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earthtooz · 11 months

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x : CHANGE YOUR MIND ! :*+ﾟ

in which: it's 2 am and itoshi sae is outside your door, hoping for a second chance.

warnings: 1.2k words, angst to fluff with hurt/comfort, happy ending, exes to lovers, not at all realistic but it's itoshi sae ok and we're delusional, ooc!sae

a/n: second second chance romance fic for sae LOL he's just too easy to write for when it comes to exes to lovers. idk why the banner is so low quality but enjoy!

you wonder where itoshi sae finds the nerve. after breaking up with you six months ago ‘for the sake of his career’, you never thought sae would have the gall to show up at your apartment, let alone at 2am, rudely disrupting your sleep.

yet, here he is. a soccer prodigy and superstar in the flesh, standing under the harsh lighting of your apartment hallway that always casts an ugly glow on everyone except sae.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, gripping the door handle a little tighter.

“i just got off the plane,” he answers, evading your question.

“i know. i can see your suitcases.”

he doesn’t say anything more after that. before the breakup, you were able to read the untouchable itoshi sae, translating his stiff silences into words he could never say but wholeheartedly mean, breaking through his ego to then understand the messages of his heart. he only hopes that you can interpret the one he’s brought to you right now.

“can i come in?” asks the athlete, his question shy and lacking the usual demand that sits in his tone.

still, you furrow your eyebrows and stand your ground. “why on earth would i let you in?”

softness is a weapon that itoshi sae owns. he knows that with his typical hardened exterior the best way he can get through people sometimes is with pliability. even you have fallen for it.

he frowns, “because i’m tired and i want to sleep.”

“don’t you have your own five star hotel that your manager booked for you?”

“can i just come in?”

the nerve. “itoshi, please leave.”

“i will, i will, but will you hear me out first?”

“what could you possibly have to say that you didn’t befo-”

“-i love you.”

the world stills.

the air around you becomes delicate and you’re too scared to breathe in fear of disrupting the silence, but it feels like the floor beneath you just crumbled and you’re falling through the debris. you’re falling and the only thing you can do is search for sae in the chaos.

but you don’t hold on to him. no, not this time.

“that’s not fair, that’s not fair at all, sae, you can’t-” a sob tears your words apart, “-you can’t break my heart then come back six months later to tell me that you apparently love me, do you know how hard it was for me to just- ugh!”

in a fit of exasperation, you leave your post at the door and retreat back into your apartment. sae quietly slips through the crack you left open, closing the door with a soft click and you don’t even have the energy to chase him out. he even left his suitcases outside- not that anyone would take them at 4 in the morning.

“you left me so abruptly and carelessly. we were together for almost a year, sae, yet you threw me aside, called me a burden and moved on with a snap of your fingers! was it easy? moving on like that?”

instead of flinching at your yelling, sae simply stands at the entrance and accepts it, letting your words prick his skin and sink into him as if would make up for the pain you’ve been bathing in.

“do you know what that did to me?” your voice is quiet now, turned down a few notches.

he knows. he knows that you’ve been trying to get over it and not let the breakup impact your life too much, despite what he did. you’ve been going out with friends, treating yourself to everything you deserve, and finding a peace that he’s proud of you for. but sae also knows about the many nights you’ve spent crying and being sensitive to loving again, he hears about all of it from rin who lectured him when he first broke up with you and most likely, will lecture him again when he hears about sae’s unplanned visit.

sae was stupid and naive, but you were the first person he ever loved, and the world is colourless without your splash of influence.

sae knows he shouldn’t be here existing in your space after everything, however, the instant he stepped off the plane, the first thing his heart wanted was to see one of the few things he loves about japan, you.

“-so, please, just leave me alone and don’t come back,” you request.

the last thing sae is good at is following instructions, especially ones he doesn’t like.

“but, i love you,” he tries again. you fall to the couch with a defeated sigh, his persistence impaling your heart.

“stop it.”

somehow, he’s now standing beside you. “do you still love me too?”

“sae-”

“-if you don’t love me anymore i’ll leave.”

with your head in your hands, you lie to him, “i don’t want you to stay either way.”

“another chance, i’ll make it right, i’ll fix it with my life, y/n, just please say you love me too.”

“you’ll hurt me again.”

“i won’t,” he falls down onto the couch beside you, enveloping you with his frame. “i’ll be good and you can kill me if i’m not.”

you laugh. it’s dry and reserved, but you’re laughing and he begins rocking you side to side. “i don’t want to kill you.”

“rin will, then.”

you take your face out of your hands, looking at him properly for the first time since he arrived. “i-i don’t know, sae. you’ll leave again when you decide that you don’t want me.”

he doesn’t know how to tell you that whilst abroad, all he could think about was you. that during the mundane chores, the tedious trips to and from training, and all the times that he had won a match, he was thinking about you.

he thought about you in the music he played whilst cleaning, he thought about taking you to a restaurant he saw whilst on the way, and his thoughts about you are loudest when he has a medal around his neck yet all he wants to know is whether or not you’re watching.

but you’re not beside him singing along whilst he was mopping his floors, you weren’t there in his car pointing out every fun detail you saw, and he didn’t even know if you wanted anything to do with soccer after what him.

everytime, the yearning for you would grow, to the point that it lead him here when he should have gone to the hotel to wash up and sleep off the tiring trip instead.

but sitting here now and looking at your tear-stained face, he knows he’ll always prefer you- he’ll always find and choose you, so long as you let him.

“give me another chance,” and i’ll show you that i’ll never leave again.

“fine,” you surrender after a moment of silence and sae feels like he could jump to the moon. “but we take things slow-”

“-i love you,” he repeats, grabbing your face and pushing you down on the couch, peppering an endless stream of kisses on your skin. sae’s outburst of affection and happiness is uncharacteristic but contagious. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

between each declaration is sae kissing a new part of your face, showering your cheeks, forehead, nose- everywhere with unbridled adoration that he has been keeping locked up for too long. you’re real between his hands, you’re real in his hold, you’re real beneath him, and he doesn’t want this dream to end. his kisses feel like healing promises and you melt right into them.

“i get it!” you giggle out, hands on his shoulders as to wrestle him off. “you don’t need to keep telling me, and promise me that we’re going to take it slow-”

a cold tear slides down your cheek, silencing your giggles. it’s not you who’s crying though, so you hug sae a little tighter.

something tells you that this second chance won’t backfire.

#sae x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock

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definitively-different-drivel · 2 months

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Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern! I was tagged by @renmackree and @thotpuppy and I know I did something similar not too long ago, but now that I at least posted SOMETHING new, I figured why not give it a try? Note: All fics Sterek except Taste of Truth, which is Stiles/Danny.

Trading Ties (2,178 words so far) Derek gets assigned to Stiles duty when Laura kidnaps Stiles. Porn with plot, magical/BAMF Stiles is horny on main and sees this as an opportunity. Stiles came to slowly, modulating his breathing and heart rate to hide his consciousness as best he could as while he collected his thoughts. Worth Fifty Thousand Words (344 words) Silly unhinged ficlet, mentions of porn, but nothing explicit. Comedy. Stiles gaped after Mrs. Brooks. Derek stood beside him, eyebrow raised. Taste of Truth (781 words) Ficlet for Stiles Shipping Central server exchange. Short and sweet Stiles/Danny. Danny rubbed his temples and rose early from his meditations. Scent Masked at Midnight (6,179 words) Angst -> smut Stiles cracked open the door to the tiny New York apartment he shared with Derek after another night of striking out at the club. Pie (1,337 words) Comedy/fluff, Sheriff/Peter side pairing Derek huffed, rolling his eyes at Stiles' theatrics.

Untitled Swan Stiles (18,592 words) Swan princess curse on Stiles turns into untitled goose game. He catalyzes ALL the side ships along the way, two poly pairings. “Also! I don’t appreciate you entering the territory unannounced, magic tree stump be damned, and I sure as fuck don’t trust you with our territory, no matter what Derek says,” Stiles yelled, mid-rant, arms waving in not so silent fury. Aubergine (1,494 words) Emoji-based misunderstanding, comedy fic. Derek stared down at his phone, brow furrowing. Ephemeral Sacrifices (1,294 words) Starts intense, ends fluffy. Stiles stared down at his hands, complete and clean of the blood-and-black-goop slurry that should have still stained his skin.

Naga gonna give you up (17,146 words) Comedy/action/drama. Mongoose!Shifter Stiles learns nonverbal communication with drama while they try to put a stop to magical snakes after the pack. “Show me.” Pliability of Dreams (1,839 words) Drama/minor angst. Derek wandered in a dream.

Looks like mine all either jump directly into dialog, or [name] [action] LOL. I'm ok with this, honestly. I like to get the ball rolling by introducing the fic with action instead of description, as it fits my writing style. Low/no-pressure tags from my meager list of mutuals: @whimsicalmeerkat @dear-massacre

#tumblr games #sterek #stanny #only one stanny fic though sorry stanny stans

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vhsrights · 1 year

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Okay. Let's hear those Sam is a service top thoughts.. wouldn't take much to convince me tho 😏

[I have no remorse for what you are about to read… enjoy!] :)

A few things to consider first: [buckle in for the long post, i went absolutely crazy]

Jealous Mon

Strap Sam

Oral Fixations + Body Worship (Sam)

Boss Mon

Long days at the Office go crazy

I bet you MonSam are roleplaying queens (ie: boss mon)

also: @skybreakerkhunsam lol here is the post with my thoughts

Starting with Jealous Mon, we know she gets very power-hungry and overall hungry whenever anyone gets too close to Sam for her liking. Despite whatever Sam may say, getting through to Mon is difficult and she can become intense. I see Sam pulling Mon into her lap after a significant amount of pouting and some ignoring to try and break down her wife's walls. She'll put some kisses here and there on Mon's face, but Mon will shrug it off because she doesn't want to imagine Sam doing that to anyone else. Sam will likely try to ask her about what's on her mind, knowing that a straight answer out of Mon is dicey. Then she’ll try to coax Mon into talking a bit more, but at this point, all Mon can focus on is Sam’s mouth on her. So, in an attempt to keep and boast her control, she orders Sam to fuck her there exactly how Mon tells her to. I feel like Mon would make it sound like Sam is just Mon’s tool to get off while making sure that Sam knew that it was more than that. She would pull Sam onto her, whether that be moving Sam’s lips to her neck or getting the pair onto a couch and situated under her wife. Sam will indulge whatever Mon wants because, as we know, she runs the relationship. She’d probably be happy to be touching Mon and getting some kind of response out of her. Once she sees Mon getting more into it, as she begins to slowly dissolve into moans and shifty hands, Sam may attempt to take things her route. That will be met with a strict grab from Mon or a curt command that gets Sam back into line. Mon will make sure to shower Sam with praise and encourage her to be rougher, and delighted if/when Sam leaves marks. Stroking Sam’s ego will have her fully under Mon’s control until she feels satisfied and reassured that Sam is hers, and only hers.

Strap Sam is known to be crazy because of how being in Mon is Sam’s favorite thing. (aka what she likes better than kissing Mon) Normally, it’s her time to take control (or so she thought it would be initially) and drive Mon to ecstasy. Mon, however, has other plans by essentially playing with Sam until she is completely under her thumb. It’s cute how easily she can get Sam to listen to her with the drop of her lips or fluttering eyelashes. Sam falls for it every time and becomes nearly entranced, taking Mon’s every wish as her command. She normally starts slow and picks up the pace as Mon’s grip on her tightens. The nail marks on her shoulders and across her back provide the perfect instruction and reassurance that Mon wants this. She follows her wife’s every sound, asking if she feels good, nearly coming every time Mon tells her how nice she feels inside her. At that point, Mon’s pleasure is her pleasure and the last thing on Sam’s mind is how she, herself, is. This goes on for a while, mostly because Mon also likes to tease, but ends with them finishing multiple times.

I’m grouping Boss Mon and oral fixation because they fit well in the scenario. Similar to the fic I posted a bit ago, Boss Mon is a total tease. More than Mon herself, Boss Mon wants to see the limits Sam will go for her. It’s a silly but exhilarating thing because Sam would do anything for her. Throw in the prospect of being able to worship Mon’s body, and Sam was unstoppable. Boss Mon uses the Cham Cham card to get Sam’s full attention and pliability before using the absolute fuck out of it. She will dangle the opportunity of taking off her clothes and having her mouth on every part of Mon in front of Sam like bait. Sam can’t resist. (honestly, who could?) She’d practically beg and do whatever possible to get Mon naked and underneath her. This is where the Cham Cham card comes to play. I feel like Mon, on a day that she’s feeling REALLY adventurous, would call Sam Cham Cham for the lip bite and then tell her that she bit the wrong lips. This would create a back-and-forth of Sam just confused and kissing all over Mon before she understands. From there, it would be akin to ep. 9 2/4 where Mon essentially devoured Sam but switched and Sam would be more gentle. Well, she’d stay gentle until about 10 minutes in when Mon’s grip on her hair tightens and her legs get shaky. All bets are off after that. Cham Cham also bites, most definitely, and will do it without a second thought when she sees how much it turns on Mon. Mon is like Sam’s canvas to be painted with marks and hickeys, all at her wife’s glorious request. After all, Boss Mon gives the orders in that household.

No one knows Mon’s schedule better than Sam. They work together the most on projects with Mon being the admin of several projects, and Sam being the final reviewer of all content and business decisions in their sect of Diversity. That’s why she can see when her wife will be slammed (figuratively) with work and saddled with exhaustive amounts of responsibility. Here kicks in the service top, ready to alleviate all tension and stress at the drop of a hat. Sam is a serial cuddler when stressed, but Mon prefers a different type of release. She doesn’t say it, but Sam can read her wife and no one else. (That she’s been told by her friends many times) As the boss, she has an endless list of bullshit reasons to pull Mon into her office. Sure, anytime she calls for Mon Yha gives her a knowing smirk over the phone, but that was to be ignored. Mon would normally walk in with her slow stroll, fingers rubbing her temple or eyes fixed on Sam. Her wife made things feel better, but there were few ways to exponentially decrease the weight of her pending work. Luckily, Sam had one trick locked and loaded. With a gentle grasp and deft tug, Sam directed Mon to the couch and seated herself next to her wife. Days where Mon had dressed in a skirt or dress were easier, but Sam was willing to do whatever it took. With many kisses pressed into Mon’s forehead and across her face, Sam relaxes Mon into her side. Thus begins the journey of getting Mon to stop stressing. She starts by escalating the kisses down to Mon’s neck and firmly planting her hands on Mon’s face and thigh. Sam uses her lunch break for this so that Mon has no need to rush back to her work. She feels the anxiety melt out of Mon as she gives herself into Sam’s loving touch and attention. Sam intentionally teases the Mon to the edge to get her to voice what she wants. Enough back-and-forth earns her locked eyes and a hand moving Sam’s fingers to where Mon wants them. On Mon’s instruction, Sam will rub a gentle pattern over her clit and keep her fingers in place for Mon to ride. Other days, Sam with move her hand with vigor, filling Mon to the point of near brainlessness. She makes sure to ask Mon of her permission and encouragement every so often, needing to have her wife’s full support. Mon looks ethereal to Sam in these moments and she often has to pinch herself afterwards. Seeing Mon so deliciously vulnerable for her makes Sam’s heart beat between her legs. Sam will kiss every inch of Mon’s face, neck, and arms in hopes of keeping Mon grounded. Mon will finally five in and take advantage of everything that Sam is offering, telling her amid kisses and biting her hand to muffle the sounds exactly how to take Mon apart. Sam will do that until she comes and then immediately switch to aftercare. Mon just gets fully taken care of.

Finally, we have the roleplaying queens. This is akin to the Boss Mon thing because we know Sam loves to give up the control to Mon when she’s in front of her like that. I feel like, along with that, she would tease Sam with a “you’re so good at listening” and watch Sam run circles around her. She would let Sam have what she wanted in being able to touch and be in Mon in any capacity, but keep all the control. Sam is just happy to be there, and to have her gorgeous wife there with her. → LOL THE END (i may have more in the future but that would likely be given a specific scenario) <3

#gap the series #monsam #top sam #khun sam #service top #mon #pablo's asks #annona #mc thinking hours

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dirty-urie · 3 years

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Date Night

Third Person

Brendon x Sara (OC kinda)

College AU

PWP Oneshot

NC-17

5.4k Words

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story using the names and/or likeness of at least one real person. This is intended for entertainment purposes ONLY. Please do not share or bring up my work with anyone other than fellow fans. Any similarity to real-life events involving these characters that have not been shared with the general public is only coincidence. Just because I’ve included something in my fics does NOT mean I condone, support, or encourage that behavior, language, or action in real life. Please practice safe and consensual sex practices, and just be a good person.

Warnings in Order of Appearance: Real Person Fic, Crude and Vulgar Language Throughout, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Joke About Forgoing Contraception, Talk and Consumption of Pornography, Unprotected Oral Sex, Female Receiving Oral, Intercourse, Male Receiving Oral, Female Masturbation, Use of a Non-Sex Toy as a Sex Toy, Minor Social Anxiety

Author's Notes:

1. I spelled Sarah's name wrong on purpose because I felt bad writing porn about her. Brendon's technically permitted to write about him, so I'll do that without guilt (okay, with some guilt, but I feel guilty about everything. I have anxiety), but I respect Sarah too much to do that to her. That being said, I didn't want to use a random name, so I decided on a middle ground. Here's Sara, who is both not a real person and also not not married to Brendon Urie in real life. Schrodinger's OC. Okay, thank you for putting up with me.

2. I don’t know if I’m going to write any more third-person fics. I know they’re not really that popular, but for some reason, this spoke to me in third, so I embraced that. Anyway, give it a chance, and if you don’t like it, give whatever I publish next a chance.

3. This used to be split into two parts because I uploaded it on mobile, but I have since condensed the two parts, and now the whole thing is on this post.

Brendon fumbles with his keys as he unlocks the door to his apartment. Sara won't be there for another little while, but he's anxious to get inside anyway. His roommate is away visiting his family for the first time in nearly two months, and he hasn’t gotten any real alone time with his girlfriend since then. It’s hard, and Brendon knows Sara’s been struggling too because she spent their whole coffee shop study-date the day before whispering to him about how she's been practically crawling out of her skin. Brendon shivers at the memory of her hot breath against his ear as he slams his front door shut and hurries to his bedroom.

He's thinking about all the nasty ways he wants to get back at her for getting him so worked up in public when, speak of the devil, his phone buzzes, and Sara's name pops up in the caller ID. Actually, "Brunette from Creative Writing" pops up, but he swears he'll change it one day. Sara jokes that they'll be married with a whole flock of adult children, and she'll be calling him from the bingo hall as "Brunette from Creative Writing." God, he fucking loves her.

"Hey, babe, I just got home," he says after he hits the answer button.

"Okay, I just got out of my lecture, but I'm stopping by my dorm to grab my duffel bag, then I'm going to the drugstore to get condoms that aren't the shitty university clinic ones, so I won't be there for almost another hour," she tells him.

"Noooo, just come straight here. You can just wear my clothes all weekend. And condoms are so unnecessary; I'll just pull out," Brendon whines.

Sara laughs into the phone, knowing he doesn't mean any of that. "Oh sure, in that case, I'll come right over. Did you want to pay me $400,000 to raise a child in cash or check?"

"Uh, check, but you're gonna have to wait a bit to cash it," he replies.

He can practically see her rolling her eyes, even through the phone, "I'll be there in an hour, but I'll bring you something fun from the drugstore," she says.

"Fun like sex fun or fun like gum from the checkout stand fun?"

"You'll just have to wait and see, love you, bye!" she tells him through the phone before hanging up.

"Love you too, babe," he says sarcastically to no one. He walks into his bedroom and makes sure it's spotless. He doesn't want anything whatsoever to get in the way of fun, sexy times once Sara gets here.

His apartment is clean; he has wine and groceries in the fridge, enough money saved up to rent a movie and order dinner later, and no homework, so once Sara shows up with the condoms, he’ll be good to spend the entire weekend at home with her. With nothing else to do, he climbs onto his bed and grabs his laptop. No harm in a little pre-gaming, he figures, pulling up his favorite porn website while he waits.

He clicks on the first video without too much thought. It’s a girl, one Brendon recognizes, wearing a tiny thong and nothing else, and playing with a small bullet vibe while her boyfriend watches. She’s wet, probably just with lube and not actual bodily fluid, he realizes, but at least they bothered to make her look physically aroused at all.

He gets invested in the video, in the new toys that the boyfriend hands her, in the way both of their arousal grows as time goes on. He gets so engrossed that he’s beyond startled when Sara interrupts with, “Starting without me?” eyeing the erection already straining through his jeans.

Brendon laughs with glee now that she’s finally here, “No, no, no, just passing the time while I wait for you. No touching yet, see," he says, holding up his hands and waving them around before pausing his video.

"Well, don't stop on my account," Sara scoffs. "I don't mind you starting without me as long as I'm there when you finish," she murmurs.

They both moan, Brendon in response to her words, Sara in response seeing Brendon's cock twitch in his pants, “Ah fuck, babe, that’ll be sooner than I’d like if you keep talking like that.”

Sara climbs in next to him and snuggles against him so that she can see his computer screen, “Ooo, she’s hot,” she says, pointing to the girl now getting eaten out by the guy who, coincidentally enough, doesn’t look dissimilar to B.

“Yeah, I like a lot of her work,” Brendon says back, disinterested in the video playing on the laptop now that Sara’s actually there in the flesh “hey, you should take your pants off,” he suggests, totally smooth and subtly.

“You’re such a guy, B. No ‘how was your day? Are you hungry? Can I get you something to drink?” she teases.

Under normal circumstances, Brendon would object to such slander on his impeccable moral character. But, well, there’s not a lot of blood in his brain right now, and he knows that she would just respond with more teasing, further delaying the Fun Sexy Times, so he rolls to his side and kisses behind her ear, pressing his cock against her leg in an attempt to tease her into pliability. It works; she melts, whimpering a little bit as heat pools deep in her stomach when she feels just how turned on Brendon is. “You feel so nice, B. Bet you’d feel nicer without this layer of denim between us. Can you help me?”

Brendon unbuttons her pants and moves down to slide them off her body, moving his mouth along the newly revealed skin as he works them off. He’s paying so much attention to the warm flush of her thighs that he almost misses her panties: dark red lace, even darker where she’s soaked through them, and so delicate that they’re nearly see-through.

“Oh fuck, babe, that’s gorgeous. Are you wearing a matching bra?” he asks.

She answers by sitting up and pulling off her t-shirt, revealing the same thin lace. Her nipples are hard, practically poking through the delicate material.

Brendon settles back on his heels to fully take his girlfriend in, now stripped down to just her matching bra and panties set.

Sarah grins down at him, “Why do I get the sense that I can expect this set in every color for my birthday? Although, I know for a fact that I can get the same reaction from you wearing full-coverage high-waisted granny panties,” she thinks aloud after seeing Brendon’s wide-eyed awe.

Brendon isn’t paying attention, though. His mindset shifted from the fun and playful sex they usually have to lust-fueled passion as soon as Sara took her shirt off. Don’t get him wrong, they have great sex, but they normally have to do it fast and quietly and spontaneously, so they’ve gotten good at not taking themselves too seriously, at laughing at Brendon’s old superhero boxers, and then getting to business. Now that he has the chance to really take his time to appreciate, no, worship her as she deserves, he wants to do it right.

He moves off his heels and crawls over her body, supporting himself with one muscled arm as he moves in to kiss her. She picks up on the change in mood immediately, grasping the back of his head to deepen the kiss. He’s throbbing against her thigh now, even through his jeans, and she’s worried that she might come just from feeling him.

She, too, loves their normal sex, but even though it’s fun, it can’t always be as intimate as either of them would like. And it’s a shame too because as good at Brendon is at fucking, banging, screwing, whatever, he’s damn good at making love. At making sure she’s safe and supported and in absolute bliss, even when they’re hooking up in someone’s bedroom at a party, but especially like this when they’ve got hours and total privacy.

When her moans increase in pitch and frequency, Brendon crawls back down on the bed and settles between her thighs. “Darling, these panties are a gift to humanity, but I’m afraid they’re going to get in the way of some things I have planned. You don’t mind if I take them off, do you?” he says, voice deep and gravelly. He mouths against the soaked fabric while he waits for her response.

After taking a moment to collect herself and catch her breath, “God, Brendon, please, I need your mouth, fingers, cock, something,” she whines.

Now that he has her permission, he moves his mouth from her core to the waistband against her hip and bites it, just letting his teeth scrape her skin as he pulls down. Whether intentionally or not, Sara arches her back up, making it easy to slide them all the way down her legs. He kisses her way back up her legs, but instead of stopping between her thighs, he keeps going up. He licks up across the flat planes of her stomach all the way until he reaches her bra. Just like with her panties, he mouths over the fabric first, inching up slowly before sucking on one of her nipples through the lace.

As much as he loves how her breathing gets faster and heavier just from that, he can’t resist the actual mouth-on-skin that the low cut of the bra allows. He sucks a pink mark on each breast and then moves to lick and suckle gently on her neck. They’ve both agreed that they’re not middle schoolers and visible hickeys are beyond tacky, but they both go so wild from neck stimulation that it can be hard to resist spending a few minutes sucking a licking at the rapidly-beating pulse points.

As much as Brendon wants to keep teasing, Sara’s squirming like crazy, and he’s worried that if he kept going in the same way, she’d come before he got to touch her for real. He finally settles between her thighs for real this time, kissing and sucking gently on her vulva for just a second or two. Sara is quivering by the time he moves down to suck on her clit. As soon as he finally makes contact with the sensitive hood, she screams out in ecstasy, taking full advantage of Brendon’s roommate’s absence. He sucks around her clit just like her nipple, a few short staccato bursts followed by long, drawn-out pulls. He moves his tongue gently the whole time to stimulate her further.

Both of her hands are tangled in his hair, tugging hard when he moves from sucking on her clit to licking across her entrance. He licks across the opening in broad strokes before his tongue enters her, rubbing her clit with his thumb the whole time. He waits until her thighs are clenched tight around his head, and she’s bucking up against his mouth before he slips two fingers inside to rub over her g-spot.

“B, stop, I’m gonna fucking come!” She shrieks.

He lifts his head without slowing his fingers, “You don’t wanna come?”

“Want you to be inside me when I do. Inside me for real, not just fingers,” Sara pants, trying hard to distract herself from her building arousal.

As much as Brendon’s disappointed that Sara won’t come on his face, after all, he’s been hard for over an hour now, and he would love to get out of his restrictive jeans and get a little more stimulation than rubbing himself against the bed.

He crawls out of bed and peels his shirt off. Now it’s Sarah’s turn to marvel at her lover. His cheeks and chest are flushed a deep pink from the exertion and arousal, his face is shiny with spit and her juices, and his cock is tenting the material of his pants.

Sara strokes over herself lazily, it’s not nearly as good as Brendon, but it’s something to take the edge off while she watches Brendon unbuckle his belt to strip his pants off. He’s moving slowly on purpose. He always did love to put on a show.

Once he’s down to his black boxer-briefs, he asks Sara where she put the condoms when she came in.

“B, I love that you’re so distracted by me, but the bag is right next to you on the nightstand,” she answers.

“Hey, I’m not wearing my glasses. That’s not fair,” Brendon replies softly. He turns and opens the plastic bag with the drugstore logo on the front. Sara laughs when his eyes visibly widen. “Should I be scared?” He asks, holding up a large vibrating dildo.

Sara laughs. “No, love, I just wanted to get some toys I could leave at your place,” she answers as he pulls out a bullet vibe, two different types of lube, a cock ring, massage oils, whipped cream, a multi-pack of condoms, and yes, gum from the checkout stand.

“...I may have gotten a little carried away in the sexual wellness aisle,” she admits.

Brendon’s eyes are still the size of saucers, “God, no kidding, babe, this is all incredible,” he says, stripping off his boxers and opening the box of condoms to tear a packet open with his teeth. It’s a bad habit, and usually, Sara would scold him, but she’s so worked up that she spreads her legs in anticipation anyway. Her mouth goes dry while he strokes himself with lube before he rolls the condom on.

He finally, finally, finally settles over her. “Is this position okay?” he asks.

“It’s perfect, baby; I love getting to see your face when you push into me,” she answers, whining as he drags his cock across her opening.

That’s good enough for Brendon. He rocks forward into her slowly, partly because he’s a tease but partly because he wants this to last as long as possible. After pushing in deep to rub back and forth across her g-spot, he starts thrusting in earnest, relishing her moans and pants.

“Oh B, you feel so good,” she cries out.

“You feel even better, love. Squeezing so nicely around me. So tight and wet,” he says.

Sara scratches down his back in sheer bliss. Brendon’s rhythm is steady, but he’s moving just slowly enough that they can both relish every thrust without feeling overly needy or impatient. She pushes her thighs together to feel him even better inside her.

His thrusts falter for a second, and he chokes out a gasp. “Love you, love feeling you,” he groans, “but it’s been nearly a month since we last had sex, babygirl. If you keep that up, I am going to come.”

She relaxes her thighs just a little bit. “God, I love how sensitive you are right now, babe, responding to my every touch so much. I love you collected and composed too, but it’s such a treat having you so weak for me,” she marvels, stroking the back of his neck.

A shiver goes down his whole spine, and he devotes all of his energy to not coming. “I haven’t touched myself since we last had sex,” he admits, “I figured if my sweet girl couldn’t get off, I couldn’t either. It’s been such a challenge, but fuck, it was worth it. I’m so on edge for you.”

She tightens around him, moving her hand to touch her clit. “Shit, Brendon, that’s so fucking hot. I’m just thinking about you late at night, hard and aching thinking about me, but controlling yourself so it could be all the better when we finally reunited. Did you ever cheat? Did you ever jack yourself but force yourself to pull away right before you came to roll over and go to sleep? God, I bet you had so many dirty dreams. Bet you woke up humping a pillow because your body needed to get off so bad. Bet you’d struggle to hide your hard-on in public when your mind wandered even just a little. Such a dirty needy boy, but so so good for me, aren’t you?” she pants out, squeezing tighter as she talks.

He laughs, “You know me so well, sweetheart, all of the above is true. My roommate was thrilled to have all the hot water for himself this month because… I took a lot of cold showers. I’ll leave it at that. Now, if you don’t mind, I believe you’ve taken my job,” he says, replacing her hand on her clit with his own.

Sara falls back and goes rigid, crying out. He circles his thumb faster as the pace of his thrusts picks up. “I’m gonna come!” She shouts.

“Do it, come on me,” Brendon whispers.

Sara contracts around him, shrieking and convulsing as she comes on him before melting back onto the bed.

Brendon leans down to nip at her shoulder and then kiss her lips. “Good, baby?”

She nods, eyes closed and still panting hard.

“I’ll give you a second,” he murmurs, mostly to himself before pulling out and collapsing down next to her. He strokes over himself while he waits for her to come back down to earth, still rock hard.

“Shit, B, you still haven’t come,” she finally realizes, “do you want me to blow you?”

His cock twitches at the thought.

“Or I could ride you? Let you watch my tits bounce as I fuck you?” She suggests.

“That one wanna be back in that perfect cunt.”

Sara moves to straddle him, rubbing her clit against his tummy and kissing him before moving back to settle on him for real. She lets him thrust up into her a couple of times before moving herself, relishing the way his muscles tense under his flushed skin.

Brendon loves being ridden. He wouldn’t say it’s his favorite position, but it’s up there. It’s even better when Sara takes her bra off, as pretty as it is, and he gets to see her entire naked body. She gets herself at the perfect angle and rides him as hard as she can.

“I’m really not going to last long,” he warns.

Sara tangles her hands back in his hair just like he loves. She’s pulling out all the stops to get him to come. “God, B, me neither, I didn’t think I had it in me, but I’m right back on the edge. Just rub my clit, and I’ll come.”

He moves his hands from her ass to touch her clit.

She shudders, “B, I’m gonna come!”

“Me too,” he grunts out, “do you want me to pull out?”

“No, wanna feel your hot come inside me, even with the condom,” she answers before coming again. Even harder this time as waves of pleasure roll through her entire body.

The rapid contractions around his cock trigger his own orgasm, and his entire head goes blank as he gets lost in the sensation. Sara collapses and situates herself in his arms just as they’re both starting to come down.

He moves, but she stops him. “Honey, I’ve gotta,” he starts, but she whines and shakes her head, knowing exactly where he’s going, “I’ve gotta pull out so we can clean up and eat dinner. Round two after Italian?”

She finally nods but wraps her legs tighter against him anyway, “just two more minutes. Then we can go be romantic.”

***

“Sara, sweetheart, food’s almost here,” he whispers thirty minutes later. He’s wearing pajama pants with no shirt, and his torso’s still wet from the shower he took to rinse off. “Do you wanna go get yourself cleaned up while I set up the coffee table to eat?” He asks.

Sara shakes her head, “I get clingy and needy after sex-”

Brendon cracks a grin because he knows this, of course.

“So you’re stuck with me for the next couple of hours,” she finishes.

“Mm, that’s fine with me, babe. I just want you to be comfortable,” he responds, kissing her forehead.

She moves up into the kiss and realizes that a shower might be nice after all, “Actually, I am a little sticky. Come into the bathroom with me?”

“Anything you want, love,” he says, scooping her up and carrying her to the shower.

He turns the water on for her and then goes to sit on the counter while she rubs off the sweat under the spray. “B?” She calls.

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s nothing fancy, but when you rubbed my clit in little circles, I nearly died on the spot. Normally when I’m alone, I just stroke back and forth, but god, it felt so good to feel something new,” she says. Brendon doesn’t respond immediately. “B?” She calls back timidly, shy now. “B?”

She’s getting worried that he left without her hearing, so she pulls back the shower curtain and has to choke back a moan. Brendon’s still sitting on the counter, his head tipped back on the mirror, palming over himself through his PJ pants.

“God, Sara, sorry, I just love hearing how I make you feel, and I couldn’t help it,” he tells her.

Sara shuts the water off and walks across the bathroom to Brendon, paying no mind to how she’s dripping all over the tile. She yanks him up to his feet and drops to her knees on the padded bathmat in front of the sink. She pulls his pants down just enough- no underwear, she observes without surprise- and takes him in her mouth, getting him slick enough that she can stroke him to total hardness with her hand. Once he’s fully hard, she takes him back in her mouth and sucks hard, making his knees tremble. She bobs her head up and down, stroking him with her hand when she doesn’t have his whole length in her mouth.

He’s bracing himself against the counter to stay upright and not buck into her mouth. She moves down to just stimulate the tip while quickly stroking over the rest of him.

“Can you come for me? Food is going to be here any minute,” she says, looking up at him with big eyes.

“You playing with yourself down there, baby? Getting all wet from sucking me off?” He asks, the dirty talk getting him closer to the edge.

“Oh, you know it, gets me so hot, making you feel good. I wish I had one of my new toys, though,” she pouts before licking his dick again.

Brendon gropes behind himself blindly, trying to find… well. It’s not a vibrator, but it does, well, vibrate, he thinks, hitting the button on his electric toothbrush. He hands it to Sara, who puts it between her legs without hesitation, pressing it against her clit.

She goes weak, moaning a buzzy hum over his cock while she sucks. She knows he’s close by the way his balls are drawing into his body, so she goes ahead and lets herself go. Tightening the pressure around his cock.

“Shit, babe, I’m gonna come,” he warns, hips bucking. “Can I come in your mouth or…?”

She holds up a thumbs up, and he comes, most of it staying in her mouth, but some ends up dripping down her chin. She swallows, and Brendon hands her a wad of toilet paper to wipe off the rest with.

He tucks himself back into his pants and then helps her back to her feet.

“Can I have my toothbrush back, love?” He requests softly.

Sara blushes and takes the still-vibrating toothbrush out from between her legs, “Sorry, I forgot I still had that.”

“No worries,” he responds with a soft chuckle, kissing her forehead. He takes the toothbrush and turns it off before rinsing it off under the sink. “Gosh, you did a number on this thing. It’s soaked,” he marvels, “My perfect messy girl.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. “Perfect timing, must be the food. I’ll deal with that while you get dressed?” He suggests, and she nods, still a little dazed from the orgasm. Well, orgasms, plural.

She goes back to his room, where she stashed her bag and rummages through it for her pink silk slip nightgown. It’s super simple, just spaghetti straps with a straight-across neckline and then deep pink fabric straight down to just below her ass, but Brendon loves it. She suspects it’s just because she can’t move very much without flashing her butt, but he insists that the slip itself is gorgeous.

As she’s getting dressed, she hears the door open and Brendon apologizing for his relative state of undress, saying he just got out of the shower. Brendon’s naked more often than he’s clothed, so Sara just shrugs it off until she hears a giggle and flirting coming from the delivery girl.

Brendon stammers out that he has a girlfriend, but he’s flattered, but that doesn’t seem to be deterring the delivery girl, who makes an extra point to linger her hand on Brendon’s as she hands him the food. Sara strides out of his bedroom, “Hey, B, have you seen my panties? I can’t find them in your bed or your bathroom or the kitchen or the sofa, so I wonder if I left them in your pocket during our multiple rounds of lovemaking,” She calls before pretending to spot him and the girl for the first time by the door. She scootches in next to him and kisses him on the cheek, plastering a sickly-sweet smile on her face. “My apologies, didn’t know you had a guest,” she lies, shooting death beams at the delivery girl whose hand is on Brendon’s bicep. The girl retracts her hand, and Sara grabs a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet on the doorside table to tip her. Sara knows Brendon would’ve already tipped her on the website, but this more of a ‘please don’t touch my boyfriend without his consent tip’ than a ‘thank you for your work tip.’ “Have a nice day, ma’am,” Sara tells her, shutting the door.

Brendon smirks, but there’s a weariness behind it, “Way to save the day, baby. Getting possessive?”

“No, I love it when others check you out. Just validates how hot I am for you. You just sounded like you do when you get overwhelmed at the grocery store, and I figured you were feeling a little claustrophobic,” she explains.

Brendon nods. “I don’t mind a flirt, but she was getting way too handsy. And even then, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world; I just felt a little vulnerable being shirtless and all. She probably just wanted a big tip. I bet that works for her a lot. And y’know, I probably shouldn’t have been shirtless at all. If I was in a restaurant, they’d have every right to kick me out, so really, I’m lucky she didn’t blacklist my address,” he rambles, turning to get plates and silverware from the kitchen.

Sara touches his shoulder and grabs the bags of food from him. “Hey, B, you don’t need to justify your feelings, okay? I get it; she was in your space. Both your personal space by touching you and your physical area by being near your home. But it’s sweet of you to give her the benefit of the doubt. You’re probably right, I would guess that works with nine out of ten guys; she was cute. And hey, I gave her a nice tip to get her to go away, so it worked on us too.”

“And you got to brag to a stranger about our hot sex life, so it really did all work out in the end,” Brendon half-jokes, and she’s happy to observe that any panic seems to have left his body.

“Mhm, my favorite hobby. Maybe we should order dessert, and I can change into something even more slutty. This shows my ass so nicely, but my chest is totally covered,” she suggests, and he cracks a real smile for her. “Seriously though, you’re totally good?”

“Yes, ma’am, everything’s perfect,” he responds, and he’s telling the truth.

“Good, let me set up dinner then. You go relax on the sofa,” she orders.

Brendon goes to sit on the couch, knowing better than to deny a direct request. Sara plates the food and brings it to the now dim living room, where Brendon’s lit three candles in the center of the table.

“Awww, how romantic,” she praises, settling against Brendon with their food.

“I had more romance planned, I promise, I just weighed my options, and I cared more about snuggling with my girl than trying to overdo it on decorating the living room,” Brendon responds. “I do still have wine in the fridge if you want that?”

She twists around to kiss him. “The romance level is perfect. Consider me totally romanced. I think I’ll wait on the wine until later if that’s okay? It’ll make me sleepy, and I’m still interested in a round two,” she says, resting her hand against Brendon’s thigh.

“Whatever you want is fine with me, love,” he says, sighing contentedly.

***

“You’re falling asleep, babygirl.”

“Am not.”

“Your eyes are closed.”

Brendon smiles, “Do you wanna keep watching the movie, or do you wanna go to bed? If you’re sleepy, that’s fine, but we’ve gotta move to the bedroom then,” he murmurs.

Sara moves off the couch and stretches, turning on the light. “I’m not even tired; I took a nap earlier. It’s just the dim lighting and carb surplus. C’mon, let’s keep watching, it’s only 10 and we’re not even to the, ‘paint me like one of your French girls’ scene.”

“Okay, if you insist, then we’ll soldier on. I’ll get dessert,” he agrees, getting up to head to the kitchen.

“Ooo what’s for dessert?” she asks.

“Cannoli and coffee,” he responds.

Sara moans playfully. “God, Brendon, I’m so turned on right now.”

Brendon rolls his eyes. “I’ll try not to take offense that you’re more attracted to sweets than me.”

Sara wraps her arms around his waist from behind him. “I’d choose you over cannoli any day. Someone could offer me a thousand cannoli and I’d scoff in their face and then go kiss all over you. I love you, babe. Thank you for a great date night,” she says before spinning him around to kiss him.

“I love you too,” Brendon whispers against her lips. “Tonight was wonderful, and I owe it all to you.”

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sourbat · 3 years

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What's the story you're most disappointed in?

What a thought provoking question. Thank you, anon.

tl;dr: they were stories I wrote for the wrong reasons, and now they are gone

I spent a lot of time mulling over this question. For a while I assumed any incomplete story was something worth being disappointed in, then redefined it as anything that I rushed, or experimented something new with and ended up with a fic that wasn’t too popular. After spending literally months wondering, decided I’d go on my account and just...delete anything I deemed disappointing, whatever that definition may be.

Of all my fics, only two were deleted, and they were fics that pandered more to the fandom, not to me. They were fics that weren’t necessarily bad, but didn’t really speak to me, the writer. They weren’t for me, they were for an audience I was trying to impress. No wonder I couldn't even bring myself to go over the summaries. To put it simply, I didn’t like the pairing of the first one I deleted, and the second one was a college au, so...no big surprise there for me. I’d delete one more, but I co-wrote that one with an old friend, and can’t bring myself to just...abandon our shared hard work (even if it is Reaper76). So I deleted “Cyclone” and “Pliability,” and I have no real regrets about it. Hundreds of kudos gone, but with it comes a strange breath of fresh air. A sense that I’m just writing for myself, and whoever else enjoys my weird thoughts.

As for the rest of the stories. I think it comes natural to feel embarrassed or ashamed at older works, especially if you were going through various phases that just aren’t a thing now. I’d say, for a lot of these fics, it’s a matter of context, and appreciating the growth that occurred since then. I have a lot of unfinished stories, but the journey, incomplete and awkward, stiff or confusing, were still fun to write. And I wrote them more for my satisfaction so even if they suck, I’ll let them linger a bit more. Since exploring some older works, I think there is some potential to go back and remodel or work older scenes, dialog (“Makes for Good Lyrics,” anyone?), or just rewrite it to better fit my original design. Who knows?

Anyways, to make a long story short: don’t write for people. Write for yourself, even if it means you’re not gonna get a lot of hits or whatever. You are your most important viewer. Trust me, you do not want to look at nearly 100K words and realize what a terrible mistake you’ve made.

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mistystarshine · 4 years

Text

the gears that build you

Summary: Running off to help a friend with his ill-advised attempt to dispense vigilante justice comes with consequences. Warnings: Body Modification, Mild Body Horror Length: 2.2k Notes: The piece I wrote for @bnha-steampunk! I was super excited to be invited on as a guest writer and thoroughly enjoyed participating in the zine. You can also find this fic on Ao3.

Consciousness returned to him slowly. It came in the sort of haze that made him question whether or not this was real at all. The only thing that cemented it as reality was the crushing pain that came with it. It was the sort that made him want to curl up in a ball and scream. But when he tried, he couldn't move.

Midoriya Izuku was no stranger to pain, but this was something new entirely. This was the sensation of being cut open, something pulled out and something else put in, the alien clicks and clacks and creeks of an unholy procedure being performed.

(Except it wasn't unholy. It was necessary. Later, when his mind wasn't as fogged up and bogged down, he would recognize this. For now, all he could feel was fear and confusion.)

Amidst the tapping of tools and clicking of gears, there was a voice. He couldn't make sense of the words being said at the moment. To him, it was just a smooth, soothing rumble, something making a futile attempt to calm him. Something that might provide him with answers.

("Oh dear," the incomprehensible voice said. "I think he's waking up.")

Something tried to break through the fog in Izuku's mind, something important enough to override the pain and the fear. It pushed him to attempt to wrench his eyes open. At first, his eyelids just flickered uselessly. Then, when he successfully opened them, he was met by a light bright enough to force him to shut them again.

("Midnight?" the voice called.)

It would have been easier to let himself slip back into unconsciousness, but Izuku was nothing if not determined. After a few more attempts, he managed to keep his eyes open long enough to make out a few blurred shapes. There was sterile white, brass, black, and peach, gray, and pink roughly in the shape of... A person! There was a person! Someone who could tell him about...

There was a faint hiss, and suddenly a cloud of gas descended upon him. The boy was in no state of mind to even think to hold his breath. Memories began to click back into place just as he inhaled it, the contents of the gas immediately beginning their work of returning him to sleep. At another time, he would have succumbed almost instantly. As it was, the stabbing pain in his arm gave him something to cling to, something to help him resist, even if only for a few more seconds.

"Stain..." Izuku managed to groan out. Unfortunately for him, even with the pain to tether himself to, the fog worked quickly. By the time the figure offered him a nonsensical response, he was already nearly asleep once again.

("It's okay, Midoriya.")

(Then, once she was certain that he was back under, that he would never know she had said it, came a whispered, "you did well.")

The second time Izuku began to regain consciousness, the pain in his arm had died down to a dull ache. His body felt heavy. Something important still buzzed in the back of his mind, but it was outweighed by the blanket of exhaustion that had fallen over him. The panic and urgency of his prior awakening had died down enough that the feelings did little more than lean further into that exhaustion. By the time it began to revive, he was already falling back to sleep.

It was as they said: the third time was the charm.

Izuku spent several moments lying in bed with his eyes closed. He no longer felt the all-consuming exhaustion that had greeted him last time he started to wake up, but his eyelids still felt like they were made of lead. There was no real reason to open them. Instead, he let awareness slowly trickle back to him, starting with feeling. The sheets covering him were kind of scratchy, unlike the sheets on his own bed. Did that mean that he wasn't in his bed then? Izuku's brow furrowed as confusion trickled over him. He moved his feet around a little, the relatively low pliability of the surface below him bringing his attention to the stiffness of his current resting place for the first time.

Okay, definitely not his bed then.

He began to rake his memory for some sort of answer. It took a little while for anything to come to him through what remained of the fog. When it did, it was sluggish. There were sensations first—fear, concern, determination. Then came the faces. Todoroki, Iida, Stain—

Stain!

Izuku snapped his eyes open and attempted to bolt upright. This proved to be a mistake in multiple ways. The light in the infirmary was bright, forcing him to blink several times before he could actually make out where he was. His movement jostled his arm, sending a fierce bolt of pain running through it. He only made it halfway to a sitting position before his spine automatically stiffened up. A faint whine would have left his lips had he not clenched his jaw hard enough to make his teeth feel like they were going to splinter. Finally, it alerted the other occupant of the room, who called him to attention with a sharp, "Midoriya!"

He knew that voice. Oh, he knew that voice and he knew the chiding, disappointed, worried tone staining it. He knew the scolding that it would soon start dispensing. However, there was something he needed to know before they could get into that.

Izuku turned his head to face Recovery Girl even as the old woman rushed over to him. "Recovery Girl," he said. It came out as a raspy croak. He winced at the sound, but pushed on regardless. "What happened? Are-"

"- Your friends are fine," she interrupted. "It's you that I'm worried about." With a soft 'tut-tut', the nurse of U.A. gently pushed him to lay back down.

Izuku obliged, but not without asking, "what about Iida? How is—"

"—Midoriya." Something in Recovery Girl's tone made him fall silent. Her face was stony in a way that he had never seen before. "I need to know that you understand the consequences of what you did."

Izuku slowly took in a deep breath. It was ragged and shaky in a way he didn't like. It felt like weakness and fear, like the worthless little Deku that had been pushed around on the playground rather than the hero he was trying to become. The Deku that had confronted Stain. The Deku that had confronted Stain and quite probably endangered that heroic future in the process. Paradoxical as it may be, he knew that the latter was the Deku he needed to be right now. He couldn't let himself crumple in front of Recovery Girl. Maybe she wouldn't punch or kick like those old bullies, but his disappointment in himself would ache worse than any bruise.

"Recovery Girl," he began in as steady a tone as he could muster, "I know I broke the rules. And I—"

A sharp 'tsk' cut him off before he could get any further. "Yes, and someone else will talk to you about that. I meant the medical consequences," Recovery Girl clarified.

Confusion was the first thing to settle in. Then, like the progression of frost over a cold stone, it was replaced by dread. He barely registered the faint softening of Recovery Girl's expression. Most of his attention was suddenly glued to his arm. He hadn't forgotten the pain it was in—it was impossible when it was so sharp—but it suddenly seemed that much worse. His mind seemed to wrap around it, cataloging the individual aches and stings, wondering what might be their precise cause even as part of him wanted little more than to just try and ignore it.

Looking at his arm proved to be far more difficult a task than it should have been. That effort was rewarded by green eyes resting on an arm wrapped in white gauze. Simple, innocuous, innocent. It was not an alarming sight in and of itself. No, it was the mystery it represented that made his stomach turn. They had been down this path before. He knew the potential consequences of overusing his quirk.

Izuku felt like he was talking through a speaker miles away as he asked, "is it...?"

Recovery Girl let out a slight sigh. The motion of her shaking her head automatically made him look back up at her. Apprehension and regret was written on her face. It made something in his chest seize and burn for one horrible moment. Then she said, "No, this won't be the end for you."

Izuku let out a sigh. His lungs loosened up and his heart felt like it spontaneously began to beat again.

Based on the sharp look Recovery Girl gave him, it was not a reaction she appreciated. "But I did have to make some modifications," she added.

Izuku frowned. His chest began to hurt again, but this time, it was a different kind of hurt. It was akin to the burn of a muscle after overuse or the way he would feel in the seconds before a punch made contact with his face. Melancholic and resigned, it was the type of pain that was designed to make it easier to withstand an even greater pain that was yet to come.

His gaze traveled back down to his arm in the silence that hung between them. Silence, yet the thundering of blood in his ears made it feel oh so loud.

"Can I see?" he finally asked.

Recovery Girl sighed again, this time audibly resigned. "I suppose it's better sooner than later," she said. "I need to do another check before setting it in a harder cast anyway."

Izuku gave one sharp nod to confirm that he wanted to see what laid beneath, even as his stomach roiled and his throat began to burn.

Recovery Girl retrieved a pair of medical scissors from the side table before approaching him. She moved with the same kind of gentle caution you might expect from someone approaching a deer. The part of him that wanted to get this ordeal over with was annoyed by it. The part that, despite his certainty as to what was to come and desire to face it bravely, was more scared than anything, appreciated it.

The gauze and cotton swathing his arm were cut away in a few deft movements. Izuku was prepared for what he was about to see. Even so, he couldn't help a sharp intake of breath when he laid eyes upon what had become of his arm.

A scattering of angry stripe-like scars came to an end where skin almost seemingly melded into an oval of highly durable plexiglass. The only outward sign of irritation was the light red inflammation encircling the very edges of the modification area, which he knew would fade in time. Through the glass, he could see an array of tiny rods, gears, and metal pull-chords, too intricate and complex for him to make sense of at a glance. In the middle of it all was one giant gear. As he experimentally flexed his arm, fighting through the pain that the motion generated out of a sense of morbid curiosity, the large gear slowly turned, a centerpiece for all of the smaller parts that furiously moved in tandem. Some of them disappeared into tiny holes drilled into the metal plate covering the back of the mechanical pocket, likely interacting with the still human muscles and ligaments. Maybe the connections even went all the way down to the bone.

Izuku took a deep breath and closed his eyes. This was inevitable, he reminded himself. Recovery Girl's quirk worked better with the aide of cybernetics, and from his memory of how his arm had cracked and crunched under the impact of his quirk and Stain's blades, he had created quite the challenge for her. He was lucky that she was U.A.'s top medical mechanic as well as the school nurse.

"You were lucky," Recovery Girl said, seeming to parrot his thoughts. "I was able to get away with relatively minor modifications. But if this keeps happening, the damage might get so severe that I'll have to do full replacements."

A frown tugged at Izuku's lips. "But—"

The severe look Recovery Girl shot him cut him off before a word even left her mouth. "No buts! Society isn't kind to full cyborgs. You have a kind heart, Midoriya, but you also need to think of your own well-being. You don't want that sort of life."

"Okay," Izuku murmured.

Yet as he gazed down at his modified arm, he couldn't help but think that it wasn't so bad. All Might had a lot of modifications, even if they weren't usually visible, and he wasn't any less of a person for it. Any discrimination he might risk facing—well, hadn't he dealt with something similar all his life?

He thought of Stain. Of Iida and his brother. Of what might have happened if he hadn't gotten involved.

Heroism was worth the consequences. Besides, Izuku could handle a few gears.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #midoriya izuku #recovery girl #my writing

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