#I’m turning him around in my brain at top speeds

[cptnwynnie]

*sets him in front of you* behold, a crow

(Uncoloured beneath the cut)

[seasprincess]

JJ fic. I'm thinking sweet smut. Like almost goofy because that's just who he is, rarely super serious. And he and reader just know each other so well that things can be goofy, even during sex and neither of them care. Unprotected (if you're good with that). Then maybe reader finds out she's pregnant. Worried to tell JJ. But he's so thrilled.

bf!jj

a/n: I loveeed this ask

warnings: smut, pregnancy, unprotected s3x (wrap it pookies), brain rot.

“Have you got a condom?” As soon as the words leave your mouth the blonde, that’s on top of you, head pops up. He looks at you slightly confused. His hands stoping the rubbing against your lacy panties.

“I thought you were bringing them?” JJ says, his blue eyes looking into yours as he suddenly remembers.

He was supposed to bring them.

“Fuck sake.” He sighs as he runs his head, this isn’t the first time he’s had to run out and buy them during this intimate moments. He just a forgetful guy.

“Fuck it.” You say, not even thinking about it twice. You need this. He’s been touching you for too long. “You’ve been edging me f-“

“Edging.” He cuts off with a little snort and a smile. He’s so unserious it’s insane.

“Stop.”

“Sorry.”

You look up at him and lean up, pressing your soft lips against his. Slowly his slips his tongue into your mouth as his hands continue to touch, rub and caress you. He’s being soft today.

But the way he’s fiddling with the zipper of his jeans is not soft nor slow. Of course it gets stuck, and he’s just there trying to rip it open. Trying to unjam it with some huffs and puffs.

While he’s doing that you’re pulling down your panties, the fold air against your core making you flinch a bit. Before you lay back down and he lays back on top of you.

“Are you sure?” He asks as he looks at you. This isn’t the first time you’ve done it without protection but every time he checks. Make sure you’re certain.

“Yes.” You say with a nod of your head. You just can’t wait any longer.

Slowly JJ enters your cunt, your tight walls sucking him in as you let at a moan. JJ jokes about his size to everyone. Saying how big he is. But they weren’t jokes.

“Fuck mama. So tight.” He says before placing a kiss on your neck. His thrusts picking up. His hand coming to your neck, not to choke you. But to make it easier to pick up his speed. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls clench around him as your eyes screw shut. Whimpers filling the space of your bedroom.

“Please don’t stop.” You breathe out as you instinctively grab onto the duvet, knuckles turning white as you look at him. His stupid face smirking down at you before reattaching to your neck.

His face practically lives there now. Hes always kissing and sucking on your neck.

JJ’s free hand slips between your legs and starts rubbing. Rubbing that sensitive bud of yours. His cock twitching inside your pussy.

It doesn’t take long for both you and JJ to cum. His thrust slowing down as he looks at you.

Both of you panting before the blonde just has to open his stupid mouth.

“That was so skibidi.”

“Oh my god.”

You can’t believe it.

‘This can’t be real.’ You think to yourself as you look at those two lines. The two lines that can either be a blessing or a curse.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sat on the bath mat of your bathroom. I mean you can’t have a baby. Can you? You’re only eighteen living at your parents house dating a guy who only recently learnt the difference between there, their and they’re.

You can’t be parents.

You just can’t.

“Baby I’m here to hang.” The sound interrupts your thoughts. the very guy you were just thinking about. Knocking a tune on your bathroom door.

You sniff and dry your eyes, trying to get rid of any sign that you were crying.

But JJ heard everything.

“Hey, yn? You okay?” His concern is evident in his tone. He cares about you more than you’d ever know.

The bathroom door slowly opens and your eyes meet the blondes. Slowly making his way to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees. You’re silent. You can’t speak. Don’t know what to say if you were to open your mouth.

So you just hold the test.

JJ’s eyes follow your gaze to the test. His breath catching in the back of his throat.

You want to know how he feels, is he angry? Upset? Disappointed?

Actually he’s none of them.

“I’m going to be a dad?” He says excitedly. Immediately you look at him. Shocked by this response. He’s happy?

“Yeah.” You say quietly.

“I’m going to be a dad!” He says louder and takes off his hat before standing up. Pacing the bathroom and smiling. Yapping about all the things he’s going to do. How excited he is to have a child.

You should’ve never been worried. You’re going to be parents.

[hysteria-things]

based off of this

BEREAL

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the bereal notification goes off when you and your boyfriend are in an intimate situation.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, swearing, unprotected sex, p in v, choking, spanking, hair pulling, dumbification, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 631

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: DID NOT MEAN TO RELEASE THIS LATE BUT I HAD TO WAIT UNTIL MIDNIGHT SINCE I REACHED THE POST LIMIT AGAIN😭

but anyway matt/chris will be back tomorrow!

nate’s phone blows up with notifications on the nightstand from the DA BOYZ group chat with nick, matt, and chris — but he’s too busy to check it now.

moaning loudly, your hands clutch at the pillow your head is lying on. your knuckles are white, eyes rolling back so far in your head. it’s been forty-five minutes, and you came twice already.

you guys are making a fucking mess, but neither of you cares at this moment. his and your cum combined slap against your thighs, a string of arousal connecting and breaking each time he thrusts into you. you mumble something into the pillows, but it’s so incoherent that it sounds like a moan.

his hand is wrapped tightly around your neck, the other one running up and down the small of your back. he’s so deep inside your cunt that you seriously don’t know how he does it.

drool drips down your chin and onto the sheets below, body becoming rag doll-like when your grip starts to loosen and you start to rock violently to the speed of the way he’s plowing hard into you with no mercy. “there she is; getting fucked stupid on my cock because that’s all you have to fucking live for.”

only groaning in response, you start to see specks of white every time you blink. your pussy is so tight around his dick that it makes it hard for him to move. nate’s so balls deep that it feels like he’s in your throat.

silenced screams go past your lips as the headboard bangs rapidly against his bedroom wall, his tip brushing against your g-spot for the nth time tonight. he moans, grabbing your ass and jiggling it before slapping it. “might have to put my kid in ya.” he hisses, giving it another hit. “i need to breed this pussy full. you let me use it so well.”

catching a glimpse at his lit phone screen, he sees a specific notification pop up:

⚠️time to bereal⚠️

2 min left to capture a bereal to see what your friends are up to!

he smirks, grabbing his phone and opening the app. he points the camera to his face as the time counts down. eyes hooded and lips swollen, a handful of hickeys decorate his neck in red and purple, along with a few scratch marks on his chest.

pressing the white button at the bottom of the screen, he grips the top of your hair to yank your head off the pillow. he quickly turns his phone around, the back camera getting your face into view.

nate waits patiently a few seconds for the picture to render, letting go of your head so he can upload it. this is the first time he’s seen what you look like all night.

strands of hair are disheveled or stuck to your forehead from sweating, eyes crossed with your tongue sticking out like a dog. that poor brain of yours thinking only about nate’s cock fucking the shit out of you.

“i’m cu-mming.” you hiccup, shaking violently as you’re overstimulated from three hard orgasms. the boy behind you licks his lips, stopping deep before spurts of his hot cum fill your womb.

seconds later, reactions come flooding in on his post. some are from peers from high school, while the rest are from the crew.

madi’s eyes are wide, her hand covering her mouth.

nick looks disgusted, his face half out of the frame.

matt’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline, mouth hanging open in complete shock.

last but not least, chris smiles widely at the camera with a big thumbs up.

matthew.sturniolo: oh brother

nicolassturniolo: NATHAN DOE.

user: she’s living the dream, i’m afraid…

madifilipowicz: 😟

user: HE HAS BITCHES???

christophersturniolo: get that pussy bro😝

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @stellarsturns @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2

[nymphomatique]

reader asking forcing. loser!miguel to tell her his desired fantasy and since she’s feeling a bit nice that day she decides she’ll indulge it for him <3 (i feel like he’d so be into roleplay hehe ><)

nonnie ur brain.. hold on.

cw: fem/dom reader, sub!miguel <3, slight mentions of shoe play, talks of punishment and like SLIGHT exhibitionism, miguel being a simp bit what’s new, a kiss 🤭, on da sweeter side, and as per usual: definitely not proof read lol enjoy 💋

a/n: i went tame for this but suggest what role play ideas u have bc miguel is DEFINITELY into that. like imagine him acting as readers maid.. in the maid outfit.. omfg.

“miguel?”

“ah! y-yes?” he answers between a moan. you’re currently sitting on your bed, miguel sitting upright facing you on your floor as you trail your heeled foot up his crotch.

“tell me something,” you start, cocking your head sideways and leaning forward to look at him a little closer. as you lean forwards your breasts spill over the the corset top you have on. you begin to use more friction with your foot, and his moans become more feverish. “what’s your fantasy? entertain me, i’m in a good mood tonight.”

and a good mood it was, you stumbled into your dorm at around 2 in the morning, miguel waiting patiently for you outside your door, kneeling in the empty hall just like you asked, when you texted him rather drunkenly from the club that you wanted to play with him.

miguel’s face flushes, his chocolate brown eyes hiding behind his glasses. “i- ah.. f-fuck. i don’t know..” he trails off, bucking lightly into your red bottom.

“you have one more time to lie to me before this turns into a ball busting session, dweeb,” you spit, halting your teasing and looking at him intensely. you can visually see him fold under your stare. “w-well..”

“go on,” you encourage, slowly starting your teasing with your heel back up.

“i’ve always wanted to- ah! to take someone on a dinner, all fancy. a-and in the middle of the restaurant, she starts to..” he halts, his lips tightening and his face going red.

“i said go on, miguel,” you say nonchalantly, but your heel applying pressure to miguel’s crotch. he lets out a sharp shudder and a string of curses under his breath, and then resumes.

“what we’re doing now.. tease me all dinner, and th-then punish me in the restroom for getting excited..” he sighs out, the pain and shame sending waves of pleasure to his pulsating clothed cock.

“yeah? punish you how? tell your mistress what you want,” he looks at you and moans, your foot increasing its speed and pressure.

“you- you’d make me beg to cum. i- i’d beg you to- fuck. to let me touch you. let me ache to please you, to serve you mistress,” he spill out from his lips, his eyes heavy and breathing shallow from your pleasuring.

“you really are pathetic miguel,” you laugh out. you stop teasing him and stand up, watching him look up at you from his place on the floor. you slowly saunter over to him and step each foot on either side of his legs, lowering yourself down until you’re sat on his lap, directly over his erection. you grab his hair and pull his head back, hovering your lips over his own. “but you know what?” you whisper, looking at his red face and tousled hair. “i like it.”

you go in for a kiss, your lipstick transferring to miguel’s perfectly shaped lips as you kiss him sensually. you pull apart from the kiss and look at him once more, him sitting there utterly dazed and confused, this being your first kiss. you get up and walk to sit back on your bed, looking straight at him, a small wet patch staining his pants. “get out of my room.”

he doesn’t hear from you until the following evening, a text message from you reading:

philemon at 8pm sharp. take a fucking shower and wear something other than hand me downs tonight.

[webbluvrsugar]

thinking about frat!rafe Cameron and his inexperienced best friend

Thinking about him laying on your bed, his cap already tossed around somewhere on your room, your head against his stomach as he talks about some random girl he made out with earlier and how bad it was, asking you for your opinion when you can’t give any, you just stay laid down and answer things like “uh-huh” or “totally” that it’s clear you’re not paying attention, but in your defense, it’s hard to.

It’s hard to pay attention when his arm is lazily placed on top of your stomach, his veiny hand caressing you through the thin fabric of the tee than hangs of your shoulder, when his cologne is so strong that invades your senses, when his voice makes your brain turn into mush and you can’t reply to anything, when the only thing that makes you focus is when he asks you a direct question “what about you? Any bad experiences lately?”

Now, Rafe is not dumb, he’s asking out of possessiveness, he knows you’re a virgin and he knows you hate talking about this stuff but he needs to make sure you kept yourself that way, and when you answer “not having any experience at all” he knows he’s got you.

He pretends to be shocked by the fact, compliments you and tell you how beautiful and smart you are and that it’s a surprise that no one has fucked you yet, and that’s exactly how he managed to trick you to lay on your back, legs spread open for him as his thumb toys with your clit and his finger curls inside of you.

“Shit…you’re so tight around my finger, look at that.” He speaks as if you’d actually look, but you’re too busy covering your mouth and tilting your head back when he rubs soft circles around your clit.

“Gonna let me inside that virgin pussy, pretty girl?” He teases another finger around your entrance, and when you nod, he pushes it in harshly, without any display of patience, your moan already serves as an answer, but he wants to hear it from your lips. “Use your words.” He says, scissoring you open with his two fingers, the wet sounds of your cunt only turning you on even more.

“Y — Yes, Rafe.” You whimper, eyes rolling back when he curls them inside on that perfect spot, your back slighly arching.

He smirks through the corner of his lips. “Don’t even think I’m gonna fit,” he scoffs, the pace of his fingers speeding up inside you, making your hand run down to fist his hair.

“Maybe ill just have to break you in.”

[captain-tch]

Oscar Worthy Performance (Logan Howlett x GNPlatonicTeenReader)

You get caught shoplifting, and a stranger plays the role of disappointed father

It dawned on you as you were staring at the security guard, him speaking into his radio, that you had royally fucked up. His face was one of stone, his eyes hardening every time his gaze fell back on you, which was often. It was like he was expecting you to bolt. You didn’t blame him, in fact ever since the security guard shouted out down the aisle you had been seeking the perfect opportunity to run. Unfortunately, you weren’t blessed with super speed. Even the usual charming smile you armed yourself with didn’t work, your innocent false words pleading that you didn’t do anything wrong also fell on deaf ears. 

It was official - you were fucked. 

Your only saving grace was that the guard was that conscious of you running, he didn’t risk moving you to the office where escaping was even less likely. You were standing under the fluorescent lights of the supermarket, your coat being weighed down by your responsibility, cursing your minor mistake that brought you into this position. If you weren’t so shit scared of getting caught, you’d cause a blackout - but then he would know you were a mutant. There would be no hiding how your hands would glow as the light was absorbed, or how your eyes would flash with renewed energy. Right now the worst you could get is a slapped wrist, if you played this right, but if he found out you were cursed with the x gene? You’d be lucky to escape alive.

The radio buzzed. The security guard turned to answer it, one of his eyes permanently fixed on you. Sweat was beginning to coat your palms and your heart was jumping out of your chest. You frantically wracked your brain for another option, something other than revealing your powers, only to fall short. Your chest heaved upon realising how royally screwed you were.  

“We gonna call the cops?” 

You swallowed. Anxiety gripped you tight - you couldn’t afford to get caught by the authorities. You were living under the radar and that was attention you definitely didn’t need right now. You were deaf to the response on the radio, your whirling thoughts overriding all of your senses. Your mission would fail, the people who relied on you would suffer and you’d be thrown into prison, surrounded by mutants ready to establish themselves as an authority figure by picking on the little fish, namely you. 

“Roger.” The security guard turned his steely gaze to you. “You’re coming with me.” 

“Please, don’t do this.” None of your words could pass your lips, the words stumbling out. The man just rolled his eyes. “I don’t show sympathy to dirty thieves.” 

A slight weight was lifted from your shoulders. At least he only thought of you as a troublesome teenager, desperate to get the attention of their parents with some petty shoplifting. At least he hadn’t realised that at the exact time you were slipping the tin of beans in your pocket, the lights flickered for a beat longer than usual. 

“It’s my first time, okay, can’t you just give me a slap on the wrist and send me on my merry way?” Your lips curved into a wavering smile. 

The man scoffed. “I’m sure you tell everyone that.” 

“I promise - I’m not lying.” You were. 

“Tell that to your parents when they come down here.” His hand found your shoulder, gripping harshly. He spun you around, guiding you through the store. 

Panic rolled over you in a wave. Your eyes scoured around the store, desperately taking in the surroundings to help you evade your fate. Your gaze danced over the patrons, it was late at night and the store was barren. A young woman pushing a pram, a businessman staring at the vast display of alcohol, and then there was him. A man with a face of thunder, his brown hair twisted in the corners giving him the slight imitation of having horns. His white shirt was stained, a flannel thrown on top not in an attempt to hide the mess, but to emphasise the size of his shoulders and his arms. An idea hit you like lightning and in your desperation you did the first thing that came to mind. 

“Dad!” You shouted, drawing attention to yourself. The two men turned to face you, the businessman dismissing you with a single glance. But the grumpy man, he stared you down, brows tilted slightly upwards. You smiled desperately at him, hoping to convey your message in your slight grimace. “I thought you were at the site all day today.” 

“Um…” He looked over his shoulder, as if looking for an escape. 

A light flickered overhead, your eyes flashing slightly. The man stood straighter, looking between you and the security guard. He cleared his throat awkwardly, walking towards you. “Um…”

“Are you this dirty thieves father?” The security guard demanded. 

The man’s brows lifted as he took you in. His assessing eyes danced over your half worn combat boots, caked in dirt, and your jeans that had holes that might be considered fashionable if it wasn’t for the seams falling apart at the hem.  “Thief?” 

You shrugged. “Alleged.” 

The security guard squeezed his hand on your shoulder. “I saw you slip something into your pocket.” 

“That could have been anything.” 

“Sure.” The guard rolled his eyes, sharing a pointed glance at the stranger you claimed to be family. “Come on sir, you’re coming with us.” 

The guard carried on the journey to the office, his grip slightly too tight on your shoulder. You squirmed under his grip, trying to grab your saviour's gaze to no avail. He looked as though he was being led to his funeral. You wish you could express your gratitude but his eyes were fixed firmly downwards, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. 

A door was opened, and they were led down several corridors. They were ushered into a small room, screens adorning one wall displaying all angles of the store. Fuck, you thought, they updated the security since the last time. No wonder you got caught - you were normally so careful. 

“Take a seat.” He gestured to the two chairs, and you slumped into it. Your ‘dad’ took to standing against the door frame, his arms crossed.  

“Look, this is serious. You were caught stealing. You could go to jail.” You couldn’t look at him, busy worrying at your lips. “But you’re lucky it’s me on shift, I’m a bit more friendly than the other guys in this place.”

“Hate to meet the others,” you muttered under your breath. The guard stared pointedly at you. An apology was breathed out with little feeling behind it. 

“Let’s see what you stole, and we can go from there.” 

Sighing, you reached into your pocket, dropping tin after tin of beans on the table. With each tin the guards eyes softened, and you knew as dire as the situation had seemed, you struck gold. You discreetly pinched your leg, hard, and mustered tears to appear. 

“Daddy’s been working so many hours at the site, and we can still barely afford the rent. I couldn’t bring myself to eat someone else’s trash again - I couldn’t.” You hiccuped, impressing even yourself with your acting skills. “I couldn’t be hungry anymore, is that a crime?” 

You turned your weeping eyes to your ‘father’, allowing your lip to wobble. “I’m sorry, I know you work so hard. I’m sorry I let you down.” 

Your ‘dad’ had a face of stone, nodding his head silently. The guard looked at him expectantly, and ever so slowly, your ‘dad’ walked towards you. He rubbed your shoulder, the only action that could seem paternal whilst limiting any major contact. 

“I’m sorry too.” He grumbled. You thanked the higher powers on your side that the man was joining in on the act, making it all the more believable. For the first time since you had been caught, you genuinely thought you might be okay. 

The guard sighed, pushing a box of tissues towards you. You made a show of taking a few handfuls, wiping aggressively at your eyes and blowing your nose. 

“Look, I know it’s hard. I’ve been there myself. But you can’t do this. I’m going to take the tins back, I’m sorry. There’s some food banks in the area, let me write them down.” The security guard sent you a soft smile, then disappeared. 

You collapsed back into your seat. Your anxiety was ebbing away and all you could do was thank whatever god was watching over you. You eyed the tins on the table, contemplating if he had counted them before leaving. Your fingers itched to slide one back in your pocket; you fought the urge, not wanting to end up worse off.  

“Quite impressive, have you ever considered a career in acting?” Your ‘dad’ commented, distracting your intense gaze on the food, his lip quipping up. 

“Hollywood couldn’t handle this.” You sighed. “You might not want to though, your role of loving and doting father leaves something to be desired.” 

“I didn’t even know I had a child until ten minutes ago.” 

“Funny, my dad said that too.” 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why the fuck did I even get involved.” 

“Only you can answer that question, bud. All I know is I’m fucking glad you did.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, rapidly closing it when the door opened and the security guard reappeared. He handed you a list with writing scribbled on. The man then turned to your ‘dad’. 

“I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to step up. Your kid needs you more than ever.”

“Noted.” 

“You guys can go - but if I see you here again, I won’t be as kind.” 

“Thank you sir.” You nodded your head respectfully to him, sniffling for extra measure. 

You led the way out of the office, the guard leading you both to the staff entrance of the store and closing the door behind you. 

The pair of you walked away from the employee entrance, turning the corner. You fell against the wall, feeling a huge relief wash over you. You released a big breath, a bright smile lighting up your face. All of the muscles relaxed in your body and the sweat on your palms started to dry. “Wow, that was close.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Excuse me?” You huffed a laugh. “I carried that performance, you were merely a supporting actor.” 

“Yeah? From how I see it, without a ‘parent’ present you would be speaking to the cops right now.” 

“Whatever.” You shrugged. “Wanna smoke?” 

“I’m not going to promote teenage smoking.” 

“I’m gonna smoke whether or not you join me.” You dug into your inside pocket, producing a sealed packet of cigarettes. You received a look of disbelief and awe. “What? I wasn’t going to give up all the goods.” 

“Fuck it, I’m already an accomplice.” He offered his hand, and you handed him a cigarette. “Got a light?” 

You fumbled around in your pockets, foraging and finding an old match box. You handed it to the man, waiting patiently for him to light his cigarette. You pulled another one out of the pack, bringing yours to the end of his, watching as the light of flame spread to yours. You jumped up the wall, perching so that you rest your elbows on your knees as you took a drag.  

“Thanks,” he muttered, bringing the cigarette to his lips and exhaling smoke. You copied his motion, silence falling between the two of you. 

“Why me?” 

“Huh?” 

“Instead of the other guy in there.” 

“Isn’t it obvious? He was all prim and proper, you don’t exactly look like a law abiding citizen. Criminals stick together, well, sometimes.” You frowned, finally giving yourself a moment to actually think about what could have happened if he didn’t intervene. “But you didn’t have to - any reason why?” 

He looked at you, then at his hand. You noticed the line of scars perfectly indented across his knuckles. A flash of silver shot out of those scars, then retracted back into his skin. “It’s us versus them, right?” 

“Right.” You shook your head in disbelief - as if you not only managed to get someone to go along with your ploy, but that they also managed to be a mutant. 

“Well, as nice as this was, I’ve got places to be, trouble to cause and Oscar’s to win.” You stubbed out your cigarette, jumping off of the wall. “Am I ever gonna learn your name, or am I going to have to keep calling you Dad?” 

“Logan.” 

“Well, thanks old man. I owe you, big time.” You started to make your journey home, tucking your hands deep in your pockets, when you stopped at the sound of Logan’s voice. 

“Wait.” Logan called out. “Answer me this - of everything to steal, why beans?” 

Your expression fell. “I’m sure you can figure that one out, pops.” 

“There’s a place -” You cut him off, turning your back to him. 

“No thanks, I have my place, you should go back to yours.” You were almost disappointed when you made it to the end of the road and you hadn’t heard a response. But you didn’t turn around, determined to find another store to rob so you didn’t go back home empty handed. 

Logan waited until he couldn’t see your form anymore, the sting of the cigarette burning his fingers as ash crumbled around him in a halo. He shook his head, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his boot. “Fucking kids.”

marvel masterlist

[superblysubpar]

series masterlist | part two ->

chapter summary: A bet is proposed.

the song: honey by halsey

2,563 words | please see the masterlist for general warnings | my blog is 18+

Hawkins, Indiana - the past

  Your fingers tightened around the handlebars, palms damp and grip too loose for your liking. A deep furrow seems permanent between your brows, resting under the cherry red plastic that brought you into this mess. Their words ringing in your ears like a jingle of a commercial - annoying and unable to ignore if you tried. 

  “What a girl - she needs a helmet to ride a bike?”

  And if that comment alone wasn’t bad enough, Steve Harrington had to chime in. Leaning over his own handlebars, smirking, daring you to challenge him. 

  “What you need it for anyways? Not like you were planning to go down the destroyer. Bet you were just going to Benny’s for ice cream.”

  The other boys had snickered, Steve’s smirk grew into a full wattage, cocky, grin. That is until you lifted your chin, kicked up dust directly at him as you turned your bike and said: 

  “Cute you still call it the destroyer. I’ve been biking down that hill for years. How about I show you and buy you an ice cream cone afterwards Harrington?”

  Boys ‘oo’ed’, Steve’s jaw clenched, and your chest filled with some sort of powerful and addicting feeling as you biked towards your lie. 

  Which now sits in front of you. The legend so aptly named by the Hawkins population of thirteen and under due to it’s sheer height and the gravel that sat below it. A hill way out near the Quarry, it took half the day to bike there and back - if you still had your bike after that is. It was the tallest point in Hawkins aside from a grassy hill teens would sneak away to. 

  From the top of the destroyer, you could see the whole town, all the way down to the bottom of the Quarry, the road, and where it turned to gravel to lead to the sort of landing at the base of the pit. 

  It was the point the hill turned to gravel that truly gave the bike killer its name. If one somehow got the courage, or in your case straight up stupidity and false confidence for brains, to decide to go down the hill, your speed by the time you reached the bottom would be too much and the gravel was a relentless enemy. 

  You’d heard stories of bikes skidding, of scratched up, bruised limbs. There was even a tale of one boy who toppled over his handlebars and popped his shoulder out of place. 

  And you’d told Steve Harrington you’d been going down it for years. 

  “Hey.”

  His voice was far quieter than you were used to hearing, like he wanted you to have to lean in and listen to what he was about to tell you. 

  When you turned to tell him you didn’t care for what he had to say, you were shocked to find his cheek pulled between his teeth, wavy hair pushed up at odd angles like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times. Steve wrapped his fingers around his own handlebars tighter, like if his grip was strong enough, yours would be too, straddling his bike next to yours and gulping as he looked down the hill. 

  “What?” You finally asked, fingers toying with the straps of your helmet. 

  “I don’t think you should do this…” 

  As the boys whispered behind you, you frowned and didn’t dare think about how Steve’s voice wobbled a little, like there was some real emotion behind the warning. 

  Like he cared. 

  “I’m truly touched you were able to scrounge up enough brain cells to force a thought, but I have never and will never care what you think Steve Harrington.”

  That same swelling feeling of triumph filled your chest when the other boys laughed and Steve’s ears started to turn as red as your helmet. 

  Steve ignored the laughing, voice a twinge stronger than before as he said, “You’re gonna get hurt.”

  “I’ve done this hundreds of-“

  Steve said your last name, grabbed your handlebars. His golden eyes burning with something as he practically begged you to listen to what he was trying to say.

  “You’re being stupid.”

  From this close, you could see more freckles along the bridge of his nose, see that his eyes weren’t brown but had a little green in them. You could smell lemonade and sunblock and something about it all made you panic. Made you push him off and add extra bite to your tone, hoping your words stung him.  

  “Yeah? Well, you’d know all about stupid, Harrington.”

  And then you pushed off, the call of your name drowned out by the wind rushing past your ears. 

  Hawkins, Indiana - the present

  Your eyes roll almost in time with Harrison Ford’s. A man who’s currently on the suspended screens because he has some weird thing about a movie with him being on while he’s flirting. Like Harrison’s energy is in the store with him, a guiding wingman. 

  What a tool. 

  Eddie’s lips quirk up in a lopsided smirk across from you when your shoulders tense at the shrill giggle to your left. You roll them back, then your head from side to side. Your fingers meet to form the goal post again, elbows sticking to laminated sheets screaming about summer deals and most definitely some sort of residual soda spill.

  “So,” a deeper voice than what you know it to typically sound like catches the tail end of the giggle, “If I were to call this number right now-“

  “I’m not home, silly,” another forced giggle interrupts. 

  Eddie sighs when you straighten up again, your teeth snapping at a red vine as you watch the hand reach forward and tuck a perfect blonde ringlet behind an ear, then linger. 

  “Well,” he leans in, voice stickier than the honey of his eyes, “If you were home…I’d call you.” He taps the tip of her nose with the pad of a finger, then flashes a smile brighter than the overhead fluorescents. “And ask you if you’d be free for a movie tonight?”

  Robin snorts next to your ankle behind the counter. Green vest covered shoulders rising as they shake with somewhat silent laughter and her head hides between her knees, tapes scattered on the floor around her. 

  Your head shakes back and forth in baffled amazement. It’s like an accident - you can’t help but watch  the wreck that’s about to-

  “And if I were home to answer, I’d tell you to pick me up at 7.” 

  The red vine falls from your mouth onto the counter, as you watch a little piece of paper leave manicured fingers and slip into the front pocket of his gray polo.

  A paper football smacks your nose as Eddie sighs out of his. As her hips sway under tight denim, haloed by the bright sunshine when the trill of the door chimes on her exit, the overpowering scent of vanilla and peaches continues to suffocate. 

  Steve Harrington turns to you all with a cocky grin. He pulls the digits scrawled in loopy font out of his pocket and nestles it between brown leather and green bills before returning the wallet to his back pocket with a pleased sigh. 

  “Oh yeah, I’m back.”

  And then he high fives the TV.

  Not just a tool - a whole box of them.  

  Steve turns when you snort, eyebrows raised at you as he takes his place behind the counter again. 

  “Something funny?” He asks, reaching toward your box of red vines. 

  “Real funny,” you admit, snatching them closer, “That you think anything about that interaction means you’re back.”

  Your waist hits the counter as you step out of his reach when he takes another forward with a tilted head. His fingers just miss the red candy when he huffs. 

  “Enlighten me, babe.”

  “Don’t,” you hiss, “Call me babe.”

  The counter digs into your back, Steve leans in closer, mint and cedar beginning to overpower the peaches, and you hate that you don’t mind the difference. 

  Steve’s lips smirk, a freckle just above his top one lifting as he tsks, “Wow. Not gonna even acknowledge my big brain word?”

  “Would you like a round of applause, Harrington, for correctly using the word enlighten?” 

  He grins, he nods, his fingers snatch a piece of the licorice up, “Yeah. Yeah I would.”

  You catch the end of the candy, shaking your head with a scoff. “She called you big boy.”

  Robin, whom you don’t want to admit you’d forgotten was even behind the counter with you, sighs, loudly.

  “Wow. Thanks. I had just forgotten.”

  Steve tugs on the candy between the two of you with raised eyebrows and a look of annoyance. “And?”

  You tug harder, and Steve dares to take another step closer with it, knuckles brushing yours that lay limply next to thighs almost touching. 

  “And, that means you didn’t do a thing except let rumors of what’s underneath your too tight Levi’s spread like the rash you’ve probably given to half this town.”

  Another tug of the candy, though gentler this time, pulls you closer, plastic crinkling against your abdomen as he proudly whispers, “Not rumors, babe.”

  “Call me babe,” you practically growl, “One more time. See what happens.”

  “Okay,” Steve tilts his chin in a challenge, fingers twitching on the candy, “Ba-“

  The red licorice disappears with a flash of silver metal, snapped between white teeth before it’s waved around dramatically.

  “While this is super fun to watch. She’s not wrong Stevie.” Eddie shrugs. 

  Steve takes a step back, red Nike swoosh flashing as he kicks at thread bare carpet. “Sure. She’s never wrong.”

  You have to physically stop yourself from sticking your tongue out at him. 

  Eddie hoists himself up onto the counter, chain tapping and clanking against things as he gets down just as quickly he sits when you snap your fingers and point to the ground. 

  He raises his hands in surrender at you, then waves at Steve with a squint of big, brown eyes. 

  “You’re not back. You barely had to put in any work with that cutie. She was making heart eyes at you from the parking lot, man.”

  Steve holds his arms out at his sides, like he’s innocent. “Just because girl’s know I have a sizeable-“

  “Ew,” you snap another bite of candy. 

  “Appendage-” Steve continues, ignoring you. 

  “You’re sick,” Robin delivers in a monotone from her stack sorting. 

  “And they know I know what I’m doing with it,” Steve talks over Robin in their well-oiled banter, “Doesn’t mean I don’t have to work hard.” Steve dares to place his fingers over his chest and continue with pride dripping from each word, like he truly believes and is proud to say, “I still have to put in the work to look good, to flirt and think on my feet. I have to pull out the Harrington charm. It’s not my fault I have more than other guys to work with.”

  Eddie ponders what Steve is saying thoughtfully, he places his hands behind his back and paces, nodding his head carefully. 

  “Maybe so,” Eddie sighs dramatically, gesturing with a bow to Steve, “We cannot all be gifted with such well-endowment.”

  “I truly hate it here,” Robin says to the ceiling while Steve beams. 

  You tilt your head at Eddie, trying to figure out where he’s going before he gets there. 

  He slaps his hands on the counter, metal clanking against glass displaying candy as he proclaims, “I propose a challenge.”

  Steve snorts, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter next to you, his elbow nudging yours. “What, like a duel?”

  Your eyes roll as you dig your elbow into his, pushing him away. 

  “Intriguing, but maybe another time. I’m fresh out of jousting materials I’m afraid,” Eddie grins. “No, I think, to really know if you’re back, to prove this,” he waves his hands at the entirety of Steve, “All takes real work and you’re not just coasting on what the good lord gave you, you’d need to use it on someone who’s unsuspecting. Someone,” Eddie purses his lips, “Who isn’t already swooning over the mere thought of you.”

  Robin spins, blue eyes alight with intrigue. “Hold on. I’m listening.”

  Steve tilts his head, “You want me to get the number of a girl who hates me?”

  Robin grins like it’s the best things she’s ever heard, but Eddie shakes his head, tugging on a curl. “No. Too easy. I think you need to sleep with her.”

  Your mouth drops open in disbelief and Robin whistles low and slow. 

  Eddie pretends to hold up a scroll, reading from air in a theatric voice, “I, Eddie Munson, declare that Steve Harrington cannot get the next girl to walk through this door of thy Family Video to have sex with him. The rules shall be that Harrington may only pursue said girl after careful consideration of her un-swoonability by yours truly, and will have one week to prove his charming capabilities. The stakes? One hundred dollars. Does Steve Harrington accept such a bet?”

  You scoff, “You’re both not actually making a bet on-“

  Steve’s hand slaps into Eddie’s, both boys smirking as they shake on it. Steve waves his other hand in the air, all nonchalant while confidence oozes out of him. “Next girl that walks through that door, I’m going to fuck. Easy.”

  “Unbelievable, You’re both unbelievable.” Your words are lost on deaf, egotistical ears.

  Eddie nods, he grins with shoulders raised at Steve. “Right. Since you’re back, easy peasy.”

  “Her ass and tits will be squeez-ied.” 

  Robin boos, cupping a hand around her mouth. 

  You gesture to her, “That? That’s what you finally have a problem with?”

  Robin shrugs, grinning, “I’m off the clock in one minute. Then he’s your problem.” She looks at Eddie, “Still able to give me a ride home?”

  Eddie nods, “I am but only the ladies driver,” he turns to you with a snap, “Speaking of, think you left your vest in my van, doll.”

  “Oh shit, thanks,” you bounce around the counter as Robin heads into the back. The door chimes as you squint into the late afternoon summer sun, sneakers kicking pebbles on the way to Eddie’s van, when it hits you. Suddenly. Wonderfully. Beautifully. 

  Your vest is sitting on the counter next to your red vines. 

  You spin, gravel crunching beneath your heels as you look at the front of the store.  

  Heavy steps thud against the ground as you race towards it, meeting a frantic Steve at the set of glass double doors.

  He grips the handles, wild eyes and shaking his head no, as he holds them closed and you tug to open them, grinning. 

  Eddie bows behind Steve as Robin cackles. 

  “What’s the matter Harrington,” you call through the doors, enjoying the way his jaw pulses, “Why can’t I come inside? Enlighten me.”

  Steve’s gaze traces your face, it lingers on your smile before it meets your eyes. 

  A challenge in both sets of glares, neither of you willing to back down. 

  He let’s his hands fall from the handles and rest on his hips as the chime trills overhead with your step inside. 

  You bat your eyelashes, you press the back of your hand to your forehead and pretend to faint against the glass. 

  “Good luck, big boy.” 

Tag List - thanks for your endless patience and excitement for this, but please let me know if you'd no longer like to be tagged:

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit

[midnightarcheress]

woke up wanting to write something with my pretty boy kyle and this was born.

cw: nsfw. f!reader. gaz obsessing over the pretty college girl by his side. implied future stalking ig? unedited. part one | part two

someone catches Kyle’s attention on the plane.

his legs are on the verge of cramping and his breath is ragged, running to board his connection flight at the last call. after falling off a helicopter twice in the last operations, he developed an uneasiness of flying, no matter the aircraft, preferring taking the train over being miles up in the air, even if it triples the travel. but this time, he just wanted to get home the fastest way possible for a much-needed night of sleep in his own bed, instead of the barely cushioned military-issued mattress.

he hopped on the plane and made his way through the corridor, gaze fixed on the numbers under the luggage rack, attentively looking for his spot. he stopped by row thirteen, eyes darting between the number and the woman on the window seat. i could’ve sworn i marked that one when i booked? Kyle checks the boarding ticket again – row 13, seat A. it’s the right seat, why is there someone on it? 

an annoyed sigh escapes his lips, gathering the energy to speak up and reclaim his rightfully bought seat. the problem is, he gets ultimately struck when the seat-thief notices him standing and turns to face him. wide eyes meet his brown ones, immediately softening at the sight of your tempting glossy lips and delicate fingers pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. pretty little thing.

“i’m sorry, is this your seat? it was empty on the first flight,” you say, an apologetic tone in your voice as you frantically close the book on your lap and shove it in a bag, “i’ll move back for you–”

“it’s alright, keep it.” he interrupts, throwing his carry-on in the rack and taking the empty middle spot beside you. he smirks at your appreciative nod and watches you settling again on the backrest, buckling the seatbelt at the shining signal hovering your heads and paying extra attention to the flight attendant announcements, even when no one around seems to care. sweet girl, so considerate to everyone.

the plane starts speeding on the runway, and from his peripheral he views your squeezed eyes and nearly white fingers gripping the armrest, breathing quickening during the gravity push of the take off. it takes a moment for you to release your tight grasp and exhale, making his hand twitch with an urge to soothe you, tell you that you’re safe.

he shakes the sensation and leans his head back, focusing on the one thing he can do to pass the time – sleep. but he can’t keep his gaze out of you, glancing to his left whenever you make a movement, no matter how small. the rapid keyboard tapping guides his irises to your laptop screen, catching a few words in a sea of what for him sounds like an alien language. DNA strand? allele? locus mutation?

he sneaks a look through your figure and his eyes land on the familiar blue logo on your hoodie, the same one he always sees on the walk from the market to his flat. uni a couple blocks from me. do you live on campus? or nearby? that neighborhood is awful at night, full of old blokes searching the pubs for a quick fuck with a naive college girl. but you seem smart, not the type to fall for their tricks, right?

the harder he tries to avoid your presence, the more you make yourself known, almost making him feel like it’s on purpose. the way your plump lips wrap on the water bottle, slight drop scaping on the corner and trailing down your neck, your flowery perfume filling his nostrils when you shift on your seat to remove the top layer of your clothing, exposing the low-cut blouse underneath and the soft roundness of your tits. is that for me, sweet girl? need a break from studying so hard? the sudden tightness of his trousers brings him back to his senses, stirring the thought out of his brain. 

keep it cool, Garrick, he repeats over and over in his mind, ignoring the tent forming on his lap and praying to whatever god is out there that you won’t see it, even while standing up and brushing your legs on his knees to get to the corridor due the cramped space. however, he doesn’t miss how the guy by his side shamelessly ogles your cleavage when you step past him, making his blood boil and his fists clench – like he wasn’t doing the same exact thing minutes before.

while you're away, he glances at your screen again, noticing the constant message notifications from the contact ‘Marcus - DO NOT ANSWER’. already looking bad for you, mate. curiosity takes hold of him and he starts reading the texts, silently chuckling at the guy’s pathetic attempts to get your attention. what did he do to earn a cold shoulder, sweetheart? did he hurt you? didn’t he pay enough attention to you? i bet he couldn’t even fuck you the way you deserve. 

he keeps skimming the messages until the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth fades into a frown when he reads ‘you’re gonna regret leaving me’. now, who’s this prick? think you’ll get away with threatening my girl?

his body stiffens when you come back, eyes darting back to the small telly in front of him when your hand brushes on his thigh while sitting once again. he hears your irritated huff when you skim through the messages, shutting the laptop with near violence. i can take care of him for you, love. you won’t have to deal with that by yourself anymore. 

the pilot’s muffled voice coming through the speakers and announcing the landing shortens his daydreams about getting rid of Marcus. it would be a great way to keep himself busy while on leave, making sure to do it fast and secretly, of course, just to protect his sweet little thing. poor guy wouldn’t even know what hit him.

the pressure change on his ear is the telltale sign of the aircraft lowering its altitude, landing gear out to hit the lane and brake the machine. he turns to the side, watching again your knitted eyebrows and how your nails dig into the seat. this time he doesn’t contain himself and his hand gently lingers over yours, the softness of it sending lightning strikes over his body and almost making him cum instantly. 

your glinting eyes find his face with a grateful gaze, lips mouthing a sugary thank you when the plane finally stops. he helps you take your handbag out of the rack with ease, using the situation to flaunt his muscles. i can even pick you up, darling. would love to feel your pretty thighs around my waist. you wouldn’t have to walk a day in your life. 

his eyes follow the sway of your hips through the airport, heart almost bursting when you wave goodbye and flash him a timid smile. you think that’s the last time you’ll see him, he thinks this is just the beginning. a name and university? he’s used to finding people with even less information. see you soon, sweet girl.

[sizzleissues]

Its May.

Okay so this is in the same AU I had last year its just changed and evolved while also being the exact same. Except now I have 15,000 words of it written, like 7,000 words of planning and lore and hours upon hours of research that I will be pointedly ignoring. Will be posting more stuff this month about the AU and my hopes and dreams for it

Also slight art improvement check? I’ll put their original mermaid designs below the cut.

It’s Marinette as a mermaid and … its not Adrien or Chat Noir but a third worse thing (Catwalker but in the purest manifestation of it being a curse and not who he wants to be) I will be making designs for mer!Ladybug, and mer!Adrien as its own thing later on.

Okay if you want to indulge me look below the cut

Old mermaid designs first. I am going to be talking about my design thoughts, thoughts and ramblings about this AU and what I’ve been up to. You have been warned

As you can see, some things have changed but neither design I hated, I just wanted to go further with it.

My brain is quite specific about mermaids and how I want them to generally look. I wanted to distinguish biological merfolk from transformed humans by having them being anatomically different. So Adrien has a vertical tail instead which is also way faster underwater. His transformation is quite distressing for him and very chaotic. Of course when he accepts it he’s not so raggedy.

Marinette similarly avoids her life as a mermaid by becoming human and I wanted her mermaid design to hint toward her fascination with humans. She wears a top she fashioned from human fabric she found in a sunken merchant vessel. In general all other merfolk either forgo clothes or wear things fashioned from materials available to them. There’s deep fear of humans and human things so even though human clothes are available to them (off dead bodies but…. Whatever) they choose to difference themselves as much as possible. The same taboos don’t exist for them and their bodies are already adapted from the temperature of their environment. Adrien has stray bits of netting and seaweed on him because he’s not exactly the best at controlling his speed and often crash’s through fishing nets and patches of seaweed resulting in stuff being caught on him.

A lot of their designs are still being worked but I’ve definitely pushed them the right direction!

On to the AU. You might have seem me cryptically talk about something I’m writing the past few weeks. This is because it’s been in my brain since last May and been on and off writing it since then. I decided I’d talk about it once May came back around but and then when I finished writing it, start posting sneak peaks and more spoilery art until it was fully edited and I felt confident in it to post with an aim for it to finish posting once May rolled around again. Oh god.

It’s set in the late 1700s in a fictional version of France that’s actually fragmented over a bunch of islands. I have done more fashion research than I ever thought I’d do and in the end we will still be taking creative license but know I do know what they actually wore! I ALSO did a butt tonne of research about sailing ships and turns out they are super complicated and now I know too much and yet too little still about them. It should be super fun and action packed if I can manage. Have some really good scenes already in my head I know you’ll love. We’re already three ships battle deep and I’ve only written four chapters. (It chills out for a bit after that)

This is entirely self-indulgent by the way. I’m writing this for me, you guys are just a bonus. I literally don’t care as long as it satiates my rabid need for the fic that only lives in my brain at the moment. Saying that, I do want to put my best foot forward.

The next thing I will be posting for this is their human forms and more blabblerings about that. For I am insane and all.

[tinytalkingtina]

Cool Whip

Rating M | WC 1330 | Ao3 link

Tags: getting together, first kiss, innuendo, bisexual steve and eddie, eddie speed-runs a sexuality crisis, inappropriate use of whipped cream, fast burn (these two have never gone slow in their lives), fade to black

Written for the STWG July 28 prompt "Oh. Oh."

Steve stared at Eddie in complete silence.

Eddie fidgeted under his gaze. “So. Perhaps. In this instance, giving into the gremlin that lives inside my head was not the best choice I could have made,” he said sheepishly.

“Really Edward. You don’t say.” Steve was still holding the incriminating weapon, had been since he confiscated it. Every so often he twirled it around in his hands.

“What if you uhhh, did it back to me? We’ll be even?” he offered. “Come on, it’s fine, I won’t even fight you on it!”

“Can’t do that because we’re at my house, not yours, and this was my last pair of clean pants and underwear. So, unless you want to walk around like Winnie the fucking Pooh for the rest of the night, maybe we don’t spray whipped cream down your jeans too.” 

Steve ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I’m going to go take a shower and wash this shit off of my junk now, ‘kay? Just put the ice cream back in the freezer, we can do a movie night together another time, I guess.” Disappointment was written all over his face. Oops, Eddie didn't realize how much he must have been looking forward to watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. 

As Steve turned around to go, Eddie knew he should let him. Unfortunately, Nosnum Eidde, the impulsive gremlin living in his brain, was still firmly in control.

“Wait, let’s not waste it. Let me clean you up!” He blurted out.

What?

“What?” Steve was staring again, this time with eyes wide in confusion.

“Let me…clean up the mess I made. On your body.”

“Eddie I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

It did sound like a joke didn’t it. But if it was a joke, why was the thought sending sparks of lighting along his spine. 

“I don’t. Don’t think I’m joking right now,” Eddie said slowly. “Give me a minute here.”

It wasn’t like his brain had a perfect track record when it let Nosnum have the wheel. Like those times it had told him that he could climb the tallest tree in the trailer park without getting stuck at the top, or point out how hypocritical O’Donnell was acting during class without getting detention. 

But it had also gotten things right on occasion. And with Steve standing so close, it was busy pointing out things Eddie hadn't thought about before: like for example, when Steve chewed on his lips in agitation, they became invitingly plump. And, despite the growing damp spot on the front, those jeans were still hugging Steve's ass perfectly. 

Perhaps most importantly, he wasn't rushing forward to punch Eddie's lights out for insinuating, well. He just stood there with a faint blush coloring his cheeks. In his house, a place currently unoccupied by anyone else, not even Robin. While wearing a shirt that was just on the wrong side of too tight with his hair coiffed for a night out and oh my G-d—

“Steve…was tonight supposed to be a date?” Eddie was shocked the question fell out of his mouth so steadily.

The blush on Steve's face grew darker. “I mean, sort of? Was getting mixed signals from you but—yeah.” He shrugged. “We haven’t been able to hang out one on one since I figured things out. Thought I’d see how tonight went before making a move.”

“Oh. You. You had a plan to seduce me.” Eddie wheezed a little. "You like me like that?"

“I uh, kind of put two and two together about a month ago. Had a really long talk with Robin, and turns out apparently normal men don't want to, you know, make out with their guy friends. Or imagine Harrison Ford holding a whip when he’s all sweaty and—wait, what about you, Mr. 'Propositioning My Friends To Use My Mouth?’ How long have you known?"

“About five minutes consciously.” Eddie said in a strangled voice. “Maybe ten if we consider what I did to your pants subliminal foreplay.”

Steve snorted. The gremlin in Eddie’s brain was convinced this made him even more attractive. Huh, maybe this had been going on for longer than he had realized, if a snort could set him off.

“Not really sure what submarines have to do with Cool Whip, but yeah we can probably count that. Welcome to the ‘part gay’ club man! You’re taking this really well, no offense.” Steve pat him on the back, the brief contact sending more sparks through his veins.

“Yeah, in 1985 I’d probably be doing something destructive right about now.” Eddie agreed. “But the me of 1987 can’t really muster up the energy for another panic attack after finding out about inter-dimensional portals or. You know. Everything else that happened.” Wow, real smooth Eddie, way to kill the mood of whatever fever dream was happening right now.

“Besides,” he tried for a joke. “1987 Eddie has a high school diploma. My brain’s so full of facts there’s no more room for anything else unless we shove it into my mouth and—“ His eyes widened as he caught up with what he was saying. He ducked to hide behind his hair. “Uh, what I mean was, um. Yeah I’ve got nothing to say for that.”

Steve gave another adorable snort and walked closer. “We may have to work our way up to that one, but maybe I could give your mouth something else to put its lips around instead?”

“Dude that doesn’t even—what, do you want me to vacuum seal your mouth with mine? How would we, wait, please tell me that isn’t the secret move you pulled that had all the cheerleaders in school losing their minds over?” Eddie squeaked out.

Steve blushed again even as he laughed. “First of all I only ever actually dated like, three people in high school, I wasn’t as big a slut as rumors made me out to be. And okay that might have sounded better in my head, but in my defense I kind of can’t think of anything but kissing you right now.”

Eddie rapidly nodded his head. “Yes, that’s. We should do that. Please.” After a slight roadblock in which both of them on autopilot tried to take the lead and grab the other’s face, they finally managed to actually press their lips against each other.

And oh. Oh. 

Look, this was far from Eddie’s first kiss. But this was the first time someone still wanted to kiss after seeing him eat eggs with maple syrup on them. Or who knew he secretly slept with his childhood stuffed animal. Because Steve wasn’t angling to get cheaper weed, or trying to get back at his parents by having Eddie knock on the door in his ripped jeans for a date.

Steve knew Eddie’s whole sordid history, and kissed him anyway, holy shit.

The kiss itself was short and relatively chaste. But after they stopped, Steve didn’t immediately lean out of Eddie’s space. Instead he gave the tip of Eddie’s nose a quick peck before resting their foreheads together. A giggle bubbled up out of Eddie’s chest.

Steve rapped his knuckles on Eddie’s head. “Everything okay up there?”

“You like me. Steeeeve Harringtonnn likes me!” Steve smiled softly at him as he cupped Eddie’s cheek in his palm.

“Yeah, I do, you big dork. And I’d love to continue this, but because someone sprayed whipped cream onto my junk, I need to go shower it off before it gets even crunchier because wow, this is uncomfortable.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn to blush. “Sorry about that again. But if you want maybe uh, maybe I could join you and actually help clean it off?”

Steve smirked. “I think we can work something out, yeah. Come on.”

Running up the stairs while Steve tightly held his hand, Eddie decided that perhaps this time, his brain might have had the right idea after all.

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

Later that evening:

Eddie: "Wait, I was flirting with you the entire Spring Break from hell wasn't I."

Steve: "That was point #1 on Robin's 'Eddie is into you' list."

Eddie: "In hindsight this does explain why she kept saying I could be myself around her last week. I used the opportunity to give her a 2 hour long intro to metal music lesson."

Steve: "Yeah, she said I still owe her for that."

@augustjustice @stellarspecter Come get your fast burn Steddie!

[hyukasmiles]

—Yeonjun—

Yeonjun misses you. Misses you so so so bad, hates when he has to be away from you. Texts you over and over and over again that he wishes you were with him, pouts to his members when you reply that he’ll be home in a few days and it’ll be ok.

He knows it’s true, two more days in Japan and he’ll be back in your arms, but here; alone in his hotel room he’s so overwhelmed with missing you tears well up in his eyes.

You pick up his facetime almost immediately, your tired, pretty features making him miss you more. “Awe..” You coo, kissing your screen. “My Junnie is crying.”

“I miss you.” His frown hurts. “My heart hurts.”

“I miss you too! So excited for you to come home!” You shift, so innocently, just trying to get comfortable but your pretty tits come into his view and Yeonjun is reminded of another thing he misses. “You’ve got my perfume, spray it on your pillow it might help you sleep.”

The tank top you’re wearing is so thin, pretty nipples almost completely visible through the fabric. “Yeah… that’s a good idea.” He doesn’t tell you he’s already drenched his bed and clothes in it, or that he’s quickly getting hard in his pants.

“Three days, Junnie, you’ll make it.” You move again, yawning and stretching and putting your body on display for him. “I miss you too, I had your hoodie on earlier but it’s too hot for it.”

Surely you won’t notice his hand slipping into his waistband. “We’re coming back a day early this time, so only two.” You make a noise in the back of your throat, eyes going wide as you smile out a yay.

“Really!” Your face presses closer at the same time his hand wraps around his achy cock. “That’s great! I can’t wait!” He can’t either, tempted to book a plane ticket and rush back to you now. “Are you guys having fun in Japan? Do any shopping before the concert?”

“Ye-yeah, I got you some stuff.” Another little noise and his hand slowly tugs upwards in his dick. “A sh- A shirt and some makeup from don quixote.”

“Awe, thank you.” Yeonjun’s hips jump, your hand would feel so much better, any part of you would feel better. Your tits are in his view again and the thought of fucking them draws a whine out of him, stopping you mid sentence. “You ok?”

“Yeah..” His voice is unstable, hand speeding up as you raise an eyebrow. “I’m jus-t tired and miss y-you.” His thumb swipes over his tip and another whine is pulled out of him.

“I guess I should hang up if you’re so tired.” You pull away from the camera, perfect boobs finally on full display for him. He wishes he was there to see them in person, too squeeze and lick and kiss and fuck.

Yeonjun panics a little, hand stopping as you try to say goodnight. “No- no, I want to hear your voice.” He rolls onto his stomach, hips hitting against the mattress. “Need to hear your voice. I just miss you so much.” His phone slips out of his as he reaches for a perfume-soaked pillow, groaning as your smell fills his brain.

“Do you feel good, Junnie?” You coo, seeming to have caught on to him. “Pick me up, I want to see.” Yeonjun props his phone against the bed frame, sitting up to show you his erection. “Look at that, so hard.”

“I miss you. Want to fuck your tits so bad.” You kiss your teeth, free hand cupping your boob and jiggling it a little. “Wanna cum all over them n’ then fuck your pretty cunt.”

“Show me how you’d do it, Junnie.” He picks up the pillow again, folding it in half and sliding his weeping dick between the fold. His knuckles turn white with his grip, hips rolling into the pillow. “Does it feel as good as me?”

“No.” He laughs, hips hitting the pillow harder. “Your cunt is so fucking warm, makes me feel like my dick is gonna melt, and your skin his so soft in my hands. It’s just fucking heaven to fuck you, nothing will ever come close.” You blush at his words, cooing about how sweet he is.

Yeonjun’s hips drop moving to rut against the mattress again, he can feel pressure building up, your pretty face and tits edging his release. “I wanna see you cum, Junnie.” His orgasm hits him then and there, shoulders sagging as he cums over the cotton sheets.

“Fuck- fuck I wish you were here.” His hips slow as he calms down, using his hand to milk out every last bit of cum. “Feels like a waste when my perfect girlfriend looks so pretty covered in my cum.”

—

inbox always open 🎀

[dayabelle]

December

Pairings: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem Reader

Part 2!

Part 1, Part 3 soon

This one's a bit shorter then my other works but it won't always be this short

---

December 2nd,

The morning light filtered through the frosty windowpanes of Y/n’s workshop, casting a soft glow over her workbench. She stirred a fresh cup of coffee, the warm aroma filling the air and mingling with the ever-present metallic scent of her tools and gadgets. It was quiet now, save for the occasional crunch of footsteps on the snowy street outside. She loved these calm moments before her day picked up speed.

With her mug in hand, Y/n walked over to the bulletin board hanging on the wall beside her bench. It was filled with pinned blueprints, notes, and checklists. At the top of her list for the day was finishing some sketches for shock-absorbent gloves, an idea that had been rattling around in her brain for weeks.

Settling onto her stool, Y/n flipped open her notebook to a fresh page. Her pencil glided over the paper, bringing the gloves to life. She thought about the pro heroes she’d seen struggling with heavy impact injuries—how a bit of clever engineering could reduce those risks. The sketches became more detailed as she jotted down notes:

Adjustable compression settings.

Reinforced yet lightweight material.

Energy redistribution to minimize strain.

Minutes turned to hours as she lost herself in the creative process. Her coffee cooled beside her, forgotten. The quiet hum of the street outside became a comforting background melody.

But the sound of the bell above her shop’s door jolted her from her focus. She glanced up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, and saw a familiar figure wrapped in layers of winter clothing.

“Hey, Y/n!” Ochako Uraraka’s voice was bright, her cheeks pink from the cold as she stepped inside.

Y/n blinked in surprise before smiling. “Ochako! What brings you here this early? I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Ochako laughed, brushing snow off her boots and unwinding her scarf. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just thought I’d stop by—talk about some gear stuff, and, well, maybe just hang out for a bit.”

“You? Hanging out? That’s new,” Y/n teased, motioning for her to come in. “I’m guessing your schedule finally let up a little?”

Ochako shrugged, pulling off her gloves and plopping down onto a nearby stool. “Something like that. It’s December—feels like everyone’s slowing down a bit. Plus, Deku told me you’ve got a big meeting today, and I just had to come see how you’re feeling about it.”

Y/n groaned, grabbing a rag to wipe her hands clean. “Let me guess. Bakugo?”

“Ding, ding,” Ochako said, smirking. “Come on, what’s going through your head? The guy’s kind of...intense, you know.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Y/n replied, leaning against her workbench. “I mean, I’m not really worried. It’s not like I haven’t worked with stubborn heroes before. But he’s got a reputation, and I’m hoping he doesn’t live up to it.”

Ochako giggled. “Well, good luck with that. Honestly, though, you’re probably the best person to handle him. You’re like...unshakable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Y/n said, smiling. “How about you? Anything new with your gear?”

Ochako’s face lit up as she leaned forward. “Actually, yes! I’ve been thinking about a new design for my boots—something that could give me more control when I’m floating heavier objects. You’re still the only person I trust to make it happen.”

Y/n reached for her notebook. “Alright, tell me what you’re thinking.”

The two spent the next hour brainstorming ideas, Y/n sketching as Ochako animatedly explained her vision. The conversation flowed naturally, shifting from hero gear to casual gossip. Ochako filled Y/n in on funny stories from her hero work, tales of Deku’s overworking tendencies, and updates on Eri’s progress.

“Deku’s been running himself ragged,” Ochako said, shaking her head. “I swear, he doesn’t know the meaning of taking a break. But, honestly? I think he’s really excited about you meeting Bakugo today. He thinks it’s going to work out great.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Of course he does. He’s been hyping it up all week.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Ochako said with a grin. “I mean, if anyone can get Bakugo to chill for five minutes, it’s probably you.”

"Bakugo Katsuki," she muttered to herself, placing a few prototype sketches into a drawer. She couldn’t help but wonder how today would go. Izuku had said he was intense—and that was putting it lightly. From what she’d seen on TV, Bakugo was all bark and plenty of bite.

Her gaze drifted to the clock hanging on the wall. It was only 9:00 a.m., but she knew better than to waste any time. Kirishima would likely arrive on time, cheerful and eager, but Bakugo? She wasn’t sure what to expect.

Y/n tied her hair back into a practical ponytail, pushing aside a few stray strands from her face as she surveyed the area. Red Riot’s completed gear sat neatly on the workbench, polished and ready for pickup, but she’d made sure to clear enough space for the two new arrivals.

Y/n leaned over her notebook, pencil tapping against her lip as she processed Ochako’s description of the boots. The shop was warm and cozy, filled with the faint scent of melted wax from the candles she’d lit earlier. The soft glow from the lights strung around the shop framed the room in hues of gold and green. On the workbench beside her were scattered screws, bolts, and bits of leftover red material from Red Riot’s gear.

Outside, the muffled sound of laughter and caroling drifted in from the street. Y/n glanced briefly toward the frosted window, catching the sight of bundled-up children tugging sleds and shopkeepers arranging garlands on their doors. It was a peaceful scene, contrasting the chaos she usually worked in during December.

Ochako shifted in her chair, her finger tracing over one of Y/n’s sketches. “I love how you add so much detail to everything. Like this,” she said, pointing to a design for a stabilizing mechanism. “It’s stuff no one else would think of, but it always makes the gear feel...I don’t know, personal.”

Y/n smiled faintly, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook. “That’s kind of the goal. Hero work is personal. Everyone fights differently, so their gear should match. Plus, I guess I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”

“A bit?” Ochako teased, raising an eyebrow.

Y/n chuckled, tossing her pencil onto the bench. “Alright, maybe more than a bit. But it’s worth it when the heroes tell me the difference it makes. That’s what I care about.”

Her gaze drifted to the shelf above her workbench, where a collection of thank-you notes and small trinkets from various heroes were displayed. Among them was a tiny, hand-carved figure of a bear from Eri, a framed sketch of her first design from Deku, and a polished silver medal from Red Riot for her work on his early gear.

Ochako followed her gaze and smiled. “You know, if you ever decided to take a break from the workshop, you’d probably be swarmed with invitations to dinner from all your clients. They love you.”

Y/n snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Dinner sounds nice, but you know me. I’d probably end up sketching designs on the tablecloth instead of eating.”

The two laughed, and Y/n reached for her coffee mug, grimacing when she realized it had gone cold. She set it aside and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Her thoughts wandered to the afternoon ahead.

“I can’t believe I let Deku talk me into meeting Bakugo,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not that I’m nervous or anything—it’s just...he’s a lot.”

Ochako tilted her head, studying Y/n. “You’re overthinking it. Just treat him like any other client. If he gets out of line, well, you’re Y/n L/n. You can handle him.”

Y/n sighed, her lips quirking into a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess so. But it’s hard to ignore the whole ‘walking explosion’ thing. Deku talks about him like he’s a bomb waiting to go off.”

Ochako laughed. “That’s not far off. But he’s got a good side too. You’ll see. Just...maybe keep anything flammable out of reach.”

Y/n smirked and shook her head, glancing at the clock. It was nearing 11:00 a.m., which meant she had about an hour before Bakugo and Red Riot arrived.

Ochako must have noticed her glance because she stood, pulling on her gloves. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to work. But you’ll have to tell me everything later. I want details about this meeting.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but grinned. “Sure, sure. Just don’t expect anything dramatic.”

As Ochako wrapped her scarf around her neck, Y/n walked her to the door. The bell jingled as Ochako stepped outside into the snow-covered street. She turned back, giving Y/n a quick wave before disappearing into the bustling crowd.

Y/n lingered by the door for a moment, watching as the world outside came alive with the vibrant energy of the season. She could hear the faint strains of a holiday tune playing from a nearby speaker, blending with the chatter of people exchanging greetings and the clatter of footsteps on icy cobblestones.

Her thoughts returned to Bakugo. Despite Ochako’s reassurances, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of apprehension. She had worked with all kinds of personalities in the past, but something about this meeting felt different. Maybe it was the way Deku had insisted on it, or the fact that Bakugo had gone through multiple gear designers before coming to her.

Y/n shook her head, brushing the thoughts aside. She had work to do. Grabbing her notebook, she made her way back to the bench, tidying up the scattered tools and clearing space for the upcoming meeting. As she worked, the nervous energy slowly faded, replaced by the familiar rhythm of her routine.

As Y/n rose from her seat in the cafe, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries surrounded her. She approached the counter, handing the barista a few bills as she ordered a to-go cup of their signature roast. The barista smiled warmly, quickly preparing her drink and sliding the cup across the counter. Y/n grasped it, the warmth of the coffee seeping through the cardboard sleeve into her fingers.

Pushing open the door, the bell jingled softly, and the chill of the outside air greeted her. She adjusted her scarf, the faint aroma of cinnamon and evergreen lingering in the air. The festive decorations glinted in the morning light—the strings of red and green fairy lights twinkling above her, and wreaths adorning shop doors.

The town square sprawled out ahead of her as she walked back toward her workshop. Cobblestones dusted with snow crunched beneath her boots, and the chatter of townsfolk filled the air. At the center of the square stood the massive Christmas tree, towering and majestic, its branches adorned with golden ribbons, sparkling baubles, and delicate ornaments. A small train of children circled the tree, their laughter echoing as they admired its grandeur.

Nearby, a group of carolers huddled together, their harmonious voices carrying through the square. The melodies of “Jingle Bells” floated around Y/n as she walked past, the sound blending with the jingling of bells and occasional calls from vendors selling roasted chestnuts and warm cider.

She paused for a moment by the tree, taking in the scene. The way the snow clung to the branches of the tree and rooftops reminded her why she loved this little corner of town so much. It was serene yet alive, a perfect balance that fueled her creativity.

Clutching her coffee tightly, Y/n resumed her walk. Her workshop came into view, the frosted windows glowing warmly from the light inside. She unlocked the door and stepped into the familiar space, the comforting smell of oil and metal greeting her like an old friend.

Once inside, she set her coffee on the desk and got back to work.

Back in her workshop, Y/n settled into her desk chair, pulling her laptop closer. Her coffee sat steaming beside her, untouched as she opened the secure portal provided by the Hero Commission. Only certified hero gear designers had access to these files, which included in-depth analyses of quirks, combat footage, and notes from heroes themselves about their gear. She typed in the credentials Deku had shared with her yesterday for Bakugo Katsuki’s profile and pressed enter.

The screen filled with detailed reports. Her eyes skimmed the initial overview:

Hero Name: Dynamight

Quirk: Explosion

Mechanics: Sweats a nitroglycerin-like substance from his palms, igniting it to create explosions of varying intensity.

She clicked on a section titled Combat Footage. Clips began to play, showcasing Bakugo in action. His movements were ferocious, fast, and precise, but chaotic at the same time. He used his explosions for propulsion, blasting himself across the battlefield with remarkable speed. She noticed how he used his gauntlets to channel and store excess sweat, firing concentrated blasts when needed.

“Smart,” she murmured to herself, watching as he obliterated a massive stone wall during a training session. “But there’s room for improvement.”

She paused the footage and leaned back, her mind already racing with ideas. The gauntlets he currently used were bulky and seemed to weigh him down during long battles. While their storage capacity for his sweat was impressive, they lacked flexibility. She also noticed that Bakugo occasionally flinched after firing larger blasts, likely from the force reverberating through his arms.

Opening another file, she studied the blueprints of his existing hero gear. The gauntlets were made of a reinforced alloy that could withstand high temperatures, but they didn’t seem optimized for maneuverability. Bakugo’s quirk relied heavily on his speed and agility; he needed something that complemented those traits.

Y/n began sketching on a piece of graph paper, her pencil moving swiftly across the page.

She started writing down some plans.

Improvments to old design-

Lightweight Material: Replace the alloy with a cutting-edge, heat-resistant carbon fiber. This would significantly reduce the weight without compromising durability.

Dynamic Storage Chambers: Instead of one large storage unit, she envisioned several smaller, modular chambers integrated into the gauntlets. These would allow Bakugo to regulate the release of his sweat more efficiently, offering him better control during prolonged battles.

Shock Absorption System: She planned to line the interior with a gel-based material that could absorb and distribute the impact from larger blasts, minimizing strain on his arms.

Adaptive Fit: She wanted to incorporate an adjustable mechanism that would allow the gauntlets to mold to his arms, ensuring maximum comfort and reducing unnecessary movement.

Integrated HUD: Though Bakugo didn’t seem like the type to rely on tech too much, Y/n considered adding a small, retractable heads-up display to one gauntlet. It could provide him with real-time data about the gauntlet’s sweat levels and temperature.

She returned to the combat footage, replaying a moment where Bakugo propelled himself upward, firing rapid explosions from his palms. His movement was seamless, but she noticed how his gauntlets dragged slightly when he twisted mid-air.

“He’s compensating for their weight,” she muttered. “If I can make them lighter, his precision will improve.”

The reports also detailed Bakugo’s tolerance to his own explosions. His hands could withstand immense heat, but prolonged use led to redness and swelling. Y/n jotted down a note to include a cooling mechanism in the lining—perhaps something that could release a soothing mist after heavy use.

Her thoughts turned to the design itself. She wanted the gauntlets to look intimidating, matching Bakugo’s explosive personality. She sketched a sleek, angular design with sharp edges, the carbon fiber glinting in her imagination like obsidian. She added a small insignia resembling an explosion near the wrist—subtle, but fitting.

By the time she looked up from her sketches, it had already become noon. Her coffee was cold, and her shoulders ached from leaning over her desk. But she smiled, satisfied with the rough blueprint in front of her.

"Let’s see how he likes it," she thought, rolling her neck as she glanced at the clock. She felt ready to meet Bakugo and see if her vision for his gear aligned with his. For someone as demanding as Dynamight, she knew this was just the beginning.

As she leaned back to admire her sketches, the shrill ring of her phone broke her concentration. She grabbed it off the desk, her eyes lighting up when she saw the name flashing on the screen: Kirishima.

"Hey, Red Riot," she answered, still catching her breath from her brainstorming session.

“Y/n! Hey! Sorry to bother you,” Kirishima’s cheerful voice came through, loud and bright as ever. “I just wanted to check in about the gear. Bakugo told me you’re working on some designs for him, too. We were thinking, uh—maybe we could just come by together to pick mine up and talk about his?”

Y/n smiled, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, that works. I just finished up your gear, actually. Your timing is impeccable.”

“Sweet! I’m excited to see it,” Kirishima said, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “What time works for you? I know you told me yesterday but ive been so busy”

“Noon. You guys can swing by then,” Y/n said, glancing at her sketches of Bakugo’s gauntlets. “It’ll give me time to prep for whatever nitpicky feedback Dynamight’s going to throw my way.”

Kirishima laughed. “Yeah, he’s got... opinions. But don’t worry, I’ll keep him in check.”

“Thanks, Eijiro. I’ll see you both at noon, then,” she said, ending the call with a smile.

As she set her phone down, Y/n took a moment to collect her thoughts. Bakugo Katsuki and Eijiro Kirishima—two of Japan’s most notable heroes—were about to walk into her workshop. It was a mix of excitement and nervousness, but she was ready. Or at least, she hoped she was. She had famous heroes stop by a couple of times, but these were heroes that her friends were close to. So it felt somewhat different.

The call with Kirishima basically said "were on our way now" so she hopped up from her chair.

Y/n set her phone down and glanced around her workshop. While it wasn’t a complete mess, it certainly wasn’t in pristine condition. Scraps of metal, blueprints, and tools cluttered her workbench, and a light dusting of sawdust coated the floor near the storage shelves. She rolled up her sleeves, ready to tidy up before her guests arrived.

She began by organizing her tools, placing wrenches, screwdrivers, and hammers back into their designated spots on the wall-mounted pegboard. The sound of metal clinking softly filled the room as she worked. Next, she gathered the scattered blueprints and stacked them neatly on her desk, making sure to tuck away anything unrelated to Bakugo or Kirishima’s projects.

As she worked, the faint aroma of coffee from her earlier cup lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of her workshop. She grabbed a broom from the corner and swept up the sawdust and stray screws that had somehow made their way to the floor. Despite the hustle, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming meeting.

Y/n was used to dealing with pro heroes—her work attracted them, after all—but there was something different about this one. Maybe it was the way Midoriya had talked about Bakugo, the fiery personality he’d described in vivid detail. Or maybe it was the fact that she’d never worked with someone quite as infamous for their temper.

She finished tidying up the workbench and glanced at the clock. It was 11:50. Ten minutes. She sighed and leaned back against the counter, finally noticing her reflection in the window. Her black long-sleeve shirt, snug against her figure, and loose black sweatpants weren’t exactly what she’d consider meeting-hero clients attire.

But it was too late to change now. Besides, she figured comfort trumped style in her line of work. With that thought, she took a deep breath, grabbed the finished gear she’d prepared for Kirishima, and placed them carefully on the workbench.

The small bell above her door jingled, signaling their arrival. Y/n turned to see two towering figures entering her shop. Kirishima, his spiky red hair as vibrant as ever, stepped in first, his broad smile lighting up the room. Right behind him was Bakugo Katsuki, his ash-blond hair messy in a way that seemed deliberate, his sharp red eyes scanning the workshop.

“Yo, Y/n!” Kirishima greeted enthusiastically, brushing a few snowflakes off his jacket. “Thanks for letting us come by together.”

Bakugo, on the other hand, stayed silent, his gaze shifting around the room. His eyes lingered on the intricate tools and designs scattered about, and he crossed his arms as if he were already evaluating the place.

“Hey, Eijiro. And… you must be Dynamight,” Y/n said, offering a polite smile. “Come on in.”

“Yeah,” Bakugo muttered, stepping further into the room. His presence was intimidating, but Y/n held her ground. She motioned for them to follow her toward the workbench, ready to dive into what she hoped would be a productive meeting.

Y/n led Kirishima and Bakugo toward her workbench, where the gloves and arm strains she’d designed for Kirishima were displayed. She grabbed a sheet of paper from the edge of the desk and handed it to Kirishima with a small smile.

“These are the details for your new gear,” she explained, pointing to the carefully organized list of features. “I focused on making them lighter without compromising their durability. I used material that will channel your speed and shock-absorbent, so they’ll hold up better during prolonged battles or harsher environments. The adjustments should also help you maintain your stamina.”

Kirishima scanned the paper with a bright grin, his red eyes lighting up as he nodded enthusiastically. “This is amazing, Y/n! You always outdo yourself.” He lifted one of the gauntlets, inspecting its craftsmanship. “The detail is insane. You’re a lifesaver.”

Y/n shrugged modestly, but the praise made her lips quirk up slightly. “I know how important durability and flexibility are for you. If there’s anything that feels off when you’re testing it out, let me know, and I’ll tweak it.”

“You got it,” Kirishima said, carefully placing the items into his gear bag. He glanced at Bakugo, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, silently observing. “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll see you later, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered, waving Kirishima off without looking at him. Kirishima paid in advance, he already knew you would give him the results he needed.

Kirishima laughed and shot Y/n a thumbs-up before heading for the door. The bell jingled softly as he left, leaving the shop in silence.

Y/n turned to Bakugo, brushing her hands on her sweatpants before grabbing a set of blueprints from the workbench. She held them out to him, her posture calm but her mind racing slightly as she waited to gauge his reaction.

“Here’s what I came up with,” she said. “It’s a rough idea based on the videos I watched of you in action and the research I did on your quirk and current gear. Let me know what you think.”

Bakugo took the blueprints without a word, his expression unreadable as his sharp red eyes scanned the designs. The silence stretched on, filled only by the faint hum of the workshop lights.

Y/n resisted the urge to fidget, instead leaning back slightly against the workbench, watching his reaction carefully. She had dealt with stoic heroes before, but there was something about Bakugo’s intensity that made the silence feel heavier.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You actually looked into my quirk for this?”

“Of course,” Y/n replied simply. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to create something functional. The modifications I proposed here,” she leaned forward, pointing to the blueprint, “will improve the efficiency of your gauntlets, letting you channel smaller, controlled explosions when needed without sacrificing power output for the larger ones. I also added heat dispersal channels to reduce strain during prolonged battles.”

Bakugo nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on the paper. “Hatsume never put this much thought into it,” he muttered almost to himself, his tone lacking its usual edge.

Y/n raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, she crossed her arms and waited for him to continue.

“This isn’t bad,” Bakugo finally admitted, glancing up at her. “Not bad at all.” It was fucking perfect, he had to resist the urge to grin like a maniac. He would become unstoppable with this, he already had so many images in his mind of how he could use this to become better.

“High praise coming from you, Dynamight,” Y/n replied, her tone light but her lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“Tch. Don’t get cocky,” he grumbled, though his expression didn’t carry the usual bite. He folded the blueprint carefully and tucked it under his arm. “When do you think you can have a prototype ready?”

“Depends,” Y/n said, already mentally calculating the timeline. “If you’re serious about this, I’ll need to do some fittings and tests with you first. No point in making a prototype that doesn’t work for you.”

Bakugo nodded again, his intense gaze meeting hers. “Fine. Just don’t waste my time.”

“I don’t plan to,” she replied evenly, her eyes unwavering.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Bakugo straightened, adjusting his stance.

“Alright. When do we start?”

Y/n stood in front of Bakugo, her fingers brushing through the air as she explained the materials she would need to get started on his gauntlet prototype. She moved fluidly, her hands gesturing as she spoke, outlining the complexity of the design in a way that was second nature to her.

“Alright, first things first,” she said, her tone clear and focused. “I’ll need a specialized alloy—something lightweight but durable enough to handle the heat and shock from your explosions. That’s about $2,000 just for the raw materials. I’ll also need heat-dispersal channels to manage the thermal output from your quirk, which will run around $1,200.”

As she spoke, she walked around the workshop, gathering scattered tools and a few reference materials, as though illustrating her thoughts in the space around her. She then turned, meeting Bakugo’s gaze, and continued, “I’ll need an explosion-containment lining inside the gauntlets to handle the shockwaves. That’ll be another $1,000. Plus, there’s the electronics—the trigger mechanisms, the sensors to make sure everything is responsive and reliable, that’ll cost about $800.”

Bakugo stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze sharp as he watched her explain, his lips twitching slightly, though he didn’t interrupt.

“I’ll also need to account for testing materials, because, you know, things don’t always work out perfectly on the first try. That’s another $500. And, of course, using CNC machines for precision cutting and the 3D printer to create components will be another $2,000.” She paused, taking a breath. “I’ll need time to do all this, so we’re looking at about $2,500 for labor and overhead costs. And since I’ll need to use some special hero commission materials, we’re looking at an additional $500 there.”

She looked at him then, raising an eyebrow, giving him a moment to absorb the numbers before adding, “So, all in all, we’re talking about $11,500 to get a full prototype ready.”

Bakugo didn’t flinch, but there was a noticeable tension in his jaw as he heard the cost. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a thick stack of cash, his fingers tightening around the bills. He didn’t say a word—just grunted low in his throat and handed it over to her.

Y/n took the money, not at all surprised by his blunt approach, but she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the stack in her hands. “Not a word, huh?”

Bakugo shrugged, looking away. “I’m not here to waste time. Get it done.”

She glanced down at the cash, counting it quickly, before nodding. “Alright. I’ll get started immediately. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

He turned to leave, not offering much more than a sharp “Good,” as he headed toward the door.

“Hey, Bakugo,” Y/n called out just before he reached the threshold.

He stopped, half-turning toward her with a raised eyebrow.

“If this works out the way I think it will, you won’t regret it,” she said, her voice steady, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Bakugo just grunted in response and left without another word, the door jingling as he exited. Y/n stood there for a moment, glancing at the cash in her hand before putting it into her desk drawer.

“Guess it’s time to get to work,” she muttered to herself, already thinking about the next steps in the process, the quiet hum of her workshop filling the space once again.

The quiet of the workshop was comforting. The hum of the machines, the occasional clink of tools, and the soft buzz of her thoughts as Y/n set to work on Bakugo's gauntlets. The pressure to deliver something extraordinary didn’t faze her. She thrived under it, and the $11,500 in her desk drawer now felt like fuel rather than a burden.

She started by laying the groundwork—the design, the blueprint she’d handed Bakugo, now spread out before her on the workbench. She had every intention of refining it, fine-tuning it as she went, but this was her starting point. The key was precision. Each detail mattered. Bakugo’s gauntlets had to reflect both the raw power of his quirk and the controlled precision he needed to prevent injury from the sheer force he wielded.

First, she focused on the gauntlet structure itself—the base. She reached for a few sheets of the alloy material, noting the color and texture as she ran her fingers across it. It was lightweight but strong, the kind of metal that would absorb the shockwave from his explosions without crumbling under pressure. As she sliced through it with a laser cutter, her mind raced ahead to the next steps. The gauntlets would need cooling channels to handle the heat from the constant explosions.

She pulled out the high-tech filaments that would make up the internal cooling systems, cutting thin strips to fit the gauntlet’s curves. There was a certain satisfaction in working with these materials—each one felt like a perfect fit, much like a puzzle that, once complete, would give Bakugo the edge he needed in battle. As she worked, she couldn’t help but think back on their first encounter. Despite his rough exterior, there was something about the way he carried himself that made her think he was capable of collaboration, not just stubbornness. It gave her a glimmer of hope that this partnership might turn out better than she originally expected.

She worked with a focused intensity, hands moving fluidly as she welded the cooling channels into place, ensuring they were secure and precise. The internal circuitry was just as important as the outer materials. She carefully designed the wiring that would run through the gauntlets, making sure the feedback sensors would respond to Bakugo’s movements, allowing for immediate adjustments. She cut out the small compartments for the sensors, ensuring they were compact enough not to add unnecessary weight but sophisticated enough to be effective.

As the hours slipped away, the rhythm of her work kept her grounded. The afternoon light outside started to fade, the snow beginning to accumulate once again on the windowsill, but inside, the workshop remained bright with overhead lights, the glowing edges of her work casting soft shadows against the walls. The smell of burning metal and fresh components filled the air, an aroma Y/n was more than familiar with, a scent that meant progress.

With each weld, each adjustment, she grew more certain this project would be one of her best yet. It was a good feeling, one that had been absent for a while. Y/n had worked with dozens of pro heroes, each with their own quirks, each with their own needs, but Bakugo’s gauntlets felt different. They felt important, like this was more than just another paycheck or another job to tick off. She could see the potential in him. The gauntlets weren’t just about power—they were about refining that power, helping Bakugo control it better. That made the task feel personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

She glanced over at the clock—almost six hours had passed since she started. She hadn’t even realized it was so late. She stopped for a moment, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of grease across her face. She didn’t mind; it was part of the process.

The prototype was beginning to take shape. The metal frame of the gauntlets had been fully assembled, the internal components locked into place. The cooling system was in the final stages, and the wiring was nearly complete. She reached for the finishing touches—smoothly applying the final protective layers and ensuring the heat dispersion technology would function at peak efficiency.

As she worked, she thought back to Bakugo. He was more than just a short-tempered, explosion-happy hero—there was something beneath all that. She hadn’t seen the worst of him yet, but she could tell he had a purpose in mind, and she had a feeling he wasn’t as difficult to work with as Deku had painted him to be.

“Not as bad as you thought, huh?” she whispered to herself with a small smile, placing the gauntlet down carefully and surveying her work.

It was then that she realized—she could see herself working with him again in the future. The complexity of the project was rewarding, but there was also something satisfying about bringing a design to life that was uniquely tailored to a person. She had no doubt that Bakugo would be back once this was done.

Taking a step back, Y/n let out a breath, allowing herself a moment of pause before she started to put everything away for the night. The gauntlets were almost ready for testing, and soon, she would have to hand them over. She couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be. Would he appreciate the care she’d taken? Would he be surprised by how much effort she’d put into understanding his needs, his quirks?

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was eager to see.

Y/n took a step back from her workbench, eyes scanning over the gauntlets one last time. The prototype was finished and ready for Bakugo’s approval. She wiped her hands on a rag, then reached for her phone on the desk. The quiet of the workshop was now only punctuated by the soft clicks of her fingers on the screen as she typed.

She could feel a certain tension as she composed the message, not because she doubted her work, but because it felt like the final step—she was finally about to send Bakugo the results of all her hard work.

Hey, Bakugo. The prototype is ready. I’ve tested the cooling system and the wiring, and it should be good to go. Come by tomorrow around noon to test it out and let me know if you need any adjustments. If you like it, we’ll talk about the next phase of the project—creating the real thing. Let me know. Y/n

She hovered her thumb over the send button for a moment before quickly tapping it.

Setting the phone down, Y/n moved to check the clock again—it was already getting late, but a feeling of accomplishment made it hard to relax. With the message sent, her mind started to wander through the possibilities of tomorrow. Bakugo’s reaction, the adjustments he might ask for, the pressure of making sure the prototype met all his expectations. She had a sense that Bakugo would be… difficult, but it was a good challenge. She knew the stakes of the job now, and it would be worth every bit of effort.

She tidied up around the workshop, organizing her tools and putting away the leftover materials. The place was filled with the faint, lingering smell of metalwork and machine oil. She had managed to create a perfect, functional prototype, but there was still more work to be done once Bakugo gave his final feedback. She hoped it would be a good test.

After everything was cleaned up, she grabbed a quick drink from the fridge and sat back down at her desk, still buzzing with excitement over the gauntlets. It would be a busy day tomorrow.

The evening passed in a warm, easy rhythm, with Eri's giggles and stories filling the shop as the two of them shared snacks and swapped small talk. The cozy hum of the heater in the corner of the shop provided a comforting background as the wind outside howled softly against the windows, and the dim glow from the overhead lights cast a gentle ambiance over the room. They spent hours talking about everything from school to the heroes Eri admired, to stories Y/n told about the latest projects she was working on. There was a sense of calm, of contentment in the air, as they sank into the moment.

After the movie ended, and Y/n made sure Eri was comfortable on the couch with a blanket, the young girl sat up suddenly, her bright eyes wide with curiosity. "Y/n..." she began, her voice tentative yet full of hope. "Can you teach me something small? I want to learn how you make all your amazing gear. I know I'm still young, but... I think it would be really cool to know even a little bit about it. Please?"

Y/n paused for a moment, surprised by the request, but there was a warmth in Eri’s face, a genuine desire to learn. She couldn’t say no. With a soft smile, Y/n nodded, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Alright, but only something small. You're still getting the hang of all this stuff."

Eri bounced on her feet, grinning ear to ear as she followed Y/n down the stairs. The dimly lit shop seemed even more peaceful in the late hours, the lights from the upstairs hallway casting long shadows as Y/n moved toward the storage room. She reached for the doorknob, pulling open the heavy door to reveal shelves lined with tools, boxes of wires, metal pieces, and components that had been used in countless projects.

Eri stepped inside, her eyes gleaming as she looked around the room, taking in everything. The air smelled faintly of oil and metal, a scent Y/n had grown so familiar with over the years, but to Eri, it was like stepping into another world. Everything looked so complicated, yet so exciting.

Y/n motioned for Eri to sit down on the floor with her, and they both crossed their legs. Y/n set a small project in front of them: a simple gear mechanism that needed to be assembled. It was basic, just a few pieces to put together, but it was the perfect place to start. She handed Eri a wrench and a few screws. "Okay," she began, "this is a basic gear system. It’s what I use in some of the prototypes when I need to test how things move and interact. All you need to do is line up the gears and use the wrench to tighten them into place. It's simple but precise work."

Eri’s hands shook slightly as she took the pieces, her fingers not quite sure where to begin. Y/n smiled, her voice soft and encouraging. "It's okay, take your time. Start with this piece here," she said, pointing to the largest gear. "Line it up like this..." Y/n moved her hand gently over Eri’s, guiding her fingers into position. "Now, tighten the screws just like this."

The warmth from the lamp beside them made everything feel intimate, almost like a private moment between them, a scene pulled straight out of a quiet film. The only sound was the soft clink of metal, the faint hum of the heater, and Eri's soft breaths of concentration. Y/n sat next to her on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands resting lightly on her knees, watching Eri carefully. There was a quiet intensity to it, the girl’s determination clear in every small movement, every furrow of her brow as she tried to understand the mechanics of what she was building.

Y/n didn’t rush her, watching as Eri carefully placed the pieces together, her movements tentative at first, but growing more confident with each small success. There were moments of frustration, the pieces not fitting correctly or the gears not clicking into place, but each time Eri made a mistake, Y/n gently guided her back on track, explaining things in simple terms.

"That’s okay, just try again," Y/n said, her voice gentle, guiding her through the small mess-ups. "You’ll get it. It’s all about patience."

Eri nodded eagerly, her face flushed with the small victories. Slowly, as the pieces began to fall into place, her confidence grew, and the gears clicked together perfectly. Eri looked up at Y/n with a proud grin. "I did it! Look!" she said, holding up the small gear mechanism, now fully assembled.

Y/n smiled softly, her heart swelling with pride at how far Eri had come in just a short amount of time. "You did great," she said warmly. "Just remember, it’s all about taking your time and staying patient."

Eri’s face lit up with excitement, but she looked down at the gear she had made, her hands still trembling with the energy of the moment. "I’m going to be like you one day, Y/n. I swear."

Y/n chuckled softly, ruffling Eri’s hair affectionately. "You’re already on your way, Eri. Just keep practicing. I'll send you home with some basic stuff tomorrow. "

With the small project finished, they stood up together and began making their way back upstairs. The whole atmosphere in the shop felt like it had slowed down, as though the world outside had paused to watch them. Eri was still buzzing with excitement, talking about everything she had learned and asking more questions about gears and her future as a hero.

When they finally reached the bed, Y/n set up the blankets and pillows for a comfortable spot to settle in. Eri quickly curled up under the warm covers, her eyes growing heavy as she settled next to Y/n. They started another movie, but soon the quiet of the evening and the gentle glow of the screen lulled them both into a peaceful silence.

Y/n smiled softly as she glanced over at Eri, her heart full. This moment, this simple night, felt like a memory she would keep forever. Something that would be etched into her mind like the soft hum of gears spinning—steady, constant, and full of promise for the future. Maybe because Y/n had always wanted a daughter, even if Eri wasn't close enough to be considered one. Moments like these filled her heart.

---

The morning sun was just starting to peek through the blinds when Y/n heard the soft shuffle of Eri’s footsteps coming down the stairs. It was still early, but the excitement of a new day had already worked its way into the young girl’s energy. Y/n had already been awake, preparing a cup of coffee in the kitchen as she checked her phone.

Eri came into the kitchen, her backpack slung over one shoulder, looking much more grown-up than she had when she first arrived at Y/n’s place. Her hair was neatly combed, her uniform crisp, and she had a bright, eager smile that made Y/n’s heart flutter with affection.

"Morning!" Eri chirped, the cheerfulness in her voice making the space feel warmer.

"Morning," Y/n replied, setting the mug down on the counter. She turned to look at Eri, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "Ready for school?"

Eri nodded, biting her lip as she glanced around, as though trying to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. "I really appreciate you letting me stay over. It was so fun! And thank you for teaching me that stuff last night." Her voice dropped a little shyly as she thought back to their time in the workshop.

Y/n smiled softly. “Anytime, Eri. You did great last night. I’m sure you’ll be building your own stuff in no time.”

Eri beamed, her eyes sparkling. "You really think so?"

Y/n chuckled. "I know so."

Eri rushed over and gave Y/n a quick hug, surprising her for a moment. The younger girl was often reserved, but moments like this made Y/n’s heart ache with tenderness.

"Well," Eri said, pulling back and adjusting her backpack, "I’ll see you later! I’ll tell Shota you said hi!"

"Take care, and have a good day at school," Y/n called after her as Eri darted out the door, the sound of the bell ringing lightly behind her as she ran to catch up with her classmates.

Y/n watched her go for a moment before sighing contentedly, the house feeling quieter again. She loved having Eri around, but it was always bittersweet when she left for the day, like a little piece of happiness walked out with her.

With Eri now off to school, Y/n returned to the workshop, gathering her focus for the day ahead. She took a moment to mentally prepare herself for the upcoming meeting with Bakugo. It was only a few hours away, but she was ready. There was a quiet sense of satisfaction that came with seeing his prototype work so well the day before, and now it was time to fine-tune things.

She double-checked her tools, made sure the prototype gauntlets were in good condition, and organized the materials she would need to adjust the interior pressure system. She also took a few moments to tidy up the workspace—while Y/n was normally meticulous about cleanliness, the chaos that was her work sometimes bled into her space. Today, she wanted everything to be just right. The energy she’d had the day before had stayed with her as she worked, and it felt like the right moment to move forward.

As she adjusted a few parts on her workbench, she found herself lost in her thoughts. The previous day with Bakugo had gone better than expected. He was still prickly, still the same explosive person she’d heard about from Izuku, but his reaction to the prototype—his feedback—made her feel like they were building a connection. Not a personal one, but a professional one, and that was enough for now.

She was starting to see the bigger picture: her designs could impact heroes like him. And if everything went as planned, this was just the beginning of a long-term working relationship.

-

The doorbell jingled, and Y/n snapped out of her thoughts. She glanced toward the door, a moment of anticipation building in her chest. Bakugo was here.

She walked over to the door to greet him, the sound of his boots clicking on the floor growing louder as he stepped inside. He looked just as intense as he did the day before, but this time there was a calmness in his demeanor that Y/n noticed immediately. The gauntlets from the previous day were now strapped to his wrists, and he was clearly ready to see how the prototype held up in a more demanding test.

Y/n smiled, but it was a more neutral smile this time—professional, not personal. "Morning, Bakugo. Ready to test the adjustments?"

He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes scanned the workshop briefly. She saw him make a mental note of the setup, maybe trying to figure out if she had done anything else to impress him.

“Let’s get to it,” Bakugo muttered, sounding a little less gruff than usual but still direct.

Y/n nodded, gesturing to the workbench where the adjustments to the gauntlets were laid out, ready for testing. "I made some minor tweaks to the interior pressure system, like we discussed. Try them on and see how they feel."

Bakugo grunted in acknowledgment as he moved toward the bench, looking over the gauntlets with a critical eye. His fingers skimmed over the components, clearly assessing them.

"Don’t overdo it,” Y/n warned, noticing his intense scrutiny of the design. “Take it slow at first, just let me know if anything feels off.”

Bakugo huffed but didn’t argue, slipping the gauntlets back on. Y/n moved a few steps back, watching closely as he tested the movements. His first action was a simple flex of his fingers—just like the day before—but this time, Y/n could see the difference. He was more attuned to the gear, more aware of the way it responded to his quirk.

He extended his arms, testing the weight distribution. His posture was strong, his body coiled with the kind of power that came naturally to someone like him. Y/n watched for signs of discomfort—anything that could signal a flaw in the design.

"So?" she asked, her voice a little quieter now, as she waited for his verdict.

Bakugo remained silent for a moment, lost in the rhythm of his own testing. Finally, he looked up from his hands, locking eyes with Y/n.

“It’s better,” he said simply. “More flexible. I can work with this.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a wave of relief and quiet satisfaction wash over her. “Good. There are still a couple of minor adjustments to make, but this is a solid base to build on.”

Bakugo grunted, as if admitting something he didn’t quite want to, then turned to walk out.

“Let me know when you’re ready to finalize it,” he muttered over his shoulder before the door closed behind him with a loud jingle.

Y/n stood there for a moment, her heart racing with excitement. This wasn’t just a success; it was the beginning of something.

---

December 5th,

For three days, Y/n threw herself into Bakugo’s gauntlets with a level of focus that was both intense and consuming. The clock seemed irrelevant. Hours bled together as she carefully assembled, welded, and tested each individual part. The gauntlets weren’t just about performance; they were about precision, efficiency, and fitting Bakugo’s chaotic, explosive style of combat. She hadn’t even noticed how much time passed between bathroom breaks and the occasional text from neighbors or Izuku.

She had gotten used to working long hours, skipping meals, and letting her body run on caffeine and the occasional snack that she barely tasted. Her stomach had long since become accustomed to hunger pangs, a dull throb in the background of her mind as she focused on the minute details of the gauntlets. Every screw, every part, every piece of the technology she worked on had to be perfect. Not for her own benefit, but because Bakugo deserved it, whether he realized it or not. She couldn't afford to make mistakes with someone like him.

Her shop was a chaotic but well-organized mess. Tools were scattered across the floor, some forgotten and others deliberately placed for quick access. The only light came from the overhead bulbs, which cast long, harsh shadows on the walls as the night passed. The low hum of the machines was the only sound she heard as she moved, her hands shaking slightly with exhaustion.

She had taken the occasional break to step outside, her breath fogging up in the winter air, and to receive a text or two from Izuku—always checking in, always asking if she was okay. She hadn’t wanted to admit to him how far she’d gone without eating. But Izuku was kind and persistent, and sometimes his texts felt like a lifeline amidst the whirlpool of her work.

The gauntlets were finally coming together, but Y/n couldn’t help but feel both proud and incredibly drained. Her body screamed for rest, and yet, she couldn’t stop. Not yet.

...

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the gauntlets were done. She stepped back, wiping grease and oil from her face with the back of her hand, inspecting the finished product. The sleek black and orange design gleamed under the light, the inner mechanisms already adjusted for Bakugo's quirk. The gauntlets had a custom-made feedback system built into them, amplifying the force of his explosions but distributing the recoil so it wouldn’t damage his limbs.

Y/n’s eyes were blurry from lack of sleep, but her heart swelled with a quiet pride. These gauntlets weren’t just equipment; they were an extension of Bakugo’s fury and power, honed down to a level of sophistication she didn’t think anyone else could pull off. She couldn’t help but think—Bakugo was going to love these. She wasn't just assuming he would, she knew it. She had seen his face after reading her blueprint, then when he walked out with the prototype.

But even as she stood in awe of her work, she realized how long it had been since she had properly cared for herself. The lingering hunger in her stomach was becoming unbearable, and a deep fatigue was pulling at her bones. Her body was starting to remind her that she couldn’t keep going like this.

The moment she finished the gauntlets, she knew she needed a break. She couldn’t push her body any further. A long, hot shower was the only thing she craved at that moment.

She stood under the showerhead, feeling the warm water cascade over her tired skin. The hot steam fogged up the bathroom mirror as she leaned against the tiles, letting the heat melt away the tension in her muscles. Her hands moved lazily through her hair, rinsing out the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the past three days of working nonstop.

The water felt like a balm to her soul, the soft spray soothing the aches in her back, her shoulders, and her legs. She stayed there for what felt like hours, the steam making her skin feel alive again. Each drop of water felt like it was washing away not just the grime but also the mental exhaustion that had been building in her mind.

Her thoughts began to wander as she relaxed, the weight of her work melting away. She thought about Bakugo—how he would react to the gauntlets, how she would handle seeing him again. It had been a professional interaction so far, but something about him kept nagging at her mind. He was abrasive, yes, but there was a part of him she couldn’t quite decipher, something raw and genuine underneath his rough exterior.

She let out a sigh as the water beat against her body. Maybe it was because she hadn’t had a proper break, but her mind was running wild. She forced herself to focus, thinking about how she still had a few adjustments to make. There would always be adjustments, but for now, the gauntlets were perfect.

Eventually, after a long time, she turned off the shower, reluctantly leaving the hot water behind. As the steam dissipated, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom, feeling like a new person. But that feeling wouldn’t last long. There was still more work to be done.

Just as she was starting to dry off, her phone rang, and she saw that it was Izuku. She quickly grabbed a robe and wrapped it around herself as she picked up the call.

“Hey, Izuku,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. She wasn’t sure if it was from fatigue or something else.

“Hey, Y/n,” Izuku greeted warmly. “How’s the gauntlet coming along? Bakugo’s been really eager to see them.”

“I just finished them,” she replied, a little out of breath. “They’re ready for testing. I’ll be sending him the details later.”

“Wow, that’s great! He’s been waiting for them, but you know how he is,” Izuku said, chuckling. “He’s probably pacing back and forth, eager to get his hands on them.”

You pictured a little troll with Bakugo's face on it, grimy little hands scratching his goofy head pacing back and forth and just scowling at the air.

Y/n smiled, even though Izuku couldn’t see her. “I’m sure. I’ll call him when I’m ready for him to test them out.”

“So… how’s everything else?” Izuku asked, voice lowering a little. “You’re taking care of yourself, right? I know you can get carried away with your work.”

She chuckled softly. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Good, good,” Izuku said, but she could hear the concern in his voice. “By the way, there’s another hero who’s been looking to get in touch with you. They were impressed by your work, and I think they might be a good fit for your skillset.”

Y/n’s curiosity piqued. “Who’s that?”

Izuku paused for a second before answering, “His name’s Sir Nighteye Junior. He’s got some big projects in the works, and he’s been reaching out to top gear designers. He’s heard about your work with Bakugo and some of the other heroes.”

(LISTEN I FORGOT HE DIED YEARS AGO BUT I ALREADY WROTE HIM INTO THE STORY. PRETEND ITS LIKE SIR NIGHTEYE JR, JUST COPYING SIR NIGHT EYE'S NAME PLS)

Y/n’s brow furrowed at the mention of Nighteye. “That’s... interesting. I’ll need to think about it.”

Izuku chuckled again. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

As Y/n hung up the phone, she let the information settle in her mind. Sir Nighteye Junior, huh? It was a big opportunity, but it also felt like a lot of pressure. She wasn’t used to being sought after by heroes, not at this level. But she had no time to think about it right now. Bakugo’s gauntlets were her priority, and she was determined to get them just right.

The work was never-ending, but for Y/n, that was exactly how she liked it. There was always something more to learn, something more to create. The next challenge had already arrived, and she was ready to face it head-on.

She just hoped she’d have a moment to catch her breath before diving into it.

-

It had been a long, demanding few days for Y/n, and just as she thought she might get a break, the lingering thought of Sir Nighteye Junior's request gnawed at her mind. She had almost sent the message to Bakugo to inform him that his gauntlets were ready for pickup, but instead, she found herself staring at her phone screen, wondering if she should give this new opportunity any serious thought. Was she ready to juggle multiple high-profile projects? Her mind was buzzing with the pressure, but she knew she couldn’t put this off any longer. Sir Nighteye Junior was one of the richest heroes in Japan, after inheriting the original Sir Nighteye's inheritance. But Bakugo was a different story...

So, with a long sigh, she sent Bakugo the text: “Your gauntlets are ready for pickup. Let me know when you can stop by to grab them.”

She tried to relax, but her thoughts kept returning to Nighteye. Could she handle him as a client? What kind of demands would he make? She had met this guy before, and he was a complete ass. She buried her phone in her pocket and leaned back in her chair, but just as she did, she heard the chime of her front door.

Bakugo stood in the doorway, a familiar and yet unsettling presence. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her as he stepped inside, his usual cocky confidence on full display. But something about his demeanor was different—there was less of that harsh energy. Perhaps it was the fact that his gauntlets were finally finished, or maybe something else. She had just sent him that text a few seconds ago? Weird, he was probably on patrol nearby. What a weird little angry troll.

Y/n gestured toward the counter where the gauntlets rested, a sleek black-and-orange masterpiece of engineering. "They're ready," she said, standing up and walking over to them. “I made a few adjustments based on what you mentioned before.”

Bakugo walked toward the counter, his gaze quickly scanning over the gauntlets, his sharp eyes catching every small detail. He was quiet, examining them closely. Y/n couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t immediately make a snide remark or scoff. Instead, he paused for a moment, his fingers brushing over the design with a surprising amount of care.

"Yeah, this looks solid," Bakugo muttered. "Better than what I was expecting." His voice was low, but there was a hint of something—maybe respect, maybe admiration—hidden behind his usual gruff tone.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, unsure if she heard that correctly. "You actually like it?"

Bakugo scowled but didn’t seem to find any fault with her work. "I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t. You’re not completely useless when it comes to making gear."

Y/n’s lips twitched. It wasn’t the most glowing compliment, but coming from him, it meant more than anything overly effusive. Still, she didn’t want to get too comfortable. "I’m glad it’s up to your standards," she replied, trying to keep the conversation professional. "I made sure to adjust the inner feedback system, and the recoil dampeners should keep your arms in one piece after the big hits."

Bakugo grunted, picking up one of the gauntlets and flexing his fingers inside it. "It feels good," he admitted, still inspecting the mechanics. "Could’ve been a bit tighter around the wrist, though."

Y/n immediately noted the adjustment in her mind, feeling the urge to tweak it, but before she could say anything, Bakugo handed her the gauntlet, his eyes still on the design. “Not bad. You made these quick, I’ll give you that.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was that... a compliment? She nodded, acknowledging it. “Thanks, I did my best to get them just right.”

Bakugo was silent for a moment, then his voice shifted, this time a little less guarded. “You’re not so bad at this... I might’ve underestimated you.”

Y/n blinked in surprise, but before she could respond, Bakugo’s expression hardened again. “But if it’s not right when I test it, we’ll have a problem.”

Y/n chuckled to herself, hiding the small smile threatening to form on her face. "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it."

But as soon as Bakugo left, her relief didn’t last long. The request from Nighteye had been lingering at the back of her mind. She felt the pressure mounting—could she really handle another demanding hero? Her phone buzzed again, and this time it was from Izuku.

Izuku: “Hey, I know you’re busy, but you need to take a break. You’ve been at this nonstop. Don’t forget to eat, alright? Please let me know if you need anything.”

'Damn how'd he know? Is he sending Bakugo over to spy on me?'

Y/n’s fingers hovered over the keys for a moment. She didn’t want to worry Izuku, but she knew she couldn’t keep up this pace forever. Still, it was hard to turn down the opportunities coming her way. She took a deep breath, putting the phone down as she forced herself to focus.

But just as she was about to start on those final tweaks, the doorbell chimed once more. She opened the door to see Bakugo standing there, a determined look on his face. He didn’t even wait for her to speak before he stormed in. Why was he back?

“Yo,” Bakugo said, glaring at her. “You’re still gonna be working on those, right?”

Y/n looked at him, confused. “What? I thought you were satisfied with the fit.”

Bakugo crossed his arms, clearly agitated. “I’m not talking about the fit,” he growled. “I’m talking about the fact that you look like you’re about to drop dead. Don’t even think about finishing anything else for anyone else until you get some rest.”

Y/n was taken aback. She opened her mouth to protest, but Bakugo held up a hand. “I’m serious. I don’t want my shit messed up ‘cause you’re running on fumes.”

Y/n felt a flicker of irritation. “I can handle it,” she snapped, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.

Bakugo shot her a glare. “No, you can’t. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

She opened her mouth again to argue, but Bakugo was already marching out the door. “I’ll deal with the other hero. Take care of yourself. You’re no use to anyone if you’re dead on your feet.”

Oh, so Izuku Midoriya was a snitch. He could never shut up, but seriously? Snitching on me to one of my clients, low blow mido.

Y/n watched as he disappeared, leaving her standing there with the quiet hum of her shop filling the space. The gauntlets, now finished, were still sitting on the counter. They were perfect. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude toward Bakugo, despite his harshness.

She pulled out her phone and texted him, telling him to come pick them up tommrow when his check towards her came in and she finished tightening it around the wrists.

She sat down, staring at the phone that still buzzed with messages from Izuku, and now from Nighteye, and from the other hero she was starting to work with. There was a lot to juggle, but for once, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it all together.

After Bakugo left, Y/n found herself alone in the quiet shop, the only sound being the faint hum of the overhead lights. Her phone buzzed incessantly, but she ignored it, the texts from Izuku, Nighteye, and even her neighbors a distant reminder of everything she was neglecting. She was already too far into the work, too close to finishing something that had been consuming her thoughts for days. The gauntlets were on the counter, and her hands instinctively reached for them again, drawn by the quiet need to make just one more adjustment.

She didn’t even realize how long she had been standing there, focused solely on tightening the area around the wrists of the gauntlets. The pressure on her mind was mounting, but the satisfaction of the work kept her focused, the details of the design unfolding in her mind as she worked. A small click of the wrench and a few more measurements brought the fit closer to perfection, but it wasn’t enough. She had to make sure the adjustment was precise, that the fit would be perfect for Bakugo’s gauntlets—anything less than flawless would be unacceptable.

She didn’t notice the hours slipping by. The light from the window faded, leaving the shop bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lamps, casting long shadows across the workshop floor. It wasn’t until the silence felt too heavy, too oppressive, that she took a deep breath and pulled her hands away from the work.

Y/n glanced at the clock on the wall—9:45 p.m. Her stomach growled loudly, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since she had last eaten. She blinked, momentarily dazed, and ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t realized how far she’d pushed herself until now. The last few days had blurred together in a haze of blueprints, soldering, and testing. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning.

Her phone was still buzzing on the counter, but she didn’t have the energy to check it. She felt lightheaded from exhaustion, and her body was begging for a break. Still, she had to finish. The gauntlets weren’t quite there yet.

With a soft sigh, Y/n gave up on the idea of further adjustments for the night. She gathered the gauntlets and placed them gently on the table, her mind already preoccupied with how she’d continue tomorrow. She needed to rest, but a quick glance at the clock reminded her of just how little time she had. The pressure was mounting again—she still had to finish the adjustments and complete the other projects waiting for her.

But for now, the call of the bed was stronger.

Yawning, Y/n made her way upstairs, her legs heavy and unsteady. Her mind was already spinning with thoughts of work again, but it didn’t matter. She barely registered the soft light in the hallway as she shuffled toward her room.

Once in bed, her body didn’t hesitate—she collapsed into the sheets, the exhaustion finally catching up with her. Sleep hit her hard, and she was out within minutes, her phone still buzzing unanswered on the kitchen counter.

Outside, the night continued on, but inside Y/n's world was silent, save for the hum of her mind still whirring with the weight of everything she had yet to do.

---

Bakugo shoved his hands into his pockets as he stepped out of Y/n’s workshop, his mind still running through the adjustments she had made on his gauntlets. The way she worked, her attention to every detail—it had impressed him. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Not yet, anyway. He growled under his breath as he walked down the street, the evening chill nipping at his face. He’d barely slept the past few days, and even now he could feel the weight of the new gauntlets on his shoulders, his thoughts still tangled with the adjustments.

It was quiet, but it was that kind of quiet that felt oppressive, like everything was waiting for something. Something big. The hum of the city buzzed around him, but it barely reached his ears. His mind was still on Y/n and her workshop, the way she had talked about the process, her focus. It was a far cry from the way most people worked. He couldn't deny it—there was something about her approach that made him feel like his gauntlets might finally be exactly what he needed.

But that wasn’t his problem. Not now. He had a different problem. The problem of his life outside of work, the life he couldn't ignore when he wasn’t buried in prototypes and design specs.

The low rumble of a motorcycle engine broke his thoughts as he walked past the familiar corner bar. Kirishima, Mina, and Midoriya were already there, waiting for him. He didn’t care much for the whole "drinks with friends" thing—he wasn’t exactly the type to unwind with alcohol. But Kirishima insisted, and despite his usual gruffness, Bakugo didn’t mind the idea of letting off some steam after the past few days of stress.

He opened the door to the bar, the familiar smell of beer and grilled food wafting through the air. Mina waved excitedly from the back booth, her bright pink hair bouncing as she jumped to greet him. Midoriya looked up from his phone, and Kirishima flashed his usual goofy grin.

“Yo, Bakugo!” Kirishima called, giving him a nod. “You look like you’re about to blow up something—what’s up, man?"

Bakugo grunted, sitting down across from them. “Nothing. Just got done with some bullshit.”

Mina raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on his tone. “You’re not in the best mood, huh?”

Bakugo slouched into the seat, still feeling the irritation building in his chest, even though the gauntlets were coming along well. “I’m fine,” he snapped, but there was something in his voice that gave it away. Kirishima didn’t press it, but Midoriya, who had a knack for reading people, glanced over at him.

“Y/n?” Midoriya asked softly, as if testing the waters.

Bakugo tensed, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. She’s good. The gauntlets are... fine. Better than fine, actually. She knows her shit.”

There was a brief pause before Kirishima laughed. “I told you she was awesome, dude. You were all stubborn about it, but now I’m hearing some praise!”

“I’m not praising her,” Bakugo shot back quickly, his voice a little sharper than he intended. “I’m just saying... they’re good. I don’t have time for anything else. I don’t want her to screw it up with my gear.”

Mina smirked, glancing at Kirishima. “Sounds like someone’s got a soft spot for his gear designer.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his fingers twitching toward his drink. “Shut the hell up, Ashido,” he growled, but there was a flicker of something—maybe respect, maybe something else—in his eyes.

Midoriya cleared his throat, always the peacemaker. “So... you’re gonna get the final version of the gauntlets tomorrow, huh?”

Bakugo nodded. “Yeah. She said it’ll be ready by tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to test them, make sure there aren’t any problems. If she really knows what she’s doing, they’ll be ready for the field. And if not, I’ll make her fix it.”

Kirishima raised his glass. “To Y/n then, the genius behind Bakugo’s new gear!”

Bakugo scowled at him, but there was no denying the appreciation in his voice when he spoke again. “I’m serious though. If she makes a mistake, I’ll make her fix it. I’m not going back to that useless shit Hatsume made for me.”

Kirishima’s expression softened. “She’s got your back, man. You’ll see.”

Bakugo didn’t answer. Instead, he took a long drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol hit him faster than usual. His thoughts drifted back to Y/n, to the way she had worked on the gauntlets with that quiet focus. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she didn’t seem like the typical designer. She didn’t treat him like some pro hero—she treated him like another job, another challenge.

And for the first time in a long while, it felt like someone was actually getting his gear right.

While Bakugo sat with his friends, the conversation continued around him. But in his head, Y/n’s workshop, her blueprint, and the gauntlets she had crafted were all he could think about. He was still the same Bakugo—the one who didn't trust anyone easily. But this time, maybe... just maybe, his stubborn pride could make room for a bit of respect.

Bakugo’s mind raced with thoughts of the gauntlets, but it wasn’t just the work that was nagging at him now. Y/n had been pushing herself too hard. The stress was practically seeping out of her—he could see it in the way she was working nonstop, barely taking breaks. He'd noticed the way she rubbed her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands, the exhaustion that barely even seemed to phase her. It bothered him more than he'd care to admit, but he wasn’t one to show concern directly. Instead, his instincts kicked in. He wasn't going to let her screw this up because some asshole hero was rushing her to get things done.

It was mid-afternoon when he made up his mind. Bakugo had already done his part by making sure the design was spot on. The rest was up to her. But this new request from Sir Nighteye Junior—a high-profile hero known for his demanding nature—had put undue pressure on Y/n. She didn’t need that kind of stress, not now. She wasn’t some machine that could be pushed past her limits without consequences. Bakugo wasn't going to let some rich hero screw things up, especially when it was about his gear.

He couldn’t believe it—Sir Nighteye Junior had the audacity to demand Y/n prioritize his request over everything else. Bakugo clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of his jacket. No one was going to mess with his gauntlets, and definitely no one was going to force Y/n into making mistakes because they couldn't be patient.

Kirishima had told him about the meeting with Sir Nighteye Junior the other day. The hero was practically hounding Y/n for her attention, and he couldn’t stand the thought of some entitled rich kid rushing her work. Bakugo wasn’t a hero for nothing. He was going to set things straight.

Bakugo didn’t waste any time. He left his friends sitting at the bar with one goal in mind. He’d heard where Sir Nighteye Junior had been staying, a lavish penthouse near the edge of the city, and he wasn’t in the mood for playing games. He was sick of heroes like him flaunting their status, using their influence to get what they wanted, especially when it came to Y/n. She’d worked too hard to be pushed around.

He stormed through the front doors of the building, ignoring the receptionist’s attempts to stop him. He was Bakugo Katsuki, and he didn’t have time for pleasantries. The elevator ride up to the penthouse felt too long, the tension in the air almost unbearable. His eyes were sharp, burning with a quiet rage.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Bakugo marched straight toward the door of Sir Nighteye Junior’s suite. He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to. He kicked the door open with force, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoing in the empty space.

Inside, Sir Nighteye Junior was sitting behind an elegant mahogany desk, looking up in surprise as Bakugo stepped in, his expression a perfect mask of annoyance and anger.

“Bakugo Katsuki. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sir Nighteye Junior asked, his voice smooth, but the surprise was still evident in his eyes.

“I’m here to make one thing clear,” Bakugo said, his voice low and dangerous. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “You’re going to stop pressuring Y/n. Right now.”

Sir Nighteye Junior’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think you understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off. “Y/n doesn’t need your deadlines. She doesn’t need you breathing down her neck about your gear requests. She’s been doing this for years, and she’s been doing it damn well. You’re not going to screw that up with your demands. You’ll wait, and you’ll like it.”

There was a tense silence as Sir Nighteye Junior processed his words. Bakugo didn’t move. He wasn’t going anywhere until this was settled. He wasn’t about to let anyone ruin the work Y/n had been doing, not with the pressure she was under. It wasn’t just about her skill—it was about the fact that she had no time to waste on people who didn’t respect her process.

“I don’t take kindly to threats,” Sir Nighteye Junior said, his voice colder now. He stood up from his desk, pushing his chair back with a faint creak. “You think you can just come here and demand I halt my requests because of some woman’s workload?”

Bakugo’s eyes hardened. “I’m not asking you to halt your request,” he said, his voice even colder than before. “I’m telling you, you’re going to wait. And if you think I’m bluffing, try me.”

The tension in the room was palpable. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence almost suffocating. Sir Nighteye Junior stared at Bakugo, a mixture of disbelief and frustration crossing his face. But Bakugo didn’t care. He had no intention of backing down.

Finally, Sir Nighteye Junior spoke again, his voice low. “Fine. I’ll give her some breathing room. But don’t think this means I won’t be expecting results. I’m not one to sit idly by.”

Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his gaze unyielding. “Good. Now, don’t forget what I just said.”

With that, Bakugo turned and stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind him with a satisfying thud. He took a deep breath, his hands still clenched tightly at his sides.

As he made his way back to his apartment, Bakugo’s thoughts shifted back to Y/n. He hadn’t done this for her approval, not in the way most people would expect. He wasn’t trying to be a good guy. But she deserved respect. She deserved the space to do her work, and he’d be damned if anyone tried to interfere with that.

When he finally got back to his apartment, he slumped down onto the couch. He didn’t feel satisfied, but there was a strange sense of relief that washed over him. Maybe it wasn’t about the gear after all. Maybe it was more about making sure Y/n had the space to do her thing without being harassed.

With a sigh, he picked up his phone, thumb hovering over Y/n’s contact. Should he text her? Probably not. But then again, she needed to know. He didn’t care about being nice. But maybe—just maybe—she’d appreciate the fact that he had her back.

He sent the text.

"I dealt with that scrawny Nighteye Junior kid, he's off your shoulders. So make sure you rest so my gauntlets will turn out perfect. Got it?"

Bakugo’s face contorted in disgust as he recalled the stench of the penthouse. The air was thick with the lingering scent of sex, a sharp, off-putting reminder of the kind of people Sir Nighteye Junior kept company with. It wasn’t a place Bakugo was used to. He was used to being around real heroes, people who cared about their work, their craft, and their integrity—not some spoiled, entitled rich kid who thought he could buy respect.

The two women who had been lounging on the couch, barely clothed and obviously unbothered by the presence of a professional hero, only added to the vile atmosphere. They had barely even acknowledged Bakugo’s entrance, too busy sipping on glasses of wine and giggling like they hadn’t a care in the world. It sickened him, the lack of respect, the blatant disregard for what was important. It wasn’t his place to judge, but it still made him feel like the air was dirtier than it should’ve been.

But he had a job to do, and that wasn’t going to be swayed by the trashy atmosphere he’d had to endure for the past half-hour. He was there for one thing and one thing only: Y/n’s work. It was what mattered, not the indulgences of people like Sir Nighteye Junior.

Shaking off the memory, Bakugo sat down on the couch in his apartment, his phone clenched tightly in his hand. He’d sent the text to Y/n, but now he was waiting for her response. Part of him felt weird about it—he wasn’t the kind of person who just casually texted someone after something like this. But this was different. He knew he had to check in on the gauntlets; she deserved to have everything perfect.

There was a rare sense of calm now that the situation with Sir Nighteye Junior was resolved. He’d made sure Y/n wouldn’t be pressured anymore. He’d gone out of his way, despite his usual attitude, because she deserved it. Her work mattered too much for someone to throw around their power like that.

Now, as he waited for the message to come through, he couldn’t help but think about the gauntlets. They were perfect, weren’t they? He had been impressed with the prototype, and after seeing her dedication, after seeing her work with such precision, he knew she was the right person for the job. No more interruptions. No more stress. He couldn’t wait to see how it all came together, and now that the pressure from Sir Nighteye Junior was off her shoulders, Bakugo was certain she could finish them without any distractions.

As he stared at his phone, the buzzing vibration broke his concentration. The message from Y/n was there, and he quickly unlocked the screen, his eyes scanning it.

"Yup i got it, btw gauntlets are ready for testing," she had written. "Let me know when you can come by, and we’ll get started."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Bakugo’s lips. Perfect. It was exactly what he had been waiting for.

---

[captainpulisic]

you dream of my mouth - m. mount

a/n - this is for my baby s, you made me the happiest girl ever today- oh, and molly for manifesting it

wc: 2.5k gif creds to owner

whoever has the fucking audacity to be knocking at your door at two in the morning just made their way to the top of your enemy list. you stifle a yawn as you reach the door, who's even awake at this time?

slightly raising your tiptoes, you look through the peephole at the inconsiderate person who clearly doesn’t care about you getting your beauty sleep. yet the person you see has your eyes widening and falling to the ground, out of sight. 

as if he could see you. 

you’re sure you must still be dreaming. this has to be some sort of too realistic hallucination. you must be still tucked into bed, having the weirdest dream of your life. because why else would mason fucking mount be at your doorstep after months of no contact?

there was no reason for him to be here. after signing and transferring to manchester, he had wasted no time in breaking up with you, reasoning that long distance never really worked. after that and too far away from his former life, he was quick to be papped with new girls every other week. it made you miserable, seeing how quick he was to move on, to be so open about his newest flings. you, on the other hand, had some decency to be on the downlow about the guys you began to date- or tried to date, anyway. none of them managed to stick, falling victim to you comparing them to mason. they just weren’t him. and you hated how quick you were to dismiss them over that.  

catching your breath, you gain the courage to look through, again. your eyes hadn’t been deceiving you, it really was him. it was a blurry and disoriented lense but from what you can make out, he looks disheveled and quite a mess. his hair looks tousled, as if he had been continuously tugging at it.

you remember that had always been a nervous habit of his. and a habit of yours had become swatting his hands away, replacing them with your own as you tried to style his hair back into place. oh, how your hands were itching to do it right now. to run your fingers through it and feel him lean into your touch.

it had been ages since that’d happened. 

your heart wasn’t giving your brain no time to think because before you knew it, you were unlocking and opening the door. 

and there mason stood, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. he tried to take a step towards you, stumbling in the process. he braced himself against the door frame, trying to balance himself as he mumbled your name. and you curse yourself for pulling him towards yourself, giving him some extra support. slurring his words, “tell me it isn’t true.”

great, you sigh. he’s drunk. 

“ben told me that he saw you out today,” he manages to mumble. your body freezes when his hand reaches up to cradle your jaw. and your heart speeds up when his thumb begins to swipe at your bottom lip. his eyes shift from your own eyes down to your lips, “that he saw out with some guy, saw you kissing him. ‘s not fair, it was me you were kissing not too long ago y’know?”

he always did get clingy when drunk. you’re too weak to shove him away but not weak enough to bite back, “until you left.”

you see the words register, as his eyes show a flash of hurt. the corner of his mouth slightly dips, as he shakes his, trying to forget about the night he idiotically let you go. 

“oh, ‘m sorry I left, pretty girl.” after a moment of eyes sweeping all over your face, his lips turn upwards, into a dopey smile. with his hand still cupping your jaw, he begins to swipe at your bottom lip again. “but i’m back now.” 

you’re certain your face is burning red, legs already turning to jelly. thank god he’s still technically holding you up or you’re certain you’d be on the floor by now. you curse him for having this effect on you and curse yourself for still falling for it. your problem had always been being too weak around him.

he waits for you to throw a sarcastic quip, or even to tell him to ‘fuck off’, but all he gets from you are blushing cheeks and an averted gaze. taking this as a good sign, he leans in to leave a kiss at the corner of your mouth. pulling pack to check your reaction, he grins when he sees your closed eyes and ghost of a smile. 

from there, he plants a few more open mouthed kisses on your cheek, always going back to the corner of your mouth in between each one. never on your lips, though- just slight brushes over them. the damned bastard won’t give you the satisfaction too easily. when he feels your lips begin to chase his, desperate to taste him again, he disappears once more. with the hand cupping your jaw, he lightly tilts your face upward, giving himself plenty of access to focus on your neck.  

you’re about to protest from the lack of actual kissing you’ve received but quickly bite your own tongue when you feel him leave a small bite at the crook of your neck. he presses a peck to the same spot, marveling at the fast forming bruise. mason hums, “there, the way it should be.” 

he fails to see you roll your eyes at his possessive antics, too busy refamiliarizing himself with the crook of your neck. it’s a trail of kisses from the curve of your shoulder to the space behind  your ear, a few bites given in between. hearing your breathy sighs, he takes it as reaffirmations to continue. so he kisses your neck and jaw and cheek (anywhere but your actual mouth, really- which becomes quite frustrating!), again and again and again. 

finding his way back up to your face, he comes to a halt when he’s eye level with you. as if seeing each other for the first time again, under happier circumstances, there’s a doe-eyed fondness in both your eyes and matching lovesick smiles.

decidedly having had enough of his teasing, your hands find their way to the sides of his stubble filled cheeks. it’s all so fast as your lips finally meet masons, finding a rhythm that’s all too familiar. it was soft, yet deep and heated. it was the making up of months without each other, being desperate to fill in for the lost time. instantly, you taste the alcohol that has him acting so brazen. both your hands were desperate, tugging and pulling at each others clothes. his hands have found their way to the hem of your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your hips. closing your eyes, your arms drop down to his shoulders, around his neck, pulling him flush against yourself. and you felt a tinge of satisfaction every time he moaned into the kiss. 

his lips never leaving yours, he began to guide you backward, still knowing the layout of your flat without having to look. when you felt the back of your legs hit the couch, you let mason push you down to lay on it. in an instant, he followed you down and was on you. again, his mouth was all over you. neck, jaw, lips, cheeks and repeat. 

you come somewhat back to your senses when you feel his fingers nimbly trying to unbutton your blouse. he finds it a difficult feat due to his still inebriated state. 

how often did he find himself in this predicament with all the girls he had been out with recently? your horrid, sensible mind question itself. all those girls that he’s papped with, how many of them end up on his couch? did any of them naively think they’d be the ones to finally lock him and his heart down, just as you had? 

the thought of it made you nauseous.

you couldn’t fall victim to him, not again. if you gave yourself to him once more, watching him leave would utterly destroy you. the possibility of history repeating itself, of him leaving and parading his latest conquest back in manchester, would be your death. you’re not sure you’d recover this time and you don’t want to see it through to find out. 

“mase- wait,” your heart feels betrayed by your mind, as you find the strength to lightly shove his shoulders. 

you see the confusion in his eyes as he peers down at you. holding himself up with his forearms, careful not to squish you, “is something wrong?”

you try to voice your pesky worries but you can’t seem to find the words. instead, you just shake your head as you begin to detangle yourself from him. you can see the confusion etched on his face but nonetheless, he silently mirrors your actions, unsure of when the night had taken a turn. it’s an awkward maneuver of limbs and loud silence. 

he had been positive everything was going to go his way tonight. truth be told, when ben had told him he had seen you out on a date with some guy, he had seen red. he was aware of how hypocritical he was being but the high volume of drinks he had drunk were making him think his childish tantrum was reasonable. taking another shot for good measure, he called a cab and made his way to your place. 

he wasn’t sure what his endgame was when you opened the door, if you even opened it. he wanted to confront you for moving on. he wanted to apologize for leaving and ruining the loveliest relationship he’d ever had. he wanted you to apologize for snogging some loser who wasnt him, out in the open where anybody could see. he wanted to apologize if he ever made you think any of those girls meant what you had to him.

each knock to your door, his mind flashed to those flings he had been stupid enough to have. with every knock, he felt a sudden urgency to let you know that they amounted to nothing. you needed to know of the few occasions these girls left, annoyed and offended that he had accidentally said your name instead. that no girl made his tummy feel as fuzzy as you did, no one came close. maybe it wasn’t the wisest thing to do but his intoxicated, hazy brain had to tell you that most nights, he’d fall asleep to dreams of you. 

too wrapped up in his thoughts, you clearing your throat snapped him back to the present. your eyes glued to the floor “i’m going to call ben to pick you up, okay?” 

what? why? masons mouth feels too dry. he’s at a loss for words. he hadn’t told you half of the things he wanted to and now you were kicking him out. he was sure his shock would sober him up.

as you stand up from the couch to go retrieve your phone, all he can do is helplessly stare at your retreating figure. he had so much to tell you and his brain was failing him. that last shot was a mistake, not a confidence booster as he had thought. 

when you come back into the room, he’s able to catch the ending of you saying, “alright, see you soon.”

you make a point on sitting on the other side of the couch, putting some distance between the two of you.

no, he wants to whine. I don’t want to leave. I wanna be with you and kiss you and your pretty mouth. I fall asleep dreaming of it. 

all he can slur out, “I wanna kiss you, again.”

it pains you to say, “mason, no.”

“why not?” he pouts, a sad look in his eyes. he reaches for your hand that had been folded in your lap, the hand that had been itching to touch him again. rubbing his thumb along it, “you used to love kissing me.”

“until you left me and started kissing other girls,” you bite back. you know it’s not a fair fight, him not fully there to defend himself. and then you feel even worse as you watch his face fall. 

“I’m sorry,” he says in a small voice, “I never should’ve left.”

it’s useless to argue, he won’t even remember this in the morning. you sigh, “forget it, ben will be here soon.”

resigned, mason nods and leans back to sit on the couch. the silence is deafening and all he wants to do is kiss you. why won’t you let me kiss you? his brain wants to shout. 

as the clock ticks on the wall, he feels his eyes grow tired by the minute. he hoped ben would get lost and he’d be forced to spend the night. he didn’t care if nothing physically happened between the two of you, just being in your proximity would leave him content. 

the thought of it makes him let out a soft chuckle, with a yawn following close by. and on your side of the couch, you let your eyes wander towards him. it hurts having so close yet with the knowledge that you’ll never have him again, not truly. tomorrow he'll be on his way back to his new home with new girls waiting for him. 

no, it’s better this way you try to reassure yourself.

hearing another yawn escape him, you allow yourself to fully look at him. offering a small smile, “rest, i’ll wake you when ben gets here.”

“I don’t wanna,” another yawn, “I need to tell you so much.”

“you can tell me some other time.”

“but what if you don’t ever wanna talk another time,” his voice is sad and a bit sleepy. he’s about to fall into slumber any second now, you remember the signs of it. eyes slightly closing then opening, “and you need to know.”

you catch yourself whispering, “know what?”

he leans his head back further into the couch cushion. his words come out all mumbled together but you’re able to hear a faint ‘mouth’. 

“hmm?”

“your mouth, your pretty mouth”, more inaudible whispers, “I dream of it all the time.”

“mase,” you're cut off by a knock at the door. clearly timing had never been on either of your sides. when you look back at him, you’re met with his peaceful, resting face. maybe this was for the better. and as you let ben in and simply watch him half-carry mason to his car, your heart inexplicably aches. there was a sense of finality to the situation, an unspoken final goodbye. this time tomorrow, he’d be back in his new life and you’d have to start with your new life. it was over and you had to come to terms with it

this was kinda rushed but needed to celebrate the exciting day,, like always, feedback is very much appreciated!

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 04

Kinktober Masterlist felix culpa - "fortunate fault" Gaz x f!reader Kinks > dubcon, stuck kink, anal sex Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

You were born to be a mechanic, and working on fancy, top-secret vehicles is one of your favorite things about your job. However, when you crawl into the belly of a broken down tank and can’t get back out, one of your fellow soldiers takes advantage of your (un)fortunate situation.

When the order rolled across your desk, you couldn’t believe your luck. You’d been selected by an elite task force to design a very custom, very deadly tank mod, and you were out of your mind with excitement. This was your dream job, and you were giddy the whole drive down to the site.

Parked out front on the concrete pad, you saw what looked like a Challenger 3, but something was… off. Yes, the paint job was different, and they’d chosen to go with a wider tread for the desert terrain they were in. But, that wasn’t all. They’d done something underneath, something secret and hidden. 

You didn’t waste any time. You were agile and you could always wriggle yourself into small places, perfect for a mechanic. And your brain loved puzzles, so this was going to be an amazing project. 

You were instructed to boost the navigation system to an incredible degree. But, if they needed desert-style mods, you were going to give them an intense aircon and liquid cooling unit as well as the mother of all filters. In order to get started, you had to work around this… contraption they had installed at the base of the tank.

When you got a closer look, you realized what it was. It was a wheel! They’d fitted the bottom of their tank with speed boosters and a three-sixty wheel to help them turn on a dime. This was insane. If only you could get a little closer to see if…

Oops…

You moved your hips backward, trying to free your body, but you were stuck. When you tried to move forward, your belt loop had caught on a long screw, wrapped around it so tight that you couldn’t free yourself with your hands. 

Fuck. 

“Hey!” You called out, trying to see if anyone was around to help you.

You tried again, a little louder this time,

“Hey! Is anybody there?”

Nothing. You waited for a while, trying not to panic, and then you head a large warehouse door slide open, its metal wall clanging and banging as it slid up into the railings. 

“Hey! Help me!”

“Well, well,” a smooth, deep voice teased you cruelly, “Wha’s all this, then?”

“I’m… uh, I think I’m stuck. Can you pull me out?”

“And you are?”

You told him your name and he offered his own,

“You can call me Gaz. In fact, you…” He bent down to the side of the tank and met your eyes, “You can call me anytime.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but he was cute enough to make you smile at his terrible joke. 

“Can you help me or not, Gaz?”

“That depends,” you watched his boots march their way around the front of the machine, settling back behind you, “Wha’s in it for me?”

“Um…” You tried to think about what you had to offer, but you came up empty, “My eternal thanks?”

“I think I want somethin’ else.”

You felt his hands wrap themselves around your thick ass cheeks, giving them a rough squeeze. 

“Hey!”

“Thought you wanted out, babes. I’m just tryin’ to help you, ain’t I?”

You had to admit, his hands did feel pretty nice. He seemed singularly obsessed with your ass, massaging your flesh through your canvas work pants, using his knees to spread your legs wide so that he could dig his fingers roughly between the join of your legs. 

“Mngh… wait. Someone’s gonna see us,” you protested, trying to hide your pleasure. 

“Nah, don’t think so. Not while they’re in Cap’s briefing. Long-winded, him.”

You squirmed, trying to free yourself again, and you heard his silky laugh.

“I could leave you here, lovie,” Gaz threatened, “Let them find you in an hour or two.”

“Don’t go… Help me out, Gaz,” you begged, “Please?” 

“Then stay still,” he purred, “And let me get you out.”

You heard the soft whisper of a knife coming out of its sheath, and you felt him cut your belt loop. Then, he went further, slicing your belt and raking it out of your pants. Without the leather strap holding up your slacks, they began to slip down your hips, slowly revealing more and more of your body to your “savior”. 

“Wow… look at these,” his fingers played in the lacy strap of your thong, “Definitely not regulation, huh? Naughty girl…”

You whimpered, hearing your own desperation echo against the belly of the tank, letting this gorgeous man have his way with you. You rationalized it in your mind. He was helping, he deserved to touch, right?

In one fell swoop, he yanked your pants the rest of the way down, letting them get caught on your knees, trapping you even more than you already were. 

“Holy shit, this arse is a fuckin’ dream.”

His mouth was on you before you could take your next breath. You felt his strong tongue writhe its way towards your hole, licking you and suckling at your skin like a hungry beast, as if you were a fresh fruit, as if he were starving. You could feel the drool from his lolling tongue drip across the underside of your ass as he ate you out, moaning as he feasted on your pliant flesh. 

“Gaz, please…” You whined, trying to keep your voice down but feeling yourself beginning to spiral out of control. 

“Patience, lovie. Wanna taste you, first.”

“If someone sees us, they’ll… unghf–fuck… they’ll throw us in the glasshouse! I’ll lose my job!”

He sighed, annoyed, 

“Fine, a quick one, then, hm?”

“No, wait! That’s not what I… ohhh…” You tried to protest, tried to get him to listen to reason, but before you could state your case, he was pressing his thumb against the rim of your hole, stretching you open until you gaped for him, and you could feel his eyes bearing down into your darkness, imagining the suffocating warmth that awaited him inside.

He laughed softly, letting his thumb delve a little deeper. Then, he replaced it with his thick middle finger, and he began to writhe his way inside of you, stretching you out as he explored your body.

“So tight… Gonna be a rough ride if you’re tryin’ to rush me, baby.”

“Mmngh. Ngh. Nuhhh… No, just… let’s meet up later. Tonight… Won’t have to rush…” You were struggling to stay on the right side of sane because his fingers knew exactly how to twist and pry and press you open. 

He made a nasty little groan, a vote against your idea, 

“But, if I don’t try to get you unstuck now, my mate’s will come ‘round the corner and find you like this. They’re not as gentle as me, you know, lovie.”

Another finger slipped into your body before you were ready for it, and his knuckles made your asshole ache from the soreness of his touch. You cried out, and you had to listen to another devilish laugh as he fucked you on his hand. 

Your hole was making slurping, wet noises as he coated you in his spit, using it as lube so it would ease his way. You could also hear the tell-tale sound of him jerking his cock, the rhythmic slapping giving him away. 

“We’re outta time, babes. Need you to breathe for me, yeah?”

When you felt the soft tip of his prick, your whole body responded to him. Gaz was prying your cheeks apart with one hand and guiding himself in with the other. You began to stretch, and you held your breath, bracing for pain. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed at you, “Relax, baby. Gonna hurt you if you don’t let me in. There’s my good girl.”

You let out a trembling exhale, shaking uncontrollably as he forced himself to fit, his hard length twice as big as his fingers had been, making you see stars from the pleasure-wrapped pain. 

“Too big… it’s too much… I can’t…” You tried to protest, your hips grinding towards him, betraying your true desire. 

He rocked himself forward and back, popping his thick cockhead in and out of you, watching you shudder with every thrust. 

“You can, baby. I’ll help you. That’s it. Breathe for me.”

You tried to steady your heart, and every time your breath left your lungs, it shook with a nervous vibrato, culminating in a high whine. 

His cock dipped further. He was nearly halfway, and you felt like he would be in your throat if he took you any deeper. 

“Gaz, holy fuck!”

“Mmm, I know, lovie. But, you’re takin’ me so bloody well. Love watching your tight little arsehole stretch itself for me. When it twitches like that… yeah, that’s so fuckin’ hot.”

You couldn’t help the twitching. You were pulsing for him uncontrollably. Your body wanted to come, and it was ready for him to make you. But, he was going too slowly, trying to be careful with you. It was driving you out of your mind. 

You jerked your hips onto his cock, trying to fit more of him into your body with each thrust, listening to the huffy, gasping noises you were dragging out of him. 

“Oh, fuck me. That feels so good. You ready for more, love? I’ll give you more,” he snarled. You could hear the venom in his voice as he quickened his pace. 

Gaz abandoned his plan for a slow entry and shoved himself forward, rocking your body and making you cry out in an aching peal of pleasure. Then, he began to fuck himself into you, holding your cheeks apart so he could watch his invasion. 

You were a babbling mess, incapable of words or thoughts. All you could feel was the fiery bliss that sparked through your core as he rutted you into the filthy concrete. 

Your pussy was exposed to the rough ground, and it rubbed back and forth as he thrust his cock into you. You reached down to play with yourself, and you found out that you were soaking with thick, creamy slick. 

Spreading it liberally across your folds, you began making small, fast circles around your clit, eager to feel it swell and harden under your hands. You were so close; just a little more and Gaz would send you careening off the edge. 

“Touchin’ that greedy little quim, huh?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, confessing your sins to him.

“Good girl,” he rasped breathlessly, fucking you at a brutal pace now, unable to control his lust. 

That was the phrase that pulled your trigger, apparently. You listened to his lascivious praise and felt yourself rattle across the line, tumbling and whirling through a destructive orgasm, wetting yourself with pleasure, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing but air. 

“Tha’s it. Tha’s so fuckin’ good, baby. Come for me just like that…” Gaz let his hand strike down on your exposed ass cheek, and you screamed even louder, keening and rolling in the overstimulating sensation of his sex. 

His movements became frantic, and you could hear him grunting with a joyful rage. Then, silence. Everything went still. He froze, buried deep inside you, sunk to the hilt. He was coming in you, dumping load after load of hot spend, letting it pool at the furthest point he could reach, letting his prick paint your asshole white with his cream. 

Without saying a word, he pulled out, backing away from you. You heard him rustling around in his pockets, and then silence again when he found what he was looking for. 

“Fuck. Holy fuck… Gaz, are you gonna help me out of here?” You asked, panting and well-used, wondering about his promise. 

“Mmm, I dunno, baby. Looks like the meeting just let out. Give the lads a note, will ya?”

You felt the cold tip of a marker slide across your ass cheek, and you called back to him,

“Hey! What the fuck?”

“Gaz… was… here… There we go. All set. Good luck with your situation, lovie. When you get free, come find me for round two, yeah?”

“Are you seriously gonna leave me here?” You asked him in disbelief. 

“Yeah, the boys look pretty eager to help you, so I’ll let them have a go at it. I’m sure they’ll get you out. Ghost’s got a thing for puzzles. Oh, here. Hold onto this for me, would ya?”

You felt him slide the body of the thick Sharpie into your asshole, plugging his come inside of you, ready for the next man in line to leave his mark.

[luvyeni]

❛CHERRY TOP !❜ ( s. eunseok )

p. nerd!eunseok x bimbo!reader w. 1.9k+

warnings? meandom!eunseok, degradation, unprotected sex, oral ( m.receiving ), breeding kink

— 𖦹 ( eunseok coming to terms that he really loves airhead girls like you ) !

You never really had a thing for quite nerdy boys — maybe that was your problem, horny frat boys and toxic jocks who care more about their teammates more than anything else were more your speed, well that was until you met eunseok, a cute nerdy kid who sat in the back of your class.

You don’t know when he joined your class – was probably there the whole time, but you failed to notice not him because you never really paid attention to anything that wasn’t your newest boyfriend for the week, or your hair – that’s beside the point, the point is he really caught your eyes and you really couldn’t wait to sink your pink glittery nails into him.

Eunseok on the other hand, he wanted nothing to do with you – of course you were hot, any straight man, with a brain and a cock could tell you that. But you annoyed him – the way you pranced around, your skirts barely covering anything – your boobs being held up by your push-up bra, your boobs almost spilling out your tight crop tops, even the professors would stare.

You didn’t do any work either, but you still got good grades – he didn’t even want to know how. You came to class just to play, and now play with his mind while he was working, actually trying to get an education – you were sitting right beside him like you had been for the past 3 months, popping bubble gum, while watching him work.

“Eunseokie.” Your mouth formed a pout, he sighed, turning to you. “What is it?” You smiled, he finally answered you, most of the time he ignored your presence, but occasionally he’d answer. “Can you help me, i don’t understand?” Your shiny pink lips, he couldn’t help but let the thought of you wrapping your lips around his cock, pink lipgloss coating his cock cross his mind, but he quickly suppressed it, you won’t get him that easily.

“Well for starters, take out a paper and a pencil.” He said, taking a look at your purse, it wasn’t even big enough to hold your phone, let alone a piece of paper. “Then pay attention to the professor, I can’t help you.”

He could, he totally could help you – but your tight cherry tank crop top was seriously distracting him, he was already struggling himself to pay attention to the professor – your shirts were getting tighter and tighter, and it was becoming hard for him to not to stare at your boobs.

“But I don’t understand what he’s saying.” Your voice whiny, he was getting pissed, he was getting pissed because he was getting hard – God you were such an air head, but fuck your whines did something to him. “Of course, you don’t.” he said under his breath, maybe he did have a thing for dumb girls, cause this was getting him hard.

You were so close to breaking him, you knew so because he was about to turn his screen to you – until you the professor ruined it, “Okay class over.” He turned the light on, you frowned. “Let’s talk about the upcoming project.”

Eunseok watched you zone out, not even listening to the instructions to the project instructions – just chewing on your plump bottom lip. “Eunseok, I assume you’ll be working with yn?” the professor said. “no I would rather work by my— good luck.” the teacher said nothing else, walking out of the class.

He wanted to scream; he didn’t want to work with you – one he’d end up doing all the work, two, how was he supposed to focus on the work when he could only think about fucking you stupider on his cock.

“Hey.” He snapped you out your daze, “get up, let’s go.” He spoke. “Huh?” you questioned. “Because you sit here all the time bothering me, we now have to work together on the project.” You processed the information, smiling. “Really!” he watched your eyes light up, rolling his. “i’m glad you're happy.” He sarcastically spoke. “Let’s go we’re going to yours.”

You jumped out of your seat, grabbing your things, following behind him. “Wait!” he heard your shoes clicking against the floor. “Let’s go.” You linked arms with him, he sighed as you dragged him along.

You finally got to your tiny apartment, opening the door, letting him in. “Let’s go to the bedroom.” He followed behind you, taking in your apartment – it was a spitting image of you, your bedroom was even worse.

“You like?” You smiled, sitting on the bed. “It’s pink.” He said stoically, dropping his book-bag, sitting down in your chair. “let’s go over the instructions before we start the outline.” He explained, pulling out his laptop, waiting for you to say okay or something. “yn?”

he looked up and you were climbing to the head of your bed where a mountain of plushies were placed, your ass was on display due to the short fucking skirt you were sporting, your shirt riding up, stopping right under your boobs. “yn?” his jaw clenched, you turn to him, laying down on the plushies, picking at your fresh set of pink stilettos nails.

“yn, come pay attention.” You ignored him, pissing him off even more. “yn i’m ser– I don’t like this color pink, i’m definitely gonna get another color next time.” He lost all of composure – he didn’t even want to be here, but here you are, your ass peaking from your skirt, shirt begging to be ripped off, ignoring him.

“You know what?” he said, getting up from the chair, coming up to the side of the bed. “Get the fuck up.” He spat; your eyes widened. “Don’t act surprised now, you wanted this.” His hands tangled up in your hair, pulling your body up, you gasped.

“you’ve been throwing yourself at me for the past few weeks, and I don’t know how many times I made it known that I don’t want to deal with you.” He scoffed, looking at how your eyes were already glazing over. “Silly me, I forgot i’m dealing with a dummy.”

That made your cunt wet, you bit your lip. “of course, this is turning you on.” He shook his head, laughing dryly. “Okay, i’ll treat you how you wanted to be.” He let your hair go, throwing you – you lightly bounced on the bed. “Lay on your stomach.” He ordered, you looked at him confused. “Why?” He scoffed, “Because i’m gonna use your throat like a sex toy, now lay of your fucking stomach, unless you prefer being on your knees?” you scrambled on to your stomach.

You came face to his clothes cock, “look at you drooling already and I haven’t even pulled it out yet.” He undid his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles. “Fucking slut.” He pulled his underwear down right under his cock, his tip was a fiery tip was red, dripping with pre-cum.

“So big.” You said, going to reach for it, but he slapped your hands away. “Did I say fucking touch me; you want to be treated like a fuck doll; well fuck dolls don’t move.” You whined, desperate to touch him. “Quit complaining slut, that’s all you do.” He gripped the base of his cock, slapping it against both of cheeks, smearing the pre-cum on them.

“These fucking lips.” He slapped his tip against your lips. “Too busy putting on that pretty gloss and sucking cocks to pay attention to the professor – open up.” He pushed his tip into your mouth. “Fuck.” He sighed, pushing his cock all the way into your mouth. “Stupid slut this is all you’re good for.”

He began to thrust into your mouth, holding the back on your head, fucking your mouth. “Gagging on my cock -fuck- this is what you wanted right?” He groaned, “for me to shove my cock down your slutty throat?”

You nodded, he pushed your head against his pubic bone, you gagged, trying to hold on his thigh, your eyes widened once you felt the sting to your face – he had slapped you. “Didn’t I say don’t fucking touch me.” He hissed, “You don’t fucking listen, so fucking dumb, you can’t even follow simple instructions.” He said pulling you off his cock, you were in a coughing fit, but he didn’t let up, grabbing your hair, stroking his cock against your cheek. “gonna stain this pretty face with my cum.” He grunted, squeezing his cock. “Fuck!”

Cum spurted from his cock, covering your face in his seed, some getting on your eyes. “Look at that.” He pushed his tip into your mouth, cum dripping on to your tongue. “Pretty dumb princess covered in my cum, swallow it.” You obeyed, sticking out. “Good slut, that’s the only thing you can comprehend.”

“Take a shirt off, it’s not hiding much anyway.” You took your shirt off, pink bra on display. “The bra too.” You unhooked the bra, letting your boobs free, he groaned. “Nice titties, should just fuck them instead.” He climbed on the bed, pinching your nipples. “Since you like to flaunt them so much, should just used them to get off, cover them in my cum, and leave your nasty pussy untouched.” He pulled you down by your ankle, your back hitting the bed.

“Spread your legs, let me see your messy pussy.” You opened your legs, your juices soaked through your panties completely. “So fucking wet, no use for the underwear now.” You gasped as he practically ripped your underwear.

“Get on your stomach.” Flipped you over, lifting your waist up. “Pl-please fuck me.” You whimpered, mind completely on another planet. “Shut the fuck up, I told you sex toys don’t talk.” He slapped your ass, wasting no time, slamming his cock straining into your cunt, you tried not to moan out, but you couldn’t help it.

“Fu-fuck, didn’t I say shut up.” He growled, pushing your head into your piles of plushies. “Are you really that dumb?” he pushed down on your back, making you arch your back even more. “God this pussy is warm, you’ve let anyone inside you and you’re still so tight.” He gripped your waist, plowing into you.

You were a drooling mess, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you bit down on your plushie to keep from moaning. “Perfect fuck toy, might keep you around, just to use your hole whenever i’m stressed.” Your cunt clenched around his cock. “Fucking hell is that what you want?” he cursed. “For me to use this pussy when i’m stressed, treat you like a sex doll?” he gripped your head, pulling you flush against his chest. “Answer me whore.”

“Fuck! Yes, please use my pussy, please.” You screamed, he growled against your ear. “Fu-fuck i’m gonna cum, gonna fill this tight cunt up, use you as a cum-dump.” He pushed you back down, “Fuck! eunseokie please!” you begged desperately, his hips snapped against your ass – he pressed himself against you sighed, smiling dumbly as your came – he came right after you, cum filling up your womb. “fuck.” He sighed, pulling out, cumming on ass

He pulled his softening cock out of you – you fell flat on your stomach, eyes opening and closing. “Hey, stay awake, we have to work on the project.” You didn’t say anything, your eyes closing as you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face. He shook his head, “dummy.”

He cleaned you up, not even bothering to put new clothes on, pulling the covers over your body, you snuggled into your plushies, he smiled slightly, sitting at your chair starting the project while you slept, he had a lot of work to do knowing you wouldn’t even bother to help once you got up.

Yeah, you were a little dumb, but made he did like air-headed girls after all.

©LUVYENI

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 5

Hello, hello, hello! And we have completed the set this week! All for stories getting new and beautiful chapters. Though, with WIP Wednesdays spilling into Thursdays, I might change up my posting schedule a bit to accommodate the influx of asks.

But we'll see.

Here we see Steve dealing with a wild Karen or Linda as they were called in the 80s (at least out where I lived). Yep! We've always had a name for busybodies. It's just changed with the times.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

~

Steve had to throw out the rest of his food, it having gone cold while he was on the phone with Dustin and his mom.

He sighed in annoyance, but it couldn’t be helped. He could hear his mother now, just screaming about all the wasted food and all the starving children in Africa who would have appreciated that meal he just wasted.

Thankfully she was in whatever fresh hell Dad had dragged her off to after he threw him out.

He decided the best thing to do after all that was to go to the gym and run on a treadmill for awhile and just turn off all those dark thoughts swirling in his brain. So he got dressed in cropped swim team t-shirt and a pair of old basketball shorts. He pulled out his favorite sneakers and grabbed his room key.

He got some string and tied it to his wrist so he wouldn’t lose it while he was exercising and not be able to get back into his room. He wasn’t even sure the hotel knew who it was that was actually staying in the room with everything under Eddie’s name.

He made his way to the gym, but as he went through the hotel he noticed people staring at him and not in the fun way.

The women would sneer and the men would look down their noses at him. He tugged on the crop top, a little insecure now. By the time he got the gym he as ready to turn tail and run back to his hotel room.

But he stopped at the glass door to their very state of the art gym. The people inside were all dressed similarly to what he was wearing. He looked back into the hallway and thought about all the other patrons that looked down at him.

Steve squared his shoulders. He was used to this kind of bullshit. He had got from his parents, their friends, and hell even his own friends over the years every time he tried coloring outside of the lines.

Well fuck them. He had every right to be here, same as them. He yanked open the door and got situated on the treadmill nearest to the door, set it to a low speed and began to walk.

Once he got into the rhythm he switched up to a slow jog, then a full on run. He slowed it back down and counted out his heart rate.

“I think you have the wrong time, honey,” this sickeningly sweet voice said from behind him. “The help are only allowed use of the facilities after the guests have gone to bed.”

Steve paused the treadmill and turned around to face her. She was blond woman covered head to toe in pink! Pink tracksuit, pink tennis shoes, pink headband, even pink sunglasses. Though why she needed those, he didn’t know. It wasn’t that bright in here.

“You think I’m staff?” he asked incredulously. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

She looked up and down his body and sniffed in disdain. “The high school phys. ed attire for a start, darling. Then there’s the...” she waved at his body. His very tanned, muscular, lean body. “All of you.”

Steve put his hands on his hips and raised an annoyed eyebrow. “Look, honey,” his emphasis on the last word, throwing it back at her, “you’re probably not from here. But my parents are very rich and you are just some biddy who thinks bullying people is acceptable. Which it really isn’t, no matter what your tax bracket is.” He looked her up and down. “Which judging from the fact your track suit is from two seasons ago? Theirs is bigger than yours.”

The woman sputtered and fumed but Steve just hopped of the treadmill and got a water bottle from the courtesy fridge, downing quickly. He threw it in the trash and without a word or even so much as a backward glance, he strolled out of the gym with his head held high.

God, that felt good.

Of course the only reason he knew it was two years out of date was because his mom bought one then, wore it once, and then threw it in the back of her closet never to be seen again. Which, he thought with a huff, was probably what she wanted to do with him, if he was honest.

He got up to his hotel room and untied the key from his wrist to unlock his door. He stepped into the cool sanctuary of the black marble and brass fittings. It wasn’t a style he would pick out for himself, but there was something about the black and brass that reminded him of Eddie in a way. Dark and bright at the same time.

Steve spotted the package right off the bat this time. He walked over to the black gift bag and took over to the sofa. He opened it to find a box of chocolate raspberry truffles, a small jewelry box, and a nice black wallet.

He opened the chocolates first and took a bite. The tart of the raspberry hit his tongue first and then richness of dark chocolate. Fuck they were good. Steve forced himself to just eat the one. Otherwise the whole box would be gone in an instant.

He pulled out the wallet next. It had cash as well as shiny black credit card in his name. Well, he supposed since Eddie was loading cash on it, it was more like a debit card, but still it was black. Not even his parents had a black card. He could spend whatever he wanted and Eddie would pay for it.

Not that he would. God no. But Christ, he could, he absolutely could. He ran his fingers over the shiny surface in awe. Then he counted the money and he closed his eyes. There was about a thousand dollars in there. Five crisp one hundreds, ten crisp twenties, twenty tens, and twenty fives. The wallet could barely close it was so stuffed.

Steve could not spend the money and Eddie would never know. He could barely use the card, but Eddie would know that and be concerned why he wasn’t getting everything he needed and send more money. Plus, Steve had a pretty good idea what the smaller bills were for anyway. Tipping. The wait staff, housekeeping. Things that were polite to do when other people were doing everything for you.

It also meant that if he wanted to he could go out a buy booze if he ever just wanted a beer. Because it was within the bounds of Eddie’s rule. Don’t use the card to buy booze, no mention of his cash, so...

Steve set the wallet aside and made sure to remember to call down to the front desk for the combination to the room safe. He knew there was one. Especially in a place like this. He pulled out the little white jewelry box and opened it. Inside set in gold was a little bird pendant on a gold chain. Steve held it up to the light and marveled at it as it spun, glinting in the light.

He put the necklace on and continued to marvel at it on his neck. It was beautiful. He set the rest of it aside and bounced up. He flopped on the bed and picked up the phone, dialing Eddie’s number.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice answered.

“Oh!” Steve cried. He never expected someone else to answer the phone. “It’s Steve, I’m calling for Eddie.”

“Oh, shit!” the voice said. “I thought it was my phone that was ringing. Sorry, man. I’ll get him for you.”

A moment later Eddie was on the line. “Little Canary, if you only call me when I send you pretty gifts, I’m going to have to up my game and send them more often.”

“Oh!” Steve cried again. “Sorry about that. Everything has been happening all at once. I was going to call you when I got back from the gym, but I saw your gift first.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Eddie soothed. “I was only mostly teasing.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “But everything was amazing by the way. Those chocolates were to die for and I really loved the necklace.”

“No mention of the wallet I see,” Eddie said with a chuckle. “I can stop sending you money if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said in a rush, “I am a little uncomfortable with it, but more because I don’t have a safe place to keep it right now then because you gave it to me. I appreciate the money to be able to start tipping the staff.”

“That’s a relief,” Eddie said. “I was worried I might be overstepping with the cash. I’m glad it all shook out okay. So tell me about the gym. You’ll never catch me in one and I’m curious.”

Steve told him all about the trip down and the bitch on top of how great the gym was.

“That bitch,” Eddie agreed when he was done. “She was jealous on how good you look, baby.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Steve agreed. “The way she turned purple when I told her her outfit was out of fashion was just the icing on the cake.”

Eddie hummed and went on to talk about how the last two days were back to back concerts and how tired he was.

“You’re taking care of yourself, too?” Steve asked. “You want to take care of me, but who’s taking care of you?”

Eddie’s smile could be felt through the line when he said, “My band. There’s Gareth, who answered the phone. He’s our drummer, then there’s Jeff, he’s rhythm guitar and lead vocals–”

“What’s rhythm guitar?” Steve asked. “Is it a different instrument?”

“No,” Eddie explained, “but I can see why you might think that.” Then he went on to explain what it meant and why Eddie was lead guitar and backup vocals. “I can sing fine, but Jeff? He’s got a real talent for it. Gives us a unique edge. And then the last and certainly not the least is Brian who’s on bass.”

“First base?” Steve teased.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

Steve snickered. “Who’s on first? That old timey comedy sketch about baseball?”

He could hear Eddie snap his fingers. “That’s right. Wrong kind of bass though. And it is a separate instrument, but not to be confused with a upright bass. Which are those weird, big violin looking thingies.” He went on to describe the differences between a bass and a guitar.

“Oh it’s like a violin and a viola,” Steve said, “they may look similar but they aren’t the same.”

Then it was Eddie’s turn to be confused, so Steve explained.

“See, little Canary,” Eddie said after he was done. “You’re plenty smart. And sadly I have to go. But I want you to call me more often, okay?”

“Aye, aye!” Steve said with a jaunty salute.

“You menace,” Eddie huffed fondly. “Bye, Stevie.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

After they hung up Steve picked up the pendant and looked at it again. A little canary. Well then.

He got up and decided that it was time for lunch and maybe pay his cousin a little visit. He needed news. News only Monty could provide.

~

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

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