracks his brain for the best opening line but frets because he’s ever been cool or collected a day in his life. And great, now he’s just been sitting there smiling for like two whole minutes like an absolute weirdo. Come on, Parker, say something!

Thor acts well before Peter has the chance to say anything, pointing at him, his mouth moving with words Peter can’t hear.

Realising a moment too late that his earphones are still playing music from his phone, Peter hurries to tug them out if his ears, smacking himself in the face in the .

“Sorry, I was --” Peter gestures to his ears, hands shaking, cheeks going hot. God, Thor is talking to him. Him! Peter Parker! “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I like your shirt!” Thor replies, way more loudly than what would normally be socially acceptable for a library, but Peter does not care. Thor likes his shirt.

“This?” He asks, gesturing downwards to his shirt where crumbs are dusted at the collar. “You like Nirvana?”

“I do not know Nirvana,” Thor smiles, “but it looks very cool. Peter, right?”

“Uh yeah,” he nods, face positively flaming because again, he knows Peter’s name. Quickly sweeping the crumbs from his shirt, he extends his hand out to the older boy who shakes his hand. Holy shit. Be cool. “I’m Parker -- I mean, Peter. Yes. Nice to be here. I mean, nice to be speaking. To you.”

Even as Peter’s arm is roughly jostled with Thor’s exuberant hand-shaking embarrassment crawls up his neck, and he wants to disintegrate into the bean bag where no one has to witness his persistent, glaring awkwardness. Palms sweating, Peter has to bite his lip to stop himself from commenting on how big Thor’s hands are.

Stop it, he scolds himself, be normal, play it cool.

“Thor, right?” Peter asks, as if he didn’t doodle their initials together in his notebooks. “You were at training last week.”

“Yes, you fell on your face,” Thor nods, gesturing to the yellowed bruising on his jaw, “I saw.”

“Oh, okay, so you saw that! Uhh -- ” Peter waves a hand at his face, laughing nervously. “This? It’s nothing. I’m totally fine.”

“You are clumsy,” Thor states, not unkindly.

“Well, no -- I mean, yes --” Peter tries to come up with an explanation, but falls short. “I’m not always a klutz, promise. Just sometimes.”

“Happens to the best of us. Well, not myself, but you know, generally speaking. In any case, I’m happy to see you’re okay.”

Thor unzips his backpack then and from within it retrieves a truly gargantuan protein shake, followed by a sub wrapped in foil so large it could be the same size as Peter’s forearm. Sneaking a look down at the remainder of his own lunch, his pickings look pretty slim in comparison.

“Sorry,” Thor says. “Just peckish for a snack.”

Peter watches, dazed, as the older boy consumes half his sub in a single bite, washing it down with several mouthfuls of his shake.

A snack.

“You’re fine. Anyway, football isn’t really my forte,” he admits after a moment, drawing his knees up. “I mean, I’m okay at it and I like it, but it’s not really what I’m best at, y’know?”

The blond boy nods, “I’m on the varsity team,” he proclaims, wiping his mouth. “Whatever that means.”

His accent is so thick it takes Peter half a moment to figure out what it was that he said.

He’s not sure if Thor is being serious or not but the one question Peter has is why is he so fucking cute?

A silence follows, albeit not an awkward one. It gives Peter the opportunity to inspect the older boy, nearly a man at his height and stature, of course helped along by the generous distribution of facial hair across his lower face.

“Uh, did you play football back at home?” Peter asks, keen to keep conversation going. “Soccer?”

“Oh yes,” the boy nods. “Soccer, tennis, volleyball. Water polo. Badminton.”

“Wow,” Peter blinks, “that’s a lot of sport. You’re like the whole Olympics here.”

He’s awarded with a lazy grin for that comment. Thor, to his credit, doesn’t appear to be boastful about his physicality, seemingly a result of his passions instead of a product of vanity.

“Close enough, I suppose. What else do you play, besides football?”

“Uhh --”

Oh god. How is he supposed to respond to that when the idea of doing additional sports outside of football is abhorrent? He can’t tell Thor that. Surely he can fake a common interest. Think of something, Parker, think, think.

The first bell rings, saving him from having to provide a potentially humiliating answer, seeing as all how all that could think of was chess, or PC. Both of which are true and accurate, but not exactly something he thinks that would make him appear more attractive or endearing.

Thank god for fifth period.

“To be continued?” Peter asks as he picks up his backpack, just a little hopeful.

There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs, moment filled with odd squeaks of polystyrene as they attempt to stand.

Thor nods and to Peter’s surprise, doesn’t immediately rush to get away from him. There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs with, odd squeaks of polystyrene as they stand. Instead, he accompanies Peter all the way out of the library, walking alongside him into the main hallway where a flurry of students are intersecting to get to their next class, walking alongside him.

Heads turn to watch them as they depart the library and enter the halls. For a moment, as kids part like the red sea to make way for them - for Thor - Peter wonders if this is what it’s like to be famous. Or to be on the arm of someone famous. It certainly feels like it, because even though the revere isn’t for Peter specifically, it seems like the weight of everyone’s awe is on them.

He doesn’t like the attention. But he likes Thor.

To his delight, the older boy follows him to his locker. Embarrassingly, it sticks when Peter tries to open it, as it usually does. He struggles with it for long, humiliating moments before Thor opens it with one hand.

“Thanks,” he says, blush creeping back up his neck. “You’re like, crazy strong, dude.”

Thor flexes and inspects his own bicep, as if seeing it for the first time.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, smiling roguishly. “Back at home I used to lift my brother for weight training.”

“You what?”

“A story for another time,” Thor shakes his head, shuffling closer to be heard over the traffic of students. “Anyway, I should be going. But there was something I have been meaning to ask you, if I may take a moment --”

Peter freezes. Oh my god, this is it, he thinks.

It’s happening.

“-- seeing as you and I have similar interests and we seem compatible, it would please me greatly if you would agree to --”

Heart racing, Peter turns, a fervent yes already on his lips.

It dies when there is a loud call of his name in the hall.

“-- Hey, Parker!”

Whatever Thor was going to say wilts at the interruption, seemingly forgotten as he waves at the intruder. Peter turns to see who called out for him and instantly wishes he didn’t.

Heart dropping to his stomach, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs.

This is his luck.

Never has he wanted to melt into the floor and die like he does right now as Stark approaches the pair in quick strides.

Hands shoved into his jean pockets, Stark’s wide eyes dart between them inquisitively, a shadow of a smirk crossing his face, disappearing just as quick.

“Well, pardon me. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tony places a hand on his heart and leans on the locker next to Peters. “Thor, barely a pleasure as always.”

“Stark,” Thor nods.

Tony simpers, smile saccharine sweet and gestures to an uneasy Peter.

“I am just so sorry to intrude, but would you mind if I spoke to my husband here? He’s such a slippery one, aren’t you, sweetums?”

Thor looks between them, head going to and fro like a pendulum.

“He’s not my husband,” Peter rushes to assure, acutely pincered between Thor’s confusion and Tony’s mischief. “I mean he is, but it’s for an assignment. We’re not really -- it’s not real. I don’t like him.”

Tony exhales heavily, looking at Thor with dismay. “That’s not what he said in our wedding vows.”

Peter wants to punch him in the throat.

“I understand,” Thor smiles, patting each of them on the shoulder. He dips his chin and catches Peter’s eye. “To be continued?”

“Y-Yeah,” Peter nods enthusiastically, probably too enthusiastically, he thinks, as his aim is to pretend to be cool and disinterested, but he doesn’t even care because maybe not all is lost after all. “To be continued. See you.”

All of the pomp bleeds away from Tony as Thor walks away, his posture turning into a slump against the locker.

The smile drops from Peter’s face. He sends Tony a heated glare as he retrieves from his books, shoving them into his bag.

“What do you want?” he grumbles, slamming his locker shut. “You have the worst timing, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” the other boy shrugs. “What can I say, I’m delightful.”

“You’re deplorable.”

Tony gasps in mock offence. “Deplorable? Good lord, Parker, is that any way to speak to your husband?”

“If the shoe fits,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I have to go to class. Say what you want or move out of the way.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t be like that. C’mon, what were you and He-Man grunting about, hmm? Grr, me big, you tiny?”

“Unless you have a point,” Peter asks, pointing to the main hall, “I’m leaving.”

Tony puts his hands up in surrender, however the glib expression doesn’t quite leave his face. But at that moment Peter doesn’t have it within him to care, he’s not here to entertain him and sooner they get this over with, the better.

“Alright, alright, buzzkill. Come outside, I have to talk to you about the assignment.”

Peter looks at him, perturbed.

“I need a smoke,” he explains, tutting at Peter dispiritedly. “Also, don’t lie, I know it’s your free period.”

He doesn’t wait for Peter to respond, heading straight for the double doors that lead to the courtyard at a sedate enough pace for Peter to follow. Nonetheless he jogs a few paces to catch up after debating whether or not it was a good idea to follow or if he should hide in the boys bathroom.

Again.

It’s fairly chilly out, the wind whipping through his clothes. He wishes he had a scarf or gloves or something, opting to shove his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and hooking the hood over his head.

“How do you know it’s my free period?” he queries loud enough to be heard over the wind.

“Because,” Tony turns to walk backwards, the breeze whistling around them, “it’s also my free period and you always stink up the library so I can’t go there,” he rounds the corner to lead Peter to the shaded area behind the auditorium where a few students are lingering, most of them smoking.

“And you take the best seat. Personally, I think it’s selfish. I can’t possibly sit there after your ass has warmed it.”

Willing himself to not rise to Tony’s level of pettiness, he crosses his arms over his chest as they come to a stop. The wind is at full force now that the surrounding buildings aren’t taking the brunt of it and it is cold as all hell, although Tony’s in a black t-shirt and doesn’t look affected at all, probably because he’s cold-blooded or warmed by hellfire.

Tony cups his hands over his lighter to protect the flame from the breeze, struggling briefly to light his cigarette. Once the end is properly alight, Tony takes a drag while staring at him.

His hand comes to rest at his thigh, smoke rising idly from the cigarette. After a moment, he exhales the smoke in Peters direction.

“Wow. You’re disgusting,” he waves his hand in front of his face to dispel the smell. “Don’t you know second-hand smoke can kill?”

"Yes. Do you want a drag to speed up the process?”

“Don’t be a dick,” he says as Tony seems to find himself funny, offering up the cigarette in jest. Peter has half a mind to snatch it out of his hands and stomp on it. “I know that’s hard for you.”

“I’m joking, okay. I thought the wind would redirect the smoke. My bad.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. Anyway, the assignment? Still waiting for whatever was so urgent."

Tony takes another drag, flicking ash to the ground before answering.

“I booked an appointment with a realtor for tomorrow after school.”

That has Peter’s curiosity piqued. “Really? Where?”

“LIC. One of the agents has agreed to be a reference so our domestic nightmare can be officially documented. Yay, go team.”

“Yay,” Peter deadpans. “What time?”

“Appointment’s at four-thirty,” Tony retrieves his phone from his pocket and hands it to Peter. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details.”

Peter accepts it with a grimace. It’s warm from Tony’s body heat. Ugh.

“And now you can say: ‘thank you for being proactive, Tony, you’re so much better than me, Tony’.”

“Thank you for being proactive, Anthony, even if you’re a self-aggrandizing jerk,” Peter mutters, voice getting progressively more sarcastic.

A wide smile blooms on Tony’s face, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re welcome, Parker.”

He is going to let that one go, Peter decides, feeling magnanimous on spite of the circumstances. He’d never admit it, but he’s kinda surprised by Tony’s apparent initiative, and even genuinely a little grateful that the other boy has arranged this so quickly. Or even that he thought to arrange it at all - field research was one of the highest scoring components on the rubric for this assignment.

Eyes flicking up for a moment, he assesses the other boy. Maybe he’s not as much of a slacker as Peter thought he was.

Tony, slumped against the brick wall, rubs his stomach and burps quietly.

Or maybe he is.

Nevertheless, Peter types in his details and saves his contact in Tony’s phone as Your Better Half.

Peter isn’t too much to look at, he knows, but he’s not the weak link here.

Tony accepts the phone back and wipes the touch screen on his shirt before pocketing it.

“Alright then, meet me after school tomorrow in the parking lot. Don’t be late,” he flicks his cigarette to the ground and steps on it to put it out. Tony bends at the waist then to pick up the stub, clutching it in his fist for later disposal instead of leaving it as litter.

That surprises Peter a little, it’s more thoughtful, conscious a gesture than he would have expected to come from Stark. Not that he’s ever personally seen such behaviour from him, but it wouldn’t be a stretch with his devil-may-care attitude. Would it?

He’s about to make mention of heading back inside when Stark takes two purposeful steps towards Peter, bridging the gap between them.

Peter freezes on the spot, breath caught in his chest as Tony brings them nose-to-nose.

He flicks his eyes down at Tony’s lips when his solemn expression morphs into an impish smile.

“Dude, what -- ?”

While Peter is distracted, Tony’s hands dart out to grip the strings of Peter’s hoodie, tugging them until the hood shrinks around his face.

“Do me a solid and try to wear something that doesn’t make you look like you’re a step away from lining up at a soup kitchen, okay? Y’know, something nice.”

Peter smacks his hands away furiously, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Tony backs away, snickering.

“You really get off on being a prized piece of shit, don’t you?” he mutters, somewhat self conscious as he tries to correct the hood. “Poor jokes, that’s real nice. Sorry not all of us were born wearing Balenciaga.”

He continues to struggle with it as they move away and head back towards the main building, pushing it off his head altogether.

“Calm down, Charlie Brown, it’s not that deep,” Tony says drily, although his flippant demeanour softens significantly. “I have no doubt that you’d still manage to look like a hobo even if you were loaded, okay. You just have that grubby vibe.” Tony claps his hands together. “So, tomorrow. Meet me in the parking lot. Yes?”

Inside, away from the wind, Peter is still helpless to quell the hurricane that is Tony Stark. He gives him a tired thumbs up.

With that Tony sets off in the opposite direction, leaving Peter to wonder what the hell just happened, and what his life has become these last few days.

“What a jackass,” he says to himself.

Now alone, he rubs his hands up and down his face, fruitlessly attempting to scrub away the memory of Tony close to him, eyes warm with mirth, the heat of his body up close and the smell of nicotine on his breath as he quite literally tugged Peter’s strings. It takes longer than he likes to will the image away and to calm the furious beat of his heart.

Furious; a feeling Peter is becoming progressively more familiar - and uncomfortable with.

Ben used to say that being angry at someone was allowing them to take up space in your head, rent free. He was right, because it never served Peter well to house animosity when acceptance was kinder to his soul and psyche, and to others -- but he can’t help it with this guy. Tony Stark is like an ear worm of the brain. He has this completely obnoxious way of making himself front and centre despite Peter’s best efforts to cast him to the sidelines.

While he’s willing himself to move on his phone vibrates inside his pocket with a new message.

> ur not my better half, loser > why r u like this > nvm i already know lol. > remember, don’t be late 2morrow

Peter, just a little satisfied with himself for getting under Tony’s skin, saves his contact as Tiny Stank and types back quickly, eager to get back to his seat in the library - assuming Stark hasn’t already occupied it - and make the best of his remaining free period.

< whatever helps u sleep at night < also, plz lose my number after this is over

> way ahead of u, princess > say hi to aunt may for me

Ugh, Peter cringes, pocketing his phone without replying.

That guy is the worst.

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends, @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny, @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix

#starker #ironspider #high school au #tony stark x peter parker

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songofsaraneth · 3 years

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Ok now that I have time/space to breathe again, I wanted to do a writeup on the unusual reaction I had to the second Covid vaccine dose. I debated posting this, because I don't want to go against the "I was vaccinated and it's fine!" encouragement train. And I 1000% encourage EVERYONE to get vaccinated if possible. But I have not seen much documentation of the averse symptom I got, except in some case studies I specifically looked up so details below. Big TMI/gross warning however.

Mostly I'm posting this because I had to do SO much self-advocating/arguing with the Dr at my urgent care clinic, and if you're not as read up on weird medical issues as I am, you might not be comfortable doing that. But IANAD, just describing my experience and what I read, which ended up being very long because it was awful and I have a lot to complain about I guess, sorry.

Basically: for me the vaccine triggered an inflammation response, which in itself is normal. The usual muscle aches/joint pain/slight fever. It also triggered an outbreak of ulcers in my soft tissues. Basically, a bunch of canker sores in my mouth/throat. I am already prone to getting these when I get sick or stressed out, so no biggie, annoying and painful but I could handle them. Canker sores are distinct from cold sores in that they form inside the mouth as crater spots, usually around the size of a pencil eraser (though can be bigger or smaller), and will develop a white film across the crater as they develop and start to heal.

An unfortunate fact I have learned: the mouth is not the only exposed “soft tissue” of the body. this group also includes genitals.

So 2 days after the vaccine I noticed a "burning sensation"/rawness downstairs, which turned into a sharp pain, especially when going to the bathroom. I obviously knew this was abnormal and because of what was happening in my mouth, had a pretty firm idea of what was happening, but was ready to brace myself through the healing process. However by day 5 I had 8 red, crater-like sores on the tissue of my vulva. Essentially they are open wounds, and urine is an acid, so you can imagine the hell that using the bathroom had become. Even just sitting hurt.

As someone healthcare-averse, even I knew this was untenable, and went to Urgent Care for the first time in my adult life. I told the NP what was going on, how they matched the canker sores (NOT cold sores) in my mouth in onset/form--and she immediately, without even looking, diagnosed me with herpes.

Lots of people have herpes or other STIs, and that's fine. I know I do not have any, and wanted to pursue treatment for what I was sure they were--Non-sexually acquired genital ulceration (NSGU). I had even found three case studies of COVID patients who had developed them. I had spent several harrowing hours on google images making sure that the sores I had did not match any STI I may have magically acquired during a year of social distancing. I even brought up multiple case studies, including a woman who had them as a Covid reaction in a neighboring state. Didn’t matter. She looked at them and went “Yikes! Herpes!” and prescribed me:

1) an antiviral, which I said I did not think would do anything because the trigger for this was a vaccine not an illness. She said it was probably a herpes flare up already in my system. I reiterated that I have had similar sores in my mouth since childhood and that all my past doctors and dentists agreed it was not viral but something related to an immune response. She said the antivirals should clear them up in a few days.

2) a topical 5% lidocaine ointment, aka an oral grade numbing gel, which was essentially what I was after anyway.

I would have preferred a steroid course to the antiviral, but agreed to start taking them until she got the results of the bloodwork I needed to come in the next day for. I asked how many days after taking them I would expect to see a difference/if she would reevaluate treatment if they didn’t have an effect in a certain amount of time, and she said if they hadn’t cleared up by Monday then she’d look into other causes (spoiler, they did nothing in that 4 day span). to her credit, when she saw me pick up my bike helmet (because my car had been at the mechanic for a month by then), she was properly horrified that i was having to bike everywhere with this situation and printed off some coupons/called all the prescriptions into the grocery store pharmacy next door instead of the CVS my insurance likes a mile away.

So eventually I got home and took my pill & went to put on the ointment so I could use the bathroom for the first time in 8 hours. I’ll spare you the details but suffice to say I had an extremely, overwhelmingly painful 10 minutes of application. Like absolutely awful burning feeling. However once that faded, I was indeed actually numb, and so I figured it was worth it. Got my bloodwork done on Friday (biking there & home again). On Saturday, I thought that you know, maybe a prescription anesthetic shouldn’t be doing that or at least have some sort of warning? And read the details on the jar.

Good things about lidocaine: it is a powerful numbing agent and lasts pretty well for an hour or two.

Bad things about lidocaine: you cannot get oral grade lidocaine without added mint flavoring.

I happen to be EXTREMELY sensitive to mint. Like I still can’t handle breath mints or mouthwash, and used bubblegum flavored toothpaste until I was 14 and found a brand with half as much mint flavoring as is typical. Even if you’re not, mint has no business being anywhere near genital tissue. Even on an average person that could cause awful burning. to make a long saga shorter I had a very frustrating back-and-forth with urgent care involving many rerouted phone trees, visit in person, unhelpful receptionists, and attempts to find over-the-counter alternatives. All were fruitless so I just suffered all weekend until the urgent care Nurse Practitioner called me back on Monday and was suitably apologetic/outraged about the mint thing, and looked up every OTC product that might work as a substitute, since she couldn’t find any prescription level without mint. On Tuesday she called back again having found this:

It’s 4%, so just below prescription strength, while not oral grade, it’s actually fine for soft tissues as long as not fully ingested/internally applied. And most importantly, ABSOLUTELY NO ADDED FLAVORINGS. there is also a spray version that comes in a bottle, which under no circumstances should you try because it uses alcohol as a propellant and I had a very bad 5 minutes after testing that one. But the cream one is fine and brings blessed numbness in around 5 minutes with only minimal contact pain--they are still open wounds after all.

I use this for the next 7 days. By this point the sores have gotten worse and larger, and then started to heal and shrink again. Mouth canker sores go through a similar ~2 week process, so this is about what I expected.

Finally the results of my bloodwork came back, and I was negative for all STIs. The NP was dumbfounded and apologized, and agreed to look up more information/treatment options for cases like this in the future. I’m not surprised her reaction was to assume herpes as it IS very common, but I’m sure other women experience NSGU’s and receive improper treatment. If you look them up, they’re even mentioned as being predominantly a problem for “young or prepubescent women” which, reading between the lines--it’s not that these become less likely if you’re older or sexually active. Doctors just make assumptions and don’t always look past the easy answers.

So if you or someone you know ends up with these--from the Covid vaccine or as a complication of upper respiratory infections in general (as they ARE an immune response and can just Happen to you)--here is what works as treatment. If you can see a doctor you trust, still do that. But if they don’t listen or if for some reason you can’t seek treatment, here is the course of action I recommend:

Pick up that over-the-counter Pain Relief+Lidocaine NON MINTY numbing cream ASAP. Sores go from “annoying” to “excruciating” in only 3 days, so it’s best to get in person or with rush shipping. Sit in front of a mirror and gently apply with a q-tip, and wait 5 minutes for the medicine to take effect.

Pat gently dry with toilet paper, don’t make wiping motions. If you don’t feel clean enough, pat more with a wet washcloth and rinse it out, or hope in the shoer for 5 min just to rinse.

There may be pus or reside from the ointment that doesn’t go away with just rinsing. Every 2 days I made a half-strength bath of epsom salts, NUMBED FULLY, and then took a 10 minute bath to fully cleanse the area. the salt will sting terribly if you wait any longer, so I recommend standing and rinsing after this time.

The vulva is more exposed to air than the mouth. this may cause the sores to crack/bleed as they dry out. to avoid this, after using the restroom and cleaning yourself, you can apply a thick coating of Aquaphor on top of the sores. It will need to be rinsed off before you apply more numbing cream however, so if that is too many steps I recommend just using the Aquaphor overnight.

You may think its ok to get up in the middle of the night to pee without the numbing cream bc you have to go really bad and just once will be fine but it is NOT you will REGRET IT.

Unfortunately if you have sores on both sides you may develop what is known as “kissing sores”, aka sores directly opposite each other that touch when the area is not spread open. this means that after an extended period of time (overnight), the sores will try to heal into each other and opening the area back up painfully rips the tissue apart. INStEAD of ripping them apart, take a washclosh, run it under warm water, and do a hot/warm compress on the area. this will loosen the sores back up and separate them painlessly.

This is not exclusive to people with a vulva, they can also happen on scrotal/anal tissue. However it does seem to much more frequently affect people with typical XX sex organs.

If you develop these, PLEASE fill out an averse reaction form or your country’s equivalent. Also, I’m so sorry and if you need emotional support or have questions please feel free to get in touch.

Most likely, these will not happen to you--the vast majority of vaccinated people have not had this as a side effect. But it IS popping up more and more, and it is good to know about it in advance so you can be prepared to deal with and treat it without as much anxiety and all the hoops I had to jump through to get good care. Overall I’m still glad to be vaccinated, but if I had known this was a side effect, as someone already prone to canker sores I would have waited to vaccinate until my car was fixed a week later a the very least :|

#covid #covid vaccine #averse vaccine reaction #nsgu #ive got my finger on the block button for whatever pornbots this post activates do not try me #anyway #gross warning sorry :( if u dont want to know about my tmi personal health dont read this one #ramblings #wharglbargle #i dont wish these on anyone i cant describe what an awful experience this all was #tried to be more humerous bout it in the post but i cried p much nonstop at urgent care and many of the days after #long post #plagueblogging #still better than getting covid and dying tho so

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shimeiro · 4 years

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Eternity ( Savage Opress x FemReader )

Savage Opress x FemReader

( a / n : Hellooo! This is the first fanfiction I publish I'm a little nervous haha, it's just something quick that I wrote on Savage because I find that he doesn't have enough fanfiction on this magnificent Zabrak! uh also i'm not english at all, i'm french and english is clearly not my native language so sorry for the mistakes, i'm looking for a beta reader to correct me maybe? anyway, good reading! )

Warnings : a little angst but not very much / FLUFF because he deserves it / a little of sexual tension / FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF / size kink maybe

words : 2504

The day was exhausting, not only for you but also for Savage your friend, in reality you don't know how to describe your relationship he is not very expressive and eloquent towards his emotions but he seems to appreciate you by the way his eyes seem softer watching you talk or simply when you both walk in the corridors of Mandalore's palace.

His soothing presence makes you feel really safe around him but he insisted on training you in self-defense classes because he wants you to be able to defend yourself when he's not around, at first you thought it was a good idea because you couldn't hide behind the huge silhouette of this Zabrak for eternity but after several intensive classes you begin to bitterly regret your choice.

Savage is a good teacher but he doesn't give you a minute's break, you try your best but his fast and precise movements are hard to assimilate for your small shape, he never hits you hard enough to hurt you but hard for you to fall on your buttock hard enough to make you wince in pain.

But in spite of your bruised buttocks you don't want to disappoint him so you always get up, it's hard but you get up anyway so as not to disappoint him, you always detect a hint of pride in his yellow eyes when he see yourself trying to fight him to your last strength.

But like every time you end up collapsing in a final catch made by Savage, so you stay on the ground, panting and sweating in your sportswear now wet in some places because of the accumulated sweat, after that he will let you go to your room to rest.

And here you are now in the corridors, sighing in pain because of your aching legs, after an eternity for you you finally get in your room and despite the desire to jump into your soft bed to sleep there for at least a week you urgently need to take a shower to get rid of all that perspiration.

So you go to the bathroom and carefully take off your clothes because every gesture is excruciatingly painful, once done you rush into the shower and turn on the water at the temperature you prefer, once under the jet you push a sigh of relief, the water is so relaxing for your muscles sore from physical effort.

After a minute of enjoying the soothing sensation you finally decide to take the shower gel deliciously perfumed with flowers and spread it on your body, gently massage the most numb places with a groan of appreciation, you rinse yourself and you get out of the shower wrapping yourself in a soft towel when suddenly you hear someone knocking at the door.

You forgot to take some clothes with you to get dressed after the shower so you quickly tie the towel around your chest and get out of the bathroom, you then hear a deep voice calling your name from behind the door, you immediately recognize this voice that you like more than you should.

It's Savage.

Oh.

You stop for a few seconds, you're not dressed properly to open the door and if... What if it makes him uncomfortable? Because every time your top comes up on your belly during a workout with him or you wear tighter pants than usual he will instantly take his eyes off your shape. Maybe he finds you repulsive but he's too polite to tell you to your face? Your heart cracks at the thought, but you don't have time to think about it when you hear his bewitching voice again:

"I know you're here I feel your presence, open the door. »

"I... Can't you talk to me from behind the door or... later? »

"Don't be a child, please open. »

You sighing of defeat and then approach of the door to open the door with a slightly trembling hand, you then see his shape which dominates you largely by its immense size, you look at him timidly when he seems to realize what you are wearing, his eyes fall from your face to observe your shape and your still wet skin from the shower you just took, his gaze goes from your barely covered chest to your hips wrapped in your towel to fall on your slightly exposed thighs, he swallows and his eyes seem to darken gently as they quickly rise to your blushing face.

The silent seer, you start to panic, he doesn't look away from you but you feel him... different. The air is heavy and you don't know what to say to him, he is completely motionless except for his chest which you see going down and up faster than normal.

"I'm... I'm sorry! I was coming out of the shower when you knocked on the door... and I forgot my clothes in my room, I didn't mean- "

Your face is hot with embarrassment as you try to justify yourself quickly, suddenly shy, you look down when suddenly you hear him breathe in suddenly, you then timidly raise your gaze and see an expression that you had never seen before on his tattooed face, it looked like... Desire? No... you must be dreaming because this beautiful Zabrak could never find you attractive... Right?

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you Savage... »

"No, you're not embarrassing me, you're just- "

His voice is hoarse and it makes you shiver, but you not seeing his sentence finish, your heart sinks a little, what are you? Were you right and he's just too polite to tell you that he doesn't think you're pretty?

He seeing your expression darkening, so he comes a little closer to you and you see him raise his non-robotic hand as if to put it on your shoulder, then he changes his mind and lets it fall back softly against him, you see his look becoming uncertain and it breaks you heart a little more than he already are.

"I get it Savage, you don't have to force yourself. »

Silence.

"What?"

The tall Zabrak wears a confused expression as you struggle internally with your feelings, so you lower your head no longer wishing to face his intense gaze. You take a handful of your towel in your right hand and squeeze it to try to distract yourself, it doesn't work, but you still take a deep breath to answer him:

"I know you don't find me attractive at all and you try to be nice so as not to hurt my obvious feelings for you. »

You feel your eyes start to get wet with emotion, you start to back away wanting to hide under your blanket for eternity hoping you never meet Savage again in your life.

But suddenly you feel a warm and rough hand against your arm and a very cold one on the other, the mixture of the two temperatures on your skin made you shiver, then you look up at the owner of the big hands that wrapped your arms, you see him, a mixture of emotion crosses his face usually so neutral.

"Your feelings? »

"Uh yes, Savage I... I really like you and... I fell in love with you, I'm sorry. »

You look him in the eye this time to prove your sincerity, even if he rejects you afterwards, you might as well do things right, right? One tear ends up on your cheek followed by another as Savage looks at you with the greatest tenderness you've ever seen in someone's eyes, thats warms your heart with gentle warmth, then when Savage smiles slightly at you your heart skips a beat, your breath gets stuck in your throat as his warm hand rests on your cheek to wipe a tear with his thumb.

"I didn't know about your feelings for me, my sweet girl, I thought I was the only one who felt that way.

"You... you love me? »

"Yes, infinitely."

"For a long time? »

"Long enough to keep all your little suitors away."

"It was you! »

Whenever you tried to flirt with someone to forget your growing feelings for your tattooed friend, they always ended up totally disappearing for no apparent reason, at least now you had the reason that was none other than Savage Opress himself, a relieved laugh escapes you as you press your cheek against the hand of the Zabrak that was still on you.

"I thought I was just not good enough for them. »

A loud growl comes out of the throat of the man in front of you.

"No, you're too good for those miserable insects. »

"Oh Savage. »

You feel your cheeks become warm with his words, these beautiful yellow eyes observe you with adoration as he bends down to reach your level to put his forehead against yours, the hand that was on your cheek withdraws to come and put against your back bringing you closer of him, you close your eyes as his warmth envelops you.

You also feel his breath against your face, you feel like you're in a dream, you will surely wake up alone in your bed with your towel still wrapped around your naked form because you would have collapsed on your bed after your shower ...

Wait a second.

You're literally naked under a cloth with Savage holding you against his sturdy torso.

Oh shit.

Your cheeks ignited while you reopen your eyes seeing his own closed, he must have enjoyed this moment as much as you did, it pains you to have to break that, but the towel brings back to reality when you feel it becoming less tight, one more movement on your part and you find yourself completely naked against a massive man, ugh.

"Uh Savage? »

"Hmm? »

"I'm only wearing a towel. »

He opens his eyes and his gaze falls on your chest and your "clothes" that are visibly beginning to come undone, his pupils dilate and you see his Adam's apple rising when he swallows his saliva.

"Oh, yes."

He finally removes his hand from your back and then he moves backwards, turning his eyes away from your slightly bare body out of respect, you smile softly as you see the slightly visible pink on the untattooed skin of his cheeks and then you go to the closet in your room to quickly find some clothes to put on.

"You can go in, I'll change in the bathroom".

You see him nodding his head and then he comes in and closes the door behind him, while you enter the bathroom to change.

As you put on your clothes your thoughts replay what you have just experienced with the man you have been in love with for some time now and your heart races as you think of his size and his solid body against you, you look up at the mirror and you see yourself, you haven't changed since this morning but yet you feel completely different your cheeks are nicely pink, your eyes shine and your pupils are more dilated than normal, you pass your hand to touch your cheek like her massive hand did it and you see yourself smiling.

But why think about his hands touching you when he's in the next room, after all you confessed your feelings and it was reciprocal. So can you ask him to take your hand or... to kiss you? But you're not officially his girlfriend or anything, you haven't had time to sort these out.

So you just have to talk to him about it, right?

You finally decide to come out of the bathroom to find him staring with his arms crossed against his chest, he turns his head towards you when he hears the door open, certainly waiting for you to approach him, which you do.

Once in front of him he reaches out his robotic arm towards you and stops as if to ask permission to touch you, you nod your head and smile gently, he then puts his metal hand against your back to get you close to him and to be against his warm chest again, you put your head against his pectoral not being able to put it on his shoulder because of his size but it doesn't bother you because you can hear his two hearts beating, such a sweet melody in your ears.

His other hand goes through your hair to gently massage your scalp and then his nose makes its way into your locks, he grunts with appreciation when he smells you, the sound echoes directly into your lower abdomen, but you ignore him for the moment for just enjoying Savage, his warmth, his smell : a mixture between sweat and metal it's very masculine and you suspected he would not wear perfume.

This moment of relaxation makes you forget your aches and your painful bruises due to the falls on your private lessons with him.

But you have a question to ask, you sigh inwardly, this is the second time you have to break a moment of sweetness between the two of you but it must be asked at some point and the sooner the better.

"Savage, what are we now? »

You thought he was going to stand back to answer you but he stays in that position.

"I've been waiting for this question. »

"Really? »

Then he moves away from you, looks at you with love, kneels down in front of you and lower his head in a submissive position you don't really understand, so you place your hand against his cheek and lift his head to make him look at you.

"What are you doing? »

"I submit myself completely to you, because I love you. »

He kisses the palm of your hand and then observes your reaction with apprehension, a wave of love overwhelms you with his words so sincere, so sweet. You remain speechless for a few moments, then you kneel down on the hard floor, you place your other hand slightly shaking with emotion, against his second cheek, he closes his eyes for a fraction of a second appreciating your gesture.

"I love you too Savage. »

You then see a smile of pure happiness stretching the lips of your beloved you answer him with an equally bright smile while a tear of joy flows on your cheek.

"Can I kiss you, my sweet girl? »

"I've been waiting for this question. »

A light laugh comes out of his throat, a wonderful sound that you want to hear more often and for the rest of your life, then he leans over towards you to brush your lips with his, which are surprisingly soft, and not feeling him come forward the more you press them against his.

A flood of feeling flows through you, you close your eyes enjoying the moment as he puts one hand on your nape and the other on your cheek, then he deepens the kiss and a little moan escapes you, the hand on your neck tenses slightly to the sound, then he moves backwards so that you can breathe and he rubs his nose against yours.

"I am yours for eternity. »

He whispers softly, the sentence touches you in the heart.

"I am yours too Savage..."

...For eternity.

#savage opress #savage opress x reader #savage opress x you #star wars fanfiction #no y/n #savage #savage opress imagine #first fanfic #i love savage opress #fluff #star wars #the clone wars #star wars reader insert

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mrs-takami-keigo · 4 years

Text

Get on you knees and Beg

Pairing: SUB!Bakugou/ Villain!Reader

Warnings: Explict, 18+

Word Count: 2k (I honestly tried to not make it this long)

Note: Bakugou is aged up to his 20’s for this

‘I’m on my way, be ready for me.’ It’s been five minuets since Bakugou got that text. He just got back from the gym and when you said you were on your way that meant he had only ten minutes to get ready. Cussing under his breath, the young man pulled his white tank top over his head as he made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. Sliding his shorts and underwear off Bakugou jumped into the hot shower. He knew he needed to move fast; he grabbed the shower gel you bought him because you said the smell of his regular one was off putting. He didn’t care for the scent, but he also didn’t want to make you angry. It frustrated the hero, he was Ground fucking Zero, but there was something about you. The way you had his body ache for even just the slightest touch or even for your attention. He was never allowed to text you first, he had to wait for you. There were times when he would go weeks without hearing from you. The only reason he knew you weren’t dead or captured was by reading the reports all the heroes who encountered you made.

Finishing washing his body, Bakugou stepped out of the shower wrapping a towel around his waist. Once he got in his room, he looked at the time on his phone. ‘Shit, it’s been almost fifteen minuets already.’ Quickly grabbing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white V-neck shirt he got dressed as fast as he could. It was a good sign you hadn’t texted him yet, he knew you wouldn’t wait more than two minuets for him to open the door.

Once he was finally done getting dressed, he made his way to the living room only to see his front door wide open. Slowly walking to the door, he grabbed the handle shutting it. He doesn’t know how he knew but he knew it was you that opened his locked door. Turning around the young hero stalked to the kitchen where he saw one black thigh high boot crossed over the other. Following those legs, he was met with you sitting at his kitchen table. Your red leather jacket hung over the back of the wooden chair, your pointer finger playing with the rim of the glass you used to pour yourself a glass of wine.

“Katsuki~,” You said his name in a sing song voice. “What is my rule number five?” You looked away from the glass to look at Bakugo. He had a look of horror on his face, you watched as his Adams apple moved when he took a gulp.

“When you say be ready, I should be ready.” His voice was soft but still had his gruffness to it. Nodding your head, you uncrossed your legs standing up walking towards the man.

“And were you ready Katsuki?” You were so close to him now, the smell of the shower gel you got him hit your nose. Placing a hand on his chiseled chest you looked up at him, watching as he shook his head. “No you weren’t. That’s not like you, so I’ll let it pass this one time.” Turning your back to him, you walked towards the table, heels clicking against the tiled floor.

The breath Bakugou was holding escaped his lips. “I just came back from the gym when you texted me so- “

Snapping your neck to look at him you said, “Don’t make excuses, just don’t let it happen again.” Leaning against the table you crossed your arms across your white button-down clad chest. “Come over here.”

Walking towards you, your eyes never left his crimson colored ones. You couldn’t lie this man was beyond sexy, his body was fit and muscular but not too much. The aura around him when he entered a room is what caught your attention. His eyes would send chills down your body, but you would never tell him that. If it weren’t for that faithful robbery you would have never met the beautiful man before you. When he was finally close enough you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, “Kiss me.”

Without any hesitation he did, pushing his body flesh against yours forcing you to lean back. You felt his strong arms wrap around your waist as you opened your mouth to let his tongue in. His kisses were always full of passion and want, it always made you think what he was capable of if you let him have control. Taking your hands you ran them up his shoulders and around his neck, playing with the hair that was at the nape of it. His hands traveled down, grabbing a hold of your ass making sure you could feel his erection through your jeans. You moaned into the kiss as acknowledgement to his friend but tonight was about your release.

Pulling away from him you opened your eyes, Bakugou tried to lean back in to resume kissing you but you put your hand up making him kiss that instead of those lips like he wanted to. Sliding past him you took a seat on the chair you had originally sat in. Leaning back, you raised your right leg in the air letting the bottom of your shoe rest on his stomach.

“Take my boots off.” You could see him hesitate for a second. “Are you disobeying me Katsuki?” You dug your heel a little into his stomach making him growl. A smile grazed your lips when he started to unzip the boot before pulling it off your leg, Bakugou did the same with the other foot.

“See that wasn’t so bad now was it?” Standing back up you stood in front of him. Slowly you grabbed him by the waist bringing him closer to you. His was relatively small making it easy from you to wrap an arm around it. Bakugou was only a little bit taller than you making it easy for you to reach his neck. Giving his thick neck feather light touches you felt his body shiver with each kiss. As you went to kiss the corner of his mouth, he let out a small whine.

“Take off my pants Katsuki I want to give you a reward for being so good.” He looked down at you as you took a slight step back so he could unbutton your jeans. His thick fingers soon made work of your button and zipper before sliding his thumb in the hem of your jeans and panties. With a little bit of force, he helped the garments over your hips sliding them down your legs. Using his shoulders to keep you steady, you picked one leg up at a time to get them off your body. Standing there with nothing on your lower half it took everything in Bakugou to not slam you on the table to have his way with you.

“Get on your knees.” Taken out of his thoughts Bakugou looked up at you.

“Wha-“ He was about to stand up but you hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“On your knees now Katsuki, you know I hate to repeat myself.” You watched as the reluctant hero got on his knees for you. Just the sight of him on his knee for you made your pussy throb. Sitting in the chair like you had before you spread you legs open allowing him full view of your wet pussy.

Licking his lips Bakugou looked up at you as if to ask for permission. Nodding your head, You felt the chair move towards him in rapid speed. Grabbing your legs Bakugou threw them over his shoulders before giving you wet cavern a long ick of his hot tongue.

“Fuck Kastuki do it again.”

Diving back in Bakugou let his tongue run over your hardened clit making you arch your back. He would go from long languid strokes to flicks to sucking, never in the same order making you moan out his name every time he would give you clit a hard lick or a hard suck. Going even further down you felt Bakugou poke his stiff tongue inside of you making your toes curl.

“Keep that up and your gonna make me cum baby boy.” And that was all the praise he needed to hear from you.

He knew it was wrong to feel this way about you, but he couldn't help it. You were like a cold glass of fine wine, sweet and bitter at the same time. His throat would go dry just by the sound of his name rolling off your lips as he gripped those thighs that he loved so much. He groaned when you gripped his hair, forcing his face deeper into your wet pussy.

Your face was engraved in his mind as he watched you cum in his mouth. Eyes rolling in the back of your head, mouth wide open with those sweet sweet moans he loved hearing come from you. Bakugou could feel the thighs that were wrapped around his shoulders as they began to shake when your orgasm hit you. He whimpered as the hand in his hair gripped harder, pulling out some strands he was sure of it. Bakugou made sure to lick up every drop of you knowing how much you hate when he leaves messes behind. The circumstances of this whole situation was so wrong but felt so right. You pushed him from you with your foot, leaving him to fall on his backside in the middle of his kitchen.

“Thanks hero, you always were my favorite pet.” Reaching a hand out you ruffled your hand through Bakugou’s blond hair. Bending down you went to the discarded panties and jeans off the floor. Sliding them back on as he watched you from the floor. Crimson eyes followed your every move, as you jumped to get those tight jeans over your ass. Straightening up your white shirt you looked at the man on the floor. Bakugou’s face was flushed, sweat forming right above his brow and you could see some the glint of your cum on his chin. Walking over to him you squatted down in front of him.

“Looks like you got something to take care of no?” He felt your hand grab his hard on through his sweats. Bakugou threw his head back and moaned as he felt your nimble finger add pressure to is aching erection. With a firm grasp you grabbed his jaw, making him look you in the eyes. His eyes mirrored yours, dark and full of lust. Bringing his lips close to your own you watched as his chest started to move faster, looking back at his face Bakugou’s lips were parted shaky breaths fell from them. You took a deep inhale and exhaled letting your breath ghost over his lips, the young hero whimpered, he wanted to lean in and kiss those plump lips he loved but knew not to.

“You're always such a good boy.” Finally leaning you pressed your lips against his, Bakugou opened his mouth letting you run your tongue in his, dominating him. You even had to admit your favorite thing about him was that skillful mouth, whether it be when he threw smart remarks at you or when he had you cumming in minutes. Pulling away you caught your breath, he always somehow did that to you.

Standing up you walked back to the chair you had been sitting on before, grabbing your red leather jacket. “I’m leaving, I've already been here longer than I should have.” Without a second glance you walked over to his front door, leaving him still on the floor watching your retreating back. He didn't get up until he heard the door shut behind you. Slowly rising to his feet, Bakugou, walked to his living room where he plopped down on the couch. He laid back and let his right arm cross in front of his face covering his eyes while his left hung off the furniture.

“What is wrong with you?!” He hissed in a low whisper hoping to not wake up Kirishima in the next room, thankfully he was a hard sleeper. He knew he shouldn't be doing this with you. He knew he shouldn't be sleeping with a Villain, but he couldn't help it. He wanted you, he wanted ever single bit of you. At this point he didn’t care about you being a villain, some thing about you made him crazy.

“Fuck!” He hit the back of the couch in frustartion. He set himself up for this and he knew it.

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Tag list: @lady-bakuhoe, @heyybrittannia, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @dee-madwriter, @lildreamer93 @kittygonyan, @marilla-eldriana

#boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou kastuki #bakugo #my hero academia #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader

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