#i tried to make this flag the least eye straining i could while still keeping it ‘recognizable’ but man those colors are bright

[quotegender]

bettercallsaulquoteic

a gender related to the quote “better call saul!”

[ PT. bettercallsaulquoteic END PT. ]

[ ID start: a flag with five (5) horizontal wavy lines, in the following colors: red, orange, yellow, orange, and red. End ID ]

[ashimagari]

Helloo, i would love to request about a chemistry engineer (or similar) reader x chishiya. He wasnt really curious about reader until both were in a game together and reader has a bag with chemical things that reader creates to defend against others. It could be in the tag game from s1, and ended up being impressed about this.

Pairing: Chishiya Shuntaro x gn!reader

TW: Mentions of Blood & Violence & Swearing

AN: My understanding of chemistry is poor at best, so forgive me anon! (I tried to stay out of the rabbit hole that is Wikipedia)

When Chishiya followed your figure into the arena, he thought this might be it. Meaning, the end. For you. You had both just stepped over the threshold of what Hatter was gunning to be Nine of Spades territory and by the sight of you, Chishiya figured you might just be another casualty of the Borderlands. 

It wasn’t ideal that he was here, preferring to leave the physically demanding tasks to those with a certain je ne sais quoi. But, he’d let the number of days tacked onto his visa deteriorate whilst he redirected his resources toward his plans to take Hatter’s stack of cards. For you, it was an opportunity to put the things you had been working on, building, concocting, to the test. It was a simple case of survival – outlive the so-called citizens – take them out in any which way. 

That was how you found yourself doubled over against the wall, desperately trying to catch your breath, to force down a few mouthfuls of oxygen before you had to move again. The citizens were fierce, not seeming to tire in the same way and they were constantly drawing closer. Another contestant rounded the corner in a show of flailing limbs and sheer desperation, her voice was muffled by the sound of nearing gunfire, but the message was evident enough. Run. 

She was tumbling to the ground, trying to get away, to your side. The clink of metal hitting concrete pulled your attention from the whites of her eyes – brass cartridge cases falling to the ground – the wail of an automatic rifle. She tried to cover the distance and all the while, you continued to back up, eager to keep the citizen in sight. Perhaps, you knew that she wouldn’t make it – that weaving through the spray of bullets was impossible, but you didn’t want to turn your back. She was flagging and you had retreated close enough to a corner to momentarily hide. 

At the wet sound of bullet coursing through gristle, you lurched, desperate to put a wall, at least, between yourself and the citizen. As you rounded the corner, your shoulder made contact with something firm, unmoving. ‘Fuck,’ you stammered, heart filling your throat. 

For a moment you wondered if you’d just thrown yourself into a second citizen – you wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to haul yourself out of such a situation. It was a contestant you’d seen in the opening stages of the arena. At first, it was as if he hadn’t noticed the force of your shoulder against his chest, his line of sight did not shift from the open space ahead. Before, finally, without removing his hands from his jacket pockets, he glimpsed down at you, still on the floor.

All at once, your thoughts seemed to catch up. If you allowed the citizen a second to close, you weren’t certain you’d be able to pull someone else through the chaos and you weren’t sure what this competitor’s plan was. You didn’t allow yourself to think, for him to argue, already moving to your feet, your fingers blinding searching for his own. Chishiya might have resisted if he hadn’t been quite so surprised, but you were running and pulling him before his thoughts could entirely catch up. It was difficult to hear, between gunfire and the sound of your ragged breathing, but he strained to listen: ‘We have to go – he isn’t stopping.’

When you paused a little distance away, you immediately dropped Chishiya’s hand. For a moment, he tensed and untensed his fingers, your touch had been warm, unfamiliar. He watched, silent, except for the slight lift of his chest, as you knelt on the floor, shrugging off your backpack on the way down. You unzippered it, pulling it wide to reveal the contents inside – glass vials tinkered against one another and liquid levels wobbled. 

‘If we can lure him to the lower level and I can get above,’ you said, eyes focused on the contents of your backpack, ‘I can take him out. Or at least slow him down.’

Chishiya crooked his brow – part of him wanted to lean over your shoulder and glance at the things you were fiddling with. Even if he hadn’t once been a doctor, he would have recognised the pictograms attached to the flacons – you’d just jogged through gunfire with an exhibition of corrosive and acutely toxic chemicals slung over your shoulder as if unbothered. This close, he could smell gasoline – maybe it had been on the ends of your fingers, maybe now it was on his skin. 

‘I have concentrated Oleoresin Capsicum, but it won’t last long,’ you said. Finally, you glanced in his direction and met his eye. The expression on his features, the lack of frantic questioning, and the steadiness of his hand, told you that he almost understood. 

‘It’ll take most of what I’ve got – sulfuric acid,’ you continued, attention returning to your rucksack. Something about looking at him for too long made your face prickle with heat. ‘I have ethanol and a lighter, somewhere.’ 

Chishiya nodded along, part of him wondered if he’d been better off if you’d stumbled into just about anyone else. But, there was something distinctly fascinating about what he was seeing. Perhaps you were as out of place in the Nine of Spades arena as he was, but you’d adapted and whatever you had been before entering the Borderlands was keeping you alive. 

Something about this sort of warfare was just about bearable. From a distance, Chishiya could throw the vials handed to him. Maybe it was the safety that being two floors above provided or the fact he never saw the face of the citizen through the screen of a smoke grenade, that made it tolerable. 

It’d be a couple of hours before your eyes stopped streaming from smoke and chemical vapours, but you were relieved to have made it through. Chishiya lost you in the thick cloud wafting from the burning body of the citizen and for three days, his throat scratched and his chest crackled and the idea of you seemed to stick around. It wasn’t until he found himself standing in An’s makeshift laboratory, eyeing up the vials and chemicals stacked on the shelf, that he considered the possibility of wanting to see you again. His interest had been piqued at the very least. He took a flacon from its place and looked at the bottle, he thought for a moment, before tucking it into his jacket. Perhaps it was something you could make use of. 

[prvtocol]

bellsliturgy​ ( V. ) —

     the woman at least, for her part, seems like the merciful type. a corpo who was also human, or at the very least, had some percentage of human left within them, was hard to come by. it was difficult on its own for him to keep his own humanity, to keep himself from snapping at his subordinates for the searing pain in his gut from the ulcers. already, however, he’s beginning to feel himself relax in her presence. a rarity, and a relief for his body as well as his mind. he offers a smile behind the purple lens of his spectacles, “something we share in common, although we might as well smoke for all the secondhand we probably breathe in all fairness.”

     right, back to business.

     “sort of, was poached from trauma team for my netrunning and infogathering skills. i’m much more at home in scrubs and an operating theatre but arasaka gave me some offers i couldn’t afford to refuse,” he gives a shrug, “came from socal so i’m not a night city native, and i’m on contract for fifty years. i guess we’ll see how long i last. spywork isn’t necessarily my life’s calling but it gets the bills paid.” he reaches up to straighten his spectacles, “if i might be frank, however, i’m at something of a disadvantage. jenkins didn’t really give me much to work with so i’m afraid i’m not entirely familiar with your division.”

     v often wondered if the man simply enjoyed watching him squirm but he wasn’t about to give him the pleasure of it anymore. honesty was usually the best policy, and v got very tired very quickly of the internal political chess games jenkins liked to play with other directors, “i’m far more interested in how we can benefit each other and make the workload easier for one another. nothing along the lines of quid pro quo mind, but something more of a symbiosis.” there’s a tiredness in his eyes, lines beneath them running dark, but his face would visibly brighten at the possibility of stress alleviation in the workplace.

“You’re very right.” Polite is the laugh that undercuts amused agreement of his assessment of secondhand smoke. They share something in common; a good start to building a bridge. With utmost attentiveness she listens, recalling hearing about the extensive hiring campaign that Arasaka embarked to cull local talent upon opening its doors here in 2070. Going as far as headhunting from other corps to get the best of the best. It must have been a good offer to snare V from something they found fulfilling. “Well, sometimes that’s how it is.” Consoling remark comes at mention of the job simply paying the bills. While his prior skillset might come in handy in the field, lacking a calling will take its toll — she knows.

“Ah. I suppose your ops have not been audited. A good thing.” Cheeky response comes with a smile assuring him it’s alright to be at a loss when it comes to her dept. She’s more than happy to explain. “Basically we provide oversight to all operations making sure protocol is followed. One could say, the rulebook is in our hands and those rules ensure the safety of our employees and the corp.” If Brianne is being honest, it’s primarily about the sanctity of the corp, its secrets and reputation. If an employee appears disloyal, they flag that. Meanwhile, if an employee is in harms way, so be it. Still, caring about employees, the people who work here, is something she tries to take as priority. It helps her feel fulfilled in the work she does.

At mention of a symbiosis, her brow tenses slightly. Incredulous she is because of who V has to report. “For yourself or for Jenkins?” Blunt though not uncaringly so. She can see they are exhausted; overworked, strained under Jenkins’ boot. That could spell action either way. “I know he has his eyes set on becoming director of SpecOps. That is what this is all about for him at least.” Here to sway her approval undoubtedly. “You would benefit from his promotion, would you not?”

[todoscript]

monopolize

SUMMARY: Having realized Bakugou and Midoriya’s infatuation with you, Shouto decides to make a firm point at showing that you’re his and his alone.

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader (feat. bakugou katsuki & midoriya izuku)

genre: smut. slight angst. pro hero au.

word count: 8.0k+

warnings: 18+. characters are aged up. dominant!shouto. possessive!shouto. (!!!)coercion. exhibitionism. bondage (kinda). slight degradation. praising. squirting. humiliation (bakugou & midoriya receiving).

author’s note: so the idea for this fic came to me one day while i was studying chemistry and it kinda got out of hand the moment i started writing it...haha, oops... but anyway, shoutout to rosie ( @shoutogepi​ ) for listening to me ramble about this and encouraging me to write this shit, love you lots babe! <333 also a reminder to please look over the warnings before proceeding, thank you!!!

If your open jaw is not enough to emphasize your shock, then the bag that hits the floor after escaping your grasp does that job for you. It also alerts the three existing presences in the room of your arrival, to which all eyes maneuver to the door of your shared bedroom, witnessing your appalled state at what is lying in wake.

Lounging on the futon, Shouto breaks your awed silence. “Welcome home, love,” he greets, warmly as per usual whenever he arrives home from work before you do.

You’re utterly surprised by how indifferent he sounds despite the two additional faces in the room. After all, it’s not every day you’d ever expect the Pro Number One and Two heroes to be here in your very bedroom, bound by what you have to assume is your boyfriend’s ice.

Unsure how to go about your reply, you instead opt to slowly walk into the room, assessing the situation. Your wary gaze darts between the angry red eyes of Bakugou Katsuki and the strained green ones of Midoriya Izuku. “I... U-Um… Shouto? What is all of this? What are Midoriya and Bakugou doing here?” You finally manage to address the elephant in the room, yet Shouto does not tackle your questions with as much haste as you are hoping.

He gets up from the bed to meet you in the middle, gathering you in his arms before his lips find your temple—the kiss he presses soft and tender, but the fact that there are two other pairs of eyes glancing over at you from such a compromising position warms your cheeks buried in his chest.

You don’t catch how Bakugou practically wrenches at the sight while Midoriya turns away, abashed. There’s hurt discerned in their expressions that can only be akin to pure jealousy. But you don’t know that. Well, not yet anyway.

“Let me explain, love,” Shouto starts, his voice a meager space away from your ear that he tucks a hair behind, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but are you aware that these two both—”

“That’s it! I don’t have to stay here and listen to this crap!” Bakugou’s loud voice bursts out, cutting the rest of Shouto’s words short just before they fall to your ear. Watching as a fever of energy begins emitting from Bakugou’s palms trapped in the ice, the dual-haired hero quickly acts by erecting another glacier to impede the blonde’s abilities, effectively keeping him trapped there. Bakugou can only grit his teeth as he remains bound. Meanwhile, you gape at the lengths Shouto goes to prevent these two renowned heroes from leaving this space.

The chill that diffuses throughout the atmosphere of the room pairs fittingly with the frigid stare Shouto points at your guests. Ensuring the cold doesn’t affect you, he regulates your temperatures with his fire side while your body is still pressed against him before continuing. “As I was saying, these two men in front of you both harbor the same feelings for you as I do,” Shouto says. You slightly turn to meet his heterochromatic gaze with confusion written on your face, unsure what his words exactly imply.

Reading this, Shouto’s hand at your waist travels to your nape. “I’m sure you must have realized it by now, love... The way their touches linger on you for far longer than necessary whenever you meet them...” His calloused hand rubs at the back of your neck, the other traveling up your chest that yields a strained noise from your mouth.

“Or how they flirt with you whenever you visit my agency while they’re there, thinking I don’t notice. Telling you how good you look or how pretty you are.�� His words meld into your skin as his lips meet below your jawline, the sensation of his nibbles manifesting your noises into frail moans that lights blushes in your spectators’ cheeks. All attempts at disregarding those cases as friendly compliments are hindered when your attention is captured by Shouto’s wandering hands and hypnotizing voice.

“Though I wholeheartedly agree with every statement, I think it’s only right of me—your boyfriend—to be a little concerned when they’re always giving you those looks.”

You bite your lip in hopes of suppressing the next noise that threatens to spill from your mouth before curiosity overtakes you. “What looks?” you pry yet not entirely ready for the answer. Shouto breaths in closely next to your ear, voice guttural and full of weight.

“Like they want to fuck you.”

His claims have your eyes blown out wide, timbre compelling goosebumps across your skin at something so vulgar departing his mouth. You try to muster out a comprehensible thought for the sake of the two heroes, but the words are drawn back in your throat. Shouto catches your guarded look.

“Now, don’t go saying they’re just being friendly with you, baby. I mean look at them. Are those the faces of two men who just want to be friends with you?”

The air has suddenly grown tense, the tension so taut it could be cut with a butter knife. Hesitantly, you shift to meet Bakugou and Midoriya’s eyes to gauge a response from them. To your surprise, all you can perceive are the sheer expressions of shame painted on their faces—red smearing their cheeks with humiliation as they can’t help but glance at anywhere else but you.

“Well?” Shouto chimes in after you’ve fully grasped the reality of the situation.

Peering into his icy heterochromatic eyes, you gulp. You know you have no right to be lying to his face, no matter how much you insist it isn’t so.

“N-No,” you admit.

A grin curves on his lips before he kisses your cheek.

“Mm, smart girl.”

Despite you waving your white flag, Shouto doesn’t stop his touches from wandering your body. He palms at sensitive areas that leave you burning. Those whimpers you’ve desperately tried to conceal unfetter from your lips when his hands inch upon skin hidden beneath your clothing. His touches are firm with a mixture of warmth and coolness that has you holding your breath. The sensations cloud your thoughts, making you forget where you are as the other presences in the room now in the back of your mind.

Midoriya and Bakugou can’t bring themselves to look anymore—can’t bear to gaze at such intimacy they can never hope to attain. Especially when your cute noises leave a twitch in their pants, a feeling they fail to cast off in shame.

“Todoroki... you made your point, now please let us out of this ice,” Midoriya says through his dry lips. Though the verdant-haired hero knows he could free himself on his own with his strength, if Shouto has anything to say about it, he’d just conjure another pillar of ice as quickly as a snap of a finger to replace the shattered ones. Considering that’s what he’s done to keep the two of them from leaving thus far.

“You can’t be fucking serious about leaving us here, Icy-Hot,” Bakugou adds with far more hostility in his tone as he shoots a glare at the red and white-haired man.

The reminder that the top two Pro Heroes are still present in the same room as you while Shouto trails his large hands at every expanse of bare flesh he can find delivers a jolt of embarrassment throughout your body. Embarrassment that somehow kindles a lick of heat in your abdomen.

“On the contrary, this is only part one of what I have in store for you two tonight,” Shouto says, lips playing on the fine line of a smirk. “In fact, I plan on ingraining in your very minds that my love belongs to me and only me by making you two watch her come undone on my cock.”

There’s disbelief throughout the room, trying to comprehend the lengths behind his words.

“W-Wait, are we really doing this in front of them?” you sputter.

“If you’re that uncomfortable about this love, then I’ll simply leave them in this room and fuck you in the next one so they can at least hear every little thing I’m doing to you,” he offers, tone descending multiple steps that rack shivers down your skin as he circles your body, standing chest to your back.

“But having an audience entices you, doesn’t it? After all, look at how wet you are.” He hooks an arm below your leg, lifting it slightly so his free hand can slip into your panties beneath your skirt, no longer blocked by your thighs clenching together. You find yourself winding an arm behind his neck to keep balance. Your eyes shut tight from both mortification and pleasure at how he strokes your slit in front of the two heroes. Sure enough, there’s an abundant amount of slick gathered at your center, the shameful squelching at your throbbing cunt not eluding anyone’s ears in the room.

“Mmm, already such a drenched fucking mess. It’s like the fact that all three of us lust for you makes you even wetter,” he whispers into your ear like a red-winged devil professing your sins to you—sins you should feel disgraceful for, yet you can’t help the exhilaration simmering in your chest. After all, having three powerful, attractive men vying for your attention is nothing short of every girl’s dream. To deny the effects this has on your body would only add dishonesty to your list of sins. Shouto takes your silence as confirmation.

Parting from your panties, he reveals his fingers coated in your shiny essence to everyone in the room. Bakugou and Midoriya water at the sight, groans stifled under their breaths as the many nights of dreaming about how sweet you taste come back to hit them all at once. The saccharine dripping between your thighs is so close, and yet so far as Shouto remains firm on his word about keeping them bound throughout his show of dominance.

Though driven in such compromising circumstances, the two Pro Heroes can’t find it within themselves to tear their eyes away from you. Perhaps in actuality, a deep, dark longing inside them secretly confesses to wanting to watch you unravel amidst the throes of pleasure, even if your undoing is due to someone that isn’t them.

“What a naughty slut you are, admitting you get off at the thought of more than one man wanting to ravage this body of yours.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear, heightening your mortification and the ever-growing wetness at your center.

“However, I’m all you need, isn’t that right, sweetheart? I’m the only man that can reduce you to this soaked, quivering mess from just my voice alone, and the only one whose cock makes your body shake with pleasure that leaves you sore for days.”

“Yes, Sh-Shouto…” you airily whimper in reply.

Shouto’s index finger presses against your trembling bottom lip, slightly smearing your slick on its plushness before he cups your face to stare directly at Bakugou and Midoriya.

“Go on then. Tell the Number One and Number Two Pro Heroes who you belong to,” he commands lowly in your ear. Before you can speak, heat ignites in your cheeks. You glance down and take note of the prominent bulges within the two’s tight clothing, their cocks positively aching to break free from the confines. The fact that the two seem to be getting off on the sight of you manhandled by Shouto is something to acknowledge.

“I… I belong to you…” Your voice wanes.

“Who? Be more specific, baby.”

“I belong to the Number Three hero, Todoroki Shouto,” you say, more clearly this time. The response is sufficient enough to satisfy the man behind you, who turns your head so your lips can connect in a passion of teeth and tongue dancing together that leaves your lungs gasping for air, detaching with ragged breaths. While you’re recovering, Shouto tugs you closer by your chin, pressing your foreheads against each other, where you gander into the depths of his gray and turquoise eyes swimming with lust.

“That’s right, and no one else is going to fuck you like I am tonight.” He sneaks a side-glance at his fellow heroes. “They can only watch as I drive my cock into your pussy over and over again, wishing they were me.”

Midoriya remains silent, letting his troubled expression speak for him, blush persisting on his face. Bakugou, on the other hand, decides to spit a few words out.

“Fuck. You.”

Make that only two words. Still, the venom dripping off each one gets his point across, in that he’s absolutely livid. But sadly for him, it has no effect on the calm and collected Todoroki Shouto.

Taking you by the hand, he leads you to the futon, sprawled out flat for your small audience to behold the entirety of your fucking tonight. Shouto kisses the back of your hand before leaving you to continue standing. He settles himself on the sheets with his arms propped behind him to view up at you as you obediently wait for his orders.

“Well, love, you know what to do. Take off some clothes for me,” he says gruffly. You oblige, slowly peeling off layers. Your skirt piles into a heap on the floor at undoing the zipper holding it in place, quickly followed by the blouse tossed over your head which leaves the remaining clothing on your body your mismatched lingerie. The dainty, silk intimates are the only thing separating you from being fully exposed to everyone.

Even given a sparing view of you from behind, Midoriya and Bakugou readily eat you up. If they somehow haven’t been undressing you with their eyes before this, then they certainly are now. Bakugou zeroes in on your pert ass, emphasized by your panties, and itches to grasp its softness in his own palms, desiring to squeeze, rub, and spank till his heart’s content.

Contrarily, Midoriya has his sights set on the clasp of your bra. What he wouldn’t give to unfasten it from your body and have the article of clothing slip off your skin, putting your beautiful breasts on display, nipples likely stiff and begging for the attention of his fingers and mouth.

It’s unfortunate for them that no such fantasies will come true tonight. After all, you don’t belong to them. You belong to Shouto.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, you rub your thighs together to create some friction between your lower lips, trying to subside the throb growing in your belly. But you can only endure for so long when Shouto is staring at you with such scalding intensity. You’re struggling to hold onto the remnants of your dignity before it’s stripped away from you at the next command.

“Baby, you’re gorgeous, but,” Shouto hums, admiring the view for a second longer before cutting to the chase, “I want it all off.”

Not wasting any time, your thumbs hook under the waistband of the silk, quickly casting the panties to join the pile below your feet. The way your web-like slick connects your folds to the material before breaking off as your panties reach the ground does not go unnoticed. Your bra, of course, is the next to be discarded—unhooked and tossed, unveiling your tits to the chilly air.

Defenses torn down, you stand bare and exposed to all eyes in the room. You don’t miss the glint flitting in the mismatch of Shouto’s eyes, staring at you like he’s uncovered a beautiful pearl beneath the ocean. Though this is far from your first time engaging in your sexual desires with him, you always fall prey to that carnal look of his, which seemed even more lecherous tonight. He runs a finger on his lips pulled into a seductive smile, eyes piqued at your naked form.

Prickles of arousal travel down your spine. You can’t discern whether it’s the very thought of your vulnerability or the fiery looks you swear are piercing into you at every angle that has you tingling with anticipation.

Either way, such spark coursing through your veins drives you into Shouto’s waiting arms as he beckons you to him. He welcomes you onto his lap, allowing your thighs purchase next to his own while his large hands grope at your soft skin. It isn’t long until your lips meet again, Shouto coaxing—no—prying them open with his tongue as it finds yours, brushing the underside and chasing with zeal. His roughness has you at a loss for words, quite literally as all you can respond with are the airy moans leaking out between each fervent lip-lock. When Shouto grabs at one of your mounds, index finger circling your perky nipple, you let out a surprised squeak.

Your two bystanders’ dicks stutter in response at the noises, having absolutely nothing to do but watch and listen in envy. Every time they hear such a sweet succession of sounds from you, they fidget in their positions, attempting to pathetically generate some pressure against their clothes to alleviate the pain in their cocks.

Shouto does not miss the way they struggle within his periphery, smirking at their pitiful attempts to find any form of relief. At this, a sly thought flickers in his head.

With his hands on your hips, he guides your body further against his own. You find your knees supporting you up while your upper body leans over Shouto, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you steady. The position he’s led you in doesn’t grant you many options, besides obliging to be pliant in his hands.

Peeking over your shoulder, you flush with heat when you realize your ass is perked in the direction toward Midoriya and Bakugou. The troubling thoughts of whether you should feel flustered or flattered by their mesmerized state at how spread you are, hovering above Shouto’s lap, is ripped away when the Pro Hero begins cascading his hands across your skin. His palms waver back and forth within the boundaries of your ass and thighs, every now and then squeezing your warm flesh during his crossings between the two.

“Mmm, Sho…” you whine, the palpable neediness in your voice begging for him to touch your throbbing center already. Bakugou and Midoriya wish for the same, tormented by how slow he decides to take his caressing. If it were up to them, they’d already be tongue deep in your pussy already, perhaps even bottoming their cocks inside your walls, considering how soaked you must be. But no, Shouto wants this night to last. And he’s going to set the pace however he sees fit.

One of Shouto’s hands creeps beneath your leg to maneuver them further apart before his palms find their place at the underside of your poised ass. A short sigh floats amid your parted lips at how he spreads your cheeks, exposing your cunt freely to the two. You hear a groan, followed by an obscene “fuck…” that has you wondering what the view must be like from their perspective to render them so awestruck.

And man, if only you could see your pretty little cunt—wet, glistening, and fluttering on nothing, pleading for stimulation. Stimulation that Shouto grants sparingly as his middle and ring finger suddenly prod your slit, tearing a surprised gasp from your mouth while you toss your head backward.

Your slippery pussy coats his fingers in an opalescent sheen. He hums at the debauched image of your body yearning his touch. “Such a slutty, needy pussy… So messy, even though I haven’t even taken my clothes off yet.” Shouto takes the sullied fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue at your delectable taste abiding his digits. It’s obscene how he makes a show of drinking up the honey from your thighs to taunt Midoriya and Bakugou, groaning between licks like it’s the one thing keeping him sustained. Well, then again, Shouto could probably survive on your essence for days if he tried, considering his favorite places to be is between your thighs anyway.

Head tilting in the direction behind you, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the two licking their lips while the other swallowed a large, heavy gulp. Before you can question it further, Shouto’s words resume ringing in your ear.

“It’s all for me right, love?” he asks as though he doesn’t already know the answer.

Your body quivers as he dives down to continue prodding your cunt before you can even respond properly. “Y-Yes, it’s just for you, Sho— Ah..!” You try your best to muster the words out. But his fingers give you no moment to spare. A jolt of pleasure spikes through your body as he reaches your clit, leaving your voice hanging in the air.

“Unnf... f-fuck...”

Shouto is relentless this time, attending to your bundled nerves at an excruciating rhythm that has you swaying your hips into his hands. Then all coherent thoughts are whisked away when you feel two fingers penetrating your sloppy pussy, thrusting into places you could never reach on your own, and prepping your walls for what’s to come.

“Baby, you take my fingers so well, you’re practically sucking them in,” he praises, reveling in the way you writhe in pleasure at him playing with your cunt. Whining, your legs move further apart involuntarily, allowing him deeper access.

You shake amid his ministrations, teeth pulling at your bottom lip at every sultry sensation rushing through your body. Wrinkling the fabric of his white shirt, your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails sinking deeper into clothed skin when you feel that familiar ache boiling in your abdomen.

“Your thighs are trembling just trying to hold you up. Going to cum soon, love?” Shouto asks. He chuckles at how vigorously you nod your head next to him, knowing your voice would fail you by the moans threatening to unravel precariously from your lips.

“Good, I want you to fucking scream. Show them how well you can cum from my fingers alone, yeah?” he murmurs beside your ear, not giving you much warning than that before suddenly increasing his movements on your cunt.

“Ah, Sho..! Sho!”

There’s nothing for you to do other than to chant his name over and over again like a mantra. You squeeze your fingers into his skin to make sure you don’t end up dissolving in his hands from the fire flaring inside you, threatening to melt you entirely.

And he loves every bit of the needy noises you make. Knowing it’s his name that echoes in the room around them, resounding in the very minds of his rivals who witness firsthand the way you scream out amidst the throes of pleasure—the scene better than any imagination of theirs they’ve conjured in their delusional fantasies—feeds Shouto’s ego deliciously.

The strained gasp you choke out when his lips make contact on your jawline has him smiling against you, the kisses he plants there blooming loving blemishes on your skin. You struggle to keep yourself together from all the sensations storming you at once. There’s something euphoric yet… foreign coursing through your body that you can’t discern, and you’re half-worried of what’s to happen when you reach your imminent release.

“Sh-Sho, wait..! Oh god, I’m gonna—!” you warn, but that only compels Shouto to speed up his pace in a last push for you to cum. From his bruising bites to his fingers methodically working you with skilled ease, it isn’t long until your escalating high peaks into intangible relief.

And god, the throb feels almost uncomfortable but so blissful at the same time.

The pressure builds up to an intense climax that has your walls clamping around his fingers, and your thighs shaking beside him while you yell out Shouto’s name. Holding you through every step of the way, his fingers steady inside you as you convulse around them. The ones at your clit continue rubbing your sensitive, swollen bud throughout your release to widen the intensity.

As your whole body trembles at the haze-induced orgasm, you lean against the hero for support.

“Ohhh baby...” His purrs rumble deep within his chest, an extra lick of delight in his tone. Your eyes are shut while you stumble down from your rapturous high, whimpering when Sho removes his fingers from your pulsating pussy.

“D-Did she just..?!” Midoriya questions incredulously, to your surprise.

“Fuck! I can’t believe she fucking squirted!” Bakugou follows.

At that, your eyes shoot open. You muster the energy to lift your body off Shouto’s lap and reveal to yourself the evident damp spot left on his pants from what you very much have to assume is a result of you gushing your release on him.

Trepidation creeps underneath your skin, swallowing you in mortification.

You really did that.

Squirted in front of the top three Pro Heroes in the country, making a mess on Sho’s pants with your flowing, translucent cum. The very reminder of it spouts your head with your overthinking.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to— I-I mean... I didn’t think I was ever a squirter. It’s just—”

“Love.”

A single word is enough to dispel your ramblings. You look up at Shouto like a deer caught in headlights, expression harrowed by apprehension. At that, he holds your shoulders, pulling you forward so he can press a reassuring kiss against your forehead. The tender gesture numbs the uneasy static racking through you, moving away to glimpse at the endearment hidden within the smoldering fog swirling in Shouto’s eyes.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures through hushed words he embeds unto your skin, hands warmly running down your sides. “Besides, you squirting on my fingers was so so sexy.” His seductive allure returns almost as quickly as it disappeared amidst his soothing tone. His touches and the extra flair in his voice makes you hot all over again despite just cumming.

“I must have made you feel incredibly good, getting you to cum so hard like that. Even giving those two over there a show. Just look at them...” Shouto whispers closely, nudging you in the direction of your onlookers whose reddening faces visibly recoil when your eyes cross. It’s as if they’ve gandered into the abyss—anxious at what’s to come yet can’t seem to look away. You flutter between their expressions, gauging their blushes and furrowed brows, before lowering your gaze at the prominent stain on the crotch of their pants, pre-cum seeping at the surface due to the arousal built watching you ruined on Shouto’s very fingers.

A part of you wonders how pent up they must be. Your curiosity dances upon lewd thoughts about how stiff their cocks are and how their lengths would look freed from the constricting clothing. Veiny, hard, and painfully red all because of you. All because of what Shouto is doing to you.

It evokes you with a newfound surge of confidence, finding solace in your sea of uncertainty. And coupled with Shouto’s loving demeanor, you don’t seem to remember what you were ever so self-conscious about to begin with.

“Look at how depraved these sad men are.” Shouto clicks his tongue, a voice in his head confirming of what he already long knew. Deep down, he at least assures himself that his former classmates are aware of their place. In which they’re only allowed to look—not touch—and if they so much as plunge into forbidden territory, he’d rise above the waters to bite their heads off. He recognizes this from just a simple inspection of their faces.

Deterring after hearing Shouto’s words, Midoriya’s eyes cast downward to the floor, brows softened with hurt. His expression is burdened upon not only stigma but guilt, lusting after a woman that isn’t even his while allowing the absurd thought he could steal you away from the fire-and-ice hero to ever cross his mind.

Meanwhile, the blonde mulls over in defeat more so than shame. Although never one to yield from a fight, Bakugou had long realized this battle was over before it even began. You were deftly out of his reach. All he can settle for now is the afterimage of your undoing played back in his head, the recording surrounded by a thick cloud of envy.

Shouto reads their compliance clearly—a wordless surrender witnessing your aftermath of pleasure. As a result, a grin surfaces his lips. Unfortunately for them, the sly devil latent inside him is far satiated. Perhaps it’s time to move onto the next course.

His fingers brush along the underside of your chin, leading your half-lidded eyes to him.

“Baby,” he says, and the way he calls to you in that low baritone makes you receptive to his every word, “why don’t you go over there and help our guests get their cocks out of their pants, hm?” You nod slowly, half-wondering if he read your mind during your indecent contemplation. Shouto kisses the corner of your lip before you stand from the futon and saunter toward the two pillars of ice resting in the room.

Your steps are slow and languid, the consistent sway of your hips hypnotizing to both sides. Reaching the two, you lower to your knees, bending forward and offering Shouto a view of your exposed cunt that still drips of your essence. He bites his lip, palming his bulge through his pants until he begins freeing himself of the unnecessary clothing that would have been discarded by now if he wasn’t so absorbed in your climax.

In the meantime, you kneel in front of the top two Pro Heroes, mooning over who to approach first until your red and white-haired boyfriend answers for you.

“Midoriya first. And then Bakugou.”

You can practically feel the fire lighting inside Bakugou at the command, knowing Icy-Hot gives the order in favor of Midoriya just to get under his skin. You do well to ignore his malice by crawling over to the green-haired hero, hovering above his bound form, and meeting his emerald eyes that are wide and fixated on your every move.

The proximity between you two has the air trapped in his lungs. He holds his breath out of fear that if he lets go, you’d vanish into a mirage. But his throat hitches the very moment your fingers trace up the fabric of his pants, disembarking across his thighs and toward his painful erection that twinges at your touch. It’s fortunate enough for him that you don’t disappear and that the sultry look you give him as you drag the zipper of his pants down isn’t a figment of his imagination. You catch a glimpse of his briefs, along with the head of his dick peeking above the waistband, still strained by a single layer of fabric.

Midoriya swears he can cum right then and there when you lightly palm his hardness—the first relieving sensation he’s felt all night before it’s surmounted by you tugging down the waistband. Cock released from its confines, it jumps forward out of excitement before slapping back against his navel. Midoriya hisses at being open to the air, his feverish skin stinging surrounded by the coldness throughout the room.

As you predicted, the Number One’s cock stands stout and protruding red at being neglected for so long. It begs to be touched.

“P-Please…” The whisper is almost inaudible, but you discern the desperation in his tone.

Midoriya’s pleading expression staring down at you nearly sways you to grant pity on him, but you know you’re given no position to do that. So sadly, you move on. The hero laments you leaving so soon, a whine quietly squeaking from him, left with nothing but his length stiff on his abs as you make your way to Kacchan.

Unlike the former, the blonde actually makes an effort to free himself one last time, a struggle you pick up on when you near him. He’s gritting his teeth together, heat slowly radiating off his body stoked by his anger. Yet that somehow all dissipates at a simple glance of your face. There’s a glassiness in your eyes that renders him silent.

His narrowed stare wanders toward your plush lips, looking so damn soft and kissable. If only he could muster the willpower to break free and move forward to capture them in his own, seal them tight so he wouldn’t have to hear Icy-Hot’s name spilling out of them anymore. But your steady gaze on him freezes him into the ice, halting his motions as if you were medusa. He hears nothing but his racing heart palpitating in his chest as he waits for you to make a move.

“Hm, Bakugou’s been a bit of a brat tonight, wouldn’t you say, love? How about you tease him a bit?” Shouto suggests mischievously.

Turning in his direction, you see him sitting on the bedding, naked and stroking his cock listlessly as he waits for you. The sight encourages you back to Bakugou’s erection to finish the task you started, thighs shuffling against each other at a glimpse of your prize between the Number Three hero’s legs.

As if you couldn’t get anymore seductive, you adjust yourself right between the blonde’s spread form, carelessly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you bend forward, back arching. Bakugou has no idea what he’s in for, fearing for the worst knowing you plan to tease him. He starts muttering a question that never reaches your ear, the words splintering off when he deftly realizes you’re pulling his pant’s zipper between your fucking teeth. Making sure never to break eye contact with him, you drag the metal down at an excruciating pace, each tooth of the zipper undone so slowly it’s practically torture to him.

“Shit... Y/n…” he groans wantonly as you reach the end of your destination. After being contained all this time, it seems his cock wants to come out with a vengeance. You gasp when it suddenly springs past his briefs, nearly making contact against your cheek.

Bakugou sputters an filthy amount of curses, finding the image of you wincing in shock and glancing up at his thick cock towering next to your face with the tip oozing of his pre-cum to be utterly pornographic. Well if this is truly reminiscent of a porn scene, you’d be wrapping your hands around the base of his cock by now, fisting it before delightfully enveloping the tip in your hot mouth. But the call of your name behind you cracks that fantasy into pieces.

To his dismay, your attention swerves from the embossed vein lining Bakugou’s dick to Shouto’s muscular body, idle on the futon, where he gestures a finger at you. You return to your usual place atop his lap, except this time there’s no longer any barrier of fabric to prevent you two from feeling each other’s heat.

Shouto grazes his hands on your back, humming into your neck. “Well, baby, you saw how hard their cocks were. How does it feel to have the top three pros all craving you at once?”

You pause amidst your reply, the little kisses he brushes on your jugular serving to distract you for a moment. You have to ask yourself if your boyfriend is throwing a trick question at you. Giving it some thought, you decide to tackle it honestly.

“It feels... pretty good,” you murmur, a tad squeamish while he maps the expanse of your neck with his lips. It’s an answer he anticipates according to the next question he follows up.

“But of all the cocks in this room, whose do you want the most?”

“Yours, Sho.” Compared to before, your answer is given promptly. Shouto grins at how eager you are for him. “Only yours.” You affirm one last time, effectively hammering a nail into Midoriya and Bakugou’s chests. Shouto’s hands traverse your waist, then to your thighs, giving your flesh a solid squeeze.

“That’s right, you’re my fucking cock slut and no one else’s.” You almost choke when he lurches forward to grind his erection against your wet core, emphasizing your innate effect on him. Whimpering at the slippery friction of his hardness on your swollen clit, you find yourself moving in tandem with his motions.

“My my, still that needy even after you already squirted all over my fingers? Your pussy is just so so greedy for me, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes... F-Fuck, Sho, please let me put your cock inside me. I want to cum on your cock so much!” you plead, voice rising at every insufficient jerk of your hips. It isn’t enough to just rub your sensitive little pearl against it. You need the thing inside you since yesterday, and you’re more than willing to throw your last fragment of modesty out the window to get it.

Luckily for you, your neediness seems to work in your favor as Shouto has no objections at granting you your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, baby. I told you I’d be driving my cock in and out of you in front of them, didn’t I?” He runs his fingers on the edge of your cheek, admiring the cute desperation readable over your features—eyes glazed, skin hot, and cunt positively dripping. “Of course, I intend to keep that promise. But first…” He lays you two into his favored position, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his thighs. He peers up at you while nestled back on the sheets.

“I suppose since I forced them here, the least we can do is continue giving them something to remember. It is going to be the first and last night they’ll see you like this anyway,” he reasons. The two mentioned pique hearing the statement. You yourself grow considerably hotter, realizing he’s angled you in a way that grants your audience another enticing view of your body above him.

“Well, princess, why don’t you start riding your stallion then?” Shouto incites his request as more of a command than anything else, and you begin earnestly catering to him by lifting your hips. You align his length toward your entrance. His calloused hands spread on your thighs at the anticipation of watching the head of his cock enter your wet heat.

“Ooooh yeah, keep going baby, take it all in,” he encourages through purrs reverberating in his throat. With each inch you swallow between your folds, his expression knits into pure bliss, brows narrowed at how well your tight pussy hugs his cock. He looks up and catches you slowly unraveling before his eyes. You strain to keep yourself together, eyes shut in pleasure at the delicious burn swelling in your stomach.

There’s a stifled noise parting your mouth that hangs open as you gradually envelop him to the shaft. Shouto’s thick cock slowly bottoms inside your walls and makes you feel so complete. While he lets you adjust to his sizable girth, his palms grope your skin, soothing the tense burn churning inside you.

“Mmph…” you whine, hands trying to find some leverage, laying flat on his abs. You give yourself a second, followed by another until the short pain you feel morphs into a delectable buzz.

“I… I’m going to move now, Sho,” you tell him before flitting up and down his long length, progressing tentatively. His heterochromatic eyes are dark and murky, watching his cock glisten in more of your sheen while you glide it into your pussy at a steady tempo. You make sure to take everything offered to you to the fullest, from the tip to base where his balls brush the underside of your ass. Shouto is more than endowed and you don’t ever plan on taking any part of his gift for granted.

“Mm, even after I prepped you, you’re still so tight for me,” Shouto groans, your cunt rippling waves in his body. Despite being consumed in your ministrations, you have to note how sinful he looks below you, sweat shining on his skin and tufts of red and white hair sticking to his forehead. It’s hard to believe a man as handsome as him could be so possessive with you, going through such lengths to prove to his rivals that you only belong to him. But man, do you find it to be hot. The notion once again has your cunt clenching considerably.

“It’s because—ah—you’re so th-thick,” you tell him, and in turn, he gives you a devilish smirk that adds fuel to the fire lighting in your abdomen. Before you can conjure another thought, he suddenly thrusts his hips up to meet yours, reaching a particular spongy spot that causes you to cry out.

“Why don’t we increase the pace then? Ride me faster, love. I want you to cum hard on my cock in front of them.”

Oh boy, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You swiftly nod, gathering some ardor in your thighs that helps you bounce more fervently on top of him. What was once subtle claps chiming in the room escalates into a concert of skins slapping against each other. Gripping your hips, Shouto meets every heavy drop with a firm thrust upward, continuing to reach the same place that induces heaven across your entire body.

Your moans are uncontained now, flittering out at how good Shouto’s cock is making you feel. The sounds are beyond intoxicating to him, like a midnight song he could get drunk on and gladly switch to repeat.

Every slam into your spread pussy steals your words away while reducing him to hissing between his teeth, your folds enshrouding him with unimaginable euphoria that has his onlookers glaring in envy.

The sight is one that Midoriya and Bakugou will surely replay throughout their wistful days after tonight. Your breasts swaying in time with your sloppy movements is a marvel to gawk at as the two implant your glazed body bouncing atop Shouto into their memories, their deluded imaginations going to work at inserting themselves into the fray.

Your hips plunging in sync at each surge of Sho’s cock has stars twinkling across your bleary vision, eyes rolling in the back of your skull. His cock penetrates you in ways no one else could, brimming your body with sublime rapture that you relay honestly in your wails.

“Fuck, you feel so good—” Shouto mutters his praises. He effortlessly keeps up his drilling and angles himself perfectly so the tip reaches your erogenous zone throughout. His hands are digging so deep into your skin, you have no doubt your hips will be daubed purple by the end of the night.

Sweat thoroughly coating his body, his aggressive rutting into your velvet walls has his cock twitching inside you. He recognizes you’re nearing your climax as well when you slowly grip him like a vise. “Gonna milk me, love? Squeeze all the cum out of me and into that slutty pussy of yours?” He asks the question through grunts he spits between his teeth, the sounds coming out on the cusp of feral growls. He’s amused by how your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you try to form any kind of response. The rampant motions make it hard for you to grasp any sense of reality other than the sensations that collide your nerves.

“Y-yes, yes! I’m so close, Sho— Please—!” The moment you have a hand on your wheel of cognition, you start begging like it’s second nature, uncaring of the other two in the room as tears dot the edges of your lashes for relief. And how is Shouto to deny you when you’re playing such a lewd act?

“Need it so bad, n-need to cum— Ah—!”

In the very next second, your body dives to where your back forcibly lands snug on the futon, choking your words to a startling puff. Shouto shadows over you, leering down like he’s sizing his prey one last time before going in for the kill.

“Hm, since you’re begging so nicely for me, I’ll gladly help you reach your bliss, baby,” he says, tongue running along his bottom lip before he resumes driving into your pussy.

He hooks his hands beneath your knees to spread you apart further, giving his cock no repercussions on pistoning forward at unbridled speeds. Your fingers delve into the sheets, gripping the cloth like it’s your lifeline. You feel your lower body slightly lifting off the bedding due to Shouto wanting you two impossibly closer, cock thundering against you.

What you’ve yet to realize—trapped within your tornado of ecstasy—is your spectators freeing themselves from the ice, glaciers reduced to pieces at their powers. The whole exhibition had been too much for them to handle, quite literally snapping their restraints. Their clothes are gone within a flash, articles of them thrown half-hazardly on the floor. It leaves nothing to stop them from finally granting some form of bliss on their neglected cocks, fisting their lengths in conjunction with your symphony of moans.

That aside, they don’t matter to you at this moment. All you have eyes for is the man above you, whose heterochromatic gaze returns your shared adoration with equal fervor, if not more so.

“Well, love, you wanna cum, right? Then you know what to do,” Shouto grunts, lowering his torso so he can close a bit of the distance between your faces, “Tell me, who’s making you feel this fucking good right now?”

Brain a scrambled mess, you’re thankful the answer you scrounge for is a simple one.

“You, Shouto! Unnf, it’s your cock that’s making me feel good!” you exclaim, your back bowing off the bed when you perceive the coil tight in your abdomen nearly about to break. Your wanton reply has him sending his satisfaction back tenfold into you through the expert rocking of his hips.

“Yesyesyes, oh fuck— Y/n, cum all over my cock! Let go, baby!”

You scream the moment the order is given, Shouto slamming into your g-spot the impetus you need to come undone in violent spasms. Firecrackers spark beneath your skin at the ecstasy hitting your every nerve. Seeing you reach the apex of your high—eyes lidded and limbs trembling as you throw your entire body into the sheets—encourages Shouto toward his release, pumping himself in and out of your fluttering walls.

“Fuck! Y/n!” he pants raggedly before snapping his hips in place, dick twitching inside you. A gasp rips your throat as you feel his thick ribbons of white cum fill you to the brim. Shouto remains inside you for a good minute longer, hovering over your sluggish, sweaty body to seize your lips in his while you two slowly descend from heaven. You move sweetly and slowly against him, savoring the moment in the presence of his tender loving.

Meanwhile, Midoriya and Bakugou have already blown their loads all over themselves, creamy spurts painting their skin. They lean back to find their groundings, unable to even speak after what was surely an excruciating event for them both.

You’re still unsure how to go about confronting the aftermath of it all, deciding to only imbed your eyes onto Shouto due to the embarrassment that starts simmering in your mind now that you’ve come down from your highs. Your fingers rise to swipe a few stray strains of damp red-and-white hair off your boyfriend’s forehead, murmuring something kept between the two of you.

“Going through all of this just because you were jealous? You sure are insatiable, Sho.”

He chuckles at the jest behind your words, giving the other Pro Heroes a once over before he comes back to you with a satisfied grin plastered on his face, making you question whether his devilish tendencies have truly left him after tonight.

“What can I say? I guess I just want to monopolize you, baby.”

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part VI

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader, Zeke Yeager x fem!reader wc: ~ 11.2k

Warnings:  explicit sexual content, ass play, jealousy, possessive behavior, humiliation, manipulation, OC introduced (read A/N), non-con coming inside, fighting, miscommunication A/N: As I was writing this, I decided to bring original female characters in to play the “bad guys” because I didn’t wanna demonize the canon AoT girls. Just didn’t feel right. So, everyone, meet Rhi. Enjoy~

Mike is extremely fucking aware of you sitting a foot away from him on his couch. You're hunched over and whining about him beating you in Mario Kart again, and honestly, he doesn't know how he's doing it because he is so not focused on the game. 

 You came to the party in tight jeans and a sparkling top, and all Mike can think about is getting you out of them, spreading you out underneath him just like he used to. 

 But, he's not gonna say anything about it, not even gonna allude to it because he feels awful about pushing so hard at the Pike house. He never thought he'd be that type of guy, but he's been known to go a little off the rails when it comes to you. 

 "Have you ever played this with all banana peels?" Mike asks, trying to get his mind off of the heat he thinks he's radiating. 

 "What?" 

 "Like, you set it so all the items are bananas."

 Your eyebrows raise. "That sounds nightmarish."

 "Oh, it is," he agrees. "But you should experience the chaos at least once."

 "Alright, fine. Nanner me up, then." Mike snorts as you sit back against the cushions, examining the Switch controller in your hand and mumbling, "Could they have made these any smaller? My hands are too big. How are you even playing?" 

 "Practice. We played a lot of Don't Drink and Drive my sophomore year."

 He toggles to change the settings, and you both pick characters again. Mike selects Baby Park and grins too widely when you squeak. 

 "This is the worst possible—"

 "It's the best possible track," he corrects you. 

 The next minute or so is spent with Mike swearing and you screeching, but a melody of giggles can be heard in between. 

 He stands up like it'll help him focus, and you follow suit, bouncing and leaning forward until Mike thinks you might lose your balance. It's the only match you actually beat him at, and you raise your arms in victory, acting like the terrible winner you are. You dance and poke him in the chest so that Mike rolls his eyes and shoves you with just enough force (so, not a lot) to make you fall back onto the couch. 

 "Wow, rude!" You exclaim with a little pout.

 Mike stands next to you, a little too close as a retort forms on the tip of his tongue, but the angle is awkward, and he watches your eyes flit from his face to his waist (or what's a little below it) for just a split second, just long enough for him to notice, and he has to fight a smirk as you meet his eyes again. 

 He can imagine your cheeks are feeling pretty warm right now, but Mike doesn't say anything about it, just takes his place beside you. If he's sitting a little closer than before, neither of you mention it. 

 It's nearing one in the morning, and both of you are starting to feel it, eyes and hands too slow to keep playing the video game, so you switch to a movie. Mike doesn't think much of it when he lays down, legs hanging over the armrest, head in your lap. You tense for about two seconds before relaxing into the position you both know so well. 

 The first Jurassic Park plays from the TV, but Mike isn't paying any attention, too busy watching the way you're nibbling on your bottom lip. It's your thinking face, means you're lost in your own brain, just as far away from the film as he is. 

 It's stupid that you're both fighting this. Mike doesn't understand. If he wants it, and you want it, what the fuck is standing in the way? Zeke? That pretentious, clay-stained fuck? You don't even fit well together. In any way. He's too arrogant and philosophical (or so Erwin says). He probably doesn't appreciate your sense of humor (or so Mike says). And, he won't fuck you (so you say). How are you happy with him? 

 "Miche," your voice is quiet, but still loud enough to send a shiver down Mike's spine. 

 "Hm?"

 "Stop staring at my mouth."

 "You looked at my dick earlier."

 "Shut up, no I didn't."

 Mike laughs, turns his head to bury it in your stomach, and you start carding fingers through his hair. It's natural with the two of you. Nothing is forced. It took a while to get back into the groove of your friendship, but now you're here, and Mike is breathing in the smell of your perfume and fabric softener and you, and he wants so badly to just raise your shirt and plant kisses all over your soft skin. 

 Your body rises and falls with a deep breath. Your hand stops at the crown of his head. Then, you whisper the words he wants to hear most: "Just one more night?" 

 Mike sits up so fast, he nearly smacks into your chin with his forehead. He turns to face you again, eyes too round, voice too hopeful as he assures, "Just one more night."

 He knows the only reason you're considering this is because Zeke has you all wound up, but that's okay. Mike will take care of you. He'll scratch that itch and then some—remind you of what you're missing. 

 "Alright, yeah, I—"

 Mike is suddenly standing and taking your hand, leading you to his bedroom as the Jurassic Park theme plays you both out. 

 He knows you'll want to snoop—it's sort of your thing—but he doesn't give you time as he bends and catches you in a kiss, hands holding your face, tilting your head. He feels you curl your fingers into his shirt, using him for leverage as you balance on your tiptoes, and he lets you dance like that for a little while, desperate little ballerina as you open your mouth for him, but as soon as he feels your tongue against his, Mike lifts you clean off the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist, no need for straining muscles now as you both lick and suck and hold on to each other too tightly. 

 Mike paces over to the bed, nearly tripping over the shoes he left in the middle of his room earlier that day, but he’s able to drop you onto the mattress and catch himself above you before any real damage can be done. 

 You laugh out a, “Real smooth, Zacharias,” that he ignores in favor of taking his shirt off. 

 He can’t see well in the darkness which just will not do as you begin stripping, but then he remembers, “Oh,” and leans over you to plug in the string of lights he somehow managed to hang around the flag pinned above his headboard. “Ambience.”

 You crane to look at them, suck your teeth, and say, “Let me guess. Erwin told you to do it.”

 “How’d you know?”

 Another little giggle as you tuck a few strands of hair behind his ear—“Because Erwin is the fairy lights type of motherfucker, but you…” You don’t finish that thought, just shake your head and tell him, “They’re cute. I like ‘em.”

 Mike hums, “Good,” then leans down for another kiss. Several more, actually. 

 He’s missed this so fucking much, the way you taste on his tongue, the way you sigh into him, the way your body moves beneath his. It hurts to think this will be the last time he gets to experience it with you, but he plans to savor every second, never let himself forget and, hopefully, make sure you never forget either. 

 Cheesy or not, the lights cast incredible shadows on your body once it's bared to him. Your silhouette is something he could stare at for hours, days, a lifetime. If he were even slightly artistically inclined, he’d probably try to paint it, but as that’s not the case…

 Starting at your jawline, Mike leaves a trail of little bites, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp. When he reaches your neck, though, he begins sucking, dragging his teeth over new-forming bruises so that you whimper and arch to press your chest to his. He moves slowly, barely even registering your breathy pleas as he holds a patch of skin captive between his incisors and laves over it. 

 A mark on your neck. One on the swell of your breast then on the side of the other. The space between two ribs. Just above your naval. The hollow of your hip bone. And, finally, the insides of both thighs. 

 Last time he did this, on the bed in your old room doused in moonlight, he wasn't trying to be possessive. 

 Tonight he is. 

 “M-Miche, please.” Your voice is catching as if you’re crying—as if Mike is torturing you. He supposes he is. You’re ready for relief, and all he’s doing is winding you tighter and tighter. It’s okay, baby, he thinks to himself, I’ll make it worth it. 

 Swiping his tongue between your folds, Mike groans at how wet you are. He almost feels sorry for you. Now, he’s gonna have to spend even more time drinking you in. 

 You throw your legs over his shoulders with no prompting, letting him sink further into you. Mike licks in long, deep strokes that make your thighs tremble and jump around his head. He sucks your clit into his mouth, slick and swollen against his tongue, and makes sure to move his face just enough to make a mess of the hair on his chin. 

 You’re begging again. For something. For nothing. He isn’t quite sure. But, when Mike moves to lick around your dripping hole and uses a finger to flick over your sensitive little bud, you sing for him, and he realizes just how pent up you are. 

 Oh, he can have fun with this. 

 Pausing to suck more bruises onto your thighs, Mike tries to calm himself down, find a way to ignore the throb between his legs, but that doesn’t seem likely judging by the way you just keep trying to spread yourself further and further, like it’ll get him to move faster. 

 He crawls back up your body, face level with yours as he teases your entrance with a finger. You let out the cutest sounds, brow furrowing like you’re focused as you shift your hips in a silent demand that Mike does not follow. 

 His face is slick with you, and he knows you can taste yourself as he forces you into another long kiss. You let out an honest-to-god sob when he pushes his finger inside of you, throwing your head back and clenching around him while praising, “Yes, yes, yes, fuck, tha—thank you.”

 Mike pumps in and out a few times, finds your spot with ease and massages over it until he sees true tears leaking from your eyes. 

 Then, he pulls out, slaps a hand over your cunt, and warns, “Don’t thank me just yet.”

 Your chest heaves as you stare at the ceiling seemingly in shock. Mike raises to his knees and wipes his chin on his shoulder, glances back just in time to see you sit up and attempt to tackle him back on the bed. 

 Mike snorts, catching you by the wrists and leaning in close. “What do you think you’re gonna do?”

 Your eyes are a little wild, lips kiss-swollen, body marked to hell and back from Mike’s mouth. You just can’t get enough, shamelessly cock hungry, and god, he is so glad he's here to witness it. To be a part of it. Maybe he should send Zeke a gift basket, an edible arrangement or something. Thanks for letting me satisfy your girl since you can’t. 

 It takes no effort to lay you back down, just like it takes no effort to flip you over. Mike raises your hips, enjoys the view of you whining into his pillow for a second, then turns his sights to your ass. He gives it a couple spanks, biting his lip at the way it makes you clench your muscles, then spreads your cheeks and spits. 

 “M-Mi—”

 “‘S’okay,” he tells you before letting more of his saliva drip from his mouth and land on your asshole. “Gonna feel good, I promise.”

 He’s never done this with you before, not that he hasn’t wanted to, but he figures if there’s any night to go all out, it’s this one. 

 The first press of his tongue against your hole has you inhaling sharply, and the first press of his fingers into your pussy has you moaning low in your throat. Just like that, you relax for him. Mike works himself inside of you, opening you up until you’re nothing more than a drooling mess on his bed. You allow him to lick inside of you, to take in every exposed part of you as he rubs your g-spot over and over. 

 “Mm, gonna… gonna…” Your words are thick and wet. Mike isn’t even sure you realize that you’re speaking. He knows what you’re trying to say, though, so with a mischievous smile, he removes his face and hand, admiring his handiwork as you drop back to the bed and whine for him. 

 There’s a bottle of listerine in his nightstand, one he only planned on using when he would wake up in the early morning hours with that dead animal taste in his mouth. Turns out, it has more than one use. Mike takes a swig so that you won’t freak out if he tries to kiss you after eating your ass, swishes it around, then swallows. 

 “Not supposed to drink that,” you slur, already looking much too fucked-out for someone who hasn’t even taken his dick yet. 

 “Harmless in small doses, babe,” he tells you, recapping the bottle and tossing it back into the open drawer. “If I just chugged all of it, it’d be a different story.”

 You let out a little scoff, mumble something he can’t hear, then ask a little louder, “You ready to fuck me yet?”

 Mike smirks, pushes you to roll over again, then strokes a thumb over your face. “I am literally always ready to fuck you. Just trying to draw it out tonight.” 

 It makes you pout, but he thinks your eyes clear a little. Like you understand what he’s feeling. When you pull him down for another kiss, much softer than all of the previous, Mike smiles—another little snapshot he’d like to tuck away. 

 Without any warning, he pulls the pillows your head is resting on out from under you, snickering at the grunt that leaves you. He taps a hip, “Lift,” and shoves them underneath when you do. He should probably ask if you want him to wear a condom, but that’s nothing more than an afterthought as Mike begins to push into you. 

 “Ohh, thank god, thank god, thank god,” you pant, and Mike chuckles, dipping a hand down to gently stroke over the tissue stretching around his cock. 

 Every shallows thrust pushes more slick from you, and he can’t help but gather some on his finger and hold it to your mouth. You’re quick to lick it off, but instead of dropping his hand, Mike moves to press a thumb to your chin and hold your mouth open. You stick your tongue out, and he mumbles a low, “Such a slut,” before spitting on it. 

 As soon as you swallow Mike snaps his hips forward and starts a hard, fast rhythm. The way your face splits into a crooked grin almost has him coming on the spot, so fucking pleased with yourself, but he wants to make sure you’re seeing stars by the time he’s finished with you—wants to make sure you can’t even get out of his bed. 

 You're sucking in air through your teeth, little hisses that could be from either pain or pleasure, but the way you keep raising yourself off the pillows to meet Mike halfway is a pretty good indicator of which one it is. 

 While your voice seems muted at the time being, your sloppy little cunt is not—lewd, wet noises echoing through Mike's room as well as his head. That fucking squelch he hears every time he pushes in, the mirroring suck whenever he pulls out… You always get messy with him, or maybe he always makes a mess out of you—either way, it's one of the many things Mike adores about you. You were shy about it maybe the first two fucks but not anymore. Now, you wrap your legs around Mike and pull him closer, claw down his back and try your hardest to fuck yourself on his cock until he's laughing in your ear. 

 "Here, hold on."

 You whimper when he pulls out, but it's only to flop down in his back and let you climb on top. He expects some kind of break, a single second to breathe, but you just sink down on his length and let your head hang back. 

 "Mmygod," you moan, taking him in as far as you can then rocking back and forth. 

 Mike can feel your thighs break out in goosebumps, traces a finger over your arm to find the same effect and hums. Bracing yourself on his chest, you plant your feet on the mattress and bounce like your life depends on it, that drunken smile back in place as Mike coos, "That's it, baby, take what you need." 

 He reaches up to grope your tits, cupping both of them, brushing calloused palms over each nipple. It makes you arch your back and gasp, but the rhythm of your hips doesn't stop. Mike can feel the way your pussy is drooling on him, slick little rivers that add to that filthy, beautiful symphony. He wants to hear it every night on repeat. Most played song of—

 "Oh fuck, oh fuck," you whine, and Mike reaches between your spread legs to press a thumb against your clit, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh as he rubs in tiny circles. 

 You sit and take it for several seconds before your eyes find his, widen, then roll as you start to come. 

 Mike takes over, lifting and lowering you on his cock as you twitch and cry for him. You're so pretty like this, hair out of place, damp with sweat and tears, thighs painted with your own orgasm. He doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want this to be the last time. 

 With your pussy still spasming around him, Mike switches positions again, lays you down like before and situates his head between your legs to idly lick everything that's dripped out of you. Your legs are shaking, kitten-like mewls meeting his ears. You jump whenever he runs his tongue over your clit, but you never move to stop him or swat him away. 

 Mike waits for you to go boneless before scooping you up and sitting on the edge of the bed. You're clumsy and slow as you straddle his lap, letting him slip inside you once more, but it's nowhere near as frantic as before. 

 He guides with gentle hands under your thighs, coaxes you to uncurl them from underneath you and wrap around his waist instead. Chest to chest, you rise and fall together. Mike breathes heavily into your neck as he hits that unforgiving wall inside of you. It makes you wince, but you don't shy away from him. 

 He's careful after that, makes sure everything he does is slow, tender, and when he sees fresh tears shining in your eyelashes, he knows it isn't from anything he's doing to you. 

 Mike is able to suck a few more bruises onto your neck and shoulders before he feels you nose at his cheek. Your kiss is dream-like, deep and relaxed but so full, and Mike knows he would be able to just do that all night if his orgasm wasn't about to run into him like a train. 

 He breaks away, looks to the ceiling only to have little fingers curl around his jaw and bring him back. You watch him with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip sucked between your teeth, and that expression—that need to see—it makes the cord in Mike's gut snap. He sees a vague twinkle in your gaze as his jaw drops then blackness as his eyes are suddenly facing the back of his god damn skull. 

 Every line of cum he shoots inside you has him groaning, his fingers digging into the swell of your ass as he fills you up. You purposely squeeze him, clenching on his cock to milk him of everything he has until Mike is shuddering and whispering, "Okay, okay, okay."

 "Okay?" You question then squeeze him again, giggling when he grunts and twitches. 

 Lying back on the bed, Mike lets you pull your legs out from under him, but you remain straddling his waist as you lean forward to lay on his chest. It’s quiet for a long time. A different Jurassic Park movie is playing now, the music too intense for the deep, even breaths you’re taking, for the way you’re lightly tapping Mike’s shoulder in time with his heartbeat. 

 His head is beginning to clear again, the lust and excitement ebbing away into those reflective thoughts that always seem to hit him after a mindblowing orgasm. It’s mostly questions: Why are you doing this? Why is he doing this? Why can’t you keep doing this? Why didn’t you pick him? Why don’t you want—

 “Okay, I gotta get up,” you grumble. “I can actually feel your cum dripping out of me.”

 Mike snorts, looking over his nose at you. “Never complained about it before.”

 You push yourself off of him, both of you hissing at the sensation, then Mike watches you stand and glance around, probably trying to figure out which door is for the closet and which is for the bathroom.

 “It’s the one on the left,” he grunts, staring at your ass a little too long and suppressing a groan when he catches sight of white fluid streaming down your thighs. “God dammit.”

 The toilet flushes, the shower starts, and Mike is left to wonder if you need the alone time or if he should treat this like any other time and join you. Are you in there trying to wash him off of you or—

 “You comin’?” You peak out from the door, wet hair dripping, tired smile in place. 

 “Just did,” he shoots back while sitting up. Like every other time. Just keep it casual. 

 The water is hot, but you’re even hotter as you lather your hair in shampoo and soap up your body. Since he’s back to pretending like this is nothing more than your old routine, Mike has no problem pressing himself against you from behind, running his hands up your sides, “helping” in the bathing process by squeezing your tits, feeling the suds get caught in the webs of his fingers. 

 “You’re playing with fire, Zacharias,” you tell him, and he can see your lips pulling into a smirk. “You need to stop unless you wanna go for round two.”

 He nips at your earlobe, uncaring of the soap that gets in his mouth. “Or three, or four.”

 You laugh and turn to face him, but your eyes are shut as you rinse your hair. It gives Mike time to admire all the marks he’s left on you—too many, probably—and he doubts you’ll be very happy with him once you notice, but fuck, you’re so pretty covered in him. 

 The shower ends. Mike expects you to ask for a ride back to the dorms (that he doesn’t understand why you’re still living in), but it turns out you’re not all talk. After sitting on the couch for only a few minutes, trying to make sense of the dinosaur movie you’ve walked in on halfway, you’re crawling into his lap again, teeth dragging over his neck this time as your hand trails down his torso to rub over his rapidly growing cock.

 “Oh, shit, I didn’t actually think you were serious,” he chuckles through a kiss.

 You grind down on him, bite his lower lip, then remind him, “I told you I was frustrated.”

 He smirks, gives your hair a little tug that makes you moan, then makes sure his words just ghost over your mouth when he teases, “Like a bitch in heat.”

 This time he takes you over the armrest of the couch, leaves you swollen and dripping his cum again. 

 Another shower, the steam on top of such vigorous activity has both of you deliriously tired, and Mike is honest when he tells you, “I really shouldn’t drive now. I’m about to pass out.”

 “You and me both.” 

 So, you slip into one of his shirts and crawl into bed with him, but neither of you get more than a couple hours of sleep before the morning sun is shining in through the window. Mike’s grumpy groan very quickly turns to one of interest when he feels you push your ass against his morning wood, and then you’re at it again. He’s never fucked this much in such a short amount of time, and he can’t imagine doing it every day or even every other day. In fact, he thinks he might be a little burnt out for a bit. Unless it’s with you, of course. He’ll always make an exception if it’s you moaning his name and hiking a leg over his hip and milking him dry. He guesses if this is the last time he gets to do this for the foreseeable future, he’s at least made it worth it.

 Back in your little party outfit, you step up into Mike’s Jeep and almost doze off in the short time it takes to get to student housing, but you’re roused when he pulls into the parking lot and steps on the breaks just a little too hard.

 Mike snickers when you jolt forward and grunt, cutting your eyes at him and muttering, “Fucker,” before undoing your seatbelt and leaning over to pull him into another kiss. He cradles the back of your head, holds you there for too long as he tries to make you feel everything he’s feeling through tangled tongues, little nips, and the string of spit that stretches between two bottom lips. 

 He thinks he’s been good at hiding it, but now as you’re about to slip out and away, those words are lodged in Mike’s throat again, and no amount of swallowing will get rid of them. He takes a deep breath and forces one of those horribly insincere smiles, and you can tell because the look you give him is thoughtful and sorry, and your voice comes out as a whisper when you say his name, “Miche.”

 “Hm?”

 “Uh… Thanks.”

 He lets out a humorless laugh and asks, “For last night? This morning?”

 “For everything. I mean, last night and this morning were incredible, like… Incredible. But, it’s more than that. For helping me with everything you have in the last year or so.”

 Mike’s heart drops into his stomach, and he sits back in his seat as his mind starts racing because this doesn’t sound like gratitude; this sounds like goodbye. 

 But, why? He’ll see you on campus in a day or so, at the PKA parties you end up going to. You probably won’t be able to attend a ton of his games, but that’s fine. He understands. Are you just being dramatic—sad that you won’t be able to fuck him anymore?

 He can’t ask any of this, settles with a half-hearted, “Yeah, no problem,” as he fights the confused frown that’s slowly taking over his face. 

 “I’ll see you around,” you tell him.

 Mike nods and watches as you slide out and start walking to the bland building. He doesn’t like how that just ended. It doesn’t sit right in his head or his gut. It could be that you’re already regretting it. It could be that you're fearful of the consequences. It could be that you think this might be the final straw in your friendship. You’d be wrong on that one, though. Mike is willing to let you get away with a lot—too much—before he runs. You can use him in whatever way you need, and he’ll keep coming back. He just can’t help it.  

 *

 That had been a bad idea. A really, really fucking bad idea. The ache in you has been completely satiated, and you loved being able to hang out (and fuck) Mike—wouldn’t really trade it—but as you walk up the stairs to Zeke’s apartment sore as all get out and see his face when he swings the door open, it really hits you—

 That had been a terrible idea. 

 “Why the fuck did Eren say he saw you leave the party with Zacharias?”

 “Alright, I’m just gonna turn around,” you say, pivoting back toward the staircase because you really don’t like the way Zeke’s tone is tying your stomach in knots and making your neck prickle. You haven’t ever been one to be scared of men, but in this moment, you would much prefer to not be anywhere near him. 

 “No, no, let’s talk about this,” he says with a suck of his teeth.

 His grip on your arm is just shy of painful, and you take note of the way he forcefully guides you into the apartment rather than tugs you. 

 You chew on the inside of your cheek, setting your purse down on the counter as you follow him over to the couch. Zeke sits down at the other end facing you, as always, blue eyes narrow behind his glasses. “So, is it true?”

 “Yeah,” you admit before diving headfirst into a lie, “It was just to play videogames, though. Neither of us were diggin’ the party, so—”

 “That so?”

 You nod. “We used to all the time.”

 “And, what else did the two of you used to do?” He mocks, and you keep your mouth shut, bottom jaw sliding as your lower lip starts to quiver. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

 “Thank whatever you want, Zeke. I was just hanging out with my best friend, okay?”

 “Your best friend?” He snaps. “Tell me, sweetheart, just why might you be covered up head to fucking toe, hm?”

 You cringe inwardly, taken back to the debate you’d had with yourself in front of the mirror. Your normal casual wear would show off some of the bruises Mike had littered you with—cold spoons can only do so much—but getting buttoned up would be suspicious. You had opted for the latter, hoping it would escape Zeke’s notice, but of course it didn’t. 

 Now, you’re sweating in your jeans and a fucking turtleneck you’ve never even worn before, and Jesus Christ, you just want to leave. Zeke is hot, but not hot enough to put up with this kind of bullshit.

 “Don’t have a comeback for that one, do ya’?”

 Mental note: kick Eren’s ass next time you see him. You knew that kid rubbed you the wrong way for a reason. 

 You don’t know who to be more upset with, the little brother or yourself. You could be irritated at Mike if you really wanted to—he hadn’t been subtle about wanting you last night, but then again, you hadn’t really expected him to, and you can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his feelings. There’s no way you could actually be mad at him.

 This is your fault. You need to deal with the consequences without bringing anyone else into it.

 “What d’you want me to say, Zeke? What’s the right answer here?” You ask exasperatedly. 

 “The fucking truth!”

 “We hooked up, alright? I fucked him! ‘Cause you don’t wanna fuck me, which would be fine if you’d just tell me why, but you won’t!” You’re starting to breathe a little heavy, voice rising as you continue, “I feel like you’re just waiting to see how long it’ll take for me to lose it, and apparently it was last night, and you know what?” You grin at him, nerves on fire the more you let every frustration fly from your mouth. “It was awesome. It was so fucking good, you don’t even understand.”

 Zeke’s eyebrows are high as he lets your little rant die off, obviously annoyed when he asks, “You finished?”

 “I think I am,” you laugh. 

 “Fantastic. Take your shirt off.”

 You choke on your tongue. “Excuse me?”

 “You heard me. Take. Your shirt. Off.”

 “No!"

 “You just said you wanted me to fuck you, so—”

 “Not right fucking now!” Even if you wanted him to, you wouldn’t be able to take him. You don’t think you’ve ever been so sore after having sex, but that could also have something to do with the multiple rounds of being impaled on Mike’s horse cock. God, you already miss it. 

 “Swear to god, if you don’t take it off right now—”

 “You’ll do what? What’ll you do, Zeke?”

 Your breath gets caught in your throat when he lunges at you, one foot planted on the ground as his other knee digs into the couch in a way that cages you in. His nails scratch against your skin as he pulls roughly at the material, and you hear the sound of threads splitting as you grunt and squirm and try to keep the terror rising in your chest at bay because this is not happening. This is not happening. 

 Zeke manages to rip the turtleneck off of you, and you shiver on the cushions as his eyes trace over every inch of you he can see, icy blue somehow becoming colder and colder. 

 “One,” he growls, shoving a finger into your neck. It smarts the way every bruise does, and you bat his hand away only for him to move it to the skin just beneath your collarbone. “Two.” He shoves your bra up to find hickeys three and four, making you wince as he digs a fingertip into both. “Five,” your ribs. “Six,” your stomach. “Seven,” your hip. 

 Your face is incredibly warm, tears stuck at your waterline as humiliation washes over you in waves. And naturally, it just gets worse. 

 “Are you gonna take your pants off, or will I have to?”

 You aren’t breathing deep enough anymore, and you can feel a burning in your lungs as a result. When you don’t answer quick enough, Zeke threatens, “I’ll rip them if I have to.”

 “They’re denim,” you snark, but that last piece of attitude is stomped out when he unbuttons and unzips your pants and tugs each corner, effectively tearing past the zipper. 

 You let out something frighteningly close to a whimper as he pulls them off, then sits between your legs and starts counting the marks dotted along your thighs. 

 “I’ve gotta hand it to him—Zacharias is a pretty thorough guy.” He pinches you a couple times, chuckling at the way you jump and hiss. “Did you like it when he was treating you like a fucking fire hydrant? Marking his territory like a dog?”

 “Shut up,” you grit, sitting up only to get shoved back down by a hand that curls around your throat. 

 You stare at Zeke with huge eyes, finally letting that fear bloom inside you—what is he about to do? What is he about to do?—and as he leans over you, tears start streaming down the sides of your face.

 He lets out a condescending little, "Oh," then lowers his face to run his lips over your temple and whispers, "Don't be scared. It's okay."

 A gentle kiss, and then he pushes himself up, stands, then disappears into his room. You stay on the couch, trying to catch the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Shivering as you sit up, you reach for your close only to find them ruined. 

 Zeke must have known that the moment he ripped them off of you (honestly, you should have known too) because when he returns, he tosses a ball of material at you—an old t-shirt and pajama pants. 

 "I'm gonna throw a pizza in the oven. That okay with you?" 

 You blink at him, unable to respond as he glances over his shoulder and makes a face like he's annoyed. 

 "What, are you stupid on top of slutty now? I asked if that was okay with you."

 "I—Ye—I need to leave," you mumble, quickly slipping the clothes on and standing. "I'm gonna leave."

 "How about you just chill and watch a movie instead?" 

 "Why would I want to—"

 The look Zeke gives you is chilling, mouth downturned, one eyebrow raised. It's a challenge, one you don't have the energy or fight to rise to, so you drop back onto the cushions and sigh. 

 It’s fine. You’re fine. He didn’t go nearly as far as you thought he was about to—just got upset. He had a reason to, right? There were better ways to handle it, a fucking conversation for example, but at least now he’s giving you a little space, cooling down in the kitchen while you gather your thoughts. You could go without the name-calling, though. 

 He just lost his temper, wanted to remind you that it’s him you’re with. You have been for a few months now. And, until now, Zeke has been a nice albeit slightly arrogant guy. He’s personable, he’s smart, he’s funny. Most importantly, he’s level-headed. You probably just pushed him a little too far. It could have been worse. It could be worse.

 You play it over and over in your head as Zeke hands you a plate with a slice of pizza on it. You play it when he sits down and throws an arm around you. Then, you play it when he walks you to your car that evening and kisses you like nothing ever happened.

 Could be worse. Could be worse.

 *

 Mike curls his tongue over his bottom lip and squints at the array of cups on the table across from him, picking one out before tossing the ping pong ball with a flick of his wrist. 

 It bounces off one of the cups' rims, and Nile easily snatches it up and smirks at him. 

 "Dude," Erwin starts, frowning when Mike turns to him. "Why do you suck so much tonight?"

 Mike rolls his eyes. "Man, fuck off."

 "No, I'm serious. What's up with you?"

 "Nothin'. Just having an off night."

 "More like off week," Erwin scoffs. "Month."

 Gelgar sinks his ball into the middle cup, and Mike quickly reaches forward to grab it, extracting the plastic before downing the beer. 

 Erwin is right, but Mike refuses to tell him that. He's been off since the last party a couple weeks ago, the last time he saw you—last time he touched you. He's spotted you around campus several times since, but you're always hanging off Zeke's arm, and Mike isn't about to pry you off him (despite how much he wants to).

 Honestly, he's a little surprised at how close you still are with him, how unaffected your relationship is by the hookup. Maybe Zeke just never found out. Mike has tried to ask you about it, sent more than one text, but they've gone unanswered which is a concern all on its own. Two weeks without talking at all. Mike feels like he's going insane.

 Could it be that you're mad at him, upset that you gave into temptation and you're blaming Mike instead of yourself? He understands the need to scratch that itch, but if you really hadn't wanted to fuck, you could have just said so. 

 Mid-terms are next week, so Mike figures if you still haven't talked to him by then, it's definitely time to worry about the state of the friendship. He's trying not to get himself worked up, but honestly, just the thought of you being upset with him is enough to make his stomach roll. He just needs one text. One everything's fine. That shouldn't be too hard for you, right? 

 Mike misses another shot and swears to himself, sticking a middle finger up at Erwin when he throws his arms out. 

 "It's just beer pong, bro. Calm down."

 The party is like every other—loud music, rowdy college kids, too many girls Mike doesn't care about making eyes at him from across the room. He really just wants to go home, but he can't help but stay in hopes that you might show up. It's highly unlikely, but that slim chance keeps him rooted to the spot, missing cups left and right until Nile and Gelgar win. 

 Erwin is not happy as he drinks his share of the remaining beer. Once he finishes the last, he tells Mike, "You owe me for that pathetic fucking display. Tell me what's going on."

 Mike comes close to just turning his back and walking away, but he can see that even through his irritation, Erwin is worried for him. 

 Running a hand through his hair, Mike just asks if Erwin has heard from you at all recently. "I just can't get ahold of her, and I can't tell if it's 'cause she's busy or ignoring me or what."

 Erwin's thick eyebrows knit together as he shakes his head. "No, I haven't talked to her in a while. Did something happen between the two of you?" 

 "I mean, we hooked up at the last party—"

 "Oh, that ended up happening?" Erwin asks, surprised. 

 Even after making up last semester, Mike has tried to keep the details of his sex life with you to himself and away from Erwin specifically.  After the shit he pulled that drove the rift between them in the first place, Mike isn't willing to be quite as open about you as he previously was, but he did have to break that code at the last party when he was convinced you would end up fucking. Buzzed and excited while still at the house, Mike had asked Erwin if he'd be cool with the two of you using his room (with the promise of cleaning up, of course), before you ended up just retreating to the quietness of Mike's apartment instead. 

 So, Erwin knew the potential that evening had, but Mike never followed up with him until now. 

 "Yeah, it did."

 "Well, what did Zeke think of it?"

 Mike shrugs his shoulders. "Dunno. She hasn't talked to me since then."

 "Shit." Erwin looks genuinely taken aback. "It's been that long?"

 "Yeah. I'm trying not to freak out, but like—"

 "No, I get you. If I end up hearing from her before you do, I'll let you know."

 Mike nods, "Thanks, bro," and forces a smile when Erwin claps him on the back, then breaks away from his friend to mope around somewhere else. 

 What if something happened? What if Zeke had found out and lost his temper with you? Mike will murder him if he finds out that four-eyed fuck put his hands on you. Gruesomely murder.  

 If he could take back what you both shared that night, he would. Things seemed to be getting somewhat back to normal between you—talking and making dumb jokes, like you were actually comfortable around him despite your boyfriend. If Mike had known one last night would fuck that progress up, he wouldn't have ever brought it up. 

 Then again, you had told him. I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke. And, he had still pushed, tried to get you to give in, and god, that's embarrassing. Mike is glad you called him out on his shit, but looking back on it still makes his face heat. That was fucked up. He fucked up.

 "It's Mike, right?" 

 Mike's eyes snap downward, caught off guard by the girl suddenly standing in front of him, dainty fingers with painted nails clutched around a beer bottle. It's the same kind you would drink only to end up giving it to Mike. 

 "Uh, yeah, that's me."

 The girl smiles at him. He's seen her around the college, events shared between both frats and sororities, and the more Mike looks at her face, the more he recognizes her as one of the chicks who used to hang around the baseball team a lot. In fact, he's pretty sure she's—

 "I'm Rhi. You played really well yesterday. I was watching you."

 "Thanks."

 She bats her eyelashes at him as she returns, "You're welcome," then clicks her tongue and asks, "So, who ya' lookin' for?" in a sing-song voice. 

 "What do you mean?" 

 "I mean, you've been scanning this room for the last, like, fifteen minutes. Looking like you're playing Where's Waldo or something."

 Mike snorts, flipping hair from his face as he lies, "No one in particular." 

 He recognizes the look of satisfaction that blooms on Rhi's face, has seen it many times before on many different girls. It makes him sigh inwardly because he really could not be any less interested. 

 "That's good." Rhi's wide grin shrinks into a smirk before she adds, "I was hoping you'd say that."

 Mike feels his mouth tug up on one side in what he's pretty sure comes off as a sad little smile. 

 Fuck it, though. At least she's pretty. 

 *

 Things don't change all that much between you and Zeke. After spending a day or two rationalizing, you're able to look at him and smile again, to laugh at his jokes and listen to his tangents. He's back to playing with your fingers on the table while you sit face to face for lunch, back to shoving his hand in your back pocket while you walk around campus. It's like nothing ever happened. 

 If anything, you start spending even more time with him. He walks with you to and from class whenever he can, tells you to come watch his practices because the teammates he's closest with—his best friends—want to get to know you better. It's all normal, and you get used to the slight change in routine without a problem. You like the Galliard brothers, Marcel who plays shortstop and Porco, the catcher, so it isn't a chore to hang out with them after games and practice.

 What is a chore is watching Zeke talk with his bubbly ex as he walks with her to the science building you're waiting at. Leaning against the brick wall under an awning, you squint as they approach. Rhi is looking at him with those huge, entranced eyes you know too well, a little too much pep in her step making her tits bounce in a way that's fucking impossible to ignore. 

 You shouldn't be territorial. If anything, you should probably still be mad for the stunt he had pulled with you, but… if he gets to be possessive, so do you. It only makes sense. 

 'Cause that's how healthy relationships work, you think with a snort, pushing yourself off the wall when they both stop in front of you. 

 "Babe, you remember Rhi," Zeke reintroduces her like you haven't been at least a little wary of her for the last couple months. 

 "Yeah," you nod, forcing a smile. "How are you?"

 "I'm great!" She grins, looking at Zeke for one reason or another, like he needs to approve her answer, which is fucking dumb, but you also kind of understand because that's just the effect he has on people. 

 "Glad to hear it." You turn your attention to your boyfriend, content to ignore her from here on out, and ask, "Did you wanna grab something to eat before practice?" 

 “Yeah,” he nods before glancing at Rhi and offering a, “Catch you later,” that sounds too promising for your liking. 

 You don’t glare at the other girl as the two of you leave, but you definitely do not smile, and as Zeke drives you both to your favorite cafe, you whine to Hitch through texts.

 i wouldn’t be too worried about it, she tells you. she’s in my psych class and she’s kinda dumb. i doubt zeke wants to put up with that again. probs why he dumped her in the first place

 You try to appear unbothered through lunch, but you’ve had a pretty shitty day so far—woke up late, probably failed a quiz, got no response from Mike despite texting him three times in rapid succession, and then you had to witness that doe-eyed little brat blatantly pine for—

 “You know, you don’t have any right to be jealous, right?” Zeke asks after swallowing a bite of salad. 

 You blink at him, having to process for a second before you understand what he’s saying. And, why he’s saying it. How can he just read your mind like that? You don’t think you’ll ever understand. 

 “‘M not jealous,” you mumble, stirring soup you really have no intention of eating. 

 Zeke smirks across from you. “No?”

 “I’m just having a bad day. Don’t make assumptions just ‘cause I didn’t smile at your little ex.”

 His expression of self-satisfaction falls into a frown, and he asks what’s going on. When you tell him, you purposely leave out the detail about Mike ignoring you because it would only further Zeke’s point about you having no right to get possessive especially considering how fucking upset you are about the matter. Why the fuck isn’t he talking to you?

 “Want me to help take the edge off?” Zeke asks when you finish venting.

 You look at him with one raised eyebrow, tempted to reply with a smart-aleck ‘only if you plan on seeing it through’, but that sounds like too much of an ultimatum, too manipulative. You’ve made it this long without being a shady bitch, and you have no intention of becoming one. 

 He can see the gears turning in your head, leans forward and grabs your hand before urging, “Come over. Skip your evening class, and we can just… Relax.”

 You snort when he wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, possibly the first time you’ve smiled today. “I really shouldn’t skip. We’re reviewing for our exam next week.”

 “All the more reason to. You’re not getting any new information. You can just go back over it on your own.”

 He has a point. You have all the notes and PowerPoints, and the idea of just lounging and fucking is very tempting since the last time you had sex was the night with Mike.

 And, just like that, your stomach is in knots again. Why won’t he just text back?

 Sighing, you come to the conclusion that a distraction is exactly what you need.

 “Yeah, okay. That sounds nice.”

 “Oh, I’ll make sure it’s more than nice.”

 Zeke finishes his meal then asks for a to-go bowl for yours, and after about fifteen minutes, you’re in his apartment. 

 “Let’s watch something while my food settles, and then we can you know…”

 “You know,” you mimic, putting the leftovers up in the fridge then joining him on the couch.

 He turns on some underground horror movie that doesn’t exactly set the mood, but you power through about half of it before all but throwing yourself at Zeke as soon as he pats his lap.

 Chuckling, he helps take your shirt off, kisses your collarbone and murmurs, “Damn, should we just move straight to the bedroom?”

 “I literally could not give less of a fuck. Whatever you wanna do.”

 He grips your thighs and stands, making you hold onto his shoulders for dear life as he walks into the back and drops you on his bed. You immediately kick your pants off, a constant stream of ‘yes yes yes’ running through your mind. You need this. God, you need this. 

 But, when Zeke curls over you, he doesn’t feel broad enough, and when he kisses you, his beard is too thick, and when he trails his hands down your body, they’re barely calloused. 

 You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to turn your brain off—please, just turn off—because you should only be thinking of Zeke. 

 Zeke who circles your nipple with his tongue, who brushes fingers over your bare pussy and groans at how the sensation makes you arch into his mouth. 

 “Can’t wait to stuff this pretty cunt,” he breathes before grazing his teeth over pebbled flesh. 

 His voice isn’t deep enough. His blue eyes have a different shine from the green you're so used to.

 Fuck, fuck, fuck, just let him—

 Shimmying down your body, Zeke spreads you open and pushes spit from his mouth to land on your clit and drip downward. It makes you gasp, and you feel that familiar throb of arousal that grows when he starts rubbing soft circles over the sensitive bundle. 

 “Oh, shit,” you huff.

 Heat pools between your legs as he continues the motion, only stopping to replace his finger with his mouth. 

 You let out a high-pitched moan, thinking to yourself, what about pillows? You can get a better angle with pillows. It doesn’t matter in the long run as he drags his tongue over your entrance, dipping inside for just a second before going back to swirling the muscle around your clit. 

 A finger is pushed into you a little too roughly. It’s not quite long enough, not quite thick enough, but it still feels good, especially once Zeke finds your g-spot and massages it until you’re whimpering and begging for more.

 “You think you’re ready, sweetheart?” He speaks into your thigh, a thigh that was once littered with dark bruises from another mouth. 

 “Yes,” you pant. “Yes, please, please, Zeke.” Even his name feels foreign falling from your lips despite having said it hundreds of times.

 You don’t understand why your mind is sabotaging you like this. You’ve been desperate for Zeke for months now, so why is it that you’re finally getting what you want but can only think about Mike? What is wrong with you?

 He scissors two fingers inside of you, making sure you’re nice and stretched, and you want to tell him to hurry up, that you’ve taken someone substantially longer and thicker, because yeah, Zeke has a nice cock, big enough to be satisfying, flushed pink at the tip and dripping, but it’s doubtful that he’s gonna hurt you. 

 He has a lovely upward curve that drags over your spot as he slides into you, and it makes you groan, eyebrows knitting together as Zeke swears.

 “Fuck, you feel good,” he breathes, giving a few experimental thrusts. 

 You can take him without issue, wet and stretched, and god yes, finally. Finally. His pace quickens, coarse hairs on his pelvis rubbing against your clit and causing your eyes to roll back. Locking your ankles around his waist, you grin at the new angle, and Zeke huffs out an appreciative, “So fucking sexy when you smile for me, baby.” You stick your tongue between your teeth, something between a moan and a laugh leaving your throat, and he coos another, “Feel good?”

 “Ye-es.”

 Your mind is finally cleared—for a few minutes, at least—until Zeke pulls out and tells you to turn over. “Hands and knees.”

 You comply, and when Zeke spreads your cheeks and shoves his cock back into your wet pussy, the memory of Mike’s tongue on your asshole flashes through your brain. 

 “Jesus Christ,” you whine. 

 Zeke’s balls slap your clit with every snap of his hips, the sound of skin on skin ringing through the room. It’s so fucking lewd, the sweat breaking out on both of you only making the noises more obscene. The fingers of one hand are gripping you tightly while Zeke brings his other down on your ass with a little too much force. The burning that follows feels good, makes you hiss and push back against him.

 Pulling out so that only his cockhead is inside you, Zeke stills to focus solely on spanking you, alternating between cheeks as heat radiates from them. You cry and keep moving to the best of your ability, fucking yourself on his length as you get lost in sensation. 

 You lose track of time. Zeke switches between abusing your ass and leaning over you to grope your tits. No matter what he’s doing, you’re moaning, and eventually your own hand travels between your legs to play with your clit, the pressure in your gut becoming too much. You need to come, need that release, and when your back arches and your muscles tense, Zeke growls against your spine, “Fuck yes, come on my cock—just wanna feel you—”

 He lets out a little, “Ha,” when you pulse around him, gushing slick and leaving you overstimulated as he continues to fuck into you harshly. 

 Your arms give out, elbows buckling and sending you falling face first into the pillow. Every noise you make grows in volume but remains muffled. Zeke is relentless in his strokes, but he thankfully doesn’t last much longer, droplets of sweat landing on your back as he curls over you once again, breathing heavily into your ear, “Can I come inside? Lemme come inside you.”

 Before you can realize what you’re doing, you shake your head, turning your cheek to the cushion and panting, “No, don’t.”

 It shouldn’t matter. You’re protected, and you’ve done it before, but…

 You only want to do that for one person. You don’t want to let anyone else.

 “Don’t, Zeke, I—”

 “Did you let him come in you?” He suddenly asks. “Did you let him fill you with cum?”

 He reaches around you to pinch your clit, and you squeal and squirm, trying to get him to drop his hand, but he doesn’t, just holds it with two fingers and taps the swollen bud without mercy. 

 “Did you?”

 “No!” You lie, voice rising. “Fuck, I didn’t let him!”

 Zeke scoffs. “I don’t believe you,” pinching hard enough to make tears spring up in your eyes before letting go. He returns to your hips, blunt fingernails digging into your skin as he gives a few more thrusts and groans, spilling into you then moving you back and forth on his cock, watching his own cum get pushed further into your hole and coat the entirety of his length.

 “God dammit, what the fuck, Zeke?” You speak through gritted teeth, shoving back against him suddenly and with enough force to make him lose his balance and fall backward. You can feel thick fluid dripping down your thighs and turn to glare at him only to find him smirking at you. 

 The space behind your eyes grows hot with tears you refuse to shed in front of him. Instead, you get up and walk to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it before sitting down on the toilet with your head in your hands. 

 You shouldn’t be as upset as you are, generally like the feeling of guys releasing inside of you. It’s just hot. But, you had not wanted it this time. You weren’t ready for it, and now you can’t help but feel… tainted. 

 You pee then hop into the shower to rinse off, to cleanse yourself and calm down, and once the hot water has drained you of most of your anger, you slip into one of Zeke’s t-shirts and go back outside. He’s in sweatpants, sipping on water as he stares at the TV.

 “Feel better?” He questions without actually looking at you.

 You’re free to roll your eyes, but you think you sound convincing when you answer, “Yeah, a lot.”

 He hums. “Didn’t seem like it.”

 “I mean,” you sigh and move to sit down next to him, one leg tucked under you as you think about how you want to word what’s on your mind. “When I ask you not to do something, I, you know, want you to actually listen."

 Now, he turns to look at you wearing an expression frighteningly similar to the one he'd worn the day he humiliated you on the very couch you're sitting in. 

 "Oh, so you want me to respect your wishes." He doesn't sound at all sympathetic. "Kind of like I wanted you to respect mine before you went and fucked Zacharias."

 "Alright," you drawl. "We're back to this again. Awesome."

 He didn't ever explicitly ask you not to sleep with anyone else. At that point, you don't know if Zeke even saw you as a legitimate girlfriend. And, you understand why he's annoyed by your actions, but you're getting extremely fucking tired of him dangling it over your head. 

 "Uh, yeah, we are."

 Taking a deep breath, you try to keep a level head, to appear collected when you tell him, "Look, I see your frustration. I get it. But, me sleeping with Mike is a little different than—"

 "How?" Zeke cuts you off. "How is it different?"

 "Because what you did in there was against my fucking will. I told you not to come inside me, and you still did."

 Zeke is on his feet in an instant. "Is that a fucking accusation?"

 "No, no," you hold your hands up in defense as you peer up at him. "I'm not trying to say that everything that happened in there was non-consensual—"

 "Sounds a lot like you are."

 You're starting to panic. You don't like how hostile he's getting when he isn't even trying to understand you. 

 "You're trying to fill in blanks that aren't there, Zeke. I'm not trying to accuse you or get you in trouble or anything. I'm trying to explain how fucked up—how scary—it is for someone to ignore your boundaries in the bedroom."

 He makes a little, "Tch," then mutters, "You're blowing it out of proportion." 

 It's about the worst thing he could say to you. Firstly, he's the one getting offended by the situation, and secondly, it completely invalidates you. 

 "You're the one who was so desperate for sex you went and fucked someone else," he adds. 

 You massage your temples, figure you need to remove yourself before saying something you can't take back. 

 Your phone is still on the armrest where you left it before going to the back, and it lights up with a text—Hitch—and displays the time. It's only five. If you wanted, you could still make it to your six o'clock class. 

 "You know what, I'm gonna put a pin in this so we can both simmer down. We can revisit it later."

 Zeke doesn't seem to like that solution, or lack thereof. You grab your shirt off the floor then pad back to the bedroom to change into the clothes you picked out for the day, texting Hitch back while you're hidden. 

 She had asked what you were up to, and you reply with, at Zeke's. Could you by any chance pick me up? I didn't drive and we just got into a spat. 

 on my way 😘

 You waste a little time before deciding to brave your boyfriend again, simply telling him that you're just gonna go to class and that Hitch is coming to get you. 

 "Fine," he dismisses.

 You think about giving him a little peck but decide against it, opting to just grab your backpack and slip on your shoes. 

 "I'll text you," you tell him. 

 He replies with a short, "Sure," and you take that as your cue to leave. 

 It doesn't take long for Hitch to get there and takes even less time for her to ask what happened. 

 At last, you give her the full scoop (barring Zeke's meltdown after originally finding out you slept with Mike). She frowns almost the whole way through, and you expect her to either soothe you or tell you that he's being an asshole, but instead, she clicks her tongue and mutters, "I don't get why you aren't just dating Mike. Like, yeah, Zeke's hot and all, but you and Mike have always had a thing. And, you both obviously like each other so whyyy," she ends in a frustrated whine. 

 "Because Mike and I…" You trail off. You don't really know, honestly, not for a few seconds at least, and when it hits you, it isn't some big epiphany. It's more like a natural thought. "Because Mike is long-term. If we got together it would be, like, the real deal. And, I don't think either of us are ready for that."

 It feels good to admit both to Hitch and to yourself. You never thought about it in depth before, mostly because while you've known about his feelings for you for a good while, you haven't fully accepted your own. 

 But, if the hurt you're feeling at him not texting you back is anything to go on (not to mention how much you thought of him while fucking Zeke), your fondness for him has probably turned into something more, something deeper. 

 "I don't understand what's so bad about the real deal, but whatever. You guys will sort it out in your own time."

 "I don't know about that," you mumble. "He hasn't talked to me since that morning. Just won't reply to any of my texts or calls."

 "That's weird," Hitch thinks out loud as she pulls into the parking lot. "If anything, I thought he'd be fighting even harder now."

 "Yeah, well, that is clearly not the case." You grab your bag out of the backseat, guessing, "He must be mad at me or something."

 "Maybe. Maybe he's just trying to give you space."

 Shrugging, you get out of the car, forcing a smile as you thank your friend for the ride. 

 "Any time. One more thing, though," Hitch stops you." You tilt your head in curiosity as her face grows uncharacteristically serious. "Next time Zeke uses that against you, tell him to fuck off. And, consider dumping him."

 "I mean, I did fuck up by sleeping with Mike."

 "Yeah, but you and Zeke aren't gonna work if he keeps holding that over you. Something like that isn't supposed to be leverage. If he can't handle it, he needs to leave."

 It's rare that Hitch loses her happy go lucky attitude, so seeing her like this is a little jarring. 

 "I'll take it into consideration."

 As you walk into the dorms, you pout about how your shitty day only got shittier. All you want to do is talk to your best friend, but that's obviously not gonna happen. 

[ next ]

[fandomwriterstuff]

Rewind

Rick Flag x you

Rated T

~6.5k words (I could not turn it into chapters, it didn't work out right)

Warnings: canon typical violence

I highly recommend listening to this song because it is very epic and I listened to it while I wrote the dramatic end scene.

You were a petty thief, a modern Robin Hood; you stole from the one percent to gave to the needy. And you know what? More often than not, the one percenters never even noticed. And every time you got caught you used your powers to get out of the situation. However, you knew a day was coming when you wouldn’t be able to get out of a nasty situation. A feeling of dread was filling up your nightmares and seeping into your waking life. You were filled with anxiety that your next job would be your last. Of course, it was never an issue with your powers. That is, until it became an issue.

You were doing a job in Gotham, a shitty city if you did say so yourself. Nothing like the country home you grew up in. You knew the ins and outs of the city bank. You knew the guard schedules, you knew the camera angles, you knew the passcodes, you knew which day your target would be inside. Bruce Wayne. Local billionaire who wasted his time and money hosting galas for the rich and famous. You loathed the idea of him. He wouldn’t notice a couple million getting lost in the shuffle. You knew everything that Gotham City Bank had to offer. But what you didn’t know would get you caught and sent to a metahuman prison. What you didn’t know was why you’d been feeling the dread of this job creep up on you for weeks. You had a bad feeling about it, more than the rest. So when you walked in, in disguise, you thought nothing of the exhaustion and weakness that filled your body.

You’d barely slept the night before, so it was normal. And this wasn’t a cash job, it was all wire transfers. But Wayne had to be there for the biometrics to work. Unfortunately, he knew all about your little job. He knew and he had you caught. You were confused, at first, when all you saw when you walked in was an empty bank. It was just the tellers looking at you nervously, but there was a swish behind you and you whipped around, military training coming back to you from your brief time in the army as you took a fighting stance to see… the Batman?

“The Masked Marauder,” he mocked you in his autotuned voice. You scoffed, two could play at that game. You were posing as a man today, trying to throw the trail off of yourself. You turned on your voice modulator and laughed haughtily at him.

“The Batman. Fancy seeing you here,” you were unsure as to how Batman was involved with Wayne Enterprises, but you had no doubt he was there for you.

“Feeling a little weak yet? I can see you straining,” you were on guard as he approached you, coming close enough that you could see the stubble on his chin. If you could turn him around so you were closer to the doors you could use your powers to get out of there and make a quick escape. It was easier to change your own position with your powers and not an entire scene, but you could do it if need be.

But he was onto something. You did feel weak. You were tired, your limbs heavy.

“What did you do to me?” You asked, shifting on your feet but trying to keep the charade up. You were masked and cloaked, but he had a nerve-wracking effect on you.

“It’s new technology. Power blockers at every entrance. You’re powerless inside this place,” at his words you backed up, falling weakly towards the ground as your powers were seeping out of you. You tried to use them to get out of this situation, breath shaking and palms sweaty as the seriousness of the situation dawned on you. You were well and truly screwed.

It was only moments before the GCPD came and fixed you with a power-blocking collar, chaining you up in an armored vehicle and sending you on a long trip to Louisiana. You had no next of kin to notify, no friends to take care of your apartment. You were alone.

Belle Reve was a hell of a place. You were brought in under the cover of nightfall and were only given a brief explanation of the situation. You were in a metahuman prison. You had less rights than normal humans. You were being tried for multiple robberies and the associated injuries that people had gained when fighting back against you. You’d never killed anyone, not since the army, but it didn’t matter. The crimes had stacked up. You were looking at forty years in this place.

When they threw you into the cell you were going to stay in, you were relieved to see there was only one bed and it wasn’t occupied. Solitude, at least, was your friend. You could think. You’d have thought it would be less time in prison since you hadn’t killed anybody, but it didn’t seem like it mattered. You shrugged to yourself. It’s not that you had issues killing people, you were in a special metahuman unit in the army before you became the Masked Marauder. You had a different codename then, but working with them had made you a little crazy. You had to see your close friends and colleagues treated with less respect than dirt because of their metahuman status, and you had to see most of them killed in action. You barely made it out, and you came out with a raging hard on for disrespecting authority figures.

You were only in Belle Reve for six days before you met Harley Quinn.

“Live fast, die hard, baby. You gotta do what you gotta do,” was something you heard a lot out of her smirking mouth. If you were in another life, you’d have been instantly attracted to the beautiful blonde, but you had enough crazy in you to not want any more on your plate. Despite the lack of romance between the two of you, you still got close. “As thick as thieves,” Harley would say with a wry twist to her mouth. She loved puns.

“Chronos?” You whipped your head around at the sound of your military nickname. “What the fuck are you doing here you little slut?” Your eyes widened as you recognized one of your previous teammates. Another bad egg, turned away from the army and towards a life of crime.

“Who’s Chronos?” Harley frowned next to you at the lunch table you were at, she hated not knowing things.

“That’s what they used to call me,” you whispered, standing and facing the other woman. You were small in stature, and the Amazon-like woman towered over you.

“Annie,” you knew she hated being called by her real name. She was one of the cocky ones, thinking metahumans were better than regular old humans.

“You’re wrong,” another voice called. “Chronos is a dude,” that came from Blackguard, a weirdo that you were avoiding. You avoided most people, really.

“Chronos is not a dude,” Annie growled, suddenly looking at the smaller man. “You calling me a liar?”

“I think it’s time for us to get out of here,” Harley dug her fingers into your bicep and pulled you towards the rec yard.

“What’s up with you? You normally love people watching the fights,” you wondered, concerned when Harley passed her favorite guard without saying hi. (It was Colonel Flag, the fucking hottest guard at Belle Reve who you’d definitely formed a crush on. You couldn’t help it, he was compassionate and he didn’t spit on you or throw you around or humiliate you like the other guards.)

“You didn’t tell me you had a super secret past with a cool nickname,” she whisper-shouted when you got to a bench and she could slap you on the arm.

“It didn’t come up,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“What does Chronos even mean?” She asked and you were going to explain, but Colonel Flag sat down at the bench across from you with a warm smile.

“Harley, Y/N, just the two people I wanted to talk to,” he then raised an eyebrow at the bruising grip Harley had on your arm. She let go and he frowned at the angry half moon marks her nails had left there.

“Not now, Ricky,” Harley pouted. “Y/N’s been holding out on me! She has a cool secret life and never told me about it!”

“I doubt you ever asked,” he followed up in a deadpan way and you stifled a chuckle. It was true. She could be forgetful and also unobservant. She didn’t exactly ask you about your life a lot. You thought it might be an act, she did have a PhD, after all.

“She even has a cool nickname. What does Chronos even mean?” She asked again, but side-eyed Colonel Flag when he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Chronos? I thought they called you the Masked Marauder. You’re in here for theft.”

“They must not tell you all the deets,” you raised your eyebrows at the man. “Before I was a criminal I was a part of an elite army group of metahumans. But that went to shit and I’m considered a war criminal in several countries. Never got the pardon for working as a part of the US military because they wanted to keep my unit under wraps,” you frowned. You couldn’t ever leave the country because of it.

“Well you’re not going to like the proposal I have for you, then,” he looked like he was regretting coming over to you and you threw a smile on your face.

“What do you need, Colonel?” You asked, tilting your head, but Harley was bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Oh! Task Force X? Is it a new mission?” She looked so excited you nearly didn’t listen to her words. But you did.

“Task Force X?” You asked him, narrowing his eyes. Maybe that’s why he was so nice to you all this time. He was buttering you up. “I don’t think so. I’m not dying today.”

“You get ten years off of your sentence for every mission you do-” You cut him off.

“You had me at ‘ten years off of your sentence.’ Say no more. I’m in,” you grinned, shark-like, at him. He had the wherewithal to not look confused at your sudden change of heart.

“It’s always fun, like weeding out the weak!” Harley exclaimed as you were ushered out of the briefing with Amanda Waller, a woman who terrified you and chilled you to your core. You felt okay though because Rick was going to be your commanding officer. It had been three weeks since your conversation with him outside in the rec area. Three weeks and your relationship had shifted just enough to make you feel safe in his capable hands. If it wasn’t the genuine human respect he gave you, or the dirty looks and reprimands he gave the guards who manhandled and mistreated you, it was the lingering fingers brushing against your back when he led you places and the warm smile he had just for you.

“Flag,” you smiled softly as you passed him on the plane.

“Chronos,” he smiled back. You knew it was commonplace to call each other by their names (Bloodsport, Blackguard, Chronos, etc), but you felt a twinge of fear. This was your first time using that codename on a real life mission since you left the army. But, when Rick came up with a fancy electronic screwdriver and unhooked your power-dampening collar, you felt such a high. You were ecstatic, your limbs felt light, you felt like you could go a million rounds against Mayweather, you wanted to fuck-

“Am I missing something? Isn’t Chronos a dude?” Blackguard asked, again, and you scowled.

“Chronos is a myth, man. This is clearly just someone with the same name, right?” Boomer nodded towards you and you gave him a tight grin. But before you could respond, Rick did.

“She’s definitely Chronos, and you better hope her powers aren’t mythical,” you grinned at that. He had your back. However, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to save them all if it all went to shit. For several reasons.

You hadn’t used your powers since arriving at Belle Reve, so you didn’t know if you were at 100%

You only had certain amount of power over large situations, so you’d likely only be able to save yourself and a few others

You didn’t care enough about these fuckers and they didn’t care about you. Your priority was to get out alive with Rick and Harley

That’s when Harley made her first appearance to the team. She was apparently good friends with Boomer and you mentally added him to your list to keep alive.

After you set off, things happened quickly for you. You made eye contact with Rick (yes, you were mentally calling him Rick now, because you wanted to fucking date the shit out of him), and made small talk with Harley as Blackguard freaked out about Weasel. But when you dropped and made your way to shore, you stuck close to Rick. He had your back and you had his.

As it turned out, Blackguard had set you all up, giving your location to the enemy and getting his face blown off for his efforts. You watched as your elite team of killers was picked off one by one. Harley had run off and you were panicking that you didn’t have an eye on her. You needed her to get out of this alive.

“Follow me!” Rick shouted, nodding his head towards his intended destination - the forest.

“But Harley and Boomer are-” you shut your mouth as Mongal’s actions finally took their toll on Boomer. But maybe you could fix it, if you could use your powers-

“No, we have to get out of here, or we’re next,” Rick grasped at your arm and dragged you into a full out sprint towards the forest, gunshots echoing behind you. You slapped his hand away once you were deep in the forest, though the sky was darkening you cut your eyes to his.

“Harley is all I have,” you spat.

“She’s my friend too, you know,” he frowned. You’d never used that tone on him before. “She can handle herself,” as much as you were loath to admit it, he was right. She was crazy but she could get out of nearly any situation. You sighed and bent over, hands on your knees as you calmed your breathing.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” you muttered, but you gasped when a sudden pain shot through your right bicep.

“That was a warning shot,” you heard a voice call out in accented English.

“A warning shot?” Rick shouted as he crossed over to you, pulling you close to him and inspecting the wound. It went straight through, but it was bleeding badly. “Warning shots are supposed to be in the ground, not at people,” he spat, considering running but you were in too much pain and losing too much blood. “Don’t use your powers in front of them,” his lips brushed against your ear and you nodded imperceptibly. You wouldn’t want to show your hand.

“Take the colonel,” a woman’s voice called and you glanced at him, wide eyed as they dragged him off of you.

“Hey, hey!” He shouted, reaching out as you fell to your knees, putting pressure on your wound. If you could stifle the bleeding until they left you alone you could use your powers to fix it.

“Leave the girl,” the voice passed by you and you stared at Rick, panicking but unable to stop them as three men held him back and dragged him away. You couldn’t help but think this was the worst case scenario. The enemy was taking your leader but you had lost too much blood to put up a fight.

As the rest of the enemies passed you, you sat back on your heels, but one of them roughly bumped into you, making you lose your grip on your arm. The blood flow was back at full force and the world turned black around the edges. You were alone. You put your left hand face up in front of you, and your right hand an inch above it face down. Your hands were parallel to each other and you tried to gather your strength to use your powers, but you couldn’t. You hadn’t used them in so long and you had lost a lot of blood. The last thought you had before you lost consciousness was of Rick’s panicking face.

You awoke to gentle hands cleaning your wound with what you assumed was water and opened your eyes when you felt a tight bandage wrapping around your arm. It was a young girl, younger than you.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” she smiled softly.

“She’s awake?” A gruff voice came from behind you and you craned your neck to see a team of people behind you.

“Let’s get going then” another man said. “You patched her up, she can go on her own from here.”

“Who are you?” You asked the girl.

“We’re the Suicide Squad,” the dark skinned man growled. “Here to collect our Colonel.”

“No,” you sat up, quietly thanking the girl for patching you up. “I’m a part of the Suicide Squad,” you squinted in the early morning darkness. Was that… DuBois?

“Bloodsport?” You asked cautiously. Were these all other prisoners from Belle Reve?

“Who are you?” The guy in red and white asked you… Was that Peacemaker?

“They call me Chronos, but you might know me as the Masked Marauder,” you spoke cautiously.

“The thief? Why would they have a thief on a mission like this?” Peacemaker asked and you shrugged.

“My powers are useful for other things.”

“Chronos is a myth though, right?” A smaller man walked over to you, in a suit you didn’t recognize.

You shook your head. But that wasn’t the point, you had picked up on something DuBois had said.

“You’re looking for the Colonel?” You stood and approached the group, which apparently included a shark man.

“Yup, Colonel Flag was taken by enemies and is alive at their camp. He is our first mission,” DuBois spoke and you nodded.

“I’m coming with you. Colonel Flag helped me get out of the bloodbath at the beach. The enemy camp people shot me and took him away,” you frowned at the thought and the girl - Ratcatcher 2, she had specified - gasped.

“Why didn’t they take you, too?” She asked.

“I think they knew I wasn’t important. They noticed immediately that Flag was a military officer and took him away.” Likely to be tortured, you thought to yourself but didn’t say aloud.

“Well, let’s get going then,” Peacemaker said brightly and the group of you made your way to the enemy camp. You were lost in your thoughts on the way there. You weren’t sure whether or not you would kill anybody. Maybe hurt them or knock them out. You hadn’t killed since your time with the military. But they’d taken Rick and left you for dead. So you had very little qualms hurting them.

Turns out, it didn’t matter. Bloodsport and Peacemaker made what was almost a competition out of who could kill the most people in the sneakiest ways, but it got bloodier and bloodier as the rest of you approached the glowing tent. You heard laughter and glanced in, borrowed gun pointed in as you parted the flaps of the tent. But you immediately put your gun down. Rick was shirtless and all patched up, laughing with a woman who you’d seen the dark of the night before. You couldn’t help the rising feeling of jealousy, you’d never have that with Rick. The easy jokes, the equal ground. You were a prisoner, and you would likely die as one. But you couldn’t help the breathy “Rick,” that came out of your mouth when you realized that he was okay, and he wasn’t being tortured by enemies. He snapped his head over to you and stood.

“You’re okay,” he made his way over to you in three long strides, as if he couldn’t wait to be near you, and your heart swelled at the thought.

“So are you,” you whispered, and took a moment to look him over and let your body sag a little. You’d been so worked up that you had barely felt the pain of your wound.

“I didn’t know you were important to each other, I wouldn’t have let them shoot you,” the woman sort of apologized with a half smile and stood. “Let me get you something for the pain.”

It was then that she noticed the very silent camp, commented on it, and that’s when you looked down at your feet. Whoops, you’d let Bloodsport and Peacemaker kill an entire camp of rebels. People who were technically on your side. Waller had given you bad information.

Rick brushed a hand down your good arm and gently held you, pressing his thumb into your elbow as if making sure you were okay, that your pulse was strong.

“I was so worried,” he muttered, and you were sure only you heard it.

“So was I,” you looked up into his eyes, and if there wasn’t an audience, you would have kissed him then and there. Alas, you had another mission. Well, two. The first was to get the Thinker. The second one was to get Harley, and that was a plan you were ready for. You were down to clown, as Harley might say. As long as you had Rick by your side, you could do anything you set your minds to.

The Thinker would be frequenting one of his favorite bars, and as you left the shark dude in the bus you felt yourself relaxing a little upon entry. You knew bars. You knew how to blend in. You glanced over your shoulder, you couldn’t say the same for your teammates. So, you slinked away and found your way to the bar. The leader of the rebel camp provided you with a pair of stretchy black skinny jeans and a MCR band t-shirt. You’d fought harder battles in more confined clothing, so this wasn’t too bad.

“Una cerveza, por favor,” you spoke fluently. You grew up in the country, but your family was affluent and taught you several languages so that you could travel safely and easily.

The bartender smiled and grabbed you a bottle, and you watched the team gather around a table. They stuck out horribly, and you shook your head. Maybe with a few drinks in them they would loosen up, you watched as Peacemaker ordered drinks and nursed your own. You used to like drinking with friends, but other than Rick (and the missing Harley) you didn’t consider these people your friends. You had a tentative relationship with the Ratcatcher 2, and you were beginning to begrudgingly like Bloodsport. But, Polka-Dot Man freaked you out, Nanaue had the English understanding of a kindergartener, and Peacemaker was a dick.

“You going to join the team?” You failed to notice Rick coming over to you, and rolled your eyes, taking a sip as you mulled over your answer.

“Only if they start looking more interesting. You look like a bunch of tourists. I’d like to gather intel,” you scrunched up your nose at Rick and sipped at your beer.

“Yeah, you really look like you’re gathering intel, darlin’,” it was Rick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sitting here, sipping on a beer and staring at us.”

You scoffed. How dare he call you out. But it was true, you were busy judging the team to actually get any good information.

“Fine, I’ll join you,” you swigged the last of your beer and glanced at the bartender. “¡Uno más!” You exclaimed, and the man smiled at you before grabbing you another ice cold bottle.

“You speak Spanish?” Rick raised an eyebrow at you.

“I speak a lot of languages,” you shrugged and took a swig of the drink before making your way to the now empty table. It seemed like your compatriots decided to go dancing. That left you with Rick.

“Oh yeah, and how did you come to know so many?” He seemed genuinely interested, though you were hesitant to talk about your past.

“My parents were diplomats and wanted me to be able to travel with them, so they had me learn Spanish, French, German, and Russian by the best tutors money could offer,” you shrugged, sort of stilted, at his curious glance.

“And I thought you were a thief because you were poor,” he shook his head with a smile. “Waller has very little info on you so I wasn’t sure.”

“My parents were cruel, and utilized their money to help bad people get into power,” you looked down at your lap. “I resent the things they taught me. And I tried my best to right the wrongs that people like them did.”

Rick sobered up and placed a hand on your arm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he frowned and brushed his thumb over your skin. “I knew a little bit about your thievery and who you robbed and why, but it makes sense now. You were trying to help. I get it,” he sighed and took a sip of his drink while you downed yours. You hated talking about your family. You wanted to move on to something else. Anything else.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” you sighed, brushing your hair out of your face and looking up into those beautiful eyes.

“What would you like to talk about then?” he whispered, not willing to break the reverie you were in. You were close, closer than you should be.

“I want to talk about you, Colonel,” you smirked and placed a delicate hand on his thigh. He dragged his eyes from that hand slowly up to your face.

“What do you wanna know, beautiful?” He smirked and blinked those pretty eyes at you. You’d both had too much to drink. It was a little scary making the first move, but you found him incredibly attractive and you were 99% sure he returned your feelings.

“I want to know,” you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “What those lips would feel like against mine,” you wondered aloud, and his sharp inhale was all you had to go on before a gentle hand was turning your face to his. The kiss was gentle, tentative even, but that’s not what you wanted. You wanted everything that Rick Flag could give you and you tightened your grip on his thigh, hoping to convey your thoughts, when everything went to shit. Peacemaker jerked Rick away from you and Cleo pulled you towards a darkened corner of the room.

“They’re asking for IDs,” she hissed, pulling you towards where you saw Abner had the Thinker.

“But what about-” she shushed you as you glanced back, making strained eye contact with Rick. Maybe you could use your powers to get out of this. But… You looked at the Thinker. This was the mission. You looked back at Rick. Would you get your brains blown out to save him?

You made your way to the exit, finding your way to the van and getting out of there. You were only vaguely paying attention while you were in pursuit of the truck holding your … friends? You panicked for a moment when it crashed, and when you pulled to a stop you sprinted out of the van and over to the fiery wreckage, thoughts racing about what could have happened to Rick when he, Bloodsport, and Peacemaker burst through the doors like some sort of boy band.

You couldn’t care less though as you threw yourself into his surprised arms and pressed your lips to his.

“That was stressful and I didn’t like it,” you muttered against his lips, barely noticing Bloodsport rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Rick smiled and pulled away to look down at you. “This is pretty nice.”

You scoffed and grabbed at his hand, not willing to let go just yet, and dragged him to your vehicle.

“Shut it,” you muttered as you all gathered. All he responded with was a light chuckle.

Your next mission was saving Harley, but as it turned out, she was no damsel. You were on your way into the place she was being held when she walked down the street towards you.

“Hey, guys! Whatcha doin?” She was smiling brightly and you rolled your eyes at the situation before hugging her.

“We’re here to save you, obviously,” you muttered and she looked from you over your shoulder to Rick.

“You came back for me?” She whispered and Rick came over to you, Bloodsport rolling his eyes in the background.

“Yeah, it was a really good plan, too,” Rick muttered, but still hugged back when Harley threw herself into his arms.

“Well I can go back in and let you save me,” she offered and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not necessary, Harley. Now that we have you we can get back to the mission,” you patted her on the back and nodded to the rest of your team.

Now, you could say that you acted heroically and saved the day, but you and your ragtag team… You were amateur heroes. It was a shitshow. You were setting up explosives with Nanaue when you had that bad feeling again. The one you had when you were going into that bank in Gotham. Maybe it was your intuition, but you knew some shit was about to go down.

“Keep at it!” You shouted at the King Shark and raced your way down the stairs to where Peacemaker and Rick were headed. If you remembered their part of the plan correctly, they were with the Thinker, but something went wrong when you were about halfway down.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you heard a great BOOM. They’d set off the explosives too early. Maybe you should have stayed… You looked up at the dust coming down from above. Your brain was telling you to get out before the building collapsed on you, but your gut was telling you to make it to Rick.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you chanted as you raced down the stairwell, crumbling concrete raining down as you danced around to avoid it. Your stomach cramped in warning, and you crouched into a ball as the floor beneath you gave out and you fell several floors. When your falling came to a halt you took stock. There was rubble above you, but not crushing you. Your breathing was heavy and your heart raced as you clawed your way towards the fluorescent lighting. You grunted and groaned as your fingernails cracked and your fingers bloodied, but you were not about to die here.

You crawled out into the open and peered through the dark, dusty hallway. You didn’t see anybody, but you heard a scuffle and made your way towards the grunting and smashing sounds. The alarm bells started going off in your brain again, and you started running. Your feet pounded against the jagged edges of concrete on the ground but you didn’t stop. You whipped your pistol out when you came to the source of the sounds, but you froze.

Your eyes took in the scene very quickly, and you knew there was a decision to be made. You saw Cleo’s figure in the dark corner, eyes shining in the dusty haze. The others hadn’t seen her yet. At first glance, Rick was atop Peacemaker, and your initial thought was that he was winning this fight. But his eyes, wide and shocked, locked onto yours for merely a moment before he collapsed forward, a dead weight, and all of your breath left your body.

You also saw Peacemaker’s eyes shoot to a computer chip that had scattered across the floor right before you came in. Right before they shot over to you.

But you knew this: Peacemaker didn’t know who you were. He had no clue what you were capable of. He roughly pushed Rick’s body off of himself, but you were faster.

You put your hands in front of you, parallel to each other, and green mist started swirling around between them. You hadn’t had to use your powers to alter a scene this big or intense before, usually just using them on your own body, but you could do this. For Rick.

Suddenly everything slowed down, Peacemaker was still lying on the ground, Rick was face-first in the rubble, and Cleo was crouched in the dark, hand reaching out to the chip.

But you were alive as your powers raced through you. You had seen yourself in a mirror once as you used your powers, and you could imagine how you looked to them. Glowing green veins covered your skin as you altered the fabric of the universe itself. A wind picked up in the room, swirling in tandem with the green mist in your hands. You only needed a few moments. You didn’t need to go back and stop the fight, you just had to stop Peacemaker. You contorted your fingers and molded the green mist to your liking before throwing your arms wide, the green mist expanding to encapsulate yourself and the two men. You didn’t need to include Cleo, she wasn’t involved. The wind whipped around, the green mist blinding everyone but you, and things started to go into motion.

It would all happen very quickly for everyone involved. Just a rewind. But for you, you had to painstakingly watch as Rick’s body rose above Peacemaker, and you had to watch as the ceramic in his heart was drawn out. You had handcrafted this reality and you were forced to watch as your handiwork took place. But you had gotten to the moment you needed. They were near the end of the fight, Peacemaker had slammed Rick into a wall, and with a wave of your hand, the mist disappeared and everything was clear.

“Wait, what?” Peacemaker shot his eyes over to you, but he was too slow in his understanding. You had already whipped your pistol out of its holster and shot him twice in the throat. He grasped at his, trying to stifle the bleeding and crumpling to the ground, but your eyes were focused on Rick. A very shocked, but very alive Rick.

“What did you do?” He asked, and you weren’t sure if that was disgust or wonder in his voice, so you turned, walked slowly over to Cleo (who had witnessed the whole thing through a haze of green), and picked up the chip.

“I believe you were looking for this?” You asked, holding it out in front of yourself to him. He gulped, walking over to you, but your strength was draining from with a display of your powers. When he pulled the chip out of your hand and tucked it into your utility belt, you wavered, edges of your vision darkening as you slowly knelt to the ground.

“What are you doing, we need to get out of here?” Cleo shouted at you, but you waved her off.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“No you don’t,” Rick hauled you up by your armpits and lifted you into his arms, princess-style. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered and followed Cleo out of the rubble and into the daylight. You squinted, the bright sun blinding you after being underground for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, shoving your face into Rick’s neck to avoid the light.

“So,” he sounded very casual and you tensed up. “I really thought you weren’t going to use your rewind powers at all, what happened to make you use them?” You bit your lip, not sure what to say.

“Peacemaker killed you,” Cleo answered for you and Rick stopped walking. You winced and looked up at his face.

“I panicked,” you whispered, not sure how he was going to react. But when he turned his head to face you, it was as if he was looking at you for the first time.

“You saved my life?” He asked and it was your turn to gulp.

Okay, so maybe you had feelings for Rick. You knew that. He was a hot piece of ass, and he was kind, and he respected you. And you kissed at the bar and after the van chase. So he definitely knew you liked him. But did he know your feelings were deep enough to save his life and endanger your own in the process? Well… Now he did.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to lose you to that prick,” you tried to shrug it off, but Rick gently let your legs fall and your feet touch the ground. You weren’t sure what was happening until he reached out and pulled you into the warmest, most all-encompassing hug you had ever experienced.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, and you let yourself sigh and sink into the hug.

“Yeah well now you owe me one,” you muttered jokingly, trying to slightly ease the seriousness of the situation. He squeezed you tightly once more before pulling away and smirking.

“Anything you want, you can have,” he smiled that sunlight-bright smile at you and you blinked at him once before returning his smile.

“You can take me on a date once I’m out of prison, how does that sound?” You asked and his smile widened.

“I can do that.”

“That might be a lot sooner than you think,” Bloodsport had walked over to you and (you assumed) Cleo had explained everything to him. You blinked.

What did he mean by that?

Apparently he meant he was going to threaten Waller and keep the information hostage. It wasn’t exactly what Rick wanted, but he got out with his life, and you didn’t have to go back to prison. You were thinking about it as you settled into your new apartment, only two weeks after fighting Starro and killing Peacemaker, your first kill in years.

You were sitting on your comfy couch watching reruns of Adventure Time when Rick called you.

“Hey,” you answered warmly, and smiled at his voice when he responded.

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?” You drew a blanket over your lap and muted the TV.

“Just relaxing. What’s up with you?”

“I was thinking, how about I take you on that date tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven?” If your instincts were correct, and they usually were, he was nervous about it. He was unsure you would actually want him, considering how sheltered and uneven your relationship had been before. You were quick to dispel that.

“That sounds lovely, Rick,” you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation when he hung up a few minutes later. You also couldn’t help the excited squeal you let out and the little dance you did. Things were finally falling into place.

[zeroweeenies]

“Mine”

(My other account is entirely flagged so yeah)

Desc: you want Megumi all to yourself.

can be read as part two to this

Character(s): stepbro!megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.1K

an: I tried but that didn’t work either 😔💔 ty for requesting tho ♡

WARNINGS: stepcest, cheating, jealousy, manipulation(?), masturbation, oral sex, vaginal sex, angst if you squint, aged up megumi, 18+ minors dni

When you asked him to come “play” with you he told you no, saying that “Nobara’s coming over today.”

It’s not that he ignored you on purpose, he’s only with her to keep up the ruse. At least that’s what he told you.

But if he had you, why did he need her? You needed only him and he only needed you, everyone else was just white noise.

It didn’t matter that he was your stepbrother, he was more of a lover to you than anything else, and nobody loved him the way you did.

Nobara was just a beard. Sure Megumi may kiss her, fuck her, go out in public with her, but it was you he always came back to.

It was you who he loved and cherished, whose bed he slipped into at night when your parents were sleeping and made love to. You had his heart, and that’s the one thing she could never have.

At least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It pulls a string in your heart when he opens the door for her and leads her up to his room while you’re on the couch watching tv, her greeting you gingerly and Megumi sending you an apologetic look.

You feel a puncture in your heart as you hear his girlfriend’s desperate moans leak through the walls, as your rooms were right next to each other. You listen as Megumi struggles to contain his deep grunts as he continues to plow her into the mattress in his bedroom.

Your hands soon find their way under the waistband of your shorts, toying with your puffed out clit. Sliding a hand up your shirt, you tweak your nipple between your thumb and pointer finger, tugging gently.

You gather your slick on your other hand, spreading it around your entrance with two of your fingers before you push them inside your cunt. You pump your fingers vigorously trying to replicate the way your big brother does it, tears prodding your eyes and letting out broken sobs when you can’t reach as deep as he can, not being able to hit that spongy part inside of you that he always does.

You miss his fingers here. His mouth. His cock. He always knew how to make you feel good, better than anyone you had ever been with, you’d be lost without him. You’re so pathetic that you couldn’t even make yourself cum without his help.

You stop your movements when you hear the door to Megumi’s bedroom fly open, hearing his muffled words before his steps retreat past your bedroom and downstairs.

Pulling your fingers out of yourself you crawl out of your bed, creeping out of your bedroom to see what Megumi’s doing. When you reach downstairs you notice that the light to the kitchen is on.

You sauntered in the kitchen, resting your forearms on the island as Megumi struggled to meet your gaze. You watched as he made himself a snack to replenish himself of his previous activities.

“I miss you,” you spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

He continued to avert his eyes, pretending you weren’t even there “ [ ___ ], I can’t do this with you right now.”

You walked over to where he was standing, invading his personal space. “You can’t? Or is it just because she’s here?” you pointed upstairs. “‘Gumi,” you palmed his cock through the sweatpants he wore, looking up at his eyes “I really need you right now”

“I said no [ ___ ]” He pushed you away from him, rejecting your advances.

Feeling tears well up in your eyes again, you spoke again.

“I hate you.” was all you said, turning to walk away before Megumi caught you in his grasp, roughly pressing his lips to yours.

He thought you were going to cry. He hated seeing you cry, and you used that to your advantage.

You deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as he grabs your waist to bring you closer. You break the kiss, grinning up at him as you drop to your knees, hooking your fingers under the waistband of his sweats to pull them down.

You watch as his cock springs free, still hard even after fucking someone else. You take his length into your mouth all at once, earning a hiss from him. You squeeze your cheeks together, bobbing your forward and backward vigorously. You wanted him, even if you could still taste some of her left over.

You hear footsteps pattering down the stairs, and soon Nobara emerges in the kitchen, an irritable look on her face.

“Babe what's taking so long?” she complained

Megumi’s heart sped up. In fear of being discovered, he quickly came up with a lie.

“I’m making us breakfast babe,” he fibbed, struggling to keep his composure as you continued to suck his cock behind the island.

You didn’t care if Nobara caught you two. In fact, you wanted her to find out the things that had been going on behind her back because you wanted Megumi all to yourself. So when Megumi let out a suspicious grunt while he came as you took him deeper in your throat, Nobara raised an eyebrow.

“What was that?” she questions, trying to peer over the counter that hid you.

“N-nothing babe, I stubbed my toe” he frantically lied, his heart almost beating out of his chest.

Her face relaxed “‘Mkay, love you baby” she smiles warmly, turning around to return to Megumi’s bedroom.

“Love you more,” he ruses, waiting for her steps to dissipate before focusing his attention back on you.

You swallow the last bits of cum from his leaking tip, pulling his cock from your throat with a loud pop, smiling up at him through satisfied eyes before he pulls you up by your hair and bends you over the counter. You gasp from the sudden roughness as he tugs your shorts down, yanking your panties to the side.

“You’re gonna fucking get it,” he whispers darkly in your ear as he plunges his cock into your pussy, pounding you as you struggle to bottle up your strained cries.

Finally getting the attention you craved, you gushed around tightened around his dick, your cream beginning to form at the base of his cock.

Megumi continued to snap his hips into you wildly, expressing his frustration with you through his movements. You knew he would punish you later for being so needy, but you didn’t care because it was your cunt that his dick was buried deep inside right now, not his girlfriend’s.

You gushed around his cock, not minding if your big brother was a little bit rough with you.

He loved you and you loved him, and you loved that he was all yours.

Megumi reaches his limit as your walls flutter around him, shooting thick spurts of his cum inside of you, his tongue shoved down your throat as he rubbed circles on your clit, working on coaxing another orgasm from you.

All this going on under his girlfriend’s nose and she didn’t have a clue.

[silversatoru]

the thin line between hope and despair

yelena x gn! reader

synopsis: you’re in love with yelena, and she feels nothing for for you. constant hook-ups and faded morals = very messy feelings

tags/warnings: nsfw, some smut?, angst, unrequited love, one-sided feelings, fuck buddies

word count: 2.5k

a/n: for my my sweet bby girl @brandmeyelena <3

Yelena knows what she’s doing with you isn’t right — on so many fucking levels. Taking advantage of your utter desperation for her over and over again when she knows damn well that she couldn’t care less about you. It wasn’t fair, especially for you, but she just couldn’t really find it in herself to feel sorry for someone so pitiful. You were so willing to devote yourself to her in exchange for mere crumbs of her affection, and it was pathetic. You left a sour taste in her mouth, a taste of sorrow and complete wretchedness, but you were also the perfect distraction. The perfect relief from all of her stress and all of her responsibilities with the volunteers. She was tired, and you were just so damn desperate to make her feel better — so how could she refuse? The answer was simple, she couldn’t.

That exact thought process is what landed her here today, with her fingers around your throat and your eyes rolled back into your head. She knows you love it too, being used like this — the way your cheeks grow flushed and your eyes get foggy when she cuts off the circulation to your brain. But she doesn’t do it for you — Yelena enjoys these things just as much as you do, her power hungry ego being fervently stroked by dominating you like this. Pinning you underneath of her and giving you orders made her feel in control — and that was perfect, because god knows she isn’t in control of anything else in her life right now.

Get down, she’d hiss at you, pointing to the floor with her long, slender index finger. Your pathetic frame would sink to your knees instantly, wordlessly doting to her every command. She’d lean back on her shoulders, her hips propped on the edge of the bed, and give you an expectant look. You know what to do. Do it, her voice would snarl, her empty eyes swirling with hunger. You’d feverishly obey, launching yourself forward and graciously opening your mouth for her pussy. You were dedicated to your craft, taking your time and ensuring that your tongue consumed every inch of her. Yelena’s head would fall back and, raspy, wet noises gurgled from her throat. She was entirely consumed by this twisted bliss — and she was a horrible monster for letting you do these things to her, but she felt far too good to care.

So now here you were, your tongue buried deep inside her while you worked desperately to make her feel better. She was quieter than usual today — the only things to leave her lips were small groans and half-assed insults. Things like the occasional “faster” while she pulled your hair, or “stupid slut” when you weren’t doing things quite right. The slander only made you work harder however, and honestly anything that came out of the blonde woman’s mouth was music to your ears. You stared up at her with rose-colored glasses, living in a delusional world where you truly believed Yelena cared about you.

It was a dreadfully fucked up dynamic — this relationship the two of you had, if it could even be called that. One of you lived in a terrible fantasy of what could be and the other was practically incapable of feeling human emotions. It was truly only a matter of time before the world started burning around the two of you.

A very short matter of time.

Yelena was spasming underneath of you now, warm juices and shaky convulsions racking through her body and into your mouth. You drove your tongue deep against her contracting walls, your eyes squeezed shut. A disgustingly sticky mixture of her fluids and your own saliva dripped down your chin as you finally pulled away, a bitter taste hanging on your tongue.

And Yelena was always quick to leave, she never stuck around any longer than she had to. She came, she came, and then she’d pull shitty excuses out of her ass as to why she needed to leave so soon. Those reasons more often than not consisted of one person — Zeke Yeager. Whether or not there was something romantic between the two, or if she was just highly devoted to him, you could never tell. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know, honestly, because the answer might just break your heart.

Why don’t you stay tonight, Lena? You looked over at her as she pulled her trousers up her long, gangly legs. You craved something deeper with her, something more than just occasional casual sex — but it was really too bad that she didnt reciprocate those feelings at all. Sorry, there's a meeting tonight. I have to go. She’d respond, her voice dull as she carelessly brushed you off and slipped on her boots.

Will Zeke be there? Your voice always got low when you talked about him, but you made intentional efforts to hide the jealousy in your tone. Of course he’ll be there, he is the leader, she’d state dully as if this was obvious, and maybe it was, but it still made your chest ache.

You spend a lot of time with him lately, even outside of meetings, you’d state your observations out loud for the first time. Confrontation wasn’t something you enjoyed, and you certainly weren’t any good at explaining your feelings either. But your heart was starting to nag you lately, and you needed to voice your opinions before it was too late.

We’re preparing for a war, her eyes grew incredibly narrow, try not to make such selfish accusations right now. The words were like daggers of guilt stabbing between your ribs. Yelena had a way with words — a shiny silver tongue that always made you believe what she said without a doubt. You started to believe that you were being selfish — after all the war was very real and Yelena was very involved, that's probably all it was.

You’re right, I’m sorry. I just wish you were around more. Your voice was much quieter now, shame and remorse churning in your stomach -- maybe you would have been better off not saying anything at all.

We’re busy. You have to understand where I’m coming from here. It’s hard for me to make time right now, she’d continue to spew nonsense into your impressionable ears. She didn’t like that you were starting to question her, not at all. She’d say whatever you needed to hear to keep you around at this point — she didn’t plan on losing her little fuck-toy anytime soon. If you needed a little affection to keep you complacent, then she’d just need to put on a little show for you.

Come here, I’m sorry, her tone grew softer, but not at all sincere. You helplessly sunk into her spindly arms, and she pulled you tight to her chest. Just hold on until after the war, okay? Once we make the world a better place, we can do whatever you want.

More false hope, false promises, and false reassurance. The war would be brutal, you’d probably die at some point in a terrible event of collateral damage. You’d die and then Yelena would never need to fulfil her empty promises -- it was that easy, and you’d never know the difference.

That sounds nice, you’d smile, your heart warming at the idea of living in a free world with Yelena by your side. You fell ignorantly for her words, missing every single warning sign and every single red flag. Maybe if you’d noticed the subtle darkness in her eyes, the strain in her tone, or the way she hugged you a little too roughly, you could have saved yourself from the ensuing heartbreak. Or maybe if you had realized that with you being a scout and her being a follower of Zeke, it was unlikely that the two of you would ever work out. But you stupidly refused to consider any of these things, and it was going to cost you your heart.

That fateful memory was a few months ago, and now the both of you were in Marley, anxiously waiting for Eren’s plan to unfold. You were partnered with your friend Connie, his lips twisting into a thin line as the two of you hid in the shadows on top of an industrial building. You were incredibly capable with your 3dm gear, and even more capable with the new gun technology, but you were practically useless with your head in its current state. You watched the streets with fervent eyes, dashing them up and down nearby alleyways and hoping for any sign of Yelena. The attack hadn’t even started yet, but not knowing her whereabouts made you incredibly uneasy. She was probably wherever Zeke was, of course, but you liked to think that wherever she was, she was worried about you too.

Yelena was hiding in plain sight, dressed in a traditional Marleyan Army uniform with fake facial hair wrapped around her chin. She did as she was ordered, trapping two of the titan shifters in a large hole and then retreating back to her position. She was focused solely on her task, and on Zeke and how she could ensure his safety, and honestly, the thought of you hadn’t crossed her mind once tonight.

When Eren’s attack came, it came suddenly and violently -- and it was like nothing you’ve ever seen before, or at least not since the colossal and armored titans attacked so many years ago. Before you could even take in the horrifying scene in front of you, Connie was grabbing your hand and ushering you to run, the two of you taking off with your 3dm gear. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering as your body swung through the air, frantically searching the streets for the tall, blonde woman who owned your heart. But maybe you should have paid less attention to finding her, and more attention to where you were going.

Connie’s shrill scream shook you to your core, and at first you didn’t even notice the array of guns pointed right at the two of you. A group of Marleyan soldiers were lined up atop a building, every single nozzle of their firearms preparing to shoot at you and Connie. Your friend shot his gear downwards, swooping underneath the scope of the guns and shouting at you to follow him. And you tried, you really did, but you were horribly distracted and accidentally shot your gear into the very edge of a building. The hook crumbled the corner of the building and was unable to secure itself, sending you hurling to the ground beneath you. Your breath was wiped clean from your chest as you smacked against the ground, dust and dirt filling your lungs. Connie was forced to swing up onto a higher building, narrowly avoiding the bullets and unable to come down after you. Your bones ached as you peeled yourself off the ground, looking up just to see pieces of rubble hurling towards you. What the FUCK, Eren? You silently cursed out that irresponsible titan boy, scrambling to avoid the giant chunks of building that were quickly getting closer.

You thought you’d made it, your heart beat gushing in your ears as you launched yourself towards another building, only to be knocked back down by a slab of broken concrete. Pained yelps squeezed out from your throat as your body fell helplessly back to the ground. This fall did a number on you, your ears ringing and your head pounding with a dull pain. The large piece of rubble had crashed into one of your legs, rendering your leg immobile and absolutely crushing your gear. Connie couldn’t help you, not when saving you guaranteed his own demise — you needed to do this on your own, unless-

“Yelena!” You called out to the towering woman who was stumbling towards you. Her arm was wrapped around an injured Zeke, and she was working hard to carry him to safety. Levi must have rocked his shit again, you’d have to thank him for that if you made it out of this alive.

Yelena stopped momentarily when she saw your mangled leg, but not even an ounce of concern crossed her determined face. She looked you up and down, and then glanced down at Zeke as if she was weighing her options.

“I’m sorry,” She shot you a horribly unsypathetic look, dragging her gaze away from you and hurrying off with the injured blonde boy.

It was so simple, so short, and there wasn't the smallest hint of remorse in her voice. Your brain couldn’t process how easy it was for her to leave you there, your mouth hanging open in a small “o”. You would give your life for Yelena, and she didn’t even blink when you were faced with certain death — and that’s when it all started to set in. The delusional facade that you’d imagined between the two of you was shattering, small pieces of glass memories crashing and crumbling around you. The cruel owner of your pitiful heart felt nothing for you, and it had taken this long for you to finally realize.

All of the days and nights the two of you spent entangled in each other's arms had meant nothing. All of the time you spent with your lips locked against hers and her large hands caressing your body had been devoid of anything more than lust for her. Terrible embarrassment washed up inside of you as you recalled all of the sinful things you did for this cold-hearted, unfeeling woman.

Your motivation to fight was gone, your eyes locked onto Yelena’s tall figure as she ran further away and out of view. She’d picked Zeke over you again, she always did, and she always would. She practically worshiped him, like he was some kind of fucked up, twisted god. You weren’t sure why you ever thought you could compete with that.

In the midst of your complete breakdown, a firm arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into the air. Connie had come back for you, cold air stinging your face as the two of you shot up to the safety of a tall, nearby building.

“Fuck, y/n, stop being so careless! And I hope you’ll finally give up on that lanky bitch after she walked right past you like that,” he let out an exasperated breath, slumping behind a large brick wall.

“Sorry… thank you,” you mumbled, “You really shouldn’t have risked your life like that”.

“No, but that’s what people are supposed to do when they care about each other. Is it finally sinking in, that she's been using you for the past year? I tried to tell you so many time-,” He continued to ramble on in frustration.

Every one of his words poured salt into your already burning wounds, tears beginning to leak from your eyes. Yelena didn’t care about you, she never did — she’d never even sacrificed time for you, never mind compromising her or Zeke’s safety for you. And you were stupidly ignorant to ever think that she saw you as more than a toy she used to pass the time.

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Spawn

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), biting, scratching, breeding, oviposition, dub/noncon, kidnapping, cursing, blood, use of aphrodisiac, interspecies sex (merman and human), mentions of drowning Words:   5579 Pairing: Mer!Bakugou Katsuki x Human Fem!Reader

a/n: I’ve been getting quite a few requests for mermaid breeding. This... is probably not what you were wanting or expecting, so I won’t include anyone’s request here lol. I may write something a little... gentler later on.

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe​​, @hoefortodo​​, @sunkissedneptune​​, @softkatsuki​​, @marilla-eldriana​​, @sanurrwrites​​, @hopeismyhope101

There was something different in that familiar crimson gaze today. You hadn’t thought much about it at first, but now, it stuck out to you as something that should have been a huge red flag. The instant you had seen him glaring at you over the water's surface, you should have run away. You should have called to him from the safety of land, to tell him you really weren’t feeling well and decided to go home. Or that you had some type of rash or injury and didn’t want to get too close to the water? Would he have believed you? Probably not. You weren’t sure of what type of fit he would have thrown if he would have tried to persuade you to come to him or just dragged himself up into the sand to chase you down. 

He was strong enough to do that. His upper body strength matched the incredible power of his tail, his arms, and core easily able to lift himself up or drag himself around. If you ran at full speed, he couldn’t get you. Maybe. You couldn’t really think about something like that though right now. The fact of the matter was you hadn’t taken his glare as something menacing. You had ignored the rolling sickness in your stomach, the little voice in your head that told you to flee. Now, it was too late for you to do anything. 

You were as happy to see him as you had always been, greeting the merman with a cheery wave and a smile as you stepped into the rolling ocean waters. You hadn’t even made it a few steps into the cool water before he was suddenly at your feet, snatching you by the ankles and dragging you deeper into the water. The impact of falling on your back onto the hard, wet sand knocked the air out of your lungs, and before you could even breathe again, you were struggling to keep your head above water. 

He hadn’t dragged you out too far, but right now, the distance wasn’t really what mattered. You were completely pinned down to the sand, his heavy red and orange freckled tail resting over your chest to keep you down. Your legs were in his tight grip, held under the knees, and spread open so his head had easy access between your legs. The rolling waves didn’t affect him at all, but as they came washing over your face, you felt as if you might just drown. It was difficult and painful to find the opportunity to inhale as much air as you could when the tide pulled out, gasping and coughing to try and purge the burning saltwater from your lungs before you were overwhelmed again. 

It wasn’t just the water that gave you the feeling of drowning. His tongue, slick and hot against the cold ocean water, was lapping at your cunt eagerly. When he had torn your swimsuit, you weren’t sure. But again, you weren’t sure of anything that was happening to you right now. Why was he eating you out like this? He had never shown any sexual interest in you for the months you had known him. In fact, he hadn’t shown any romantic interest at all. At least, not any that you had been able to notice. Bakugou Katsuki, this fierce and aggressive merman, had originally saved you from drowning while out on a tour boat during vacation. You had been so grateful to him, so you made it a point to come visit him as often as you possibly could. You liked him. But this? This isn’t how you wanted things to happen. 

You had fallen for him. You loved him. But, how could you? You were from two completely different worlds. There was no possible way that you could be together outside of close friends, and that was even a conversation you already had. 

“There’s no way I’d ever fall for a stupid human like you! You can’t even swim!” 

So why was he doing this? Why was he holding you down just for the chance to eat you out so vigorously? If he would have just hit on you a little sweeter, maybe you would have given in to him and you could both enjoy the experience to the fullest. But all of this was for his own gratification, for whatever he felt like or wanted to do with you. It was hard for you to think with the weight on your chest, the water crashing down on your face, and the burning heat between your legs. 

God, it was hot. His tongue and his mouth were like fire, sucking and lapping at your clit with such fierce intensity. You knew that you shouldn’t be feeling good, that you should be screaming for help and struggling against him. No one would hear you this far down the coastline, anyway, but the point still stands. You should have been trying. Instead, all you could do was lay there, your nails digging into the slippery scales of his tail, fighting between coughing, moaning, and yelling out in pain. 

The longer his tongue ravaged you, the hotter you began to feel. It was so odd, how every nerve in your body was so sensitive. You had sex before, but your arousal never peaked to this level so early on. Why? Why was it happening? Why was he doing this? You didn’t want this. Did you? Of course, you didn’t. You wanted him to stop. 

“B-Bak-ack!” You hacked and coughed as water rushed into your mouth the instant you tried to speak, using what little strength you could to push yourself up on your elbows. “Bakugou, please-- please, stop-!” A yelp ripped from your throat as his hot tongue left your burning pussy, his teeth and fangs sinking into the plush meat of your inner thigh. Piercing the skin, the saltwater immediately began to burn the wound, but you still found yourself unable to pull away because of his hold on you. Even the slightest twitch had his nails digging into your skin, and by the reaction he gave from your attempt at begging, he didn’t want you to make a single move. 

His tongue ran over the now bleeding bite mark, a low groan rumbling from deep within his chest. He had found something new to taste, and he did so eagerly. “Fuck, you’re so delicious. So sweet and healthy… You’re perfect. I’ve always known you’d be perfect.” His words were almost slurred as if he were a drunken man on a ramble. That was the only way you could describe his actions as if he were intoxicated. But by what?

“I… Bakugou, what-” With a swift change of positions, you were suddenly beneath him, his hand on your throat and entire body weight on you. Before you could even scream or attempt to struggle, his mouth crashed down on yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. The metallic taste of your blood would have immediately made you gag if not for the tight grip he had on your throat, which was only further making you light-headed. You tried to push up against his chest, scratch at his arms, and push his hips off you with your legs, but you couldn’t. There was no energy or strength behind your struggles. 

In an instant, everything stopped. Bakugou removed his tongue from your throat, snapping his head up to look towards the beach. Before you noticed what he may have been looking at, you could hear him beginning to growl, a deep and threatening sound that made your stomach twist nervously. What was he looking at? 

With his grip still on your neck, you didn’t have much movement, but you didn’t need it. You could hear the voices of a group of people. How far away or what they had seen so far, you couldn’t tell, as the sound was muffled by the water around your ears. The need to protect yourself suddenly burst forth and you screamed out as loudly as your burning lungs would let you, forcing your body to thrash and struggle even as your limbs burned with searing pain. Had you said anything comprehensible? Had they heard you? 

They wouldn’t have been able to save you, anyway. You already knew that your fate was in Bakugou’s hands. 

In a rush of crushing water, churning foam, and stinging sand, you felt Bakugou snatch you by the right ankle and drag you out further into the sea, not even giving you a moment to take a breath or prepare yourself. You couldn’t open your eyes or struggle, not even as your body was suddenly wrapped tightly in a strong grip. Was he holding you now? Where was he taking you? You could tell that he was moving swiftly, and the incredible pressure building in your ears and your chest told you that he must have been traveling deeper. 

I’m going to drown…! My breath… I can’t hold it!

As the burning and painful strain on your body grew more severe, you couldn’t control your involuntary thrashing, pushing against his presence and kicking where you could. It hurt so bad, worse than anything you had ever felt, and you wished that you would just drift off into unconsciousness. That’s what you had heard happened to people when they drown sometimes. Why couldn’t that happen to you? Why were you being put through this? 

You felt like you had been underwater for hours, but when you finally breached the surface, your body immediately inhaled a massive amount of air, so quick and urgent that you began to cough violently. You didn’t know where you were, and you didn’t care. All you wanted was to find that sweet relief of air in your lungs and something to secure you to reality. When a rocky surface scraped against your flailing and searching hands, you clutched onto it for dear life, somehow pulling yourself out of the strong embrace of your kidnapper to try and claw your way up the ledge. 

Before you could get far, Bakugou’s strong presence pressed up against your back, one hand holding your hip while the other took hold of your neck, constricting and preventing your body from pulling in the air it needed. 

Too weak to resist, you finally forced your eyes open, tears spilling down your cheeks and further blurring your vision. As his lips came to press against your cheek, you whimpered and tried to gasp in the air to your aching lungs. “Ba… Bakugou, please, stop! Take me back to shore!” 

“I found this cave for us last night,” Bakugou ignored your plea, inhaling your scent as if your fear was addicting. “It’s perfect. No one can interrupt us… You’re safe.” 

“I’m not!” You glanced around, trying to take in your surroundings the best you could in the dim light. From what you could tell, you were in a cave, the only source of light being a hole above you where you could clearly see the beautiful blue sky. It was out of your reach, and with no other visible exits, you knew that this was going to be your tomb. “I’m not safe with you!” 

“You’ve always been safe with me,” Growling in your ear, Bakugou dug his nails into the skin of your neck, piercing the delicate flesh and making you whine. “Now more than ever. I’ll protect you with my life. You and our spawn. Our children…” 

What? That’s… he can’t! All of this was because he wanted to mate with you, to impregnate you and force you to have his children. Was that even possible? 

“But… I’m human! You can’t!” 

“I want you, damn it! No other female is worthy of me.” Moving his hand to instead tangle into your hair, he pulled your head back roughly, leaning in to run his tongue over the new bleeding scratches along your neck. Instantly, that same heat that you could still feel throbbing in your pussy spread like fire from the wounds, making you tremble from the stark difference of cold water against your burning skin. 

What is that…? I… It’s so hot! It feels so good. Is it some type of venom? Or… I can’t think…

Your mind was beginning to grow hazy from the heat, his teeth lightly scraping across the skin of your neck and shoulder the only thing you could feel outside of the fire. 

Bite me… Oh god… Bite me! No, no- what am I thinking? I don’t want it! 

A trembling gasp escaped your lips as his teeth clamped down on your skin, easily sinking into your flesh. The fire returned with another stroke of his tongue along the wound, but this time, it was so intense that your body began to quiver, panting into the stale cave air. You felt like you were boiling, half expecting the water around you to begin bubbling and churning with your flame. Your sex was incredibly hot and aching, and you squeezed your thighs together just so you could feel something. 

You needed relief. Whatever he was doing to you with each bite and lick of his tongue against your skin was driving you completely mad. “What… What are you doing to me? Why am I so hot?” 

A low, satisfied purr left Bakugou’s lips as he smirked against your cheek, releasing your hair to run his hands down along your sides. His nails caught and ripped holes into your swimsuit, which had already been ripped apart at the crotch, so it grew looser against your searing skin. “My mate… you’re almost ready for me.” With a light nudge of his nose against your cheek, you weakly turned your head in response, immediately giving into him the instant his lips pressed against yours. You didn’t care about the blood on his lips nor the strange sweet taste that rolled down your throat, making your belly flutter and burn. 

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t safe. What would happen to you if things went wrong? What was he going to be putting inside of you? He had said children… What did that mean? 

You wanted to contemplate these things, to try and focus on the questions bouncing about in your mind, but they slipped from your fingers the instant you tried to hold onto them. Your mind was clouded by nothing but heat, pain, longing, throbbing, and aching. All the fear you had been feeling was only a vague prickle along your spine, but it was nothing compared to the new overwhelming desire. 

Both of his hands gripping on tightly to your hips, Bakugou pressed you up tighter against the rocky ledge, the roughness of the jagged surface against your breasts and hard nipples forcing a soft moan from your lips. With the sound, Bakugou released your lips, pressing his own against your ear as he growled deep and low. 

“You’re going to be my mate forever. You hear me? You’re mine. You’re my little horny bitch to breed.” As he spoke to you, so dominating and controlling in a way that made your heart flutter, you felt a new presence between your legs you hadn’t noticed before. It was slick with a slimy consistency, with a curved, ridged head and bumps along the long sides that led back to Bakugou’s hips. It was pulsing and twitching up against your sex, every soft nudge to your clit nearly enough to make you come undone that instant. 

That’s his cock… It’s so big… How will it fit inside me? It’ll rip me open…! 

“Don’t-” You choked out weakly, trying to shift your hips away from him to no avail. “You can’t! That’ll rip me apart-!” Another harsh bite to your neck made you squeal, unconsciously arching back against him and stroking your cunt along the dick still between your thighs. The pain had you squeezing them together around his girth, bringing a deep groan from his chest, teeth still planted in your skin. The longer he stayed there, the hotter the wound became, spreading through your body like the many times before. “Ow, a-ah, that’s hot! It burns, Bakugou, please!” 

Instead of responding with words, Bakugou gave a thrust of his hips, stroking his cock along your sex. The instant he ran across your clit, all your restraint snapped like a twig, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you came. Trembling and moaning, you dug your nails into the rocks you were holding on to, spouting whatever words first came to your mind in a jumbled mess. 

“F-fuck, fuck! I’m so hot; It’s so hot! I can’t take it! Please, please no more!” 

“There’s only one way to make it go away,” Bakugou lapped up the blood on your neck, shifting his hips so that the tip of his cock rested at your still twitching hole. “I have to fill you up, until you’re nice and full of my spawn. Or else you’ll burn until you die.” 

“I-I don’t want them-!” 

“You do. Don’t you want to feel better?” 

“Yes.”

“You’ll love having me inside you.” 

“It’ll… feel good…” 

“So fucking good…-” Without waiting for your response, Bakugou began to press himself into you, the head of his thick cock slipping in. The stretch as he vanished inch by inch into your clenching pussy was unlike anything you had ever felt, his girth making you breathless. But it was unlike what you had expected. There was no pain, only an intense pressure and feeling as if you were full all the way up to your throat. By the time he had bottomed out inside you, you had cum again, just the feeling of him pressing against every inch of you enough to push you over the edge. With a low groan, Bakugou dug his nails into your hips, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “Yes, you’re nice and ready for me. My little mate… so obedient.” 

Your mind was blank to everything but the heat and his overwhelming presence inside you. The sensitivity of your body was heightened to the point that you could feel every ridge, every bump and groove of his cock. As he gave his first slow roll of his hips, pulling all the way out to the tip before plunging in again, you immediately lost all control, craving nothing but the pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t take it! Fuck me, please! Use me! I’m your mate, I want your spawn, please-” Your encouragement immediately set him off to fuck you at a faster pace, slamming into your cunt. Your voice was something that you couldn’t restrain, screaming, moaning, and begging for him to use you. 

“Yeah, that’s it! My filthy little breeding bitch. Tell me who you belong to!” 

“Y-you! I belong to you! I’ll be yours forever- you can use me whenever you want!” 

“You’ll never resist me again?” 

“No, no! Never!” 

As the pleasure began to build rapidly, you rested your forehead against your arm, your eyes rolling back  and unable to stop the drool that dripped down your chin, your mouth permanently open with the most lewd sounds you had ever made. He was using you like a sex toy, fucking you at his own pace and indulging completely in his own pleasures. You didn’t care what he did to you at this point, how many scratches marked your back or how much blood you had lost to his bites. All you could think about was him and his cock inside you. 

You were unsure how long he fucked you like this, but after your third time cumming, he gripped you by the neck and pulled your upper body back. His presence inside you had your hips arched up in perfect position for him, and he didn’t stop, not even as he growled into your ear. 

“Take them all into your hot and precious womb… With this, your body will never be the same for any other man or creature. You are mine. You will be mine forever.” With a few final thrusts, Bakugou came to a stop, buried so deep inside of you that you could feel your cervix stretching uncomfortably. At first, all you could feel was a growing heat, coating your walls and making your core tingle relentlessly. Your clenching and tense core began to pulse with your rapid heartbeat in a way that was new to you, allowing you to relax in his grip. Although your mind was still aching to rid yourself of the fire, whatever was happening to you now loosened your anxious, aching muscles. 

Then came the first egg. About the size of a tennis ball, it passed through Bakugou’s cock slowly, only taking a moment to squeeze into your cunt. Gasping fearfully as it continued to slowly move closer, you gripped onto Bakugou’s hand that was around your throat, finding that you were unable to feel your legs enough to try and kick him off. “N-no, no! It won’t fit- a-ah!” Leaning your head back with your mouth and eyes wide open in a silent scream, you were unable to stop him as he lightly bucked his hips into you, urging the egg further down his shaft. With each light thrust, it moved deeper and deeper, stretching you open. When it finally reached his tip, Bakugou gave a grunt as he snapped his hips roughly into yours, bringing forth a scream from your throat as you came hard from the pressure of the egg breaching your cervix into your womb. 

The waves of your orgasm helped to pass it through, your eyes rolled back as it passed. There was no pain, but you could feel the new presence in your lower belly, tucked safely inside of you. 

Releasing his arm, your hands slid down to caress your own belly, pressing into your lower abdomen lightly. You could feel the tip of Bakugou’s cock inside you, and your light pressure made him growl in your ear. 

“Watch it, my pet.” 

“I… I want to feel it.” 

The next egg coming through was just as blissful as the first, bringing you to orgasm as you kept your fingers pressed into your body. You could feel it this time against your fingertips, bringing a smile to your lips as you bit down eagerly onto your bottom lip. Never in your life had you imagined such pleasure would be yours, to be used and adored by a creature in such an intimate way. 

It was heaven. 

Eight more followed, bloating your belly. Whatever numbing he had done to you had spread to your stomach, so your muscles were relaxed enough to take on the new presence inside you. You felt full, as if you had eaten an incredibly large meal, but there was no pain. Still, that burning need of satisfaction was ravaging your body. It hadn’t gone away like he had promised it would. Was he not done with you? 

Removing his cock from your ravaged body, Bakugou flipped you over to face him, resting you back against the side of the ledge. With a weak grip, you kept yourself up with your legs around his waist, your arms resting limply by your sides. For a moment, you just stared at each other, giving you time to observe his brilliant and handsomely fine features. He was perfection, from the blonde fluff of spiked hair atop his head, to flawless skin, to muscular frame that had you swooning the first time you had met him. He was so gorgeous, and all the sudden so… gentle. 

With your new position, he found the opportunity to caress your swollen belly, running his hands along your skin as he gazed down at your form through the clear, rippling water. It was such an odd look to you. Was it longing? Love? Or was it just pride in the work that he had done here, filling you up with his eggs and making you submit to him. 

Did he even care about you at all? Or did he just care about keeping your body to use as he pleased? 

You were pulled from your stupor of staring at him as his hands traveled up to your breasts, taking hold of the remnants of your swimsuit and ripping it apart. The fabric discarded off to the side, Bakugou leaned in to kiss you again as he squeezed and massaged your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples between his fingers. Your mouth opened for him with a moan, allowing him to kiss you as he pleased. 

That sweet taste filled your mouth again, making you writhe and wrap your arms around his neck in discomfort of the spreading fire. Your body began to ache again, digging your nails into his skin as you moaned and panted against his lips, which refused to let yours go. Then, without a word, you felt the familiar blunt presence of his cock at your twitching hole, slipping into place like he was simply putting on a glove. You trembled against him as you tried to moan, begging against the kiss for him to let you breathe with any little moment that came your way. He didn’t. He continued to kiss you, to bite and nibble at your lip and your tongue, his sharp fangs piercing the delicate flesh when he was a bit too rough. 

“You’re so delicious,” Bakugou groaned against your lips, glaring into your gaze as your fierce need for pleasure grew more severe. “I never want to stop tasting you.” 

“I-I want to be done… Bakugou, I want to stop-” A squeak escaped your lips as he dug his cock deeper into your cunt, a new presence making itself known as it slithered up along your clit and against your pelvis. It was just as slimy and wet as the cock inside you, but it was smooth, pointed, and not quite as thick. You wanted to look down between your bodies to see, but you were too distracted by his smirk, his tongue dancing across his blood-stained lips. 

“I’m not done with you yet.” 

In that same moment, the new appendage that you couldn’t identify began to press against your cunt, beginning to enter you along with his cock. As you were stretched open, you clutched onto his shoulders, gasping and choking on your attempts to breathe. “N-no, wait-!” Clenching your eyes shut, you pushed back on his chest, but your weak body was no match against his overwhelming presence. “Don’t- not both! I can’t!” 

Sighing in satisfaction as his hand slid up your body to grip the hair at the back of your head, Bakugou pressed his lips against your cheek, his smirk only growing wider. “You can! I would have only done one at a time, but you’ve just been so naughty fighting against me like this. I have to teach you a fucking lesson, that your body belongs to me.” 

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t fight anymore! I won’t!” Tears began to stream down your face as he forced both of his dicks into your cunt. If not for the fire within you that begged for pleasure and the still relaxed muscles from the eggs, you knew that you would be in severe pain. There was none. No, the pleasure is what was driving you mad. You couldn’t take it. It was going to make you go crazy if he kept this up, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him moving. 

When he finally began to thrust into you, it rocked your body so hard with pleasure that you couldn’t even find the air to scream or moan. All you could do was lean back against the rocks, not even able to feel the scratching against your back as he pounded into you, hard and deep. Head leaning back, you were sure that you must have had an insane look on your face, with your eyes rolled back and a wide, pleasured smile on your lips. But you couldn’t help it. 

It was amazing. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel his cocks inside you forever, to be fucked and bred at every chance you possibly had. Nothing could ever compare to this bliss, not even achieving your wildest dreams. Your body was going to belong to him. Your soul was going to belong to him. 

This wasn’t right. 

How could you give in like this? How could he break you so easily? 

It didn’t matter. 

“You like my dicks inside you, huh, my pretty mate?” Bakugou hissed in your ear, pulling your consciousness to the front just for a moment. 

“I-I love… I love them. So good! Bakugou-” 

“-No. Katsuki.” He purred against your lips, watching as your face contorted with your oncoming orgasm. 

“Yes… Yes, Katsuki!” 

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” 

“I’m yours, Katsuki! Fuck, I’m going to cum, fuck, I can’t- I can’t hold it! I can’t!” Your entire body seized up with your release, clutching onto him tightly. With his final few erratic thrusts, Bakugou let out a heavy groan, digging his cocks as deep into you as he could. You could feel his hot release into you, the second dick pulsing and coating your walls. What was more, you could feel the very tip of it dug into your womb, filling you up directly with his cum to join the eggs. You couldn’t believe that you could feel it all so clearly, your body so sensitive and yet so in tune with his that it had seemed you were familiar with this. 

You weren’t, of course. As he removed himself from you, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, all your energy felt like it left with him and you collapsed forward, head against his chest. You couldn’t feel him caressing you. You couldn’t feel his fingers tenderly stroking your hair. All you could feel, as the fire within your core began to vanish, was an overwhelming sense of shame. What had you just done? What had you just been forced to do? None of this was right. You shouldn’t be here. 

Those things you had said to him… you didn’t mean it. Did you? Did you really want to belong to him? Were you really going to just lay down and accept that this was it? 

“[Name].” 

Jumping at the sound of his voice, you timidly sat up, looking up at him in fear as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. Too scared to talk, you waited for him to continue, not even wanting to blink in fear that he would react badly. Though, his expression was quite soft, his crimson eyes glancing over your face with worry. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I… yes.”  You could barely find it in you to speak, the words coming out as a choked whisper. Why did you say that? Of course you weren’t okay. You were scratched up, bitten, bruised, and filled with eggs, for fucks sake! Why weren’t you yelling and screaming at him?

“Here.” Caressing you carefully, Bakugou moved you both over to a different ledge, carefully lifting you up to sit on it. “There’s a blanket and other things there for you.” 

Sitting there with your legs dangling in the water, you slowly wrapped your arms around your swollen belly, beginning to tremble from the cold. “O… okay.” 

With a frustrated grunt at the fact that you neglected to move, Bakugou hoisted himself up onto the ledge, sitting beside you and reaching back to snatch the blanket he had mentioned. “Damn stupid woman, you need to stay warm!” As he draped it around your shoulders, you couldn’t stop but flinch away from him a bit, tears still streaming down your face in fear. “Why are you scared of me?” 

“I don’t… want you to hurt me anymore.” 

Bakugou gave the back of your head a gentle stroke, letting his arm rest around your back. “You got it all wrong, moron. I don’t want to hurt you. Your wounds will heal quickly because of my venom… And being sore won’t last, you’ll be numb for a while.” 

“You act like you’ve done this before.” 

“... We don’t need to talk about that. It doesn’t fucking matter. You’re all I care about, now. I’m going to protect you.” Bakugou caressed your cheek, turning your head to look up at him. “I don’t just go for random women. I picked you for more than just your body. You should rest…” 

His final words were more of a command than a suggestion, and with that gruff growl in his voice, you listened. Scooting back towards the pad of blankets he had set up on the ground, you used the one around your shoulders to first dry off the best you could, before shuffling under the others. It was warm and oddly comfortable, but you expected that you’d find even a bed full of needles comfortable with how exhausted you were. As you settled down on your side, you watched Bakugou as he slipped back into the water, vanishing beneath the surface and leaving you alone in the cave. 

With the silence, more tears began to flow down your cheeks, running your hands up and down along your swollen belly as you craved the warmth of the sun and the cheeky grinning merman you had loved just yesterday. 

[eeveedel]

WIP Sunday

Hello all, I was tagged by to post a bit of my current WIP alongside some “art” -- I don’t have a current moodboard but I thought I would provide some general ~~aesthetic pics and another preview of the rancher harry fic -- this time an HL meet cute! I hope you all enjoy, and happy Sunday

Harry heard a rapping at the screen door, and he grunted, shifting his weight forward so he could sit up and hoist himself out of his armchair.

He took a step forward on his good leg while his bad one dragged behind him. After a bit of walking around, it usually woke up enough for him to put more weight on it, but for now, after his rest, it was a dead weight of pins and needles behind him. It took a bit of effort to get to the front door, but he got there eventually. He grabbed his cane that was leaning by the door, and then opened the wood door, revealing just the screen and what lay beyond it.

There was a man in mint green scrubs and a thick corduroy jacket on his porch, perfectly centered between the big American flag hanging beside Harry’s door and the pots of tulips lining the front gate. The man at the front door was young. He had some creases around his eyes and mouth but his freshly shaved face looked so youthful, along with his bright eyes behind his big, wire frame glasses.

“Howdy,” Harry drawled, lifting his thermos to his mouth, “You must be — “ His tongue worked in his mouth, trying to come up with the name Margaret had given him last week. It wasn’t something common around here, and yet it still evaded him.

“Shoot, I’m sorry,” he sighed, pushing up the brim of his hat with his thumb, “Help me out, what’s your name, son?”

“Oh, I’m Dr. Tomlinson, but you can call me Louis,” he said. “Dr. Baldwin caught me up on some of the animals you have here and their needs, sir,” he said. “I know you have a pregnant cow nearing the end of term and a newly pregnant mare that just needs a bit of a checkup as your main concerns. She also told me you had a few roosters and a chicken coop, is that correct?”

Harry cracked a smile and nodded.

“Well, that’s correct. Seems like you did your homework,” he said. “Cherry’s gonna have a baby now damn day now and I just found out about Goldie last month.”

He took a sip of his coffee, shuffling his feet and readjusting his cane as he did.

“You don’t need to worry too much about the chickens, they nearly take care of themselves. Got a few pigs but those are going to market in a couple months, but you can take a look at ‘em if you want to.”

He pushed at the screen door, moving out onto the porch to meet Louis directly. When he was in front of the man, he could see Louis looked even younger up close, and he was nearly a full head shorter than Harry.

“Can I get you something to drink or anything before we go out?” Harry asked, taking the briefest moment to look the young vet over.

“Um, maybe a glass of water after we finish up? It is a bit hot out today, even though it’s January,” Louis rambled. “I mean, I came from San Francisco, so it’s still hot there— anyways, sorry.”

He exhaled, his cheeks already pink.

“Could you show me to Cherry first, please?” Louis asked. “I want to make sure she and her calf are in tip top shape.”

Harry smiled gently. The young vet was eager, and looked a bit flustered. He tried not to let his gaze linger too much longer, although he already liked him.

“Sure thing. I’ll show you out the pasture. Cherry’s probably out gossiping with her friends.”

He walked to the edge of the porch, taking the small ramp that was easier to navigate with his cane.

“Tell me, they have a lot of cows out in California, Louis?” he asked as they trudged along the path, “Because if this is your first one, I’ll give you a fair warning. Cherry’s a sweet girl but a little sassy.”

“Well, I grew up in San Francisco, so no, we don’t have a lot of farms there,” Louis said. “But I studied with a bit of everything in veterinary school, and went to a lot of farms up north. So yeah, I’ve worked with cows.”

“Good, good,” Harry nodded.

He walked through along the dirt path that led from the house to the rest of the ranch. He led Louis past the chicken coop and the large horse barn, moving out to the back part of the property with the cattle barn and the large pasture. His leg was starting to wake up, making his gait a bit less strained.

“Where did you study?” he asked.

“UC Santa Barbara for undergrad and then vet school at UC Berkeley,” Louis said. “I just graduated last spring, actually.”

“Congratulations,” Harry said. “Before you look at my girls, you wanna tell me know if you were bottom of your class?”

Louis laughed a little, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was actually valedictorian.”

“Damn. Undergrad or vet school?”

“Uh,” Louis said, smiling sheepishly. “Both? And high school.”

“Jeez,” Harry chuckled. “Well. I didn’t even go to college, so you’ve already impressed me many times over.”

They arrived in front of the enormous cattle barn and the wide pasture beyond it. Harry smiled to himself, lifting the hand that wasn’t gripping his cane.

“Yep,” he smiled to himself, “There she is.”

He gestured to the pasture, and specifically pointed to one of the cows, a rich red brown and swollen at the belly, who was smack in the middle of a group of five other black and white cows.

“Gossiping, just like I thought,” Harry said. He reached for the gate, going to unlock it, “Well, come on, you can give me your expert opinion.”

“Wow, she’s beautiful,” Louis marveled.

“Don’t let her hear that, it’ll go straight to her head,” Harry said. He opened the gate fully, then opened the pasture and turned around, holding it open for Louis.

Once they were both inside, Harry approached Cherry, cooing and clicking his tongue as he walked. She looked up and stared at him, chewing slowly on a thick clump of grass, but when she was done, she let out a low moo and slowly but surely waddled towards him.

“Here she comes,” Harry smiled.

They both stood and watched her as she slowly came over, and when she did, she immediately gravitated to Harry.

“Hey, princess,” Harry said. He set his hand on her head and gently stroked her with his thumb, smiling to himself as she blinked at him with her big, milk chocolate eyes.

“Louis’s gonna take a look at you, pretty girl,” Harry said. “You be nice to him.”

Harry kept petting Cherry’s head and then looked over to Louis. The vet was kneeling on the ground, unlocking the briefcase he had brought. It was funny, seeing him with a shiny, clearly barely used case. Margaret had always just shoved her tools into her ancient Jansport backpack, which was covered in twenty years’ worth of coffee stains and held together with duct tape and spite.

Louis took out a pair of latex gloves and a stethoscope, then moved closer to the animal. He gave her a settle pat on her swollen side, then put the stethoscope’s earpieces in. He set the metal diaphragm on her side, and Cherry jolted a bit, but Louis cooed at her and kept petting her side as he listened. He closed his eyes and nodded a bit as he moved the cold metal over her stomach, humming softly to himself.

Harry watched Louis carefully touch and examine Cherry, the young man’s hands gentle but sure as he did his job. Harry had had his hesitations before Louis arrived. But he seemed at home, and like he really cared about doing a good job. Harry could appreciate that. He had spent years building up trust with Margaret to work with his animals, but, maybe he was just getting sentimental at his age, or Louis really did have a special touch, but he immediately felt just fine with the younger man taking care of his herd.

After a few minutes Louis opened his eyes and ducked his head down, examining Cherry’s udders and nether regions. Finally, he lifted his head and pulled himself up, taking the stethoscope out of his ears and draping it around his neck.

“Well, she looks great,” Louis said as he peeled off his gloves and shoved them into his jacket pocket. “The calf’s got a nice, strong heartbeat. She seems about a couple weeks away, but just keep an eye on her – “

“Early labor, yeah,” Harry said. “I always start preparing at least a couple weeks in advance of the due date, anyways. My girl Caroline went into labor a couple years ago, fuckin’ 16 days before she was due, and I was in Austin for the weekend. Only time I left the house in months, and she picked that weekend.”

One of the white cows in the pasture mooed loudly, and Harry looked over his shoulder and glared.

“Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you, fuckin’ drama queen,” he scoffed. “She’s a good girl. And a tough one. Had a delivery all by herself and nearly gave me a heart attack when I got home and there was a new baby toddling around.”

He turned back to Louis, offering an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, don’t mean to bore you with farm stories right off the bat.”

“It’s okay,” Louis said. “I love to hear animal stories.”

“Well, let me know in a few months if you’re sick of cow stories. That’s nearly the only kind of stories we have in this town.”

Louis just laughed and lifted his hand, shifting his glasses up his nose.

“Would you show me to Goldie, please? Just to see how her early stages are going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harry said. “Goldie’s in the small barn, come on.”

[waitineedaname]

It was Tommy Coolatta’s birthday, and Gordon Freeman was shaking in a Chuck E. Cheese bathroom.

He hadn’t planned to end up there. He hadn’t planned to be in many of the places he’d been in the past… god. Week? Weeks? Month? The realization that he couldn’t remember how long he’d spent trying to escape Black Mesa made him grip the cheap tile of the bathroom countertops and shake even harder.

He’d tried to make it through the party as long as he could, he really had. He’d danced with Bubby and Coomer and tried his hand at the arcade machines and eaten what pizza he could stomach. But it was just… so much. He wasn’t sure how the others could party like that after everything they’d gone through. Everyone coped differently, he supposed.

He should probably go back out there soon, for Tommy’s sake. It was his birthday, after all, and after everything Tommy had done for him, he owed it to him to at least celebrate with him. He just… needed a minute. Maybe none of them had even realized he’d left yet.

“Mr. Freeman?”

Damn.

“Hey, Tommy.” Gordon offered Tommy a weak smile, though he could see in the mirror that it was more of a grimace. “Sorry, man, I’ll be back out there in a second. It was just… a lot.”

Tommy nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do… Is it okay if I join you?”

“What? You don’t have to keep me company dude, it’s your birthday. Don’t stop having fun on my account.” Gordon tried to wave him towards the door, but Tommy was shaking his head before he’d even finished his sentence.

“No, I… It’s a lot for me too. The-” Tommy gestured vaguely as if searching for a word and failing to find it, “All of it.”

“Oh.” Gordon blinked. “Then, yeah, pull up a chair, I guess.”

Tommy gave him a small smile and shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned his back against it and let out a sigh that Gordon echoed.

They stood there in silence for a while, Gordon doing his best to get his shaking under control. With anyone else, he might have felt awkward, but this was Tommy. Tommy had been the one to practically carry him through countless tunnels and vats of questionable liquid when he was delirious from blood loss. If there was anyone he trusted to not judge him for having a breakdown in the bathroom, it was Tommy.

The metal of the HEV suit clinked against the linoleum of the sink, and suddenly it struck him how much he wanted this thing off.

“Hey, uh,” Gordon spoke up, clearing his throat. Tommy hummed in acknowledgement, “You’ve read a bunch of manuals, right? Did you read the HEV suit manual?”

“Uh, yeah!”

“Think you could get this thing off me?”

Tommy’s eyes widened like he’d only just realized how long Gordon had been wearing the suit. “Oh! Yeah, I can- I think I can do that.”

Tommy approached him slowly, as if approaching a skittish cat, then became more confident in his movements when Gordon gave no sign of flinching away. He began working on the back of Gordon’s chestplate first, slender fingers working deftly on the bolts and buckles that held it together. It was slow work, but with each piece Tommy lifted off him, Gordon felt he could breathe easier. A literal weight was lifted off him, and it only made him more aware of the ache deep in his bones. Every few minutes, there would be a loud noise from the main entertainment area of the Chuck E. Cheese; Gordon would flinch away from the sound, and Tommy would freeze in his movements, but then they would hear Coomer’s loud laughter or a snide, muffled comment from Bubby, and they would relax and resume their work.

After what felt like eons, Tommy finished unclasping the last buckle on Gordon’s boots, stepping back to let him toe them off himself. The HEV suit was a pile of orange rubble surrounding them, and Gordon suddenly felt exposed in nothing but his socks and the dark jumpsuit he’d been wearing under the suit. He felt like he could stand up straight without straining for the first time in weeks, and the feeling of the overpowered Chuck E. Cheese air conditioning seeping through the sleeves of his jumpsuit left him feeling flayed raw. 

Tommy was staring at him with an unreadable look on his face, hands flexing and unflexing in a nervous stim. He reached out a hand, hesitated, then laid it on Gordon’s left forearm. Gordon’s skin burned under his touch. When was the last time he’d felt someone else’s body heat?

“Can…” Tommy’s voice was quiet and sounded as fragile as Gordon felt, “Can I hug you?”

Gordon didn’t trust himself to speak around the lump the size of a tennis ball in his throat, so he just nodded. Tommy outstretched long arms, and the two of them fell into each other. 

Gordon’s whole body felt like it was buzzing right down to his core. He was lightheaded as everything hit him in that moment. All he had gone through. All he had survived. The fact that he was out, and he was alive. The fact that this was the first time he’d touched someone and felt it on his skin since he’d dropped Joshua off at his mom’s the week of the test. And it was Tommy who got to hold the title of the first person to hug him in far too long. Tommy who had been kind to him even when stress was making them all snappish, and who had made jokes with him when things felt grim. Tommy who had been the only one he trusted when everyone else left him for dead, Tommy who fought by his side so loyally and who removed that horrible suit with such impossible tenderness. 

Gordon pressed his face into the shoulder of Tommy’s filthy polo shirt that smelled like sweat and blood but was warm and had probably been soft at some point, and he let out the loudest sob in his life. His voice shattered on the noise, and then he suddenly couldn’t hold it back anymore, sob after sob wrenching its way out of his throat. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever cried like this. Not when he was in labor with Joshua, not at any point during the Resonance Cascade, not even when his arm was being cut off. Nothing compared to these deep sobs that seemed to claw their way out of somewhere deep in his soul to burst out of his chest as everything crashed into him all at once.

He could feel Tommy’s fist balled in the back of his jumpsuit, and he could feel and hear Tommy weeping quietly into where he’d pressed his face into Gordon’s hair, and the raw sensations of it all only made him sob harder.

They stood there, clinging to each other until Gordon’s knees couldn’t hold him up any longer, and then they both sank to the ground, still holding onto each other like they were each other’s life lines. Maybe they were.

Eventually, Gordon simply couldn’t cry anymore, his tear ducts emptied, leaving him with a dehydration headache and a sore throat. He didn’t extricate himself from Tommy’s hold, though, and Tommy didn’t seem like he was going to let go any time soon either. He’d cried himself empty sooner than Gordon had, and now he was just stroking his fingers through Gordon’s knotted curls. Gordon didn’t want to think about how nasty his hair must be right now, caked in blood and sweat and god knows what else, but Tommy’s hand in his hair felt more soothing than aloe on a sunburn. 

He snorted quietly when the simile occurred to him. He’d maybe been spending too much time with Tommy. He then immediately shoved that thought away and squeezed Tommy tighter. No, he had not spent nearly enough time with Tommy. Now that they were out, he could let himself think about spending time with Tommy when they weren’t in mortal danger. He couldn’t wait to watch Tommy’s favorite shows and listen to him infodump about them, or walk Sunkist in the sunshine, or take Tommy to his favorite restaurants, or introduce him to Joshua-

Fuck. God, he really liked this guy, huh.

Tommy pulled back ever so slightly, though he didn’t go far. Just enough to be able to look down at Gordon with those kind, intelligent eyes, and Gordon thought he might pass out. He moved his hand from Gordon’s messy ponytail to cup his cheek, and Gordon was certain he was going to pass out.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked. Gordon laughed despite himself.

“No,” Gordon said, tilting his head to better fit against Tommy’s hand and giving Tommy the tiniest smile, “I don’t think I am.”

Tommy gave him his own sad smile. “That’s okay. I… I don’t think any of us are.”

Gordon snorted. “That’s for damn sure.” 

Tommy was still staring down at him with more tenderness than Gordon was prepared to deal with, “Do…” He paused, licking his lips. Gordon wasn’t embarrassed to say he stared at the motion, “I think I’m done with the party. Do you want to go home?”

“Yeah,” Gordon sighed with more exhaustion than a man his age should feel, “I would love that, bud.”

It took some maneuvering to get them both off the floor without tripping over the chunks of HEV suit on the floor, but neither of them seemed willing to let go of each other more than necessary. Eventually, they made it out of the bathroom, Tommy’s hand warm and solid in Gordon’s own. Dr. Coomer looked up from where he’d been punching apart an arcade machine when they entered the room.

“Ah, hello, Gordon!” He said cheerfully. “You appear to have been peeled!”

“Uh, yeah, Dr. Coomer.” Gordon huffed out a laugh, relieved that that was what Dr. Coomer was pointing out opposed to the fact that his face was definitely puffy and tearstained. “Tommy helped me get the suit off.”

“You look very sporting in your jumpsuit, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said, returning to his destruction of Chuck E. Cheese property. Tommy smiled down at Gordon, and he was suddenly struck by the realization that the HEV suit had given him a couple inches of height because wow, Tommy was tall. Tommy squeezed his hand and looked up to flag down Gman.

“Hello, son. Dr… Freeman.” Gman greeted them both. Gordon nodded at him. The dude still gave him the creeps, but he could appreciate the parental fondness he’d seen him demonstrate for Tommy over the course of the afternoon.

“Hey, dad.” Tommy gave him a slight wave with his free hand, the other still holding Gordon’s. “I- um, this was a really nice party!”

“I’m… glad to, hear it. I, pulled out all the stops.” 

“I can- I can see that! But, uh. I’m pretty tired. I-... Can you open a portal to Mr. Freeman’s apartment?”

If Gman thought there was anything strange about Tommy asking to go to Gordon’s home and not his own, he didn’t say anything of it. “Of… course. I, will begin to… wrap things up here before, our, friends can cause too much… property damage.”

He gestured to the nearest wall with very little flourish to show them the glowing green portal that hadn’t been there a minute earlier. Tommy gently tugged Gordon in its direction. Behind them, he heard Coomer call out “goodbye, Gordon!” and then in a flash, they were standing in his living room. 

Were this any other situation, Gordon would’ve been embarrassed to show someone the messy state of his apartment without tidying beforehand, but he simply didn’t have it in him to care when his bed was within reach for the first time in weeks. It was his turn to tug Tommy up the narrow stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. They both collapsed on his bed, neither bothering to change out of their bloodstained clothes, which Gordon was sure they’d regret in the morning, but considering he could barely summon the energy to pull the sheets over their shoulders, he decided that was a problem for future Gordon. 

Tommy pulled him into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been in Gordon’s apartment, like they hadn’t met less than an hour before the worst disaster of their lives. Gordon felt the soft flannel of his sheets brush against his skin, and he felt the softness of his pillow under his head, and he felt Tommy’s warm body all around him, and he fell asleep solidly for the first time in weeks.

[yolkyeomie]

Improv Game | Yang Jeongin

summary — maybe following the script of what’s ahead isn’t for you and a little bit of improv is all you need to make it better

word count — 1.9k words

pairing — gender neutral!reader x jeongin (ft. x hyunjin)

genre — high school au, transmigration(?) au, fluff, cliff hanger

disclaimer — this is VERY loosely based off of series like Extraordinary You and the awfully popular reincarnation webtoons i’ve seen like… everywhere. I JUST NEEDED SUMN TO WRITE OKAY?

You strained a smile at the boy in front of you, rhythmically tapping your fingers on the desk in hopes that he’d pick up your annoyed undertone. Though to no avail did he notice. He simply took it as your way of attentively listening to him speak and that’s all he would ever take it as, he was rather oblivious after all. You couldn’t exactly blame him for this unfortunate trait of his but you couldn’t stand it either.

“Oh, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking…,” the boy began, leaning back in his chair as he held onto the desk for support. His eyes wandered from the front of the classroom then to the classroom window where the cherry blossoms were on full display to finally your eyes.

You didn’t mean to make direct eye contact with him but he caught your gaze a lot quicker than you could look away. With a deep sigh you stretched your arms out before turning your genuine attention to him, “What’s up, Hyunjin? Go ahead and spit it out.”

He cleared his throat for the moment, his eyes darting away from your connected gazes before mumbling something out of his mouth. The boy glanced at you to see if you had heard him and when you showed no signs of understanding, he cleaned his throat again. “I said if you’re not busy any time like… I don’t know— tomorrow? If you wanted to hang out? Like go to the park or an arcade or—“

“—like a date?” You questioned, raising a brow in suspicion.

Hyunjin immediately started to crumble, his face flushing a beetroot red and his ears practically steaming from your words. “No, no! Not a date! I would like… never ask you on a date! Unless you want it to be a date…? I mean if you don’t think it’s a date then it’s not a date—!” The boy continued to ramble, nearly forgetting about your existence as he tried to cover himself.

You were in a very… odd situation to say the least. One day you had woken in a room that wasn’t yours, in a house that wasn’t yours, with friends you didn’t know, going to a school you never went to. Only one could imagine the amount of disarray you were in as you tried to traverse the day struggling to get from one place to another when you didn’t have a clue of what was exactly going on.

You thought, maybe if you just get through this day, everything will go back to normal when you wake up again? As if this was all some sort of… dream your mind had created in your slumber.

But alas, that was definitely not the case. You woke up the next day in the nearly same situation you were in before. And the same in the next day, and the day after that. Soon days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. You were still living throughout each day as if you had never really woken up in the unfamiliar at all.

The kicker? You had quickly caught onto the fact that you were within a book, maybe even a comic who knows, and were walking around as the main protagonist. Well, quickly isn’t the right word per say. A week went by as if everything was normal until you interacted with a teacher who had asked for you after school.

The conversation was as normal as any conversation with an adult would go until you looked above their head and saw words in bold quotation marks detailing words that hadn’t been spoken yet. Without thinking, you read them out loud and the teacher responded exactly to what you had read out. You didn’t think anything of it at first until the routine you had adapted yourself to suddenly changed to fit the words you had read to him.

The world was shaping around the detailed actions and words the story was instructing you to take. Sometimes it would be something simple like helping your teachers with their work and other times if quite literally instructing you to get hit with a soccer ball in the face. You didn’t want to follow through when things like the latter were given to you, but they would just happen whether you liked it or not.

Oh and your main love interest? It was Hyunjin. You’d think having someone fated to fall in love with you and vice versa would be interesting and exciting to you, but you weren’t feeling it all.

Don’t get it wrong, Hyunjin is a very nice kid. He’s tall and handsome with a sweet personality, but he just… wasn’t your type? So trying to get your “character” to fall in love with him was hard. Especially when whatever author that was scripting your interactions together made them happen extremely frequently and in rather annoying ways.

Not a day goes by where you can get some peace and quiet. Whenever you thought you’d be free, Hyunjin would always pop up to greet you or keep you company or even pull you to the next step of your growing relationship when you really didn’t want to.

It seemed like the date-that’s-not-really-a-date-but-it-totally-is was the next step into pushing you two closer to each other. It had to be, given the fact that the next sentence that was supposed to come out of your mouth had appeared over his stressed out figure.

You concealed a deep sigh as you placed your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. The boy immediately stopped in his tracks, turning to face you with wide and curious eyes. You flashed him your best smile possible, “Yes, let’s make it a date.”

The boy nearly popped a vein, blinking rapidly and his cheeks growing warmer and warmer at your answer. “You… Do you really mean it? Like… this wouldn’t be just two friends hanging out— this will be a whole date?”

“Do you even know what the definition of a date is? Of course it’s a whole date!” You recited, watching Hyunjin’s eyes begin to glow and his smile stretching from ear to ear.

A small hum of satisfaction left his lips as he jumped up from his seat, struggling to contact his excitement. “Okay then! It’s… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date!” He exclaimed, catching the attention of nearly the entire class. Luckily it was a free period so you didn’t have to worry about interrupting the class instruction but it was still embarrassing. You practically sunk in your seat and covered your face to the best of your ability as Hyunjin hopped about the room in glee. “Jeongin, Jeongin! You’ll never guess what happened to me!”

Your head immediately shot up upon hearing the name uttered from the boy’s lips, your eyes glued straight onto Hyunjin’s back. The boy was jumping up and down in the door and his back was blocking the view of whoever was in front of him, but you didn’t exactly mind. You simply waited for him to stop moving before finally spotting the familiar dimpled boy in front him, his pretty smile and excited eyes on the main love interest.

Jeongin, the main love interest’s best friend and the device used to move the plot forward, that’s exactly who he was. Minus the fact that you liked Jeongin a lot more than you liked Hyunjin.

Your body so desperately wanted to move on it’s own, your eyes following the boy’s every move as he expressed his delight for the boy’s accomplishments.

The mischievous glint in his eyes every time was mesmerizing, the pretty tone of voice he had was exhilarating, and his unique features almost made him too good to be true. Not to mention how genuinely funny he was without even trying, he was much more your speed than the gullible and kind Hyunjin that you were paired with.

Unfortunately, the story you were placed in would never let Jeongin think of you more than a friend. He just wasn’t scripted that way. While Hyunjin may love you unconditionally because that was his purpose, you didn’t find it as appealing as perhaps a reader or any other normal main protagonist would be.

Plus, you had no idea how exactly you’d be able to break free from the plotline of you and Hyunjin getting together nor did you know what would happen if you did. You had always followed the path that was in front of you without question, the possibility of getting to the end of the story and escaping the book you were in had been the only thing you were reaching for.

But if you strayed from that somehow and got with Jeongin against the author’s wishes, what exactly would that entail for you? Would you still be forced together with Hyunjin? Or would the author somehow eradicate Jeongin’s existence altogether?

Big bold quotes appeared over Jeongin and Hyunjin’s heads, your next scripted words to continue the plot blasted right in your face like flashing headlights. You read them silently to yourself for a moment, glancing from Hyunjin to Jeongin with a skeptical frown on your face.

I can’t wait for tomorrow, Hyunjin!

What a simple phrase to repeat, a normal response in the situation you were in. You and Hyunjin were fated to be with each other, destined to fall in love no matter what odds were against the two of you. But… you just weren’t feeling it honestly. Who would have guessed that the obstacles that stood in between you and Hyunjin becoming a couple was yourself, the main protagonist, after all?

With a deep breath, you stood up from your seat and flagged down Hyunjin and Jeongin to get their attention. Jeongin was the first to notice, catching your moving figure in the corner of his eye and hitting the boy’s shoulder to get his attention. Hyunjin turned around shortly after, his hair whipping in the wind and landing perfectly on his shoulders thanks to his typical love interest privileges.

He smiled at you, his wide and grand smile that should have made any person fall out in adoration. You raised your hand to wave at the boys as you spoke, “Hi… Jeongin.”

Hyunjin’s infatuated gaze fell into one of confusion, his face twisting as he looked back at the friend you had called out to.

Jeongin looked just as confused as Hyunjin, unsure of whether or not he could respond to you. Though it was a little too late to not answer now, you had already made eye contact with each other. Not responding would be seen as rude to his friend’s future partner after all. “Hi, Y/N” He replied, his words seemingly unscripted from what the original author had intended. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to say a word to you in this scene but that didn’t matter now.

You had taken the first step into straying off the path that was laid out for you since you woke up in this book’s storyline, and now you were going to run for it. Run as fast as you can to change the story to what you wanted, a story where you can have Jeongin all for yourself, and not what the author had intended for you.

After all, you're not the protagonist that the author had intended to write. You are you’re own person with your own wants and desires, you were going to get what you wanted whether the author liked it or not.

[wikiangela-fanfics]

"I keep my promises" - Sambucky

Ao3

This is part 2 to "You should smile more"

part 1, part 3

I started writing it before episode 6, so the fact that they dealt with all that Flag Smashers stuff is just really vaguely mentioned! and it's not important to the fic because I'm all about the fluff lmao

also, because of that, the cookout scene is not here but I might write a different fic about it idk

There will be part 3! might take a while though haha

again, thank you SO SO SO much to @tasteslikestrawbebbies for beta-reading ♥♥♥

Enjoy ♥

***

Bucky kept his promise. Or at least the part about coming to visit once they were done with everything. Sam just hoped he really was gonna stay, as long as possible.

He was excited for Bucky to visit. At least until he actually saw Bucky on his porch one morning, and suddenly he was really nervous. What do they do now? Do they hug hello? Do they kiss? Damn, Sam desperately wanted to kiss those lips again.

But Bucky just said “Hi” and smiled, making Sam feel the stupid butterflies in his stomach again. In the short time they hadn’t seen each other he almost forgot how annoying this feeling was. Especially since it was caused by none other than Bucky Barnes, the one-hundred-year-old ex-assassin with a staring problem, whose smile was enough to make Sam forget his own name.

“Took you long enough.” Sam said, rolling his eyes, really trying not to grab Bucky’s perfect face and kiss him breathless. He wasn’t really sure where they stood. Bucky did make an impression that he wanted this to go somewhere, last time he was there, but then they hadn’t seen each other, and there wasn’t really time to make out or have heart-to-hearts on the mission. And then they hadn’t seen each other again for a few days after they dealt with all that shit. And Sam was almost sure that maybe Bucky changed his mind, but now here he was. Standing on the porch, looking so gorgeous in early morning light, bag in hand, without as much as a text, again. Of course, they had talked on the phone when Bucky was in New York, and they texted, although not as much as Sam would’ve wanted. But the topic of them never came up.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he grinned. “You missed me?”

“You wish.” Sam scoffed, as if he could still deny the fact that he did, in fact, miss Bucky. And Bucky knew that, of course he did. But still, Sam wasn’t gonna just admit it out loud. At least not yet. Honestly, all he really wanted was to stick his tongue down Bucky’s throat, and when he does that, then he can admit that he missed him a little bit. He felt his cheeks heat up at the mere thought and decided that he needed to get it together, because he was being pathetic. It was just Bucky, for fuck’s sake. Just his really annoying not-partner, not-exactly-friend, maybe not even coworker… whatever-they-were-now. “Come on in.” he sighed, opening the door wider. “We’re just having breakfast.” he added, because it was morning. The boys hadn’t even left for school yet. It was early, and Bucky was already there.

He walked back to the kitchen, Bucky trailing behind him, after dropping his bag by the door.

“Hi Bucky!” the boys exclaimed excitedly once they saw him. They were sitting at the table, already halfway through the meal.

“Hey, guys.” he said with a smile, high fiving both of them. Then he looked at Sarah and flashed her one of his most charming smiles. One of those he had never directed at Sam, not that he cared. “Hi, Sarah.” he said, his tone similar to when he first met her. Sam couldn’t contain a small huff, which caused both his sister and Bucky to look at him, Sarah with surprise, Bucky with amusement.

“Nice to see you again, Bucky.” Sarah just said, apparently deciding to ignore Sam, which he was thankful for. He didn’t want to get into that now. Not when he wasn’t sure what that even was. “You eaten breakfast yet?”

“No.” Bucky shrugged, deciding to take off that damn leather jacket of his. Sam definitely did not ogle him as he did. Obviously not. Not even when he was left in just a tight t-shirt. Nope. “The plane was early, and I wasn’t really hungry then.” he sat down at the empty place at the table.

“I hope you are now. Let me get you a plate.” she got up, while Sam slowly sat down too.

“You know you could’ve gotten a later flight, right?” Sam said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Sam.” Bucky said and Sam immediately looked up at him. “Don’t even try to complain, you invited me here. And you really wanted me to stay last time I was here, if I remember correctly.” he added, a smirk on his face, his tone a little teasing, last sentence even bordering on suggestive. Someone felt much more confident than before, huh?

Sam felt his face heat up, but he didn’t answer. He did, however, see his sister look between him and Bucky in confusion, but also with a small, barely-there smile. He knew she would have some questions, especially if Bucky kept it up. Both the comments, and the flirting with Sarah. It was bothering Sam. Of course he wasn’t jealous, but it was bothering him. Only a little bit.

Fortunately, Sarah made small talk for the remainder of the meal, and AJ and Cass were really excited to talk to Bucky too, so it wasn’t quiet. Then the boys left for school, and Sarah was about to start cleaning up, but Bucky stopped her.

“Let me take care of that, you just go to work.” he stood up and smiled that stupid flirtatious smile again. And normally Bucky’s smiles would get Sam to smile too, but right then he wasn’t in the mood.

“You’re a guest, Bucky.” she chastised, trying to grab the plates, but he took them first.

“I insist. As a thank you for delicious breakfast.” for some reason he decided to wink at her in that moment, and Sam’s blood boiled. He loved his sister, he really did, but in that moment he just needed her to leave Bucky alone - even if it was technically Bucky who was doing all the flirting… Sam was really confused about everything, including, or rather especially, his own thoughts and feelings.

“Okay.” she rolled her eyes after a second, relenting to Bucky’s stare, no surprise there. “Just this once.” she said, pointing her finger at Bucky. “Thank you.” she added, walking out of the kitchen.

As Bucky started cleaning, Sam didn’t move to help. He just sat there, admiring how good Bucky looked, and how nice it was to see him in such a domestic setting.

When Sarah finally left the house, Bucky was about to finish washing the dishes. Sam never would’ve thought that he would ever see him doing that. Such a simple, mundane task, and yet it was kind of abstract to see. Sam walked over to him and leaned against the counter, close to the sink.

“I think I told you to stop flirting with my sister.” he tried to sound casual, but when Bucky looked at him with a grin, he knew he failed.

“I’m not.” he rolled his eyes. “Why do you care?” he teased, knowing the answer perfectly well.

“You know why.” Sam wasn’t even going to bother pretending that he didn’t care, or that it was just because he was a protective brother. He thought they were past that.

“Oh, I’m not actually sure.” Bucky’s expression turned mock-contemplative, as if he was straining to remember. “You might need to refresh my memory. You know, I am pretty old, my memory is not the same as it used to be.” he tried to sound and look sad or nostalgic, but he was having too much fun with this conversation. Way too much, because Sam was not amused in the slightest.

“Really? You making memory jokes now?” he raised an eyebrow. He immediately thought about Bucky’s time as the Winter Soldier, when he didn’t remember anything, and how he was struggling with reality as he got the memories back… and even just the memories of the Soldier killing people, that were still haunting Bucky. Sam figured memory might be a sensitive topic, but here Bucky was, making jokes about it. “And you seemed to remember that I wanted you to stay.” he added more quietly, remembering what Bucky said to him earlier.

“Yeah, well, it’s getting kinda hazy now.” Bucky said, putting another plate on the drying rack. “I’m really trying to remember, but I might need a little refre-”

His sentence was cut short by a quiet “Oh, for fuck’s sake” muttered by Sam, who then grabbed Bucky’s face, slamming their mouths together. Bucky immediately kissed back, turning fully towards Sam and putting his wet hands on the small of Sam’s back, bringing him closer. The kiss probably would have gotten deeper and more heated, as Sam was about to add some tongue action, but then Bucky had to pull away. Had to, because he couldn’t kiss while smiling this hard. And when Sam looked at him, there was a shit-eating grin on Bucky’s face. He looked so pleased with himself, probably because he got Sam to initiate the kiss again. Truth be told, Sam probably wouldn’t be able to resist those lips much longer anyway.

“Shut up.” Sam said, lightly pushing him away, trying to keep his expression annoyed, but he knew there was a smile forcing itself on his face, too. Bucky just chuckled, getting back to finishing the dishes. Once he was done, he wiped his hands and turned to face Sam.

“You don’t need to be jealous of Sarah.” he said teasingly, probably just to annoy Sam.

“I’m not- I’m not fucking jealous!” Sam said, maybe a little too fast, and a little too loud. “I don’t care.” he knew he just contradicted what he said earlier, but fuck it. He might have cared, but he wasn’t gonna let Bucky believe he was jealous.

“Sure you don’t.” he rolled his eyes, going to pick up his bag and then to the living room, dropping it on the couch. Sam followed him. “So what are we doing today?”

“What?” he was a little distracted by watching Bucky, as he walked in front of him, so he wasn’t really listening. Damn, the more he was around Bucky, the more he wanted him. Maybe he should’ve visited Bucky in New York, where his family wasn’t around, and… oh no, he’s not thinking about that, not yet. Bucky hasn’t been there half an hour and Sam’s mind was already shutting down all rational thoughts. This was getting ridiculous.

“Do you have anything else that needs fixing? You wanna train again? Or are we just gonna sit here and do nothing? C’mon, I’m a guest. You should plan something to do.” he shrugged, sitting on the couch, while Sam just stood there by the door, looking at him. He didn’t really know where to look. His eyes wandered from Bucky’s muscular chest covered by the super tight t-shirt, to the strong flesh arm, to the metal arm that looked so alluring, to Bucky’s face and the blue eyes that stared at him a lot, and the lips that Sam was dying to kiss again.

“What?” he repeated, feeling his breath quicken a bit. Then he finally managed to snap out of it. He needed to get a grip, Bucky was already way too smug about this whole thing they had, whatever it was. “You didn’t let me know when you were coming, I didn’t-” he sighed. “I guess I can show you around the town. It’s not much, but.” he shrugged. “And we’ll figure out what to do later when we have to. But we could maybe go for a drink in the evening. Or grab something to eat.” he was just thinking out loud now, but Bucky smirked again. Sam was glad he didn’t finish his last thought out loud. To grab something to eat he actually wanted to add: just the two of us, without my family, especially my sister who you seem to like to flirt with, but I am not jealous. Yeah… he might need to talk to Sarah before he accidentally acts like a complete asshole towards her, which was probable, as he was not thinking when Bucky was around.

“You inviting me on a date, Wilson?” his tone was teasing and Sam immediately wanted to throw some snarky comment or just deny it, but… that was actually a nice idea. If that’s what Bucky wanted.

“Depends. You up for it?” he asked, putting a smirk on his face, and trying to sound and act casual, leaning on the doorframe and almost losing his balance, making Bucky’s lips twitch as if he wanted to laugh. Sam would be glad to hear that beautiful sound, but he would also be really annoyed that he was laughing at him, so he was glad Bucky kept it in. “So?” he prompted when instead of answering Bucky just kept looking at him.

“Sure.” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t as big of a deal for him as it was for Sam. “But just so you know,” he added, that freaking smug smile back on his face. “I don’t put out on the first date.” and he had the audacity to fucking wiggle his eyebrows.

“What?” Sam’s brain short-circuited. “Why would you say-? What?” Bucky just laughed and gave him a knowing look, as if he noticed how Sam was ogling him since he got there. And knowing Bucky and his perceptiveness, he probably did notice. “You’re so annoying.” he just sighed, his face on fire, avoiding looking at Buck now. He tried to be cool, but he was painfully aware that Bucky could see through all his bullshit.

“Hey, you wanted me here.” he reminded again, that Sam did, in fact, invite him there. And he was quite insistent, not only when Bucky was there, but when they talked on the phone, he did try to subtly ask when he was planning to visit.

“I’m starting to regret that.” Sam said, trying to seem annoyed, but they both knew he was not serious.

“Well, tough. I’m here now.” Bucky answered, but then he added, his tone more earnest: “I promised I’ll visit and stay until you want me to leave. And I keep my promises. So whenever you want me to go, just say the word.”

Sam finally looked at him. Bucky seemed a bit unsure now, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide it. His eyes found Sam’s, staring into them from across the room, as if he could find the answers there. Of course he must’ve known that Sam wanted him to stay, that was just their usual banter. But apparently, he needed a bit of reassurance.

“Buck, don’t be ridiculous.” Sam rolled his eyes and let his lips form into a small, fond smile. He quickly crossed the room and sat down next to Bucky, who kept looking at him. He didn’t even correct him on calling him ‘Buck’ so that was good, and it made Sam happier than it should. “It’s gonna take more than you being annoying for me to kick you out. And that’s a good moment to remind you to stop flirting with Sarah.” he added, not able to help himself, and Bucky grinned again.

“I can’t believe you’re jealous.” he said.

“Say that one more time and you’re out of here.” Sam responded sternly, getting genuinely annoyed. Of course there was no way he would actually kick Bucky out, but he could at least pretend to consider it.

“Mhm.” Bucky rolled his eyes, clearly sure now that Sam won’t want him to go. But before Sam could say anything more, Bucky leaned in and kissed him. And Sam immediately melted against those lips. He briefly wondered what it all meant, what they were, where they stood… but as Bucky slipped his tongue into his mouth, all thoughts disappeared. He felt like he was floating somewhere outside his body. Or as if he was flying, it was the same rush of excitement. His hands were all over Bucky, it was as if they were just doing it on their own, he barely registered their movements. He was trying to bring Bucky as close to him as possible. Bucky’s hands, however, he felt all too vividly and intensely. He felt every little touch, as Bucky’s hands moved along his arms, to his back, to the back of his head, to cradle his face… And it felt pretty insane, too, with one flesh, hot hand, and the other cool metal, both leaving Sam’s skin burning. Insane in all the best ways. And adding Bucky’s amazing lips to that… he was a mess. He could not form one coherent thought. Bucky knew what he was doing and he was an amazing kisser. And the one and only thought that came to Sam’s mind was, if he’s that good at kissing, I really want to see what other things he can do with his mouth… and other parts of his body. But he didn’t allow himself to go there. Not yet, not now. Not on his sister’s couch, minutes after Bucky was flirting with her, which, yeah, bothered Sam.

When they pulled away, Sam was out of breath, Bucky was panting a bit too.

“So that was, uh.” Sam started, just to say anything, but his brain didn’t seem to be working yet. “Fun.” he finished and Bucky snickered. And Sam cursed himself silently. Out of all the things he could say, that was fun was what came out of his mouth. Fun? Well, it was fun, but more importantly it was hot and fucking amazing.

“Yeah, it was.” Bucky agreed with amusement. Then he leaned back on the couch, the metal arm on the back of it, behind Sam. “So are we going?”

“Where?” Sam asked dumbly, momentarily completely forgetting everything that happened before that kiss.

“You were gonna show me the town? So we’re not stuck here the whole day?” he raised his eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind staying here and making out, but we probably shouldn’t. You know, I don’t want you to get too… excited.” he added, looking deliberately at Sam’s crotch, where his pants might have been starting to get a bit too tight. There was an amused and smug smirk on Bucky’s face.

“Fuck you.” Sam grumbled, feeling his face heat up again. God, that was embarrassing. They only made out, and here Sam was, half hard, not able to stop himself from thinking about how hot Bucky is, and what he wants to do to him… His thoughts were reaching a dangerous territory, so he needed to get out of the house, where he would be able to focus on other things than Bucky. He’s always known Bucky was hot, but before they kissed, he was able to keep it together. Now, though...

“Sam, not yet.” his tone was exasperated. “I said not on the first date, so certainly not before it, either.” Bucky said and Sam started to regret every decision he’s made that led them to this moment. “I’m kind of old-fashioned.” he added with a shrug and a smirk.

“You’re such an ass.” Sam covered his face with his hands. “And you’re not old-fashioned, you’re just super old.” he added, his voice muffled by his hands. Bucky laughed and nudged his shoulder.

“I’m just messing with you, relax.” he said, ignoring the ‘old’ comment.

Sam lowered his hands and leveled Bucky with a stern look, earning another chuckle, which was such a great sound, he couldn’t help that the corners of his mouth turned upwards a little bit.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun at my expense.” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. But then, a small fond smile appeared at his face, and he added: “I like to see you smile.”

“Uh, thanks.” Bucky’s cheeks reddened, and he looked away for a second. Interesting. So he could shamelessly make sex jokes, but couldn’t take a compliment without blushing? That was important information. Sam didn’t know exactly why yet, but it was very important to remember. “I think we kinda established that last time.” Bucky added, referring to Sam blurting out that Bucky should smile more, but at least that whole situation led to them kissing, so he was happy.

“Yeah, but I just needed to tell you again. You have a really beautiful smile.” he said just to see Bucky’s face go red. He wanted to say more of what he likes about Bucky’s appearance, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop and he would give Bucky more opportunity to make fun of him. While Sam loved Bucky’s smile, his laugh happened to be the greatest sound he ever heard. His eyes were captivatingly blue, his face was so gorgeous Sam could stare at it for hours at a time, his jaw and those goddamn cheekbones... And his soft, kissable, amazing lips… and don’t even let him get started on the rest of Bucky’s body.

“Okay, let’s just talk about something else.” Bucky said, still not looking at Sam.

“We should probably go.” Sam said, licking his lips, as Bucky looked back at him. “I really don’t think I can trust myself when I’m alone with you right now.” he muttered and it was when Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise and then a smirk appeared on his face, that Sam realized that he said that out loud. “Fuck me.” he closed his eyes, wishing for the earth to open up and swallow him. And then he thought that he should really stop setting himself up for all Bucky’s jokes and teasing.

“Buy me dinner first.” Bucky responded and Sam couldn’t help himself, he reached out and punched Bucky’s arm that was behind him. What he forgot to take into account was that it was the vibranium one. He didn’t use much force, but his knuckles meeting the metal still hurt.

“Shit.” he hissed, clutching his hand with his other one. “It’s all your fault.”

“Obviously.” Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled, taking his arm away from the back of the couch, and taking Sam’s hurt hand into his instead. Then Sam watched in awe as Bucky brought his hand to his lips and delicately kissed the knuckles. “If I’m gonna stick around, you gotta be more careful. Aim for the right one.” he said with amusement, shifting so that he was fully facing Sam now, and put his right arm more forward.

“Imma remember that.” he murmured, his eyes on his hand still in Bucky’s grip. “I’m gonna-” he quickly got up and started making his way to his room. “Gimme a minute and we can go out. Around people and distractions.” the last sentence was whispered already at his door, but he knew Bucky heard it, enhanced hearing and all, because he heard him laugh. Damn, seeing Buck so relaxed and happy and laughing… Sam felt all warm inside and his heart was doing flips every time he heard that wonderful sound. He was honestly a bit afraid of how he felt around Bucky. He could barely control himself, what he was doing and saying. He found himself wishing they could just have that date, maybe two, and he could finally do what he has wanted for a long time now - just jump Bucky’s bones. Of course, even if Bucky was kidding about it, Sam knew he was an asshole and he was going to keep his ‘no sex on the first date’ rule, or whatever it was. But he had a feeling Bucky wanted him as much as he wanted Bucky. And the whole sexual tension and frustration were driving him crazy, so sue him for wanting to relieve it. Obviously, he wanted Bucky in more ways than one. He wanted him in his life in general, he wanted Bucky to never leave his side, to kiss him and hold him, and sleep next to him, and just to be in every aspect of his life, eventually. But for now there was one thing he could focus on the most. And Bucky’s comments and jokes were not making it easier for him. Additionally, the more time he spent around Bucky, the more Bucky smiled and laughed, and just seemed so comfortable and relaxed, the more Sam’s heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. It felt as if his feelings for Bucky were growing every second. He occupied Sam’s mind all the time, and it was getting annoying. Damn Bucky Barnes and his piercing blue eyes and a gorgeous smile that lights up the room. Sam was so gone.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Only Human

Post 5x05. Angst. Riley POV. It’s sad. 

*****

Only human. That’s what Jack was. 

As a kid, Riley thought he was invincible. Nothing bad could ever happen to him. And if it did, he could always find a way out. Like when Riley busted him for picking flowers from her yard to give to her mom on their first date, or when he charmed his way out of yet another speeding ticket. 

As an adult, Riley thought he was invincible. He and Mac pulled off crazy stunts Riley could barely wrap her head around, and they always came out alright. Whatever gods or forces of the universe were looking down on Jack Dalton clearly liked him and wanted him to stick around. 

It took the sight of a flag-covered casket for Riley to realize Jack Dalton was only human. 

The one man she thought would never truly leave her was gone. For good this time. 

And there was nothing she could do about it. 

Until there was. Until Mac received that postcard—that last piece of Jack—and suddenly they were flying to Croatia to crack his final clue. Until they were the ones hunting a not-actually-dead Kovac. Until they were the ones stuck in a trap laid by the same woman who murdered Jack. 

Riley would’ve snapped that blonde bitch’s neck if Mac hadn’t stopped her. 

Rotting in a cell for the rest of eternity was too good a fate for the person who cut Jack’s life short. 

Normally, Riley would’ve felt smart for catching a whole taped confession like that, but this time she just felt cold. Empty. No amount of justice would even begin to heal the Jack-shaped wound in her heart. 

The flight home seemed like it would never end. Riley didn’t even feel the burn of the whiskey Russ handed her as she knocked it back like a shot. If she had the energy to get up, she would’ve drank the rest of the bottle. 

Even Mac sitting beside her didn’t bring Riley any comfort. She wanted to scream at the universe until her voice was hoarse, cursing it for ripping the closest thing she ever had to a dad from her grasp. It seemed like just yesterday they made amends and he was her dad again. 

But it wasn’t. 

That was more than five years ago, and the few years Riley had with him were the best of her life. Even though half the time they spent together usually involved trying not to get killed. 

Riley couldn’t help but think that if she had been there, had been part of that task force, hunting Kovac with Jack, she would’ve connected the dots Jack missed and realized the rescue op was a trap. She could’ve kept him alive. 

Because as a team—Jack, Mac, and herself—they were invincible. But alone, they were only human. 

Since that first drive with Mac, Riley drove the GTO every day. She drove it to work, to the grocery store, to the gym. She even drove it just for the sake of driving it, wasting gas with no destination in mind. On those days, she usually found herself ordering a brisket sandwich at Jack’s favorite Texas barbeque restaurant. Most of the time, she was so numb her body revolted at the idea of food, but Riley forced herself to eat the damn sandwich anyway, since she had to enjoy it for both of them now. 

Driving Jack’s car was the closest thing to feeling like he was with her again. 

She even stole one of Jack’s Metallica t-shirts from Mac to sleep in, but the GTO was where Riley felt his presence best. 

Presence. Like all that was left of her invincible dad was a ghost, following her around quoting Bruce Willis movies and harassing her about leaving fingerprints on his car. 

Soldiers died all the time. So did agents. That was part of the job. But Riley never thought her agents would die. Not really. Not when they avoided death so well. And if they were to die, they’d all go at the same time, doing something incredibly stupid. If you go kaboom, I go kaboom. That was Jack’s promise. The whole team’s promise. 

“We were supposed to go kaboom together,” Riley whispered to herself, parking the GTO in Mac’s driveway. She blinked back the tears threatening to escape. 

Her eyes caught the old basketball hoop. Mac and Jack used to spend hours playing HORSE right in this very spot. Jack usually won. 

Mac had invited her over for dinner, but Riley couldn’t yet bring herself to go inside. A week had passed since Jack’s funeral, but since then, that first step into Mac’s house made Riley feel like she was permanently stuck at the wake, pressed against the wall and choking on tears as fate carved a gaping hole in her chest. Mac’s house—one of her favorite places in the whole world—was heavy with sorrow and guilt. 

No matter how many times Mac repeated that they shouldn’t feel guilty, the what-ifs still stuck around like shackles around Riley’s wrists and ankles. She knew Mac felt the same way, even though he hid it for her sake. 

Riley barely mustered the courage to go inside. 

She made it two steps in when her gaze locked on Mac, standing in the kitchen, a folded American flag in his hands. 

Riley thought of Jack's promise again. If you go kaboom, I go kaboom. And suddenly she was furious. Furious at Jack for walking into a trap alone. Furious at him for dying. Furious at the government—the same government she served—that sent a flag home in place of a man. Her hands shook. 

Every minute she wasn't crying, Riley was angry. She tried to direct it, use it to make sure that woman never saw the light of day again. Riley refused to even call the woman by her name. She murdered Jack. She shot Bozer. She used her power as an Interpol agent to run a terrorist organization. That bitch deserved every ounce of hatred Riley spewed at her. 

But sometimes Riley was just angry at everything, and she sat somewhere quiet and stewed so she didn't take it out on someone who didn't deserve it. Riley still owed Desi an apology after nearly ripping her friend’s head off when she tried to check up on Riley a few days ago. 

Mac finally looked up, his expression raw and broken. It pushed Riley over the edge. Her keys fell out of her hand, and Riley’s breathing stuttered. The all too familiar lump in her throat returned, rendering her unable to speak, and the tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over, twin hot streams running down her cheeks. 

Mac left the flag on the kitchen counter and strode to her, not stopping until his arms wrapped tightly around her. “I didn’t know what to do when I saw it either,” he murmured, clutching her to his chest like their lives depended on it. 

Riley sobbed. She’d cried so much in the last week she didn’t think her body could produce any more tears, but they just kept coming. She weakly returned Mac's hug. 

"The hole in my heart just keeps bleeding," Riley gasped. "And I don't know how to make it stop." 

"I don't know either," Mac said in a rare moment of honesty. He'd been keeping up a strong front for her sake, she knew. Because if they both let go, there wouldn't be anything stopping them from drinking themselves into oblivion and hurling spite at the world. 

A world that didn't deserve Jack Dalton. 

Riley didn't let herself think about the fact that Jack died for nothing. Well, not completely nothing, since his death led them to the clues he'd left behind just in case. Jack's death led to Kovac being put away for good. But that would never change the fact that Jack died alone, in a trap. 

Mac grunted softly. The sound pulled Riley out of her head enough to realize she'd dug her nails into Mac's back, hard enough to leave marks. 

"Sorry," she whispered, barely loud enough to hear. 

Mac whispered back. "It's alright, Riles." 

Riles. That was Jack's nickname for her, long before it was anyone else's. Mac had picked it up after a year or so, and even Desi sometimes called her that, but above all, it belonged to Jack. 

Her knees started to tremble, and Riley let Mac hold her up. Besides her mom, Mac was the only one she felt safe breaking down around. She didn't know why. She was just as close to Bozer as she was to Mac. Maybe it was because talking to Bozer still felt like sympathy and not just someone to be sad with. 

"How's your mom?" Mac asked softly. 

A new wave of tears, silent ones this time, rolled down Riley's cheeks. She’d spent the previous night with her mom. Riley finally told her about Jack, after receiving clearance to tell her mom everything. 

It was the hardest thing she'd ever done. 

"We cried a lot." Riley sniffed. "I didn't know telling her would be so hard." 

She knew it would suck, but finding the courage to squeak out "Jack's dead" was almost more than she could manage. 

"I could've gone with you," Mac offered. 

Riley appreciated the gesture. "Thanks, but I needed to do it on my own." She wasn’t even sure which way was up anymore, but she was sure of this. 

They stood there for a little while longer before Mac asked, “Are you hungry?” 

“No.” Riley’s stomach turned inside out at the thought of food. 

Mac’s hands got brave, roaming her body and feeling how thin she was after a week of barely eating. She could hardly manage one meal a day, much less three. Riley tensed at the intimacy of the gesture. His tone was firm. “We’re having tacos. You have to eat at least one.” 

“Okay.” She knew it was pointless to argue. Mac would force-feed her if he had to. 

Without thinking, she asked, "Can I sleep here tonight?" Realizing what she said, Riley quickly backtracked. "Or if you and Desi want your space I understand, and—" 

Mac cut her off. "No. You can always stay here, for as long as you want." After a moment, he added, voice strained, "I want you to stay." 

“Thank you,” she said weakly. Riley felt Mac’s strong façade starting to crack. She knew he couldn’t keep it up much longer, that he couldn’t hold her up forever. 

Maybe then they could just lean on each other. 

Jack may have left Riley and Mac behind, but at least he didn’t leave them alone. They had each other, and while they would never be able to fill the Jack-shaped hole in their lives, maybe each other would be enough to keep going. 

Because as it turns out, none of them were invincible, and Riley had to figure out how to staunch the wound before she bled out on the floor.

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Not interested: Part 1 (Tatum x Denise x Mystery Guy)

Summary: Three people, two friends and a stranger. And all what they have in common is that they are all broken. Some more than another. He loves the girl he shouldn’t. She was cheated by her scumbag ex-boyfriend and doesn't need or seek for love. And another guy... he is a mystery. The mystery that will remain just that. And just for the night two will build emotional bonds and another will seek only physical knowing that he cannot give more, knowing that she also knows it. He isn’t interested, but probably two others are...

Words: 3210

Rating: Teen

Warning: a bit angst / two guys and girl dancing 

A/N: I’m even not sure what it is and if any good. But I just read and re-read... And just hope you will like it. Sorry if it’s terrible or make no sense, I really am sorry and I really hope that it’s make sense and not complete fucking fuck (as per part 2) I’m trying to make sense to what will happen in Part 2. If someone read that, thank you.

Here we go... under the CUT. As I said tagging only who interacted with the Six Sentence Sunday just in case if someone not interested and I just don’t want to assume as this definitely isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

“Come on, Tatum. This is the last one. I promise. Pleeeeeease,” whined Denise, while her eyes were eyeing the guy she spotted when they entered the club.

Tatum sighed wearily following grudgingly after the girl who was dancing her way through the crowd onto the dance floor, holding his hand.

It wasn’t his scene, but Denise insisted on him going out with her to celebrate his return from the army and her last day in Rutherland before she would head home for another couple of months before coming back for the Peace Summit. And that... that was the only club in town he knew as he was dragged here on more than one occasion by the girl who once was his best friend, by the girl who now he even wasn’t allowed to see.

His eyes involuntarily scanning the crowd. His heart skipping a beat every time when he heard a rumble of melodic laugh or spotted the cascade of chocolate hair framing a round face, but only to squeeze painfully in realisation it wasn’t her. Not the girl, he wanted to see so desperately, but wasn’t allowed. 

At least he thought so until he got the offer to become the head of her security, but even now knowing that this was the cruel way of her mother to remind him, that she will never be his, that she can be nothing more than his assignment. Not even a friend as she was once, five years ago, but the girl he will need to pretend means nothing to him and that their friendship is now in the past.

His eyes wearily moved to the guy following Denise’s sightline, feeling a spark of recognition when his eyes landed on the stranger leaning against the bar and sipping on his drink, but he still couldn’t place a face to the name.

“You said that exact same thing a few songs ago,” grumbled Tatum, rolling his eyes, while his hands went to her hips. Her hands placed on top of his intertwining their fingers. Her back pressed to his chest and their bodies moved in the rhythm with music making him swear softly, when her butt brushed against him, feeling how his dick twitched from the sensation. “Sorry...," he mumbled, while they continued to dance. Her hips swaying in time with music. And he could feel how her body brushed against his ones again with deliberate precision, knowing that this time it wasn’t by accident. “Deni... stop doing that,” he chastised her, trying to move her away from his body or to be precise from the only part of his body that didn’t cooperate with him, even though he wasn’t interested.

“I know.... I know,” she responded, not even a single note of remorse in her voice. His hands still on her hips, and her butt still pressed flash to him. “Still it was worth a shot. But don’t worry Damien warned me, quoting him: to keep my claws away from you. This why my eyes sat on that guy over there at the bar. God, he is handsome. Are all Rutherlandian men so handsome? The things I would do to him…”

“Stop. I don’t need to hear what you would do with some random guy,” exclaimed Tatum, covering her mouth with his hand, while another was still gripping her hip. The fingers digging in her soft skin firmly. And the single thought, like a mantra on a constant repeat, ran through his mind.

I’m not interested. I’m not interested. I’m not interested.

But even though he wasn’t interested, he also knew that the part of him definitely was. The same part that was straining against the seam of his jeans, and by the way she ground her ass against him even firmer before turning to face Tatum, he knew that she knew that too.

“But are you really sure it’s such a good idea to hookup with some random guy? You don’t even know him,” said Tatum, eyeing the guy with suspicion. Feeling the danger posed by him. Knowing that Damien and Nadia would never forgive him if anything would happen with Denise especially while on his watch.

The smirk brightened her features, when her hands ran up his muscular chest before wrapping around his neck.

“Why? Jealous?” she teased him, before laughing lightly. “Don’t worry, I know your story or at least part of it. And I got the message, you have someone, or at least you want to be with someone. And it’s killing you. Been there, done that, not even remotely interested to do that again. But can you at least pretend that you are enjoying tonight with me? It’s not like I ask you to marry me.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Tatum, after scanning the room for a hundredth time this evening. “I’m trying, but that place...”

“Reminds you of her? Don’t apologise. Even though I don’t understand that, I get it. And we still can have a great time as friends. So what do you say? Let’s go grab a drink?” she asked with a wink, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bar where sat the stranger without waiting for him to protest what by the look on his face and by the way his lips parted he definitely was trying to do.

When at the bar, she slipped at the empty bar stool next to the handsome mystery man, flagging the bartender to get them a drink, while tapping her leg in the rhythm to the music and singing along before turning her head to the guy.

“How’s that drink?” she asked loudly, nodding to the smoking pink drink in the guy's hand. “By the way my name Alex, short for Alexandra,” loudly declared Denise trying to over-cry music, catching an amused glance from Tatum, watching him raise an eyebrow at her as if asking, Really? 

But her attention was quickly torn from Tatum, when she felt how the stranger took her hand in his making her heart jump in her chest and her eyes widened, feeling how the current of electricity shot straight through her from his touch. Watching how he slowly brought her hand to his lips, feeling a soft touch of a stranger's lips to the back of her hand that sent a thrilling sensation through her. Sensation that she didn’t feel for a very long time, feeling how her cheeks started to burn from a simple gesture.

“Aren’t you here with your boyfriend?” he asked. His lips lingering for a moment longer on the back of her hand before letting go.

“Who? Tatum? God, no. He isn’t interested,” laughed Denise before Tatum could even utter the word.

“Lucky me, I guess. My name is Chris,” said the mystery guy.

“Evans?” joked Denise.

“Not quite,” replied the guy with a rumble of sincere laugh, something that Denise wasn’t used to.  “Would your friend mind me buying you a drink?”

“He will not,” replied Denise even before Tatum could say anything, feeling the heat of his gaze, when she quickly downed the drink in her hand emptying the glass in one gulp. Watching him flag the bartender for the drink he just promised her.

“You should...,” tried Tatum, mumbling ‘slow down’ but realising that it would be pointless, promising himself that he would stop her as soon as he would see that she had too much to drink.

After a while she started to notice how Chris' phone vibrated again and again on the wooden bar counter while his attention didn't waver from her, making her start to wonder how long he would keep ignoring his phone and who was so persistent. But finally after his phone vibrated for the tenth time within a few minutes he flipped it over to look at the messages. A flash of annoyance and humour painting his features but he quickly hid it, turning back to Denise again.

“Someone significant?” asked Denise, nodding to the phone he still held in his hand.

“No, nothing of kind. Don’t have one,” he shrugged while his smirk widened after he saw the middle name his dad used whenever he was really pissed at him. Finally he closed the phone, switching it off completely before turning to face the girl again. Denise moved closer to him, placing her hand subtly on his thigh, making his brow raise at the gesture, smirking at her in question. Her eyes locked with his, while she whispered seductively, throwing at him the same words he told her earlier. “Lucky me, I guess.”

After a few more drinks and some conversation Denise hit the empty glass on to the bar counter, when another song filled the dance floor, making her jump from the stool and grab Chris’ hand. Her other hand grabbed Tatum’s, who tried to protest, saying that he is perfectly fine right where he was. And that he will just look after her from here letting the other guy have this dance and another one if he can help it. But instead of letting him sulk alone while his eyes would swoop the club for that only person he so desperately wanted to see, she forcefully dragged him to the dance floor. Brushing off every single attempt of his protest.

She stepped closer to him, pressing her back flash to his chest, while her hand circled around his neck, making him bend lower, breathing against her slender neck. His hands automatically dropped to her waist resting there, trying to keep his thoughts cool. But every time when her body moved in tact with his, he felt how his thoughts got clouded, and his body tensed, jerking against her back. 

Closing his eyes, and taking a few deep breaths, he tried to collect himself, but instead he felt how her hips swayed with purpose against him, brushing just right against his rigid length. His fingers flexing involuntarily on her waist, digging them into her soft skin. His heart thumping and a low groan emanated from his throat, while the mantra on a constant repeat ran through his mind, while his body felt otherwise.

I’m not interested. I’m not interested. I’m not interested.

He could see how her hands reached for Chris, or whatever this guy’s name was; pulling him closer to her. Her hands wrapping around his neck. His hands moving to her swaying hips and his eyes fixed on hers feeling mesmerised by the chocolate depth beckoning him closer. Tatum could see how he leaned forward holding her gaze, not letting it go, while his lips parted, stopping just a breath away from hers.

She could feel how the beat of the music made the heat between them intensify. And her breath hitched, when she felt his breath against her lips, hot and heavy. His gaze dropped to her lips just for a split second, feeling how his breath caught in his throat, moving an inch closer to meet her lips. Feeling her soft gasp when his tongue pressed to hers in a hot, opened mouthed kiss. Feeling the current of electricity passing through them tearing them apart, before their lips met again more intensely. Same time as her ass insistently pressed against Tatum, making him curse with a deep shuddery breath.

Fuck... thought he, feeling that he needed to leave right now, run away as far as possible before he did make a mistake. Feeling, how wrong it was to get her sandwiched between two lusting bodies, letting her body rub against him and another guy in a dance. Feeling, the intoxicating scent of her lavender shampoo wash over him, making his brain short-circuit for a second before he managed to shake himself from the trance and step back.

His legs moving on their own to the bar ordering a shot of tequila and then another one and another, while his eyes still fixed on the dancing couple joined in a passionate kiss, making sure that she is safe with the guy they just met.

And it felt like he finally could breath, his body relaxing while his dried throat rinsed by a hot, burning liquid.

Yes, he shouldn’t do that, not even consider it... her. No matter how tempting it was just for one night to get in another's arms, forgetting for a moment for the only ones he wanted but couldn’t have... no matter how his own body betrayed him and no matter how willing she was, he wasn’t interested even though she made sure that it would be almost impossible to resist her.

The thought to flee, flashed in his mind and he knew that he should have listened to it. Knew, that he should leave her with that other guy and run as far away from here, probably as far away from Rutherland as he can. The only thing that kept him from doing that was... She was a friend, and more importantly she was his friend’s girlfriend’s little sister and he needed to keep her safe until she would board the plane and leave. And the other thing was he did like her and he didn’t trust the guy. Something in the way he acted... in the way how easily he swayed Denise, didn’t seat right with him. And he didn’t want her to get hurt.

So instead of listening to his instinct he sat there and waited, downing one drink after another even though every bone in his body screamed for him to flee. Every instinct in him warned that it was a bad idea as he wasn’t interested. And it was bad to give her the wrong idea.

His eyes still locked on the dance floor, watching how her body moved to the beat. Her back was now pressed to this other guy’s chest, while his hands were pressed firmly to the hem of her dress. His thumbs hooking slightly underneath it, brushing her soft skin and drugging the hem of her dress a little bit higher, just enough for the lace edge of her stockings to be seen. And Tatum could feel how his length hardened even more, while he couldn’t tear his gaze from the sliver of her bare skin peeking from under her dress, feeling how the hot flash creeped up his neck. 

His eyes fixed on Denise’s. Watching how her head lolled to the side giving perfect access to the guy behind her. Watching how his lips graze her soft skin moving up her neck before whispering something into her ear, making her laugh.

God, it was too long for him since the last time he had anything physical... too long since he had a chance to lose himself into another human’s arms... too long not to be tempted by what was offered willingly. Too long since he let himself loose... letting himself forget even though for the few hours the only girl he couldn’t have but loved.

She shouldn’t tease me, thought he, feeling how his heartbeat elevated when their eyes met across the dance floor in the dim lights of the club, and her teeth dug into the corner of her bottom lip. But he shook himself from the thought, feeling how the trickles of cold sweat formed on his forehead. Repeating the same words he thought earlier. 

I’m not interested. I’m not interested. I’m not interested.

And even though it was the truth, his body seemed to have a thought of its own.

He cursed slightly, knowing that he shouldn’t be interested as even though his body was, Denise was still Damien’s girlfriend’s sister. The same Damien’s who only six months ago cared enough about him to fly all the way to the Rutherland and drag him out of the darkest place he ever was, reminding him that he wasn’t that type of guy and that no matter how many beds he will change or how many drinks he would have, he will never forget the girl he loves. Beating some sense into him after he fell hard and fast into the pit of depression and hollowness that was caused by his accidental run into Claire. Reminding him that all the feelings he tried to suppress for all these years will always be there. He knew that from his own experience. And every lie he would ever tell himself will hit him hard, beating him into the curb. He knew that as well. Until finally he would realise that the only way to fight it would be accept the truth. And not to do whatever it takes to numb it, pushing it as deep as possible under his stoic mask. But to do the opposite, to face the truth of his feelings like a man.

And now he was falling again, spiralling deeper into the darkness. Losing himself again. And all it took was a single glance at her from the distance, the single sound of her sweet musical laugh, when he was in the Manor taking Madam President’s offer. The offer he knew was a mistake to accept. And all it took was a longing for the only person he couldn’t have, for the only person he ever would love. And once again he didn’t know how to cope with that, how not to feel so much love and pain toward the person who never was meant for him.

It was after 3 in the morning when Tatum saw them approach, feeling Denise’s gaze locked with his, sliding next to him onto the bar stool, while the guy excused himself to make a quick phone call.

“Didn’t you forget something?” grumbled Tatum, nodding to the old clock over the bar, lowering his head closer to her so she would hear him.

“My flight is only in another six hours, and I already spoke with Chris while we danced and he will give me a ride,” replied Denise with a wink. Her voice was still a little bit slurred from the alcohol, when she flagged the bartender over, ordering three glasses of lime soda before Tatum could stop her.

“I didn’t see much talking happening,” frowned Tatum, downing the non-alcoholic drink as soon as the glass clicked against the counter.

“Have you been watching?” whispered Denise leaning closer to him, while her hand rested on his thigh, running a little bit higher.

“It was not what you... I promised Damien that I will look after you, which includes making sure that you will board this damn plane,” he growled when her fingers shifted just an inch higher, making the breath leave him, and for his eyes to darken just a shade.

“Afraid I’ll stay?” she chuckled, her body brushing his, when she slid from the stool in time to get wrapped into Blaine’s arms. “Ready to go?” she asked, while her eyes were fixed on Tatum with a challenge, smirking when he bit the bullet.

“I’m going with you...,” he grunted, catching her hand. His eyes firmly held hers. The scent of the lavender mixed with her natural scent making his head spin just a little, feeling more drunk then he probably was. “I promised Damien to keep you safe,” he added, throwing a quick glance to the guy who smirked at him before helping Denise out of club and into the waiting car.

Tagging: @choices-bound​​ @starrystarrytrouble​​ @mercury84choices​​ @lahelasaveiro​​ @k2624​​ @thefrenchiemama​​ 

[shaydeoffical]

Multi-Ending Haikyuu Camping Trip, Soulmate Au, Chubby/Insecure Reader!

Bio: In a world where your soulmate’s name will randomly appear on your wrist during a full moon. (Y/n) discovers that, not only does she know her soulmate, but he’s on the same camping trip with her.

Author’s note: Thank you to @alesipanic​ for helping me edit this one <3 . Also any tw are in the tags. 

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 “This was a great idea,” Kuroo finished staking down the tent, and I let the peg go. What was going to be Kenma, Kuroo, and I going on a small camping trip turned into a massive party. Kenma invited Hinata, Kuroo invited Tsuki (who has to bring Tadashi), and Bokuto was coming if Hinata and Kuroo were here, so of course, Akaashi also tagged along. I invited my best girlfriend from college who, wisely, declined. Bokuto and Hinata were on a small break from their team, and classes weren’t in session, so it made sense for us all to hang out. Though camping might have been a more significant task than we initially planned, it'd be fun.

   “I just hope we packed everything.” I stood up and wiped my brow, sweat pooling down my forearm. While I wasn’t in the position to complain, considering that Kuroo and Bokuto carried my bags up the mountain, the hike was grueling. Even Hinata was strained after dragging Kenma the second half.

   “Well, I did make a list,” Tsukishima pushed up his glasses and grinned. “If we don’t have something, it's not my fault. You’re the forgetful one here, (Y/n).” My mouth fell open, and I sputtered.    

   “Tsuki, don’t start a fight this early in the trip.” Tadashi sat down the firewood. The two soulmates were balanced out for sure, Tadashi kept Tsuki in line, while Tsuki kept him fired up. Still, Tsuki wasn't so easily persuaded.

   “Remember what happened the last time you made (Y/n) cry.” Kuroo draped his arm around my shoulders, squeezing my speechless frame to him. Kuroo's sweat mixed with mine, at least I wasn't the only one overheating.

   “If you are proposing a rematch, I’ll win this time.” Tsuki crossed his arms and was enjoying the banter. While they did that, I was mentally going over everything I packed. Of course, I remembered the bug spray, sunscreen, medicine, and extra batteries….my power box for my phone.

   “Just apologize, and I’ll school you after dinner.” Kuroo purred, squeezing my arm, resting his head on my shoulder.

   “I’m sorry, your Highness.” My eyes widened, sweat reappearing on my forehead. Tsuki conceded, but I didn’t care at that point.

   “Thank you, but I did forget something,” I admitted, biting my lip, looking at the dirt. “I need to check my bags.”

   “What was it?” Tadashi asked, following me to the pile.

   “I brought extra sunscreen, that’s the most important thing,” Kuroo assured me, helping me dig through my bags.

   “I forgot my charging bank. But I remembered all the stuff on the list.” My clothes were strewn all over the tarp we laid out for the bags. “Shit, I’m so fucking stupid,” I growled at myself undoing my nightgown, my undies rolling out.

   “Granny panties uh.  So you already gave up on finding your soulmate.” Tsuki loved to get under my skin, while Kuroo, Akaashi and Bokuto schooled Tsuki in my honor, I was his favorite target. Tadashi hit his chest, folding my clothes back as I rummaged deeper.

   “If my soulmate wants to buy me lacey panties, I’d still wear these. I’m Top enough to be proud of my undies. We all know Tadashi tops you when the doors are closed, so that doesn’t give you a right to judge.”  I smirked, twirling my panties around my finger before shoving them back in my bag.

   “Roasted,” Kuroo backed me up, shifting through the cans of bug spray, hoping to find my box.

   “At least I’m getting some,” Tsuki huffed, not letting it go.    

   “I could get it if I wanted,” I lied. Not only was I plus size, but I was awkward around strangers. This didn’t mean I couldn’t get some, it just was hard enough when I had to find a chubby chaser, someone willing to date before finding their soulmate and not be a shy mess. Being around Kenma and Kuroo brought my confidence as a child, and it opened the doors for me to have so many friends. Yet, I wanted affection and attention in that romantic way.

   “It’s fine, we are supposed to be disconnecting from tech. I’ll turn my phone off to use for emergencies.” Tadashi reasoned, changing the subject.

   “I’ll do the same,” Kuroo set up the cans of spray and sunblock on the little table we brought to make things easier. Before Tsuki started annoying me, he was setting it up in front of the tent. “(Y/n), do you want to go check on Kenma and Hinata?”

   Silently I thanked Kuroo for an out. “Yea, those two are probably halfway down the river right now.” Dusting off my knees, I adjusted my shorts and held my head high, walking into the woods.

   “Other way,” Kuroo giggled, knowing I was beyond hopeless.

   “I was just testing you two.” I fired back, keeping my hands to my side. “Ah, forget it.”

   The best part of camping in this spot was that it was secluded. Most people didn’t bother trekking up the mountain when there was a road a few miles down. That was the plus of having athletic friends, they were able to be workhorses and carry our stuff. While we hadn’t been camping together before, I knew that if Kenma and Kuroo could do it, the others could too.

   We were on the flat part of the mountain top, but down the other side of the mountain was a river. Kenma and Hinata were sent to get us some water for washing up and doing dishes. When I finally skid down the hill, I saw Hinata swimming and Kenma on his game station, the buckets filled with water on the side.

   “It’s not time to goof,” I caught their attention, giggling as Hinata jumped on the dock, his clothes swallowing him like a drowned rat.  

   “Hey, (Y/n),” Kenma motioned for me to look over his shoulder. He was playing Animal Crossing. “Where should I put this bed?”

   “I like the bed in the center of the room, it makes me feel rich.” I put in my two sense, squatting down and resting my head on his shoulder. He put the bed down, then went to another empty room.

   “That won’t go with the flow of the bedroom. But that gives ideas me an idea for your room.” He explained, opening the design tool going to the side room. He pulled out an elegant bed and sat in the middle then put down some pastel wallpaper and flooring.

   “Now look who’s slacking.” Hinata wrung out his shirt and joined me in watching Kenma decorate.

   “It’s not slacking, it’s interior design,” I giggled, loving how Kenma was adding my favorite in-game animals to the table. “Besides, what the other’s don’t know won’t hurt them.”

   “Don’t know what?” Someone leaned their head on my shoulder, and I bounced up and around, knocking into them.

   “Bokuto, eh we were,” I covered Kenma with my body so he could save and hide his game. Hinata scurried over to the buckets.

   “You three were playing video games while we were gathering supplies.” Akaashi clicked his tongue, but I could see the slight smirk on his lips. He was standing up on the incline and definitely had the high ground.

   “We got water,” Hinata shot back, pointing to the pails. “We were just helping Kenma design.”

   “It’s going to evaporate if you don’t get it back to camp, the sun is almost at its highest point.” Akaashi had a bundle of wood under his arm, and Bokuto had the ax leaned up against a tree not too far from us.

   “Not to mention you’re drenched.” Bokuto laughed, hands on his hips. There was a thick layer of perspiration all over his body. He was one to talk about being wet.

   “I was supposed to keep them in line, but I got distracted,” I admitted, helping Kenma to his feet. “Let’s all go back together, yea?”

   “Yea,” Akaashi agreed, eyes lingering on me for some reason.

   “Oh yea, yea.” Bokuto grabbed the ax and a bucket of water. The focus shifts from me to finish the trio of yea’s.

   “Oh yea, yea, yea.” I sighed, resting a hand on my hip. “I’m not Kuroo, but I tried.”

   “Let’s hurry back,” Hinata changed the subject, grabbing two buckets. Kenma took one, and I grabbed the last pail. They were three-gallon buckets and not easy to manage.  Still, we had to get it back to camp.

   As we commenced going back uphill, I began to fall to the rear, as usual, it was either that or start to pant like a dog. I wasn’t the only one struggling, but I was the slowest and most unsure of where I was stepping and what I was stepping on.

   “We don’t need to rush,” Kenma slowed down to be beside me and nodded in solidarity. Bokuto and Hinata were racing to the top, spilling water as they went.

   “You are wasting it.” Akaashi reduced his pace to walk with us. “Those two have one brain cell between them.”

   “That’s a fair assessment,” Kenma shifted his bucket the other hand, and I did the same. The plastic around the wire handle not doing much in terms of ergonomics.

   “How was the advanced lit class?” Akaashi and I were in a similar field of study in school, and we had classes together often. So we were regular study buddies, but not this past semester.

   “It’s was challenging but not as hard as 396.” I could see the camp just ahead of us. Taking a deep breath, I pushed harder.

   “So less papers about unrequited love.” Akaashi determined, pushing his hair back. A bead of sweat sliding down his chin.

   “In essence, but to be fair, the 396 professor was just bitter, their soulmate rejected them.” I sat the bucket down with the others by the table.

   “Who rejected their soulmate?” Hinata piped up, handing me one of the bottles of drinking water.

   “Our professor.” Akaashi also got a bottle and downed it with one long swig.

   “What a nightmare,” Tadashi chimed in, holding Tsuki closer on his lap. They both were cuddling by the fire pit.

   “Was he mean or something?” Hinata pushed it further.

   “From the rumors, it was a petty reason like he was already balding or she was in love with a model.” I summarized, applying more sunscreen to my shoulders. “It made him a bitter man, who had an affinity for assigning tragic readings. In one semester, we read more books about soulmates never meeting or breaking up, to make up for a lifetime.”

   “Hamlet was a hard one,” Akaashi added, stretching his back.

   “Ophelia deserved better,” I sighed, remembering Hamlet being too preoccupied with other things to love her. “To be or not to be my ass.”

   “Let’s have happier thoughts.” Tadashi clapped his hands, going over to grab the fire starting kit.  “How about we celebrate setting up camp by lighting the fire and cooking up some lunch?”

   “Sounds like a plan,” Kuroo grabbed the hot dogs from the cooler.

   “Let’s get a seat.” Kenma tugged me to the logs that had been left by other campers, and we took our seat. Kuroo sat by Kenma, both of us leaning over his shoulder to watch him fish in animal crossing.

   “So when are we setting up the net?” Hinata picked up the volleyball and swirled it between his hands.

   “After we eat, we can go to the river and work on that.” Kuroo was always worried about us, making sure we were eating and staying hydrated. Even as a child, he’d often split his lunch with me when my mom would ‘forget’ to pack one for me. Later on, he just started to bring another bento for me. He always had my best interests at heart. He also worried over Kenma, that’s why I hoped he’d be my soulmate. Kuroo cared about everyone and took excellent care of me. While I wasn’t stereotypically beautiful, he always made me feel that way.  

   If my soulmate wasn’t Kuroo, I’d want them to be someone like him. I’d be okay if my soulmate was Kenma too, we’d get along just fine and play games all day. Or Akaashi, he was a little shy like me, but I could learn to be the outgoing one. Bokuto would be an okay spouse, he had a lot of energy, and definitely made for an excellent dance partner, he was just passionate. Hinata, well he was the one I knew the least, but he reminded me of Bokuto, but stable. Why did this turn into me thinking about my soulmate among my single friends? It didn’t matter; my soulmate was probably miles away, dating a pretty girl and living their best solo life.

   Deep inside my gut, I knew I’d be single for life. Kenma or Kuroo would take pity on me and let me live with them and their partner. I’d grow old and write the tragic books I spent all last year reading. Still, there was a flame lightly flickering in my chest, I could still keep dreaming for a better ending. It didn't have to be so tragic.