#its finally past midnight so i can post this now

[onedragonaday]

1/1/24, toofis!!

toofis is my 8ish yo toothless build a bear plush, who better to start the new year with?

[crescentfool]

never in my life did i think i need to makeout with a piece of software so badly but here we are i guess

[laudthingcat]

JJK// Your top lifts up while you sleep pt.2

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo

Tags: nsfw content, somnophilia, cnc

Part 2 of the series!! I really loved how the first part turned out so i want to continue it 💕 You can read part one here ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

Note: it’s been over a year since i posted this and i am growing tired of all the comments from blank blogs and blogs that belong to minors attacking me for making a fictional character fuck another fictional character in their sleep in a fictional story. Grow the fuck up and learn not to fucking read a story if you dont like the tags?? To everyone else who knows how to differentiate fiction from reality, i love you pookies <3

Masterlist

Gojo: After another week away from you because of his work, he was finally excited to get back home to you. It was past midnight when he entered the apartment so he tried his best to be as quiet as possible since he was absolutely sure you were already asleep, and he was right. Entering the bedroom he saw you peacefully sleeping while hugging his pillow. He smiled to himself knowing that you missed him as much as he missed you. Making his way towards the bed, he could see you better, easily noticing this time that your top was almost completely rolled up and that you were not wearing any shorts at all. His face lit up since he really missed all of you. Taking a seat on the bed next to you, he leaned in and started leaving soft kisses on your exposed shoulder, slowly moving lower and lower, until he reached your thighs. God, he loved your thighs. Everything about them was perfect. Giving them a soft bite, he chuckled the moment you squeezed your thighs together. It was always a sign that you were getting horny and he knew it.

He had to check it so he slightly moved your panties aside, just enough for his hand to make its way inside of them. Using his middle finger he caressed your pussy before inserting it and a second one inside of you. Just as he thought, you were already wet and ready for a good pounding. So not wasting any more time, he got rid of his clothes and placed himself on top of you. After stroking his already erect cock a couple times, he lined it under your pussy. Grabbing a hold of your hip, he started moving. In between soft whimpers, he quietly laughed because he knew you’d get angry at him if you were awake since you absolutely hate being teased. You took him by surprise when you squeezed your thighs together once more, making him almost cum on the spot. Embarrassed, he cursed the fact that he was so excited, so he quickened the pace, knowing for sure that he won’t last for much longer. Not much longer after, he entered your pussy and pushing as far in as possible, he came inside of you.

Leaning in once more, he placed a tired kiss on your forehead. "A little warm surprise for tomorrow morning"

Choso: Waking up in the middle of the night isn't something uncommon for Choso. He's been struggling with insomnia since he can remember. What he'd usually do is stay in bed and watch you sleep while waiting for the morning to come. This particular night tho it was a bit different. When he woke up you were no longer in his arms. You were sleeping on your back, with your legs conveniently opened and your top no longer covering your abdomen and chest. The sight made him hard on the spot and there was nothing he wanted to do more than touch you. He hesitated at first, thinking that it wouldn't be ok for him to do so, even tho, as he clearly remembers, you did talk about this before, and you ensured him that you are absolutely fine and actually looking forward to that happening at some point. Making up his mind, he changed his position, now sitting next to you instead of laying down.

Being sure that you want that as much as he does, he went straight for your chest. Still very careful with his touches so that you wouldn't wake up, he cupped one of your tits and started squeezing and playing with it while devouring the other one with his mouth, all while rubbing his knee against your clothed pussy. Your tits were so soft, he could never get enough of them. But there was something he was even more excited about. The thought of filling you up with his cum from coming inside of you as many times and he wants without you even knowing was getting him on a whole different level of excitement.

He did just as he said. He came inside of you until you were full. He made you come multiple times too. He even managed to fall back asleep, too exhausted to actually stay awake as usual. When you woke up you were very excited to tell him about the dream you had, to which he paid full attention. He's found something else to do from now on when his insomnia kicks in.

Note: I haven't wrote anything in over a year so i dunno if i still have it but oh well what never stopped was me being horny so i hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode III

Calm After the Storm

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, heat cycle, extreme knotting, marking, scenting, territorial/possessive behaviour, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, belly bulge, actual breeding, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Happy halloween guys! I know I literally fell off the face of the earth and I will make another post to address that. But I know I haven’t participated for @pandoraslxna ‘s kinktober event (I’m so sorry bby) but if I could only participate for one of the days it would be today for sure. So I definitely wanted to get this out before midnight. It’s not purely a/b/o but honestly entails all the aspects of it. I think we can all definitely tell who’s the alpha and omega here (Ralak is alpha material hands down, ofc). I hope you guys enjoy this one, and I apologize for such a wait <3 Also I feel like I’m a bit rusty, so apologies for any typos, errors, or just plain suckish writing.

ALSO a big happy birthday to my babe @neteyamsoare <3 love you and hope it was a good one!!

Synopsis: Your heat starts to subside, but Ralak’s rut is only getting stronger. What could possibly go wrong?

<- Previous -> Next

——

Only an hour has passed before you feel your not-so-gentle giant stirring behind you, waking you from your sleep. You’d both been on your sides for too long now and everywhere seems to ache. You whine when you feel his hips shift against you, tugging at the immense pressure between your hips. The bulge protruding from your lower abdomen has barely gone down and you feel almost as full as you did when he initially emptied his load inside you.

Silken strands of his hair fall onto your prickled skin as he props himself up on his elbow from behind you, perching his chin on your throbbing shoulder. He inhales deeply – longingly. His hot breath gently blows against your neck just as you feel his arm snake under your leg and yank it back in one rough tug.

“Ralak.” His name falls from your lips through a nearly inaudible croak. “‘m so full.” You barely mumble out, rolling your head to the side. Yet, the flame within you is without a doubt reigniting with a vengeance.

And he can sense it.

Simply by the way you push back into him, making that bulge in your belly protrude a little more. His large hand resting on your stomach can indubitably feel it. And the smile that it puts on his face is almost baleful, bearing his lengthy canines that yearn to sink deep into you once more. “Sorry, tìyawn [love].”

He just can’t help it.

No matter how hard he tried. The desire—no, the need—to fuck into you and claim you as his time and time again is… irrepressible. In this moment, nothing else felt better than your little, used cunt hugging his cock so tightly that it almost hurts. He yearns to fill you over and over. Again and again until your womb is overflowing with his seed. The mere thought has his balls pulling tight to his body, firming up by the second all just to flood your womb again.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak growls into your neck, sliding his hand down to your inner thigh. “I will try to be–” He groans slowly, his pointer finger now burrowing itself between your tied pelvises, “–flrr [gentle].”

The final accented word comes out roughly, and if it weren’t for his finger slipping past his knot and into your cunt, you would’ve probably heard it clearly. You yelp out when he traces his finger around his knot, stretching your already taut skin, attempting to work a little space to allow his bulge to slip out.

It's all consuming and you’re simply too overwhelmed with his size that you fail to realise how your body is synced with his and bearing down to push him out. All whilst he’s struggling to fight the snap of hips to avoid hurting you. But the tugging is nothing like you’ve felt before adn you can finally understand why he was so insistent in the first place.

ut there was no getting out of this now, not that you even wanted to.

“It–it’s…” You brace yourself by grabbing onto his forearm, “...t-too big.”

“Ngaytxoa [sorry]” He huffs out his fourth apology, losing himself once again as his hips finally jerk back out of his control.

Pop.

His knot slips out of you with such force that the squelch it makes is as loud as your whimper. It’s so wet and slippery that his cock follows behind his knot, sliding out of you effortlessly. He’s more than half-hard yet so heavy and hung it rests close to your knee. Then you feel it. His cum dribbling down your thigh, still warm and sticky as if he just filled you up seconds ago.

It’s such a conflicting feeling — a mixture of relief and pent up frustration. Your heat is still in full bloom, despite it being so quenched until you’re almost nauseated. It’s as if you were two pieces perfectly linked together, allowing nature to run its course with no second thought. He grunts when he feels the crisp night air against his groin, his cock now springing up to its full length in just a few seconds.

He, too, feels some sort of feverish way now. Itching to be back inside your warmth, enveloped by your gummy, slimy walls. He opts to pepper wet kisses along your neck, and then up to your jaw, lingering there as he tries to distract himself from the ache to shove it back inside you.

Until it becomes too much.

“Tanhì.” He moans into your ear, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open as his tongue trails the skin on the back of your neck. “Need you.” It’s his way of begging for permission. Permission to slam his cock back inside you and hammer into you until the annoying itch deep in his core goes away again. You were the only one to make it go away. To stop the hurt. “Please.” He whines out a plea of desperation, now gritting his teeth from the way his stomach is tensing. “Now.”

But that last plea wasn’t much of a question, no. It was more of a demand. A way of saying, ‘give it to me, or I’ll take you on my own terms’.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath, sliding your free hand down your side to hook it under your leg. You pull it back and reposition your hips to give him access to your cunt. “P-Put it in, ‘Lak.”

Ralak’s hips begin to stutter — the leaking, mushroomy tip of his cock now repeatedly prodding between your puffed up folds. His breath turns raggedy as he tries to guide himself back inside you handsfree. Your slick is overflowing, making it even more difficult for him to align himself with your entrance. The frustration brewing within him bubbles over when his cockhead glides past your swollen clit instead of sinking in your cunt. So he pulls back in one swift move and —

Thrust.

Your body jolts from how quickly he slams every inch of his cock inside you, forcing you split-open. Ralak huffs a shaky sigh of relief, his breathing growing a little steadier now that he’s deep inside his mate. Meanwhile, your mouth hangs agape yet no sound falls from your lips. Your eyes well up with tears and your ears lay flat against your skull. Your body is in complete submission to the beast dominating it and there’s nothing else you can do but give in to the pleasure.

“Your scent.” He whispers open-mouthed, tips of his canines grazing the nape of your neck. “It is driving me crazy.” You release the breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. You didn’t even know what to say. Not like you could really say much right now anyways. You’re too lost in the fog of your own heat. For once, Ralak is doing most of the talking. “It makes me…” He snaps his hips back, only leaving half of his length inside you. “...lose myself completely.”

A deep roll of his hips.

A lewd moan dripping off your lips. 

“How do you do that?” He huffs, pressing his teeth against your neck. You don’t answer yet again. You just can’t find the words. Not right now. Not when he’s so deep inside you. “Hm?” A deep growl vibrates up his throat, his teeth just barely piercing the first layer of your silken skin.

“I—” You’re cut off by your own squeal when you feel the sting of his bite. Your breath catches in your throat and he immediately unlatches, lapping at the nicked skin to soothe it. “Sorry.” He whispers breathlessly, planting a quick kiss on each of your marks. “Sorry. Sorry.” A few more apologies flow from his mouth, as if he were drunk off of too much fermented fruit. Somewhat lucid but still so spaced. “I cannot —ngh— help myself.”

Thrust.

“‘M sorry.”

He knows he went a little too deep just now. But you feel so fucking good around his cock.

Chomp.

Another mark. Right on the bend of your shoulder, next to your first.

“Ngaytxoa [I’m sorry]”

A small cry from your quivering lips.

“S-Stop. No more apologies. I am yours to do what you p-please with.” You finally get out in one, weary breath.

Ralak’s languid, deep thrusts are laced with desperation. And with each stroke they become harsher and harsher. Faster and faster. Now he’s got your full permission he lets go once more, falling into the thick fog of his rut.

Within seconds his cock is pumping in and out of you, his half-deflated knot continuously prodding and poking at your entrance. The tip of his cock drags against your walls, putting an immense pressure right on your sweet spot. Yet still, sounds barely fall from your flushed lips. You’re too out of it. Too focused on the raw sensations rippling through you all at once. His overwhelming pheromones. His marking. His relentless pounding.

Rather, hot tears well over your eyes and stream down your face.

He can’t stop slamming himself inside you. He doesn’t want it to stop. It’s absolute rapture and he’s unapologetically drowning in it.

“Tanhì. Tanhì.” He groans needily. “y/n.”

He only says your name when he’s serious about something.

And hearing it drip from his tongue onto the nape of your neck has your hairs standing high and your clit throbbing.

“Eywa. Yes, ‘lak? T-Tell me what you need.” You blubber out, tightening your grip on his forearm.

“Haa — spread yourself.” He demands, prompting you to tuck your leg back as far as you can. His pace quickens, hips striking you with a sinful vengeance. But no matter how hard he fucks you, or how deep he buries himself inside you — its just not enough. He needs to be closer. To be deeper. To really be inside you. To knot you.

“More.” He grunts, slowing his thrusts into rocking, grinding himself inside your slippery, tight cunt.

You go to tug at your leg and meet nothing but resistance. “I-I’m trying.” You can feel it now. Perhaps it’s the bond or maybe it’s the way his knot is working you open but he’s growing more and more frustrated by the thrust.

“Mmmh. Wider.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You’re quick to answer, feeling nothing but pressure from the way he’s trying to shove more of himself inside you.

“Agh.” He growls in frustration, pulling out of you and grabbing you by the ankle to flip you onto your back.

Ralak situates himself between your legs without hesitation and pushes them so far back your knees graze against the tips of your ears. You can barely breathe in this position and are having a hard time seeing anything else but his raging cock at your entrance. You can feel the burn in your thighs from how far back he’s shoving your knees but that sting is masked by the pleasure of him plunging himself back into your pussy.

The moan that rips from your lips is obscene and like no other. The crown of his cock is drilling itself directly into your sweet spot, causing it to swell with unadulterated pleasure. And each time he pulls out just to sink it back inside you he winds you in the process – making you sputter out absolute nonsense. Even he knows you're close, despite being in the thick of his rut.

But frankly, he doesn't care.

All he’s concerned about is satisfying his own urges.

“Not enough.” He grits through his teeth as his eyes shift to an even deeper shade of mauve. “‘ts not enough.” He pants, voice laced with something of worry. Panic that this feeling won’t go away. It makes you panic too, wondering if you’re doing enough for him. If he’s going to take even more from you. If you can manage it.

“You’re okay. Do what you need.” You try to reassure him, grasping your feet and holding them back–opening yourself up even more. But fuck, that only made things worst for you.

And by worst, you mean better. It feels like you’ll burst any second now, especially with how much pressure is on your bladder. “Fu-ck me. God, fuck–ahaa-fuck me.”

His brows bunch together as he peers down at you, beads of sweat rolling off his face to drip onto your chest. His jaw is so tense it looks as if it may fracture. He’s grunting with every push and huffing with every pull.

“Right there! Fuck. I’m close. I’m so fucking close. I-I need you to cum i-inside me. Oh—please ‘lak. Please!” Your cries are choked and muffled, breaths short and raggedy. The heat pooling in your core is unbearable. It needs out. Now.

Ralak swallows. Hard. Through his own haze he can see that you’re in need too. He shuffles closer to you, tucking his feet under him to assume a squatting position. Now he’s all but on top of you, folding you into a merciless mating press. This one shift in position has you coming undone on his cock, coating it in your thick slick as you sob from the white hot pleasure. The force of your climax has you pushing him out and only has him drilling himself further inside you. If it’s not for the way your pussy walls tighten around him surely his knot would have popped inside you by now.

He’s still fucking into you, right through your orgasm and towards his.

“Say what you need.” He panics through a tightened jaw, grinding himself inside you – pushing his knot against the resistance.

You know what he’s actually asking from you. To say something. Anything to tip him over the edge. To rid him of this maddening itch.

“Breed me.” You whisper, locking eyes with him. You watch as his pupils blow into thin rings and then constrict into nothing but dots. You try to swallow what spit you could, attempting to clear your throat. “Breed me. Please.”

“Then take it.” He lets loose a sinister growl, putting all his weight into his final push. For the first time, you feel his knot pop inside you, veiny and as thick as can be. You let out a high-pitched whimper, and feel your teeth begin to chatter. That doesn’t make him ease up, though. He continues to grind himself inside you until you feel the familiar, warm sensation of his sticky seed spraying inside you – filling your womb to the brim. His cock throbs wildly, in perfect synchrony with his own heartbeat, and soon yours too as the bond equilibrates your souls once more.

Strangely, you thought you’d be sore and overstimulated by now, but your body has never felt better. You’re full and content and more than satiated. Ralak heaves a sigh — one of pure relief. It’s glued to his face. All panic washes away and he’s feeling more at peace the longer he remains inside you. He’s rigid, firmly holding his position on top of you — ensuring he empties every single drop inside you. Yet, his heavy lidded eyes begin to close.

“I can’t breathe.” You mumble, snapping him out of his tranquil trance. His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth pulls into a little smirk. He exhales a breathy chuckle and carefully manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position. He settles himself on his back and supports your body whilst positioning you on top of him.

“Better?” Ralak husks, drawing circles into your back with the tip of his finger.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs to full capacity and then slowly release it. “Much.”

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]” His accented words slur together as he dozes off.

“Nga yawne lu oer, Ralak [I love you].”

——

Ralak woke repeatedly throughout the night for his fill. If it wasn’t him, it was you. Waking up in a clammy state, shaking and nuzzling into his chest from your heat. You honestly thought that the more time passed — the more rounds you went — the more he would calm down.

But, you thought wrong.

He’d start by leaving tender kisses wherever he could, whispering he’d do his best to be as gentle as he can be. Then, he’d slip a finger inside you, stretching you out in attempts to pull his knot out without hurting you. But it would always sting, even just a little bit. After that he’d beg. Pleading with you to let him back in, and apologize right after plunging inside you regardless of your answer—which was always yes.

At this point your own foggy haze would take over. Perhaps it was your body’s way of coping with the overstimulation, but you pined for every single second of it. Sometimes it would last for a few minutes. Where he’d be quick to fold you in two and growl in the shell of your ear, ‘you’re mine, haah — fuck, take me’. 

Sometimes it was closer to an hour. Where you’d both be so tired you’d take breaks, lazily taking turns fucking each other, telling him to ‘put it back in’ whenever he’d slip out. But one thing remained the same every time. You’d sob when you’d cum and then beg him to breed you. And he would, without a doubt, breed you.

Mercilessly.

And with each breeding, he’d lose himself a little deeper. Knotting you over and over. Marking you repeatedly until your body’s littered with bites. Until you were so fucked out you’d lost the feeling in your legs. Until your throat was so dry you could barely speak. Until you needed a break.

——

“Wait.” You crawl towards the bedside table with wobbly knees. “Just need some water, Lak.”

Ralak pounces on you, knocking you onto your stomach and pressing himself against you. You extend an arm out, fingers splayed out and shaking from you trying to reach the cup of water Ka’ani left there more than a day ago. Ralak grabs your hips and hoists you up onto your knees and elbows, and mounts you from behind.

“Water. Water, Lak.” You beg with a hoarse cry, only for him to line the crown of his cock up with your sopping cunt. He growls next to your ear as he stretches over you and reaches for the cup of water, filling his cheeks and putting it back down within a couple seconds. With a quick grip of your jaw, he turns your head and meets his lips with yours.

Before you can process what’s going on you’re gulping down water as fast as you can. And when he pulls away, you’re yet again met with the hazy eyes of his rut. That’s when it dawns on you that whilst your heat is coming to an end, his rut is only getting stronger.

Rather than looking away, he locks his gaze onto you, just so he can watch your face screw as he slams his cock inside of you in one, hard thrust. It works a sudden, breathy moan from your mouth, eyebrows pinching together from the stretch. He holds his position, basking in the warmth and tightness of your cunt as his breath goes shaky.

“Wait.” You mumble weakly, shoving a hand behind you to push against his lower stomach. “Please.”

For the first time, you were telling him to stop.

His jawbone flutters as his eyes search yours. Restraint plasters to his face, and the only audible thing is his heavy breathing. He nods. Just once. A firm and intentional nod. He swallows the residual water left in his mouth and tenderly pulls out of you. You hear the thud of his footsteps quiet down as he nears the marui door, and then the splash of the water when he dives into the rough sea.

It’s pouring outside.

Storming, actually. Thundering and lightning. Yet he feels this is the only way he’d be able to resist the urge to storm back in and fuck you. But the instinct to protect his mate, even if it’s from himself, is more than enough to give him the willpower to walk away.

You take this moment to just breathe, turning your head to face the plush bed beneath you as you gather your thoughts. Did he just show that much restraint? Enough to walk away from a female na’vi during her heat cycle… all whilst in the height of his own rut cycle?

“Lekye’ung [insane]” You mutter, using your trembling hand to grab and bring the cup to your lips. They, too, are sore and chapped. Having gone so many hours without any food or water, you knock it back, shaking the cup to get out every drop. Finished already? You think to yourself, looking inside the cup with hazed vision, confirming it’s indeed empty.

After setting it back down onto the table, you slump back into the bedhead, relaxing your body. You’re sore. Actually, sore is an understatement. Every single muscle and fiber in your body burns—and that isn’t entirely due to your heat either now that it’s finally subsiding. Perhaps you should be taking this time to have a look at your… condition, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

So you give in, sinking further and further into the bed as you doze off.

—

A few hours go by and Ralak returns with a net of fish thrown over his shoulder and a bucket of fresh water perched on his hip. He carefully sets down the bucket and rests the net next to the fire pit. He’s cautious not to wake you, nor come too close to you. Ralak ignites the fire and fans the flame. As quietly as possible, he prepares and cooks the fish, setting them aside to wrap in the leaves of a spartan tree.

Since coming to Awa’atltu, one of your biggest adjustments—despite the obvious—has been your change in diet. Fish weren’t uncommon back home, but they certainly weren’t the main source of food. You prefer the other foods here, your favourite being what you call ‘inland boar’, which is an animal that resembles what your father calls a ‘pig’ from his star.

But not even that, (boar) could smell better than this (fish).

The aroma alone rouses you from your sleep.

Your eyes open to a dark room and a glowing fire pit. The fire is out but the wood remains hot, shifting among different shades of orange and red. Ralak sits beside it, with his back leaning against the support beam of the pod. His arms are crossed over his chest and his knees are slightly bent. It’s hard to see more than just his silhouette with the lack of moonlight.

“That smells good.” You rasp. Ralak’s eyes fly open to reveal a familiar shade of deep blue. Like the sea. They glow and flicker before you, examining you now that you’re sitting up out of bed.

Crack.

A bolt of lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the room. For a moment, you were able to see every single bike mark, scratch and bruise you’ve given him. It also reveals that he’s shaking. Trembling from being wet and cold, or possibly from the strain he was putting himself through from just being in the same room as you.

Ralak moves quickly, shuffling to his feet and going right for the leaf that holds a few sloppily rolled fish. He brings it to you, setting it slowly on your lap, being overly cautious not to touch you. Grabbing your cup on the table, he dunks it in the bucket and sets it beside you.

“Eat.” He whispers, backing away to sit next to the pit. You watch as he slides down the beam and into a sitting position, and then glance down at your food. Saliva pools in your mouth from the aroma wafting up your nose.

You’re hungry.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, hastily stuffing an entire roll into your mouth.

You moan as you chew, nodding your head from how good it tastes. It’s hard to swallow, given that you bit off more than you could chew—literally—but when it finally goesdown you feel your stomach grumble for more. Ralak watches you intently. A wince screwing his face with every swallow he witnesses. And when you finish, you chug down your water and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Another crack of lightning strikes, and then a low, lengthy rumble of thunder follows.

“That was… one of the best you’ve made, lak.” You say with a wobbly smile, slowly getting on your feet to wash your hands. The bucket is nearby your mate, who is still fixed in position. Although he remains unmoving, his eyes follow your every move. You shake your hands to dry them and shuffle over to Ralak and sit next to him.

“so… how do you feel?” You ask quietly, raising your hand to check if he’s feverish. He turns his head before your hand can make contact with his skin and his gaze locks onto the charred wood in the fire pit. 

“Fine.” Ralak mutters.

Eyebrows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try and look him in the eye. Your brows relax when you come to the realisation that he’s already taken care of himself. And only Eywa knows how many times.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I would have—”

“Ma’ muntxate [my wife]”He croaks, swiftly turning his head to look directly into your eyes. “Oeru txoa livu [please forgive me].”

“Txoa? [forgive?] What for, ma’ muntxatan? [husband]”

“I have… neglected you.” He’s struggling to speak. You can hear it in the strain of his voice.

Regardless, none of his words are really making any sense to you right now. How has he been neglectful? Despite the circumstances, it’s obvious he’s been trying his hardest to be good to you. Somehow, even conjuring up the strength to pull out of you and walk away.

“Ralak. You have not. Please, I—”

“Look at yourself.” He snaps, taking a quick glance at your body before dropping his head in his hands.

Crack.

Conveniently, another strike of lightning and boom of thunder, revealing exactly what he’s talking about. For a few seconds, you’re met with the sight of your battered body—scabbed and bruised. You lift your head, staring at his shameful demeanour. But the more you stare, the more you see your own reflection.

“And have you looked at yourself?” Your words bounce as you shuffle closer to him. “I bet you can’t even feel all that damage I’ve done to you.” You coo, using your thumb to gently graze past an easy six-inch scratch mark on his bicep. “I haven’t been so gentle with you either.”

Ralak shakes his head, allowing it to sink further into his hands. “You were starved.” He mumbles into the palms of his hands.

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin in the dip between them. Your eyes wander over to the fire pit, catching sight of the outline of a few fish rolls.

Has he really punished himself by not eating?

“Have you eaten?” You ask, resting a gentle hand on his back.

“No need.”

“You should, you know. Don’t want you starving on me, lak.” You say lightheartedly, allowing your hand to slide up his spine and to the base of his skull.

He lets loose a quiet groan, fighting the twitch of his ears. Your fingers smooth over the base of his kuru, playing with the braid encasing that covers it. “If you do that—”

“Do what?” You whisper coyly, quickly running your hand down the length of his kuru.

His spine immediately straightens, his head lifting from his hands. The tips of your fingers gently make their way to his tendrils, carefully teasing them as they try to wrap around your digits. He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, allowing a shiver to run through him. It feels like your fingers were inside his skull, tickling his brain in the best way possible. 

Reaching for your kuru with your free hand, you bring it up and over your shoulder. You lean into Ralak, your lips only inches away from his. You pull away your fingers to grip and pull his queue forth. The loss of contact has him sitting up straight, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I will not let you suffer alone.” You whisper, lessening the distance between the two of you, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly. He stills himself, even limiting his own breath so as not to make any sudden moves. “Okay?”

You wait for just a moment. For him to say something. To move away. But he remains stock-still, waiting for you to initiate this. You smile, your top teeth briefly rubbing against this lower lip, and lock your lips with his. He exhales through his nose, coming to life from your kiss and returning it full force. You take this as a good sign. A sign that you’ve broken through that wall once again, and bring your kurus together — making tsaheylu [the bond].

Both your eyes fly open, blown pupils staring into one another as your spirits unify. You both pull back, shoulders and chests heaving from your quick, unsteady breaths. You feel all that he feels – the frustration, the panic, the tension. It’s all fading, now finally nearing the end. He feels your subsiding heat, your soreness, your overpowering urge to care for him.

Before another second could pass, your lips crash into each other again—tongues intertwining as they explore one another’s mouth. Using his hand to support your upper back, he slowly lowers you onto the woven floor, parting your legs with his free hand. He situates himself between them, pressing his crotch firmly against yours. He’s warm, just like the toasty fire pit next to you.

I will try to be gentle. Ralak thinks to you, just like he’s been promising to be night after night.

I know you will. You smile, moving your kisses down his jawline as he slides his hands between your sticky pelvises.

——

It hasn’t even been two full weeks since the synchronous heat that had you and your mate locked away in your marui pod for a little over two days. Your back and thighs–and honestly everywhere else– still ache but outside of that, you feel like a brand new person. You weren’t able to confidently say that Ralak feels the same way, however.

Of course, he was adamant on limiting intimacy until you were ‘healed and recovered’. But, he had a bounce in his step. As if he were physically lighter. As if the weight of six years of pent up sexual frustration and self neglect melted off his back when you satiated the ‘insatiable’.

The constant aftercare was almost sickening. Even after most of your marks had faded he remained adamant on treating them with your own omaticayan herbs from back home. He praised them at every use, thanking your people for making such exceptional ’umtsa [medicine].

But as you entered the second week, after tons of reassurance, things dissipated and went back to normal. Ralak went back to his usual routine—fishing, hunting, responding to a few calls to Tonowari and your father. Ralak, without a doubt, made a vow to you and himself not to initiate anything until you were more than healed. But nonetheless clung to you in the nights.

He even, in fact, added a new step into your usual nighttime regimen. As usual, it began with the snuggles and tucking you under his arm just right, providing you with enough warmth to endure the cool night air. Then, he would release the perfect amount of pheromones to get you drowsy enough for bed.

But recently, he’s spent the past seven nights delaying the nightly routine until he’s had his fill of your scent. He’d lay himself down on your chest, nuzzling his face into your bosom and just breathe. You allowed it, thinking it was his own newfound way to wind down for bed.

Yet, the real reason was much different.

——

Right on the two week mark, Tsireya had roped you in with helping her with some of her Tsakrem duties. You were always happy to help her though, as it meant getting away from the marui pod for a little even if it meant being poked and prodded at.

And it certainly didn’t take long for that to happen.

Tsireya lets out a frustrated sigh and plops the medicinal pouch she’s weaving in her lap.  “I can no longer ignore it, y/n. You smell different.”

You lift your head, tearing your focus from your task of weaving and look at her with a puzzled expression on your face. You bring the end of your tail to your nose and sniff, but smell… nothing. “Like what?” Her brows lower and her eyes glisten with concern. She purses her lips and unsheathes the lengthy pin from its casing and grabs your hand. “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate the sting.

Prick.

“Sss—ah! You need to be careful with how deep you go with that, you know. You could really—” The tsahik in training puts the wooden stick to her tongue and stares at you wide eyed, mouth agape. It’s as if she wants to speak but the words are lodged in her throat. “What? What is it?”

“You—perhaps I am wrong.” She stutters, quickly sheathing the tool back into its casing. “You should see my mother, y/n.”

“What? Why? Just tell me.” The words come out in a haste, and your voice is laced with panic. Do you have some sort of disease of the sea? Is there a cure? 

“You — you are with child.” Her lips tremble as she says the words in an uncertain tone of voice.

“What?” You stare at her dumbfounded, a little caught off guard by her choice of words.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant. But I am likely mistaken. I am only in training. Which is why I said you should see my moth—”

“Oh. No. You’re… you’re probably right, Tsireya.” You swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks, avoiding eye contact.

“H-How? I mean. I know how. But how? Surely Ralak knows not to do such a thing during your heat. He can control himself. R-Right?”

“Right. If I were the only one… in heat.” You say the last few words under your breath, fixing your shawl before picking back up your task.

“What do you mean?” Tsireya leans in with a tilted head, looking a little closer at your covered shoulder. “Did you help him with his rut?” Tsireya asks bluntly. “He’s been unmated for six years, y/n. Did you reall—”

“I am his mate. Of course I did.” You nearly snap, baffled by the tone she’s having with you.

“H-How did that even work?” Tsireya shakes her head, slowly raising her hand towards you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally lift your head to shoot her a puzzled, yet offended stare. “It worked like it would for any other Na’vi.”

“Y/n…” Tsireya quickly grabs your shawl, pulling it off your shoulder to reveal a large, deep and scabbed up bite mark. It looks almost infected because of the strange omaticayan herbal concoction smeared over it. “You should have just let him ease you into it. Look at you, you’re all bruised and—”

“Tsireya.” You interject, “thank you for the concern, but—” you aggressively pull up your shawl, “I feel just fine. Besides, being in heat was the best way to ‘ease me into it’…He was as gentle as he could be.” You mutter, twiddling with the twine as you think back to the way he tried to handle you with care.

“By the looks of it, he was anything but gentle with you.” Tsireya seethes, angry that the man she grew up looking at like a brother would do something like this to you.

You wince at her words. They’re like a knife to the heart.

A long, awkward silence fills the space between you and Tsireya. She reflects on everything she’s said, realising that perhaps she was a little more harsh than needed. She softens her gaze, “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“I get it. I know you’re just looking out for me. It’s alright, ‘reya.”

You exchange lighthearted smiles.

“You are definitely pregnant then. After six years, he must have really filled you—”

“Tsireya!” You laugh, giving her shoulder a light shove.

Tsireya’s grin morphs into a more serious expression. “See mother to make sure. Okay?”

Your smile also fades into something softer as you nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

[as-is-above-so-below]

Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 2: Midnight Rain

summary: you get yourself in a pickle a/n: hi! I return again! I'm sorry it's short, but I'm trying a new method of posting. Instead of aiming for a specific word count (which leads to me getting writer's block and not posting ANYTHING), I write until I'm satisfied with what I'm trying to achieve. Hopefully, I've achieved that goal, and y'all like it :) Blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

You drummed your fingers against the notebook in your lap and gnawed on the top of your pen. It was late, even by your standards; the sun had long since set, and dinner eaten hours ago. But you were up, sitting in the dark in your living room, heavy rain pelting your old windows. You were trying to pull together a new lesson plan for the following day. A few curious students had started asking questions about the modern military. Like, key differences between military strategies used in the time they were studying and today. And, of course, yet again, you made promises that you were struggling to keep. And you always keep your promises to your students.

Fuck.

The internet wasn’t helping at all. You didn’t study military strategy in any of your courses. Was that even a thing?

The last thing you wanted to do was call him. You were so confident that you could solve your problem yourself, at nine o’clock. Now, it was past midnight, and you were absolutely desperate.

Fuck.

Before your tired brain can flood with guilt and change its mind, you grab your phone from your nightstand and tap into your recent calls log. Your stomach churned, anxiety bubbling up with every trill. God, it’s so fucking late to be calling. It felt like you were split in two. One half of you was praying that his phone was on silent (you know it’s not) or he’ll sleep through the ringing (he won’t), while the other–the miserable, exhausted half–needed him to pick up.

The latter won out.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

John’s deep, sleepy voice made you feel guilty and incredibly happy that you’d woken him up. Soft and grumbly, rolling in his chest; it made you feel soft and warm inside…

Not the point of the call.

“Hi, John. I’m completely fine, I just…” You took a deep breath, the heel of your free hand pressed into one of your dry, worn-out eyes. “I know you’re this big important captain, and you have work in the morning, but I’m in a bit of a pickle and need a massive favor.”

There was a slight rustling on the other end like he had turned slightly to check the nearby time. “It’s one o’clock in the morning, love,” he mumbled.

You felt even worse. “I know, I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me,” you begged, running a hand over the top of your head. “One of my kids asked about the military. It sparked a whole discussion in class, and I may have overstated my knowledge. I barely know anything about it, and my brain is turning to mush. I’m so tired I wanna cry, and-”

He quickly cut off your rambling. “Woah, hey. Slow down there. What’s going on?” he asked, suddenly sounding much more awake. 

That brought you pause. You honestly hadn’t thought what you would ask if John actually answered the phone through. It was one o’clock in the morning, which John had correctly pointed out, and your brain wasn’t operating at full capacity. 

“I was…wondering if you could give me a lesson. Because I’m super tired, and I like to hear you talk.”

“…You do?”

“Yeah. I’ve learned a lot from you just…talking to me? But I’m a history teacher. I’m an expert on wars, not war.”

There was some shuffling on the phone. On the other line, John was leaning over the edge of his bed, searching blindly for his little pocket planner in the pile of clothes on the floor. The rustling stopped when he placed the device on his pillow, rifling through the calendar. He sniffed and was quiet for a moment, while you nibbled anxiously at your pen. Again.

The silence finally broke with a tired sniffle from John. “I can do you better. Why don’t I come to your classes tomorrow?” he asked.

You froze, pen still between your teeth. John? Coming to your school? Spending the day with your students? That would be the equivalent of introducing your boyfriend to your children. 

“…Really?”

“Sure.”

Could you even call him your boyfriend? You’d been on a few dates, sure, over the last…two months? No, it was closer to three. Had it been that long already? You did some quick math in your head. You’d gone on about one date a week, with a few canceled due to last-minute commitments. Still, about one date a week, over three months…

Holy shit.

“John, I’m sure you’re busy. I couldn’t-”

“Not at all,” he hummed, cutting you off. “Besides, it would take me ‘til class tomorrow to give you a good enough rundown, and the boss loves shite like this.”

“I thought you were the boss?”

You could practically hear a small smile tugging at John’s lips. The expression was a familiar one. The corner of his mouth quirked up, shifting his beard and creating happy wrinkles near his eyes. His nose would scrunch up a bit, too, especially if you were out in cold weather. 

“Everybody has a boss, sweetness. Myself included.”

Christ. Not the pet names. And especially not in the tired, gravelly tone his voice was currently in. John Price was going to be the death of you, even in his unfocused state.

You unfolded your legs from underneath you and moved your notebook onto the coffee table. Your resolve was fading, and you couldn’t be bothered to argue. While you did feel bad about dragging John to your school to fix the problem you created, you weren’t sure you had any other option. Accept defeat? To a group of teenagers? Absolutely not. You’d never live it down. You sighed, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. “If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

A soft smile crossed your face. “Is this just a ploy to meet my kids?”

“Maybe.”

Your sleepy giggles were like music to John’s ears. The sound alone was worth the favor. As if he wouldn’t have done it anyway, just to ease your stress. He would take any and every opportunity to make your day easier or make you happy. What he wouldn’t give to hear that laugh in person, laying beside you in your bed–

No. John’s a good man. A gentleman, he would say. A man who was perfectly capable of not acting on his urges and thoughts. At least, not in person. However, in the privacy of his own home? That was a different story.

“Thank you so much, John.”

Right. You’re still on the phone. He heard a soft click on your end of the call.

“That’d better be you closing your laptop, I’m hearing.”

“It is.”

“Good girl.” You blushed furiously. Fuck. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

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Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[betweenbreaths]

doctor's orders (WIP)

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Characters: Zayne x Reader

Summary: Zayne is surprisingly obedient as a patient when it’s your turn to play doctor. 

Rating: E (M for this snippet though)

A/N: Posting this WIP first because I think it'll take me a while to write the full thing. :")

++++++

He’s terribly late. 

It’s almost midnight now, almost 12 hours past the time he was supposed to have you over at his place for lunch and a home movie date. He had already prepared everything perfectly, from the food, to the table setting, to the extra blankets on the couch (only because you liked to snuggle). And then you had arrived right on time, and everything was going perfectly.

That is, until his work phone rang and he received an alert that one of his patients had to undergo surgery immediately. 

You hadn’t looked fazed when he filled you in on the situation; after all, it was hardly the first time he had been whisked away from a date for unexpected work emergencies. You had told him before that you didn’t mind; saving lives came first and you’d have done the same if you were notified of wanderers in the area.

So he’d left promptly, promising to be back as soon as he could.

And now, twelve hours later, he has finally returned to the front door of his apartment, with a bouquet of flowers he’d picked up along the way as an apology. Zayne had texted you earlier to ask if you had already left, and you’d said that you would stay and wait for him, and that there was no hurry. 

He sees your shoes still neatly placed outside, and yet another pang of guilt hits him. He just hopes you’re not too upset. He’ll have to make it up to you somehow. 

As Zayne opens the door and steps in, he calls your name. 

Silence. No response. 

That… must be a bad sign. Either that, or you fell asleep somewhere. Certainly not in the living room, because there’s no trace of you other than the crumpled blankets and the remote control tossed to the corner of the couch. 

He shrugs off his coat, leaving it on one of the chairs by the dining table and peers around, wondering where you’d gone. Instinctively he heads straight towards his bedroom — you might be taking a nap there.

He knocks lightly on the closed door before opening it carefully, slowly, in case he wakes you. Then he hears you call his name. The tone in your voice isn’t one of anger or disappointment. 

In fact, it’s the opposite. You sound… mischievous, playful. Even a little naughty. 

Almost like you’d planned something completely unexpected for him, and you’d been waiting for him to come in, like a predator waiting for prey to fall into its trap. 

And when he steps in, Zayne all but forgets to breathe.

++++++

Leaving you alone in his apartment for twelve hours had left you with plenty of time to devise a surprise for your boyfriend. Your spark of inspiration came when you decided you’d do the poor man a favour and sort out his laundry for him since he can’t even afford the time to eat the lunch he’d so painstakingly prepared for that afternoon. 

And when you came across the freshly washed spare doctor’s coat in the pile of clean clothes, you were immediately drawn to it like a moth to a flame. You ran your fingers over the thick, wrinkled fabric, a smile playing on your lips when you think about how far he’s come in his career.

And when you put it on, the scent of detergent and warmth enveloping you, an idea so brilliant, so devious, popped into your head. 

After all, you’d already come over to his home already prepared with a new set of black lacy lingerie for him to tear off of you, and this coat would go perfectly with it. 

The look on Zayne’s face when he steps into his bedroom and his eyes fall on you is absolutely delightful. You see a myriad of emotions flicker in his eyes: confusion, surprise, bewilderment…

And then his gaze becomes hungry. Sinful. Heat pools in your centre as his gaze falls on your body, examining every single inch of you. You can already tell from his dilated pupils that in his mind, he’s ravaging you, kissing you senseless and tasting every drop of you, and god you can already anticipate how rough he’s going to be with you when you let him have his way. 

But first, you’re going to have some fun with this.

Zayne approaches the bed, each footstep almost echoing in your ears and mirroring your accelerating heartbeat and you prop yourself up on your elbows, clicking your tongue and shaking your head at the man. 

“You’re late for your appointment, Zayne. I’m almost off my shift now.” 

“I apologise. I was held up at work because of an emergency.” 

“I wish you would prioritise your health the way you do with your work.” 

Your lips curl into a knowing smile, and so does his, although his smile looks a little more defeated. 

“Using my words against me now?” 

“Maybe. But I don’t have time for small talk. I’m supposed to have a date with my boyfriend and he’s waiting for me at home, so let’s make this quick.” 

Zayne cocks an eyebrow but says nothing as you sit up and tap the empty spot next to you on the bed. 

“Lie down. We need to do a routine examination.” 

Surprisingly, Zayne does as he’s told without protest. You feel the bed dip with his weight when he sits down, and you swallow nervously when he stares at you up close, eyes darting down towards your lips and raking down your figure. His gaze is smouldering and you feel your cheeks warm as the corner of his lips turn up. 

“Like what you see?” you can’t resist the urge to ask. 

“It would be more appropriate to ask your boyfriend that, Doctor.” 

Right, right. 

You clear your throat, trying to get back into the roleplay. With Zayne now lying comfortably on the bed, you scooch over, placing your hand over his chest. 

“Checking for my pulse? Where’s your stethoscope?” 

You roll your eyes at him. “I don’t need one to know that your heart is racing right now. Do you feel uncomfortable? Any chest pains?” 

“Yes, it does hurt a little.” 

“Where?” You experimentally press on his left pec. “Here?” You shift your hand downward slightly. “Or here?” 

“No.” Zayne grabs your wrist then, and without warning, pulls you down with a hard tug. You lose your balance, falling straight towards him and you barely manage to stop yourself from giving him a headbutt when your left hand plants itself into the mattress right by his face. 

In this position, you’re now mere inches away from his lips, and his piercing gaze doesn’t leave your eyes as he re-positions your right hand on his chest. 

“Here.” You feel his strong heartbeat beneath your fingers, and the warmth of his breath fanning across your face. Just a little closer and you’ll be able to taste his lips and lose yourself in his passionate, fiery kisses. 

He’s clearly thinking the same thing as you, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sucks in a sharp breath when your tongue wets your lips — a habit of yours when you’re nervous. And then you feel his free hand come up to rest on the nape of your neck to pull you in, closer and closer to him. 

It’d be so tempting to just give up now, to let him have his way with you and to get that quality time and intimacy you’ve been craving all day now. In fact, you’ve been waiting a whole week for this, because lately Zayne has been too busy and today was the only day you could squeeze in a precious date with him. 

But that’s also the reason why you want to enjoy this to the fullest. After all, it’s not often that Zayne is so indulgent with you in bed. 

At the last second, you regain your senses and place your right hand over his mouth, putting an unceremonious halt to his attempt to kiss you. His lips graze the surface of your palm and that’s enough to make goosebumps rise on your arms. 

“If your chest hurts, let’s take a closer look, shall we? I’ll need you to take your shirt off.”

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

Equilibrium

Phantom Ghoul x fem!Reader Smut

Summary: (Kinda) Part of a "Choose your own adventure" series in progress, but it works well enough on its own so I thought I would post it now.

WC: 3620

A/N: This one has bewitched me, (feral) body and soul. Fellow Phantom simps, this one is for you, but mostly me.

Content warnings: no plot - only spice, fingering, P in V sex. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW below the cut.

Your hard fist hit the door three times. Impatience was one of your most prominent traits and you’d be damned if you didn’t hate waiting on somebody else. Especially when that somebody else was the one who had plagued your thoughts for weeks. And at night his name was the one uttered from your lips from your own self-pleasure.

You grabbed the door handle and twisted, discovering much to your chagrin that was unlocked and you had been standing out here all this time. You walk into the room, scanning the space, noting the chill that bit your limbs. Fucking hells it was freezing. Your sisters told you that the ghouls run hot, but it was like a blizzard had hit the room. The room was also, to your dismay, empty of occupants. Maybe he’s not here? 

Your ears perked up, hearing water running from an adjoined room. The joints of your fingers started to lock up as you lifted them to the wood of what you assumed was a bathroom door. You knocked, this time feeling a slight pain in your cold hands as you did so. 

“Phantom?” You call out just loud enough, dragging out the vowels.

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to come ‘till later!” His voice echoed from inside the closed room, and you heard the water shut off abruptly.

“I can come back if you want.” You offered, giving him an out.

“Hells no!” He opened the door wearing nothing but a white towel.

Your mouth went dry at the sight. It hung low. Dangerously low. But that wasn’t the only thing you noticed. His human glamor was nowhere to be found. 

Phantom’s true skin was grey, just the same as you had heard about the other ghouls, but his shoulders and chest had sparse midnight blue clusters of freckles. You marveled at the hard planes of his chest and stomach, at the way the water from the shower still clung to his arms and drenched his mostly-black hair. His signature white streak plastered itself to his forehead and the side of his face, while the rest stuck to his ears and neck. He had two near-black horns protruding from underneath his soggy hair. Finally, you settled your gaze on his face, his fangs slightly poked out through his parted lips. His beauty mark was also visible on his left cheek, several shades darker against the grey tones of his skin. 

A half-smile spread on your face as you noticed his beauty spot, and you fought the urge to reach up and touch his cheek. 

“Like what you see?” He cocked his head to the side, making you grin wider. It was truly no wonder why you were so drawn to him. In his human form he was cute… but as a ghoul? Strikingly handsome. Nine hells you wanted to kiss him.

“Maybe I do.” 

“Set in your choice?”

“Maybe I am.” You nibbled your bottom lip, tempted to rake your gaze over Phantom’s body again.

Instead, you walked past him and into the bathroom, leaning yourself over the vanity to feign checking yourself out. You mostly just needed a break from looking at him half-naked. “My darling ghoul,” you called absently, “you’re not wearing your glamor. Sister Imperator would not be pleased, I wouldn’t want to tell on you, but…”

He looked down at himself, “Oh shit, you’re right.” He shrugged, “I thought you were going to change your mind or something. Figured it wouldn’t matter too much either way if I just ‘let it all hang out’ so to speak.”

“No, no, I just wanted to tell you so you could change back.” You played with your hair, tucking back a few strands that had come loose from your braid.

“Well, I can if you want me to. Do you?”

You opened your mouth to answer but he cut you off.

“Wait, did you just call me ‘my darling’?” Your eyes flicked back to him through the mirror, heart temporarily quivering as he repeated your words back to you.

You regained your composure before his teasing look could disarm you further. “That’s what you heard out of me talking?”

He advanced on you suddenly, barely giving you enough time to turn around to face him. You backed up against the counter top, your spine arching as you shrunk back, and your fingernails digging into the underside of the cold marble. His arms came down on either side to trap you in place.

There was a mix of anticipation and cockiness in his expression, “You like me, don’t you?”

“Phantom, it’s a wonder why Sister Imperator doesn’t consult you for logistics.” He made a face, clearly missing your sarcasm, and you liked him even more for it. “Of course I like you. I wouldn’t be here if not.”

A shy smile ghosted across his lips, and you caught another glimpse of those fangs. You filled the silence by speaking again, “Well? Don’t just leave me hanging.”

“I like you too.” His admission was softer than a feather but weighed as much as concrete.

You stifled a knowing smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I do.” 

“You’re a little trickster then.” You cocked your head, “you had me thinking I was the only one.”

His smile matched yours, “I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner, for a while there I thought I’d burst into flames because you kept giving me those eyes.” You laughed at that, knowing full well what he meant, and he continued, “And just so you’re well aware, there’s nothing about me that’s little.”

“Oh, you nasty ghoul.”

“Yes?”

Your eyes narrowed, “You lured me in here on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Hard to say, really,” you watched, hypnotized as his tongue wet his bottom lip and then he leaned in close. “But that’s not the only thing that’s hard.” His breath coasted along your neck and goosebumps raised along the path, as if your skin was subconsciously reaching for him. You felt his lips barely hovering by the shell of your ear, causing a stirring sensation that shot through your entire body. 

You shoved at his chest playfully and he smirked at you, both of you knowing where this is going. You felt a fluttering in the pit of your stomach and finally allowed yourself to reach your hand up, brushing the white and black, slightly air-dried, hair away from his face. No more hesitation. Something inside you gave you the gumption to raise up on your tiptoes and kiss him. You planted a single smooch on his lips, closing your eyes as you did.

You drew back, studying his features. He was so still, his eyes scrunched closed in a combination of tension and serenity. 

“Phantom?”

He opened his eyes, his dark gaze devouring you. The air in the room changed and all ambient sound seemed to have been sucked into a void. You couldn’t look away from him. Afraid for a half of a second that maybe he didn’t like the kiss, you opened your mouth to allow the doubt to pour out. But you never got a single syllable out before his hands were on your face, tilting your head up to kiss you.

His mouth met yours in a breath-stealing kiss. Your hands immediately laced through his damp hair, touching the sides of his face, his neck, pulling him in closer. You parted your lips slightly on the next kiss and he used it to his advantage, his tongue swiping ever so lightly between your lips to taste you. You open your mouth more, allowing him full access. Feeling his tongue brush yours made you lightheaded. 

Phantom grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. The hunger shared between the two of you felt as though it had been building for years, your entire life even. A tickle on the back of your thigh made you jump, opening your eyes and breaking the kiss for a moment.

He huffed a laugh, “Sorry, my tail seems to have a mind of its own sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” you kissed him again, “I like it.” You brazenly reached around his waist to feel the base of his tail. He jerked involuntarily towards you and you felt his hard length pressing against your abdomen. How that towel was holding up you had no idea.

Touching, tasting, breathing him in, it wasn’t enough. You needed so much more. Your core ached in a way that silenced all thoughts of self-doubt and modesty. 

Your hands moved up his back, feeling his warm skin and the tight muscles underneath. He unzipped the back of your dress, and you felt it fall open, the air and his hands touching your bare skin underneath. 

“No bra?” He said, sliding your dress down while moving into a crouched position in front of you. 

“Hm.” You purse your lips, drawing it out, “That’s not all.”

He made a sound like you’d imagine a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles. Astonished but intrigued. “No underwear?” 

You shrugged, “Surprised? I thought I could just ‘let it all hang out’, or however you put it so eloquently.”

Phantom stared up at you, trying to hide a smile, and you could see a color creeping up over his cheeks. Could a ghoul even blush? He giggled lightly, shaking his head at you in what seemed like amazement. 

He helped you step out of the dress, his eyes sweeping over your naked frame, drinking all of you in. Phantom rose slowly and his long fingers trailed up the inside of your legs. The calluses of his fingertips tickled, making you twitch slightly as they neared where you wanted to feel him the most. His right hand moved around to your waist, the other hesitated between your legs, just an inch or so from your core. 

“Sit.” He commanded. You obeyed, your ass meeting the countertop, your legs parting on their own accord in silent invitation.

“Please, Phantom, touch me.” 

“As you wish.” 

You inhaled sharply as his middle finger swiped through your folds, dragging languidly in the wetness there. He let out a needy noise, leaning down to breathe you in, kissing and sucking your neck. You wanted him so badly, and now that he could feel that, the implication made you even more weak for him. 

His middle and ring fingers dragged again through your wetness, lingering for a moment before pressing inside you. 

You cried out at the intrusion, wincing slightly. It had been so long since you had a partner, and still your fingers never made you feel like this. Phantom knew all the right moves, drawing in and out at a steady pace. His fingers felt exquisite as they lazily fucked your slick cunt. And when his thumb pressed lightly against your clit, you whined his name. Suddenly you needed to see him exposed too, because if just his fingers made you feel so good then…

“You won’t be needing this.” You pulled his towel off his body, baring him before you. Your eyes widened at the size of him. Fuck. Your mouth salivated at the sight of his long, hard cock. You couldn’t stare too long, as his lips moved from their place on your neck and collarbone back to your lips.

Each kiss, every touch was hotter than the last, igniting the two of you. He was burning up. He felt perfect against your ice cold skin. Like a day of sun in the middle of a desolate winter.

You had half a mind to beg him to fuck you on the counter, and it’s like he knew were about to speak, because he interrupted your thought with an even more tantalizing suggestion.

“Can I fuck you in the shower?” 

You moaned, his fingers curling inside you deliciously, “What do we say when we want something, darling ghoul?”

He groaned, his hand moving from your waist to the nape of your neck. He gathered your braid and yanked sharply, exposing more of your neck for him to lavish. “Fuck,” he uttered between bites along your soft skin, “can I please take you in the shower?”

“Yes.” Your word was barely out of your mouth when he planted another fierce kiss to your lips. His fingers left you empty as he helped you off the counter. You would have followed him anywhere at that moment, anything to get him touching you again. 

He took you by one hand and walked towards the shower with you, kissing you every step of the way until your feet hit the slick stone of the shower floor. He gave your hands a squeeze to turn around and turn the water on. You smirked at seeing his cute butt, his tail protruding from just above. You were filled with the sudden urge to bite him when a large waterfall nozzle poured water out from above the two of you, bringing you back out of your thoughts.

Phantom turned to face you again, and all the sustenance in the world couldn’t quench the hunger in his eyes. Your adrenaline spiked then - or maybe it was the momentarily cold water splashing on your feet. Maybe it was the anticipation of knowing that you were finally living the fantasy you had wanted for so long. 

He pressed you against the tiled wall of the shower, the now warm water flowing down providing sweet relief for your chilled naked body. Your back was cold against the tile, so you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer. For warmth.

The two of you shared a series of messy kisses, your lungs suffocating from the intense lack of air as steam circled you. He closed the open space between your bodies quickly, his strong hand taking hold of your right leg and lifting it up to meet his waist. Once there, you were just one slight move from being as close together as you could possibly be. The head of his cock nudged at your opening, and you felt yourself instinctively clench with want. The water from the shower did a great job making your whole body wet, but you were dripping with need for him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your gaze moved up to his. Phantom’s dark eyes were clouded with lust, but wavered in slight trepidation. He was serious, wanting your full consent before going any further. For a beat, your heart stuttered in your chest, knowing there would be no going back if you two did this. You couldn’t say no, though, there was something primal in you that screamed with demand. He was the only one you wanted, and you wanted him desperately.

Heart still pounding, you reached up to touch his cheek and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. You broke the kiss to give him your answer, “Yes, yes Phantom, I want you.”

He nodded, eyes flicking over your face to search for any hits of doubt. Satisfied with your sincerity, he nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing you in deeply as he pulled you in. His cock pressed inside you with ease, meeting no resistance. You bit back a moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so hard you tasted iron on your tongue. If kissing him for the first time was ecstasy, feeling him inside you for the first time was oblivion.

“Oh fuck.” Your foreheads pressed together and you exhaled heavily as he sheathed himself inside you.

It was like a switch had flipped, you two went from frantic grasping and fevered kisses to slow, intentional movements. His right hand cradled the back of your head as he thrust into you with a deep rhythm that made your stomach tighten. He raised your right leg up higher so you were on your tiptoes, trying to press further inside you. 

The water from the shower head cascaded down your skin in rivulets, adding a tickling sensation over your breasts and your stomach as it trickled over you. It felt like something out of a fucking romance novel. The heat, the chill, the need, the gratification; a perfect equilibrium.

His hand grabbed greedily at your left thigh, “I need you closer.”

A feather of a laugh lifted the corners of your lips, “I don’t think that’s possible.” You kissed him again, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and biting it. He growled, fangs jutting out to try to bite you back. You moved your face away, seeing the playfulness in his pitch-dark eyes mixed with something mischievous.

“It is.” That was the only warning he gave before he lifted you up effortlessly off the floor. Your legs wrapped reflexively around his waist and you gasped at the sensation of weightlessness.

You felt a furious blush burn over your face and neck, flustered at the ease with which he picked you up. Flushed at the way his cock bottomed out inside you fully. Your walls tightened from the additional intrusion, and you moaned into his mouth. Your lips collided together in a series of heady open-mouthed kisses, becoming a mess of teeth, tongues, and fangs. 

Your hands tangled themselves perfectly in his drenched hair and you rested your head against the tile to get a good look at him.

His dark brows were drawn together, and he had the look of utmost concentration and pleasure on his face as he drove into your heat. There was a deepening of the color on his cheeks again, a soft blush. He adjusted his hands from your thighs to have one arm firmly around your back, the other hand holding the roundness of your ass. Phantom’s eyes were turned down, and you followed where he was looking.

You let your gaze drift down, admiring again his toned, hard body against your soft, squishy one. When you looked all the way down to where you two were joined, watching and feeling everywhere each and every thrust of his cock inside you, you felt like you would melt.

It was all so intimate, too intimate for your first time together. Seeing his true form, being held so tightly in his arms, fuck, he had you. He had you so well. And the way he felt inside of you was divine. Like you were made for each other. 

Your body burned, your muscles trembled, your jaw twitched. Phantom tightened his hands on your waist and back, his claws scratching at your supple skin while his teeth and tongue took turns with your neck. His tail snaked up and twisted around your ankle, locking you further in place as if you’d run away on your own. You couldn’t even think of being apart from him. You never wanted him to leave your body.

As if the passion in the moment wasn’t enough, he reached a hand between you two, finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. You keened, bucking your hips forward, trying to grind harder against him, but he was in full control, holding you steady while he increased his rhythm. You felt a tension building in your abdomen, and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to resist your impending orgasm. You didn’t want to come yet, you wanted to draw it out more, but the added pressure on your clit from his thumb was butchering your resolve. Your breathing increased, every exhale punctuated by a whine as you felt yourself getting closer, and closer.

He noticed your futile writhing in his arms, “Are you going to come for me, pretty girl?”

You mewled, “Yes - but I want you to -” you couldn’t finish the sentiment, incoherent babbling becoming all you could muster. You were so close.

“You want me to? Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside me -” Your legs tensed, your abdomen tensed, your whole body locking up as your pussy clenched around him. You could no longer breathe or think.

“Fall apart for me, only me.” He kissed your neck, sucking on the skin there before drawing back. “Look into my eyes, sweet girl.”

You did, his near-black irises melted you from the inside. That taught string that had been holding you snapped, sending you spiraling. Your mouth fell open and a moan tore its way from your throat. He planted his lips to yours as you shattered in his arms.

His hands both moved up to your shoulders, pulling you down hard onto his cock as he drove himself as deep within you as possible. You felt him twitching inside you, warmth spreading as he came for you. 

You stay there for a minute, your breathing returning slowly to a normal cadence as the water continues to run over the both of you. You were wholly grateful for his inhuman strength; Phantom held you like you weighed nothing. He put one hand under your rear and the other came up to your face, his thumb stroked your bottom lip. His fingers caressed your chin, tilting you up and into one final searing kiss to seal your shared passion. 

“Can you stand?” He withdrew himself from you and moved to gently place your legs back down on the stone floor. 

“I - I think so.” Your stubborn legs wanted to give out, all your body wanted to do was collapse in a heap. 

He offered you his hand, helping steady you. “Want to get cleaned up? I mean, we might as well since we’re already in the shower.” 

“Yes,” you answered, before playfully adding, “please.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He whispered, kissing your forehead as you both relaxed in the steady stream of water.

-

[yearningandstillnotlearning]

A r t .

- B.E.

Blurb :p | no use of any names for the characters, just “she” and “you”

a/n: first fanfic posted ever im so nervous | this was my yearning from some months ago i decided to make it into something more | please comment on your opinion on this im nervy

Not fluffy nor sexual but a secret third thing (sensual)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Have you got colour in your cheeks?

Leftover snack packets and crumbs of cookies and sugar littering the couch of the living room, clock read 12:38AM, its past midnight, yet for two girls with a sleep schedule as theirs, the night is still young, too young.

Family and friends long gone, others went home others went on dates, and another stayed behind to cherish this very moment.

Are there some aces up your sleeve?

Have you no idea that you’re in deep?

Laughs had hit the walls hours ago when they were once gathered up to 7, and even now at 2 laughs are still bouncing back and forth. Sneaky giggles and stupid jokes, unexplainable videos that just seem so funny when its late and for once youre not alone.

Energy drinks on the floor next to the bed and an annoyingly bright light hitting at the side to make up for the lack of sun, yet thats the last thing to bother you right now. Theres nothing that could actually bother you right now, not when you finally have her in front of you.

Ive dreamt about you nearly every night this week

Sketchbook in your lap, pencil in your hand and coloured pencils scattered along your side on the bed, criss crossed bodies mirroring each other face to face.

Even if your face wasn’t able to stay in one place. Even if your face couldn’t handle the urge to heat and melt your makeup off in the process, even if you couldn’t handle looking at her, as much as you couldn’t handle her looking at you.

How many secrets can you keep?

Your heart thumping in your chest the same way it does when you’re at a club next to the speaker, body shook with the beat of the speakers and the bass, and you couldn’t tell if its from the amount of energy drinks you’ve consumed this evening or her presence.

But this is better, oh this is way better, theres no eardrum-breaking noise, or people squished up together, stomach-stirring drinks, uncomfortable heels. None of that.

This is simply adrenaline in itself, it was the excitement pumping in your veins.

Cause theres this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow and i play it on repeat..

Emotions thumping at your heart and in your veins causing your blood to rush to your face, cheeks burning red, but the colour showed at your ears, palms so sweaty you hold your sketchbook carefully to not wet and bend the paper. Neck and collarbone stained with red rash spots, just how into her are you?

Shes not stupid now, you tell that to yourself to sleep better at night. She has noticed everything, a simple blood rush is nothing. The way you look at her when everyone is talking laughing and you’re quiet? When your choice of “recharging” your social battery is looking at and through her? When you’re alone and suddenly your voice drops to just above a whisper, sweeter than any sugarcoated candy? When you doodle her and her only out of so many people, there are 5 other people with you two, yet who do you draw the most? You spend all your effort and time on her, enjoyably so.

Until i fall asleep,

A hand picking up your own has a wave of goosebumps sent across your body, a wave of heat while doing so. An amused laugh breaks your gaze, from the mixed hands, up to her own stare.

Shes staring at you, and you’re wishing she would stare nowhere near you. The fear in your brain banging like a migraine, wordlessly telling you she sees it all, and the very same fear in your body, giving her all the confirmation she needs. Her eyes softening as her one-sided laughter dies down, and you’ve yet to actually see her. So far you have been too caught up in your own thoughts to see in front of you until now.

A hand holding your burning one to her also heated cheek, and a twinkle in her eye right between that blown out pupil and icy blue cloud that dances like the stars do on the dark night sky right outside the window.

“I knew you felt it too, Im not crazy to like you”

spillin’ drinks on my settee.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

June Creator of the Month: Thosehallowedhalls

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month is @thosehallowedhalls.

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I can't remember exactly. 2021, I think? Laws of Attraction was on its tenth chapter.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined in January of this year. I was upset with Crimes of Passion 2, so I wrote a couple of stories about it. I had deactivated my old Tumblr long ago, so I had to open a new one.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

I love old buildings - the history, the ambiance. I tried hallowedhalls, but it was taken, so I added the article.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

I… have zero recollection of this post. But I'm big on nostalgia and mourning past times, so the fact that this was my first post tracks.

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

I write fanfiction. I've been teaching myself to draw, but I'm not anywhere near close to sharing what I do.

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

I started writing fanfiction way back in… 2010? For about four or five years. Then I stopped until December 2023.

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

Crimes of Passion on both counts.

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

That would be The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm, inspired by The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. I do still like it, but I would tighten up the writing a bit. I had barely written any fiction for several years at that point, and the lack of practice shows.

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

I keep going back and forth between The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm and Home Without. Both are angsty short series.

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I was taken aback by the comments on The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm. I'd posted it on AO3 a few weeks before, and had gotten a handful of kudos and one comment, but within 24 hours of posting it here, I had several lovely reblogs. It was a welcome surprise. Stories with fewer comments… I guess Home Without. The first chapter got quite a bit of love, but by the time the final chapter rolled around, fewer people were interacting.

11- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I love a balance, but I'd say angst with a happy ending. I enjoy the breadth of emotions angst lets you explore.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

There are bits and pieces of me in all of them. Emma has my sarcasm, and Raine has my need to look for the best in people. There may be more, but if so, it wasn't done intentionally.

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Perfectionism. Like I said before, the lack of writing practice shows. I know that the only way to get better is to keep writing, but I hate seeing the gap between what I do and what I want to do. Catch-22.

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

My Sebastyan x Emma fic, Of Cloudless Climes and Starry Skies. There are only a couple of chapters left, but I've been struggling with it for a couple of months now.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

Oh, hell no.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

So many writers have influenced my writing throughout the years, including authors I do not currently read. The Brontë sisters, Charles Dickens, Nora Roberts, Jane Austen, Courtney Milan, Alyssa Cole… I could go on and on. Fanfic writers… There are a lot, but off the top of my head, @inlocusmads, @coffeewithcutcaffeine, @gaiuskamilah, @aria-ashryver, @jerzwriter, @dutifullynuttywitch, @aces-and-angels, @petalouda85, and @storyofmychoices. I know there are more.

17- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Home Without. I'm a sucker for good pining, and I'd love to see all that mutual longing play out onscreen - not to mention that reunion.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

I do. I'm currently working on a horror short story, a MG novel, and a dual timeline mystery that's still in the research stages.

19- What other hobbies do you have?

Reading, non-fandom writing, drawing, learning new things (especially languages!), going on walks, and drinking enough coffee to alarm medical professionals anywhere.

[wigglywormy]

blurred lines, sharp twine [bakugou/deku, 5.6k, nsfw]

okay. so I haven't written a fic in over 5 years!! can y'all believe that? i used to be so active on this blog, pumping out fics day and night, but life got busy and before I knew it over 5 years have passed omg.

of course my first fic back would be something like this lol. this was written for @wreckingtickles who shares my undying love for bakugou getting absolutely destroyed. they prompted me with a fic featuring bakugou's stirrup leggings and that kinda spiraled into this huge monster of a fic.

please enjoy 8) (also i made an ao3 to cross-post my tickle fics on!)

warnings: nsfw, feet, intense tickling, bondage, veryyyy slight dub-con, minors DNI.

Izuku wouldn’t openly call himself a weird guy, but he definitely doesn’t really try to hide the fact that he’s a little on the strange side. He knows he’s a gigantic nerd (he’s thoroughly reminded of that fact by Bakugou everyday), he knows he’s a little awkward, and he knows he’s maybe even a little bit of a freak. But, through the years of trauma, war, violence, and near-death, he’s come to accept that life is much too short to deny who you are.

Moving in with Bakugou after graduation was something Izuku didn’t even have to think about. Bakugou set up a few apartment viewings, and it went completely unsaid that the smartest decision for both of them would be to stick together. Roommates equaled cheaper rent, and since they both were working under the same agency it was easy to align their schedules. Normally they patrol together (the Wonder Due didn’t get its name for nothing), but occasionally - especially lately - Bakugou has been picking up more shifts than usual. 

Izuku can’t help but notice how tired Bakugou has been lately, especially tonight, coming home  from his 9th day in a row of patrol. The door closes softly behind him - he must think Izuku’s asleep already as it’s around two in the morning, and Izuku turns slightly from his position curled up on the couch to watch Bakugou toe his boots off. He’s already changed out of his hero uniform, clad in only his leggings and a soft, worn looking hoodie that Izuku’s pretty sure belongs to him. 

Bakugou leans his head against the wall in the foyer for a brief moment, sighing deeply, and Izuku’s heart aches at the noise.

“Late night?” Izuku asks, closing his book and setting it on the coffee table. 

Bakugou jumps. “Jesus - shit, you scared the fuck outta me.”

“Sorry,” Izuku murmurs, a slight smile on his face. 

“The fuck are you still doing up?” Bakugou grumbles, finally making his way over to sprawl on the opposite end of the couch, sinking into the cushions with a grunt. 

Izuku shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Which, technically isn’t a lie, but. Still. Even when he lays in his bed at night during one of Bakugou’s shifts that he’s not partnered on, he finds himself teetering between sleep and wakefulness as he listens carefully for the front door to open and shut, signaling Bakugou has gotten home safe for the night. Codependency wasn’t something Izuku was planning on adopting after the war, but his heart just can’t seem to relax if he doesn’t know that Bakugou is home and safe. Breathing. Alive.  

Normally it’s fine, but since Bakugou has been working himself to death the past few weeks, Izuku’s own sleep schedule has taken a toll. 

Bakugou doesn’t look bloodied or bruised now, though, which is a good sign. 

“I thought your shift ended at midnight?” Izuku asks, his eyes unconsciously skimming over Bakugou’s exhausted body as he slumps further down into the cushions. He folds his arms over his chest, burrowing into the oversized borrowed hoodie, and Izuku smiles because Bakugou is so loud and brash, but right now, here and safe at home, he allows himself to be soft with Izuku.

“It was supposed to,” Bakugou grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. “One of the interns got caught up in a stupid bank robbery and ended up with a fuckin’ concussion, so I stayed late to help finish up some of his paperwork.”

“That’s sweet of you, Kacchan,” Izuku teases, and Bakugou rolls his eyes, stretching his legs out to rest in Izuku’s lap.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugou says, voice tense with exhaustion, “I’m a fuckin’ saint.”

Izuku let’s his hands fall onto Bakugou’s ankles, rubbing gently with his thumbs, and he swallows heavily as his eyes trail down Bakugou’s body, the black leggings hugging his muscles tightly, all the way down to the thin straps holding the stirrups along the arches of his feet.

Izuku wouldn’t openly call himself a weird guy, but shit, that’s another thing about moving in with Bakugou after graduation. Getting to see all of these new and exciting sides of him; tense and angry and bloody after a fight, soft and exhausted after a long boring shift, sleepy and comfortable on his day off. 

But the damn stirrup leggings have Izuku trying desperately hard not to act up. 

“Do you - uh, want a foot rub or something?” Izuku blurts out, his thumb pressing into the bone of Bakugou’s ankle.

Bakugou’s eyes narrow, and Izuku offers a small nervous smile, trying not to seem as if he’s too interested. He just wants to help his friend relax, okay? Nothing weird about that. It’s not like they haven’t massaged each other before after a long day of hero work. Bakugou’s great with his hands, and Izuku’s arms and shoulders get knotted up so tightly after hours of using his quirk. 

Bakugou still has smudges of dark eyeliner around his eyes since he hasn’t washed his face yet since patrol, and it makes his gaze piercing in the low light of the living room. He’s quiet for a moment, contemplative, before shrugging eventually and folding his arms across his chest.

“Fuck it, I ain’t gonna say no to a free foot massage,” He shrugs, “Lemme take these stupid fuckin’ leggings off first - ”

“No!” Izuku blurts out, and he chuckles awkwardly as his grip tightens on Bakugou’s ankles. “I mean - um. You don’t have to, it’s fine.”

This time, Bakugou looks… curious, which is the only way Izuku can describe his gaze. He bites his lip a bit as he thinks, and when he wiggles his toes a bit, Izuku feels warmth pooling low in his belly. Bakugou’s feet are surprisingly slender, his arch defined beautifully, ideal for someone who has to be quick on their feet. His toes are slightly pink, as are the soles of his feet, and they look soft from being in his boots all day. Izuku swallows thickly, but god, he just wants to touch. 

Is he into feet? Who knows, maybe, he honestly hasn’t thought too much about it until recently. Maybe he’s just into Bakugou’s feet? When Bakugou wiggles his toes again, Izuku finally glances up and catches his gaze. 

“Well? What’re you waitin’ for,” Bakugou says, his voice softer than it’s been all night. 

Izuku’s hands are large, tan, and calloused - a stark contrast against Bakugou’s pale skin, and at the fist press of his thumbs into the arch, Bakugou exhales quickly through his nose, body sinking further into the couch. 

It’s a little difficult to massage his feet with the strap from his stirrups hugging his arches, but at this moment in time Izuku would rather die than ask Bakugou to take them off. He moves over to just one foot, pressing both thumbs into the heel of his foot, and he slowly works his way up, calluses catching onto the legging strap as he moves upwards. 

“Did the bank robber get caught?” Izuku asks, hands firm but delicate, watching as Bakugou’s toes twitch when he digs in beneath them. 

“What?” Bakugou replies, blinking his eyes open where they’ve fallen shut. “The - oh, shit. Yeah. Sero was actually patrolling nearby so he got him while I took the dumbass intern to medical.”

“Don’t be so mean,” Izuku chuckles, “We were dumbass interns once, too.”

“Interns, yes. Dumbass? No,” Bakugou shoots back, but then he smirks. “Well, I wasn’t a dumbass. Can’t say the same about you, nerd.”

Izuku rolls his eyes, and he can’t help it when his touch softens, hooking a finger underneath the stirrup strap to graze his nail along the delicate arch. 

The reaction is instant - Bakugou inhales sharply and twitches, looking ready to pull his leg back, but Izuku holds onto the strap, preventing him from moving away. 

“Deku,” Bakugou growls, and to everyone else on this planet, the expression on his face would scream angry, sharp, intimidating. 

But Izuku’s known him since they were kids. Izuku can read him like a damn book, and right now underneath that glare, Bakugou looks nervous.

Izuku keeps his touch soft, one finger hooked into the stirrup strap, while his other hand grazes right beneath the blonde’s toes. His foot twitches again, his toes curling up tightly, and the only word that comes to Izuku’s mind is cute. His feet are cute, and apparently sensitive, and Izuku has no idea what monster has taken over his brain but all he wants to do right now is see Bakugou squirm. 

He might be dipping into dangerous territory, but ever since they moved in together, Bakugou’s been much more open to physical touch. It almost feels like a game they’ve been playing, dancing around each other but never going to a place they can’t return from. They’ve fallen asleep cuddling on the couch. They’ve spent quiet days off with Izuku’s head in Bakugou’s lap, the blonde idly playing with his hair while they watch old reruns of All Might movies together. They’ve even spent a few nights together in bed, holding each other close when the nightmares creep up every few weeks. 

But this? This might be a place they can’t return from. Izuku’s not sure what Bakugou’s feeling right now, but the lines are so incredibly blurred in this moment, and Bakugou’s cheeks are steadily turning pink, and Izuku knows he could pull away if he really, really tried. 

But he’s not. He’s staying put, fingers clenched into the cushions of the couch, eyeing Izuku warily. 

“You know,” Izuku says idly, moving one hand to grip Bakugou’s ankle, the other hand trailing his fingers up and down, up and down, so soft it’s barely there. “You used to be so mean when we were kids, holding me down and tickling me until I cried.”

At the word - tickling - Bakugou audibly swallows. “Not my fault you were so damn ticklish, idiot.” 

“I could never really get you back because you were so much stronger than me,” Izuku muses. 

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, I’m not fuckin’ ticklish,” Bakugou replies. His voice sounds sure and steady, but his eyes keep flickering down to where Izuku is still stroking up and down his sole. He’s tense, and Izuku can feel it - Bakugou’s trying so hard not to move, not to give himself away. 

Izuku laughs quietly to himself. Of course Bakugou would see this as a challenge to himself. 

“Of course you’re not ticklish, Kacchan,” Izuku says, “Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it might actually come true.”

“It is true, you little shit - ah!”

He squeaks, his breath hitching, when Izuku flutters his fingers under his toes again. His other leg, the one Izuku isn’t holding by the ankle, jerks back, and Izuku thinks no, we can’t have that now, before tendrils of black whip shoot out, pulling his other leg back and twisting around the ankle. 

“Okay, now that’s completely fuckin’ unfair,” Bakugou grunts, trying to sound unaffected, but this time Izuku can hear the shake in his voice. “The hell are you tryin’ do here, Deku?”

“Nothing,” Izuku says, a few more tendrils of black whip emerging to wrap around his other ankle so both of Izuku’s hands are free now. 

“You call this nothing?” Bakugou tugs at his feet a bit, and black whip tightens to keep him in place. 

Izuku ignores him. “I thought you weren’t ticklish?”

Bakugou frowns. “I’m not.”

“Then this is nothing,” Izuku teases, finally wiggling his fingers in earnest over both of Bakugou’s feet, now bound in his lap for him to do with as he pleases. The thought has his stomach flipping, molten lava settling low in his gut, and he can’t help his dick twitching in interest. 

Bakugou’s reaction is beautiful, finally a small huff of laughter escaping him as he wiggles his feet as much as he can with black whip holding his ankles down. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and they keep alternating from clutching at the cushion beneath him to hovering in the air as if he’s fighting his instinct of reaching down and showing Izuku away. His eyes are averting, as if the thought of watching Izuku tickle him is too much, and oh, he’s so cute. 

Izuku’s feeling a little nice at the moment, but Bakugou’s fighting his laughter, and Izuku wants to hear him, so he moves his fingers up, scratching underneath his toes. Bakugou does laugh this time, covering his mouth with one hand in surprise as the sound escapes him. His toes curl, trying to block Izuku’s fingers, and a few more tendrils of black whip slither out and wrap around each of his toes, effectively prying them back so Izuku’s fingers can burrow into the soft, sensitive flesh there. 

“Wait - no, Deku - ah, ahah.” His laughter is light and staccato, little gasps in between his growls as he covers his mouth with both hands now, muffling himself as his eyes squint in mirth. Once again, he could get Izuku to stop if he really wanted to, but besides the tugging and squirming of his bound feet, he’s not doing much else to get away.

That thought intrigues Izuku, and his confidence grows as he scratches in between his toes, pulled back and vulnerable thanks to black whip. 

“I always thought your feet might be sensitive, you know, with how much you sweat and stuff,” Izuku muses, gears turning in his head as he makes mental notes on where Bakugou seems to react the most to. Underneath his toes seems much more ticklish than between them, but the arch of his sole seems equally as sensitive, especially when he pulls back one of the stirrup straps and rakes all five fingers up and down. 

Bakugou gasps. “Y-you’re a d-dick,” he growls, but the words melt into laughter as Izuku does the same thing to his other foot before letting the strap go with a snap. 

He gives Bakugou a moment to breathe, and the blonde finally lowers his hands from his mouth. His face is extremely flushed now, and he’s looking at Izuku with a mix of murderous intent and… want?

“Still not ticklish?” Izuku murmurs, rubbing his palms over Bakugou’s soles. The blonde twitches again, tensing, before relaxing when Izuku just rubs firmly, soothing. 

“Once again - you’re a dick,” he grumbles. 

“And you’re ticklish,” Izuku teases back, scratching his nails up the sides of Bakugou’s feet this time before making their way back to the soft, pink skin right beneath his toes. 

“Don’t - Deku, st-stop! It f-fuckin’ - ” 

“It what?” Izuku’s feeling mean now, and having Bakugou squirming because of him has his dick hardening more in his sweats. “It tickles?”

“I - I c-can’t - ahahaha!” 

“You’re so strong, you can take it, can’t you?” And oh, Izuku’s playing dirty, because there’s nothing Bakugou hates than being told he can’t do something, and if he admits he can’t take the tickling, it’d be the same as admitting defeat, and Bakugou Katsuki is not someone who’s ever been defeated. 

Although, Izuku thinks, watching as Bakugou covers his mouth again and squeezes his eyes shut, tickling might just be the key to finally defeating this man. 

Izuku doesn’t like how muffled he sounds, though, so he uses more of black whip to sneakily slide up and twist around Bakugou’s wrists, tugging them away from his face. A few tendrils slip up his arms and slide underneath the sleeves of his hoodie, and Bakugou’s expression turns to panic. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” He hisses, but his lips are still twitching on a smile which ruins the intimidation of it. “This is an awful fuckin’ use of your quirk - ”

“So was last week, with yours,” Izuku interrupts, “when you were too lazy to microwave the popcorn and tried to just explode it instead.” Izuku laughs, remembering how long it took them to fish out all of the popcorn kernels from every single crevice in the living room. 

“At least that was for a good reason!” Bakugou protests, squirming when the tendrils of black whip slip higher into his sleeves, nearly grazing his underarms now. His breathing is short, body tensed and mouth turned down in a pout. 

“You’re saying this isn’t a good reason?”

“What, so fuckin’ torturing me is a good reason to abuse your quirk?”

“It’s torture?” Izuku murmurs. “I thought you weren’t ticklish.”

If Bakugou’s face could get any pinker, it would, and he bites his lip hard when Izuku wiggles black whip into the hollows of his underarms, keeping it light and feathery. Bakugou can’t hold out for long, though, and soon he’s gasping on a laugh and wriggling as much as he can in the hold Izuku has him in. 

This time though, Izuku fails to notice Bakugou’s feet squirming aggressively, and Izuku freezes and gasps when the blonde’s bound feet nudge against the very obvious hard-on in his sweats. 

Izuku swallows, his hands darting down to grab a hold of Bakugou’s feet. His toes are still tied back with black whip, and Izuku resists the urge to brush his fingers along the skin because something is unraveling inside of him and having Bakugou like this is quickly becoming addicting. Instead, he ducks his head, words escaping him as he opens his mouth but not coming up with anything to say. 

A few seconds pass, Izuku preparing himself mentally for an explosion to blast him away or for disgusted yelling and screaming to occur. He’s already mentally drafting the text to Todoroki to ask if he can move in with him when Bakugou inevitably kicks him out once he’s freed.

A beat passes. One. Two. The silence is deafening, and Izuku finally manages to raise his eyes up to glance at Bakugou, surprised at the curious expression painted there. Bakugou nudges his heels gently against Izuku’s dick again, and Izuku hisses and bites his lip, apologies already spilling from his mouth, 

“I’m s-sorry, shit, um - ”

“I should’ve fuckin’ known you’d be into something weird like this,” Bakugou says lowly, tilting his head a bit, almost like a cat analyzing it’s prey. “You’re a little freak, ain’t ya?”

The words should be harsh and piercing, but Bakugou sounds like he’s…. teasing him. And not in the mean, bullying way that Izuku was expecting. Their eyes meet, and Izuku sees a small hint of a smirk when Bakugou presses his heels in harder, wiggling against Izuku’s clothed cock as much as he can in his restraints. 

“Kacchan - ah,” Izuku sighs, cheeks burning. “What’re you - ”

“What is it you like about it, huh?” Bakugou asks, his voice low. 

Izuku’s head feels like it’s going to explode. “I don’t… I don’t know? I didn’t even - I mean… I like….”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow. His arms are still held tightly with black whip, the tendrils under his arms twitch when Izuku stutters, making Bakugou squeak quietly and jerk in his hold. That has Izuku’s eyes darkening again, and Bakugou still hasn’t blasted him away. If anything he’s egging him on, and Izuku’s mind races with what this might mean. 

“I like… you,” Izuku starts off slowly. 

“Me?” Bakugou questions, and if Izuku isn’t mistaken, there’s a twinge of something akin to hope in his voice. 

“Yeah, you,” Izuku breathes, all rational thoughts thrown to the wayside now. “But I also like… having you, like this,” Izuku plays with the stirrup straps on Bakugou’s soles, fiddling with the fabric, breathing hard when Bakugou squirms each time his fingers graze the skin. “I like feeling you squirm. Hearing you laugh. Having you all… y’know, vulnerable for me?”

As he speaks, a few more tendrils of black whip slip under the front hem of Bakugou’s hoodie, slithering up and tapping away at his ribs. That has Bakugou giggling again, and god, Izuku loves his laugh. This is different from his normal laugh, it’s softer and hiccupy and the sound sends white-hot heat straight to his dick. Shit, could he come from this? Just from having Bakugou squirming and laughing and bound up like a perfect little present?

“Jesus - Izuku,” Bakugou laughs, rubbing his thighs together, and Izuku’s eyes widen when he sees a bulge in his leggings, now visible from where his hoodie has ridden up. 

Izuku’s brain short-circuits then, and he’s now laser focused on the other boy, fingers moving almost mindlessly as they go back to scratching beneath sensitive toes. Izuku keeps his eyes on Bakugou’s face, his expressions, every twitch of his brow, and the blonde chokes on a laugh and ducks his head, trying to hide his face since Izuku has his arms pulled aside. 

“What do you like about it?” Izuku asks, growing bolder the more Bakugou squirms. 

“Fuck, oh my g-god, I d-dont - !”

Izuku moves finally, and though he keeps Bakugou bound with his quirk, he crawls up until he’s seated, straddling Bakugou’s thighs where they’re squeezed together, and now Izuku’s just a nudge away from Bakugou’s own obvious arousal. 

“You don’t like it?” Izuku says, and this time, he withdraws black whip from underneath Bakugou’s hoodie, instead sliding his own hands beneath the fabric to touch bare skin. His hands are warm and large, fingers curling gently over Bakugou’s deliciously tapered waist, and though he doesn’t do anything yet, Bakugou’s shifting and squirming beneath him already. 

Bakugou’s eyes meet Izuku’s finally, and when Izuku flicks his gaze down to Bakugou’s cock, hard as a rock in his leggings, Bakugou groans and ducks his head again. 

“It’s not - I don’t know!” Bakugou breathes out, frustration clear in his voice. “You’re just - fuck, it’s weird.”

“It’s not that weird, Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs, and Bakugou tugs helplessly at his arms again. Izuku hums, pulling his arms with black whip until his wrists are crossed, and then slowly - absolutely mean - he lifts Bakugou’s arms up and back until his elbows are bent, bound hands pulled behind his head and forcing Bakugou to lean back more into the arm of the couch. Izuku slides further up, straddling Bakugou’s thighs until their clothed cocks finally brush, and Bakugou breathes out a shaky noise. 

“It’s okay,” Izuku breathes. 

“Let me go,” Bakugou grumbles, but his eyes are averted, blush high on his cheeks, teeth gnawing at his lower lip nervously. And wow, having Bakugou nervous, beneath him where Izuku can feel the heat radiating off of his body, has Izuku grinding forward, rubbing their dicks together firmly. 

Bakugou instinctively tries to buck his hips up, but with the way he’s bound up, he can’t get too much leverage. Once again, he’s still not blasting Izuku off into the sun with his own quirk, so Izuku drums his fingers against Bakugou’s bare sides, drawing little circles with his thumbs right beneath his ribs. 

“Ah - ” Bakugou hiccups on another strained giggle, and Izuku grins at him sharply. 

“What do you like about it?” Izuku repeats, tickling oh-so-gently, because now that he has his hands touching him, he can’t stop. He can feel every hitch of breath, can feel his body tremble with restrained laughter, and there’s definitely no going back from here. 

When Bakugou doesn’t respond, Izuku creeps his hands higher, towards the upper part of his ribs. His hoodie is bunched up completely now, and although Izuku would love to remove the damn piece of clothing, he’s scared if he lets Bakugou go now, this electric bubble they’re both in will pop and Izuku will have missed his chance completely. 

He grinds against Bakugou again, while at the same time finally digging into his ribs, and the explosive laughter that Bakugou lets out has Izuku groaning out loud. 

“Okay - okahahay! Fuck!” Bakugou yelps, taking a breath when Izuku’s fingers finally pause. “I - fuck, I don’t know. I like… how it feels, not being… not being able to move or some shit, I guess.”

Bakugou looks like he’d rather die than tell Izuku all of this, but Izuku’s already gotten this far, and there’s nothing that would ever make him stop now. The blurred line is now vanished completely, and Izuku murmurs quietly,

“You like being tied up, Kacchan?”

Bakugou frowns, glaring at him, but doesn’t respond. 

Izuku continues, smirking. “You like being tied up by me?”

Bakugou squirms a bit, staying defiantly silent. 

“You like being tickled like this? Helpless, vulnerable, letting me do whatever I want to you while you can’t do anything to stop it?” Izuku has no idea where this filthy mouth of his came from, but he takes this newfound confidence and harnesses it, slipping a hand down to cup Bakugou through his leggings and squeeze. 

“Nn - fuck,” Bakugou pants. “No, you asshole, I don’t like being tickled - ”

“I disagree,” Izuku says, and this time when he pinches at Bakugou’s ribs, he can feel Bakugou’s cock jump beneath his hand as the blonde gasps out a laugh. “I actually think you really like it.”

“Just - when it’s you,” Bakugou finally gasps out, giggling softly as Izuku crawls his hand higher. His words give Izuku pause, Izuku’s heart beating rapidly in his chest because oh. Okay. Just when it’s him? Because it’s him?

Oh.

“Kacchan,” Izuku breathes, a magnetic pull tugging at his chest until he’s ducking down and kissing the laughter right out of Bakugou’s mouth. The blonde moans, tilting his head to the side to kiss him deeper, and Izuku happily licks into his mouth, chasing the feeling of god, fuck, finally. 

Bakugou jerks his head to the side though when Izuku’s hand creeps higher, fluttering dangerous fingers into his underarm, and he yelps on a laugh, squirming and bucking up into Izuku’s other hand still kneading at his dick. 

“Oh my god,” Bakugou giggles, shaking his head back and forth, and Izuku takes a moment to duck lower and kiss his neck, licking up beneath his jaw, biting gently right under his ear. That has Bakugou squeaking again, and Izuku moans as he feels the blonde tremble against him. 

“God, you’re so cute,” Izuku moans in disbelief. “How can you be so hot and cute at the same time?”

“Y-you should be - ah, ahaha - asking yourself th-that - fuck, Izuku, I cahahan’t!”

Izuku stops tickling him for a moment and grins. “You think I’m hot and cute?”

“Not right now, while you’re ti - ,” Bakugou cuts himself off with an embarrassed grunt, not even able to say the actual word, and Izuku takes note of that happily, “Also, fuck you, I’m not cute.”

Izuku doesn’t respond right away, instead opting for shoving Bakugou’s leggings down so they’re bunched around his thighs, freeing his dick, before settling back up where he was seated before. He pulls his own cock out of his sweats, and when he wraps a large, calloused hand around them both and strokes, squeezing perfectly tight, Bakugou throws his head back and moans. 

Tendrils of black whip slide down his legs where his feet are still tightly held in place, and as they flutter and scratch beneath his toes more intensely this time, Bakugou actually lets out a small sob, his eyes tearing up as he simultaneously tries to tug at his legs while also squirming up into Izuku’s hand on their cocks. 

“You’re feet are so sensitive,” Izuku muses, his pupils so dark his eyes look black, and although Bakugou can’t really kiss him back while he’s laughing, that doesn’t stop Izuku from swallowing up every little noise he makes, lips spit-slick and panting against Bakugou’s mouth. 

“Izu - Izuku, plehehease - ah, fuck, fuck,” He sounds like something straight out of one of Izuku’s wet dreams, and Izuku leans back again to stare at his face. Bakugou’s eyes are screwed up now, tears leaking out from the corners, and Izuku coos at him. 

“Baby,” he says sweetly, “Is it too much?”

“Y-yes, I can’t - Izuku please.”

“I think you’re stronger than that. It’s just tickling,” Izuku teases. Bakugou’s cock is leaking, and it’s making the slide of Izuku’s hand on them both so, so good. Izuku brings out some more tendrils of black whip, sliding them right back underneath Bakugou’s hoodie to return to the warmth of his underarms, and Bakugou screams. 

“It’s so - ahhaha, it’s t-too much,” Bakugou whines, his breathless giggling mixed with moans that sound as if they’re being punched out of him, and his body is strung tight, so tight Izuku can feel how close he is to breaking. 

There’s something so incredibly sweet about taking Bakugou completely apart like this. Izuku pants and grinds into his own hand, squeezing and rubbing the head of his cock against the blonde’s, and while black whip continues tormenting Bakugou’s poor feet and underarms, Izuku’s own free hand comes up to grip Bakugou by the chin, forcing him to look at him, eyes blurry through his tears. 

“Tell me how it feels,” he whispers, his lips just a breath away from Bakugou’s, feeling the warm desperate noises coming out of the boy’s mouth. 

Izuku swipes his thumb over the head of Bakugou’s cock, his own arousal forgotten as he slips down to squeeze at the base tightly, preventing the blonde from actually coming. Bakugou makes a guttural, desperate noise, and Izuku’s grip tightens on his face, keeping him there, watching him. 

Izuku’s quirk is nearly everywhere by now, black whip slithering beneath the leggings to stroke behind his knees, a few more tendrils brushing and tickling at his neck, and even more settled beneath his hoodie, prodding and digging and relentless. The fight has completely left Bakugou finally, and he’s slumped against the arm of the couch, body shaking and fighting the plethora of sensations that are overwhelming him. 

“Hey,” Izuku laughs a bit, “Baby, c’mon. Tell me how it feels.”

It almost feels evil, watching as Bakugou tries to speak, to come with something, anything to get Izuku to - what, to stop tickling him? To keep tickling him? To stroke his dick again until he comes all over himself? Bakugou’s brain is mush, and Izuku revels in the desperation painted on the boy’s blushing face. 

“It - fuck, it f-feels like torture,” Bakugou manages to gasp out, but he bucks his hip up when he feels black whip dig into the ticklish dip of his hip. 

“You like being tortured, it seems,” Izuku points out as Bakugou’s cock leaks another bead of precome, so red and hard it’s nearly purple. 

“No - ” Bakugou hiccups on his laughter, eyes widening when Izuku raises a brow,, “I mean - fine, shihihit - yes, yes, I like it, god fucking d-damnit Izuku!”

“Shh,” Izuku soothes, but he doesn’t release his hold at the base of Bakugou’s cock. 

“Please,” Bakugou whines, and Izuku nearly comes when he realizes he has Bakugou exactly where he wants him. 

“Please what?” Izuku releases Bakugou’s chin and his hand slips under the hoodie, pinching right at Bakugou’s top rib, a place Izuku’s learned makes him absolutely lose it. 

“Pl-please let me - ah, ahaha fuhuhuck - please let me c-come!” Bakugou’s crying in earnest now, ducking his head down to press his forehead against the crook of Izuku’s neck, and Izuku’s heart leaps when the blonde bites down on Izuku’s shirt, trying to muffle his noises in the fabric. 

It’s adorable, and Izuku sighs happily. “Of course, Kacchan.”

He grabs ahold of both of their cocks again, this time stroking in earnest, fast and quick. It doesn’t take more than a few pumps of his hand before Bakugou is crying out against Izuku’s neck, writhing beneath him as he comes, and Izuku keeps tickling him through it. The sensation is electric, Bakugou’s body fighting to distinguish between pleasure and torment, and Izuku groans loudly as he uses Bakugou’s come to stroke his own cock. 

“St-stop,” Bakugou giggles, completely breathless, “Too - too f-fucking much - please - ”

Izuku ducks back down to kiss the sweet helpless laughter right out of his mouth, finally coming, his own come mixing with Bakugou’s between them. Izuku heaves a deep breath, slumping against Bakugou as black whip finally retracts, disappearing back into his body and releasing the blonde from their clutches. 

It’s quiet for a moment, Bakugou’s arms having fallen limp at his sides, head still buried in Izuku’s neck as he catches his breath. When he shifts, flexing his legs a little, Izuku leans back, sitting up and brushing Bakugou’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. 

“Holy fuck,” Bakugou manages, blinking leftover tears from his eyes. “You’re fuckin’ evil, you know that?”

Izuku giggles nervously, still riding the high of whatever the hell just happened between them. Bakugou finally lifts his arms, wrapping them around Izuku’s waist loosely, and Izuku’s heart flutters when Bakugou leans up to press a kiss to the corner of Izuku’s mouth. 

“You liked it,” Izuku says, turning to kiss him properly, now able to happily lick into the warmth without Bakugou’s laughter hindering him. 

“Fuck off,” Bakugou murmurs into his mouth. “So what if I did, huh?”

Izuku just hums, because that blurred line being gone means that now he can kiss Bakugou whenever he wants, and that thought has him grinning widely and winding his arms around Bakugou’s neck. 

“Ew, no, don’t get your nasty jizz-hands in my hair!” Bakugou protests, and Izuku laughs out loud, pulling his arms back quickly. 

“Shit - sorry, sorry! We should probably get cleaned up, huh? Your hoodie is covered in come.”

“Good thing it’s not my hoodie, then,” Bakugou smirks. His cheeks are still flushed, and Izuku rolls his eyes as he takes his come-covered hand and smacks it right into Bakugou’s cheek before darting off of him and running away like his life depends on it. 

Bakugou shrieks and scrambles to chase after him, and Izuku’s laughter echoes happily through their apartment.

[hoshigray]

HEYYY🤪who ever requested y/n bratting off to toji is a blessing fr.🙏🏼 Can you also do the same thing but fluff edition. If the post is gone, dont worry about it. Love your writing!!

No worries, noonie, bc I made sure to save the fluff version as a Word doc if needed, lol. But here ya go, hope ya enjoy and tysm!!:)

Reminder: This is a sfw/fluff version of this thirst!

Cw: Toji x reader - fluff!! - pet names (baby, kid/kiddo) - implied that reader is shorter than Toji - first, the reader is sour, but then they're sweet :) - Toji calls you a 'bitch' but not in a belittling way, just frustrated with your antics - lots of humor bc we love making this man suffer, lol - the reader gives him a scare hiding from him (again, make him suffer! but he's hella worried about you so </3) - angst(?) - reader being a brat and Toji being a grumpy bf = a perfect couple ♡ Wc: 2.4k

It's late in the night, WAY past the midnight hour. The streets are quiet, people are home sleeping, and the air is curtained in a cool mist from rain not too long ago.

And yet here you are, in an open grocery store skimming through the fruits section. You pick up a bag of apples and examine them before placing them back down, moving on to the next aisle.

Behind you, the squeaky wheels of the shopping cart follow your every step, driven by your boyfriend — Toji.

The two of you had left a movie theater to see a movie you'd been anticipating seeing, which only had seating at the last showing of its week — 12:30 a.m. The runtime was two hours and thirty minutes, so it wasn't to your surprise that the plaza was utterly empty by the time it ended. Although you're happy you got to see the movie, you made a mental note to get tickets earlier next time.

Suddenly, you realize you forgot to grocery shop, and most nearby stores are closed. But after many trips around the neighborhood, you've finally found a store open for twenty-four hours.

So here you are, scoping around the aisles to pick up things and check them off your list. Now all there's left is the toilet paper, which would be right on the top shelf...that you can't reach.

You turn to your side to see your boyfriend looking down at his phone. Well, he's no help. With a sigh, you place your phone inside your pocket and try to carefully reach for the toilet paper, stepping on the lower shelves and being mindful not to step on any of the items below.

Toji notices something up when he glances up at you trying to climb up to get something from the top shelf. Putting his phone in his jean jacket, he comes around and hovers over you while grabbing for the toilet paper. You watch, and you shake your head at him. Damn, tall people...Hold on. An idea pops inside your head, and a grin molds onto your lips.

"Hey!" You call out to the man before he puts the item at the bottom of the cart. "I was getting that."

"I know, but y'r lil legs and arms weren't getting you any far, baby." He sends you a sly smirk, causing you to take offense to his comment.

Oh, two can play this game, Mister..."Put it back."

His brows crease together. "What?"

"Put it back up there," you repeat yourself to the man and point at the top shelf. His confused expression is still present when he hesitantly does what you instruct him. "And then pick me up to get it."

He looks at you like you're crazy. "What kind of shit are you on?"

You giggle. "Oh, come on, Toji. I was trying to get it, so I wanna do it."

"You could barely touch it."

"Not unless I have my trusty, tall boyfriend to help me, so pick me up!" You lift your arms for your waist to be open for grabs, and Toji just stares at you. With a heavy sigh and a scrunched expression, he lifts you up effortlessly, and you happily take the toilet paper he just put back up.

You beam at him once you're put down, and the older man has never rolled his eyes so fast. "Actin' like a damn kid."

Your tone is matter-of-fact as you put the item under the cart: "You call me a kid all the time, so I gotta uphold the title. Okay, that should be everything from my list, so let's get the other stuff."

"Other stuff?"

"Yeah, like sandwich meat, chips, and juice for Tsumiki and Megumi. They're going swimming with their friends tomorrow, and they need lunch to take with them."

Toji crosses his arms, examining you walk past him with the cart. "I suppose you're the one paying for all that."

"I'm absolutely...not," you don't have to turn around to know the man behind you has his jaw dropped. "I'm paying for the things on my list, and you pay for the other stuff."

"And what makes you think I'd pay? I already paid for the dinner and the tickets for the damn movie."

"Yes, indeed you did. But guess what, I'm using my money for my things. So, Toji dearest, it's only right that you pay for the things for your children." You peek behind you to see your boyfriend throw daggers at you with emerald eyes. Your smile only grows. "What kind of father would you be if you don't care for those angels?"

Toji just groans and mumbles curses under his breath. "They're only angels when you're around, ya damn brat..."

The two of you head to the snack aisle, the right side harboring a massive assortment of chips. You stop the cart when you spot a brand of chips you remember is a favorite in the Fushiguro household. The only problem is that the flavor you're looking for — which is on the bottom shelf — is nearly empty, meaning the last few are further in the back.

"Hey, Toji," The named man comes from behind, resting his chin on your head. "Those chips down there, ya think there could still be some in the far back?"

"Mmm," His broad chest vibrates against your back from his gruff hum. "Probably."

"Mind getting them for me."

"....Why can't you get it?"

"Because I told you to get it. Besides," you bring up your hands with two fingers up to air quote your following sentence. "I don't think my 'lil arms and legs' will get me far."

Toji's quiet for a few moments, and you bite your lip to not laugh. But it's no use when he flicks your ear before leaving your side, giggles fake cries of pain exiting your lips. "Fuckin' bitch."

"I heard that!"

"Good." You blow a raspberry at him as he groans, kneeling to the floor, and crouches to put his head under the shelf. The image of your brawny man squeezing through the racks is a rarity, and you can't laugh because you know he'll kill you once he gets back up. So, with silent quickness, you grab your smartphone, take a picture, and swiftly put it back in your pocket. You chuckle to yourself in accomplishment. That's for calling me a bitch, you bastard.

The man comes up with a bag of chips in hand, the exact flavor you were looking for. However, "Woah, woah, woah, that's not the right size."

"What are you on about this time?"

"I always get the family-size. That's just the regular one."

"Yeah, so?"

"So?" The older man is visibly vexed that you repeat after him, yet you continue. "Toji, I know you're gonna snack on those later, but I'm gonna use it to pack lunch for the kids. And judging by how small the packaging is, that's not gonna last for the entire week — let alone three days. Miki and Megs aren't gonna like you for that. Go get the family-size pack."

"They don't have it down here; it's just this!"

"Well, what are you gonna do? Buy three more bags...Oh."

Toji notices you spot something that puts your thoughts aside, so he follows your line of sight to the top shelf. As you described earlier, family-sized chips were stationed at the very top, unlike at the bottom stand where they usually are.

All you can do is smile sheepishly at Toji when you two glance at each other, the older man giving you the heaviest glare you've ever received. "If you ask me to pick you up again, I'm throwin' ya up there and leavin' you til next time."

"Don't bother. I'm going to get the sandwich meats." You turn away from him and the cart to hide your laughs and head to the deli aisle. "You stay right there. I'll be right back."

"Hmph, whatever." The man grabs the right size of chips and chucks them into the cart. And then he leans against the shelves, waiting for your arrival so you two can finally leave the store.

One minute pasts. Then two...Three....Four.....Five—What the fuck!?

There's no way the store is that big for you to find the deli aisle. It's nearly been six minutes, and you have yet to return to the snack aisle! Toji can only wonder what it is that's taking you so damn long. They probably saw somethin' cute and will ask me to get it for 'em. Hmph, like hell. Or maybe they don't have the sandwich meats they're lookin' for and are tryin' to find something else to substitute. Or they could be lost, who knows.

But the more he thinks, his thoughts delve into darker reflections. And if they're lost, would they run into someone for help? What if that person doesn't work here, talking to a damn stranger. What if that bastard is making them uncomfortable? Taking advantage of them. Or worse: a kidnapping.

Dread corrupts all of Toji's senses when his mind wanders to the worst scenarios, but he can't help it when you haven't returned to him. There's already one person he's lost in his life, and he wouldn't want to lose you too. That's why he straightens himself up and ditches the cart full of your stuff to find you for himself. Because if you aren't in this store right now, things will start to get ugly.

He storms out of the aisle, looking around to assess the parameter. Deep breaths don't seem to calm him down, as the dry bob in his throat makes it difficult to swallow. He looks up to see the signs for every aisle. Deli...Where the hell is—

That thought grinds to a halt when he hears footsteps approach from behind. So Toji turns around with haste, grabbing the pocket knife always kept in his jean pocket.

However, he doesn't pull the defensive weapon out. Instead, his tense physique relaxes, and a wave of relief soothes him down back to Earth. Because the footsteps belonged to you. You were okay.

"Damn, you and your freaky senses! I was hiding behind that bread rack over there and waiting for you to turn around so I could surprise you. Hehe, but I can see you must've—Ow, ow, ouch!!!"

Unlike before, genuine cries of pain fly out your mouth when Toji pinches your cheeks, twisting them so hard that you scream louder the tighter the grip. He doesn't let go until you step on his foot, and even then, the hurtful wails are replaced with laughter.

"You absolute fucking brat." You try to cover your giggles with your hands, but the irritated expression on Toji's face makes it difficult to keep your composure. "Over here tryin' to scare me and shit when I'm wondering what the hell's takin' you so damn long. Not even my own damn kids give me this much trouble."

"Oh shit, pfffthaha. At lea-At least I—wheeze," You're trying so hard to look your boyfriend in the eye, but God was you in hysterics. Tears prickle, and you slowly reveal some packaged items in your hands. "At least I got the sandwich meat."

Toji swiftly snatches the deli products off your grasp, causing you to laugh even harder to the point of your stomach hurting and your eyes forced shut. But that doesn't stop the man from pulling you to the unattended cart by the back of your neck, caging you between him and the handlebar.

But no matter, because you still laugh walking down the aisle with him. You still laugh at the self-checkout. And you still laugh when putting the groceries in the trunk of Toji's car and placing the cart in the corral.

Even when you sit in the passenger seat, chuckles fill the silence and one-sided tension. You peer to Toji's side to see him harbor a scowl while facing the windshield, downright avoiding you. "Oh, come on, Toji, it was just a little prank. You gotta admit it was kinda funny!"

He shakes his head, eyes still honed in front of him.

"What? Oh, so you're not gonna talk to me?"

Nothing.

"Are you serious? Toji, it wasn't even that big of a deal. Were you worried about me for real—"

"Yeah, kid." Now he looks at you; his forest-green orbs capture yours as if luring you to listen to what he's saying. "I was fuckin' worried about you. Thought somethin' bad happened or...whatever, forget it." Toji lets a heavy sigh exit his system, resting his head on his hand.

And you just watch him, not bothering to say a word back. It doesn't take long for you to understand where he's coming from because you're already beating yourself about it with the uneasy silence between you two.

You know about Toji's loss — his late wife, Megumi's mother. You don't know too much about her passing. However, you're enormously aware of how significant a toll the loss took on Toji. It took him a long time to even consider dating again and putting a label on your relationship.

So now that he's with you, it's easy to understand that he doesn't want you getting hurt and anything dreadful happening on your end.

And yet, acting like a child isn't making things any better.

You silently exhale and hesitantly set a hand on the one lying still on his thigh. You notice his head turn in your direction from the sudden contact, but you don't address it, just leaning on him with your head on his shoulder. Toji lets you do so.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry like that." You say to him, your eyes on your hand rubbing on the back of his. "Just wanted to act silly with you, is all. Didn't want to scare you."

"Who told you to act silly?"

"Uhh, me? 'Cause it's like 3 a.m., just the two of us. And it's the weekend."

You can feel the rise and fall of his shoulder following the sigh he lets out through his nose. Toji then removes his hand from you and puts it on your shoulder to keep you close. "You can be a pain in the ass, ya know that, kiddo?"

"Yeah, yeah. But I know you love me for it~." You move to happily kiss him on the cheek.

"Yeah, sure." He kisses your temple and rests his head on yours. The two of you indulge in the comfortable silence of the car for a few minutes, relinquishing each other's presence before driving home. "Just be a lil' more careful, 'kay, baby?"

"Mmm, promise."

...

But you're still gonna make that picture you took of Toji your wallpaper. It's a true gem. Plus, it's what you get for calling me a bitch.

[divinerivals]

QUESTION...?

Song analysis

Kinda wild that this is the first thing I'm talking in length about since it's not my usual and I don't talk song analysis I typically write fanfic and make edits when creative but this won't leave my head so here we are.

Things to note before we jump in:

In Taylor's speech last night when she said she was the happiest she's been in all aspects of her life, she referred to this song as it being a happy memory. Being the lyrics it didn't click unless it refers to someone close to her now. The person who fits this is Matty.

Question...? Is in the pre-show playlist for The 1975. An odd choice if you ask me being unless you listen to Midnights you know it. From my knowledge Preshow playlists usually contain top charting hits, released singles etc. To me, this feels like Matty kinda showing off that she wrote a song about him. Sorry if there's any typos I did this before coffee and I didn't have my glasses on lmao. If you don't like Matty that's fine, then this post isn't for you and you can keep on scrolling.

I cut off the intro on accident, it says "I remember". That could be just setting up the song stating this deals with the past. Or it's a response to the line in 'About you' by The 1975 where Matty sings, "Do you think I have forgotten. She says no I haven't, I remember.

The first line in the verse is giving two characters: Taylor, the good girl. Matty, the sad boy. Taylor went to two shows in 2014 for The 1975. One in LA and one in NY. I'm going with NY for this setting. The one thing going on was that they hooked up. Possibly seeing each other albeit extremely briefly.

Regardless of what it was it impacted her life greatly. He painted her nights a color she's been looking for ever since. Ever since Matty left her she's been trying to chase that feeling. Kinda ties into her speech last night too because she finally found it. After she had to deal with one thing after another. Other relationships, media, pandemic. Basically all the hurdles in her life that brought them back together. (It could also be in reference to their past situationship and what caused the fallout. )

Taylor wants to talk. She has questions about the past and wants to clear the air.

I think this took place when they were all hanging out and everyone was just shocked when it happened. They kissed around friends and were teased about it. But the friends in question gave an approval by clapping. These were super close friends who wouldn't tell any media outlets so I'm thinking like Selena, George, Ross, Adam. Etc. People who won't talk but I could see teasing tf out of them but being supportive. I don't remember which show Karlie was at which is why I didn't say her. Anyway, she's now asking him and what he did as in do you remember? Cause I do. And then she continues with her questions.

Now, Matty was using alot of drugs around here so it's possible he remembered but not everything. Or it's possible he did and wants to forget that he left in middle of night. Because as soon she asks that he goes oh. The oh is him being like ah fuck. So then Taylor shoots back three consecutive questions. Whatever happened in the past I think was her call for whatever reason maybe he didn't want to public or be in a relationship. And because she knows herself, the feelings are getting too much, she's getting this strong connection and feelings she has to end it. And Does it bother him he didn't fight for it? Does it bother him the way it does her? Does he miss her? He seems taken aback and she's saying well its just a question. A hypothetical one. He's doubting that.

This is about the Brit awards and Calvin. Stay with me. Half-moon eyes elude to someone on drugs, i.e., Matty. Peep the last line line the image "but you were on somethin". indiciating the half-moon eyes are not from weed but something harder. The bad surprise is Calvin. And this is the moment Matty knew he fucked up because he had still feelings. He was jealous cause the brit awards was when Taylor and Calvin met and as we all know. The dude is a dickhead lol.

Lots of drinking, no one should be surprised by with Matty. Idk about the politics and gender roles. It's clearly about Matty. Since hes more of an activist than Taylor and has songs about politics, has worn skirts, make up, kisses guy. It's also kinda about Taylor. Idk love to heard thoughts. I know it my bones it connects. Could also be in connection with the fact that a couple months after the awards Matty says dating Taylor would be emasculating. I think he said it out of anger. Anger at himself for not being with her, jealous of Calvin, and pissed shes dating the said dickhead. Anyway back to the awards time, they are fighting. Matty is unhappy with her talking to Calvin. And she probably asks him again what he wants. He doesn't know but he sure as hell doesn't want her with that guy.

The second best after that meteor strike is going back to the first verse. About the color she's searched for. I said it deeply impacted her. This indicates it did for the both of them. After the impact of her, Taylor. Has anyone even come close to the intense feelings they shared in a short time? The her in question I feel like it depends on when this song was written. However if we take the scene that is set for us and the time frame given, it's probably Halsey. Otherwise if it was written in 2021/2022 then it could be FKA Twigs. Whichever her, there's no hate there. She's happy for him. Truly. Either one suits him better, however she can't help but wonder...

Then the chorus repeats. Back to her speech, the reason she is saying this is a happy memory for her. Is because now it is. Her thoughts are filled with what could have happened? That color she's been searching for, the missing piece, it's found again. It's come back to her. Now she can look back, laugh, and think of it as happy. This is why everything in her life finally feels like it makes sense.

feel free to add on if you like. This is just my initial thoughts breaking down Question..? after last night

Tagging: @musicjunkie29 @deeenerys17 @hauntedromantics @littleeyelidsflutter (Ya'll seemed excited by the Musicjunkie's post so I thought of you all)

[sky-neverending]

Eddie rockstar au featuring past fwb Steddie who are reuniting to be more?? and an original song I wrote?? Slay! (lemme know if you want me to do a part 2 or post this to ao3?) under the cut cause its a LONG BOI

Eddie grew up drowning out the noise. He was used to covering his ears, to turning up the music. So the screams and shouts of others had grown cold on him, never really affecting the way he lived.

But this? This was a whole different story.

He peeked his head out from behind the curtain, glancing at the crowd that had gathered in front of the stage. The crowd that was there to see him. It was odd, the fact that so many people wanted to be there for him, wanted to hear him make music he used to use as a distraction in his home, and after the fight, in the dingy bedroom of Wayne’s trailer. 

Someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from the crowd before they could spot him. “What do you think you're doing?” a girl hissed, and he turned around to grin at her. 

“Checking out my adoring fans, Chris,” he joked, running a hand through his curls. “Gotta see if anyone stands out to me, ya know?”

She rolled her eyes at him, but a fond smile crossed her lips. “You go on in 2,” she warned, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Good luck out there.”

“I won’t need it,” he responded with a wink. 

As Chrissy walked away, Eddie’s heart started beating louder. Adrenaline and pure anxiety mixed in his veins, a feeling stronger than one he had ever been given by any substance. 

It was show time. The crowd wanted a rockstar? He was going to give them one. 

Stepping onto the stage, Eddie let the roars of the people before him soak in. He threw his head back, taking a long, deep breath before addressing the crowd.

“Are you ready to rock, freaks?” 

The show went on as normal, Eddie playing and singing and basking in the reactions of the crowd. It wasn’t until he got to his final song that he spotted a familiar face in the front row.

“Alright, alright,” he began, putting a finger to his lips. “Everyone hush now.” Taking a deep breath, he looked straight at the first man he was ever in love with. Straight at his high school hookup that could have been something more. Straight at Steve Harrington himself. “This last song is dedicated to someone I knew once. I hope he knows it’s about him.” 

And then he started to sing.

Denim, denim jeans

Polo with a band T hidden underneath 

All the girls wrapped around his finger

But i’m standing just where he can’t see

Midnight kisses and early morning drives 

To the lake down the street where he can hide

Cause you know he’ll never be 

Brave enough to see

That he’s dying simply because he’s living

A lie

He took a breath before launching into the chorus, fingers shaky on his guitar.

Do you care

That I’m not there 

Or was I never on your mind in the first place 

Do you see me?

I’m screaming, screaming 

I’m reaching, reaching out

But you turn away

So what else can I say?

Farah Faucett hair spray 

And a smile that could kill

I think it already did 

But at least I’ll die on this hill

Sayin’ there’s no point in loving if

You can’t love yourself

So walk away, trophy boy

Let them put you on your shelf

Do you care

That I’m not there 

Or was I never on your mind in the first place 

Do you see me?

I’m screaming, screaming 

I’m reaching, reaching out

But you turn away

So what else can I say?

Yeah what else can I say?

The song ended on a solo guitar riff, Eddie pouring his heart and soul into every note. He opened his eyes on the last strum, looking right at Steve and winking. 

“Thank you guys for coming out tonight,” he said, addressing the crowd as a whole. “I can’t put it into words how happy I am to be here. Goodnight, Indy!” And with that he threw up his horns, swung his guitar once around his body, and strutted off the stage like he hadn’t just indirectly confessed his feelings to someone he never thought he’d see again. 

His heart thumping in his chest, Eddie turned to Chrissy with the little hope and prayer he had left in him. “Front row,” he said, “Harrington. Looks the same as he did in school, sticks out like a sore thumb. Bring him back here.” Chrissy raised an eyebrow, but upon seeing his desperation, turned and walked toward the side exit of the stage. It led out to the gates that separated Eddie from the crowd, and he could hear the clatter of them opening as she hurried Steve through before letting the security guards handle whoever else clamored after them.

Curtains fluttering with movement, Eddie held his breath. He watched as Steve stepped through, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. 

“Harrington,” said Eddie, almost a whisper. “I’ll be damned.”

Steve smiled, and fuck if that smile didn’t buckle Eddie’s knees. “Hey, Munson,” he greeted, hands at his sides. “Nice show.”

Laughing, Eddie stepped closer. “Didn’t take you as part of this crowd,” he stated, looking Steve up and down. The faded yellow of his jumper was probably the preppiest thing in the audience, amongst the blacks and rips and chains that his usual fans sported. “You get a girlfriend who’s into our kind of music? Or did you just decide to show up and look like an outcast?” His words were teasing, and he hoped Steve could see that.

“Uh,” Steve pressed his lips together, looking at the ground. “No, Robin dragged me down here. Said it would be good for me to get out of my comfort zone… and stuff.”

“And stuff,” Eddie repeated with a grin. “Not going to lie to you, Stevie, I didn’t think you and the band geek would last.” He tried not to let jealousy seep through his tone. 

With the kick of his foot, Steve’s shoulders loosened. “She’s not the band geek I’m after, trust me.” He looked Eddie directly in the eye. “I messed up, Eds.”

Eddie stared at him. “What?”

“I messed up, Eddie Munson,” Steve repeated with intent, “and I want to make things right.” He advanced, tilting his chin up just the slightest bit. “I shouldn’t have hidden from you. I shouldn’t have turned you away, and I’m sorry. And that song-” he paused, biting his bottom lip, “God, Eddie, you have some real talent.”

“It took a song about you for you to realize that?” Eddie joked, and Steve rolled his eyes in response. He sighed, reaching a hand up to Eddie’s cheek. The touch was tender, sweet, all the things Eddie had dreamed of when they’d been apart.

“Shut up,” he said. “Shut up and let me take you out on a date.”

Heart lurching, Eddie’s face broke into a grin so wide it was painful. “What’s in it for me, Harrington?” he asked slowly, leaning into the touch. “I’m a rockstar now, why should I go out with you?”

“Because I asked nicely?” Steve whispered, curling his hand and letting the tip of his nails trail down Eddie’s cheek. “And because I want to make things right?”

It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes. “Ever the romantic, sweetheart.” His tongue pressed up against his cheek, like he was contemplating the question. He wasn’t. “Sure, I’ll go out with you. Meet me behind the venue in half an hour?”

Steve nodded. “I can do that,” he said. “I need to go talk to Robin, I owe her money.” With that, he pulled away, leaving Eddie longing for his touch again. “I’ll see you later,” he called out, walking with Chrissy toward an exit that would lead him past the crowd. 

Eddie watched him leave, a smile on his face.

He had himself a date, and all it took was one little song.

[haruchiyo-sanzu]

━━ 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌.

pairing : timeskip!suna rintarō x fem!reader

characters : miya atsumu (mentioned, as the no. 1 drama queen).

genre : fluff

warnings : lowercase, not proofread. time skip! may contain manga spoilers, cringy dialogues and pretentious writing.

notes : so it's rainy season in india, and since rain is so romanticised, it calls for a fic. can you tell i wanna cuddle with rin as we stay in bed whilst listening to the sound of rain? yeah i wanna do that.

ps : i was supposed to post it during june but it really slipped my mind.

it begins as a whisper in the wind.

the night had been beautiful with twinkling stars layering a blanket over the firmament, and the sky ── a dome of midnight blue, with gentle breeze softly sweeping past the streets and roads that occasionally made even the mighty trees to sway to its melody and the leaves to pirouette and prance along its tempo.

but the early morning zephyr that had been still and silent on preceeding days seems to have gained a slight movement as if it has finally discovered its trajectory yet is content to meander at its own pace, has now turned into violent gales, harshly cold by the time morning breaks out in a humid haze. there is tapping on the window which turns into a pitter-patter sound as it showers down; mist lingers in the air as the blazing sun hides behind the mass of grey clouds surrounding the aether ─── simply splendid! raining the day you have an important meeting.

you don't know what time it is in the morning when your eyes slowly flutter open to the sound of heavy rain pouring down onto the earth reaching your ears and the ephemeral scent of petrichor tickling your nose, siesta entangled within the nook your lashes which you rub grogilly, blinking twice to comprehend your surroundings before you try to get off the bed.

key word : try.

suna has an arm wrapped around your waist in a gentle yet tight grip, his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck ── you would have been annoyed at the whole ordeal (first it's raining, second you are most likely going to be late) but looking at how tranquil and peaceful he looks, you cannot bring yourself to push him off and wake him up, and subconsciously your face softens, as you lovingly brush stands of brown hair out of his eyes.

(he had returned home later than usual, having to stay back to get extra practice for an upcoming match, and crashed on the bed as soon as he came back. he really must have been tired because he didn't bothered giving a sarcastic remark or the middle finger when you had made a remark, about how much he stunk because of the lingering sweat).

you reach for suna's mobile phone kept on the bedside table, the sudden illumination of screen glares at you as it reads 8 : 19 in bold, there are several notifications popping up ── mostly from the miya twins and one from his sister. he'll check that later, placing the phone back from where you took it, you try to get him off you (but pushing a 6'3 athlete is no easy task).

his green eyes flick open as they blink at you, adjusting to the light ── up close, you can see the specs of brown in the chartresure of his irises, one look at them and they take you in, holding you captive, as they journey you into the woods, trees upon trees upon trees, with sunlight reflecting on them, a golden tint. they make you dive into nature itself. his eyes are beautiful ─── ethereal, one the poets write about and artists try to capture in their paintings; even now he looks so angelic, that is until you remember that suna rintarō is the devil reincarnate. “morning beautiful.” he mumbles sweetly then adds : “early morning and you're already staring at me. i'm really that irresistible, eh?” he says (his voice deep and husky, it makes your heart flutter), a smug grin on his features, which you wished to wipe off. you only glare at him in response before hitting him with a pillow.

“no. not at all.” you answer rather haughtily, then motion at his arm wrapped around your torso. “actually, i would appreciate if you'd let me get up.”

“no.”

“what do you mean no?”

“no means no.” he asserts, shifting his position to further nuzzle his in the curve of your neck. “did nobody teach you that?”

“oh, shut up rin. i don't have time for this.” you try to push him off but he takes your hand in his instead guiding it to his head, urging you to continue playing with his hair, he adores it when you do that (like a cat! but he won't admit it). so you move your fingers through his hair, combing and curling it (you can swear he is more cat than human) “i have a meeting today, i don't want to be late just because my boyfriend wanted to sleep. so get up!”

“just five minutes.”

“no.”

“come on, don't be like that.”

“no means no. nobody taught you that?” suna can practically hear the grin in your voice.

“it's raining heavily. call quits?” he suggests. “you can get sick.”

suna is clingy this morning (clinger than usual). blame it on his extra practice which ended later than his normal timings, so yesterday night he had been unable to cuddle with you and had dropped on the bed instead.

“i wont be walking there, y'know?”

“car accidents increase during heavy rain.” he's pulling you down with him, leg entangling with your own as he lays fleeting butterfly kisses on your neck.

“stay.” he murmurs, now towering over you, his voice is barely above a whisper, he is looking at you now, his eyes a soothing green, green ── that you swear can pierce your soul and see the crude and raw parts of you, in the most gentle and loving ways, like a childhood wound you get while playing ── clashes with your own. he leans in closer, and the world seems to fade away like rust and dust. the scenery outside, the sound of pouring shower, the empty, rain-stained streets and him ─── it is just too beautiful, and you can spend the rest of your life admiring it. “please.”

he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, his breath tickling your ear. “you know, you're staring again. maybe you should take a picture or even create a whole album for yer amazing boyfriend.” apparently that was enough to snap you out of it. you grab another pillow, and awing it at his head ── careful not to hurt him, but suna being number two drama queen (because no. 1 is atsumu, no arguments accepted!) had to let out an ouch! meanie. this gives you the opportunity you needed, (after gathering up all your courage and determination) you finally leave the comfort of your bed, instantly missing the warmth it provided, the silken sheets and suna's arm wrapped around you.

suna has a pout on his face, you merely roll your eyes at him before standing in front of the window ── still raining heavily, the trees outside look too preety to be real, it's almost as if you're in heaven. the glimmering sun is nowhere to be seen, which is a realief from the usual scotching heat of the mornings which only seem to intensify as the sun changes its trajectory. but the peaceful and tranquil rain certainly makes one yearn for a hot cup of coffee and a good book to read. but job is job. so with a sigh you grab your hair tie before pulling your messy, bed hair into a rough ponytail.

the click! sound of photograph is what snaps you attention back towards you boyfriend, who has his mobile phone in his hand and the flashlight zooming in and out of focus as he continues to click pictures of you. tch! clicking your tongue in annoyance you send him a glare before commenting : “Who's clicking pictures now? you're miss me that much while i'll be away?”

“no.” he dedpans as he looks at you bored (you know he's somewhat sad...? or mad...? sometimes it's hard to discern his emotions, but he certainly isn't happy so you made a mental note to watch a movie with him tonight after you get back and cuddle with him and get some popcorn too). “it's actually for my album titled ── vicious monkey.” he says monotonously. you blink, suna can be mean sometimes. your fists clench as you glare daggers at him. that's it! no movies tonight. no hugs. no popcorn. you take the pillow at the corner of the bed, which was almost falling off, and hit his shin with it ── this time with much force (because you don't have a good comeback this time, although you won't admit it ever).

“ow! what's this?” he exclaims (after hissing at you as he gently ran his hand through his legs) in a voice certain octaves higher than usual, as if he's about to announce something very important. he gives you a look before turning back to his phone reading : “breaking news : volleyball star brutally murdered by mad girlfriend.”

“he must have deserved it.” you point out. you know suna has a sarcastic remark to make, which usually lied on borderline offensive, by the look on his face but the ringtone of your mobile grabs your attention.

a call from the office, now? you frown swiping up the green recieve call option, then putting it to you ear, you greet with a simple : “hello.”

suna watches you silently, as you converse ── calls from boss is never good, most of the times they call you for work on weekends, but since you have to work today, how bad can it get? or maybe it can get worse, he doesn't really know, having no experience in working in an office (it sounds boring really. couldn't be him). it must've been important because he knows how much you love day-offs, he'd feel guilty (not that he'd admit it, again, he doesn't admit a lot of things) if you were to be late because of him.

“i could drop you, if you want.” he says once the call is over. you look over at him, a barely contained smile on your face. he archs an eyebrow, what happened?

“severe rain, the other party cannot make it. so the meeting's postponed till further notice.” you explain, although you cannot regain your sleep at least now you can have the day off.

“good for you. should have just listened to me in the first place.”

“hey, how was I supposed to know──” before you finish he is reaching for your hands, holds them in his and slowly pulls you towards him, you can feel his breath tickle your skin and how close he is to you, he leans in and all your previous words and complains hang in. he puts his finger on your lips.

“i'm glad you're here.” he whispers mostly to himself than to you. and you are too.

you have an arm wrapped around him, whilst his fingers find their home in the curls of your hair ── they're tangled, perhaps messy even but he smoothes them out. (he's good at it. sometimes he would even try different braids on your hair)

“your hair is worse than horse mane.”

(and he's also good at ruining perfect moments)

a click of your tongue and a light shove expresses your displeasure, “i hate you”

he kisses your temple, a stupid smile on his face, “i love you too.”

(and you love it when he smiles)

it ends with a whisper in the wind.

[pisupsala]

Any Way The Wind Blows | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Summary | There’s a sudden shift in the mood.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings | swearing, explicit smut / 18+ only

Words | 2k

Note | Can be read as part of One For The History Books (takes place post-epilogue) but also works as a standalone.

Library

It’s sometime past midnight when Bradley and you finally make your way out of the Hard Deck. The party is winding down, with the majority of guests already gone. You offered to drive yourself back to the hotel (bars are decidedly less fun when you’re the only one not drinking), so Bradley could stay longer with his TOPGUN buddies and take an Uber back, but he wouldn’t have it.

“I’m taking you home.” His tone leaves no room for arguments. The truth is, you’ve barely had a moment of calm to yourselves in the past half year, and this trip finally gives you a weekend off together. 

“I will drive, however.” You scoff. Bradley is not drunk, but definitely not sober enough to drive. He hums under his breath, drumming his fingers against your palm happily. You swear this man is a walking song poured into 6-foot something of muscle and sun-kissed skin, wrapped in a Navy uniform.

“Yes, ma’am.” Bradley jokes as he leads you to the car. The moment you want to turn to the driver’s side, Bradley pulls you with him to the other side, shielded from the entrance of the bar. 

There’s a chill in the summer air, giving you goosebumps as Bradley corners you against the side of the car. His finger is gently trailing down the side of your face, down your neck to your collarbone. Your breath shudders.

“This seems familiar.” You chuckle softly as you look up at him through your lashes.

Bradley grins in response.

“Back then, you didn’t have this yet.” He grabs your left hand, pressing a kiss on your knuckles, just above where your engagement ring and wedding band sit. His other hand ghosts over your breasts, traveling down, before resting his palm over your lower stomach, on the barely-there bump. “Or this.” 

“A lot has changed since then.” You admit, tilting your head up, a too-innocent smile on your face. “Are you excited to be a daddy, lieutenant commander?”

Bradley groans, burying his face in your neck. “Don’t say it like that, darlin’.” 

In the past weeks, you’ve been sick. Like, throwing up on the daily from the smallest things: food smells, just food in general, god, even coffee had you barfing your guts out. Your joints ached like you were coming down with the worst flu, and you practically sleepwalked through some days because you were so tired. Now that the morning sickness in all its forms has finally been clearing up in the past few days, it’s been making place for something else.  

In short, you’ve suddenly been getting overwhelmingly, insanely, blindly fucking horny. 

And right now, you’re about to make that Bradley’s problem.

“What?” You squeeze his biceps as you try your hardest not to laugh. Regaining your composure, you softly yet purposefully murmur: “Daddy?”

Bradley suddenly moves so quickly, it knocks the breath out of you, pinning your left wrist against the car, pressing his thigh between your legs. You can barely reach the ground on your tiptoes as he pushes your body up against the car, his other hand splayed against your rib cage, steadying you. Giggling, you lick your lips in anticipation.

“You are playing with fire, sweetheart.” He warns you, voice dangerously low, face only inches from yours. 

Blinking slowly, you look Bradley straight in the eye. His pupils are blown, and the corner of his mouth twitches. He is wound so tightly—you can feel his growing need against your leg.  This is working so much better than you anticipated.

“But I want you…” You moan softly, dragging your nails over his back, rolling your hips. You are absolutely, desperately burning for Bradley.

“I’m not going to be able to stop,” He breathes, desperately trying to hold on to his last vestiges of sanity, eyes roaming around the mercifully empty lot. “Not if you continue like this.”

“Don’t stop…” You pause, brushing your lips against his. “Daddy.” 

Bradley kisses you so hard, your head knocks painfully against the car window. You don’t care, kissing him back with the same vigor, wrapping yourself around him. Your dress is scandalously bunching up around your hips, the chilly ocean breeze caressing your overheated skin. Your free hand tugs helplessly at Bradley’s belt, needing him closer, grinding your hips against his.

Bradley’s hand sneaks up your dress, effortlessly pushing your lace panties to the side.

“Fuck - so wet already.” There’s nothing sweet or gentle about how his fingers plunge into you, but it’s exactly what you need. “I didn’t know my sweet wife could be so fucking filthy.” He hisses in your ear.

You moan in response.

“Be quiet.” Bradley commands sternly, sending another jolt of desire down to your core. You bite your lip, to stop yourself from making more noise. Finally, you manage to undo his belt and unbutton his pants, roughly pulling his shirt up.

Your fingers skim over the warm skin of Bradley’s stomach, his muscles tensing under your touch, the fine hair of his treasure trail guiding your path down. You dip your hand into his waistband, palming his cock over his underwear. He’s so hard for you already.

Bradley squeezes his eyes shut. He must be dreaming. Or a lot drunker than he realizes. But you, who still gets embarrassed singing in front of him at home, who prefers to not ever be at the center of attention, hiding away among the crowd as he plays piano at the Hard Deck, is now guiding his straining cock into your soaking pussy.

Outside.

In the fucking parking lot.

And have the sudden audacity to call him daddy in that needy, far too innocent tone.

Opening his eyes, the sparkle of the gems on your engagement ring in the dim light catch his eye, your wrist still pinned next to your face. Your mouth is slightly open and your breaths deep, blush dusting your cheeks, looking up at him with eyes heavy with lust.

Bradley realizes he’s helpless. When it comes to you, looking at him like that, he can’t deny you a single fucking thing. Releasing your wrist, he yanks your legs up around his hips, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. Moving his hips, he follows your lead, easily slipping into your slick pussy.

You whimper softly, biting your lip as he enters you slowly, filling you to the hilt. The metal of your rings feels cool against the side of his throat as you steady yourself against him, fingers curling around the column of his neck. Bradley pauses for a second, eyes scanning the surroundings quickly. All clear.

“Last chance to change your mind, sweetheart.” He grinds out, trying to think straight. God, he hopes you don’t. “If I start moving now, I’m not stopping until I fill you with cum.”

“Move, please, move—hard, fast, I need - please-” You whine. 

“Please, what?” Bradley’s voice is dark, commanding. “Use your words, Dr. Bradshaw.”  Oh, how he enjoys getting the upper hand on you right now, even for a moment, knowing full well your next words will send him over the edge.

Your brain is so clouded, like a thick mist obscures every thought, that the words tumble from you without filter.

“Please, commander -” Your head lolls back against the window as Bradley’s hand squeezes your ass painfully. “I need you, daddy.”

He drives into you so hard, it knocks every thought out of your brain. Slowly he pulls back, before setting an absolutely pushing pace, roughly fucking you against the side of the Bronco. You are in absolute ecstasy.

“Show me your tits, darlin’.” Bradley grinds out, nipping at your collarbone. Fumbling, you pull down the Bardot neckline of your dress together with the strapless bra. Your nipples pucker against the cold air. Somewhere, far away, the rational part of you understands — being exposed like this should not be such a turn-on. It’s not like you. But it feels so good. 

Bradley licks your nipple before taking it in his mouth, tongue manipulating the sensitive bud. He is pretty sure your tits have been getting bigger. Fuck, just between that and apparently your newly found sexual adventurousness, he wonders how else you are still going to surprise him. 

Your hand sneaks between your bodies, rubbing your clit wantonly. You want to cum, you need to. Bradley fucking you roughly, his hot mouth all over your tits, his large hands on your ass, is your whole world right now. The tension in your abdomen is taking form, tightening into a coil, electricity crackling through every muscle, every tendon—you can feel it in your bones.

Bradley can feel you tensing. Cursing under his breath, he pulls himself closer to you, his strokes becoming shorter, more erratic. Your nipples graze against the mission ribbons and insignia pinned to his uniform shirt—it’s positively sinful. Your lips latch onto his neck. 

Your fingers move faster, putting more pressure on your over-sensitive clit, hips jerking from pleasure.

“So close, so—Bradley, I’m so close-” You mumble incoherently against his neck between kisses and bites. “I want to cum on your cock.” 

Jesus Christ. Just those words, in your love-drunk voice, are almost enough for Bradley to come completely undone. Just a little bit more. He can feel how close you are, your walls tightening almost painfully around him.

“Cum for me, darlin’” He encourages you, breathing heavily. “Cum for daddy.”

Clearly, you stopped thinking ages ago, but whatever final bit of coherence you still possess is blasted out of orbit by Bradley’s words. Your body tightens violently, fingers curling, nails driving painfully into his shoulder through the fabric of his uniform shirt.

Bradley swears loudly as your cunt clamps down on him with a vice-like grip before biting down on your shoulder. With a final, powerful thrust, he slams your body into the car with a dull crash, holding you there for a few long seconds as you both ride out your high.

As your body relaxes, it feels like you’re floating. You’re not sure if the stars that you see dancing in front of your eyes are the night sky or your brain trying to fire back up. 

Gently, ever so gently, Bradley sets you back on the ground. Your hands are still resting on his shoulders, as you look at him, still completely dazed. You blink once before hurriedly pulling your dress back up over your breasts, like your self-consciousness has suddenly caught up with you again. He tucks himself back into his pants quickly before helping you smooth down your dress. 

You don’t say anything as you wrap your arms around Bradley, face pressed into his chest. He welcomes your hug, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you.” Your voice sounds strange to you, almost otherworldly in the otherwise quiet parking lot. 

“I love you too, darlin’.” You can feel him chuckling more than you hear it. 

“You are amazing, you know that?” You raise your head to look at Bradley. His hair is messy, the collar of his shirt is wrinkled, and there’s a blush creeping up his neck. He looks delicious.

And he didn’t have to humor you like that just now. Actually, there were so many things he doesn’t have to do for you—hold your hair when you got sick in the middle of dinner, send you flowers while he’s on detachment, and build you those custom fucking bookshelves.

But he does.

“I aim to please my love—even when she has sudden and unorthodox urges.” He jokes, winking. You hit him in the arm lightly, pouting. “What can I say? I encourage this little adventurous streak of yours.” He laughs, louder this time.

You start laughing too, despite your sudden embarrassment. “We should really go before someone catches us here.” 

“Lead the way, Dr. Bradshaw.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

note | no thoughts, just smut. Inspired by this. It made me fall face first back into Bradley Bradshaw Brainrot™, so go show @gretagerwigsmuse some love. 🧡

Taglist | @ponyboys-sunsets | @thatchickwiththecamera | @littlewhiterose | @katieshook02 | @straightforwardly | @zazzysseoul | @rororo06 | @datingbtr | @notalxx | @fresh-new-yoik-watah | @gretagerwigsmuse  | @swthxrry | @joshkiskasbunion | @caelipartem | @blackbrownie | @yanak324 | @unluckymonaghan | @letusbewildflowers | @ticklish-leafy-plant | @alana4610 | @eg-dr3amer3 | @turningtoclown | @mell-bell | @mak-32 | @avis15 | @helplesslydevoted | @benhardysdrumstick | @chaoticversion | @cherrycola27 | @roosterschanelslut

[crazyk-imagine]

Rekindle with an Angel but, Don’t Break her Heart

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Pilot!reader (present), Natasha “Phoenix” Trace x Pilot!reader (past) - Briefly mentioned

Characters: Pilot!reader, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, Penny Benjamin, Eric, Jack, and Mark (Bartenders), Delilah (reader’s little sister), Larry (main range control man), Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky (briefly mentioned?), Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, Bernie "Hondo" Coleman, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Reuben "Payback" Fitch, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, Javy "Coyote" Machado, Neil "Omaha" Vikander, Billy "Fritz" Avalone

Warnings: Angst, fluff, cursing, Jake becoming a softy for reader, not opening up to people when its necessary, jealous pilots being dicks, reader having a past with a few pilots (platonic and not), jealous pilots hurting the reader 

Word Count: 9,733

Gif is from @unicornships​

A/N: You guys have no idea how happy I am to finally be able to post this. I have had this in my doc for months... thank you for coming to my ted talk

*Was not expecting this to be this long. Definitely a surprise for me

Answers to RWAABDBHH

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You could say it was a bit of a surprise when Pete called. You haven’t heard from him for a few months (after your minor disagreement) and he really needed to speak to you and calling the bar was the only way he could make sure you wouldn’t screen his call... again. 

It was just about after the third ring; you pick up the phone. “Hard Deck, bartender speaking.” 

He smiles. “Good to hear your voice again, Angel.” 

You’re surprised, you didn’t think he’d call the landline ever. 

 He usually tries not to call the bar as much as possible, not wanting people to butt into your business since your coworkers know what you did before joining the Hard Deck. 

 You decide to be nice and put in the effort to have a conversation with him. “Finally took a break from the sky’s, did you?” 

He chuckles, “you’ve still got that sense of humor. Good.” 

You sigh so much for being nice. “What’re planning?” 

He lets out a faux noise of offense. “Why do you assume I’m up to no good?” 

You scoff through your nose, “I didn’t say that. But now that you mention it, are you?” 

He says nothing. 

“Goodbye, Maverick.” 

“Hang on-” He sighs, staring at the phone. ‘Please don’t hate me.’ He steps back into the room. “Did you speak to her?” 

“I did.” 

“And?” 

“She’ll be here soon.” ‘Don’t hate me, Angel.’  

A few hours later…

The lunch rush ends only for the midnight rush to begin, although when you think about it, it’s not actually midnight, but it sounds better than, it’s dark, drink up. And that’s when you stopped letting the other bartenders come up with names. 

You turn to call for Eric or Jack to help out with drinks only to find they’re busy taking care of their sections. 

Penny calls you over, “can you take care of anyone who comes over here while I go over there?” 

“Yeah. Go take care of the customers over there.” You finish making the drinks, keeping the customers satisfied and willing to give a decent tip. You walk over towards Penny, “I’m gonna start cleaning up a bit. Jack’s finishing putting the latest order away in the back and Eric is getting ready to start in the kitchen. We have a few minutes to do some of the “boring” work so we’re doing it when we can.” 

She nods, “got it.” 

-

A few more show up, the crowd starting to become livelier in your section. 

Penny walks over to you and helps you with cleaning the glasses and wiping down the counters after the customers move away and sit at one of the few vacant tables. “I need you to take care of that table over there.” 

You nod to Penny, walking away with the drinks for the group of pilots, “be back in five, Peggy Sue.” 

She shakes her head, sighing although she has a smile on her face. “Please, just once, use my name.” 

You turn to look over your shoulder, whispering “never.” You walk away before she could say anything else. 

-

“Here are your-” You happen to glance up and find one of your old friends from school, jabbing a mustached man (with a questionable fashion sense) in the gut, “fuck.” 

You hand the last beer to – one of the khakis, as you mumble to yourself, “why?” 

When she turns around to grab her drink, her eyes widen at the sight of you. 

“Hey, Phoxy. How’ve you been? I’d love to talk but-” 

She shakes her head, getting out of her thoughts as she grabs your wrist. “You are not getting out this. We’re talking right now.” 

You sigh, feeling yourself being pulled elsewhere. So much for not running into anyone from your past. 

She whirls around, facing you. “Where the hell have you been?! What happened to you? You graduated early, got a job at the best pilot school and leave with little to no contact. I mean seriously, what the hell, Wings?” 

You glance back at her angry face every so often unable to keep eye contact with her. “I can’t talk to you about this, Natasha.” 

“Now, we’re back on a first name basis. Is that what our friendship has gone down to? I thought we were closer than that.” 

You sigh, “don’t give me that attitude-” 

“I’ll stop giving you attitude when you talk to me.” She finally takes notice of your expression, her’s softens, “what happened?” 

You swallow the saliva that’s stuck in your throat. “I can’t talk to you about this right now.” 

She opens her mouth to say something else, but you stop her, placing a hand on her forearm.

“It’s a long story and I really don’t think now is a good time to talk about this, okay?” Your hand falls off her arm before you walk away. 

She sighs unsure of how to handle the situation. You obviously don’t want to talk about whatever happened and it’s throwing her off. Nothing like this ever happened before and she really doesn’t know how to help you. 

-

Jake furrows his brows, after watching you brush her off. A smirk appears across his lips. ‘Interesting.’ 

Natasha stands beside Bob, absent mindlessly watching the others play pool. 

“So,” Jake says, extending of the letter “O”, brings Natasha out of her thoughts. 

“What do you want Bagman?” 

“What was that about?” He asks, with a mix of a concerning and nosey tone. 

“It’s none of your business,” she snaps. 

He smiles, “I could easily make it my business, Princess Phoenix. You forget we all went to the same school.” 

“I am this close,” she pinches her fingers together. “To getting drunk so I can’t hear your ass.” 

“Your fingers are touching,” Bob points out. 

“I know.” 

Rueben sits beside her with Mickey playing pool against Jake and Bradley playing against Logan. “What do you think happened with her?” asks Reuben. 

“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “This is the first time I’ve seen her since we were in school together.” 

“So, you didn’t hear the rumors.” 

“What rumors?” She turns to him with raised brows. 

“One of the ones I heard was that she got in a fight and got kicked out.” 

“She wouldn’t do that,” Natasha says, defending you. She knows you’re not dumb enough to do anything like that.  

Two days later…

Thankfully today the bar opens a little later than usual as you decline Cyclone’s call. 

The door opening gets you to pause, you don’t want it to look like you’re on your phone and sigh, tucking the item into your back pocket. Although you didn’t see it, it was only one of the bartenders who does the late shift.

Penny walks over with new rags. “You okay?” 

You quickly give her a fake tight-lipped smile. “Peachy.” 

“They still trying to bring you back officially.” You shrug, not entirely in the mood to talk about this, as usual. 

“I know you don’t want to hear this but you’re good. You are… the only pilot that I like enough to call my friend and I know working here is making you miserable.” 

You open your mouth to argue with the classic, “no. I’m happy here.” 

She shakes her head, a gentle smile gracing her lips. “Don’t argue with me on this, I know you are and it’s okay. I’m not taking it to heart because being in the sky has been your dream for such a long time and you were miserable when your arm was healing, and you still are because you’re not in the air because that’s where you belong.” 

You clench your jaw, the burning sensation in your nose prevents you from answering her. 

“What if I’m not the same?” 

She tilts her head, trying to understand what you’re saying. 

“What if I’ve lost my speed or- or my quick thinking, you know. What if- what if I’m in the air and that’s when they realize that I’m not good enough to be at Top Gun anymore.” You sniff, wiping the corners of your eyes. 

“They’d be stupid to let you go.” 

“I know you’re just saying that but, thank you.” 

She knows you don’t like it when people try to comfort you, but her maternal instincts take over and she pulls you in for a hug and letting you take your time to calm down. “Better?” 

“No, you made me talk about my feelings. I’m upset.” 

She chuckles, “you’ll have to put those feelings on the back burner because we still have to get ready for tonight.” 

“Has anybody cleaned back here yet?” Mark asks. 

“Not yet, I’m coming over to help you.” She turns back towards you. “Are you sure you’re gonna be alright?” 

“Yep. Get back to work, Pegs.” 

The older woman shakes her head.  

Four days later...  

You were surprised when he tried the Hard Deck’s landline and calling the bar is the only way he can make sure you wouldn’t screen his call... again. 

It was just about after the third ring when you pick up the phone. “Hard Deck, bartender speaking.” 

He chuckles, “good, you’re still there... how are you?” 

“You’re clearly up to something that I’m not gonna like and with how many times Beau has called me, I’m gonna say that it involves Top Gun which I told you and him that I’m not coming back so stop calling me if you’re gonna keep asking about that.” 

“I’m- I’m not-” 

“Goodbye Maverick.” 

You slam the phone done onto the wall receiver before walking away, shaking your head. “Oh... you’re here.” You turn around finding your boss, standing there. “Why do you have that look on your face?” 

“What look?” She asks, setting her stuff down in the back office. 

“The look you have when you know stuff that involves me or my past,” you pause, searching for the right word. “Job.” 

“Well- I mean, there is this one thing.” 

“And that thing is?” 

“A group of people are coming here today.” 

“A group of who people?” 

“A teacher and his students.” 

“Children students?” You ask, hoping it’s not who you think it is. 

She shakes her head. 

You groan and drop your head onto the bar top.  

Two hours later...  

The sound of cars scares you and sends you to “find a broom” in the storage closet. 

You hope if you stay inside and hide long enough unit they’re gone so, you won’t have to deal with certain people (playboys or people you typically went to, for “guidance”). But then again, maybe it would be good to see Natasha again and her friends. 

You shake your head remembering the two separate times when she was paired with Bradley and then when Mickey and Rueben were put into their little squad... the smile falls from your face when you think about your old squad. 

You gulp, having a hard time swallowing the spit that built up in your mouth. 

Would it be a good idea if you looked for Penny and told her you weren’t feeling good? 

You know it wouldn’t end the way you’d want it to but that doesn’t mean you can’t- the clacking and snapping of flip flops and shoes has you pause. You don’t move as they all pass by. 

The sounds of their voices carrying throughout the bar fills you with a mix of sadness but you bite back your tongue because there’s no one else to blame but you; you’re the one who pushed everyone away, you’re the one who didn’t tell anyone the... truth about what happened but that’s the past; all you can do is move on and live whatever life you have. 

You still can’t believe you saw her. You knew it was bound to happen at some point and yet, it was still a sucker punch to the gut. And to hear that the reason they’re all here, being taught by the Maverick is for a life-threatening mission and they wanted the best of the best from your generation is still so crazy. 

Once you're out of your thoughts, you realize everyone’s moved outside and it’s okay for you to exit the closet now. You don’t find anyone else but Penny, who wipes down the counter. “What’re you doing in here?” You ask, taking careful steps closer to the bar. 

“Cleaning before tonight.” 

“I can do that,” you offer. 

She shakes her head, “no. I couldn’t leave you in here by yourself to clean. I should be doing it.” 

“That’s the good thing about having someone who’s ignoring people they knew. They’re very helpful and will clean everything.” 

She turns to look at you, “that’s not funny.” 

“You’re right, it’s not but you always say you want me to be honest and this is it.” You continue before she could get a word in. “Nope, you deserve to finish your book and check out the eye candy. I’m sure there’s a certain old flame of yours out there that wouldn’t mind you ogling him.” 

“Cheeky.” 

“It’s called the truth, neither of you can hide your feelings whenever either one of you glances back at the other.” 

“You think so?” She asks, sounding so unsure, something you’ve never heard from her before. 

“Absolutely.” 

A heavy sigh slips past her lips. “Are you sure?” 

“I am,” you nod. “Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent. Please leave.” 

The older woman smiles, “okay, okay. I’m going.” 

-

All you gotta say is, Pete’s lucky you’re a nice person. No one asked for you to make anyone drinks but you know they’re gonna need something and you know water ain’t gonna cut it right away. 

You finish and set the drinks on a tray before heading out the back. 

You scoff, watching as the line of boys fall with the playboy raising his arms up in celebration at an “obvious” win. You shake your head at the sight and conveniently, it’s like he sensed someone watching him and looks over in your direction, giving you a cocky wave. 

You groan looking away, jumping at the sight of Penny sitting there. “When did you get here?” 

“You’re the one who told me to come out here.” 

You give her a suspicious look. 

“What were you doing out here?” 

You throw an arm out, gesturing to the scene in front of you, "watching as they get sand in places sand shouldn't be. I feel bad for them honestly." 

She covers her mouth, hiding her laughter, "that's what you're worried about?" 

You wrap your arm around her shoulder, leaning your head on hers, "sand is no joke, Peggy Sue." 

She shakes her head, "still not my name." 

"And, yet you respond to it." You start taking the drinks off the tray, setting them a few inches away from her book, not wanting it to get wet. The last cup, you set down in front of her. "Make sure they drink something." 

"Okay, mom.” 

"Hey, hey. Dehydration is no joke. Neither is-" 

She cuts you off, finishing your sentence, "getting sand in places it shouldn't be." 

You nod, "exactly." You take one last look at the group, the happiness you shared with Penny vanishes when you remember the different life you had a year ago. You sigh, shaking your head as you head back inside. 

Penny frowns, knowing you miss being a part of the pilot life, even if you don’t want to admit it. 

-

You clean a few glasses you missed earlier, preparing for the “midnight” shift. After cleaning the inside of the now, clean glasses you set them up so, they’re ready to go for later. You set the rag down on the bar top, reaching for the phone in your back pocket, annoyed at the person who keeps calling you. 

The Godfather Accept □ Decline □

You click the answer button. "I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again. No. I won’t be in the air anytime soon. Stop calling." You hang up before Beau could say anything else. 

“How the hell could he have known to call now?” You groan, realizing what happened, “Maverick. Oh, you son of a-” 

The door slams open, putting Penny on high alert. 

-

"Mitchell! Hey, Mitchell!" You shout at the man sitting in the stupid lawn chair you just want to- You shove his chest before pointing your finger at him, “you are an absolute idiot! Do you know that?” 

“Hey, there’s no need for name calling, Angel.” 

“Do NOT use that name with me right now.” You stand a few inches away from him with a clenched jaw. “I told you and everyone else there, I’m done. I’m not going back in the air. I can’t.” 

He knows you’re hurting but you can’t keep pushing yourself away from what you’re good at. “You can, you’re just choosing not to.” 

“You don’t know what happened and you never will. So, stop trying to force me into coming back.” 

“I would but, you’re one of the good ones and anyone would be lucky to have you up in the air with them.” 

No one notices the blow up going on in the back as they continue with their game, well, except for Bob who happens to see everything going on. 

You bite your tongue, taking a step back. “You don’t get too sweet talk to me into coming back. If I feel I’m ready, you’ll see me in the air.” 

“But what if he’s right,” a deep voice says, walking closer to you. 

You glance back at your godfather and whirl around to face Maverick once more. “You called him?!” 

Now is when he struggles to give you an answer. “I didn’t- this isn’t how I wanted this to happen.” 

“But you made it happen.” 

“He didn’t.” Beau stands beside you. “I did. You know you’re good, and being in the air is where you belong. You know it, I know it, your parents knew it when you kept asking me about my job when you were seven.” 

You turn around, facing him. “If you wanted me to come back so bad, why didn’t you come to me yourself?” 

“I did-” 

You shake your head, “no, calling is completely different than you coming to me and talking to me.” 

“It’s hard to do that when one of you won’t talk about what happened.” 

-

A young girl runs out the back door. 

You turn at the sound of a child calling screaming your name, just in time as the short body tumbles into you. “Hey kiddo.” You pull back, bending down Delilah doesn’t have to stare up at you. 

“Hi,” she says, giving you a wide smile with her gap in her front bottom teeth that always gets you to smile. 

“How was school?” 

“Boring but, I did good on my spelling test.” 

You give her a high five, “awesome. See all that studying does pay off.” 

She groans, “I know. Can we go swimming now?” 

You nod, “I gotta change but I’ll be quick, okay?” 

She nods. 

You glance over your shoulder, talking to Pete, “and don’t break her heart again. She’s good for you and your, sort of, good for her.” 

He nods. 

“Come on, Del. We gotta get ready for some fun!” You bend down, lifting her over your shoulder. 

Delilah squeals, giggling while you walk back towards the table. 

Penny looks up from her book, “you want me to watch her while you change?” 

You nod, “please?” 

“Of course, but you gotta put her down first.” 

You set Delilah on the edge of the table, helping her hop down so she can sit beside Penny. You stare at the sand while walking back, the phantom pain in your shoulder returns. 

You hold your arm against your stomach, using your non dominant hand to open the door. 

-

Beau watches as you walk away, noticing how you’ve closed yourself off like you did when your parents died. 

-

“What was that about?” Bob asks Natasha when she sits down beside him at the table, reaching for one of the glasses. She shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe we should-” 

“That’s not a good idea,” Penny interrupts. 

“Why?” Natasha asks. 

“She’s-” she glances down at a distracted Delilah, “uh- she's still working through some things.” 

The younger woman doesn’t say much after that. 

-

You stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at your shoulder. 

You still remember what the asshole did to you, you may not remember the sounds, but you certainly remember the hand hitting your ribs, forcing you off the ladder. 

You slam onto the ground. The pain radiating in your shoulder, you couldn’t move it and you knew for a fact, it wasn’t good. 

The ladder fell on your calf, fracturing your tibia. And to top it all off, the asshole had the audacity to laugh as he knelt beside your head; his hand clamped on your chin, forcing you took look at him. 

You don’t remember how you got out of there. 

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until your body forces you to take quick, unsteady breaths. 

Jake walks in with a smirk, expecting to find you around somewhere, hoping to talk to you (partly to piss off Natasha and to see what’s got you so frazzled, you’ve never acted like this before). 

All and any humor fall from his face when he realizes you’re crying. He stands beside you, placing a hand on your arm. 

You jerk back, tripping over your foot. 

He’s quick to hold onto you, forcing you to stand up before you could fall. 

You can feel his hand on your cheek and know he’s asking you questions but you can’t get enough air into your system to reply. 

Jake wraps his arms around you, pressing you against him; he wraps one of your arms around his neck, the other flush against your waist. He hugs you. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

You close your eyes, trying to calm down. The tears roll down your cheeks faster than you would like but, Jake says nothing about it and continues to comfort you. 

You move your arm off you, wrapping it around his lower back, clenching his shirt in your shaky fist. You’ve calmed down enough to realize, Jake, the infamous flirty playboy is whispering comforting things in your ear. 

Your head rests two inches from the crook of his neck. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You sniff, “fine.” 

“You okay enough to let go of my shirt?” 

There it is. You give him one last squeeze before pulling away from him. You look up, wiping your cheeks, “how’s it feel?” 

“How does what feel?” He asks, pulling a paper towel out of the dispenser, wetting it in the sink. 

“Not being the reason, a woman cries.” 

“What makes you say that?” He cups the back of your neck, wiping your cheeks to get rid of the wet mascara streaks. 

“You say you bring all your hookups to tears.” 

The corner of his lips tugs upwards. “I knew you were listening to me.” 

Your roll your eyes, “yeah, because you take up half of my section.”

“Maybe it’s because I want your eyes on me.” 

You shake your head, taking it out of his hand; pushing past him to throw away the wet, black stained paper towel. You reach for another, making sure to get rid of any evidence that you were crying. “Why’re you in here?” 

“It’s a bathroom,” he shrugs. 

“Then go.” 

“I’d rather not.” 

“We all use a bathroom.” 

He chuckles, “it’s not that.” 

“Hookup?” 

He shakes his head, “no, not really my scene anymore.” 

“Is it because of the mission?” 

“Maybe.” 

You throw away the paper towel, turning back towards the sink; turning on the faucet to cup cold water in your hands and splash your face. You need a little more energy if you’re going to have a day at the beach with your favorite little girl. 

The sink turns off, you assume it was Jake. 

You open your eyes, staring down at the drain. Your chest heaves with every breath you take. You shake your hands, reaching up to wipe away the droplets on your chin. “You know,” you start, “I figured while you were here, you’d be waiting until later for some- uh- stress relief.” 

“You offering?” He leans against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“Yeah,” you look up, staring at him with no emotion. 

His smirks drops and he squints his eyes, trying to decipher whether you’re lying. “Really?” 

“No.” You snatch a paper towel and pat your face dry. “Seriously, thank you for helping me but- uh- could you not mention this to anyone else?” 

“It’s not my place to talk about it. You know that.” 

“Still, thank you. You’re oddly good at giving really good hugs.” 

He shakes his head, “I can honestly say, no one except you has been the one to tell me that.” 

“I’m happy to be the first.” 

Your phone buzzes again, you groan, yanking it of your pocket. You don’t even need to see the number before you press the power button, shutting your phone off. “Looks like I have to go back out there.” 

“Save my spot?” 

“Can’t promise you anything? Does it look like I’ve been crying?” 

He steps on front of you, staring into your eyes for a minute. 

You’re worried he’s seeing something you don’t see; his stare makes you nervous, butterflies in your belly, the whole nine yards... which worries you because you only ever feel this way when you like someone. Oh crap. You thought those were gone. 

He shakes his head, getting out of his thoughts “no, you’re good.” 

“You sure?” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

You weren’t expecting him to say that. “Okay.” You exit the bathroom, heading for the bar. 

-

“You alright? You looked upset back there?” Penny asks. 

You nod with a tight lip smile, “I’m good, Peggy Sue.” 

“Why don’t you take the night off? You know spend the rest of the day with Delilah.” 

“You need help behind here later.” 

“I’ve got it, besides Mary, Travis, and Jamie work tonight.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“You haven’t stopped working since I hired you. Take the night off. You deserve it.” 

“Are you really-” 

“Yes, I’m sure. You deserve to take the night off.” 

-

“You gonna play game with us or not?” Natasha asks, stepping away from the others. 

“I mean I could, if it’s alright with you and the others.” 

“After we swim though, right?” 

You tilt your head at your little sister who holds onto one Mickey’s shoulders. “You’re gonna have to climb off Mick in order for that to happen sweetie.” 

“Let me down. Let me down. If I don’t do it now, she won’t go out with me.” 

You scoff, “that’s not true.” 

“You did it last time.” 

“Because you were napping.” 

“I was... resting my eyes.” 

“Well, then lets’ go before you need to rest your eyes again.” 

“Can I come?” 

You glance back at the man with a buzzcut. “You want to go back outside? Aren’t you hot?” 

“Did someone call me hot?” Jake asks, placing his hand on your lower back, letting you know he’s right behind you. 

“No one did, Bagman,” Natasha chimes in. 

“I wasn’t talking to you, Princess Phoenix.” 

“You’re so nice,” you mumble.” 

“Only when it counts, sweetheart. You know that,” he whispers in your ear. 

You jerk your arm back, elbowing him in the stomach. 

“There’s that spark.” He wheezes out. “I knew you remembered.” 

“That’s payback for leaving me out to dry.” 

“It was one time.” 

“It was four times and each time I wound up saving your ass.” 

“We’re going swimming now,” Delilah interrupts, dragging Mickey behind her as Rueben laughs his ass off at the sight of a child dragging his grown friend outside, matching the same pace as her. 

“If you two can stop with the flirting, then I can talk to my friend.” 

“Not before I do.” 

“I thought you left, Maverick,” you say with a curt tone. 

“Just let me say what I need to say then I’ll stop trying to explain myself.” 

“Fine.” You huff, “follow me.” 

-

Natasha glances back at Jake with raised brows. “What?” 

“You know what? It didn’t work out the first time. What makes you think it would work again?” 

He doesn’t say anything because she’s right, if it didn’t work out the first time, why would anything be different now. “Nothing.” 

She takes note of his sad demeanor. “Wait- Jake.” 

He walks out before she could apologize. 

-

“What do you want, Maverick?” 

“You to not call me that.” 

He sees the little response he gets out of you and decides not to push it. “Okay, I’m gonna cut to the chase-” 

“You’d be wise to.” 

He purses his lips at the comment. “Cyclone wants you back because he thinks you’d be able to help show everyone that this mission is possible.” 

“No, he doesn’t.” 

“Okay, fine. Cyclone wants you back and I think you’d be the better candidate to help me show everyone its possible. I can’t tell you anything about it but, let me finish, I see the look you’re giving me. You can match the speed required for this mission. I know you can. This will be a walk in the park for you.” 

“As much as I enjoy you trying to kiss my ass. I’m gonna have to pass.” 

You spin around, slamming the door open; your foot hadn’t touched the floor when he asked, “so, you’ll be there tomorrow.” 

You step into the doorway, eyes wandering around the bar. ‘Is it really time for me to leave to leave this place?’ “I expect you to keep up with me.” 

He lets out a victory chuckle. 

-

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep you from smiling. “Pen?” 

“You’re covered forever. Let me know when you want to give in your two weeks.” 

“Wow! You sound excited to get rid of me.” 

“I am because you’re going back to do what you were born to do.” 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “I have a current little problem who is probably trying to drown grown men right now.” 

“Yeah, please save them before you lose your friends.” 

“Not my friends.” 

“Fine, your squad!” 

You shake your head and smile as you walk out the back door. 

-

“Finally.” 

“Oh, hush.” You smile, lifting her in your arms. 

“Look who joined the party.” 

“Oh, Bagman. You joined us.” 

He smirks, one eyebrow rising about the frame of his sunglasses. “Who said you could use that nickname?” 

“No one but it’s better than anything I could come up with.” 

“And she admits it.” 

You scoff, setting Delilah back on the ground, letting her run back into the ocean so she and Mickey can have a splash fight. 

“Admit it, you’ve missed this.” 

You scoff, “I’ve missed nothing about you.” 

“See that’s where we beg to differ.” 

Natasha groans and drags you away from him, forcing you to sit beside her and Bob. “What’s got you so happy?” 

You shrug, “nothing.” 

She narrows her eyes at you before her eyes widen and jaw drops to the floor. “Are you- are you coming back?” 

“What? No.” 

“Yes, you are! You have your pre-flight glow.” 

“I plead the fifth.” 

“Fine, I’ll pretend like I don’t know you’re coming back,” she says and then throws herself onto you, hugging you tightly. 

You chuckle, patting the arm she has wrapped across your chest. 

“I’m so happy you’re coming back,” she whispers into your shoulder. 

“I know you are,” you lean back into her. “I am too.” 

Delilah calls out for her. 

“Aunt Nat duty calls. Get up.” 

You groan, giving her enough room to move out of the way. “You’re no fun.” 

“I am fun!” 

You enjoy the warmth filling your heart as you watch Natasha, Mickey, and Reuben playing with her as Jake observes. 

“How are you?” 

“What?” The one with glasses asks. 

“How are you?” 

“Me? You’re talking to me?” 

“There’s no one else here and you seem less likely to annoy me.” 

“Oh? I don’t know if I’m supposed to say thank you or not.” 

“It’s not necessary but you’re welcome,” you nudge his arm with your elbow. 

“I think they’d be mad if I tried to talk to you without them here,” he mumbles. 

You furrow your brows trying to figure out what he’s talking about. “I don’t know who they are, but I know they would, and they can suck it up.” You scoot closer to him, who holds his snack of choice to you, silently offering you some. “Not now, person who’s name I still don’t know. Thank you though.” 

He nods. “Oh, I’m Bob.” He quickly wipes his hand on his shorts before holding it out for you to shake. 

“Well, Bob, it’s nice to meet you. It’s always good to know the people watching out for your friends.” 

“Uh- oh- I’m not-” 

“I know,” you give him a small smile, so he knows not to worry. “You’re not a pilot but a back seater and I hear the way I said it hut I promise I mean nothing bad about it, I’m just making an observation. I’ve known a few good back seaters in my day. Do you have a call sign Bob?” 

He shakes his head, “ah, no. It’s Bob just- just Bob. Although the blond one with the sunglasses, he came up with an acronym for Bob.” 

“Of course, he did. What’d he say?” 

“Baby on board.” 

You groan. “That’s terrible.” 

“I know.” 

“I mean the acronym. Don’t get me wrong he shouldn’t be saying this to his fellow teammates but that was just, terrible. He did not put any effort into it.” 

“I guess not.” 

“I’m gonna give you a makeshift call sign, something special just for you... Bound outta buoyancy.” You shake your head, “that doesn’t work.” You mumble other potential words in your head. “Okay all I’m coming up with is something that ends in buoyancy, and I mean like no other word besides that one.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“No, I mean- why are you trying to come up with a call sign for me?” 

“You should have one that isn’t a shorter version of your name, even though Bob is a cute nickname.” 

“Oh... thanks.” He pushes his glasses up, “Natasha mentioned you were nice but, I didn’t expect you to be this nice.” 

You turn, staring at him with your head tilted. “She talks about me?” 

He nods, “yeah- I mean, not all the time though. Just- every- a little.” He grabs a handful of his snack and tosses it into his mouth. 

Now you know the perfect nickname for him and it’s most definitely not going to be an acronym. “Muchies?” 

“Yeah?” 

A quiet chuckle escapes you; you find it funny how he doesn’t realize what you called him. “What has she told you?” 

“You two went out a couple times.” 

You weren’t expecting her to tell him that. She must really like this kid. “And?” 

“She was surprised to see you here that’s for sure and misses you… so does Jake.” 

You nearly choke on your spit. “What?” 

He freezes, realizing he’s said the wrong. “Nothing- nothing. It's- people say the weirdest things to me.” He lets out a nervous chuckle, reminding you of a certain mother on “That 70’s Show”. 

“Bob, have Jake and Natasha talked about me before?” 

“Uh- no?” 

“Are you lying?” 

“No,” he nods his head yes. 

“I didn’t think Jake talked to you like you were friends.” 

“He mentioned you two went out.” 

“Nothing nice like Natasha, right?” 

“No, but she did say that you two agreed you were better as friends, and she doesn’t want you to get hurt because of something stupid he does.” 

“You sit quietly and learn all the gossip, don’t you?” 

“I don’t mean to.” 

“It’s okay.” You pat his back, “I believe you.” 

“It kind of feels like you don’t.” 

“Good.” 

A shriek escapes you as your little sister crawls into your lap. “Lilah, you’re wet.” 

“That’s what happens when you’ve been in the water.” 

“Okay, smarty pants. How are you? You tired?” 

“No, I just-” She yawns. “I just need a break.” 

“Sounds like they’ve tired you out.” 

“More like she tired me out. We had to do two hundred push-ups during training, and she was worse than that,” Natasha tells you as she sits beside Bob. 

Mickey sits in front of you, playing hand games like slide as Jake settles beside you with Rueben trying to steal Bob’s snacks while simultaneously trying to mess up their game.  

The next day…

“I thought you weren’t scheduled until next Tuesday,” Larry says. 

You ignore Pete and Bernie’s looks. An awkward cough escapes you. “Yeah, I was.” 

“You finally coming back?” 

“We’ll see.” 

“It’d be nice to have you back here.” 

You nod before walking ahead of the two. 

-

“I knew you were BGA. I told you.” 

“Shut up, Bernie.” 

“No, your godfather owes me ten bucks.” 

You whirl around to face the two. “You made a bet on me?” 

He sees the look in your eyes and quickly back tracks, correcting himself. “No, we all knew you’ve been coming here but your alias was the question we’d all been asking.” 

You start to walk away, not wanting to listen to them anymore. “You guys’ suck.” 

“Not when I know I have ten bucks waiting for me.” 

“Actually, that goes to me,” Pete corrects him. 

“Dammit Mav.” 

You shake your head and continue ditching the two as Bernie tries bargaining with the man. 

-

“You realize your putting your career on the line right.” 

“I could say the same thing to you.” You tell him, not looking up as you fiddle with the straps of your helmet. 

“I’m serious,” he says, adding your name so you understand the seriousness of the situation. 

“I fully understand what I’m about to do, Pete.” 

“And you’re not afraid of missing your chance to come back? Even if Cyclone is your godfather, which would have been nice to know beforehand.” 

You shrug, “you never asked.” 

“I didn’t think I had to.” 

“Hurry up, Pete. Or else I’ll take off without you.” 

-

During this time, your dearest godfather is informing the students about Pete no longer being their instructor. 

The monitor beeps, Beau turns around. “Who the hell is that?” 

Another beeping sound comes from the monitor, further confusing the admiral. 

“Maverick to range control. Entering point Alpha. Confirm green range.” 

“Uh, Maverick, range control, uh, green range is confirmed. I don’t see an event scheduled for you, sir,” Range control tells him. “We’re already aware of your partner but your name is not on our schedule.” 

“Well, I’m going anyway,” says Pete. 

“It’s a beautiful day to be in the sky.” 

“You say that every time, Angel.” 

Natasha, Mickey, Rueben, and Bob push themselves to the edge of their seat at the sound of your call sign. 

Jake uses his fist cover his mouth, hiding his smile. 

“And I will continue to do so.” 

“Nice,” Natasha mutters. 

“Setting time to target: Two minutes 15 seconds.” 

“2:15? That’s impossible,” Rueben says to himself. 

“Final attack point. Maverick’s inbound.” 

A hearty chuckle escapes you before you could stop it, getting the man to smile. “Let’s light ‘em up.” You maneuver yourself beside him, “if you can keep up.” 

“I think it’s the other way around. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.” 

“We’ll see.” 

“Popping in three, two, one,” he says. 

You follow his lead. You two try and wait until your target is locked but your’s isn’t quite there. “Gotta go in blind,” you mutter. “Do it, Mav.” 

“Bombs away.” 

Jake mutters to himself, “damn.” 

“Bull’s-eye! Holy shit! Holy shit! Mav!” You pull up beside him, taking off your mask, showing him how pumped you are that you were able to do this. “Aw shit.” 

“What?” He huffs. 

“You know what.” 

“Oh, that. We’ll be fine.” 

“I will blame everything on you.” 

“I see why you’re Angel now. You know just how to comfort someone.” 

“Don’t make me kick your ass.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” 

-

Once you're on the ground, you head over towards the class, with Pete slowly walking beside you. “He won’t do anything. He now sees what the other old man saw in you,” you tell him. 

“I don’t know.” 

“No,” you shake your head. “Goddaughter knows best. Believe me.” 

“I’ll believe when I walk out of here without being discharged.” 

“You know why they call me Angel.” 

He shakes his head. 

“I tell prophecies and you being discharged is not one of them. Coming back to Penny is the one I see.” 

He chuckles until it falls when he realizes how close he is to standing before his students. 

-

You pause in the wide doorway when you hear you call sign being called by a voice you never wanted to hear again. 

You slowly turn, face void of emotion as you stare at him. 

“Look at you all dresses up. You really think you can come back, and everything will be fine?” He stares at you waiting for a response. 

You blink once. “Are you done?” 

That throws him off. “What?” 

“Are you done because this whole douche persona is not working and honestly right now, you’re ruining the adrenaline high I have right now so if you could just go that’d be great.” You spin around, aiming to stand beside Pete. 

“How’s that shoulder of yours?” He grabs the shoulder you fell on because of him and quickly spin around, grabbing his hand, twisting so he feels nothing but pain and cries out as if he’s afraid you’ll break it. 

“This is getting pathetic. You have two choices, stop being a prick and harassing me.” 

He groans. “What’s the second choice?” 

“There’s a lot to think of but the first one would be ideal.” You barely move him, and he immediately agrees. “Good. Now, go away.” 

He gets up, cradling his arm to his chest. “You deserved it!” 

You shake your head at his idiotic and hot-headed behavior. “What was that?” 

He’s gonna get what’s coming to him if he keeps going. “You should be lucky all I did was push you off that ladder. It was great without you here.” 

You glance over Beau, “you get that.” 

He nods and calls for the jerk and Pete to follow him to his office. 

-

You’re then bombarded by people. 

“I told you. I told you,” she repeats hugging you. 

You smile, hugging her back. “Shut up.” 

She pulls back, shaking her head. “How are you not shaking or get stuck in G-Lock?” 

You don’t answer her. 

“You- you’ve been practicing?!” 

“Just because I wasn’t here doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have practiced and make sure I don’t lose my skills.” 

Mickey and Reuben push past her, giving you side hugs and shoulder pats. 

“You have balls,” the taller one of the two tells you. 

A chuckle exits your nose, “thanks.”

“No, I mean it. You and Maverick did that with sixteen seconds to spare.” 

“Sixteen?” 

He nods. 

“I was hoping for twenty,” you sigh. “Oh well.” 

Bob moves forward aiming to give you a high five. “That was... something.” 

“Thank you, Munchies.” 

“That’s my nickname?” 

“Yep.” For some reason you look over his shoulder and find Jake staring at you. You can the corners of your lips tugging upwards and the longer you look at him, the more you smile. 

Bob glances over his shoulder, catching sight of the blond. He leans in, whispering in your ear, “go over and talk to him.” 

You furrow your brows, “what are you-” 

“Just trust me.” He walks away, neither of you take the first step that is, until Javy’s had enough and shoves him in your direction. 

“So- uh,” Jake scratches the back of his neck. 

“You intimidated?” 

He scoffs, “yeah, right.” 

“Seems like you can finally have that rematch,” you tell him, reminding him of your first day in class together. 

“I can, can’t I? But I think that’ll have to wait until after I buy you a drink.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, plus I owe your sister a piggyback ride.” 

You quietly groan to yourself. “You don’t have to, Jake. I know she asks everyone but you-” 

“I want to.” He looks like he says he wants to say something else and is holding it back. 

“Something on your mind.” 

He chuckles through his nose. “I know why they call you Angel.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why?” 

“There’s this glow you have when you’re in the air and on the ground.” 

“Is that a line you say to every pretty girl you see?” 

“No- no,” he stutters, struggling to give you a proper response. 

Warlock announces with everything that’s happened, it’s time for everyone to head to the locker rooms and rest until the mission. 

You pat his arm before walking away and all he can do his stare at your back, wondering what you’ve done to make him struggle with talking to you.  

Three weeks later... (after the mission)

You’re happy Penny lets you come in once a week for a shift, it’s good for you. Being at the hard deck gives you time to clear your head and keeps you occupied when you’re not at Top Gun. 

Plus, your shift is usually right around the time when the crew comes by. 

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen them and you guy’s plan on hanging out for most of the night since Delilah’s spending the night at her friends place for a sleepover. 

A few of them stopped by at the beginning of your shift, you glance over at the pool tables, watching as Mickey and Billy play against one another while Neil and Rueben count their cash, clearly placing bets. 

-

After a couple of hours, Natasha comes in and grabs a round before heading towards the back where the others are. She was the only to notice when Bagman came in and how he hadn’t left his chair to come over and sit by you as you chat with the others. 

It’s been half an hour and she watches the way he’s staring at you, surprised that he hasn’t walked over to you yet. So far, she’s counted six lingering glances, two long sighs, and one-half drunken beer. 

She can’t handle this anymore and heads over towards him. “If you’re trying to get back together with her, don’t break her heart.” 

He spins to face Natasha. “What?” 

She groans, taking a minute to think about her next course of action and jams her finger into his chest, “don’t act the same way you did before. You and I both know she deserves someone who’s...” 

“Not me and not a douche, right?” 

She sucks in a quick breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Although most of that is true and I’m not going to say what is and what isn’t. You- you've changed.” 

He furrows his brows. “I have?” 

“Yeah. When you’re around her, you act like a civil guy and not like Bagman.” 

“I mean, I don’t-” 

“Please shut up and just go walk over there. It’s pathetic.” 

“Says the one who couldn’t keep her.” 

She rolls her eyes, “you are not allowed to be near Bob anymore.” 

“He was just being a good guy and answering my question.” 

“She’s definitely got a hold on you, you’re saying Bob’s a good guy,” Natasha jokes. 

“I’m not even gonna respond to that.” He pushes himself out of the chair. “Wish me luck, Princess Phoenix.” 

She groans, shoving him in your direction. Once he’s at the steps just a few feet from you, she downs the rest of the beer he left behind. 

Penny raises a brow. 

“Add it to his tab.”

- 

“Look who finally decided to show his face around here,” Javy jokes as his friend tries to make a move on you.

“Don’t you have a bet to lose, Coyote.” 

His buddy only offers a sly smile. “Nope.” 

“Yes, you do. Come on,” Natasha and Bob pull him away from you two. 

-

You turn to him. “You know what that was about?” 

Jake shrugs, “not a clue.” But he knows and knows that everyone else, but you know. 

“How’s it feel?” 

“How’s what feel?” He asks, giving you his full attention. 

“Having two kills in your belt. You know, being a hero and all.” 

He chuckles, suddenly feeling bashful. “I- uh- it’s- its fine.” 

“Really? You’re not bragging about it like you’d been doing since you saved Rooster and Maverick. What’s with the sudden change?” 

He shrugs because he can’t even tell what’s going on with him when he's around you anymore. 

“Do you wanna go for a walk outside?” 

He nods. Maybe fresh air is what he needs right now. 

-

You two close the doors just as Bradley heads for the piano. “Are you sure you’re, okay?” 

He rests his forearms on the railing. “Yeah. The more you ask, the more it sounds like you’re concerned about me, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, feeling a little happier now that he’s starting to act like his old self. “You wish, Seresin.” 

“Maybe I do.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Huh?” His head slowly turns in your direction, barely moving up from his arms. 

“What do you mean?” 

The two of you don’t say anything for a few minutes and continue staring at one another, you try to figure out the meaning behind what he said, and he realizes that he’s been an idiot ever since you two broke up before you two were shipped off to different places. 

You furrow your brows. “Are you trying to tell me that you like me because, I don’t know if you remember, but we tried this,” you point to the two of you. “Before and it didn’t work out.” 

“I can’t help what I’m feeling and honestly even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.” 

“Okay,” you gulp down all and any spit that’s built up in your mouth. “If you want to give this one more shot, I’m gonna need you to be a big boy and put on your big boy boxers.” 

His head drops, he’s fighting the urge to smile but you take it as he can’t tell you what he feels. 

You’re not gonna stand around and wait for him to tell you no so you this opportunity to walk away. 

He grabs your wrist pulling you into him. “I am not letting you go again.” His other hand brushes away the strands of hair that come flying into your face as the wind picks up. “Do you hear me?” 

You switch between his two eyes, seeing if he’s being serious or not. 

“I think the first time I was too scared to let you in even though I already had, and I thought breaking up was better than us trying to make it work because I missed out on a lot of things,” his voice slowly becoming lower and lower towards the end. 

You can’t fight the urge to hide your runny nose or your tears, but you could care less to wipe away the tears trickling down your cheeks and sniffle. “Yeah, you did.” 

“I wasn’t there for you, and you needed me.” 

“I didn’t need you-” 

“That’s my fault, you’re right. You didn’t need me, but I think we both know it would have been easier if I was there to help. I mean, I wouldn’t have been much help, but I could have definitely taken Lilah out for ice cream after school or something.” 

“Oh, yeah. Load her up either sugar. Grade A parenting, Jake.” 

His lips tug upwards into his soft, boyish smile that he only reserves for you. “I want to be there for you. Anything and everything, all of it.” 

“Ja-” 

He shushes you. “Just kiss me, please?” 

You roll your eyes, “I was going to say when did you become such a sappy guy, but you ruined it.” 

He leans forward pressing his forehead against yours. His breath hitting your skin as a chuckle slips past his toothy grin. “You love it when I beg you.” 

“I don’t know. My tastes have changed,” you shrug. 

“Bullshit they have.” 

“My, my. You’ve got quite the potty mouth on you-” 

“Just shut up and kiss already.” 

Your heads snap over at the door, seeing Natasha’s head sticking out of the doorway. 

You groan, hiding your head into his chest. 

“I swear if two don’t- no, let go- no-” 

“She’s gonna take a five-minute break,” Bob tells you before closing the door. 

“And you said, I ruined the mood.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle, enjoying the warmth emanating from him. 

“You know you never told me, yes or no.” 

“To what?” 

“To me.” 

You pull back, leaving enough space so when either one of you leans in, the other isn’t too far. “Oh, I didn’t.” 

He narrows his eyes. “No, you didn’t, and you know that.” 

“I guess you’re right.” You tilt your chin up, waiting to see his next move. 

“Hey guys.” 

“Why are you out here, Chicken?” Jake asks, keeping his gaze on you. 

“Oh, you know, just enjoying the... scenery. Have either of you ever watched the way the moon just reflects off the water.” 

Neither of you turn your heads. 

“Because you should.” 

You two do as he suggests, not realizing that he moves closer. 

You turn back to look at Bradley with furrowed brows. “That wasn’t much different than other nights.” 

He shrugs, “guess you’re right.” 

Jake moves back to his previous position. 

Before either of you two can understand what’s happening, you’re kissing Jake and you start chuckling when you hear the mustached man whine for the others to let him in. 

“You find that funny, sweetheart.” 

“Little bit.” 

“Maybe I can do this to distract you.” 

“Are you jealous?” You mumble against his lips. 

He pulls back, resting his chin on top of your head, enjoying this moment. “As I’ve I’d ever be jealous of Chicken. He doesn’t have what I have.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“The best thing I could have asked for.” 

You groan into his shoulder, trying to hold it together. 

“What’s that sound for?” 

You unwrap your arms from his waist to hold his cheeks. “Why are you so cute?” 

“I’m not cute,” he pouts. 

“Yes, you are.” A mischievous grin spreads across your lips. “You’re my cutie pie.” 

He shakes his head, “no. Get off me.” 

“You know I’m joking. Don’t be mean.” 

“I’m not mean.” 

“Well, you’re not being very good.” 

“You’re lying. I’m good, I’m very good and we both know it.” 

“You’re not making this moment any sweeter.” 

“I’m making it so sweet; Baby on Board is gonna get his firs cavity.” 

“Why are you still being so competitive? You’ve got me.” 

“This is just something you’re gonna have to get used to, sweetheart.” 

You let out a fake deep sigh, “guess I am.” 

He grins, pecking your lips. “I win.” 

“Moment ruined.” You shove him away from you only to be pulled back into his embrace. 

“Not so fast.” 

-

“Can you two tease each other later and come back in to play pool?” Natasha asks, pulling you away from Jake. 

You glance back over your shoulder, giggling back at him. 

He stands behind you as you wait for Mickey to take his shot. “You know what I realized,” he whispers in your ear. 

“What?” 

“You’re the future Mrs. Bagman.” 

“What makes you think I’d be the one taking your callsign?” 

“Sweetheart, do I seem like the type people would call angel?” 

“Yes.” You spin around, placing a hand on his chest keeping yourself from losing your balance. 

“Really? Who?” 

“Me. You’re my little angel baby.” 

The corner of is lips tugs upwards, you still remember your guys’ song, and the one that just so happens to be playing at this exact moment. 

“And, we’d have to be engaged for that to happen but before that comes boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Did that confession and kiss out there make you think I wanted to be your best friend or something?” 

“You didn’t ask me.” 

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s no one else I’m kissing tonight or any other night but you.” 

You squint your eyes at him. 

“I see the looks you’re giving me and I’m gonna confess another one of my truths to you,” he leans down, his lips a mere few centimeters from your ear, his breath hitting your skin causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. “When we were together officially and unofficially the first time, you were the only one I ever kissed.” 

“I was?” 

“Yep. It’s your turn.” 

You don’t know how you one the game after hearing that but when you shot the last ball into the corner pocket and looked up, you realized how you did and you don’t hold back the smile that stretches your lips wide from corner to corner as you look at Jake, who walks towards you, a sense of pride in his eyes. 

His hand cups your cheek as he pulls you in for a deep, long kiss, earning sounds whooping and hollering combined with the sounds of fake disgust. 

Neither of you cared what was going on around you as you enjoyed the others embrace. 

When he pulls away to catch his breath, you tell him, “guess I’m good too.” 

He smirks, “finally, I get someone worthy enough to be called my competition.” 

“Don’t get cheeky with me, Hangman.” 

“Say it again.” 

You peck his lips, “keep it in your pants, Jake. It’s your turn to play now,” you hold the pool cue out for him to take. 

He shakes his head as he takes it, heading over towards the table Bradley is playing at. 

-

“I can’t believe you’re with Bagman.” 

You grin at her, taking a sip of Jake’s drink. “I know.” 

“But I’m happy for you.” 

“Thank you. You spot the brunette eyeing you in the corner by the jukebox?” 

“No, thanks for the heads up. Don’t wait for me.” 

“Oh, believe me. I know the way you work, and I won’t, Phoxy.”