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School Boy Crush

Summary: Someone outside of school caught Bakugo’s attention

Wordcount: 1358

“No.” Bakugo slammed his books into his bag, trying to tune out Kaminari’s voice.

 Despite the refusal, Kaminari kept trying, practically begging. “Come on dude, how often do I pass an exam? We need to celebrate!” Last week they’d had a math exam and by some miracle, Bakugo had let Kaminari in on his study session with Kirishima. Even more amazing, today he had found out that he wasn’t dead last or had to retake it.

 The miracles seem to end there though, as Bakugo stood up from his desk and began to walk out of the classroom. “Fuck off Dunce Face. I got better things to do.”

 Kirishima, who had been watching the whole time, stepped up beside his dejected friend to whisper in his ear, “Watch this.” 

 The redhead placed an arm around Kaminari’s shoulders and they started walking in the opposite direction of the dorms. Kirishima spoke out loudly with a smug smile. “Don’t worry Kami, we can have fun without him. I know this great restaurant that serves some awesome American food.”

 Still smiling, Kirishima held up three fingers as they walked away, counting down till…“Oi, wait shit heads!” Bakugo stormed past them, practically running down the hall.

 Kaminari blinked in amazement. “What just happened?”

 “Oh, you’ll see.”

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Alpha!Bakugou with a daddy kink. Scenario plz

HELLO I DID NOT JUST MAKE A 5K WORDED FIC ON THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oops oh well, I DID!(๑ÒωÓ๑)

If you wanna read the smut, it is at the very end so you can skip all the other thangs if you wanna.~! 

It’s set a few years after graduating, characters are in early/middle twenties.

FEMS/O! NSFW! DADDY KINK! ☆*ヾ(-∀・*)*+☆

All I ask is for others not to kink shame the requests I write, thanks!

Bakugou, Katsuki ( Alpha!Bakugou ; Omegaverse )

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Heat Helper Part Two: Lyle

female reader x male werewolf (explicit) 

(Y’all have been so sweet and supportive so here is a sappy conclusion with Lyle!!  Enjoy, this is my first work out of a two month writing block so I’m hoping it’s an okay read. More monster stories may be in the future from me.)

Part One

Part Two (4k words)

Lyle Byrne sat in his truck in the stillness of an early morning gas station lot. It was just up the road from the motel – everyone knew that place, the rogues and the lost all found their way to it.

What did that make her? 

The woman he paid… to deal with his heat, she was all over him. Her scent on his body, her moans and begging caught in his head, and the warmth of her body against his in the quietest moments of dawn. 

Guilt… he was guilty, he’d asked and watched for any sign of her being uncomfortable or coerced. But she seemed to really enjoy it once they got into it. It still didn’t make him feel better about the situation, especially once he realized she hadn’t gone to the motel for the session. 

She lived there. She lived in that motel and he’d been in her space, he’d covered her in his scent, and let his emotions get far too strong over a one night stand. 

His face flushed. 

But he had given his number to her, amidst that extra cash he pulled out for her. 

After he’d seen that Plan B on the counter of the bathroom. 

Lyle’s body heated again, this rut was so close to being done, but it kept shoving images of her moaning and gripping the sheets. 

It took immense effort to not touch himself in the parking lot. 

He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand and snarled. This was it. If she spoke to him, he would deal with what came from it. But he needed to stop thinking and fantasizing over her. 

About how much he wanted to bring her home, to spoil her and fuck her, to maybe see her stomach grow with a baby they could cherish and love. 

Lyle turned the keys harshly and gunned it out of the parking lot. 

The truck kicked up dust on the desert road leading towards the lush mountains. With the sun peaking over the horizon, he drove faster to avoid the inevitability of his fluttering heart. 

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“Take what you get and live with it.” w/ #duckandcover??????

      —— some more medic!reader x sniper!bucky ft. growing comfort with one another??? i.e. medic’s backstory & bucky loving his sisters. also… touching. this ship is gettin’ steamy! 

       aesthetics for this chapter are thanks to @nalle & their beautiful b.o.b. edits! i’ve been over the moon reliving this beautiful mini-series tbh. v big inspo!

The moon is bright overhead, over-saturated with the haunts of night-time in occupied France. 

In the distance, Luftwaffe beat their engines through the cloudless sky, kings of their domain. Every hour or so, there’s a skirmish. The RAF and American boys spread their wings and flit around in the sky like shooting stars, sometimes downing the enemy, sometimes loosing a brother. 

It’s cold – you can see your breath from your spot in the tattered and burnt recliner you’d settled into for the night. The Howling Commandos are scattered around you in the third story of the bombed out villa; overhead, there’s no ceiling. 

Just open sky and war-birds.

You’re in the thick of it – knee deep in Rouan, France flanked by German encampments in the near deserted town. Months into Operation Cobra, the need for a break-through was dire; and so, the mission was recon based.

Three days in, with little sleep and a lot of running, you were all losing steam.

You curl inward, eyes heavy with sleep and exhaustion and everything in-between; the movement catches Bucky’s attention.

Smoke swirls around his head like a halo.

“Can’t sleep?”

He’s on guard, awake and nursing a cigarette and cold instant coffee from a dented canteen Dugan had muscled him during debrief. Bucky is pressed against the tacky wallpapered half-walls, legs stretched outwards and thinking about how his Ma would have liked a house like this. It had good bones. Even after surviving the initial round of bombing, it stood on good legs – and though the floors were buckled with burns and the roof was plunged into nothingness overhead, it had charm. 

You swallow, voice soft. “Call me paranoid.”

Suddenly, cold and crisp and fast, a hard shot rings out below the Commandos on the street – you jump in your chair, heart hammering in a reflexive type of fear as Bucky muscles himself to his feet. His footfalls are quiet as he moves around the glass on the floor, bolt-action M1 Garand slung over his chest at the ready.

Falsworth rolls over by your feet, eyes bleary. He whispers, voice tight with hidden panic. “Fuck was that?”

“Not sure,” you say, voice soft, “Buck is checkin’.”

The men all seem to stir at the sound – close and real – and soon Steve has hauled himself into sitting position beside Sawyer. The two share a canteen and you peer over your shoulder at Bucky; he’s peeking out the frame of what was a window. He’s quiet.

His cigarette is flicked to the floor, crushed.

“Can’t see anyone.”

“Maybe a misfire,” Pinky says, rubbing his face, “Bastards.”

The group settles into a quiet lull, eyes drawn at half-mast and ears tuned into the crumbling sounds around them; now, small pounds of rumble have the lot of them blinking around. And then, after a while of silence, Dugan speaks.

“You ever been hunting, Buck?”

The sniper is posed by the window still, tired eyes drawn up and down the street as he tugs his navy pea-coat tighter around his frame. He kicks his boots out, sliding down the wall. In the light of the moon, he looks softer than usual. His lashes catch the light, and you wonder for the hundredth time if he’s got a girl back home.

He must.

“No,” he says after a while, “Never been.”

“Seriously?”

“Was busy takin’ care of my Ma and my sisters,” his voice is fond, “And when I wasn’t doing that, I was boxing. Training to win so I could put food on the table. Or taking care of Stevie.”

He held himself like a boxer. He was light on his feet, quick – you’d seen him beat on the other companies in good natured pub fights. Blowing off steam meant throwing punches and you’d gladly step aside while Buck broke noses. Steve wasn’t far off, and Dugan could never not join in on the merriment.

“I could take care of myself, thanks,” Steve chirps quietly, “Don’t even try to swing that with me.”

The two were as close as brothers, though Steve was fair and sweet and Bucky dark and cutting. Opposites of each other in a lot of respects, though mirrored one another in spirit and charm and kindness. You’d over-heard chatter about Steve’s mom, about Bucky’s sisters in the past as subjects to pass the time – though, it was certainly not your place then. You were new. Still proving yourself.

Now, though, you dig. The sniper’s normally reserved self is lessened maybe thanks to lack of sleep, though you’re no different.

“Sisters?” you ask, tentative and slow, “How many?”

“Two.”

Your face splits into a sleepy grin as you close your eyes and burrow deeper into your chair. Buck fights a satisfied smile, fiddling with the scope of his sniper rifle. 

The air shifts into something of a growing bond; because suddenly the men are trained on their newest member, and you don’t mind the poking and prodding and digging about your life.

“What about you, kid?” it’s Dugan, voice gentle with a fatherly charm, “We don’t know much about our faithful medic.”

“I got a sister,” you finally say, “She’s young though, only ten. Still didn’t stop her from stealing my make-up back home. An’ my Mum – well, I haven’t heard from her in a few months.”

Dugan frowns. “Haven’t gotten any letters?”

“She wasn’t too happy with me joining the Nurses Corp. Don’t matter much. Couldn’t just sit around and sell war-bonds and look pretty, anyways.”

Bucky couldn’t see it – he couldn’t see you settling down. Not dolled up with victory curls in your hair and lipstick across your smile. You looked better with dirt along your cheeks, not rogue and he knew it without even seeing it. 

He stirs, stretching his legs and pressing fingers through his hair. He watches you, watches your chest ride and fall and your helmet slip down your forehead.

“And your father?” Steve asks with a gentle curiosity, “Heard from him?”

Your voice is heavy with sleep.

“My Pa came back from the war shell-shocked all those years ago, never been the same – but he’s proud of me. He’s my hero, you know.”

“Army?”

“Mhm.”

“You know, my ma used to say you take what you get and you live with it,” Bucky says after a while. His eyes are still set along the moonlight street, “S’a good motto, but you clearly didn’t settle, kid.”

“With being a nurse, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, a nurse in a field hospital didn’t save my father’s life. It was three field medics hunkered down in the trenches – young kids. No older than me. What’s stopping me from doing that, huh? A skirt? Times are changing.”

Buck blinks at you, a bit enamored with the response. It seems so… second nature. His ma would like you. So would Becca. “Point taken.”

“There’s a saying, you know – a mother in power would never send her sons to war,” you dip your head back and blink at the stars, “I wonder how many lives those nurses could have saved if they hadn’t been confined to their field hospitals.”

There’s a hum along the men, a recognition of trench warfare and mustard gas and no man’s land and the horror – and then silence. It’s comfortable, warm, and within minutes the rest of the men have slipped back asleep, shot in the dark forgotten. 

Bucky is awake, though, pressing himself upwards and moving to collapse at the foot of your chair. He swigs his canteen and you shift in your chair, boots pulled inwards and knees to your chest. 

The proximity is welcomed, and you can’t help but feel a bit safer. Like a cub napping beneath the lion. He settles in, wriggling a bit before he props his knees up and rifle in his lap. 

“Get some sleep,” he whispers, “I’m on watch.”

You move, touching his shoulder with cold fingers. Bucky blinks at the contact, hand moving to rub your own. Your grip slips loose, and you tuck yourself back into your coat. The moment burns and his touch is a little bit like holding fire. It bites, enough to remind you of the danger of love and war. Nothing is fair. Nothing lasts.

You adjust your helmet. “You sure?”

“Won’t let anything happen to you, doll.”

You trust him. His head leans against your hip, hair a bit wild from his helmet. You nod, even though he can’t see it, and relish in the small contact. 

“Thanks, Buck,” you murmur.

“Always.”

I Need You - Nicholas Scratch

word count: 8798 warnings: swearing summary: Nick and (y/n) had been at each other’s throats since forever, but a certain blonde witch helps them realize their real feelings ___

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