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potionpeddlerpatchy · 1 year

Text

word count: 8.9K

paring: Wolf!Bakugou x fReader

warning(s): cunnilingus, marking (biting and claws), loss of virginity, loss of innocence, some blood (very minor and only mentioned briefly), and dirty talking/slight degradation.

authors note: well, hello again! I'm currently in the middle of writing something new, but I figured it might be a good idea to repost some of my favourite works from my old blog here - especially this one (and another one soon) as I will be adding a sort of continuation to this story; so best to have both in one place - just to tide you over until new pieces are done. Besides I am quite fond of this one, spun three wheels to get prompts (dialog of “Can I just hold your hand?” the trope of Fake Dating, and the AU being Fantasy). I've always enjoyed how this turned out, though it is one of my first works so apologies if it doesn't have the same caliber, and I hope you all do too - I know Bakugou is quite the favourtie~ 🔮

You weren’t from around here.

Bakugou could tell the moment you entered this seedy tavern, the way your boots clicked against the old wood made his ear shift to your direction, His whole head following suit when he could smell the sweet scent that sat on your skin.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe not to all the other low lives that surround this place, but Bakugou could tell. Your clothing, though it seemed to match that of the other women around, was too well-tailored; the cloth too fine and expensive and the leather used was not worn enough.

And you had jewels; real ones he could tell. Though you did hide them well, he just had very good eyesight. And really that was the main reason he kept his gaze on you. He wouldn’t mind snagging a few of them for himself; it would allow him to live comfortably for a while – and you could spare a few, couldn’t you?

But there was also a hint of curiosity too; a noble-born on the run? What kind were you exactly? A runaway Princess perhaps? No. He rolled his eyes at himself for the thought – there weren’t nearly enough royal guards around searching for you and causing a ruckus for you to be that.

But there were a few. So perhaps a Countess or even a Duchess? His money was on the latter. The way you carried yourself was not as self-assured and haughty as those that were countesses. If he remembered correctly, those women always flaunted their wealth because they had something to prove.

But the way you sat down and paid for a drink made it clear you didn’t have anything to prove; so, a countess you were not.

You were a pretty thing too. A beauty like you didn’t come around these parts often, and Bakugou couldn’t help but want to continue to look at you. He wasn’t the only one, all these lecherous creatures that were around kept glancing your way – their excitement clear as the whole place grew rowdier.

Not like they had a chance with you, not in hell. They would have to stick with the barmaids and brothels full of women to satisfy any of their barbaric needs. And though Bakugou was technically a part of these grotesque creatures, he was more human than anything; most wolves were. If anyone had a chance it was definitely him.

He knew he was good-looking, could probably pass for a Prince himself if it weren’t for the stupid ears, claws, and tail that held him back. Reduced him to living with others like him on the outskirts of the land, to be treated as a lesser than. That’s why he always found joy whenever a noble, like you, wandered around his turf. He loved scaring them, the frightened expressions as they tried to weakly defend themselves always proved that they were the ones that were beneath him.

But you were different. Bakugou didn’t want to scare you into giving him what he wanted, he wanted you to give it willingly.

“It’s rude to stare.” You mumbled, as you picked up the large mug placed before you and brought the frothy drink up to your lips.

“You’re not gonna like it.” Bakugou replied, eyes moving back to stare at his drink, swirling it, like he was doing before you walked in.

You just rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head lightly before taking a sip. The froth was nice and fizzy, but the rest of it all was the most bitter thing you ever placed in your mouth. You grimaced as it slid down your throat, making it burn all the way down to your stomach. You held back your coughs in defiance of the stranger beside you, not wanting to prove that he was right.

“Told you.” He chuckled, his tone mocking as he downed the rest of his drink, he rested the glass back down heavily on the counter before him “It’s the most bitter thing in this whole world, but it gets you messed up the fastest. But I don’t think you knew that, did you, princess?”

“Don’t call me that….” You mumble, bringing the glass back up to your lips – though it was awful it was helping you blend in more “M’not a princess”

“Could have fooled me.” Bakugou purred as he slunk closer to you, forgetting his glass entirely “Then what are you exactly?”

Your exasperated sigh just made his grin, wolfish and almost feral, spread wider on his face as he leaned on the bar counter; your arms almost touching. You shuffled as much as you could away from the stranger, his breath reeked of alcohol, and you weren’t overly comfortable with how close his face was to yours.

“A traveler, just like you.” You kept your tone pointed, trying your best to prove to this stranger that you didn’t want to talk to him or have him as close as he was.

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh really, now?” You asked through gritted teeth, unable to stop your angry gaze to fall back onto him and his shaking head “And how would you know?”

“These clothes….” He started picking at the wrist of your cotton sleeve, sharp claws ran delicately up and down your forearm “Are too nice, too well-tailored. If you really were a traveler then they wouldn’t be as clean and pristine. They would look more rugged like that chick over there.”

You followed his head movement to where a woman, surrounded by a few men around a dark wooden table, sat drinking merrily – not caring that with each shove and playful push would cause half their ale to slosh onto the floor. But the stranger was right, though her clothing looked nearly identical to you, it wasn’t quite as polished. Loose strings would hang off cuffs and hems, the colouring of the fabrics was more dull, not as vibrant. She looked like she had traveled across many lands, you looked like you just started.

“And” You tensed when you felt his breath in your ear and his hand wandering to your waist “Not many people around here have trinkets such as yours.”

You gulped, throat suddenly very dry, as you looked back at his face; the glint in his eyes made you even more nervous. A lamb suddenly in the jaws of the wolf.

“Are you going to rob me?” You asked, voice trembling. Fright filled your being and shook your body in his loose hold, as you watch him lick his lips “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No.” He chuckled, mirth feeling his being over your frightened state “I’m just wondering who you are, and why you showed up here.”

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged his shoulders, eyes darting towards the entrance of the tavern; watching briefly as two well-dressed and armed men entered “And you better tell me quickly before they figure out you’re here.”

Your head darted to the entrance as well, eyes widening in fear as you saw the insignia engraved on their chest plates; there was no doubt they were here for you. And that bastard who wouldn’t let you go knew it too.

“Can I just hold your hand?”

“What!?” You whipped your head back as you watched him pull away from you, your breathing quickening in pace as your heart was thumping loudly in your chest that you knew that he could hear it.

“Just take my fucking hand!” He hissed at you, a hand quickly grasping yours before you really had a chance to reach it out to him.

He slunk his other arm so it was now encircled around your waist as he nodded his head at your drink; silently asking you to hold it up for him. You did with a shaky hand, the proximity of his entire being – having it wrapped around you like this – was making your cheeks flush red. You had never been this intimate with a man before, let alone with a stranger. It was all so incredibly overwhelming, it didn't help that being this close only made you realize how attractive he really was.

You wanted to take your eyes off his face, especially when you watched his tongue peek out from his lips to lick around his mouth at the few drops of your drink that spilled out due to your clumsy hand not keeping it steady. You could see his eyes darken and it made you want to shy away; out of fear or something else, you were not sure - the weird sensation that flushed your body was foreign and frightening.

You almost forgot all about the armed men hunting for you until you heard one call out to the pair of you; two pairs of boots rushing to where you sat. You wanted to let out a sigh of relief when his eyes moved from your face; but held back the urge.

“What?” His gruff tone proved he was agitated as he glared daggers at them, almost smirking when he saw them be taken aback by him.

“Excuse your tone!” One of them spoke first, chest-puffing out to look more intimidating than he was. “You do not speak that way to a royal guard!”

“Well, sorry” His mocking tone countered the apology “But I don’t appreciate having you assholes ruining the moment I was sharing.”

“Well, that woman-!” The other interjected, clearly not as afraid as his partner as he got into the stranger's face “Is the runaway Duchess of House L/N! And we are on direct orders to bring her back!”

‘Ah, so you were a Duchess’ Bakugou thought to himself as a smirk crept its way on his face; both out of knowing his assumption about you was right and from this dick of a man who thought he could take him on for size.

“Do you really fucking think that?”

“Don’t speak to me that way.” The man’s tone was dark, his teeth on display as he started to draw his sword out, to prove he meant serious business.

“Then don’t speak to me like that!” Bakugou snarled, fangs on display to show he also meant serious business “Or threaten me in front of my mate! Continue to do it and I’ll rip your throat out right here and now.”

The low, continuous, growl that was coming from his chest was breaking the guard’s tough façade – though it was barely noticeable. But Bakugou could tell that he was getting a little frightened by him, especially when he glanced towards your profile and saw you trembling with fear. Though he couldn’t stare at you for long as he watched a clawed hand place itself at the back of your head and pull you into his chest.

“If she really was the person you’re claiming her to be, then why the fuck would she be in here? Why would she be in a situation like this? Why would she let a beast like me this close?” Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the two men before, as if to challenge his logic wrong.

You both could see, though your vision was limited, the guard’s hand trembling on the hilt of his sword; clearly taking this stranger’s word as fact and now debating what to do next. Bakugou could see the conflict in his eyes – clearly not knowing if he should harass the two of you or move one. His partner, on the other hand, took a step away.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” Bakugou muttered, his eyes watching the weaker of the two, “Now if you’re done threatening us, I suggest you leave before this gets real fucking messy”

You had to commend his acting, truly, as the more brash guard stood upright. He muttered something under his breath, though you couldn’t hear, before both pairs of boots walked sullenly away from you; the footsteps becoming harder to hear the further they went until you couldn’t hear them anymore. A sign that they had left the tavern. The coast now being clear.

“They bought it?” You whispered, pulling yourself more upright as you looked towards where they left.

“Of course, they did” He shrugged, taking your drink once more and downing the last of it “They’re not smart. Besides….” You felt sharp claws take a gentle purchase under your chin to turn your head back to him “They wouldn’t want to fight someone like me”

“Aren’t you full of yourself?” You scoffed, moving away from him fully now. Your mind now coming back to you.

“A ‘you’re welcome’ would be fucking appropriate right now, sweetness. Especially seeing as I risk my life to get you out of that bind.”

You felt him grip your wrist again, and when you looked up at him you could see that same self-satisfied smirk back on his face. It made you roll your eyes and look away once more, a clear look of displeasure on your face as your lips formed a scowl.

He was right, he had helped you out of a really tough bind. His on-the-spot thinking meant that you didn’t have to go back to your home kicking and screaming within those guards’ hold. But, at the same time, he kept touching you without permission. Along with his full-of-himself attitude made saying your gratitude feel as bitter as that liquid burning down your throat.

“Thank you.” You finally managed to mutter out, pulling your hand away from his grip, your scowl deepening further.

“That muuuuuch better!” He cooed, his mocking tone made you ball your fists in anger; but that seemed to only spur him on even more “Now come on, pay up.”

“Pay up…?” You mumbled, your eyebrows furrowing as confusion replaced the annoyance “What…?”

“You owe me, sweetness. Did you a huge favor, now you’re gonna repay me in kind” His arms crossed over his chest that was now puffed out in overconfidence “I can think of a few ways you can too, though let’s start with why those losers were after you in the first place, duchess.”

You sighed; you knew that you had no real choice in the matter, there was no way you were getting out of this. He was strong, and though it was a little hard to tell due to his olive coat and baggy clothing, you were sure he could easily overpower you without breaking a sweat. And well, you weren’t made to fight.

“Fine. I –“ You began, only for one of his fingers to press against your lips; effectively shushing you from speaking further.

“Not here, sweetness” He smirked, enjoying that his little nickname made your nostrils flare in annoyance. “As much as I would love to see you plastered off your ass, I’ve had enough of those low-life extras staring at you.”

He tilted his head towards the other patrons. And true to his word a lot of them were giving you, what they thought were sneaky, glances your way. It could be due to the display that just occurred with those guards stomping your way and causing a scene, but with the suggested undertones of the stranger's words made you question those glances as innocent curiosity.

“Good idea…” You nodded, pulling your head away when you felt the tip of his claw tickle your nose.

You watched him get to his feet, offering you his hand after he got a few paces ahead of you; as if realizing that you didn’t know where he was going. You gingerly took hold of his hand and allowed him to pull you from your seat to stand before him. It was at that moment you realized just how tall and imposing he was compared to you. He didn’t really seem that way when he was hunched over the bar counter, but now? Well, it was enough to make a shiver run down your spine when he loomed over you with that wolfish smirk as he wrapped his arm around you and began to lead you out of the seedy place.

“W-wait!” You whispered; voice frantic as you tried to gain some sense of control over this less-than-ideal situation you found yourself in “I need to know your name before we go any further.”

You heard him huff out an annoyed groan, bringing his free hand up to pass through his hair before it fell limply at his side. “It’s Bakugou, now come on.”

He didn’t give you any time to say anything else, or really to process what he just said. His name only ran through your head with certainty when you felt the cool summer night’s air hit your face.

It was cold.

And damp. Though it was to be expected to some degree in the dense forest you were currently being dragged within. It put you on edge, every little thing that moved and seemed to whisper through the branches; made you tense and cause your breath to quicken at points.

Though after the first little leg of the journey you felt silly for being so afraid. Arguably the most fearsome creature within these forests was the one that was walking beside you in the first place, so really what harm could befall you if you had him on your side?

Bakugou.

He was leading you through this place with expert ease like he had done this thousands of times before to the point where it was more memory than thinking. To where, you were not sure, but given the familiarity and ease you could only assume he was leading you to his home; or den, or cave, or wherever it was a creature like him would rest his head.

The moment you began walking, out of earshot of all those around, he asked you to tell your tale; wanting to fill the silence and hear just what led you here in the first place. And though he was quite chatty at the tavern just moments prior, he was quiet now. Trudging along like it was a chore. Listening to you with almost disinterest even though he was the one curious about your situation in the first place.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t listening or found it boring. He was just lost in thought at the details of your story. How overly complicated life was like at court. All those rules and regulations on how to do the most mundane of things, like living and eating, all boiling down to a miserable, controlled, and boring life.

He didn’t envy you at all. If he had to wake up every day and be told what to wear, how to wear it, how to eat, how to talk to people, he may have just ended it all and run away too. No amount of wealth was worth living in such a way.

Though his interest peaked when you brought up the engagement. The straw that broke the camel’s back as it were; the whole reason you ran off in the first place. It caused his ear to stand pointed atop his head as he listened to your mutterings as best he could.

Enji Todoroki, that was the man who had asked for your hand. That was the man your parents more than willingly threw you out to if it meant more land to their name. Bakugou almost laughed at the sudden shift in your tone when speaking about him, with such anger and disdain. A far cry from the soft-spoken women you were moments prior.

But you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to marry this cruel man. You didn’t want to be sold out to him like cattle simply for more prosperity for your family. The only reason he was interested was because you were a pretty young face, nothing more really.

It made Bakugou roll his eyes. Of course, Enji would be asking for your hand, even someone like him knew the habits of that old man. One recently separated from his wife and was now looking for a younger, prettier, bride. It was all people could gossip about for months. Wondering which woman he was going to propose to – and well it seemed like it was you.

It was ridiculous really. Not only could he be your father, but he also had sons that were of marrying age. In fact, a more suitable match would be for you to marry one of them. You knew that Shoto was your age, and it would still lead to fortune for your family as he would inherit plenty.

But no. Your parents wanted your life, your destiny, to be tied to the older man. To breed and bear his children until another younger and more beautiful thing came around. It happened to his previous wife, and you knew it would happen to you.

“I deserve more.” You declared, your rant about the whole situation over “I won’t even say I deserve love. I just want to be with someone who at least respects me, and I can tolerate sitting in a room with.”

You let out a loud sigh, glancing at your companion who was still as quiet and unreadable as when you started. The only thing that indicated that he was still listening, or just remembering your presence, was the small hums of acknowledgment he would give every now and then.

“I don’t think that’s too much to ask…” You mumble out, feeling slightly awkward from the silence that had now befallen you.

“Your life is ridiculous.” Bakugou finally muttered, bringing a hand up to move a branch out of his way “No wonder you want to fucking leave it. I wouldn’t wanna spend one day as you, let alone deal with that bullshit.”

He had a way with words, one that made you chuckle at how brash and crude they were. No one dared speak that way at court, let alone around a lady. But you found it refreshing that he didn’t care; that he spoke what was on his mind regardless of decorum. That he was honest.

“What are you smiling at?” Bakugou asked, tone irritated as he looked down at you – hating the way your lips turn upwards in that annoying little grin.

“Nothing…” You giggled out, your tone going up in a teasing way as you turned away from him. “You just talk differently.”

“Eh!? What do you mean by that!” He yelled, stepping ahead, and blocking your path with ease.

“I-I don’t mean any harm by it!” You held your hands up in defense to prove your point further “I like it actually…”

The way you mumbled out the last part, and how you bashfully moved your head to look downwards made the man before you smirk. That wolfish grin was back on his face, one that you didn’t know whether you missed or hated, as he leaned down to breathe in your ear. The way you shivered slightly when it hit your ear did not go unnoticed by him.

“If you like that, then you’ll love the way I sound when - !”

You pushed past him before he could even think of finishing that thought; catching him off guard if the little grunt was any indication. Your whole being was too flustered to even want to know where his mind was going.

“D-don’t!” You warned, your voice still sounding nervous but the volume it was at was proof you meant serious business “I don’t want to know!”

You were cute like this, Bakugou couldn’t deny. A little thing so easily flustered by him was refreshing, and it made the animal in him roar loudly. Oh, what he would do to something like you. He would absolutely wreck you, ruin any little part of innocence you had left within you.

His motive now changed. He no longer wanted your trust so you could give him those jewels that were tucked neatly away. He wanted something more precious, more untainted than money. But he would have to play it smart if he were ever going to obtain it.

“Come on,” Bakugou rolled his eyes, trying to seem unfazed by your little outburst “It’s only a little further ahead.”

“What is?” You asked, fidgeting on the spot as you watched him walk ahead and away from you once more – his arm pulling back a branch to clear the path before you.

“My house, dumbass. I want to get out of the cold as soon as possible, so hurry up!”

You didn’t hesitate to scramble yourself forward; feet trying their best to move as quickly as they could to heed his command. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to get out of the cold night’s air and get some rest. Even if it was in the home of the strange man-wolf in front of you.

~ ~ ~

His home was not what you expected it to be.

Not at all.

It was cozy. A small cottage that seemed just the right size for someone to live in comfort, but not with too much space to spare. It looked soft too, the upholstered chairs, his bed, even the bear-skinned rug before his fireplace, all looked so soft. That if you were to touch them you would delve into them – sinking eternally in their plushness.

It really was what you wanted most. You had been running all day, and after that walk through the forest to get here, only proved just how worn your feet and body had become. You sighed out in relief once you had the chance to take off those dreaded boots; watching in curiosity at the wolf before as he placed birch logs into the open maw of the fireplace. Humming constantly when those logs burned and quickly filled the home with a gentle warmth.

“Get over here.” You heard Bakugou growl out, watching him in confusion as he rested back on his haunches; elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his hands together at the flickering flames.

“Come on!” He urged again, head finally snapping back to you. Rolling his eyes at the witless expression on your face as you continued to stand uncomfortably at his threshold “I know you’re cold, so hurry and get yourself warm.”

You nodded your head, scrambling once more to heed his command. Feet padding gently on the wooden floor before it was muted by the softness of the fur before the fire. When you sat, you couldn’t stop yourself from running your hands through the dense fur, marveling at how it felt under your fingertips. This was possibly the only time you would ever get to touch this kind of beast, and you were going to enjoy it as much as you could.

Though, after a few moments the lure of the fire called your name. Your cold bones were unable to resist the temptation and you found yourself with outstretched arms towards it. Enjoying the warm glow as flames almost seemed to lick and nip at your fingertips.

“What’s your next step?” Bakugou asked, unable to keep himself quiet. Not when he had you all to himself once more “You’re staying the night, obviously. But after that.”

His tone made it clear that it wasn’t up for debate on whether or not you would find shelter here for the night or continue on your way. Not that you were complaining. You would spend every day here in the warm solitude this small cottage provided.

“I’m not sure…” You finally whispered out, after pondering that question in your head for a few moments. “To be honest I didn’t expect to get this far…”

You saw the look he gave you; it was a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. Like he couldn’t believe that you truly had no plan, no thoughts on where you might go and do, as you figured the moment you started to run you would be caged again. It made you pull your hands back into your lap, fidgeting with them nervously, clearly showing you were a little embarrassed by your truth.

“He’s a powerful man.” You reasoned, trying to get him to understand “And I have never known life outside of my family’s estate and court. I wasn’t expecting to get far with the little knowledge I had. Or with his hounds on my tail…”

You chuckled, Bakugou joining you for a moment as well, remembering those idiotic guards you had crossed paths with. How useless they were. Though, after tonight you knew more would be spread out in an attempt to find you. And as the man before you had stated the moment he met you, you stuck out in a crowd. So really, where could you go to hide?

“I have nowhere to go.” You finally admitted, shaking your head. You had been foolish to even think that this would work in the first place “Even if I were able to slip through the border, someone would alert them of me once I tried to sell my jewels. Or they would take them and sell me out for the bounty that will surely be over my head soon.”

“So what? That’s it?” Bakugou retorted, bewilderment in his tone at how easily you were accepting defeat “All that work just to go running back with your tail between your legs!?”

“I don’t have a choice!” You snapped back, eyes narrowing back at his own “I have no friends outside these walls. Only those that wish to see me go back to that horrid fate for a quick coin! Much like you!”

“I don’t want your stupid jewels anymore!” Bakugou defended, hands turning into fists at your truthful accusation – claws digging into his palms.

“So what? You still wanted them the first moment you saw them! Who is to say someone else won’t rob me for what I have on me, and leave me penniless and stranded? Or worse…”

You shook your head at those horrid thoughts. Not wanting to think of those dark and twisted outcomes that may befall you if you were to continue out of these woods. And though returning back to that man was not a fate you wished to have, it was better than whatever may come to you if you continued.

“The safest outcome for me is going back….”

You whispered your sealed fate; taking in a shaky breath to try and calm yourself down, trying your best to ignore the crimson eyes that stared intently at you. Though those breaths quickly turned heated as anger clouded your mind. You threw your fists against the rug as you let out a wail of frustration and anger over that decision; a foot kicking out to topple the small stack of wood that sat before you.

“It’s just not fair!” You declared through clenched teeth “It’s my life! Why can’t I have any say in how it will go!? Why do I have to marry that bastard?”

You took one glance at the man beside you, searching his eyes for some sort of answer. When you could not find one, you sighed out once more before bringing your knees to your chest, resting your chin upon them like a pouting child.

“If you’re gonna have to go back…” You heard Bakugou, his tone softer as if in sympathy for you, as he raked his brain for that solution you were hoping for “Then get even with them.”

“What?” You softly questioned, your face turning back to him – that wolfish grin was back, and it made you nervous at what he was going to say next.

“If you’re gonna have to marry that asshole no matter what. Then the best way to get back at them all is to give up that sweet virtue of yours. And what better ‘fuck-you’ would it be if you gave it to someone like me?”

Your mouth went dry at his words, finding it near impossible to swallow that lump that was now in your throat. He wanted you to do something that was ingrained into you since childhood as sacred; something only to be done to by the person you were to be bound with for the rest of your living days on this land.

And the almost casual way he brought it up, accompanied by those burning eyes – ones that made the fire before you seem mild in comparison – meant that this wasn’t his first time in seducing a lady; to ask her to keep him company for the night.

But a part of you couldn’t help but be seduced by it all. By the thought of going against tradition, against your family, and especially against that man that already broken the sacred oaths before; so why shouldn’t you? Why should you deny yourself this one, and only, rebellion you could dish out? Why should you deny yourself to feel the touch of this handsome man before you? One that seemed to want to give you, probably, the only night of passion and enjoyment you will ever receive?

You couldn’t.

And that was probably why you felt your heart nearly explode in your chest, as a fire ignited in your belly once you felt his warm and slightly chapped lips touch yours.

Your whole body seemed to melt when you felt his palm reach up to caress your cheek and pull you closer, and deeper, into the sweet kiss. A gesture that seemed so small, yet it showed to you a level of tenderness that he had yet to openly give you since you met him. It made you want to return his kiss with fervor.

Bakugou chuckled at your eagerness, finding it endearing at your clumsy and inexperienced actions that were hidden behind your enthusiasm. It meant that you wanted this. And if you wanted this, then it meant that he could show you a night you will never forget. One that you would remember every single time that old bastard took you into his bed at night – that whenever he took you, you would only be reminded of him instead.

That thought made Bakugou growl deep within his chest. For some reason, he really hated that thought. And when he pulled away from the kiss, he couldn’t help himself but duck lower, to your neck, and start to leave his mark on the untouched flesh.

Your whimpers doing nothing but spur him on. He wanted to hear every little sound you could make; wanted you to hear you wail, moan, and scream his name. The animal in him was being set loose, and he was trying his hardest to not let it run free. Though it was proving harder to do when he felt your trembling hands tug at his coat, feeling your hands slip under the fur of his collar to the smooth skin underneath it.

“Kiss me again” You breathlessly whispered to him, your hands pushing down on his neck to bring him closer “Please?”

Bakugou was unable to suppress his low groan at your words, as he brought his head away from your neck back up to yours. Lips clashing with yours in a messy kiss, one that he dominated easily. Who was he to say no to such a pretty request?

Your kisses become more urgent, almost hurried as the moments pass. Unable to let each other part for too long, even if it was to breathe. A part of it was because his lips felt so wonderful on yours, a tantalizing sensation that left you tingling all over. But the other reason was out of bashfulness. Unable to let yourself fully part from him, to look at him, as he slowly untied and unbuckled every piece of clothing you had.

His touches were gentle. The way his fingertips, and claws, would slightly drag over your skin, like a butterfly’s kiss, made goosebumps appear in their wake. Made you shiver and let out shaky breaths as you parted from one another. Your breath mingling with his, and allowing this reprieve, to fully undress.

You bit your tender lip when you felt his heated gaze wash over your skin. It made you squirm; made you place your hands around your chest to hide from his piercing gaze. Unable to stand the heat of it.

He truly was a predator that caught himself a prize, at least that’s how it seemed when he looked at you. He certainly didn’t appreciate you hiding your beautiful skin from him, your wonderful body. A low growl, one that almost mimicked the warning he gave to those guards an hour prior, rumbled into his chest as he pulled your arms away from your chest.

His grasp was firm, but not painful, you could feel the warning in it; telling you to not do something similar again as he laid your nearly bare form down onto the fur. Pinning your arms above your head

“Keep them there.” Bakugou commanded, his rumbling voice that resembled gravel made it clear to you that you had to obey.

And obey you did. You relaxed your arms and turned your wrist inwards as your fingers once again threaded through the bear’s fur. Trying your best to keep yourself grounded, avoiding becoming too sheepish, as to let him continue his ministries.

Swift hands made quick work of your skirts, ridding them and causing you to lay bare before him; the first man to ever see you this was since you were a babe. His gaze was telling more than words ever could at just how wonderful you seemed to look. And though you couldn’t keep eye contact with him for long, he could see the heat in your eyes as well once he started to shed his garments. That smug smirk was the main reason you turned your head away.

Bakugou’s hands started tracing your collarbone, following it along from shoulder to shoulder. His lips came down onto it a moment later to lavish it with wet kisses. You could feel his smirk on your skin when he nipped at a particularly tender spot, enjoying how your hips bucked up slightly into his own.

He was enjoying this as much as you. If the slight breeze of air that came in contact with your legs, the slight brush of coarse hair, caused by the wagging of his tail was any sign. It made you giggle breathless as you watched the appendage pick up speed the lower his lips descended on your body.

He kept up this tender care all throughout your chest. Slowly moving his hands downward, his lips following moments later over the swell of your breasts, allowing the soft kisses to distract you as his fingers pinched at your hardening nipples.

Your mewls spurred him on to take one of the hardened buds into his mouth, eyes glancing up to see if you were liking the way his tongue flicked over it rapidly. Chuckling when you arched your back, and let out a keen, over what he was doing to you. That needy whine sent shivers straight to his cock, as it bobbed up against his stomach.

It was only when his hands slipped themselves down in between your legs that you moved your hands to grasp his wrist. The combination of the low groan that left his mouth mixed with all the wetness that found itself on your thighs was too much for you.

“I said!” Bakugou growled once more, speaking to you through clenched teeth “Keep your hands out of the way.”

He pried your hands off his wrist and moved them once again, this time to rest at your sides. And though you closed your eyes once more in embarrassment, he kept his eyes trained on your face when pressed his hands moved behind your knees to pull them up and apart – baring your weeping cunt to the fire's light.

“Look at me.”

It was hard for you to follow his request, a whimper escaping your throat to show your unease, but finally opening your eyes when he asked once more, tone soft and gentle, to look back down at him. He was handsome and looked so alluring with his hair all mused and ears pointed in between your legs, as he gently caressed your plush thighs in a comforting manner.

You couldn’t help the gasp that came froth, almost in a shrill manner, when you watched his tongue take a long and heavy stripe up your core; not missing the way his claws now dug into your skin, it was almost painful.

“S-stop! Don’t…” You cried out, hands twitching at your sides, trying their hardest to not push him away “Don’t do that, it – it’s dirty down there!”

Bakugou scoffed at your claim, taking a bite out of your thigh to have you look back at him. Once you do he repeats the action, this time accompanying it with a groan – smirking once more at the flush that was now making it down your neck.

“Not dirty at all.” He shrugged his shoulders before settling into a more comfortable position “How can something that tastes as good as you, be dirty?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. Not that you could really, not when your brain did nothing but short-circuit and turn to mush when you felt his tongue swipe up and down at your glistening folds. Unable to hold back any of the mewls and moans that crept out of your throat; especially when his lips found that special bundle of nerves and began to suckle on it.

Bakugou was taking his time, though it was a little bit agonizing. As much as he wished to go faster, to hear the wonton screams that he knew he could make you sing, he knew that you needed this to be as passionate and tender as it could be. So, whenever you would look back on this night, you would not regret allowing him this.

Not that he truly minded. The sounds of your gasps, your twitching thighs, and your bucking hips made up for it. Especially when he slipped a finger into your warmth and felt you tight walls fluttering around the digit. It was delightful, so much so he couldn’t help but let a growl; the vibrations making your hips jump once more. If you felt this good around his finger, he could only imagine how amazing it would feel having your gummy walls around his cock.

After a few pumps, he added another finger. Pushing through your tight entrance to help properly prepare you for his thick member; not wanting it to hurt once he finally got around to fucking you. The sinful, loud, whines you let out as your back arched when he began to scissor his fingers made his head a little dizzy. So aroused by it all that he couldn’t help himself from rutting his hips, and hard cock, on the rug beneath him.

You had the rug gripped between your fingers, your knuckles going white at how tightly you were holding on, as you felt a bundle start to twine in your gut. One that seemed built out of fire and that twisted almost painfully the more he licked, sucked, and played with your weeping core.

“Come on, sweetness” He nearly begs, his voice going hoarse “I can feel you fluttering around me, just let go. I got you.”

You babbled, though you’re not sure of what, as you listened to his gentle command. Unable to resist, you did as he said, and let go of that tight knot deep within you; allowing it to snap and your body to go rigid. Head moving side to side as you whimpered and wept over the overwhelming sensation.

Though it was only now that you truly understood why so many called this feeling ‘le petite mort’ as you felt a part of your soul had died and found its way to heaven. You couldn’t help but want to feel this feeling over and over again until you yourself passed on. Though it was sinful, you had never felt anything so wondrous.

You whimpered when you felt his fingers slowly leave your tender hole, not wanting the feeling of being full to leave you so soon. And neither did Bakugou. He didn’t want to let up when you finally came, wanting instead to continue – to overstimulate you until you were a blubbering, teary-eyed mess, that was begging him to stop. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to be in you, right now.

“You ready?” He whispered, bringing his hand up to softly caress your cheek, the tip of his cock twitching against your thigh “Cause we can – can stop if you want.”

“No!” You begged, bringing your own hand up to grasp his; kissing his palm “P-please, I want more.”

Your soft confession made Bakugou moan out, hiding his head in the crook of your neck, as he tried to compose himself once more. He knew what he was doing when he started, corrupting your innocence, however he was not expected to become this turned on – affected – by your turning.

He now needed more, want a distant memory from when he began. He placed the blunt head of his cock at your entrance and slowly pushed in, groaning at the tight heat that welcomed him as he slowly, inch by inch, sheathed himself. The stretch itself was a little painful for you, the more he pushed in, but not in a bad way. It simply just felt strange, as you had never felt a man in you before.

Though the more that kept entering you, the more you would whimper out. You had felt full when his fingers were within you, but this was an entirely different sensation; an entirely different feeling of being full. One that made your eyes shut tightly as your mind could only focus on the slightly pleasant burn of being stretched wide.

Bakugou let out a huff, head dangling above yours; some of his hair tickling your cheeks as he allowed you the time needed to adjust to the new sensation. And himself if he was honest. Your cunt was so tight that, mixed with his earlier actions, made him almost cum then and there once he bottomed out.

“You can move now…” You mumbled, pushing his hair back so you could look into his eyes.

He didn’t say anything back, just simply nodded his head as he adjusted your legs to rest upon his hip. It made you moan softly at the shift, his cock feeling deeper in you. Though that moan turned into a hiss when you moved his hips back slightly, your walls still sore from his intrusion; still burned. But Bakugou was careful with his movements, only moving an inch at a time before moving back fully into you.

It was a slow process, but soon he was able to pull almost all the way out before snapping his hips back into yours, quiet pained whimpers turned themselves into cries of pleasure with each thrust. You couldn’t help but bring your around his shoulder, your nails pressing crescent moons into his back with every slam of his cock into you.

The burn of feeling your nails drag into your skin made Bakugou grip your hips ever tighter. You both knew with the way his nails into your flesh, breaking your flesh and having slight trickles of blood run down your legs, meant that there would be scars; ones that your soon-to-be-husband would soon see. And that made you moan out louder, knowing that there would always be a reminder of this night for years to come.

“You like that, don’t you?” Bakugou asked through labored breath, his pace picking up speed as pulled you down to meet his thrusts; salivating at your bouncing chest “You like when I mark your skin? Like when I use your sloppy cunt, use you like the slut that you are?”

Bakugou laughed darkly when you whined at his words and shook your head no. Though you were denying his claims, your body was telling a very different tale; if the amount of slick that dripped down both your thighs was any indication.

“No?” He mocked, a smug smirk forming on his face as your lidded eyes met his “Then why did I feel you clench at my words, huh? Like – ah – like that sweetness? You like when I’m mean to you, don’t you? I told you, you would love how I would sound.”

All you could was keen, brain turning hazy at the sensations he was overloading you with. He was leading you back to that cliff, and you wanted nothing more than to fall over it once again as you brought your legs to lock around his back as you babbled out strings of pleas for him to keep going.

“Yeah, you’re gonna cum again? I can feel it, sweetness, your walls milking my cock.” Bakugou grunted when he felt one of your hands tug the hair at the base of his neck “Come on then, cum. Cum all over my fat cock, milk it – come on!”

He took your hand away from his hair, clasping it into his as he lowered his body onto yours; entwining your fingers together as he continued to say filthy words to help bring you over that edge. When you felt his pelvis rub so deliciously over your clit you couldn’t help but be sent over the edge; pulling him even closer as your body shook at the powerful release.

Bakugou groaned, quickly following suit when he felt your walls clamp down on him. Unable to stop himself from painting your insides white, with rope after rope of his seed, as he bit another mark onto your neck.

You let the moments pass, let it go by serenely as you basked in each other’s afterglow. Not wanting to leave one another so quickly after such an event. You wanted to hold him close as your heart slowly started to beat at a normal rate, and Bakugou wanted to do the same.

Though, once his cock had softened, he felt it was time to get you both cleaned up. And with a soft hiss as he left your warmth, he slowly lifted himself from your warm embrace; suddenly feeling cold even with the fire next to him.

“Be right back.” He mumbled as he got to his feet, not bothering to hide his body like you were as he walked to where his washing room was.

You took this moment to sit up, wincing at the soreness that now encompassed your lower half, as you searched for your shift; wanting to cover yourself, if only slightly. That’s when you found your small leather pouch, the one that contained all the valuables you thought to take with you.

Around the drawstring of the bag, helping to keep the thing closed, was your family heirloom. A giant sapphire broach that was surrounded by silver in an intricate design; a pattern that was designated to your family only. It was invaluable. And you thought that if Bakugou was kind enough to leave you a memento, you should do the same.

You clutched the item to your chest when you heard him step back into the room, washcloth in hand. You continued to hold it close to you, hiding it away, as he tenderly cleaned between your legs and the now dried blood at your hips. A kind gesture that made you relax once more into his touch.

He crawled up your body once more to place a soft kiss on your lips as his arms wrapped securely around you. You yelped when he picked you up, head spinning from suddenly being off the ground. He chuckled at your reaction, it only increased when you scolded him.

He led you to his bed and allowed you to get yourself comfortable before joining you. His heart thumping in his chest, and his tail annoyingly wagging, when you moved yourself to snuggle into his side. Your hands softly wandered over the muscles on his chest, as you gazed up at him once more; a small smile formed on your face.

“Here,” You whispered, holding your trinket out to him, waiting for him to take it. You relished in the soft, gingerly, touch he gave your hand before grabbing hold of your treasure.

“What is this?” He asked, voice still dark and raspy as he inspected it further in the moonlight.

“My family broach. It’s invaluable, probably worth a lot of money.” You explained, rubbing small circles with your fingertips on the skin of his collar bone “It was what you wanted to take when you first saw me. And though you can’t steal me away, you can steal this. As something to remember me by.”

You meant it as a joke, light humor to help ease yourself into more mirthful humor rather than one of sadness over what was to transpire once you woke. You snuggled yourself deeper into the blankets, into his embrace as you placed your head on his chest. The lull of slumber began to swiftly overtake you.

Bakugou couldn’t follow suit though. Couldn’t stop his mind from racing as he looked at the broach. The more he thought about it, as he now looked down on your slumbering face, how sweet and perfect you looked under the moonlight rays, the more he realized that he wanted to keep you. So maybe, just maybe, he would steal you away from them after all.

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sakkiichi · 8 months

Text

YOU’RE A CRISIS OF MY FAITH.

You meet him under the brightness of ballroom lights and the vibrant colors of his mask. However, is it a good idea to let yourself be lead by infatuation?

feat. Childe, Kaeya, Kaedehara Kazuha, Lyney, Albedo x gn! reader.

cw/genre: romance, fluff, slight angst in kazuha’s and lyney’s, royal masquerade au. reader wears a dress, mildly suggestive allusions on childe’s (very soft).

i would like to dedicate childe, kaeya and albedo’s part to my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 albedo’s part is dedicated to the sweetest @ssilversiren too !

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ CHILDE

Crossed arms over his chest and a sharp edged smile peeking from underneath his mask. The prince is certainly amused, and not precisely by this gathering he himself hosted.

It’s this feeling. Being unknown; just another face amidst the ebb and flow of a sea of profiles.

What would it be like, to converse with others, with them being none the wiser about his royal status?

Running a hand through his ruddy locks, Childe leans off the wall, something, or rather, someone having caught his attention.

The person is standing on the opposite corner of the room, their skirts as if weaved out of seafoam and tides, cascading to the floor in silky waves of sky. They’re alone, the ornamented wall behind them making them look as an extension of it, a painting without frame; for they stare longingly at the swaying crowd, their frame still, anchored, yet without a harbor.

“Fancy a dance?” A voice you swear you have heard somewhere before asks, causing you to turn around.

Striking sapphire eyes lock with yours, the cheeky smile he sports weakening your knees for a second. He’s dressed finely, in white and red, silver accents decorating the lapels and shoulders of his jacket, matching with the scarlet mask partially concealing the constellations of freckles dusting his handsome face.

You swear you know him. But you don’t at the same time; a crystalline pond at night, argent starlight swallowed by the depths of its abyss.

“Quite the bold request, considering you haven’t even introduced yourself, don’t you think?” You prompt, the stranger’s magnetizing grin drawing one of your own from your painted lips.

“Oh, come on, humor me?” He pouts, drops of cobalt glinting in the previously dull ocean patches of his gaze.

“Hm,” you ponder, bringing a finger to your chin. “How about you give me your name first?” You suggest, tone taking on a playful lilt. He watches the light quality of your dress, sweeping around you, tendrils of a spring wrapped around the delicate curves of your figure.

“A name, huh?” He smirks, and no matter how much you know it’s a bad idea, you find yourself hoping to call his name often in the future.

He knows what he’s about to reveal is an equally bad idea as you swimming in the currents of his pull, and still, he finds himself uttering the appellative he hasn’t heard in ages.

“Ajax. My name.” He whispers, those lips that only promise trouble brushing the shell of your ear.

You smile, your stare glinting not unlike the azurite shimmer that decorates your disguise.

“Very well, Ajax,” you draw out the last word, your voice directing the incognito royal’s heart wildly against his ribcage. “Come and find me.” Is the lingering echo of your words, a seashell’s melody, as Childe watches shades of aquamarine mingling with the crowd.

Perhaps this was not a good choice; but maybe you like the rush that comes with wishing he asks your name, with wishing his hand catches yours.

From the corner of your eye, you spot a wisp of red as you turn a corner down the busy corridors of the palace. You certainly wouldn’t mind if you happened to take Ajax’s half cape off later tonight.

✧ KAEYA

Rows upon rows of glinting masks and flashy clothing fill the luxurious room, the space practically painted in molten gold.

If anyone were to ask you, however, you’d reply this place is hell. The palace’s corridors are labyrinthine as it is, twisting endlessly, the frozen images hanging on their walls unchanging to your widened eyes.

And certainly, the shoves and pushes of a too excited crowd are not helping your mood at all. Exasperated, you grunt for the thousandth time, bunching up the skirts of your lacy white dress, determined to elbow and step your way to the damned ballroom.

Alas, the distant stars had other plans for you tonight.

Just as you were going to decidedly advance a particularly rowdy crowd, a force collides with you from behind, sending you and your unstable high heels against the polished tiled floor.

Except when the impact comes, it is not hard at all.

“My, a beauty like you should be more careful to watch where they’re going.”

You rise your gaze to meet the owner of that smooth teasing voice.

Hair weaved of icicles at midnight, braided to one side, falling over the spotless bronze skin of the stranger’s pretty face. His eyes, or rather, his visible eye, is chilly blue, the biting touch of a sunny morning after a snowstorm. And, unlike the rest of the guests, he’s not wearing a mask. He doesn’t need one either, his mystery-exuding aura, paired with the eyepatch on his right eye, somehow disguise enough.

You clear your throat, trying to act as if you hadn’t been blatantly staring at the man in front of you.

“Why, thanks.” You let out, tone crisp. “I was watching, but apparently someone with no manners wasn’t.” You add, with disdain, glaring at the advancing multitude.

“I don’t disagree.” The enigmatic stranger smiles, a sliver of moon, icy eyes following over your figure as you straighten your skirt.

Then he hums, the crescent of his sultry lips morphing into a smirk.

“Why don’t I accompany you for a while?” He offers his arm to you. “I was just leaving, but seems I’ve found a reason to stay, at least for a while…”

You match his smirk, conflicted at how attracted you don’t want to admit you are to this man.

“Oh? Does it outweigh the reason you were planning on leaving for?”

“I’ll take the risk to find out.” He grins, looping his arm with yours.

In silence interrupted by the joyous multitude, you make your way to the ballroom. It’s odd, the way you feel comfortable next to him, despite secrets and starry nights concealing the truth of his nature. You don’t even know his name…

“Call me Kaeya, by the way.” He murmurs, as if reading your thoughts, his tan hand, adorned in gold and midnight, lacing with one of yours, his other around your waist.

“Pleased to meet you, Kaeya.” You find yourself whispering back, entranced by the mysteries frozen in that shady stare of his.

Perhaps this is wrong, to let your heart out in the falling snowflakes around the flickering spark of this igniting infatuation, and yet, maybe just this once, you feel like you can fly with wings made of ice under a blazing sun.

You don’t regret it. Not when you know you’ll dream of Kaeya’s voice for nights on end. Not when he twirls you around the room, a flurry of snowy clouds outlined by gilded twilight. Not when he pulls you aside, hiding both of you into an alcove, his smooth hand pressed against your mouth, as some guards pass asking for “the prince”.

He definitely looks like one, you think. You don’t have time to dwell on iit as you both run off, hands still laced, into a narrow torch-lit corridor, the night air beckoning you towards the exit.

Danger had never felt so right.

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

You should have known better.

Better than to trust that bastard.

The nobleman that was supposed to be your date tonight.

It’s not like he didn’t show up, oh, he did alright.

You wish he hadn’t.

Seeing that asshole arm in arm with someone else makes your blood boil, a cold, cruel anger seeping into your bones, its chill enough to burn white-hot.

And yes, perhaps stomping out to the too pretty rose garden was a childish decision, but maybe it was you just exercising self control.

Best to brood than let your tempestuous wrath strike the whole place down.

Storms were only beautiful from a distance, after all.

You heavily sigh, removing the bejeweled mask covering the upper half of your face.

No point in keeping it now, you observe, running a thumb over the faux diamonds embedded over the indigo surface.

How ironic, you laugh, humorless, for your mask to look like a bright starry sky, when all you see the moment you rise your gaze heavenward are dark clouds gathering.

“Pardon my intrusion,” a pleasingly gentle voice begins, just as you were plucking the fading petals of a dying rose, “but are you not feeling up to joining the ball?”

Suddenly, the gloomy night dyes moonlit and crimson: twin pools of sunset regard you, a soft flame, soothingly warm in the chill of the inauspicious night; threads of starlight seem to constitute the man’s hair, almost angel-like in the way it frames his candid face, in the tender way the locks fall over his shoulder, tied in a bright red ribbon, akin to a bouquet of lily of the valleys. Like you, it seems he has discarded his mask, a splash of vermillion held in between svelte fingers wrapped in pale silk.

You greet him with a smile, the previous gales of fury receding, replaced little by little by the nurturing caress of an early autumn wind through maple leaves.

“I could ask you the same question.” You offer, turning your body in his direction, the faint touch of moonlit clouds brushing against your skin.

He shakes his head, tendrils of silver swaying with his movement.

“Let’s just say I prefer the peaceful nature of the outdoors.” He chuckles, sincere, the sound almost transparent in its quality, tiny ripples by a dawn breeze over a mirror-like stream. Then, he tilts his head to the side, silken strands caressing the smoothness of his cheek in ways you know you shouldn’t be dreaming of so soon. “However, I do believe it could prove romantically irresponsible of me to deny someone else this dance, no?” He asks, extending a hand to you.

And you know you shouldn’t feel your face heating up at the protruding tendons over the callous softness of his skin.

“My name is Kaedehara Kazuha,” he finally introduces himself.

Kazuha. You can’t quite tell just yet why you somehow wish that to be forever the name on your lips, nor do you know yet why you find your eyes naturally drifting off to every lash and diminutive freckle so temptingly touching his cheeks.

You don’t know if it’s right either, to take this leap of faith. What if the jump ends in you downfall? Again.

But what if you could swim in a pool of starlight instead? Is the voice whispering in verse into your ear, when you find one of your hands entwined with Kazuha’s, the other resting over the shoulder of his black and red suit jacket.

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Kazuha.” You find yourself smiling back, before introducing yourself.

As your dance partner twirls you around, the warmth of his hand lingering on the small of your back, the overcast skies seem to part. Like a wrinkle in the mundanity of human life, endless sparkling stars cast their gaze over you two, even their moon coming out to take a peek into the couple’s hearts yearning for the fated romance to be.

Splashes of cotton candy pink and cherry crimson sweetly bloom under the argent lights of the enchanted night, even the wilting rose you had been tampering with earlier dyeing in shades of life anew.

Though, to you, in this moment, the only life that matters is the one held in Kazuha’s autumn stare, his tenderness tethering you to the gentle comfort of your head resting against his heart.

Maybe it had already started beating for you, much like yours.

Perhaps some charms begun at midnight.

✧ LYNEY

Throngs of people gather around the Opera Epiclese building and yet, you had never felt so alone.

A sinking feeling settles in your heavy heart, as you pat your now lackluster gown, check your purse, only to come up empty handed.

Your ticket for today’s masquerade ball, seemingly vanished.

Defeated, you sigh, turning on your heel.

What use will be lingering around, with no way to get into the opera house anyway? Things couldn’t have turned out worse.

Or so you thought.

For, seconds later, you would find yourself tripping over the hem of your long dress, ripping it in the process, one of your delicate high heeled shoes slipping off, clattering to the concrete ground, a few feet away from you.

The ruby tear embedded on your mask seems like a mockery right now, salty crystalline tracks streaming down your cheeks.

Luckily, no one will pay you any mind and you’ll save yourself the embarrassment, you try to console yourself.

Alas, the fates didn’t even want to concede you that small salvation.

“Are you alright?” a pleasant voice questions, causing for you to turn around.

And when you do, the man standing right before you is not unlike a spell himself. Violet eyes concealing the secrets of a lifetime spent on the edge of light and shadows regard you through his cat mask, the disguise leaving a maroon tear-shaped mark visible on his cheek, similar to the one on your own mask; his top hat is decorated in shades of rose and night, a purple ribbon around it, its hue almost in tune with the magic of his gaze. Silvery strands sweep over the stranger’s pale visage, slightly ruffled in the ebb and flow of the night’s balmy breeze. And in his hand, he’s holding the fine shoe that caused your fall.

With your face burning in shame, you look to one side, mumbling an affirmative response. You can only be grateful for the crowds starting to dissipate, leaving you and this boy mostly alone.

Kneeling, he carefully slips the shoe on your bare foot.

“Are you sure about that?” He prompts further, helping you up. “You look dressed for today’s ball, however, you were heading in the opposite direction…”

Rubbing at your face, you hang your head low.

“About that… I’m not going anymore…”

“Is that so?” He tilts his head to the side, gaze of iris settling on the torn skirts of your attire.

“I just… it’s embarrassing…” You admit. “I somehow lost my ticket to enter… and well, then I fell, and now besides not having the means to get in, there is no way I look presentable for the occasion anyway…” You chuckle, humorless.

He hums. Then:

“If I may be so bold, I do believe you look lovely.” The mysterious man compliments you, snapping his fingers.

You follow his gaze to your outfit. And when you take it in, your eyes widen. Where there used to be a tear on the fabric, now it’s seamlessly weaved together, sweeping over the nightlit cobblestones. And not only that, but its shade is an even more vibrant shade of carmine now, small sparkly flecks catching the silvery ripples of Fountain of Lucine.

“Wha- Thank you…” You breathe, awestruck, admiring the revived color of your clothes.

“My pleasure.” The magician chirps, with a wink. “Now, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ball? It’s starting soon, and I would be very happy if you said yes.”

“I mean… I would love to, but my pass is gone…” You answer, regret lacing your tone.

“Hmm…” He muses, holding his chin in between two fingers. “Can I ask you to look closely now?” He pulls out his ticket, and right there, in the blink of an eye, he slides a second pass from behind the first one.

You gasp, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

“How about now? May I, Lyney, have the pleasure to join you for the night?” He proposes, bowing.

Smiling gratefully, you take his arm, wonderstruck still.

Together, you make your way towards the Opera Epliclese, the tickets safely held in Lyney’s free hand.

When you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the clear surface of the fountain’s waters, a Rainbow Rose adorns your hair.

The magician’s doing, no doubt.

You silently thank Lyney with a smile, and he believes no beam of moon could ever hold a candle to the sight of you.

✧ ALBEDO

Above the hall’s music, an acute faraway sound pulls you out of the forest of masked faces.

The spacious room is lit in gold, luxurious lamps and chandeliers focused on a crowd disguised in velvets and lace.

But, that melody. You can’t quite get it out of your head. You’ve been hearing it all evening, every now and then.

Akin to a gelid river, cutting through blocks of stone-hard ice, making your every hair stand on end when its notes tantalize you with the promise of the gilded reflections of northern lights over the stream’s surface.

You can’t ignore it any further, the flames dancing from ornate candles against the walls seem to murmur.

And even though the impending rushed beat of your heart may be painting danger red all over this possibility, you decide to ignore it, listening to the unknown song’s voice, beckoning you out of the ballroom.

Flecks of gold seem to hang in the air as you make your way through twisting ample corridors, the otherworldly sound welcoming you through a set of double doors, their wood snow white, their handles, crystal.

When you push them open, frozen air appears to settle all around you. It is not unpleasant, though.

In the same way, even though the music has just stopped, the sight before you is not unpleasant either in the slightest.

Amidst the room, a blonde man stands. His gaze, resembling underwater lights at dawn, is set on you. A white shirt with blue and golden accents falls perfectly against his frame.

You don’t miss the way his sleeves are rolled up, nor the tiny multicolored splashes in them.

Which brings you to take in the space around you.

A multitude of paintings line every wall: landscapes of somewhere you can only dream of stepping into; portraits of people you have never met, or have you, in the distance of sweet sleep?; abstract brushstrokes, constituting colors you had never seen before, that you know you won’t see anywhere else.

“Hello,” a soft voice that can only belong to the man in the room utters. “I am Albedo, the court’s alchemist, how may I be of assistance?”

You clear your throat, stammering an apology. He smiles, that sunny sky gaze never leaving you.

“I-I uh… I just heard music and… it seemed to come from here… I apologize for barging in so rudely.”

He gives you a sweet smile. You wonder whether he’s a prince, instead of an alchemist.

“Not at all. Music, you say?” He asks, bringing close to his lips the flute he had been holding. “Did it sound anything like this, perhaps?” Albedo starts to play, notes filling the chamber, colorful blossoms flourishing along snow-covered plains.

You get lost in the sound. In the ethereal aura the prince-like alchemist exudes. He’s as magnetic and entrancing as the melody he plays. Unconsciously, you’ve started to sway, and perhaps a part of you wishes this song was a gift for your ears alone.

At some point, the symphony stops, notes of it, still lingering in the crispness of the atmosphere, despite the closed windows.

“Beautiful.” He utters, tender, the fall of snowflakes atop your open palms.

Warmth creeps up your neck when he steps closer to you, his elegant hands hovering close to your face, to your silver mask.

“May I?” His lips say, rose-colored in the careful lilt of his tone.

Nodding is all the answer you can manage, Albedo’s cool fingertips grazing the side of your cheek.

“Yes, lovely.” He repeats, studying the lines of your mask-free face, the wave of your hair, the sparkles in your wide eyed gaze.

You wonder if he’s ever looked into a mirror, because if he’s presenting you these compliments, no words could describe how utterly breathtaking you think he is.

“Would you allow me to paint you?” Is the question you find yourself nodding to as well.

Beneath the golden lighting of fabricated starlight and with the paradoxically warm caress of Albedo’s cool touch when his hands position you for his portrait, you enter a labyrinth of emotions you only want to brave deeper.

What lies beneath the sunlit layer of snow clinging to Albedo’s every movement?

Perhaps tonight, as he renders you in watercolors, you have already imprinted yourself in his golden encased heart.

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luveline · 6 months

Note

Hi Jade, I’m thinking about soulmate prince Steve again. Can I request something (any length) with reader starting to feel like she fits in and finding something she enjoys doing around the palace (lending a hand in the library? Working in the garden? Helping in the kitchen?) and someone makes a comment about it and she stands up for herself?

Basically I think it’d be nice to see how her relationship with Steve getting stronger helps her feel more confident in her position

prince steve au ♡ fem

You find that with proper instruction, time, and resources, you love to cook. It's an odd thing to discover in your twenties, perhaps; any of your peers who liked to cook were already learning by the time you left school, dipping into restaurants in the wealthier north city, or training for prestigious positions in the Palace kitchens.

Steve sneaks in to see you every now and then. You're pushing the brunt of your palm into a soft dough when you feel his touch, a quick stroke of the knuckle against your lower back before his hand comes up, cupping your shoulder.

"What's this?" he asks. "It looks good, smells good. You're smiling."

"Yes, I'm smiling, I'm happy. And you've come to see me."

"That's why you're smiling?" he asks.

A strand of hair has fallen into his eyes, and a second chunk follows as he leans in. Not to kiss you, though you'd probably welcome it, but to make sure you can see his smile too.

"Where's your crown?" you ask.

"I'm striking. How ridiculous it is they expect me to wear it in my own home, I don't care if there are deputies visiting."

"Can I take off my finery?" You've been dressed in very nice clothes considering they're now covered in flour, but the weight of the jewellery is the real annoyance. "It's too much, Steve."

Steve's gaze dips down to the mass of jewels held against your collarbone. "Too much," he agrees, reaching around you. His fingers brush the back of your neck, eliciting a tiny metal clink as he unclasps your necklace and pulls it free. "Much better. You don't need any of this to look fine." He pockets it.

You stroke the loose hairs from his face.

"Oh, sorry." You wipe at the smudge of flour you've left behind. "Sorry. I'm making it worse. Good thing you're so pale."

"Alright." He looks like he might giggle. "So mean to me. I'll go do some fencing in the sunshine and maybe you'll grow to love me." He does giggle, then, at his own joke no less.

He expresses that your loaf of bread should please god end up on his plate first, and then he kisses your cheek and tells you he'll see you at dinner. It's a very nice farewell that gives an extra aura of happiness to your bread-making.

"You won't actually give the Prince your bread, will?" one of the cooks asks.

It's innocuous, but it pisses you off. Steve is a Prince, yes, but he's your boyfriend, your soulmate (scream), he's your equal in partnership even if he's a royal, and isn't his treatment enough proof? Why would he come down to the kitchens to dote on you? Why would he ask to try your bread first?

"I don't appreciate the idea that it isn't worth his time. I'm making something and he likes me enough to want to try it. Why wouldn't I give it to him?" you ask, not angry, exactly, no icy cold zing. Just irritated and honest about it. "It might not be perfect, but if he wanted perfect he could ask for it."

"Who says you aren't perfect?" Steve asks.

You flush with heat. He grins at you and the cook who'd spoken, as well as the other assistants and apprentices who stop to stare. "Forgot to give you this." He presses a small pouch into your hand. "Dinner," he promises.

"See you," you promise back.

You let him leave before you turn from the counter to open his gifted pouch against your abdomen. Inside is a generous handful of sugar pear drops, the kind you ate together on your first stolen date a few weeks ago, and a note.

To tide you over.

P.s if I didn't make myself say it, you look super pretty today and I can't wait to see you tonight

–Steve

You put one of the sugar pear drops under your tongue and hide the note safe inside your jacket pocket, schooling your features into impassiveness as your soulmark glows a gauzy cerulean.

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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ms0milk · 1 year

Text

𝐀 𝐇𝐘𝐌𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

On a diplomatic trip far from home, Prince Bakugou must contend with his hatred for you. A woman who lives to take orders. The last thing the warrior prince needs is a babysitter but it’s a feat, not a coincidence, that you are the only apprentice to the captain of his royal guard. Feasts, balls, and festivities await you and your new friends at Takoba, and in the seaside kingdom you must reconcile with the idea that your prince is not so noble as the queen who raised him. All while something half dead and long forgotten festers on high tide.

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 [𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔] prince!bakugou x royal guard!(fem) reader, slow burn to eventual smut. y/n has a personality and it is business formal, she grows. individual chapters will have specific tags-warnings-ratings— in general please expect violence/descriptions of injuries, strong language, two aloof fools, the classic motley bnha crew, seaside shenanigans. bakugou is an absolute piece of work, y/n is professional to a fault and it drives him insane. travel companions ー civil teammates ー genuine enemies ー confused friends ー lovers. plenty of ridiculous tension accompanied by angst and 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄

❂ ー 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 this story has been my baby over the past few months (was this a direct response to mha ch 362? yes) — so I hope you cherish it as much as I do. I am not immune to roy/riza (fmab) and many of the dynamics in this au are heavily inspired by their relationship! just gotta build up that trust first (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ be prepared to absolutely hurtle this man out of harm's way TAGLIST | AO3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆. ✦

You terrify him and it breaks his heart.

𝒐𝒏𝒆. 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩

In the warm forests of Aldera Castle you and the prince grew up in periphery. A soldier without magic and the boy who never spoke to her. Suddenly, he is your only responsibility.

𝒕𝒘𝒐. 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

With the first day of travel under your belt and introductions well collected, your Alderan company finds time to unwind together. Thankfully, nothing bad ever happens around a campfire.

𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆. 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

Are all carriages of the east made for prisoners of war? Prince Bakugou despises the close quarters and their snagging silver fixtures, but it is a special kind of fate that would deliver you to the safety of the sea and to the feet of the fire that bars your entrance. And deliver you together at that.

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓. 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞

Hats off to dying!

𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

What a vivid dream you’ve made, of the prince and his heavy hands wrapped around your body.

𝒔𝒊𝒙. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐛𝐚

It is at exactly the wrong moment that you realize where all the guards have gone, and just how desperate you must appear for the prince to take such pleasure in destruction.

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

Would he treat you this way in the presence of others? Is it only when you're alone that hell raises?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

In the immortal words of your prince, this was a dogshit idea for a dinner party. You are haunted by blue flames and scarred ghosts no matter how hard you focus on work, and a punishment for your distraction is in order.

𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭

He has no right– your prince is a hypocrite and alone in a haunted seaside garden confrontation is, finally, inevitable.

𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

You will eat the flame mage alive before he lays a finger on your prince, but why gods has Bakugou chosen now to fear for you? To treat you so gently?

𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Thirty-one hours awake and every second spent thinking of you.

𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆. 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

Gods help anyone that might try to hurt you, even if that person is the ocean, or a god– even if that person is you. You finally find your prince's bedchambers after a fight at sea.

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠

The end of your fever comes with realizations. What happens when two people unable to speak stand too close for too long?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

You always think you're well enough to train and if Bakugou has to tie you to a hospital bed himself he will, but he doesn't mean to watch you win for so long and he certainly doesn't mean to join you.

𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧

Can devotion come before forgiveness? can you control it? the last two sober Alderans carry their friends to bed.

𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬

You don’t mean to bite him, he startled you. You don’t mean to laugh together or beam about magic that is not yours. You do not mean to kiss him.

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

(3/11)

#wanna be tagged?#leave a nice comment or fill out my taglist form!#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #mha #mha fantasy au #mha x reader #bnha #bnha fantasy au #bnha x reader #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #a hymn to black water

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seravphs · 8 months

Text

Act One, Chapter One: half agony, half hope

Knights are bound by duty and honor, but Gojo is more devoted to his princess than he ever was to his oaths.

Main Masterlist | AO3

wc — 10k

tags — royal au, knight gojo, princess reader, forbidden love, ballroom scene, dancing, court politics, blood, minor character death, period-typical misogyny, complicated relationships with fathers, secret meetings, flouting social etiquette by sneaking out to meet your childhood best friend who is also your loyal knight, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Next: the beginning of devotion (coming soon)

He was so still Shoko almost mistook him for a dead body. It was a common misunderstanding in her line of business, but not one she was usually startled by. As a poisoner, legally and officially a herbalist, the occasional corpse on her table wasn’t such an unexpected occurrence. A lord, on the other hand, was.

Especially if it was him.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t just a lord. He was the son of the former Hand of the King, the greatest swordsman in living history, and connected to the princess. There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t know the Gojo name. It was synonymous with the royal house itself as the clan that had produced scores of advisors to the king. In nearly every generation, the heir to the throne was accompanied by a Gojo, acting as a living sword and shield.

But even with that storied history, this one was special. A young man who had risen to prominence during The Silent War, he returned home from hell as a knight unlike any other. The bards would adore him. They already did.

Most generals earned their titles by leading campaigns. Gojo hadn’t needed one. He turned the tides of the war as a single man army. They had started calling him a grim reaper, a god of death.

Shoko disliked him on principle, but she couldn’t kill a man like that. They’d have her head on a pike. She didn’t mind the idea of dying so much. What she did shrink from was the idea of dying painfully.

The princess was known for abstaining from most decisions involving the crown despite being in line to inherit it, but Shoko somehow doubted that she would remain so passive if her favorite knight was murdered. Thankfully, Gojo let out a soft breath to show her that he did remain among the living.

“I thought you died,” she remarked.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

She said something else, but Gojo wasn’t listening anymore. He was floating through a shapeless world again, chasing that moment. It slipped away from him despite his redoubled attempts to capture it. He remembered the tang of iron in his mouth. Blood spraying in the air, a mist that he could smell and taste. The leather grip of his sword in his hands, slippery with sweat.

He was trying to win back enlightenment, briefly attained and lost again just as quickly on the battlefield. A feeling of deep and solid peace had settled over him as he hacked through bodies, as if that was what he was meant to do. It should’ve concerned him. He already confused the ever thinning boundary between man and monster. That bloodshed brought him such euphoric tranquility could only mean it was growing worse, but he hated things he couldn’t understand.

He needed to experience it again. Just one more time, so he could make sense of it. The smell of blood. Wading through the dead and the dying, thigh deep in gore - it was no use. Frustrated, he let it go.

There was something soothing about the cracks in the ceiling. He stared up at it, letting his breaths come as shallowly as they had while he had been immersed in his meditative state. Shoko’s basement was chilly and dark, but it was necessary for the illegal autopsies she performed at his request. Those, and the poisons she crafted for him, were its primary purpose. It was only a stroke of luck that these qualities were also helpful for his attempts to recover his short-lived state of grace.

He was tempted to try again, but not today. There was someone too precious to keep waiting if he delayed any longer. He wouldn’t impose upon her the way he often imposed on the elder lords who tried to remind him of his place by pulling rank. While they deserved his spite, she didn’t.

Even Shoko was surprised by his sudden desire for punctuality. “You’re not going to stay?”

“I have a princess to rescue,” he said. “Dragons to slay, things of that nature.”

Shoko scoffed. “You are the dragon they have to save princesses from.”

Well, Gojo thought as he hurried down the corridor, she wasn’t wrong. He was sure others agreed with her. He didn’t waste his time with children’s tales anymore, but he remembered his mother’s voice whispering to him in the dark, curled around him in his bed. A dragon was a tool to lock princesses away. His presence deterred anyone from coming too near to his princess, so by that definition, he was most certainly a dragon.

Gojo found that he was a little proud of himself for that. Thinking of his mother had made him nostalgic. He thought she might be proud too, that he had taken such good care of the princess she herself had looked after. A dragon might trap, but it also guarded and hoarded. He had polished his princess like a treasure, lavishing her with attention until she had become a gem.

She was beautiful.

He was a soldier, so he had long since rid himself of the ability to lose his breath, but if he still could, he would’ve choked at the sight of her when he broke past the doors. She was seated so that the eye of anyone who entered the ballroom would be drawn to her first, but he would’ve found her regardless. He had promised.

Wherever you were, he would always find you.

It’s difficult to hide, being as tall as he is, but Gojo managed. He didn’t want you to see him coming. Already, he has to bite his lip to fight down his smile as he draws closer and closer. A few more steps, a detour to duck behind some random noble, and he’s in front of you.

“May I?” You don’t have a chance to speak before he’s already dragging a chair closer.

The smile on your face doesn’t match the harsh delivery of your words. “The next time you leave me alone with these miserable fools, I’ll order you to fall on your sword.”

Gojo laughs, unfazed. “Good choice. You’re too pretty to get your hands dirty. Although, you are a bit more murderous than expected for a princess.”

“You try putting up with Naoya’s simpering gibberish for an hour.”

“I don’t have to.” He slips into the chair beside you, avoiding you neatly when you try to trip him. “Watch your feet, my lady. People like me don’t have to put up with Naoya.”

People like you shouldn’t have to, either. You’re both higher ranking than he is, a princess and a lord each, yet Gojo’s the only one who gets to escape his painful-to-witness affections.

It’s only natural. A royal dowry comes attached to you. Any eligible man would have to be an idiot not to fight for your hand, but really, they’re vying for a chance at kingship. You can’t go one day without someone reminding you that you’re a physical embodiment of the crown, something to want and own.

Gojo pours himself water with a heavy hand, bypassing the wine. Watching him sip at it, you realize you’ve actually never seen him drink.

“Come now,” he says, a little softer. “Don’t look so desolate. What will I do if everyone sees you pouting? You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“You don’t have a reputation to ruin.”

“Don’t underestimate the things I’d do for the smallest sign of joy from you. Shall I procure one right now to destroy for your amusement?”

You know he wants you to smile, but you can’t. Even if Gojo can usually pry laughter from you with the ease of a trained jester, this time, your sadness weighs over you like a heavy wool cloak. It’s your birthday, but it’s not a happy occasion. Every passing year tightens the noose around your neck.

You’re a princess, and that means your life was arranged for you before you breathed your first breath. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve never had a choice.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make that face,” he says. “I’d marry you. If it came down to it, I’d take care of you.”

His words nearly cause you to spill your drink all over your finely embroidered dress. If it set in, it would never come out. He grasps your hand just as the cup begins to tip, saving you.

“Did you mistake your water for wine?” It’s a genuine question from you.

He waves his goblet around carelessly. You’re worried he might be actually drunk, but you smell no alcohol on him. He couldn’t get inebriated from just a sip, anyway. Whatever wild whims have overtaken him tonight are entirely of his own design.

“Better me than Naoya, no? I’d keep you safe.” He cracks a crooked smile in your direction, like you’re sharing a secret. “Admit it. I’d be a good husband. If I were around, you’d be untouchable.”

He’s telling the truth. If Gojo Satoru was your husband, no one would dare anything with you, but you chase the idea from your mind as quickly as Gojo plants it. You’re your father’s daughter, raised on his practicality. You don’t waste time on pipe dreams. Better the hideous truth than a lie costumed in beauty - the bite of thorns was infinitely preferable to the impermanent fantasy of petals.

Instead of answering him, you push your plate in his direction. You don’t even have to ask. Gojo dutifully takes your knife and fork in hand to cut up your meat. “Not even going to consider it, princess? I’m hurt. That was a serious offer, you know.”

“You’re insufferable. Be quiet and eat.”

Gojo’s mother used to say that the more adamantly someone denied something, the closer to the truth it likely was. You can only hope Gojo doesn’t remember, because she was right. The reason you won’t give him even an inch on the topic of marriage is because a proposal from him is the only thing you want but can’t have.

Predictably, he ignores you. He’s never known when to quit. With so little that can genuinely stand in his way, Gojo has difficulty understanding the concept of a limitation. You’re both spoiled in that sense, noble children who had never been told no.

“Think about it,” he says casually. “We’d be invincible. What other house could stand before our union?”

“I said- hello, father.”

“A little early to be calling- oh, hello, Your Majesty. You look well tonight. Is that a new ring?”

Your father cuffs Gojo around the ears. “Brat.”

He’s in a good mood, then.

“My little girl,” he says to you. “How pretty you look. I’m surprised no one has stolen you away from me yet.”

You’re not so little anymore, but you forgive him. It’s just the two of you, ever since the queen died. He’s the reason you are what you are, as cultivated as a rose in a greenhouse. The climate that nurtured you is one carefully tailored by his own hand.

“Not for lack of trying,” Gojo says brightly.

“Boy,” your father calls him, despite the fact that Gojo isn’t a boy either. A deep sigh escapes his lungs. He looks truly sorrowful for a moment. “You look just like your mother.”

Gojo’s smile freezes on his face. It’s true, he does. Through him, the king’s former hand lives again, but you know Gojo doesn’t want to be seen as an extension of her, even if he misses her more than anything.

You’re familiar with the way your father knows exactly what to say to make you feel small again. The king is someone who exudes power. His uncanny ability to pick out what you’re most sensitive to and exploit it makes even the most proud of noblemen revert to children in his presence, as if they’ve been scolded by a nanny for stealing tarts from the kitchen. It’s strange that you feel the need to protect Gojo, the strongest person you know, from that.

He reaches out and pats Gojo’s cheek now that he’s reduced him to silence. “Enjoy the night, my dear child.”

When he leaves, Gojo slumps back in his chair with a tick in his jaw. Even if the king is your father, he can’t help himself. “Nasty old man,” he mutters.

You pinch his thigh beneath the table. “Smile and look pretty.”

“Ugh, who is it now?”

“Lord Zenin and his son haven’t gotten their fill of tormenting me.”

“Hm,” Gojo says. “I wonder.”

“If you have a plan to avoid them, hurry. They’re nearly here.”

“I don’t know,” he teases. “I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

“Yes, well, I don’t like conversation with Sir Zenin very much either.”

He grabs your hand. “Then you’ll forgive me for anything that happens tonight?”

“Anything is questionable, but do as you please.”

He tugs you from your seat, pulling you through the crowd of people. Caught in his wake, you float past faces familiar and unfamiliar until the patriarch of House Zenin and his infernal spawn fade behind you.

When you turn to face him again, he’s dipped into a bow. His smile is sweet, boyish. It’s as if you’re children again, and he’s stolen you from your lessons to waltz in an empty ballroom, motes of dust that you’ve stirred up floating in the sunbeams.

He extends his hand, a sapphire burning on one finger. A dragon curls around the silver band of the ring, a nod to his heritage. Though the Gojos are a powerful and ancient house, in this moment, Gojo looks young, foolish, and all the better for it.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

You giggle, wishing you had a fan to pretend to hide behind. You’re playing pretend again, acting as if you’re characters from a storybook.

“I’d be delighted to, my lord.”

The music swells. Gojo takes your hand and presses a kiss to your bare knuckles. His lips are soft against your skin, temptation incarnate. In his grasp, your fingers tremble slightly, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away.

You’re terrified by how much you want him.

If you let him in for one second, you can imagine how easy it would be to never stop. He’s every one of your desires and hopes made manifest, tied up in a single person. Although it’s impossible, you still feel the heat of him. The warmth of his lips linger on you, a stolen moment before he sweeps you up in his arms.

This is how you remember he’s a boy no longer. The breadth of his shoulders is wide. He’s lost the roundness of youth, his face growing angular and cunning. There’s solid muscle underneath your hands as he pulls you with him, his feet beating a steady rhythm that you have to fight to keep up with.

He’s doing it on purpose, you know, testing how much you still retained all of those years of tutoring. You’re determined to show him they weren’t for naught.

When you catch your breath and master the music once more, gliding with him rather than being tugged along, he smiles like he always expected you to. He’s been like this since you were young, dangling challenges in front of you that he’s equally as excited to see you pass as fail.

The music slows. All around you, the frantic steps melt into slow swaying. You’re feeling brave tonight, so you step closer. You allow the arm curled more tightly around your waist, the tender look in his eyes. When you steal a glance around, no one is watching the two of you, but how far can you go before you lose it all?

“Don’t talk to Naoya again,” he murmurs against your skin. It tickles, and you squirm until he presses so close it petrifies you. “I don’t like the rumors around him.”

“What rumors?”

“Bad ones. He tumbles girls and leaves them with nothing. Hurts them, takes whatever he wants, and ruins their lives. I don’t trust him, and especially not with you.” His hand smoothes over a stray ruffle on your petticoat, the gesture impossibly loving. “Never with you, princess.”

You shudder at the way he says princess, feeling cut open, exposed. What has gotten into him tonight? You don’t understand. It feels like drowning, your brain always three steps behind, struggling to break the waves of your confusion.

You know you’re weak. It’s your name that protects you, the threat of your father and the royal house behind you. Alone, you’re a lamb to slaughter. You’ve been spoiled your whole life, leaving you naive and helpless.

Gojo is someone you trust implicitly. He’s always protected you. You’ve relied on him for as long as you’ve been alive, but perhaps that’s conditioned you to feel comfortable putting your hand into the mouth of the beast. Even at the chance of exposing how poorly you’ve been trained for the court’s schemes, you don’t hold back when you’re with him. He makes you feel at ease to speak freely without fearing how much you’ll reveal of your own vulnerabilities.

“I can’t,” you tell him honestly. “House Zenin is one of the Three Great Houses. I can’t refuse Naoya without good reason.”

“Then marry me,” he says softly. “Marry me and be done with all of this. They don’t deserve you, anyway. They won’t treat you like I will.”

You close your eyes, feeling the telltale hotness of incoming tears burn behind your eyelids. Why did he do this to you? He was so gentle it hurt, even though you knew he was capable of terrible things. Somehow that made it worse, the knowledge that he was choosing to be kind.

“You should go,” you say instead.

Marriage between you and Gojo would never happen. Forget your father. An alliance between the strongest house and the royal house? It would be akin to tyranny. There would be blood in the streets before any of the other nobles would allow it. It’s better not to dream about impossible desires.

Thorns, not petals, you remind yourself. You can suffer the truth.

“Why?” He says. “I want to stay with you. I want to be good to you.”

“This isn’t something to joke about, Satoru.” He looks like he’d rather you have slapped him. “Never talk to me about this again. Find someone else to dance with.”

There. Your brain snags on something to distract you. You’ve been dancing with him for too long. It’ll reflect poorly on your reputation to give an unmarried man so much of your attention.

“Pick another partner,” you urge him.

His brow creases. Stubbornly, he holds onto you even tighter. “Don’t want to.”

“You have to. Everyone will whisper. I’m surprised they aren’t already.”

“Then let them,” he pleads. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Regretfully, you pull away. Darkness clouds his beautiful face. It’s unnatural. When you remember him, he’s always smiling. The instances when he directs a genuine frown at you are few and far between, but you’ve already made your decision.

Gojo stalks off in search of a new partner. Somehow, even though you were the one who forced him to leave, your heart stings to watch his back fade into the distance. If you didn’t want him to go, you shouldn’t have said anything. This is what you hoped for. Still, it’s painful.

You want to find somewhere to rest after your spat, drained from a rare argument with him, but nowhere is secluded enough for you to let your guard down. Suddenly, you feel a wave of hatred for your stupid, glittering palace and the stupid, glittering fools infesting it. You just fought with your best friend and you’re tired, but you still have to keep up appearances.

Somewhere nearby, Gojo is spinning another girl, her skirts flaring out around them. You wish you could press your palms to your eyes, letting the pressure relieve your headache, but you’ve shown enough weakness tonight. Instead, you tilt your head back and breathe, trying to appear calm and in control.

It’s a good thing you restrained yourself, because Naoya is the one that finds you. His shoes are the first thing you see, black leather with steel accents. Steel, not silver, because he wants it to hurt when he kicks.

You know. You’ve heard the stories.

“Abandoned by Satoru, my lady?” You hate the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. Gojo makes it sound so intimate, like it’s for you and him only. Naoya’s version is a bastardization, much like the man himself.

You’re too tired to deal with him, and yet, you’ll have to. House Zenin is important to your father and thus, important to you, especially when you inevitably replace him. “What are you insinuating about your princess, Sir Zenin?”

You use the proper address, the way he should’ve spoken about Gojo. They’re not close enough for him to be calling the other man by his first name.

“Nothing, nothing,” he says. “Don’t get defensive now.”

You want to tell one of the knights stationed around the hall to drag him away. Instead, you smile and let him prattle on. Court politics. If you ever want to prove to your father you deserve everything you’ve been born into, you have to play the game. No matter how terrible some of the players are.

“Since you graced Satoru with one, I hope you wouldn’t mind another dance.”

Turning him down isn’t an option, but when you see that everyone’s watching, you realize even more how much it really isn’t an option. He probably arranged it that way too. Demonspawn. You’d curse his house if you could, instead, you offer him your hand, cringing internally when he tries kissing it.

You can’t help but compare the two. Gojo did it better.

Like any son of a high born house, Naoya’s a good dancer. It’s the one compliment you’re willing to grace him with, as everything else about him, especially his personality, is hideous. His hand is solid against your upper back, the other leading you as you spin around the room. It makes you want to scrub yourself clean, even under the layers of clothes.

You’re doing this for your house. Your throne. This is nothing. None of your mantras diminish your desire to shove Naoya’s head in the cake waiting at the banquet table.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he tells you.

“Forwardness is unbecoming in a man,” you say with a smile, as if he’s telling you the sweetest nothings. “What would my father say?”

“Don’t play coy, princess. We both know how this ends.”

“Please excuse me,” you say as soon as the song ends. One is enough. “I find myself rather dizzy.”

Naoya’s lips whiten with anger. He tries to grab your wrist, but someone steps between you. “Watch your hands with Her Royal Highness, Zenin. I won’t tolerate your disrespect.”

Naoya’s eyes flash, but the interloper is sweeping you away already. His hands hover above your dress, never actually touching, as he guides you in the opposite direction.

“Sir Getou, what are you doing?”

Getou looks down on you in amusement once you’re a safe distance away. “Satoru sent me to rescue you, of course. I didn’t think he was serious when he said you would get into trouble without him.”

“Trouble finds me,” you reply archly.

“Yes, yes,” he placates, sparking annoyance even though he just saved you from Naoya. “Are you tired of dancing yet, or do you have room for one more? I’m hoping to make an impression on potential wives by dancing with the princess.”

You’re smart enough to know that one more is rarely truly one more, but Getou did save you from Naoya. Besides, if you’re busy with him, no one else can ask for your hand.

“I suppose I can spare you a dance.”

Like Gojo, Getou is an adept dancer. He is, after all, a trained court noble, and the sons of House Getou are unusually predisposed to the arts in any case. If the Gojos are known for their strength, the Getous are known for their crafts.

Getou doesn’t flinch from your unwavering gaze. If anything, he seems to find it amusing, although in the way one would find a puppy amusing. Gently, he leads you around the ballroom.

“Stay alert, my lady. Someone’s watching you,” Getou warns.

You follow his gaze to Gojo. There’s a beautiful woman in his arms that takes you no time at all to place, so infamous is her notoriety. Yuki of House Tsukumo is second only to Gojo in her blatant disrespect for everything the elders held dear.

They make a striking couple. Everywhere they go, heads turn to watch them pass. Her gold to his silver, her lion to his dragon - it would be a powerful match. They would be perfect for each other, if only because no one would be able to challenge each other like they could.

Excellent dancers each, together they become an instrument for the music to shine through. Getou is gentle with you, each movement as delicate as lilies floating across the surface of a pond. In contrast, Gojo and Yuki dance like they’re fighting, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. They’re magnetic, drawing every eye in the room to watch them.

Everyone else may be entranced by the pair of them, but the pair itself seems disinterested in the crowd around them. Yuki’s eyes are closed but Gojo-

Gojo’s looking at you. Your cheeks heat with his attention. His stare is intense, eyes half-lidded. Every move is prowling, almost predatory. His eyes remain fixated on your face as he and Yuki move in a complicated, sinuous series of circles. There’s something impossibly filthy about his gaze. It borders on indecency, combined with the way he barely seems to be paying attention to dancing, giving you all of his focus instead.

“We can’t let them steal all the attention,” Getou says. He really is Gojo’s brother-in-arms. “Let’s give them a show.”

You’ve never been trained in statecraft, but you’ve been given the very finest of tutors in the elegant manners of the court. A show, as Getou puts it, is more than within your capabilities. You close your senses to the rest of the world, focusing on the shift of your skirts and Getou’s quiet voice as your steps weave intricate patterns across the floor.

He’s a naturally friendly man. It’s easy to talk to him, whispering between each peak in the music. Although he’s friends with Gojo, your social circles rarely overlap enough for you to spend much time in Getou’s company. You’re almost surprised by how much you enjoy it.

“I think it’s time to change partners,” calls a familiar voice.

As Getou takes the hands of Lady Yuki, her eyes still closed as she sways, someone takes his place. Gojo’s hand slides from where Getou’s were placed appropriately on your upper back down to your hip. You drag them back up, ignoring his pout. He’ll be your last dance of the night.

“Should I be worried about being replaced?” He murmurs.

“It was only one turn,” you tell him.

“And I never want to do it again,” he says. “The other girls don’t dance like you do.”

He’s an unrepentant liar. You might have been tutored by the best dancers your father could find, but at this level, first and second place might as well be interchangeable. He’s only saying it so you know that he wanted to come back to you, despite the fact that you forced him away.

Gojo’s a contradiction wrapped inside a paradox, at once sadistic and merciful. No one’s capable of making you feel as much as he does. Without the guidance of formal tutors to give you the education of a prince, you have no idea how to navigate the dangerous world of alliances and betrayals, war and peace. Once, you clumsily blundered through diplomacy, watching your father’s disappointment grow by the hour. You’ve since learned that complete silence is preferable to gaucheness. At least that is something your education as a princess has taught you.

But Gojo knew you before you grew into the woman you are now. He still remembers how to pull smiles and tears from you, how to push you to the brink of exasperation and coax you into brilliant happiness. He has a key to all the gates you’ve erected. No matter what you do, he always slips past your defenses.

If you keep letting him do as he pleases, you’ll be the only one who loses. Gojo is a man. If he’s rumored to be attached to the princess, it’ll elevate his reputation. He’s already the best swordsman in the entire kingdom. Being thought of as a profligate would only make them worship him more. People love a little hint of degeneracy to their heroes - not too much to make them immoral, but enough to make them attainable.

A princess is not a hero. You’re not someone to attain, you’re someone to obtain. When people look at you, they only see the crown. If you’re thought of as a ruined woman, it would prevent you from finding a husband. It would destabilize the entire kingdom.

It hurts to realize that you’re that selfish. Gojo would’ve chosen you over anything, but you’re letting something as empty as reputation displace him.

Not that it’s exactly a choice. Your life has been forfeit since you were born. You don’t belong to yourself, but to the royal house. As the only child of the king, you can’t allow yourself any mistakes, not when even the barest twitch of your fingers is scrutinized.

When Gojo offers to escort you back to your chambers at the end of the night, you swallow down the desire to agree. His eyes are hopeful, mirroring your own expression. It could be like back then, when you were children, running through the halls of the grand palace without a care in the world. Except you know you can never return to the halcyon days of your childhood, before your mother died, before his mother disappeared, before everything went wrong. You try not to let the disappointment on his face bother you when you allow the knight your father sent to bring you back to your rooms instead.

You attribute the strange feeling you get in the morning to the leftover melancholy of last night. Sunlight trickles across your face lazily, not enough to raise you from your bed but just bright enough to remind you that morning was here.

You’ve never slept long enough for the sun to warm your face while you were still entangled in your sheets before. The window faces your bed at such an awkward angle that the sun has to be high in the sky before it can light across your pillows.

Usually a maid wakes you by now if you aren’t up already. Where were they?

A gentle knock at the door only makes you more apprehensive. It can’t be Utahime. You know the sound of her steps. The pacing is stilted, awkward, as if whoever was behind the door was nervous.

“Hello?”

“Oh, princess!” Definitely nervous. Not a voice you can recognize. A new maid, perhaps? But why would they-

The door bursts open. You scream as a cloaked figure lunges at you. She throws herself on top of you, trying to pin you to the bed so she can run you through with the knife she has raised in her left hand.

She’s crying. “You weren’t supposed to be awake!”

Crying and angry. Fluffy white down bursts into the air, obscuring your vision as she stabs a pillow so brutally it vomits its contents. She’s not very good, which explains her terror. Unfortunately, you aren’t very good either, and you’re pinned underneath her. Thrashing doesn’t work - at the very least, she’s stronger than you, if badly trained.

When she finally immobilizes you, she has a growing bruise over her arm from a terrible punch you had thrown, trying to mimic the way Gojo does it. Keeping your thumb outside your fist was all you remembered, and it went wide. You barely managed to hit her, and it came with a cost. She snags your wrist and pins it down.

The knife plunges towards you. It’s rusty, which terrifies you almost as much as the implement itself. If by some miracle you survived, you’d be at risk of infection.

Blue eyes flash before you. In this moment, an inch away from death, you wish you had gotten to say goodbye to him. Fear robs you of rationality. You don’t know anything but that you want to see him one more time and feel the warmth of his embrace.

“Princess, it’s okay. I’m here.”

You crack an eye open. The girl is no longer visible. The only person leaning over you now has white hair and the characteristic Gojo eyes, impossible to fake. You decide you must’ve died already. This is heaven, where your wishes have been granted.

Gojo pulls you up. His hands are warm and solid. Vaguely, you realize that you’re trembling with the same nonchalant distance that you would use to catalog the color of the pillows.

“You’re not dead yet.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

He chuckles. His thumb is rubbing soothing circles into your palm. “No, I could just tell by the look in your eyes.”

“The girl…”

“Dead.”

You scramble to the edge of your bed and peek over. Sure enough, she’s lying in a pool of her own blood. Her throat has been cut so surely her head is nearly separated from her body.

You gag.

“Wait,” Gojo says. He kneels to tear off her cloak and holds it in front of you. “Here, princess.”

You don’t want to give in to your queasiness, especially not when he himself is so stoic, so you shake your head. More insistently, he pushes it towards you.

“It’s only natural,” he soothes. “I’m used to this. You’ve never seen a dead body before.”

“Just come here,” you say weakly. “No, actually. I’ll come to you.”

“Give me a second,” he says, dropping to his knees. Under the bed, he retrieves your silk slippers. He slips them onto your feet gently, standing when he’s finished with his task.

Obligingly, he waits as you gingerly step over the girl. When your slipper threatens to dip into the red stain spreading across your floor, he simply grabs you underneath the armpits and lifts you over it.

Even though it’s a horrific scene, you can’t look away. Her face is frozen in a still mask. Bile fills your stomach. Gojo gently turns your head in another direction with two fingers, the touch delicate. “Don’t look.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I told you not to restrain yourself,” he says disapprovingly.

“You’re not- you’re-“ You can’t figure out the right way to finish your sentence. “Does it really get that easy?”

His laugh is short and brutal. “Easy? I didn’t even think about it. All I know how to do is kill. I don’t mind it, for you.”

You shake your head. There’s nothing to say, with a body between you and blood pooling around both your shoes, but still, your heart aches. You had known him when he was a boy. It would always be hard to see him with calluses where once his hands had been chubby and soft.

He chucks you under the chin, the gesture fleetingly affectionate. “Don’t be so despondent, princess. I’m glad to do it. That’s what knights are for.”

Knights and maids, all meant to lay down their life or other lives for you at your convenience. Utahime was too loyal to have let an assassin into your chambers by choice. Your breath catches. It concerns him that you’re teetering into upset again, just when he’s calmed you down.

“Satoru, is Iori-“ The thought is too horrible. You can’t finish it.

“She’s not dead,” he says.

Noticeably, he doesn’t say that she’s alright.

Utahime will be scarred forever. They found her slumped at the bottom of the stairs, her body dumped unceremoniously after they stole her from outside your bedroom. A massive gash opened her right cheek up, crossing just slightly over her nose bridge.

You almost can’t bear to look at her. Not because her scar makes her hideous - far from it. Utahime will always be beautiful to you. The scar is only a reminder of how you’ve failed her.

You’re a princess without any power. All you can do is fuss over her after the fact, unable to change the past.

“Princess,” she hisses, jerking away from you for the third time in as many minutes. “You must stop! I’m your lady-in-waiting, not the other way around.”

“You got hurt for me,” you say, hands balled helplessly at your side. You refuse to touch her more aggressively, for fear of aggravating her wound. The bandages wrapped around her cheek are an ever present reminder of how much she’s sacrificed for you. So are the whispers. The looks. She holds her head high, acting as if it doesn’t bother her.

“I was glad to do it. I didn’t want to be shipped off to some far away baron anyway. Be grateful,” she cracks a smile you don’t feel. “I certainly am. At least I could still join the church, if anything.”

Why do the people around you insist on destroying themselves for your benefit?

“You don’t need a baron.” Loyally, you vow, “I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”

“Be careful, my lady. Some would take that as a marriage proposal, and then I’d have twice as many death threats.”

“I’d protect you.”

“You, princess? I doubt that,” Gojo calls.

You’ve been watching the knights move in and out of the arena from your vantage point on the royal balcony, but very few of them have dared to address you, much less speak to you so casually. They’re all too focused on the tourney you’re set to watch this afternoon. Only he would be so familiar with you and so unconcerned about the sparring, knowing his chances.

Utahime lets out an aggressive sigh with no regard as to whether or not Gojo could hear her. In fact, she’d probably prefer it if he had overheard. Gojo, for his part, ignores the chance to antagonize her for once in his life in order to focus on you.

“You know, my lady, I’ve heard an interesting rumor going around.”

You walk to the edge of the balcony and peer over the railing. Utahime gasps in fear and grabs onto your petticoats, afraid that you’ll tip over the fencing. “Go on, Sir Gojo,” you say.

“If a fair damsel grants a knight her favor, he’ll fight ten times as well. Twenty, even. And all the more so if it’s the princess, who everyone knows is the fairest in the land.”

Unwillingly, a smile twitches to life upon your lips. “Is that so?”

“Won’t you grant your most loyal knight a token of your affection?”

“Don’t,” Utahime gripes. “What has he done to deserve it?”

A scrap of pale blue fabric flutters in the light breeze, reminiscent of doves. Gojo catches the ribbon you’ve loosed from your hair, his fist enclosed in armor. He brings it to his lips for a chaste kiss he can’t place upon you. The entire time, his eyes are on yours, searching.

“I’ll win this whole thing,” he says. “I’ll defeat every knight here for you.”

The trumpets blow, calling the contestants. He’ll be wanted. Utahime shakes you lightly as he leaves your sight. “Get yourself together,” she says sternly.

“But mama, I love him!” You joke.

Her frown can’t last in the face of your teasing smile. She fixes the lace on your sleeve and collar, though they’re hardly ruffled. She can’t help herself. It’s her second nature to dote on you.

“Ah, my princess,” she sighs. “You worry me.”

You poke her uninjured cheek, trying to get her to smile. “It’s not me. You worry too much.”

Another voice cuts in. “I feel the same way sometimes, my dear Lady Utahime, but I trust no one more than you. Her mother left her to your capable hands, after all.”

Your father has arrived. Utahime smiles as the king kisses her cheek, but you can’t. You know he means it lightheartedly, but it galls you all the more that he says it so blithely. When your mother fell ill, Utahime had been the one who took charge of looking after you.

Not your father.

Not your only living parent, the man who was supposed to feel all the closer to you for your loss. Instead, he pushed you away.

You knew you weren’t being fair.

The king had been wracked with grief over the passing of his beloved wife. Along with his other royal duties, he couldn’t possibly have been expected to watch over an infant as well. You know better than anyone the toll the crown takes on a man. Stewardship of this land asks a heavy price. It’s not an easy role.

No, you can’t blame your father for choosing the country. It’s his duty, as it is yours.

You only wish it hadn’t been Utahime’s burden to carry instead. She was just a few years older, a child still when she had raised another child. In many ways, she had been a mother to you. Only now that you’ve grown older than she had been back then do you understand how much responsibility she had accepted at such a young age.

Your father turns to you. “Are you enjoying the tournament?”

“It’s barely started. Only the squires have been jousting. We haven’t seen any of the real knights yet.”

“Those squires will become knights themselves one day. Watch carefully, and you may discover a treasure worth keeping.”

As he speaks, you finally find someone worth watching, as if your father only had to say it to cause it to happen. A boy with rosy hair lunges towards his opponent. He disarms him and forces him to the ground - only to offer him his hand in exchange.

The other squire hesitates. Doubt crosses his face. Finally, he accepts the proffered hand like someone expecting an attack at any minute, but all the other boy does is pull him to his feet and dust him off. He’s more honorable than most of the knights of the realm you know, too focused on humiliating their opponents to flaunt their own glory.

Your father doesn’t notice your distraction. He’s still speaking. You bring yourself back to the conversation just in time to hear him say, “Sukuna, the King of the Curses.”

“Sorry?” You laugh.

“It’s no laughing matter, I’m afraid,” your father says gravely. “He’s the ruler of the Western Kingdom, the land where the sun never sets. Perhaps he’s grown tired of his arid land and seeks gentler climes, for his invasions have earned him the title ‘King of Curses’.”

Utahime’s lip curls in disgust. “King of Cruelty is more like it. I’ve heard of what he’s done to his prisoners. That man has no honor.”

“None,” your father agrees, “and yet it is necessary not to antagonize him. We are small if prosperous. We can’t afford it.”

Utahime looks as if she wants to speak, but she holds her tongue. She’s always been good at navigating the court. Trained under her, you wait as well. Taking your cues from her is something you’ve done since you were a child.

“Yes,” your father says, his eyes distant. He’s ruminating over something he won’t share. “He can’t be provoked. The representative he sent us for this tourney must be carefully attended to.”

That representative, Uraume, doesn’t fight like any knight you know. Their sword is wider than most of those found in your country, and half as tall as a man. Precision is lost in favor of brutality. They wreak havoc with the brutality of a butcher, tearing through the ranks of your best and strongest. Of course, he’s not the only strong fighter. There are other knights to watch as well.

“That Lady Tsukumo is doing quite well for a woman,” your father notes in surprise. “What prodigious talent. I don’t think her house has produced a fighter like that in years.”

“She’s better than half your knights,” you remind him. “Lady Tsukumo already defeated most of her bracket.”

“Yes, yes,” your father laughs. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I’m simply admiring her.”

As the day progresses, clear victors emerge in each division of the tournament. Uraume is one of them. Gojo is another.

They placed him against Getou for his penultimate match, knowing the crowd would go wild for a contest between not only two of the best knights of the realm, but sworn brothers. Although Getou is better than most, Gojo is more of a natural disaster than a real, human adversary. At the end of their round, Getou smiles even as Gojo brings him to his knees.

The next round is even more hotly anticipated than Getou and Gojo’s.

Gojo strides into the center of the arena with the classic arrogance he’s known for. He delights in riling the crowd up. They cheer louder and louder on each circuit he laps around the arena on his silver stallion, pale as moonlight. By the last, they’re nearly delirious with passion for him.

Uraume has no such pretenses. They’re a cold creature, as frigid as they come.

It matters not. Gojo beats them so easily that it can only be described as disrespectful. He rides past Uraume and thrusts the hilt of his sword into their stomach with such force they fall off their horse. Gojo dismounts casually. He hadn’t even used his blade. He flips Uraume onto their back with a boot and steps onto their breastplate, pinning them in place. His sword hovers underneath their chin, a whisper away from death. “Yield,” he says pleasantly.

You, remembering your fathers speech about Sukuna’s chosen representative from that morning, glance to the side. He’s smiling as gently as ever. Underneath his cloak, where only you and Utahime can see, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles have turned white.

After the match, you recognize one of the men rushing Uraume off to be one of your father’s most trusted advisors. He must be doing damage control, but then again, when is he not when Gojo’s around?

Your father stands, as composed as if he had never been upset in the first place. You envy that self-control. You’ve always aspired to your father. In your eyes, he was the perfect ruler - perhaps because he was the one who taught you what a ruler should be.

Gojo waits in the center of the arena. He’s beautiful as always, as fierce as an avenging angel. There’s a fine sweat beading at his temples in a way that makes you want to wipe it off with your handkerchief, but you abstain, knowing thousands are watching.

Gojo has no such scruples.

When it’s time for him to be awarded his laurel crown, he kneels - not to your father, but to you. A gasp rises from the crowd. You stifle your own shock. Here, where every sign of weakness is clearly visible and easily taken advantage of, you can’t reveal that this wasn’t planned. The royal family’s control over its retainers must appear immaculate - even if Gojo had always been uncontrollable.

Wordlessly, your father passes you the laurel. You know something is brewing. He can only tolerate Gojo’s outlandish behavior so many times. But this isn’t the place to worry about your father’s incumbent wrath, so you take over the duties of honoring the victor. It’s easy. You’ve seen your father do it enough times to be able to replicate it in your sleep.

Gojo rises from his knees, a hungry smile on his face. “I told you I’d win.”

“That you did,” you reply noncommittally, trying to figure out how you’re going to discreetly get him out of the arena without your father attempting to try him for treason.

He frowns. Knowing him and the type of maneuvers he’s likely to pull, you put a respectable amount of distance between the two of you as you mark his brow in gold paint.

When you grasp his hand to lift his arm into the air, he presses something into your palm. Years of sharing secrets and playing pretend at espionage have trained you not to flinch. When you lower your enjoined hands, you slip the shred of paper he’s passed you into your pocket.

People are cheering. You notice with warmth that he looks heroic, like he’s stepped right out of an old legend. Your father doesn’t seem to agree.

Arguments between the two of you used to be few and far between, but lately it seems like you can’t do anything right. You’d forgotten what it was like to retreat to your parents’ bedroom for a scolding. It hadn’t happened since you were a child, yet here you were again, studying the fabric of the draperies to avoid eye contact with your father, just like you had when you were younger.

“He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful,” you start. But that’s not true, and you know it. So you try again. “He wasn’t trying to cause problems. He cares about the kingdom, father. He was just trying to show off his - our - strength.”

“Gojo is a liability.” How easily your father casts him off, marks him as defective. He’s always been like that - clinical in his appraisal. You lacked that precise, indifferent ruthlessness. You’ve tried.

“He’s a good man, a good knight. House Gojo has always been loyal to us, father. Remember his mother? Remember Sorashi? She wouldn’t want you to treat her son like this.”

Your father flinches. First comes sorrow, then, anger. “Don’t speak to me about Sorashi.”

“You can’t just pretend like they never existed! Sorashi, my mother-“

“Child, you are testing my patience dangerously.”

You fall silent, hating yourself for it. Always a child. Never someone worth listening to.

“You don’t understand anything,” he says more gently.

“I don’t understand anything because you won’t tell me anything!”

“You’re a princess,” he snarls. “You’re not supposed to know anything!”

You reel back, stunned. You had always been afraid that this was how your father truly felt.

“You have no sons, so it’s me or no one else.” Disgust fills you at the fear in your own voice. Weak. Pathetic. After all these years, the lessons your father gave you still haven’t sunk in. Perhaps he’s right, and you’re not fit for the throne after all. You’re still begging for what you want instead of demanding it like it’s what you deserve. A prince wouldn’t act like this, but you’re not a prince - only a girl who was never taught how to rule.

He throws up his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t say anything about sons. See, you’re too young and inexperienced. This is why I won’t let you in yet. You’re not ready to rule.”

“But I will?”

He gives you a wan smile. He’s tired. Guilt seeps through you. These days, all you do is fight. You miss the times when it felt like you had worked together. At the end of all of it, you love your father. You hate that it’s been like this.

“All in time, my child. I love you, I really do. But you’re not ready.”

Mutiny curls under your tongue. You’re not ready because he waited too long, hoping for a male heir until your mother died. By then, it was too late for you to catch up on years of lessons you should’ve had. Regardless of what he says, you know how he feels. You were never the one he wanted but-

He’s still your father. When he reaches out to stroke your cheek, a peace offering, you close your eyes against his hand and don’t give voice to your treasonous thoughts. It’s nothing to suffer the humiliation of your status for a while longer. You have all the time in the world to earn your place.

Your father is right, in the end. You can be patient.

Back in the privacy of your room, you unfurl Gojo’s note. Gojo’s mother had him trained in elegant cursive that he uses for formal documents and letters. In his messages to you, it degenerates into chicken scratch. It’s a lucky coincidence that it’s all but unreadable to anyone else, making it a code only you can decipher.

The gardens at midnight. - S.

Only a place and a time. Is he trying to tempt fate?

You indulge in the idea of not going, especially since things are already tense with your father. All the way up until the hour you need to leave, you let yourself believe it’s not happening. It’s too risky. People are already suspicious of you as it is. The minute passes, and if you go now, you’ll be late, so you won’t.

You grab your shawl with a huff of annoyance. You’re going. You were always going to go, from the very moment you got the note.

You aren’t used to sneaking through hallways you usually glide through. There are several close calls as you make your way closer and closer to the gardens. Multiple times, you’re forced to make a run for the nearest door or drape to hide behind.

You’re barely two feet away when you’re finally caught. A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor. You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence.

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.”

You bite him.

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Why would you do that? You scared me!”

“You’re not careful enough, princess. Did you even notice the maid coming up the left hallway?”

Admittedly, you hadn’t. It’s lucky that he was there to save you.

Gojo has always been there to protect you. The tension bleeds from your body. You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it.

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?”

“If you don’t be quiet, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.”

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. His very presence is the promise of security. It makes it too easy to relax when he’s with you.

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he remains silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him. “Satoru?”

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You raise it to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised to release the scent into the air.

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.”

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease.

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s too.”

You freeze.

“If not marriage, then knighthood. Let me be yours, in whatever way I can have you.”

“You have me,” you tell him. “You always have.”

You don’t know how to answer such devotion. Besides the obvious political ramifications of being wedded to Gojo when your marriage is meant to be a bargaining chip used for the sake of your kingdom, you don’t want it. Not like this.

Gojo has been your dedicated shield for so long, the two of you have forgotten a life where he wouldn’t give up everything to protect you. He’d do anything for you - even that which he should hold sacred for himself. His very body is littered with scars that he’s received on your behalf. How much more can you take from him?

Does Gojo really want to marry you or does he want to protect you? Will he play the part of the devoted servant for the rest of his life?

“You don’t have to…” You realize you don’t know how to say it. Or that you don’t want to. Selfishly, a part of you can’t bear to release him from the oath he gave you when you were children, though he couldn’t have known. Neither of you could have understood what it meant for him to kneel at your feet and swear his life to you. It had all been in good fun, the way children understand things. “I don’t want you to- Oh, Satoru. You don’t owe me anything. You’ve done enough for me.”

For a second, your imagination plays tricks on you. The cobalt of his eyes kindles into a terrifying flame, like the lightning in the town he hails from. It’s as if the draconic blood his ancestors claimed still lives within him.

He continues as if he hadn’t heard you. “I’m going to ask your father tomorrow. I want to be your dedicated knight; I won’t wait any longer. I’ve waited enough.”

His pushiness feeds your annoyance. You cling to it, preferring it to the dreadful hopelessness inside of you. The right thing is not always the easy thing. Gojo deserves his freedom after wasting his youth on keeping you safe, yet letting him go feels as difficult as willingly driving a nail through your hand. You want to cling to him forever, reassured by his strength.

“Don’t,” you say, trying to sound firm.

“At the ceremony,” he says determinedly. “When he gives me captainship in the army. He’ll have to say yes if I ask him then.”

“Satoru, please-” Your voice wobbles embarrassingly, and you have to pause. Silently, you beg your tears not to fall. The way he disarms you is humiliating. You turn away, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you has taught him a lot. He bandaged the scrapes that you refused to cry over and avenged your honor after you pretended your pride hadn't been hurt. He can see right through you. “Please don’t.”

You see the frustration on his face. He’s not a man used to holding himself back, and yet he does.

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.”

It’s just another number to add to the tally of favors you owe him. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-”

“I know. Though I do think the king will ask me anyway, so this is all pointless.” He looks away. “I just wanted you to- Nevermind.”

“Really?” Doubt colors your voice.

“I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?”

“He doesn’t like you,” you point out. “No, he does, but it’s a very begrudging like. I don’t get it.”

It makes you smile, thinking about the way your father can’t stand Gojo but won’t allow anyone else to speak poorly of him. He’s still a Gojo after all, no matter how much trouble he causes your father, and your father loves Gojos. The royal house has always held their house dear. They had been close for decades. Always, they were something to the other, no matter what form that something took.

“There you are,” Gojo murmurs. His fingers trace the arc of your mouth. “So pretty.”

You glare at him through tears. “And whose fault is it that I cried?”

“Your father’s?”

You scoff. “You see? This is why he doesn’t like you.”

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him for it if I have to.”

“Don’t do that,” you gasp.

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor.”

You look at the crushed violet in your hand.

Who else but Gojo?

He breaks you down so easily. You press the flower back into his palm. “I know you’ll do what’s right.”

His eyes soften. He leans closer.

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?”

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer.

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever.

You nod, fearing your voice will give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you. Does it look like a real kiss from afar? Did he mean it to?

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.”

“A new plaything?” Asks Yaga. “I’m not so scary, am I?”

Gojo notices you tremble harder as the voice registers. Lord Commander Yaga is close to the King. As the captain of the kingsguard, he could ruin everything.

Gojo lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face. He pulls you towards him, arranging your legs around his waist. A soothing hand traces a warm path up and down your back. It calms you as much as it shames you. You’ve never been this close to any man, not even him, and now you’re cuddling only for the sake of protecting your secrets.

“The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard,” he says casually, as if the two of you aren’t trapped in an extremely compromising position. As if your father wouldn’t demand his head on a pike if Yaga realized who it was.

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?”

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully.

That night, you breathe a sigh of relief. Yaga gave no sign he recognized you. He acted as if he normally would upon encountering any soldier of his on a late night escapade, profoundly disinterested and deeply desirous to get away. Only in the morning do you begin to doubt your deception.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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ayyy-imma-ninja · 1 month

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I'm sure a lot of us listen to music/playlists while drawing or writing stuff for our AUs.

Mind if I share a few that I listen to?

note: these are all on youtube cuz i can't remember my spotify account QwQ

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

Fairy AU:

Been listening to this one a lot when the story focuses more on Moon and Lunar:

youtube

And I switch between these two when the story is on Sun and the Gardener:

youtube

DCA!Serial Killer AU:

youtube

The full version of this song:

(beware, little thumbnail gore below-)

youtube

and this one:

youtube

Cosmic Tides:

I listen to this one a lot when planning story events and scenarios, the music is also very moving:

youtube

and this one as well:

youtube

occasionally this one:

youtube

(pt 1, gonna reblog with the rest in a minute)

#fairy au #dca fairy au #dca!serial killer au #cosmic tides #playroom!au #dca playroom!au #royal guard!au #fnaf daycare au #fnaf dca au #dca au #fnaf daycare attendant #youtube #youtube music #music to draw things to #music to write things to

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libraryoffandomsuniverse · 3 months

Text

Being Rhaenyra Targaryen's husband would include:

Masterlist

Okay this is my 3rd time uploading this, because tumblr was being a whiny bitch. This turned out much longer than I expected and I'm already planning on writing more in this au. I combined book and show canon, although I kept the Velaryons as black. I also renamed some of Rhaenyra's children and gave her 1 more.

This is not team green friendly or kind to Alicent. At all. Reader is a petty bitch who adores his wife and whose love language is murdering their enemies in various secret ways.

Warnings include murder, forced infertility (Viserys), Rhaenyra and Reader scheming for the throne.

You're the oldest son of Rhaenys Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon. Greatness is in your blood.

You're proud - how can you not be? You're the oldest son of the Sea Snake and The Queen Who Never Was, the heir to High Tide and the next Lord of Driftmark. You're the second rider of Silverwing, after Queen Alysanne. You are cunning and clever - everything your parents could wish for in a son. You have a lot to be proud of.

After fighting in the Stepstones and being knighted, you emerge as one of the chief candidates for Rhaenyra's hand.

The brothel incident still happens in this au and Rhaenyra still sleeps with Criston.

When your betrothal is announced, you both agree to do your duty. And although you aren't Daemon or Criston, you are still handsome and a warrior. Doing her duty will not be difficult for Rhaenyra.

You quickly fall in love, much to both your surprise. Rhaenyra falls first, your loyalty and ferocity in defending her sneaks past her defences.

You fall harder, her wit and hidden darkness, the type that matches yours, pulls you in. Her soul speaks to yours and feels familiar on some level.

By the time Jacaerys is born, you're incredibly happy and in love with each other.

Your darling boy is quickly followed by Lucerys, Baelon, Aegon, Gaemon and eventually (after a few years) your twin daughters Visenya and Aemma.

Your royal apartments are rarely quiet because of your children. They adore their mother's hugs, love to hang off your shoulders and follow you both around the Red Keep like little ducklings.

Being the best dressed couple in Westeros. Rhaenyra likes it when you match and often coordinates your outfits to do so. Sometimes it's matching her dress to your doublet, other times it's more subtle like you wearing ruby beads in your locs to match the precious stones in her bodice. It makes her feel like you're on a team and she knows you feel the same way, judging from the little smirk and raised eyebrow you give her when you see her and the maids going through your wardrobes.

You and Rhaenyra love to gossip together. It mainly happens in bed after you make love. She tells you the latest rumours her ladies in waiting told her and you reveal the scandals you heard from your manservant and squires.

You encourage her to be more visible to the common folk. You know that if she has their love, then any attempts to usurp her will fail. Your little family becomes regular fixtures in King's Landing as you explore the city and restart Queen Alysanne's charitable ventures. Rhaenyra starts heading sessions for women to raise any issues.

You know it's working when you hear people talking about the Realm's Delight and the Sea Dragon and praising your efforts in improving their lives.

The sight of you both racing your dragons high in the sky is a frequent occurrence. It started as a way to unwind after the small council meetings. As your family grew, your children joined in, strapped into yours or Rhaenyra's saddles. When they grew old enough and their dragons were big enough, they followed you on theirs.

Dividing your time between Dragonstone and the Red Keep, although visits to Driftmark are also regular events.

Laenor frequently pops in to visit and spoil your children.

Corlys and Viserys both compete to be the favourite grandparent, but you and Rhaenyra know that Rhaenys is the real favourite. For the sake of peace, you won't reveal it.

Despite Daemon and Laena staying in Pentos, you keep up a regular correspondence with them. You even arrange to meet in Driftmark with your children a few years into your marriage. Your children bond quickly, while the adults watch on and tell stories.

Being married to the heir to the Iron Throne isn't easy and there are many people who would see that Rhaenyra never becomes Queen.

As her consort, you consider it your duty to make the path easier for her.

Your first victim is Criston Cole. After murdering Joffrey Lonmouth, you expect him to get punished. The news of Queen Alicent accepting him as her sworn sword leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, particularly when you have to break the news to Laenor.

Along with your pride, one of your greatest attributes is how protective you are of your loved ones. Joffrey was Laenor's lover as well as one of your good friends.

It takes a little while to plan, but one day gossip erupts about Criston being found drunk in a brothel that's particularly debauched, even by the standards of King's Landing.

You seize your chance and tell your goodfather that perception is important, that such a knight like that cannot be allowed to guard the royal family, especially the Queen. Viserys ignores Alicent's protests and Criston is gelded and sent to the Wall.

Speaking of Viserys, you know that any sons he has will be pitted against your wife.

You also know that his health isn't very good.

You decide to help him by giving him a tonic that your mother swears by, along with some lotions and creams. "Two drops of this with your morning meal every day and you'll soon feel better, Your Grace," you persuade him. "And wouldn't it be wonderful if you could meet your future grandchildren?"

Your father told you once you could sell water to a fish, such was the power of your silver tongue.

Viserys' health does improve after taking the tonic and the lotions that are massaged into his skin fix most of his pains.

However you failed to mention that the tonic and lotion both have herbs which cause infertility if used over long periods of time. Your mother only uses the tonic, and does so sparingly.

Viserys and Alicent only have Aegon and Helaena as a result of your actions.

You and Rhaenyra work hard to charm lords and ladies to support your cause.

You go on progress across the realm, flattering and courting all the noble families you meet.

It quickly becomes known that to be one of Princess Rhaenyra's ladies in waiting is a boon for attaining a fortunate marriage. In turn, you surround yourself with ambitious lords and their sons who want to advance their own interests.

It's a delicate dance, but you were taught how to make alliances by your parents, plus your charisma and ability to speak to anyone makes you one of the most popular members of the royal family.

Any attempts Alicent makes to gain allies for her son are countered by you and she can't stand you.

She tried to make Rhaenyra bring Lucerys to her when he was born, but you shut that down. "I wasn't aware that the Queen was in such poor health that she couldn't come herself to meet the newest member of our family," you say with a mocking smile. "The King is already coming to meet his grandson and I'm sure he would wish for Her Grace to join him." The sour look on the Queen's face when she finally arrives, only to find Viserys holding your baby boy, is a sight you'll remember for weeks to come.

You're Rhaenyra's greatest weapon and she despises how popular you are. You weren't supposed to be this politically adept, your children weren't supposed to be that lovely and polite and Rhaenyra was not supposed to be the heir when Viserys already has a son.

She says so to Larys Strong, who decides to do something about it without telling her.

You survive the pathetic assassination attempt because of a loyal servant.

Rhaenyra finds out what happened and she is furious. When she finds out Larys did it? He's a dead man walking.

His body is found in a secluded corridor at the bottom of the stairs. It's fairly obvious that he slipped and fell in a tragic accident - the servants had only finished cleaning and polishing those stairs the day before.

You thank your wife for avenging you with a sapphire necklace and several rounds of insatiable sex that eventually results in your son Aegon being conceived.

Unfortunately Lyonel Strong takes this as his chance to resign as Hand and return to Harrenhall, something you and your wife are unhappy about. You will miss him and his unwavering loyalty and fairness.

You miss him even more when you find out Otto Hightower is returning to King's Landing to be Viserys' Hand again.

The return of her father emboldens the Queen, although you and Rhaenyra are more than a match for them, both during the Small Council meetings (which you are Master of Ships) and outside them.

Eventually though, you decide to take care of the problem, although your wife cautions you to be careful.

A year after becoming Hand again, Otto Hightower is dead. His health had been declining for some time, even before he returned to King's Landing, but the poison you'd had your spies slip into his furniture and clothing certainly made his end quicker.

You knew he had a food taster, so you had to be careful to make it appear natural. A quiet conversation with Daemon had pointed you in the right direction.

Although it appeared to be natural, you knew that Otto's last days were a living hell. A fitting end for such a man.

With his death, you recommended Viserys make Lyonel Strong Hand again or even name Rhaenyra to be the Hand, as preparation for her future role.

His decision to name Rhaenyra as Hand is one of the only good decisions he's made.

It gives her more experience in governing the realm, particularly when he starts to become more frail.

After several years of this, she is confident in her role. She will be a magnificent Queen and you're truly honoured to be her consort.

#not team green friendly #male reader imagines #black reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #hotd imagines #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #my writing

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saturnsorbits · 1 year

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Another Tide

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Pirate AU, Violence, A Touch of Gore, Background Suggested KiriBaku and MinaOcha, Rough Sex, Spit, Spanking, Lacking Prep, Choking, The Smallest Bit of Ass-Play, Soft Sex, Ambiguous Ending. Word Count: 14.5k.

Summary: Captain Bakugo Katsuki certainly left an impression when he broke his promise and abandoned you. Unluckily for him, you're rather good at holding a grudge.

A/N: Based on: This.

Water drips from the ceiling of the cells. In thin rivers, it travels down the stone, nourishing the moss that sustains, barely, by the stolen natural light allowed by the tower door. Most of the cities jail cells are above ground, but not this one. This, buried beneath one of the old royal towers, is a hole reserved only for the worst men who displease the crown. Men, like Bakugo Katsuki.

'Ah.' The voice breaks from the darkness. It's as rough as the mid-summer storm outside, as more inaudible words are purred into the air. A fitting voice for a pirate. 'My princess, returns...'

Lifting your candle a little higher, you take your leave from the final step of the tower and peer about the lock-up. There are only four cells here, buried below the world; although only two of them are currently occupied. Slipping your feet from your shoes, you cross the flag-stone to the third cell and squint into the dim. 'I am not your princess.'

Chained to the floor with his manacled hands in his lap, Bakugo squints against the light offered by the burning candle. 'C'mon now...' His chains jingle as he unfolds himself, clambering to his feet. 'Don't be like that, my love.'

Your eyes find his in a moment, but before you're lost to their crimson depth you're turning and moving towards the last cell. The light from your candle flickers, casting awkward shadows against the stone as you near the bars. There had been two of them, hauled in spitting and hissing at last light a month back and while Bakugo had endured, his companion hadn't fared as well under the cities charge. 'Midoriya...'

You press yourself to the bars. Slumped against the far wall, Midoriya's head hangs over his hips. His shirt is torn, exposing most of his right arm and chest allowing you to see the thick strips of flesh that have been torn from his bicep. The muscle-fibre underneath pulses, red and angry, but the wound is dry. It looks as though it's been that way for a while. You swallow. 'Midoriya.'

'He's dead.' Bakugo's voice shakes the unsteady silence. 'That'll happen when you flay a man like that. Weak disposition be damned, he did well to last as long as he did.'

You lock a gasp behind your teeth and step back, a hand covering your mouth.

'You couldn't have saved him, princess.' Bakugo's rings clink as he wraps a large palm around the bar of his cell.

'I -.' Forcing yourself to look away from the dead man, you drift silently back to Bakugo.

Overturning a palm, he flexes his fingers in quiet request and smirks when the soft of your skin meets the rough of his. 'Not even your hands can suture wounds that deep.'

You swallow. The odd shapes Bakugo traces into your skin feel repetitive, but calm your nerves, each loop and twist settling the void in your stomach.

Licking his lips, he blinks up at you. 'That'll happen to me too, ya'know... Eventually.'

'Don't say that.' Whispering, you lean forward, pressing in close to the bars. At this distance you'd guess he could feel your breath against his cheeks, after all, you can feel his. Each soft exhale makes you shiver and lean into him further.

'It's the truth.'

'Katsuki -.'

Bakugo bites at his lower lip and let's his forehead hit the bars. 'You could stop it.'

'Katsuki. I -.'

'You just need to give me the key.'

You sigh and press further forward. Your head would touch to his if it had not been for the bars. Bars that needn't be there. 'You know I can't.'

'What'll it take, Princess...'

Something squirms in your stomach. You had only intended to peek that night when they had first been hauled in and yet... Your feet continue to lead you back here. Since, you've risked your neck to bring them bread and extra mutton, thread and needles and poultice for their wounds. You've brought them all that you could, but you'd never expected them to take something of their own.

Despite being behind bars, somehow, Captain Bakugo Katsuki has stolen your heart.

And he knows it.

'Take me with you...' The words leap from your tongue, your hand curling to cling to him. 'Take me with you and I'll steal the key.'

A smile tugs at Bakugo's mouth, forcing his lip to curl over pointed teeth. Keeping his eyes trained on yours, he dips his head to press his lips to your knuckles. 'You want to be a Captain's whore, Princess?'

His words make you shiver. 'Your whore.'

'I think I like the sound of that...' Not for the first time, Bakugo wonders just what you'd taste like. Delicious, he'd bet, but a sweet little thing like you deserves to be savoured. '...If that's what my Princess wants.'

Your eyes widen. 'You'd – You'd take me?'

'Why not?'

Excitement zips down your spine making you stand straighter. Bakugo's lips are rough and itch at your skin, but that doesn't stop the heat that bubbles in your stomach when he lays a second kiss on the bend of your ring finger. 'Really?'

'You get me that key and...'

Rooting about under your skirts, you twist and turn for a second before pulling back a closed fist. You'd pick-pocketed one of the guards weeks ago, hoping that Midoriya's worsening wounds wouldn't require an impromptu breakout attempt. Turns out, you'd be been right, just not in the way you'd hoped. Unfurling your fingers, you reveal a set of small, silver keys.

'Oh, you little -.' Bakugo laughs. The sound is sharp and bounces off of the walls for a heartbeat before you slam your hand over his mouth to quiet him. He winks and kisses your palm.

'Quiet.'

Lowering his voice, he grins wide before dropping your hand in favour of wrapping a hand around the back of your neck. He pulls you in, forcing both of your cheeks to crush against the bars, but the soft reward of your lips is enough to make him bear the discomfort.

You gasp, but fall into the kiss all too easily. The grip he has on your neck guides you, tipping back your head until he can press his tongue against the seam of your lips and lick inside. Moaning, you let him devour you, moving in rhythm with him as the kiss deepens impossibly and then... The key slips from your hand.

'Now.' Bakugo pulls back. Throwing the keys up in the air, he catches them again like he hadn't slipped them from your palm moments before. 'You should go -.'

Your eyebrows knit. The taste of him lingers on your tongue, but before any words of protest can be propelled from your lungs he's continuing.

'… Pack only what you can carry and meet me back here a beat before sun-rise. We'll barter passage on one of the leaving merchant ships.' He kneads his thumb against your jaw while he talks, enjoying how pliant you are under just one of his hands.

'Okay.'

'Can you do that for me, Princess?'

'Yeah... Yes.' You nod and take hold of his wrist, urging yourself someone deeper into his hold.

Bakugo smiles, tilting his head. 'Good girl.' Leaning in, the next kiss he presses to your mouth is soft and long. A sigh breaches the seam of your lips and he swallows it eagerly, inhaling as much of you as he can before pulling back only to peck your lips again. 'Now, go...'

Reluctantly, you step back beyond his reach. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you tip-toe back across the stone floor and slip back into your shoes at the foot of the stairs. With a new hope burning in your veins you twist on the bottom step and smile back at your captain whispering a soft: 'I'll be back.' into the darkness and then, you're gone.

It takes you barely a moment to pack your entire life into a sack small enough to bundle in your arms, but the first bell of dawn hasn't even rung before you're sneaking back out towards the cells. The shadows swallow you, letting you vanish into the darkness still clinging to the city.

Anticipation makes each of your steps quicker, makes your heart sing as you imagine salt spray and oceans as far as you can see. You wonder where you'll sleep. If you'll bunk with the crew or be welcomed into the captain's personal quarters. You wonder how often he'll kiss you. How often he might gift you more... If he really will make you his whore. The thought makes you giddy, makes you move somehow quicker as desperation creeps up through your legs.

'Katsuki...' You've taken your shoes off at the top of the tower this time, careful not to make any noise and spoil your escape. The stone is cold on your feet, but it doesn't slow you down. 'Katsuki.'

Squinting into the darkness, you leap from the last step and hurry to his cell. 'Katsuki – I.'

The door swings open as soon as you lay a hand on it. Inside, a set of manacles lay on the floor open and abandoned. Slipping into the cell, you look around as if he might morph from one of the walls or manifest himself from shadow. He doesn't. Instead, you're forced to reduce yourself to your knees, overtaken by the sudden rush of emotion that batters its way out of your chest. You want to scream, want to slap yourself for trusting a pirate, for letting your silly, little emotions get the best of you.

Swiping for the manacles your breath jams in your throat, heart stopping as you catch sight of glittering letters scratched into the metal. In rough hand caused by the sharp edge of one of the keys is a message: 'On another tide, my Princess. Your captain sends his regards.'

The wind whips at the skin of Bakugo's cheeks as he slips below deck on the heels of his first mate. His hand clings to the bannister, the wood scuffing against the rough of his palm as he descends. It had taken years for him to find his ship again, his crew... Years to re-build what had been taken from him. Now, a month or so shy of a decade, he was once again one of the most feared pirates the sea had ever seen.

The grain of the ship's bannister snags at him, but he doesn't remove his hand from her walls as they turn from the crews sleeping quarters and make their way to the dry store. 'There best be a good reason for me being dragged down here, Red. I swear if this is another excuse to get me alone, I -.'

Kirishima hisses at him. 'Of course there's a good reason.' He stops dead, forcing the Captain to bump into his back. 'And if I wanted to get you alone, I'd simply lay in your bed and call for you. You're hardly hard to tempt...' A smirk plays at his lips as his eyebrows arch, forming neat little half-arcs on his forehead. 'Captain.'

A growl bubbles in Bakugo's throat as he wraps a large palm around the bottom of Kirishima's jaw. 'Have I ever told you how pretty you are when you -.'

'Yes, yes.' Shaking off Bakugo's touch, Kirishima shivers before moving off again. 'I'm the prettiest jewel you've ever stolen, best lay on the ship. I'll suck your cock later, if someone else doesn't get to you first, but right now, we have a problem.'

Bakugo grunts, but follows on wordlessly – trying to remain undistracted by the dull hardness stretching out his breaches.

It takes barely a moment before Kirishima's palm is meeting the door of the dry store and forcing it open to reveal what he has trapped within.

Bakugo clicks his tongue. 'Well, well, well... Would you like to tell me why you've bound one of my rigging boys in his own ropes?'

Just inside the room, laying against the tied down kegs of ale is Monoma. He's sat on his hands, his shoulders curved causing his chest to concave as he struggles weakly against his bindings. Sweat slicks his hair to his brow and trickles down his neck, dripping onto the pale skin of his chest that is exposed by a torn shirt.

'Caught this one in the nest with a scope and a mirror...' Leaning back against the wall, Kirishima crosses his arms and props a foot up against the wood. 'He was sending light signals off the bow.'

'Ah.' Squatting down before Monoma, Bakugo cocks his head. 'And why would he be doing that, ha?'

A cold chill rocks down Monoma's spine when the Captain leans in and licks at his teeth. 'I -.'

'Now.' Reaching forward, Bakugo squashes Monoma's cheeks between his fingers. 'I'd think twice about lying, mate. You wouldn't be much good with the rigging if I cut all your fingers off, would ya?'

Swallowing down hard, Monoma shakes. 'They paid me.'

'I'd be mad if they didn't, I was the one who taught you pirates don't do shit without gold... Who? For what?'

'The – the...'

'The, the, the -.' Bakugo babbles back, a wicked grin taking his lip as he administers a firm slap across Monoma's cheek.

The force turns his head, stopping the words trickling over his lips. He pauses. 'The woman... She, she approached me while we overnighted on I-Island. Offered me a sum if I would help her tail us in open water... I've been sending her light signals at dawn.'

Bakugo slaps him again. 'How much did she pay?'

'A – a couple hundred pieces and a night with one of her crew.' With red cheeks, Monoma tries to shuffle backwards. His eyes flicker from the floor to the Captain and back again.

'You...' Bakugo barks out a laugh. 'You little shit, you.'

From behind him Kirishima snorts and taps his boot against the wall. A coy smile itches at his lip as something proud twinkles in his eyes. 'I told you we shouldn't have taken him on board, Captain.'

'I know. Stop your gloating.' Standing, Bakugo stretches out his spine and thumbs at the dimples in his back.

'Should I toss him overboard? Or...' Kirishima's teeth shine, biting soft into his lower lip. 'Better yet...' Stepping forward, his hand falls to the large curved knife secured to his hip. 'I could cut pieces off him and feed it to that shark I've been trying to tame.'

Holding up a hand, Bakugo can't help the smirk that takes his lip. 'Can't let you turn him into fish food just yet, Red. First we need to know -.'

'Captain!'

Bakugo's head drops down at the sound of Kaminari's voice. He pinches the bridge of his nose. 'I swear if that little idiot has got himself caught in the ropes again, I -.'

'Captain!' The second shout comes from a new voice. It's higher in pitch, but of a firmer tone and is accompanied by the sound of a boot stomping on the wood overhead.

'Shit.' Perking up, Bakugo exchanges a worried look with Kirishima before they're both scrambling back towards the stairs and racing their way back onto the deck.

Light blinds them both as they emerge, arms shielding their faces, but it doesn't take long to spot the source of the disturbance.

Kaminari is tangled in the rigging, his legs twisted around the ropes allowing him to lean forward and hold a telescope to his eye. He pulls back, stretching an arm out towards the horizon before shooting an eyebrow raised smile at Bakugo. 'Ship!'

Bakugo answers. 'What are her colours!'

'She's not flying any, Cap.' Mina strides across the deck, her swords already unsheathed and hanging at her sides. Stopping a foot from Bakugo, she presses both of her weapons into one hand to yank the telescope from her belt and hands it over. 'Your orders?'

Snatching the telescope from Mina, Bakugo glares through it while scowling. Through the small lens, he can see it. A ship, a little smaller than his own, sails on the horizon. White foam is spitting from its stern, the water parting quick as it cuts through the water towards him. Under his gaze, the white sheets hanging from the masts are hauled down, replaced quickly by sails of total and complete black. Biting his cheeks, Bakugo licks his teeth as he lowers the scope and passes it back to Mina. He looks back at Kirishima and nods. 'Alright boys, let's give our kin a warm welcome!' From the back of the small crowd of crew gathered on deck, Sero smiles crooked and excited.

'The cannons?'

'The fucking cannons!' Grinning from ear to ear, Bakugo leaps to action striding across the deck towards the helm. 'Red, bring her round. We'll meet her head on. Mina – take the defence, I want any ladders that land on our rails burnt. Sero -.'

'… Holes as big as I can manage, no damage to the hull.' Sero waves his hand above his head, flashing Bakugo another large smile before descending below deck with a small squad of cannon boys on his heels.

'Kaminari!'

'Yes, Captain?' Somersaulting from a section of netting high between the masts, Kaminari almost breaks his neck landing on the deck, but manages, somehow, to right himself before he meets hard wood.

'Get in the nest. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with.'

Tossing a lazy salute, Kaminari is scuttling back into the rigging before Bakugo can bark out any more commands.

With the whole ship put to orders, Bakugo takes up post by Kirishima as his first mate strains to turn the boat around. The wheel fights him, the water below tugging awkwardly, but the man's broad shoulders make short work of the struggle.

'You think this is Monoma's woman?'

Bakugo grunts. 'Probably got twitchy after this mornings signal wasn't sent. Figured her little rat had been discovered...' Inhaling deep, his fingers play at the hilt of his sword; the other slipping inside his jacket to feel the hard curve of his pistol. '… Decided it was better to act now than risk having us plan something she couldn't control.'

He shrugs. 'I'd almost say she was smart had she not chosen our ship to attack.'

A wide grin takes Kirishima's lip. 'She'll certainly be in for a shock, Captain.'

'That she will indeed.'

Waves lap at the sides of the boat as Kirishima's brute strength forces her to turn. Overhead, gulls scream anxiously awaiting the oncoming bloodshed as they power forward, carving through the ocean.

'Ready, boys?' Bakugo unsheathes the sword at his hip, his ringed hands playing out an odd tune as he readjusts his grip on the metal.

There's mania reflecting in the burning of his iris', a wide grin splitting his lips as he narrows his eyes and spins on a heel to face his crew.

Gathered on deck the crew wait with baited breath. In their hands an all manner of weapons shine, axes and maces, swords and worn, wooden pistols all jitter as their owners shake and twist their wrists.

'Aye, aye Captain!'

The chorus makes the skin on Bakugo's chest blister, goosebumps coating his skin as the shouts of his crew wash over him. With the sea spray on his face and his prey set firmly in his sights, he feels unstoppable. His chest puffs up, throat already raw as he lets loose a terrifying scream. 'To the depths with her! Leave none unharmed – The one who brings her Captain to me alive earns their pick of the loot!'

'And what if I don't want any of their loot?' Mina tips back her hat and cocks an eyebrow.

Bakugo pretends to think. 'The pick of the women then! If you can turn on your charm for long enough to convince 'em to slip into your bed.'

A fierce grin takes her lip as he hoists the sword in her right hand high above her head. 'That's more like it, Captain. I'll have a new lady to warm my bed tonight, lads.'

Another chorus, this one accompanied by the stamping boots of Sero's cannon hands below as they finally lay sight on their target. The air is whip sharp, cutting as they make their approach. Under the hull, the waves part easily – sliced as the boat cuts through the ocean with a speed no longer seen in the large admiral fleets of the surrounding empires.

'She's not turning, Captain.' Kirishima mumbles. His hands are white against the wood, tugging her still as they press against the water. With the wind on their side, they'll be upon the other ship in moments; but she's made no move to turn away.

'Just makes her an easier target, my love.'

'She's turning to face us, Captain.'

The salt air scratches at your cheeks as you lean into the wind. 'I wouldn't expect anything less.' Your fingers tense, palm squeezing at the metal hilt of your sword where it hangs at your hip. There's a smile playing at your mouth, one you break only to lick the dryness from your lips. You've been waiting years for this, but now the moment is within reach, you find your skin buzzing with bee stings. The manacle forced shut around your wrist feels heavy now. Spinning on the ball of your boot, your stride to the edge of the bridge and lean over it's edge.

Below the crew stutter to a stop. They're a motley bunch, picked up from various ports and won through too many drunken games of cards – a crew of opportunity and circumstance if you ever saw one. A few even still wear the dark navy tail-coats of the Ingenium company, although now the rich cotton is sun bleached and stained, making them look no better than the low-life drunks who they serve beside.

Sparing a glance at the mast, you smirk at the man tied to it and adjust his hat on your head. For the most part, Tenya Iida had been a good sport when you'd commandeered his ship and bound him with his own rigging. He'd struggled, for a time, but a good few days gagged without food had sorted him right out. Now, he tends to yell odd instructions that no-one listens to and lectures the seagulls on the proper running of a ship. 'Loot what you want!' You shout over the crashing of the waves against the hull. 'But, leave their Captain to me.'

'Aye, Captain!'

The echoing chorus fills your stomach and makes your chest swell. 'To your stations, lads. We've got a ship to take.'

'Captain!' At the helm, Momo flicks her hair over her shoulder. It's waist length now, with a series of pretty braids that start at her temples and tie together at the base of her skull; each of which are adorned with a series of shiny trinkets - souvenirs from the various drinking games she's won.

You turn, flicking up your eyebrows as the crew scramble to their posts. The sound of old leather boots almost drowns out Momo's words as she yells out over the wind.

'They're speeding up!' Momo's chest heaves as she shouts, her eyes wide and steeled.

Dropping your jaw, you haul in a breath for an answering shout, but before the words can leap from your tongue there is another voice rising above the noise.

'Cannons!' Tokoyami is horizontal as he swings nimbly down the rigging from the crows nest. He dangles effortlessly above the deck, the ropes wrapped around his joints as he cups his hands around his mouth.

You nod. 'I want to know everything you see.'

Without another word Tokoyami is scrambling back to his perch, his eyes already squinted and trained on the approaching vessel.

There's a broken kind of nervousness that trickles through your veins as you watch the crew ready the boards. Three lean strips of wood, steadied by four strong hands wait, swaying in the wind on deck. In barely a moment, they'll be dropped. You swallow and wet your lips, feeling for the worn and yellowed page tucked safely away in the inside pocket of your coat.

Soon, the ship will be on you and in amongst all of the chaos to come... You'll find him.

Bakugo slashes out with his right hand, the curve of his sword gliding easily through the throat of an advancing pirate. There's a wicked grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, a spark igniting in the depths of cold crimson as he rotates his shoulder, taking down another man. Pausing, he kicks out, sending a third body to the floor before a keen twist of his wrist dyes the edges of his blade red.

Licking at his teeth, he stills – taking stock of the new space around him. A mess of bodies litters the deck. Both the wounded and dead lay side by side in pools of seeping blood, as their comrades battle on around them, not able to care too much where their feet land. Bakugo bites his tongue to stop a smile. Somewhere in the bloodbath, he can hear Kirishima laughing. The noise is like music, sharp and yet, soft – melodic as it catches the wind and finds its way back into his ears. He spins, eyes keen and searching as they land upon his second mate.

Kirishima has his hand wrapped around the neck of man. He flails in his grasp, nails scratching desperately at the thickest parts of Kirishima's forearms as his legs kick out, trying and failing to strike the large chest in front of him. 'Well that isn't going to get you anywhere...'

The man wheezes, dropping one hand to his belt. His fingers scratch at the leather, digging and twisting frantically as he works to free a small stiletto dagger. The hilt slips into his palm, allowing his hand to tighten to white around it, but before he can even lift the weapon to strike a sickening crack stops him in his tracks.

Cocking his head, Kirishima's sighs as if disappointed. His fist is white knuckled, with thin rivers trickling over the dips of his fingers as he tosses the, now limp, body to the floor.

The show of strength forces Bakugo to readjust himself in his breeches; but he's barely given a second to appreciate the sight of his second spitting on the next man he sends to the floor before an ear splitting laugh is ricochetting around the insides of his skull. He'd rush, if he hadn't already heard the noise one thousand times before...

Across the deck, Mina has a body squashed under the sole of her boot. The man writhes, eyes torn wide and terrified as he claws at the wood he lays on. The pressure on his chest keeps him pinned, stops him wriggling too far away as Mina flashes him a deadly wink and presses to tip of her blade closer to his throat.

'Let it be known...' Licking her lips, she lets another chuckle bubble up her throat. She reaches up, grabbing at the loose collar of her shirt with a tight fist and pulls, yanking open the material. The shirt falls open, clinging together by a singular button at her navel – just above her pants and exposes the hot, flush of her dark chest. 'That you where killed by a woman.'

'Please... Fuck – Don't...'

Mina ignores the pleas, letting them fall on deaf ears as she rolls her eyes and slices the man's throat.

He coughs twice before his lips are stained red. The gash in his throat is deep enough that he doesn't suffer, but that doesn't stop the ice cold dread that seems to fall upon the surrounding pirates.

Spinning on her heel, Mina wrenches her other sword from her belt and brandishes it at her hips. Her chest heaves, tit's framed by her open shirt as she swings herself around to face her next opponent. She cocks an eyebrow and snarls, lips pulling back over her teeth as she watches the new man in front of her almost wet himself with panic. 'Now, who's next boys...'

Laughing, Bakugo drags his eyes away from Mina's performance. She's always enjoyed a spectacle, but he must admit that this might be his favourite yet. Under his feet, blood seeps making each of his steps awkward and slippery. His boots refuse to grip, making fighting difficult as he slices through another pirate. Almost sliding to his knees, he clenches his jaw – eyes searching the clashing rabble in search of the source of his troubles.

Whoever captains the other ship is going to rue they day, they ever decided to place a target on his back.

The first step is the easiest. The board wobbles under your boots, giving and swaying as the ships lean closer together. Already, there are holes littering both hulls. The marks of exchanged cannon fire has scorched the varnished wood, spewing the scent of burning into the air. It's thick, the smoke cloying your lungs as you draw your sword and take another step.

On your heels Uraraka already has her blade drawn. There's a wicked glee in her eye as she bounces the plank, hurrying you along. 'In front, Captain.'

A man with a missing eye blocks your path. He grins, wide and gap-toothed as he reaches for his belt and the large mace he has slid into the leather. Twisting it over in his palm, he barely has time to reel back his arm before there are a pair of boots colliding with his chest.

Tokoyami twists before he hits the deck, his arms spreading like wings as he lands another kick on the jaw of a man to his left.

'Captain...' He huffs breathing hard. 'Are you -.'

Clearing the last of the plank, you plant a hand on Tokoyami's shoulder and squeeze. 'Thank you... Now -.'

'Bring me your strongest man and watch me reduce him to his knees!' Uraraka's voice is high-pitched and delicate, more fitting a princess than a pirate as she spits at her feet as swings an easy elbow into the women attempting to shift the boards from the side. Chewing on her lip, she scans the scene eyes bright as she claps eyes on a mountain of man. 'You!' She screams. 'Come meet my blade.'

With the lower half of the man's jaw obscured with a bandana, you're forced to focus in on the way his eyes widen. He sets his stance, grey hair flopping lazily into his eyeline as he raises his axe high enough to clash with Uraraka's blade.

They twist, the sound of scraping steel poisoning the air as the man takes a step back to swing. The muscle in his shoulder bulges, dark veins popping as he once again attempts to crush Uraraka with his strike.

She dodges him easily. Pirouetting, she barely gives enough time for her back foot to catch the grip of the wood beneath her before she's launching herself back into the air and straight at the man before her. 'Is that all you've got? Don't tell me you're going to be a disappointment...'

You're not given long to admire Uraraka's zeel as you duck a mace aimed for your head. The weapon skims your head, missing by millimetres as you drop to a knee and slash at the man's calf. He goes down with a scream. Leaping back to your feet, you send your heel into his nose at the same time your steel sinks deep into the tissue of his shoulder, severing the joint as he slumps forward at your feet.

Beside you, Momo reels her fist back. The skin of her knuckles is blooming, purple marring the paleness of her fingers as she flicks off specs of blood. 'It's been a while since we've had a good fight.' She grins, flashing pearled teeth. 'Remind me to thank you when we're celebrating later.'

Rolling your eyes, you push your way further into the fray. With the fight reaching a crescendo on all sides, you're forced to duck and weave to keep moving. Anticipation makes your skin itch, your whole body pulled taught as you side step another stray sword and scan the mess of bodies clashing together on the deck.

He's here.

You know he is.

You just have to -

'Oi, Princess. This your shit show of a crew bleeding all over my deck?'

You press your tongue to a back molar as his voice manages to shatter the chaos around you. There's a fire, steady and strong already stoking in your chest as the full force his betrayal repeats on you. Grinding your teeth, you haul in a breath and press shut your eyes; willing your body to contain it's rage for just a moment. 'Need I remind you...' You turn and cock your head, eyebrows high on your head as you glare. 'That I'm not your Princess.'

There's ice in Bakugo's vein's when he lays eyes on you, but he's soon thawed out by the rage burning in your eyes. He barks a laugh, willing his shoulders to roll before they lock and leave him defenceless. He never thought he'd see you again...

'Oh,' he cocks his head, slipping easily back into his cocky persona. 'But, you wanted to be, didn't ya... Sweetheart.' Swallowing, he juts out his hip, just enough to lean on the sword he slides back into it's sheath with a limp wrist and barks out a laugh. 'So, what? You missed me so much that you travelled the entire seven seas just to crawl into my bed, huh?'

Swallowing bile, you blink slowly to compose yourself; but your hand moves quickly as soon as Bakugo takes a step forward. It's muscle memory, easy, as you levy the blade at his throat and press the tip against his jugular; preventing him from slinking any closer.

'C'mon, Sweetheart. Don't be like that.' He laughs, feeling the way his Adam's apple grates against the blade with each twitch.

You scowl. 'I don't think you have any right to tell me how to act, Bakugo.' Spitting his own name at his feet, you press the blade closer into his throat. For a moment, you entertain the thought of slitting it, of cutting him open and watching him bleed out; but then, how would you get your answers.

He rolls his eyes, not even blinking as your sword dents his skin. 'What can I do for you then, Princess?' Savouring the pet name, he makes sure to keep your eye as the embers flare. 'If you're not here to be my whore.'

Gritting your teeth, you lick over your lip before gesturing the on-going chaos with a tip of your hat. 'Call off your men.'

A bark of a laugh leaps from his chest. 'And pray tell why the fuck I'd do that.'

'Because I want answers...' His mouth drops open to speak, some witty one-line retort already furled at the back of his tongue, but before he can loose it into the air, you raise your eyebrows. 'And in return, I have information about One for All.'

Bakugo stills. His expression is unreadable, eyebrows kept tight as his mouth flattens to a thin line. The muscle in his jaw ticks. 'And I can trust that you'll call off your crew?'

You nod.

'Men... Stand down!'

Echoing his shout, you call your crew to a stalemate.

It's a ghostly sound, the absence of noise in a place that was once full of it. The sudden lack of screams and bloodshed make the air around the ship ring as everyone slowly, turns their eyes to you.

'Should I be following you back to your ship...' Bakugo chuckles, licking at his teeth. 'Captain.'

'No.'

Your bluntness stuns him, making him lean back on a heel as he regards you with soft suspicion. 'And why would that be?'

You chuff. 'I'd rather you not damage my ship when I tell you what I have to say... You're not the most, subtle, of men.'

Choosing to ignore your insult, Bakugo lowers his head before spinning on his heel to address his crew once more. 'You heard the lady – a truce, then, for the moment. Back to your jobs, lads. Clean the blood from the decks and escort our visiting Captain's crew back to their ship before they make the place look cluttered, ha?'

Re-sheathing your sword at your hip, you hold up a hand and push back into Bakugo's space. 'I want Uraraka and Yoamomo to accompany me.'

Squinting, Bakugo's eyes roam the ship. 'And who would -.'

'Here, Captain.' Yaoyarozu slinks forward, elbowing pirates out of her way as she goes. Her blouse is almost entirely covered in blood, but even the dousing she has received is nothing to how Uraraka looks.

Clinging to Yaoyarouzu's shoulder, Uraraka looks as though she's been bathed in red. Her face is dyed, cheeks blush bright with splatters as large as chicken pox littering her features. Much of her hair is matted, clumped with viscera that drips from brunette strands and onto her shoulders . She limps forward, each step causing her to wince and drag her left foot, the ankle refusing to bare weight as she uses Yaoyarozu as a crutch; but despite it all – she looks perfectly overjoyed.

Bakugo looks the pair up and down before pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth and whistling. 'In that case: Kirishima! Mina!'

Kirishima is at his side in a flash. His sword is still drawn and held low, his knuckles tight and white around it's hilt. 'Captain?'

'Put that away!'

Bakugo might pretend to bark at his second, but you don't miss the soft way he wraps his fingers around the others hand and squeezes softly.

When Mina arrives, she looks no better than Uraraka. Her shirt is torn entirely, exposing the plump roundness of her breast as she cocks a hip and takes up post on Bakugo's other side. In one of her hands, she holds a blade. In the other, an already stained cloth that she uses to clean down the edges of her sword. 'So, she pretty enough to evoke a stale mate or do you two have business?' Her eyes flicker over you feeling rough, but her attention is soon stolen by Uraraka.

Mina winks.

Uraraka, somehow, blushes underneath all of the blood covering her face.

'Shall we?' You tilt your head and blink lazily.

'As you wish, Princess.' Bakugo smirks before turning on a heel and making his way down the ship towards the Captain's quarters.

There's a soft tittering behind you, a mixture of your crew's and Bakugo's as the pet name lingers in the air; but whatever thoughts spin around people's heads, no-one is brave enough to speak them.

That is, except for Mina.

'So... You fucked this one then, Captain?' She skips alongside him, boots almost skating on the blood underfoot as she slaps him on the back.

'That's none of your -.'

'No.'

Mina bites her tongue as your and Bakugo's voice blend to one. Her hand slips from his back as she falls into line with Kirishima once more. 'Ah... So, it's like that then.'

Bakugo glares at her over his shoulder. 'It is. Now, if you wish to keep your tongue, you'll shut up.'

'You can't do that, Captain!' Tossing up her hands, Mina clasps both of her hands over her heart and spins, catching Uraraka's eye before curling her tongue around every single word that drips from her mouth. 'It's my best feature.'

Uraraka splutters, managing a subtle: 'Second best' as her eyes drift down Mina's collar.

Ducking under the ornate rails of the ships upper staircase, Bakugo reaches up to rest a hand against the door frame, while searching the inner layers of his shirt. He hums, curling his fingers against his chest as he retrieves a thick golden key kept on twine around his neck. Not bothering to take the key from around his neck, he stoops to unlock the door and holds it open with a large palm splayed against the wood. 'Ladies first.' He smirks.

You roll your eyes and ignore the way your saliva dries out in your mouth. Fixing a new scowl onto your features, you dip your head in cordial thanks before slipping past him and ensuring not even your elbow scrapes his chest.

'The last door on the left should suit our conversation, unless you do really wish to have a more personal kind of talk.' His voice echoes softly down the short corridor, smooth and silky as it sinks into your ears.

Slamming a hand on the door in question, you sigh. 'This will suffice.'

Vanishing into the room, you don't bother to hold it open for him.

The cabin is larger than you'd expected, with a bulky desk that occupies most of the space. An assortment of papers litters it's surface. Some are maps, while others bare strange markings and delicately written hand that look almost indecipherable to your eye. Aside them is too many bottles of rum, all opened and in various stages of being drunk; their corks long forgotten or discarded on the mahogany floor that creeks as you step inside.

The door opens again, allowing a slither of light to trickle in from the corridor before it's blocked by Bakugo's bulk. 'This is as far as your seconds go, I'm afraid.' He braces an arm against the doorframe blocking the path.

Uraraka walks straight into him, almost clotheslining herself on the muscle of his bicep. 'Captain!'

'There's sensitive stuff in here I'd rather not let prying eyes see.' Growling, Bakugo glares over his shoulder, but refuses to move.

You raise your eyebrows. 'Am I not prying eyes?'

Huffing a chuckle, he shakes off the shiver that slinks down his spine like a stray raindrop. 'I'll be leaving Mina and Kirishima out there too. If they try anything, I won't be responsible for their actions.'

Making a non-committal noise in the back of your throat, you make a small hand gesture to Uraraka that seems to make her calm. She tosses herself back against the wood of the corridor and folds her arms across her chest, a pout already forming on her lips.

Beside her, Kirishima wears an almost identical expression.

Relaxing his arm, Bakugo pauses for a moment before crossing the threshold and letting the door finally, slam shut. Skirting around the room, he takes up post at his desk, landing lazily into the detailed chair behind it. He lifts his legs, reclining to toss his boots up onto his papers. Crossing his ankles, he moves them under his feet until comfortable and folds his hands across his stomach. 'So...' He smiles, the pointed edges of his incisors flashing above his bottom lip. 'What information brings a little sweet thing like you out here into open waters? Or, where you really just so desperate to see me again?'

You roll your eyes. 'You're of little consequence, these days. Sorry to disappoint your ego.'

He huffs, letting his eyes roll lazily down your body. Piracy looks good on you, apparently: Really good. Your skin is glowing, a side-effect of long days on deck and there's a strength lingering underneath your stature; one he's not sure he'd like to get on the wrong side of.

Cocking your hip, you lean your wrist against the hilt of your sword. 'You're looking for it, aren't you, One for All.'

It's not a question, he notes. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, pulling tight at his skin as he tenses the muscle between his shoulders to suppress a shiver. 'So fucking what if I am?'

You smile then. It's nice to know all those days blackmailing Monoma into submission didn't all go to waste. 'You're not the only one.'

Bakugo's eyes grow dark, eyelids slipping to half-mast as he regards you carefully. 'Half of the pirates I know are searching for it.' He licks his teeth. 'So, if that's your information, I'm afraid you might have to offer me something more... Satisfying, to satiate me not sinking your ship.' Letting his eyes slip down your body, he doesn't even attempt to hide the slight tenting in his pants as he shifts his ass on his chair. Unclasping his hands, he pets down his thigh, cupping his cock in his palm through his breeches.

'Midoriya.' You annunciate his name clearly, letting it skip off of your tongue.

Bakugo responds as if you've hit him in the face. He sits up, bolt straight as his hands fall to the arms of his chair, knuckles whitening. 'Deku's dead.'

You shrug. 'Guess you don't need the information I have then.'

Pausing for a moment, you observe his silence before slowly turning on your heel. The wood creaks under your boots, screaming out into the silence as you cross the room.

'Wait.' His voice is forced out from between gritted teeth.

Peering over your shoulder, you smirk. 'Yes?'

'I liked you better when you were desperate to bed me.' He growls.

Offering him only the prettiest of smiles, you turn back to yank at the chair facing him and slip yourself into it. 'And I preferred you behind bars...' Leaning back, you kick one leg over the other. 'Now, about those answer's I wanted.'

'Speak your wishes, Princess.'

'I'll tell you a little...' You run a hand over the leather of your boot admiring how the splatters of blood shine in the low light. 'To wet your appetite and then, I want what I came for.'

Bakugo tries to growl and keep his eyes sharp, but there's no denying the warm swell of pride that lingers just under his breast bone. He inclines his head, asking for you to continue.

'The night you escaped, you thought Midoriya dead, but you were wrong. Had you let me actually check over him, instead of attempting to seduce me to escape, we might have actually avoided all of this.'

'Attempted.' Bakugo licks his teeth. 'I think we both know you were practically dripping onto the stone that night.'

You fix him with a glare. 'That's not the point... Midoriya rolled. The guard convinced him to work for them. He's to find One for All and in return, they won't hang you.'

'They'd have to catch me first.'

Raising an eyebrow, you tilt your head. 'They did: twice.'

The muscle in Bakugo's jaw ticks. 'You're working for them.' Standing, he slams his palms down onto the table. 'You conniving little -

'Luckily for you -.' Ignoring his outburst, you fix him with a glare. 'I have alterer motives.'

He tuts.

'Thanks to Midoriya, I am one of only three people privy to the last whereabouts of All Might and I'm also in possession of the map that leads there.' You tap your nails against your knee, letting your eyes roam over Bakugo's features. The vein in his temple jumps with his pulse, his hands once again whitening and tight on the arms of his chair.

Leaning back, he forces himself to relax. 'And what do you want for this information of yours, assuming that I even believe you.'

You smile. 'I want to know why you abandoned me.'

A bark of a laugh leaves his throat then. 'Oh, you sweet fool. You travelled all this way, got yourself entangled in Gods know what, became a fucking pirate all because I hurt your precious little feelings?'

'Need I remind you that you are sitting where you are, only because of me.' You fix him with a steel glare, but your face tells nothing of the storm swirling in your chest.

'I would have -.'

'You would have rotted in that cell, don't let your ego betray your intelligence.'

Bakugo grits his teeth. 'Why do you care so badly?'

'Why won't you say it?' Swallowing, you press your tongue to your teeth. 'Are you that scared to say you developed even a little affection for me?'

Glowering, Bakugo licks at his teeth sucking air in through them harshly.

'There's talk about you in almost every port, y'know.' You sigh and tilt your head, rolling it onto one shoulder as a coy smile tugs at your lip. 'They talk about you like a bad case of the itch. Say that you think with your cock and don't care what happens afterwords, but they're wrong, aren't they?' Leaning forward, you brace your elbows on the table. 'If you really didn't care, you'd have taken me with you and used me. I had money, a station so to speak, talents you could have used, but you didn't. You left me. Why?'

Sighing, Bakugo hangs his head. 'What do you want me to say, Princess.'

You don't complain at the pet name this time, instead you catch his eye and blink.

'Fuck.' Rolling his shoulders, he sinks in his chair and bites his lip. 'That month we spent together, with you tending me through those damn bars was the longest month of my life... I – I never expected to get attached to you.'

'So it was attachment that caused you to leave me behind, supposedly safe and sound?' You arch an eyebrow, urging him on.

He snorts. 'Something like that...'

'Ah.'

'I'm not going to say I was in love with you.' Tensing his jaw, Bakugo snaps. Having you close again is fraying his nerves and making him itchy. If only he could touch you, he's sure he could calm his nerves.

You swallow. He looks wild, eyes wide and honest despite the lies he is trying to clench behind his teeth. 'I never asked you to.'

'Because I'm not.' He lies.

'Okay.'

'I wouldn't even know how... As you've so kindly pointed out, it's not exactly my forte. I'd have to think with more than just my cock for that, wouldn't I?' He laughs and it's an ugly thing. A burst of noise tossed from his throat as he attempts to keep down the bubbling emotion in his chest, something he's not sure is worth locking away any more.

Licking your lips, you haul in a slow breath and offer him a smile. 'I think I could have loved you, had we had more time.'

He swallows the 'me too' lingering on his lips and instead, decides to steady himself folding his arms across his chest.

Standing, you trail your fingertips across the edge of his desk. 'Thank you...' Each step you take makes Bakugo's chest hollow, his heart threatening to jump clean out of his mouth and confess his sins to you in person. 'For your honesty.' Reaching the edge of the desk, you cock a hip and look down on him. With your knees almost knocking together, it's almost too easy to see the way his breath stutters, his Adam's apple bobbing as you take another step forward.

Bakugo swears the world stops spinning when you lean over, hands gripping the recently vacated arms of his chair. You're so close now he could crane his neck to kiss you, but his pride won't let him, not just yet. He grunts, not trusting himself to speak.

'It's a shame really, I think I would have liked it...' Pressing closer still, you part your thighs until you can slide neatly onto his lap.

He takes hold of your waist instantly. His palms squeeze, fingers digging into the fat at your sides tentatively as he wills his cock to not have a mind of it's own, for once. You're warm, searing into his skin as you lift a hand and playfully walk it up his chest to link with the other behind his neck. 'L – Liked what?'

You rock your hips, pushing deeper into his lap until your legs are forced to fold underneath you. Fixing your eyes on his, you let them slide to his lips before speaking. 'Becoming your whore.'

Bakugo's swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing clear in his throat as he refuses, stubbornly, to drop your gaze. In his breeches, his cock swells. The material itches at his head, causing each twitch to bring with it the dull, rough sting of worn cotton as he tries to will himself back to softness.

Cocking your head, you rake your nails over the back of his undercut while letting the other hand wonder down to the clef of his chest. 'So... What do you say, Captain.'

A shiver straightens Bakugo's spine.

'Want to find out what you've been missing all these years?' Leaning into him, you smile when you feel his breath quicken against your lips. 'Want to see what your whore can do?'

Bakugo lets his hands slip, his rough palms skating over the corset at your waist until he can grip your hips and urge your pelvis flush to his. Possessiveness singes his skin. 'His Whore'. The words sounds sweet, delicate and dangerous as he repeats it in his head. His heart sings, beating uncontrollably as he finally, finally gives in to the surge of need simmering in his stomach. Catching his breath, his summons enough of his runaway charisma to flash you his signature, sharp smirk. 'You sure you can handle it, Princess?'

You counter him quickly, pushing him onto the back foot once more. 'Are you sure you can handle me?.. I'm not the naive girl you left back in that tower.'

There's fire in his veins, an inescapable burning that churns inside of him as your touch leaves sparks in its wake. Your confidence riles him. It makes him want to put you back in your place.

Chuckling softly, you nose at his cheek while pressing your tits to his chest. You grind yourself down on his lap, the soft mound of your cunt pressing in close until you can feel the tell-tale heat of his arousal threatening to soak his breeches.

He hisses, gritting his teeth to trap a moan in his throat. Skating his hands down your back, he moves deliberately slow before slipping broad palms under your ass and squeezing: hard. The moan he receives is criminal and fed straight into his ear, so close that he can feel the shake of your breath on the side of your neck as he hoists you up and closer.

Twice his cock twitches, managing to press the briefest of kisses to your clit through the material of your clothes. It sends shock waves through you, making your thighs tense around his hips. Locked in stasis, caught between sense and desire, you swallow down the rising worry that you might be wrong about Captain Bakugo Katsuki after all. He looks at you with fire in his eyes and a cool snarl painted on his lips making your stomach clench uncomfortably.

'You bitch.' He mumbles, the words soft and longing in the back of his mouth, before bringing your lips together.

The kiss starts sweet. There's a delicacy to the way he moves against you, a lingering something that he refuses to communicate in any other way; but it isn't long before the hunger sets in. Sinking into his touch, you move to lock your arms around his shoulders. Your nails scratch at his hair, tugging rough when he sucks your lower lip into his mouth and bites almost enough to earn blood.

Bakugo reels. He yanks at your skirts, hauling them up and over his knee until his hands can touch against your flesh. It's dizzying. Every noise you make has him ravenous, desperate as he lands a harsh slap against your ass.

You squeal and shift, rolling your hips to grind against him. There's too many layers of clothing, but neither of you are coherent enough to rectify the matter as you continue to consume each other, lost to the feel of him as he pulls away to lay a trail of burning kisses down your neck. 'Katsuki...' His name is stolen from your mouth as a particularly harsh scrape of his teeth scratches across your collarbone.

A growl leaves his throat, vibrating against your skin as the elastic band of his willpower snaps. With one swift movement, he squares his shoulders and leans forward, yanking you up off his lap.

Squealing, you cling to him, but you're barely airborne for a handful of seconds before your ass hits the hard wood of his desk. He occupies the space between your thighs like he belongs there. His hips force your legs wide, encouraging you to bend your knees and pull him impossibly closer to steal another kiss.

Even with his eyes closed, Bakugo makes short work of the laces tying shut your shirt. His fingers dip under the material, not bothering with the edges of your corset as he tears free as much as he can. 'Shit...' Pulling back barely an inch, he lets his eyes drop to your exposed chest. 'Fuck, you're so damn pretty.' Dipping his head, he rakes his teeth across the apex of your tit. 'So, fuckin' beautiful...'

Bakugo's bite brings with it a dull sting, but that is nothing compared to the violent shock of pleasure that rocks through your stomach when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks. His tongue swirls around the bud, his hand coming up to cup your tit as the attention he pays leaves you panting and gasping for air. Your legs lock around him, forcing his aching cock to press against you and relive the growing pulse of your cunt.

Lifting his gaze, he continues to suckle at your chest while soaking in the soft moans that slip from your mouth. From this vantage point he can see it all. Your chest heaves, throat opening as you release another high whine and let your head fall back on your shoulders. It's exhilarating, controlling your body like this – having the woman who was so high and mighty only a few moments before shaking in his gasp with only a few flicks of his tongue. 'Oh, Princess...' He coos, pressing his chin to the valley of your breast. 'You look good when you're desperate.'

Your head snaps up as soon as his mouth leaves your tit, the sensation of his tongue leaving your legs feel weak and your cunt surly leaking onto the dark cream of his breeches. Licking your lips, you reach for him and feel the dull edges of his teeth when you kiss his smirking mouth.

He's right, you think. Your body is alive, buzzing with everything that is him. Distantly, you mourn the idea that you could have had this all along; could have avoided the countless years at sea, the disgusting port towns and near-death bar fights while you searched for him, but all of your musing dies quickly when you feel his cock twitch against you.

Your fingers make quick work of the buttons of his shirt, almost tearing the material as you yank it away from his torso to finally get your hands on the skin of his chest. He's blushed down to his nipples, a rose-hue coating his skin as he shivers and presses into your touch.

'Seems I'm not the only one.'

He huffs, but doesn't refute you. Instead, he cups both of your breasts and rubs his thumbs absently over your nipples. He kisses you before dropping a hand from your tit and letting it skate down the front of your corset, he reaches your thigh, feeling through your skirts. 'Bet you're already wet enough for me to take you, huh Dripping onto my desk just at the idea of getting this cock.'

Mewling into his mouth as he growls filth into your ears, you barely feel his hands tighten on your waist before he's pulling you off the desk and bending you clean over it.

Bakugo wastes no time in hauling up your skirts and flipping them over your ass, leaving you clearly on show for him. The sight makes him clench his teeth. You're soaked. Your underwear is almost translucent and sticking to your skin, giving your cunt a soft sheen. He licks his lips.

'Are you just going to stare?' You twist to look over your shoulder and cock an eyebrow. Anticipation simmers painfully in your stomach, your skin burning for him as you feel his eyes roam your body. You need him to touch you, need to feel his hands, his mouth, his cock.

He chuffs, rolling his eyes. 'Can't a man enjoy the view?' Carefully, he dips his fingers under the edge of your underwear and pulls it away from your skin enough to see your puffy cunt.

You're about to chastise him again, to remind him that you've already wasted enough time in between the tower, the ocean and now; when the elastic of your underwear is snapped against your clit. You squeal and thrash, the pain blooming until it fades to a wonderfully sharp pleasure. Moaning, you try and fidget away, but all that gets you is another dull slap. 'B – Bakugo!'

'Oh, sorry Princess....' Bakugo licks his thumb before pressing it to your clit to sooth the sting. He rubs it softly, giving you enough pleasure to make you whine, but not enough to settle the burning in your stomach. 'Do you want me to be nicer, is that it?'

'I want you to fuck me.' You spit, summoning the rest of your restraint.

Chuckling, Bakugo smirks before leaning down over you and kisses your cheek. He rubs his cock against the cleft of your ass and revels in the way you arch for him before pulling back. His breeches are at his knees in a moment, his underwear shoved unceremoniously under his balls and his sword belt discarded on the floor as he takes his cock in hand. The skin of his palm is slick in seconds. Pre-cum leaks from his tip, drooling eagerly as he gives himself a cursory stroke.

Refusing to resist, you peak, twisting again to see just what Bakugo had been hiding. His cock is thick, thicker than you've ever seen with pale, pearlescent skin that roses towards it's head. The pubic hair surrounding his base is wild and darker than his hair, trailing up until it grows sparse just below his belly button. Your mouth waters.

Pushing up onto your tip-toes you press your ass backwards and wiggle.

A harsh slap makes Bakugo's palm tingle as he brings his hand down on your ass. 'You still want to be my whore, Princess?'

There's a wickedness in his voice, one that makes your knees shake as you feel the dull edge of his cock press against you. He spreads your ass with a hand, revealing yourself and all your neediness to him.

'Yes. Fuck – yes...'

'As you wish, but I'll warn you now...' He sinks into you without any prep and grits his teeth against the tightness of your cunt. Your body squeezes him, pulsing already around the stretch as he bottoms out. 'I'm not gentle with my whores.'

The first thrust takes your breath. You're full, impossibly so – feeling him clearly in your stomach as he slowly, pulls out and sinks back in. Despite his warning, he gives you a few dull strokes to adjust, his pace slow, but firm as he takes a hold of your hips. It's too much and not enough all at once as your body becomes pliant, lost to the feel of him as you finally come together. Hauling in a breath, you flash him a smile of teeth. 'Ruin me... Captain.'

Your words go straight to his cock, making him twitch inside you. He tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucks back into you with a vengeance. Already he's seconds away from losing control, indulging in you enough to meet a premature end, but he's determined to make it last. He's waited long enough after all. 'Don't worry Sweetheart, you'll need carrying back to that ship of yours by the time I'm finished with you.'

His balls hit against your clit with each thrust, sending periodic rushes of pleasure up through your stomach. It's rough, harsh as he treats you like a toy for his end, but your cunt drools betraying your enjoyment.

'Look at you, making a mess, taking me so well...' He grunts, leaning over you to collect your arms and pin them at the small of your back. You arch beautifully, allowing him to hit something delicious inside of you that makes you thrash, but he pays little attention to the moans that trickle from your mouth. Your pleasure is simply a by-product, an accidental consequence of his gruelling punishment. For a moment, he thinks he’s seeing things - a flash of silver contrasted with the skin of your wrist; but then, he’s ripping the sleeve of your shirt and exposing the manacle. ‘Is this what I think it is, Princess?’

You don’t answer, screwing your eyes shut instead.

‘Answer me.’

Another smack against your ass has your eyes rolling back. It's like every nerve in your body is being assaulted. Your cunt grips him, clit twitching with each dull slap of his balls as you're forced to lie still and take him. Words blend into nothingness in your head, every thought slowly replaced by him, until all you can utter is a weak and broken: 'Katsuki.'

'I don't let my whore use my name... It's Captain to you.' He spanks you again just to watch the flesh jiggle. It's hard to deny how incredible you feel, how your body seems to fit his perfectly, how your moans and how his name floats from your tongue has him almost a moment away from losing his mind. Gritting his teeth, he tightens his grip on your wrist and fucks you harder. ‘Now tell me, what’s this pretty little bracelet you’ve got here. Huh?’

'Captain...'

He shouldn't have told you to say it. Fuck. His cock jumps, threatening his end as his title slips off of your tongue. It's exhilarating, hearing you like this, having you with all your wild-cat attitude pinned beneath him and gushing for him. It makes him harder, makes his heart jump and his stomach twist.

'Captain, please...' Tears bead your eyes. You're so close, teetering impossibly close to the edge as he chases his own pleasure while ignoring yours. Still, you can't help the way you body responds. He’s like the worst kind of drug, the one you take knowing it’s going to fuck you up.

Leaning over you, Bakugo releases his grip on your wrists to loop an arm around your neck. Yanking up your head, he grunts into your ear – forcing you to feel just how good your body is making him feel. 'You really do love this, don't you. Love me using you, ha? Love that you're nothing more than a hole for me to get off. No wonder you where begging for me to take you with me. No wonder you kept my little trinket - bet you wore it all this time, ha, Princess? Did you wear it while you fucked yourself? Had other men fuck you and imagine it was me?’ Wrenching your head back, he slips a thumb into your mouth and forces you to drop your jaw. He presses down on your tongue, eyes wide and delirious as he opens his mouth and spits directly onto the muscle. He snarls. ‘Desperate bitch.’

There's a constriction around your throat, one that makes your head swim and your cunt pulse. His arm brackets your shoulders, forcing you still as he pins you with his weight and whispers sin into your ears.

'This is a dream come true for you, ha? Whore.'

That's enough. His voice gravelled and low, laced with the evidence of his pleasure sinks into your ears and causes your entire body to tense. Pleasure bubbles low in your stomach, rising quickly through your body until all you can do is gasp and rock your hips back against him. Your words are garbled, struggling to fit around the fingers he still has wedged in your mouth, but you manage. 'I'm – fuck – Cap – Captain, I'm going to -.'

'That's it. Cum on this cock, Princess.' Bakugo growls, licking a thick stripe up the side of your neck before he bites down, leaving a trail of broken bruises on the soft skin of your neck. He can feel you sucking his fingers, the sensation causing his hackles to rise as his cock throbs at your eagerness.

As soon as he gives you permission, you know you've lost. Your cunt clenches, pulsing around his cock as you cum hard enough for your vision to blur. It makes you feel weightless, your whole body tensing as pleasure washes over you in a series of beautifully drowning waves. Time stands still, everything around you being thrown into pointlessness as your world is wrecked by Bakugo's continued thrusts.

Having you cum on his cock feels like heaven. Kissing up your neck, he releases his hold, slips his fingers from your mouth and stands up gently; rocking his hips as he pushes you closer and closer to overstimulation. Pulling half way out, he pulls open your cheeks, admiring the way your release clings to him easing the slide as he sinks back in. It's mesmerising, watching how your body swallows him, taking everything he has to give despite the fact he knows you're spent. It makes him want you more, makes him want to give you more. Inhaling, he spits again, letting the droplet land square on your hole. ‘Next time…’ He mutters, smoothing a thumb over the puckered flesh of your ass. Testing the stretch, he dips his thumb in until the first knuckle. ‘I’ll fuck you here.’

You gasp. His words causing your body to stir again as your orgasm drags on long enough to make you feel delirious.

‘That’s my girl. Fuck -.’ Bakugo has to focus to stop himself from cumming along with you as your cunt begins to milk him. The tension is perfect, hauling him closer and closer to things he doesn’t want to admit. He’s drunk and at your mercy, despite his cruel words and taunts; right here, now, is the softest he’s felt for years.

Bakugo's hands are on you again as you come down from your high. His cock has gone, the lacking stretch making you feel empty and anxious as he pulls you up and turns you back to face him. Smoothing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks, he presses only the softest of kisses to your lips before helping you back onto the table. You grip his shoulders, pulling him close. 'Want – want you to finish... Need you – Kat – Katsuki, please.'

'Shh, Princess. Shh. I'll give you what you want, okay. You can have all of it.' This time when he takes up your skirts, he's gentle. Urging the material up your thighs he encourages you back enough to slip between your thighs. His cock presses to your clit, bumping it awkwardly as he shuffles closer.

You jolt and whine, hands still clawing at his shoulders as he takes himself in hand and gives you what you want. This time, the stretch is welcome. He sinks into you slowly and sets a pace that has your ass bouncing on the wood.

'There you are... Good girl, fuck.' Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against yours and prises one of your hands from his shoulders. He entwines your fingers, dropping them to the desk for leverage as he holds you tight, continuing to make the edges of your vision blur. It's soft. Softer than he'd ever wanted to be, but the longer he spends lost in you, the more he realises that there's no escape. He's not sure there ever was.

Whining, you squeeze his hand and lift your eyes to his. Warm rubies stare into your soul, a thousand things he'd never say obvious in the surface of his iris' as he grunts and moans against your mouth. 'Please...' Lifting your legs, you wrap yourself around his waist and pull him impossibly closer.

'Okay, Sweetheart.' He kisses you then, a barley there touching of your lips, before speeding up his thrusts as he uses you to bring him to his own end. Your body responds to him perfectly, tensing and holding him, beckoning him to finish as he grits his teeth and screws shut his eyes.

'Look at me...' You gasp, nosing at his cheek.

He obliges, eyes snapping open as he hurtles towards ecstasy. Looking at you makes it worse. It makes his heart burn as well as his stomach. You're so beautiful, with your clothes half-torn and the evidence of him littering your neck. The light from a near-by window catches each bruise, illuminating them and making each glow in turn.

A dull pang of possessiveness flares in his chest and he feels the tell-tale tightness of his balls pull up, as they prepare to spill. 'I'm – fuck... I'm gonna -.' Pulling back, he tries to slip a hand between your bodies to take hold of his cock; but your legs tighten around him preventing his retreat. He swallows. 'I'm gonna... Fuck, fuck! I can't – Gonna...'

'Inside, please.' You voice sounds wet. Desperation fills your chest. You're not sure when you'll next get the chance to have him, if ever, and the longing drives you to boldness. 'You said you'd give me everything... Said -.'

'Fuck...' Swallowing, he doubles down, sheathing himself completely inside of you. 'Okay, Princess. You – you can have it. Shit.' He knows he shouldn't, knows better than to cum in the women he beds and yet, he finds himself unable to deny you. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he wonders if he even wants to. It's too easy after all, to comply, to press his cock deep and spill, hot, thick and white.

His cock kicks inside of you, nudging against your walls and making your eyes roll back. You hadn't thought you could feel any more full, but as he continues to cum, you're proven wrong. Letting your head rock back on your shoulders, you settle into the feeling as Bakugo drops his forehead to your collarbone and pants against your throat.

His nose skates against your skin, eliciting goosebumps in his wake as he mumbles soft, half-words into your skin.

You don't let go of his hand, even basking in your afterglow. Instead, you relax into the rhythm of his breath and the slow stroking of your fingers along the bulk of his shoulders. It's nice, peaceful, the closest thing you've had to happiness in the past few years and still, it's over far too soon.

Eventually, Bakugo's nonsense mumbling turns into solid words. They're still spoken into your shoulder, dulled by the echoes of pleasure that still pluck at his nerves, but there's something sad lingering behind them. 'I'm still not going to say that I love you.'

You chuckle at scratch at his scalp, earning yourself an appreciative hum. 'I'm still not going to ask you too.'

'That's the problem...' He kisses the join of your neck. 'I reckon I could'da been, too… If I'd have taken you with me.'

His words make a black hole open up in your chest. A part of you had known it, of course, but hearing it all out loud from the man himself has your skin breaking out in cold hives. Swallowing, you bend forward and press a kiss into his crown.

'S'not good for a pirate – just means you've got more to lose.' He sighs. 'And I didn't... I don't want to lose you, even if it means I can't have you.' Digging his chin into your chest, he flicks his eyes to yours and tries to look unamused, like he hasn't just bared his heart while seated inside you and staring at your tits. 'That good enough for ya?'

You nod, smiling.

'Right.' Stretching to kiss you, he slips out of you and swallows the moan you release. He can feel his own cum dripping down his cock, warm and sticky against his shaft as he reels back enough to slip you underwear back into place. 'We should...'

You relax the muscle in your legs, letting him step back and fiddle with the edge of his own underwear. He tucks himself back in, using a spare rag to clean himself off before he's yanking up his breeches and fastening them once more. He buttons his shirt then, stopping half way to look up at you. 'Here...'

Abandoning the rest of his buttons, he starts fixing your skirts ensuring that the layers fall perfectly once more. He's delicate and diligent when re-lacing your shirt too, his fingers gracing the apex of your chest and the hollow of your throat as he slowly loops each thin stretch of fabric. 'Thank you.'

Bakugo pulls you in by the waist before stealing your breath with a blinding kiss. It says too much and not enough all at once and leaves you reeling, even after he pulls away. He clears his throat, but doesn't drop his hold on you. 'We should go.'

'One more kiss?'

He grants your request, basking in you one last time before he finally, steps back. Readjusting his sword belt, now tied back around his hips, he rakes a hand through his hair and turns to the door. He pauses, bowing low. 'Ladies first.'

'A pirate and a gentleman.' You muse. There's still a sickness clinging to the lining of your stomach, one you ignore in favour of sharing his smile. In the aftermath, with your anger quenched, it’s harder to forget that you came here with a mission. The folded piece of parchment burns in your pocket, making you want to be sick.

A smirk curls his lip as you pass him. 'We both know I'm not a gentleman, Princess.'

Before you can clear the room, the crack of a harsh palm striking your ass has you squealing like a teenager and bolting. You can hear his boots, their dull falls following you as you scamper down the thin corridor and towards the deck.

He catches you before you can reach the light and pins you against the walls, your arms trapped at either side of your shoulders by the wrist as he presses in close. 'What was that about one more kiss?' He chuckles.

You don't give him an answer, instead, you surge forward and let emotion take over you. Safe in the empty corridor, you find yourself thankful that your seconds had evidently abandoned the lower quarters for the air. The kiss he grants you is fleeting, but deep and has you panting again when he finally releases you.

'I don't think I'd ever tire of that.'

'I don't think I'd ever tire of you.'

'Of me, maybe not, but you'd tire of the sea – of chasing things that only matter to men like me.'

'Women can care for treasure too.'

He smiles, sadly. 'Different treasures, Princess. You came here seeking me, while I seek -.'

'You still want the map.' You answer for him, with that cold slice of ice wedged back into your heart. Part of you think he might argue, that he will toss back up his walls and begin spouting more theatrics about piracy and danger, but he doesn't. He lets you go, reluctantly and smooths down the front of your dress.

'That was the deal.'

Opening your mouth to speak, you think better of it and lock your jaw. Disappoint sinks in your stomach, but you're not given a moment to dwell on it. You could explain the dangers, explain how the guard are planning to take his head regardless of Midoriya’s assistance, of how it was you they had sent to lure him into the trap. How the map in your pocket will surely lead to his demise.

Still, you know there’s no point.

He won’t listen.

He’s a pirate, after all.

Bakugo marches down the corridor, unaware of the turmoil in your chest and beckons you follow before kicking open the door and sliping back onto the deck.

'Ah, it's nice to see you getting along.' Bakugo's grin is from ear to ear as he strolls over to where the seconds have removed themselves.

Uraraka stands up, straightening herself from where she had been laying in Mina's lap.

Kirishima doesn't lift his eyes. 'Well, we couldn't exactly stay down here.' He grumbles. 'What with all the damn fucking noise.' The knuckles on his right hand are bloodied, the wrap he's woven around them already stained and dirty, but if he's in any form of discomfort, he doesn't show it.

Bakugo laughs and claps Kirishima, hard, on the back before whispering something in his seconds ear that makes him perk up, if only slightly. Straightening, he turns to you and holds out a hand, palm facing upwards. 'I believe you owe me a map, Princess.'

You try and hide the disappointment lining your features as you bow your head. Turning to Yaomomo, you incline your head.

The gesture catches her off guard, but sends Momo scrambling through the many pouches attached to her belt. It's in the second that she finds what she's looking for, retrieving an old tattered map from within. She holds it out, eyes questioning.

Taking it from her, you don't pause when dropping it into Bakugo's hand.

He snatches it, grin wide and feral as he spins on the balls of his boot addressing the entirety of his ship. 'We have a new heading, lads!'

The crew that had been lazing about the deck are on their feet in an instant. Fists are thrown into the air, shouts loosed from throats and boots stamped against the wood. It's electric, the air fizzes around them as the entire crew becomes energised at their captains words. In a seconds, men who had been hanging from the rigging, or leaning on stray cannons are called to action.

'Captain...' Uraraka steps forward, unsettled by the sudden movement. ‘That map, it’s the wrong -.’

Bakugo turns to face her, eyebrows furrowing when you step in front of him.

'We should return to the ship.' You silence any further protest with a hand. 'It's obvious we've run the course of our relationship here.'

Hauling in a breath, you force a smile to your lips before signalling for your two ship-mates to flank you. It takes all of your strength to cross the deck to the rail where a short board links your ship with Bakugo's, but you manage every step without looking back over your shoulder to see if Bakugo is following.

Part of you hopes he is, hopes that he's already feeling the same ache in his stomach that you are and following on your heels.

Another part of you knows that he’s not.

Taking hold of the rail, you move to hoist yourself up when a feather light weight touch graces your waist.

'Captain...' Bakugo's eyes linger on yours when you turn to face him. His chest clenches, heart hammering in his chest as his gaze drops to your lips. If he was a better man, he'd kiss you, but he's always been a pirate first. Dragging his eyes back to yours, he offers out his hand. ‘On another tide, Princess.'

You huff a laugh and shake your head, but take his hand regardless. 'Your Captain sends her regards.’

He smiles. The faintest hint of blush is visible on his cheeks, high on the bones.

Beside you, Uraraka has already hauled herself up onto the rail; her face bright red as Mina blows a kiss in her direction. She pauses, teetering there until both you and Yaomomo clamber up beside her.

The first step is the hardest. The board wobbles under your feet, but it still feels more secure than the tatters of whatever could lie between you and Bakugo. Each step takes you away from him, leading you back towards the life you'd built while on his tail; except now, it all feels heavier.

Landing on the deck of your own ship, you turn back just in time to watch Uraraka and Tokoyami push the board into the recess of the ocean, separating the two ships. From over the rail, you can still see him – his proud mess of blonde hair obvious against the dark mahoganies of the ship. If you squint, you can swear you see him raise his hand to his mouth and kiss the skin there; but it wouldn't be the first time your heart had convinced your eyes of seeing things in it's rose-coloured light.

'Where too, Captain?' Tokoyami cocks his head, nudging your elbow with a curled finger.

You wipe a tear from your eye, blinking away the mist. What's done is done, you suppose. It's not as if you hadn't expected this... Signed up for it, even. Still, you rest easier knowing that Bakugo’s heading is set far away from what will happen to you when the guard discover your deceit. 'We're to meet back with the fleet.' You bite the inside of your lip. 'They need to know he took the bait.’

-> Masterlist

#bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader smut #mha smut #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

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